Suchergebnisse

Issue 47.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1988. ; A Spirituality of Suffering Issues and .Trends--1987 Advance Health-Care Directives Evaluating Chapters Volume 47 Number,2 March/April 1988 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REvmw FOR REL=G=OUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1988 by REvmw FOR RELiGiOUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add $5.00 per year; for airmail, add $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors March/April, 1988 Volume 47 Number 2 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW VOR REIoU;IOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REWEW VOR RE~olt;Iot~S; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Charism as E powerment to Discerff, to, De.cide,, tO Act, to Assess : F:intan D: Sheeran, SS.CC:. ' ~, Fathbr Fint~n D. 'Sheei'an'is a priest ih the" Congregation of, the Sacred Hearts. He works p~'esently as a.consultant.to religious communities and resides in his Congre-gatio, n's formatjo.,.n.~.c.ommunity, in Ch,everly, ,Ma.ryland: This is ,hi~s first contribution to our pages. He may:be addressed. ~ at Damien House; 6013 Inwood Stre~et;,. Chev-. erl~, Maryland 20785. harles de.,Gaulle.is supposed to have puzzled ove.r the possibility of.gov-erning a people who had more,t~.an three hundred diffeyent cheeses. Per-haps Church authoritie~s~are affli.cted with somewhat similar doubts as they cpntemplate the present state,of religiou~s life .and,especially the pre-sent state,of study and writing 9.n,the re.ligious life. ~Prior .to the CQuncil, a narrowly ju.ridic and0institutional~ u~nderstanding ~i'nd interpretation of re,ligious life0dominated practi.caily all writing and reflection on the sub-ject and there was consider~ible:hom.og.eneity in the field, even by pre-conciliar~ standards. Since the Council, there has been.a rich and continu-i, ng outpouring of reflection as atte,mpts have been and go on being made to understand and to.reinterpret,the religious life from various~vantage pojn~ts including in the light of.dev~eloping experience. The author of~one such ,r.ecent .i~nterpretatip.n, ,Sar~dra .Schnei.ders,. ob.serves about .this, "What a).l~ of t.hese attempts have demonstrated is the richness of the phe-nomenon of religious life and,.the,fecun~dity of approachi.ng its mean!ng fnraotemd b_trhoea dtheero.p.looignyt~s ooff 'rveileiwgi othuasn l itfhee a dt olegamsat tsiicn jcuer itdhiec aCl oounnec tihl.aotf h ~arde ndto. m~iz One fairl3~ prominent feature of all, of this.reflection has been the con-siderable ¯ attention given to charism the charism of, religious life, the charism of founders, the charism of particular congregations. This atten- 161 Review for Religious, March-APr~ il 1988 tion has included reflection by religious themselves, u~sually in a pastor-~ ally oriented way, as an element of such enterprises as rewriting consti-tutions, establishing apostolic criteria or mission statements and so on. Then, forthe first time, there have been statements on charism in offi-cial Church documents. These have been well noted. Evangelica Tes-tificatio speaks of the charism of founders (n. I I ) and Mutuae Relationes of the chai'ism of particular congregations (nn. I l, 12). Finally, charism has been touched on, to a greater or lesser degree, by practically every t.heologian writing comprehensively about the religious life since Vati-can II.2 Among theologian~ none has given more particular attention to the nature and role of charism in religious life than Tillard in line with his strong accent on the religious life as the "following of Christ." I will touch briefly on some of his reflections on charism referring in par-ticular to his There Are Charisms and Charisms.3 What I wish to speak about in this pres.ent article is Charism from a dynamic or "functional" perspective rather than from the point ofview of '~'content," meahing ho~ a charism is a particular Gospel orientation with certain evangelical accents and nuances. I am concerned rather with how a charism "func-tions" if one can speak in such a way, in the ongoing life of a congrega-tion, how it can be a source of life, of unity and of dynamic newness. A religious congregation is born of a Personal and particular experi-ence of Christ and his Spirit, a charismatic experience in the sense that it is the Spirit alone who initiates the encounter that leads to such a re-alization. ".the charism~of the religious life, far from being an im-pulse born of flesh and blood . ~. is the fruit of the Holy Spirit." (Evangelica Testifi~atio n. 11). "The 'charism ~f the founders' (ET n. 11) .appears as 'an experience of the Spirit'." (Mutuae Relationes n. 11). The person is ~eized by the Spirit. To iliuminate this experienc,e Til-lard turns to the New Testament narratives of apostolic vocation and re-sponse. 4 It is Jesus who invites; it is he;who takes the initiative, filling the life of the person ~ind leading them to the service of the kingdom. This divine initiative d0e~ not at :all depend upon any moral excellence on the part of the humarl partner in the encounter nor does it of itself im-mediately :add anything to their moral stature. (This point has larger im-plications with which we are not immediately concerned here with ref-erence to the truth that vocation to the religious life is in no way a call to any "higher" degree or form of holiness than the call of every Chris-tian in virtue of baptism.) It is an encounter with the Risen Lord which reorients the persoh's life creating a mysterious enthusiasm in which ex-planation for the otherwise inexplicably radical response is rooted. As Charism as Empowerment / 16~$ John Lozano remarks, commenting on the call of the apostles: ¯ . .They leave e~,erything--family and occupation--and go off with him. As an event in a chronicle, it would not make any sense. But it is not just any "unknown man" who passes through the account . The center of it all is relationship with Christ, understood, of cou~:se, in a post-resurrecti~on sense, when these accounts were shaped as an ex-pression of faith in theoSon of God.5 For the founder and for every religious, as for the apostles, this fol-lowing of Christ originates in an encounter'which is "charismatic"--it is of Christ and his Spirit. At the deepest level the reason a person be-comes a founder (or a member) of a religious congregation is ": . . not a for . . . but a because of. One does. not become a religious for something, ,with a view to something; one enters the religious life be-cause of JesUs Christ and0his ascendancy.''6 I make these remarks and references centering on the fundamental character of the charism of religious life because while my concern in this article is with the ongoing dynamism of charism in our religious com-munities this dynamism is inseparable from what charism is at root. Be-fore moving along it is also worth no~ting some of the marks of authen-ticity of the charism of a congregati6n, marks which continue to have considerable import for the life of a group. Mutuae Relationes mentions a number of the "true marks of an authentic charism" (12). One of these is a distinct quality of newness. "Every authentic charism brings an ele-ment. of real originality in the spiritual life of the Church along with fresh initiatives for action" (12). (The document does'not fail to note that this very newness may be a cause of difficult);. Most religious congregations can offer some testimony from their history to the truth of this. observa-tion. Nor need they always go back.to the archives to obtain it.) It is help-ful to look at something of the nature of this "newness." . The newness of charism is a n~wness of action and realization and not just of thoughts and words. The charism translates into pastoral life and action on behalf of God's people and not just into words and docu-ments. It is an originality which relates intimately and penetratingly to the reality of a particular time and place. Founders and foundresses are people of their own time, place, and culture, and they have a keen aware-ness of their environment. Moreover, they discover their vocation pre-cisely in the context of that environment. It is in terms of their percep-tion of reality and of their vision and articulation of a response that the newness of the Spirit is revealed. Their concrete pastoral response is a "fresh initiative for action"; ~it is new; it is other than the response (or 16~1 / Review forReligious, .March-April 1988 lack of response) customarily being made by'society .or tt~e Church to this part!cular need. In facL it frequently reveals the~pgvert~y of the percep-tion and the.ineptitude.of the response of the Church~and of society ~gener-ally. No wonder, as Mutua'e Relationes delicatel,y remarks, such re-sponses "~ay appear unseasonable to many." A further trem(ndously powerful element of the'freshness and :new-ness of c,harism is an aspect of which we are be(oming more awa~re. It is that the charism empo.wers the ,founders of religiou_s_:congregations to anticipate and to shape the,future in concretely effective~ways. Charism is, by its. very nature futtire-0riented. But it is an,orientation filled with purpose and with the power to achieve its purpose. This becomes clear when we read the histories.of our congregations in. the light of whatis for u~ arelatively recent perception: that history procee~ds, from, the choices, decisions and actidns 9f individuals'and particularly of groups, organized groups,of all osorts--politic'alo parties,, unions, corporations, churches, and so forth. Social realities are, the result, of human choices and decisions made in the context of economic, social,.political alterna-- tires and not simply the product~ of blind 'processes. and intractable natu-ral. forces. These actions ot~ individuals and groups create structures and systems 'whiCh in turn condition and limit our perception and options. The Shape of our society is chosen. The choi(es and action of the Church and its commuhities"fall within this complex. A~social history of eight-eenth- and nineteenth-century Europe."would surely show that society~as it was then constituted required .and secured the existence of large masses of illiierate poor in order to maintain itself as it actually was. When in-spired women and men commiited themselves to creating religious con, gregations who would,educate and care for the. illiterate poor, they did much ~more than perform an immediate work of mercy~--they became ef-fective ~gent.s of social transformation. They anticipated and shaped an alternate, future, a "new" future. The "newness" which has charism as its source is dynamic and creative; it "renews the face of the earth," "In realit.y, the charism of the religious life . . is the fruit of the Holy Spirit, who is always at work within the Church.'. It is precisely here that the dynamism pr.oper.to each religious.famil3) finds its origin" (ET, 11). My concern with charism ~is exactly with the dynamism proper to religious congregations not simply as regards their origins but more as regards their ongoing life and mission. Again the actual experience of the foundersand foundresses is illuminating. Orie significant practi, cal outcome o~f~a renewed .focus on~ charism in many congregatiQns has been the serious study given to the lives of the founders anti, also in some charism as Empowerment / 165 instances to congregations" initial or "'primitive" commt~nities. These studies have been motivat(d by a~desire to rediscover th~ originating his-tory of the community as it really was and especially to know the persoh oLthe founder or foundress freed from the m3~ths and apocrypha which had often accumulated over years of neglect of critical history. Almost invariably, the result has been someth.ing like the restoration or,rediscov-ery of the work of Michaelangelo in the Sistine Chapel. Anyone who has had the opportunity to be present while the work of restoration in' the Chapel has been going on has to have been powerfully impressed by see-ing the ~"old" and the. "new" side by side. From behind the dust and debris of years thereoemerges into the light astonishingly rich and pow-erful portraits, far more striking and iml6ressive than the painting that had been accepted as authentic for years. Similarly, the women and men with whom we come into contact in recent studies of foundress~s and foun-ders ~re~p.eople'of'vividly living faith, of prophetic imagination and origi-nality; they are deeply human people with 'a'great stor~e of practicality arid common sense; men and women who were wholly, given to the Church'e~,en as they'had the insight and courage to name its needs and to confront its resistan~'eg.7 What had passed for authentic portraits had frequently~obscured a more~brilliant reality. Because of the ~i+ailability of many such Studies~ it is also possible to see, in very rough outline certainly, but perhii~ps more clearly than be-fore, something of a c6ifirhon pattern' of'movi~ment marking these jour-neys that culminate in the foundation of ~ congregation. What we are lo6k-ing at is the historical realization of charisms, their taking on concrete form and incarnation in real people, real groups. I beliexie that there is a movem6nt'inv01ved which has a typical~ rhythm, one marked by dis-tinct phases or "moments." There is an initial moment of sear6h~iSt dis: cernment with regard to the'authenticity of the call tO move in the di~'ec-tion of commencing a project; there i~ a moment of definite ch6ice 'or decision; there is a rn'oment.of action and finally a moment of assessment or evaluation. The word "moment" could be misleading. While deci-sion or choice is always in itself a m~tter of a moment'whatever the prece-dents, the actual history of ]~oundations shows clearly that the other so-called moments can be a matter of a Io,ng time, many years even; or of a relatively short period. It'varies greatly from one founder or foundress to another but these moments as such are, I believe, discernible in their histories. Obviously these moments are0quite ordinary in the sense that th~ey represent the elements of any careful decision-making and action process; in that sense they are to be expected,. Our interest in,them, how- 166 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 ever, is in how in fact they take on a distinctively "charismatic" char-acter, how they embody the "functional dynamics" of charism, how in this sense they. are utterly.di.,stinctive. . The moment of search or discernment is that period when the per-son begins to be aware of being called by God in a special way but as yet lacks assurance about this. They wonder, pray: seek counsel. Clearly there are instances where this moment stretched on for years, where the interval between the first intuition and the moment of decision was con-siderable. The time of search is followed by a moment of decision. The person now sets aside all doubts about their call and embraces the invitation of the Lord wholeheartedly and without reserve. Choice is made and com-plete commitment. One way that this new and profound option is mani-fested in the life of the person concerned i.s by an important change in their language. A confident assurance that their inspiration is from God, prev!ously absent, now marks their expression. What in other circum-stances might be regarded as simply pious phrases or even trite expres-sions take on a clear and undeniable authority and power. Such phrases as, "This is God's will" or "This is the will of ~Divine Providence" or "This is God's work" are now used in reference to their efforts. There is a new transparency of purpose; a clear~, simple and confident assurance marks their speech, as indeed a great courage,° freedom and enthusiasm marks their conduct, about the enterprise. These very quali-ties are, without doubt, key to their capacity to attract others to join them. The third moment is.the moment of actign, of doing the thing that they are called to do, gathering people together in a spirit of mission. The moment of decision and the moment of action are not the same. There c~an be instances where the decision has indeed been made but ac-tion is delayed. In the history of the foundation of my own congregation there is an example of the founder making a decision to commit himself to the project of foundation and then delaying to act on the decision. In the event he felt himself to be called to account by the Lord and repented of his delay. ~. The charism of founding a congregation comes to fruition and real-ity only when the group actually, exists and from,the beginning the un-folding of the project in fact will always involve the unforeseen and un-foreseeable. It may be better not to think of the charis.m of a founder as separated from fits realization in the original group. In a sense the foun-der or foundress must wait to 'see what God has wrought but there is ai- Charism as Empowerment / 167 ways an intuition and sense of what the new community must~be which is key to judgment on its development. While it is never a question of checking against a preexisting blueprint, there is a need to assess and to assure fidelity to the inspiration which called it into being. This moment has parti(ular significance for the founder and for the primitive commu-nity but it is a moment which must continue as long as the community endures. So indeed must all of these moments in their own way. They comprise the charism in action, the "dynamism proper to each religious family." What I wish to suggest now is that this same rhythm, these same mo-ments must continue to mark the "functional dynamics" of the charism as it exists and is exercised in a congregation. Mutuae Relationes (11) speaks of.the charism of the founders which ".hppears as 'an expe-rience of the Spirit' transmitted to their followers to be lived by them, to be preserved, deepened and constantly, developed in harmony with the Body of Christ continually in a process of growth." The charism enables" the group to search and discern what it must be and do, what must be its way of life and of pastoral action in response to the world in which it finds itselfand to do this with a certain perspective, a certain orienta-tion and point of view, a particular spirit. ~ The implication is that the group must actively.commit itself as a group to such search and discernment evdn as the founder or foundress did. It is a search by the group in such fashion that if must guard and foster that level of unity which alone makes corporate search possible. This search in turn deepens and strengthens the real unity of the group. A province, for example, needs to identify and tO sustain the processes and structures which make a group or corporate reflection and search pos-sible as a province in a stable rather than a merely elbisodic manner: Lead-ers need to'know how to promote and foster such processes of reflection and the structures they require. The charism of a group is riot "auto-matic" nor does it function in any magical way. It can remain virtually inoperative for want of sufficient cohesion within the group or for lack of sustained 6ommunal processes. The charism enables the group to search out what it must be and do and to what it must commit itself in the power of the Spirit, animated by precisely those attitudes and values which constitute the "content'" of the charism, meaning that particular Gospel orientation or accent which characterizes every charism. The grbup is enabled to make judgments which are inspired by the same spirit which animated the founding vision. More, they can experience a confi-dence in their capacity for authentic and profoundly religious newness 161~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 in their.:pastoral responses. As with the founder 9r f0undress, it is Jesus who in~,ites;.it is he who takes the init!ative.leading us in. service to the kingdom in,this time and this place. Nor is that initiative~depe_ndent on any spl.endid historic achievement b.y the congregation orieven on ;the measure of its present, resources: But process and structure are necess~ary. The processless,~ s~ructure!ess~co.ngregation or.province is a mirage, Which is not to say, ho.wever, that the processes and structures must.be t.his.or, that~type, an.d even less that there i~s only one acceptable _form. While the cultivation and sustenance of process and structure make~ par~ ticular demands on,!eadership, it is also one,area.where the real mean-i. ng o.f" membership"~_ is tested. Real living commitment, to the commu-nity demandsoand is .revealed in a real investment of time, energy and presence in. its pro.cesses and structur.e~. C, ommitm~nt ,to the,"spjrit of the. cgngregation. ," while h.a.ving no time for its. process.es, is commit-ment. to the dance w~hile disdaining the steps; it becomes increasingly, ethe-real. ~ ~. ¯ . ~., ~- .- .~ ~ Secondly,, the .charism enables a group to. make decisions and choices whic_h ar~e faithful expressions of the charism oitself. It is a.grace which leads to and-enables choices made for the sake of the kingd0m,and bear-ing the mark of a certain spirit and orientation. Some groups find it prac-tically impossible~ to make real decisi0.ns and diffiRult choices. People go through .the for.ms and moti0ns~of, decision-makin~g, 9t. chapte.rs ,for ex-a. rnple., only.to, discover in time that no real commitment had been gen-erated and that implementation is_ unlikely or impossi.ble.There had,been only the,~.utward app~earance.of dec.!sion. It is.not a questiQn of .bad faith but.of processes in, adequate to the challenge. Of eyoking commitment at deep level. One of the dynamic ':,fu.nctions" of charism is to empow~er and enable the group to truly choose and gen~uinelydecide; to risk, to surrender, .to be converted. At a time when all of our, congregation~.s.ar~e. confronted~ wit.h, chali,.en.ging choices of serious consequence,, this is, an area where we read.ily experience.both the neeod that, charism play its em-powering ¯ role and tha!0we be open. to .it. -The charism further enables the group,to act and to act corporately. This means that the charism enables in the.group that level of, shared per-ception and vision, of shared aspiration and intent, w, ithout which cor-porate choice and action are impossible. And it empower.s, apos.tolic 9c-tion. "Corporat.e action" js not a .question of everybody, doing the same thing but rather that the members.of t.he group act~by intent in .the~iight of a shared vision of, direction which can give uni.ty and .c.oherenceto quite varied _ministries. For example, a group .may-have achieved a Charism as.Empowerment / 1169 shared understanding of.what '.'evangelization" means in this particu, lar place and time and, though in the.service of that vision:the members. pursfie quite diverse ministries, they are aware that they pursuea com-mon goal,. On the contrary it can happen that people exercise th'e same ministry (even hll te~iching in the'same school; for example) withotit hav-ing any shared visionOf what, they are doing or even having quite 6p-posed perceptions of ~hat it is that.they are about. " ' ~ Finally the charism enables th~ "group to assess its decisions add choices~ i!,s orier~tati~ons and actions in terms of fidelity to th~ founding ifispiratio~i and ~esp~si.veness to current needs. I re~eat here without. ~ilab~ratii~n ~th~t all Of this does not happen aiatomatically. It demands susz' tained effd~t I~y the~r~tip p~ec.i~sely, as a group ~r~d it is ~,i~rtually !n~pos'- sible without having in pla.,Ce;oin a stable way, those processes and struc-tures which ~ak~e bngoin~or~orate rei'lection,~choice 'and'~actiofi the'nor-m'al way Of life of the group~.°These 'processes and structures will vary, greatly from gr6up~°to group depending on their h.~story and trad~tlon~s,. their niamb~rs, ~g~ographical dispersion, and so forth.- I must point Out that while i tiavetried in thi~ ~irticqb to k6ep the "c6n-tent'" of charism and°its' "dyna~aic functi~_.n" separate, in th'~ end this is, of cgurs6, impossible and it'seems more especially so now in these time's thah ever. The "functioning of a religious congregation ~s ~n-s'eparabl~ .from its id~n~ti.ty, 'fro~ the radical meaning of its ~li~;e in°the Chu~'~h "/~ffci just as the f'6under ~nd (o'undress discovered their v~ocation , . .~ ~,; ~ - _ , . ~ o , o "~ ~ . : . - and ~ts meamng and shaped what they d~d and how'they d~d ~t ~n the con-text df their envir6nment, so do we. A sh~arp aware~ness of the i'6ality of our world and of. our place in it is as much a par~ of out vocation's iri-" gredi~nts ~is it was that 6f our fo'u'fiders ~nd foundres'ses. And we have avail~ble to us by God;S gift~,inst~:uha'ents and r~6ans for awareness; for takir~ cri{icai dista~e and for critic~ii~nalysis whicl~ th'.ey did riot. Tti~se are means which can enhance our capacity for pt:ophEtic dis~ernmeni, choice and.action,, means~which are immeasurably deepened and sharp-ened by the charismatic gifts that root the life'of.the congregation. I~'wouli:l conclude with a brief comment on the relationship between the charism of a religious congregation and the place of the c6ngrega-tion in t~ local ChUrch. The first obedience owed by every religi6us ~con-gregati'oia tc~ tile Church isto be faithfully itself. As a ~ift' given by the Spirit io the Churcl~'a congi'~gati6n remaihs "useful" to the extent that it remains faithful to its charism. If it is authentic, this ~lways'r~eans deeper ~olidafity with the olife and' ministry of the Church.This deeper solidarity is not just a matter of rendering more services or of undiscrimi- 170 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 nated availability. Rather it is a matter of living and acting as a congre-gation in the Church more and more in virtue of the charism. "The re-ligious life is a state within the Church, not just in the sense that it op-erates within the Church, receives grace from the Church and is legally sanctioned by the Church, but in the sense that it shares in a.special way in the mystery of the Church, is one of her organs through which, the Chi~rch perfects her own life."8 The charism is the first medium of our solidarity with the Church as a congregation. And so we bring to the lo-cal Church, for example, not only ministers and services, but a particu-lar point of View, a particular capacity for discernment needed by the Church,~a. capacity for choices, actions~, assessments, illuminated by a definite Gospel inspiration. Solidarity with the Church, in turn, evokes and animates ih~e~charism of a congregation. A congregation can therefore be profoundly obedient to its charism and to the Church to the degree that it is integrated in the life of the Church. Where the local Church strives to be a Church which integrates all of its m~mbers in its life and mission, in its discernment and decision-making, it gre.atly facilitates the deepest obedience of religious congre-gations. Where the local Church integr.ates all of its members in a search for God's ,will for his Church, in choosing direction for its mission and in implementing, its decision~, in such a Church, the charism of the reli-gious congrega[ion, a gift given for the Church, will grow to full stat-ure. Such obedience must never be substituted by a mere rendering of services in an undisce,,rned way even---or especially when there is much regi~rd for service and little appreciation of the meaning of charism and of its role in the Church. I offer here a brief ~uote from Bishoia Stanley Schlarman of Dodge City. In January o~" thins year' I~e wrote a pastoral letter to his people in which he reflected on religious life in the light of the dialogue with the religious of his diocese. , Furthermpre because religious become even more skilled in searching out God's will together, they can initiate new ways of answering the needs of the times, even taking risks, when needed on behalf of the poor and oppressed . In the light of these reflections I want to invite each person in our dibc~san family into a Trinity experience of community through knbwl-edge and love, dialogue and respect, and the mutual s6pport of one an-other's vocation.9 For religious that is an invitation to charismatic life, dynamism and newness. Charism as Empowerment / 17'1 NOTES ~ Sandra M. Schneiders, New Wineskins, (New York: Paulist Press, 1986) p. 28. 2 For a very useful survey of writing on charism see M. Midali, "Contemporary Theo-logical Trends in The Charism of Religious Life: A Gift of the Spirit to Church and World" USG. (Rome, 1981). 3 j. M. R. Tillard, There Are Charisms and Charisms, trans. O. Prendergast, (Brus-sels, Lumen Vitae, 1977). '* lbid, p. 41 ft. 5 John M. Lozano, Life As Parable (New York: Paulist Press, 1986) p. 28. 6 j. M. R. Tillard, op. cit., p. 56. 7 Francis J. Maioney, Disciples and Prophets, (New York: Crossroad, 1986) pp. 161- 2. Maloney stresses especially the prophetic dimension of religious life and of the role of founders and foundresses. 8 Friedrich Wulf, Decree on the Ai~propriate Renewal of Religious Life: Commen-tary on'the Documents of Vatican II, Vol. !I (New York: Herder and Herder, 1968) pp. 669-70. 9 Bishop Stanley Schlarman, "Reflections on a Dialogue With Religious," Origins, March 5, 1987, pp. 669-70. ApostOlate of the Moment Frank Quinlivan, C.S.C. Father Quinlivan,is director of, his novitiate and,has served as a missionary. He may be addressed at Holy Cross Novitiate; P.O. Box 749;,Cascade, Colorado 80809. ~kctive religious life has a rootlessness to it. Religious are a truly pilgrim people. We move on. We are seldom anywhere long enough to put down deep and permanent roots. We enter.into the lives of others and they en-ter our lives, but we pass through each other's lives. It is not uncommon for us to long for more "normalcy" in our lives--what we see as some permanence and stability, a place to pitch our tent for more than a season, a set of relationships which endure. Min-istry today, however, seldom affords us this. Even those whose ministry allows them to be in one place for an ex-tended period of time still find a certain rootlessness because in our highly mobile and nuclear society the people ai'ound us move on. Hos-pitals and schools have a built-in turnover of people. Today urban par-ishes see a large and continuous flow of people in and out. The pace of change is rapid. Perhaps most disconcerting of all is to look back and see that we have left few, if any, permanent marks behind us. So many years and so much effort leave little to show. The things we began, the work we did has ceased to exist or else has been greatly altered. The lives we touched have moved on and changed. We quite literally "lose track." We enter into many lives. That is what ministry is. We enter into people's lives in significant ways. We are there in a special way, invited into the hearts and consciences of people in a moment of pain, of joy, of growth or healing. But where are those people now? Maybe we still get Christmas cards from a few of them. 172 Apostolate of the, Moment / 173 ¯ ' 'Did our ministry make a difference a long-term, lasting differefice? Sometimes we may know, but'usually we.don'-t., In-an effort to p¢ofessionalize our ministry we have learned to do a great deal of lo'ng-ran~e planning and goal setting, of clarification bf ob- ¯ jectives and intensive evaluations. Ou~: experience of ministry, however, is" often that we ehd up walking a path that we did not envision and through areas that w~ 'have not charted. We can take the tools of management and apply them to ministry. They cfin help; 15uttheir applicati6n is ne~r perfect. If we do not lobk at ministry~as often perhaps most often unexpected, unplann+d, mo-meritai'y ~ind without measurable long-term consequences, we will be building up gomething Which can 6nly be frustrated and frustrating. It is important that we see much of ministry as an ap.ostolate of the moment. We are here now in this place with this person and it has, made a difference at this time inthis iife and that is enough. Fieeting contacts between pe~pJe where something human happens, often unplanned and impo.s'sible to follow up on, are how the history of the kipgdom and of ministry are most often written. This pers~)n was min-istered to at this moment,, l,oved, served, ,forgiven, encourage~d. There was,, a pointof huma~n~ con, tact, a sharing, a totJ~hing,, ~eemingly not sig-nificant, nor planned and, perhaps, not even remembered, but,this was the building of the_ kingdom. We move through others' lives and they thro~ugh ours, often in a.jum-ble, but the.points of intersection and meeting are the way. We,do not know, where fully ninety percent of them are-now. It is enough that their Way and our way crossed. ~ When we have aplan, be it for our lives or for only the day; we tend. to get very upset by interruptions. The in,terruptions, perhaps, are what we are meant to be doing. As'ministers we~are meant to be interrupted. ~ This is not an argument against planning and evaluation, or against efforts to make ministers "more professional: It is an argument, however, fOrothe" need to realize that ministry'does not°often ,fit into these catego-ries. It ,is possible .for us, like so many people,, to so live and work in the past or in the future, that we fail to,understand the,importance of the present moment. Yet it is in this.very moment that ministry is done.:" Our very rootlessness, as disboncerting'as it can be for us, is a key factorin our ministry. It allox;vs us to be.present this moment, the time when ministry.is done. It allows us to'be true agents,of the kingdom which is built up by many cups of cold wate~ given~in Jesus? name., 174 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 The apostolate of the moment is tied to our definition of .success. The normal definition of success hinges on things which we can point to and count, marks left behind which are permanent and observable. Ministry affords us little of this. How are we to know that weare ~uccessful min-isters, ,when. we have so little to "show"? All of us have been to funerals in our community when an elderly religious is laid to rest. We can ihink:of the countless lives he or she has touched. We can think of the thousands of points of intersection where his or her life and works touched ~nother's. Yet when they die, other than the community, there is usually no one else there.~ Most of the peo-ple they ministered to, in those special moments, are not aware of their death, do not remember the moment of ministry, do not recall even their name. Success in ministry, in our apostolate of the moment, cannot be meas-ured by conventional standards of success. Lives, may hav~ been touched profoundly, deep change~ may have occurred, but our rootlessness will mean that we will often never even know this. Jesus speaks of salt and seeds and yeast: They "are little things, seem-ingly insignificant, that effect great works, u~ually unseen, transformed into something else, hidden from notice, known only if they are lack-ing. This is'~how the success of our apostolate of~the moment must be understood. Let us attempt to plan and .to evaluate, but let us also understand our apostolate of the moment. Each human life is God-given and precious, beyond all value. Each moment of each life is precious and invaluable. That we are there in this moment is tremendously important. If there be an enduring effect or long-range consequence, we may never know. It is enough simply that we were there at that moment. A final word. Jesus tells us that he is the vine and we are the branches. When we reflect on ~his and on our rootlessness, there is much to learn. A branch does not have rootsoof its own. Separated from the vine it will die, but it is rooted in and through the vine. What weexperi-ence as rootlessness is, in truth, deeply rooted in Jesus. All ministry is his. The branches may grow in all directions; but the vine ties them to-gether and ~provides them .with root and life. The branches are often pruned and cut back so that there may be new growth in new directions, but they are neveruproote.d or cut off from the vine entirely. Much of our ministry is momentary, but its significance is eternal. Jesus told us that even a cup of cold water, given in passing, was not without lasting, even eternal significance. Apos~tolate of"the Moment / 175 It is difficult ifor us to be content with an apostolate of the moment. It would be satisfying to be able to see enduring effect and accomplish-ment. Our planning actually accounts for little of what we end up doing and there is so little visible to evaluate. It is, in the end, a matter of deep faith that we will not show up empty-handed before the Lord, but rather loaded down with a great deal of fruit despite being so rootless. Thief You kissed me - a Child of five - and stole my heart away. You called me - a girl of fourteen - and became h~y "first love." You covenanted me - a young woman - and bound me to You, eternally. O, gentle Thief, never give me away, nor ever set rile free! Claire Mahaney, R.S.C.J. Valparaiso Community 140 Valparaiso Avenue Menlo Park, California 94025 Eoaluating General and Provincial Chapters Gerald A. A~buckle, s.M. Father Arbuckle continues to give workshops on "refounding" religious life and to write for this review. His "Beyond Frontiers: The Supranational Challenge of the Gospel" appeared in the May/June 1987 isSue. His permanent mailing address is: East Asian Pastoral Institute; P.O. Box ~1815; Manila 2800; Philippines. Come now, let us talk this over, says Yahweh (Is 1.'18). People differ about the effectiveness of general and provincial chapters they attend. In the evaluations of a general chapter held recently, par-ticipants varied in'their assessment. Some were thoroughly satisfied; oth-ers felt that it was a useless experience since ~participants were not.com-mitted to implement the chapter's mission statement and decisions. Oth-ers claimed the chapter ignored'realities, while some felt that they had been manipulated by well-organized groups. Who is right? Without some objective criteria to judge the chapter by, it is impossible to even begin to answer that~question. This article is an attempt to offer sonie ~ciological and faith criteria to help readers evaluate their chapters. It is not in, any way an exhaus-tive study on how to assess the effe~tiyeness of chapters. My aim sim-ply is to answer this question: Are there certain attitudes, ways of look-ing at the world, procedural methods,, and ideologies which hinder or facilitate the work of chapt6i's? I will concentrate on general chapters, but my comments will apply with only very minor adjustments to provincial chapters. To aid in ~y analysis I will list a selection of comments by participants of general chap-ters held from 1971 to 1985 and then use them as catalysts for my own 176 Evaluating Chapters /:177 evaluatiofi of,such gath6rings. Hopefully, readers will be able to iden-tify from their own experience with several of these comments and. then be helped by my .,a.ssessment. I will proceed by defining,the nature and aims of a general chapter; by recording various comments by participants of general chapters; and then by evaluating thes~,corfihaents in lighi 6f sociological and:faith, criteria. ', Aims ~f ~en~r~i,,c]t~pters ,.~ "; ~dd~lly,° 'a general chapter, "aft a ~'ign of unit~, in charity," ~ho~u.ld be "a moment of grace and of the action of the Hbly Spirit in an insti-tute. It should be a joyful, paschal,, and ecclesial'experience which bene-fits the institute itself and also the ,whole Church.-The,general chapter is meant to renew and protect the spiritual patrimony of the institute as well as elect the highest superior ahd councilors; conduct major, matters of business, and issue norms for the whole institute.''~ There are two key emphases in this. desc~ription: the apostolic .calls to w~tness h~r6 a'ntt now and to plan for the futur6. I ffill~expI~iin briefly what ~acl~ em a~is means. In order to ffitnes~ h'ere and now, 'ihe chapter is to I~ a faith experi-ence, a cooperative action of both the Holy Si~irit ~nd the" memb~i's of the chapter. It is to be to the.Church and to the,congregation a vivid com-munity expression of,g.osl~el°charity and joy;:.comm~union will .arise out of a pro~cess bf personal a~nd .corporate convers~ign. ~ , . In planning for the~future, t.he chapter is. to,c.a, II the congregation to be accountable to the ideals of the Gospel and its charism, praising crea-tive apostolic, initiatives' and correcting aberrations since the: last chap-ter. It should establish~policies that~ relate the congregation's-charism, ap-ostolic life, and personnel resources to the ever changing pastoral needs of the People of Gbd. It is to.elect,the,highes(officer and his or her~ as-sistants on the basis of their abiliti~e~ to4ead~and inspire ~the 6ongregation to conversion, to its faith-and-justice mission, and tb the implementation of the chapter's policies and decisions.~ It should, call p.a,~icipants to com-mit themselves to lead within the~pr~ovi~ces i'fi impl~m~i~ing thee policies and decrees of the chapter. The two calls'are" complementary. 0n~ m~st not e~i~t:without the other. If all the chapter does is to formulate polici.es for the coming years, it is no different.than a commercial board of directgr~ which meets to plan and choose its executive officers. If, on the other hand, the mem-bers believe that all they have to doAs pray and live in charity and thus fail to prepare theologically and in every,,other way necessary to make sound pastoral and religious-life policies,, ~then they gravely misunder- 178 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 stand the incarnational role of the apostolic Christian and so of their con-gregation; they are running away'from serious obligations, taking refuge in a false spirituality or supernaturalism (see Lk 6~46-49). Reflections on Reality Do chapters in fact realize this twofold.call? To help readers answer this question, ~ list some evaluative comments of the participants 0f sev-eral chapters; then I attempt to assess them in tile light of the ideals for cha~ters given above. i. "No outward conflicts, but~there was too much pressure for con-sensus .in all things. The time for divisions was over, we were told. The consensus just covered over deep divisions; I "and others became in-tensely angry because of this. The chapter was not a reconciling event that it is said to have been." 2. "The c~hapter was to be a time for dialogue, yet it was riddled with conflicts. Some group said they were out to bring reality into the chap-ter. They caused conflicts all the time, refusing to listen to contrary views. We agreed on nothing." 3. "I tried to raise the important initial-formation issue, but the emo-tional reaction and pressure of the group against it was so great that I had to drop it. I was marginalized for proposing a discussion. So we strug-gle in ignorance for. six mor6 years about formation." 4. "We had a good chapter, since we stressed the discernment pro-cess, downplayed debates and the study of reports on the congregation." 5. ~'I feel unhappy with our chapter. One national group effectively stopped the discernment process. 'We don't decide things by prayer! That's pre-Vatican pie.ty,' they said." 6. "Some participants held back from sha~ring their views until they had ihe right momeni for maximum impact; they would not listen to others. I thought they used their silence as power to manipulate us." 7. "People say that there sfiould never be conflicts, but only'consensus' on issues. This puzzles me. Perhaps disceinment might'help." 8. "I feel the chapter was an experience of grace. I did not feel the under-" ~urrent of ideological pressure groups, power movements, national/ cultural lobbying, that characterized our last chapter." Evaluating Chapters 9. "There was hardheaded debate, but a spirit of listening, openness to reports of the world we must be evangelizing, an experience 0f rec-onciliation and sisterhood. I believe there was a deep conversion to the Lord in all of us. Discernment, research, and prayerful preparation helped. Decisions are being now implemented." 10. "Every now and then our chapter made self-congratulatory expres-sions or decisions that were so unreal. You would think that the whole world was waiting on every word, yearning to be led by a dynamic con-gregation, well equipped for apostolic action. We wrote a mission state-ment,- but ignored priority of apostolic needs, the insights of theologi-cal e.xperts--anything, it seems, that would have embarrassed us to face the poverty of our spiritual and human resources. We had warm, comfort-ing liturgieS. It made people feel good. What a sad, escapist experi-ence!" I I. "'We wrote many documents, including a mission statement. We felt we had accomplished much because we did a lot of writing, but the real issue of conversion remains unconfronted." 12. "I was frightened by the repeated labeling of participants as 'right-ists' or 'leftists.' If you were classed as a leftist by one vocal group, there was nothing one could do wrong in the chap~ter. Groups, especially some national groups, spoke of 'winning or losing battles,' obviously rejoicing when rivals were 'conquered.' " 13. "It was a prayerful chapter. We got to the painful issues, and made good decisions. Now, several month~ later,participants are not inter-ested in doing anything about the decisions." 14. "Two sma!l, but vocal, groups struggled to dominate or manipu-late our chapter. One group wanted by force of law to restore the status quo, the opposite group wanted.change to be,imposed by law on all of us. Both were humorless, almost fanatical." Some of these comments are optimistic, but, overall, respondents are uneasy about the effectiveness of'their chapters. Given the frequent, un-critical 'use of such value~charged sociological terms as "conflict" and "consensus," I estimate that their unease is justified. I suspect that sev-eral chapters described by participants were insensitive to how power can be manipulated, sometimes by people with immense goodwill but with little knowledge of the social sciences, in ways that are quite contrary to gospel values. Review for Religious, March-April 1988 Because of the confusion that Can exist about how a culture or group functions?internally, a, confusion evideht in the comments listed, my task is now to, ex.plain the n'ature-and function of two popular models of so-cieties: the confliCt arid ~the consensus models; this will necessitate an analysis of the strengths and weaknesses'oUsociological models in gen-eral. Also, after showing how these two models can be misused w~hen applied to the'an, al.ysis of r~li~iOus~congregations., I,shali ~xialain the role of di~ce~'nment in m~k.ing'decisions. Models of Society , - A model, o~: ideal-type, analysis denotes a~particular and popular method of sociological investigation of society. An idea.! type i~ an "ex-aggerat! on',' .of cert,/in features which tend to be present in society; once the type is constructed by ttie researcher; ~i°concrete s'ittiation can then be better understood by means of comparison with the ideal type. For ex-ample, the researcher concludes that a particu, lar society is like, or di-verges from,~the ideal type in this or that way. Ideal-types have been con-structed, for example, of capitalism, communism, bureaucracy, and pre- Vatican II religiouscongregational governments.3 In summary, an ideal type has the following qualitieS: First, it is not "ideal" ir~ an ethical way. Secondly, it is rather "ideal" in a logical sense;it is freely d~signed by the researcher in an effort to better ~om-preh~ nd reality by isolating, accehtuating or emphgsi~ing, arid artiCulat-ing the elements of a recurrent social phenomenon (bureaucracy~ for ex-ample) into an internally consistent system of relationship. Thirdly, an ideal~type in no way em.b~.~ces all details of the~rea!ity; the aim, as opted, is to emphasize or highlight "significant" recurrent social phenomena. This means that various aspects of society are not included in the model because they do, not fit its Overall purpose or focus~ Hence, to get the best possible analysis of a social situation~, it would be.important to construct several ideal types for analytical use. The response can then be integrated to give a fuller picture of the sit'uation. ~ Fourthly, ideal types are not hypotheses; they are not falsified if they are not, fully substantiated in a particular situation or even,at all, but they are research aids in the building of hypotheses, Fifthly, ideal types gen~ erally are~really scientific refinements of~ common sense. ,For example, the fact!that people use,(even correctly) the two models we describe be-low (consensus and conflict models) does not necessarily mean,~they°are trained social scientists. It ma~, mean that they instinctively.feel, for.~what-ever~ reason~ comfortable, with the emphases that .the models describe~ Moreover, some models, such as the two we are to describe, have.~be~ Evaluating. ~hapters / 181 comepopular!zed in all l~inds of literature, so that the nonexpert" readily absorbs the language particular to the models ,and thus uses it in ways that may or may not be sociologically exact. Finally, an ideal type or model is not a caricature of reality. A cari-cature, when made of a person, consists of a graphic distortion of the s~a-lient points of his or her appearance or habitual costume so as to excite amusement oro.contempt; a caric,ature of a society or. group has the same deliberate distortion.An ideal type does not distort reality, but only high-lights particular details to facilitate a better knowledge of a situation. Of course, if an ideal type is ,wrongly, used, it can well become a caricature. Consensus and Conflict Models of Society Cooperation or Consensus and conflict are two basic processes of group life. Consensus is that general agreement in thought a~d feeling which~tends to l~roduce order where the~e was disorder. Conflictu~l'i'ela-tionships c~n be~=ategorized in terms of competition (mutually opposed efforts to obtain the sa~ne objectives), rivalry (conscious competition be-tween particular groups), or~conflict (the struggle over val~es and claims to scarce resources in which the aims of the opponents are to neutralize, injure, or eliminate their rivals). Two commonly used~ideai types have been constructed~ around'these two words: consensus and conflict (see Fig-ure ~1) 4 . Inthe cQnsensus model the.assumption is that people generally agre~e on values and norms; soqial life.is.basically.stable becausecooperatipn is rewarding.A spirit, of interdependenc,e pervades the society. Conflic-tual situations do ,emerge (~r~iters on this-model then tend to speak of "strained," "otense," "rival ".or, "competitive" relationships rather than "conflictual" o.nes), but they, do not threaten the dominant, consen-sus; .conflict resolutionS°in which equilibrium or harmooy 'i~ resto~r.ed, is achi.e~ed othr.~ugh trust :~n~ di,alogue and with ~'he aid of legitimate lead-ershi. p.,5 Maj.or social change comes very siowly and .depends on signifi-cantly large shifts in a~t.itud.e, and belief. The model therefore is conser-vative 'about change; many su~ggestions for chang~e are considered unre-alistic because people hold so firmly to their existing attitudes, vaiues~ and customs. ' In.the conflict model the key characteristic is the domination of some groups~by others, and actual or.potential conflict is at the heart of all so-cial relations. If~consensus exists-it is only a.facade. Behind this mask of.harmony the powerful, including ;the legitimate authorities, in order to maintain their-positions of .influence, manipulate or oppress othi~rs through the use of coercive power. ,Change comes about when existing 112 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 Key Points I. Basic qualities 2. Social life involves is essentially and depends on or produces 3. Leadership through 4. Social systems are and tend to Figure 1. Models of Society Consensus or Integration Model no'ms/values commitments cohesive consensus, solidarity,. reciprocity, coopera-tion, dialogue legitimate authority integrated remain Conflict or Coercion Model interests inducement and coercion divisive structured conflict, op-position, exclusion, and hostility power ¯malintegrated 9nd con-tain "contradictions" change conflictual situations are further exacerbated and new groups or individu-als emerge who manage to challenge the power structures in a confron-tational manner. Adversaries in conflicts generally judge the outcomes in terms of victories and defeats, wins or losses. In brief, at the heart of the conflict model is the assumption that conflict is the indispensable force in society. Ali relationships are coloreffby' it. The model empha-sizes the role of structures in society and how the powerful can use them to their advantage, and hence emphasiz,es'that change comes about through the alteration of structures through various forms of coercion. The roots of the conflict model go back to .people like Machiavelli and Hobbes. Karl Marx helped to refine the conflict model; conflict leads to revolutionary change rather than fi~aintenance of the system and, in the end, to what Marx claimed Would be a better society. His influence in the social sciences is considerable, though supporters tod~y do not nec-essarily agree with all that he said.6 Uses and Abuses of Models of Society As pointed out above, models are human constructs that articulate emphases in society. The models help us measure particular societies or cultures; enabling us to get a better understanding of their structures and dynamics. Most social scientists today would avoid adopting exclusively either the conflict or the consensus model; depending 9.n the nature of the particular group being studied, they would draw. on the.~trengths of Evaluating Chapters both models. Cultural anthropologists, whose task it is to study in depth a cultural situation, generally feel more comfortable with the consensus rather than the conflict model; they discover that people are more apt to resist change, often vigorously,~ because it threatens their critical need for cultural identity, security, and sense of belonging. People may adopt the jargon of the conflict model and yet remain at heart most unwilling to change. The process of facilitating change is more complex than the en-couragement of conflict; that may have quite the opposite effect. Abuses of the models occur inseveral ways. (A) One way is through the unscientific and exclusive application of one or other of the models to reality. People are then blinded to wider realities and values that may significantly influence the behavior of people. For example, as regards the mainline Filipino culture, it is .unwise to apply the cohsensus model exclusively, even though most key aspects of that model are evidently present. The emphasis is on the external maintenance of smooth, inter-personal, cohesive relationships and consensus in decision, making. If the enforcing of justice endangers harmony, then justice may have to be sac-i'ificed~ However, if theconsensus model is uncritically applied to the culture, it will not bring to light the intense conflictual anger and°resent-ment that can build up within individuals, for example because human rights are being ignored. A pointcan be reached when the anger cannot be contained, and it then breaks out with a feroc!ty and intensity that can stun the.unwary observer.7 On the other hand, the exclusive use of the conflict model blinds peo-ple to the existence of values, held in common and to the attitudinal re-sistance to change that generally exists at any level. The mere change of power structures, without attitudinal change or a chaiige of values, will lead to new forms of oppression. (B) Another abuse of the models occurs through the conscious or un-conscious desire to deny uncomfortable or embarrassing realities. There is the urge in all of us to deny awkward truths about ourselves or others, for if we acknowledged their existence we would have to do something about them. (C) A.-third abuse is the turning of either model into an ideology. By ideology I here mean (I am defining it in its pejorative sense) an action-oriented understanding of the person, of history, and of the world. The understanding is dramatic; the individual identifies ~vith it, is emotion-ally and totally gripped by it; one's :personal identity is constructed around the ideology and one accepts a role within the action drama. An ideology is apt to become for its adherents a dogmatic faith, blocking out 184 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 all challenge~ to it; people believe.,in it, then they~beheve in beliex;ing in'it.8 Ideologists readily use emotion-'ch~rged'labels.ofithemselves and others, for example; "libei-als, . conservatives," . ~ rightists,"~ "left-ists," o "radicals.",' An ideology is a caricature of an ideal type of soci-ety.~ My e.xperience'is that ideologists can,,~become so fanatically con-sumed by the rightness of their cause that. humor is beyond them, most certainly~,:t~he gift. of being~able to laugh at themselv.es.9 Ideologists are blinded to anything that threatens to undermi~n.e their assumptions. Take the conflict ideologlst. Situations and people are sim-plistically categorized, fo~xample, into '~pEre.ss~rs.and t.he oppressed, so that no gray ar,~e,a in the.a, nalys.is is. perm, itted. A.nyone who .~lares to doub! the analysi.s is lqgically (and emotively) assigned to the category "oppressor." ~0 Sigilarly, the consensus ideologist will not tolerate ai~y-thing~ but "harmony,," so that even ~enuine 90nflictual sitt]ations ar.e cov-ered over.~,,. Consensus/Conflict Model Analysis and'the Church Interest in the conflict perspective ih social'relations revived~ ht least in the Ehglish-speaking 'hations, in the. 1960s: In ~r~ceding decades, the dominant" sbc°ial-science theori~'s a~d:m0del~°d'eiaicted societie's~as founded and maintained o~ consensus ar~l ~ooperatiori. Howe~ier, the po-litical upheavals~ of th~ 1960s, 'botli domestic and international; focused attent~oh;ofi~)cial coffflicts and'~h6ir r~solution~ through ye~hlore con-flicts. For example, as concern for world poverty gi'6~v, people 6~ed the cbnflict rno~l~i to'better appreciate how pbwer (~conomic, l~olit'ical, and military) ~otild be i~ed to'impose unequal'exchanges which lead toga ~vorld system ina?ked by dependency arid pb~?erty. : : ~ ~ At the same time as the conflict"fia-6del was being revitalized and re-fined in the secular world, the Church began to ekperience the impact of'the incarnational and social-justice thrust of Vatican II.'Papal social documents 'and'synodal statements reflected,this trend. Proponents of lib-eratidn theolo~gy pointed'out that the philosophy of'cohsensus was being twisted, into an ideology in South America by the powerful minority to oppress the poor. Structural poverty must be tackled in order to briffg genu-ine relief. The.bishops~-'conference at Medellin in 1968 shocked partici-pants. into an awareness of this fact, and thereafter the small ~eed of lib: eration.theoiogy'sp~routed and grew rapidly. The documents of Medellin clearly show thd powerful influence of~the conflict-model in aiding the bishops to grasp the efiormity of the injustices being experienced by their people. On the wider intbrnational scene,.,Paul VI in his~landmark 197.1 document Octogesima Adveniens and in his Ef;ang~lii Ntintiandi (30-39) . Evaluating. Chapters o.f L975.and the bishops; 1971 ,synod on Justice in the World pinpointed ~he~caus.es of. world pox~erty in terms of the sgci.ological conflict model; but cle.arly rejecte.d ~both conflict and ,~consensus ideologies. , In the late 1970s there developed among concerned pastoral workers what became.known as Structural Analysis. This is a heightened criti-cal~ iselfrawareness of. .the wgys in which we c.an be. biase.d~ oLlimite.d in 9ur own thinking by our soqial, e.conom!c, cultural, or religious-life con-text. Advocacy, for the poor is a~critique of conservative-establishment power, domination, and wealth ideology. Identification with the poor and the oppressed is pictured as a "war waged on a more or less clearly iden-tifiable enem~,. The model is essehtially a conflict one where the promo-tion of a good ~s ,~nextrlcably hnked to a fight w~th a known adversary. ~ Unfprtunately, Structural'Analys~s, when it is used by tl~e amateur so-cial scientist, can r~adily t'~:n into a conflict~ ideology and'~hus"b~ the. cause of inj~Jst'ic~rather than an ~nstrument for its'removal. There are example~ of this in the evaluative coinment~ of genei'al ~ch~l~ters gi~,i~ri above. ' ~: :" " In summary, in the main Church documents that set out evangeliz, a, tion's preferentia! option for the poor: 1. The conflict/coercion/consensus models are used as ins, t.ruments of ~ocial/power ,analy.sis. 13 ,o 2. The limitations a,nd.~the dangers of misusiog the conflict mode!,in pa~rticular are pointed out: (.A) The,model cannot embrace theotransce_~n~ de.n,t; concern for just~ice mustoembrace the fullness of the ggspelme, s.- sage: "the prophetic~proc~l.amation of a herea.fter, man's profound and definitive calling, in both cofltin~uity and dis.cgntinuity with the present situation." 14 o~ ~ (B) The model must not be turned into a violence or conflict ideol-ogy;~ 5 "the action which,[the Church] sanctions is not the struggle of one~ class agai.nst an.other !n ord.er to eliminate the foe. She does not.pro~ ~ce.e.d from a mistaken acceptance of an alleged la~ of history: . . . The~ ~Chris.t~ian :wil~l always prefer the path of dia!ogue and joint action.' ,.~6 Nor should the conflict model be turned.into an °ideology that interprets the special option for the poor as embra~cing evaong.el.ically only;one section of the population: "This option excludes no one. This is whyothe Church cannot express this option by means of re.ducti.ve sociological and ideo-logical categories which would make this preference a partis.an choice and~ a.sourc~e of conflict." ~7 0 (C) Sociological models, 0.r ideologies that use these models, do not take into account the reality of sin; efforts at attitudinal or structural 11t6 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 change that ignore our proneness to sin are d6omed to failure. The urge to dominate or neutralize one's opponents, and the culpable escape from the realities of mortality, find their causes within our desire to deny God and replace him with gods of our own making.~8 (D) True dialogue between individuals or groups is not based on the ability to dominate, but on a spirituality of powerlessness born of char-ity; charity moves us to be open to others in order to respect and listen to them. 19 iE) E~vangelizers must watch lest they use the models in an amateur, but osten.sibly scientific~ way ~ manipulate and oppress people.2° 3. The~commitment to the social-justice apostolate must come out of a deep spiritual conv6rsion nourished by pra~yer. Prayer brings us to un-derstahd, how injustice is rooted in the sinfulness and selfishness of our hearts, it is prayer which calls on th~ Spirit to create within us both the courage and the love to bring about a conversion in people's hearts and the renewal of all structures of society.2~ Understanding Discernment "Discernment" is another frequently used term in the chapter com-ments noted ~bove. Discernment is a prayerful reflection on a human situ-ation in the light of faith. I must discover and root out all the attitudes, ignorance;, and prejudices that obstruct ~y ~penness to the Holy Spirit. Hence, I turn to whatever can hell~ me sharpen my grasp of truth--to the-ology, to social sciences, to discussion. But for discernment I need more than skilled human insights. I need the openness of a converting listener of the Lord. Discernment is not so much a skill as a presence with the Lord. It is being a Mary, "who sat down at the Lord's feet and listened to him speaking" (Lk 10:38). Father Thomas Green, S.J., points out that there are three presuppo-sitions of genuine discernment in the life of a Christian. First, discern-ment assumes that a person sincerely desires:to do what the Lord wants; secondly, this desire involves an openness to what God wants without reservations. Thirdly, the discerner must know the~ Lord in love, an ex-perienced intimate knowledge of God that a converted person has espe-cially through prayer. Discernment assumes conversion or the fact that the person has responded to God's grace and abandoned himself or her-self to the Lord. As Green says, "Discernment is.a function of a lov-ing, pe~rsonal relationship to the Lord. It can normally be only as deep and as solid as that relationship itself. The true discerner must be a pray-ing, loving person."22 Evaluating Chapters The presuppositions for communaLdiscernment are the logical exten-sion of the requirements for individual discernment.23 Every person of. the community must desire God's will; there must already be that open-nes, s, that intimate union of friendship in Christ. Without these qualities, communal'and individual discernment-remain human actions or tech-niques, not movements .in faith. Only'an individual or,group that has ex-perienced "that peace of God which is so much greater than we can un-derstand," and which ought to "guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus" (Ph 4:7), can identify what the Lord is asking. Discernment does not dispense with the need to use every human method possible--for exa~nple, sociological research, theological discus-sion-- to clarify the options that one must choos~ from. At tim6s this may require vigorous debate Or discussion. This is indispensable preparatory activity. To neglect it is to ekpect the Lord to work miracles, and'because of our laziness this he will not do. However, despite the perfection of our research, there are limits to our insights. We are relating to a God and Savior whose ways~ can be humanly inconceivable and unpredic.table; so, once the background material has been clarified, then we take it in a prayerful way, to the Lord and with him we contemplate the options. Evaluation of General ~Chapter Comments In view of the above explanation, many of the evaluative comments on several general chapters are not at all surprising. ShOrtly after the end of Vatican II, congregations initiated a series of provincial and general chapters of renewal aimed at updating legislation arid approving new con-stitutions. In the 1970s and 1980s the j.argon of ihe consensus, and espe-cially the conflict, mode~ls of analysis became increasingly popular and acceptable in secular and theological circles. Participants at congregaz tional chapters merely reflected ~hat was happening in the wider Church and society. Our formation p~ograms unfortunately had not adequat~ely prepared us in the social-gcience disciplines always to use sociologica~l or anthropological models with the needed professional caution. We have used sociological terminology, especially of the conflict model, but have frequently failed to grasp the technical ramifications of the language. In very recent years, as congregations have slipped more and more into the stage of chaos,24 religious have grown suspicious of the simplis-tic use of the conflict model and more aware of the attitudinal and spiri-tual dimensions needed i~ charige. Structural changes have not had the desired miraculous effect. Now the terms "consensus" and "discern-ment" are the "in" words though there is frequent confusion about their 188 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 meaning, as is evident in the following analysis of the chapter evalu- ¯ ations. Mis'use of tl~e Conflict Model (Reread Con~ments 2, 3, 5, ,,6, 12,~ 14) Delil~erately or otherwise~people coerced other participants. Com-ment 3 p,oints to an~,,atmosphere of subtle,.but effect!ve, coercion; the in-dividual feltemotionally pressured io withdrawoa mgtteroof considergble importance to the congregation~--initial formation. In comment 5 one na-tional group r~efuses to cooperate in the discernment process, so the only option ope.n is the ~use of power politics~ pressure grouping, wins and losses. In comment 6 some manipulate the group through orchestrated sile~nc,e.s; they will not risk shar!ng views~ntil they are in a positio,n to d~minate the g~roup with their own decisions. Christi.an mutuality.d~es np.t. ex!.s,t: In comment ~2 i.ndividuals are thor~ughgoin~g ideglogists; they openly proclaim that nothing will be done except through confhcts initi-ated by .them. MisUse~%f the Consensus Model (Comments 1, 7) In comment 1 participants Were using corisensus ideologically, though they may not have been aware of it. Obviously, they had experi-enced in the past the disruptive b,!tt, erness and failure of.the conflict ide-ology. and wanted to~ avoid it at all-costs., They the.n misunderstood the meaning of consensus. People of comment 7 are se~rc,hing to grasi~ the meaning of discernment. Misufider~.tanding of Discernn~ent (cpmments.4, 9, i3) Comment 9 ~vould suggest that a positive chapter was held; not so with .the chapters referred to in comr~efits 4 and 13. A l~'ey presupposi-tion in dis~ernmen(is, the willingness to do what God wants ~f us, no matter h~ow Oistastefql it may be. The fact that "nothingohas been d~)ne about th6 Chapter decrees" shows that this effective willingness was not present. ~, Escdpism/Denial (Comments V,~' 2,, 3;~ 4, 5, 6, 7) ~ . Ernest Becket claims that the root cause of human evil is that our "natural and inevital~ie .urge" is "to deny mortality and achieve a he-roic self-image."25 Discernment demands that we admit our mortality, our,absolute need~of God. This means f.acing ~up constantly to the reali-ties of our 'own sinfulness and our need to be dying to ourselves in order that we rise in Christ, This is painful. It attacks that which we so enjoy-- our .pride and~ self-sufficiency, ., ' ~ EvaluaiingChapters / t89 ~There are examples and hints of participants denying their own per- ,sonai and corporate mortality and thus avOiding reality, for example'; through the misuse.of conserisus and conflict models and the failure to have the openness to one another that.comes 6nly through the risk of faith. Power, as commonly understood in:the comments, is unilateral; that is, people are out to impose their influenc~ on others while cloging then~selves to the'insights of the'latter. RelationalpoWer is precisely the ability t~O listen to others as well as being available to influence the same people (see comments 2, 3).26 InSistence on conflict or c6nsensus at all costs overlooks, the fact that ultimately there can be nor worthwhile change unless it springs out of one's conversion to the Lord'~ his love, his meekness. Fine documents do not effect conversion (comment~l l')~. In response to.grace we must turn wholehe~rtedly to the Lord. No culture must ever be the norm for the Christian.-A cultu;e may or. ma3? not facilitate dialogue, but ultimately dialogue for tl~e Christian must=have its roots in faith and in imitation of Christ.'He is the exemplar of relational power, the power of mutuality and risk' in .~harity. He thtis teaches us what genuine dialogue means. Ponder how often he asks peo-pie wh~it, they wish of him. He does not tell them what hE thinks they need: "'What do ~,ou want me to do.for you?" he said to the blind man. "Master, let me see again'~' (Mk 10"51). Or take that in~ident~in which Jesus enters into dialogue with the Canaanite woman who persistently begs him to heal her daughter. She does not take no for an answer, and Jesus listens (Mr 15:21-28), just as he does with the Samar.!tan woman at the well and his perplexed follow+r.s on the rgad ,to Emmaus. Then the touching interchange on the cross itself, when Jesus in his agony listens and responds to the repentant thief. The ultimat~e~source of his gift of lis-tenir~ g is the divine/human e£change bf th( incarnation itself:"'Hi~ State was divine, yet he did not cling to his equa!ity with~God, but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave" (Ph' 2:6-7). Conclusion " Chapters are called to be witnesses of charity to the Church and to their own congregations and to apostolically relate their ~institutes to the needs of a changing world: In order to know these needs, "participants must break through the'barriers of their own pr6judices and ignbrance. An amateurish use of the social sciences, for exampl.e, through the mis-use, of sociological models of analysis, only iincrease~ these barriers. St. Paul was never a trained social scientist, but he had a shrewd in-sight into how people could misuse power. He detested those who sought to divide the Church into exclusive, conflictual, unlistening po~er blocks "191~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 that aimed to dominate one another--all in the name of Christ: "What could be~more unspiritual than your slogans, 'I am for Paul' and 'I am for Apollos'?" (1 Co 3:4), That approach, he insists, traps.people and deprives them of their freedom and openness to the Spirit; it. is a "sec-ondhand, empty, rational philosophy based on the principles of this world instead of on Christ;' (Col 2:8). Paul then is condemning ideologies, or any action-oriented beliefs, which claim to legitimize the domi~nation or manipulation of people. At root, "feuds. and wrangling, jealousy, bad temper and quarrels, disagree-ments, factions . . . and similar things" are the fruit of "self-indul-gence," which "is the opposite of the Spirit, and the Spirit is totally agaipst such a thing" (Ga 5:20, 17). The sign of the converting, therefore listening, person or group is love, for "Love is always patient and kind; ~t is never jealous., never rude or selfish., not resentful . [It] delights in the truth; it is al-ways ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and .to endure whatever comes" (I Co 13:4-7). Such ~people will do all they can to discover God's will, for they take to heart the ever pressing invitation of the Lord: "Come now, let us talk this over, says Yahweh. Though.your sins are like scar-let, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool" (Is 1:18). NOTES t Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes, Essential Elements in the Church's Teaching on Religious Life, May 1981, par. 51. 2 See G. A. Arbuckle's Strategies for Growth in Religious Life (New York: Alba House, ! 986), pp. I 16- I 19. 3 See Max Weber, TheMeth~gdology of the Social Sciences (Glencoe: The Free Press, 1949), passim. 4'See P. S. Cohen, Modern Social Theory (London: Heinemann, 1968), p. 167. 5 See presentation of model by Talcott Parsons, The Social System (New York: The Free Press, 1949), passim. 6 See Steven Vago, Social Change (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1980), pp. 39-44. 7 For a Japanese parallel see lan Buruma, A Japanese Mirror: Heroes and Villains of Japanese Culture (London: Jonathan Cape, 1984), pp. 219ff. 8 See Antonio B. Lambino, "Ideology, Social Change and the Christian Con-science," in Loyola Papers, Manila, 1976, nn. 7/8, pp. I If. 9 See Arbuckle, StrategieS, pp. 67-87. t0 See insights by Renato A. Ocampo and Francisco F. Claver in Pulso, Institute on Church and Social Issues, Manila, voi. I, no. I (1984), pp. 7-16, 48-63. t t John L. Seymour, "Social Analysis and Pastoral Studies: A Critical Theological Assessment," in Pastoral Sciences, vol. 4 (1985), p. 58. Evaluating Chapters / 191 12 See Joe Holland and Peter Henriot, Social Analysis: Linking Faith and Justice (Ma-ryknolh Orbis, 1984); pp. 14-44. 13 See Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Instruction on Christian Freedom and Liberation, 22 March 1986, par. 42; also Donal Dorr, Option for the Poor: A Hundred Years of Vatican Social Teaching (Maryknoih Orbis, 1983), pp. 175,244- 250. 14 Paul VI, Evangelii Nuntiandi, 1975, par. 28. 15 Paul VI, Octogesima Adveniens, 1971, par. 28. 16 Instruction, op. cir., par. 77. ~7 lbid, par. 68. ~8 lbid, pars. 38, 39. ~9 lbid, pars. 55-57. 2o Octogesima Adveniens, pars. 38, 39. 21 Evangelii Nuntiandi, par. 15. 22 Weeds Among the Wheat: Discernment--Where Prayer and Action Meet (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1984), p. 64. 23 See John Futrell, "Communal Discernment: Reflections on Experience" in Stud-ies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, vol. 4, no. 5 (1972), passim; and Brian P. Hall and Benjamin Tonna, God's Plans for Us: A Practical Strategy for Communal Discern-ment of Spirits (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), passim. 24 See Arbuckle, Strategies, pp. 23-66. 25 Escapefr~om Evil (New York: The Free Press, 1976), p. xvii. 26 See Evelyn Woodward, "Uses of Power in Community," in Human Develop-ment, vol. 4, no. 2 (1983), pp. 27-29. The "Active-Contemplative" Problem in Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell~ Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 The ,Relevance of Life Review tO the Vowed Life James J. Magee, D.S.W. ~ ~o' Doctor Magee has, done extensive research and consultative work in the j'ield of re-tirement programs for religious women~ His last article in these pages, "Confidants Help Older Religious with Life Review," appeared in the issue of March/April 1987., He may be addressed,at the College of New Rochelle; New Rochelle, New York 10805. ¯, ~ ¯ , In response to the "graying" of their membership, many religious com-munities have begun to draw upon the reminiscences of their older mem-bers as a valued resource. Communities have sponsored groups to tape oral histories of the personalities, geographical sites, institutional crises, and developmental issues for which only the older members can give first-hand accounts. They have asked members whb are retired from their pri- ~ mary mini, str~!e~s~i'tg~.feiz.0.~d ~th.~zhaile~i'~es t,h~t iin~ar)'~.bly cbn.fro~t those who succeed them. Ttiey have, encouraged them, too,. to value the in- . creaseo ~nvo~vemento~n~4tte rewew that accompanies'aging:as occasions for healing memorie_s and di.sce~rning God's gracious intervention through-out their lives. Life review is a fo£m of reminisce.nce,~in whic,h persons recall long-forgotten incidents, dwell on them, and re6apture the emotions that origi-nally accompanied them, often while trying to convey these felt experi-ences to a listener. Thes'e.re~zollections are:usuhlly clear and vivid, ac-' companied by pleasant or uncomf6rtabl~ emotions varying in intensity. Life review increases dra~atie~ll~ in middle age and continues un-abated among older adult~':~In, life~re~,iew:ifii:li.vidfi~als reflect upon their personal history and accept responsibility for it. It is a process in which reviewers gradually r.ecpns~truct and assess their past, using their current 192 Life Review and the Vowed Life / 193 values to weigh behavior that memories progressively retum to conscious-ness. It focuses attention upon the connectedness of their: past with their current sense of themselves, evoking memories of formative experiences that influenced their personal development (Merriam, 1980). Life Review and the Daily Examen This description of life review overlaps several of the functions of the daily examen. A critical evaluation of life experiences with a goal of integrating them in an acceptance of oneself here and now is common to them both. Life review, however, is seldom a structured progression of memories. Usually it proceeds circuitously through reverie, reflection, dreams, diary or journal entries, correspondence, and storytelling. More significantly, life review enhances the fruitfulness of the daily examen by focusing upon the vowed lifestyle as a way of life that can release its members from compulsions that impede their self-actualiza-tion and intimacy with God. Like everyone who engages in life review, older religious become enmeshed in memories which join their own per-sonal history with the history of their family. They particularly recog-nize the ways in which they have mishandled in their own lives some is-sue( s) that they know various family members have mishandled over gen-erations. In a previous article in this journal (Magee, 1987), I indicated that these intergenerationai issues characteristically include the fol-lowing: WEALTH. (How much is enough? Who has access to it? What is sup-posed to be done with it?) HEALTH. (Use/avoidance of preventive and rehabilitative services, hy-pochondria, phobias) SEXUALITY. (Knowledgeability, scrupulosity, homophobia, premari-tal and extramarital activity) WORK. (Workaholism/inertia, process/product orientation) ANGER. (Forms of ex.pression, targets, repression, degrees of openness to resolving differences) RELIGION. (Freedom to participate/disaffiliate, questioning institutional teaching) AUTONOMY. (What decisions are mine to make? Where can I live? How often am I expected to contact kin?) These issues recur in families over generations because they have never been resolved. Instead of coping with them when they arise, fam-ily members react with a heightened anxiety which spurs demonstrations of denial, projection, and somatic symptoms. One authority refers to such issues as "islands of sensitivity" in a family. When family mem- Review for Religious, March-April 1988 bers even approach one of the "islands," no more than a particular kind of look, gesture, word, or tone of voice is needed to arouse an emotional explosion (Fogarty, 1977). ¯ Life Review and the Vowed Life How appropriate, then, that the lifestyle of living in community un-der vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience should lead religious to con-front the very issues which hold such intractable control over most peo-ple's lives. Texts concerning formative spirituality consistently em-phasize the inevitability of the vowed life engaging religious with their tenacious, problematic attitudes toward status, sexuality, and autonomy. It is to be .expected, then, that life review will elicit memories that reit-erate the difficulties religious had in observing their community's way of life precisely because that lifestyle addressed issues of exquisite sen-sitivity in their families. Consider the situation of a son who intervened between his parents who were estranged over any subject involving finances. The mother, in turn, invested in a compensatory relationship with her son, while the fa-ther maintained a deprecatory attitude toward him. The son rallied to-ward his mother, but experienced increasing anxiety over the intensity of their relationship. Later, after entering his religious community, he remained sensitized to expressions of anger, even disagreement. He was unable to resolve arguments, felt drawn to one member against another, and yet believed he must work everything out between them. Finally, he remained particularly scrupulous about observing the letter of his vowed poverty, and alert to any apparent laxity in the observance of other com-munity members. A second example concerns a woman religious who was raised in a patriarchal household in which daughters were assigned, without right of protest, the least challenging and most wearisome chores. Although she demonstrated exceptional organizational abilities in her community, she participated only reluctantly whenever her superior asked her to co-ordinate retreats conducted by a priest rather than by another woman re-ligious. In fact, whenever community liturgies involved several male cele-brants, she suffered symptoms severe enough to keep her from attending the services. A final example concerns a friar who grew up in a tradition-oriented family in which the eldest son for four consecutive generations had as-sumed direction of the family business. In this man's case, however, he entered his community even though he was the firstborn and had been christened with his great-grandfather's name. He maintains that his Life Review and the Vowed Life choice of vocation was the only discontinuity with his family of origin. For the family's entrepreneurial orientation and expectations for his as-gendancy continued throughout his life to compound his difficulties in sharing in the give-and-take exchange of community living and in ob-serving prescribed consultations with his superior. Life Review and Depression For most older religious, life review affirms their self-esteem as saved sinners, "in Christ, a new creation." Insight into the heritage of their family-based compulsions demystifies so much of their dysfunc-tional behavior. With faith, they see their frailties of character as graced opportunities "to boast of nothing but the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." For a troubled minority, however, life review, like the examen it-self, can lead to depression instead of peace. For three groups, life re-view can precipitate a crisis of conscience and faith. One group consists of religious who "have consciously exercised the human capacity to in-jure others" and cannot imagine that they could be forgiven by those whom they have injured or by God (Butler, ! 963). They feel that no re-course exists to undo whatever harm they have inflicted. Often they ap-pear obsessed with a theme or event, discussing it with one listener after another. Somerset Maugham's (1959) observation about reminiscence is poignantly relevant to members of this group: "What makes old age hard to bear is not a failing of one's faculties, mental and physical, but the burden of one's memories." Members of the second group.are those charact.eroiogically arrogant and proud. They use life review not to appreciate the gratifications that their memories recall, but to accentuate that their accomplishments and sources of life satisfaction are now behind them. Moreover, because they have built their self-esteem upon recognition for their achievements and affiliations rather than on their inherent worth as human beings, they view aging as distancing them further from the bases for their self-worth. Life review may also lead to depression for a third group who have tended throughout their life cycle to live in the future. Their memories surface a lifetime of opportunities missed because they were focusing uport tomorrow rather than upon today. Feeling powerless to modify their future-orientation and seeing death as foreclosing further opportunities, they become disconsolate over a life that appears to them as wasted. These three groups are in crisis about their spiritual life and their men- Review for Religious, March-April 1988 tal health. Their depression requires professional mental health attention. Conclusion Increased investment in life review is a developmental attribute of aging. As members of religious communities age, life review becomes a more potent resource. It enhances the quality of the daily examen. It helps religious to understand lifelong difficulties they may have had with their vowed community lifestyle. Finally, it helps in identifying relig-ious who need mental health services as well as spiritual direction. REFERENCES Butler, R. (1963). The life review: An interpretation of reminiscence in the aged. Psychiatry, 26, p. 70. Fogarty, T. (1977). Fusion. The Family, 4(2), p. 56. Magee, J. (1987). Confidants help older religious with life review. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 46(2), p. 235. Maugham, S. (1959). Points of view. Garden City: Doubleday. Merriam, S. (1980). The concept and function of reminiscence: A review of the re-search. The Gerontologist, 20(5), pp. 604-609. The Cross Reconsidered William F. Hogan, C.S.C. Father Hogan's last article, "Eucharistic Community of Disciples," appeared in the issue of November/December 1985. He continues to reside at the generalate of the Christian Brothers: Fratelli Cristiani; Via della Maglianella, 375; 00166 Roma, Italy. History points to the virtual impossibility of maintaining balance between all the facets of the mystery of Christ, his person and his message. Theo-logical controversies over the centuries bear witness to this; current spiri-tual movements, as in the past, similarly offer testimony. ~ In the present day, emphasis on the Cross would appear to be one aspect of theology-spirituality that has receded in the light of other stresses, and a variety .of reasons could be adduced, not the least of which would be a reaction against some of the negativism in the past associated with the attention given= to the cru~ifixiofi in the Paschal Mystery and the insufficient ac-cent on the resurrection. Further, the broader view of the theology of crea-tion and incarnation has been seen .as necessary for a better appreciation of the basic concept of mission and our part in it today. It is not surprising that the recent extraordinary synod pointed to the need of recognizing "that in today's difficulties God wants us to teach more profoundly the value, importance, and :centrality of the cross of Je-sus Christ."2 These words assume a particular importance when we re-flect on the many kinds of life-struggles in our world and the areas need-ing redemption. What the synod said concerning teaching the Cross should not be restricted to ministerial actions toward others, for the mes-sage touches life and spirituality and needs to be integrated therein. But how a person approaches the centrality of the Cross in ministry as well as in personal life is very important, for there is need for integration as such. We cannot just let the. Cross remain outside ourselves as a reality 197 Review for Religious, March-April 1988 to be looked at. (While this may seem obvious, in fact, in our daily liv-ing we may well find ourselves looking at the Cross disinterestedly as an object.) The Cross is not simply a thing, static; rather it involves and expresses a relation of personal self-emptying love and total giving for us. Unless seen in that perspective, it will not touch us concretely and we will find much more comfort in concentrating on the Risen Jesus, avoiding the starkness and pain of the Cross. Touch us it must, for the Cross is at the core of Christian discipleship and reveals the mystery of divine love in the gift of the person of Christ, who invites us to follow him into the Paschal Mystery. Discipleship entails such a preferential love for Jesus as to demand that we go after him all the way into the mys-tery of his death-resurrection and not be deterred by lesser preoccupa-tions. The integration of the mystery of the Cross into our lives is inti-mately associated with the whole question of our human sinfulness and brokenness and how we own that as part of our lives. Often we would prefer not to look at that side of ourselves, since it can be discouraging and depressing. Some past approaches of spirituality urged people to re-flect on sin in such a way as to foster morbidity and gloom because of insufficient attention to the love of Jesus and that of the Father in send-ing him to humankind. As a result, instead of a deep spirit of sorrow for sin, a sense of guilt took its place, accompanied by feelings of shame, where the attention is at least unconsciously on self and not on God-- "I thought I was better than that." And then for many the next logical step is the loss of a meaningful sense of sin out of a flight from guilt and shame. No doubt, it can be frightening to see some aspects of ourselves, when at times we catch a glimpse of our dark side or it catches us by surprise; and we would prefer not to acknowledge to ourselves our sin-fulness, brokenness, and weakness. Yet a major factor in this reluctance may be how we look at this part of our lives. Do we view it separately in itself or in conjunction with the Cross and the healing power of God's love? Do we at the same time see God's power operative in the midst of our human frailty, using it as an occasion to break into our lives? A basic call is given to each of us to accept ourselves as we are if we are to grow to maturity. This includes acceptance of our dark side as well as the brightness of gifts, talents, and admirable qualities. However, the acceptance of one's sinfulness must be against the background of the re-ality of the Cross and divine love eager to lead us through our b~oken-ness towards wholeness, analogous to the felix culpa message proclaimed The Cross Reconsidered / 199 in the Exsultet of the Easter Vigil Service, We are not to cling to our sinfulness in a wrong way, trying to hide it from ourselves and from God, but let him use it and operate through it--sincerely believing that "for those who love God all things work together unto good" (Rm 8:28). A correlated sense of sin and of the Cross leads to greater convic-tion of need for, dependence on, and openness to the God who loves us in our weakness; simultaneously there is a breaking down of the exagger-ated kind of personal autonomy that lies at the root of so many personal and societal problems. And the human person gradually becomes steeped in the gratefulness to God that is the antithesis of the ingratitude of sin. Joyful dependence on God should overflow into a sense of dependence on others, enabling us to more intensely live Jesus' message of interde-pendeiace. We need each other, as we all need God and his redemptive love, because of our mutual brokenness and sinfulness. And in a very real way it can be said that God uses individual frailty as a means of be-coming a life-giving channel for others when we accept them and need them in their sinfulness. God ministers to them through us when we com-mune with them in our mutual need for healing and strength; and at the same time we receive God ministering to us. The Cross is not an isolated reality, for it extends to all aspects of individual and social life in touching what is most fundamental in hu-man nature. Each season of the liturgical year, while concentrating on one or other dimension of the mystery of salvation in Christ, must ulti-mately be viewed from the perspective of the Paschal Mystery. The Cross and resurrection are present in all of them even as they were pre-sent in the lifelong discipleship of Jesus. His self-emptying in following the will of the Father and seeking the Father's glory in all the phases of his life led to the culmination of kenosis in laying down his life. Any-one who would respond to Jesus' call of discipleship must necessarily make the same journey from self to the Father, and the Cross is inescap-able. We may~not like the manner of expression of the Imitation of Christ, but the message still holds true: The cross is always ready and everywhere waits for thee. Thou canst not escape it, whithersoever thou runnest; for whithersoever thou goest, thou carriest thyself with thee and shalt always find thyself. Turn thyself up-wards, or turn thyself downwards; turn thyself without or turn thyself within thee, and everywhere thou shalt find the cross.3 Various spiritualities in the past emphasi~.ed practices related to the Cross and some of them have been dropped. Perhaps this was wise and 900 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 even necessary because the devotions were not sufficiently well grounded for some people and even, in fact, became ends in themselves. Now may be the opportune time to take another look at the values these devotions and practices were meant to instill and deepen and to seek to reincorpo-rate them with new expressions and emphases, especially making a more explicit link to discipleship and our human brokenness. This could be help-ful in enabling us to perceive life and ministry struggles in terms of the Cross and drinking the cup (see Mt 20:22). Similarly opportune would be ongoing personal reflection on God's personal redemptive love for the individual--a truth that can never be deeply enough engraved on our hearts, a truth intellectually admitted but so often not interiorly believed such as to affect our lives. In the awareness of the pilgrimage of our lives, we need to see the already attained as having been reached in terms of God's love and the power of the Cross and the "not yet" element as something to be faced in the light of the same. Throughout the centuries the Cross has been a symbol of Christ, point-ing backward through history to the salvific event and at the same time forward with a prophetic call. It speaks to the world and to individuals about love, unlimited love, the love to which we are still challenged to-day: What I say to you is: offer no resistance to injury. When a person strikes you on the right cheek, turn and offer him the other. If anyone wants to go to law over your shirt, hand him your coat as well. Should anyone press you into service for one mile, go with him two miles. Give tqthe man who begs from you. Do not turn your back on the borrower. You have heard the commandment, "You shall love your countryman but hate your enemy." My command to you is: love your enemies, pray for your persecutors. This will prove that you are sons of your heavenly Fa-ther, for his sun rises on the bad and the good, he rains on the just and unjust (Mt 5:39-45). The disciple of Christ, even in his/her sinfulness, is empowered to take up the challenge of Christ through the power of the Cross operative today and, in trying to witness to this love, will be living out the Pas-chal Mystery. How important it is that we seriously reconsider the Cross and its im-plications in our lives today, for it is so easy to forget or at least take it for granted. The Cross Reconsidered NOTES ~ See John Dalrymple, "Not Peace but the Sword," in The Way, January 1986, where the author indicates how some elements of charismatic spirituality tend to cloud over some disturbing aspects of Christ and his message. 2 L'Osservatore Romano, December 10, 1985, Documents section, Relatio Finalis D. 2. 3 Thomas a Kempis, My Imitation of Christ, Confraternity of the Precious Blood," Brooklyn, New York, 1954, p. 147. A Sister's Passing I watched the sunlight touch the corners of the sky and softly climb the hills, while you-- so still-- let the light fade in your room and quietly went.away to another mansion where mysteries are no more, and the Son-light never dims. I shall not question your going. R.LP. Sistei" Dorothy Clark, R.S.C.J. 2/6/85 Claire Mahaney, R.S.C.J. 140 Valparaiso Ave. Menlo Park, CA 94025 Advance Directives for Health Care: A Proposal for Priests and Religious Ruth Caspar, O.P., Ph.D. Sister Ruth, recently returned from a sabbatical devoted to research in bioethics, is a consultant in biomedical ethics along with being Professor and Chair of the De-partment of Philosophy at Ohio Dominican College; 1216 Sunbury Road; Colum-bus, Ohio 43219. The events surrounding the recent death of Monsignor.Thomas O'Brien will put clergy and members of religious congregations on notice that they should enact directives concerning their preferences regarding medi-cal treatment well in advance of the age of 83. ~ This was the age of Mon-signor O'Brien at the time of the severe stroke that left him paralyzed, unable to swallow and take nourishment, and incapable of speech. It was also the age of Brother Charles Fox when he suffered cardiac arrest and anoxia during routine surgery.2 In both cases, medical technology was available to sustain the lives of these patients, and in both cases persons close to them--friends who could have been expected to know their val-ues and preferences--sought the removal of these medical interventions. A review of the medical, legal, and ethical aspects of these cases, which differ in significant respects, will be instructive in providing a con-text for the discussion of Advance Directives "for members of the clergy and of refigious congregations. Brother Fox In the literature of bioethics, the case known in law as Eichner v. Dillon stands as one of the precedent-setting decisions regarding proxy consent authorizing termination of treatment for an adult incompetent pa-tient. 3 Father Philip K. Eichner, S.M., secured in that decision judicial 202 Health-Care Directives / 903 approval from the Appellate Court, Second Department, of New York State to remove respirator support from Brother Joseph Charles Fox, di-agnosed as suffering from "permanent or chronic vegetative coma." This petition had initially been approved by a trial court order, but was appealed by Nassau County District Attorney Denis Dillon. Both Father Eichner and Brother Fox were members of the Society of Mary, and both at that time belonged to the community at Chaminade High School in Mineola, N.Y. When Brother Fox entered Nassau Hos-pital for routine surgery for a hernia in October 1979, he had spent 66 of his 83 years as a Marianist Brother, the last ten of them in retirement at Chaminade, where his longtime friend Father Eichner served as relig-ious Superior and president of the high school. Their relationship, beyond that of friendship, was also established on the trust and respect that are part of the structure of religious community life under vows of obedi-ence. In 1953, Eichner had been a novice under the guidance of Brother Fox, then prefect of novices; in 1979 this role was reversed, and Fox lived and worked as a member of a community under the direction of Fa-ther Eichner. Why did this case make legal and bioethical history? Removal of a respirator from a patient in chronic vegetative state, with no hope of re-covery of cognitive functioning, is now fairly well supported in legal precedent and moral consensus; the debate in the courts and among bioethicists today focuses on the withdrawal of a further and more con-troversial intervention: tube feeding, which is at issue in the O'Brien case. But this was not the agenda in 1979 when Quinlan was foremost in the consciousness of the courts and the public as a result of media ex-posure. The Fox case was not finally resolved until March 31, 1981, when a decision of the New York Court of Appeals, highest court in that state, consolidating Eichner v. Dillon with Storar, upheld the decision of the lower court regarding Fox. It had opened on October 2, 1979, when Brother Fox, in relatively good health but advanced age, went in for sur-gery to correct a hernia he had suffered while gardening. In the course of the surgery he suffered cardiopulmonary arrest. Heart massage even-tually restored a heartbeat, but not before oxygen deprivation tothe brain had reduced Brother Fox to dependence on a respirator to sustain even the most basic ~of vital functions, with no hope of regaining conscious-ness. When this prognosis was confirmed by neurosurgeons, Father Eich-ner requested that the hospital remove the patient from interventions that 204 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 were clearly "extraordinary" under the well-articulated moral teaching of the Catholic Church. He was supported in this request by Brother Fox's nieces and nephews, all of whom concurred in this decision. More-over, Father Eichner and the provincial, Father Keenan, could report that they had heard Brother Fox express his preferences regarding the mat-ter. In discussions surrounding Quinlan he had said that he would not want to have his life prolonged by such extraordinary and artificial meas-ures, a conviction he reiterated immedi~ately prior to his own s.urgery. He had, however, no written document stating his position. When hospital officials refused, alleging both legal and moral qualms, Eichner was left with no alternative but to go to court if he wished to honor the known preferen.ces of his Marianist brother. He sought a court order appointing him as proxy for the incompetent patient with authority todecide whether life-sustaining equipment should be with-drawn. This was granted by the trial court on December 6, 1979 (Brother Fox had by now been in deep coma for two months); the order was im-mediately appealed by Dillon. Before the subsequent decision in favor of Eichner was rendered, Brother Fox died on January 24, 1980. Citing the far-reaching impact of the issues contested in the case, the Appellate Division proceeded with the case, announcing its decision two months later (Eichner v. Dillon, March 27, 1980). Dillon appealed once again, to the highest court in the state; once again Father Eichner's right as proxy to authorize the termi-n~ ition of treatment for Fox was upheld in the 1981 decision In re Storar. Though vindicated at every level of court review, the progress of the Fox case nevertheless incurred $20,000 in legal fees and over $80,000 in medi-cal costs. Monsignor O'Brien If the Fox case seems relatively clear and straightforward in spite of the difficulties encountered in its progress, that of Monsignor Thomas O'Brien, had it proceeded through court review, would have been a storm center. Nevertheless it presents an even stronger argument for a need for Advance Directives on the part of clergy and religious. Father Thomas O'Brien, ordained a priest for the archdiocese of New York, served over the many years of his priestly ministry at St. Paul's in Harlem, St. Anastasia's in the Bronx, and St. Malachy's, the "Ac-tor's Chapel," in Manhattan, where in retirement he held a position as Pastor Emeritus. He is described in the court record as "a lively, gre-garious loving man, an avid reader, a rapt conversationalist, and a good friend to the members of his parish."4 Health-Care Directives / 905 At the age of 83, he was severely disabled by a stroke suffered on May 25, 1986. As a result of the stroke~and subsequent paralysis, he was restricted in his movements, unable, initially, to swallow or take notir-ishment, and incapable of speech. In response to the medical emergency, a nasogastric tube was in-serted for the provision of nourishment. As the name suggests, these tubes are inserted through the nose and pass to the stomach. No consent form was required for this "noninvasive" intervention. Alth6ugh there was some difference of expert opinion about Father O'Brien's degree of competence, the record indicates that "he was not happy with the tube that was inserted and would have preferred to have it out." This he com-municated clearly by attempting to remove it fifteen times. At this point, hospital officials at Frances Shervier Home and Hos-pital in Riverdale, N.Y., petitioned the court for a conservator for pur-poses of consenting to the surgical insertion of a feeding-tube directly through the abdomen into the stomach: a gastrostomy.Such a procedure would allow the continued provision of life-sustaining nourishment with-out the irritation and discomfort associated with the nasogastric tube. It would also, from the perspective of the hospital, "buy time" for the reso-lution of the question bf competence. With the consent of a court-appointed guardian, "there being some conflict in psychiatric testimony.as to whether Msgr. O'Brien was or was not competent to make a decision as to the continuation of life-sustain-ing procedures," the surgery was performed on September 17, 1986. The issue, now that the stomach tube was in place, was whether it could be removed. To determine this, the court sought additional psychiatric testimony and heard the opinions of those most closely associated with the patient. There were no family members in a position to speak for Father O'Brien, nor had he personally authorized anyone to make decisions regarding his health care. No living will was available. One fellow priest is mentioned in the court record--the director of the residence where Father O'Brien livi~d--but he did not act as proxy decision-maker. The person who seemed to be best able to speak for the patient was a Iongtime friend who had initially requested removal ofthe NG tube. His opinion is noted in the record with respect ("His integrity and concern define what true friendship is all about"), but it was not held to be binding. Four psychiatrists, examining the patient who now had the stomach tube in place, found that he "was not so depressed or withdrawn as to render him incapable of making a rational decision affecting his life." 906 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 His method of communication, however, was limited to affirmative and negative responses which he communicated by squeezing the .hand of the speaker or nodding his head. In this way he indicated that he was not happy with the tube. He understood that it was necessary to sustain life. Did he want to live? No. Did he want to die? No. Hearing his testimony, Judge Greenfield found it necessary to visit the patient himself and to conduct his own assessment of competency and patient preference. Once again he found the evidence unclear and the mes-sages ambiguous, leading him to conclude that the court could not order the removal of the tube. "It will not order the discontinuance of a life-support mechanism without the clearest and most compelling indications from the person most directly involved. Whenever there is doubt, a court must opt for the affirmation of life." For some weeks after the insertion of the stomach tube, Monsignor O'Brien seemed to improve. Attorney for the Shervier Home, Thomas Ford, reported that he took some food orally, attended physical therapy, and prayed the rosary with his nurse.5 He died on December 8, 1986, three months after surgery for the gastrostomy. No further legal action was taken with respect to his case. Who Speaks for the Incompetent Priest or Religious? In the wake of~ Eichner v. Dillon major superiors of religious con-gregations in the United States commissioned a study of the legal issues surrounding treatment decisions in terminal illness, patient rights, and sur-rogate decision-making for their members. Prepared in 1983 by Mary Cos-grove Consentino, Esq., for the Leadership Conference of Women Re-ligious and the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (LCWR/CMSM), Health Care Decision Making for Incompetent Patients: Who Decides? provided an analysis of these issues, a review of rulings in the six states that had, at that time, acted on matters regarding who might decide whether life-sustaining equipment might be withheld from a terminally ill or permanently unconscious incompetent adult, and a set of recom-mendations for effecting surrogate decisi0n-making. Although this paper was not addressed specifically to clergy who are not members of religious institutes, many of its suggestions could be adapted for their use, and indeed for anyone contemplating the designa-tion of a proxy for health-care decisions. In the case of sisters, brothers, and priests who are members of religious communities, the analogy with the family offers strong support for the recognition of a fellow-member as the person best able to speak for an incompetent patient. Health-Care Directives / 207 Religious communities and dioceses will be concerned about these matters for a number of reasons. The individual person's rights of self-determination, privacy, and dignity in dying will be of paramount im-portance. In addition, there are legitimate concerns regarding the finan-cial costs of unnecessary and. futile treatment, the desire to avoid litiga-tion, and a need to clarify the roles of family and community members in decisions regarding medical treatment for priests .and religious sisters and brothers. The LCWR/CMSM paper recommends oral discussions--both for-mal and informal--as one means for bringing these concerns to the sur-face within a religious congregation. It had been this type of discussion that provided the occasion for Brother Fox to articulate his personal pref-erences regarding life-extending technology, remarks that were accepted as evidence by the courts. Increasingly, however, a more formal vehicle for the expression of directions concerning terminal care in the event of incompetency is advised. Referred to generically as Advance Directives, these may take the form of a living will or a durable power of attorney for health care. The living will is a directive executed by an individual while com-petent, specifying preferences concerning the types of treatment that one would wish in the event of incapacity. Typically these directives, antici-pating a condition of terminal illness and incompetency, request the with-holding of life-extending measures that would have the effect only of pro-longing the dying process. Durable powers of attorney are legal docu-ments authorizing an agent (the "attorney in fact") to make decisions on behalf of another person, even a~ter that person becomes incompe-tent (hence "durable" since traditional powers of attorney terminate with the incapacity of the principal). In each jurisdiction th'e binding force of living wills and durable pow-ers of attorney will depend on legislation (Natural Death Acts), compli-ance with statutory regulations, and the interpretation of the courts. As anyone familiar with the d~iily news will know, this is one of the most rapidly developing fields in medico-legal affairs. The LCWR/CMSM'pa-per reflects the state of the question on these matters only for ! 983 and must be updated. Highly recommended for this purpose is the recent publica~tion, A Mat-ter of Choice: Planning Ahead for Health Care Decisions, prepared in 1986 by attorney Barbara Mishkin for the U.S. Senate Special Commit-tee on Aging and distributed through the Special Projects Department of the American Association of Retired Persons.6 A Matter of Choice pro- 208 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 vides essential information that will greatly assist anyone contemplating the preparation of an Advance Directive for health care, as well as those charged with planning and implementing policy on these matters. Included in this report are the statutory provisions for the enactment of living wills in the 38 states that had legislated Natural Death Acts by September 1986, and a complete discussion of the durable power of at-torney, now recognized in all 50 states. Information regardingfamily con-sent statutes in the 17 states that have specific legislation regarding the rights of family members to make health-care decisions for incap.acitated adults is also provided, as are the provisions for making donations of bod-ily tissue or organs through the Uniform Anatomical Gift Act. Sample forms for living wills and durable powers of attorney are provided in an Appendix. The Durable Power of Attorney for Health Care There are some clear advantages of the DPA, making it preferable to a living will, and reflected in the recommendation and endorsement by the President's Commission for the Study of Ethical Problems in Medi-cine and Biomedical and Behavioral Research in 1983.7 As an Advance Directive it is more flexible and more personal: phy-sicians and others involved in health care will be interacting with a per-son who is cognizant of the actual condition of the patient, rather than with a document drafted at some time in the past. The agent, chosen by the patient with a view to being able to speak in his or her behalf, will be in a better position to authorize either continuation or termination of treatment, in consultation with physicians and others responsible for the patient's care. DPAs can be used in behalf of persons not terminally ill (someone with permanent loss of consciousness or with degenerative ill-ness) and can be drafted to authorize a variety of services. A further advantage over the living will is the fact that, with the leg-islation by the District of Columbia in January 1987, 50 states and the District now have DPA statutes. There is great variety among them, how-ever, and only the most recently enacted were designed explicitly for use in medical-treatment decisions. Since most were enacted primarily to authorize decisions regarding property, they are silent with regard to their possible use for health care. Increasingly, however, they are being rec-ommended for this purpose. Attorney Mishkin's report for the Senate Committee is optimistic regarding their application to this field: No court has ruled on the validity of powers of attorney in this context, however; therefore no one can say with absolute certainty that a power Health-Care Directives / 20~ of attorney for health care would be implemented by a court, if the ques-tion were posed. Nevertheless, since courts generally will accept clear and convincing evidence of a patient's wishes in matters concerning health care, the probability is high that a court would accept an incapaci-tated patient's designation of a proxy health care decision maker through a durable power of attorney.8 For members of religious congregations, the DPA seems best suited to one very important function: clarifying who may speak for the com-munity member when physicians and courts, in the absence of such a des-ignated proxy, may tend to assume that it would be next of kin. This is not to say that family members might not be involved in the consulta-tion, but that the designated spokesperson would be a member of the re-ligious institute. An Education Program for Priests and Religious In recent years many religious congregations, provinces, and dio-ceses in the U.S. have begun the process of widespread education of their members regarding these matters. In some instances these programs are well underway or nearing completion, with all members aware of their rights and responsibilities, in consultation with the legal, medical, and ethical expertise needed to facilitate the implementation of an effective policy. Others have just begun. The rapidly developing fields of biome-dical ethics and the law surrounding terminal care will assure that this will be an ongoing project for all groups. For those who have not yet fully considered these issues, a program for community education is sketched in broad outline. Whatever ap-proach is taken, the design should enabi~ members to come to g~:ips with the,major theological, ethical, legal, and medical questions raised by the new life-extending technologies. For members of communities under vow, these will be considered in the cohtext of congregational expecta-tions with respect to a common life, simplicity, and justice in the alloca-tion of resources. Theological Reflection Priests, brothers, and sisters who have chosen to live in dedicated service within the Roman Catholic Church will want to ground their re-flections on the long and well-articulated tradition of that Church regard-ing the sanctity of life, the ministry of healing and caring that defines Catholic health care, the redemptive role of pain and suffering, and the reality of human finitude and mortality. No document better summarizes 210 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 that tradition and addresses the pressing moral questions t~aised by new forms of treatment than the Vatican Declaration on Euthanasia.9 The 1980 Declaration, prepared by the Congregation for the Doc-trine of the Faith, carefully distinguishes the terminology used in the eutha-nasia debate: actions and omissions, intentions and consequences, ordi-nary and extraordinary means-~clarified in this document in terms of treat-ments offering "proportionate" or "disproportionate" burdens and bene-fits. Its principles are clear and offer realistic guidelines. While affirming the.sanctity of life and God's sovereignty, the Dec-laration speaks also of the unavoidability of death. Seen in the light bf faith, death provides entrance into eternal life. We may not hasten the hour of death through suicide or murder, but we are not required to sub-mit to treatment that "would only secure a precarious and burdensome prolongation of life, so long as normal care due to the sick person in simi-lar cases is not interrupted." Care-givers act conscientiously when they "administer the remedies that seem necessary or useful." Medical in-terventions that are normally optional, are those in which "the investment in instruments and personnel is disproportionate to the results foreseen" or" those that "impose on the patient strain or suffering out of propor-tion with the benefits which he or she may gain from such techniques." Some Catholic religious may be initially hesitant regarding the legiti-macy of enacting advance directives, having read of the opposition of their bishops to living wills. In this regard it will be important to clarify that the opposition of Conferences of Bishops to state legislation of cer-tain Natural Death Acts was directed at the legislation and not at an indi-vidual person's right of self-determination in writin~g such a directive. Foreseeing the rapid development of law (39 states now have such legis-lation), the National Conference of Bishops, through its Committee for Pro-Life Activities, issued on November 10, 1984, "Guidelines for Leg-islation On Life-Sustaining Treatment." ~0 These guidelines, reflecting the Vatican Declaration, propose "ways of respecting the moral principles ¯ . . as well as related concerns of the Church, whenever there is a de-bate on whether existing or proposed legislation adequately addresses the subject. ' ' The Catholic Health Association distributes a directive, the "Chris-tian Affirmation of Life: A Statement on Terminal Illness," that provide.s an opportunity for a person to state his or her wishes regarding treatment in terminal illness, in full compliance with the principles of the Church. ~ In states that have legislation regarding living wills, some, but not all, Health-Care Directives / 911 allow departures from the statutory form, and this document might be used as an alternative. Women and men whose lives have been lived in faith will also ap-proach sickness and death inspired by the same faith, identifying with Jesus in obedience to the call of the Father. They will appreciate the min-istry of their brothers and sisters who care for them in their illness, and will be concerned to act as responsibly with the resources of their com-munities in their illness as they have done in good health. Belief in res-urrection and eternal life places decisions regarding medical intervention within a faith-context. It will be inappropriate to deny death by insisting on medical interventions that are futile and that only prolong the dying process. Ethical Principles Ethical discussion of the issues raised by new developments in medi-cine and life-extending technologies, when addressed to a broader pub-lic than the Catholic community, is frequently framed in terms of cer-tain principles that must be honored and balanced in the delivery of good health care. Among the principles most central to this debate and to the matter of advance directives are these four: self-determination (or auton-omy), beneficence, justice, and fidelity. The principle of autonomy is derivative from a recognition of the in-herent dignity of the person as a free and self-determining individual. As such., competent adults have a right to control what will be done to them regarding medical treatment, and others have a responsibility to respect their reasonable wishes. This right holds, also, for previously competent adults who have indicated what their preferences would be in the event of incompetency andlor who have designated a proxy to make decisions for them. The full exercise of this right requires adequate disclosure of information--the risks and benefits of alternative procedures--as foun-dation for truly informed consent or refusal. The right to self-determination is not absolute and may be overrid-den in certain circumstances. Patients, thus, may expect that their pref-erences will be honored unless they are in conflict with "compelling state interest," the stated policies of the health-care facility, or the pro-fessional integrity of the care-givers (who are also persons with the right to self-determination). For the religious who has freely joined and re-mained as a member of a community guided by the teachings of the Catho-lic Church, choices will be further limited by fidelity to those teachings. The more extreme interpretations of autonomy assume a radical individu- Review for Religious, March-April 1988 alism that is contrary to the commitment that members of a voluntary com-munity have with respect to one another. The principle of beneficence, or patient benefit in this context, re-quires that one do good and avoid doing harm. The negative requirement (nonrrialeficence) is a more stringent duty than is the need to provide posi-tive benefit to improve the lot of the patient. In fact, these two aspects of o

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

Issue 47.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1988. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1988 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add $5.00 per year; for airmail, add $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors Sept./Oct. 1988 Volume 47 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to R~.wEw EOR R~.LtGWOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW ~o~t REI.IGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. The Social Dimensions of Religious Ministry Joseph P. Daoust, S.J. This is a slightly revised version of Father Daoust's well-received address on August 13, 1986, to the thirtieth national assembly of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men. He has been his province's assistant for social ministries and higher educa-tion. At present he is on sabbatical in Africa and Asia and has no fixed residence, but he may be addressed at Jesuit Provincial Office; 7303 W. Seven Mile Road; De-troit, Michigan 48221. In a terrifying image of where our civilization is leading us, a prominent Italian writer envisions Western 'man (and woman) becoming like an earth-worm: a simple organism having only mouth, intestines, and anus, do-ing nothing but ingesting, digesting, excreting. ! It is an image of pro-ducing in order to consume, and consuming mindlessly in order to move what has been produced through our societal '.~'gut." Any kind of con-sumption will do, just as the earthworm moves any kind of soil through its intestinal tube. Indeed, that is how the earthworm (and Homo con-sumens) moves ahead in dark, dank, endless underground burrows-- consuming, producing, excreting. When indigestion sets in because of overproduction, war serves as a purgative,°consuming the detritus of ex-cess lives and goods, relieving the constipation of our maniacally pro-ducing and consuming system. Such is one vision of what we are doing to ourselves as a society. There is another vision of what society can become: [God] will reign over many peoples and arbitrate for mighty nations; and they shall beat their swords into pl6wshares,.and their spears into prun-ing hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. But they shall sit, everyone under his vine and un- 641 649 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 der his fig tree, and none, shall make them afraid; for the mo~th of the Lord of hosts has spoken it (Mi 4:3-4). In this vision, peace comes when each peasant has enough of the earth's goods for simple sustenance and can sit in quiet contemplation of the goodness of a just and beautiful world. All of this is achieved by learning God's ways and walking in God's path.2 Neither of these visions is fully realized in our world today. There are forces at work leading toward the first; the Spirit of God continues the age-old struggle to draw us toward the second. We are called as citi-zens of this age, as Christians, as religious, to invest our lives in help-ing our society make the ancient Deuteronomic choice: "I set before you life or death, blessing or curse. Choose life, then, so that you and your descendants may live" (Dr 30:19). Life is what the reign of God would bring about in our midst; the flowering of a society of justice and peace. The reign of God has profound social consequences. Justice and God's Reign: Scriptural Considerations in Scripture the reign of God is inextricably linked with social trans-formation. When Israel came to know Yahweh, it was as a God who heard their groaning in slavery and delivered them out of bondage (Dt 10:18-19). Remembering their own deliverance by God, the Israelites were bound in covenant not to oppress the poor or weak in their midst (Ex 22:21ff.). For Yahweh is a God who hears the cry of the poor (Ps 34:6). Again and.again Yahweh intervened through the prophets to call Israel back to this elemental demand: Is not th'is the sort of religious p?actice that pleases me?--it is thb Lord Yahweh who speaks--to break unjust fetters and Undo the thongs of the yoke, to let'the oppressed go free., to share your bread with the hun-gry and shelter the homeless poor, to clothe the man you see to be na-ked and not turn from your own kin? Then will your light shine like the dawn and your wound be quickly healed over. Your in.tegrity will go be-fore you and the glory of Yahweh behind you (Is.58:6-8; see also 1: 16, 10:1, 42:5). The religions and gods of the ancient Near East were primarily con-cerned with the legitimation of the established order of things3 (a func-tion still all too current today!), Imperial power, divinely ordained class structures, codes of behavior which reinforced "the way things have al-ways been"--these were the trappings of (eligions whose gods could be captured in images, located in certain sacred places, and therefore con-trolled. The divine power was thus subject to purchase (propitiation), Social Dimensions of Ministry / 64:3 able to be administered and routinized so as to support society's estab-lished ways of proceeding. Israel in the Old Testament is constantly tempted to refashion God in controllable images. Royal leaders and wealthy classes are portrayed as the initiators of this "whoring after' other gods" so as to legitimate their oppression, wars, and sumptuous ways. What distinguishes ancient Israel from surrounding societies is the constant intrusion of an imageless God, who refuses to dwell in temples or in"gold idols fashioned and controlled by the powerful. Yahweh dwells only ineffably on high, and with the lowly (Is 56: 15). Israel's God is dis-engaged from the ways of worldly power and identifies over and over again with the marginal, the dispossessed in society.'~ Indeed the iden-tity of this imageless God cannot be captured in traditional religious ways, but is expressed only by what Yahweh does--primarily acts of so-cial liberation: I am Yahweh . . . who delivered you from bondage (Ex 20:1), who loves j,ustice (Ps 99:4), who sees justice done for the orphan and widow, who answers the poor and needy (Ps 86:1 ), who chooses the weak (Dt 7:7), who reduces princes to nothing, and annihilates the rulers of the world (Is 40:23). Jesus spends his public ministry extending the good news of God's compassion and reign to all. It was a scandal to his contemporaries that he especially~ included suspect classes (shepherds, publicans, tax collec-tors), social outcasts (lepers, prostitutes, adulterers, Samaritans), and the poor. He went to his death coffsciously assuming the role of the Suffer-ing °Servant of Yahweh, knowing that this was the only way to bring about the reign of his Father. Some sought his death because he reso-lutely presented an unconventional, iconoclastic face of God Ioying the outcast, the db'wntrodden, the poor--"He has blasphemed.'~ Others sought his death because' his proclamation of God's justice threatened the social order.5 The Scriptures, then, portray a God who cares passionately about jus-tice, indeed even a "pain-embracing" God6 who acts in solidarity es-pecially with the oppressed and the marginalized. Christ in his ministry and message seals this revelatioh of God constantly acting in the world so as to bring about its transformation. The Gospels close with Christ risen inviting us down through the ages to "Follow me." Justice and God's Reign: Cultural Considerations Down through the ages the Church has wrestled with that impera- 644 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 tive with varying degrees of success. Like the Israelites of old, the Church is often tempted to replace the radical, transforming call of the Gospel with something more palatable to the cultural and social powers that be. Oppressive divisions of wealth and power, wars to protect these divisions, sumptuous living for some and dire poverty for others--these still need legitimation as of old. The idols which legitimate today are ide-ologies, social and economic theories, materialism and consumerism apo-theosized as a way of life. Idolatry in a literate society is more likely to use words than precious metals to achieve its effects. But religion is still being domesticated so as to legitimate and maintain, rather than confront, these idolized patterns of injustice. One hundred fifty years ago, Alexis de Tocqueville visited America and found our culture and social institutions permeated with a new idea: Individualism is a calm and considered feeling which disposes each citi-zen to isolate himself from the mass of his fellows and withdraw into the circle of family and friends; with this little society formed to his taste, he gladly leaves the greater society to look after itself . They form the habit of thinking of themselves in isolation and imagine that their whole destiny is in their hands . Each man is forever thrown back upon himself alone, and there is danger that he may be shut up in the solitude of his own heart.7 This individualism intersected congruently, then as it does now, with the competitive pursuit of self-interest, defined in terms of material well-being. But de Tocqueville found these social "habits of the heart" coun-terbalanced and modulated by a strong tradition of biblical faith, with its emphasis on self'-sacrifice for the common good, supported by the re-publican virtues of our early democracy: public duty and civic equity. Modern commentators have found these modulating forces to be with-ering, and individualism, competition, and rampant pursuit of material self-interest becoming exclusive social preoccupations.8 Individualism, like any other human creation, has much to recommend it, much human value. But when it becomes absolute, unquestioned, unfettered, it dis-torts and truncates human interaction. Its idolization creates and sustains injustice in society on a mass scale. Recent studies of American life and religious values have shown the distortions that unfettered individualism produces ir~ our cultural patterns of faith and religion.9 Historically., the disestablishment of religion America may have helped compartmentalize religious faith away from public social concerns. But religious individualism has been the moving force for the privatization of religious faith and practice. Social and cul- Social Dimensions of Ministry / 645 tural patterns of our society have been immunized from religious critique or challenge in the faith of many. Religion is felt to deal only with per-sonal or family issues; it intersects with public policy only to challenge it if' it intrudes on these narrow issues. Other social policies and struc-tures, individualism itself, materialism, the competitive economic envi-ronment- all are beyond the competence of religious critique. God and faith have no relevance in the marketplace, the business or political world, or anywhere outside the "soft" inner realm of the personal and the familial. In fact, religion blesses "the way things are" in these secu-lar real-world social settings. It legitimates them and the results they bring about, as effectively as the compartmentalization of religion to tem-ple worship and sacrifices did in ancient Israel, with consequent uncon-cern for the oppressed, the hungry, the poor. Religion is seen culturally by most as an idiosyncratic choice, a strictly personal preference or conviction as to which "brand" each per-son would like to "consume." And American consumers of religion largely choose a faith distorted by cultural forces so as to give them res-pite from social chaos and from a sense of social destiny beyond their control. They do this by retreating inward, to focus on the inner self, or by retreating outward, to externally imposed structure coming, they be-lieve, directly from God. The first of these privatized patterns of religion, the dominant U.S. cultural preference, is the retreat inwards to the inner self. ~0 Personal ex-perience of one's inner self is the one secure basis for religious mean-ing. Self-realization, personal growth, is the highest aspiration. There is a great similarity to the goals and language of psychological therapy. Re-ligious practice is spiritual utilitarianism: "What's in it for me?" Spiri-tual experience is primarily individual and prescinds from the world and its problems. The world and even God are seen in terms of their impact on this inner self. Morality is individualistici commitments to others, to the world, are transient: "s(~ long as it feels right or helps me grow." The Church can be reduced to a kind of spiritual Kiwanis Club or psy-chological. therapy group in the individual's pursuit of self-fulfilling ex-perience. The second pattern of religious individualism is no less privatized. It is more prevalent among the less affluent, or among those whose self-image is not strong enough to found religious meaning there. Faith is placed in sources of meaning external to self and the real world. God speaks from "outside'"the ordinary world (and the inner self), directly giving rules and tenets which, if they are rigidly adhered to, will bring 646 / Review~or Religious, September-October 1988 about salvat.ion of the obedient individuai--there is little hope for the world. Fundamentalist adherence to biblical texts, magistral father fig-ures, or traditions gives meaning and some sense of security in a bewil-dering social Order. Morality is personalistic rather than societal; it deals with interpersonal and family relations in clear, simple answers; it leaves unchallenged the sociocultural setting in which these are played out. The world, society at large, is either beyond question or beyond salvation. In either case, faith has little to say to it. ., Both of.these cultural patterns of religion, therapeutic withdrawal to the inner self and sectarian withdrawal to external structure, are the prod-uct of individualism. It is individualism retreating from confrontation with a chaotic, seemingly uncontrollable social environment. Material-ism, competitive pursuit of self-interest, ruthless power pervade the secu-lar realm of business, politics, the media. Recent rapid shifts in social structures and paradigms destabilize a cultural setting already inhospita-ble to traditional religious values. Individuals, frightened, isolated, pow-erless, withdraw from the imperatives of biblical faith which might re-quire them to confront these social forces to work for the new creation of God's reign. A religion of inner escape or outer control seems to of-fer a haven from the heartless world. But both forms of religion lack the ability to integrate the self and/or God with the surrounding society. Per-sonalized religious experience supplants the "mighty acts of Yahweh" as the basis for belief. And such faith is fragile, fading when the per-sonal experience fades. There is only a faint hold on commitments, to faith itself and to the other-centered giv.ing which builds on faith. Church, rather than being the fundamental sacrament of God's insertion into the world, becomes a community of convenience or of protection from the world. In solipsism or sectarian withdrawal, religion stands apart from worldly matters. It is a pale shadow of robust biblical faith: the faith of a people on mission from a world-transforming God. This description of American religious behavior is not just the way millions.of lay believers of all religious backgrounds practice their faith. These are tidal forces affecting the faith life of all of us as members religious orders and congregations. We are equally tempted to withdraw from the fullness of biblical faith into therapeutic blandness or rigid struc-turalism. We too can live more easily with these idolized forms of relig-ion, which neither do justice nor admit the injustice of such unconcern. Religious life itself can become an enclave for self-realization or secu-rity, safely compartmentalized away from the rigors of God's call and mission to a troubled world wracked by social sin. Which one of us has Social Dimensions of Ministry / 64"/ not felt keenly the longing to huddle, Jonah-like, even in the belly of a whale, rather than face Nineveh? Justice and God's Reign: New Directions But also in our lifetimes as religious, we have witnessed a remark-able movement of God's Spirit. It is transforming the Church and relig-ious life, calling us again to our biblical roots. The God who cares pas-sionately about this world, who hates idols and the injustice they le-gitimate, is neither absent nor sitting quietly in a culturally designed com-partment. Embracing the pain of the poor and the marginalized, God broods over our bent world "with warm breast and with ah! bright wings." ~ In Vatican II, the Church chose to position itself as a people in serv-ice to the world, seeking to transform it in the biblical image of God's justice. ~- The 197 ! Synod of Bishops specified this further: J~stice and participation in the transforming of the world fully appear to us ~s a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the gospel, or, 'in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemption of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situation (Justice in the World, no. 6). The social teaching of the Church has gone~ beyond a reformist long-ing for organic, static society. In ,.magisterial teaching and theological de-velopment there is the commitment to struggle for and with the margi-nhlized to achieve justice. The spiritual is not compartmentalized from the affai'rs of this world, but integrated as a critical, driving force to shape '~'a new earth where justice will abide.''~3 In'theory and in prac-tice, from Medellin to the Philippines, in our inner cities and in recent pastoral letters of U.S. Bishops, we have witnessed the Church exercis-ing the ancient 'special love of Yahweh for the poor. ~4 Our challenging mission is newly clear, as are the many social forces which oppose it. It is the mission of our "pain-embracing" God, it is the mission of Christ see~king the reign of God.' It is fresh and new in our age, and as old as the prophets: "This is wfiat Yahweh asks of you, only this: to act justly, to love tenderly, and to walk humbly with your God" (Mi 6:8). What Justice Requires But what does it mean to do justice'? or to transform the world? or change social structures? The justice which flows :from faith in Yahweh has a dynamic, trans- 648 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 formative quality. Subtle philosophical distinctions may be appropriate for impartial, uninvolved observers. But there is a simplicity and stark-ness to biblical justice questions, which are raised in God's name from peasants (Amos, Micah), slaves (Moses), and exiles. ~5 The royal circles of Egypt, Jerusalem, or Rome are preoccupied with questions of pros-perity (how to get more) or security (how to keep it). The prophetic voices from below demand that freedom, sustenance, places of dignity in the community be given (back) to every one Of God's chosen people. Everyone has a right to these goods, as a birthright from God who cre-ated and gave them all to the community in the ~fi~:st place. God will act to make things right again if those in power will not listen. The primary expectation of God from Israel is the doing of justice, in this sense sharing with or restoration to those on the margin of society: the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the poor. Every other ethical norm or covenan-tal requirement flows from this reading of social reality. There is to be a redistribution of social power and goods to achieve a society where all can sit under their own vine and fig tree, with no one to trouble them. Or as gentle Mary puts it in Luke: "[God] has pulled down princes from their thrones and exalted the lowly. The hungry he has filled, with good things, the rich sent empty away" (Lk 1:52-53). The pastoral letter of the U.S. bishops, Economic Justice for All, contains an eloquent articu-lation of what justice requires in our times. The scriptural section of that letter is especially worth meditating upon, to touch i'nto our faith as the force which moves us to justice. The religious reality described there can be summarized as the community of the human race--the community in which and through which God creates each of us as individiaals-- building community. This community is given all of creation to enjoy, and God's love be-sides. In response, God asks in covenant that the community be com-mitted to care for one another, that they show the same resilient love (he-sed) and solidarity toward each other that God has Shown them, The touchstone of this solidarity, from the time of the prophets, has been whether the community cares for those at the margins of society, those without power to demand a share of what the community has been given by God. This preferential option for the poor is as ancient and as crucial to the covenant as Yahweh's earliest commands to Israel concern-ing the widow, the orphan, the stranger in the land (Ex 22:20; Dt 10:.18). In fulfillment of the covenant, the community needs to do more than distribute food and clothing to the poor~ It has to bring ,them in from the margins, allowing them to participate in the creative life of the commu- Social Dimensions of Ministry nity. Then they can provide for themselves in dignity and will no longer be marginalized. In this, the pastoral letter goes beyond the usual em-phasis, in Catholic practice, on works of charity. These are seen to be insufficient since the poor have a right to a creative place in society, not just to be passive recipients of our largess. Bringing the marginalized into full participation in community life will, of course, build up the community itself. It will then be more able to show solidarity to those still at the margin, bringing them into fuller participation, and so forth. The cycle of response to the covenant is also the cycle of the community regenerating and building itself up as a soci-ety of justice. The ~uli religious insight is that, in this dbing of justice to one another, God is made present, is found, is worshiped at the cen-ter of this communal re-creation. Faith and justice reinforce each other, even merge, as God moves us to transform our society. This cycle de-scribes positively how God cails us through justice to renew the face of the earth. But there is also resistance to the Spirit of God; it creates injustice in the structures of society and reverses the cycle of creating a commu-nity of justice. A community can tear itself apart by denying meaningful participation to the poor, ignoring the increasing masses of the margi-nalized, replacing communal solidarity with relentless pursuit of self-interest. This injustice the Spirit of God calls upon us to confront, for the Spirit "convinces the world concerning sin and justice and judg-ment" (Jn 16:8).~6 A practical example may clarify how social structures can resist trans-formation. Some one hundred fifty years ago, the Jesuits in Maryland owned slaves. When Jesuit authorities in Rome remonstrated with them over this situation, the American Jesuits responded that the slaves were being very well cared for and, indeed, would likelY suffer much worse if they wei'e given their freedom and turned loose in American society. The Jesuits of Maryland missed seeing the social structure--slavery-- which needed to be transformed, and focused on the personal dimension of care the slaves received. It seems so evident now, but to those en-meshed in the toils of unjust social structures, they often seem "natu-ral," "the way things are,", unquestionable and unconfrontable. The U.S. bishops of the last century were also unable to confront slavery as an institution until the Civil War settled the question for everyone. ~7 One wonders if the terrible price of that war would have been paid had the churches and religious .people of the land not resisted, by and large, the call of the Spirit to transform the structure of slavery. 650 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 While it is clear that God can work to bring good even from wars and great social cataclysms, this is not the way in which the Spirit of God desires to achieve the transformation of the world. The model of the Suf-fering Servant of Isaiah becomes normative for us in the cross of Jesus. Justice is a constitutive element of what the reign of God is about, but "suffering with" the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized is the man-ner of achieving God's jus.tice. We are called to follow our "pain-embracing" God, and our crucified Lord, in confr6nting the evil of this world. It is a manner far different from ou~ ordinary human institutions of violence, vengeance, and material power. God's ways are not ours, and God's just,~'ce cannot be fully achieved w. ithout a~lopting God's ways. Principles of Ministry for the Reign of God If I have been at all clear, it seems to me that two principles flow from what has been developed thus far. I would like to make these two principles explicit, go on to a couple practical strategies for implement-ing them, and then conclude with three sets of questions for considera-tion. What God has done for us and what God asks of us create a first prin-ciple. An essential part of the reign of God is justice, specifically the jus-tice which flows from living out a faith in Yahweh, faith in Jesus. There-fore, followers of Christ should have a concern for justice as a central focus of all their ministries. There are not justice ministries separate from other ministries, any more than there can be ministries separated from faith. Faith and justice are the complementary core of all Christian min-istry. Secondly, the "pain-embracing" love of God, especially inclusive of the marginalized in soc.iety, characterizes the ministry of Jesus "even unto death, death on a cross." The followers of Jesus are missioned to work for the reign of God in like fashion: through experiencing the strug-gle for justice "from below," at the sidle of the downtrodden, accept-ing the conflict or defeat which that entails, believing in the way of the Suffering Servant who is the Lord. Practical, Strategies The following suggestions are practical strategies for implementing these two principles. They are not new, but they might be helpful~ 1. Reflection on mihistry, and particularly on the justice dimension of ministry, should be based on experience. We experience the living God in ~'the joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men [and women] of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way Social Dimensions of Ministry / 651 afflicted.'? ~8 Christ dies and rises again for us in sharing the struggles and visions of real people. Experience draws us beyond ideologies and preconceptions; it energizes us for our quest for the reign of God. But the experience must be reflected upon. Stream-of-consciousness ministry may be personally vivifying, but it does not help us understand the social forces that create what we experience, or how we habitually respond. Social analysis can gradually remove the limitations of our cul-tural blinders and make us more critically aware of the social structures which must be transformed to "make clear the way of the Lord" (Mr 3:3). But so~zial analysis is often sterile, immobilizing, unless it is joined with faith and reflection on what God is saying to us. Relating both our experience and our analysis to the wellsprings of our own faith life en-ergizes us to act, and inspires us to discern how to act, for the reign of God. Our ministry is, then, m~ade reflective and revivifieO. And it gives us. further experience, which can be further reflected upon, leading to fur-ther inspiration and discernment. And so on. Many of you will recognize this process for reflection on ministry. It has been variously called the hermeneutic circle, the circle of praxis, or the pastoral cycle. 19 It is a methodology for moving steadily and re-flectively toward more authentic ministry. It may sound a little ominous at first, with terms like "social analysis" and '.'theological reflection." But it can be done very simply. It has been effective among illiterate peas-ants. 2° All of us ought to be able to do it. As a strategy for ongoing re-flection on ministry, it is.best when done communally, as a form of com-munal discernment. 2. In all ministries, there is the opportunity to experience the joys, hopes, griefs, and anxieties of ordinary people. But at least in orders like the Jesuits, most ministerial settings provide scant opportunity to come into contact with the poor and the marginalized. This should not mean that these ministries are exempt 'from the imperatives of justice-seeking or that they are unable to carry out ministry for the reign of God authen-tically. Ministries such as education or pastoral work with middle- and upper-class publics can seriously commit themselves to the work of con-scientization for the reign of God. These ministries deal with those who exercise power and influence over "the way things are"; their publics can bring about or at least come to tolerate changes in the social order which lead toward justice for the marginalized. It is a crucial element of the mission of all these ministries to communicate the call of the liv-ing God for solidarity, especially with the marginalized, and to urge con- 659 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 sistently that social injustices be transformed to bring about the reign of God. But particularly in these ministries, the lack of any lived experience of the poor or oppressed strengthens ct]ltural-religious tendencies toward therapeutic blandness or conformist externalism. We should attempt to build into these ministries, and into the lives of their publics, some ex-perience of real people living at the margins, victims of unjust social con-ditions. There are immersion programs, social-service projects, inte-grated discussion groups, and other forms of contact between people whom our social structures tend to isolate from each other. Such ex-periences will often be episodic, ephemeral, perhaps even seem voyeur-istic. But they can be honed to a finer edge of reality if they are carried out in cooperation with people who are in consistent, full-time ministry or presence among the poor. Within religious congregations we can leaven all our ministries by missioning some of our best people to ministry among the poor, asking them to share with all of us the insights and challenges of their lived ex-perience. The enlivening experience of God present at the margins can be corporate, shared by brothers or sisters in widely divergent ministries, if conscious efforts are made to foster such sharing. For this leavening to occur, it is important that the religious we mission to ministry among the poor be among our best, mainstream people willing and able to in-teract with a wide range of our corporate membership. My experience has been that we too often allow the lone rangers, the disaffected, the angry, or the difficult to wander off in ministry to the poor. Or we so isolate good folks sent into difficult ministries of social justice that they burn out quickly. As religious communities we can become more effec-tively present with the poor, with consequent enriching of all our apos-tolates, if we will take care to engage in such ministry corporately and reflectively. Mere presence among the marginalized does not guarantee any re-flective stance, in terms of either social analysis or theological reflec-tion. There is ample evidence of religious, ministering regularly among the poor, who never question the social structures which afflict their peo-ple. Or worse, they adopt a benevolent one-way relationship of "giv-ing" to the poor, rather than living with and learning from them about the reality of God. To counter these tendencies, itis helpful to be in con-tact with those engaged in the direct ministry of social change, challeng-ing some aspect of social injustice from an integrated faith perspective. As a full-time occupation, religious ministry for social change is rare Social Dimensions of Ministry / 653 this country. There is every indication that God's spirit is calling us, through the Church, to make it more prevalent. But it is unlikely to be-come a dominant mode of ministry in any religious congregation. That does not mean that a few good men or women could not be missioned, in each of the larger ~ongregations, to engage in this newly urgent min-istry. Not only will this serve social transformation for the reign of God; it can helpail our ministries become more competent to deal with the so-cial and theological questions most pressing in our society. Small or large religious congregations can relate to interreligious social-justice centers in most major cities of the United States. And individuals in any minis-try can become advocates of social change in one area or another, as par-ticipants in coalitions of concerned people devoting time and energy out-side their ordinary works to transforming society.2~ There should be no religious congregation so burdened with maintaining historical com-mitments that it cannot find ways to mission at least some key members to collaborative or part-time work for social justice, so as to leaven the entire ministry of the group. In this strategy, then, every ministry can participate in some level of social action for the reign of God: conscientization of the more afflu-ent and powerful, ministry of presence and social service among the marginalized, direct ministry for social change of unjust social structures. Having all three levels of social ministry within a congregation, if there is communication and cross-fertilization among them, can enrich the mis-sion of all for the reign of God. Even where all three levels are not pos-sible, much the same effect can be achieved by collaboration with other religious and lay people committed to working for the transformation of society. No matter which ministries are present within a congregation, all must become imbued with a central concern for social justice. The reign of God and the love of Christ draw us all to this. Some Questions for Consideration Let me turn now to three sets of questions, for which, I assure you, I have no answers. But they may be worth wrestling with in thinking about the future of religious life. I. Most religious congregations had as part of their founding charism a special concern for ministry among the poor.22 Most of our congrega-tions several generations ago ministered mainly among the poor in Amer-ica: immigrant Slavs and Germans, Italians and Irish, still on the mar-gins of American society. Why now are the vast majority of American male religious working in ministries for the more affluent? Was it a form 654 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 of ministerial "bracket creep," where we drifted up the income ladder along with the traditional publics we served, moving with them in from the margins of American society? If we were to decide anew about where to focus our ministries, what might the Spirit call us to do for the reign of God? 2. Most young men and women coming into reiigious life have been formed by American sociocultural conditioning. They look to religion to foster their own self-realization or to shelter them from the world's turmoil through external authority. Our older veterans of religious life are subject to these same alluring siren songs of American cultural relig-ion. Doour models of early and continuing formation, with their empha-sis on psychosocial development or on external structures of religious life, challenge cultural limitations of religious belief and practice? How much therapeutic self-nurturing or sheltering in external authority do we allow? How can we transcend these tendencies in order to instill full bib-lical faith, which integrates God, society, and self? How form religious for mission, to join our suffering, pain-embracing God in transforming the world? 3. The last set of questions is not mine. They come from Archbishop Weakland when he was asked how Jesuits could help implement the so-cial vision of the Economic Pastoral. :His response went something like this: (a) You Jesuits have a lot of access to the powerful in society. They are your alumni, counselees, fellow board members. You turn to them to support~your own works. Will you use that access to power on behalf of the marginalized and their agenda of justice? (b)You Jesuits have ex-perience of the third world, knowledge of the marginalized. Will you bring that forcefully into the consciousness of the American people, who are so woefully ill-informed about the struggles and attitudes of the poor? (c) There are many good young people, in business, the professions, or factories, who are dissatisfied with what our society offers. They want to remain lay men and women, but long for a way of life, a vision, more consonant with the Gospel. Can you imagine, and then image credible lifestyles and life goals for these lay Christians? Archbishop Weakland's q'uestions are generalizable, I would think, for almost any religious con-gregation. Conclusion ¯ I would like to observe, in conclusion, that fait.h does not seem to be a question at the margins of society. Faith in God is very much alive in the third world and in the inner city. There the overwhelming ques-tions are those of justice. Faith seems most fragile and in doubt in the Social Dimensions of Ministry / 655 sterile, cluttered tunnels of our earthworm society of affluence. Faith with-ers here, though we overnurture it with self-concern, though we fence it in with our fears. But faith in the living God is a wild thing. It thrives at the margins, where struggle and hope for God's justice blaze brightest. If we go there, our own religious life may be rekindled, as we join our God in renewing the face of the earth. Let us go, then, without guilt or rage. Let us go in joy because our God draws us, calls us to join the struggle there for the transformation of the world. There, too, we shall meet the love of our lives, Jesus the Lord. NOTES ~ Alberto Moravia, The Red Book and the Great Wall (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1968);' pp. 12-21. -~ Mi 4:2. See Walter Brueggemann, "Vine and Fig Tree: A Case Study in Imagina-tion and Criticism," The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 43 (1981): 188-204. 3 See W. Brueggemann, '~OId Testament Theology as a Particular Conversation: Ad-judication of Israel's Socio-Theological Alternatives," Theology Digest 32:4 (1985): 302-325. This excellent study of the conne~ztion between Old Testament theophany and justice in the social order was the Bellarmine Lecture at St. Louis University in 1985. I am indebted to it for many of the insights in this scriptural section. 4 See Norman Gottwald, The Tribes of Yahweh (Orbis, 1979), chapter 49: "Mutual Reinforcement of Yahwism and Social Egalitarianism." 5 Jn 11:48-51. See Jon Sobrino, Christology at the Crossroads (Orbis, 1978), pp. 201 ff. 6 The term is Brueggemann's. See his "A Shape for Old Testament Theology: Em-brace of Pain," The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 47:3 (I 985): 395-415. 7 Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America, first published 1835-1840. Quota-tion is from Anchor Books edition (1969), pp. 506-510. 8 See J. F. Kavanaugh, Following Christ in a Consumer Society (Orbis, 1981), or his address to this Assembly in 1985: "Religious Life and Leadership in the Con-text of American Culture." From a different perspective, see Daniel Bell, The Cul-tural Contradictions of Capitalism (Basic Books, 1976). 9 An outstanding example of such studies is Robert Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart (Univ. of California Press, 1985). I have relied upon it heavily for this section: ! cannot recommend it highly enough. Another recent study of religious and social trends concurs with much of Bellah's findings: see J. Chittister and M. Marty, eds., Faith and Ferment (Augsburg/Liturgical Press, 1983). ~0 See Bellah, op. cir., pp. 235ff. ~ The phrase is from G. M. Hopkins's poem, "'God's Grandeur" (1877). ~2 See especially Gaudium et Spes, nn. I-3 and passim. ~3 Gaudium et Spes, n. 39. See C. Curran, "Catholic Social Ethics: A New Ap-proach'?" Clergy Review (Feb.-Mar. 1985). 656 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 ~'~ On the history of the preferential option for the poor, see D. Dorr, Option for the Poor: A Hundred Years of Vatican Social Teachings (Orbis, 1983). ~5 See Brueggemann, Parks, and Groome, To Act Justly, Love Tenderly, Walk Hum-bly: An Agenda for Ministers (Paulist Press, 1986), a fine series of reflections on the Micah text and on justice. m6 See Pope John Paul ll's two recent encyclicals on sinful social structures, Domi-hum et Vivificantem (1986), no. 56; and Sollicitudo Rei Socialis (1988), passim. ~7 See Doris Gottemoeller's talk to this Assembly in 1985: "Challenges to Relig-ious Leadership from a Changing U.S. Church," p. 7. ~8 Gaudium et Spes, no. 1. 19 As developed, respectively, by Juan Segundo, The Theology of Liberation (Or-bis, 1976); by Paolo Freire, The Pedagogy of the Oppzessed (Herder & Herder, 1970); and by Holland & Henriot, Social Analysis (Center of Concern, 1984). The last has a simple, practical treatment in chapter I. 20 See Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname (Orbis, 1979). 2~ Examples nationally include: Amnesty International, Bread for the World, Catho-lic Worker, Fellowship of Reconciliation, Interfaith Action for Economic Justice, Just Life, Network, Pax Christi, to name only a few. There are countless local and regional grouPs as well. 22 From a brief survey of the self-descriptions of U.S. male religious groups listed in the latest vocation guide, Ministries for the~ Lord: A Resource Guide and Direc-tory of Catholic Church Vocations for Men (Paulist Press, 1985), this seems to be true for the great majority of nonmonastic religious congregations of men. I'd Love to, Lord, But. Paul Wachdorf Father Wachdorf's "Leading People into Prayer" appeared in our May/June 1988 issue. His address remains the same: University of Saint Mary of the Lake; Munde-lein, Illinois 60060. In the Gospel of Luke, chapter 4, Jesus returns to his home town of Naza-reth, goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath, and reads from the prophet Isaiah: The spirit of the Lord is upon me; therefore, he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and release to prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the Lord (Lk 4:18-19). These words give a tone and a direction to the public ministry Jesus was about to begin. In 1971, the Synod of Bishops meeting in Rome produced a docu-ment entitled Justice in the World in which they state: Action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world fully appear to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the Gospel, or, in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemp-tion of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situation (Justice in the World, Synod of Bishops, Second General Assembly, Nov. 30, 197 I). The teachings and the ministry of Jesus and the teachings of the Church have consistently proclaimed that action on behalf of justice is not simply an option, not just a matter of personal preference or inter-est, but is an integral part of the gospel message and the Christian life-style as we are called upon to live it. 657 Review for Religious, September-October 1988 Given the crucial importance of this ministry in the Church and in the world today, I would like to reflect on my own journey into and ex-perience of the ministry of social justice from two viewpoints. First, I will look at some of the common resistances people encounter in them-selves as they hear the gospel challenge of social justice. Then, I want to examine some possible steps which people might profitably pursue to help them break through their resistances and respond more fully to the challenge of social justice. Intellectual Assent vs. Active Participation For the past seven years I have worked with the social justice pro-gram at Mundelein Seminary. Prior to that, I served in a parish for six years. During my years in a parish, I always gave intellectual and verbal assent to the principles of social justice. After all, how could I as a priest do otherwise? But as I look back on those years, I realize that my no-tional assent was not often translated into real and different patterns of behavior. Practicing what I preached about social justice was no simple task, although I did not realize that at the time. Resistances, Excuses, Rationalization~ After my appointment to the seminary, I was elected as the faculty representative for our Peace and Justice Committee. Frankly, I was not enthused about this appointment. But since ! felt somewhat insecure in my new environment and in my new work, it seemed to be an offer I could not refuse. I began to think about my commitment and involvement, l won-dered, "What am I supposed to do?" Soon I recognized within me sev-eral resistances, excuses, and rationalizations. In the past, they had kept me from becoming involved in the ministry of social justice in any sig-nificant way. I wanted to say yes to the Lord and to respond to the call of social justice. But my excuses kept getting in the way. At that point, I realized that 1 would have to critique my resistances with honesty through dialogue and prayer. Otherwise, my resistances would effec-tively block me from ever becoming involved in any way at all. Prophets Are Not Popular Quickly, I recognized the first resistance. Prophets are not popular. From Old Testament times to the present day, men and women who sting the conscience of a nation, a people, or a Church become unpopular. They are often criticized; they have their motives questioned; and they are pushed to the fringes of society. I'd Love to, Lord, But. / 659 ! remember very clearly an incident that happened as I was growing up. In the early 1960s, Dr. Martin Luther King led a march through my neighborhood, a white Catholic stronghold, to Marquette Park. I remem-ber standing on the corner on which my parish church and rectory were located watching the march. There were hundreds of white people lin-ing both sides of the street. Many of them were shouting, cursing, or throwing things at the marchers. Two of the priests came out of the rec-tory and began telling the people to go home and leave the marchers alone. Some of the people responded by cursing at the priests and tell-ing them to mind their own business. I saw a man spit on one of the priests. The following Sunday at Mass, the priests spoke out in favor of the marchers and their cause and spoke against the behavior of the bystand-ers, many of whom were good parishioners, pillars of the church. A few people at the Mass got up and walked out. Those days, I helped count the Sunday collection. That week and for a few weeks afterward, the col-lection went down significantly. I have never forgotten that incident. I still admire the courage of my parish priests. At the same time, I am aware that my later reluctance in seminary and in my initial years of priesthood to become involved in the ministry of social justice or to preach about justice issues was strongly influenced by that experience. In my initial involvement with the Seminary Peace and Justice Com-mittee, I soon came to a basic understanding. ! must be willing with com-plete honesty to critique that part of myself that desires to be popular and to be liked by others. Otherwise, I would never say anything controver-sial or would never speak out or would rarely take action on behalf of issues of social justice. Poverty is Messy and Unglamorous A second resistance for me rests in a simple fact. Poverty is messy and unglamorous. For the past seven years I have volunteered on a part time basis at an overnight shelter for the homeless. Many of the people who come to spend the night there are not "pretty." They are dirty; they smell; they are often sick; some have head lice; some are alcoholics; some belong in a halfway house or mental institution. I have always been fortunate enough to grow up and live in a clean, healthy, and comfortable environment. Throughout much of my life I have been isolated and insulated from the poor and the homeless. I rec-ognized another need for honest critique. I needed to confront that part of myself that wants life always to be nice, comfortable, and pretty. Oth-erwise, I would never become involved. 660 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 Myths, Stereotypes, and Prejudices A third resistance for me consists in myths, stereotypes, and preju-dices. Our culture is filled with them--about racial, ethnic, and relig-ious groups and about the poor and those who work for and with them. "The poor are lazy and would rather be on welfare . If they really wanted to, they could better themselves . They like being poor. See how happy they are . People involved in social justice causes are un-patriotic . All social justice organizations are communist inspired." The list goes on and on. I cannot go to a social gathering without hearing at least one joke that plays upon racial, ethnic, and cultural stereotypes. At times, I have told and laughed at those same jokes. I needed to confront and honestly critique my own myths, stereotypes, and prejudices. Otherwise, I would never become involved. Social-Justice Ministry is Disturbing There is a fourth resistance. I find this ministry disturbing. Working in the area of social justice has forced me to critique my own lifestyle, my attitudes about material possessions and wealth, and my use of the world's resources. I must admit that I like the good life. Conspicuous consumption is the name of the game in American society. In my early years of priest-hood when I was no longer a poor student but had a regular salary, I re-ally enjoyed having nice things. They compensated for my "great sac-rifice" of celibacy. I needed to honestly critique my own desire to live the good life and my tendencies toward materialism. Otherwise, I would never become involved. Fear A fifth resistance for me is fear. I found within myself a whole clus-ter of fears. I believed that if I worked with the poor and on behalf of social justice, I would be injured, harmed, or abused in some way. When I spent my first night at a shelter for the homeless, I was thor-oughly convinced that I was going to get head lice. TV news broadcasts and newspaper articles have always been filled with stories of crime and violence among the poor and in the inner city. When I was in college, I was robbed at gunpoint by two young black men. That experience re-inforced an attitude that had been drilled into me in all kinds of ways in my neighborhood: all black people are dangerous and to be feared. I needed to critique with honesty and courage that part of myself that de-sires security and safety at all costs. Otherwise, I would never take the I'd Love to, Lord, But. / 661 risk of becoming involved. An Overwhelming Sense of Poverty and Injustice in the World There is a final resistance. When I consider the extent of poverty and injustice in the world, I feel overwhelmed. I say to myself: What can one person possibly do to make a difference? My efforts will be futile and a waste of time. The work is innately frustrating. I will continually run into brick walls and have to deal with bureaucratic red tape and unsym-pathetic people and institutions. Progress is often measured in inches. You live with little or no sense of accomplishment. I realized that if I was not willing to honestly critique my own feelings of being over-whelmed and my own desire for instant results, then I would never be-come involved. Overcoming Resistances ~ It was not easy for me to look at my resistances. It is no easier to-day. Life seemed to be more pleasant when I closed my eyes to the re-alities of poverty and injustice as they existed all around me. Even after seven years of working with our Peace and Justice Committee, I find that I can still bring out of my storehouse old and new excuses which warn me to "back off," to rest because "I have done enough." As I con-tinue to come in touch with each of my resistances, I am aware that there are various steps that I have to enter into in order to overcome them. MyNeed for Challenge A first step is to allow myself to be challenged by others. I found myself challenged recently in a way I least expected. My sister who is a registered nurse and a certified nurse midwife recently volunteered to work for two years in Papua New Guinea as a lay missionary. I asked her why she wanted to do this. She told me that she was aware of the many talents, gifts, and blessings God had given her throughout her life. She felt that serving as a lay missionary was one way in which she could best express her gratitude to God. As I listened to what she had to say, I felt a lot of pride and admira-tion for my sister. At the same time, I felt a bit embarrassed as I realized that my own commitment to serving the poor at times looked pale in com-parison. I need people like my sister to challenge me and to keep me look-ing at my resistances. I need people like my sister to inspire me and to keep me in touch with my desire to bring to others the Good News that Jesus proclaimed in the Gospel of Luke as he began his public ministry. They need to say little. Their lives are bold proclamation. 669 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 As important as they are, such challenges are ~not enough for me. I have an amazing capacity to ignore or rationalize away the challenges that come from outside of me. To break through my resistances, I need to pray, to dialogue With others, and to simply begin. MyNeed for Prayer A second step for me is to bring my .resistances before the Lord in prayer. I begin by naming as honestly as I can my fears, my doubts, and my inner resistances. I express to God in my prayer what I am feeling and why I am feeling it. I ask God to break through my denial, to re-move from my eyes the scales that blind me to the,breadth and depth of my resistances so that I can see them for what they are. I place my resis-tances in the hands of God and invite God to respond. Here begins what I call the zone of discomfort in my prayer. To say to God "thy will be done" rather than "my will be thine" is~very fright-ening. What if God reveals to me something 1 do not want to see? What if God asks me to do what I do not want to do? At this point, I must qui-etly and patiently wait for God to respond, trusting that the God who loved me into existence will not abandon me or ask me to do anything that I am not capable of doing. MyNeed for Dialogue Prayer leads me to a third step. I need to talk to another person about my resistances. St. Ignatius in his Rules for the Discernment of Spirits, Week I [326] talks about the evil spirit as a false lover who "acts in or-der to keep his own suggestions and temptations secret, and our tactics must be to bring out into the light of day such suggestions and tempta-tions to our confessor or director or superior" (David Fleming, S.J., The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Literal Translation and A Contem-porary Reading [St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978], p. 213). Resistances need to be brought into the light of day so that they can be seen for what they are. When I do not talk to another person about my resistances, I find that they can gain power to control me, even after I have brought them to prayer. I can easily deny them or sweep them un-der the carpet. In hones( dialogue with another, I am given the gift of freedom of choice. In honest dialogue with another, I find challenge, new perspective, affirmation, support, and the courage to begin. My Need to Begin A fourth step is to begin. At Mundelein Seminary, there is a Spiri- l"d Love to, Lord, But. / 663 tuality and Justice group composed of faculty and students. Each mem-ber of this group has chosen a concrete action to pursue during the school year in some area of social justice. People have chosen to fast, to work at a soup kitchen or a shelter for the homeless, to deaccumulate their pos-sessions and to live more simply, or to pursue the Pax Christi vow of nonviolence. The premise behind this group is that we live ourselves into new ways of thinking, valuing, and behaving. The way to begin is robe-gin. The way to break through and break down our resistances is to be-gin doing something, no matter how small or insignificant. I have chosen the Pax Christi vow of nonviolence as my action for this year. In the sh"ort time that I haqe pursued this, I have already be-gun to experience ways in which my thinking, my attitudes, my values, and my behaviors are changing. I can feel my resistances to living out this vow b(eaking down in the very act of acting. The words of Mother Teresa are most applicable here: I never look at the masses as my responsibility. I look at the individual. I can love only one person at a time. I can feed only one person at a time. Just one, one, one. You get closer to Christ by coming closer to each other. As Jesus said: "Whatever you do to the least of my breth-ren, you do to me." So you begin . ! begin. I picked up one per-son. Maybe if 1 didn't pick up that one person, 1 wouldn't have picked up 42,000. The whole work is only a drop in the ocean. But if I didn't put the drop in, the ocean would be one drop less. Same thing for you, same thing in your family, same thing in the church where you go. Just begin . . . one, one, one. (Source unknown) MyNeed for Support A final step for me is my need for ongoing support. My commitment to working for justice in the world is fragile and tenuous. I find that I need ongoing challenge to help me keep looking at and dealing with my resistances. I also need the support and affirmation of others to keep me going when I experience moments of discouragement and frustration. The Spirituality and Justice group of which I am a part provides me with opportunities for ongoing challenge, prayer, dialogue, and action. At our initial meetings, we spent time praying about the commitment we hoped to make. We broke into dyads to talk to another about why we chose to be a part of this group, about the action we were planning to pursue, and about the fears and resistances we were experiencing inside of us as we prepared to begin. We came back into the larger group to share the fruits of our dialogue. We concluded with shared prayer. At this point, most of us in the group have chosen and have begun 664 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 to pursue an action. We see future meetings as an opportunity for us to take time for solitary prayer as we continue to bring our actions before God. The meetings help us to share in aone to one way and in the larger group the impact that our action is making on our thinking, valuing, and behaving. The meetings offer support and prayer for and with one an-other in our actions. Here we give witness and challenge to one another as we keep looking at and confronting our resistances. Conclusion The journey into the ministry of social justice is challenging, diffi-cult, and painful. There are many ~tesistances that cooe from within and without. There are many starts and stops. It is a journey that cannot be successfully negotiated alone. There can be no authentic journey with-out God and fellow travelers. My experience is that the journey is well worth the effort for my good and the good of others. May the Spirit of the Lord be upon us in our quest to "bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and release to prisoners." Understanding Novitiate Formation Wilkie Au, 'S.J. Father Au has just completed six and a half years as novice director. He is writing a book tentatively titled Acquiring Habits of the Heart: Holistic Religious Forma-tion. He may be addressed at Loyola Marymount University; P.O. Box 45041; Los Angeles, California 90045. Vatican II,s call for the renewal of religious life set into motion a radical reexaminatio.n of the purposes, processes, and structures involved in the formation of candidates for religious life. The aggiornamento of John XXIII required that those responsible for religious formation make the adaptations needed to prepare religious candidates fora lifetime of dedi-cation and service in a rapidly changing world and Church. Because sen-sible adaptation depended on having a clear sense of what objectives were sought, much of the discussion among formation personnel (forma-tores) in the postconciliar years centered on the purposes and goals of the different phases of the formation process. Consequently, the noviti-ate or initial formation in many orders was thoroughly evaluated in light of the renewed understanding of religious life in the modern world, and many dramatic changes followed. Nevertheless, more than twenty years later the question is still being asked today: "What should be the overriding aims and objectives of the novitiate?"~ According to Father Gerald Arbuckle, S.M., a former as-sistant general of his community, many formation personnel today agree that the experience and the efforts to adapt the novitiate program accord-ing to the requirements of Renovationis Causam have not always been as successful as they would have wished. Many are still uncertain about what to do in the novitiate. Many questions remain: "Should there be a one,to-two-year novitiate? . When should the formative apostolic ex-periences take place and what should they accomplish? . How much 665 666 / Review for Religio. us, September~October 1988 separation, if any, from the world around them should novices experi-ence?" In brief, many questions about the aims and objectives of novi-tiate formation persist.2 Today the drastic drop in the number of those entering the novitiate adds further reason for adaptations in novitiate formation. To be accept-able, these adaptations must, however, retain the essential goals of the novitiate. Precisely what these needed changes are and how they are to be implemented will depend on concrete circumstances of place and per-sonnel. But, more importantly, before any sensible adaptation can be made, it is imperative that there be a clear rearticulation of the basic goals of novitiate formation. Otherwise,. there is the danger that our ad-aptations will be misguided and essential aspects of novitiate training be inadvertently°lost. The purpose of this article is to articulate an under-standing of novitiate formation, based on my si'x years of experience as director of novices of the Jesuits of the California Province. It is my hope that this article will stimulate and contribute to a discussion of novitiate formation at a time when formatores throughout the world are attempt-ing to deal with the adjustments made necessary by, among other things, declining numbers. While this article will. reflect Jesuit documents and my ,own experi-ence working within a Jesuit novitiate (with a group averaging between twelve to fifteen,new candidates every year), I am hopeful that other re-ligious groups of men and 'women working with smaller numbers can dis-cover in my comments what is universally true of the novitiate process in general. In a word, I believe that any novitiate program that purports to embody the spirit of Vatican I1 must include three essential aspects: (1) vocation discernment; (2) religious, socialization; and (3) Qngoing in-dividuation. These three overlapping purposes of the novitiate must, in my opinion, be retained no matter what adapta!ions, are made to accom-modate changing circumstances. What follows is a discussion of these three major goals of the novitiate. Vocation Discernment The objective bf vocation discernment in the novitiate is to help nov-ices come to a peaceful awareness and a free acceptance' of God"s will for them in regard to their state of life. Candidates come seeking help in discerning wh(ther God is indeed calling them to a lifelong commit-ment to tile service of Christ with this particular religious group. Sev-eral considerations are helpi~ul in providing this assistance to them: Confirmation of a Call versus "Weeding Out" The nOvmate must be Viewed as a positive process, as a concrete aid Novitiate Formation / 66"/ to those trying to test out their call to religious lif~. The novitiate should not be designed or perceived as a "weeding out" system, something ,like the basic training of an elitist military unit or the strenuous audition for a coveted part in a chorus line. The novitiate process would be vitiated at its core if it were to be seen as a systematic attempt to test candidates by deliberately placing artificial obstacles before them and screening them on the basis of their ability to overcome these obstacles. The de-structive and dysfunctional consequences of this negative view of novi-tiate formation can be documented in the "horror stories" of many older religious. In addition to the regrettable pain and htirt inflicted on peo-ple, a negative approach ~to the novitiate is fundamentally flawed because it encourages fearful and anxious novices to circumvent, rather than in-vest in, the complex process of discernment. Vocation discdrnment requires an openness and attention to one's in-terior movements, especially in prayer, and an honest disclosure and dis-cussion of these movements in spiritual direction. These attitudes of open-ness and honesty cannot exist in the kind of atmosphere of fear and threat which a "weeding out" approach inevitably produces. Furthermore, such an approach focuses too much attention on external requirements that need to be met in order to survive, like ~'hoops one has to jump through" to make the grade. Dangerously distracting, such a pre-occupation with "making it" can seriously jeopardize the integrity of one's discernment process. Good discernment relies heavily on a per-son's ability to hear the voice of the Lord speaking deeply in the soli-tude of one's heart and in the concrete circumstances of one's life. In light of this, the novice director can be most helpful by imitating the posi-tive role of Eli, the priest, who directs the young Samuel to the place where he is instructed to respond to the Lord's summons by saying, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening" (1 S 3:1-9). The Dynamic of Election and Confirmation The term "election"' was used by lgna~tius of Loyola to designate the choice made by a person seeking the will of God regarding some con-crete matter in his or her life. For the last four centuries, Christians have found the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius helpful in making an elec-tion, especially when trying to determine how they should serve Christ. For Ignatius, such a determination was best done in the context of prayer, for "prayer is the place where we sort out our desires and where we are ourselves sorted out by the desires we choose to follow. ,,3 The spiritual discernment that takes place in the novitiate results in an election regard-ing the direction one's vocation should take. Besides providing direction, Review for Religious, September-October 1988 however, the election process in the novitiate also seeks to test out the depth and freedom of a person's desire to serve Christ through the life of the vows. The Exercises were designed by Ignatius to help in "preparing and disposing the soul to rid itself of all inordinate attachments, and, after their removal, [in] seeking and finding the will of God in the disposition of our life for the salvation of our soul."4 In a Jesuit novitiate the Exer-cises are usually made in the course of a thirty-day retreat soon after en-trance. This experience provides the context in which the Jesuit novice director helps the individual novice either to make an election regarding his vocation or to reaffirm his previously~ made decision to be a Jesuit. Those who make an election to pursue the Jesuit way of life must then generously engage in the novitiate process with the hope that the Lord will clarify and confirm their desire. Thus, vocation discernment in the novitiate involves a two-year period of' monitoring one's deepest desires and ascertaining whether the desire to serve the Lord as a Jesuit perdures and deepens throughout the course of the novitiate. If this desire per-dures, the novice can then express this desire through the first vows of a Jesuit. Michael J. Buckley, S.J., describes these first vows as an offering, following upon an election, made in perpetuity, very much like the initial election of the Exercises. Like this offering, they are con-tingent upon the subsequent confirmation by the Lord, worked through a human being's personal religious history over the next ten or fifteen years.5 Until he takes his final vows many years after the novitiate, "the Jesuit lives in a period of probation, testing whether the first offering of his life to God [through first vows] is accepted and confirmed by divine providence."6 Buckley summarizes this Ignatian dynamic well by explain-ing "the way in which one moves toward finding and giving his life over to the will of God" within the framework of the Spiritual Exercises. There isthe initial offer of a choice to God our Lord, an offering which is made according to a time for making an election and which is then presented before the Lord . What the dynamic of the election looks for after the moment of offering is the subsequent confirmation'by God. Election as a religious history, as an experience of Providence, devel-ops over time between these two major events: the time of human offer-ing and the period of confirmation by God.7 Clearly, then, the objective of vocation discernment in the novitiate is to help novices determine whether the depth and direction of their Novitiate Formation / 669 heart's deepest desires move them to make a self-offering of themselves through vows. Absolute clarity and certainty regarding the future can-not be expected at the end of the novitiate period, since the person's self-offering must await "the subsequent confirmation by God." As Buck-ley eloquently states, For a man who follows God, who listens to God throughout his serious experience, the future is unknown and mysterious--not unlike God him-self. And he moves into this mystery without prematurely forcing clar-ity because his experience of God directs this movement.8 The Test of Existential Validation Colloquially stated, the test of existential validation asks novices this question: "Does the shoe fit?" This is an important question for voca-tion discernment, and it must be asked on a regular basis. While the Ig-natian election helps novices find God's will for them in the deep de-sires of their hearts, the test of existential validation enables them to dis-cover God"s will in the concrete details of their lives. The method of existential validation is basically very simple. When they first enter, the novices are asked to live the life of a Jesuit as if they have already taken the three vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Then they are asked to pay attention to the "fit" throughout the course of their novitiate. In other words, they are asked to "try on the shoes of being a Jesuit" and check for the fit as they actually walk in those shoes. In their concrete experience, do they find that living the vows in an actual Jesuit community is life-giving and productive? Do they dis-cover that, with the passage of time, there is an increasing congruence between what they want for their lives and Jesuit ideals? As they grow in knowledge of what being a Jesuit involves concretely in this histori-cal time and place, do they find a match between what they desire and what life in the Society of Jesus offers and requires today? Another aspect of existential validation involves testing the authen-ticity of one's desire. This is done mainly by checking for the congru-ence between what one professes to value and desire and how one actu-ally chooses, decides, and behaves. Although all human beings live with a discrepancy between the ideal and the real, drastic and consistent de-viations from the norms and aspirations of religious life should make one question the genuineness and depth of one's desire to be a religious. Though painful and disruptive, getting in touch with authentic desires can be a liberating experience. Furthermore, while self-reporting is an important means for gather- 670 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 ing data in the process of existential validation, the feedback of the re-ceiving community is also very important in testing out the existential fit between the individual novice and the peculiar charism of a particu-lar religious institute. Vocation discernment in the novitiate must ascer-tain not only if a person desires to take on religious life, but whether he or she has been given the gift and charism to live that life. A realistic assessment of this capability is a crucial aspect of vocation discernment. For example, from the concrete evidence of a person's life, can it be judged that the Lord has given the aspirant to an apostolic religious com-munity the following prerequisites: -- the ability to live in community with relative peace and joy? -- the capacity to love with celibate chastity in a non-exclusive man-ner? -- the.freedom to live with simplicity and detachment? -- the ability to be mobile and available to be sent anywhere on mis-sion? The underlying presupposition of this line of inquiry obviously is that one's God-given abilities, personality, and inclinations can indicate in helpful ways the precise form and manner in which one is being called to serve Christ. Not to pay serious attention to these concrete indicators is to disregard an important aspect of vocation discernment. Vocation Shortage and a ~,ranny of Numbers I would like to make a final comment regarding vocation discern-ment in the novitiate. It seems to me that the declining number of candi-dates c~n create a ,~ituation in which vocation discernment is not engaged in with seriousness and detachment. The disordered desire to keep the few that come can jeopardize and short-circuit the discernment process. At a time of drastic diminishment, external pressures to hang on at any cost to the few that do enter are sometimes exerted by formed members of the community. This pressure, as well as the interior unfreedom of formatores themselves, can impede a thorough discernment process.9 Fur-thermore, unconsciously treating novices with a "precious few" men-tality can lead to a form of coddling that would be unhelpful for relig-ious formation and spiritual growth. Religious communities that have had only a few candidates during the last decade and at present experience only a trickle from year to year are particularly susceptible to this dan-ger. Religious Socialization: "Habits of the Heart" The term "religious socialization" has been popularized by John Novitiate Formation / 671 Westerhoff III in discussing the question of how elements of religion and faith ,~are transmitted from one generation to another. While he does not apply the term to the formation of religious candidates, nevertheless, it seems to capture quite well one of the essential purposes of the noviti-ate, that is, the handing on of a religious tradition and lifestyle to per-sons desiring to enter the life of a religious group as fully participating members. Religious socialization, according to Westerhoff, is a process consisting of lifelong formal and informal mechanisms, through which persons stistain and transmit their faith (worldview', value ~syst~m) and lifestyle. This is accomplished through participation in the life of a tradition-bearing community with its rites, rituals, myths, sym-bols, expressions of beliefs, attitudes and values, organizational pat-terns, and activities.~° As defined by Westerhoff, religious socialization is a lifelong proc-ess and thus does not exactly describe the novitiate, which (to the relief of all involved) is limited to one or two years. Technically speaking, re-ligious socialization is equivalent to the whole process of formation, which more and more is being viewed as a lifelong affair. Because of ongoing liturgical renewal, biblical and theological reflection, and the rapidity of changing conditions of our times, religious have been urged to commit themselveS seriously to "continuing formation." ~ Neverthe-less, the ~oviiiate is the initial phase of the lifelong process involved in the assimilation of members into religious life. Viewed as such, Wester-hoff's notion of religious ~ocialization provides a useful way of under-standing an essential purpose of the novitiate. Adaptations of novitiate formation must be guided by the essential goal of religious socialization. The basic question raised by the task of handing on the tradition Of religious life to new aspirants is this: What is tO be~handed down and how? What values, beliefs, mores, and ways of proceeding has the receiving community judged to be of perennial worth, such that they should remain permanently .definitional of the group? To employ a phrase of Alexis de Tocqueville, the nineteenth-century French observer of democracy in America (a phrase recently popu-larized by a national bestseller), what are the "habits of the heart" that the receiving community deems absolutely essential for maintaining its group life with integrity and vitality'? In "habits of the heart" Tocqueville included "notions, opinions, and ideas that 'shape mental habits'; and 'the sum of moral and intellectual dispositions' " as well as habitual practices with respect to such things as religion. ~- Once the receiving community has come to a clear consensus on the 672 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 content which it wishes to transmit, then it must decide on the most ef-fective means for this transmission. The question of how to raises a num-ber of considerations which every novice director must ponder if the no-vitiate program is to have any intelligible rationale. Some of these im-portant considerations will be discussed below. The Question of Contact and Separation For the sake of effective religious socialization, there often arises the question of what contact novices should have with family, friends, those in ministry, and formed members of their own religious order. Arbuckle has provided a very useful framework to reflect on this question. ~3 Re-lying on anthropological data regarding initiation rites, he proposes three-stage process for the novitiate, which, according to him, is essen-tially an initiation rite: the stages of separation, liminoid, and the incor-poration or reaggregation. Stage I emphasizes separating the novices from the ordinary life they have left behind in order to dramatize the radicality of the transition from lay life to religious life. While this stage may be brief, the separation also symbolic. The symbolism must express to the candidate that in order to respond to the call of the Lord there must be a withdrawal from the world of "or-dinary" living with its roles and interests, its speed, and its distraction. The symbolism must convey the message that to follow the radical de-mands of the gospel message one must be prepared to "leave father, mother, brothers, sisters, and all things" for the sake of the Lord. 14 To convey this new dramatic reality, novices should, at this stage, be separated physically and geographically from other members of the group who have already gone through the passage of initiation. Not to separate them, "when the aims of the initiation process are so different from the aims of postnovitiate training, is to make the realization of the novitiate aims impossible to achieve."~5 The second stage, called liminoid (from the Latin, limen, threshold), requires the kind of seclusion that fosters strong investment in commu-nity building. It is precisely in the context of a vibrant community life that the novices are to experience the "habits of the heart" which the receiving community wish(s to transmit to its new members. This is the time for introducing the novice to the unique spirit of the institute, peculiar charism within the Church, and its characteristic way of proceed-ing. By so inculcating its spirituality, mores, history, and tradition, the receiving community aims to bond the new member to its past and thus Novitiate Formation / 673 to provide a foundation for the novice's identification with the group. According to Arbuckle, this second stage of relative seclusion should last about a year. The third stage is that of incorporation or reaggregation, a period when novices are reconnected with the religious family outside the no-vitiate. This stage should be as long as or even longer than the liminoid stage. Basically a time of "evaluated pastoral experience," this stage is to be seen as an integral part of the novitiate process. Arbuckle ex-presses the aims of the third stage by citing paragraph 25 of Renovationis Causam: Besides gradual preparation for apostolic activities, they [that is, the ex-perimental periods outside the novitiate] can also have as their purpose to bring the novice into contact with certain concrete aspects of poverty or of labor, to contribute to character formation, a better knowledge of human nature, the strengthening of the will, the development of personal responsibility and, lastly, to provide occasions for effort at union with God in the context of active life.~6 In my opinion, Arbuckle's three-stage approach provides a rich and comprehensive understanding of the novitiate process, as Well as a sound basis for determining the question of the amount of separation and con-tact that would be helpful for novices. That there be some kind of alter-nation between separation and contact has also been clearly endorsed by others. For example, the Jesuit decree on novitiate formation states: Although entrance into the novitiate should entail a real separation from the life previously led in the world, superiors should nevertheless pro-vide that the novices, while consistently maintaining a spirit of recol-lection, should have sufficient social contact with their contemporaries (both within and outside the Society). Likewise the necessary separation from parents and friends should take place in such a way that genuine progress in affective balance and supernatural love is not impeded. IV The Arbuckle model is useful because it enables the novitiate to ef-fectively bond new members to the religious group, which is the goal of religious socialization. The bonding is both with the past (the commu-nity's traditions and history) and with the present (its present members and ministries). By means of form'al and informal contact, then, the re-ceiving community links its new members to its group life. The Question of Structure and Nonstructure It is my opinion that both structure and nonstructure have important and different functions in the process of religious socialization. The no- 67'4 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 vitiate process must include times for both. Structured time is important for thi~ development of the habits and skills necessary for sustaining a lifetime of religious dedication. This time of structure is the period tra-ditionally known as "common order" during which the novices's day is regulated according to a schedule with definite periods for communal and personal prayer, for work around the house, for conferences and classes with the novice staff, for individual study, and for apostolic in-volvements. Because the development of habits such as those that con-tribute to a faithful prayer life and spiritual discernment requires regular repetition and practice, structured time for such training is important in novitiate formation. Equally important is time for more freedom and less structure in the novitiate learning process. These times of nonstructure provide an op-portunity for the novices to test out to what extent, they have internal-ized and appropriated what they have sought to learn during times of struc-tured learning. For example, has the individual novice found himself or herself able to faithfully sustain a regular prayer life when away from the structural supports of the novitiate? To foster personal responsibility among novices for their own development, the Jesuits' 3 i st General'Con-gregation stated that "a necessity is that the no~,itiat~'s way of life be not so rigidly determined that the novices, lacking in all initiative, can hardly ever practice spiritual discernment, or even obedience itself, ex-cept in the form of a passive and impersonal submission."~8 The non-structured periods of the novitiate allow the novices as aspiring religious to find out truthfully and behaviorally what changes in their lives and at-titudes have actually taken place as the result of their training in the limi-noid stage. Therefore, I believe that a rhythmic alternation between struc-tured and nonstructured time is an essential dynamic of the novitiate learn-ing process. The Question of Experience and Reflection Another important learning dynamic in the novitiate involves the com-bination of experience and reflection. This mode of learning, variously called experiential learning or praxis, calls for the novice's active engage-ment in learning experiences and a subsequent reflection upon those ex-periences, with an eye to what insights and knowledge can be.,gleaned from them. This form of experiential learning is applicable to many ar-eas in which novices are called to grow, that is prayer,t9 interpersonal relationships,2° and ministerial effectiveness. The goal sought through this mode of learning is, in the words of the Jesuits' 33rd General Con-gregation, "a transformation of our habitual patterns of thought through Novitiate Formation / 675 a constant interplay of experience, reflectipn, and action.' While experiential learning can be a powerful form of learning, there is always the danger that it can lead to anti-intellectualism, if it is not carefully applied. Experience is the indispensable raw material of expe-riential learning. But it remains unprocessed--that is, raw material-- without the equally important process of reflecting on the experience. The danger is effectively obviated when serious effort an~d sufficient time are devoted to dwelling on the experience in such a way that ideas and principles are abstracted out of it and feelings are symbolized. In addition'to serious reflection, there is a further requirement of ef-fective praxis. To be used intelligently, experiential learning must be grounded in a well-thought-out theory of experience. As John Dewey warned in 1938, "The belief that all genuine education comes about through experience does not mean that all experiences are genuinely or equally educative. Experience and education cannot be directly equated to each other."zz Mere insisten~ze on the necessity of experience, there-fore, is notenough. In Dewey's words, "Everything depends on the qual~ ity of the experience which is had."z3 Therefore, to use the experiential mode of learning in the novitiate effectively,formatores must ensure (!) that the quality of the learning experiences engaged in by novices be se-riously evaluated and (2)that the novices, with the assistance of a skilled facilitator, give sufficient time and attention to follow-up reflection on their experiences. The Ongoing Process of Individuation The third major aspect of novitiate formation calls for the ongoing fostering of the personal growth of candidates. While the agenda of the receiving community is stressed in the process of religious socialization, the individuation process respects the agenda of persons in their individ-ual growth process. Since it is the case, more and more, that candidates enter the novitiate at such diverse ages and at such different points of p.er-sonal development, novitiate formation must seriously recognize individ-ual differences and aid individuals to move ahead, not regress, in the de-velopment of their selfhood. After all, the ability to give of oneself in self-donation presupposes that one first possesses a self. According to Carl Jung, the process of individuation is a gradual growth toward whole-ness and harmony, involving the progressive differentiation and detailed development of all parts of the human personality. Since individuation is a lifelong project, entry into religious life cannot halt its progress with-out stunting the healthy maturation and development of religious as hu-man beings. 6"/6 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 Since Vatican II, religious have been strongly ehcouraged to take con-tinuhl human growth seriously and to take care that their commitment to religious life does not impede their prior responsibility as human beings to a~tualize their God-gi~,en potential. In the eyes of an increasing num-ber of c,~ontemporary theologians, the motivation for continuous human growth is clearly a religious one. Human life'is seen as a gift fr6m the Fi~ther. At the same time, God couples the gi~ft of life with a challenge to person~s to be cocreatorsof their lives, freely fashioning their lives into "something beautiful for God." In this ongoing process of human de-velopment,~ the Lord of creation and the human works Of his hand col-laborate. Therefore, for the person who seeks to respond to God's in-itiative, a commitment to continuous growth'is not only a choice, but requirement. To deny the inner impulse t.oward continuous growth is tan-tamount to not responding to God, because, in the words of Gregory Baum, "as d.estiny, as summons, as love., God is present in man's mak-ing of man."~-4 John Haughey, S.J., states that the refusal to take seri-ously one's vocation to be a cocreator with God also takes on a moral dimension. When the refusal to choose leaves the work of God's hands unfinished, then this peculiar kind of inaction takes on a moral dimension. Why.'? Because the unique way of manifesting some aspect of the fullness of God that every person is born to manifest remains potency. Refusal to come to the point of decision, choice, or commitment can leave some-thing of creation itself unfinished and hence God's glory incomplete. This constitutes evil at the level of:being itself. An individual thwarts the purpose of God's creating him by refusing to exercise the cocreator-ship that he could exercise. That which is called forth by God is ren-dered void by man.25 Consequently, religious life and novitiate formation must reinforce among no'vices the importance of continuing their commitment to the proc-ess of individuation as they are simultaneously socialized into the group. Growth in spiritual maturity depends heavily on integral human devel-opment. This truth has long been captured in the Scholastic adage that "grace builds on nature." Leo P. Rock, S.J., a former novice director, applied this truth 'to novitiate formation in a pithy way: "Grace does not substitute for nature, but fulfills it. Healthy, sane personality develop-ment is the most fertile soil in which grace can take root and grow. Growth in religious life can best happen in the situation which best fos-ters personal human growth.''26 The following considerations may be helpful toformatores as they consider how to best foster such prerequi- Novitiate Formation / 677 site human growth in the novitiate: The Developmental Nature of Human Growth Human growth takes place in stages, with each stage presupposing and building on preceding ones. As deveiopmentalists put it, these stages are. invariantly sequential. A person cannot, for example, go from stage one to stage four by skipping the intervening stages. This principle thus requires t~at every individual novice be met where he or she is on enter-ing the novitiate, and then helped to proceed ~forward, stage by stage, from tha.t personal starting point. This is especially important because per-sons entering religion today .vary so much in age, background, and de-velopment. An undifferentiated treatment of novices would prove to be an unenlightened and eventually frustrating appr6ach. Another key consideratibn is that, as a Jesuit formation document puts it, "human development does not proceed at the same pace in eve-ryone." z7 This fact calls for adaptation of the process to individuals. Therefore, in. fostering growth in the novitiate, it seems important that the focus be kept on the individual and the particular~areas of his or her life that stand most ready for development at any particular time. Force-feeding of any kind not only risks dging violence to people, but will ul-timately be countbrproductive in leading to any kind of significant, long-term learning. Personal Responsibility and Religious Obedience The renewal of religious life since Vatican II has certainly challenged men and women to understand and qive the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience in ways that do not impede personal maturity and psycho-logical health. Twenty years ago Jesuit John Courtney Murray spelled out this challenge in a talk to fellow Jesuits. He warned that religious obedience poses a real danger to personal maturity if it fosters the abdi-cation of personal responsibility for one's life and choices. Obedience is a perilous"path to personal maturity, according to Murray. This is be-cause the vow of obedience, if poorly lived out, produces people "who to a degree are purposeless, their lives not consciously and strongly pat-terned, not inwardly directed toward a determined goal with all the or-ganized power of the whole self.' ,28 Religious can succumb to the trap posed by obedience by being pas-sive and overly submissive to authority figures in order to gain accep-tance and approval or to enjoy a kind of infantile dependence free from the anguish of personal decision-making. Those who manifest these and othe'r forms of immature behavior often rationalize their way of acting Review for Religious, September-October 1988 in spiritual terms, thus disguising and denying what they~ are actually do-ing. When they say that they "just want to follow God's or the supe-rior's will," it is sometimes simply a rationalization to justify their to take responsibility for themselves.29 This becomes obvious when the superior clearly has no strong feelings or particular preference about wfiat should happen and in fact would like the religious to assume some independent initiative and to indicate a clear preference. Realizing this threat to maturity, ihe document on Jesuit formation makes clear that "the more the noviceg are stimulated to assume respon-sibilities with prudent and discerning charity, the more successfully will .they acquire Spiritual maturity and the more freely will they adhere their vocation."3° A correlative document on Jesuit obedience states that mature obedience is unattainable apart from the constant cultivation a spirit of initiative and responsibility.3~ A Discernment Model to Develop Responsible~Obedience To foster personal responsibility within the framework of religious obedience, I have used the following eight-step model to teach novices a way of practicing dis~zernment: Step 1" Identify the decision to be made or tl~e issu~ to be resolved. Step 2: Examine the underlying values or concerns (human, Chris-tian, religious, and Jesuit) involved. Step 3: Take time to pray over the matter, paying attention to how one is being drawn or led in prayer. Step 4: Discuss the matter with a spiritual director. Step 5: Dialogue with the superior and engage in a mutual search for God's will in the matter. Step 6: Strive for a state of lgnatian "indifference," that is, a state of inner freedom and equipoise which allows one to accept whatever decision or resolution would be for God's greater glory. If a person is unable to achieve "indifference," discussing the matter in spiritual direction can bring valuable self-knowledge and clarity about how best to proceed in the search for God's will. Perhaps, more prayer and dia-logue with the superior regarding conflicting values and perspectives may be needed before a peaceful closure and decision can be arrived at. Step_ 7: Accept the superior's decision with ,trust in God's. provi-dence at work within the dynamics of religious obedience. Step 8: Stay open to the emerging data of ongoing experience to check for confirmation. In a study of lgnatian obedience, John Futrell, Novitiate Formation / 679 S.J., states that "the principal means of confirmation of the decisions of the superior., are the mutual contentment of himself and his com-panion and the proof of living experience.' ,32 If there is serious doubt "that the superior's decision truly reflects God's will, the process of ,prayer, consultation, and dialogue must begin again. This discernment process promotes personal responsibility and growth because it requires the full engagement of the novices. In com-ing to a decision, they must work with.their religious superior, rather than have things fully decided or resolved for them from above. Step I requires them to invest in the process of defining the parameters of the issue from their personal point of view. Step 2 involves a process of val-ues clarification in which they state the values that are at stake in the de-cision. Steps 3 and 4 give them the chance to critique these values, both alone in prayer and together with a spiritual director. Steps 2, 3, and 4 press them to ask an important twofold question: "Am I free to pursue my values.'?" and "Are my values worth the pursuit?" By requiring them to come to some kind of tentative stance or decision before dialogu-ing with the superior, these steps promote their sense of selfhood, which is largely shaped in the process of personal decision-making. Finally, if attained, the spiritual attitude of Ignatian indifference provides them with the inner freedom which guarantees that their act of autonomous choice can be integrated with religious obedience. For, in the end, indifference allows them to accept whatever is decided with a sense of adult respon-sibility and commitment to the way of evangelical obedience. Summary Reflections Before ma~king a concluding recommendation, it might be helpful to summarize what has been proposed here: I. Adaptations in novitiate formation must always be guided by the three, essential goals of the novitiate: vocation discernment, religious so-cialization, and ongoing individuation. 2. Novitiate formation as it relates to vocation discernment must be seen as a positive aid concerned with the confirmation of a call, rather /han as a negative process of "weeding out" candidates. The process of election monitors the will of God being expressed in the heart's deep-est desires, and the process of existential confirmation searches for the will of God manifested in the concrete circumstances of one's life. 3. Novitiate formation as it relates to religious socialization is the proc-ess by which a religious community receives new members and bonds them to the community's past and present by (a) sharing with them its tradition, spirituality, mores, and "habits of the heart" and (b)welcom- 680 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 ing them to its current fellowship and ministries. 4. Novitiate formation as it relates to ongoing individuation is the process by which the, personal growth and development .of individual nov-ices are fostered, even as the novices are being socialized into the com-munity. Towards this end the novitiate attempts to promote individual initiative and personal responsibility within the context of religious obe-dience. In light of what has been proposed above, I recommend-~that, wher-ever and whenever possible, communities with small numbers of nov-ices (for example, five or fewer) join together with,other compatible groups ~to form a larger formation community, Examples of compatible groups might be novices of different provinces of the same religious or-der (for example, an interprovinciai Jesuit or Dominican novitiate) o con-gregations with the same founding spirit (for example, Franciscans, Bene-dictines, Mercy Sisters, St. Joseph Sisters). In my opinion, the goals of religious socialization are. better accomplished in larger groupings and are very difficult to achieve with just two or three novices ~ibsorbed into a regular apostolic house. This is especially true of the liminoid phase of religious socializa-tion, which relies heavily on an experience of community. During period, novices are meant to acquire the religious values,mores, and spiri-tuality of the group by experiencing daily life in a vibrant community, whose central ministry is the socializing of novices into religious This regrouping for the sake of forming larger formatiow communities can be on a full-time or part-time basis. A very successful example a full-time merger has been Loyola House in Berkley, Michigan, which houses the joint Jesuit novitiate program of the Chicago and Detroit prov-inces. Part-time collaborative programs have taken various forms. For example, for two straight years the Jesuit novices of the California and Oregon provinces joined together for two months to experience the Ig-natian Exercises together. Last year three Jesuit novitiates'pooled their resources and spent five weeks together to study the history of the or-der. Another example of such successful collaboration is the intercom-munity novitiate experience in such places as Los Angeles and Denver. Large and autonomous formation communities can provide S'everal very important dimensions of novitiate training that communities of or two novices cannot provide. Briefly, they are the following: Peer formation. In my experience, peer formation is an important as-pect of religious socialization, As novices experience together the dif-ferent aspects of religious life and share theirjfaith and religious experi- Novitiate Formation / 681 ences with each other, they are supported and "edified," in the best sense of the word. Spiritual conversation among novices regarding the story of their vocation, their experience in prayer and ministry, their strug-gles with the vows and with community living can provide much needed support and insight. Liturgical formation. Larger, autonomous novitiate communities are more likely to have a well-planned, coordinated liturgical life, which can be very important in the spiritual formation of novices. When there are only two or three novices living together, chances are that there will be no orga0ized liturgical life in the community. Instead, the novices may merely join in a convenient parish liturgy. When this occurs, the peda-gogical function of liturgy within formation is greatly diminished. Staffing and programmatic advantages. Because of the growing short-age of active members in practically every religious community in the United States, the search for qualified personnel for the various apostolic works of a community often invites a subtle competition among the vari-ous ministries. As a result, there is a danger that novitiate formation will get short shrift because of the very small number of novices being min-istered to. A larger group of novices in some kind of interprovincial ar-rangement would provide a stronger claim for greater investment by the community (a) in qualified formation personnel whose work is given full-time status and assured of some continuity and (b) in some regular and relatively fixed program of instruction for the training of novices. With-out this kind of investment, it is hard to expect that a person asked to be a part-time novice director for one or two years will devote the time and energy needed to understand the complex process of novitiate for-mation and to develop the skills and knowledge needed to do a good job. When left to function on their own, communities with just a trickle of novices tend to create a makeshift, ad hoc arrangement to handle the for-mation of the few. It seems that having several ongoing, large-group, com-mon novitiate programs which could accommodate novices from vari-ous communities that share the same charism or spirit of a founder would be helpful for meeting the need created by the drastic drop in recent years. None of this would be complete without a word about the inherent, not to say mind-boggling, paradox of religious life and growth. While we are called upon to use all of the knowledge and expertise at our dis-posal, it is the Holy Spirit who effects growth, who gives life, and whose gifts shape the soul--a Spirit who, much to the surprise, despair, and con-fusion of our best-made plans, still blows where it will. This does not Review for Religious, September-October 1988 relieve us of the responsibility of bringing what expertise we can muster to fostering human, spiritual growth. But it reminds us that it is the Holy Spirit, whose ways transcend all our human expertise and wisdom, often confounding them, who effects and shapes the growth we hope to facili-tate. NOTES ~ See Gerald A. Arbuckle, S.M., "Planning the Novitiate Process: Reflections of an Anthro.pologist," in REVIEW FOR REL~6~Ot~S (July/August 1984): 532-546. , 2 Ibid., 15.~ 532. ~' 3 Ann and Barry Ulanov, Primary Speech: A Psychology of Prayer (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), p. 20. '* Annotation # I, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, translated by Louis J. Puhl, S.J. (Chicago: Loyola Upiversity Press, 1951). 5 Michael J. Buckley, S.J., "Final Vows in the Society of Jesus," in National Jes-uit News, vol. 10, no. 7, April 1981, p. 8. 6 Ibid., p. 9. 7 Ibid., p. 8. 8 Michael J. Buckley, S.J., "The Priesthood as a Religious Event," in The Berkeley Jesuit, spring 1970, p. 7. 9 "In all selection and testing of seminarians, necessary standards must always be firmly maintained, even when there exists a regrettable shortage of priests. For God will not allow his Church to lack ministers if worthy candidates are admitted while unsuitable ones are speedily and paternally directed towards the assuming of other tasks and are encouraged to take up the lay apostolate readily, in a consciousness of their Christian vocation." Paragraph 6, Decree on Priestly Formation (Optatam Totius), in The Documents of Vatican !I, ed. Walter Abbott, S.J. (New York: Amer-ica Press, 1966). ~0 John Westerhoff III and Gwen K. Neville, Generation to Generation: Conversa-tions on Religious Education and Culture (Philadelphia: United Church Press, 1974), p. 41. ~ Nos. 138-140, "The Spiritual Formation of Jesuits," in Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1977), pp. I I 1-113. See also no. 23, "Companions of Jesus Se~nt into Today's World," Decree # I, Documents of the 33rd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1984), p. 50. ~2 Quoted in Robert N. Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Com-mitment in American Life (San Francisco: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1986), p. 37. ~3 Arbuckle, op. cit., pp. 540-545. ~': Ibid., p. 540. ~5 Ibid. ~6 Quoted ibid., pp. 542-543. t7 No. 22, Decree 8, "The Spiritual Formation of Jesuits," Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, p. 104. Is Ibid., no. 19, p. 103. 19 For an explanation of how praxis or experiential learning is applied to prayer, see my "Teach Us to Pray," in Company: A Magazine of the American Jesuits, vol. Novitiate Formation / 683 I, no. 3, April 1984, pp. 8-10. 2o For a discussion of the experience/reflection dynamic in learning about interper-sonal relationships, see my "Particular Friendships Revisited," in Human Devel-opment, vol. 7, no. I, spring 1986, pp. 34-38. 2~ Decree I, -#40, Documents of the 33rd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus. 22 John Dewey, Experience and Education (London: Collier-MacMillan Company, 1938), p. 25. 23 Ibid., p. 27 (emphasis in the original). 24 Gregory Baum, "Reply and Explanation," in Ecumenist, vol. 9, Nov.-Dec. 1970- Jan.-Feb. ! 971, p. 18. z5 John Haughey, S.J., Should Anyone Say Forever: On Making, Keeping, and Break-ing Commitments (Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1975), pp. 23-24. 26 Leo lb. Rock, S.J., "The California Province Novitiate: What We Do and Why," an unpublished paper, September 1973, p. 4. 27 No. 24, Decree 8, "The Spiritual Formation of Jesuits," Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, p. 105. 28 John Courtney Murray, S.J., " The Danger of the Vows," in Woodstock Letters, fall 1967~, p~ 42 I. 29 For a discussion of obstacles to mature religious obedience, see my "Dealing with Projection: Recognizing and Removing a Common Obstacle to Mature Religious Obe-dience," in Human Development, vol. 6, no. I, spring 1985, pp. 6-1 I. 30 No. 23, Decree 8, " The Spiritual Formation," in Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, p. 105. 31 Nos. II and 12, Decree 17, "The Life of Obedience." Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, pp. 164-166. 32 John C. Futrell, S.J., Making an Apostolic Community of Love: The Role of the 'Superior According to St. Ignatius of Loyola (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), p. 143. Some Thoughts on the Vocation to Celibacy Clifford Stevens Father Stevens has been, over the course of many years, a Trappist, a parish priest, an Air Force chaplain, an editor of The Priest, and a small-town pastor. He has pub-lished a novel, Flame Out of Dorset, about St. Stephen Harding, twelfth-century Cis-tercian. Last appearing in our pages in 1986, he writes from the monaste(y he founded: Tintern; Monastery Road; Oakdale, Nebraska 68761. The very foundation of the vocation to celibacy must be the complete free-dom from compulsion with which the choice of celibacy is made. Free-dom from external compulsion, in that no one can be forced by external pressures to choose the celibate vocation, and freedom from internal pres-sures, ascetic, moral, spiritual, which would make the choice of celibacy anything but a conscious, free choice, based on something within the vo-cation to celibacy itself. The choice of celibacy is not a rejection or de-nial of the excellence of marriage. ~ It is rather an affirmation of realities that transcend sexuality and marriage.2 This "anthropological" base of the choice of celibacy is a critical factor in celibate happiness, and that celibate happiness is based precisely on the facts that [ could find happiness in marriage, that in choosing celi-bacy3 ! am just as free to choose marriage, and that marriage has a good-ness and nobility all its own. There is a profound reason for this complete freedom from compul-sion based on the specific excellence of celibacy itself, and not in com-parison with something else. The profound reason is this. The gift of sexuality and its directedness toward intimate expression'~ in marriage comes, with our very creation, from God's goodness, his wis-dom, and his benevolence. It is an integral part of our humanity and our 684 Thoughts on Celibacy masculinity, and no power on earth can deprive us of it because it comes with the~very blueprint of our nature. (This article looks at celibacy from a masculine point of view, not because the feminine viewpoint is not im-portant, but becduse it is outside the author's experience.) The ,gift of sexuality, in fact, is the root reality of our bodily exis-tence and of our masculine nature, and has a power and a goodness that enriches human life immeasurably. However we want to describe it, you and I, men endowed with all the gifts of a masculine nature, are shaped and fashioned by every ripple and nuance of our living flesh for physi-cal intimacy with a woman. To hide this from ourselves in the name of celibacy would rob the choice of celibacy of half its meaning. The choice of celibacy can never be based upon a denial or ignoring of the inherent goodness of sexuality or the preeminent goodness of sex-ual intimacy in marriage,s Moreover, it is possible to possess one's sexu-ality in this full awareness of its essential goodness, in complete inno-cence, with a wholesome sense of dignity, freedom, wonder, apd joy in its possession and, with the same complete innocence, to look forward to and experience its joyous expression in marriage; or, if one is a celi-bate, to be profoundly appreciative of its joyous expression in marriage, with the same complete innocence.6 The choice of celibacy is not based upon a lack of appreciation for sexual intimacy in marriage or upon any conviction that the experience of marriage is in any way displeasing to God. These are simply unsound anthropological bases upon which to build a vocation to celibacy and, unwittingly, they can plant deep in.the recesses of one's motivation a time bomb ready to go off. It is unfortunate that in the history of Christian spirituality the voca-tion to celibacy has often been explained in terms that denigrate the value and beauty of sexual love in marriage. The impression is given that the choice of celibacy is somehow a flight from something radically unspir-itual and that the celibate looks upon conjugal intimacy as something be-neath his dignity, something that would mar his perfect purity. The choice of celibacy, if it is genuine, has nothing of this motivation about it, but is based solidly and squarely upon something more positive and something more exhilarating. Celibacy must be based on a profound appreciation for the gift of sex-ual intimacy as personal gift and endowment from God and as an inte-gral part of one's masculine inheritance. Nobility of soul does not fail to plumb and to appreciate the riches of masculine possibility which is the natural inheritance of an awakened and full manhood. Review for Religious, September-October 1988 This possibility, with all its splendor and enrichment, does not ex-haust the human possibility, but it does enshrine some of its noblest in-stincts, of the feelings and of the mind, and an intimacy that mirrors the very passion of God himself. As a celibate I set aside intimacy with a woman, with all its rooms of joy and beauty, only for a greater intimacy and its even more won-drous rooms of beauty, and its universe of joy. But in doing so, I will not deny the power, the significance, or the magnitude of the masculine expectancy that I set aside and turn away from. This intimacy, by what-ever name it is called, is riveted into my very flesh; the lineaments of this passionate preoccupation are traced and interlaced in the warp and woof of my very biology. The gift of manhood with all its passionate possibilities is one of the richest gifts of God. I set it aside freely, not with no appreciation for its beauty, and not with regret, but because I have stumbled on a greater beauty, a more powerful intimacy, and a more earth-shaking encounter. In the shadow of that intimacy and in the tremor of this expectancy, every other human possibility fades into insignificance. I do not hide from myself the shattering loveliness and singular beauty of the sexual intimacy that could be mine, but celibacy reaches out to something greater, fully as rich, fully as valid, and as fully a com-plement to my manhood as the rich experience of love in marriage. This is the sound anthropological base upon which the vocation to celibacy is founded. It may not be part of one's original motivation since, in the beginnings of a vocation, you are simply too busy and too taken up with the excitement of a new direction to reflect upon every element of your motivation. But ultimately what is implicit in your choice must be made explicit by thought, reflection, and personal exploration, and there must not be in the root motivation of celibacy anything resembling spiritual or moral snobbery or looking down on marriage. The choice of celibacy must be based upon some excellence in the vocation of celibacy itself, and not in mere comparison with something else. Only then can the specific excellence of the vocation to celibacy become part of your own life,~and--I am sure I do not have to repeat--thespecific excellence of celibacy is not the fact that you do not have a woman in your life or that you sleep alone. This is a necessary condition, but if that is all that celibacy means to you, you could end up being the most miserable of men, deprived of the crowning act of your masculine nature, the finest and noblest expression of your manhood, with nothing to take its place. That would be a deprivation of singular magnitude. Thoughts on Celibacy And this is something that we should never forget: As celibates we deprive ourselves of this crowning act of our masculine nature, the fin-est and most genuine expression of our masculinity that is sexual inti-macy in marriage. If that terrifying vacuum were not filled with some-thing that touched with joy the very roots of our manhood, the dep-rivation and emptiness would be almost too much to bear. This is one of the consequences of celibacy that has not often been touched upon, but it certainly explains some of the strange aberrations of clerical and religious life and some of the tragic consequences of an ill-motivated and immature commitment to celibacy. One of the major problems in the vocation to celibacy is that many celibates have not through deep personal reflection made explicit in their own minds what was implicit in their choice of celibacy and have ac-cepted, quite uncritically, an evaluation of sexuality in general, and of their own sexuality in particular, that is based on tenets of a Neoplaton-ist and Stoic anthropology embodied in an older type of spirituality. This evaluation notonly placed no value upon sexuality itself, but tended to denigrate as totally unworthy of the spiritual person the inti-mate expression of sexuality in marriage, thus negating the very mean-ing of sexuality and placing a negative judgment on the very possession of one's sexuality. Really, it all starts and ends there: What evaluation and judgment do you place upon the intimate expression of sexuality in marriage? If that judgment is a negative one, you can never really be com-fortable in the possession of your own sexuality. The true Christian evaluation of sexual intimacy in marriage, based upon the vision of sexual love embodied in the Christian revelation it-self, is that the intimate expression of sexual love in marriage is (i) the crowning act (in fa~zt, the primary and unique act) of one's manhood, (2) the finest, noblest, and most genuine expression of one's masculinity, (3) the unique expression of love between a man and a woman, (4) God's crowning gift to one's bodily existence, and (5) the gr,eatest earthly gift that God has given to the human race. This is implicit in the very choice of celibacy, even though that evalu-ation may not have been part of the conscious motivation when the choice of celibacy was made. Historically, the negative sexual tenets we have mentioned are part of a North African phenomenon that included Neoplatonism in Alexan-dria, the monastic movement in the same area, the spirituality of Eva-grius Ponticus, Tertullian, and St. Augustine (and the ascetic movement in the West), and the monastic spirituality of John Cassian, who reflected Review for Religious, September-October 1988 in his writings the sexual anthropology of the Alexandrian monastic move-ment. A healthier anthropology can be found in the robust passion for life in the classical Greek tradition, reflected in the best of Plato and the monu-mental work of Aristotle, later embodied in the Spirituality of the Greek Fathers and in the philosophical achievements of Saints Albertus Mag, nus and Thomas Aquinas. That anthropology recognized the inherent goodness of our senses and our sense life, the inherent goodness of hu-man sexuality, and the innate and preeminent goodness of the intimate expression of sex in marriage. This view, however, was never embod-ied in "traditional" spirituality and had little influence on spiritual doc-trine. The work of Aquinas, however, bore fruit in many areas over the cen-turies even though some of his basic tenets were condemned by an older "Augustinian" sChool soon after his death in 1274. In the documents of the Second Vatican Council, particularly, Gaudium et.Spes, the Aqui. nas view was recovered, and we have in the council documents a posi-tive and wholesome anthropology of sexuality7 which should have a pro-found influence on future spirituality. NOTES ~ "Students should have a proper knowledge of the duties and dignity of Christian marriage, which represents the love.that exists between Christ and the Church." Op-tatam Totius, Decree on the Training of Priests of the Second Vatican Council, ed. by Austin Flannery, 0.P~., no., 10, p. 715. 2 "They should recognize the greater excellence of virginity consecrated to Christ, however, so that they may offer themselves to the Lord with fully deliberate and gen-erous choice, and a complete surrender of body and soul." ibid. 3 Celibacy seeks, on the basis of personal:experience and personal judgment, a con~ tinual intimacy with God and with divine things; it provides that personal solitude without which, for this p_articular individual, such continual intimacy with God would be impossible or unlikely. Celibacy is not chosen because there is any value in mere sexual deprivation, but because it is a natural step towards a lifestyle totally or domi-nantly preoccupied with the eternal and the divine. Celibacy bears witness in one's own person to the eternal dimension, to the reality and significance of the eternal in human life. '~ For the purpose of this article, sexuality and sexual intima~3, have these meanings: Sexuality is a gift of God that comes with the act of creation, a personal endowment that should be borne with a certain masculine dignity and yet worn joyfully~ and lightly. Our sexuality is inherent'ly good, and so, too, is the intimacy with a wdman to which it leads. Sexual intimacy is a gift of God that comes with the very blueprint of our nature, Thoughts on Celibacy in the sense that the pattern of that intimacy is molded into our very bodies. Sexual intimacy is part of our human and masculine inheritance, and its expression in mar-riage the very crown of masculinity and femininity. But while sexual intimacy is a gift to our person and our nature, its expression is meant to be embodied in a personal choice based on love, embedded in the marriage covenant, and to be the setting and inexhaustible source of the deepest human hap-piness. Sexual intimacy comes with our nature and our personhood. It is the living expres-sion of the noblest human love and is itself the image and mirror of God's own love for human beings. By celibacy we freely deprive ourselves of this most enriching gift,'this crown of our masculinity, for the simple reason that we, called by God, have other plans for ourselves. 5 The nature of the vocation to celibacy is not a denial of the inherent goodness and sublimity of married love, but an affirmation, the affirmation of something beyond the sexual and beyond the earthly, the affirmation of another relationship and the cul-tivation of that relationship as the main occupation of one's life. Celibacy is a dep-rivation, but it is a freely chosen deprivation of something seen to be part of one's own human inheritance and something preeminently good. St. Thomas links celi-bacy to the virtue of magnificence, a certain exuberance in living, a bursting of the bonds of the ordinary to reach out to the extraordinary. It is based on a hunger for the eternal and for an intimacy as real and as stunning as the intimacy of man and woman in marriage. See Josef Pieper, The Four Cardinal Virtues (University of Notre Dame Press, 1966), pp. 145-180.' 6 Celibacy is part of the virtue of sophrosyne, touched upon in Aristotle's Ethics, with a fuller treatment in the Summa Theologiae of St. Thomas Aquinas. The object of sophrosyne is the body, and those things that are of the body (soma, somatos). There are several levels or kinds of sophrosyne: (I) joy and pride in bodily being itself (simple sophrosyne), (2) joy and pride in bodily well-being (dignity), (3) joy and pride in bodily senses (liveliness), (4)joy and pride

Issue 46.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1987. ; Self-Awareness and Ministry Gender, History, and Liturgy Humanity's Humble Stable God's Love Is Not Utilitarian Volume 46 Number 6 Nov./Dec. 1987 Rv:vw.w t:o~ R~,~olous (ISSN 0034-639X), published eve~ two months, is edited in collaboration with lhe faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Lx~uis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. R~vu-:w ~:o~ R~:.~.~t~ous is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. Ol987 by R~-:wt.:w ~:o~ R~.~.~ous. Single copies $2.50. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $11.00 a year: $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (surface mail); airmail (Book Rate): $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: R~:v~v:w roa R~:t.mmtts: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors Nov./Dec. 1987 Volume 46 Number 6 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to wm R~:t.t(:totJs; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:vt~:w wm R~:tot~;totJs; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Four Ecclesial Problems Left Unresolved Since Vatican II Martin R.Tripole, S.J. Father Tripole is an associate professor of th.eology at St. Joseph's University; Phila-delphia, Pennsylvania ! 913 !. He,wrote "Suffering with the Humble Chi'ist" for the March,April 1981 issue of this periodical. Catholic scholars have been.talking about crisis in the Catholic Church for so long a time now that almost everyone has gotten used to it. In fact, too many people have been saying there is a crisis for anyone to ignore the situation. But not everyone uses the term. It depends on whom you tall~ to. Until recently, the higher you went in the Church, the less likely you were to find admission of crisis. For example, Bishop Ja~mes Malone of Youngstown, Ohio, former president of the National conference of Catho-lic Bishops, submitted a report to the Vatican in the summer of 1985 on the state of the Church. in the United States since Vatican II, a report made in preparation for the Extraordinary Synod of Bishops that met in Rome November 25-December 8, 1985.:In his. report, Bishop Malone stated the Church in the United S(ates is "basically sound." The bishop made no mention of cri~is; instead he talked of "confusion" and "abuses" and "false ideas'" and "diffiC'ulties" in various areas of church life.~ While many praised th~report, it was also criticized as "looking at the Church in the United States through 'rose-colored glasses.' "2 But another high-level member of the clergy has no difficulty speak-ing of crisis. Joseph Cardinal' Ratzinger,. prefect of the Sacred Congre-gation for the Doctrine of the Faith, surely one of themost powe~rful of-ficials in tlie Vatican, made the ~tiscussion of crisis in the Church today 801 Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 the c.entr~l theme of his Ratzinger Report. This 1985' publicati6r~ of an exclusive interview given to an Italian journalist caught the attention of everyone and produced much controversy, in'view of the cardinal's strong views on the Church, as well as the fact that he published them just before the extraordinary synod was to be held. Ratzinger and his in-terviewer discourse at length on "a crisis of faith and of the Church," of "an identity crisis" in priests and religious, a "crisis of trust in the dogma," a "crisis of confidence in Scripture," a crisis "of the moral-ity. "In his summation of "the gravity of the crisis" in the Church since Vatican II, Ratzinger's tone is markedly different from Bishop Malone's. The interviewer cites views written by Ratzinger ten years earlier and con-firmed by him for the Report as still valid: It is incontestable that the last ten years have been decidedly unfavor-able for the Catholic Church . What the popes and the Couhcil Fa-thers were expecting was a new,Catholic unity, and instead one has en-countered a dissension which--to use the words of Paul Vl--seems to have pasg~d over from self-criticism to self-destruction . it has ended in boredom and discouragement . one found oneself facing a progressive process of decadence . [and] erroneous paths whose catastrophic consequences are already incontestable.3 Nevertheless, when the bishops came together at the extraordinary synod, they spoke of sharing in "mankind's present crisis and dramas" and of the "spiritual crisis., so many people feel" today, but not of an, y crisis of the Church as such. Less exfflt6d Catholic leaders, theologians, and publishers readily speak of crisis in the Church. The Rev. Robert Johnson, president of the National Federation of Priests' Councils, in 1985 stated: Priesthood is in crisis. The vocation of the ordained priest is not what it used to be. The data tells us that. Our own experience tells us that also. There is a crisis in numbers. At its zenith in 1970, the diocesan priesthood .in the United States numbered some 37,000. By the year 2000, it is estimated that this population will be 16,000 or 17,000. This would represent a declin.e of some 54%. i in the year 2000 we will have roughly the same number of priests we had in 1925. Meanwhile, the people we were ordained to serve will have quadrupled.4 Edward C. Herr, in a report on "The State of the Church," in 1985 stated that, whereas in a similar report in 1983 there were "hopes that a relatively stableoand tranquil period" was about to arrive in the Church, he must now report those hopes were "naive," that "the tensions and turmoil have increased and show no signs of ebbing."4A He reports the Four Ecclesial Problems recent findings of Dr. William J. McCready, program director of the Uni-versity of Chicago's National Opinion Research Center (NORC), that "a third of the 52 million Roman Catholics in America rarely or never go to church."5 Herr cites an article by James Hitchcock, professor of his-tory at St. Louis University, which lis~ed a catalo~g of ~'problems facing the Church in America" today: REligious orders openly pro.moting dissent Official Church agencies providing platforms for dissent ~"Radical redefinition of the traditional religious vows" Tolerance of "known violations" of chlibacy Growing influence of "militant homosexual network" in seminaries and religious orders Almost total collapse of seminary discipline "Probably a large majority of Catholic colleges hnd universities have become bffectively secular" Widespread deviations from "official liturgical norms" Majority of Catholic students no longer receive an adequate grounding in their faith Bishops and priests "largely refrain from teaching ,, disputed doctrines.' ,6 ~' Herr also reports the views of Richard Schoenherr, soc'iologist and asso-ciate dean at the University of Wisconsin at Madison in 1985, on "a cri-sis for the Church by the year 2000." Acc6rding to Herr, Schoenherr presents ~ a bleak picture of the Church-at the turn of the century. Opportunities to attend Mass will be fewer since each priest will have to serve 4,000 Catholics in a burgeoning Church; laity,.tired of a subordinate position in the Church, will withdraw from active leadership while those who do continue to serve will be laden with greater responsibility . There will be "an organizational crisis of immense proportion," accord-ing to Schoenherr, with an "ehormous youth drain in theministry," and with more "resigned" than active priests in the United States.7 Norbertine Father Alfred McBride, president of the University of Al-buquerque, also predicts a "ministry crisis" in 2000. He foresees a to-tal of 30,000 priests serving. 65 million Catholics.8 Finally., novelist Mor-ris West, author of many best-sellers on (~atholicism, is reported as see-ing the possibility of "a silent schism" in the Church of the future, as a result of "a defection of millioi~s by a-slow decline into indiffer-ence. ' ,9 Review, for Religious, November-December, 1987 The fact is: there has been talk of a crisis in the Church ever since the '60's--that per_iod which constitutes a kind of a turning point.in the life of the modern Church. That decade, from which date many of the issues whi~c,h 'trouble~the American Church today was equally a problemati~ decade for American society in gene,ra~l., and indeed for the world. In fact, the world is "officially" in a state of crisis---~f sorts. The bishops told us that at Vatican II when they stated the "human race is passing through a.new stag~ 0fits history" where it is undergoing "a true social and cultural transformation" causing a "crisis of gro~vth. "~0 The modern world is experiencing "new foLoas of social and p~sychologi-cai slavery" as well as "imbalances" that lead to "Mutual distrust, en-mities, conflicts, an~'hardships" (~audium el spes 4, 8). According to the bishops, this situation of crisis inevitably "has repercussions on man's religious life as~ well": it cause,s "spiritual agitation,"4"many peo-ple are shaken" in their convictions, and '~growing humbers~ of people are abandoning religion fin pr~actice" .(GS 5, 7). Later in the _same docu-ment, though in the context of a discussion on war and peace, the bish-ops speak of "the whole human family" as having "reached an hour of supreme crisis in its advance toward maturity" (GS 77). While the bishops at Vatican II did not go so far as to say directly that the Church was in a state of crisis, they certainly meant to say that the Church shared in the~crisis situation of the'world in ggneral. It was not long after, however, that writers.started speaking directly, of a crisis in the Church. We may note only a few. Father Andrew Greeley loudly proclaimed that as a fact in an important series of articles he published in diocesan newspapers in 1976; entitled "The Crisis in American Ca-tholicism" (and later in a book entitled Crisis in the Church),~ but the idea of ,the Church. in crisis had already quietly come into standard con-sideratiOn or was .soon to do so through the writings of such renowned historians, scrilSture scholars, and theologians as Raymond Brown, S.S. (B~blical Reflections on Crises Facing the C. hurch),~2 Richard P. McBr~en (he speaks of the "pre.sent crisis within the Catholic Church" in The Remaking oft~ Churcl~),~3 Avery Dulles, S.J. (fie sl~eaks of a "crisis of identity" in the Church in The Resilient Church), 14 and David J. O'Brien (h611spe~iks of the '~Catholic crisis," the "American crisis," and "an age Of crisis" in The Renewal of A. merican Catholicism).~5 Statistical~d~ta since the end of Vatican II--th~e latest reports of An-drew Greeley's National °Opinion Research Center in Chicago,~6 from George Gallup Jr.'s continuing analysis of the state of the Catholic Church in America,~7 and from the Notre Dame Study of Catholic Par- Four Ecclesial Problems /805 ish Life~8--provide overwhelming evidence, as far as statistical data is able to do so, that the American Catholic Church is in a state of crisis. ¯ Evidence: American Catholics no longer accept official teaching of the Church simply,on the basis of the fact that it is official teaching; Catho-lics no lbnger go to church, as much as ~hey used to, to fulfill their Sun-day obligation or from ~i sense of duty; they ~ai'e not contributing to the sti~iport of the Church.in a way consonant with their earnings; they are o~penly criticizing the Chui'ch in a way" that seems to i'epresent a new ¯ sense ol~ independence over agains~t the institutional Church" and its offi- Cial teachers. What is going on, and when will it end? Causes of Crisis Since Vatican II ,Numerous publications have been~ritteri since Vatican II seeking to determine the causes of the crisis Which has beset the Church since~that time. The fact is, the ca~iases are manifold, and only a, lhrge t0ine could hope to anal~,ze and cover them all thoroughl)~. What I attempt here is -'C0: fbcus on what I shall call four unresolved antinomi~ek which are re-flected in the thinking and practices of the Church since Va[i~an II. My point is to argue that the bishops at Vatican II not o~nly were aware o,f, but shgred in,. the theologically, antinomous viewpoints which have largely served to. polarize the Church sin.ce~ the end of the Council.° Though there is~ some exaggera~tion in categorizing these viewpoints quite simplyas conservative/traditionalist and liberal/progressivist, I shall do that for want of better terms, and also because the viewpoints do .tend to be of these two types. Though these terms have a political and ideo-logical connotation, their use here is not meant to imply that. What we,mean.by the use of these terms is that there are two oppos-ing movements working in the Church today. The first is inclined to want ,to preserve elements today which were also characteristic of the life of the Chtirch ~before Vatican II,-elements such as hierarchical authority, clerical priority, and institutional identity;~the second is more inclined toward~elements which arose in the life of the Church since Vatican II, elements such as democratic~procedures, equality of membership, unity based on shared convictions and shared authority. ,Neither group is. to-tally opposed to the values identified with the other, except at the outer fringes. Thus~extreme traditionalists---c~illed reactionaries wish no part of what~the Church since Vatican II has come to be identified with; ex-treme liberals~alled radicals--reject automatically whatever was promi-nent in the Church before Vatican II and yearn for a congregationalist type of community. For the larger membership in both groups, the prob- Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 lem is mainly one of emphasis: which set of values, which viewpoint should ,be the dominant one in the .life of the Church?. That question of emphasis is a serious one. In spite of the fact that it is only a question of emphasis, it leads in practice to polarization. Re-cent events in .the .life of the Church.have increased this experience of polarization rather than diluted it, mainly because the traditionalist camp, which had largely fallen into the ~silent majority in ~the Church .in the post- Vatican II peri0d, has gained a new sense of power in the last ten yehr~s. The struggle between these two, groups is now, in my opinion, at the most intense point of conflict the Church has felt since the early pp,s~t- Vatican II days of the Church. What, if anything, can be done to reduce this polarization? I wish in this article only to point to what I consider the four major areas of po-larization which were left unresolved by Vatican II. They continue to re-main largely unresolved by the post-Vatican II Church, even after the Ex-traordinary Synod of 1985, and they need to be resolved before the po-larization can b6 overcome:~I~ t me discuss each of these areas singly_, and at some length:. Saci~ed ~vs."Si~cular ' The" Catholic Church has had a strong sense of social responsibility throughout the modern era., as shown in a history of concern forrectify-ing inhumane workihg conditions, unjust wages, and unfair labor prac- .tices, starting at least with Leo XIII's Rerum Novarum: On the Condi-tioh of Workers (1891). Nevertheless, there is no doubt that a new and profound theological significance has been given to the role of the Church in regard to such matters since Vatican II. Prior to Vatican II, social activity was generally considered to be peripheral to the primary ¯ work o(the Church, to administer the s~icraments and preach the gospel of salvation in Christ. With Vatican II, the Church seemed to be saying that the .social apostolate was as important to the life of the Church as these two other activities. .A major transformation in the relationship of the Church to the world got underway at Vatican II. The .Chur~hnow saw itself not only right-fully but also dutifully bound to bring the insight and power of the gos-pel into the .arena of world problems, in the hope of changing th~ un-holy conditibns and direction of the life'of the world from within. Church concern for such issues was obvious ifi the countless conventions and publicat!ons on social, political, and moral issues that sprang up in the post-Vatican II era. Most notable was the conference by the Latin Ameri-can bishops at Medellin, Colombia, in 1968, which registered a strong Four Ecclesial Problems / 807 commitment by Latin American bishops to Overcoming the problems of the poor and oppressed in their countries; and the international Synod of Bishops in Rome in 1971, which published the historic document Jus-tice in the World, which, "Scrutinizing the signs of the times.ai~d seek-ing to detect the meaning of emerging history," concluded that "Ac-tion on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world fully appear to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the Gospel, or, in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemp-tion of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situ-ation." 19 One of the 9learest examples of how important the new thrust into social and political matters would be forthe American Church may be seen from a 1981 publication of the U.S. Catholic Conference enti-tledA Compendium of Statements of the United States Catholic Bishops on the Political and Social Order. It takes 487 pages to cover the docu-ment~ ition from 1966 .to 1980, which includes statements on "war and peace, development, and human rights," as ~eil as "~tbo~tion, birth con-trol, Call to Action (the U.S. Bishops' Bic~htennial Consultation on So-cial Justice), crime'and punishment, economic issues, family life, free-dom of religion, housing, immigrants, labor disputes, minorities, race, rural America, and television."2° More recently the United States bish-ops have taken forthright and controversial stands ori the matters of war and peace and the American economy,'the former in their pastoral.letter The Challenge of Peace: God's Promise~and Our Response (May 3, 1983), the latter in their Economic Justice foroAll~" Catholic Social Teach-ing and the U.S. Economy (November 13, 1986). In each case the bish-ops argue to. the implications of the gospel message, singling out the im-morality of nuclear warfare or the scandalous operations, in the Ameri-can economic system. The full implications of these strong teachings have yet to be determined. ~, All of this would be cause fo'~ unmitigated joy, were it not for the fact that with. this new emphasis UpiSn the social implications of the Gos-pel, something transcendent in the' gospel teaching may have been lost. One :of the major problems in the life of the.Church since Vatican II, according to the bishops at the Extraordinary Synod of 1985, has been the lack of recognition and acceptance of a sacral or theological depth to the Churcti's life--what the synod calls the "mystery" of the Church. The bishops .take responsibility for the fact that this dimension of Churcfi life has been undermined, especially among young people, by a too secu-lar conception of the .Church as a mere human institution. The bishops assert: ~ I~Oll / Review for Religious~ ~November-December, 1987 , a unilateral'presentation of:the 13hurch as a purely institutional structure devoid of her mx.stery has been made. We~are probably not immune from all respon, sibility for th.e fact that, especially the young consider the Chur~ch a pure institution. Have we not perhaps favored this opinion in them by speaking ~too much of the i'enewal Of the Church's external struc-tures and too little of God a'hd of Christ? The bisl~ops admit ~that in their eagerness to open the. Church to the ~,orld they h, ave~qot suffici,ently di~tinguishe.d legitimate openness to the world from a secularization of the Church by the world: From time to time there has also been a lack of the~discernment of spir-' its, with~the failure to correctly distinguish between a legitimate open-ness of the council to the world and ~the acceptance of a secularized ¯ world's mentality and order of~values, . . . An easy accommodation that could lead to the secularizmion of the Church is to be excluded. /(ls0 excluded is an immobile closing in upon itself of the community of the faithful. Affirmed instead is a'missionary openness for the inte-gral salvation of the wo~ld.21 ~ Part of the problem has been the Church's eagerness to,enter the social arena with calls for social justice. While it is vital to the Church to em-phasize ~an active concern for social issues, the Church's concern for these issues should not become so great that it loses sight of .the fact that its deepest life is lived in "mystery" as the Church o_f God, and that the Church is ultimately made,up of the community"of the redeemed in Christ serving his mission of salvation: The primary mission of the Church, under the impulse of the Holy Spirit, is to preach and to witness to the good and joyftil news of the election, the mercy and the charity of God which manifest themselves in salvation history, which through Jesus Christ reach their culmination in the fullness of time and which communicate and offer salvation to man by virtue of the Holy Spir.it. Christ is,the light of humanity. The Church, proclaiming the Gospel, must see to it that this light clearly shines out from her.countenance (ibid., p. 446). Social activism without that sacral 'dimension risks becoming purely secu-lar and human; such activity is totallymconsistent with the life of the Church, however good such acti~ism might otherwise be. To the extent that secularization in its various forms has happened in theChurch since Vatican II, something.inconsistent with what the Church should be arisen .in the community. To restore, a proper~balance, the Church .needs.to'reaffirm the primacy of its religious commitment, and to let that commitment shine before the Four, ,Ecclesial Problems, world.Only.,in the clarity of that commitment conveyed to the.world through its members is it able to seek effective ways of changing the world. These in turn must see themselves as having a primary mission to prove to the world the validityof the sacra~l o trranscendent dimen-sion of life as conveyed in the mission of Chrisi. ~n this respecti0ne not ov~erestimate the importance of Vatican II's and' the s~,nod's ne~ly developed and reaffirmed theology 6f the~ laity~ by Which thdrole of the laity in the.promotion of Christian and human values in.,the wo~ld is heightened ai~d theologically validated. Christians need also to find a way to counte~ract, the.increasing intru-sion ~of the power of the secul.ar into their. 9wn lives. To my mind, there is.no ,way for the Church more dramatically and decisively to restore the primacy, of the faith experience to Christian diving than emphatically to reassert its importance in the personal commi,tment to Christ. The "pas-sion"-, for Christ and the commitme~.t, to God's plan for the world in Christ .have too often been put on the back burner as we enter into the discussion of the problems of the world and seek to resolve them from within, using the naturalistic and,humanistic standards and instruments of action the world is often quite willing at least in,the~i~y to accept. But these are not enough for the Church. We must once again~become "p.as-sionately" committed to Christ and his purposes, and openly manifest to the world that it is primarily these for ~tii~h we stand, If the transcendent dimension, to life is rea!ly crucial to the well-being of the world and~therefore must bepreserved, it will have to come from deeply religiously-committed Christians. For them to be found in any great number, however, a new zeal for Christ and his purposes must be restored. The Church, and especi.ally its leaders both lay and religious, have no greater challenge today. Whether the zeal. necessary to restore the sense of the religious dimension to life in the,world chn be found, however, is not easily answered. Somehow we Christians shall have to enter more deeply into Ourselves, to find out if we really, share strongly a commitment tO Christ and his visi0fi °of the world and ~re willirig to make ~the sacrifices demanded o~°us as we enter into /~ ~riaarketplace al-ready increasingly intolerant of his vie~. W~"shall not~have the impact necessary to the success of the Christian vision merely,, by exporting Chris-tian values in a secularized form. The world does not need to know there is a need for justice nearly so much as it needs t6 kno.w that justice is a dimension of the faith experience in Christ.To seek to alleviate the cries of the poor in social action is really~not the, Christian~mission; rather, our mission is to bring to the poor the vision of~hrist, con- Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 sciously known and passionately calling all people to a commitment to him and to the consequences of that commitment in a life of faith and service. Innovation vs. Traditi6n Th~re is a second, inner-Church conflict to be resolved: between the new and the _old, between innovatidn and tradition. Vatic~'n II met at a crucial point in the life of the Church, when Catho-lic liberal~ were calling for reform while the conservatives wanted to stand by tradition. The bishops who came together represented both view-points. In the final documents they deliberately attempted ~ to draw to- . gether elements from th~ thinking 6f both. camps, hoping to blend their opposing viewpoints.enough to satisfy the desires of each. Apparently both sides were willing to accept compromise. Both also recognized that total consistency was impossible at that time there was simply not enough time to work out the niceties of perfect harmonization, nor was it necessarily desirable. It surely"was expected that the ongoing life of the Church, especially in the work of the theologians under the direc-tion of the bishbps, would work out any incongruities or inconsistencies in thought or prac'tice that ~ight be left over from the Council. And so the Council ended. But as one reporter put it: Yet the Counci'l's efforts to assimilate modernity and still be true to a 2000-year tradition also created the potential for vast misunderstanding. The Council called upon the Church to uphold, simultaneously, freedom and orthodoxy, culturalopenness and identity, change and continuity, modernity and tradition, hierarchy and participation. That is a tall or-der. 22 Avery Dulles, S.J~,.,asks the question that emphasizes the inevitability of the p~:o.b_lem.: Can a Church that simul.taneously moves in thes~ contradictory direc-tions. keep enough homogeneit~y to remain a single social body? . . . Can the Church adopt new symbols, languages, structures and behav-ioral patte .ms 6n a massive scale without losing continuity with its own origins and its ow.n pa~t? (ib!d.) Any break from tradition for any organization necessarily leads to con-fusion. But this would have been a problem even more for the Catholic Church because the break was so abrupt.and deep. Before the Council, many Catholics had~ accepted ex.aggerated acquiescence to unchange as a theological truism, with little or no sense of the role_of history in. the formation'of dogma and Church practice: Because all Church statements Four Ecclesial Problems / I~11 hadotended to be regarded as dogma unquestioningly to be accepted, obe-diential deference to authority was orthodox; freedom ofthbught, unor-thodox independence. Suddenly, after Vatican II, what had been consid-ered un-Catholic was espoused as good Catholicism. Whereas acceptance of lohg-standing traditions was the n~irm for acceptableoCatholic living prior to Vatican II.; now freedom of thought and openness to new ideas and individual conscience became acceptable. This break with tradition, l~owever, was not simply a break from the old frr the neff, but a rever-sal from standards recognizing something as unacceptable to standards recognizing the same as acceptable and even desirable.,Thus ~0nfusion, disagreement, and fallout were inevitable. Also, it is inevitable t'h~t all this leads to a deeper question: what does it mean to be a Catholic and to have the faith? ' There i~ no doubt a wide spectrum of viewpoints regarding'the theo-logica! role of innovatiori vs. that of tradition, and What, if any, the proper combination ofothe two might be. But in certain areas there is cr'rn~ mon consensus and in other areas a lack of consehsus. There is growing consensus that the break with past traditions ~vas too abrupt and that there is a ;need,to retui'n to some past symbols an'd traditions withou~ renouncing everything new. At the time of the Ameri-can bicentennial, John Coleman, S.J., called for an ""open-ended re-sourcement," a dialogue or "creative engageme,nt" between the tradi-tional Catholic sYmbols and new ones that wouldopen up. or adapt to "new purposes, experiences and questions" in an integrating "process of g~:owth."23 More recently, Greeley has also called for a return to the "experience~' and-"imagination" .ofoour "Catholic her!tage" so re-cently abandoned as either irrelevant or impeding ecumenism or incom-patible with the modem world. Greeley understands Catholicism .to,stress the "sacramental" presence of the divine in Christian living, and says that this sacramental "religious style" should now be recognized as of the "essence" of the Catholic "insight," andan invaluable feature of the Catholic approach to religio.n.24 ,~There is growing consensus that there is widespread ignorance of the fundamental teachings of Christianity, especially among Xhe young, and that the problem must be addressed quickly. In an effort ~to make Chris-tianityrelevant to our lives, we shifted too quickly from the rigorous for-malism of the catechism and the memorization of. its teachings to dia-log'oe about the lived experience of the faith. What we lost was a solid understanding of what that faith believed, What is called for today is not necessarily the catechism method, but wtiatever method(s) may be nec- Review for Religiousl November-December, 1987 essary .to restore'to its rightful place knowledg6 about the history of sal-vation in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. A common foun-dation'in,, faith teachings may make it. possible to fost.er conviction, com-mitment, and action. ~ There is lack of consensus on the role of authority in the Church; on the role of the clergy, as well as the Church itself, in social and political activity; and on the degree of freedom to be allowed to personal con-scienc.~ e, espec,ially in matters that do not pe~ain directly to formal dogma in the Church, such 9s moral theology and mattgrs of sex. However rig-orous! y.~,~.ne might uphold the tea, chings of the Church on artificial c~?n7 tracept~ion., few would consider the Church's teachings on the matter as infallibly proclaimed. If that is the case, what degree of disagreement. o if any, is per.missible? In such cases, how much room i~ to be given for private conscience, or for public teaching not fully in accord with offi-cial pronouncements of the Church? VatiEan II clearly gave great weight tO~the right of personal conscience and to scholhrsh!p regarding nonin-fallible teachings, but how far did it intend these°rights'to go? Innova-tors tend toward absolute freedom on noninfallible teachings, traditioii'- ~lists° toward compliance even there. Thes.e,ideologica! disagreements cofistitute adeep source of divisioff in the Chi~rch .today, and represent today's ~xperience of what it means wheri the old clashes with the new~ The Church has yet to come up with a~th~blogy thgt can provid6 an adequate e~clesiology to handle this prob- Compatibility Vs~ Contradiction with,,the World ° There is a third ,problem not adequately resolved by Vatican II; which returns once again to'th~e:relationship of the Church to the world: the prob-lem between compatibility of.the Church with the world ~ahd contradic-tian with it? Prior to VatiEan II, the Church had never published an official docu-ment expounding,a posiiive theology on the'r01e of the Church,-in the world. Traditionally, the world had been an arena of evil or temptation to evil. ISatholics were urged to.remove themselves from the.world if they wished to ,attain sanctity, and the priestly and religious life were com-monly acceptrd as means to that end. Those who needed to become, in: volved in the Wodd;~choosing to remain laypersons,' were allowed to ~be in the world, but .were expected to' be as unworldly as possible in0the midst of the world: Evefi though Christians learned very well how to, live in~ the world by accepting ,itk ~,alues,~ and acquired the world ~s commodi-ties as instruments of well-being and standards of0success,.this accom- Four Ecclesial Problems modi~tion was often done with a feeling of guilt. That the world Was bad was based on the clear teaching of Christ: his followers did~not belong to the world, the world hated the'm, Christ did not take them out,of the wbi'ld but asked the"Father to "guard them from the evil one" in' the world (Jn 17:14-15) until they would one day be united with the Father in heaveh. ~ Now with Vatican II, the Church turned toward the world and, in many ways, accepted th~ world for the first time. Th6 Council Asserted the Church's "sOlidarity with the entire human family," that "nothing genuinely human" is foreign to Christians, that the "joys and the hopes, the griefs hn~l the anxieties of the men of this are" are those of the fol-lowers ofChrist too (LG 1-3). The Council urged Christians to build up the world because "the triumphs of the human race are a sign of God's greatness dnd the flowering of His own haysterious design" (34). In a remarkable affirmation of the value of secular activity, the Cou0cil "ac-knowledges that human progress can serve man's true happiness" (37) and that, insofar as "Earthly progress., can contribute to~the better ordering of human society, it is of vital concern to the kingdom of God" (39). The Council admits~ the world can be "an instrument of sin" and that a "monumental struggle against the power of darkness pervades the whole history of man" (37). Nevertheless, when all is said and done, the emphasis is clearly optimistic--so much so that, when~Karl Barth came back from his visit to Rome during the Council's first session, he expressed a fear the bishops were bbcoming too optimistically oriented toward the World and suggested they take a miare guarded position. And so the question remains: Is the world a good thing, to be ac-cepted and integrated inio the life of the Christian, or isqt to be rejected because it is infected with sin? The Council urged both; 6f course, but failed to indicate how both were possible, or how and where to draw the line limitinginvolvement~: More importantly, however, the new spirit bf the Coiancil had clearly left the impression that theworld a's a whole had been sanctioned as a .giaod thing :and that, with Christian and human co-operation and goodwill, there ~vas no reason why the Church and'the World could not easily become assimilated to each other. The question ofqntegration into the life of the world versus opposi-tion trthe world in favor of Christian values'is not a re'rent one. As.Ger-main Gri~ez recently pointed out, much of the history of Christianity can be seen in terms of a "tension between legitimate ~ispirations frr human and this-worldly fulfillment and God's c~ll to divine and everlasting life.'" Depending upon the emphasis that is greater at any 0h~ torment Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 in Christian thinking, the tendency may be to emphasize "disrespect for the 'merely,' human" and emphasize fulfillment in God, or, as seems to be. happening ~toda);, to emphasize a reaction against other-worldly spiri-tuality, a reaction which has '~crystal!ized into various forms of secular humanism." VaticanlI failed to take a stand on this issue, according to Grisez, or more precisely, not knowing how to resolve the tensign be-tween the two tendencies, glossed over them "with ambiguous formu-las." Instead of acknowledging their inability to resolve the problem and implementing a postconciliar process to work on it, the Council Fathers, caught up themselves in the spirit of optimism generated by John XXIII, chose to try to "maintain ,the appearance of unity" and solidarity on this issue and departed. Afterwards, liberals and conservatives began to read in the documents exactly what each had been looking for and ignoring the. opposite, and used whatever political means were available to have their own position dominate. The need now, according to Grisez, is to face up, to the divisions and try to resolve them.25 Others have stressed very pointedly that the orientation of the world today is strongly toward values quite inconsistent with Christian values. The world today is bombarded by powerful influences from the media, which emphasize for commercial purposes a humanism void of religious direction, which preach success in terms of materialistic values and goals such as accumulation of power and money, which proclaim fulfillment of self in terms of satisfaction of sexual drives rather than in love as per-manent commitment to the other, which evaluate persons in terms of utili-tarian norms, whiCh promote personal satisfaction as the criterion for the worth of all activity, which make the ultimate goal of life the achieve-ment of self rather than the donation of self. In such a ,world, there is inevitable contradiction between the values of the world and those of the Christian faith experience, where personal communion with Christ in a community of believers serving the well-being of all is. the standard of value. The humanistic orientation of a world without religious direction risks becoming ultimately a purely worldly humanism antagonistic to Christian values. For many, the opposition is so great at the .present time that, it seems to be moving toward total and absolute contradiction of the values of Christ. The Council Fathers, in recognizing the need to open the Church to the world, did not indicate strongly enough the nature or degree of this opposition, although it must be admitted 'that, even when they did indicate opposition, their words were largely ignored. But ~as Grisez indicates, the opposition is there and must.be faced. By failing to indicate strongly enough the contradiction between the values of the Four Ecclesial Problems / I~15 world and those of Christ, the Council Fathers unwittingly made accom-modation with the ways of the world that much easier. It is that accom-modation that the Extraordinary Synod of 1985 began totry to correct, but a clear theology of contradiction, is still needed. Active vs. Passive Church Life The last root cause of the problems left by Vatican II may be ex-plained in terms of Vatican II's failure to resolve the conflict between the active and passive dimensions of Christian life. A new spirit of involvement in social and political action, as we have seen, had been emphasized by the Council as an element intrinsic to the life of the Church. This spirit was highly attractive for many reasons: It was new and new things tend to attract; it was optimistic and people tend to like optimism; it was a free and open spirit cgnsequent upon the new theology of the laity, and .more appealing than the more traditional litur-gical and doctrinal elements in Vatican II; it spoke to a strong desire in the '60's to become actively involved in the processes of history rather ttrhaanns ftoor macaqtuioiens ocfe tihne twheomrld; itth naot tw oansl~y h purmovaindlyed e nthgeinoereertiecda,bl usut palpsoor jtu fsotir- a fied it as providing greater fulfillment of the human potential. In all these ways, this new element of "activism" contra~ted so much with the traditional call for restraint on involvement, and spoke di-rectly to many Catholics who were interested in joining the world in a combined divine-human creative.proje.ct. These were delighted to find there was theological justification and ecclesial approval for using one's talents in such a project. Personal involvement and responsibility for cre-ating one's own life in the world spoke more readily to the post-Vatican II age.than acquiescence in the decisions, actions, and authority of oth-ers. At least in the '60's, the mentality of the outspoken members of the Church was increasingly liberal, and the .idea of creating one's future rather than submitting to it was especially appealing to them. Vatican II sanctioned these ideas. It emphasized the theological importance of life in the world and active involvement in the cause of justice and equality, and was to give rise to a dominance after Vatican II of theological move-ments that stressed that same type of involvement. The Church was now also in a position to accept many currents rising in western Protestant cir-cles, such as the new theology of hope and political theology, the theol-ogy of revolution, and finally, in Catholic circles in South American, lib-eration theology. By emphasizing active involvement in creative transformation of the worid, Vatican II unfortunately seemed to downgrade th'e old and less Review for Rel~gious,~ November-December, 1987 captivating styles of spirituality, such as personal prayer, contemplation, and spiritual communion with God alone and in the quiet of one's room. It became increasingly difficult in modern Catholicism to justify a spiri-tual dimension to !ife unless it was translated into active change of the world. Spiritual terminology began to take on a purely active meaning: prayer, commitment to Christ, concern for the salvation of human be-ings '~ all these meant to be in active involvement in the world. Monas-tic theology and asceticism .were seriously questioned, for how could any-one iustify removing on~eself from the world when the only important thing wffs to change the world for the better? Those who dared to speak of contemplatio~n or asceticism in tli'e more traditional ways were often seen as outdated and to be pitied for their archaic ways. The new theol-ogy of spiritual activism slowly took over contrbl of the major or-ganizations in the Church: religious orders, diocesan and parish coun-cils, and other Catholic agencies~' and a new theology of social and po-litical activism translating most or all of Catholic spirituality into causes for peace and justice in the world held sway, The few who dared to criti- "cize these movements as one-sided were ignored. Ct~riously; the more this ~ctivism was promoted as the new and en-lightened foi:m of Christian living, the ~ore vocations to the priestly and religious life went down. The major exception to this trend~was in relig-ious orders, especially of nuns, where the stress On traditional piety was retained--here vocations continued to ~rise or remain stable. But few dared to suggest that this validated'in any way maintaining some room for more traditional contemplative and other-worldly forms of spiritual-ity. " Only recent!y has' it begun to dawn on many that activism without passivism is un-Christian. A spirituality that is t~otally activated tod, ard htlman creation of the world is inconsistent with Christian teaching, which, while s![essing human~involvement in God's creation 6f the king-dom; stresses even more that we are ~saved bec~iuse we have been saved in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We receive God,s kingdom far more than we create it. If that is the case, a Christian spirituality of ascetical contemplation is important to the Church because it lives as well as symbolizes the importance of this pass.!ve involvement in God's crea-tive process. Coleman ohce wrote: It is helpful to consider some of the cultural paradoxes in contemporary American Catholicism. In a nation n6ted for its one-sided, if not patho-logical, emphasis on activism, instrumental rationality, and opt'imistic pragmatism,, Catholic intellectuals seem to have suffered a bout of am- Four Ecclesial Problems nesia about their classic wisdom concerning contemplation, mysticism, pas.sivity, and receptive acceptance of inevitable and unavoidable lim-its. The Church. in its American incarnation has become almost ex-clusively masculine, with dominant concerns for action, success, build-ing the new e~trth and results (Coleman, p. 553). Christopher Mooney, S.J., argues that in America God rather than hu-man beings was always understood as "the power of our future," the one "from whom the nation had received its mission," and the one "~who works through the structures of society and manifests himself in publi~ affairs." Without that emphasis upon the centrality of God in his-tory, America will lose its sense of destiny.26 Dulles gives personal sup-port to those who argue that "the Kingdom of God is viewed in the New Testament as God's work, not man's," that the Church "is seen as ex-isting for the glory of God and of Christ, and for the salvation of its mem-bers in a life beyond the grave," and that in the New Testarfient it "is not suggested that it is the Church's task to make the world a better place to live in."27 Harvey Egan, S.J., argues that Christians today face "the serious temptation of worsh.iping political pressure groups, causes, move-ments, slogans, and ideo]ogies," and that their social involvement "de-generates into 'pseudo-activism' " unless it is built upon "authentic in-ner freedom, contemplative peace'; spiritual insight, the love born from prayer, integration, and inner transforrnati6n."28 " What we are asserting, then, is that Vatican II, in its effort to sanc-tion involvement in the life of the world as a legitimate dimensio~ of Christian living, unwittingly tended to downgrade the more contempla-tive, prayerful dimension of'Christian and Catholic spirituality. To that extent, Vatican II opened the doors too widely toward the world and pro-vided a gateway to the development of a secular humanism in contem-porary Catholic life. " Christian humanism without.a strong"spiritual foundation in a prayer-ful dependence upon God and his revelation in Jesus Christ is inevitably doomed to secularism. Once that stage is attained, it is inevitable that Christians begin to question whether there is any valid distinction be-tween Christianity and secular ac.tivism; andsince, once this aberration sets in, there is no real distinction between the two, it is only natural that many Christians find the faith experience unrewarding. It is only in the strength given Christianity by its passive dimension that its activist di-mension has any purpose or will to endure. Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 Conclusibn We have argued that at least in these four ways Vatican II left us a spirituality that is ambiguous, in conflict with itself, and undirected. This may indeed have been the Council's intention." To some extent, the Ex-traordinary Synod of 1985 served a valuable purpose in attempting to rec-tify these imbalances and ambiguities. It took twenty-five years to real-ize the bad effects and what needed to be corrected. Nevertheless, the ambivalences we have itemized .still reside in the Church and account for much of the conservative-liberal polarization of today. The next stage will be for the Church to reconvene and resolve the ambiguities. It will be an amazing and groundbreaking Council when it does. NOTES I "Vatican II and the Postconciliar Era in the U.S. Church," Origins 15, 15 (Sep-tember 26, 1985), pp. 225,233. 2 Vivian W. Dudro, "Toward the Synod: General Praise, Some Criticism of Malone Report," National Catholic Register 61, 39 (September 29, 1985), pp. l, 8. The reporter make~ reference to an expression used by Gerrnain Grisez, Professor of Chris-tian Ethics at Mount St. Mary's College, Emmitsburg, MD. 3 Joseph Cardinal RatZinger with Vittorio Messori, The Ratzinger Report (San Fran-cisco: Ignatius, 1985), pp. 44, 55, 71, 74, 83, 62, 29-30. '~ In "The Catholic Priesthood," Overview 19, 10 (undated [August 1985]), p. I, citing a report in NFPC:News Notes, March 1984. aA Overview, May. 1985, p. 1. 5 Overview, June 1985, p. 1, citing a report in New ~'ork Times December 9, 1984. 6 Ibid., p. 2. The 'article was in National ReviewS" November 25, 1983. 7 Overview, May 1985, p. 5. Herr is citing an article by Mary K. Tilghman in The Catholic Review of March 20, 1985. The words are Tilghman's except for the quo-tation from Schoenherr on the "?rganizational crisis." 8 Ibid., p, 6. 9 Ibid., p. 3. 10 Walter M. Abbott, S.J., ed., The Documents of Vatican II (New York: Guild, 1966): "Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modem World" or Gaudium et spes sec. 4 and 5; hereafter, Latin titles used and noted in text. i1 Thomas More, 1979. 12 Paulist, 1975. 13 Harper & Row, 1973, p. 71. 14 Doubleday, 1977, p. 12. 15 Paulist, 1972, citing an article he wrote as early as 1967. ' 16 Greeley's first controversial conclusions were published in Catholic Schools in a Declining Church, with William C. McCready and Kathleen McCourt (Kansas City: Sheed & Ward, 1976); his latest is American Catholics Since the Council: An Un-authorized Report (Chicago: Thomas More, 1985). 17 Gallup publishes yearly reports on Religion in Americh, and has just completed (with Jim Castelli) The American Catholic People: Their Beliefs, Practices, and Val-ues (Garden City: Doubleday, 1987). Four Ecclesial Problems 18 Eight reports from this invaluable study of "core Catholic" parishioners' think-ing and practices hav~ been published so far, appearing in Origins from December 27, 1984, to August 28, 1986. 19 In Justice in the Marketplace: Collected Statements of the Vatican and the U.S. Catholic Bishops on Economic Policy, 1891-1984, David M. Byers, ed. (Washing-ton, DC: NCCB/USCC, 1985), pp. 249-250. 20 Quest for Justice: A Compendium. , J. Brian Benestad and Francis J. Butler, eds. (Washington, DC: NCCB/USCC, 1981), pp. v-vi. 21 Synod of Bishops: "The Final Report," Origins 15, 27 (December 19, 1985), pp. 445,449. 22 E. J. Dionne, Jr., "The Pope's Guardian of Orthodoxy," New York Times Maga-zine, November 24, 1985, p. 45. 23 John A, Coleman, S.J., "American Bicentennial, Catholic Crisis," America, June 26, 1976, p. 553. 24 Andrew M. Greeley and Mary Greeley Durkin, How to Save the Catholic Church (New York: Viking, 1984), pp. xviii-xix, 35, passim. 25 Germain and Jeannette Grisez, "Conservatives, liberals duel over leaking barque," National Catholic Reporter 22, 5 (November 22, 1985), p. 14. 26 Christopher F. Mooney, S.J., Religion and the American Dream: The Search for Freedom under God (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1977), pp. 35-36. 27 Avery Dulles, S.J., Models of the Church (Garden City: Doubleday, 1974), pp. 94-95. 28 Harvey D~ Egan, S.J., Christian Mysticism: The Future of a Tradition (New York: Pueblo, 1984), p. 234. The Autumn Years: A Touch of God Joseph M. McCloskey, "S.J., and M. Paulette Doyas, S.S.N.D. Father McCloskey is Director of Shalom House-Retreat Center; P.O. Box 196; Montpelier, Virginia 23192. Sigier Paulette teaches at the College of Notre Dame; 4710 N. Charles Street; Baltimore, Maryland 21210. Autumn colors stimulate our aesthetic sense. Leaves grown old are beau-tiful to behold, a truth of creation that gives dying its own color. In, our later years our activities are like autumn leaves before they fall to the ground; each one is a jewel in our crown, worn with pride but sometimes hard to see against the perspective of a cold winter. Winter follows autumn; it is the winter we fear. Winter allows us to view the forest of our lives without being lost. in details. The forest stripped of its foliage, our lives are open to scrutiny; unencumbered by duties, we have the chance to really see ourselves. But autumn, with its warnings of dying, allOws us to look at winter with a hope of new birth. Autumn brings a special brand of happiness which belongs to God and is worth reflecting upon. Our autumn years do not have to be unhappy ones if we appreci-ate the meaning of our lives. No one likes to think about growing older, yet the truth is, we have been aging since conception. There is no es-caping autumn; growing older can bring colorful changes into our lives even if we must yield to a certain amount of inactivity. Love frees the spirit. Alienation brings loss of heart and dims our ap-preciation of life. Passion for life belongs to love, yet the passion for life wanes and we yearn for something more when we feel ourselves no longer needed. The mid-life crisis is a taste of what is to come as we ex-perience doubts about our work and what we have been doing with our lives. Glory, honor, and power are perpetual temptations of life, even when we are not sure just what it is we want. We struggle to hold on 820 The Autumn Years / 821 t~J the possibility and potential of doing something wonderful. As We be-come tired of trying to'h61d on and despair cofifronts us, we finally real-ize that life has-a meaning--being in God. "When we finfilly face the meaning of life, the idea of sitting on a porch watc.hing the rest of the world go by.does not have to seem terri-ble. The autumn years are su~ounded by the storms of others' activities and the job still gets done even when we are no longer bearing the brunt of the heat of the-day. As 'we watch the jobget done, we cab laugh at ourselves for all the times we pictured ours61ves as indispensable. We db not have to identify who we are by what we do. We identify ourselves by not doing; we may be retired. The constant round of activities which ful~d Our lives'belongs to those who follow. ~The fruitful year~ of.prbd~ictio~ ~nd hyp~'activity seem unreal as we watch them'in others.The mystic in life touches us; we watch, like con-templatives in prayer sitting on our autumn veranda, the storm of God's love come up in the for.m~ 6f others' work. God bring.s beauty into our lives as we appreciate what others Ho. 'People need our affirmation a~ad appreciation. L'ife is not over because wecan no longer do, it is just be-ginning. Today is the first_day of the rest of our lives, no matter how old we are. Traumatized by thoughts of our past, we can miss the colors of now. Anxious ,about tomorrow, we are sometimes only half present to what we are dbing. E~;en as yesterday can dampen our enthusiasm in what w~ are doing, anxiety over tomorrow can keep us from being fullyi.nvolved now. We live in an age of. activity and our .minds resemble motor boats, chugging noisily over the wavesof what must be done. There has to be a po.int where we cut the m0tor, give up the noises we make, and just glide, delighting in the freedom of knowing that our work may be almost finished. As we grow older, spirituality can give meaning to the lessen-ing activity in our lives. Slowing down without feeling worthless is what spirituality can help us.do.,No ~matter how old we are, idleness can threaten self-worth. We become :victims ,of our own doing, as thoughts of What we could, do to make our lives worthwhile prod us to keep go-ir~ g: "If we stop, that magic momentof doing something great may be missed." Pushing ourselves t6 exhaustion, we do not have time for our-selves now. We fail to apigreciate what we are right now. Unusual are the autumn souls, really alive t6dayin the richness of yesterday's expe-rience, y6t still open to tomorrow's vision of life with new meaning. Many still search for the secret of iife--f6und in living wholeheartedly 822/Review for Religious, Novemb.er-December, 1987 the fullness of now--in some nebulous fountain of youthful actiyity. We need to open ourselves up to'where we are and who we are right now. Spirituality's ultimate goal consists in seeing God face to face. This means "being" with God. All of life, everything we have ever done, everything we have ever been, is a preparation.that we might "be." Be-ing does not imply vegetating. There is a responsibility to b~ for one an-other attached to being for Christ. Whatever. we do for the least one of our brothers or sisters, even when we are not aware of doing it for Christ, is accepted by, him as bei.ng done for himself. In identifying himself as the "I am who I am" God, God reveals himself as reachable in the here and now. The only moment in time truly real is now, touching the "Eternal Now." Living in the now, for even a moment of time, garners those nows of life when we opened our hearts to being loved. These moments become sacramental. We live the "Sac-rament of the Present Moment." 'There are seven sacraments that the Church recognizes as special moments in life where Christ wants to be present in our lives and is giving himself. In these sacraments of the Church, Christ does the work. In the sacrament of the present moment we can make a moment sacramental by our ~illingness tb make Christ present frr each otlaer.° Living in the present, with what good there is, frees us of what anchors us to the past. Because it only takes a moment to love for a lifetime, we have tliE poss!bility of being Christ lovers by giving of who we are to the least person we meet, in any moment of our lives. We are children of the Father. God takes us as his own because we are precious to him. The Psalms tell tls that.: "Before you were born, I knew you!" (Ps 139). We are loved because Of who we are even be-fore we had accomplishments to boast of. Saint Paul teaches us in Ephe-sians 1 : 1-13 that God' s love is deserved in the goodness of Christ. Christ is our Way and our Truth and our.Life. Saint John's first epistle on Love teaches us that .all of life is a preparation for the opening of our hearts, now, to the fullness of the Lord of Life coming into our hearts. All of life is a preparation for this very moment We are living! Wisdom brings knowledge of how to live in God's love, and the contemplative in action lives in God's love by letting God ,work one hundred percent. Doing in God's love becomes being in his love. What becomes of paramount im-portance is how much love we.can accept in Christ, and how much Christ we live for God and each other in return. ~ Being does not happen jus.t because we are old enough. Incapacita-tion is always a possibility when being is thrust upon us. Being is maxi- The Autumn Years mized by freedom and life, but a lot of dying has to take place in each of us before we are really free to love for the sake of Christ. Growing older is part of tile stripping process of b~coming free to let God do all he can in our hearts. Love needs time to mature. The Church says of the young saints that they fulfilled a long life in a short time, so that even th~ child saint can be old when considering years spent on earth. It only take~ a moment to love for a lifetime, andthe meaning of the greatest love of all is giving of one's life for the sake of a ne.ighbor. Giving can be done by being for another. If we think we can do things for ourselves alone, our whole life is wasted. Being in the autumn years can become adoing for others. Being is knowing how to love. Love is being present to the need of another ffhich sometimes in-volves pain. As humans, we would rather bypass the cross and get right to the resurrection. But we are unrealistic if we think the resurrection is possible without,the crucifixion. There can be no spring without the autumn and the winter. Resurrection portrays Christ reaching out to the hurt and pain of his disciples. Christ is our holiness, and the fruitfulhess of our lives in Christis found in how much of Christ's death we are will-ing to accept forbthers. The ultimate, decisive word of God, in the hu-manness of Christ, is Christ's dying on the cro~s. His suffering gives ~m~aning to our pains and our dying even When we do not relate it to our autumn years. Everything we did or woul~t have liked to do becomes as nothing in the light of Christ's suffering and death. He took care of it all. The ultimate, decisive word of God, sp6ken in the humannness of Christ, comes to us in his d~athon the cross. Counselors and sigiritual directors bften meet couples whose mar-riages have revolved around doing'for their offspring, and who now'com-plain about lack of meaning to their lives with'6ut~ their children. After the childi-en are growr~ and off on their own, these pai'ents have not learned how to accept each other, to be with each other. Many priests and religious brothers and sisters have the same problem. So many years found them in their work that they never learned to enjoy each other. So intense was the doing, the~ never discovered the secret of being, for them-selves or others. They ~vere all so busy doing in the spring and summer of their lives that they gave n~o thought to the autumn and winter that had to follow--when doing became more difficult. Working at accomplishing something involves the danger of making doing the meaning of life. The need of another opens our lives to the rush of the Spirit filling us with God's love. The second comings of the Spirit to the Church are pe6ple filled with love who reach out with their gifts 1~24 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 to the needs of others. The problem is no~ whether we did enough in our lifeti~ae, but whether we did~:.what we di~l-~vith love. We may complain that we have never had any.thing werth doing. Ye't each time we moan about not being satisfied with what we have done, or regret not hax~ing done enough, always w~tnting to do more with our liyes, we limit our love of God to wh~t.we are ci6ing noV, rather than bringing all we have done in our lives t~ ~,hat we do. Life teaches us toAive in God's love. We do not deserve God's love, but we can accept it. We waste love, think-ing of all we could have done or w, ould~have liked to d~o.~God.'s love frees us to giv~ ourselves.~ It brings the wisdom whichohelps us to ,put aside our accomplishments or hopes of achieveme.nt, and opens our hearts to be filled with God's love in Christ. The awareness of Christ in our lives frees us to live in the Father's love. ~ The victory won by:Christ when he "took captivity._captive," when he took away the scandal attached t6 our suffering and dying; allows us share in the resurrection when we take up our crosses and follow him. Christ calls us in our inadequacies, our brokenness, our nakedness, our need of others, to be part of the resurrection by claimiong~the foothold in heaven we have in him. Our needs bring Christ into our lives. We be-come other Christs by.-lett!ng him do in our live~s. Growing older ih a world with so many younger,~people frees us to be.in their love, even as we learn to be in God's love. If we were.really and truly competent enough to do it all by ourselves, we would never~ need God. Needing God and other's allows our captiyity to-be taken cal~tive by ~hrist. Aristotle, the great philosopher and teacher-some centuries before Christ, said that. a person could become a philosopher only after forty years of age. It is only When we have enough .experience of life that we begin to find the meaning of life, 19v.e, and values which have to do with being rather than doing. All of life's acc6mplishments are insignificant if we are unable to be in the love of God., if we are unable to be in the love of our brothers and sisters around us. Loye is God's relationship to us, and theGod Who gives all in our lives receives it back When we are able to offer our lives in Christ, when we try to be his life by our love for each other. We are called to be lov- ~ers. Even as the doing of our early years is the beginning of love, it is in the need for each other of our autumn years that love is completed, the love which allows us to~be in the f~ullness of Ch,r!st who lives.Eithin us. Our world needs us and we. should be proud to be aging ,in God's love, .basking in the autumn .years of life, content to be in his love for the sake of all who are still able to do'in his love. We are now like th'e " .,Th~ Autumn Years / 825 Eternal Word of the Trinity, always receiving from the F~ther, even as we are"i'eceiving from others who love us. We are created iri the image and likeness of the God who is Trinity. Trinity has its counterpoini in the mystery of indwelling, where G6d is found in the still point of our lives. Family and community are the outer reaches of this m~yst~ry of indwelling where God lives in the love of our hear~sl and in how we reach out to our brothers and sisters. We are told bY the first commandment of life to love God. We would not know how to do this if Christ had not told us he lok, ed us just as the Father loves him. Christ asks us to live in'his l~v~e, and tells us we love him by keep-ing the commandments which show us the ways we ~hould devil with one another and God. Faithfulness to the commandments is faithfulness to one another. How can ~ve lov~ the God we do not see, if we do not love the neighbo~ we do see? God' is love and we live in his lo~ve in the way we love 0n~ another. Wherever there is. ipve, G~I is. Lo~,e calls us to be like the G~d we image and brings us into commu.nity a~ men and women 6reated to lok, e 6ne another. Spirff~al life can be traced_back to T~rinity: in':-TTinit~,, being and do- !ng meet in the total giving and receiving,of the Father and th6 Son. The Father holds b~ck nothing of himself. The S,on, totally receiving of th~ Father, has nothing the Father has not given him. All of life i~ a combi-nation of these two forces, the active and passive 0"f life. The principles of life find in Trinity the °meaning and the sourceof love. Even if we have spent a. life totally, giv, ing all we are in order that the mystery of the Trinity m_ay be comple.ted in us, the autumn of our lives finds meaning in rec~eiving./~s the child needs parents to grow, so too we grow in those moments when our heart~ need each other. We ac-cept the richness o~each otl~r'~/~ifts when we are willing to need one another from the depths of our being.Then the beauty of life finds the special expression of th6oTrinity completed in the giving and~:eceiving which touches Being, and that very_ being i's love. Love is God's, relatioriShip ~to us, '~n.d the God whb gives ~11 lives in our lov~ when w~ are able,t0 ~J.ffer bin: lives in Ch~rist;.wfien ~.t~ry to live his life by our love for each other. We are called to be lovers. But most of all we are c~lled to be loved in Christ. Autumn years bring the kisses and the embraces of our.,Lord which are felt even in the hurts and the pains of our body's resistance to the call of our Lord .to our eternal reward. The warnings of sufferings do not have to be a threat, in our hope of the resurrection, as a lifetime of love and work in response to the call of God's love claims relationship to Christ. Our pains in letting Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 go of our work,:and our good health bear relationship to the ultimate word of God's love in the passion and death of Jesus Christ and offer the love of God in the resurrection. Even as the dping of our early years is the beginnin.g of love, the letting go of the autumn years completes our love as we feel the need for God and each other. The Christ who is in the least one of otir brothers and sisters is now in us, allowing us to be Christ in our need. We become the Christ to whom we have given hll our life, as all~the good we have done for others comes back upon us. Our world awaits a generation of people proud to be'aging in-his love, basking in the warmth of love which ~omes their way in the autumn of life. Mary is the ultimate model of being for Christ, being for God. She accompan'i~d the Church of theresurre6tibn by being present to their needs and helping them to remember her Son in the many ways of a mother's love, as she took care of h.er. children in the trust given to her by Jesus from the ci'oss~ Because Mary was so present to the needs of the Cl~urch before h_er Assumption, the early Church learned to respect her as mo(her, oA very significant part of the spiri.tuality of the autumn years in the lives of m_any is their devotioh to Mary by following her ex-ample in praying for the Church. The work of the autumn years is the same as Mary's; the" limits of that work ar'~ the size of oiir heart. Even as our autumn years are the time for being as much as we can be, they are the time for loving as much as we can love. Mary has taught us how to li~,e, h'ow to love, and how to be, both by her love for her Son and by the way she lived with the early Church. Just as Mary's autumn years were filled with the touch of God, her presence brought that same touch of God's love to the ea~:ly Church. Mary and God's touch would always be close. So too our autumn y.ears can have the touch of God strength-ening the Mystical,.Body of Christ. Mary is therole model of our autumn years and our patron as we pray: Heav.enly Father,.help us to understand the meaningof growing older in wisdom and knowledge. Allow us to gracefully accept the slowing down in the autumn of life. May we be as loving as Mary in her autumn years, presefit to the needs of c'bmpanions~ filled with I.ife and its inys-ter~, so that all will feel free to share your gift, to find your love within us. Open us, O Father, to a concern for.the liu~an race. Fill our hearts with living in the fulfillment of your abiding love every'moment of every day. Help us to be so resonant and filled with the meaning of the mo-ment that we may:be truly able to love,.as you.loved. May we eagerly look forward to the "being'.~'of the autumn years, reaping the golden rewards, fully open to the winter-that is to come, where all is wanned ~bY your love. ~ Community Dialogue and Religious Tradition Sebastian MacDonald, C.P. Father MacDonald is provincial superior of the Holy Cross Province. He may fie reached at Passionist Community; 5700 North Harlem Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60631. Dialogue is a common form of community experience today. It is an en-deavor which has the capacity of exposing the wealth of tradition latent in a community. Such tradition is often the unspoken element bonding a community together, the ineffable cementing relationships. It can be a mistake, of course, to uncritically commend the rgle of dialogue in religious life, Given the negative experience of it that many religi~us have encountered the past few years, citing its advantages must be balanced with recognizing its difficultie~ and disadvantages. ~'hese latter largely center about the conflict and division that often occurs among community members, as the~y encounter in one another ap- ¯ parently irreconcilable positions on often fundamental and basic aspects of religious life. Dialogue, as the publi~c articulation of these p~ositions, can add to an already~latent conflict. Once public positions are taken by community members, this may freeze a division that has always be~n there, but, here-tofore, private, and to that extent, potentially malleable. By enhancing the feeling elenaent, dialogue can be a further obstacle to community build-ing. II. An aspect of the problem which needs to be recognized is the often 827 828 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 ~restrictive or constrained, nature of community dialogue. At times it does not allow full expression of opinion on the part of all present, as when, should everyone address an issue, the frequent result is that the depth of conversation is shallow and glosses over deep feelings and heartfelt con-victions. This may result in one side gradually prevailing, in a community dif-ference of opinion. An unequal division occurs on an issue when the ma-jority silences the minority, or articulate spokespersons cause members who support an opposing opinion to withdraw in some way and possibly to absent themselves from community dialogue: If this happens, an unspoken element remains in the community, fu-eling even more the disagreement raised to prominence by the public dia-logues that have taken place. Just because ~something is unspoken does not mean that'it ce~ases to exist or exert its influence. lie " To offset this development, a full-blown community dialogue be-comes desirable, where each member has the opportunity, and actively utilizes it, of fully expressing himself or herself regarding fundamental issues of religious life, as well as seCondary but still importantelernents. '. Adults who live together for a period of time accumulate a rich de, posit of spirit and. tradition. Any community bonding that 'Occurs must respect that. richness. But where dialogue is restricted and constrained, and opinions go un, expressed, monologue prevails, not genuine dialogue. There may be an appearance of dialogue, as community members dutifully assemble ac-cording to schedule. But if they do so reluctantly and,. fearing r~ancor, sniping or misrepresentation, do not speak from their hearts on issu.es, then only a facsimile of dialogue is present, with peopl~ merely going through the motions of conversing With one another. Honest ~elf, expression is a duty and a respons.ib~ility, together with a willingness to listen to ~thers, who may voice positions in conflict with ~eeply held convictions. Th!s kind of community dia.logue is an art form riot come by easily, spontaiaeous!y or naturally. It has to be worked at with grace, balance and harmony to make the conversation helpful and productive. There is a rich mother-lode of spiritual exp.erience in religious com-munities that beg~ to be exposed, recognized and admired. It is a thing of beauty that often eludes written or spoken form. Congregational documents, such as Constitutions and Regulations, do,not always capture the "tradition" of a religious community which, Community Dialogue and Tradition / 1t29 in large part, is often inexpressible. But it does strive to see the light of day and to be ack.nowledged for what it is, a major cementing factor in a community's life and existence. .Religious life is one of faith. In our efforts to explain it in its com-munal form, we refer to other kinds of community living, especially the family. However, we know that these comparisons are only partially sat-isfactory. The physical bonding factors which account for the stability of communal units such ,as the familY explain much of the emotional and spiritual quality present there. ~ The vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, however, are bonding factors of a different type, which must be described as intangibles. The ~faith quality and spirituality of religious community is intelligible only in their terms. Indeed, religious life is designed to witness to the kind of community living together based on such values. This witness is, hope-fully, given to one another, and to those who observe religious in prac-tice. The spirituality of the "apostolic community,'~' about which we hear so much today, consists of this faith witness on the part of religious bound together by such "intangible" vows accounting for their life and work together. Precisely because the "anchors" for the faith quality of religious life are intangible, it is possible they will be submerged, sliding beneath the surface and remaining invisible, unless they are consciously and delib-erately disengaged and exposed to view. Community dialogue is one way of allowing this to happen. IV. The fuller the attention and exposure that a tradition of religious life receives, the more promising the access it provides to building and unit-ing a religious community together. Tradition can be ineffable, or expressible only with difficulty for the reasons given above. If this .occurs, it is not acknowledged, responded to or accounted for, despite its important role in the community. Tradition often constitutes the very center of religious life in com~ munity. It can explain the reason behind who they are and the values they abide by. When these are not plainly evident to otliers, their lives as com-munity members can in large part go unappreciated by and even un-known to their fellow religious. Can this be community? Unwritten and unspoken tradition bonds a community together, but it needs to be acknowledged and dealt with. Practices regarding poverty, prayer, silence, fraternal relationships, and so forth, often refer to expe- Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 riences that flow deeply and silently, possibly never seeing the light of day, exc6pt symbolically and representatively. It is imperative that they emerge in community dialogue. Otherwise an explosive energy build-up results, driving co-existing lives in opposite directions, into inevitable collision. This is the hidden resistance so often experienced as divisive in community dialogue. It rep-resents the unspoken ground on which people take stands, inadequately explored and investigated with their fellow religious. Much of this tradition is rooted in religious and sacred ~aeaning, and concerns God himself. This adds a dimension of strength and power to values that weigh heavily upon a community that fails to discover them, unspoken and hidden in the depths of certain members who feel that the way they experience God in their lives is not esteemed by others. V. Tradition within the smaller confines of religious community reflects Catholic tradition within the Church at large. It is endowed with a ver-sion of catholicity in its capacity to bind together those who share it. On the other hand, a schism or division can begin among those religious who do not share a common tradition, or fail to appreciate or even perceive its presence. A religious community is like "a little church" in this re-gard. Community dialogue is at its best when it provides full scope to re-ligious experience. In this way it discloses a deposit of reasons and val-ues that give meaning to people's lives and make them real. If it suc-ceeds in this, it helps build community on a solid foundation of full, hon-est, and authentic exchange between people intent on sharing life to-gether. Conclusion Living by a largely unwritten tradition containing rich personal and communal experiences, we stand to benefit by an exposure of this "tra-dition" to others through, dialogue. Hopefully it will win their esteem too, and bind religious more ~closely together. God's Love Is Not Utilitarian William A. Barry, S.J. This is the final of Father Barry's series of four articles which began with a considera-tion of our resistances to God. He may be addressed at Saint Andrew House; 300 Newbury Street; Boston, Massachusetts 02115. A number of years ago---more than I care to remember--as a brash young scholastic I was° engaged in a spirited conversation with some other Jesu-its, priests and scholastics. We were discussing the reasons for being a Jesuit. During the discussion I found myself more and more dissatisfied with the reasons given. I had seen married and single lay men and women who were at least 9s dedicated to being,followers of Christ as any of us. My own parents were examples of rather remarkably unselfish lov-ers. I could not believe that God was more pleased with us than with them~ Nor could I accept the notion that God wanted me to be a Jesuit in order to save some part of the world. That just did not ring true to my experience and reflection. At one point I blurted out something like this: "I'm a.Jesuit because God wants me to be happy and productive. God"s love for me has led me to choose this life, just as his love for o~hers leads them to choose their way of life." I am not su.re I understood all the implications of what I said, nor was I sure that the implied theology would stand up to scru-tiny. But that outburst has stayed with me through the years, and I have pondered its meaning off and on. In the process I began to enunciate a conviction that God's love is~not utilitarian; i.e., God does not love me or anyone primarily in order to achieve some other goals. In this article I want to unpack some of the meaning of this conviction, impelled by a number of recent experiences of directing retreats and giving spiritual direction. 831 ~1~12 / Review for Religious, N~vember-December, 1987 My youthful outburst was occasioned by the realization that much of the reasoning that justified being a religious presumed that being one was a great sacrifice, indeed, even painful. So the life had to be justified or made palatable. But I did not feel that my life entailed any more sacri-fice than anyone else's. I was rather happy, all things considered, and would not have traded my life for anyone's. So I felt that the "call" to Jesuit life was God's gift to me, his way of loving me. To put the same thing in another way: I felt that God wanted me to be a Jesuit because that was the best way for me to be happy and productive. That convic-tion has not changed since. Over the years I have come to believe that all God wants of any of us is to let him love us. I hax;e also come to believe that one of the most difficult things for us to do is precisely to let God love us, to receive his love. We resist his advances, his overtures of love as though they were the plague. In three earlier articles I have tried to probe the sources of that resistance.l In this article I want to focus on what I have come to believe is God's desire in bur regard. Sebastian Moore,2 in his latest book, makes the point brilliantly: God desires us into being. Before ever we were, God desired us so much that he made us, and made us desirable and lovely. And he desires, that we find him lovely, that we love him. But that can only happen if we !et ourselves believe and experience that we are, as it were, the apple of his eye. To the extent that we believe and experience that God finds us de-sirable, to that extent will we be in love with him. People who have let God, demonstrate his love for them often affirm that it is a love without any demands, an3; strings attached. This is a diffi-cult point to grasp, so let us try to be clear. Often enough we are afraid of God's closeness because we fear the demands he will make of us. "He may askme to go to Ethiopia." As far as I can te!l, when God comes close, he does not c6rrie with a list'of demands or conditions for continuing to remain close. For example, he does not seem to say: "Yes, I love you, but I will only keep on loving you if you [fill in the blank]." Infact, he does not even seem to say: "I love you, but I will only keep on loving you if you stop this pai'ticular sin:" God seems to be just what the First Letter of John says he is, namely'love ,'and uncon-ditional love at that. All he seem~ to want is to be able to love Us, to be close and intimate with us. Does this mean that God has no standards, no values? By no means; but his Values are not perceived as demands by those who have let him come close. Rather they find themselves desirous of sharing his values, God's Love Is°Not Utilitaridn / I]~13 of being' like him--not because God'demands that they do so, butobe-causethey are happier and more alive when they live according to God's values. For example, I realize that I am happier, more alive and more purposeful when I can desire to forgive as Jesus forgives, to love as Je-sus loves. Married men and women have found themselves most fulfilled when they have:remained faithful to their marital commitments, even when the grass looked greener elsewhere. Religious have discovered that their great-est happiness lies in giving themselves wholeheartedly to the demands of their vows, even when the bloom seems off the rose, as it were. Many Christians have also discovered that they are most alive and happy when they give themselves as wholeheartedly as possible to living with and working with and for the poor. Of course, at times all these people weaken, and are helped to stay the course by some negative sanction, for example, fear of loss of face, or of sinning and disappointing God, or of hell. But at bottom the motivation for sticking to their lasts is the desire to imitate the God who has so unconditionally and faithfully loved them. In other words they want to be perfect as'their heavenly Father is perfect. Of course, they cannot .do this. Sin is an ever present reality which even the holiest of saints must contend with. However, those who have experienced God as lover do not experience him as contemptuous of their sinfulness but as compassionate and patient. In their best moments, when they are aware of God's love, they recognize that all they have to do is to ask forgiveness and healing for their lapses, and to desire to have their hearts made more like the heart of Jesus. And they can hope that continued contemplation of Jesus will transform their hearts almost by osmosis. Now, perhaps, we have come to the key that opens the last door to insight. Jesus is the perfect human being, we believe, the one who most fully realizes the potential of humanity. When all is said ~nd done, What is the central insight Jesus had? Was it not that Yahweh, the creator of the universe, the unnameable, unfathomable mystery, is "Abba," "dear Father," "dear Mother," Love itself? To the maximum extent possible for a human being Jesus knew God, and he experienced God as Love.3 Let us reflect a bit on Jesus' baptism in the Jordan. I realize that I am reading into the text, but I find it intriguing that the synoptics pic-ture God as saying that Jesus is his beloved in whom he is well pleased before Jesus has begun his public ministry. What has he done to elicit such praise? Perhaps "all" that he has done is to allow God to come ~134 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 as close as God wants to come; perhaps "all" that he has done is just to let himself be loved as much as God wants to love him. Perhaps Jesus is so dear to God just because he let God do what God has always wanted to do: reveal himself as our lover par excellence. It is also intriguing to speculate that Jesus' fundamental salvific act may have been, not dying on the cross, but rather accepting God's love as much as it is humanly possible to do. Then the following of Christ might mean not so much doing iheroic deeds, nor even wanting to love as Jesus loves, but much more fundamentally, desiring to let oneself be loved as much as Jesus was and is loved. PerhaPs the world will be saved when a critical mass is reached of people who deeply believe and expe-rience how much they are loved by God. What I have been saying may strike some readers as advocacy of a "me and God" spirituality. It is true that this can all sound very narcis-sistic. But in practice, it is the exact opposite. Those who let themselves be loved by God find in doing so that their own love and compassion for others is enormously increased. This trans-formation does not happen because God demands such love of them. In fact, these persons know that for years they tried to be loving in response to what they took to be God's demands: they made resolution after reso-lution, and failed miserably. Now without effort, almost, they find their hearts going out to others, and especially to the neediest. They are sur, prised themselves at what is happening to their hearts. The more they al-low themselves to be loved unconditionally by God, the more loving they become. And the love of these persons, like that of Jesus, is a tough love. They speak the truth, but it is a truth that is not contemptuous, nor an-grily demanding--at least while they are aware of being loved. This last aside is a necessary nod to realism. For even the holiest of saints has days he or she regrets. Moreover, as they become or are made aware that they are socio-political beings, i.e., constituted at least in,part by the social and. political institutions into which they are born or freely enter, they begin to undergo what Father Gelpi calls a socio-political,conversion, and take steps to make these institutions more just' and caring through organizing, networking, lobbying, and protesting where necessary.4 Moreover, people who let God come close realize, without self-contempt, how far they fall short, and always will fail short, of being like Jesus. They know. from experience why the saints protested so strongly their sinfulness. They feel over and over again how much God loves them and how much God desires to shower them with his love, and God's Love Is Not Utilitarian they see themselves turning their backs on him, resisting his advances, refusing his invitations to intimacy. They find themselves to be enigmas because the experience of God's closeness fulfills their deepest desires, yet they fight him off. In spite of being such sinners they know that God still loves them. Hence, they view themselves and all human beings more and more with the compassionate eyes of God. I have begun to suspect that the notion of God's love as utilitarian is a defense against God's love. IfI convince myself that God loves me for the sake of other people, then I do not have to face the enormity of being' loved for myself alone by God. Many people shelter themselves from the full implications of God's love by seeing themselves as the ob-ject of that love only as part of a group. In other words, God loves all people, and I am included under the umbrella,,as it were. Now there is a truth in this notion, but I can use it to keep God's love very impersonal and distanced. So, too, God'is kept distanced if I conceive of tiis love for me as utili-tarian. "He loves me for what I can do for the people of Ethiopia." It is a very subtle way of keeping God at a distance: he does hoi loveme so much as Ethiopia. It is also subtly Pelagian: God loves me for what I can do for him. Interestingly enough, it is also a subtle way both to puff up my ego, and also to make sure that I am never satisfied with my-self. On the one hand, I am aware of all that I am doing for Ethiopia; on the other hand, I am constantly reminded of how much more there is to be done, and may also be reminded that others have done more. One person on, a retreat, for example, felt that if God really loved her, then he would be using her in more important ways. She discovered that such reasoning was making her unhappy and keeping God at arm's length. Perhaps the burden of the argument thus far can be summed up in an experience of another retreatant. He had experienced deeply that Je-sus knew he was a sinner and would always be a sinner. Jesus commu-nicated to him in a gentle, loving way how he had betrz'yed him in the past, and that he would do it again in the future. Yet he looked at him with enormous tenderness and love. The retreatant felt that Jesus said to him: "I love no one more than I love you--but I love no one less than I love you." God does not love some people more because of what they do, or what they will do. He is just greatly pleased that anyone lets him come as close as he wants to come. If God's love is not utilitarian, does this mean that it is meaningless to ask whether God has a will for me apart from letting him love me and Review for 'Religious, November-December, 1987 loving him in re~urn? If God will continue to love me whether I become a doctor, a carpenter,.a social worker, or a Jesuit, does 'it matter at all to God which I become, as'long as I am happy? To take the question one step further: if God will continue to love me even if I~ continue to sin, does it matte~r to God whether I stop sinning or not? In other words, if we say that God is unconditional Love and that he is not utilitarian in his love, do we not eviscerate of meaning such traditional Christian and Catholic notions as the discernment of God's will, the exist~ence of hell, the call to co.nversion from sin, the person as.God's instrument and vo-cation? Perhaps John was addressing some of the ~same questions when he has Jesus say; For'God so loved the world that he gave'his only Son~ that whoever be-lieves in him should not perish but hav6 eternal life. For'God sent the Son into the world, nbt to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. He who believes in him is not condemned; he who does not b.elieve is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has ~ome into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every .one wh6 does evil hates the light, and does not come to the light, lest his' deeds should be exposed. But he who does what is true comes to the light, thi~t it may be clearly seen that his~deeds have been wrought in God (Jn 3:16-21). A comment by Raymond Brown on this passage and others in John, may show us a path out of the, dilemma: We believe that the translation of krinein as "condemn" in these pas- .sages (also in 8:26) is clearly justified by the contrast with "save." Nev-ertheless, the statement that Jesus did not come to condemn does not ex-clude the very real judgment that Jesus provokes . The idea in John, then, seems to be that during his ministry Jesus is. no. apocalyptic judge like the one expected at the end of time; yet his presence does cause men to judge themselves.5 In other words, Jesus does not condemn, but his presence brings out what people really are like. He, the human presence of God on earth, loves people and wants their good, indeed their absolute good, which is union with God, and he continues to love even those who spurn the of-fer, They condemn themselves. Let us see where this path leads us. When we love people unselfishly (insofar as this is possible for a hu-man: being), we want their good. We want them to be as happy, fulfilled, right with God and the world as possible. We want them to fulfill all their God's Love Is Not Utilitarian / 837 potential, "to be ttie best that they can be," as the commercial for the Army dins into our memories. At our best ~ve do not demand all this as a condition for our love, but we want it because we love. If this is the case with us, we can imagine what God desires. In his ',~'Contemplation to Obtain Love,'? Ignatius of Loyola tries to help us to imagine all that God's love wants. In an almost poignant line he'says: "I will ponder with great. affection how much God our Lord has done for me, and how much he has given me of what he~ possesses, and fi-nally, how much, as far as he~ can, the same Lord desires to give.himself to me according to his divine decrees."6 God creates a world that he sees is "very good" (Gn 1:31) for his loved ones to live in. He wants them to be co-creators with him of this evolving world. The Garden of Eden image in Genesisl is awonderful symbol of wl~at.Gbd wants for those whom he lo~,es into existence. He °wants us to li~,e in harmony ~vith, and with reverence for the universe and all that is in it, because that is the way to ou~r greatest li~lppines's and fulfillment both as individuals and as brothers and sisters. Moreover, he wants to giye himself to us "as far as he can"; limita-tion comes not just. from our fin.itude, but also from our perversity. God, however, will not compel us to accept what is for. our good. Does GOd puni.sh us for our perversity? It is an age-old tradition that ascribes natural disasters to God's wrath. The Old Testa.ment is~ replete with such ascription~s, beginning with Genesis 2. In the New Testament Jesus is asked: "Rabbi, ,whq,sinned, this,man or his parents,~ that he was born blind~?" He a.nswers: "It was not that this man sinned, or his par-ents, but that the works of God might be made,manifest in him" (Jn 9:2- 3). To say the least, this answer is enigmatic, but it does belie the as-cription of disasters to God's wrath ~at sin, On the hypothesis that God is Love I want to say that we punish our-selves by turning away from God's love. God remains steadfast in his love. But hatred, suspicion, prejudice, fear--these and other emotions-- are the product of our sins and the sins of our forebears. And they are not emotions that are for our peace. In other wor.ds, God made us broth-ers and sisters and desired us to live in harmony and mutual love, but we human beings have brought on ourselves the disharmony and distrust that now threaten the world as we know it. And if anyone does remain willfully and perVersely turned away from God's love and the love of neighbor to the end, then he or she chooses eternal unhappiness. But ~God's love does not change into 'something else. Review for Religious, November-De~cember, 1987 But what abgut the man born blind? What about the child with Down's syndrome? What about natural disasters such as the eruption of the volcano in Colombia which destroyed.~a town and took 20,000 lives in one day? We want to know why such things happen. It lies close to hand to ascribe such events either to the punishment of God, or fate, or to the stupidity of the victims. Social psychologists speak of the ."just world hypothesis" in .describing such attitudes. According to this view, everybody believes the world is a place where people generally get what they deserve and deserve wffat they get. To believe that our own good deeds and hard work may come to naught and, indeed, that we can encounter a calamity for totally fortuitous rea-sons, is simply too threatening to most of us. And yet we see people whose lives have been shattered and who seem like us in every way. Are these paraplegics, blind people, sufferers from cancer really innocent vic- .tims, and are we, therefore, candidates for s~ffering the S~me fate? The just world hypoth.esis posits that in these circum~stances we are likely to reject that possibility as intolerable and to conclude that those stricken individuals ~re really wicked, or at least foolish, and deserve their fate.7 Some of these calamities may be caused by human sinfulness or stu-pidity at some time in history. In the United states and in Latin America people still experience the effects of the evil of slavery and of greedy colo-nization. Other calamities may just be random events in a finite world; e.g., some Of the effects of genetic disorders. Others may be caused by someone else's perversity, but the victim is seemingly picked out at ran-dom: for ~xample, the drunken driver plows into John Jones' car, hav-ing just barely missed ten others, and out of the blffe John is dead~ and his daughter is maimed ~for life, through no fault of theirs. The "just world hypothesis" reminds us of the friends of Job or the disciples who asked Jesus about the sin that caused the man to be born blind. It will not work in the case of innocent victims of either random events, the pre-sent sins of others, or the effects of historic evils. How do we square the unconditional love of God with such calami-ties? In experience, people who engage God directly in a relationship, and who look at the world realistically, have the "just world hypothe-sis" pulled out from under them. They see that Jesus, the sinless, be-loved Son, died horribly, and that no bolts of lightning took vengeance on his killers or saved him. As they develop their relationship with God, they may find themselves raging at him for.the seemingly needless suf-fering they ,undergo or see others experience. Somehow or other they dis-cover a God who is beyond what we conceive as justice, a God they can God's Love Is Not Utilitarian hope in and live for, No more than the author of the book of Job can they explain it; but for sure it i~ not the answer proposed by the "just world hypothesis." People who have de'0eloped such a relationship with God experience the deep m~ystery of creation and co-creation. God loves into existence not only the stars that so bedazzle us in the night sky but also the vol-cano~ that erupts suddenly and engulfs a whole city killing 20,000 peo-ple, 'and he loves those people into existence. God not only loves into existence Jesus and Mary, Francis of Assisi, Teresa of Avila, and the lovely people who have lok, ed us in our lives, but also Herod and Hero-dias, Genghis Khan, Lucrezia Borgia, Hitler and the torturers of politi-cal prisoners:of our day. People who meet this God at a deep level sense a bottomless ~compassion and pain at the heart of the world, yet a vibrant hope for life. They become more compassionate--and passionate-~ them-selves. Perhaps they can understand that it was not bravado that kept the martyrs joyful in their s.ufferings and dying. Perhaps, too, they can un-de¢ stand how the poorest of the poor still are capable of tremendous acts of generosity toward their fellow sufferers, just as they can understand the great cruelty o.f which the poor are also capable. Thus far we have threaded our path oiat of the seeming dilemma of the coexistence of God's unconditional love and-punishment for sin and hell. We have also seen a way'of explaining the call to conversion from sin. God wants the best for us and that best includes our turning away from sin and toward living a life that is consonant with a relationship of mutual love with the Lord. Sin does not produce happiness or harmony or peace of mind. Nor does it create harmonious relationsh~p.s between people, or political and social and religious institutions that work toward such harmonious and just relationships. So God's love for us desires that we be converted on all the levels postulated by Gelpi, the affective, the intellectual, the moral and the socio-political.8 Note, however, that God does not make such'integral conversion a condition for continuing to love us. He desires it b~ecause it is for our good; bu~ he does not demand it as the price of his love. Now let us mo4e on to the issue of the discernment of God's will, especially as this regards the question of a vocation to a way of life. Traditionally Catholics have believed that God has a plan for each per-son. He 'calls some to the religious or priestly life and others to the mar- ,ried state. It is true that the term "vocation" was most often restricted to the religious or priestly life. "He-hasa vocation" was shorthand in Catholic circles for saying that an individual felt called to religious or Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 priestly life. But a. more careful use oftanguage:also,saw married life as a calling. A further problem, of course~ is that this language left in limbo those who remain single (and not religious or priests) either vol-untarily or involuntarily. At,any rate, does God call people to a particu-lar way of life? And if. so, how is this calling consonant with the non-utilitarian nature of his love? ~ 0 Again we return to the idea that the lover wants the good of the be-loved. I will use the case of Ignatius of.Loyola to illustrate a way of under-standing God's call in terms of his~love, without~making that love. utilitar-ian. 9 ~ Inigo (his original name) was a hell-raising, ambitious, vain, coura-geous man, a'.man who dreamed of doing great exploits. At Pamplona, according to his own account, he was the rallying point, in resisting the French attackers. When he. was severely wounded in the leg, the defend-ers immediately surrendered. God seems to have used this crooked line to write straight. During his 10ng convalescence Inigo continued his dreaming. He dreamt of doing great knightly deeds to win fame and honor and the favor of a great lady. These daydreams.would absorb him for up to four hours'at a time. The only books at hand for him were a life of Christ and a book of the lives of the saints. When he read these, he began to dream of doing what Dominic and Francis did, and again he would become absorbed for hours. Notice that in both cases ~his ar-dor, ambition, bravery, and even vanity were operative. Finally, after some time of alternating daydreams, he began to notice a difference. When he was thinking about the things of the world, he'took much de-light in them, but afterwards, when he was tired and put theha aside, he found that he was dry and discontented. But when he thought of going to Jerusalem, barefoot and eating nothing but herbs and undergoing all the other rigors that he saw the saints had endured, not only was he con-soled when he had these thoughts, but even after putting them aside, he remained content and happy. He did not wonder, however, at th~s; nor ~:. did he stop to ponder the difference until one time his eyes were opened a little, and he began to marvel at the difference and to reflect upon it, ~ realizing from experience that some "thoughts left him sad and others happy)~0 ~' This was the beginning of Ignatius' own discovery of the discernment of spirits, a discernment that eventually led him to found the Society of Jesus, with enormous consequences for the Church and the world--and for not a few individuals who in almost four hundred and fifty years have joined this Society. God's Love Is Not Utilitarian How are we to understand this story of a vocation? I would maintain that ~God's 10ve for Inigo involved his desire that Inigo use his great ener-gies, his ardor, his ambition in ways that would make. him most happy, most fulfilled, and most useful to others. I believe that it mattered a great deal to God how Inigo used his talents, for Inigo's sake first of all, but also"for the sake.of others .whom God loved. However, God would not have loved Inigo any the less if he had missed the opportunity for dis-cernment, and had ~ontinued on his course toward "worldly" achieve-ment. But he might have been greatly saddened that Inigo did not choose what was for his greater happiness and peace. Later in life Inigo himself might have felt the sadness as he pondered how his life had gone since his recuperation. Only God could so love us that he would allow us the freedom to turn away from receiving all that he wants .to give us, and still keep loving us unconditionally, even when we so chopse. ., It seems to me that a consi.stent cleaving to the central insight of the New Testament, that God is "Abba," does not force .us to give up any truths of.faith and has several distinct advantages. The preceding pages have shown some ways of understanding traditional truths that hold in the forefront that" God is unconditional love, a love that is not utilitar-ian. Su(h an understanding demonstrates an intrinsic connection between the love of God and the search for his frill. Because God loves me, he wants the best for me. Because and insofar as I love God, I want the best for him, which is that he may give.himself to me as much as he can. The way of life God wants for me is the best way for me to receive his love and to be a co-creator with him. Hence, in my better moments, I try to the best of my ability to discern wfiere his love leads me. I do not try to find his will for fear that he will punish me, but rather for fear that I will miss the way that would allow him to give me more of him-self. I also try to find his will because I.know that his love desires more good for all those whom I will touch in my life. Perhaps we can understand in a slightly new way an axiom attributed to Ignatius (and often put inversely). Loosely translated the saying goes: "Pray as if everything depended on you; work as if everything depended on God." 1 ~ It is very important for me to pray in order to know how and where God wants to love me, how he wants to gift me. It is important not only for me, but also because of others. The more I let God give him-self to me as far as he can, the more "sacrat~entally" present he is to others with whom I interact. And once I have discerned God's way, I can work without ambivalence and self.concern, trusting that God will accomplish whatever else he intends. Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 One final question occurs. Suppose that Inigo's eyes had not opened up during his convalescence, and that he had gone on to worldly exploits. Would he have been given another chance? That is, of course, an unan-swerable question. But God would surely continue to love him and, we presume, continually offer him a call to a radical conversion of heart. ~If, later in life, he were to have his eyes opened, he'might have to come to terms with those earlier missed opportunities. Repentance would be in.~order, but a wallowing in his "spilt milk" would not be an appropri-ate response to the God of love. Conversion'means to accept my past pre-cisely as my past, i.e., both mine and past, and to surrender in freedom to the new and mysterious future offered by God's love now. But an historic moment surely would have been lost if Ignatius had gone an alternate route instead of the one he did take. There are conse-quences to our choices. Hence, it is incumbent on all of us who minister to help people who stand, or soon will stand, before serious life choices to become discerning Christians. Historic consequences may be at stake. -And now a final word. For the past year and a half I have been com-ing at the same issue from different angles. At first I was intrigued by a strange resistance to God's initiative, a resistance that clearly was a run-ning from a positive experience of God'~ presence. My curiosity pro-duced the three articles for this review mentioned earlier. Then a few experi,ences with direcfees prompted this article. I want to end where I began, with the first article. We need to be mind-ful that there is a force within us ~hat does hate the light, that seems to want to thwart all God's loving desire to give us of himself. We need to be on the alert to discern the presence of that force, but also to rely on thos~ various sayings that have given people hope through the ages, sayings like: "With men it is impossible, but not with God; for all things are possible with God" (Mk 10:27) or "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made per.fect in weakness" (2 Co 12:9). NOTES 1 William A. Barry, "Resistance to Union: A Virulent Strain," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 44 (1985), pp. 592-596; "The Desire to 'Love as Jesus Loved' and its Vicissitudes," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 44 (1985), pp. 747-753; "Surrender: The Key to Wholeness," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 46 (1987), pp. 49-53. 2 Sebastian Moore, Let This Mind Be in You (Minneapolis: Seabury, 1985). 3 After I had finished this article I came upon Francis Baur's Life in Abundance: A Contemporary Spirituality (New York/Ramsey: Paulist, 1983) who uses process the-ology to develop a spirituality based on the definition of God as love. While some- God's Love Is Not Utilitarian what hortatory and at times polemical, the book can serve as a theological underpinning for the more experience-based assertions of this article. 4 Donald L. Gelpi, "The Converting Jesuit," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, XVII, no. 1 (Jan. 1986). 5 Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John: I-XII. The Anchor Bible, vol. 29. (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1966), p. 345. 6 The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. trans. Louis Puhl. (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1951), no. 234, p. 102. 7 Edward E. Jones, Amerigo Farina, Albert H. Hastorf, Hazel Markus, Dale T. Miller, and Robert A. Scott, Social Stigma: The Psychology of Marked Relatiohships (New York: Freeman, 1984), pp. 59-60. 8 Gelpi, op. cit. 9 What follows is based on The Autobiography of St. Ignatius Loyola, trans. Joseph F. O'Callaghan. ed. John C. Olin (New York: Harper & Row, 1974). 10 lbid, p. 24. ~ The Latin version can be found in "Selectae S. Patris Nostri Ignatii Sententiae," no, II, in Thesaurus Spiritualis Societatis Jesu (Roma: Typis Polygiottis Vaticanis, 1948), p. 480. Gaston Fessard, in a long appendix to volume I of his La dialectique des Exercices Spirituels de saint Ignace de Loyola (Paris: Aubier, 1966), traces the historical background of the saying. He demonstrates that although not from Igna-tius' hand the saying does express the dialectic of his spirituality. Vocation She said she wished to be a shrub And sit in silence, lost, obscure In some dim woods where no one ever comes and she could muse and watch the quiet winds go by. But He who long ago observed a brambled bush Looked at her once among the ferns. He looked but once; the winds became a storm And now she burns, she. bu.rns! Ruth de Menezes 2819 D Arizona Avenue Santa Monica, CA 90404 Novitiate: Captivity or Liberty? Mariette Martineau Mariette Martineau, a novice with the Sisters of Mission Service, had recently com-pleted sixteen months of formation at St. Albert, Alberta, when she wrote these re-flections which she hopes will benefit others in novitiate life. She may be reached at Box 2861; Merritt, British Columbia; VOK 2BO, Canada. ~l~hat are the realities of being a novice in a religious community in the Church today? Since the exodus following Vatican II, communities have been growing smaller and older. Novitiates have been created and re-created to meet the ever changing formation needs of both the commu-nity and the candidates. How often have novices of today heard this com-ment from one of the older members of their community, "How for-tunate you are to have such a novitiate, full of prayer and study! In our days . " Come and journey with me as ! reflect on my novitiate experience. I am on the last Stretch of that journey ~as I am presently completing a six-month apostolic experience before returning to Edmonton in June for immediate preparation for vows scheduled to be, celebrated in August. I have often asked myself, particularly in the early months, "Is this no-vitiate experience one of captivity or liberty?" When I first arrived at the novitiate I experienced what I like to call the "honeymoon" phase. Life was fairly flexible as time was granted to unpack, to explore the h6use a6d neighborhood, and most importantly to meet the new commuriity and ito become comfortable with the direc-tor. The excitement of not knowing exactly what to expect and of enter-ing into the newness of activities energized me and I felt that I had made a good decision. Reality soon set in, and the struggling began. Before I entered, I prom-ised myself that I would give me, the community, and God a year to dis- 844 Novitiate: Captivity or Liberty cover if this was truly the way of life for Mariette to grow fully alive. I am thankful for that commitment for there ~vere many times during th'ose first few.months that I was ready to pack my ba~s and leave~. My director was also aware of that commitment and when times were rough she gently reminded me of it. The challenge to let go of one's independ-ence- socially, financially, emotionally, and so forth---can be a painful one. If I had chosen to leave at this stage in the novitiate procesS, I would have been leaving not because I had chosen the wrong way of life but because I was unable to release certain things in my life and give all to God. The second phase or reality of novitiate after the honeymoon phase is this ti~e of purification, of letting go. Tears can be an enriching and cleansing experience! One's schedule soon seems to become another's schedule as 'the director sets her expectations before you and challenges you to integrate and balhnce your time between formal classes, prayer, spiritual reading, community, household chores, writing papers, and per-haps weekly apostolic experiences andthe ~ccasional weekend work~ shop. Your life no longer seems to 15e yoOr own; anger and depression sometimes become an everyday experience as you strive to fully enter into the year. One has usually left a job behind and now feels like a "non-producer," dependent on the community for food, shelter, recreation. Suddenly you have to keep an account of the money you spend and have to ask someone for that money. You now have to ask permission before disappearing in the community car or going out with a friend. In some ways you feel that your personal autonomy is being threatened and you no longer have control over your life. You do not understand all the things that are being 'asked of you. In fact, some of the requests make no sense at all, This calls for trust--in tile community and in the forma-tion personnel. Trust that they do know what they are doing and have your growth as their priority, while attempting to see if you do indeed have the charism of this community. The Yes I said when I ei~tered soon grew into a series of "yeses" that were not always easy to say. I must point out that it was not a "yes" to°having things done to me but a yes that said, "I will enter into the process that you have set before me." During this phase the novices may find themselves projecting a lot of anger at their director. It is they who are setting down the guidelines, they who are enforcing them. The director is the one called to tell the novice, "This year is a time to place some relationships on the back burner, a time to get in touch with who you are, your relationship with God and the community in which you have chOsen to live out that rela- Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 tionship." The director is the one who has been given the sometimes pain-ful responsibility of making the novices aware of areas in their lives that need growth. "I do not feel that you are using your time properly--Do you realize that you snapped ~at Suzanne during supper last night?--You are too,much of a perfectionist." A novice, like anyone; finds it painful to look at her brokenness. I sometimes found myself saying in response, "What about Sister Perpetua? I look great beside her and she has been in the community for twenty years." It is much easier to focus on some-one else's areas of growth rather than your own. In the midst of all of this is the fear of reje6tion: One can begin to foc~s entirely on the nega-tive while neglecting to hear the affirmation that is also present. During the novitiate phase one journeys closely with the director. The goal is to have someone to process the year with you, to guide you, to challenge you,. to affirm you, to see if you do have a vocation to religious life. I found this aspect of my journey difficult. As. much as I wanted to dis-cover if I was in the right place, I feared rejection and wanted to appear as someone who had it all "together," I wanted to be an instant relig-ious, comfortable with poverty, celibacy, community, and obedience. Simply put, I wanted to be perfect and got angry with myself and: others when I was not. Directors often tell their novices to be prepared for a time of regres-sion following their initial entry into novitiate. One can hear this with the mind but the heart sometimes gets in the way. One cannot understand why she feels depressed, angry, without energy, and without the finesse she had when she entered. Insecurity may be another reality, but doubt is always good because it challenges one to dig deeper. The gift during this time of grieving and regression is the realization that, "Hey, I am not going crazy! I am just striving to say good-bye to some excess bag-gage. I am feeling the loss of many things and many people. I am spend- .ing so much energy on being angry, I need some way to deal with the anger in a more creative way. I want to grow and become me fully alive, but that hurts and I just cannot seem to grow fast enough." A novice was asked one time, "When did your novitiate start?" She replied: "Nine months into it!" Another reality of novitiate life is the focus on community. One no longer, has the freedom to skip supper when she feels like it and go shop-ping instead. Recreation often takes place in the community context, and outside contacts can be limited and are often with other religious. One may get the sense of dead air--I need to.see other people! The challenge is to enter into the times of community and group activity while remem, Novitiate: Captivity or Liberty / 1~47 bering to also enter into moments of aloneness. We all need some de-gree of personal space. In relation to community, the novice who enters and places before herself the goal of reforming the community will find herself in conflict and perhaps will receive an invitation to leave. It is similar to marrying someone with the intent of changing that person into the person ~hat you think he or she should be. Those of us novices who are still young when we enter often bring with us our youthful idealism. This idealism is not wrong, and may indeed carry with it challen.ges to the community. But we must remember that novitiate is a dialectical proc-ess; both the community and the individual have so.mething to leai'n from each ot~her. Neither is perfect and neither should be expected to be per-fect. A line from a friend says, "I love you as you are in the middle of where you are." How does one know when to leave? After haying earlier stated that I had committed myself (t° myself) for a year, what would have caused ~e to leave? If at any point in that year the person of Mariette completely disappeared, I think it would have been time to pull out. If I had to die to all that I was, I think I would have been in the wrong place, perhaps simply at the.wrong time, or forever. Dialogue with the director is ex-tremely important during this discernment.' She is an objective observer, trained to help one make such decisions. Naturally the decision is always our own, and one always has to keep before herself the freedom to stay or to leave. Again I would say, trust the formation personnel, as it is easy to get entangled in one's emotions and make a decision to leave for the wrong reasons. I would not encourage anyone to leave while in the mid-dle of the grieving process. One can expect to say some good-byes to journey companions dur-ing novitiate. Some people will be with us until the end of the journey, others are called to different places before then. Good-byes can be pain-ful, especially if you have shared a deep relationship with the person leav-ing or if you have difficulty accepting the reasons for leaving. Each time someone left, it was an opportunity for me to reexamine my own rea-sons for staying or to find some good reasons to leave. Usually new life followed these reflections especially if I had been given the opportunity to sa~, good-bye to the person leaving and/or to ritualize her departure with the community--whether it be my own or the intercommunity no-vitiate of which I was a member as I was the only novice in my own com-munity. I strongly encourage and invite novices who have decided to con-tinue their journey in a different direction to realize the importance of saying good-bye to their directors and their communities. "848 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1987 The happie,st phase of the novitiate seems to come too late. You feel ready to enter into the process, you have develop.ed new relationships, ygur, anger and depression no longer seem to have control over you, the journey inward has become a challenge that energizes you. And guess what? It is time to move on, perhaps to an apostolic experience or fur-ther studies or even vows. It is gratifying at this time to look at how one was at the beginning and how one appears to be now. Signs of growth are evident and as you reflect back you. feel yourself wondering,. "Was I, really like that? Did I make life that miserable for others in the house, especiall3~ my director? . . ." Now may also be a time of increased heal-ing, reaching out in love and forgiven, ess in a deep and meaningful way to those wh6 have journeyed so f,,aithfully with 'you. One still does not haveit ~11 "together" bu~'acknowledges the joys and pains of being a pilgrim. Is novitiate a time of captivity or liberty? It can be a time of captiv-ity, ofimprisoning one's self in anger, loneliness, schedules, pride, in-security, or one's past, But it is designed to be a time of liberty. A time to spend kvitli,y.ourself and God, journeying towards wholeness by being -given the gift to leave behind many of the earthly cares that can take over our existence. It is a time to begin to d~velop the"skillS and behavior pat5 terns that a religious needs to integrate her life choice of prophet into the world" and the Church today. Community in Religious Life and the - Church: Some Reflections Angelo M. Caligiuri Monsignor Caligiuri is Episcopal Vicar for Religious in his diocese. His reflections here represent his part in dialogues between bishops and religious in several areas of the country and discussion with various religious superiors and other vicars. He may be reached at the Office of the Vicar for Religious; Diocese of Buffalo; 100 South Elmwood Avenue; Buffalo, New York 14202. During the final months of 1985 and the first months of 1986, through-out the dioceses of the United Sti~tes, diocesan bishops met with their re-ligious to dialogue about six areas of mutual concern. These areas of in-terest and concern surfaced from the series of listenin~ sessions held the previous year under the leadership ~nd guidance of the special Pontifical Commission established by our Holy Father, under the chairmanship of Archbishop John Quinn of San Francisco. As a result of these listening sessions, .each diocese prepared a writ-ten report on what was heard and these reports were sent to Archbishop Qtiinn and his committee. From a reading and evaluation of the many reports, the committee saw the following subject areas surfacing as mer-i

Issue 47.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1988. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published eveD' two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELiGiOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1988 by REVIEW FOR RELIG~OUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add $5.00 per year; for airmail, add $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REwEw FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors July/August 1988 Volume 47 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rwv~v.w Eon RvJ.w.~ous; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from Rwv~v.w FOR Rv.~,w, lous; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Jesus and Francis as Gospel Makers: An Experience in Kenosis Jude Winkler, O.F.M.Conv. This paper is adapted from lhe keynote address of the 1987 meeting of the Inter-province Conference of the Conventual Franciscans. Father Jude is slationed al St. Hyacinth College and Seminary; Granby, Massachusetts 01033. When one speaks of Jesus and Francis as Gospel makers, one is led to ask exactly what is meant by the term "Gospel." Probably the best way to respond to that question is to consider the formation of a particular Gospel. This will help one to determine which material the community considered to be so essential, so central to the message of Christ that it was necessary to pass it down to future generations of Christians. The starting point, therefore, is an individual Christian community: the com-munity which produced the first Gospel, that written by the evangelist Mark. Although there are other opinions, most scholars believe that the Gospel of Mark was written in Rome around 70 A.D. How could one describe Rome and the Roman Christian community of those days? Rome was the center of the Western world. Wealth poured in from the empire, which stretched from the English Channel to the Syrian De-sert. In certain ways the city was reaching the apex of its magnificence. The ruins from the great fire under Nero had been removed and much 0f the city was being rebuilt, this time in marble and not wood. A sense of the glory of Rome can be found in chapter 18 of the Book of Revela-tion, where John speaks of the many products that could be bought and sold in that city. Yet there was also a certain amount of instability in the Roman psyche in 70 A.D. The previous decade had witnessed the forced suicide of Nero and the two-year period during which three different em-perors ruled the empire. The civil war which ensued had been as bad as 481 482 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 that which had followed the death of Julius Caesar, and it had left the empire badly shaken. As often happened in the ancient world, instabil-ity in Rome had led to rebellion in the provinces. One example of this is the fact that the Romans were only now crushing a troublesome rebel-lion in Palestine. In addition to this, the social fabric of the city had de-generated over the past several decades. Large numbers of slaves had been brought to Rome following the conquests of new territories. Be-cause there were so many slaves to do work which had formerly been done by members of the lower middle class and the artisans of Rome, large numbers of people had been put out of work. These unemployed masses were fed by the public dole and kept occupied by the spectacles sponsored by the government (the proverbial bread and circuses). Thus, even though imperial power was great and the empire would soon reach its greatest expanse, there was something unsettled in the Roman char-acter. Essentially, the city was socially, morally, and spiritually bank-rupt. This is most evident in the fact that large numbers of Romans were participating in various mystery cults that had arrived from the east. They were looking for something which would give their lives purpose. And what of the Christian community of Rome? The community had been founded as early as the forties during the reign of Emperor Claudius, but it was not yet very large. The first missionaries to Rome were probably Jewish Christians from the Jerusalem community. This young church had suffered persecution: an edict had been issued by Claudius which expelled certain Jews (most probably the Jewish Chris-tians) from Rome because of difficulties caused by a troublemaker named Crestus (most probably a form ofChristus = Christ). Recently there had been the persecution under Nero in which both Peter and Paul are said to have died. Further complicating the situation was some internal dis-sent in the community: From what can be gleaned from Paul's Letter to the Romans, it is obvious that there was a bit of tension between those who had allied themselves with a more Jewish interpretation of the Chris-tian life and those who followed Paul's ideas. Add to that the fact that most of the new converts in the city were now coming from the Gentiles (and would thus be less likely to defend the old Jewish ways) and one can see that there was bound to be some confusion. And now, some forty or fifty years after the death and resurrection of Jesus, another crisis was facing this fledgling church: the apostles and the disciples who had known Jesus were dying. One after another the wit-nesses to the Christ event were passing from the scene. This would be especially frightening in a time of instability. For the Jewish Christians Gospel Makers and Kenosis / 41~3 of Rome, there was the confusion of the Jewish rebellion in Palestine which had resulted in the destruction of the temple. The building which they had called the dwelling place of God on earth was now a ruin, and the Jewish Christians did not know what to make of this. Would Juda-ism continue? For the Gentile Christians, there was the political and so-cial instability. For,the entire Christian community, there was the uncer-tainty of which direction the Church was taking. Would it remain a Jew-ish sect or would it become something radically new? What would unify the Church and give it stability? It was in this context that the Gospel of Mark was produced. Its author, whether or not he was actually the John Mark mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, wrote it so that the Gospel message of what Jesus had done and said, of how he had died and rose, might be passed down. His Gospel would become the ballast which steadied the course of the Roman church in those troubled times. ¯ Given all of this, one would certainly have some expectations about how this Gospel would present the character of Jesus. If the Gospel were intended for the Jewish-Christian audience, one would expect Jesus to be the perfect fulfillment of all the Old Testament prophecies. He would be the Messiah whose power was greater than that of the Romans. If the Gospel were intended for the pagans, then Jesus would have to be at least as great as the pagan gods. Mark would have to show, as did Moses and Elijah, that the God of Israel was far superior to the gods of the Gen-tiles. For either audience, this Jesus would have to manifest his power and authority openly, for the people needed a wonder worker, a great hero who would give them hope in these troubled times. And yet, oddly enough, this is the exact opposite of the Jesus pre-sented by the Gospel of Mark. While one would expect a powerful and glorious Messiah, Mark presents one who is weak and lowly, one who has embraced an emptying Out (kenosis) of his divinity, as Paul describes it in the Letter to the Philippians when he speaks of Jesus who had been in the form of God but who emptied himself by becoming human and even dying on the cross. This idea is presented ina number of ways in the Gospel, but the most evident is the so-called Messianic secret. Over and over again Jesus commands his disciples and the demons whom he has expelled to be silent concerning the fact that he is Messiah. Why should he do that when the entire purpose of the Gospel is to show that he is, in fact, the Messiah? The reason is that his audience has the wrong idea of what it means to be the Messiah. They want a political Messiah who will manifest himself in power. Jesus is not that type of Messiah, 484 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 and he refuses to be categorized in that way. Peter's profession of faith at Caesarea Philippi makes that clear. Je-sus has asked his disciples who people think that he is. Peter responds that some think that he is a prophet and others that he is John the Bap-tist. He then asks Peter who he thinks he is. Peter responds that he is the Messiah. Jesus commends him on this and then describes how the Mes-siah will have to suffer and die. When Peter hears this, he cannot be-lieve what Jesus is saying. He is sure that the Messiah will become a king and that he, Peter himself, will rule with him. Here Jesus is predicting defeat. This is too much for Peter; it is obviously a bad mistake. So Pe-ter takes Jesus aside and tells him not to say these things. Jesus responds harshly, telling Peter to get behind him .and calling him Satan, the tempter; This misunderstanding by the apostles is repeated again in later chap-ters when Jesus again predicts his passion. Once, as a response to the prediction, the apostles argue about who the greatest among them might be while another time James and John ask to be seated at his right and left when he comes into glory. He is telling them that he will die, and all they are interested in is to divide his inheritance. Why do the apos-tles and even the family of Jesus speak in such an inappropriate man-ner? Why do they have such a difficult time understanding who he is and what his being Messiah means? Basically it is because their entire con-ception of God is mistaken. They think that God will come in power on the Day of the Lord to defeat the powers of evil, such as the Romans and the Pharisees. Instead, Jesus defeats them in weakness. As John would later state, Jesus was the king who ruled from a tree, the cross. It was exactly in this emptying out that evil was defeated, for while the powers of evil clung to power and tried to exercise it over others, Jesus clung to love and wanted to share it with all. That is the point behind the temptations of Peter and the apostles as well as the temptation in the desert. Even the taunts with which the crowd jeered Jesus, that he should come down off the cross, are a call to power. If Jesus had come down from the cross, he would have shown himself to be God almighty, but since love necessarily involves a sacrifice of self, he could not have shown himself to be loving. The author of the Book of Revelation presents this same idea with the images of the lion and the lamb. In the Book of Revelation, that which one sees is that which is superficial while that which one hears is the spiritual significance. John sees a lamb which was slain, and he hears that it is the lion of Judah. This lion of Judah was one of the fa- Gospel Makers and Kenosis / 485 vorite symbols for the Messiah in the Old Testament. The lion of Judah was a symbol for power. A lion conquers by tearing apart its enemies, and this was what the Messiah was supposed to do--defeat his enemies with power. This particular lion is different, however, for it will con-quer by dying. This becomes evident when one realizes that this lion is also the lamb who conquered evil by allowing himself to be slain. In other words, all of the Old Testament prophecies concerning the Mes-siah in which he is seen as a powerful conqueror are turned on their head. He would not be a paradigm of power but rather of powerlessness. This is the greatest of the ironies of the Gospel message. This einptying out of oneself is not only intended for the Messiah, but it is an open invitation and a necessary prerequisite for a life of dis-cipleship. Unless you take up your cross and follow me, you cannot en-ter the kingdom of God. If you would save your life, you must lose it. Sell all you have, give it to the poor, and then come, follow me. The consequences of such a surrender are frightening, for it means a loss of control. It means living totally for and in another and never being sure where the life of discipleship will lead one, The foxes have their lairs and the birds (Jr the air have their nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head. But he who had invited them to this life of radical faith was himself faithful. The very fact that he allowed his story to be told in this Gos-pel, the fact that his living spirit infused these human words with that which was divine, proved that he would never abandon his loved ones. For these words, the words of the Gospel, were inspired, and this inspi-ration was itself an example of kenosis. Theologians sometimes speak of inspiration as if the Holy Spirit were an executive dictating a letter to a secretary, the evangelist. But this image does not respect the human dimension of the process or the great love expressed by God in allowing his word to undergo a kenosis. Msgr. Edelby, who spoke at the Second Vatican Council, suggested another model: Just as the Holy Spirit entered into Mary and joined the eternal Word of God with that which was human and thus produced the Word made flesh, so also the Spirit inspired (breathed into) those who wrote so that the eternal Word of God entered into that which was hu-man, their human ability to write and their own talents and energy and purpose, and they gave birth to the word made flesh, this time the Gos-pels. In other words, the divine word of God became enfleshed in hu-man words with all that that means. It was st~bject to the weakness of human expression. One example of this is the horrendous literary style 486 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 of the Gospel of Mark. Unlike the other Gospels, it is a pasting together of various preexistent sources that barely become a narrative. One would almost think that it was written by a high school freshman writing his first term paper. He went and photocopied twenty or so articles (or, in this case, preexistent sources), cut out the important sections, and stuck them together with his glue pen. And yet this Gospel contains the eter-nal word of God. What greater sign of love could God give this commu-nity, what better way to guide them in this time of confusion? God was clearly showing the community that he would work in and through weak-ness. And the miracle of God's love does not even end there. Just as the eternal Word of God joined with that which was human in Mary and be-came the Word of God made flesh, and just as the eternal word of God joined with that which was human in the literary talents of the evangel-ist and became another manifestation of God's kenosis, so his word, the Gospel message, joined that which was human, the individual Christian of the community, to become a new manifestation of God's presence, his body, the Church. The community, insofar as it cooperated with the grace of God, became a continuation of the IncarnationS:'~ What are some of the consequences of this fact? One of the most im-portant is that, in combining with the human, the word of God necessar-ily assumed the weakness of that condition. God did not reject the hu-manity of the believers as the Gnostics and Docetists would have it, but he transformed that humanity so that it was to be that which God in-tended it to be. A practical application of this principle is to spirituality. We are not so much called to be perfect as to be faithful. If we were to seek to be perfect, freed from all weakness, we could very well be try-ing to control our own destiny and to show God that he owes us some-thing, that is, love, salvation, and so forth. In trying to be faithful, we admit our weakness and rely upon God's mercy and love, which enables us to do what we really cannot do on our own. Which raises a second consequence: In order to manifest God's pres-ence, we must surrender. Let it be done to me according to your word. Each believer is called to empty himself of that which is selfish, that which bespeaks control, and to place himself in the Lord's hands. We are to undergo metanoia. As was said before, that can be frightening, for we would like to know where we are going. We like to think that given the right formula, given the right therapist, and so forth, we could do it (a subtle form of Pelagianism). But the crucial message of the Chris-tian experience is that the believer really cannot make it, that sooner or Gospel Makers and Kenosis / 41~7 later we will hit the wall and realize that we are all fundamentally weak, broken, unable to save ourselves. When we finally admit that we are anawim, the lowly ones, and we reach out, it is then that we will allow the Spirit of the Lord to inspire us (to send his life-giving breath into flesh which was all but dead). Finally, one of the most disturbing consequences of this process is the fact that we are so human, even as a faith community. Who of us would not prefer to live among people who were more spiritually ma-ture, who would support us in our weakness and be perfect companions for the journey? Instead, what do we get--all too often we are the blind leading the blind. To the human eye, this community of ours barely looks like Christ incarnate, but to the eyes of faith it is obvious. Consider Mark's portrayal of Jesus and the apostles' difficulty in recognizing him as Messiah--it is the same difficulty we have in seeing Christ in our com-munities, which are so often so fleshly. And yet he is there, and if we put aside our prejudices and we become weak, we will see him. The New Testament saw this process of becoming a manifestation of the kenosis of Christ and speaks of it at length. Paul calls the believ-ers ambassadors of Christ in 2 Corinthians. The Acts of the Apostles serves as the second volume of the Gospel of Luke to show how this con-tinuation of the Incarnation provoked a response of faith among those who would listen. And then there are the Johannine writings, which are even more intimate. Everyone knows that love is one of the central themes of the Gospel of John, but some of the richness of that message is sometimes lost be-cause one fails to recognize all of the symbolic messages contained in the Gospel. For John and the author of the Book of Revelation, Christ is the bridegroom and the Church is his bride. Each follower of Christ, as a member of that Church, is to produce heirs for Christ. An example of this emphasis is the story of the woman at the well. This well story is actually a clever use of a leitmotif. A leitmotif is a set literary pattern that one finds throughout a literary work. One example is the set pattern that one would expect to find at the end of a western movie: the hero rides off into the sunset. The well stories are a leitmotif of the Old Testament. One meets one's spouse at a well. Isaac meets Re-bekah there (through Abraham's servant), Jacob meets Rachel, Moses meets Zipporah, and Ruth meets Boaz. Furthermore, one can tell what is important in the story by small changes in the set pattern. The normal pattern is that a man comes to the well, meets a woman who offers him water, and they decide to marry and live happily ever after. In the Jacob 488 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 story, however, Jacob must first uncover the well, for it is covered by a heavy stone (a sign of his difficulty in being able to marry her). With Ruth, it is the man who offers the woman water, for she is a foreigner and is being invited into the people of Israel. What of the Samaritan woman at the well? Sheis intended to be a symbol for the bride of Christ, the Church. Like the Church (and Israel), she has been married five times before, chasing after any god who offered her what she wanted. The woman offers Jesus water, but he offers her a different water, one that signifies the spiritual life that he would give her. They would not cling to each other in human form (as did the Jews in Jerusalem and the Sa-maritans on Mount Gerazim), but would live a spiritual marriage. Their marriage would be fruitful, for she would become a spring which would overflow (a spring or well being a symbol of her'womb which would pro-duce many children for the Lord). A second series of text.~ carries this message under the form of vo-cabulary taken from the Song of Songs. The Song of Songs is an Old Testament work which speaks of a very sensual love between a man and a woman. Even in Old Testament times it was interpreted as represent-ing the love of Yahweh for his people Israel. Two pericopes in the Gos-pel of John use that vocabulary extensively to remind the reader of that love. The first is when Mary anoints Jesus with oil in chapter 12 and the other is when Mary Magdalene searches for her beloved, the Lord, in chapter 20. Again, the message is clear in both: The women represent the Church which would be united to Christ in a spiritual marriage (that is, the order to Mary Magdalene not to cling to him for their marriage is not physical). Finally, there is a series of texts based upon the Old Testament levirite marriage institution. This institution was an attempt to ensure a progeny for a family. If a man died and had not produced a male child, then his next of kin would marry the widow and the first male child of this union would be named after the deceased husband. If the next of kin refused to marry her, she would take him .before the elders of the city and untie his sandal and spit in his face, saying that this was what a man deserved who would not give a descendant to his brother. John the Bap-tist, when asked whether he was the Messiah, responds that he is~not wor-thy to untie his sandal. This is not only a proclamation of humility; it is a message that he has no right to marry the widow (Israel, which had treated God as if he were dead). Jesus is the next of kin, and he will pro-duce an offspring. In fact, John speaks of how he rejoices at the voice of the bridegroom and he speaks of how that bridegroom must increase. Gospel Makers and Kenosis / 489 The word used when he speaks of how Christ must increase is the same word as that used when God tells humans to go forth and multiply in the Book of Genesis. In other words, John the Baptist is giving the best man's toast at a wedding, for he is wishing that Jesus have many chil-dren. But does Jesus have children? He really does not have any children during his lifetime, which explains another scene. Jesus tells his mother that John is to be her son, and he tells John that Mary is to be his mother. He is adopting John so that he (and the apostles) may bear children in his name (for they would, in fact, be called Christians). And when does Christ marry the Church? There are three possibili-ties. One of them is Pentecost, when the Spirit gives life to the Church. The Fathers of the Church also speak of two other possibilities. One of them is the Baptism of Jesus, when the Spirit comes upon Jesus in the form of a dove. Why a dove? Because it is a sign of love ("my little turtledove"). This is the love of Jesus and his Church. Still a third pos-sibility is on the cross. How do the first man and woman (Adam and Eve) marry? God took a rib from his ~side and formed woman. And the sol-dier pierced his side with a lance and immediately blood and water flowed out, the signs of his sacramental love for his bride, the Church. This message that Christ is our groom is sometimes distasteful to some males. Yet the image is not only operable but is profound as long as one leaves the image a bit vague. When we allow Christ's Spirit to enter us, we become one with Christ. Isn't that, after all, the purpose of the Eucharist? We take his flesh and make it one with our own. And the two of them shall become one flesh. In other words, the Eucharist is making love with God. And that union has to be fruitful, producing many offspring. Jesus: the union of the eternal Word of God and created flesh. The Gospel: the union of the eternal word of God and human lan-guage. The community: the union of the eternal Word of God and weak in-dividuals, each becoming a manifestation of Christ's presence. And what did all of this mean for Francis of Assisi? Francis was born in an age in which the kenosis of the eternal word of God had been deem-phasized. Historians speak of two major reasons for this deemphasis. The first has to do with the Arian heresy, which overemphasized the human-ity of Christ to the detriment of his divinity and which refused to recog-nize Jesus as the equal of God the Father. As a reaction to this heresy, many in the Church centered in upon the glory of the eternal Lord Je- 490 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 sus. A second reason for the situation was the social conditions of the time: the feudal system. People tended to pattern their God upon the po-litical reality of the day, and so they made Christ into a feudal Lord who was to be obeyed, and not so much loved. Francis himself was a product of his age. This can be seen in his first futile attempt at conversion when he had a dream that he was to serve a great lord. He naturally interpreted this as a call to fight in one of the many wars for the cause of the Lord occurring in his day. He saw this call as a call to po~ver. It was only when he came to know his Lord that he realized that the call was actually one to powerlessness. It was no accident that his con-version is intimately tied to his vision of the crucifix speaking to him. In coming to know the Lord who empties himself of power and glory, he was able to recognize the need to surrender to the will of that Lord, to become smaller and humbler. As in the days of the origin of the Gos-pel of Mark, the opposite would have been expected. There were great upheavals o.ccurring in the world: political, economic, and religious. Fran-cis could have been expected to search for a model based upon a great emperor or a successful burgher or even the lofty Holy Father, but he chose none of them. He chose instead a Lord who became flesh and let that flesh be nailed to a tree. And because his Lord had emptied himself of power, Francis felt him-self called to do the same. He would strip himself of his father's clothes so that he could belong to the Lord alone. He would lay aside even those most deeply rooted prejudices such as his loathing of lepers and see them as children of God. Bonaventure reports: "Francis now developed a spirit of poverty, with a deep sense of humility and an attitude of pro-found compassion. He had never been able to stand the sight of lepers, even at a distance, and he always avoided meeting them, but now in or-der to arrive at perfect self-contempt he served them devoutly with all humility and kindness, because the prophet Isaiah tells us that Christ cru-cified was regarded as a leper and despised. He visited their houses fre-quently and distributed alms among them generously, kissing their hands and lips with deep compassion." In this surrender Francis went beyond the service of an ideal. He was not so much striving after perfection as being a man in love, for Francis had fallen head over heels in love with his God. He, like John the Evan-gelist, interpreted the kenosis of his Lord as an act" of unreserved love, and he wanted to respond in a like manner. He recognized, too, the con-tinuing kenosis of our Lord in his word and in the sacrament of his body Gospel Makers and Kenosis / 491 and blood. He had great devotion to the presence of God in his word. He wrote the following to a general chapter of his friars: "I urge all my friars and I encourage them in Christ to show all possible respect for God's words wherever they may happen to find the.m in writing. If they are not kept properly or if they lie thrown about disrespectfully, they should pick them up and put them aside, paying honor in his words to God who spoke them. God's words sanctify numerous objects, and it is by the power of the words of Christ that the sacrament of the altar is conse-crated." He believed that this word was effective, for he knew that it was a manifestation of the eternal word of God. As 2 Celano reports, "he often said that a man would easily move from knowledge of himself to a knowledge of God who would set himself to study the Scriptures hum-bly, not presumptuously." Likewise, knowing that the sacrament of the Eucharist is a continu-ation of the Incarnation and thus of the living kenosis of his Lord, he held it in greatest esteem. He admonished his friars over and over again to honor and respect that presence. His letter to all clerics is a good ex-ample: "We clerics cannot overlook the sinful neglect and ignorance some people are guilty of with regard to the holy body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. They are careless, too, about his holy name and the writings which contain his words, the words that consecrate his body. We know his body is not present unless the bread is first consecrated by these words. Indeed, in this world there is nothing of the Most High him-self that we can possess and contemplate with our eyeslexcept his body and blood, his name and his words, by which we were created and by which we have been brought back from death to life." Francis, being thus in love with his Lord, did not limit his recogni-tion of the presence of the Lord to these signs. Bonaventure states that in everything beautiful he saw him who is beauty itself, and he followed his beloved everywhere by his likeness imprinted on creation. He saw a worm and thought of how the words of the suffering servant of Yah-weh were applied to Jesus, "I am a worm and not a man." He saw a lamb and remembered the lamb of God who died for his sins. He saw a bird or a fish and felt compelled to preach to it. Being one with his Lord, he saw him everywhere and in everything. And being one with his Lord, he shared his goals. Bonaventure re-ports that "enlightened by a revelation from heaven, Francis realized that he was sent by God to win for Christ the souls which the devil was 499 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 trying to snatch away. And so he chose to live for the benefit of his fel-low men, rather than for himself alone, after the example of him who was so good as to die for all men." And like all loves, that of Francis and his Lord was fruitful. As John the Evangelist had done in his Gospel and its matrimonial symbolism, Francis exhorted the friars to produce offsprin~ for the Lord. He states' this in his letter to all the faithful: "We are to be servants and should be subject to every human creature for God's sake. On all those who do this and endure to the last, the Spirit of God will rest; he will make his dwelling in them and there he will stay, and they will be children of your Father in heaven, whose work they do. It is they who are the brides, the brothers, and the mothers of our Lord Jesus Christ. A person is his bride when his faithful soul is united with Jesus Christ by the Holy Spirit; we are his brothers when we do the will of his Father who is in heaven, and we are mothers to him when we enthrone him in our hearts and souls by° love with a pure and sincere conscience, and give him birth by doing good." The love affair of Francis and his God went even beyond this most intimate moment, though, for Francis was seen not only to produce off-spring ~or his God, but he came to be seen as a living sacrament of the presence of God. This is especially true in his stigmata. Bonaventure re-ports, "The fervor of his seraphic longing raised Francis to God and, in an ecstasy of compassion, made him like Christ, who allowed him-self to be crucified in the excess of his love. Then one morning about the feast of the exaltation of the holy cross, while he was praying on the mountainside, Francis saw a seraph with six fiery wings coming down from the highest point in the heavens. The vision descended swiftly and came to rest in the air near him. Then he saw the image of a man cruci-fied in the midst of the wings, with his hands and feet stretched out and nailed to a cross. Two of the wings were raised above his head and two were stretched out in flight, while the remaining two shielded his body. Francis was dumbfounded at the sight, and his heart flooded with a mix-ture of joy and sorrow. He was overjoyed at the way Christ regarded him so graciously under the appearance of a seraph, but the fact that he was nailed to a cross pierced his soul with a sword of compassionate sor-row." He was lost in wonder at the sight of this mysterious vision. He knew that the agony of Christ's passion was not in keeping with the state of a seraphic spirit, which is immortal. "Eventually he realized by divine inspiration that God had shown him this vision in his providence in or- Gospel Makers and Kenosis / 493 der to let him see that, as Christ's lover, he would resemble Christ cru-cified perfectly not by physical martyrdom, but by fervor of the spirit." And Bonaventure later adds, "True love of Christ had now transformed his lover into his image." It was no wonder that when Francis appea~-ed after his death to some of the friars, they asked each other whether it was Christ or Francis, for, as Celano reports, it seemed to the brother and all the great multitude that Christ and Blessed Francis were one and the same person. And so, as with the apostolic community, the early Franciscan com-munity was founded upon and became a manifestation of the kenosis of Christ. It celebrated his kenosis in his incarnation and passion; it es-teemed highly his continued kenosis in the sacraments of his body and his word; it became itself a manifestation of Christ's kenosis. Francis and each member of the community recognized that they were weak and lost, but when they were filled with the life-giving Spirit of God, they became fruitful and even sources of life. Having emptied themselves of pride, they never attributed that new life to themselves, but were always con-scious of how God had worked a miracle of love in them. They were so in love with the Beloved that they became his image. That is today's challenge. When we look at the example of Jesus and Francis and how each embraced a kenosis, we realize what we are to do. We are to empty ourselves of that which closes us off from God and each other. We do this by our own kenosis through listening, understanding, and challenging. We are to allow the life-giving Spirit of God to unite with our °weak and fragile self so that we may be healed or, even more precisely, be recreated in his image. We want that union of spirit and flesh to be fruitful as it was in Christ and Francis so that we can invite, so that we can make children for Christ. Finally, one of the most important ways of engendering children for the Lord is to tell our stories to each other. If we remember how the ap-ostolic community became a manifestation of Christ's presence, as did Francis and his followers, then we will fully appreciate the sacredness of sharing our experiences and our vocation stories. Our lives, insofar as we have cooperated with the grace of God, in spite of our great weak-nesses and very often through those very weaknesses, are manifestations of the kenosis of God. He has entered us and we have become one with him. Telling our stories, then, is not just an exercise in group dynamics. It is an anamnesis, a recalling and a re-presenting of sacred history. And in our sharing of our stories and our unveiling of the mystery of God's action in those stories, we make the word visible again and we permit 494 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 the spirit to enflesh itself in the memories of our sisters and brothers. A warning needs to be given, though. This all sounds wildly opti-mistic, especially for those who have experienced the disappointments that seem almost inevitable when one lives in a Christian community. It really is not unrealistic, though, if we approach our stories with the eyes of faith. Just as the apostles had a difficult time accepting the di-vinity of Christ hidden under his human form and in Francis's day many had difficulty seeing God under the form of a host, so we might become cynical and look at our stories with eyes of flesh. The only way that we will be able to avoid that is by embracing a kenosis. We must empty our-selves of our pride and preconceptions and allow the Lord's grace to be seen. If we do that, we, like John and Francis, will prove ourselves to be men and women madly in love with our God, for we will be truly one with him. The Call: Basic Law of the Religious John M. Hamrogue, C.SS.R. Father Hamrogue preaches parish missions and gives retreats to priests and religious. He may be addressed at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Rectory; 526 59th Street; Brooklyn, New York 11220. In entering upon religious life, each of us promised to live up to the rule of our particular institute. We may be living out that promise happily or unhappily. The religious rule itself may pose very little problem on pa-per, especially since it probably sounds much less legalisti.c and more in-spirational than it used to. Still, we all have to cofiae to terms with this, that it catches us in a web of relationships inside and outside the com-munity, of duties, of places in which we must live and work, and of peo-ple we must live with and try to love. Very often we have little control over these things. So the religious rule still stands painfully for law, for what often comes into our life unbidden, for what we must accomplish and accept--for an alien brother or sister. But we all entered religious life in response to a Call, a conviction each of us had that we were entering this religious community because this was my life, because in choosing these convents or rectories or mon-asteries, because in freely giving ourselves over to our duties, we would find ourselves and our joy. We clutched a personal promise we thought we heard: that we would be holy, that our lives and works would mean something. But now we may be living with a frightful question: "Surely I was not deceived, was I? Surely someone made a promise to me!" The question may come of our own personal failures, but it may also arise out of a feeling that our religious rule and our community has failed us, in changing so much, or in changing so little. "Surely I have not made a big misiake with my life, have I?" 495 496 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 All human beings ask questions like that about their lives, as they try to make sense of them. In trying to come to terms with our religious life, with how our dreams and projects have gone for us, we probably cannot do better than to direct our reflections to the call that brought us here in the first place. This is God's call, of course, a law that we con-tended with before we knew any religious rule. It is a call that has cre-ated us, has made promises to us, and has taken charge of writing our individual stories. This call, this law, is the grace of the Holy Spirit in our individual lives. The Call that Creates Out of his study of the Scriptures, Father Francois-Xavier Durrwell, C.SS.R., says this about our God: "The-one-who-calls-you" is his name. Maybe I Peter 1:15-16 best expresses the import of this naming of God: "Become holy yourselves in every aspect of your conduct, af-ter the likeness of the holy One who called you; remember, Scripture says, 'Be holy, for I am holy.' "~ Though he is no careless scholar, Fa-ther Durrwell's citations of Scripture rather more evoke meditation than establish a tightly reasoned case. He recalls our hearts to truths we have long cherished: that God always loves first, that he seeks our response to his love, that he made and makes promises to a people and to every single human being, .that he keeps his promises. We should remember about Jesus that God called him his Son, his beloved, when Jesus was baptized by John. In Mark's Gospel, this call-- this sense of his identity--is described as Jesus' own secret. Only he sees the sky open and the Spirit descend (1 : I 0). He knows who he was, where he has come from, and where he will return. In this connection Paul preaches that Jesus has been raised from the dead: "We ourselves an-nounce to you the good news that what God promised our fathers he has fulfilled for us, their children, in raising up Jesus, according to what is written in the second psalm, 'You are my son; this day I have begotten you' " (Ac 13:33). The Father has proved faithful to his call of Jesus. The early Christians had a clear notion of their identity; they saw their life as a calling. Their life challenged them, but a call supported them. Paul told them, "He who calls us is trustworthy, therefore he will do it" (1 Th 5:24). He reproached them in terms of the call. "I am amazed that you are so soon deserting him who called you in accord with his gracious design in Christ, and are going over to another gospel . Such enticement does not come from him who calls you" (Ga 1:6; 5:8). He told them they partook of the call of Jesus Christ: "God is faithful, and it was he who called you to fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ The Call / 49"/ our Lord" (i Co 1:9). Mary Magdalene first grasped the sense of this promise when the Risen Christ called her name: "Jesus said to her, 'Mary!' " (Jn 20:16). Who he was and who she was in relation to him had changed to something she could never have dreamed of. Paul, too, heard his name called. "Saul, Saul, why do you perse-cute me?" (Ac 9:4). His whole sense of himself and his work is rooted in his call. He opens the Letter to the Romans this way: "Greetings from Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart to proclaim the gospel of God . " He identifies himself in the same way at the opening of 1 Corinthians: "Paul, called by God's will to be an apostle of Christ Jesus . " For the call it was that made him an apos-tle. What brought each of us to religious life, what event, what dream, what fascination? Each one of us has a story of a call, though it is prob-ably not so exotic as that of St. Margaret Mary Alacoque. She wrote that at the age of four or five "I found myself saying something I couldn't unde, rstand: 'To God I give my purity, and vow perpetual chastity.' " In later years our Lord told her: "I chose you for my bride . We plighted our troth when you made your vow of chastity. That was my doing . ,,2 Our call, too, has always been his doing. For those, then, who try to follow Jesus, God is "the-one-who-calls" (I Th 5:24; Ga 1:6; 5:8), .just as he is "the-one-who-raised- Jesus" (Rm 4:21; see I P 1:21; 2 Co 1:9; Ga I'1) and "the-one-who-brought- Israel-out-of Egypt" (Ex 20:2; Jg 6:8). "The-one-who cails-you"~ is his name (I Th 5:24; I P 1"15; 2 P 1:3).3 The Call that Makes a Promise Every call includes a promise; there is something in it for the one called. When God called Abraham to go up from Haran to the land of Canaan, he made him a promise in terms that anyone would immediately and thrillingly understand. He would make of Abraham a great nation, a man in whose very name all the communities of the earth would find a blessing (Gn 12:1-3). Of course, Abraham could never have dreamt how it would all turn out--and the story is not yet finished. How could he have known that in our day the religious communities of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam revere him as a father? But he heard God's prom-ise in terms of lands and children. That he could clearly grasp. God prom-ised him, in his childlessness, that his life would matter, that someone would remember him (Gn 15). Is there anything else that any human be-ing ever wanted out of life? True, Abraham thought only in terms of a personal life with God that ended with the grave. Only much later did 4911/Review for Religious, July-August 1988 the Jews arrive at a belief in a personal life after death. Yet Jesus too, who preached and promised a life without end, also spoke of the call in terms of the great values of this life: brothers and sisters, land and home, spouse and children (Mk 10:28-31). Those of us who take on the classic renunciations of religious life are not throwing life away like yesterday's newspaper. For each of us this life--the only one we know--this life will matter. And we will be remembered for hav-ing lived it. How, we do not know. But neither did Abraham. We cling to the call, knowing God has made us a promise. To repeat, God's promise concerns earthly life and the worth of the labors and sacrifices his servants make for love of him. It is not as though we receive eternal life in exchange for anguishing our way through a bar-ren existence, a human life that really has no meaning in it, that at best is only a contrived testing ground. A jeweler often sells watches by ad-vertising for junk: hand in a useless old watch and get a discount on a new one. But God does not see a human life as a trade-in. For all that anyone knew on Good Friday, Jesus had failed in everything he had given his life to. His disciples had fled; he had died a criminal. But by raising him from the dead, the Holy Spirit also has played the revealing light of tongues of fire on his earthly life for us who contemplate it in the Gospels. We remember that life of his. How we remember it! It mat-tered. The Call that Writes a Story With the call and the promise to Abraham in the Book of Genesis, the Bible begins to talk about history in the usual sense--people and events to which we can assign a particular time and a particular place on this earth. The whole long tale of the Scriptures hangs from God's call to Abraham and from Abraham's putting his faith in him. We are merely the actors now pronouncing the lines and pacing the stage of the ongoing drama of God's faithfulness to his promise. The other side of this story of God's faithfulness is that of our unfaithfulness, our sin. Jeremiah the prophet one day glimpsed God's resourcefulness in the face of our unfaithfulness as he watched a potter at work. God had told him to visit the potter's house, where Jeremiah saw the craftsman's in-tentions sometimes turn out badly. Some pots just did not go well at all. "Whenever the object of clay which he was making turned out badly in his hand, he tried again, making of the clay another object of what-ever sort he pleased" (Jr 18:4). In leading his prophet to the potter's house, God was reading him a lesson on the divine patience in waiting for the conversion of his peo- The Call / 499 pie. But he also was telling Jeremiah that conversion rested on God's res-toration and re-creation of a life and a situation that his people had often totally wrecked by their unfaithfulness. We should ponder the potter's care and intention as he sees the clay elude his skill and the design he had in mind for it. Somehow it is misbegotten. But the potter has an-other idea, another chance for the clay. He will try something else--a different shape, a different vessel. As we look at the story of our life, it may seem that we have not turned out as we should, and we might be right about that. We have all been unfaithful. But the call and the promise mean that God always has something else in mind, something new to create as he continues to shape our life. Although we may have wasted years and energy and talent, al-though we may have weakly or willfully thrown off our religious voca-tion altogether, we still remain within the work and the motion of his crea-tive hands. He still has something else in mind, even if it is only our con-trite acceptance of a littered past, which we yield totally to him as part of a broken self. Psalm 51 provides the words to celebrate God's having his way with us at last: "My sacrifice, O God, is a contrite spirit; a heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn" (v. 19). The Law of Our Life: The Grace of the Holy Spirit We have seen that the most basic law of Christian life is the call of God, which is played out in the stories of our lives. For stories are pow-erful laws, often in their way more piercing than laws in the strict sense. Which, for instance, do we find more unsettling when we come upon a stalled car along the highway, or a fallen derelict on a city street--the command to love our neighbor as ourselves or the story of the Good Sa-maritan? Which makes it harder just to pass by? Maybe we have had the privilege to hear religious or priests talk about their wrestling with their vocations. Even if they have to speak of infidelity, they talk in terms of their stories rather than of laws and rules in the ordinary sense. They often weep as they tell their story; for it con-tains the law and the call they cannot escape, and really do not want to escape. We find a crucial chapter of Paul's story in Acts 9. If the call is the grace of the Holy Spirit, then this scene portrays this grace most vividly. For Paul on the road to Damascus did not meet the earthly Jesus, the friend of Peter and the other disciples. Paul never met him, never knew him. He hardly ever speaks of him at all, though he had to know very much about the life of Jesus of Nazareth. But Paul met Jesus Risen, this same man resurrected; he fell in love with the Jesus raised by the power 500 / Review for Religious, July-1988 of the Spirit; he knew Jesus in the Spirit.4 His call then was the grace of the Holy Spirit. This grace of the Holy Spirit made him. It was the law and impulse of his whole life thereafter. We too meet Jesus as Paul did--in the grace of the Holy Spirit, in the story of our life. A Call to Communion Rather Than to Observance In emphasizing the primacy of the call, Father Durrwell notes that Paul did not recognize the absolute character of any law imposed from outside the person. He preached that Christian life was a call to a free-dom surging up from within us. This limitless new law of life made space for our souls: "The law of the spirit, the spirit of life in Christ Jesus, has freed you from the law of sin and death" (Rm 8:2). Since this Spirit is the love of God poured into out hearts (Rm 5:5), in surrendering to it Christians yield to what they love. No one could be more free.5 We must learn, then, to love the law, to find that it has become part of us or that we have been taken up into its secret life. Rabbi Abraham Heschel discourses on this mystery when he speaks of the Jewish tradi-tion of kavvanah. The music in a score is open only to him who has music in his soul. It is not enough to play the notes; one must be what he plays. It is not enough to do the mitzvah; one must live what he does. The goal is to find access to the sacred deed. But the holiness in the mitzvah is only open to him who knows how to discover the holiness in his own soul. To do a mitzvah is one thing; to partake of its inspiration is another.6 But who writes the music in the heart so that we may live out the very soul of written notes and law? St. Augustine would answer--the fin-ger of God. By the finger of God we learn to find delight in the law. He says that we learn "to keep Sabbath in the spirit" through the Holy Spirit poured forth in our hearts (Rm 5:5).7 Father Durrwell acknowledges that the New Testament does not ex-plicitly identify the Holy.Spirit with the call. But the Scripture does speak of the Holy Spirit as an anointing (2 Co 1:21), as a seal upon one's in-ner life (2 Co 1:22), and as a promise of final redemption (Ep !:14).8 In Paul, and also in John, we see an emphasis on an available expe-rience of this life in the Holy Spirit, one that tells us that within this very ordinary life something else goes on. So Paul preaches: "God is the one who firmly establishes us along with you in Christ; it is he who anointed us and has sealed us, thereby depositing the first payment, the Spirit, in our hearts" (I Co 1:21-22). John also preaches: "As for you, the anoint- The Call / 501 ing you received from him remains in your hearts. This means you have no need for anyone to teach you. Rather, as his anointing teaches you about all things and is true--free from any lie--remain in him as that anointing taught you" (1 Jn 2:27). In reading these Scriptures we have to conclude that this anointing-- this interior impulse and promise--amounted to a real presence for these ancient fellow believers of ours. Paul and John were appealing to their people to look to their hearts, to their experience. What has happened, then, to us? Where has the awareness gone? Nothing has happened! The awareness has not disappeared. We have known the same things, felt at least sometimes the surprise of God's peace and joy in a desperate situ-ation. We have lived by the light of a secret promise that told us we could and would be better, that we could make our world better. St. Augustine reflected on this with his people as he preached on the First Letter of John. Note how he gives up trying to talk and appeals to what the people knew--the anointing. ¯ . . What is the promise given us? "We shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is" [3:2]. The spoken word has done all it could; the rest must be pondered in the heart. In comparison of him who "is," what could John say, and what can be said by us whose desert is so far below his? We must go back to the anointing of which he has spoken, that anointing which teaches inwardly what passes utterance; and since as yet you cannot see, your work must lie in longing. The whole life of the good Christian is a holy longing.9 As Father Kilian McDonnell, O.S.B., points out to us, the experi-ence John considers is the gentle, ordinary conviction of God's loving presence that we all have known, as the early Christians knew it. No need to be put off by our usual guardedness against sensational experi-ence and display. ~0 The Scriptures are urging us to trust to a patient and faithful longing for the completion of what we know has begun in us and in our world. A Woman of the Spirit Jean-Marie Cardinal Lustiger is Archbishop of Paris. He oversees a church suffering far more desperately than most others. What does he preach to his people? In homilies worthy of a Father of the Church, he stirs them with questions like this one: "Are Christians the masters of Christianity, deciding what it should be, or is it Christ who, through his Spirit, takes hold of you and leads you where you do not want to go'?" ~ And he places before the eyes of his people the image of Mary stand- 509 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 ing at the foot of the cross. They must pray, he tells them, "for the Marian grace of silent patience and long waitings in faith.''~2 So must we pray. As St. Augustine put it, the life of the Christian is one long and holy yearning. We know that. We have always known it, even though we may sometimes have too little appreciated the peace that has come along with living out our longing. This peace and this power is the anointing that Christians have always known. NOTES ~ Francois-Xavier Durrwell, C.SS.R., "Vous avez gtd appelds . " Studia Moralia 15 (1977): 345. z The Autobiography of Saint Margaret Mary, trans. Vincent Kerns (Westminster, Maryland: Newman Press, 1961), 4, 18. 3 Durrwell, 345. 4 Yves Congar, I Believe in the Holy Spirit, 3 vols. (New York: The Seabury Press, 1983), I: 30. 5 Abraham Heschel, Between God and Man: Art Interpretation of Judaism (New York: The Free Press, 1959), 165-166. 6 Augustine: Later Works, ed. John Burnaby (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1955), The Spirit and the Letter, -#27, 216. 7 Durrwell, 352, 357. 8 Durrwell, 356. 9 Augustine: Later Works, Fourth Homily, -#6, 290. ~0 Kilian McDonnell, O.S.B., "A Trinitarian Theology of the Holy Spirit," Theo-logical Studies 46 (1985): 223. ~ Jean-Marie Cardinal Lustiger, Dare to Believe: Addresses, Sermons, Interviews, 1981-1984 (New York: Crossroad, 1986), 16. ~2 Lustiger, 226, 228. Superiority of the Religious Life Brendan Knea/e, F.S.C. Brother Brendan is an associate professor in a great books program and can be con-tacted at Box H; Saint Mary's College; Moraga, California 94575. One of the reasons why religious life is not attracting vocations is, no doubt, a failure to emphasize its superiority. In fact, vocational leaders and their literature tend to deny that there is any such superiority. Such a failure, it seems, must be counterproductive. Traditionally, of course, the opposite view prevailed. Recall the famous lines attributed to St. Ber-nard indicating a clear superiority: The religious 1. lives more purely, 2. falls more rarely, 3. rises more promptly, 4. walks more cautiously, 5. is graced more frequently, 6. rests more securely, 7. dies more confidently, 8. is cleansed more promptly, and 9. is rewarded more abundantly. "More" than who? Clearly St. Bernard means, "more than those in secular states of life." Does the teaching of Vatican II confirm this view? Even a cursory reading of the documents shows that it does. Not only do the official statements twice refer to the religious life as "a state of perfection," but in several places the language uses, like St. Bernard's "more," various comparative terms. 503 ~i04 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 Vatican II Thus, in Lumen Gentium 42 we read concerning the evangelical coun-sels of religious, "Outstanding among them is that precious gift of grace which the Father gives to some men (see Mt 19:11; I Co 7:7) st-" that by virginity, or celibacy, they can more easily devote their entire selves to God alone with undivided heart (see I Co 7:32-34)." And, "Since the disciples must always imitate and give witness to this char-ity and humility of Christ, Mother Church rejoices at finding within bosom men and women who more closely follow and more clearly dem-onstrate the Savior's self-giving by embracing poverty with the free choice of God's sons, and by renouncing their own wills.''~ In the chapter of Lumen Gentium devoted specifically to the vowed life we find a summary stotement, again in the comparative language "greater": "These religious families give their members the support greater stability in their way of life, a proven method of acquiring per-fection, fraternal association in the militia of Christ, and liberty strength-ened by obedience."2 A direct comparison with other Christians is made in the next section, where the text notes about the vowed religious, "is true that through baptism he has died to sin and has been consecrated to God. However, in order to derive more abundant fruit from this bap-tismal grace, he intends, by profession of the evangelical counsels in the Church, to .free himself from those obstacles which might draw him away from the fervent charity and the perfection of divine worship. Thus is more intimately consecrated to the divine service. This consecration gains in perfection since by virtue of firmer and steadier bonds it serves as a better symbol of the unbreakable link between Christ and His Spouse, the Church." The same section goes on to say, "Furthermore, the religious state constitutes a closer imitation and an abiding reenact-ment in the Church of the form of life which the Son of God made his own . Even the language of superlatives is used here: "Finally, everyone should realize that the profession of the evangelical counsels, though en-tailing the renunciation of certain values which undoubtedly merit high esteem, does not detract from a genuine development of the human per-son. Rather by its very nature it is most beneficial to that develop-ment . The counsels are especially able to pattern the Christian man after that manner of virginal and humble life which Christ the Lord elected for himself, and which his Virgin Mother also chose."3 It is well known that Vatican II was a pastoral council concerned, therefore, with changes in discipline, not doctrine (though for pastoral Superiority of the Religious Life reasons it changed the wording and emphasis of some dogmas). Hence, Vatican II does not contradict the Council of Trent. In particular, it did not withdraw its teaching about the superiority of the religious state. The earlier council anathematizes those who would place all Christian "states" on the same level. Specifically, it condemns those who say "that it is not better and more blessed to remain in virginity and celi-bacy than in the matrimonial bond" (Denz. no. 1810). Hans Urs von Balthasar notes one reason for this doctrine: "Marriage does not cross the threshold of the eschatological realm (Mt 22:30), and a person who wishes to live eschatologically should therefore renounce marriage if he can (Mt 11:12; 1 Co 7:8).''4 In a scholarly work, as part of his chapter on "Christian Voca-tions," Father John Lozano, C.M.F., has remarked, "The Council's in-sistent use of comparatives is such that theologians must, of necessity, fix their attention upon it." His own analysis (carefully nuanced and, I believe, erroneous) leads him to abandon comparatives and to vote against the traditional view, which he describes as follows: ". Chris-tian people have always considered monasticism as being, objectively, the more blessed (beatius) situation.''5 If we look at the special Decree on The Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life (Perfectae Caritatis) issued by Vatican II, we find that the religious state "is of surpassing value" (section I), though we are not told overtly what other values it "surpasses." Section 5 observes about religious, "They have handed over their :entire lives to God's serv-ice in an act of special consecration which is deeply rooted in their bap-tismal consecration and which provides an ampler manifestation of it.' ,6 It is true that an "ampler manifestation" of one's baptismal graces is expected after confirmation, and penance, and marriage, and after all moral choices--but the context of the passage, and the background of the whole tradition, require us to read "ampler manifestation" (and other comparatives) in accord with Trent's clear anathema (even if to-day there seem to be several writers who fall, inadvertently, under that anathema). Inferiority We should pause here to note that the religious life is also inferior. The religious state cuts a very poor figure in the context of a capitalist and consumer competition, and in the realm of biological reproduction, and in the area of political power struggles and status seeking. Indeed the three vows are instruments designed precisely to keep a person as in-ferior in these secular arenas as he or she is superior in the religious 506 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 arena. In the worlds of finance, medicine, the military, and so forth, there is no reason to ascribe superiority to the religious state. In the world of holiness and the sacred, there is. After Vatican II Official documents subsequent to the council enable us to read with proper understanding its intent. In 1971, for example, an Apostolic Ex-hortation on the Renewal of Religious Life came from Rome with some pointed recommendations. It continued to push the language of perfec-tion and comparatives: "more closely conformed" to the life of Christ (sec. 2); "follow Christ more freely and to imitate him more faithfully ¯ . . with greater fullness" (sec. 4); "to derive more abundant fruit" and be "more intimately consecrated" (sec. 7); "your obedience is more strict" (sec. 27). It quotes Lumen Gentium: "The Council consid-ers 'a proven doctrine of acquiring perfection' as one of the inherited riches of religious institutes" (sec. 37). Finally,, it assure us that "by the threefold renunciation of your religious profession [you] realize the greatest possible expansio.n of your life in Christ" (sec. 55).7 The present pope--certainly an expert on Vatican II--freely speaks of the superiority of the religious state. In his exhortation Familiaris Con-sortio (I 98 i), he makes it a point to say so even when his theme is fam-ily life. In section 16 he quotes with approval St. John Chrysostom's words on the superiority of consecrated virginity to sacramental mar-riage: "What appears good only in comparison with evil would not be particularly good. It is something better than what is admitted to be good that is the most excellent good." John Paul goes on to say, ~'It is for this reason that the Church throughout her history has always defended the superiority of this charism to that of marriage . ,,8 The follow-ing year Pope John Paul spoke to a representative group of sisters and said, in part, Most of all, the recommendation I would want to give you is this: pre-serve and foster a correct and lofty concept of religious life and conse-cration, according to what the Master always taught and still teaches. The Church today certainly encourages secular and "lay" forms of re-ligious life which if properly understood are of great blessing for the Peo-ple of God and for the world. The Council made clear the dignity of the earthly values and the spirituality of the laity. Nevertheless, the same Council, stressing the unique value of the religious vocation, takes care not to depreciate it with distortion of a misunderstood secularity, for-getting that the religious life achieves a perfection beyond baptismal con-secration . Superiority of the Religious Life / .507 The superiority of the religious state certainly does not depend on the Christian's final end, which is the same for everyone: blessedness in God . [There are gifts] which as such are superior to those de-riving from baptismal consecration sufficient to characterize the secular or married state . 9 Perhaps the Holy Father was recalling here the words of Adrienne yon Speyr, a wife and mother who became a well-known spiritual writer under the aegis of Hans Urs von Balthasar: If rightly chosen, the married state can be lived to perfection in a fam-ily life that is in complete accord with Christian faith and with a posi-tion in the Church, community and state . Nevertheless, there are certain limits [in married life] that cannot be moved and that simply re-lateto the finiteness of the human person . The evangelical state, whether active or contemplative, gives evi-dence from the beginning of a stronger preoccupation with God . In marriage, the individual must forgo these helps proper to the evan-gelical state. If it were possible to compare at the end of their lives two individuals who, at the moment of choice, possessed exactly the same qualifications, the same education and knowledge, the same piety and readiness to follow Christ, and of whom one chose the married state and the other the evangelical state, the advantage enjoyed by the latter would be plainly visible . Although there is a level on which the ecclesial states [including sacramental marriage] stand side by side as possible modes of Christian existence that are both good and willed by God, there is also a hierarchy among the states that clearly reveals the greater ex-cellence of the evangelical state. ~0 Later, in 1984, Pope John Paul issued a special Apostolic Exhorta-tion on the Religious Life addressed to religious themselves, Redemp-tionis Donum. He starts off in section I saying about the universal voca-tion to perfection, "While this call concerns everyone, in a special way it concerns you, men and women religious, who in your consecration to God through the vows of the evangelical counsels strive toward a par-ticular fullness of Christian life." In section 4: "This way is also called the way of perfection," a claim repeated in section 6. At the same time he twice uses the expression "state of perfection" but leaves it in quo-tation marks, and one can tell that he does so out of deference to the con-temporary sensitivities, not out of rejection of the doctrine. Also in 1984 the new Code of Canon Lawwent into effect. Careful wording characterizes it. The part devoted to religious life begins, "Life consecrated by the profession of the evangelical counsels is a stable form of living by which the faithful, following Christ more closely under the 508 /Review for Religious, July-August 1988 action of the Holy Spirit, are totally dedicated to God . " Contemporary Misapprehension How is it that this superiority is denied by many well-informed Catho-lics? We find in the influential and reprinted book Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life (1985) by Cada, et al., the following passage: "At the start of the Modern Era the Council Fathers of Trent promulgated the teaching that the state of consecrated virginity was inherently better and holier than the married state. At the end of the Modern Era the Council Fathers at Vatican II taught that the religious life was no more a state of perfection than the Christian life in general" (p. 49). It is difficult see how the authors can take such a position, especially since the coun-cil documents explicitly refer to the religious life as "a state of perfec-tion," and Pope John Paul, as cited above, says just the opposite. Read-ers of this journal will be familiar with other texts, often written by vo-cation ministers, making clear disavowals of superiority. The negative psychological impact of these misreadings of Vatican II on the work of vocation ministry should be obvious. These authors no doubt worried about the invidiousness of claiming personal "superiority." They should have recalled what Thomas Aqui-nas had already pointed out in the Summa (I1-II, 186, I ): that we are speak-ing figuratively. We call all members of an order "religious" even when some are not, and we call their state one of "perfection" although none of its members may be perfect. The figure of speech we are using, he tells us, is called ~'antonomasia." We can illustrate it by the example of our calling a king, antonomastically, "His Majesty" even when is not majestic. It appears that there are two reasons (~)ne of which has just been al-luded to) why such misrepresentations of Catholic doctrine have oc-curred. (!) There has been a strong egalitarian, anti-elitist mood in most the Western world for many years. This same appetite for leveling found when one speaks of churches, even non-Christian ones. Thus, with regard to the Catholic Church, contemporary society wants her to avoid "triumphalism" and therefore to avoid claiming superiority over other religions, since "all religions are equal," Try arguing, even amon.group of Catholics, that their religion is "superior," and see, in our egali-tarian age, the resistance you meet. Similarly, members of religious con-gregations today tend to suppress the superiority of their state, even when giving vocational advice--thereby, of course, reducing the attractiveness of that state. SuperioriO, of the Religious Life / 509 (2) There is a chapter entitled "The Call to Holiness" in Lumen Gen-tium which seems, on superficial reading, to support the modern appe-tite for equality. But the chapter simply recalls that Christ summoned all people, secular and religious, to "be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect"--hardly a new doctrine in pastoral theology. In every state of life Christians have the sacraments, prayer, apostolic opportunities, and self-denial (see section 42) to help in the universal vocation we all have to perfection. It is natural to conclude (although long habit made even the fathers of the council keep the usage) that "the state of perfection" is not a title that ought to be arrogated to the religious life alone: it has been too easy for people to relegate other states to "imperfection." We certainly want to~ avoid that imputation~, and so a pastoral concern leads us to stop emphasizing~that the religious state is the state of perfection, even though it is clearly a superior state for the purposes of religious per-fection. Likewise, since we live in an ecumenical age, we do not go about saying the Catholic Church is superior to others, even though, as an instrument of salvation, it is. If, out of pastoral concern for giving emphasis to the religious value of secular and lay states~ we avoid stressing the superiority of religious and clerical states, we should not at the same time forget (or fail, at ap-propriate times, publicly to recall) that superiority. Thus Pope John Paul, as noted above, did not hesitate--even in a document about the dignity and worth of family life (Familiaris Consortio)--to remind us of the su-periority of the religious state. To disavow it is nbt humility; it is fal-sity. The accusation of elitism can be met in the same way that colleges and universities meet it. The best schools claim to be superior as instru-ments of higher education, and they are--in virtue of their curricula, their faculties, their social opportunities. Indeed the best institutions as-sure excellence by hiring the best faculty, and admitting and supporting the best students, regardless of their social status. Moreover, they do not claim that all the students and courses at other places are inferior. Ex-cellence does not demand putting others down or denying the principle of human equality. But it certainly does not require the best colleges and universities falsely to deny their own superiority, especially when seek-ing new faculty and students. Neither should the religious state in seek-ing new members. This analogy is quite forceful: the religious state is like a superior university--people seeking a "higher education" try to find suitable "instruments" for that purpose. Some of these "instru-ments" are superior to others, namely, the best universities and colleges. 510 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 It is in this sense that St. Thomas (Summa, II-lI, 184, 3 and 7) speaks of the religious state as instrumental to perfection; it is "the state of perfection" in that way, not in some invidious way. Among secular persons there are often some closer to perfection than many religious are. Chesterton has said somewhere, "Alone of all superiors the saint does not depress the human dignity of others. He is not conscious of his su-periority to them, but only more conscious of his inferiority than they are." When we call attention to the superiority of an instrument, we do not thereby claim superiority for the user of that instrument. When St. Paul in I Co 12:28ff. set up a ranking of charisms, he did not intend to offend anyone. Thus, in saying that bishops have the high-est vocation, that their state is the superior one, he was hoping to attract, not repel, vocations. St. Paul, a good vocation minister, ended by urg-ing us to "be zealous for the better gifts." God indeed hath set some in the church: first apostles, secondly proph-ets, thirdly teachers; after that miracles, then the graces of healings, helps, governments, kinds of tongues, interpretations of speeches. ~l'here are similar rankings at Romans 12:4 and Ephesians 4: 10. Conclusion As an aid to vocation ministers we should update and add to St. Ber-nard's list of comparatives. By way of a partial extension, we might say of the contemporary religious that he or she: 10. witnesses more eschatologically, (Religious vows are greater eschatological signs than are offered by secu-lar lifestyles.) I 1. serves more apostolically, (Corporate efforts at ministry multiply through space and time the work of a single individual.) 12. lives more theocentrically and Christologically, (Opportunities in re-ligious community for retreats, liturgy, meditation, silence, self-denial are abundant.) 13. operates more freely, (Support in religious life reduces financial, domestic, and decision-making chores.) 14. reaches out more ecclesially. (An international religious order extends one's circle of friends and pro-vides a worldwide family for its members.) Superiority of the Religious Life NOTES ~ Abbott, W. M., S.J., ed., The Documents of Vatican H, America Press, New York, 1966, p. 71. 2 Ibid., pp. 73-74. 3 Ibid., p. 77. 4 Von Balthasar, H. U., New Elucidations, Ignatius Press, San Francisco, 1986, p. 180. 5 Lozano, John M., C.M.F., Discipleship: Towards an Understanding of the Relig-ious Life, Claret Center for Resources in Spirituality, Chicago, 1980, pp. 55ff. 6 Abbott, p. 471. 7 Flannery, A., O.P., ed., Vatican Council II, Liturgical Press, Collegeville, 1975, pp. 680ff. 8 Origins 11, no. 25 (December 3, 1981): 443. 9 Consecrated Life 9, no. 2, pp. 214-215. ~0 Von Speyr, A., The Christian State of Life, Ignatius Press, San Francisco, 1986, pp. 81-84. Mary and the Announcer So many questions you leave unanswered That 1 would ask: why it is 1 Who am chosen, when will this happen, how Shall I know it happening, what am I To tell the kind man to whom I am bonded. Tell him nothing? And already you gather Yourself for departure; the dark tower Of your presence stands a shadow On the floor, unfolding long Skirted pinions, lifting them higher. If I lifted my eyes, I would see light, Where you have stood. Where I am standing Now in light brighter than windows, the dance Of it is like rings at my fingers, Like bracelets adorning my ankles, a lightness Crowning my hair. Harmless as I am, No harm can come to me of standing In light where I cast no shadow Yet am overshadowed, where again ! hear The calm announcement: Mary, do not fear. Nancy G. Westerfield 2914 Avenue B Kearney, NE 68847 Celibate Loving Rosemarie Carfagna, O.S.U., Ph.D. Sister Rosemarie's "Spirituality of Suffering" appeared in our March/April 1988 issue. She is in the Philosophy and Religious Studies Department at Ursuline Col-lege; 2550 Lander Road; Pepper Pike, Ohio 44124. Can two women from the late Middle Ages have anything to say to con-temporary religious women about their efforts at celibate loving? Al-though the times and the circumstances have changed, the central issues involved in celibate loving have not. This article will look at the writ-ings of two spiritual mothers for practical guidance about the conduct of religious in love relationships. Teresa of Avila was a sixteenth-century Spanish Carmelite. Margaret Mary Alacoque was a seventeenth-century Sister of the Visitation in France. Both women wrote poignantly about the experience of learning how to love. Both women learned from hu-man love lessons that led them to divine love. Their wisdom and their advice can be helpful for religious women and men today. The Desire for Affection In her classic work The Way of Perfection, Teresa speaks to her sis-ters about their efforts to love. She is aware from her own experience of the danger and temptation of looking to human beings for the ultimate satisfaction that can come only from God. Teresa herself needed to learn about detachment and transcendence, so it was with humility and sim-plicity that she could refer to the desire for affection as blindness. She tells her sisters, "I sometimes think this desire for affection is sheer blind-ness . When we desire anyone's affection, we always seek it because of some interest, profit or pleasure of our own." ~ It is the self-interest underlying the desire for affection that alerts Teresa to the imperfection of the love. As she matured in love, Teresa began to see through its more 512 Celibate Loving / 513 superficial forms. Speaking about the subversive effect of self-interest on love, she writes, "Of course, however pure our affection may be, it is quite natural for us to wish it to be returned. But, when we come to evaluate the return of affection, we realize that it is insubstantial, like a thing of straw, as light as air and easily carried away by the wind."2 Teresa wants more than this for herself and for her sisters. She realizes that the call to celibate love offers greater, more permanent rewards. How-ever, these gifts are deeply hidden. Mature religious are sensitive enough to know where to look for them. Describing the deeper vision of holy souls, she writes: ¯ . . the things which they see are everlasting. If they love anyone they immediately look right beyond the body, fix their eyes on the soul and see what there is to be loved in that. If there is nothing, but they see any suggestion or inclination which shows them that, if they dig deep, they will find gold within this mine, they think nothing of the labor of dig-ging, since they have love.3 The kind of love Teresa is describing is a purified and noble love. It is a kind of love she came to know because she was led to it by the Spirit. It is purified through a gentle and continuous process of detach-ment. Detachment Margaret Mary Alacoque learned about celibate loving directly from Jesus, whom she acknowledged as her Spouse. Her Thoughts and Say-ings record the instructions she received that guided her spiritual and emo-tional development and brought her to the fullness of love. The follow-ing message was addressed to her in prayer: "Know that if you wish to possess Jesus Christ and to dwell in his Sacred Heart, you must have no other desire and be content with him alone.' ,4 These are puzzling words for beginners in the spiritual life. Speaking of contentment in the same context as such radical detachment appears paradoxical at first. Perhaps Margaret Mary experienced a degree of consternation, too, when she heard these words. Her instructions continued in the same vein. How-ever, she was assured that Jesus her Spouse would teach her and help her become accustomed to purified love. She recorded the following mes-sage that she received by way of encouragement: May he teach you what he desires of you, and may he give you the strength to accomplish it perfectly. If I am not mistaken, this in a few words is what ! think he chiefly requires of you: He wishes that you should learn to live without support, without a friend and without saris- Review for Religious, July-August 1988 faction. In proportion as you ponder over these words, he will help you to understand them.5 The message may seem harsh if we focus only on the radical detach-ment it implies. Who among us finds the prospect of living without sup-port and without a friend attractive? But a second look at the meaning behind the words can sustain us. Rather than taking away the help that we need, Jesus is offering himself to us as helper, lover, and friend. Mar-garet Mary was told: Our Lord would fain be your sole Support, Friend and Delight, provided you seek neither support nor delight in creatures. Nevertheless, you must not be ill at ease or constrained in your intercourse with your neighbor, but always humble, bright, kind and gracious in your manner. The Sa-cred Heart of Jesus gives you these holy aspirations through the ardent love he bears you, which makes him desire to possess your heart whole and entire.6 Having this kind of intimacy with Jesus makes detachment easy. All other love relationships fall into place when our hearts are focused on him. Those experienced in celibate love know, however, that coming to such intimacy with Jesus is a gradual process. They are familiar with tri-als and temptations. They know that growth in celibate love is a constant effort at putting God first. Putting God First Both Teresa and Margaret Mary would offer advice to religious to-day, as they did to their own sisters. The unifying theme found in the writings of both of them is the importance of putting God first in the or-der of our love and of having a faithful spousal commitment to Jesus. They might say that as it is in any state of life, the religious life will have its share of trials and temptations. This is to purify and test the soul for worthiness to heaven. Only in heaven will the soul be free of suffering and only in heaven will the soul be filled with delights and satisfaction. Because these spiritual mothers were human as well as holy, they would admit that it can happen in religious life that there are attractions and even sexual arousal to one of the opposite sex or even of one's own sex. This is not wrong in and of itself. What does offend the good God is when the religious, especially the religious woman whom Jesus con-siders to be his own bride, succumbs to these attractions and sensations and knowingly and willingly seeks the intimacy with another that one would seek with a betrothed or wedded lover. It is not wrong to love or even to be in love with another when one is a religious. What is wrohg is seeking one's own selfish ends rather Celibate Loving than putting God first in one's heart and behaving seductively and ador-ingly to one's earthly beloved. No soul on earth can ever expect to find peace or happiness unless God is first in one's heart and one wills to be-have faithfully to God according to one's state in life and according to vows taken. Purified Love Loving another person in the temporal realm means loving him or her spiritually and from afar sometimes. Sexually arousing contact, be it eye contact, physical proximity, flirtation, or any seductive behavior that intends to arouse sexual passion in the other, is highly offensive to God. It would be better for the religious to leave the community than to behave so, for this can only lead to unhappiness. If one finds oneself in a love relationship and if the relationship has God's blessing, it will be peaceful and characterized by friendship, equal-ity in status, pure affection, chaste intention, and discretion in intimate behavior. Behavior toward any others will be spiritually beneficial and charitable as a result of this love. If, on the other hand, the love rela-tionship originates from one's own inordinate desires, it will be charac-terized by behaviors which seek sexual arousal and aim at sexual con-summation. There will also be exclusiveness, possessiveness, and ob-sessiveness, leaving the heart in a profoundly miserable state.7 Only, as Augustine has said, when one's heart first rests in God will it be happy and be pleasing to God. It is only in willing to please God first that the soul can find the love and satisfaction it seeks. This is especially so for a religious whom God holds responsible for shepherding his flock. The primary concern of the religious is to glorify God and to save souls. All other relationships are to flow from this holy and serious duty. May the example and the wisdom of women like Teresa and Margaret Mary help us to grow today in our efforts at celibate love. NOTES ~Teresa of Avila, The Way of Perfection (New York: Image Books, 1964), p. 70. ~-Ibid. 3 Ibid., p. 71. 4 Margaret Mary Alacoque, Thoughts and Sayings of St. Margaret Mary (Rockford, Illinois: TAN Books and Publishers, Inc.), p. 73. 5 Ibid. 6 Ibid., pp. 74-75. 7 See Teresa's descriptions of spiritual versus sensual relationships in The Way of Perfection, pp. 54-59, 67-81 (i.e., chap. 4 lall but the beginningl and chaps. 6 and 7). Hope for Community: A Kingdom Perspective Kristin Wombacher, O.P., and Shaun McCarty, S.T. Sister Kristin, a licensed clinical psychologist, was a writer for the Pontifical Com-mission on Religious Life in th~ United States and is presently Prioress General of the Dominican Sisters of San Rafael. She resides at Siena Convent; 4038 Maher Street; Napa, California 94558. Father McCarty, of the Missionary Servants of the Most Holy Trinity, teaches in the Washington Theological Union and is a staff mem-ber of the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation. He resides at Holy Trinity Mis-sion Seminary; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. Since Vatican II both have been extensively involved with programs of renewal for relig-ious communities of women and men, lay and religious, especially in the United States. In response to Vatican II, religious congregations have made changes in their lifestyles and structures in order to open themselves to renewal. A key area of concentration during this time of adaptation and renewal has been a desire to improve the quality of community life. The initial focus on community life following Vatican II centered pri-marily on local living situations and was largely problem-oriented. It em-phasized quantitative changes in existing structures, for example, chang-ing schedules, modifying prayer styles, and minimizing rules. As help-ful as these changes have been, the overall fruits of such a focus have been limited. What gradually has become clear is the need to shift the focus of community life, to broaden the horizons of "community," consider community not only within the context of religious life, but also within a broader Christian context as related to the life, work, and mis-sion of all God's people. This shift in focus calls us from a more intro-spective view of community life to an enhanced vision of community as related to Kingdom. 516 Hope for Community This article will be an attempt to explore "community" within the horizon of the kingdom of God. We will deal with the past development, present challenge, and future promise of community as viewed within this perspective. These observations are based on some fairly extensive experiences since Vatican II of working with a variety of religious groups, of women and men from various denominations, especially within the United States. Some Preliminary Understandings (1) Kingdom of God: This term attempts to express something of the mystery of the corporate vision of the People of God, that is, God's reign that embraces values such as love, freedom, peace, justice, unity, and fellowship. There are several perspectives of Kingdom, none of which exhausts the symbol. Kingdom is larger than any one of them. There is a sense in which the Kingdom is behind us, ahead of us, within us, and among us. The Kingdom is behind us in that it was the principal theme of Christ's preaching and was enfleshed and inaugurated in his person. The Kingdom is ahead of us in that it will reach consummation as a "new earth and a new heaven." In the words of Vatican lI's Pastoral Consti-tution on the Church in the Modern World: ". God is preparing a new dwelling place and a new earth where justice will abide and whose blessedness will answer and surpass all the longings for peace which spring up in the human heart" (n. 39). The Kingdom is within us in that it describes inner fellowship with God in mystical union and points to a human yearning for the living God that is deeper even than the hunger and thirst for the justice of God. The Kingdom is among us now in that it is already present among people who honestly seek to follow God's call and who live justly with others. This perspective refers to growth towards wholeness in the collective life of humanity--its laws, customs, institutions, works, politics, art, and so forth. It summons people now to the work of cultivating (or perhaps "uncovering" is more apt) the Kingdom "to give some kind of foreshadowing of the new age." (2) Future: In speaking about future hopes, distinctions need to be made between different kinds of futures: There are possible futures-- those which might be, limited only by the horizons of imagination; prob-able futures, those which are likely to be, indicated by present trends and tendencies; preferable futures, those which should be, in accord with sys-tems of values; and plausible futures, those which can be, capable of be-ing practically realized. Our focus here will be on a future vision of community within King- Review Jbr Religious, July-August 1988 dom perspectives that can shape attitudes, indicate behaviors, and mus-ter energy for further uncovering the Kingdom now. Our contention is that religious today are called to explore the possible, to assess the prob-able, to proclaim the preferable, and to implement the plausible. It is our further contention that such vision is essential to God's call to cocreate our future, to renew, indeed to refound community. Any community with-out a vision is moribund. (3) Community: In this context we are speaking about religious com-munity primarily, that is, intentional ecclesial groups of Christians who are called together in faith and bonded by memories of a shared past, hopes for a shared future, and commitments to a shared present. To-gether, members carry out a specific mission in service of the kingdom of God according to the unique charism of the group and by using their gifts for ministry in a concerted way. As with individuals, the commu-nity itself is called to ongoing corporate renewal in response to the Gos-pel, the charism of the group, the signs of the times, and the graced in-itiatives of its members. Community as Theological Imperative The origin of everything--the world and its people, all creation, the entire cosmos--is a God who is Trinitarian. The life of God, by its very nature, is relational, societal, communitarian--a perfect union without confusion, distinction without separation. The ultimate destiny of the whole of creation is the kingdom of God, which is also at its core communitarian, a perfect communion of all hu-mankind, the world and its history. As R. P. McBrien says: The initial experience of God's renewing and reconciling presence, which is the kingdom of God, evokes our theological quest for under-standing and excites the hope that one day our union with God and with one another will be realized to its fullest, when God will be all in all. ~ Communitarian, societal, relational life, then, is both the origin and the destiny of all creation. As disciples of Jesus we live in incarnational time that originates with the Trinity and finds completion in the fullness of Kingdom. Christ came in the flesh to show us that the way to God is through membership in the Kingdom, the principal sign of which is unity--oneness with God and with each other in Christ. Jesus' parting prayer for his disciples was: "May they all be one, just as, Father, you are in me and I am in you, so that they also may be one in us. that they may be one as we are one. With me in them and you in me, so may they be perfected in unity" Hope for Community / 519 (Jn 17:21-23). The Christian way to God is in and through community. Community, then, is not just a dimension essential to religious life; it is an invitation shared with all people, indeed, with all of creation. All are called to com-munity that, together with Christ, they may seek and proclaim the king-dom of God. The theological imperative of community is clearly enunciated by Vatican II in its Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World: God did not create man for life in isolation, but for the formation of so-cial unity . This communitarian character is developed and consum-mated in the work of Jesus Christ. For the Word made flesh willed to share in the human fellowship (n. 32). Community as an Evolving Reality in Human History The need to belong, to be part of a larger whole, is a basic human need. The experience of community has evolved over time. Families at first came together into kinship groups of tribe and clan primarily for sur-vival. Eventually tribes and clans grew into villages. Over thousands of years the tribes/clans/villages grew into cities/states/nations. Today the nation is the predominant human grouping. But already further changes seem to be moving towards what is referred to as the "global village" (interdependent world communi!y). We become members of these groupings by birth. Formerly living closely together over a lifetime in tribe/clan/village provided an unques-tionable sense of belonging and membership. In addition, such member-ship provided a clear sense of identity, values, and life-purpose. While life in the city/state/nation continues to give some sense of belonging and membership, it is less tangible than the former. Today nationality, for most, primarily shapes neither identity, values, nor life-purpose. All must struggle to find their own. While some people today would claim membership in the "global village," this certainly is not yet a univer-sal experience. One movement in this evolution of human community seems to be towards increasing fullness, beyond any single nation, race, or culture-- towards a community of humankind in this "global village." To Chris-tian ears this would seem to have a "Kingdom" ring that Teilhard de Chardin heard better than most: As the centuries go by, it seems that a comprehensive plan is indeed be-ing slowly carried on around us. A process is at work in the uni- 590 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 verse . Through and thanks to the activity of mankind the new earth is being formed and purified and is taking on definition and clarity.2 Sociologists suggest that with the development of broader "born into" human groupings has come a proliferation of intentional groups which have provided a more tangible sense of belonging/connectedness. People choose to join such groups because they share a common purpose; for example, cause, interest, profession, problem. Intentional groups re-quire that members already have identity, values, and life-purpose. It is the shared purpose that brings people together concretely and gives them a sense of felt membership and connectedness. In these intentional groups, membership and connectedness are sustained by collaborative ac-tion as well as by personal presence and support. What we seem to have, then, evolving alongside the development of "born into" human group-ings, is the development of intentional groups. This evolutionary tracing makes clear that while communities (hu-man groupings) are constant human realities, the dynamics and processes of such groupings have been changing over time. Today the evolution of "born into" groups is moving toward more of an interdependent world-community. Rather than village or nation, the world itself is coming to be viewed as a single worldwide community in which we all are members. The obvious interrelatedness of world peace, world hunger, global economy, and so forth is an indicator that, as members of the planet earth, we share a common destiny. The devel-opment of intentional groups also illustrates the importance of shared pur-pose which brings individuals together and provides them with a sense of membership and connectedness. Changes in Religious Life Community Since Vatican II During the last twenty years, religious community has gone through many changes. One of the greatest impediments in the struggle to expe-rience true community, perhaps, is an obsession with local living as the focal point of community. In order to be free to look at community in terms of creative options, there is need to take another look at local liv-ing- what it can or cannot do now. In the past there seemed to be three factors that enabled local living situations to provide a strong sense of community: (I) Group living for many was an efficient way to support ministry. (2) It provided for most of the basic needs of the members, for example, physical (food, cloth-ing, shelter), relational (acceptance, support, companionship), spiritual (common prayer, liturgy, retreat day). (3) It gave each member a sense Hope for Community of relatedness and a strong sense of belonging due to commonly shared experiences and a clearly defined authority/obedience structure. At pre-sent these factors no longer seem operative in the same way and for the following reasons: (1) Because of increasing diversity in ministry, de-creasing involvement in corporate apostolates, and larger geographical distances, local community living is not always the most efficient arrange-ment to support ministry. More and more religious are living alone, in small groups, and with other congregations. (2) It can no longer be as-sumed that local living can adequately meet individuals' basic needs. This is due in part to an increasing diversity of lifestyles, prayer prefer-ences, work schedules, and so forth. In addition, increasing numbers of religious have discovered personally enriching relational and spiritual re-sources and experiences outside local living and even congregational life. (3) The experience of local living no longer automatically guarantees a sense of belonging/relatedness/membership. This is due, at least in part, to the decrease of commonly shared experiences and the minimizing of authority/obedience structures. In fact, for some the experience of local living has become alienating. Trying to force it seems only to make things worse. What then can people in a local living situation realistically do in terms of (I) finding support for ministry, (2) basic need satisfaction, and (3) nurturing a sense of belonging/relatedness/membership? Would it not seem to call for a change in expectations of what local living can pro-vide? In terms of finding support for ministry, might this not be more re-alistically supplemented by others with whom one is involved in the same or similar ministries both inside and outside the congregation? In terms of basic need-satisfaction: (a) Concerning physical needs, those who do live together must have some minimal compatibility; for example, as to what constitutes simplicity of lifestyle. (b) Concerning relational needs, the degree of required compatibility will depend on the degree of relationship expected. It may not be valid to expect intimacy (innermost, confidential, close relationship) or friendship (warmth, depth of feeling, affection). But it does seem valid for religious living together to expect a sense of companionship (living on good terms with one an-other). (c) Concerning spiritual needs, there must be moderate compati-bility in gathering for common prayer and basic respect for individual expressions of spirituality. As with relational needs, one cannot expect every local living situation to provide opportunities for deeper, more af-fective forms of prayer; for example, personal faith-sharing. 522 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 In terms of membership (belonging/relatedness), living together does not automatically yield a sense of belonging. Reasons for living together tend to occur more on the basis of ministry or, in some instances, on the basis of personal preference. It may be that the experience of member-ship is not dependent on living together or daily presence. Perhaps more significant, yet less frequent, coming together may be more conducive to a sense of belonging in religious life today and in the future. But there is a need for some kind of congregational structures through which mem-bers can experience belonging to the whole. Belonging in community goes beyond socializing, meeting, living, and finding comfort with one another. Community is primarily the re-sult of bondedness around a common mission. This mission is some as-pect of Christ's mission--proclaiming the kingdom of God, according to the charism of a particular congregation. Community, in this perspec-tive, means belonging to a group that continues to call members to more, to stretch, to sacrifice, to move beyond themselves. It means going more deeply into that core relationship of commitment and belonging, of be-ing able to share, support, and challenge each other at that level. It means looking beyond individual development to group development. The time may have come to make more qualitative, attitudinal as well as structural changes in order that members can identify and experience what com-munity could/should be about. Today, looking at the communal dimen-sion of our lives, we would suggest that mission can guide us in identi-fying how religious can come together so as to have a matrix from which to be sent out to serve. Religious need to feel, sense, experience mem-bership in their congregations and exercise it in interdependent (rather than dependent or independent) fashion. Psychological Development Accompanying Changes Since Vatican II As already indicated, the initial changes that followed Vatican II were primarily external adaptations; for example, changes in dress, time, and form of prayer. Still these external adaptations opened the door to more significant changes. Soon efforts moved beyond the adaptation of externals to more substantive issues of renewal. This appears to have oc-curred in three general phases which can be viewed also as stages of matu-ration. The first phase consisted of a search for congregational identity (identity statements). Contrary to earlier practices, at this phase there was an attempt to engage the participation of the entire membership. This so-licitation of individual opinions helped catalyze the disassembling of re-ligious congregations as collective entities and evoked movement toward individuality on the part of members. Hope for Community / 523 At the second phase, there were many attempts to foster personal shar-ing (for example, house meetings, prayer groups, and small-group liv-ing) and the greater development of interpersonal relationships. Although this search for intimacy took place within the local living situation and in the workplace, both in and outside the congregation, the emphasis was primarily a within-the-congregation experience. In the third phase, attention turned to writing "mission statements." During this period energies were directed more externally with greater emphasis on ministry and service to others outside the congregation. The changes which occurred in these three phases were much more significant than the external adaptations mentioned earlier. These three phases in religious life are not unlike Erikson's fifth, sixth, and seventh stages of human growth and development: Identity Formation (in ado-lescence); Intimacy (in young adulthood); and Generativity (care and serv-ice of others in adulthood).3 Viewed in this perspective, the movement of individuals and congregations through these three phases can be seen/ understood in terms of maturation. For many religious this was a neces-sary maturing process which challenged them to greater personal growth and increasing individuality. This process of maturation enabled great numbers of religious to move from earlier patterns of passivity, compli-ance, and dependency towards becoming more active, assertive, and in-dependent. Each moved through this process along her/his own path, which was appropriate because the task was increasing individuality. But the movement towards active, assertive, and independent living only paved the way for additional movement and further change. Now many religious seem stuck, stagnant, experiencing, if you will, a "stalled generativity." True generativity demands that religious con-tinue to mature and become interactive, resonant, and interdependent. But such movement cannot be executed alone. In order to make this next step, religious will need a renewed sense and experience of co~nmunity. Present Inadequacy of Local Community Living We would contend that community, as we have known it, is no longer adequate because it has been based too largely on local living. Lo-cal community living, for many, no longer has the capacity as a struc-ture to provide members with a sense of community. Whether one's liv-ing situation is positive, neutral, or negative, there remains among many religious women and men a lack of connectedness to a group which at present can challenge, inspire, provide a vision significant enough to con-tain the religious commitment of one's life. It is becoming clearer that local living situations can more appropriately address the daily basic 524 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 needs of religious members, but that they are inadequate in providing the context for their life commitment. In other words, community member-ship/ connectedness comes primarily from a sense of belonging to the larger whole. Alvin Toffler in projecting community for the future says it well: "Community is more than emotionally satisfying bonds. It re-quires strong ties between the individual and the organization. Commu-nity is absent because there is little sense of shared mission.' ,4 He con-nects the absence/loss of a sense of community with the lack of a shared sense of mission. So what can be done? How can religious meet their needs? Find sup-port for ministry? Reestablish bonds of belonging (membership)? Rather than problem-solve, as has often been done in the past, by focusing on how to "fix" local living, perhaps there is a need to step back and look at the goal of community as described earlier. Again, the purpose and path for all Christians is the kingdom of God as disciples of Jesus. Many have moved from dependence to independence and now need to move towards greater interdependence. In short, what we are suggesting is not so much structural change as a shift in perspective which can enable in-dividuals and groups to see community primarily in service of the King-dom. This, in turn, requires interdependent relating, both in order to pur-sue the group's mission and to meet the needs of members. Next Step: "Upper Room" Experiences In order to experience better a sense of membership/connectedness to the larger whole, religious must gather to profess their common be-lief in the Risen Lord. Such was the gathering of the disciples in the up-per room (Acts 2). Here we find: a coming together in fellowship; as dis-ciples (men and women); in confusion, fear, and uncertainty; united in their memory of and belief in the Risen Christ and his promise of the Spirit; gathered in prayerful support of one another; and open to the power of the Spirit who comes as gift, creates them anew, and unifies and empowers them with a passion for continuing Christ's mission-- proclaiming the kingdom of God. Perhaps what religious communities need today is a quest for simi-lar "upper room" experiences in which members can gather for prayer, reflection, celebration, and support. Conditions for "Upper Room" Experiences The kind of experiences we are suggesting basicallyrequires events at which members gather not just to attend, but to participate in local, regional, and congregational events for significant exchanges around mis-sion and the means for pursuing it. Not only is the topic of mission ira- Hope for Community/525 portant, but so also is the process of gathering. It, too, should mirror the Kingdom. This calls for approaches that will enable people to pray/reflect/ interact in such a way that mutual experiences can become disclosures of God's actions and invitations to a further "uncovering" of the King-dom. This implies sharing prayer at deeper levels, prayer proceeding from the very experiences of life and ministry in this incarnational King-dom. It also calls for celebrations of life together--its joys and sorrows, successes and failures, hopes and fears. In short, what is reflected upon, prayed from, and celebrated needs primarily to relate to the larger per-spective of the kingdom of God. Common community events that already provide such opportunities include: renewal/retreat programs, convocations, chapters, regional meet-ings, professions, jubilees, funerals, missioning ceremonies, and litur-gical and paraliturgical services commemorating special feasts and events. Perhaps even committee meetings have Kingdom potential! In ad-dition, there are larger ecclesial, ecumenical, and civic events to which religious groups could bring and find Kingdom perspectives. These perspectives hopefully can point to attitudes, dispositions, val-ues for preferable futures that include: a passion for the Kingdom per-meating not just the matter covered, but also the manner of the sharing (with reverent honesty); a spirit of sacrifice and compromise that allows people to let go of fixed positions (not of principle or conviction how-ever!) that might impede plausible steps for now (discernment is a mat-ter of when as well as what!); a determination to love each other until all embrace the same truth; a hunger for justice and peace tempered by compassion; a profound respect for freedom with accountability; a per-sistent quest of unity while preserving diversity. "Upper Room" Dynamics Some dynamics for gatherings that might further the Kingdom would include: (I) commonly accepted agenda that concern significant issues; (2) "contemplative listening" that would value periods of silence and listening with the heart; (3) sincere reverence for the opinions and espe-cially for the experience of others; (4) sensitive sharing that helps per-sons speak the truth in love with the authority of their own experience, yet with a certain tentativeness and humility; (5) seeking to build con-sensus rather than deciding by vote, which tends to create division be-tween "winners" and "losers." Obstacles to "Upper Room" Experiences There are, of course, obstacles to such "upper room" experiences. 526 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 Most seriously obstructive to any effbrt towards greater interdependence in community is a certain immobility resulting from a loss of belief the mission and of hope in the future of community. Unfortunately there are those who have become victims of the inevitability of probable fu-tures and who are unable or unwilling to live into the Paschal Mystery in present diminishments as the prelude to new life. There are lesser resistances of varying degrees. On the one hand, there are some who desire to restore past forms of community life rather than to renew them. Those inclined this way tend to depend on others (usually in authority) to tell them how. These are often angry, depressed, apathetic, or passively aggressive in resisting change. On the other hand, there are those who have opted for more independent styles of living and working and who .are reluctant to forgo individual paths or alternate groups which have claimed prior allegiance of membership. Many of these not only are frustrated, but have become increasingly more alien-ated and indifferent to the community; some have a pervasive resistance to the accountability true interdependence requires. Then, of course, there are obstacles from the logistics of coming to-gether- with considerations of distance, expense, ministerial commit-ments, depletion of energy, and so forth. A formidable deterrent also is the memory of poor past experiences at meetings that have not only fallen short, but have also been destructive, of "upper room" experi-ences. Signs of Hope for the Future In seeking signs of hope for the future of intentional faith communi-ties, we would point to some significant developments that perhaps fall within the range of probable futures. Some are occurring outside religious life as such and even beyond the confines of the Roman Catholic Church. In general, there is a grow-ing consciousness of and desire for the "global village" especially among those committed to nuclear deterrence and ecological balance. Common causes of justice and peace (kingdom of God among us) have brought together various religious groups into organizations like the In-terfaith Center for Corporate Responsibility. What seems to be a wide-spread quest for deeper interiority (kingdom of God within us) has stimu-lated ecumenical attempts to nurture prayer and to train spiritual di-rectors; for example, Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation, in Wash-ington, D.C. A particularly striking phenomenon is the emergence of "new com-munities" like Taiz6 and L'Arche which bear some common character- Hope for CommuniO, / fi27 istics including: inspiration from existing spiritual traditions; the follow-ing of Christ as proposed by the Gospel; equality among the members as regards sex, state in life, and ministry; ecumenical membership with-out loss of confessional identity; cordial relations with Church authori-ties; a place for couples and children; a strong sense of presence among others; a readiness to adapt to changing situations; commitment to com-munity linked to commitment to each person's ministry; decisions by dis-cernment and shared responsibility; gradual movement towards perma-nent commitment with room for temporary association; a nonjudgmen-tal spirit; varying degrees of involvement in community; and a spirit of hospitality.5 Some developments are occurring within religious life itself. Evi-dences of these are intercongregational endeavors on a national scale like the LCWR (Leadership Conference of Women Religious), the CMSM (Conference of Major Superiors of Religious Men), and Network. Lo-cally and regionally there are examples of collaboration like intercom-munity novitiate programs and union theological schools. Along less formal lines, intercommunity and even interdenomina-tiona~ support groups are emerging among people involved in ministries like spiritual formation and spiritual direction. Within congregations themselves, internal support groups (of mem-bers from different local communities) seem to be increasing, as do pro-grams of lay affiliation and the utilization of lay volunteers. Conclusion The future belongs to those who dare to hope and who are willing to commit themselves to help shape it. Some questions that members of religious communities might ask themselves in fashioning such a future are: To what extent is our life together focused on the Kingdom? How can our gatherings be more like "upper room" experiences? What atti-tudes/ behaviors/dynamics do we need to make them so? What obstacles hinder it? What signs do we see (inside or outside the congregation) of the Kingdom being uncovered? Where do members feel nudges towards further corporate transformation (conversion) in moving in the direction of a greater Kingdom-orientation? The concluding lines of Lillian Smith's Journey6 articulate some questions perhaps pertinent for those who would help shape the preferable futures of community life: A century from now, what shall be said of our journey in these times? And who shall the shapers have been'? . . . Who shall have shaped the future more? The hopeful dreamers who were strong enough to suffer 528 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 for the dream? Or the fearful pessimists who were convinced that dream-ing and hope are for sleepers only, not for those awake to the age? A century from now, shall hope and humor been strong enough to enable living with unanswerable questions? Or shall the pain that a tran-sitional age necessarily brings have caused a retreat to old answers that no longer acknowledge new questions'? A century from now, we shall have indeed journeyed . . . backward or forward. Direction can no longer be given by circumstance; real journeyers know that the direction is always chosen by those who make the journey. Who shall choose the direction? ¯ . . So the question is still the same . A century from now, what shall be said of our human journey in these times? And who shall the shapers have been? NOTES ~ R. P. McBrien, Catholicism (Minneapolis: Winston, 1980), p. 907. 2 p. Teilhard de Chardin, Hymn of the Universe (New York: Harper and Row, 1961), p. 93. 3 E. H. Erikson, Identity: Youth attd Crisis (New York: Norton, 1968), pp. 128- 139. 4 See A. Toffler, The Third Wave (New York: William Morrow & Co., 1980), p. 384. 5 New Beginnings (Reprint from Bulletin 92, Pro mundi vita, spring 1983; Washing-ton, D.C.: Religious Formation Conference). 6 Lillian Smith, The Journey (New York: Norton, 1954). Finding Prayer in Action John R. Welsh, S.J. After a considerable career in high-school work in the South, Father Welsh became a pastor in New Orleans and then in Brazil, where he has also given retreats and par-ish missions. At present he is the director of the Apostleship of Prayer for the arch-diocese of S~.o Paulo. He may be addressed at Patio do Col~gio, 84:01016 S~o Paulo, S.P.; Brazil. The most abiding challenge to those who direct the prayer life of people in "active" apostolates or engaged in pastoral activity has to be that of indicating the relevance of prayer within the context of apostolic action. "Relevance" may not be the most apt word to denote that vague, haunt-ing feeling that somehow the period of my formal prayer ought to "say something" or "bear upon" all the rest of my day, devoted to activity. I use "relevance" rather to connote through an association of images, instead of trying to define precisely what we all sense: that prayer and action, certainly as an ideal, are conjoined. On the other hand, in offering these reflections of a method for con-sciously uniting our activity with our prayer, I prefer to use the language of precision and definition. Supposing agreement that in day-to-day prac-tice we rarely advert to definitions and hardly at all do so with any pre-cision, I hope in what follows to awaken in readers a sense that "I'm already doing that"; then, through some precision, to help them to at-tend more reflectively on its advantages in prayer-action dynamics. In other words, this article has no pretensions of describing a brand-new method, but only of setting out in a descriptive way the interaction or relevance of prayer and apostolate. Circular Interaction The interaction may be imagined as circular, starting with (a) prayer, 529 530 / Review for Religious, July-August 1988 (b) going on rounds of activities, and (c) closing the day with reflection. True, these three "instants" are well known and practiced widely. What makes of them a dynamic is the interconnection, the uniting, of each "in-stant" with the others and thus a closing of the circuit, so to speak. It is on the value of this "fitting together" of prayer-action-reflection that I am focusing. (a) The "prayer" I speak of is simply the time of formal prayer at the start of the day, the morning meditation or set of prayers or readings which are often done in common, either as preparation for the Eucharist or within the Liturgy of the Hours. It comprises both "hearing the word of the Lord" and "pondering on it in one's heart"; listening to the Lord and responding as that word motivates and arouses sentiments in my heart. As a simple illustration, I fix attention in morning prayer on a chal-ice on the altar as a symbol of my daily offering to Christ in union with the Holy Sacrifice offered "from the rising to the set of the sun." (b) "Activities" include all the occupations of the day, be they study, raising children, teaching, nursing, directing, counseling, travel-ing, attending planning sessions, doing business, or keeping house. Here it is vital that the sentiments evoked in prayer "overflow" and stream into the kind of person who is performing the tasks of the day. To put it another way, the one who prayed earlier should be saturated in the af-fectivity or the spirit that the prayer stimulated and in this spirit continue thinking, feeling, and deciding; and, of course, he or she should act and judge and treat others in that same spirit. Continuing the illustration above (the chalice on the altar), I set out for a meeting on the other side of my vast city, choosing the wrong bus, missing the interurban train, and arriving long after the appointed time, only to discover that I have come to a parish with the same name as another in the same sector and that the.meeting, now concluding, is at the other parish, a good two miles distant. Staying where I have arrived, I visit the staff of a recreational program for children, which is modeled on a type common throughout the city. Though frustrated, I sense I have made an important contact for my work, one more useful perhaps than the meeting I missed. (c) The "reflection" at the close of the day may come in many forms: examination of conscience, recitation of Evening Hour, commu-nity night prayers, an evening Mass, or a private review of the day. In this moment one passes in review the significant moments of the day's activities, letting what is "significant" come to the fore spontaneously: an image deeply impressed, a personality encountered, a conversation whose very overtones I recall, or the salient emotional tone of the day, Finding Prayer in Action ! 531 such as anguish, euphoria, anger, frustration, or quiet satisfaction in un-folding events. Reverting to the illustration I have been using: late at night I look back on my day. Th~ sentiments of frustration tinged with resentment somehow evoke the Lord's challenging words to the two "sons of thunder": "Can you drink the chalice that I will drink?" And I think, this is the chalice I saw on the altar when I prayed my daily of-fering, but through the day's events now it is a chalice of frustration and incomprehension, like the one Jesus chose in union with the Father's will. Now I have, in deed and in fact, just such a chalice to complete the offering I made to the Father through this morning's words of offer-ing. Visit to a Bairro and Back Coincidentally, on the very day I was planning what to say in a con-ference on "prayer and action" to lay ministers of an impoverished com-munity on the outskirts of an important urban center in northwest Bra-zil, the events I recount below took place. My day began with a reflection on the situation of the great majority of families living in this bairro spread out all over this dry, unproduc-tive area, whose only "in

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

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

Issue 46.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1987. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Deparlment of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1987 by REWEW FOR RELtG~OtJS. Single copies $2.50. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $11.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (surface mail); airmail (Book Rate): $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR RELI(;IOUS: P.O. Box 6070; D~luth, MN 55806. Daniel F.X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors September/October, 1987 Volume 46 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rt:wEw voR Rt:Lmu)us; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW t'OR REI.I(:IOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M1 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visu-ally impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. What Do the Laity Expect of Religious Life Guzm6n Carriquiry This article was prepared for the USIG (International Union of Superiors General) and originally appeared in the USIG Bulletin (no. 73, 1987). It is reprinted here with permission. Dr. Carriquiry, a native of Uruguay, is married and father of four. He is head of the Pontifical Council for the Laity and a professor at the Pontifical University Urbaniana. Two Remarks and a Propitious Occasion '~(ou have proposed and requested a very difficult task. Probably I accepted it with a considerable lack of awareness. Preparing for this meeting, I was able to realize the predicament in which I had placed myself. I am not a theologian by profession and even less an expert on the theology of religious life. I have had to read and reflect a good deal on the theme, but even so, I feel very inadequate in facing such a delicate question. I will limit myself, therefore, t.o giving some impressions, reflections and challenges, without any pretense at having a profound penetration into the "mystery" of the religious life. I would like to make a second remark., through a concern for hon-esty. "What do the laity expect. ?" is the question. When we speak of "laity," however, we are referring to many different people. It is good to suspect, or at times to smile at, those who with an excessive fa-cility and pretension claim to be "representatives" of the laity (or of youth, or of the poor, or of women . . .). We are tempted to dress our-selves in plumed clothing in order to hide our nakedness and to give our-selves a better or stronger "image." I am going to answer the question-- What do the laity expect. ? knowing that there will be much that is 641 1542 / fleview for Religious, September-October, 1987 personal to this individual layman, to this poor Christian, as a result of his own journey, experience and convictions. The fact of working in the Pontifical Council for the Laity for many years, however, has placed me in a privileged situation because if one wishes to serve the participation of the laity in the life and mission of the Church effectively--which is the competency of this Dicastery--then it is necessary to listen to and follow with special attention the sensitivities, demands, needs and ex-periences which are part of this multifaceted lay world. I hope to be able to transmit some of this rich experience to you. If, however, there are two evident limitations to this contribution, there is no doubt that it comes at an opportune and propitious moment in the life of the Church. We are in the time between the recent past extraordinary Synod--a commemoration, verification and actualization of Vatican Council II twenty years after its conclusion--and the next ordinary Synod of 1987, which will have as its theme "The vocation and mission of the laity in the Church and in society." The relations between laity and religious are adequately clarified by the knowledge the Church has at present of its mystery of communion and of the demands of i(s mission. And all, bish-ops, priests, deacons, religious and laity--as is stated in the final mes-sage of the extraordinary Synod--are invited to participate in the work of preparation for the next Synod, which "should constitute a decisive step so that all Catholics might receive the grace of Vatican II." From an Ecclesiology of Communion We can begin from an obvious daily experience. Many walls of sepa-ration- material, cultural, ecclesiastical--have been torn down, and to-day a close, simple, fraternal experience of collaboration between the la-ity and religious is lived and shared. This occurs within the most diverse Christian communities, in the most varied works of the Church, in asso-ciations and movements, in structures of "communion and participa-tion" of the combined pastoral team of the local Churches . It is like an immediate, accessible, verified evidence of fraternal collaboration and of common participation. No one can deny it. It can be stated that this is like a reflection and a fruit, a sign and a realization of the "ecclesiology of communion" of Vatican Council II. This I give here as something taken for granted. I find it interesting to point out a double movement, indivisible, in the carrying out of this con-ciliar ecclesioiogy. On one hand, we have gradually gone beyond a cor-porate or governmental division between clergy, religious and laity, com-partmentalized and sometimes in tension or in struggle for the division Expectations of Religious Life / 643 of "power" in the Church. What is anterior and interior to any dis-tinction has been affirmed and accented in this developing movement; that is, what is more essential, common to all, more original and radical in all Christian life. We are members of the great family of the "Chris-tian faithful," incorporated into Christ by baptism, participants in his priesthood, called to holiness, with equal dignity in the eyes of God, all co-responsible for the communion and the mission of the Church. But all "in their own way" because, at the same time, we experience that we are distinct, that this unity of all does not reduce us to uniformity and impoverish us by it, but that it develops fruitfully in the diversity of vo-cations, ministries and charisms which express and enrich the commun-ion and mission of the Church. It is with this ecclesiological basis and in intense ecclesial experience that we pose the question of what the laity expect of religious life . The Laity Expect "Something More" In the first place, I believe that many lay people would be surprised and somewhat disconcerted with the question, unable to respond in a con-scious and well-planned way. However, I think that, instinctively, in-tuitively, their response would be that of expecting "something more" of religious. Yes, they expect something more! Something more radical, more total, more definitive, more profound, more demanding and chal-lenging, in the relationship with God. They expect something more of holiness. In giving this spontaneous response, I pictured the alert, concerned, astonished reaction of the sister who says: "but, Dr . are not the laity also called to sanctity? . . ." And she says something obviously true if considered in the light of present ecclesial self-knowledge, but not so obvious in the understanding of all Christians. That conventional and arbitrary prejudice which seems to reserve holiness to the religious state, judging it in some way the monopoly of the following of Christ or of the evangelical counsels--has been gradually abandoned, and yet, at the same time, the lay condition was often considered a second-class Chris-tian life, a concession to human weaknesses. Ai times, the ideal of holi-ness was seen as a heroic and somewhat "aristocratic" option of per-fection, attained through the initiative of superior men and women. But, be at peace; good sister, because in ever greater numbers, the laity are becoming conscious of this universal vocation to holiness to which Chapter 15 of Lumen Gentium refers in a clear and distinct man-ner. 644 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 This being accepted, perhaps you still remain disturbed that the laity continue expecting from religious a greater radicality of commitment and donation to God (the three vows are like dimensions of a unique vow--I read this some days ago--of the vow of one's whole self, the gift of the entire person, offering oneself to God with all one's energies.); they expect a greater, more immediate and more total liberty and availability in order to follow-imitate-serve Christ; they expect a more direct and tan-gible referenceto the presence of the mystery of God in human life. They are very sure of what they expect even though they cannot always ex-press it well. For this reason, the ordinary lay person is much more exi-gent in observing and in judging the witness given by religious than that given by lay people. In general, this is so. It is surprising that this ex-pectation- which rises up from the "sensum fidei," from this "super-natural instinct" of simple Christians--corresponds perfectly to what the Church considers the radical originality of the religious life: to give wit-ness to and "impulse" in the area of the growth of life, of sanctity. Con-sciously or intuitively, the laity expect that religious will keep as a high priority the primacy, the radicality of the witness to sanctity, not as .a,pat-rimony or goal exclusively their own, but as a call and warning, a chal-lenge and attraction for all the members of the people of God toward this vocation and program of life. It is right that religious should be a bit disturbed when they feel them-selves burdened with such expectations because they feel that it is not. a question of a privilege but of a grave responsibility. In other words, there is a preferential love of God for each one of you--it was he who chose you first and who put his "aspiration" in you, and not you your-selves who decided to be more holy--which burdens you with responsi-bility in the response to God in the Church, I would say before the most "insignificant" of the baptized . . . and even before the most "care-less" of human beings. And it is not sufficient to p~ut on the habit~t~) say, "Lord, Lord." This vocation must be carried out effectively as the will of the Father. Saints or Reformers? In the long history of the Church one can find strong confirmation of what the laity today expect of the religious life. They expect what the Church has always expected, an assurance that they will never be de-prived of this "special gift" which is the religious life. Almost two mil-lennia of life teach that the crucial periods or phases of renewal of the Church--in its communion and in its mission--were brought about and' carried out through the great and liberated energies of holiness, and that Expectations of Religious Life / 645 in the "vanguard" of these holy and reforming energies the numerous and diverse charisms of the religious life proved powerful and fruitful. Let us have a bird's eye view of all this. - When the Church lived under the tension of the seducing powers of "worldliness" on the one hand and of vigorous heretical movements on the other, during the Roman-Christian Empire, the tradition of con-secrated life, of which the first witnesses are already met within the New Testament writings, flowered in the monastic experience, raising up a new spiritual "oxygenation," a passion for unity and a lively responsi-bility for the truth. - Shortly,afterwards, when Ambrose saw "the end of the world" in the total destruction of the Roman Empire of the West and before the invasion of the "barbarians," there came the charism of a Benedict-- as well as of Cyril and Methodius--whose cloistered disciples and fol-lowers would be nothing less than the evangelizers of the new peoples and the principal protagonists of the construction of a new civilization, medieval Christianity. - When the liberty of the Church was being strangled in the suffo-cating and corrupting embrace of feudal chains, currents of sanctity ra-diating from Cluny and Cister made possible the Gregorian reform and a sort of "second evangelization" of medieval Christianity. - And before the upheaval of the urban-mercantile-university revo-lution of the later medieval period--when the sectarian phenomena were swarming like so many devious responses to new sensitivities and cul-tural demands which went beyond the limits of the feudal "order"-- God enriched the communion and mission of the Church with the men-dicant orders for the most incisive and suitable evangelization of the new world and the new culture in process of being born. - And how is it possible to speak of the "Catholic reform" at the moment of the Council of Trent in face of the drama and challenge of the "Protestant reform" and the new missionary needs created by the European expansion at the dawn of modem times without considering the holy charisms of Ignatius, Teresa of Avila, Philip Neri, Angela Merici, Francis de Sales, Vincent de Paul. ? - In the second half of the nineteenth century, the intellectual, spiri-tual and missionary revival of the Church, harassed by the impetus of the secularizing and anti-clerical modernism, had its strong point in the multiplication of religious orders, masculine and feminine, which it would take too long to mention . 646 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 This is a mere schematic outline, certainly, but substantially true in what I wish to demonstrate. Speaking to Superiors General, after hav-ing mentioned the names of great and holy founders, John Paul II con-cluded: All these names testify that the paths of holiness, to which the members of the people of God are called, passed and continue to pass in great part through religious life. And there is no need to marvel at that, given the fact that religious life was founded on the most precise "prescription" for holiness, constituted by love lived according to the evangelical coun-sels. Also, mentioning two essential criteria for the renewal of religious life, the Pope said during his trip to Brazil: The first criterion is that religious life (and concretely every religious community) is not seriously renewed if the objective of the renewal is, in fact, the seeking of the greatest ease and convenience, but only if this objective is the seeking of what is most authentic in religious life and most harmonious with it. The second criterion is that religious life is re-newed by being ever more a road of sanctity. This is nothing else than what is stated by the conciliar decree Per-fectae Caritatis in Number 21. All this brings to mind a marvelous reminder of John Paul II to the laity, when he celebrated the twentieth anniversary of the conciliar de-cree Apostolicam Actuositatem in November, 1985: The Church needs great currents, movements and testimonies of holi-ness among the Christian faithful because it is from holiness that all authentic renewal of the Church is born, all enrichment of the intelli-gence of faith and of the following of Christ, a vital and fruitful re-actualization of Christianity in meeting with human needs, renewed forms of presence in the heart of human existence and in the culture of the nations. More than "reformers," the Church needs saints--frequently re-peats the Pope because saints are the best reformers. And this is the same point stressed by all the participants in the recent extraordinary Synod. Twenty years after the end of Vatican Council II the "univer-sal vocation to sanctity" must have the primacy. Between Crises and Hopes Well. twenty years after the end of Vatican Council II, that great gift of God to the Church of our times, in this crucial phase of renewal of the Church. how does it appear to you? Are religious in the van- Expectations of Religious Life / 647 guard, as first and primary witnesses of those energies and currents of sanctity which effectively renew the Church and the world? A lay per-son responds with fear and trembling: it does not seem to me to be so. Certainly there are not lacking admirable personal and communitarian tes-timonies in religious life--we have them present here--which have an impact far beyond the visible limits of the Church. Thanks be to God! But, in general, there are also the weighty results of the convulsive cri-sis which occurred during the first phase of the "post-conciliar times." The great yon Balthasar says that the strong crisis felt by the Church in the immediate post-conciliar time, and which was partially a crisis of secularization and partially a crisis of comprehension of authority in the Church, affected the priesthood and the religious state in the very depths of its theology and in a manner in-comparably stronger than for the laity who had no great reason to re-flect on its identity and to question itself. What a painful distance there was between the great conciliar hopes of an "adequate renewal of religious life" and the heavy price of un-certainty and instability, of disquiet and disoriented nervousness, of secu-larization and crisis which followed it: so heavy a price that some are still suffering from the results of it and many were ruined by it. A heavy price which indicates, on the one hand, how fossilized and anachronis-tic were some forms inherited from the past--already hatching a crisis under a rather sclerotic shell--and which signals, on the other hand, de-vious and unilateral interpretations and actions in the realization of the renewal desired by Council;, in which there tended to predominate worldly criteria rather than an authentic and rigorous discernment "of the spirit." And this is not the result of expert examinations. The ordinary laity witnessed this crisis when, for example, sending their children to Catho-lic schools, they realized that many religious were leaving their commu-nities, that there were very few novices, that those who remained were usually the oldest . But where do vocations come from? From the grace of God which is never lacking, and from the response of lay men and women who wish to live their baptism more radically. These have not been lacking in these twenty post-conciliar years either. So? We tend to take refuge in a detailed and often rather intellectual enumeration of all the obstacles which are found on the road of total commitment: secu-larism, consumerism, pansexualism, and so forth. Who can deny this? But the "worldly" difficultie~ ought to make even more evident the chal-lenging vigor in the sign, the witness, thecalling. Perhaps the most se- Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 rious,reply with regard to the "crisis" is that, in these last decades, re-ligious life has failed to be radical enough in its following of Christ, suf-ficiently rooted in the full certainties of life, passionate enough as an ex-pression of the mystery of communion, challenging enough for con-version, vigorous enough in its apostolate, transparent enough in its wit-ness to awaken amazement, fascination, admiration, imitation among the many laity made aware of the requirements of baptism and of their Chris-tian responsibility. Today the "uneasy time" has passed. Serenity has been regained. There are promising signs of an increase of vocations. From the at-tempted experimentations there have come more criteria to consolidate the positive and reject the negative. There is a different atmosphere. Re-ligious life is beginning to reflect the new ecclesiai climate. But the Church expects much more from it. It should be strengthened in the Lord. A crisis is fully overcome when the reasons which caused it are discerned in depth: crisis of spiritual discipline, crisis of authority, obe-dience, crisis of communion . It is necessary to "refound" relig-ious life, said Don Egidio Viganb a few years ago. And the great con-necting threads for this new phase of the carrying out of the Council, which gave direction to this refoundation, seem clear: radicality on the road of holiness, passion for the truth, solidity and fidelity to com-munion, missionary impetus of a new evangelization. New Forms of Consecrated Life If there has been a crisis of religious institutes--also states Balthasar--it cannot be said that there has been a crisis of consecrated life because, in addition to the traditional forms of religious life, there have been developing lately new forms of consecration, new forms of "monastic" experiences in the world. In the vigorous "ecclesial move-ments" at the present time--such as the Focolarini, Communion and Lib-eration, Charismatic Renewal in the Spirit--and also in very many other communitarian experiences on local levels, there have been maturing per-sons and groups of persons who have decided, privately, to assume as a radical commitment the practice of the evangelical counsels in life com-munities. These types of vocations have abounded and a great number of new vocations, especially to the contemplative religious life, come from these movements. To be sure, history teaches that different impulses of renewal of re-ligious life are generated from strong charismatic and communitarian ex-periments which do not fit easily into existing forms and which were gen-erating--- or were heading toward--new roads of sanctity. But those more Expectations of Religious Life / 649 and more numerous lay vocations to live the evangelical counsels in a radical form, in forms that are different from the traditional forms of "consecration," should constitute a questioning and challenging sign for religious institutes. Why do they not have a similar attraction? On the other hand, the institutes have a precious patrimony of traditions and of spiritual wisdom which, revitalized and clarified, could be of primary im-portance in facing and directing the new forms which are arising. In the Return of the Sacred Not a few attentive observers at the present time note the emerging signs of a complete process of cultural transition, as if we were in mo-ments of maximum realization and, at the same time, of exhaustion 'from the process of secularization stirred up by the secularist and materialis-tic ideologies: a nihilistic phase, the indifferent absence of great motives and ideals of life, spiritual emptiness and lethargy, the predominance of the miserable idols of money, pleasure, power. At the same time there are emerging everywhere, at times with surprising or ambiguous mani-festations, new sensitive, new "significant" dem~inds, new "religious" expectations. Do we, perhal~s, 'see this under such varied signs as the re-vitalization of the cultural-religious substratum of some nations-- Poland, the Philippines, Haiti;--the resistance to secularizing modern-ism: the renewal of Islam; the accelerated and dangerous expansion of sects and of "mysterious" and "esoteric" cults; the sensitive "relig-ious" antennae of the new generations of youth; the increase of priestly and religious vocations; the great number of places in which individuals and whole peoples claim at the present time to have enjoyed apparitions of the Virgin; the enormous popular repercussions of the apostolic trips of the Holy Father; the growing flood of pilgrims going to the sanctuar-ies of their country? And in so many other and varied ways . "In s.pite of secular-ism," says the final message of the extraordinary Synod, "there exist also signs of a return to the sacred . . , of a new hunger and thirst for the transcendent and the divine . We should open the way to the di-mension of the 'divine' or of the 'mystery.' " This resurgence of the sacred--states a synodal father--will be more vigorous yet in the perspective of the end of the second millennium, but care must be taken so that the response and satisfaction of this new sen-sitivity and need is not given through devious channels and forms, frus-trating in the end because it will appear that the Catholic Church does not itself refer sufficiently to the sacred. 650 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 The whole Church is challenged, but I ask if there is not a special warning call to religious life. Instead of pursuing a retarded and submis-sive adaptation to a secularist culture in process of disintegration, the signs of an emerging culture can be fed on and deciphered only by the signs of the Absolute of God, by the radical testimony of the Mystery of God in human life. In the Agitation of the Secular Life Now let us be more specific. Let us look more carefully at the con-crete and daily experience of lay people. It is their specific work to or-der the world according to the designs of God, to live their Christian vo-cation in the ordinary conditions of family, work, and social life, in the logic and even dullness of created things. This is the road-~diversified in an enormous multiplicity of ways---of their sanctification. Yes, in-deed! I believe that there are many silent, hidden, daily witnesses to sanc-tity among lay people. At times, however, it is truly wearying to have to endure a certain "idealism" or a great deal of ecclesiastical rhetoric when reference is made to the lay state, to the "adult lay person". One gets the im-pression that often it is an abstraction of the real rhythm and weight of the normal day of an ordinary lay person. It is necessary to sanctify and to sanctify oneself in the family, professional and social life. But, how avoid being "pulled about," absorbed by a permanent agitation of the rhythm of life in order to obtain those material and spiritual times nec-essary to give "breath," "feeling" and an orientation to one's own life? Generally, in order to find these moments, as, for example, to as-sist at Mass, to pray in the family, to speak of God with one's children, to grow spiritually as a couple, to be silent., it is necessary to strug-gle and even more, to acquire a "discipline" and to respect it and to put it into practice. Most often one is pulled along by the bustle of the activities, preoccupations, responsibilities and the immediate anxieties of daily life to such a point that life becomes opaque, gray, is impover-ished of spiritual content, goes on marginalizing "the religious" to de-termined ritual moments which become ever more infrequent. And yet more . The laity are asked to assume ecclesiai and secu-lar responsibilities which are on a large scale and require time and la-bor. They are asked to be "militant." And that i~ fine. But what does it mean concretely? That the hours dedicated as catechist in the parish or in teams of service, or to meetings of movements or apostolic groups to which they belong, or absorbed by union responsibilities or participa-tion in the political party--and in this type of commitment the demands Expectations of Religious Life / 651 always seem to multiply if one wishes things to go along better continu-ally-. those hours of "militancy" have to be taken or "stolen" from the domestic and family life at the end of a day's work. For this reason, lay militants are always unstable minorities, threat-ened with discontinuity, doubly sacrificed, in abnegation and dedication. This is not to be regretted; it is their normal habitual condition. Great institutions are not built nor great works done with "extra" hours. Two remarks seem important for service of religious life in face of these situations of the laity. The first is to realize the need that the lay people have--today more than ever---of time, signs and specific spaces of prayer, of being filled with the perspective of the kingdom, savoring the things of God, becoming impregnated with the spirit of the beatitudes which can provide specific nourishment for their family, professional or political life. Many lay people look at and are seeking the contemplative life of religious communities so as to enter into contact with their spiri-tual radiation. You know how difficult it is to be contemplatives in the secular life, since many of your communities are dedicated to works of the apostolate. You can imagine how much more difficult it is for the laity . The second remark refers to the availability of religious for the serv-ice of the Gospel when compared to the obligations of lay people. When I end my day's work, I return home, not in order to rest but to help my wife who is carrying out her duties for the children, to bathe the little ones, to attend to a thousand little domestic needs . I would like to read so many things that could help me grow--and my wife also, natu-rally- but I do not have the time. I would like to visit friends in diffi-culty, to participate in ecclesial or cultural meetings which seem impor-tant to me, to get to know important persons or experiences. But I can-not sacrifice more than a minimum of family time. It is in my marriage and in my family that I see my first and most important responsibilities as a Christian. I am a happy man, but at times I admire and envy the "full time" workers for the Gospel, the "professional revolutionaries" of the Church, those who consecrate themselves exclusively and totally to the Lord. They should show a liberty and availability of tremendous energies for the most varied services for the Christian people. Does it perhaps happen that where there is more time to dispose of, there is more time to waste? On Political Participation If the chief witness of the laity is the Christian presence in the con-duct of the economy of creation, this does not mean that this is a field 659 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 exclusively reserved to them. The witness of lay people challenges re-ligious to go beyond caricatures of flight from the world and to consider their own consecration to God a radical commitment in the service of hu-man beings and of society. The great contributions of the religious life in social construction and progress can be found throughout history; but it is a fact that since the Council they have been going beyond the nar-row horizons, the so-called exclusivity or spiritual incompetence in the name of which religious life degenerated into forms of insensitivity in the face of situations and conditions of injustice and oppressiori suffered by persons, social groups, entire peoples. If the struggle for justice is a constitutive dimension of evangeliza-tion; if the defense and promotion of the dignity, rights and liberties of all human beings are a necessary part of the mission of the Church; if the kingdom of God--kingdom of peace and of justice, of truth and of love--is growing mysteriously in human, history--no religious can con-sider extraneous to her own peculiar vocation these commitments and tasks. It also falls to the religious "to evangelize the political' '--as says the Puebla document--in the sense of values of the Gospel and in con-formity with them. Up to this point, everything is clear. But there are cases in which, in the face of flagrant situations of injustice, misery and violence, when a vigorous and incisive commitment on the part of lay people is lacking, religious feel called to a more direct, surer, more incisive social and po-litical action. No one can be "neutral" in face of such situations. Even in these cases, however, it is necessary, on the one hand, to control the "immediate reaction" which ends up by absorbing and weakening the original vocation of the religious, and on th~ other, to prevent their ac-tions ending up in a well-determined political praxis, in a militant, dis-ciplined commitment, organized in a political party or strategy, with a basic reference to power. In taking this road, the premises for "secularization" are created. In addition, there is the "clerical" temptation of using prestige, social weight and the cultural representativity of ecclesiastics--above all, in Christian environments--as a basis to affirm definite political options worthwhile and free in themselves, and left then to the prudence of each Christian. In cases in which this "political praxis" of religious exists, many of the laity are conscious of a great lack of preparation of an "idealis-tic" voluntarism which substitute forms of "moral indignation" for the complex calculation of political .analysis. Expectations of Religious Life The categorical imperative "it is necessary to become committed" is identified, by some religious, in a mech'anical or simplistic manner with a "plunging into" the agitation of political matters without discern-ment. And this "plunging," with their lack of technical and political preparation, with their "ecclesiastical" condition of life far from the re-alistic stability of family and professional life and responsibility, with their lack of respect for the "weightiness" of the daily life of ordinary mortals, and with their counting on the particular protection of the Church--all this ends up by creating a particular type of untrustworthy political person and confused religious. The ease and simplicity with which some religious pass from traditional forms of life to political radi-calizations and moralistic ideologies is incredible. They are easily ma-nipulated and absorbed into a horizon which gradually becomes a prior-ity and then into a respect which becomes a substitute for ecclesial communion. Truly the Pope is right in insisting that it is not the proper role for religious to be converted into political or union leaders, and even less into state functionaries! Various Methods of Service to Humanity In these experiences of specific political participation, there is, on the part of religious, even if not consciously, a certain devaluation of their particular vocation and, consequently, an inferiority complex which makes one want to excel in the typically lay manner of service to human-ity. This service seems identified with social and political militancy if it is to be truly efficacious. Anything else seems like alienation, indif-ference and even the complicity of religious with injustice and oppres-sion. With this attitude as a basis, there comes a loss of confidence in the specificity of the religious consecration as a fundamental manner of serv-ice to humanity. The council was already warning about this when it said: Let no one think that, by their consecration, religious have become strang-ers to their feliowmen or useless citizens of this earthly city. But, even though in some instances they do not directly mingle with their contem-poraries, yet in a more profound sense, these religious are united with them in the heart of Christ and cooperate with them spiritually. In this way the work of building up the earthly city can always have its foun-dation in the Lord and can tend toward him. Otherwise, those who build this city will perhaps have labored in vain (LG n. 46). Does not the witness of St. Th6r~se of Lisieux teach us the incom- 654 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 parable value of prayer for all human service? Those who take on as a priority the construction of the world through matrimony, the administra-tion of goods and power--such are the laity--greatly need those who ac-company them with prayer as a priority, who remind them that we are in the world but not of the world and that we cannot conform ourselves to the present time; that we must safeguard and strengthen our Christian liberty in face of the seductions of the idols of money, power and pleas-ure; that the "logic" of the beatitudes is authentically revolutionary; that Christ is the cornerstone of all social construction which is to be truly human; that it is worth the trouble to struggle and sacrifice in order to continue creating conditions and experiences of greater justice, solidar-ity and peace so that nothing will be forgotten and all will be redeemed when God grants us "new heavens and a new earth". The best and most radical service to humanity is the testimony of a life which manifests the total supremacy of the love of God. For this rea-son, the special road of service to humanity for religious life consists, today more than ever, in being centered in one's "consecration," in a special care and cultivation of its religious dimension, of its discipline of life and spiritual growth. Living and Manifesting a Specific Charism This life according to the Spirit is diversified and deepened in the fol-lowing of the "charism of the founders." The apostolic exhortation Evangelica Testificatio and the decree Mutuae Relationes emphasized this in a special way. For the majority of lay people, however, I believe that this statement would not be well understood because there is the dan-ger of considering religious life generically, with little variations, with more or less uniform ways, barely differentiated into families with dif-ferent names and habits. It is necessary to ask if the various religious com-munities witness effectively to the gift they have received, to their own original spiritual richness, their particular contribution to the Christian enrichment of all the people of God. If fidelity to one's own charism is a form of obedience to the grace of Christ, if it characterizes the origi-nality of an evangelical project for the following of Christ and encour-ages the discovery of new lights and new dimensions of the totality of Christian life, if it is a specific way of sanctification, the greatest contri-bution of a religious community to the life of the Church and of each Christian is to keep'very much alive the fidelity to this charism, to live it with the same radicality as the founder lived it, to regenerate and radi-ate its relevancy before the needs of the Church and the people, I believe that thus the whole of the people of God would feel more "encouraged" Expectations of Religious Life / 655 and "worked upon" by the powerful ferment of renewal of Christian life. The laity who have contact with religious communities, directly or through schools, clinics, and so forth, would be much more "struck" by these radical charisms. All of that is contained in the generic term-- the Sisters. In this sense, we find much to the point the words of John Paul II in Brazil when, after having emphasized the great pastoral and apostolic service accomplished by religious, he stated: It is not because it is useful to the pastoral work that religious life occu-pies a very definite place in the Church and has an indispensable value. The contrary is true: religious life lends an efficacious service to the pas-toral work because it is and keeps itself firmly faithful to the position it occupies in the Church and to the charisms which characterize this po-sition. In addition, I ask myself if religious communities should not put more emphasis on the witness of the sanctity of their founders or spiri-tual teachers. Many times witness is of more value than words and Chris-tians need "models," fathers and teachers on the road of faith. Life Communities in the Church Permanent life communities which fully involve the person are found in the life of the Church only in religious communities and in Christian families. The differences between these two are obvious. The famil~ is a "natural" community, whose matrimonial nucleusbin the loving and fruitful union of the man and woman--is "sacramentalized" by the Church. The religious community does not have a "natural" base and those who participate in it freely sacrifice precious goods--such as the whole field of conjugal love, the free disposal of material goods, indi-vidual autonomy for the great decisions of life--for a Good, for a Love which is much greater. ~But in both cases we see, in different forms, the mystery of commun-ion which there is in the human origin and destiny and which becomes a daily miracle. In societies which are ever more disunited and frag-mented, where the powerful and uniforming tides of massification break up social bonds in the social fabric--much has been written about th'is-- these very forms of community life acquire even more importance and a great "impact." There is an intense desire for personal recognition, friendship, solidarity, authentic reconciliation, deeper and fuller human encounters and relationships so that people are very sensitive to the hu-man witness and acceptance of these life communities. 656 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 There are beautiful analogies which could be made between religious communities and. family communities. Do not the various aspects of hu-man love which are found ,in family life and which reflect the insepara-ble dimensions of divine love exist in their own manner and even more fully in the religious community as signs, glimpses, first-fruits of the king-dom? Both communities are based on the indestructible and fruitful foun-dation of a spousal love. While in the person-to-person encounter of the man and his wife, their passionate experience of love truly reflects the covenant of Christ with his Church, the religious lets herself be grasped directly and tota~lly by the limitless love of Christ, in the immediilcy of the covenant between Spouse and spouse, with the totality and sublima-tion of a commitment to which all human love is called. Cohsecrated vir-ginity- lived in its serene and mysterious fullness~is the sign of p~ssi-bility and of example to order and encourage the "chastity" of married life in this vital, delicate and fragile complex between the spi,ritual sway and instinctive impulses. There is a complete education to lib~rty, to do-minion over selfl which 'is a ~:ondition of authentic love--so important and urgent today on the level of tlae' new generations, determined and marked by a hedonist mentality and an atmosphere of flagrant eroticism-- which shines through a healthy religious life. ~ ~ The family, although implicitly, also requires a "rule" for i!s com-munity life, and authority is the prinqiple and guarantee of communion. In the rule of rules--that of St. Benedict--the "superior".of the com-mu~ nity is called "father"--abbot. It is good that the superior is recog-nized as "mother" and all are "sisters." Without paternity (maternity) we would remain orphans, community would disintegrate because it would be without a source and point of reference. This is the value of "authority" as derived from "augere," that which helps to increase, to grow in life, which permits the human to grow in persons. It i~ always a reflection on the paternity (maternity) of God, who giyes us life, makes. it grow in faith, brings it to plentitude. There is a spiritual fruitfulness which~.engenders abundant fruits of Christian life. Lay people often observe with special attention the life of r~eligious communities so as to see if they discover, if they perceive that "some-thin~ more" which they expect. For this reason, excessive formalism, minor quarrels, divisions, absence of human warmth, and more dull the communitarian witness. It is as if community were more an obligatory formality than a radiation of liberty and life. The laity must be able to see in the life of religious communities the carrying out in a small way of this reconciliation in depth, of this fraternity and solidarity,, of this Expectations of Religious Life / 657 peace and happiness in communion for which all human beings yearn in their heart, a strong sign of "reconciled humanity" in the interior of the mystery of communion of the Church, a model of "the new society" in which can be found united liberty and solidarity, where authority is exercised as paternity (maternity), where there is a different attitude to-wards riches, in which human relations are brought to their fullness by liberty and do not degenerate into domination, and which brings all its members to an ordered participation;'and "above all," as says a beauti-ful text bf the Puebia document: where it is unequivocally manifested that, without a radical communion with, God in Jesus Christ, any form of purely human communion re-mains in the long run incapable of being sustained and ends totally in tu'rning against the human person. In other words, nothing less than a corner of heaven! Some Priority Areas Lay people are very sensitive to the way religious life witnesses to poverty, and they are also very demanding, at times too demanding, with religious and little, indeed, with themselves. It is good, howev.er, to be challenged by this exigency. More than an "area" of work or of commitment, poverty is a radi-cal dimension of "cbnsecration" insofar as it is detachment from mate-rial goods and affirmation of the liberty which recognizes God as its only good. These are admirable witnesses. On too many occasions, however, the laity do not succeed in seeing how this vow of poverty is manifested concretely as detachment and liberty. Even more, many times, with no malice, they notice that religious liv~e rather conveniently~---even comfort- ~ably--x~ith all material problems settled in the present and in the future, and that in environments which show nothing of "poverty." It'is not a question of their asking for "romantic" gestures nor of exaggerat)ng criticism. But, at least a greater austerity and severity of life is required, a more generous availability in the sharing of material and spiritual goods, the elimination of all that is superfluous . This exigency is even more challenging since it is within a Church which is ever more conscious of and determined concerning the so-called "preferential option for the poor." "This preferential option for the poor," says Don Egidio Viganb in a very expressive synthesis which we cannot examine in detail now, questions religious very concretely, especially the institutes of active life. It demands a review of the specific mission in light of those receiv- Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 ing it. It requires a study and replanning of the presence of the religious. It deepens the sacramental meaning of the vow of poverty, places in dia-logue the great values of evangelical poverty with the pressing obliga-tions of social misery, proclaims with ever greater clarity that the pov-erty of the beatitudes is a challenge to materialism and opens doors to solutions which are alternatives to those of the consumer society. Religious should also take to heart the criteria mentioned by the magis-terium of the Church as to the evangelical authenticity of this "option": it is not exclusive nor excluding because the message of salvation is di-rected to all; it is animated by an intention which is primarily religious and not political; it does not let itself be entrapped by nor reduced to a class dialectic; it takes into consideration the existence of various forms of poverty in situations of 'hunger and misery, of unemployment and marginalization, of deprivation of liberty, of physical or mental health or other material and/or moral privations. In this preferential love for the poor as derived from the love of Christ for all is found in great measure the witness of religious life today. A special attention to the young also seems to be a basic and urgent requirement for religious communities of our times. There is a long and impressive religious tradition of the education of youth which shou!d not be abandoned but should be renewed and deepened. The point is clear; an individual becomes social and is educated, from the most tender age, fundamentally through the family and the school. These are the two ba-sic "channels" to lead youth to reality. But could it be that the States, political parties, ideological strategists would take a strong interest in the school in order to "penetrate" into the world of youth and direct it ac-cording to their various criteria and interests, while the Church-- especially religious communities--would underestimate its educational tradition and its educational institutions and responsibilities? In times of crisis of credibility and of search for "ideologies," when the most no-ble energies and concerns remain dissatisfied with the suffocating mate-rialism of the consumer society, it is more important than ever to offer to the young great and vigorous proposals, ideal certainties of life as signs and guides for their own education. Christian lay people, parents of families, need to count on the help of the Catholic school because the first responsibility for education falls on the parents, and the family is the basic place for growth in the faith of its members. Nevertheless, there is a considerable amount of catecheti-cal instruction, of Christian attitudes, of fruitful joining of faith with cul-ture which is acquired in. the environment and activity of the school. The Expectations of Religious Life I 659 most fruitful means is that of an active and co-responsible educational collaboration between the family and the Catholic school. I am sure that it is not without concern to the laity that educational religious communi-ties are abandoning the field of the school. On the contrary, they should intensify their commitment involving the collaboration of the laity, es-pecially of the parents, and should go beyond the "administrative" and routine activities in the running of the school, transforming it ever more into a vigorous, radiant, highly educational environment and seek means to make their services always more accessible and fruitful. Here there is much to rethink, to plan and to carry out along the line of a scholastic pastoral which meets all these demands. I think also of other milieux and human activities which have been converted into new frontiers of the ecclesial mission, in which the pres-ence of the Church cannot be limited to some free-lance laity. There surely is no lack of religious charisms for the apostolic work among in-tellectuals, artists, professionals of social communication, factory work-ers . According to the Measure of the Gift of Christ One last remark. The Council says that while profession of the evangelical counsels involves the renunciation of goods which undoubtedly deserve to be highly valued, it does not con-stitute an obstacle to the true development of the human person, but by its nature is supremely beneficial to that development (LG 46). Thus the renunciation should not diminish the human but rather help to develop the human stature according to the measure of the gift of Christ. This "something more," this "much more," of holiness, which the laity expect of religious finds its response in the witness of new men, of new women, penetrated with the Absolute of God, radically incorpo-rated into Christ, totally dedicated to the service of others. If Christ re-veals to human persons the 'fullness of their being and their destiny, all radical following of Christ can be only a path of integral fulfillment for humanity. It is necessary to show that what one abandons in order to fol-low Christ will be recovered even now, multiplied, as more human riches more full of humanity. Lay people hope to meet in religious well-balanced Christian person-alities because they are centered in God and, therefore, persons having an effective equilibrium and emotional serenity (how many "argu-ments" reveal psychological immaturity !) of ever more solid intellectual formation (why in the past did one so rarely meet religious on this 660 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 level?), with 'a great liberty because a great obedience radiates a richness of life from their "interior castle." They expect them to be attentive and generous in dedication and service, spreading a happiness and a joy which come from within, persons of whom one can speak and think of as models for women of hidden but full life, in the image of Mary, first and greatest disciple of Christ. Words, Words, Words How glibly do we toss them off, precious self-wrought jewels, precious beyond diamond, sapphire or pearl: Mined from quickened breath, warmed by channeled blood, carried live on currents of air they glow to foul or fair. Let us then nourish them ~with care, knowing their fire can rage uncontrolled to devastating No or curved to simple Yes, can make a world of bleak distress spin in giddy joy, and bring a God to birth while angels sing! Marcella M. Holloway, C.S.J. 6321 Clemens Avenue, Saint Louis, Missouri 63130 The Public and Witness Religious Life Dimension of David F. O'Connor, S.T. Father O'_Connor, past president of the Canon Law Society of America, is chairman of the Department of Church Law at the Washington Theological Union. He resides at the Holy Trinity Mission Seminary; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. Religious life has a public dimension to it which is intended by the Church. Religious, both in their personal and their corporate lifestyles, are meant to be identifiable as Church-people and to witness Gospel val-ues. They engage in' forms of the apostolate and in ministry always in the name of the Church and under the authority of their respective relig-ious SUl~eriors and local bishops. All of this manifests their distinctive character, their place in the Church and their canonical status. An awareness of this--and it is not always viewed by everyone as an unambigtious biessing~--helps us better understand some of the events occurring on the contemporary scene; for example, the reaction of the hierarchy to religious who are seeking public office or those who sign published statements which a.ppear to be contrary to Church positions. The following article is iritended to elaborate somewhat on this pub-lic dimension of the religious life and some of its implications for relig-ious. The Institutionalizing of a Charismatic Fbrm Since Vatican II, we have a renewed awareness of the religious life as a charismatic vocation, a gift of the Spirit to the Church.2 This has helped deepen our understanding and appreciation of its place and role in the Church. For the Holy Spirit is not only the source of the inspira- 661 662 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 tion of the founders, but also of those who have followed after them down through the succeeding generations. These charisms have contrib-uted in a significant and special way to the very holiness of the Church and to its ability to fulfill its mission in this world.3 A religious commu-nity is obliged to hand on an awareness of its charism to new members so that these gifts of the Spirit may be lived, safeguarded, deepened and constantly developed.4 Charisms are given within the Church for the building up of the Church community. Whenever a claim is made by a group of the faith-ful that it is living a radical form of the Gospel life, such a claim cannot be ignored by the wider Church, especially by the bishops who are the pastors and guardians of the faith.5 The assertion that one is being led by the Spirit, now as in the past, needs to be examined and authenticated by the wider Church community before it can be given credence and ac-ceptance. Historically, ecclesial recognition was given informally and im-plicitly for the first few centuries. But, beginning in the fourth century, bishops of the local churches, aware of certain abuses and of the disrup-tiveness of some wandering monks, required monastic groups to have of-ficial and explicit approval before establishing a foundation. Indeed, the canons of the Council of Chalcedon (45 I) established the norms Which regulated the relationship of bishops and monasteries up until the Mid-dle Ages. Then, because of the development of large and centralized re-ligious orders in the thirteenth century, official recognition was fre-quently reserved to Rome. It is a fact, then, that ecclesial recognition and authentication of charis-matic groups existed in some form from the beginning of the devel-opment of religious life. It was necessary in order to determine whether or not a particular group or rule truly was presenting a viable form of Gospel life. Ecclesial or canonical approbation had the added benefit of helping to preserve the original charism of the founder and the first mem-bers by institutionalizing it within the visible community of faith. Ca-nonical authentication of a particular style of Gospel life has helped it to be passed on to succeeding generations of men and women, and this has redounded to the benefit of the wider Church. The religious life, as we know it today, is canonically established only through the official recognition of the Church's pastors, the hierar-chy. This has helped safeguard the faithful from. being led astray by ab-errant forms of Christianity which, in the past, frequently ended up in fanaticism, schism or heresy. The Church possesses within itself the charism of discerning spirits, and this is exercised by the bishops as part Witness of Religious Life / 663 of their pastoral office. As Karl Rahner has stated: " . . . the official Church is also the guardian and guide of the charismatic element--she herself possesses the gift of the discernment of spirits."6 Canonical Approval of a Religious Institute The Church, through the pastoral office of its bishops, is forced at various times and places to state what it considers to be compatible or incompatible with the Gospel because the Church does sponsor groups, institutions and agencies which publicly and officially represent it. These public institutions have to be supervised lest they present a distorted pic-ture of the gospel values which the Church incarnates. Religious insti-tutes are one such form. Both the institutes as such and its members rep-resent the Church. Once canonical or ecclesiastical recognition is granted to a religious community, that community no longer exists as a private and independ-ent group of the faithful, nor does the institute exist in isolation from par-ties external to it, even though it does enjoy some canonical autonomy.7 For, once having sought and been granted official recognition and ap-proval, the religious institute takes upon itself an added identity--it be-comes an ecclesial institute and is linked to the hierarchy in a special man-ner. 8 Official Church recognition identifies the institute as a Church in-stitution, and it identifies its members, women or men religious, as Church-people, involved in a life of public dedication and service in the name of the Catholic Church.9 Membership in a canonically approved form of consecrated life, which requires the profession of public vows, involves an ecclesial form of commitment that distinguishes religious from other members of the faithful, even those who may be in secular institutes. The latter do not represent the Church in its public life, but live somewhat anonymously, maintain their secular vocation, and qui-etly work to Christianize their milieu. ~0 A Personal Witness That Is Public Religious, as publicly consecrated members of the faithful, are ex-pected, as is every Christian, to witness a personal commitment to Christ. But because they are called by their vocation to an ecclesiai form of public consecration, they are expected tO bear a visible witness to a deep, personal experience of Christ and to share the faith, hope and love which it inspires. ~ For religious, above all, are consecrated to the Lord. Their development in holiness of life is more important than the good works they perform. As John Paul II has remarked: "What counts most 664/Review for Religious~ September-October, 1987 is not what religious do, but what they are as persons consecrated to the Lord." ~2 The canons of the Code of Canon Law reassert some of these essen-tial personal obligations. Canon 662 states that religious are to have as their highest rule of life the ['ollowing of Christ as it is proposed in the Gospel and in their constitutions. The constitutions of each institute help specify and make the Gospel particular for their religious, how it is to be lived in service to others in the name of Christ and of his Church. Re, ligious are to bemen and women of prayer. Their first and foremost duty is the contemplation of divine things, and assiduous union with God in prayer. ~3 They are expected to use the traditional forms ,of, worship and devotion: daily participation in the eucharistic sacrifice, the prayerful read-ing of Sacred Scripture, mental prayer, devotion to Our Lady, and the Liturgy of the Hours. ~'~ .Religious, as individuals,.are ,to engage, in the asceticism required for personal conversion of heart through a daily ex-amination o~ conscience and by frequently receiving the sacrament of pen-ance. 15 These devotional obligations are assumed personally by every relig-ious who takes his or her spiritual life seriously. The cultivation of the interior life is an absolute necessity if the public consecration of a relig-ious is not to become a charade. Without a deep, personal spiritual life, perseverance in a public form of consecrated life becomes tenuous and the fulfillment of the vows turns int~) a heavy burden. " Th~ faithful have a right to expect that those who have publicly ded-icated their lives to Christ by religious profession will be living exam-ples of a GoSpel life. The Church presents religious to the world as pub-lic witnesses of evangelibal values. Holiness of life and a generous, un-selfish service of the People of God are a'rightful expect, ation from each religious. A Corporate Witness That Is Public Religious life is characterized by a communitarian lifestyle. All reli-gious are expected to live in some form of common life which is proper to the specific institute to which they belong. 16 Because of the centrality of the enclosure for monastic religious and some form of active service for apostolic religious, the styles of their common life will be radically different. Indeed, monastic institutes which are totally ordered to the con-templative life are prohibited from engaging in any form of pastoral min-istry outside the monastery,. ~7 However, all religious are expected to live in a house of their own institute with their.brothers or sisters. ~8 Their life together is intended to be a microcosm of the Church, idealized in the Witness of Religious Life / 665 Jerusalem community described in the Acts of the Apostles (2:44): "The faithful all lived together and owned everything in common; they sold their goods and possessions and shared among themselves according to what each one needed." Religious community life is to be filled with pray-erfuines~ and with Christian service and love. Religious life is actually lived on the local level, in a pa.rticular house with specific women or men. The locai community takes on certain char-acteristics, principally because of the individual religious who live to-gether, and secondarily because of the apostolates in which they are en-gaged. The image or witness which they project will depend upon many factors, especially the expectations and experience of the people with whom the religious interact. If the religious are perceived as prayerful, charitable, joyful and generous in their community life together, their cor-porate or collective witness will evidence the Gospel ideal and they will be what the Church intends--living witnesses of Christian love. It may be well to recall the fact that a group is frequently able to wit-ness better than individual persons. An individual can be--all too easily-- simply dismissed as just an eccentric. However, a community of Chris-tian men or women, living a similarly dedicated lifestyle, cannot be so perfunctorily ignored or written-off. Moreover, the members of a relig-ious community can offer support to one another by their companionship and prayerfulness, especially when the Gospel values they embody are countercultural. Living witnesses are a powerful sign. Reflective people will be forced to examine the faith dimension and Gospel values which are the foundation of their own religious lifestyle. Those who do not share our Christian values may be led to a greater appreciation of them by the wit-ness of a vibrant, faith-filled religious community. In fact, it was just such an experience which led the famous~ agnostic, British commenta-tor, Malcolm Muggeridge, to become a Christian-- and later a Catholic-- after his experience in Calcutta with Mother Teresa and her Missionar-ies of Charity. Few people can remain totally indifferent to a corporate Christian wit-ness. Either they will reject it or accept it. That is why the Church pre-sents religious as living witnesses of Christ, as Lumen Gentium, 46, states: Let religious see well to it that the Church truly show forth Christ through them with ever increasing clarity to believers and unbelievers alike --- Christ in contemplation on the mountain, or proclaiming the king-dom of God to the multitudes, or healing the sick and maimed and con- 666 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 verting sinners to a good life, or blessing children and doing good to all people, always in obedience to the will of the Father who sent him. The Witness of Public Vows Religious profess the evangelical counsels as public vows in the con-text of their community lifestyle. Their vows cannot be properly under-stood or appreciated apart from the context of their common life. The Witness of Consecrated Poverty The public vow of poverty, as professed in religious institutes, would be better appreciated and offer a better public witness if it were presented as a vow of common life and goods. Too often the term "poverty" is judged by socio-economic criteria and religious are misjudged as lack-ing because they are not "poor" in that ordinary meaning of the term. Those of us who are educated or who live in comfortable houses, drive automobiles, eat three meals a day, and so forth, (and that is the vast majority of American religious) are sometimes even thought to be vio-lating our commitment. We are judged as hypocritical for professing a "vow of poverty," when it is obvious that we are not "poor." There certainly is a socio-economic dimension to how we are to live our religious life. Our lifestyle must be adapted to the particular cultural and economic situation in which we live, so that we do not give the appearance of being wealthy. Also, there are ascetical demands made upon us, personally and corporately, to live simply and avoid the dele-terious influences of the larger consumer society. Nevertheless, we are not, in fact, invited by our vow to embrace a debilitating, crushing, in-humane form of economic poverty as the ideal of our commitment. That is not religious poverty. That is not the purpose of our vow. Religious poverty can only be valued and offer edification if it is recognized as an essential aspect of community life and, where applica-ble, a dimension of an apostolate. Thus everything a religious acquires as a member of the institute is acquired for the institute. 19 The religious community, in turn, provides for the needs of its members so that they can fulfill the purpose of their vocation in that specific religious family.2° Ascetically, religious are urged to forego standards of comfort and conven-ience which may be legitimate for others and to exercise a certain re-straint in the forms of relaxation and entertainment they choose.2~ All of this is intended to promote the spiritual life of the religious and to help free us from the desire to accumulate things and, positively, to liberate our hearts for the things of God. Witness of Religious Life / 667 When religious undertake apostolates among the socio-economically and culturally deprived, they are required to adapt their style of living to the demands of their apostolate. This will often involve a style of life approximating that of the people among whom they live and work. Life on the missions is not like life at home. Life among the poor in the rural areas of Appalachia or in the inner-city of our large urban centers will bring with it many restrictions and the call for a special asceticism. Those religious can well be viewed as living "poorly" in the more ordinary sense of the word. Generally, if religious are seen as lix;ing a rather simple lifestyle, per-sonally and communally, this will be a source of great edification, espe-cially if they are serving others generously and unselfishly. The Gospel ideal of poverty and simplicity can be beautifully manifested by such a public witness. The faithful are reminded that superfluous goods are not necessary for happiness and contentment. The unencumbered life of reli-gious can help people to look beyond the present world. It can support the credibility of the Gospel° message which religious are to preach by their lifestyle. Religious poverty can be a reminder to every member of the faithful that we are all called to rely upon the Lord, and to manifest a loving concern for our neighbor, especially the needy and the .deprived, whoever they may be. The Witness of Consecrated Chastity If there is anything that is truly countercultural in our modern soci-ety, it is the value of Christian chastity and marital fidelity. A life of dedi-cated chastity and celibacy runs directly contrary to the pleasure princi-ple which is so dominant in our post-Christian western world. Our contem-poraries cannot ignore the witness of thousands of men and women who profess to live chastely and celibately out of love for God and in the serv-ice of others. Those who share our common faith and values, especially those who are themselves without spouses because of circumstances be-yond their control, find great support and consolation in the awareness that many of their sisters and brothers in the Lord live happy and fulfill-ing lives as celibate religious. The community lifestyle of religious provides them with their princi-ple support group.22 Their life shared in common with their religious brothers or sisters is a Christian and humane lifestyle that offers an ideal context for their vowed life. Apostolic religious especially benefit from a communal dimension to their dedication to mission. While their pri-mary orientation may be to serving others, their religious community set-ting on the local level should be the base to which they return for spiri- 668 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 tual ,and fraternal/sisterly refreshment. Again, the fact that a group can offer a better witness than individuals is an important consideration when it involves a chaste and celibate Christian lifestyle. Individuals find their commitment under assault or too heavy a burden if they live alone and apart. Living celibately in a communal setting can witness that religious do not live lonely and eccentric single lives, but live in a Christian faith community and in hope of complete fulfillment in the eschaton. The Witness of Consecrated Obedience Religious have willingly accepte~d,a pattern of life that is largely laid down for them.23 They follow a,rule or constitution and live in residence under the authority of those who have been elected or appointed as reli-gious superiors.24 Their vow of obedience has limited their freedom and their options so that they might pursue the cor~mon good and the corpo-rate mission of their particular religious institute. Ultimately, they seek, as women and men of faith, to discern the will of God in the commands they are given in holy obedience. This enalSles their institute to under-take corporate commitments and helps galvanize the personal investmeni of time and talent into a commhnity endeavor. ' The life of religious obedience requires a great sense of faith. The generosity that this clemands can help foster the spiritual maturity of re-ligious as they strive humbly to imitate the obedience and love of Jesus who sought only.to do the will of his Father. Certainly, jn a society and culture that exaggerates the importance of individual freedom, Christian obedience is truly countercultural. The obedience of religious is fre-quently denigrated as a "blind obedience" by those who do not share our faith values. However, our brothers and sisters in the faith often find it a rather Christ-like response and are disedified when they perceive the opposite in the lives of religious. All Christians are obliged to seek the will of the Lord. Thus the hum-ble example of obedient religious can only help to build up the Body of Christ. Canonical Consequences of the Public Dimension Appropriate Attire Since religious life has a public dimension to it, it seems reasonable, all things considered, that a distinctive style of garb might have some advantages, especially in many apostolates, and in our commitment to a simple lifestyle. It is quite common to find that people in "service" roles, even professional ones, are recognizable .by their uniform or pro- Witness of Religious Life / 669 fessional'attire. We tend to expect that these people will be readily iden-tifiable when we need their services. 'Indeed, the sign or witness dimension is referred to in the canon which concerns the garb of religious.25 While a religious "habit," in the strict sense of the term, is more appropriately a monastic garment, custom and tradition among many apostolic institutes has provided them with a style of dress which identified them as pertaining to a particular religious family. Often enough it was a form of dress suitable to another age or culture. Frequently, too, apostolic groups adopted the contempo-rary clerical dress, if they were men religious. While not adopting a habit, as such, they did choose a style of dress that gradually became a traditional garb that went unchanged and unadapted to times and circum-stances. It was for the most part a post-Vatican II phenomenon that, in-stead of guitably adapting the dress, as was expected, it was often dis-carded entirely in part because of the difficulty of deciding on something acceptable to all the members. Another purpose for wearing a religious garb is that it is intended to be a sign of simplicity of lifestyle and religious poverty. It is appropri-ate that a public witness to the Gospel should evidence a certain degree of Christian detachment and modesty. Experience has shown that it is difficult to,dress attractively and appropriately for every occasion with-out having to invest in a.rather extensive wardrobe. A simple garb which is modest, becoming and dignified solves this problem. However, the rules and regulations of each institute, the expectations of the local Church, the demands of the apostolate and the requirements of the particular culture and clime all have to be considered when it comes to deciding in concrete situations how one ought to be dressed. There is no requirement in Canon Law that the habit or religious garb be worn on every occasion, nor at all times, nor in all places. Indeed, the Apostolic~ See itself has stated that a secular style of dress, without any recognizable sign or symbol, can be permitted when a habit would be an impediment to the everyday exercise of activities which should be undertaken by the relig'ious.26 Mission in the Name,.of the Church All forms of apostolic activity are to be undertaken by men and women religious only in the name of the Church and in communion with it.27 The exercise of the apostolate by religious is never entirely a pri-vate and personal ministry. It is always, in some sense, a public and cor-porate one.28 The Vatican Council stated that one of the essential ele-ments of the Christian apostolate is that it be conducted in union with 670 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 those whom the Holy Spirit has assigned pastorally to govern the Church.29 It is the duty of the local bishop to coordinate all forms of the apostolate among his portion of the People of God.3° Religious are' al-ways to be subject to their own superiors and to the local bishop in the exercise of all forms of the external apostolate.3~ Unbecoming Activities Church law has always recognized that the public nature of the cleri-cal ministry and the religious life places certain restrictions on the ac-tivities in which clerics or religious may engage. However, what may be inappropriate at one time and place may not be so in another. Times change and so do the circumstances. As a result, the 1983 Code of Canon Law is both different and simi-lar to the 1917 Code. It is different insofar as some of the activi, ties which were considered unbecoming for clerics and religious, such as the prac-tice of medicine, especially surgery, are no longer prohibited by the re-vised code. It is the same in that a number of activities which were proscribed by the old code appear again in the new one-~especially the general prohibition that forbids religious and clerics to engage in any ac-tivity which is foreign to their way of life.32 No specific unbecoming are enumerated here. Such determination is be left to the good judgment and prudence of mature women and men religious as they con-sider the demands of the apostolate in their .particular culture, time and place. Of course, specific directives can be given by the proper religious superiors and by the local bishops. These would have to be observed. Public or Political Office The new code continues the prohibition of the old one that religious are not to assume a public office to which is attached the exercise of civil authority, such as the office of mayor, attorney general, governor, or sim-ilar offices.33 The reason seems self-evident--persons holding such of-rices confuse Church ministry with a civil role, and inhibit a Gospel and prophetic stance. Religious are meant to be°at the service of people as heralds of the Gospel in the name of the Church. Similarly, they are not to take an active role in partisan political par-ties nor in the management of labor unions, unless they have the permis-sion of their ecclesiastical superiors.34 Again, the reason for this general proscription is that the public image and identity of a religious is that of a representative of the Church community. When publicly dedicated Church-people become too closely identified with a specific ideology, any Gospel witness is blunted, and the situation often distracts people Witness of Religious Life / 671 from the various social justice and public stands which the Church may want to make through its pastors.35 Finally, religious are supposed to be agents of reconciliation, not division. They should foster peace and jus-tice as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God.36 Secular Financial Responsibilities , Another general area which religious are wisely urged to avoid, un-less good reasons indicate otherwise--in which cases permission can be granted--is the acceptance of secular financial responsibilities or involve-ment in business and trade activities. The canons prohibit religious, gen-erally, from undertaking the management of property owned by the la-ity and from assuming any secular office which require financial accountability.37 However, today it is easy to envision situations in which a religious might be expected to do so. For example, the demands of a certain apostolate may require that, at least for the time being, a re-ligious administer the finances of an organization, especially when no one else is in a position to do so. Likewise, a religious may find himself or herself having to take care of the financial affairs of an incapacitated relative or friend. Charity and common sense may simply demand this. However, the general prohibition is a wise one and should force a relig-ious to consider alternatives. And having to explain a request to do so to the religious superior can help prevent an imprudent decision. The same type of consideration should be given to the matter of a religious becoming involved in business or trade, personally or on be-half of others.38 The present code is more lenient than the 1917 one and expressly indicates that permission to do so can be granted, presumably for good reasons. Again, it is not difficult to imagine situations where this may be necessary or beneficial, at least for a reasonable period of time. If, for example, a religious is an only child and inherits a small family business with which he or she had been most familiar before en-tering religion, the most prudent decision could be for the religious tem-porarily to oversee the business until other provisions can be made. The above prohibitions are, in general, completely consonant with the nature of the religious life. Yet it is eminently reasonable that excep-tions be permitted. The dangers present for religious, in becoming too hastily and imprudently involved in financial matters that have nothing to do with their community, are all too evident. It is especially fitting that religious not be burdened with financial involvements when they have responded to a vocation which requires them to develop an asceti- 679 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 cism of detachment and a life of simplicity. Military Service and Civil Exemptions Finally, since religious are followers of the Prince of Peace, it is par-ticularly incongruous that they volunteer to bear arms in times of con-flict, unless they are legally bound to do so. Therefore, the canons state that religious are not to volunteer for military service and they should take advantage of civil exemptions, if they exist, to avoid this and any other public or civic duty which is foreign to religious life.39 Certainly this prohibition does not apply to service as military chaplains or any simi-lar type of ministry. The prohibition would seem to apply to accepting jury duty in criminal cases also, especially if they are capital offenses, when an exemption is possible. It seems most inappropriate that a relig-ious be in a position of determining the guilt of citizens and playing part in their incarceration or execution. Again, canon law recognizes that there can be exceptional cases in which the proper religious superior and ecclesiastical authority can grant permission to a religious to act contrary to the general canonical norm that the above activities are to be avoided. Conclusion Ecclesial authentication of charismatic forms of the Gospel life ex-isted from the beginning. At first, ,such approbation was given unoffi-cially and implicitly. Later, it became an official and explicit necessity. The religious life is a charismatic and an ecclesial form of public conse-cration. Religious institutes are public agencies of the Church which pre-sents the members as public witnesses of Gospel values. The personal and corporate lifestyles of religious, as well as their apostolic activities, are at the service of the Church and are supervised by their superiors and the bishops. Since religious are iri apublic form of consecrated life, they are expected, all things considered, to be recognizable, and to avoid those activities which muddle or confuse their ecclesiai image. Above all, religious are expected to be living examples of evangelical values: chastity for the sake of the kingdom; Gospel simplicity in lifestyle; hum-ble~ and Christ-like obedience; and complete dedication to a loving serv-ice of people in the name of the Church. The counterculturai witness of religious is meant to speak eloquently of a deep faith conviction that Je-sus is the way, and the truth and the life. NOTES See Carolyn Osiek in Vatican H and Its Documents: An American Reappraisal, ed., Witness of Religious Life / 6"/3 Timothy E. O'Connell0(Michael Glazier, Inc., Wilmington, Delware, 1986), pp. 86- 87. 2 Perfectae caritatis, 1; canon 575. 3 Lumen Gentium, 39. '~ Mutual Relations, II (Henceforth MR). 5 See Raymond Hostie, The Life and Death of Refigious Orders (CARA, Washing-ton, D.C., 1983), p. 21. 6 See The Dynamic Element in The Church (Herder, New "fork, 1964) p. 62; Lumen Gentium, 43; canon 573, §1 and §2. 7 Canon 586, §1. 8 Canons 573, §2, 575-579. 9 Canon 675, 93. l0 Canons 710-730. I~ Essential Elements, 33. (Henceforth EE). ~z Papal Message to the Plenary Assembly of CRIS, March 1980; EE, 33. ~3 Canon 663, 91. ~4 Canon 663, §2, §4. ~5 Canon 664. 16 Canons 607, 92 and 665. ~7 Canon 674. 18 Canon 665, 91. ~9 Canon 668, §3. 20Canon 679; see David F. O'Connor, "Two Forms of Consecrated Life; Religious and Secular Institutes," REvmw voR Rv.~.m~ous, 46, n. 2 (1986) pp. 205-219. z~ Christus Dominus, 33-35. ~ Canons 599, 602 and 607, §2. 23EE, 34. 24Canons 601,608 and 665. 25Canon 669. 26See Canon Law Digest, 7 (1975) pp. 534-535. 27Canon 675, §3. 28EE, I 0. 29Apostolicam actuositatem, 23; MR, 9 (a). 30Canons 394, 91 and 680; MR, Chapt. II. 3~ Canon 678. 32Canons 285 and 672. 33Canons 285, §3 and 672. 34 Canons 287 and 672. 35 See George Aschenbrenner, "Currents in Spirituality," Rv.w~w voR R~L~o~ous, 42, n. 2 (I 983), pp. 183-186. 36 CRIS, "Religi6us and Human Promotion," Canon Law Digest, 9 (1983), pp. 379-410; David F. O'Connor, "Religious in Politics," R~wEw ~oa R~L~6~ous, 41, n. 6 (1982), pp. 834-848. 37 Canons 285, §4 and 672. 38 Canons 286 and 672. 39 Canons 289 and 672. The Religious as "Sentry": A Reflection on the Prophet Ezekiel James Fitz, S.M. Father Fitz is a member of the Provincial Administration of his congregation's Cin-cinnati Province. An earlier article, "Religious Life as Acted Prophecy," appeared in the issue of November/December, 1982. Father Fitz may be addressed at the Mari-anist Provincialate; 4435 East Patterson Road; Dayton, Ohio 45430-1095. [~uring my twenty-one years as a religious, I have attended many vow cer-emonies in support of brothers and sisters saying "yes" to their call from the Lord. At these liturgies the first reading has often come from the Old Testament prophets--the call of Isaiah or Jeremiah, for exam-pie-- to indicate that those making profession identify with the call Of these prophets. But, I have yet to attend a ceremony where the call of Ezekiel is the Old Testament reading. In fact, it is not even one of the optional readings in the Lectionary for the Mass of Religious Profession. Yet, I believe the call of Ezekiel as sentry is an apt model and image for religious life today. The Value of an Image In recent years, theologians and spiritual writers have used images and models to describe the mysteries of our Christian faith. In so doing they have imitated Jesus himself, ~who often used images to evoke understanding: "The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a man who sowed good seed in his field.; the kingdom of heaven is like the yeast a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour.; the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed.; the kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field.; the kingdom of heaven is like a drag- 674 The Religious as Sentry / 675 net. " These images helped Jesus' hearers enter into the mystery of faith. The Second Vatican Council used images when it described the mys-tery of the Church in its Dogmatic Constitution, Lumen Gentium. Im-ages like "the People of God," "a sheepfold," "the edifice of God," "our Mother," "the body of Christ," "a pilgrim in a foreign land," "a kind of sacrament" help elucidate the mystery of the Church. Avery Dulles' book, Models of the Church,~ uses images and mod-els in a similar way. Images and models, then, can be helpful ways to penetrate the richness of a mystery of our faith, to evoke an understand-ing of some complex reality of our tradition. Images and models have been helpful also in the understanding of religious life. The authors of Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life,2 for example, have imagined religious in the different eras of religious life as ascetics, monks, mendicants, soldiers and apostolic servants. These images help elucidate the predominant understanding of religious life during the various eras of Church history. This article will explore the image of the prophet Ezekiel as sentry in the belief that it helps elucidate our contemporary understanding of religious life. The Call of Ezekiel In the third chapter of Ezekiel, we hear: "Child of the earth, I have appointed you as a sentry to the House of Israel. When you hear a word from my mouth, you shall warn them for me" (3:16). The third chapter continues to expand on this call. If God says to wicked people, "You shall surely die" (3:18), and Ezekiel does not warn them or speak out to dissuade them from their wicked conduct, the wicked people will die for their sins but God will hold Ezekiel responsible for their death. If Ezekiel speaks out and the people do not change, then Ezekiel is not held responsible. Not only is Ezekiel to challenge the wicked but he is also to be a prophet to the virtuous. If virtuous people turn away from virtue and Ezekiel does not warn them, then God will hold him responsible for their death. However, if Ezekiel does warn them, then the virtuous will surely live and Ezekiel will also save his life (3:16-21). This same de-scription of the prophet's role is repeated in Chapter 33:1-9. In explor-ing the image of prophet as sentry as appropriate for the role of the re-ligious in the world today, this article will first examine the role of the sentry, and then how this role might illuminate the role of religious in 676 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 the Church today. The Role of the Sentry The role of the sentry has four characteristics which I believe help explicate the mystery of the call to religious life. Call to See. The sentry's first responsibility is to see, to be watch-ful. This seeing is twofold: to announce the signs of good news and to warn of coming danger. The sentry is to be watchful for the signs of good news. For exam-ple, the sentry on a ship watches for the sign of land; the sentry at the gate of a medieval city watches for the signs of the coming of a beloved monarch in order to prepare the people for this great event; or the sentry watches for the runner returning from battle to share the news of victory. The sentry also needs to be watchful of signs of danger. The sentry on the ship needs to be conscious of the signs of bad weather so that the crew can be prepared to respond; the sentry at the gate needs to be con-scious of the signs of an approaching enemy. Call to Discern. A second responsibility of a sentry is to discern signs. Is the approaching rider friend or foe? Is the moving wind the sign of an approaching storm or the advent of good weather? Is it land that is seen or a mirage, a trick of the imagination? This discernment is an important responsibility. If a sentry is fearful or shallow, then he or she will proclaim good news that does not come to pass, or give false warn-ings of events that fail to materialize. People will no longer take seri-ously any message of the sentry. Responsibility to Proclaim. Once the se~lt.r.y has discerned the signs, the next responsibility is to announce the good news or the approach of danger to the people. When he or she has completed this proclamation, the responsibility for action is no longer just the sentry's but the respon-sibility of the entire community--as we have seen in the call of Ezekiel. In fact, the role of the sentry may now become secondary to the role of others who move the community to ,action. One Role Among Many. A sentry is often on the margins of society, outof synchronization with the rest of society, even while interdepend-ent with them.~As the sentry is watching, others are busy about other activ-ities.~ To have a sense of security, the people have need of the sentry. However, the sentry cannot survive without the people who are doing other activities (e.g., producing food, clothing and the other necessities of life), The sentry is, then, one role among many---different, but nei- The Religious as Sentry / 67'7 ther more nor less important than the other roles in society. The Religious as Sentry How does the role of the sentry, and more specifically, the call of Ezekiel, help us to understand religious life in the Church today? I be-lieve that the four characteristics just described can help illuminate the mystery of religious life. Call to See. Religious are called to be attentive, to be watchful. They do this first and foremost as people of prayer. Prayer, of course, is not ¯ the occupation of religious alone--all Christians are called to pray. How-ever, one cannot be a good religious without prayer, without attentive-ness to the religious dimension of life. Contemplation (to see clearly) has traditionally been part of religious life, whether one speaks of the con-templative life as manifested in the monastic movement or contemplation-in- action as manifested in service-oriented religious orders. I believe this responsibility of being attentive and watchful is very important to relig-ious today. Clearly we need people to read the signs of the times. Prayer-ful religious can contribute this gift to the Church. Call to Discern. For the religious to see clearly, there needs to be discernment. The first step in this discernment is honesty with oneself in order not to project danger where there is none or to characterize as hopeful movements that are contrary to the Gospel. A sentry who is fear-ful or shallow will give false warnings and proclamations. Eventually peo-ple will cease to take his or her word seriously. The practice of self-knowledge (achieved through prayer, examen, spiritual direction, and similar helps) will be essential to the religious who hopes to see clearly and proclaim what is seen in a way that will truly build up the commu-nity of the Church and the world. Discernment is not an easy task. What is heralded as good news by some is seen as danger by others. We witness this, for example, in the various responses to the development of new technology. Some see in this advancement the liberation of humankind; others feel we are being enslaved and controlled by these same technological advances. Discern-ment is an important task in the Church today, a task in which religious clearly have a role. Responsibility to Proclaim. Once the signs have been seen and dis-cerned, the religious has the responsibility of proclaiming the message, that is, the word of the Lord. If religious are good sentries, they will be able to proclaim the good news (the signs of the reign of God) and warn of danger (signs of the counterspirit). Ezekiel is a good model for relig-ious in this proclamation. Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 First of all, Ezekiel, like all the prophets, denounces and announces; he afflicts the comfortable and comforts the afflicted. His book not only contains oracles that are warnings of danger to the Chosen People (4- 24), the nations (25-32), and the shepherds of Israel (34), but powerful statements of hope such as the vision of dry bones (37) and the raising of a good shepherd for Israel (34). Secondly, Ezekiel is a good model for religious because he proclaims the word of God in both words and symbolic action. His signs are par-ables in action. For example, Ezekiel performs acts symbolic of siege and exile (4-5); prepares his baggage and digs a hole in the wall of the city as an act symbolic of exile (12); groans bitterly to symbolize the city's coming fall(12); neglects the normal mourning customs at the death of his wife as symbolic of the fact that Israel will not be able to mourn when the city of Jerusalem is besieged (24); and, finally, joins two sticks as a symbolic prophecy of the new covenant people (37). These actions raise questions among the people which allow the prophet to proclaim the word of the Lord: "Will you not tell us what all these things that you are doing mean for us?" (24:19; 39:18). This proclamation of God's word by prophetic action is a valuable way of viewing our living of the vowed life. The vows are symbolic ac-tions that often open to religious the possibility of proclaiming a word of the Lord. Religious life is acted prophecy.3 The lived vows can warn of danger and proclaim good news. For example, the vow of poverty can warn of the dangers of consumerism and can challenge the prevailing be-lief that more is better. It can also proclaim good news. The sharing of common goods lived by religious, for example, can proclaim that shar-ing is a life-giving alternative to greed and exclusive possess!on. The sym-bolic action of living the vows will hopefully lead others to ask questions: "Why do you do this? . What does this mean?" Thus re-ligious will have an opportunity to further proclaim the word of the Lord. As I mentioned earlier, once the sentry has proclaimed what has b~en seen, it is no longer solely his or her responsibility to act. This is clear in the call of Ezekiel. The role of Ezekiel is to be the sentry, the watcher and proclaimer. The responsibility to act is the responsibility of the en-tire people. The important thing for the religious is to proclaim clearly the message of the Lord in our world today, even though religious can-not ¯ control the response to the proclamation. As Ezekiel is told: "And whether they heed or resist--for they are a rebellious house--they shall know that a prophet has been among them" (2:5). The call to religious, then, is to stand for certain values and to speak those values in word, The Religious as Sentry / 679 and especially in deed, so that people will know that a word of the Lord has been spoken in their midst. Would it not have a tremendous impact on our modern world if people would know that a prophet has been among them? One Role Among Many. Another characteristic of the sentry is to have a uniquely different role, a role that can be out of synchronization with the rest of society. The vowed life of religious often places them out of synchronization with others. In the past this uniqueness has been explained as a form of life superior to other Christian lifestyles. The im-age of the sentry helps us image the complementarity of different life-styles. To say that religious have a unique role in the Church and society is not to say that it is better or more important than the roles of others. By their gifts, religious contribute to the world, but they are at the same time dependent on the gifts and lifestyles of others. All contribute to the common good. In the past, to be a sentry often meant to live on the margins of soci-ety. Religious, too, have often moved to the margins of society. Relig-ious houses were set up on the fringes of the city or separated from the city in the desert or countryside. There is a need for this type of sentry today. But signs of good news and omens of danger are also in the midst of society. In our day, when we read about terrorist attacks almost daily, we know that the greatest danger may come from within the city gates themselves. Those who can harm us live in our midst. Therefore, there will be need for religious immersed in society to read the signs of God's reign, that is, the movement of the Spirit in the midst of the world. At the same time, they will need to read the signs of peril and danger, that is, of the counterspirit in the midst of the world. Conclusion I believe that reflection upon Ezekiel and his call as sentry can en-rich the vision of the prophetic role of religious in our day, can be for religious a new way of imagining their role. Many religious will ask whether they are worthy or capable of such a call. Most honest religious will feel unworthy, as did Ezekiel, who fell upon his face when he was called (I :28). To take up the challenge can only be in response to God's call. "Child of the earth. Stand up! I wish to speak to you" (2: I). The call of the religious will be a response to the Spirit moving within. This will be the source of the authentic voca-tion to be a sentry for God's people and for the world. Finally, since the call to be a sentry will be a call from the Lord, he will be with the relig-ious on the journey. "Fear them not," (3:10) the Lord tells Ezekiel. The 680 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 Lord tells religious today the same: He will be with the sentry today, as he was with Ezekiel, Jeremiah, Isaiah and the other prophets. "I am with you always, yes, even to the end of time" (Mt 28:20). NOTES ~Avery Dulles, S.J., Mddels of the Church (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1974). 2Lawrence Cada, S.M. et al., Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life (New York: The Seabury Press, 1979), pp. I 1-50~ 3See my article "Religious Life as Acted Prophecy" REvmw ~OR REt.mIOUS 41, n. 6, November/December, 1982, pp. 923-927. ,From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions I and II by Patricia Spillane, M.S.C. Address: Price: $1.25 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 The Fathers in the Office of Readings: St. Cyprian of Carthage Anthony Daly, S.J. Father Anthony Duly has been a member of the faculty of the Languages Depart-ment of Saint Louis University. He has published several of these descriptive and brief biographies of Fathers of the Church who have been used in the Office of Read-ings of the Liturgy of the Hours. His last contribution appeared in the issue of Sep-tember/ October 1983. He may be addressed at Jesuit Hall; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. The third-century writings of St. Cyprian, bishop and martyr, are impor-tant today because they furnish otherwise unknown details of the life of both the Christians and pagans of his day and because they provide an illustration, hard to interpret though it is, of third-century African epis-copal attitudes toward the Roman papacy, a topic, however, which is not treated here. More directly, the writings reveal the character of St. Cyprian him-self, an interesting man with qualities people of any era can admire and imitate and who has many things to say which will never go out of date. What follows is first a brief overall sketch of St. Cyprian's life and then a more detailed account of certain matters which seemed likely to be of interest to readers of the Liturgy of the Hours. Well educated in the secular tradition of his times, Cyprian was a man who actively and thoroughly integrated his knowledge and experi-ence within a completely Christian ideology. He appears as an effective rhetorician, a competent bishop and administrator, a practical leader who knows how to make the best of a difficult situation, and a man of great personal charm, courage, and compassion. But perhaps his most strik-ing characteristic is his ability to face martyrdom, that of others and then 681 61~9 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 finally his own, not only with equanimity but even with joy and satis-faction. ~ The selections from his writings in the Liturgy of the Hours com-municate a spirit of firm religiosity which is rendered more attractive by human charm and more realistic by a moderate cast of mind. His mar-tyrdom adds to his words the weight of tested sincerity and makes more telling his exhortations to hope, courage, and joy. Thascius Caecilianus Cyprianus (c.205-258) was an African, born per-haps at Carthage, of wealthy pagan parents. He lived at Carthage where he was an orator and prominent citizen, and, like the more famous St. Augustine who for a time, but more than a century later, also lived in that North African city, Cyprian was a teacher of rhetoric. In midlife he took stock of his own character and of the repugnant pagan society in which he lived. This led him in the year 246 to become a Christian. He gave his money to the poor, took a vow of chastity, was ordained a priest, and in 248-49 he was consecrated bishop of Carthage. The ideal of personal integrity seems to have been what first attracted Cyprian to Christianity, an ideal which he found fulfilled for him there as a gift from God. He seems never to have lost it again, and secure in it, he began to devote himself to helping others. This was especially true as he performed his episcopal tasks of encouraging the faithful, teach-ing sound doctrine, and governing well, always seeking to preserve and foster the unity of the Church. But his desire to help others seems to have accompanied his conversion itself, for one of the first things he did as a Christian was write To Donatus, the purpose of which was to convert to Christianity his friend Donatus and others. Cyprian's election as bishop was unusual in that it occurred not very long after his conversion to Christianity. That the choice fell upon him seems to have been due to his obvious sincerity, his high standing in the local community, his eminent personal qualifications, and the fact that he had already published at least one and perhaps as many as three of his Christian writings.2 Although the exact process of his election is not known, it is clear that it involved the agreement of a majority of the clergy, of the neighboring bishops who assembled to ordain him, and of the laity who were his strongest supporters. Confidence in Adversity His episcopal career was stormy right from the time of his election as bishop. There were some who opposed selecting him, and among them were a certain Novatus and some other elderly presbyters at St. Cyprian of Carthage [ 683 Carthage, who, although they may have had other motives as well, prob-ably were jealous of Cyprian. Soon, in 250, the Roman emperor Decius instituted the first truly sys-tematic and universal persecution of Christians. Commissions were set up throughout the empire which were to witness certain acts of worship of the pagan gods which were to be performed by everyone as a relig-ious test. Some of the Ch?istians complied; others were able to secure official certificates of compliance (libelli) even though they had not in fact worshiped; still others refused to comply and were subject to impris-onment, torture, or even death. Cyprian was among yet a fourth class of Christians who avoided the confrontation by going into hiding. He was criticized for this, but, as he explained it, when the edict against Christians was promulgated, the pagan populace at Carthage called for him to be brought forward. He fled not so much for his own safety, he explained, but in order to avoid a public uprising which he feared would endanger his flock. He further explained that despite his physical sepa-ration he kept in close touch with his people by letter.3 Some of these communications are included in the collection of his extant letters. In this, in other episcopal decisions, and in the general conduct of his personal life, St. Cyprian displays remarkable self-confidence. In this episode, he gives his reasons for withdrawing from Carthage, expects them to be accepted, and does not seem at all embarrassed to return, show his face, and even to admonish in certain matters those who had suffered or were still in prison for the faith, the confessors. Cyprian found it necessary to warn the confessors not to try to usurp the role of the bishop in granting ecclesiastical pardon to those who had given in to the authorities, the lapsed. Not altogether unreasonably, the custom was gaining ground according to which some of the lapsed were securing from the confessors requests for full and immediate reinstate-ment in the Church, and these requests, either written or oral, were gen-erally being honored, thus gaining quasi-hierarchical authority. In addi-tion to cautioning the confessors in this matter, Cyprian also admonished them not to give in to softness and vice once their trials had ended. Cyprian'.s is an attractive self-confidence, not haughty, a self-confidence based on truth and courageous love. One wonders if it en-tailed an inner struggle for Cyprian; if so, it is part of his private life and is not reflected in his writings. The Novatian Schism Probably because the severity of the persecution was unpopular with most pagans, and because the courage of the martyrs was probably at- Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 tracting enough converts to make the persecution self-defeating, it was ended early in 251. At that point Cyprian was faced with a controversy over how the bishops and clergy themselves should treat the lapsed, both those who had obeyed the edict and sacrificed to idols, and those who had obtained fraudulent certificates, or libelli. Cyprian, who adopted moderate and individualized attitude toward those who had lapsed in these ways, was able to make his view prevail'. His guiding principle was that those guilty of serious sin should be given an opportunity to achieve genuine repentance, a state of soul which he thought a sinner could ex-perience only through undergoing a suitable period of penance. But at the same time he insisted that sin can in fact be forgiven and that no re-pentant person should be deprived of hope, that each should be readmit-ted to the Church at the appropriate time. Against Cyprian were both those who wanted everyone readmitted to the Church without further com-plication and those who advised that reconciliation with the Church be forever withheld from those who had fallen. Chief among the proponents of this last course of action were the No-vatianists, so called because they were followers of Novatian, a rigorist Roman bishop who claimed the papal throne. Because his claim was re-jected by the Church at large and because of his rigorism, he and his fol-lowers became schismatic, and their rival church, widespread through-out the empire, was not entirely reconciled with Catholics until the end of the seventh century. Baptism by Heretics Under the Emperor Gallus (25 ! -53) a second persecution took place which was itself followed, in the years 255-57, by another major con-troversy, this time over the validity of baptism administered by heretics, chiefly the Novatianists. The difficulty arose over whether those origi-nally baptized by Novatianists and others not in communion with the Church should be rebaptized when they were accepted into the Catholic communion. Cyprian championed the losing cause, maintaining that the baptisms administered by heretics had no value. He appears still to have been of this opinion when, under the Emperor Valerian (253-60), a third persecution cost him his life. Although the Church later determined that baptism administered by non-Catholics is valid provided certain elements are present, on the un-derstanding that it is Christ himself who truly baptizes rather than the in-dividual who happens to be administering the rites, the whole matter was not yet worked out in Cyprian's day. Clearly he too would attribute the effects of the sacraments to Christ, but in his mind heresy and schism, St. Cyprian of Carthage / 685 since they involve separation from the Church, are tantamount to reject-ing Christ. How, he reasoned, could someone who rejects Christ bap-tize in his name? By the same token, such a person "shall not come to the rewards of Christ," even if he suffers martyrdom.4 His position on the matter underscores the importance he placed on unity in the Church. In the year 258 Cyprian ended his life in stirring fashion, boldly em-bracing his martyrdom. The account of his death forms the alternate sec-ond reading of the Office of Readings on his feast day. It is celebrated on September 16, along with that of Pope Cornelius whom Cyprian sup-ported against the rival claimant to the papacy mentioned above, Nova-tian. Writings Cyprian's treatise On the Lord's Prayer furnishes the largest single group of selections from his writings in the Liturgy of the Hours. These are nearly matched in volume by extracts from his Letters, and the ma-terial is rounded out by single samples from several works: On the D?ess of Virgins, On the Value of Patience, On Man's Mortality, and the Ex-hortation to Martyrdom, Addressed to Fortunatus. Finally there is the description of his martyrdom by an unknown author, taken from The Pro-consular Acts. There are eight other works by Cyprian not included in the Liturgy. Of these, To Demetrianus is a work similar to the longer, more famous City of God by St. Augustine. Both works deny that Christians are to be held responsible for wars and natural disasters, and attribute them instead to the vices of the pagans. Another title of Cyprian's often likened to a writing of St. Augustine, in this instance the Confessions, is To Donatus, mentioned earlier, which describes Cyprian's conversion to Christianity from paganism. Here Cyp-rian rejoices in his new life which he attributes to the cleansing of sav-ing water and the effects of "a quickening act of divin~ grace." Through power given by God he has been enabled to abandon lavish banquets, expensive clothing, and public honors in favor of a private life, simple clothes, and thrift. Although he once thought he could never be rid of his sins which he had come to indulge as "proper and belonging to" him, he had left hard drinking behind, together with exaggerated self-importance, anger, covetousness, cruelty, ambition and lust. He empha-sizes that his new way of life is not to be attributed to himself, but to God.5 As has been mentioned, because it recounts Cyprian's conversion from sin through the power of God, and because he wrote it to help oth- 61~6 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 ers experience a similar conversion, To Donatus has been compared to the Confessions of St. Augustine. Nevertheless, there are three sharp dif-ferences between the two works. Most obvious is their difference in length, Cyprian's work being much shorter. Second, Augustine is spe-cific in recounting his sins and the steps by which he became a Chris-tian, whereas Cyprian summarizes his experiences in general terms. Third, Augustine addresses God directly in the Confessions and always emphasizes his personal love for God. Cyprian addresses his friend Do-natus; he attributes to God his newfound mastery over himself, but he does not dwell on his relationship with God. Instead, his attention cen-ters on treasuring his newly purified way of life and on contrasting it with the wickedness of the pagan society which he has left behind. Cyprian pities the world and gives thanks to God for having escaped from it with its robbers, pirates, wars, and gladiatorial contests.6 He be-lieves the themes of the tragedies presented in the theater corrupt private morals: parricide, incest, and adultery which "is learned as it is seen"; and these things are all the worse because they are presented with the approval of public authority. Men make themselves effeminate on stage, and Venus, Mars, and Jupiter are depicted as unchaste, Jupiter even ad-vancing to "the raping of young boys . Ask now whether he who looks upon this can be healthy-minded or chaste. One imitates the gods whom he venerates. For these poor wretches sins become even religious acts. ' ' 7 Further evils in society include homosexuality, prostitution, litigious-ness, bribery and collusion, fraud, forgery, perjury, and the falsification of charges. In court the wicked fare better than the innocent. To secure a place of prominence in society, men become sycophants, spendthrifts on public spectacles, or they build up estates, dispossessing the poor, and must live in fear of thieves and lawsuits.8 Cyprian recounts all of this in order to show the goodness of God who saves us from becoming wicked or vain.9 The Christian way to live in such a world is to raise one's eyes from earth to heaven, to be next to God in mind, to ignore what is seemingly sublime and great in human affairs, and to be greater than the world, for a religiously oriented way of life is a greater prize than anything the world has to offer. Five other works not included in the Liturgy of the Hours have fairly self-explanatory titles: The Lapsed, The Unity of the Church, Works and Almsgiving, Jealousy and Envy, and That the Idols Are Not Gods, a work sometimes considered spurious.~° A final work not used in the Liturgy is To Quirinus: Three Books of Testimonies. This treatise, which seems St. Cyprian of Carthage actually to represent two separate works by Cyprian which were com-bined later, perhaps by someone else, lists scriptural passages designed to show that the Christians h~ve inherited the promises made to the Jews, texts which illustrate the mysteries of Christ, and passages designed to show how to live the Christian life. Interpreting Cyprian Three aspects of the life of St. Cyprian seem particularly significant for interpreting and appreciating his writings: first, he was a rhetorician; second, he became a bishop; and then finally, he died a martyr. As a rheto-rician he knows how to use words to achieve the result he wants; but he uses them in a less literal sense than does a philosopher or a speculative theologian, and he gives more weight to various ideas and attitudes than would a disinterested writer who is unaffected by the press of circum-stances. Thus it is often necessary to consider carefully the context in which he is writing, and to subordinate the literal meaning of what he says to the effect he seems to be trying to achieve,, A bishop's preoccupation with his duty to guide, instruct, protect, and correct his people permeates the writings of Cyprian. In this office, it is obvious that he is motivated first and last by his love of Christ and the Church, and that he views everything else from a Christian perspec-tive. Constantly he shows good common sense and a sane grasp of the limits and potential of human nature. Finally, the atmosphere of hostility to the faith in which Cyprian ex-ercised his episcopacy'and which finally resulted in his death shaped and sharpened his vision of the world and how it is to be approached; this may well be the most important factor influencing his strong emphasis on eternal life. He quotes the Scriptures, both Old Testament and New, with a natu-ral ease which indicates true familiarity; having made a thorough study of them at the time of his conversion to Christianity, he seems to have continued this study throughout his career as a bishop. Quotations are always at hand to reinforce and embellish the points he wants to make. Among his works are the To Quirinus described above, and another col-lection of Scripture texts briefly mentioned as a work quoted in the Lit-urgy of the Hours, the Exhortation to Martyrdom, Addressed to Fortu-natus. Here, under twelve headings, are texts bearing generally on mar-tyrdom which a preacher or writer could use to encourage Christians liv-ing under the threat of persecution. Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 Literary Style Cyprian's style is clear, orderly, and often ornate, marked by a lib-eral but tasteful use of rhetorical figures such as parallel clauses whose grammatical structures are similar, phrases ending in the same sound, and the strategic repetition of words. His love of metaphors, some of which are quite engaging, is not obscured by translation into English. Vir-gins, for instance, are termed blossoms;~ like the emperor or one of his generals, God watches us doing battle with evil;~2 "the commands of the Gospel. are the rudder for keeping us on the right course";~3 and the Christian victorious over "earth's torment and suffering" is com-pared to a soldier returning home in triumph after defeating the enemy. ~4 On the Lord's Prayer This treatise, more than a third of,which has been included in the Lit-urgy ofothe Hours, has been praised throughout history as a fine com-mentary, certainly among the best non-technical ones ever written. Three points from the material in the Liturgy seem especially note-worthy. The first is Cyprian's insistence that prayer should have a social dimension: "We do not say 'My Father, who art in heaven,' nor 'Give me this day my daily bread'. Rather, we pray., not for one in-dividual but for all. For the people of God are all one." ~5 Second, there is Cyprian's sober awareness that we all sin every day and stand in con-stant need of sanctification. 16 A third point is Cyprian's stirring expres-sion of Christian steadfastness. When he speaks of accepting suffering and even death with Christ who suffered for us, we are reminded of the terrible hostility which confronted him and his fellow Christians.~7 Portions of the work not quoted in the Liturgy show that Cyprian's caution about the world is remarkably well balanced. This is especially true if the pagan culture in which he lived is fully taken into account. For instance, despite superficial similarity between pagan Stoicism and his remarks about rising above the world, Cyprian clearly shows that he does not underestimate the value of material creation; on the contrary, he advises us to pray that by the help of God we experience a harmony between the flesh an°d the spirit, the earthly and' the heavenly; and he un-derstands that Christ renews and preserves humanity. ~8 ~;imilarly, in his warning about the entangling effect of riches, Cyprian may have been more emphatic than he would otherwise have been because he realized that the thought of losing property kept many from confessin~ Christ dur-ing the persecution. 19 Off the negative side, the work includes an embar-rassingly strong and wholesale condemnation of the Jews; Cyprian goes so far as to say that they can no longer call God their Father, since they St. Cyprian of Carthage / 689 rejected and killed Christ.2° On the Dress of Virgins The final work to be considered here is On the Dress of Virgins, ex-cerpts from which make up the second reading in the Common of Vir-gins. (There is an alternate second reading taken from the Decree on the Renewal of Religious Life of the Second Vatican Council.) In the excerpts (chs. 3-4, 22, 23) St. Cyprian describes virgins adorned with right conduct as beautiful, as "the image of God that re-flects the holiness of the Lord," and as "the most illustrious members of Christ's flock." He interprets the virginal life as beginning to be "now what we shall all be in the future," in the kingdom of heaven, he means, where there is no marriage. As a matter of fact, Cyprian's thought goes even further. He sees virginity as a part of the image of the heavenly man, Christ, to whom we are encouraged to conform ourselves. Virgins are "equal to God's angels." ~ Humbled by the thought of them, and not, he says, in a spirit of cen-sure or even of authority, but out of concern for them, he exhorts them to "persevere in chastity and virginity." Having renounced the pleas-ures of the flesh, "they should not strive to adorn themselves or give pleasure to anyone but the Lord." In this way, having passed "through this world without the world's infection," they "will receive a glorious prize" for their virtue.2~ The passages from this treatise which are included in the Liturgy of the Hours express sound and encouraging attitudes good for all time; some of the material not included sounds strange to modern ears. This material, because it is historically conditioned on the one hand or rheto-rically condemnatory on the other, is harder to understand. . Although the excerpts seem to concern women rather than men, else-where in the treatise Cyprian states that he intends .his general remarks for "men as well as women, boys as well as girls, every sex and every age."22 This does not mean, however, that he viewed men and women as equal in every respect, or even that he disagreed with the traditional Roman view of women as the weaker sex. For instance, regarding mar-tyrs in The Lapsed, he says, "Joining.~the victory of their men, come the women too, triumphing over the world and over their sex alike."23 So too, he uses as an. argumeht on behalf of virginity that it frees a woman not.only from the pains of childbirth but also from the dominion of a husband.24 On the warrant of Scripture Cyprian insists that physical adornments should be rejected by virgins, who should strive to please God rather than 690 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1987 men.25 Furthermore, women are to avoid being an occasion of sin for men.26 Even if a woman has wealth, it is false to argue that she should make use of it to improve her physical appearance; rather, things "that have been acquired in the world and will remain here with the world, should be despised (contemni) just as the world itself is despised."27 In-deed, virgins should be like martyrs in that they should avoid the "wide and broad roads" in favor of the "hard and steep path which ascends to glory," for the devil uses allurements and pleasures "that he may kill.' ,28 Today many would consider the judicious and modest use of makeup simply a part of formal dress. From this point of view Cyprian's invec-tive against necklaces, earrings, makeup, and red articles of clothing seems overdrawn. But for Cyprian such things are not innocent. Not only for virgins but for all women makeup and earrings are, to his mind, in-ventions of the devil: "the work of God and his creature and image should in no way be falsified;., everything that comes into existence is the work of God. whatever is changed, is the work of the devil."29 The difference between today's view and his seems to stem neither from licentiousness in us nor from prudishness in him, but from Cyprian's an-cient cultur

Issue 44.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1985. ; REvtEw Fo~ R ELIGIOUs(ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial uffices are located .at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR R ELIGIOLIS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1985 by R EV~EW FOR R ELIGtOUS, Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write REvl[w RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel E X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor July/August, 1985 Volume 44 Number 4 Manuscripts, hooks for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to RI:vIEW ~OX RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVlEW FOR R EL~amUS; Room 428; 3601 LindeH Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. ~Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rdo; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. Answering the Call of Christ M. Ingeborg Rohner, 0 S. E This article is based on a,talk given by Mother Ingeborg at the national meeting of the Institute on Religious Life which was held, in Washington D.C. in June of this year. Mother lngeborg is sgrving as provincial of her community,,and resides at St. Francis Convent; 2120 'Central Avenue; Alton, IL 62002. All of us here have heard a great deal in recent years about vocations to the religious life. So very much of what we have been hearing goes under the general heading of "Vocation Crisis~---why the crisis arose, and what we. should be doing about I do not intend here to propose'new analyses to explain, or remedies to resolve this crisis. Rather I would hope,to be able to share simply with you a summation of what we in our community have been doing to foster vocations, and what we have learned from the effort. My primary credential for addressing this subject has been my fourteen years of experience (1970- 1984) as director of novices for my community, du.ring which time I have also been responsible for vocation recruitment. Before sharing these experiences with you, I would like to attempt to give some formulation to the fundamental and evolving understanding of the nature of vocation that I have brought tothis twofold task given to me by my community. I am made the,bolder in this attempt because I find myself in such agreement with the statements of our Holy Father in his apostolic exhortation Redemptionis Donum: "The call to the way of the evangelical counsels springs from the interior encounter with the love of Christ, which is,a°redeeming love. christ calls precisely through this love of his" (n. 3). The Holy Father cites the well-known passage from Mark (10:21), 481 4112 / Review for Religious, 'July-August~ 1985 applying it specifically to the matter of vocation: "And Jesus, looking upon [the young man], loved him." This look--a specifically personal look takes on a spousal character, the Holy Fath, et notes, involving as it does a choice made on the basis of an exclusive love-relationship. The gospel narrative is the basis of my confidence that there will always be vocations to that explicit form of evangelical radicalism which we call religious life. I am confident of this simply and in the final analysis because we have been created for God--and thus created for love. Every vocation has its origin when Love itself--our loving God--looks into the eyes,into the hearts, of those who truly seek h'im. Whenever this happens, the fire of a radical love-response will be enkindied. St. Francis looked once into the ~yes of the Crucified One and under-stood this well. From that moment of encounter, he would cry: "Love is not loved!7 ¯ What .did Francis ,see? He saw what each person who is truly called by Christ sees in some fashion: Infinite. Love reaches out to his creature, and asks for a response of love. And that lo~k, and the response it invokes, in briefest terms, constitutes the "vocation-story" of each and every person . who has ever been called by Christ. Since God is Love, I am called to respond to his love. Pontius Pilate once asked: "What is truth?" Perhaps the question for our time ~ought to be: "What is lo.ve?"--because our modern perceptions of the meaning of love seem so distorted. Especially for us religious is ,thi's question of supreme importance because not only does one's initial call/response, but also to a considerable extent does one's perseverance depend on how one understands the meaning of love. The Meaning of Love ¯ St. Thomas Aquinas has defined love as "velle alicui bonum"---to will (effectively) for another~what is good. In its richest understanding, this definition would seem to include within its comprehension., all efforts, to bring another person alive in some fashion; to make another person full and i'ich; to enable another person to realize the full flowering of his or her potential. . In his.Spiritual,Exercises, St.!gnatius of Loyola noted that authentic love becomes manifest~more in deeds than inwords, that it consists in the exchange of complete mutuality between lovers, insofar as this is possible. Quite evidently what is intended in these simple phrases is a real sharing, not ,merely a: verbal exchangi~-of facile promises. What is intended is a sharing of all that I have and, much more difficult and frightening--and fulfilling--of.~all that I am. Answering the Call of Christ / 483 This is the form of love that is also at the base of that special covenant relationship which we call spousal. In our humhn experience this form of covenant bonding may, perhaps', begin with a kind of fascination, an experience which is not deliberately chosen, but which "happens" to indi-viduals. Yet, when it is authentically human, it ends with a commitment, it ends with a :decision, it ends with a definitive'choice, a choice that-is characterized by the word unconditional, a~ choice which includes as its further limit,forever. " " This is the kind of love that is revealed in the life and being and teaching of Christ. When the Holy Father talks about the love that the religious somehow experiences, to which the religious is called to make a responsei .it is this kind oflove to which he is pointing. It is the love of choice, of commitment, it involves the definitive handing over of oneself. It. is a love, therefore, that ischaracterized by fidelity in the commitment that has been undertaken. ~. The Mystery of V9caf!on ~, A vocation, the call or summons from Christ that isaddressed:to an. individual, involves.a mystery. However it happens, however the.process i~ launched, to whatever moment we point,as marking its "beginning," the more fundamental question ofeach~vocation story yet remains: Whatis it in, me, ,in my personal.history, that has already "set me up" so that 1 become responsive to that particular stimulus, and choose to answer in this particular way? How do I come to perceive that I am called, that I am called to this particular community? ~ ~ ~ " " What.is' it, this mysterious .something, that can bring (o the convent door and entrance into religious life, a person ~who oftentimes, is barely Christian, a person who knows.the proper words, perhaps, but has not yet really heard them, and is not reallylquite sure what they mean--words fis fundamental as: God,-Trinity, Christ, sacraments, Church. Yet. there clear!y is something.thatdraws this particular person to a ;way of life that, she does not know, that she does not understand,, but upon which she is some.how simply willing to embark. How can the response of such a person be a response of love, the unique response to a unique call that is centered upon the ~rson of Christ who is to become her All, when she does not even know, really, who Christ is?0 ' .~. I have witnessed this process, too often to be able to deny it. God, in his goodness, mysteriously touches the soul of such a persrn in a way ihat makes it possible for her to hear him say to tier:~ "You, come and follow me!'?.She, in turn; effectively says: "Who are you?'l don't even know you." 484 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 And he says, in effect: "Come andsee! In time you will know! For now, just come and follow me." And, so very often, this is what she does. And, so very often, this is what actually happens. When the person is responsive, it does happen that, out of such seeming nothingness there can blossom, a genuine vocation. Out of seemingly nothing a :relationship does grow and develop between her person and the person of Christ. A soul content with its God even thus vaguely understood, a soul that is beginning to consider everything else as of little value,is a soul that is opening unto God and to the movements of God within it. And God can and does act on that soul. .In each individual, then, what is of crucial importance to the develop-ment of a vocation are those specific components of .personality which make us to be the individuals that we are, those peculiar sensitivities which make us to bealert and attentive so as to hear God's call in the first place, and tO respond to its gradual unfolding within our life-story. Every vocation is always utterly unique, even as is the person to whom it is addressed. Christ deals with each soul in a vefy~concrete way. The transcript of his dealings with each soul constitutes that person's life-history. It is in the working out Of this life-story 'that different individuals .arrive through so many different paths at the convent door.' It really does not make much difference, .then, what actually brings a person to the convent door. All kinds of influences and incentives can be found to be operative, even today, in bringing this to pass: adolescent hero-worship; distinctiveness of dress or function, a specific career choice, a generous, but barely differentiated impulse to serve. All of these have been operative in the different vocation stories. It really doesn't matter, very much what it is that actually brings a person, to the door. What is of crucial importance for the development of authentic human life within the convent is why the person remains, even though the final coming to terms with this may involve a process of growth that can even require years for its full development. It is the openness to the possibility of such growth that is absolutely required if this life-choice is not to be frustrated. Vocation as aProcess . , Experience has ~convinced me that typically by the time of vows the novice really is in a position to commit herself--if only after a fashion but still effectively--to the way of life that she has chosen for herself. I am not at all sure, though; that every novice, even by the time of vows,-has yet~truly found her vocation, her call, the concrete determinants that will specify her way of responding. The newly professed are often still very far from know- Answering the Call of Christ ing how to, or even being willing to, let God be God in their lives. Even as their director, then, I don't always fully understand how a vocation develops within each individual. I do know we formation people do not cause any vocation to grow. Our office is' to discern, to invite, to clarify matters with the individual. Our task is to maintain an atmosphere that is nurturing, one in which this mystery that is.a vocation can develop. But beyond these forms of enablement we are only bystanders and observers of the developing relationship that takes place between the individuaiand her God. Vocation, then, is a process. It is not an instant product. It is a Very ,gradual process, one that has a beginning and a middle, but there is no identifiable end-point to its development in this world. I don't know how, or even that the process is going on day after day--even in my own soul--except by looking back, by recognizing in retrospect how he has brought me, in ways that I don't often understand, to ~xperience him in ways that I could not predict; and he has done this not according to any plan of mine, but according to his own free determinations. Christ does not normally call saints tO religious life. Normally he calls d~velol6ing, limited human persons who are willing, even if inconsistently so, to become saints. He calls them to enter upon a lifelong enterprise with him. ~And herein, it seems tome, lie the essence and the theology of religious vocation. The Vocation "to Be" "In the 50s, 60s and 70s, and even into the 80s, we religious had been putting a great deal of emphasis in our vocational literature on the works that we do. We used to advertise constantly the service that our congrega-tions were doing "for Christ": teaching, nursing, social work, and so forth. And we invited young people to join us in those enterprises, But, especially today, sooner or later there must arise the question: "But why be a religious? I can do all these works 'for Christ' as a lay person." And that, of course, is quite true! This is the reason why 1 personally atiach such great importance to a theme that our Holy Father, John Paul II, has been trying so very hard, and in such a variety of ways to emphasize, as he also does in Redemptionis Donum: What religious are is of far greater.importance than what religious do. Our vocation is a call to be, more than it is a call to do. "Doing," .of course, is going to follow out of that call, out of that "being~" But the call to religious life is a call to be! This is a theme of such great importance, one which we in formation work must find ways of communicating convincingly to our young people. 4116 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 This is the understanding of vocation that' has influenced so strongly what we in our community and province have been doing in our vocational ministry. But enough o.f theory! Let us pass, now, to facts regarding our com-munity and its experience of the past fourteen years of exercising this ministry. A Summary of Our Congregation Worldwide, the total number of sisters in our congregation is 1,917. Our motherhouse is in Germany; we also have provinces in-Holland, Japan, Indonesia, Africa, and America (including a rapidly developing mission in Brazil). In descending order, our largest novitiates are located in Germany, USA, Brazil, and Indonesia. The combined American province includes all of the United States, as well as Brazil. ~The mission in Brazil, now twelve years old, includes seven stations and hasa rapidly growing novitiate and postulancy. The total ,population of,our, combined province is 134 sisters, with an ave.rage age of 28. For the United States proper these figures are 10! sisters, whose aver~age age is 31 years. It is about this segment of our province that I propose now to comment. In my tenure as director of novices (1970-84), 101 you.ng women entered our 6ommunity. Fifty-five of this number remain in the community while, all told, forty-six have left. Of those fifty-five sisters, sixteen are in first formation, twenty-four are. junior-professed, and fifteen are sisters with final vows. Statistics on ThoJe Who Have Left the Community : 26 individuals left as postulants: 18 chose to leave 8 were asked ! 1 sisters left as noyices: 6 chose to leave 5 were asked 8 sisters left as juniors: 7, chose to leave, I was asked 1 finally professed sister chose to leave. Hopefully the fundamental motivation of the fifty-five sisters wh'o remain in our community is clear: these are women who want to continue on the way they have chosen, the way of learning how to return love for Love, life for Life, and, with his grace, they will persevere in this course that they' have Chosen. ' Reasons for Departure Regarding those who have left our community, the discoverable reasons for., their departure are manifold. Almost a fifth of these women were found to be afflicted ,with some incapacitating mental illness. Sometimes it is the pressure of convent living which brings such to the surface. Answering the Call of Christ / 487 Doubtless~in. some instances the potential for this factor should hax?e been discovered prior to admission--and we are getting better at this important task. On the other hand, our candidates come from all over (he continent, and in the practical order it is difficult to have sufficient time with them for the successful identification of every latent illness. ~ ' In "a few instances, those who departed from our community finally yielded tO' faniily pressure. It takes ~ourage and at times a great deal:o~" stamina to'live out the Gospel imperatives which demand that one' lbave family and all things else in order to be a disciple of Christ. "Whoever puts tiis hand to the plow but keeps looking back is unfit for the reigfi of Grd" (Lk 9:62). In these instances, apparently, the faith of the individual was hot strong enough to withstand the pressure generated by the drain of the contrary feelings experienced in the face of familial displeasure. In yet other instances, ianguage barriers and transcultural trauma affected the outcome of admission. Perhaps in these instances I was naiv~ in not assigning greater weight to the difficulty that such factors would briiag to the formation experience when I accepted into the novitiate per-sons too recently arrived in this country, or too recently con{,erted to the Church. Chastity, too, is a source of a variety of problems, the basic remedy of which remains the same. St. John, the virgin apostle resting on tl~e bosom of Christ, remains the symbol of th~ love-relationship which must develop ¯ between the consecrated celibate and God. Its absolute necessity li~s been evidenced again and again in my experience. What is at issue here is not the maintenance of some form of sterile virginity,_ but the hurturing of a "garde~a well protected," of a "secret place" reservbd for the One Bridegroom to whom th~ individual has pledged herself, whom she has chogen for herself. There is room as well of course! for the 1rye-experience of a Mary Magdalene, who knew ho~, ~o love totally because she knew how to love ardently. Bfit no~mally virginity tl~rown carelessly away, or purity held. cheaply does not provide fertile soil for the growth of true love. So it was that about a fifth of thosewho departed from our community had been 'playing (I chose the term' deliberately) with sex, 6yen while still among us, apparently~ scar~:ely realizing the gravity of their actions against their own lives and hopes, as well as against God, the community, and the larger society. Lacking in genuin~ interior discipline, they often seemed weakened in spirit to the point of no longer even recognizing or desiring their ~:rnsecrated chastity as a positive value. ~ Theexperience of being sex.ually abused in childhood was fi fact~,r in a few instances of those Whose leaving was partly motivated by the demands of "41~11 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 chastity. I know that often in such Eases something effective can be done-- because I have seen it happen. In these instances, however, we were-not able to find that "something." In regard to the need for friendship in religious life and our natural hunger for human love, a spiritualdirector once said: "Don't give yourself to love unless you have given up love." In some cases this principle appar-ently was not grasped, or, if grasped,' was not accepted. There was one clear instance of lesbianism. But evidence of immaturity and an excessive sensu-ality in the quest for intimacy seemed to be operative in other cases. The "Third Way" is no longer considered "in." But there has lingered a misun-derstood desire for friendship leading to relationships which prove to be actually counter-productive, stifling genuine interest in growing or even maintaining a spiritual life. Eventually some individuals were asked to leaye. ¯ Perseverance Reflecting upon the experience we have had with all those who have left our community, I have come to the conviction that if "vocation" is a mystery, perseverance in one's vocation is no less so. I have wondered how applicable, in certain of these instances, might be the suggestion contained in Bonhoeffer's phrase: some were "hoping to live by 'cheap grace.'" St. Paul wrote: "You have been purchased, and at a price!"(l Co 6:20). It is the cross of Christ that is the purchase price of our redemption. There isjusi no cheap or easy way to give my life back to him in the daily lived response of my love. ~ A very evident problem of our time is that of perseverance in one's commitment. The young people Who join us come from.a society that is geared to the expectation of instant results. Their expe, ctation is real, even if its fulfillment is beyond the realm of the possible. There is no such thing in real life corresponding to what is longed for in our "instant society,." bu~t they have been taught that the dream is real, and they have. bought into the dream. And the dream undermines their seriousness of purpose and their constanc~ in commitment. The young people who come to us have spent a tremendous proportion of their lives before a TV screen. Formation persons .should look at TV from time to time specifically to remind themselves of the surrounding culture out of which their young charges have come. They might look specifically to see what has been so formative in the lives of today's young people. Perhaps as formative as the shows and movies of TV is the constant repetition of the message of easy success and instant gratification that is communicated in the flow of advertising. All commercials, it seen/s, prom- Answering the Call of Christ ise in one fashion or other instant satisfaction, immediate relief from pain, the effective remedy to every discomfort, success in business, wealth beyond measure, the guarantee of the deepest and most enduring of interpersonal relationships--parenting as well as r.omantic--all of which attractive goals are to be won by th~ use of mere products. The key to Prince Charming's Success lies in a tube of toothpaste; a lozenge guarantees success in meeting the girl of one's dreams--and effort-lessly living happily ever after! Oh, no one consciously, knowingly assumes such patently absurd attitudes. But attitudinal formation is seldom conscious and knowing. And so they come to us, the young, with their expectation of "instant holiness" as well! They really do anticipate immediate and unending union with God, constant consolation in prayer, gratification in work, an imme-diate perception of the worthwhileness of whatever they are doing. They really do look forward to finding heaven on earth in the convent. They really do anticipate living out their days 'with lovable and loving compan-ions, within the walls of perfect, ready-made Eommunities. And the pain of disillusionment is heavy indeed. Our young people today need a great deal more attention and care, counseling and encouragement, and affirmation ~than did our generations of a simpler age. In my own novitiate, there was one director for l I0 novices. Today we offer the young much, much more help--both from within the community, through the greater number of persons assigned to the work of formation, ahd through reliance on a variety of outside resour-ces as well. Yet there is no sure or magic remedy for solving all problems. There is no structure, no system that can guarantee perseverance, l can no mo~e guarantee my fidelity to my vocation than I can guarantee my salvation. The strength that I need can only be found in him who~called me, and in ¯ his acceptance of my self:gift. Left to myself, then, 1 could not guarantee even today. But relying on him, I have confidence that, even if I should fail today, he, the Faithful One of Israel, will raise me up again; he will make up for my infidelity. I know this to be true because I have experienced it to be so in my own life, and I have witnessed it to be so in ~the lives of so many others. I have experienced and I have seen that he uses our weaknesses, even as he uses our strengths, in order to fastiion the persons he loves and calls into being. Apart from him, because of my own experience of being human, I know I could not promise him "forever." With him, I could hope to do so because he accepts my promise, and in accepting my promise he pledges himself to be my enablement. 490 / Review for Religious, July, August, 1985 Another source of unrest, a negative influence on t.he possibility of perseverance for the young today, is the emphasi.s that our culture places on feelings. Faith is not. a matter of feelings, but of trust and decision. Young people, however, tend to base their decisions largely on fedings. If I feel good, what I am about is all right. If I feel bad, then I made a wrong decision, and should simply change my situation. 'This is also perhaps the greatest source of failed commitment in our society today--witness our soaring divorce rate. A vocation is the source of a developing relationship .between persons. It is a personal encounter, one on one, and involves the personal experience of the redeemi ~ng love,invitation of Christ and the personal response made by the individual, an integral person, made up of a very concrete body and a very part~c~ular soul. Christ does not extend his invitation to an. abstrac-tion, nor is a stereotype capable of making a personal response. A vocation, then, is always deeply involved with concrete, historical specificity--which means that it has to do with an individual ~with a very particular history, wiao is Composed of very specific wrinkles and warts, Stains and blemishes, the sum of all his or her shortcomings as well as of his or her assets, which, all combined, constitute the existential reality, that is the object of the choice Christ made when he said to the individual: "Come!" .~ I don't know for certain that all the forty-six young women who left our community during those fourteen years did not have a call from God to the religious life. I don't know--whether through their fault or mine--a real vocation was lost in one or other instance. On the other hand, there is also the Gospel story to consider of the man from Gerasa out of whom Christ drove unclean spirits. This man, too, wanted to follow Christ, but he was told: "Go home to your family, and make it clear to them how much the Lord in his mercy has done for you." (Mk 5:19). Whatever the result of such a reflection, ,every departure from the convent works some hardship on the community as well.as on the individual. There is always some degree of tension and an experience of sorrow sur-rounding every departure. ~ And so by tile end of my tenure in office, I became much more careful in screening candidates, both for their sake and for ours. Even so, when novices or postulants leave I am not overly concerned. Their coming, after all, was for the ~ke of a testing. But St.~ Paul says: ":God's gift and his call are irrevocable!" And so it would seem that, once a call has been confirmed by the acceptance of her vows in the .Ch, urch, the individual making profession should be able to persevere in her commitment ~with the help of God's grace. Every departure of a professed sister leaves me uneasy, questioning, most especially if the sister be finally professed. I Answering the Call of Chris~ / 491 do grieve over each such departure--~ven as, at times, 1 can recognize its inevitability. Who Is Accepted? Understanding vocation in the way I have outlined obviously is going to have ramifications on our attitudes and on procedures we devise for receiving young women into our community. On principle, any girl who applies will be,given serious consideration. This principle is based, not on what some might call the "warm body syndrome," but on the conviction that God is generous with his grace, and that we in our turn must be eager to identify, nurture and celebrate the gift of this grace--which is a ,voca-tion- whenever and wherever we find it. Our openness to the discovery of vocations must be a very active openness. ~ 'Thus it :is that we have accepted girls of vastly varied backgrounds and conditions into our community. We have accepted graduates fight out of high school, provided that they have reached their eighteenth .birthday. We have accepted ~some young women with incomplete college experience, as we have accepted others with undergraduate and graduate degrees. In fact, we have accepted two women who came to us with Ph.D.'s. And we have also accepted candidates coming to us from a variety of other backgrounds in the kind and length of the work experience they bring. For myself, and experience has convinced me of this, I belie~,e that criteria,based on age and education or the length of work experience play but relatively little part in helping us to discern a ,readiness on the part of a candidate to answer Christ's call to religious life. The ideal candidate pos, sesses, obviously, a readiness and a capacity to love--and to give her life entirely to Christ, Such a person will always have some intuitive perception that this includes embracing his cross as well; involving the need for self-denial. The presence of such traits in some degree, surely, is what identifies who is clearly ready to enter into religious life. But sufficient for entrance also, other things being equal, can be simply a willingness to be generous. The desi~:e or need to be a caring person can be enough to warrant the beginning of the process of discerning a vocation, hence ultimately, perhaps, of admitting a candidate into religious life, In short, I remain firm in the.conviction that the seed of vocation is to be found in very simple soil, that God is, indeed, generous with his gift of the charism of vocation among his People.ol~believe that I find support for this conviction in the. injunction addressed by St. Paul to the Church of Corinth: ~ Brothers, consider ygur situation. Not many of you are wise, as men account wisdom, not many are influential; and Surely, not many are well- 492 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 born. God chose those whom the world considers absurd to shame the wise; he singled out the weak of this world to shame the strong. He chose the world's lowborn and despised, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who were something; so that mankind can do no boasting before God (1 Co 1:26-29). All of us who have answered Christ's call are carrying a precious treasure in "earthen vessels." We are all fragile and limited. In point of fact, it is precisely persons of the sort that Paul describes who do answer, and have always answered, the call of Christ. Do young people today prefer, or look.for "traditional" communities? At first glance it might seem that they do; the facts seem to suggest this conclusion. But being "traditional" of itself will not attract or keep new members in a community. As for our own congregation, 1 hope and pray that it would be our love for God and his Christ, our love for the Church, our joyful service of God's People, our constant endeavor to overcome our sinfulness, our desire to live in community, and, perhaps most of all, our evident awareness of who we are and what we are trying to accomplish with our lives, with the help of his grace--that these are what constitute our attractiveness and the effec-tiveness of our invitation to young people to come be with us, and to strive with us to do the same. The procedure we follow in establishing and maintaining contact with potential candidates is simplicity itself. We have very modest advertisements in a few publications; there is word of mouth; and to some extent there is theinfluence of our few institutions. These are the sourcesofjust about all of our initial contactg. But, whatever the source, every contact is taken very seriously, and every individual who makes contact receives individual, consistent--and even persistent--attention. The sisters who undertake this labor of maintaining personal contact have made lasting friendships beyond the circle of' those who actually became candidates, who actually entered. This, in barest outline, is our entire procedure of vocation-re-cruitment. There will always be vocations to the radical living of the Gospel, just as there will always be people who would "dare to let God be God'in their lives." The seriousness and the respect with which we treat every initial contact is based on this assumption. , Surely we live in times that are hard for religious life. Of course we are aware that throngs of young people are not beating on convent doors seeking entrance. Yet we ought not to abandon hope as though God were not Lord. This difficult age is the time into which you and I are born by ,God's Answering the Call of Christ / t193 holy will. And we always seek to embrace this holy will. We have to pray, to sacrifice, and to surround with tender, but also with effective care, those whom God has called and entrusted to us. We have to make earnest efforts to find these young people and to invite them to continue the project of religious life into the future, not for the sake of maintaining a community or an institution, but that God's grace.might continue to be evidenced to a world that is hungry for our witness, and that his kingdom might be enfleshed in our time, too--in accordance with his most holy will. Speaking to seminarians in 1979, our Holy Father said: It is worth dedicating oneself to the cause of Christ, who wants valiant and decided hearts . It is worth making an option for an ideal that will give you great joys, even if at the same time it demands a good many sacrifice!! May those who have received the gift of a call to this life and service take these words into their hearts with courage and joy! "It is worth it!"---as we all here today know so well. Trinitarian Image Let us make man to our image and likehess (Gn 1:26). The Father's image: creating, loving, providing; Dimmed by destroying, not caring, denying. The Son's image: compassionate, patient, self-immolating; Blurred by indifference, impatience, self-seeking. The Spirit's image: sanctifying, consoling, strengthening; Marred by debasing, neglectihg, undermining. Dimmed, blurred, marred By life's harsh ways, Unexpectedly, breathtakingly revealed By mankind suffering. Sister Catharine Consilii, S.S.J. 17 ! I Race St. Philadelphia, PA 19103 Facing the Future: Formation in Apostolic Spirituality Patricia Spillane, M.S. C. Our readers will recognize Sister Spillane as the author of"From Tablet to Heart: In-ternalizing New Constitutions," which appeared in the issues of July/August and September/October, 1982, and which is still available as a single reprint. Sister, a 'Missionary of the Sacred Heart, is a novice director for her community, and is involved in "Philadelphia's very ac~tive inter-community formation program." She may be addressed at the Sacred Heart Novitiate; 67th and Callowhill Streets; Philadelphia, PA 19151. As theologians, spiritual writers, and religious leaders struggle with the attempt to define and clarify apostolic spirituality---especially as it is emerging today among American men and women religious--we, as minis-ters of formation, have a special problem. ~There are fifteen years remaining until 2000 A.D. During these years, how are we to fulfdl our responsibilities to our congregations, to the Church, arid to the wrrld in helping to form men and women who are ready for the adventure and challenge of apostolic religious life? Some of us may be tempted to ignore the challenge before us, maintain-ing a style of formation that certainly worked in the past, but may not prepare persons for the reality they must face in the next fifteen years. Others of us may see so much flux about us that we may decide that "mainstreaming" is the best approach to formation, and so fail to provide the basic core of stability necessary for religious and human development. How do we avoid these two extremes? I am sure that all of us will spend the closing years of this millennium in seeking adequate responses to that question. 494 Formation in Apostolic Spirituafity / 495 In these pages I would like to focus on some characteristics of our emerging apostolic spirituality, and offer some tentative formational guidelines: To begin with, it seems to me: Apostolic religious are called to be evangelizers in an environment that it " increasingly de-structured and stressful. This calls for greater maturity in ' both religious identity and personal identity. Apostolic Religious Are Called to Be Evangelizers , If we are to be, and to form, men and woman of and for the Church, we are called to form evangelizers since: ° Evangelizing is in fact the grace and vocation proper to the Church, her deepest identity,. She exists in order to evangelize.~ Therefore, beyond any professional skills with which men and women come to religious life today, and the professional formation ,.we may subse-quently giv~e them, there must be a primary commitment to .the central mission of evangelization. Whether a Young religious is destined io. be a DRE, a parish social minister, a CEO in a large hospital, or a Dean of Students in an academic environment, he or she must be primarily an eWhgelizer within any given structure or situation. , To prepare persons to become evahgelizers calls for a twofold thrust. On'the one hand, We need to motivate them for their o,wn ongoing spiritual journey: [they] have a constant need ~f being evangelizqdthemselves, if [they] wish to retain freshness, vigor, and strength in order to proclaim the Gospel (EN 15). On the other hand, we need to encourage personal maturation in them of the human foundation on which the spiritual Can build the maturation in self-awareness and capacity for discernment which is so essential for mission and evangelization. For example, we need to help persons in formation to recognize their own tendency to hide behind a role, or profes-sional structure, .or human efficiency instead of dealing directly with the risky business that evangelization can be. Not only must they be in an evangelizing stance with those to whom they minister, but even more importantly, also with their lay collabora"tors and peers. Often those who can easily minister to students, patients, or parish families are threatened when called upon to address those same issues with faculty, staff, pastoral associates, and others. If our religious institutions are to remain viable into the third millennium, this evangelization of staff is even more essential. As formators of apostolic religious, we need to help men and women in 496 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 initial formation to grow in the strength and clarity of their personal religious identity so that they can face the anxiety-provoking and risky challenges of evangelization at all levels. In becoming aware of who they really are and who they are called to be, young religious can move away from defensively using comfortable positions and allow themselves to be confronted by the unsettling demands of evangelization. Similarly, those who have become Comfortable with evangelization need to be flexible enough to respond ~to the needs of the congregation within its institutiom, see the evangelical possibilities in that setting, and not cling to situations that may be' more personally satisfying. A growing capacity for mobility and flexibility--for realistic adjustments to the demands of the apostolate; .congregation, and Church--is essential for apostolic religious formation. Otherwise, we run the risk of always having to adjust the apostolate, congregation and Church to the demands of the individual. In an Environment That Is Increasingly De-structured In many congregations, much of the pre-Vatican II system of a well-or-dered religious life regulated by stated norms and given structures has disappeared. However, the need for personal and group order remains. What has replaced the external structures and systems? A vacuum? Chaos? Peer pressure? Ideally, we would like to think that it has been replaced by individuals who have the cap~icity to structure themselves and make deci-sions about external structures that are both human .and value-oriented. But since experience teaches us that this does not happen automatically, what are we doing as formators to foster the'development of such individ-uals? Are we providing people in initial formation with sufficient opportu-nity to make their own decisions, build up their own "structures, and then reflect on how those decisions and structures promote their formation?' The decrease in numbers of personnel has also contributed to destruc-turing. Men and women entering religious life today must be ready to enter into smaller communities; they may be the sole religious in a school, clinic or agency. Again, this requires a different style of relating, a greater facility in communicating with different .types of people. Religious need to be much more independent, while at the same time committed to the value and process.of community-building. Hence the identities of which I have already spoken must include the'capacity for both autonomy and intimacy in the kind of religious life that can move ahead to the millennium. The decrease of religious structures also means that we do not live surrounded by visible reminders of our faith, but in an increasingly secular-ized world. Consumerism, professionalism, self-actualization can appeal to our emotional needs and dull that faith vision of who we are and what we Formation in Apostolic Spirituality / 497 ¯ are called to be in the world for others. People coming into religious life (and those already present!) can bring with them a real confusion between their needs and values, colored and encouraged by a society of which they are a part. To be able to distinguish clearly between what is emotionally attractive and what is consonant with the Gospel requires a process of human and spiritual integration that takes time and skill. However, with-out it, apostolic discernment can flounder, our faith vision can be distorted in the service of ourselves, and we can substitute our personal preferences for the Gospel .of Christ. In An Environment That Is Increasingly Stressful Change, work, pressure, being too alone, being too close--all of these can prove threatening to different individuals at different times, producing stress and tension. While a certain amount of life-stress is inevitable and should be an impetus for growth, certain kinds and levels of stress tear at the very fabric of apostolic religious life. Naturally, we will experience the tension of renunciation between our own needs and Gospel values if we are trying to follow the Lord, but he rarely asks us to labor passively under continuous stress. Persons differ in their capacity to withstand stress and in their ways of coping with it. Some carry such an inner burden of conflict that hardly any external pressure is needed before they feel any stress; these may be the same persons who have never developed effective coping mechanisms to deal with the normal tensions of life. Others may unconsciously deny the inner effects of external pressure--only to end up ulcerated, aggravated or acting out in inappropriate ways. People in early stages of religious life development need to have a good handle on their inner stress patterns and coping mechanisms so that they will be able to face the realistic difficulties ahead of them. Unrealistic expectations of future community and mission need to be encountered and dealt with one by one, along with an understanding of what inner factors interact with external difficulties to make stress reach intolerable levels. The years of initial formation would seem to be an excellent time for dealing with inner tensions, so that later these may not be the source of distortion, projection and unnecessarily high tension in the community and mission. For example, someone who expects community to be far more nurturing than it can or should be may need help to understand what factors in them produce such a,need-expectation for support, affirmation and comfort. Another who expects community assignments to enhance her own profes-sionalism must confront why her inner security and self-esteem are so 4911 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 shaky. Both kinds: of situations produce frustration and stress that can. easily become intolerable unless they can begin to be defused :by one ,who understands both the person and the values of the congregation. Since so many religious congregations .are .in a state of bridging between, the past that is still with us and a future that breaks out here and there, we need to address with those in formation those realistic sources of tension that are built into our current state of religious life; i.e., tensions ~that may be generated by: -living with religious who are threatened by or resentful of change; -being the only religious ministering in a particular institution; -having assumed too much work and too ~much responsibility and more. We need to be able to deal with the stress inherent in forging ahead, which always involves leaving behind: -leaving behind familiar patterns of living and working, to risk the new and unfamiliar in an effort to respond to God's people; -enduring Separation from friends and loved ones. to move to areas where the need is greatest; -leaving behind our own concepts of ministry to be able to. listen and respond to what the community is asking; -"letting go" of consumer comforts that we can use to,assuage our tensions and pain. All of this indicates that we should not be passive victims of stress, but active collaborators in seeking to integrate and hear what the Lord is saying behind or through each tension. As formation ministers, we cannot expect to help others unless we ourselves have dealt with our own stress issues:- the stress of unrealistic expectations from the community, of dis-agreements with those in authority, of our own sense of inadequacy in facing certain problems, of our own reluctance to confront certain individ- Uals or situations. All 'of these create stress; as a :result.we may try to avoid or deny .the problem; repress our anger and depression, somatize our difficulties, or displace upon otherskand never provide the modeling in stress management that young people in. formation need to see in us. Maturity in Religious Identity The 1983 document of the International Union of Superiors General on Apostolic Spirituality maintains that living a truly apostolic religious life calls for "bold initiatives, constancy in self-giving,0and humility in adversity.~2 Such a challenge can only be met on the solid foundation of an integrated life where religious identity has gradually consolidated and merged with personal identity. As the same document reminds us: "Grace Formation in Apostolic Spirituafity / 499 presupposes nature, is grafted onto it, and ennobles it" (AS 9). (Actually it is :misleading to speak of these two identities as separate, but for discussion .purposes, I.~will look at them sequentially.) Religious identity is not a matter of religious enthusiasm or intellectual curiosity, of certain behaviors, practices or opinions. It is the result of a slow process that occurs where someone (whose personal identity has already crystallized to some extent)gradually surrenders to the Lord, stage by stage and step by step, in a context of growing relationship. Often in very young persons or those whose identities are poorly formed for many reasons, :a cloak of religious appearances may cover up the underlying emptiness. In some religious communities, this may take the form of exter-nal conformity and going along with the group; in other communities it may take :the form of using all the right phrases, being involved in all the current issues. However, this pseudo-religious front (which is unconscious to the person) may mask a lack of genuinereligious struggles and personal convictions, of hard.won growth in prayer and faith over the years. It is possible for one whose identity is weak or confusedto join a group that promises a clear picture of who the person is supposed to be. Religious identity is then "put on" as an external garment, rather than being slowly built up from within~. Certainly, religious identity calls for transformation in Christ, but it would seem that normally Christ looks for someone who already t~ in order to enter into transforming dialogue, A pseudo~religious identity will always be looking for external clues in ambiguous community and ministerial situations. He or she will be seeking security along familiar and well-trodden paths. On the contrary, a trans-formed .personal identity will be one that can risk, dare, step out (if even in .only hidden and small ways), He or she will be taking small steps toward the "profound interiority" (AS 20) which alone can see the world with a transforming gospel vision. Only one who is maturing humanly and spirit-ually can enter into genuine ~relationship with the Lord, allowing defenses to. crumble until one stands naked and loved before him. From that matu-ration comes the kind of compassion for other~ and "apostolic love" (-AS 17) that is .the hallmark of apostolic spirituality. How do we promote this process as religious formators? First of all, we must be in .touch with our own faith journey over the years, seeing the various phases of our own maturing in fidelity--as well as being willing to confront those infidelities 'with which we still struggle. Only in that way can we trust .our own intuitions about the maturation in faith of those with whom we work. -~ Secondly, we must insure that "religious identity" is not being Used defensively by identification with religious structures, works or lifestyle.We 500 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 must look to see if the entering person has sufficiently consolidated a sense of self so that grace can build upon nature~ Thirdly, we must remember that religious and human development are intertwined and actively encourage people in formation to get integrated professional help to resolve the inconsistencies that ma3) hamper the development of their voca-tion. Fourthly, we should continue to'provide experiences throughout the formative period where our men and women in formation have the oppor-tunity to struggle with their own religious beliefs, practices and values alone or with less support than they would like. This may sound~cruel, but if they are always surrounded by an environment that is protective of their values, they may be unconsciously only complying for the sake of rewards or punishments, or identifying for the sake of belonging to the. group. (Of .course, we have to be able to provide the hdp to process the experience and support them through the difficulties.) Unless young people find themselves occasionally in situations devoid of rewards or group support, how will they ever know if they have.internalized the value for the sake of the Lord they profess to follow? Whereas a pseudo-religious identity is based on compliance and identification, a genuine religious identity is based on internalization of gospel values that are uniquely appropriated by the indi-vidual within the context of a loving relationship with Christ that extends outward to the community and to the world.4 In an environment where the external structures and norms supporting compliance have disappeared, often we can search for like-minded groups that will support our choices and values. This is one of the reasons why identification with community is so strong among people entering religious life today. Identification is a normal stage for someone entering religious life, but that stance needs to mature and grow. At best, identification is a temporary solution on the road to forging a more mature religious identity that can both walk alone and be with others during the next fifteen years. For example, someone could have identified with a social justice group that provided significant formative influence and support for his emerging identity. While that is a good departure point for a ministry to the poor, sooner or later the person needs to face deeper issues in himself; e.g., perhaps how his anger when his work is not appreciated has more to do with his own conflicts than with his love forthe poor, or how his generosity wanes when his companions move onto another field. A preferential option for the poor needs to be at the service of the poor--not at the service of one's own needs for approval or esteem, or as an expression of one's narcissism or displaced aggression. The poor and emarginated. deserve the best we can give them--the persevering self-less labor of one willing to lay down his life because he has truly understoodand internalized Formation in Apostolic Spirituafity / 501 Jesus' attraction to the powerless and oppressed. We can help people to grow to that point of self-less giving--and often the best place to start ourselves is by embracing the often thankless, frustrating, and lonely posi-tion that is ours as ministers in the service of formation. Maturing in Personal Identity I have already mentioned several components of emerging personal identity that strengthen and consolidate the human foundation that the Lord draws to himself: -the ability to structure oneself in a meaningful and integrated way; -the ability to handle internal and external stress; -the capacity to internalize gospel values which provide a dynamic motivational source. There are many ways in which personal identity interfaces with religious identity, but I would like to mention only one additional factor because of its significance for evangelization--i.e., that maturing in personal identity transforms one's manner of relating to others. Maturing in personal identity is intertwined with the process of individ-uation-- that struggle whereby an individual moves away from either an overly-dependent position of symbiosis or cohesion with another (or group)--or from an overly-independent position of aloofness or distance. Obviously evangelization suffers whenever the evangelizer is fixated at one or another of these levels. But the emerging personality is also being deprived (although the person would not feel it that way!)~ither because the person is too fearful to withstand the necessary experience of being alone--or too fearful to interact--and therefore is effectively deprived of that enriching and maturing stretching that the threatposes. It is through facing and dealing with such initially threatening alternatives (between being with or being without another) that each person rtioves along the individuation spectrum to where autonomy begins to be possible--where someone is personally secure enough to "go it alone" when the Lord calls for that in different apostolic or communitarian situations--while at the same time, retaining a genuine capacity for interaction and dialogue. Thus true autonomy and intimacy are fruits of the long journey towards personal identity for the apostolic religious--characteristics which-.can make them servants of the Lord and of the Church--instead of being bogged down in their own fears and resistances.5 We would be foolish to expect people in formation to have completed this passage. More realistically, we need to recognize the individuals who are dependently enmeshed in relationships that are more dependent than intimate (as well as have the courage to recognize when we ourselves are 509 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 caugh~tA in that bind !), and then lovingly and persistently confront through all the stages of denial and resistance that. follow. Similarly, we need to approach the more disengaged person and persuadg them with time and patience to begin to enter into relationship. In this way, the journey of a thousand miles towards genuine autonomy and intimacy, if it has not already begun by the time of entrance, can do so, with singlebut significant steps ,in the right direction, at the beginning of religious life. Formational Implications Many.formational implications have already been noted in the course of this article. Le me crystallize a few others under two headings: Formation Personnel: If we accept ~he thesis that we need strong religious and human identities to be ev~angelizers in a de-structured and stressful world, then we first have to address these issues for ourselves as formators. How do we as formation personnel deal with prioritizing our own time and energies, with managing our own stress reactio.ns, strugglin~g with our own issues of personal and religious identity? What are we doing for our own perso.nal and spiritual growth processes? How can we understand and empathize with people in formation if we are "detached ~pectators" observ-ing. their struggles from some safe distance or if we are only aware of them on some intellectual level, having,nev~er allowed ourselves to ,get in touch with our own.feelings and our own sense of ourselves? How can we be companions to_those on the formative journey unless we have jou~eyed and been ~accompani~ed ourselves? Obviously there is need for training programs for formation person.nel bu, t, not all.prggrams deal with the issues of personal integration of which.I am speak, ing. It would seem to me that each formator needs to make decisions about where and how he or she will receive this,kind of personal integrating assistance, .so as to be a disciple for the Church and the world by .the turn of the century. Persons in Initial Formation: . Much fine work has.been written concerning spiritual learning and direction _in t,he pre-novitiate, and juniorate programs which needs not be repeated here. However, the issue of how human formation ,interacts with spiritual development.-~-sometimes to enhance.and sometimes toimpede is often a more difficult one for formation personnel. !n recent years, there has been much interest in "readiness criteria" for various stages of formation which include elements, of both religiousand personal identity; for example Formation in Apostolic Spirituality /'503 Giallanza and ~Gleason's concern for comfort with affectivity, personal independence, social comfort, generosity.6 It would seem that apostolic religious life calls for some degree of actualization of ttiese areas prior to entrance, as well. as reliable indications of capacity to continue to grow in .those directions. How can this be addressed.'? ,~ It would seem that one way would be for the congregation to be in dialogue with the professional doing psychological' testing, indicating ahead of time to the psychologist what are their areas of concern for their religious life and apostolate. Specific feedback can then be requested in these areas concerning the person being tested. The psychologist should be able, through depth interviewing, projective and non-projective testing, to assess the strengths and weaknesses of the applicant, to indicate their capacity to grow and mature in the needed areas and under what circum-stances- e.g., spiritual direction, delaying entrance, growth therapy, work experience, etc. In addition to providing feedback on the person's strengths and weaknesses, a psychologist who is a religious may also offer a perspec-tive on how mature the persbn's religious values seem to be. Feedback to the individual is essential so that the assessment can chal-lenge the person to work with formation personnel on their growing edge. There should be also the possibility of further ongoing help so that, ~by ,growing in self-awareness, the individual may free himself or herself more for the kingdom and the great work of evangelizat.ioh to be dofie in the Church. Another equally important component of maturing identity for ~pos-tolic religious life is apostolic experience, carefully planned and monitored to allow the individual to experience the joys and frustrations, challenges and monotonies of missi6n. However, apostglic experience can eithe'r be a tool for grov~h or an occasion of disillusionmeiat and bitterness, dependihg on how aware the persons are of their own tend.encies, of the apostolic reality that lies before them, and of how much help they have had, prior and during, .to process the experience.7 Finally, I think it is important for people entering religious life to gee that we are all engaged in the same struggle and that we, as professed, take our own ongoing formation as seriously as we do initial. In that way, they can have more realistic expectations of where they should be along the continuum of religious life as they move to final profession--and how much the work of maturing in apostolic religious life is the journey of a lifetime. The document on Apostolic Spirituality maintains that: The integration of prayer and action., is a gradually evolving and quite often a falteringly progressive experience. However falteringly, if lived in 504 / Review'for Religious, July-August, 1985 sincere response to God's ongoing call and constantly molding action, it giv~es rise to that Christ-mindedness which should characterize the true apostle (AS 45). Men End women in initial formation need to feel that they are partners with us in the same "falteringly progressive experience." We accompany each other on this passage into Christ-mindedness, steadfastly encouraging ,those who are pilgrims with us along the way. NOTES ~Paul Vl. On Evangelization in the Modem World, Dec., 1975 no. 14. 2"Theological Reflections on Apostolic Religious Life." Molinari; Ewen, Vallejo. USIG Bulletin, no. 62, 1983. (This document was also printed under the same title in Review for Religious, Jan/Feb, 1984.) Hereafter referred to as AS. ~For a more extensive treatment of the interrelationship between human and spiritual development, see: Joyce Ridick, S.S.C., 71"easures in Earthen Vessels: the Vows. Sthten Island: Alba House, 1984. 4For more discussion on the relationship between compliance, identification and inter-nalization in ~:eligious life, see: Luigi Rulla, S,J, Depth Psychology and Vocation. Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1971, esp. pp. 146-152, 307-318. ~For further discussion on the role of identity in religious life, see: Patricia Spillane, M.S.C., "Called to Be Both Loyal and Prophetic," In-Formation, May, 1982. 6Joel Giallanza, C:S.C., and John Gleason, C.S.C., "Reflections on Initial Formation," Human Development, Fall, 1984. 7patricia Spillane, M.S.C., "When is Apostolic Experience Formative for Religious Life?" Reprints of the Religious Formation Conference, October, 1981. Cross-Cultural Formation: ¯ Culture Does Make a Difference Pat Forster, 0 S.E Sister Forster is director of six novices and seven sisters with temporary profession. Her previous experience included nursing and mission work in Latin America. She has earned a Master's Degree from the Franciscan School .of Theology. Sister Forster may be addressed at 727 East Margaret Street; St. Paul, MN 55106. ~n addressing the subject of cross-cultural formation, I believe it is neces-sary to discuss the racial and cultural implications for both the initiate entering a formation culture and for the directors involved in the orientation of a new member to the community as well as of the community, to the new member. I will, then, first speak of the reflections I have embraced as a formation director. Later, I will addressthe implications for the initiate in a multi-cultural environment. Perhaps the call to formation personnel is a little simpler in that the expectations of what is hoped fo, r are put on one person or one team rather than on a whole cgmmunity. Somehow a community expects of formation personnel what in reality .is important for all of its members. The basic needs are the same. Each person in community is essentially a formation dir.ector, and needs the suggestions that will follow in this article. However practically speaking, we all know that doesn't happen. Formatioia personnel will probably be more effective in cross-cultural formation if they have experienced another culture and have, therefore, an understanding of the pain of oppression as well as of the freedom of having entered into another lifestyle. Formation personnel must also be prayerful people who through their reflection and love respond with transcendent 506 / Review for Religious, July-J4ugust, .1985 values. They would, then, respect the whole person, regardless of c61or, culture, education, beliefs, or personality. It seems that one of the major areas of concern would be that formation personnel have a good grasp of who they are.and who the other is. This will include a good psychological grasp of the stages of growth and development in adults as well as an understanding of the formation person's own personal growth and devel-opment. Granted, this is a lifelong process, and as individuals we are always limited in our ability to do this, there must be some indication that something of depth is in process for this director and her or his God. A few worthwhile questions for formation personnel might be: In what way am I oppressed? If a woman, do I recognize my oppression as a woman? If of a minority culture, do I identify xwho I am and embrace this difference? Am I threatened by not understanding my feelings and thus deny them, or am I open to the unfolding of myself and the other (see Mk 14:66-82)? Foi'mation directors, in addition .to being prayerful .and clear about who they are, will need to be friends who emPower the initiate (see Jn 21:5-17). Each initiate is in the same process as the.director--that is, pre-paring for loving service which is essentially unknown: "And somebody else will put a belt round you and take you where you would rather, not go" (Jn 21:18). To change and to accept who we are and who the other is, is a challenge because we really do not know the outcome. The results will be realized in a new fullness, in the mystery of death and resurrection. Cross-cultural vocations ~;ill need an environment which is, at one time, of their own familiar tradition find, at another time, of the tradition of the other. As Bishop Lyke stated: "W~ need to be with our own at one time and at another time, we need to be with the other."l Because there are no answers ~ind the process is rather a continued one, cross-cultural formation programs will need frequent evaluations and multiple opportunities. An environment which offers multicultural opportunities would be positive. If the initi~ite can actually experience his or her own culture in the parish or in a Specific Christian community while also experiencing the mixture of cultures within the community, distinctions could be made which would identify "yours, mine, and ours." "There is one Body, one Spirit, just as ybu were all called into one and the same hope when you were called" (Ep4:1-~5). Another area of particular importance is that of couhseling. A forma-tion and/or spiritual director must be very aware of differentiation. For example, the way one culture approaches authority, modesty, family life, and so forth, is different from the way another culture d6~s. If several cultures are involved, the formation director will need to be very sensitive to the nuances of languages and culture. The ideal would be that the~dii'ector~ Cross-Cultural Formation / 507 be bilingual and thus know moreconcretely the difficulties of understanding variations in meanings. We must always assume that, if two languages are being used, there is a language problem, This is also true of the differefit languages used.between the whites of Northern U.S.A, and the blacks of Southern U.S.A. Another language is involved. The challenge'is on both sides, not on one or the other. Both verbal and non-verbal messages and feelings need to be understood. The more sensitive person is often the more highly motivated person and the most open to new experiences, so a sensitive person is most helpful. Yet knowledge and experience in another culture tan increase sensitivity andthe ability to identify with another person, and motivate him/her toward further growth? Those directing formation will need to be able to live with the tensions between cultures and facilitate an integration into community. They will ~need to encourage personal identity with the person's culture and within the community. They will need to discern that which is a personality weakness, strength, cultural difference, and simple adjdstment to the for-mation culture and the community culture. Ehch person has a special charism. So, special parish or civic experiences will be important within the pari~h or~ civic community, ~With a variety of°cultures, special coimselors will be important. A black woman needs a bla~k counselor perhaps, or a special house of formation may be needed for the new Hislbanic candidates. Special prayer styles, studies, communications, liturgies, periodicals, and love will be necessary for-all hoping to live effectively in a cross-cultural community. Basic Theology : There is a basic theology which I would name, poetically, a theology of "Conversion and Conflict: ~. ontemplation and Creativity." A multi-culturMcontext implies the challenge of a.multiplici~y of ~,iewpoints which correspond with the differing experiences of people from diverse backgrounds and cultural traditions. A multi-cultural context suggests that no one group has a monopoly on truth. It further implies that.people from cultural and racial backgrounds other than our own are not merely "strange" or "different" or "inferior," but have a perspective of their own) Each person then is unique and important. No one person or culture is to remain isolated, Human beings or groups are always called to live in .tension. This tension can be both negative and positive. It is negative when it causes too much self-occupation or gelf-negation. It is positive when it calls the person to growth and conversion. Transcendent values take the individual to conversion. The human person possesses a character of abso- ¯ 508 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 luteness which transcends as well as~ constitutes the person. To live in a cross~ultural community, conflict and conversion are simultaneously necessary. Conversion is necessary because .it is a turning to the Lord, a turning ~to the truth within self, to the home within. It is a turning to the truth of the other. This truth is known through walking in some confusion and conflict to a new openness and finally to a solidarity. Within this process the human spirit releases its true spirit which is symbolic of a transcendent reality. The transcendent-reality to which I refer is that pro-cess of unfolding the~ true person within the transforming-converting power of the Lord Jesus. This is the individuation or humanizing process which creates new persons and/or new communities. Sacrament and Sacred Having spoken for an openness to constant conversion in ~he midst of differences and conflict, I now wish to speak of the need for a theology of the sacred.All is sacred. All is created by God. We as dependent creatures can interpret all as sacred or profane. In the life of every person the underlying plea is that we interpret the other as sacred. In community, too, the underlying plea is that we interpret the other as sacred. To treat another sacredly is to recognize sacrament. Jesus in his humanness is the primordial sacrament; this is, Jesus, first ¯ and foremost, announces God's loving kindness, compassion, recon.ciliation,¯ presence, otherness. Insofar as we are receptive to this presence in another, we are recognizing the other as sacrament. Our taking time to understand the uniqueness of the other in his or her culture and history is taking the time to know a new divine reality, a new sacrament, the sacred: Doing this will create a new community, a.cross-cultural community. It will mean I never take for granted that I know your history or even that I know my own. It does take for granted that I do not know but am learning daily. Formation directors of cross-cultt~ral communities, then, will be recon-cilers, knowing they have failed to love both locally and globally. ~They will be taken beyond today and beyond the United States. They will begin to see themselves as a minority who will be open to the majority. They will be men and women willing to create a "civilization of love." Cross-Cultural Formation For some years now, perhaps even centuries, there has been something of a debate about culture. Does it make a difference? We North Americans have had a sense of the "melting-pot" within our heritages. Today, in 1985, the "melting-pot" concept is basically unacceptable. Today we respect and honor the sacredness and uniqueness of each person, and further, of each Cross-Cultural Formation / 509 culture. As a people, we do not.ask one anothei" to be part of a melting-pot, we speak more appropriately of a "mosaic," that is, of a people who Choose to come together and are aware of their uniqueness and innate value systems. These people then identify their culture and acculturate on the basis of self and communal awareness. This is an informed decision and it is a decision which retains its own value system. The initiate, then, who chooses toj0in a community which has another cultural.orientation must be a person who knows his/her identity as differ-ent and cherishes that identity while knowingly entering into and accultur-ating to the community only insofar as her/his uniqueness and richness are not compromised. This, of course, will not be possible for many initiates. They will not have that security about their self-identity and thus will need more time or, more specifically, their own time. ,George DeVos states that the following areas will need to be addressed for the persons of multiple cultures coming together: I. Each culture raise~ questions regarding a differentiation between the culture and physical, or motor development; 2. There are issues related to the information-processing mecli-anisms in personality. That is, cognition, perception, and logical thought which carries with the culture; 3. The expressive components in human behavior related to the nature of symbolic thought in the person and its expres-sion through myths, dreams, ritual practices, ideologies, and other bodies of emotional and affective motivations vary within cultural traditions; 4. Empirical investigations find socialization patterns unique. Certain cultures collectively have prevalent child-rearing practices, role expectations, and specific values on the intel-lectual and emotional developments of their members; 5. The mode of change and its implications in cultures differ. Unless there is an asserted effort by social sciences to under-stand change in concert, each discipline and each culture will have partial answers; 6. There are issues~ related to the prob.lems of mental health. What is conformity in one culture .is deviance in another.4 ¯ Over the past four years, I have seen all six of these principles in action. I have 'ministered in two formation programs and the persons included in. the programs were black, white,~Hispanic, and Asian. Let me now address each area specifically. Physical and Motor Development .~ The most important cultural influences on physiological growth are, of 510/ Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 course, related to diet. Other cultural influences related to physiological growth are those of intense sensory stimulation. Included in this stimulation is the effect of such things as circumcision, piercing of the nose, ears, or lips, inoculations, shaping of the head, clothing, experiences of extreme heat and cold, or the .administration of internal stresses such as emetics, irritants, or enemas. When these kinds of things are found in a culture, theperson is found to be taller,.than those in a culture where there is no such stimulation. There are also noticeable differences between carnivorous and non-carni-vorous eaters, between smokers and non-smokers. Cultural pa.tterns tend to,be related~to ~the physiological, psychological, and spiritual patternings .of a.people~ ~ ' Information and Processing One's perception, cognition, and logical thought~change with the family environment, societal pressures, and global awarenesses. If a person is given an intelligence test which is standardized for the Anglo, a Chicano will likely fall short because of another environmental influence. It is of utmost importance that testing personnel or information seekers are com-petent in the minority or culture they are ministering to, If they are not of that culture, they must be very competent in cross-cultural questions. The examiner must establish a rapport with the examinee and'must be sensitive to cognitive differences. For example, people Who have been trained for years to be introverts will be less responsive to external stimtili and more responsive to values of an internal nature: Special training is required of the examiner for linguistically different learners. Testin~ and information seeking should ideally be donb in the t~stee's first language. Testing results require value jl]dgrnents and, therefore, cannot be '~all-or-nothing decisions." Other criteria must be used for cognitive, perceptive, and logical interpreta-tions. ~Using test score~s as the b~is for making a decision tha! will adversely affect an individual's,.education or occupational (vocational) future consti-tutes a clear abuse of the testing process."5 The problem of cultural bias in criteria must be one of primary focus for testing, employment, motivational evaluation, and cross-cultural growth. Human expression of inner attitudes will vary With gestures, folklore, verbal communication, and more. Without recognition of the differences in cognitive thought the "melting-pot" will continue. That is, witho.ut conscious" awareness of identifying the differences, it is possible to expect people tO blend into another's culture rather than maintain uniqueness. Expressive Components Each cultural tradition has different expressive components. These Cross-Cultural Formation / 511 components are noted, particularly in affective expressions. Dreams, too, are related to a culture and cannot be interpreted except within the cultural context of the dreamer. Family ties are frequently misinterpreted with differing cultures. The components of each culture are. complex and unex-plainable. They must be lived and listened to. An initiate, in order to be tinderstood, will need to be assertive enough to tell the myth of her/his family. The expression of this myth will include family affectivity, ritual; prayer life, food, clothes, games, and so forth. Socialization-Empirical Investigation Socialization patterns vary considerably, depending on the economic level of the "person. One of the young women in formation telling of her myth explained how important it was to the family to eat potatoes; this seemed very logical to the rest of us, the majority of whom came from rural farming areas. However, with further storytelling, the woman indicated that since the income of the family was .were in the form of potato chips in a so.me pop and hamburger. This family to buy a large sack of potatoes and a so minimal the potatoes purchased small package along with perhaps never had enough money on hand large piece of meat on sale. Their money came and went on a day-to-day basis. This econQmic situation formed the physiognomy of the family, its buying power, the habits of the family in terms of diet, and ability of the family to .budget. Another important socialization~ pattern is that of the roles assigne~ to various members of the family. One,child may~be assigned as the home-maker, another as outdoorswoman or man and another as the student. These roles are assigned within a culture, which then.doubles.the significance of the role for a young woman who comes to community and has never learned to cook because she was the ~utdoorswoman, or for the young man who never learned to cook while .in his home but now as a novice must cook fo~ the local community. When the.young man happens to be a Hispanic, the cultural shock is even greater. Men in the Hispanic culture are even more distanced from the kitchen than those in a white culture. Change .Concerning the' issues of change in society,- it is of paramount impor-tance that each culture understand the effects of cultural change on the adaptation and adjustment of individuals. For the individual considering two cultural changes, that of religious life and that of another cultui:al environment, chang~ will be more complex. The personality of the individ-ual will remain in spite of acculturation; and, in fact, it becomes exaggerated in its strengths and weaknesses. This alone can be very difficult for an 512 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 individual. Without much notice the anger they knew within themselves before seems to have twice its potential. The passivity an individual identi-fied previously now seems twice as passive, and so forth. Initiates must be counseled in these normal phenomena. There are variations of definitions from one culture to another. What is known to be bizarre in one culture is normal in another. Each ethnic group or person must. recognize the basic culture which belongs .exclusively to itself. The initiate must know her/his history and culture. It is not true that we come knowing our history. The initiate must also return to the culture of her/his past and reflect on that which is truly culture, that which is familiar only, and that.which is unique to be one with the "whole lot" while maintaining and sharing that which is uniquely hers/his. This requires a good deal ofself-possession and self-assertion. -. Mental Health ' '~' ThiS area bears little comment since it has been stated already that the mental health of an individual in one culture is very different from that 'of one in another culture. It is perfectly acg, eptable for North Americansto behave like "work~ihoiics" and then take off work for three days because of a cold. It is less acceptable for North Americans to be lazy than for them to be doing something behavioral which would prevent~ the cold. It is very acceptable for a black or Hispanic woman to miss work or a social gathering .because of her monthly cycle than it is for a North American to do so. The initiate, then; must be a person of deep faith, willing to move beyond self. The step beyond self is a step of faith. All persons involved in the cross-cultural formation l~rogram must be a transcendent people. To be a transcendent people is to be a people who believe in a God of surprises. The willihgness to gift one another with the space and place to be whb we are as well as~to become a new people, a transcendent people, is to be a people, who beli~ive ina new richness, a new community. NOTES ~Bishop James Lyke, O.EM., Assisi Lectures, February 1, 1982,.Berkeley, California. 2Paul P. Pedersen, Juris G. Draguns, Walter J. Lonner, and Joseph E. Trimble, Co,.u.nseling Across Cultures (Hawaii: University of Hawaii Press, 1981), p. 316.~ 3Archie Smith, Jr., Ph.D., "Pastoral Care in Multi-Cultural Contdxt," Guest Lecturei', Pacific School of Religion, February,, 1983, unpublished paper. 4George DeVos, "Problems and Research in Comparative Human Behavior;" Proceed-ings of the American Philosophical Society, Vol. 113, No; 5, October, 1968, ppl 351 ff. 5Joe L. Martinez, Jr., Chicano Psychology (New York: Academic Press, 19~77), p. 181~ Christian and Religious Obedience Brian O'Leary, S.J. Father O'Leary's earlier article, "Celibate Friendship," appear.ed in the issue of Janu-ary/ February, 1980. Father resides in Manresa House (Dollymount; Dublin'3; Ireland) where he is occupied in research and teaching courses in Jesuit spirituality and in the theology of religious life: O ui~ whole relationship"with God can be both e~perienced and under-stood ~n terms of obedience and "disobedience. Obedience is not just one virtue among other virtues. It is not part of a relationship, that is experienced in isolation, or that can be examined in isolation from the remainder of that relationship. It is an element ir~ every virtue, or if one prefers, it is the soil in which all other virtues take root and grow. This, of course, is taking obedience in its widest sense as cooperation with the will of God, bt~t this is also its most fundamental sense. There is an all-pervasiveness about obe-dience ~vhich reaches into every nook and cranny of our human existence. Obedience as Listening It is illuminating to reflect on the root meaning of the Latin word oboedire which means to listen. We are called to listen to God as he speaks, communicates, reveals himself in Scripture, in the teaching of the Church, in other people, in the signs of the times, in our consciences, in the stirrings of our hearts. Such listening can take myriad forms, from basic self-a~cep-tance, throughan eager following of one's special calling within the Christian community, to the final Amen in accepting the time and manner of one's death. Samuel's "Speak, Yahweh, your servant is listening" (1 S 3:10) is the basic,'lifelong attitude and prayer of the devout Christian. Since Christianity is a form of theism, its adherents are committed to a 513 514 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 belief in the self-revelation of a personal God. Consequently much emphasis is placed on the supernatural modes of God's speaking, such as inspired and inerrant Scriptures, and the life and teaching of Jesus himself! At various times in the past ~and in various different ways, God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets; but in our own time, the last days, he has spoken to us through his Son, the Son that he has appointed to inherit everything and through whom he made everything there is (Heb 1:'1-2). But we ought not to minimize the more ordinary, natural modes of God's speaking. God is the God of reality, and so every aspect of reality is a vehicle for his communication with us. Listening begins, therefore, with what is closest to us--our experience of ourselves. We listen to our bodies as they reveal their~ needs to us (e.g. for nourishment, rest, shelter). We listen to our affectivity with its constantly fluctuating attractions and revulsions. We listen to our souls yearning for ultimate meaning, for aesth~etic expe-rience, an'~ for everitual immortality. To fail to listen to ourselves is to fail to listen to God. As we move outwards from our own psyches there awaits us the invitation to listen to others. Men and women in their very humanity, in their interpersonal relationships and as constitutive of society, are mediators of God and his lording pla, n for us. We are called to listen, n~ot just.to the words people use, but to the experiences,~the Vulnerability, the fragility, the mute i0ngings ~that lie behind the words. This mode"of attentive, empathetic listening, this contemplative attitude towards people, involves encountering the other as other find not as a mere projection of ourselves and our o.wn concerns. As the other speaks, so God communicates, whether we are meeting~ttlat other'as individual or as societal, o~ Obedience as Faith ' The all-pervasive, all-embracing quality of obedience is also underlined in Paul's phrase, "the obedienc~ of faith." ~ Through him [Christ] we received grace and our apostolic mission to preach the obedience of faith to all pagan nations in honor of his name (Rm 1:5). .Glory to him who is able to give you the strength tO liv~ according to the Good News I preach, a~nd in which I proclaim Jesus Christ, the revelation of a mystery kept secret for endless ages, but now so clear that it must be broadcast to .pagans everywhere to bring them to the obedience of faith (Rm 16:25-26). ere obedience is clearly not a particular moral virtue, but that total human response to the Good News. which is proclaimed in the apostolic preaching. Paul's mission is to bring people to this surrender in faith to Christian and Religious Obedience / 515 God. This surrender is not forced; it may be refused. It is a free acceptance of, and response to the Word. This is the radical experience of metanoia for which Paul's own conversion on the road to Damascus could ser~e as a paradigm. Ultimately, for Paul faith is obedience and "obedience is faith, while unbelief is disobedience and .disobedience is unbelief. In the Old Testament Abraham exemplifies this faith-obedience both in his response to God's call (Gn 12:1-5) and in his willingness to sacrifice his son, Isaac (Gn 22:1-18). In the latter story Abraham is asked to take and offer as a holocaust not only "your son, your only child Isaac, whom you love" (which would be a natural and personal tragedy), the one person through whom the promises of Yahweh were to be fulfilled for the Chosen People (which would be a spiritual ~and national tragedy). The.key to the biblical writer's interpretation of this complex story is found in the words: All the nations of the earth shall bless themselves by your descendents, as a reward for your obedience (v. 18). But the primary model of Christian Obedience is that of the adult man Jesus to his Father. Time and again, in St. John's gospel particularly, wd see the deep fascination which the Father exercised on the human sensibility of Jesus. Much light is thrown on what it meant for Jesus tO be°Son, and how his personal se~nse of identity came from his experience of filial'~relationship. His mission appears, not so much as something entrusted to him from outside, but a~s intrinsic to who he is. "To be Son" is "to be ~ent'~ is "to be on mission." My food is to do the will of the one who sent me, and to complete his work (Jn 4:34): 1 can do noticing by myself; I can only j6dge as I am told to judge, and my-judging is just, because my aim is to do not my own will but the will of him who sent me (Jn 5:30). When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am he and that I do nothing of myself: what the Father' h~ taught me is what I preach; lie who sent me is with me and has not left me to myself, for I always do what pleases him (Jn 8:28-29). The world must be brought to know that I love the Father and that I am doing exactly what the Father told me (Jn 14:3 l). The cumulative effect of such textspowerfully communicates the obe-diential attitude of Jesus into which the Father wishes to draw all Christians. Obedience within the Church The Father sent his Son to carry out a saving mission which culminated in the Paschal Mystery, the death and resurrection ,of Jesus. The Father 516/ Review for Religious,, July-August, 1985 and the Son sent the Holy Spirit to carry out a sanctifying mission which inaugurated the community of the New Israel at Pentecost the commu-nity that is Church. Through baptism each person who is initiated into the Church is at the same time inserted into this two-pronged saving/sanctifying mission. Every Christian is not only saved and sanctified but called to share in the saving and sanctifying of others, to be sent into the world as'was the Spirit-filled Jesus. But the primary subject of this sending or mission is not the individual but the community or Church itself. It is by being in com-munion with the Church that the individual receives his/her mission which has its ultimate source ("author") in the Father. Hence the need for authority. Without authority and the means to exercise that authority the Church could not maintain itself in,unity nor fulfill its mission to the world. Since .the Church .is of divine institution and part of God's plan for humanity, the only aut.hority which can legitimately exist in it is God's autho.rity. When we reflect on Scripture we see how God reveals himself, communicates his mes.sage, and exercises his authority through intermediaries or mediators. Moses mediated the Old Covenant to Israel in the Old Testament, while Jesus in his hum~inity mediated the New Covenant in New Testament times. Now the risen Christ through his Spirit shares this mediated authority with th.e Church as a whole and with its duly-constituted leaders. Ho~v such authority is exercised need not concern us here; enough to recognize that it exists and that it is coextensive with the needs of the community for its internal well-being and its saving/sanctifying mission. Much can be learned from the final logion in St. Matthew's gospel: All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, make disciples of all the nations; baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you. And know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time (Mt 28:18-20). Christ's presence thrrugfi the ages guarantees the reality of the lifeline linking the Church with the source, the author, of all authority God the Father. Religious Obedience There is a parallel, although not an identity, between the authority which exists in the community that is Church,and that which exists in the community that is a religious institute. In both, the ultimate source of authority is God; in both, that authority is mediated; in both, an obediential response is required. Such authority within a religious institute is recognized in faith by a person making a vow of obedience, and then responded to existentially through the daily living out of that vow. Although~both the Christian and Religious Obedience / 517 authority and the obedience are mediated, the vow itself can only be made to God, More precisely, it is made to the Father. As with Christian obedience in general, of which religious obedience is a particular expression, our response-pattern as religious is that of Jesus who "emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave" (Ph 2:7), yet knowing that he is the Beloved Son of the Fatfier. Furthermore the religious state constitutes a closer imitation and an abiding ¯ reenactment in the Church of the form Of life which the Son of God made his own when he came into the world to dothe will of the Father (Lumen Gentium, 44). A question, however, can be raised about the legitimacy of my (or any Christian's) making a vow of obedience in a particular institute. There is a presupposition that the' will of God fbr m~ is to be found with more certainty and clarity in the context of this specific group of people. Both logically and chronologically, before the vow, and necessarily underpin-ning it, is :an act of faith. How can such an act of faith be justified'?. The answer is twofold, Subjectively, there is my own inner experience of call which is leadihg me, not into marriage, nor into the single lay state, nor into some other religious institute, but into this concrete grouping of likeminded and vowed Christians. It is presumed that this subjective experience has been prayer-fully and realistically discerned with the aid of competent spiritual direction. Objectively, there is the guarante6 of the Church which, in approving this institute, has recognized it as a milieu in which the Holy Spirit is present and acti~,e. When the institute in its turn decides to accept me as a member, I can be sure that the Holy Spirit will speak to me in the context, and through the authority structures, of thisgrouping. Within such an institute ongoing discernment isopossible, and such discernment brings together harmoniously the interdependent realities of authority and obedience. The vow implies that never again~do I discern anything merely asan individual. Religious obedience is primarily the attitude of the whole institute seeking the will of God through living out the impliEations of its charism in the contemporary 'world. At any particular time this communal attitude may be more or less faith-ful, and so more or less obediential, more or less Christlike. (A barometer, in psychological terms, is often that of'morale.) The individual member, in turn, may be more or less in ha~rmony with this communal attitude. If I have a strong sense of belonging, then I will actively and enthusiastically participate in the institute's communal search for God's will, striving together towards viable and relevant apostolic choices. On the other hand, if I feel alienated from the institute, living on its fringes, I will tend to opt out of the communal search. I will become 518 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 passive in regard to discernment and forward planning, at best adopting a privatized approach to obedience~doing what I am told, perhaps, but otherwise abandoning my responsibility to play an active role in the dis-cerning and decision-making process within the institute.,~This is a form of disobedience and a failure in faith. Four Aspects of Obedience , ~ Christian and religious obedience involves the whole person and calls for a radical stance which can only originate at the core of a person's being. If that cbre has not been touched, obedience remains superficial if not inauthentic. Because of its all-pervasive nature, obedience is multi-faceted and needs to be examined from different points of view if its reality is not to be distorted. With religious obedience especially in mind we~ will now raise up four of these aspects or dimensions. Ascetical The human person is not obedient by nature. There is both a positive and a negative reason for this. Positively, autonomy or self-rule is the mark of the mature pets.on. The journey from childhood to adulthood is in large part a growth in desire for, capacity for, and exercise of autonomy. But since .a per.son lives in a human community, this autonomy has to be balanced by the demands of interpersonal,, social and political realities. Accepting the need for such balance, and integrating the corresponding limitations of one's autonomy, are also parts of the maturation process. All of this already presupposes an ongoing asceticism. Limitations imposed on one's autonomy by external factors and forces invariably pro-voke resistance, anger, pain and yet eventually they have to be rdcognized as inevitable. This process of growth is sometimes presented as moving through the stages of dependence, independeiice, and interdependence. This iast is the mark~of the mature, socially-integrated adult: an autonomy which recognizes the corresponding autonomy and rights of others. Negatively, there are the realities of sin and disorder. The healthy drive towards autonomy is seduced and vitiated by an unhealthy drive towards egoism and pride. While human autonomy can never b~ absolute, yet we are constat~tly beguiled by Satan's promise: "You will be like gods" (Gn 3:5). It is surely significant that the sin of Adam (ht~mankind) is presented in Scripture as disobedience arising from an overweening desire for autono-my the auionomy of God himself. Against this background the ascetical aspect of religious obedience becomes clearer. Obedience is a human virtue, an attitudinal habit which must be learned through its exercise. The aim is never to break a person's Christian and Religious Obedience / 519 will, but to lead the religious to a genuine inner freedom which will prevent manipulation either by outside pressures or by disorders within the-self. Such freedom will express itself not only in docility and availability, but also in creativity and initiative. Mystical. . This second aspects.of obedience consists in that contemplative gaze towards Christ which enables one to discover him in the interplay between authority and obedience. Given this contemplative attitude a religious actualizes an increasingly intimate union with Christ in two ways. Firstly, the person recognizes in the authority of the superior the authori.ty of Christ, and in the person of the superior the person of Christ. Secondly, othe religious enters into and continually enfleshes, the obediential attitude of Christ himself. The Risen Lord does not hand over, as it were, our obedience t6 the Father as something extrinsic to himself. Rather, since we died and rose again with him in baptism, our obedience is part of his obedience, a prolongation of it in today's ~vorld, just as our prayer is part of his-prayer and is offered to the Father as the prayer of the Whole Christ: the Body-~- head and members. Religious obedience, therefore, is both obedience to Christ present in the superior, and a sharing in the obedience of Christ as he responds filially and radically to his and our Father. He was humble and walked, the path of obedience all the way to death his death on the cross (Ph 2:8). Our obedience and that of Christ are co-terminous. They both lead to Calvary. Obedience, therefore, can be compared with martyrdom, as indeed it has been in the tradition. Martyrdom haaS, either be that total, instan-taneous and violent handing over of ourselves to God through other-in-flicted d~hth, or the piecemeal, gradual, daily handing over of ourselv~es to God through the self-inflicted consequences of the vow of religious obedience. The latter is experienced as continued self-emptying which builds'up to that final and inevitable self-emptying of our natural death when we shall hopefully say with utter freedom and love, "Father, into your hands 1 commit my spirit" (Lk 23:46). Apostolic ¯ Insofar as religious obedience is a union with the obediential will of Christ, so far is it also a union with the salvific will of the Father who "wants everyone to be saved and reach full knowledge of the truth" (1 Tm 2:4). As such, along with every other expression of Christian obedience, it is truly apostolic. Nevertheless, in specifically apostolic institutes the link between obedience and apostolate is much more explicit and direct. Here obedience is primarily in function of mission, a spiritual tool of mission. ~90 ] R~view for Religious, July-August, 1983 The reality of, authoi-ity-obedience is thee channel through which mission, ¯ which originates with the Father, is mediated to the institute and to the individual members. Since mission is constittitive of the basic charism of - such institutes, and is not an optional or subsidiary dimension, obedience as apostolic.has an enormous importance and centrality. Under this heading comes the whole area bf apostolic discernment, both personal and communal. Apostolic choiceS---the selection of ministries and plans for running and evaluating them--become a major issue. A deep level of trust and openness between the members of the institute, and especially in relations with superiors, is necessary. Underpinning this, a spirit.uality which closely integrates contemplation and action is required. Authority calls 'forth and harnesses the good will, talents and energies of all, directing them with zeal and in the spirit of the institute, towards mission. In ,such an atmosphere of faith and serious purpose one dare not trivialize obedience, for example, by seeing it merely in terms of discipline, good order, or even of asceticism. If mature adult obedience does not flourish, neither does the charism of the ir~stitute, and neither does the. mission which is that of the contemporary Christ. Unitive Obedience leads to a union of minds and hearts. However, this is true only when its ascetical demands have been accepted, its mystical dimension has been experienced, and its apostolic thrust has become a powerful dynamic in one's own life and that of one's fellow:religious. This unitive aspect emerges almost spontaneously as the result of religious obedien~ which i~ lix;ed authentically and faithfully. It is not the direct purpos.e of obedience, but rather a side effect which can be gratefully recognized and received as part of the hundredfold promised by Christ to those who have left all for his sake. Vowed Celibacy and Human Sexuality M. Keith, 0 S. E Sister Keith works at the Parish Center of St. Alphonsus Church; 154 Church Street; Deet'~eld, MI 49238, where she may be addressed. There is no doubt that the mentors of our society today, probably at no time more so in history, have placed a great deal of emphasis on complete sexual fulfillment as the answer to everything. Heavy demands are placed on people for self-fulfillment via genital satisfaction. New patterns of sexual manners and morals aris'e constantly. This stress on genital intimacy makes it even more difficult to ignore. Media blitzes, which overtly and covertly proffer a barrage of sexual invitations to genital intimacy to the whole of society, at times overwhelm people. It can be said then, without a doubt, that our culture's emphasis on genital sex dbes provide at least subliminal seduction to all. Therefore, in this age, with its stress on genital intimacy for self-fulfill-ment, celibacy seems an impossible contradiction to the expectations for life which most people hold as a value. Lifelong celibacy, deliberately and freely chosen in the face of one of the most sex,oriented of societies, seems like the ultimate madness. To choose celibacy is a challenge to the cultural idols of hedonism and consumerism. Not only does our culture attack the value of celibacy, western attitudes also undermine even the previous supports that once were available for the~celibate lifestyle. In fact, in some ways, ours is the most discouraging culture possible for a celibate option. Celibac~y today demands the courage of a totally countercultural stance. Today it is much harder to avoid coming to grips with sexuality than it used to be. We are more aware how much sexuality pervades a person's 521 522 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 entire life situation. One's sexuality is seen to extend to every level of being: bodily, emotional, intellectual and volitional. More specifically, human sexuality is a powerful stimulus to move toward others and away from self-centeredness. Human sexuality thus helps attenuate ego-centrism, which dehumanizes both self and others. "Genital sexuality," of course, refers to acts, thoughts, fantasies, desires and feelings which involve or promote direct genital behavior. It is in this sense that today's society holds to the .notion that humanity is impossible without full gratification of the sex drive. Such, however, is not a universal truth. It is the purpose of this paper to show that a vowed celibate is and can become a fully integrated, psycho-sexually mature being without genital sex. Human sexuality is a basic ontological determinant of who we are as persons, and personal i~dentity is.a prerequisite for sexual maturity/identity. This personal identity is, in significant ways, worked out within images of sexual identity and sexual complementarity. Such is fully attained only in the arena of human relationships. Psychological. research shows that the incidence of sexual difficulties and immaturity is neither greater nor less among celibates than among non-celibates. Psychologist Abraham Maslow (1954) pointed out that it is not sexual abstinence as such that is pathogenic, but .the feelings or motiva-tions accompanying it. It is now well known that many cases are found in which celibacy has no pathological effects. Clinical work with non-neurotic people gix;es clear answer that sexual deprivation becomes pathogenic in the severe sense only when it is felt by the individual to represent'irejection by the opposite sex, inferiority, lack of.worth, lack of respect, isolation, or thwarting of basic needs. Sexual deprivation can be borne with some relative ease by individuals for whom it has no such implications. Religious celibates in no way deny or wish to reject their sexuality. In fact their understanding of their celibacy and of their sexuality matures as they advance in age and experience. Becoming an enlightened and respon-sible sexual being is always a lifelong challenge, This challenge involves, among other things, the development of psychosexual maturity. ,And the goal of psychosexual maturity is not orgasm; it is the capacity to love. In the celibate, this maturity is evidenced in the fuller development and harmonious interplay of the individual's psychological and sexual capacities within an ordered value system. Dr. Menninger has stated that "Insofar as choice determines behavior, it stems from some consideration of values." Psychosexual development in the celibate quite evidently cannot be iso-lated from choice and values. There is no realistic way of doing so. Vowed Celibacy and Human Sexuaflty / 523 In choosing celibacy, then, what is at issue is not a negation of any human good or value. It is rather a relativizing of priorities in fife. In choosing a celibate lifestyle, it is a tribute to the values in life that one chooses to celebrate. Celibacy lived means to the individual that: 1) the development of full humanity is more important than genital sexual expression; 2) that true generativity is greater than sexual potency; 3)that self-transcendence is more fully human than self-fulfillment. Psychosexual maturity is not static; it is a dynamic, ongoing process. Whether'a person becomes a celibate or marries, the same maturity, accep-tance of self as a sexual being and the ability to live with impulses and integrate them into the self, is a requirement to achieve full humanity. The bald fact of not being married, of not being involved in a sexual relationship does not constitute the celibate life. To be a vowed celibate means to be empty for God, to be free and open for his presence in many people and to be available for his service. In the past, perhaps, it was not uncommon for some religious and laity to think of celibacy as a state of being asexu~il. In fact, though, vowed celibacy is not an asexual state, even though it precludes full genital inti-macy. Taking vows does not snuff out personality. To say that a vowed celibate drops out of the sexual rivalry game doesn't suggest that the person is no longer a sexual being. It is normal to have sexual feelings. ~ Modern modes of expression would say that the celibate is still fully a sexual being, but without actual genital expression. As stated above, becoming an enlightened and responsible sexual being is a lifelong process; and the celibate, like all other humans, must redirect the tendency to regress into becoming selfish.Celibates need to realize that sexual abstinence does~not automatically confer the capacity to love people in general any more than incontinence in marriage increases the love for anyone. As a matter of fact, though, one difference in the celibate lifestyle is that it does move toward a more freeing love than do other lifestyles. The heart of vowed celibacy is rather.a special, unique and total conse-cration to Christ. The true celibate is effectively head over heels in love with God?' Vowed celibacy is a commitment to love Christ. This is achieved by a genuinely mystical form of life. Without some graspof mystical vision, the celibate is unlikely to remain celibate for long, The depth, and quality of personal prayer manifests itself in the depth and quality of vowed celibacy. Without vision, there is risk of psychic damage. Ignace Lepp (1963) states that ". the libido cannot be channeled in a different direction without injury to sexuality, unless it finds itself entirely consumed in the service of a higher psychic activity." This sublimation means to redirect the sexual drive. It does not mean 524 / Review for Religious, July-August; 1985 to pretend that the sex drive doesn't exist, or to forget it, or to set it aside. Sublimation channels the sexual impulse; it does not stamp it out., But in attempting sublimation, the person must be free and sufficiently motivated by life-ideals which can actually utilize these sublimated energies. The vowed celibate life, attempted without convictions and some form of mysticism, is an attempt at sexual suicide and self-destruction. If lived without an internal conviction, the response will be the simple negation of all the good of life and love and humanity in the individual. One's vowed "celibacy cannot be a complete withdrawal of all involvement in human sexuality; such a step would be the denial of humanity. Rather, consecrated celibacy must become a positive affirmation of beauty and strength. The vow of celibacy, lived with faithfulness, speaks out. against the negative aspects and excesses of the sexual revolution of our time. It contradicts the contemporary attitudes where infidelity and failure to keep commitments is an accepted way of life. Celibacy makes a positive contribution to life since Christian celibacy is an explicit affirmation that a person is aperson first and not second to his or her sex function. It provides a deeper insight into the sexuality of persons themselves. Vowed celibates are seen as total persons, not as individuals dichotomized into body/spirit. Authentic celibacy, then, is an enfleshed experience. Celibacy cannot be understood in isolation. It is experienced in a heterosexual society. It is a growing life experience in and with Christ. This means growing in love with Christ and growing in prayer with Christ. The effects of this lead celibates to a growth and deepening in their love for all people, especially for all those with whom they come into contact. Their response will grow, become actualized and manifest itself in time. And like all love, it defies description. Mature love does not come easy; it is always a growth process. For the b, elibate, this entails a process of growing as a sexual being. It is a continual becoming of the person the celibate is called to be through and. with Christ. Thus celibacy is a call to wholeness and holiness that involves patience, discipline and care. Far from lessening our need of the experience of love, celibacy offers a greater freedom in loving--a freedom to love, at times, without hope .of returned love, and to love the unlovable. This form of unselfish love witnesses to the compassion and mutual respect which are integral to justice, and moral rightness. Celibates live fundamentally indePendent lives; lives not directed to the well-being of.the single destiny for two that is common to. marriage, but directed by the demands of Christ and the Church. Religious celibacy is for loving and living. Vowed Celibacy and Human Sexuaflty / 525 Celibate love is primarily universal in character. It is a call to be con-stantly open to authentic relationships, to befriend any person met with a non-demanding love. It thus is a challenge to celibates to become the persons they are meant to be, to maximize their love and self-giftedness to others. The challenges and rewards of celibacy are the challenges and rewards of love itself. The celibate experience, in sum, is a way of making love, something everyone must do, and, like all lovemaking, it defies close scrutiny. Like all lovemaking, it is a relational exiaerience beyond words. Another great value of the celibate experience is that of availability. ¯ The vowed celibate belongs to no one person, hence to all persons. There is risk to this. Depending on how it is lived, cdibacy can either render the individual sterile or productive. Unless there is a giving away of self, celibacy is supreme sterility. Lived positively, selflessly, celibacy can be distinctively and consciously creative. These creative powers can be termed "generativity. ~ ¯ Generativity is the ability to give, nurture, and sustain life. Erikson states that: ". to know that adulthood is generative does not necessarily mean one must produce children. But it means to know what one does if one does not produce children." In Erikson's eight stages of the development of the person, generativity characteristics of adult life are met even in institutions committed to celibacy. Celibates believe that they will attain a sense of.generativity through loving relationships with people, thus creating life: The celibates'.self-abun-dance and vitality and life-giving existence will be evidenced by their presence and participation in the world. Specifically, the generativity found in vowed celibacy is a commitment to a care and concern that is universal; to a love that is life-giving and without limit. Although there is total and° exclusive intimacy between the vowed celibate and Christ, this does not exclude other relationships. In~ fact inti-macy with Christ depends on other relationships to make it possible. Friendship and support are necessary to the celibate, as is deep prayer and honesty before Christ. Religious celibacy has everything to do with inter-personal relationships. The celibate is a person firmly ~planted on earth for relating to others. Indeed, to be human is to be relational. And, of course, the psychosexually mature celibate loves individuals, not abstract humanity. Today there is a great emphasis on the forming of authentic friendships among both men and women religious. Research has shown that good psychosexual development involves and demands relationships with a vari-ety of people. Drs. Conrad Baars and Anna Terruwe, who have integrated psychiatry with their faith, note that masculine/feminine relationships, as well as same sex friendships, help to develop a wholesome emotional.life. 526 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1985 ~. There can be no genuine happiness without friendships. Friendships, however, are not easily acquired. They demand work, time and cultivation. Human relations are never finalized, Celibacy also requires the development ofa capacity for deep and lasting relationships. Friendship in th~ lives of religious celibates takes many forms, As one moves across the spectrum from a.cquaintance to friendship, however, the reality of celibacy becomes more pertinent. The love of authentic friendship is not easy, and there are those hurts and disappointments which are part of the "human condition" (Sr. Marie Dugas, S.S.A. 1983)~ But the benefits of friendship help make life worthwhile. Jesus is the model for celibates. He loved all people. He also had several disciples and social friends~ These friendships also developed through hurts, misunderstandings and disappointments. The love experienced in celibate friendship is that of the giving and receiving of love. This experience introduces one into a new understanding of life and one's relation to life. It allows one to rid oneself of the unneeded, counterproductive defenses which hinder growth and integration. It allows one tO be touched by the power beyond the self. Research has shown that true growth and healing take place only in a relationship characterized by love. Celibates, then, should have close friends. The development of friendships in the celibate lifestyle is critical to inter-nal/ external integration which if properly pursued will result in an ade-quately mature personality. Sexual urges will not put the celibate value system and behaviors out of sync in genuine friendship. The celibate friendship is less a response to physical attractiveness and more of a caring for what is good in theperson. The celibate friendship is an attentiveness to the other in a flexible manner rather than in a fixation. Mutual love cannot mean mutual possession. Celibates ~are united in friendship only by the bond of their free will, a bond that is not indissoluble as is that of marriage. And celibate friendships normally do not simply happen. There is ever present the element of choice involved in who twill be admitted, and to what degree of intimacy he or she will be admitted, AlL people, not only celibates, fill their heed for intimacy through. friendships. Intimacy in human living is important for personal growth, self-esteem and for a feeling that life is worthwhile. The more we live in :a mass society, the more importaiat are intimate relationships to maintain our individuality and identity. For Abraham Maslow, in the self-actualiz-ing person, the higher need is for intimacy. If this need is satisfied, the need for genitaljty is lessened Vowed Celibacy and Human Sexuafity / 527 Intimacy can be defined as unfeared self-abandonment, an unfeared self-disclosure and a dissolving of ego boundaries. In intimacy, one gives up control of what is seen by the other. It involves the sharing of one's real identity with others. Eric Berne (1974) calls intimacy a "game free" relationship. Healthy interpersonal living always involves both distance and intimacy. A celibate person striving for universal love must realize that this does not mean universal intimacy. Intimacy requires disciplined living. Besides being grounded in one's own vocation, the celibate must affirm and desire the growth of the other. This non-possessive, non-exclusive love also encourages the growth of the other's relationships with people. The celibate is pleased when the other develops new, outside relationships and interests, knowing that they are the sources of life and growth. The celibate knows that it is important that people never stop growing in love. One definition put it this way, "A friend is one who knows you as you are, understands where you've been, accepts who you've become and still gently invites you to grow" (Sr. Marie Dugas, S.S.A. 1983). This is the heart of intimacy for the celibate lover. If the intimate relationship is healthy, life-giving and creative, it will enhance the quality of the celibate's prayer life, of other relationships and the general well-being itself of the celibate. Vowed celibacy is a viable lifestyle. Although the way of celibacy suits relatively few persons, it is in itself, and for those persons a "normal" way to be, a viable way to meet life and create it. Celibacy means distinguishing between needs and wants. It is a meaningful lifestyle. This life entails an act of radical rejection of some values ih the culture that easily become idola-trous. Celibacy is much more than a set of sexual mores; it is an extension of Christian virtue. It is an act of affirmation about certain human and gospel values that easily become submerged in the culture~ The celibate lifestyle is thus prophetic in its witness. The celibate life lived in the Spirit of Christ can be a very profound and rewarding way of life, The celibate, by foregoing the type of mutuality found in marriage, is saying that no 'human efforts or human projects can ever achieve the full destiny possibl6 for humanity. The celibate is, saying that our full destiny is achievable, not by our own power, but through the power of Jesus Christ. Celibacy joyfully lived, presents an alternate vision. This lifestyle proclaims that the end of life is intimacy with God and others. Joyfully lived, this lifestyle points to what must ultimately be the end of any lifestyle, love of God and others for the "sake of the kingdom." Far from being quixotic, celibacy simply is one way that some men and women find it in their heart to be worth following, a way to be fully alive in this world. The Clown on the Cross Margaret Halaska, 0 S. F. Sister Halaska's previous article in these pages was "A Model of Discernment: The Experience of a Franciscan,' (March/April, 1984). As with that earlier article, the present one also offers a reflection based on a personal experience. Sister Halaska may be addressed at Holy Family Convent; Box 6; Bayfield, WI 54814. I It was a Day of P~rayer for me. I unlocked the door of the house where I was staying that day and walked in. A cross with the clown on it was standing on the living room floor, leaning against a table. The figure caught me off guard, and for a brief moment I was caught in the paralysis of.surprise. But its presence was an invitation.which I could not resist. In a short time I was sitting on the floor directly opposite the strange appari-tion. It intrigued me. A soft clown-figure in place ofothe usual corpus of/ hardened plaster., a clown that was warm and gentle even to the eyes . a clown whose puffy cheeks you could squeeze, creating temporary dimples ¯. a clown whose face reflected pain and peace all at once., a clown who was held to the cross partly by an outsized crown of thorns, one of which pierced his clown-hat and held him fast to the wood. During the course Of the day, I prayed long and often befOre the Clown on the Cross. I didn't say much. I tried to listen. The Clown was silent. I was silent. But the silence was not sterile. Eventually, in an explicable way, the Clownflrew me to himself. Suddenly, | wanted to hug him. It was the moment of prayer. The desire became stronger but I became aware that the Clown was too little and I was too big. And that, too, was prayer. I moved closer to the Clown, touching his face and probing his hands and feet. I felt, not the rigor of death, but the softness of Life. In a new and very powerful way the Paradox of the Cross was again speaking to me: One must die to live. 528 The Clown on the Cross / 529 One exceptionally long thorn pinned the clown-figure to the cross. Needle sharp, piercing, it hooked the hat. I found myself feeling a 'slight sense of relief that it was only the hat! At the same time, it appeared that the thorn was what secured the C!own to the Wood, leaving his arms a little more free .than those of the more conventional plaster casts which are nailed tightly. Somehow those arms

Issue 45.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1986. ; Vocation Ministry A Sociological View of Commitment Religious and Secular Institutes Imagination Within the Act of Faith Volume 46 Number 2 March/April, 1986 REvIEw FOR REI,IGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at'Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW EOt~ REI.IGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, M O © 1986 by REVIEW FOR RELtGIOOS. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $ I 1.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (postage). Airmail (Book Rate) $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor March/April, 1986 Volume 46 Number 2 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of p~int~ issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major po~on of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY I0010. The Vowed Life in a Secularized World Desmond O'Donnell, O M.I. Father O'Donnell's earlier "Focused Freedom: To Someone in Formation"appeared in the issue of January/February, 1985. He is a General Councillor for his community and, though often on the road, may be addressed at its Generalate: Oblati di Maria; C.P. 9061; 00100 Roma Aurelia, Italy. ouring out a plethora of easy answers to complex questions does not bring us any closer to permanent solutions. Neither is it helpful to offer a new one-word solution for everything taking place in the Church at this time. And yet secularization might be a useful umbrella-word ~,to explain much, of what is taking place both, to the Church and to the vowed life today. If it is in fact found to be a satisfactory seminal term, it will also help us to focus rather than to diffuse our response. It can aid the process of discernment. Situating the Question The good news about our way of life is that a deep spiritual renewal is being experienced by many and that the importance of prayer is being rediscovered. There has been a notable updating in theology and real--if not always successful--attempts to build authentic faith-communities. There also is a growing freedom and practice of discernment about our apostolates and about our private lives as well. There is other news which does not' seem so obviously good, such as the large numbers who left us, the small numbers joining and the increasing median age. In some places, community life is moving towards becoming politely-shared space, enclosing many unspoken polarizations about deep realities among us. Authority has tended to go from heavy-handedness to 161 "i69/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 ¯ laissez-faire and so consensus about anything of serious communal signifi-cance is often hard to come by. Governments gradually move in to take over our institutions, either because we have chosen to let them or because they have helped themselves. The degree to which all this is related to secularization is disputable, but related it is, and I will try to show why this is so. Before we go into this, may I look at some more personal experiences of vowed people in most countries today--experiences which I think are related to secularization even more deeply than those mentioned above. Many of us have been through more or less severe vocational question-ing of some kind in recent years, because the rationale of our way Of life did not seem capable of answering the questions popping up all around us. Maybe it was triggered off by simply seeing one of our now-married novitiate companions do equally good apostolic work and do it well. It may also have been that we grew tired of mobility, or just vaguely short of motivation for the continual questioning of our chosen lifestyle. Many of us have found some new difficulties in prayer, as God seemed to withdraw and leaqe the world to evil pebple. Or maybe the emergence of so many small friendship-groups has left us out in the cold called "com-munity life." The variety of new prayer-forms and so many seminars, have a way of increasing our desire for some stability and wondering if it might not be found elsewhere, In response to'all of this, many felt the growing ambiguities and endless updating led them to personal selectivity in belief and practice. Others moved to the edge~of the storm by choosing some form of fundamentalism or an atheism' which expressed itself in mere social horizontalism while still remaining in the ~3ongregation. Some of us chose to becom~ left-wing unloving critics of the present and others moved to become right-wing uncritical lovers of the past, as the middle ground grew unpopular and became such a solitary exprience. These deeper and more personal phenomena~ are related to modernization and secularization too, as I will try to demonstrate. And so the response to these experiences, might first be to understand the meaning of modernization and the resultihg secularization-experience. Modernization The amount of knowledge in the world continues to increase because of constant research and it is rapidly diffused through very efficient communicatioh systems. Modernization is what happens when the knowledge is~ transferred into technology, which then has ~increasing and unforeseeable effects on economic growth, on social systems and on political decisidns. Inevitably the individual too is affected in his or her The Vowed Life in a Secularized World / 165 values, attitudes, beliefs and behavior. Most of us remember the discovery of plastic 'in the 40s, of the transistor in the 50s, of computers in the 60s, of microcomputers in .the 70s and now we observe technology move forward into genetic engineering in the 80s. All of these have affected people and systems in serious and often irreversibl~e ways. This march of modernization shows no signs of slowing down and often appears to have its own~self-propelled, autonomous momentum. It took one hundred twelve years for photography to go from discovery to commercial product, fifty-six for the telephone, thirty-five for the radio, fifteen for radar, twelve for television and only five for transistors to find their way from the laboratory into the market. Again, as each of these products comes on the market, it touches--and in the case of genetic engineering, tampers with human nature and human systems in often lastingly significant ways, It is with the human effects of modernity that we are concerned and these are sometime.s good, sometimes evil, and often ambiguous. Moder-nity can lead to human community and comfort,-.or to pollution and poverty for millions; it can facilitate or disrupt human values; it can enrich °a poor country or steal its unrenewable sources of energy; it can help in the diffusion of truth or of lies through the media and it can pass on productive information or child,pornography. In each of our .lives it can .make the superfluous become the convenient, ~the convenient become the necessary and the necessary become the indispensable, thus changing human nature itself. ~ Peter Berger's definition summarizes, all this: "Modernization is the transformation of the world, brought about by the technological innova-tions of the last few centuries having economic, social and political dimen-sions all immense in scope." With many otherwriters he goes on to outline the many very,personal effects resulting from the economic, social, political ones in his definition, Secularization is a very significant one of these. Secularization It is important to stress that we are not talking here about secularism which is a theory, an ideology denying the existence of God or at least his action and relevance in the world. Nor is secularization .to be equated with atheism when in fact it might be the very opposite experience for many who are desperately trying to hold on toGod who seems to be withdrawing from them. And certainly it would be simplistic to think that secularization is the same as materialism, Secularization is claimed to.be more a fact than a theory, a reality more than an ideology, a process taking place more than.a point of view. While it "i64/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 can lead to secularism, materialism, or atheism, it is in fact none of these. Some religious people find words like secularism, materialism and atheism convenient labels for what is happening in the Church or in_the vowed life today and it may be a description in some cases, but it is not addressing the deeper and more pervasive reality we call secularization. Secularization manifests itself when explanations of reality previously attributed to mythical or religious sources, are shown to have .rational ones, as when the~scientist takes over from the witch doctor, the. psychologist assumes some previously priestly functions or when a technological discovo ery,disintegrates a theological theory. A group of Animists in Java lost their gods a few years ago when a new seismographic station began to foretell and explain volcanic eruptions more accurately than the local holy man, The Diak people of Borneo lost their fear of and their belief in their forest gods when bulldozers razed the jungle. For some people, the study of a good theology of providence could have a similar effect. These people are experiencing secularization. In a similar way, many modern Christians first felt uncomfortable and then felt their faith questioned by a good church-history book, an accurate TV documentary, a skilled psychiatrist, two men on the moon, an old law proven pointless, a church authority found unworthy, a symbol disappear-ing or a culture collapsing~-all more or less the result of modernization. The resulting discomfort and questioning within the individual person, is close to the secularization-experience. It is an experience of no longer having one overall reference-point--a feeling of increasing disintegration. If you are experiencing that somehow God is withdrawing because religious explanations are increasingly less necessary, that the quantum of the secular is increasing at the expense of the sacred, that maybe~ God is now less necessary as a postulate for human living or that because of modern evidence your longheld experience of God is no longer a comfort-able one, you are probably undergoing the pressure of the secularization-experience. This is not a decisionnor even a desire to become an atheist; even if it could lead to it. Nor is it necessarily the result of "giving in" to materialism or to less-than-moral behavior, admitting, of course, that both of these can easily increase its momentum. If you are not undergoing the experience of secularization, then it is still important to uiaderstand it, because most of the peopl~ you are trying to evangelize, especially in the developed world, are probably experiencing it. It is from this fact that the present great missiological question arises--how announce the Good News of Jesus Christ to a secularized world? Moderni-zation and its result in secularization are now recognized as cultures, new cultures, ever-changing cultures and it is at this point that we recognize the The Vowed l_Jfe in a Secularized World / 165 break between faith and culture today. Thus for the modern person, secularization is a feelin~ of dissonance in .trying to hold together what is happening in the world and what the Bible seems to say about God's providence or what is often said in churches and what is taking place in real life around us. It results in discomfort with one's present experience of God. Any naive belief in the immediacy of God will be challenged .by secularization and modernity. Old fashioned god-words and some ecclesiastical jargon will appear increasingly irrelevant to sincere secularized persons everywhere. Secularization can be defined as the grad-ual disappearance of mythical and religious legitimations or explanations of society. Living with the ambiguities of the secularization-experience leads to a temptation to take refuge in fundamentalism which can be described as believing more and more in less and less in order to feel secure, or in agnosticism which is a lazy neither-nor ~land excusing one from the strug-gles, doubts and decisions which are part of any faith. Let us now try to analyze the challenge and opportunity which secularization offers the vowed life. The Vowed Life For the vowed life, secularization can be a deep call and a deep grace. Lumen Gentium calls us to enrich, challenge, encourage and stimulate the Church by our lives and our action (Par. 44). This is all the more reason why we must study, understand and give a gospel response to seculariza-tion, to a secularized world. Because secularization implies change at so many levels of human existence, we should recall that sociologists stress the vital importance of internal consistency for all groups in time of change. This internal consis-tency- our basic authenticity measured against what we claim to be--is now a matter of survival. Institutions which lack internal consistency are likdy to disappear in tim~s of rapid change, especially if their external image is also unclear. For these reasons, we who profess the vowed life must address the phenomenon and the grace of secularization. May I suggest that there are five areas where God might well be speaking to us in all this? ~ansmitting a New Integrating Presence of God Secularization, as we saw, forces us to find a new presence of God, a presence which permeates, integrates, energizes for action and which brings human and divine values into secular realities. Karl Rahner spoke of the vowed woman as having a profession which has no justification from the "166 / Review for :Religious, March-April, 1986 secular point of view even if she performs many useful secular tasks. What then might her iprofession and that of vowed men be? It is surely--as it always was--to give or rather to share with people their own experience of God. This is a demanding task; it demands that we each have such an experience first of all. We will have to pass on "so.mething which we have seen with our own eyes, that we have watched and touched with our own .hands" (1 Jn l:l'b) and it will be vital that "in Christ we speak as men of sincerity, as envoys of God and in God's presence" (2 Co 2:17), It seems to be a call to discover and lead in a new integrating mysticism as this quote from John Macquarie expresses: ¯ It is interesting to note that Bonhoeffer, though he advocated a 'worldly' Christia°nity, made it 'perfectly explicit that the kind of w0rldline~ss that he had in mind has nothing to do with the immersion in"material pursuits and enjoyments that we commonly associate with the "worldly' man. Bon-hoeffer makes a :statement that ought to be'pondered by those who invoke his support for a thoroughly secularized Christianity. He says: 'In Christ we are offered the possibility of partaking in the reality'of God and in the reality of the world, but not in the one without the other The reality of God discloses itself only by setting me entirely in the reality of the world, and when I encounter the reality of the world, it is always already sus-tained: accepted and reconciled in the reality of God.' There is a dialectic here that takes us beyond any naive world affirmation, just as it rules out any false religiosity. God,is met in the world, but the world is known in its reality only as Grd's world? Back in 1970, Karl Rahner wrote: Maybe we [he was addressing his own Society] ourselves have been super-f! cialized by the consumer society. Maybe we ourselves have not come to any original experience of God. Maybe we have not taken .the .trouble to let others participate in the mystical technique leading.to such an expe-rience. If all that is the case, we have of course, no alternative but to take refuge in a secular horizontalism which tries to interpret and live our own lives on the same level . The coming thing is the spiritual dimension, the experience of God, the taste of eternity no matte~ how valid our social involvement (with ~regard to which we have a terrible'lot to make up). The coming thing is sober peace, in face of all the absurdity of existence, the absurdity which no social involvement will spirit away. That rather bour-geois- chequered spirituality which was found--to outward appearances at least--in the orders before the first world war and which influenced reli-gious life too much~ may belong to the past and the young may say rightly that it is useless.from the start. But a new spirituality in religious life and in the Church will be assured of a real future. Whatever form this new spirituality will have, it must surely~be a very 7he Vowed life in a Secularized Worm personal "faith in the Son of God who loved me and who sacrificed himself for my sake" (Ga 2:20) and a very integrating one, enabling us to "bring everything together~ under Christ" (Ep 1:10). This--it seemsto me--is the most serious challenge which secularization puts to vowed communities today. Integration Through Reflection As we saw, one of the deepest effects of secularization is disintegration. There is no longer any one overarching human legitimation for the think-ing person today. We, even as vowed people, stand and struggle side by side with the modem person in loneliness, doubts, fears' and feelings of disinte-gration. We too are among the "new poor." The third world is closer to us than we think; it is inside our shirts especially if we have already chosen the still greater poverty of fundamentalism with iis moral, dogmatic and spirit-ual naivet6 and ~elitism. We are, however, expected to .stand with our fellow Christians in seren-ity and in a "peace which the world cannot give" (Jfi 14:27). We stand with them in a spirit of confidence too, as Jesus did with his disciples, when for him and for them everything seemed lost; "I have told you all this so that you may find peace in me. In the world you will have trouble, but be brave; I have overcome the world" (Jn 16:23). Only a life of prayer can discover and sustain this peace, this joy in the midst of a secularizing experience. Jesus led a busy life and had constant calls on his service, but we find the source of his power in the actual physical withdrawal, to be with God: "His reputation continued to grow and large crowds would gather to hear him and to have their sickness cured but ~he would always go away to some place to be alone and pray" (Lk 15:16). The form of prayer for today would seem to be what Macquarie calls "prayer as thinking";5 it is a prayer.which reflects on what God is doing in the world more than on what he,has done in scriptural times, without of course neglecting this latter. It is a praye~: which keeps our spiritual faculties alive. All reality, especially fast-changing or disintegrated reality~ is opaque and this is especially true in the m6dern world when ambiguity is part of life everywhere. We need to sharpen our spiritual eyesight to see what Bonhoffer described as the "holy depths" of.things and events. It is not so much a prayer "giving us time to refuel, but a prayer'which gives us increased awareness for better and deeper involvement and which motivates us for the human task of offering the world salvation from '~'everything that oppresses the.human person especially sin and the .evil one" (EN n. 9). Lest we ourselves succumb to the burnout of compulsive activity or the dropout of ceaseless seminars this life of "prayer as thinking" 1611/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 seems essential. . A long time ago, Christopher Dawson observed: "Men today are divided between those who have kept their spiritual roots and lost their contact with the existing order of society, and those who have preserved their social contacts and lost their spiritual roots." Could this be a descrip-tion of vowed persons today? Relativization of All Reality ~ I read somewhere that the Talmud says we will be held accountable to God for all the legitimate pleasures we have not enjoyed. When all this is said and dqne, there still remains the fact that so many of life's legitimate-- or even essential--pleasures are denied millions today, in even our devel-oped world. There also stands the fact that "we have not here a lasting city" (Heb 1:3:14) ahd that we possess only the certaintY of Christian hope: "We have a sure hope and the promise of an inheritance that can never be spoilt or soiled and never fade away because it is being kept for you in the heavens" (1 P 3:4). One part of our mission is to keep.Christian hope clearly before people and thus relativize reality, both good and evil. Secularization or not, the human person has a tendency to appropriate goods, material and spiritual, to hold them closely and even to be possessed by them. Our lives if they are lived in the simplicity and detachment which we .profess, will relativize the enjoyment or deprivation of material things and remind others that t.hey are to be shared: "Warn those who are rich in this world's goods, that they are not to look down on other people and not to set their hopes on money which is untrustworthy but on God, who out of his riches, gives us all that we need for our happiness. Tell them that they are to do good and be rich in good works, to be generous and willing to share"(l Tm 6:17,18). We can do this "telling" by our lifestyle, before we do it in words, the opportunity for which may never come our way. We also speak to the poor enabling them to relativize their desire for justice and to recall that while they struggle for their rights, there isan opportunity for growth in their poverty too. "Listen, my dear brothers, it was those who are poor accord, ing to the world that God chose to be rich in faith and to be heirs to the kingdom which he promised to those who love him" (Jm 2:5). Modernization has created so many who are enduring forced celibacy through broken marriages or infidelity and who are still avalanched by the media's sexual imperative. We can support these people even without speaking, because our lives experience the same yearnings and our minds are exposed to the same urgings and yet we struggle successfully on, with-out the assurance of genital involvement. But all this depends on our Vowed ~'fe in a Secularized World / 169 manifesting balanced and happy personalities, as people who have inte-grated their relationships and their sexuality in a healthy way. For secular-ized persons--many of whom suffer from confused psychosexuality--we can be supportive signs of survival and of fulfilled happiness through our lived celibacy. Individualism is a mark of the secularized person, coming very often as it does from hurt, insecurity and alienation. This can be so in our own communities too. The insecure person lives ambivalently between a desire to be accepted through cooperation and a fear of being dominated by submission. This is part of the disintegrating experience of modern life. If alienation is the pathology of our age, individualism is one of its clearest manifestations. By our vow of obedience lived out and seen not as "doing what one is told" but as discernment of what is best leadership in and through a caring community, we have much to say to the modern person about finding his or her own best expression of self in a confused world. It is even humanly true that "none of us is as wise as all of us." The secularized person, tempted to extreme individualism needs to rediscover this; for the good of ¯ families, local groups and for national and international survival, o Process.and Pilgrimage , It is clear that we vowed people will not be on the edge of the human experience of secularization and its consequential feeling of disintegration much longer. We share with men and women everywhere their search for stability and for lost certainties as the river of secularization tries to move all of us up, down and forward. To an extent, we found ourselves insulated from the human condition until recently, but no longer. Even if it were. not through necessity, we know that if we are to hold conversation with and to evangelize the world, we must pitch our tents within it; as God did. We must be prepared to pilgrimage our way once again and enter into the human process which we'should never have deserted. The fact that we accept this, will help so many others who find it difficult and who drop out into drugs or other forms of anomie and despair. Again, our vows lived authentically prepare us for the pilgrimage, ready us to keep moving, because we have publicly professed not to hold on, not to settle and not to be held. By our lived poverty, we refuse to be possessed by any material consideration and by our vows of chastity we also refuse to be possessed by ahy relationship. Obedience enables us to keep listening and looking at the map of moving events with eyes of faith and lbve. To quote Karl Rahner again from the same article: "The concrete future of Christianity, the Church and religious life remains largely hidden 17{I / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 from us . what historical and social form the Church and ecclesial Christianity will take in the future, remains largely hidden from us., we have to fight for victory without.a prognosis of victory" (p. 136). He was not° referring tothe effects of secularization at that time, but what he wrote is truer than ever now, and it puts us side by side and hopefully hand in hand with the modern man or woman as they endure the sec-ularization- experience. Interdependence and Involvement Our communities are not islands of isolated peace in a troubled uni-verse. No, they are sources from which we. emerge to makea more human and so a more godly world. Our vows enable us to do this; having freed us from, they also free usforLin a liberating way. ~',~ Our vow of poverty truly lived, makes us free for involvement. Because we have nothing to lose, we can carry the struggle for justice .further and when our lives are skilled in dispossession, we are not open to criticism from the rich~whose lives we question for the sake of the poor. Our good news for the poor has to be in some way perceived as bad news for the rich and they will readily point to any beam or bank account in our own lives if these are obvious. Only 'by relinquishing the power of possessions .can we demonstrate our competence to communicate freedom. Our vow of chastity makes us free to keep moving and to freely ask even our close friends: "Do you want to go away too?" (Jn 6:67). Again, we can take risks which married people with concern for their,families and for each other cannot be asked to take. Obedience, as we saw, offers us a freedom to live out a ,radar-like listening to God's word in the world around us. Truth comes only with listening :and discernment and these take. place best among a group of sharing people~ Obedience is .a public statement, that we bind ourselves to listen within and are missioned by a community through its leaders. This offers a model~for others to do the same in the Church. The quality of relationships and of concern for anyone at a distance suffers greatly in this time of disintegrative secularization, as each one looks to his or her own very personal success or survival. Nations do the same. This di-ama is, played out on a smaller scale every day in the average city too. Surely our communities have something important to say to people in this bleak situation. In our public interaction with one another° and for those who visit our communities,.the prayer ot~Jesus for his whole Church must tend towards .fulfillment: "_May they all be one, Father, may they be one in us, as you are in me and I am in you, so that the world may believe it was you who sent me" (.In 17:21). The Vowed Life in a Secularized Worm / 1.71 In' conclusion, I submit that we are approaching the ideal today, as we find the vowed life standing less at a point of comfortable distance from the world and more at a point of painful dialectic with it. At this point it must be ready to say a confirming yes or a challenging no--and do this by its life and activity--to all the results of secularization. To quote .the Anglican writer, Macquarie again: Here it must be said with regret that the trouble with some of our less responsible contemporary Christian secularizers is that they have taken up the ideal of holy worldliness, but seem to have promptly forgotten the adjective and reduced the ideal to a worldly concern tout court. They tell us that Christianity is a purely secular movement, their ideal of the good life seems scarcely distinguishable from the one that is so assiduously propagated by Madison Avenue, and the more extreme among them, in their horror at any supposed 'withdrawal' from the world, come near to advocating that the time has arrived to replace "poverty, chastity, and obedience with affluence, promiscuity, and autonomy as the highest goals for human life, or even as (he new evangelical counsels! The s!ogan for all this'is that w'e sho.uld 'say yes' to the world. But I do not think thata simple world affirmatioa will either help us to find God in the world or help the world to know his presence.6 - ~ Indeed, if we are to follow the words of Lumen Gentium, Chapter VI, par 44, the vowed life must say yes and no even to the Church itself. NOTES ~Facing Up to Moflernity, New York: Basic Books, 1977, 2John Macquarie, New Directions in Theology Today, Vol. III, p. 67, Philadelphia: 1981. 3"The Future of Religious Life" in Supplement to Doctrine and Life, Dublin: Domini-can l%_blications, May, 1972. 4The Greek' word anakephalasiosastai~is used in secular literature to express the con-ceptof many different ideas being subsumed under one theme. 5John Macquarie, Paths in Spirituality, Chapter 3, SCM Press, 1980, 6Op tit 2, p. 66. Vocation Ministry: Continuing the Invitation of Jesus Thomas E. Clark, ES.C. Brother Clark, Associate Vocation Director for the Chicago Province of the Christian Brothers, sees his work to be very much a ministry. This article is based on a presenta-tion he gave to the faculties of his congregation's schools in the Chicago area. He may be addressed at his .office: 200 De La Salle Drive; Romeoville, lllinois 60441. y ~vork 'as a full'time vocation minister for my community has often given me the opportunity to speak with young people, both individually and in groups, about the experience of being called by the Lord. My message to them is nearly identical to that of hundreds of other vocation ministers: each of us is called by God, each of us has a vocation, and it is up to each of us to discover what that vocation is. Onthe surface, the message seems clear, theologically sound, and understandable. However, what I have become aware of recently is th~at, in the two years I have been deliver-ing the message that each of us is called, the feeling with which I have been delivering that message has sometimes left something to be desired. Rather than offering a challenge to the young people with whbm I speak--a ch~allenge to discover a meaningful and significant way of living the Gospel ¯ in today's world--I've often felt that I am offering instead an apology for the choices I have made. It is as though the challenge of the Gospel might be just a little too naive for today's world, and to invite anyone to take it seriously may seem foolish and unrealistic. And even more foolish might be the invitation of young people to consider religious life and Church ministry as real options for themselves, ways of living out the Gospel challenge. I would certainly be out of touch with reality, I sometimes feel,-if I were to think that these people sitting in front of me--healthy, normal, 172 Vocation Ministry American young adults might consider religious life and Church ministry as serious-options for themselves. Thus when I speak with them, my invitation is sometimes clouded over with justifications ("I'm here today simply to make you aware of some choices I've made"), or sprinkled with "escape clauses" ("Any career you choose can be ministry"). The'underlying message, of course, is "I don't really expect you to consider any of these things for yourself." (In citing the above examples, of justification and "escape clauses," I do not mean to imply that there is no place in vocation ministry for "awareness education" or for a broad understanding of minis-try and community. On the contrary, these two approaches are essential to vocation ministry. They do not, however, constitute the whole of vocation ministry, and are sometimes used to avoid its more challenging aspect: that of invitation.) In speaking with a number of religious who are involved in vocation ministry, I have discovered that they, too, have much the same experience at times. Put simply, there are times when I do not believe there are any people who would be open to considering religious life as an option for themselves. Such an attitude is easily communicated to others, though it may not be directly stated,'and has the effect of turning away anyone who may consider religious life as a personal option. Further, a religious who holds such an attitude could never extend a confident and joyful invitation to an individual to consider religious life. It is my belief that such an attitude will keep religious not just from extending invitations to people to consider religious life, but on a deeper and more fundamental level, will keep us from fulfilling the responsibility we have to call people to build the kingdom of God. It is this invitation to the kingdom which is at the heart of vocation ministry, and which I wish to explore in more detail. In doing so, I shall consider several related topics: the model of invitation which Jesus gives us in the Gospels; vocation ministry as a means of living out that model; the philosophy of vocation ministry which has emerged in recent years; and finally, the challenge which we religious have been given in regard to vocation ministry. Jesus: Model of Invitation A simple perusal of the Gospels will show that Jesus had no hesitation about inviting peopl~ to follow him. His invitations are clear and concise. There is no misunderstanding what he means; the challenge is laid out on the table and nothing is hidden: Come after me and I will make you fishers of men (Mr 5:19). Follow me (Mr 9:9). Come and see (Jn 1:39). 1"/4/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 While such invitations may have been disarming or even~ unne ,rying to his listeners, it is difficult to imagine their being misunderstood. Jesus .has asked someone'to be his follower; it is as simple as that. ~ Neither does Jesus fail to make known to his followers his expe~ctations of them. In fact, his~requirements are so clear that~ sometimes they sound almost harsh. Whoever wishes to be my follower must deny his very self, thke Up his° '~ cross each day, and follow in my steps. Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will save it (Lk 9:23-24). ~.Let the dead bury their dead; come away and proclaim the kingdom of God (Lk 9:60). The requirements of following Jesus are great. He knows this, and does not hide this frown those whom he invites. At the same time, the invitation is issued with a certain excitement stemming from urgency of the call as well as its promise: Tliis is the tim~ of fulfillment. The reign of God is at hand! Refo~-m ~our lives and believe in the Gospel! (Mk 1":5). Go a~d sell what you have and give to the poor; you will then have treasure in heaven. After that, come and follow me (Mk 10:21). This last invitation of Jesus was issued in response to the question of the rich young man, "What must I do to share in everlasting life?" (Mk 10".17). An.d it is here that we find out why Jesus issues the invitation t[iat he does: He knows everlasting life, and wants to share that with us. Again and again, Jesus promises us the kingdom and all that goes with it: fullness of life (Jn 10:10); complete joy (Jn 17:13); knowledge of th~ true God (Jn 17:3); the freedom of the truth (Jn 8:32); his own peace (Jn 14:27); the hundredfold and ~verlasting life (Mk 10:30). Jesus knows the k.ingdom and the gifts of the kingdom, and wants that experience for those to whom he has been sent. Herein we find the motivation behind his in~vitation, his c~all to take up the cross, [o sell all our possessions, to follow him. It is becaus~ he knows it will lead to the kingdom and everlasting lye,, arid he wants nothing less for us. It is love which has produced the clear, concise and even harsh invitation we find in the Gospel. With what kind of response .did Jesus' invitation meet? The Gospels sl~ow us pictures of every kind of response imaginable: Peter and Andrew "abandoned their nets and became his followers," as did James and John (Mt 4:20-22); Matthew left his post as tax collec~tor (Mt 9:9). The rich young man went away sad because of his many possessions (Mk 10:22). In a particularl~ poignant episode ~ecorded in John's gospel, Jesus' teaching leads many of his disciples to protest and ultimately to break away from his company. On seeing this, Jesus asks the Twelve if they, too, will leave him. Vocation Ministry / 175 Peter responds, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words :of eternal life" (Jn 6:60 ff.). Thus, the responses to Jesus' invitations are many and varied, for Jesus always allowed the individual to respond freely. What is evident, however, is that Jesus never stopped inviting, no matter what kind of response he met with. For Jesus, the important thing is that everyone be invited to follow him and to proclaim the kingdom. Negative responses, while disheartening, must not keep one from continuing to:issue the call, for all people deserve the opportunity to respond to the call. It is a matter of no :smalLsignificance, I believe, that the final words of Jesus in John's gospel are: "Follow me" (Jn 21:22). Continuing the Invitation: Vocation Ministry What does this never-ending invitation mean for us religio.us? What does it tell us, not only about our own response to Jesus' call, but about the mess-age we takb to the ~vorld? We have noted that Jesus' invitation flows from his expe~rience. He knows the Father, and the life that the Father gives~ Be.cause he knows, he Can ~nvite clearly, concisely and with authority. As men and women who have made life choices for the kingdom, and who have shared, at least in part, in the life of the kingdom, we too can invite others to embrace th~ kingdom. As men and women who have clearly chosen community and. ministry in the Church, we can invite others to conside~ community and ministry in the Chhrch as optionsfor.themselves. As men and women who have experieficed joy and. peace and life in these choices, as well as hardship and even pain, we can invite with the same confidence of Jesus, for we, too, know the burden and the gifts of the kingdom. In fact, Oot only can we continue to issue the invitation of Jesus, but in a certain sense, we have a responsibility to issue that invitation. !n a world where nuclear holocaust seems imminent, where starvation is the daily experience of millions, where poverty, unemployment and illiteracy a.re the lifestyle of whole ~egments of the world population.---in such a world, we who have been given the knowledge of the kingdom have a responsibility to call others to build that kingdom. In a world where people, especially young people, are searching for meaning and significance in their lives, where many live in confusion caused by crises of every kind, where whole societies are caught in the race for economic and political superiority--in such a world, we who have been promised the everlasting life of the kingdom have a responsibility to share that gift with this world. It is not that we .are holier o.r wiser than the rest of the world. Rather, we have been given the gift ~of a vision of how things can be. It is not our vision; it is God's vision that we have been given. And because we have 176/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 been given the vision, we must also bear theresponsibility--sometimes the burdgnsome responsibility--of calling others to God's vision. As religious, we have publicly proclaimed with joy and faith our desire to be a part of the kingdom, and that desire has been accepted joyfully by God. Now we must set ourselves to the task of inviting others, with our lives, to the ultimate meaning and significance which God's vision, the vision of the Kingdom, holds for the world. In the course of this lived invitation, we, like Jesus, must invite others clearly, concisely and directly to join us in bringing about God's vision for the world. We have the responsibility to say to people: "Sell all you have, give to the poor, and come away to proclaim the kingdom of God!" We must invite those with whom we work and pray and live to "Come and see" what we have seen. Like Jesus, our invitation will have authority if its motivation is love and its roots are found in our lived experien.ce. Thus, if we have found the meaning and significance of the kingdom in our religious commitment, in our community life, and in our ministry, then we must invlte others to that same experience. If religious life has been the context of God's kingdom for us, then we must invite others to consider that same context for themselves. We cannot deny others the opportunity that is ours, the gift we have been given in religious life. I believe that not to make others aware of this gift, not to speak of God's vision for us, and most importantly, not to invite others to consider this gift for themselves would constitute such a denial. I believe that vocation ministry if you will, the ministry of invitation and discovery--can be a powerful means of carrying on the invitation of Jesus. A Philosophy of ¥ootion Ministry Vocation ministry has emerged in recent years as a valid and accepted ministry in the ~Church. This emergence is due in large part to a new u~nderstanding of vocation ministry, an understanding which has its foun-dation in the model of 'invitation which Jesus provides in the Gospel. Unfortunateiy, this approach to vocation ministry is not' understood by many religious, and consequently keeps them from supporting the voca-tion efforts of their communities, and even more importantly, from involv-ing themselves in these efforts. As we have seen, vocation ministry, when considered as a ministry of invitation, is modeled by Jesus. But such an understanding of vocation ministry is relatively new. There was ~ time in the not too distant past (and which still e~xists today in some circles) when vocation ministry was consi-dered to be "recruitment," and the person who did this work was known as the "recruiter." This designation was appropriate at the time, for the person Vocation Ministry / 177 who served as a recruiter for a religious community attempted to find and enlist people, especially young peol~le, who seemed suitable for her or his particular community. The religious recruiter was searching for people to carry onthe work--the good work---of her or. his congregation. The job of the religious recruiter was similar to that of recruiters for the military, for schools or for corporations: namely, to ensure the continuance of the group's interests. The beneficiary of this process was the group and in 'the case of the religious recruiter, the beneficiary was her or his community and the people the community served. The term "recruitment" and the philosophy ~vhich it designates does not fit what Jesus does in the Gospels when he invites people to follow him. I believe that as the work of "recruitment" becomes more and more pat-terned after the model of invitation which Jesus provides, we need to call it by another name. It is at this point that we can begin to speak of "vocation ministry." The difference in language is reflective of the difference in philos-ophy and practice. It is, in fact, the difference between "recruitment and ministry," and it is shown in a new role for the person who does this work. This role is no longer one of serving primarily the needs of the congrega-tion, but is one of serving the needs of the people with whom the vocation minister works directly, the people whom she or he assists in discovering how and where and with whom the Lord calls them to build the kingdom. The priorities of the vocation minister have changed, from a focus on ensuring that the life of her or his congregation continues by enlisting people into the order, to a focus on ensuring that people discover who it is that God calls them to be. The agenda from which the vocation minister works has changed, from being primarily the order's agenda, to being primarily God's agenda. To some, such differentiation rhay seem too subtle to be of any impor-tance; .it may even seem like hairsplitting or word games. I believe, how-ever, that it is not too subtle, nor is =it hairsplitting, nor is it word games. For when looked at from the perspective of the person attempting to discern God's call, and especially the young person faced with fife-choices to make, there is a world of difference between the recruiter who wants that person to be a sister or brother or priest, and the minister who wants to help that person discover where God calls him or her to build the kingdom, where life will hold the most meaning for him or her, with no preconceived notion of where that might be. I contend further that, when considered from God's perspective, there is an ~ven more profound difference between "recruitment" and "ministry." It is the difference between the recruiter who believes that the continuance of her or his congregation is in the recruiter's hands, and that it is up to the recruiter to supply the needs of the order; and 1711 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 the minister.who trusts that God callg people to build his kingdom as sisters,, brothers, priests, married people and single people, and belieVes that her or his role is to act as Jesus did in inviting people to listen for God's .call and to act on it. Such a stand places the responsibility for supplying the needs of the order in God's hands, and~ recognizes the responsibility of the vocation minister and° the members of the congrega-tion to act as instruments-of his call by issuing the invitation to the kingdom. ~ Vocation ministry, and not recruitment, is the responsibility of every religious. It is a responsibility which stems not from fear for the future of religious life, but rather from the fact that each of us has been given a great and wonderful gift in religious life, a gift which must be shared with others. Our invitation to religious life is given in the context of the kingdom: because we have known the kingdom in our life and ministry with one another, we'invite others to that same experience. It is not recruitment for a particular order that vocation ministry is about; it is an invitation to nothing less than the kingdom of God that we,. as religious, must be about. The Challenge to Re!igious When vocation ministry is seen not as recruitment but as a ministry whose foundation is the model of invitation, which Jesus himself offers, an entirely new challenge is given to .religious. It is a challenge which brings about a n.ew set of questions: --Have I ~experien~ed the kingdom of"God? Where and with. whom was that experience~of the kingdom ? --Is the experience of living in religious community and doing Church ministry an experience of the kingdom for me? --Do I sense both the responsibility and the desire to share the king-dom with others by inviting them to build the kingdom? -~Am I willing to invite others to consider religious community and Church ministry as a way of building the kingdom, a way which has been life-giving and Satisfying for me? I believe that we religious can continue to invite others to join us i~n community and m~nistry. Some Of those whom we invite will join us; others will find another flay of building the. kingdom; still others~will go away sad. But vhatever the response, we can continue to invite, secure in the knowl-keidngged otmha~t,, tion wouhric rhe lwigei oinuvs i~teo mthmosiet mwehnotm, w we eh maveee tb. eOenu rg iinvveinta"ati osnh ai'sr.em iont it-he vated not by fear of the fu(ure, but rather by a sincere desire to share the gift we have been given, With joy ~and confidence we can coniinue to spe~k the invitation of Jesus: "Come away and proclaim the kingdom of God!" Gentle Exile: Reflections on Formation Mary Ellen Dougherty~ S.S.N.D. After a long stint in formation work for her community, Sister Dougherty has returned to the teaching of English. Sh.e may be addressed at The College of Notre Dame of Maryland; 4701 N. Charles Street; Baltimore, Maryland 21210. Shortly.before I finished a long term in formation work, I told myself that eventually I would write an article that might be of use to others in that ministry. I waited. I needed distance. After a year or so, subjectivity settled into uncertainty. I did not know what I wanted to say. Now, more than four years later, I think 1 do. ~ Initially, I would have commented on the characteristics of candidates currently interested in religious life, the inevitable challenges in dealing with them, and the necessity of both structure and latitude in a formation program. I would have talked about the generosity of young people in ministry, their ambivalence about vows. Now, however, I would like to focus on formation, personnel. 1 address my remarks especially to those who are in the work, and to those who .are considering it as ministry. In more than.eight ye~ars in this ministry, I worked, directly, in various team arrangements, with eight different directors. As director of novices, I participated, with the novices, in intercommunity programs in which directors shared on a regular basis. I speak, then, out of my own experience, and out of some ongoing reflections with at least two dozen directors, men and women. And I speak, still, tentatively. These are my insights now. In many ways I was nbt an effective director. In some ways I was. I have learned from both. I do not think there is a standard profile for a successful director~ There are countless variations on virtues that could be 179 1110/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 considered. Certainly a consistent attitude and practice of prayer, along with a keen mind and a clean heart, are essential. Inner freedom issuing from a clear depth of uncluttered spirituality is central. It is not my intention, however, to explore these here. That, perhaps, is another article. I would like, instead, to address three fundamental areas which, in practice, prove t.o be crucial: experience, affectivity, and integrity. Experience Age, I think, is only a factor for the director insofar as it permits experience. What one has done is not necessarily what one has experienced. To receive experiences of poverty, failure, darkness, in the light of grace, balanced with experiences of fulfillment and productivity, requires time; one must have lived long enough and well enough to know the inevitability of the rhythm, to expect the seasons to change. In that sense, age is important. It is not just what one has experienced, but what one has not experienced that should be consid~reff. One who has been given the time to live as well as the time to die, and has learned to receive both with equanimity, has lived long enough. And one who has not, should not be expected to deal with her own discoveries easily in the context of formation work. Events may always surprise us; the curr~nt of life should not. Affectivity I am not professionally equipped in terms of academic background t6 talk about the psychology of affectivity, or stages of affective development. My observations are purely practical: when the affective or relational life of a director is undeveloped or undernourished, there are generall~ relational problems with those she is directing; these are Often lodged in some variation of dependency, usually mutual. The director, from my observa-tions, usually takes the relationship more seriously, in the long run, than the candidate; the director seems to have some expectations of permanence, whereas the candidate, especially if she is young, is more than likely to tr~insfer her emotions rather quickly. There often is, however, some degree of mutual destruction. It is essential, 'then, that formation directors have the capacity for, and the activity of, peer relationships, that over the years they demonstrate an ability to interact in friendship with inutuality and absence of unwarranted dependency. The demands of formation work are constant and draining, especially if the director is living ~vith her directees. Candidates, especially younger ones, often exhibit a love-hate response toward authority. Unless the director has a belief in her own lovableness, created by a deep personal sense of God, and the experience of significant peer relationships over the years, she can be quickly undone. So can those Gentle Exile / 1111 she directs. Oia the other hand, a director who has a variety of relationships, and who is secure in at least a few of them, is not likely to need her directees. She may, over the months or the years, develop some friendships among them, but these will be a matter of choice, not of necessity. Integrity, Given a person who has lived long enough and loved hard enough, we come to the point of integrity, which I use in a limited sense here. I speak only of that dimension of integrity which enables one to experience some independent clarity about the truth, and to be faithful to it in spite of opposition. It is not my intention to suggest moral judgments. Like many people in positions of authority, formation directors must be able, if necessary, to stand alone. They must be capable of making and living out graced decisions which may create great conflict. And they must be as capable of independent thinking as, they are of consultation. A director who is not comfortable thinking for herself, who relies too heavily on approval and too little, on her own graced instincts, is usually transparent to her directees; wittingly or unwittingly, they may use her. While the need for dialogue, for collaboration, for consensus cannot be overstated, neither can the need for slow, clear, independent decisions that begin in the deepest level of self, where, in the face of opposition, integrity, a matter of grace, becomes a manifestation of courage. When all is said and done, it is fidelity (or infidelity) to the graced self with whom one must live. There is nothing new under the sun. The ability to receive experience and to let it become wisdom; the calbacity to love and to be loved without ownership; the self-possession and the faith to risk a gentle (or not so gentle) exile--these are characteristic of any authority who claims Jesus as her source. If formation work is anything, it is daily. If anyone needs Jesus as her source, a formation director does. Working with the Young Adult with Temporary Vows Vito Aresto, EM. S._ Brother Aresto is Vice Provincial and .Director of Formation for,the Poughkeepsie (NY) Province of the Marist Brothers. Heohas been ,working with brothers under temporary profession for more than six years. He may be addressed at his Vice-Pro-vincial Office: 4200 W. l i5th Street; Chicago, Illinois 60655. Much has been written over the last several years about_the conditions and problems of the yoeng adult within formation programs of, religious life. Since many of the young people who come seeking this new lifestyle come after years 9f college or work experience, formation directors are finding that the traditionally tried and true methods, of formation~seem to contain significant gaps when dealing with this new kind of person. The problem becomes even more complicated when the young person is in t~emporary vows. In this paper I would like to delve into some of the significant areas that have emerged in my working with our temporary professed. For the most part they are young men who have achieved rather comfortable recogni-tion professionally. They have taken their first vows in their middle twen-ties and look forward to years of growth and service within religious life. Final profession comes somewhere around age thirty. Developmental psychology has examined this period of growth young adulthood with great earnestness. Clearly, it is being recggnized that as life develops it confronts, struggles, and tackles successive issues in life's fabric and resolves them only to move forward to confront still newer issues towards growth. Such progress is noted as maturation, growing in one's potential, developing into a full human person. ~Vorking with the Young Adult . When the issues of spirituality are overlayed upon this rich process, we begin to see something of the concept of conversion. Obviously, when one begins to probe conversion, there is a point where even the best of the social sciences"pales before the mystery of faith: But nonetheless, we can learn much about growth and developmenL particularly in the struggles of a young adult who is attempting to find his or her place within a religious .family. This unfolding of life's grandeur and mystery is not at all easy. It can never be pain free if it is authentic. For the formation personnel working with young religious a good grasp of this process is obviously needed. Crisis needs to be viewed as part of the human drama, and neither .overstated nor underplayed. Rather the formation director can be a calming influence for~ individuals as they probe the' issues and unravel a course of action. In this light it is also very important to note that the director ~should be very comfortable with assisting the young adult to tap into such helping services as therapy or spiritual direction. It is important to realize that the varying issues which emerge are not all vocational conflicts. Rather some very necessary growing-pain situations may be interpreted as "vocational,' which in actual fact are merely struggles with growth issues. At other times personal,life issues may be confused as stress issues needing therapy, but are deeply vocational. Finally, there may be.a blend of both. It is the task of the formatioh director .as calming influence to help the young person wade through the issues, and recognize where they lie. In naming the dil~.~a, the course.to resolution becomes less threatening. For most young religious the transition from novitiate life to active ministry carries with it some straining adjustments. There is a great differ, ence between accepting the need to integrate the essential elements of reli-gious life and actually attempting to do so. This strain to interpret and realize the ideal can either bring about growth in young persons, or have them develop a selective sense which, ma~y in the long run distort growth. Each person must face honestly that the balance of the essential elements of the religious life structure cannot be merely put aside for some personal notion of the greater good. In the long run true growth for the young religious only takes place in confronting each aspect of vowed life as important, and then developing a proper rhythm for themselves. Fidelity to their vowed commitment must be presented as their primary work, By doing this they will be realistic in discerning this lifestyle within their congregation and how it truly fits into their own needs ~ind response to the Lord and his people. This approach, one that asks young persons not to compromise any aspect of their vowed commitment, even when faced with the tremendous 11t4 / Review for Religi~ous, March.April, 1986 pressures of the varying adjustments of prayer, community and apostolate, is utterly honest in recognizing and treating religious as adults. The fact remains that as they unravel their dreams and expectationsi they must also be totally immersed in what actually is the life they now share in their new religious family. This task can become even more burdensome as the young religious begin to recognize and feel the depth of confusion, and even sinfulness within their chosen religious family. Yet, within this sobering reality one fundamental task for.the temporary professed religious is to come to real-ize whether their dreams can be honestly integrated within this particular congregation. If this cannot be done then an honest and courageous act would be to depart. The Lord is not asking anyone to surrender his or her dreams, nor is he asking the impossible in great and massive adjustments to what a person holds sacred to the purpose and direction in life. It becomes the task of the formation director to help and accompany the young religious in this discerning process. But the director should never water down or compromise in the name of charity what he or she knows are realities incompatible to the values and goals of the congregation. Furthermore, the director must a.lways make the distinction between fidel-ity to a lifestyle and fidelity to the Lord. The young must come to realize that commitment to Jesus as their Lord can be lived in all the genuine forms and calls to holiness within the Church. Hopefully, the novitiate process has solidly grounded these young persons in their commitment to Jesus. Temporary vows must focus on the parameters of this particular religious family and charism as one valid and true means towards holiness for this young religious. Therefore, a truly respectful and, honest relationship must exist between the formation direc-tor and the young religious so that.real growth and integrity can develop. It is of paramount importance then, that the young,~religious' dreams must be found to be possible in the congregation they have chosen to enter. This is not only vitally important for the growth and development of the young religious, it is also vital for the growth and development of the congregation. The life given to this young religious by God is also a gift of life for all the members of the congregation. When such interaction is in process a certain sense of peace and purpose prevail. When it is. not present one readily begins to sense and hear bitterness, sarcasm, and resentment., Understanding the vital need of a dream in a young religious' life must therefore be one of the important areas into which a director must examine and explore. The novitiate will set up ideals that are solidly grounded in spiritual and scriptural foundations, but these ideals will not be realized except in the attempt at the actual riving out of community within, a local Working with the Young Adult / 1115 setting. It must be realized that each local community is itself struggling to unravel the full meaning and purpose of its shared life direction. Although young religious may leave the novitiate in full recognition that life is a process of growth and integration, it will only be in the experience of community that they will begin to understand the journey with their broth-ers or sisters that they have begun. Therefore, understanding the dreams and also knowing deeply the real struggles of this religious family is a task that each formation director must grasp when dealing with temporary professed. Ultimately, the focus must be turned completely on the Lord. He must remain the very purpose and intention of the young religious. Service will only .spring from the well of deep commitment to the Lord who loved all people even, unto death. More times than not, the young religious' grasp of the importance of intimacy is also wrapped up in their understanding of their dream. They do not enter religious life accepting the fact that there will be little or no intimate relationships in their lives. Obviously, religious life does afford the opportunities for a rich relational life; but that can only come through the struggle of integrating the vows in the light of each one's intimate relational needs. For young religious who must deal with this issue through the maze of the various transitional periods of growth, the very issue of intimacy can become pivotal to successful integration, and thus to peace within this chosen lifestyle. The movement towards dealing with one's~relational life also has impli-cations for community and ministerial life. In community this can expand one's depth of compassion, and in ministry it can help focus one's work beyond the notion of career to an expression of the Lord's service con-tinued through his Church. Each step of this awareness will heighten the young religious' recognition that he or she has truly been called by Another. Gradually imprinted upon the life and work of each young reli-gious is the paschal ,mystery, each one's transformation into Christ. The weathering of growth issues can therefore be the seed for a deepening of vocational understanding that is not only personal but intimate with the Lord. As young religious move closer to their thirtieth year there is to be noted a very subtle but careful evaluation taking place. Some significant issues have emerged and been confronted. The young religious also begin to recognize.that all the aspects of their dreams and aspirations may not be completely realized. They begin to feel, and not merely know, the implica-tions of being chaste and obedient. The cultural values of their society, with its push towards success, ambition, and recognition weigh on their poverty. Ultimately, as final commitment approaches, so does the trauma of the 186 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 "second calling." It is at this moment that the formation director must gently accompany~the young religious. The time for mentofing has ended. It becomes important that unconditional acceptance pervade the whole relationship, If the journey through those years of temporary vows has been honest and rich in successful and mature handling of life issues, then the response to this second calling--a permanent commitment to the Lord within this congregation--will~ be made with the totality possible to this young adult. Fundamentally, as one accompanies young adults~through their initial years of religious commitment, one quickly realizes that formation is.lrela-tional growth. The young religious come eager to respond to the Lord~. Their response has been wrapped and colored within their dreams of Ltheir future life and ministry. Novitiate naturally assists in a solid grounding and underpinning, but it°is not until there is full immersion in the daily routine of life in common and in ministry that they begin to confront and grow within their religious commitment. For the formation director the journey of this pilgrimage is one of trust and love. Ultimately, the individual must come to a sense of'personal peace. This peace is only born in the honest relational growth between each individual and the Lord, between the individual and his or her brothers or sisters, and the individual and the people they are sent to work with and serve. This peace should become the full flowering of a love that rests solidly on the motivation and direction of a life-decision made to the Lord and his people, within this special band of disciples that he or she chose for a religious family. '~ Reflectively, we can turn to Jesus as the model for the formation director who works' with young adults. Particularly is this so if we. focus upon his dealings with Peter. Here we note the care and compassion that must be evidenced by the director. For three years Jesus guided, taught and challenged Peter. These lessons werenot ~beyond the scope of correction and prodding, but they were also done in sincere and tender cbncern. And yet when the supreme :momefit for Jesus arrived, his hour of glory, Peter was still unaware of the magnitude of Jesus' mission. Much like the novice who enters first profession, Peter needed to continue to grow and ~be challenged, even in the darkness of near despair. It was not until the depth of his relationship with the Lord was securely grounded that Peter was ready to shepherd. Only then did he fully comprehend the-initial call that was repeated in the marvelous second calling at the end of John's gospel, "Do you love me? . Come, follow me!" Strangely enough in that rich relational bond between Peter and the Lord did his fondest dreams become rei~l. He no longer needed~io hold Working with the Young Adult / 187 tightly to privilege or rank. Now he no longer saw himself as solely the "rock," but rather could he challenge all that he shepherded to be "living stones," part of the "edifice" of the Lord and his Church. He understood clearly all that was needed to continue the process of growth, a journey into wholeness and holiness. For the young religious the journey is similar. The director must guide and accompany them so that the echo of the initial call of the Lord can be profoundly realized and incorporated into the very identity and dreams of these young persons. Permanent commitment becomes a full expression of a relationship that is central to their meaning and purpose. Christ the Center of Our Vowed Life by" ~Boniface Ramsey, O.P. Father Ramsey's three articles on .,the vows of religion are available as a single reprint: i - The Center of Religious Poverty ii - Christocentric Celibacy iii - Cru~ciform Obedience Price: $1.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review ~or Religious Rm 428 ~3601 Lindell Blvd. St: Louis, Missouri 63108 Commitment in a Religious Order: A Sociological View Joseph C. Doyle Dr. Doyle teaches at Seton Hall University (South Orange Ave; South Orange, Neff Jersey 07079), where he may be addressed. There is a special quality about people who are committed to something, whether it be to another person, a group, an organization, a career, or an idea. That quality can be captured by such words as "loyalty," "allegiance," or "steadfastness." For to be committed is to be involved in a relationship which has priority in one's life over alternative relationships or only one-self. This does not mean that a person's other involvements are ignored bu.t only that when push comes to shove this relationship has singular importance. Obviously, this is a key feature of religious life, for the purpose of religious orders is to foster growth in each member's commitment to Christ. In fact, it has often been assumed, both by people within and without such institutions, that this is the sole ~ocus of the members' ~om-mitments-- that they "have the faith." In the past fifteen years or so, how-ever, the large scale exodus of members from the various forms of religious life has raised serious questions in many quarters concerning this one dimensional view of religious commitment. In particular, such authors as ~Marie Augusta Neal,~ Helen Ebaugh,2 Lucinda San Giovanni,3 Richard Schoenhern and Andrew Greeley,4 and Patricia Wittberg5 have all attemp-ted to shed a social scientific light on some of these questions. This paper is meant to be a reflection on some themes developed out of this tradition. It will attempt to present the results of some findings gleaned 188 Commitment in a Religious Order / 1119 from interviews with twenty women involved in a religious order in the eastern United States. Its major interest will be the way commitment in religious life passes through different forms, forms which seem to be affected by the kinds oof structures established by religious orders and by the way their members respond to these structures. It is, of course, danger-ous to generalize from a group 6f this size. Thus, the following remarks should be read as an'effort to explore some pertinent issues in the quality of commitment rhther than to offer a definitive statement on these issues. I. Sociology and Commitment Because this paper relies upon insights developed in sociology, perhaps it would be helpful to first briefly explain some key sociological ideas concerning commitment before delving into the material from the in/er-views. Over the past thirty years or so, sociology has developed a number of concepts for dealing with the experience of commitment. By and large, these ideas are rooted in the perspective that c6mrnitment is the result of certain ,mechanisms operating in groups or organizations that mold indi-viduals into loyal members. Thus; the primary attention is on how these social factors operate to produce a committed person. One of the more prominent efforts in this field can be found in the work of Rosabeth Kanter, particularly in her book Commitment and Community.6 While the analysis that follows utilizes these insights, it also attempts to show how individual members of a religious order responded to these forces and tried to grow beyond them. Kanter views commitment in terms of three interrelated dimensions: instrumental, affe.ctive.and moral. In addition, each of these dimensions is the result of a set of factors bY which a community leads its novices into full membership. By instrumental commitment Kanter means a felt attachment to a social role that is more rewarding or less costly than the roles outside of the community. In this kind of commitment the person wants to live up to the behavioral expectations that others in the community have of him or her. This attachm~ent is achieved, according to Kanter, by having the novice undergo experiences ,whereby the individual has to invest her time and energy in doing the work of the community and to sacrifice her own possessions on behalf of the community. In this way the person finds himself or herself wanting to remain because of all that has been expended ¯ in the effort to achieve full membership. As Kanter puts it: When profits and costs are considered, participants find the cost of leaving the system would be greater than the cost of remaining; "profit," in a net psychic sense, compels continual part;_cipation.7 190/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 By affective commitment Kanter means an attachment to a set of relationships whose ties are more gratifying than the ties with .alternative relationships. To find a particular,~set of relatio, nships more gratifying than others means recognizing that set as the,primary source of. affection and support in one's life. This dimension is realized by having novice members renounc6 all previous ties of affection as being primary for them and by involving them in communal activities with members of th~eir group. In these ways the new participant comes to develop emotional ties with these others and a cohesive bond develops amongst them. Finally, by moral or normative commitment'Kanter means an alle-giance to the values and norms of the community and a willingness to obey the authority structure of the community as the ultimate interpreter of those norms and .values. However, this allegiance doesonot necessarily develop after a careful evaluation of these norms and structures. Instead, Kanter sees this dimension arising from a set of beliefs and values that have been internalized in an often irrational or unc_ritical way. In Some respects, commitment to norms and values resembles the concept of superego, which binds the evaluative components bf the self t6 norms of a system through an internalized authority.8 The moral commitment of members is achieved, Kanter notes, by techniques that encourage novices to'deny significance to their own ideas and desires and to place their trust more in the community than 'in them-selves. Thus, new members come to see the way of life of the coinmunity as more meaningful than that of competing alternatives. This sociological view of commitment may, at first sight, be rather upsetting to people who form a community in order "to ddepen their rela-~ tionship with God. '-I Would suggest that this reaction is a rather well-founded one. For what sociology has uncovered, and what many of the" religious women 1 interviewed realized after being in their order for a few years, is that there can be a very real difference between commitment to God and commitment to a religious organization. For this latter institution attempts to offer its members a way to God, but lhis "way" is embodied in historically realized rules, procedures;practices and customs that can often become ends in themselves in the minds and hearts of these members. The sociological point, of course, is that a religiouscommunity hasto empha-size these aspects if it is going to survive and so it has to foster commitment to them. Naturally, a religious institution hopes that its" members will develop spiritually by such practices, and many have done so. Nevertheless, as the' following analysis will show, the danger can also be that the corn= mitment does not get beyond these dimensions. How that can'happen and what can be done about it are the concerns of the rest of this paper. Commitment in a Religious Order / "191 II. A Sociology of Commitment in Religious Life A. Internalizing a Theme ~ The model of commitment presented by Kanter can be a useful tool for interpreting the experiences of the twenty women I interviewed. While these women all came from the same order, they varied as far as age (32-63), length of time in the order (9 years to over 40 years), and the kind of positions they held at the time of the interview (teaching, pastoral and the central administration of the order). Nevertheless, they all described their early years in religious life in ways that can b~e captured by Kanter's categories. 1: Internalizing the Instrumental Dimension One of the interesting findings of these interviews was that many of the nuns felt that the years taken up by their training were preoccupied with the proper performance of their duties, with what they called "the externals." In Kanter's terminology they were committed to the role of a religious person. She claims that it is possible for a person just to behave in a committed way, i:e., remain in the group but not necessarily care about the ideals or values of that group.9 While she'herself did not think that this was a full commitment, she did seeit as a possibility. When the nrns were asked about significant changes in their lives, one of the events frequently brought up was when they recognized that they had been caught up in the mere activity of being a nun. For example: when I came to religious hfe I switched to the externals because that is what I thought I was supposed to do and that was what was always talked about., how you dressed, how you performed this and how you did your chores, but I wasn't co~mfortable with that. When we first entered, the activities were important as you grow into being a member of the community. I think at some point you get caught up in the reception of the habit., that is a big day in your life., and you try to act like the pdrfect nun and" that sort of thing. ~ In addition to acting out the role of a reli~gious woman, many of the respondents reported recognizing, a period in their lives when their minis-try, or more pr.ecisel3~, their work, was mrre important to them than any other dimension. Years ago, I guess I was work-oriented and it was the thing that people saw. And the thing I could let go of was my prayer life because no one ever saw that and I wasn't accountable for it. I cou.ld go to confession and say I didn't haeditate that week and that wruld t~ike care of the guilt part. But I never made ~ny cofinectionJwith the rest of iny life. 192 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 As these quotes indicate, the focus on minist.ry and on the proper fulfillment of the "externals" of the religious role were the dimensions to which most of these women became initially committed. ,And, for some of these sisters, the ministry remained central for them well beyond the period of their training. However, while this was a key feature of religious life for many of these women, they eventually began to question the validity of this preoccupa-tion, and for some this orientation is no longer dominant in their lives. 2. Internalizing the Affective Dimension Kanter's second type of commitment was also evident at an early stage of the nun's training. For some of these women, this. involvement in community life coincided with their involvement in ministry. What did you think you were committing yourself to at that~time? I thought I was committing myself to ministry and to community life but not to a deep personal prayer life. I was still struggling with thaIt t.r.i.e. d to take time for it but more often than not, that got pushed aside. What was there about ministry and community life that made you want to commit yourself?. I just" saw goo~d in it. I saw myself functioning very well in it, being comfortable in it, not having any kind of desire not to be there. Some of the other nuns, however, found that a focus on community followed, in time, a commitment to ministry, and sometimes the tension between ministry and community would be resolved in favor of community¯ , ¯. I consider myselfa community-minded person; for whatever reason, ~ prefer working within the community., like coming to the infirmary and working right here with our sisters. I was more than happy todo that. I didn't find myself looking to go really outside of the community. (I. Why was that~ Well, I guess in that it's doing for my own sisters, primarily, rather than people on the outside¯ You are doing the same kind of thing but for whatever reason my preference would be my sisters first. Thus, while ministry may be seen as rewarding, by itself it does not suffice. For this woman and for others, it was and still is a matter of the emotional bond one has with the group with whom she rhinisters that is crucial. Where ministry can be judged in terms of rewards and costs, more non-rational considerations have to be used to judge the relationships one has with others. However, ~s was seen in the discussion of instrumental commitment, this affective dimension did not r6main as dominant for all the nuns. As the following quote suggests, this orientation is no longer as crucial as it once was. Commitment in a Religious Order / 1~ ¯ I really don't know how we remained faithful then. I'm sure if it was another type of community, I don't know, maybe it's because we're more of a family, you know, we feel for one another, um, and that was always our sister, and if you didn't hang in there because your superiors were no good, you'd hang in there because your friends were there. Your commitment to them kind of seemed important to you. 3. Internalizing the Normative Dimension Finally, the third of Kanter's types of commitment was also a focus of allegiance for most of the women during their training. This is particularly obvious in the way many of them had accepted the authority of their superiors during that period. ¯. 1 never felt pressured or stepped on or however people fed. I never felt that. I guess as I entered community it was something I wanted to do. or the Lord called me to do, so I did what I was supposed to do . However, while there were nuns who were very compliant, some found themselves questioning the purpose behind some of the orders. For them, willing obedience was built on an obedience motivated by a fear of being dismissed. Were there people in your class who questioned a lot? Yes, they are no longer here. In novitiate I was very docile. I was probably stupid. If they told me tO do it, I did it because if you didn't do it, they were going to send you home. ~. So you did it out of fear more than anything else. Yes. Yet I liked the days of formation and everything else, but if they said do it, I did it; and when we did it and thought it was crazy, we Used to laugh about it, but we still did it.°, there was no heart in it or anything like that, but we did it to shut them up and get them off our backs. Whether this emphasis on atithority and obedience was complied with willingly or out of fear, it had a dual effect in the training period: it seemed to focus attention on role conformity or the "externals," as was seen before, and it created a sense of dependency on the leadership of the community in many of these women. But in the minds of some Of the nuns, this would often translate into valuing obedience to the rules 'over the needs encountered in one's ministry. Let's say the mother of one of the children was pregnant and her husband had just kicked her in the stomach and kicked her downstairs, and she came to me after ~chool, as did happen once, and when I tried to share with her and show her a little sympathy, I got in trouble because I stayed over in school even though it was that type of thing. I didn't mind getting into trouble, but ! just couldn't understand that whole thing. And in those 1~ / Review for Religious, March-ApriL 1986 days, if she came again, I would probably say "I can't see you," thinking that obedience was the greater thing at that time~ While some of the evidence suggests that many of the nuns interpreted this dependency on authority as something they have left'behind, this is not so for all of them. Even with the much publicized changes in convent life, with the "loosening up of the structures," the importance of the normative dimension of commitment still comes through for many of them. As this following quote demonstrates, however, it is internalized dependency: The change that has been significant has been in the individual being responsible for he~'self. We still have in our community superiors in our local convents. However~ the emphasis has been on individuals being responsible for themselves, for the cbmmitment that they have made, for' living according to the rules and the constitution, for keeping the vows . B. l/ariations on a Theme . ~ Hopefully, the preceding exploration has shown that the women I interviewed responded to the demands made upon them in their formation years in the convent .in ways that the order wanted them to respond. In effect, they internalized the theme of religious life espoused by their order. This, of course, is not to pass judgment on the sincerity of intention of any of these women or on the integrity of those tesponsible~for their training. It is instead to recognize what most of these sisters have realized and what Kanter's model of commitment can help us to see: religious commitment is more than simply doing religious things. When attention is concentrated on the activity of being religious without an ~ffort at helpi~ng the novice to discern the place of these activities in an overall lifestyle, then the only result will be religious conformity and a commitment to the means established to realize a life in Christ rather than to that life itself. However, as many of the above quotes intimated, the story of the commitments of these women does not end in mere conformity. Most of the nuns found that by the time of their final vows or in the five years or so after final profession, t.hey had begun the process of perso~nalizing many of the practices they had learned. This effort at personalization took one of two forms: varying the order's style of religious life to meet o~ne's own personality and characteristics, or creating a style of religious life that was in keeping with the core values of that lii~ but no longer was solely modeled on their order's particular historical interpretation of those values. I would now like to explore the first of the~e responses which I will call "variant commitments." In the third pai't of this paper, I will examine the second form.- The term "variant commitment", refers to a more reflective response to 'Commitment in a Religious Order the demands of convent life than the conformist response did. The idea for it comes from another sociologist named Robert Merton.~0 Writing in a different context (but, nevertheless, in one that is still applicable to our purposes), Merton referred to people who were sensitive to the demands of their institutions but were willing to test some of the limits of those demands. He had in mind men of science like Pasteur or Einstein who were committed to the goals of science but who engaged in the kind of research that resulted in new ways of conceiving the world around us. In a similar way, many of the nuns I interviewed were very much committed t9 the goals of their order, but they were also involved in efforts to alter its style of religious living. Where their training had taught them to exhibit routine adaptations to the expectations of the order, they later became more willing to modify these demands while still remaining within the normative character of the community. By briefly looking at some examples of these variant responses in the light of Kanter's model, it will. be possible to show concretely the kind of changes that took place in these women, 1. Variations on the Instrumental Theme It will be recalled that in this dimension of commitment members involved themselves in the performance of those activities that hdped maintain the community as an ongoing entity. In religious life, one of the more important of these role expectations was a faithful participation in the liturgy. For sisters in training the ordinary round of prayer activities became part of the behavior of the "ideal" nun. By the time of final vows, these activities had become second nature to them. Following the Second Vatican Council, however, the order began to loosen its rather rigid structure, and local convents wer9 allowed to establish their own format for commu.nal prayers. This usually involved a group decision concerning the times to be set aside, as well as the particular style the prayer activities would take. In addition, there was also the expectation that individual sisters would develop their own schedul~ and forms for their personal prayer life. Thus, new regulations were made which allowed for more decentralized variation and individual freedom in fulfillment of the order's goal to develop prayerful sisters. The result of these reforms appears to be a more conscious involvement on the part of most of the nuns in this dimension of their lives: The .emphasis, I think, in the younger days was not on my personal religious or spiritual development, as much as it is now., the job is important but the prayer part of it is more important. Ifa decision was to be made that I would have to give up my prayer life to be an 1~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 administrator, I think I would give up the administrator part. I'm sure years ago I couldn't have said that. I'm going into my fifth year here, and I was very nervous coming here because I had heard about their prayer life~ But it's really been good. It's more spontaneous than at other places. Like we do the reading of the day, and then we share with each other what they are saying to us or one of us will give a homily. As these quotes indicate, within the overall values of communal and personal prayer, the nuns have sought to fashion attitudes and practices that reflect a more conscious appreciation for these features than was true in their earlier days. This consciousness in some cases was an attitudinal shift, such as the rededication of oneself to a life of prayer;'or in other instances, it was a greater willingness to participate in a variation of public prayer that had not been tried before. In'both examples though, a shift to a more reflective response is evident, and this allows for personal and local variations of a communal expectation. 2. Variations on the Affective Theme The second area of religious life to which most of the nuns can be said to have been reflectively responding is the communal dimension. On both a formal and an informal basis, it is expected that the members will participate in the affairs and functions of the community and that this group will be primary in each person's life. In the period before the Vatican Council, these expectations usually meant a high degree of uniformity among the order's members. In the years following the Council, they frequently have involved rather innovative attempts to develop a greater sense of camaraderie among local community members. This can be seen in the following instances which suggest a changing vision of the meaning of community and a willingness to put into actual practice what some have only been able to dream about. What is your vision of community? I would like it more personal, um, with small groups where there is sharing not only of your work but of your basic spirituality, your vision, and maybe with people that you could work it out with so that your vision could: become a reality. I think the great disillusionment with religious life is that your vision remains a vision and there's not too many to share that vision. We were pioneers. My first year in grad school and after that we lived in a convent and commuted to school. We used to pray together and just try to share our lives. We could do creative things like alternative prayer styles and a lot of sharing about community and about the Lord. Commitment in a Religious Order Of course, not all the women in the group were as originally so enthusiastic about this new style, as the above excerpts may suggest. Nevertheless, those who have tried it have overcome their initial restraint and now see it'as a more beneficial way of living than the older style. Once again, a relaxation of rather rigid structures has allowed for a greater amount of reflective expression and thus for the introduction of alternative approaches to a goal of the order. 3. l/'ariations on the Normative Theme The final dimension that exhibits the effects of a more reflective response to religious life concerns the commitment to the norms and values of the community. According to Kanter this commitment is demonstrated in the supportive attitudes members have toward those in authority and toward the ideology of the group. One of the areas in convent life where an important shift in this dimension has occurred is in the vow of obedience. In the days when the nuns I interviewed first entered and until quite recently, obedience to the "Will of God" meant, in fact, concrete submis-sion to what the s,uperiors interpreted what that "Will" was. Today, this submissiveness, while still expected on a daily practical level, is somewhat tempered by the recognition, in their order's rule, that all the sisters share a genuine responsibility for th6 goals of the community. This basically seems to mean that the individu~il sisters are left alone to freely do what is expected of them rather than have a local superior enforcing each of the rules. Naturally, such a situ~ttion leaves room for individual variation, both attitudinally ahd behaviorally. I guess my attitude is that this is not somebody or something imposing on me, or the constitution saying I have to do it, or I feel that my superior is going to say that you are not doing this or that. There are days, for exahaple, when I don't spend much time in prayer at all for one reason ~or another, because it's ministry, or I'm getting in at midnight and I can't function the next day. But ifI don't do it for a couple of days, I know it and I really.have to say, I have todo it tonight regardless of what else turns up, so that it becomes a priority. I think it puts more responsibility on the individuals for their own lives. Ten years ago the superior was saying no, you may not go. I think it places more responsibility on the individual not to maybe abuse missing prayers or Mass or house meetings or meals . . . there is a little more freedom and people are more relaxed . , . to be more responsible for themselves. As these quotes indicate, members are freer to interpret when a particu-lar rule should be obeyed and when it should not. Of course, this does not i911 ] Review for Religious, March.April, 1986 mean that they can or would do whatever they please with no sense of normative .obligation, Thus, the conscious choice on the part ~of~the member is to decide when there are legitimate exceptions to a given rule and toact on those exceptions. In the long run, however, the orientation of the nuns is to the normative expectations of the order. - ~ C. Creating a Theme Hopefully, the previous section has shown that the story of the com-mitments of the twenty women I interviewed took a new turn in the years after their final vows. Because of the changes in the formal structures of the order, these nuns were able to move from a rather conformist-oriented appioach to religio.us life to an approach that reflected more of each individual's perso~nality and needs. However, while this newer style was more personalistic than before, it still was within the definition of religious life as formulated by the order. Thus, it is still possible for members to be committed to the instrumental, affective, and moral dimensions of their community (albeit, in their contemporary forms) rather than to the com-munity's underlying purpose, i.e., to one's life in Christ. Of course, as I indicated earlier, this is not necessarily in all instances what has happened. Instead, it is to point out a continual danger in community life, a d[inger that some of the nuns themselves have recognized: structured behavior and attitudes, even when they are loosened up, can become a substitute for personal responsibility for the purpose of those structures. This danger and a potential way to avoid it can be captured more clearly by examining the second type of reflective response that the women I interviewed exhibited. Nine of the twenty nuns responded to the ques-tions I raised in a way that was somewhat different from the others. I have called this type of response "creative commitment." By this I mean a commitment to a notion of religious life that reflected the women's struggle with an appropriation of a set of ideals and interpretations that trans-cended the institutionalized approach in which they found themselves. This did not mean an outright rejection of their community. Rather, it was an attempt to combine themes learned from sources outside the order with the basic values learned from the community into a more personal style of sisterhood than the one in which they had been trained. Their involvement in the community, is now no longer predicated on the constraints the institution can bring to bear on them. Instead, since their commitment is to a vision~of what religious life can be, they have relativized the role that the community has in their lives. This rather abstract definition can be made more.concre[e by compar-ing some of the "variant responses" some of the nuns made to the questions Commitment in a Religious Order / 199 I asked with the "creative responses" nine of the women mad~ to the same questions. As before, these responses can be presented in terms of the model developed by Kanter. I. Relativizing Instrumental Commitment The first dimension of concern will be the attitudes of the nuns toward the role of a sister. In order to ascertain the overall quality of a member's role involvement in the order, I asked what perception each one had of herself as a sister. As the following quote exemplifies, many of the~s.e women have adopted the role of a nun as traditionally defined, ~that is, as one who is supposed to represent in a special way the presence of the sacred in human life. To be sure, they do not appear to be caught up with the prestige symbols of the role--the habit, the title, the little signs of respect. But they dowish to see themselves perceived as religious women, as part of a religio, us organization, and in this sense, the institutional role is important to them. How do you see yourself as a sister? That's hard to answer. I guess. I am living out what I think I am called to be, but I am not just living it for me. but for other people~ Do you mean what effect you have on people? ¯. Yes, like when people ask me to pray for them or for members of their families. I'm not just some fixture or some teacher. Do I convey the o message of Christ to people? Do I carry the name of (order's name) well, and what that community is about, or do I downgrade the community? In comparison with this perception, the following nun appears to dis-tinguish herself and her role as. a sister. While being a nun is important to her, it is not her whole self. This type of perception cropped up °quite often in discussions with these nine women. In effect, the role has been redefined from being a place in an overall organization to being a vehicle for allowing a more personal style of religious life to be expressed. What that,style is depends upon the individual and how she understands herself; but in general, it seems to encompass an effort to live out the central values of Christianity as these are being interpreted by contemporary thinkers. This woman's notion that "sisterhood" includes her relationships with whom-ever she meets is an indication of this redefining process. when I first came to the community, I saw a sister as functional, whereas now I see sister as a relationship that is not only to the people that I work with but it is. much more universal in a sense. It is me as I relate to whoever it may be . It's much more a sense of I am who I am and a good part of who I am happens to be a sister and what lproject is all of me, the totality of life. 200/ Review for Religious, March,April, 1986 2. Relativizing Affective Commitment The second area of discussion deals with the emotional ties members develop toward the relationships they have in the order and toward the order as a whole. The quality of these ties can be captured by the reaction of members to questions concerning the possibility of the order disbanding. While this is an admittedly hypothetical situation, the reactions of the sisters revealed their attitudes towards the community as a whole. For example, as the following citation suggests, many of the sisters see their well-being as tied up with the well-being of the order.~ Because they tend to seetheir lives as coextensive With the life of the community, these women can be said to~ have Committed themselves to the institution. What would happen if your community died? I would be very sad. As a person I think it would be devastating. I guess the charisma of the (order's name) community is important to me. I chose to belong to a group, and this group meant something to me. for whatever reason they became important. I chose to make final vows, and I chose to make it something permanent in my life. When this response is compared with the following one, however, a different understanding of this relationship is revealed. According to this woman, the institution exists to serve a need; and if it no longer can do this, then the nuns should disband and find other communities. This willingness to let go of what must be a home for this woman suggests a degree of autonomy that was also present in the other more innovative nuns. But this autonomy should not be interpreted as a cold independence from the order for-it seems to rest, for each of these women, on a distinction they have made between tbeir particular order and their understanding of religious life in general. In their interpretation of the order, it exists as a means to realize their religious ideals. Thus, religious life is always broader than the order's way of approaching it and for them it is their approach to that life that counts. I don't know exactly. I don't know if I would; then I would look and see if another group would like to get together to form something else, or if I would join another group. I don't think I would be upset. I wouldn't feel that my whole life has gone because I think what this community has done UP to this point has been very good and very worthwhile, and if it is not necessary, it's not necessary. I don't feel any urge to prolong somethin~g that is no longer necessary, so that would not bother me. Another indicator of the relativization of the order in the lives of these women is their willingness to look beyond it for sources of emotional support. While they.were in training, the community encouraged them to develop their personal relationships with their fellow members by severely Commitment in a Religious Order limiting outside contacts, even with members of their own families. Although these nine women still have deep personal ties within their order, they have also consciously developed friendships with others outside of that community, including laypeople. A couple of them have also become part ofqocal communities that are made up of nuns from bther orders instead of the more traditional, homogeneous units. Most of my really close friends have left the community., but it's not quite as dramatic as it sounds because I do have a couple of very good friends who have been very supporting, one who is married who has always supported me. Then. one who I'm even closer to who was in the community who has left. She continues to be one of the most supportive people in my life. It's fine with her that I am here; ~nd it's fine with me that she is there. How many friends do you have outside the community? I'd say that it's probably about fifty-fifty between people within the com-munity and people outside that I really consider myself close to. Four of us broke off from that larger grou.p because we are for'a simpler lifestyle, and we are now living in a house., the three of us from our order, one happens to. be the school person, and two of us who are in .other ministries and then the fourth sister who is from (another order) who is also in another ministry. That's working out pretty well now. 3.' Relativizing Normative Commitment ~ The third area deals with the willingness on the part of members to allow the community to control their lives. Over the past fifteen years or so, the order has loosened up its authority structure somewhat so that now the nuns are encouraged to speak their minds more so than they were in ~he past. Nevertheless, the ultimate expectations for many of the women is .that it is their duty to obey the wish of the superior. As this example demon-. strates, the notion that "the voice of the superior is the voice of God" dies hard. My attitude towards religious life, I don't think, has basically changed in the sense that I still fed that my superiors, those who are in charge, whatever they would ask I would accept it in the same wa~y I did years ago. I would question now, not saying that I wouldn't.do what they asked, but I would question it now. While the above quote demonstrates an attitude toward obedience that can be characterized as superior-oriented, the next citation reveals another approach to this subject. Instead of first looking to what the superior wants, this nun believes that one should first be obedient to oneself. The distinction is crucial for it places the sister on a par with her superior.and 902/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 enables her to exercise genuine responsibility for her own life. This is probably the most important characteristic of the innovative nuns because it seems to be that which distinguishes them most clearly from the others. Although these others often spoke about the necessity of being self-respon-sible, their 6rientation very frequently was to the community and their superiors. On the other hand~ the innovative nuns more frequently were willing to look beyond the institution for grappling with the issues of religious life and to examine any ideas in terms of where they might fit into their own lives, I believe in obedience to the Lord in tune with what is going on with my own inner' feelings, as contrasted to what I may believe in terms of the' voice 6f the superior although I don't deny that. I think you have to listen ¯. but I would say I would be more in tune with obedience to God; I would say that it's a little more,obedience to myself than I would say obedience to the vow or to the superior. Interestingly enough, one of the ways in which these women have sought to take responsibility for themselves is precisely in the area of the vows. One of the features that comes across very clearly is their desire to distinguish their understanding of the vows from the institutionalized ver-sion. This does not seem to mean an idiosyncratic interpretation of them that is divorced from what other approaches, even institutionalized ones, may offer. Instead, it seems to involve an effort to formulate a conception of the vows that takes into consideration what others,may say; but at the same time, ~it-attempts to create out of ,them an understanding that responds to the personal needs and goals of the individual herself. It should be pointed out that by the term "other interpretations" is meant sources of meaning outside the order, including the general culture, contemporary sourcbs' within the order, as well as the more traditional interpretations, whether they come from formal or informal sources. What seems to be crucial, .in any event, is the consciousness of these sisters of the difference between saying what others have understood what the vows mean and saying ,what they personally think they mean. I took these vows, but I thought. I'm doing my job, I'm praying, so don't b~ther me about the vows . !~ow looking back, I probably detached the vows from the life, or I said I have to take these vows in order to live this religious community life that I want to live. Now what's it like? ~ Now it's thinking about it and reflecting on it and saying there is some-thing more to this and I don't know what it is yet . I could tell you what ~ so and so says and what the books say, but personally., what do I think, Commitment in a R~ligious Order that's what I'm coming to. When you started to reexamine the vows, did you find yourself coming to a personal interpretation of them, or did you sifnply accept the given interpretation? Oh no! I made my own interpretation, and whether that's right or wrong, it's something l'm going to have to live with. No, I think it's my own personal thing . I have been attempting to distinguish creative responses to institutional demands from variant responses to these same demands. Hopefully, this has clarified the difference between the two. If 1 have been interpreting this material accurately, then a commitment can be said to be creative when the individual personally recognizes the primacy of her relationship with God in her life. That happens, it seems, as the individual assumes greater and greater responsibility for that relationship and the role of the order becomes more secondary as far as that relationship is concerned. In other words, the institution becomes a vehicle whereby a person can live out a way of life that she has created. As the following sistei~ asserted in ~ rather straightforward fashion, the order has become a means to an end hot arl end in itself. I say I commit myself to the Lord through this institution and I never expect that I will break that commitment to t~he Lord. I am not .always saying that 1 make a commitment to an institution: (I. Why no~t~ R. It's just the medium for me. Conclusions I ~began this paper by remarking that religious 9ommitment is often understood in a one dimensional way, as simply a commitment to Christ. Utilizing the insights of sociology, however, it is now possible.to see that religious commitment is a multi-dimensional affair which can often inter-fere with the fuller realization of a Christocentric lifestyle. For instead of a single focus on the proper spiritual characteristics of being a religious woman, this analysis found that members of an order can become more concerned about the instrumental, communal and normative dimensions of sisterhood. The result of this is a preoccupation with the means of religious life rather than its ends. Because this was a sociological analysis, it highlighted the fact that this preoccupation was, in part at least, the result of the order's necessary concern with its self-preservation. This does not mean, however, that such a preoccupation is inevitable. As the information concerning the more creative women has shown, it is also possible to relativize the impact of the " 2011 ] Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 social requirements of communal living and to begin to achieve the under-lying purpose of religious life. But to do this requires an effort on the part of the order to become sensitive to the effects its structures have on the spiritual journey of each of its members and an effort on the part of each member to be radically honest with himself or herself about the real con-cerns which occupy one's life in a religious setting. NOTES ~Marie Augusta Neal, "The Relation Between Religious Belief and Structural Change in Religiiaus Orders: Developing an Effective Measurement," Review of Religious Research 12, 1 (Fall, 1970), pp. 2-16. 2Helen Ebaugh, Out of the Cloister (University of Texas Press, Austin, 1977.). 3Lucinda San Giovanni, Ex-Nuns (Ables, Norwood, New Jersey, 1978). 4Rich~ard Schoenherno and Andrew Greeley, "Role Commitment Processes and the American Catholic Priesthood," American Sociological Review 39 (1974) pp. 417-426. ~Patricia Wittberg, "Transformations in Religious Commitment" REVIEW FOR RELI- ~31OtJS, Vol. 42 No. 2 (1985), pp. 161-170. 6Rosabeth Kanter, Commitment and Community (Harvard University Press, Cam-bridge, 1972). 7Ibid, p. 69: 8lbid, p. 69. 91bid, p. 67. ~ORobert Merton, ~Social Conformity, Deviation, and Opportunity Structures: A Comment on the Contributions of Dubin and Cloward," American Sociological Review 24 (1959), pp. 177-188. Two Forms of Consecrated Life: Religious and Secular Institutes David E O'Connor, S. T. Father O'Connor holds the chair of the Department of Church Law at Washington Theological Union and resides at Holy Trinity Mission Seminary (9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20910). His previous article in these pages was "Lay Associate Programs: Some Canonical and Practical Considerations," which appeared in last year's March/April issue. Th~ 1983 Revised Code of Canon Law in, canons 573-730 designates both religious and secular institutes as Institutes of the Consecrated Life. This is a new classification in church law, In its simplicity, it is open to some misunderstanding as a juridical oversimplification because, in fact, both types of institutes are very different. This may just be another exam-ple of the limitations of all canonical categories which are not capable of fully expressing the charisms and gifts of the Spirit to the Church. While the members of both forms of~the consecrated life do profess the evangeli-cal counsels of chastity, poverty and obedience, their lifestyles manifest two rather divergent forms of ecclesial dedication. The intention of this brief article is to explore some of the similarities and real differences between these two types of consecrated lives and to promote a better appreciation of the distinctiveness,~ the identity and the place each one has in the Church. Let it be stated at the outset that neither form of ecclesial dedication is presented as better or superior tO the other. While canonical religious life has been a recognized and important part of Church life for centuries, it has taken a variety of shapes and forms. Secular institutes, canonically and historically, have received ecclesial recognition only within the last fifty years and are still in the process of trying to have their uniqueness under- 205 906 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 .stood and appreciated. The new Code of Canon Law is a welcome and innovative move in this direction. It is a positive step forward in giving secular institutes the canon-ical identity and ecclesial status which they deserve. In canon 710, the new code describes a secular institute as one in which the Christian faithful living in the world strive for perfection in charity and work for the sanctifi-cation of the world, especially from within. Canon 607, §2 describes a religious institute as one in which the members, according to proper law, pronounce public vows, either.perpetual or temporary, which are to be renewed when they have lapsed, and live in common as brothers or sisters. A quick perusal of these canonical descriptions makes apparent some of the. differences between these two types of institutes. The members of secular institutes are to "live in the world" and work for its sanctification "especially from within." On the other hand, religious are to live "in com-mon as brothers or sisters" and profess "public" vows. These and other distinctive features of both forms of ecclesial dedication need to be more closely examined and elaborated upon in order to manifest the special style of consecration lived by the members of the different institutes. In order to facilitate this examination, a comparison of these two types of consecrated life has been organized under the following five headings: Secularity, Community Life, Apostolic Activity, Evangelical Counsels and Canonical Status. There will be, necessarily, some repetition involved because it is impossible to treat the distinctiveness of each institute without there being some overlapping of ideas. For example, it is not possible to consider the evangelical counsels as lived in religious institutes without considering them in the context of common life. Nor is it possible, to con-sider adequately the evangelical counsels as lived by members of secular institutes without examining them in the context of the secularity which is essential to the life of the members. I ask the reader to be patient in this matter as efforts are made to emphasize the genuine distinctiveness and special characteristics of each form of the consecrated life. Se~.ulariff. The primarY and foremost characteristic of secular institutes is that they are secular. This has been repeatedly emphasized in all the ecclesiasti-cal documents which address the nature and role of these institutes, from Provida Mater Ecclesia (February 2, 1947) and the Motu Proprio, Primo Feliciter (March 12, 1947), through the documents of Vatican II (1962-1965), especially ,Perfectae Caritatis,, 11, to the 1983 Code of Canon Law. It is "secularity" which totally colors the way oof life of the members and is the most significant characteristic of their consecrated way of life. Two Forms of Consecrated Ltfe/ 207 The members remain lay people or secular priests. They are not reli-gious ~nor are they expected to live in any manner which approximates or imitates the religious life.~ In every, sense of the term, they are to cultivate their consecrated secularity as ordinary people; living "in-the world and, as it were, from the world. "~ They should be involved in the social milieu and professional life proper to each member in the concrete circumstances of that member's place, time and culture. Indeed, members are to have a secular outlook and acknowledge themselves as "part" of the world and committed to sanctifying it from within) Hehce, the style of life of the lay members of a secular.,institu~te is that~ of a consecrated person living a rather inconspicuous and ordinary life, holding down a job or involved in a profession, while living alone or wi[h family or friends. Externally they will not appear to be different from any other lay person in a similar situation. Indeed, Pope John Paul II has encouraged them to develop their professional life and to be, at the level of Knowledge and experience, really competent in their specific field of endeavor.4 Religious, on the other hand, are required and expected by/heir own consecrated way of life to have a certain "separation from the world prpper to the character and purpose of each institute.'~ Obviously, this is expressed very differently by monastic communities and by apostolic reli-gious. Members of apostolic religious institutes frequent~ly find themselves immers~ed in the world with similar demands made upon them to have the professional competence required in their particular formJ of apostolate or ministry. Yet, at the same time, they may be more likely to think of themselves, while at the service of people and the Church,.as "being in the world, but not of it." Indeed, they are often readily identifiable as "Church-people" even if they are not wearing a habit or clerical garb. Furthermore, they often live in houses or convents associated with their ir~titutional apostolate which helps identify them as Church-workers. Thus their com-munity lifestyle and their corporate apostolate or form of ministry, in one sense, sets them apart and "separates" them from" the ordinary lifestyle of lay people. There are incarnational and eschatological dimensions" to the life of every Christian. However, it appears that the Church considers thai the incarnational should be especially clear in the Christian life of the dedicated laity and that the eschatological or transcendental should be-particularly manifested through the dedicated life of members of religious institutes. One form of the consecrated life the secular institute emphasizes the goodness of the world and of all God's creation (Gn l:3,1); the Other the religious institute emphasizes the radical discipleship of Jesus which involves some separation from or renunciation of the world (Jn 15:19). 901t / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 Community Life Some form of life in common or community life has been a part of religious life from timeqmmemorial. It is a clear requirement of the new Code of Canon Law.6 Members of a religious community are to live in a house-of their own institute with their brothers or sisters and under the autl~ority of a religious superior.7 This is the place where they conduct their day-to-day life and offer their companionship and support to one another. It is the place where they gather about the eucharistic table and pray together. It is from there that apostolic religious reach out to others in a variety of ministries and dedicated ecclesial service. Therefore, some form of commu~nity life has been a perennial dimension of religious~ life and presented as an ecclesial witness of Christian love. The common life of religious does differ somewhat fro~a community to community, and is radically different for: monastic and apostolic religious. However, it is a necessary dimension of religious life and one of its special characteristics. Common life is not a part °of the consecrated life of members of secular institutes. While some institutes may have, as part of their particular tradi-tion, residences which belong to the institute, community life is not an expectation, requirement or characteristic of secular institutes in general. In fact, it has often been positively discouraged as contrary to a truly secular style of life and an unfortunate move toward the imitation of a life approp-riate to a religious institute. ~ The secular quality does not permit of community life on the part of mem-o ~rs, even as an option. It is too easy to slip from the notion of a "group" life to that of a "com.mon" life inconsistent with the personl liberty and the vari-ety of commitments which the ideal of presence in the world entails.8 The new 9od,e does not require the administrators or leaders of a secular institute to have their own residence, nor is it necessary to have a house where formation programs can be conducted.9 Members of secular i~stitutes are expected to live as ordinary lay people, either alone or with their families, or in a group as brothers and sisters.~0 Diocesan priests, who are members of a secular institute, likewise, are expected to live as the other priests in the diocese. That is, they are to live in the rectory to which they haye been assigned by their bishop. There is to be nothing unusual or exter-nally distinctive in their style of life in the world. However, as canon 716 of the code states, the members of a secular institute are urged to share actively in the institute according to their own proper law. They are to maintain a certain "communion" among them-selves arid carefully foster a unity of ~pirit and genuine relationships as brothers and sisters. The constitutions and statutes of each institute should specify how this is to be done, but should not imply that cohabitation or Two Forms of Consecrated Life / 209 any form of common life similar to that of religious is expected. It is the obligation of leaders and moderators in the institute to promo.te this spirit of unity and an active participation of the members)~ Apostolic Activity The new Code of Canon Law succinctly expresses the manner in which apostoli~ activity is to be exercised by the members o

Issue 44.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1985. ; REVIEW FOR R ELIGIOUS(ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis,-MO 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR R ELIGIOOS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1985 by REVIEW FOR R El.IGlOOS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year: $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscdpllon orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOOS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor Jan. / Feb., 1985 Volume 44 Number 1 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELtGIOOS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REvlEw FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Review for Religious ~,'olume 44, i985 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 . Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.~.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, September, and November on the twentieth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS isavailable from~University Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1985 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. A major portion of each issue of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is also regularly available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Religious Life as Unchanging in a World of Change John E Whealon Archbishop Whealon of Hartford addressed the Fall Meeting of the Consortium Perfectae Caritatis in October, 19.84. He may be addressed at his office: Archdiocese of Hartford; 134 Farmingtoh ~v~nue; Hartford, CT 06105. he theme of your meeting, my dear sisters and brothers, is "Religious Life as Unchanging in a World of Change."Th~ medieval~scholastics taught us that distinctions are necessary for ~good thinking, for good logic. So I make a necessary distinction here between the essentials and the accidentals of the religious life. As a Father of the Second Vatican Council (andotherE are precious few of us left :as active bishops these days), I point,out with sortie authority that the council did call'upon religious to change--or at least to consider.changing --the accidentals ofiheir religious life. The operative text is Paragraph 2 of the council's decree Pe~fectae Caritatis, which lays in effect: "The: appropriate renewal of religious life involves two simultaneous processes: (1)'a continuous return to the sources of all Christian life and to the original inspiration behind a given community;, and (2) an adjustment of the community to the .changed conditions of the times." ~ " So the council expected every religious community to fix one eye on the Gospel and on its founder, and the other eye on the modern world, and to update those accidentals which no longer made sense in the modern world. I do think that all communities, nineteen years after that council decree, have done what they were asked to do. The real question is whether some communities have lost some of the essentials as well in their efforts to update. Returning, then, to that basic distinction, I am thinking now of religious life as "Unchanging in E~sentials in a World of Change." 3 4 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 I wish to do twothings this afternoon: first, to speak about these essentials; second, to read to you some quasi-private correspondence. What are the essentials for us in our living out of the Christian life? Forgive me, not a religious, for listing her~ some of the items that are essential in my life--I suspect, though, that they are quite essential in your lives as well. At the end of the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew gives us the Lord's teaching about the person whose house is built on rock. It is a useful metaphor to describe the person who has certain fundamental convictions which carry through the years. Let the tides and eddies and swirls and winds come, the rock-foundation of these convictions is there, unshaken, unmoved, unaffected by what goes on around. So you and I should be solidly based on the rock of our certain convictions, on the essentials of our lives, so that we are not really shaken by what other people say or do, by the spirit of the age, by the shallow currents of our shallow times. I will now list for you five unchanging elements in this world of change. They have carried me through some years which have been very difficult for any bishop. Perhaps the listing of them will find an echo in your own lives as well. The first essential is God. As the years go on, I "become even more convinced that the incredible design in nature, the intricate and intertwined design of the human body and psyche, and the very continuation in being of this world and of us humanbeings in this world and in.life must be explained by God. How a person can go through, life and not accept a Designer, God, who alone explains life, the world, and the universe, I fail to fathom. The second essential is JeJus Christ, the climax of Revelation. By Revelation I mean that truth from God which we know frrm Scripture and the Spirit-guided Tradition of the Church. From Revelation there are many things God had not ~old us and which we can only wonder about and theorize about in theology. We know so little about heaven and ~hell and purgatory, about what Jesus Christ knew,~ about what the Blessed Mother knew, about how she came to the end of her life, about the Apostles, But we know all that we"need to know to save our souls and to lead a good and fruitfully human life --and whatwe know is summed up in one word, because it is the Word-- Jesus, our Lord. Our life isto be the imitation of that Perfect.Life: Our life is to be our acceptance of the One who is the Way, the Truth, the Life. So, as St. Paul said, life is Christ and death is Christ. In thefirst reading, from Galatians, of today's Mass we have the same lesson: we are baptized into Christ, we live totally in Christ. St. Ignatius of Antioch over eighteen centuriesago described Christ as "our inseparable life." This is what it means to have Jesus as our Lord. For us the ~iimax of God's Revelation is Jesus Christ: in what Jesus was and is, and in, what Jesus has taught us and teaches us. So this is a.second solid essential on which to base a life: Jesus Christ, after God. The third essential for living is prayer, mainly personal prayer, but also Religiou~ Life as Unchanging public or liturgical prayer. One of the standard definitions for prayer is -conversation with God. In my life prayer has not been a. conversation at all with God. My prayer is a poor, one-sided effort to speak to the Almighty and to praise the Almighty. I trust and I believe that God is listening. Prayer is a necessary dimension of living,. I believe, so that a day spent without an attempt at mental prayer, a little move towards contemplation, minutes spent in praise and thanksgiving, would be a ,day somehow lost spiritually. I know that prayer does more good for me than I will ever know, and so prayer is the third foundation for living that I list. A fourth essential is community with others. I am not a religious, but I would have a' very difficult time living alone as an anchorite or a hermit. I need to be with others who think and pray and live as I do, and that is why I live with a community of priests. It seems to me that for much the same reasons the religious life is an element in the Catholic Church that will be present until the Lord comes again. So long as the faith is strong, some will want to live out their Christian lives in a community form of life. Some will be called by God to put themselves under vbw in order to live their lives in Christ more fully, in order to do more for Christ and for his Church. So in .a world of change--and I suspect that the prominence of the electronic, media in our society will make inevitable an atmosphere of continuous change in the: years ahead--religious life will be a constant, an ever-available way of life for those with a vocation. A fifth essential element for any Catholic is the Church itself--the Catholic Church possessed, of a teaching authority or rnagisterium that is a part of the Christ's Church. We are the Church, we People of God. But we are also a Church which has a teaching authority. The Lord Jesus gave a universal shepherd and other shepherds to guide his flock. The Lord Jesus, who taught with authority, told his apostles to use his authority and to teach and baptize all nation's, even to the ends of the earth. One of the dominant characteristics of the Catholic Church is its magisterii~m. We have in the Church an authority to tell us what is right and " wrong, what is true and false, what is to be done and what is not to be done. The test of theomagisterium, and of Our acceptance of it, occurs precisely when we are told to believe something or to do something that we personally would prefer not to believe or not to do. The "obedience of faith," then, calls for some humility. And in a proud and indulgent age, neither the concepts nor the words "obedience" and "magisterium~ are very popular. So, specifically by reason of the magisterium in the Church, the Catholic today should know and hold clearly that racial discrimination is wrong, abortion is wrong, contraception is.morally wrong, liberation theology is in some forms dangerous, and ~o forth. I do not see how a person can live the Catholic life fully without following the magisterium. In saying that, I fully realize that there are distinctions which have to be made about the voice 6 '/ Review for Religious, Jan.-~eb., 1985 expressing: magisterial teachings, the clarity and loudness (so to speak) of that voice;, the.topic taught, and so forth. But my point is that the gentiine ~Catholic is to follow the teaching of pope and bishop, and not turn Somersaults so as to avoid accepting magisterial teaching. It is in the context of this acceptance, of magisterial teaching that I see the various reactions (really only two) to the Holy'Father's letter of April 3; 1983, addressed to the diocesan bishops of the United States. The Holy Father asked the bishops to: give special pastoral.service to religious in their dioceses, with a view to express gratitude for all that religious mean for the Church and also to convey concern over the future of this charism in the Church because of the decline in vocations. The papal letter mad~ reference to the Ten Essential Elements .of Religious Life and to their further explanation in an accompanying document drawn up by the Sacred Congregation for .Religious and Secular Institutes. ,, There.,has been much voiced opposition by some U.S: religious to that document and to the Ten Essential Elements. 1 have heard presentations, that go. into a lengthy exegesis of the document, that anal~,ze the mind,set, the limited world-outlook and limited theology o~ its authors, that criticize the ten points for this or that reason. I can only say to such criticisms that it seems to me to,be improper to attempt to separate the document or the Ten Essential Elements from the Holy Father. In September of last year, in company with~a hundred U.S. bishops, I made the obligatory ad limina visit to Rome and presented a quinquennial report~ on the archdiocese. In talking to me, and to,each of the.other U.S. bishops, the Holy Father asked with concern and worry about.the religioias in our dioceses and about their reaction to :his letter. On the basis of my experience, then, it seems tome that the way to read and interpret this letter is to see that the Lord's Universal Shepherd is'worried about a most.important part of the universal flock, the ireligious in the U,S.A., and wants to tell them what religious life should be: in the past, and now, and in the future. A hypercritical or narrowly analytical reading of that letter will offer, I believe, a wrong interpretation and, in view of the magistegium, not a fully Catholic reaction to it. This question of magisterium is of critical importance today for Catholics seeking to understand more fully the dimensions of their faith. During the past twenty years the underlying question in many news stories relating to Catholics has really been about magisterium. And magisterium is the real question un~derlying the recent discussion regarding two Catholic legislators and their pro-choice stance concerning abortion. I conclude this presentation by summarizing the :several points which we need to hold to as basic for living, as Christians and Catholicsand religious, in an ever-changing world: '1) God; 2) Jesus Christ as Lord; 3) prayer,or our aRempts at prayer; 4) religious community; 5) the magisterium' of~the Catholic Church Religious Life as Unehanging / 7 Come what may in future years, may we hold to these essentials and find strength as. we base our lives, build our house, on them; My second purpose this afternoon is to read to you, for whatever wisdom it holds, my answer to the Holy Father's request for special pastoral service to the Leligious of the archdiocese. A copy of this letter has been. sent to Arch-bishop John Quinn for~reference to the Pontifical Commission which he heads and the committee which he appointed. ~ , My answer was dated August 14, 1984, and reads as ~follows: Most Holy Father: This letter is in response to the request of Your Holiness to the U.S.A. diocesan bishops, asking each to give special pastoral service to the religious in the dioceses. After receiving the letter of Your Holiness, I met with either the provincial or council or community of each of the ten communities of religious with provincial houses in the Archdiocese of Hartford. With each group I discussed the esteem of Your Holiness for these religious, your concern for their future, and religious vocations, and their experience of renewal after the Second Vatican Council as seen in the light of the ten "Essential Elements." ~ I learned that of the ten communities, seven [and here I list,,their names] see the ten essentials as expressing their religious life. Most of these have already had their constitutions approved. Of the ten communities three have experienced renewal in. a different way. In general they have experienced a reduction of centralized and local authority In favor of a more collegial approach, an openness to difference and individual apostolates, a willingness to permit smaller groups to live apart from the larger community, and.a replacement of religious garb with a simple secular dress. In these three.communities, however, a minority of the community has kept the religious garb and traditional customs. These are mainly older members of the community. From these interviews, and from meetings with religious outside the Archdiocese, I conclude: 1. We have today in the U.S.A. two sharply different approaches to religious life. The one approach follows the Ten Essentials. The other approach follows some of the Ten Essentials, but has adopted a noticeably more democratic approach to authority, work, living arrangements and religious garb. 2. These two approaches' are irreconcilable. There is a painful division between the two groups, and a more painful division within a community in which the leadership and most younger members have followed a progressive approach to renewal, while most of the older members have remained conservative.* 3. Some; not all, consei'vative communities are growing. The more progressive communities, our largest communities of women, are Review .for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 showing no growth. 4. Because of these two different approaches to religious life, there is widespread confusion about the identity of religious life. 5. The progressive group,, includes many of our best, brightest, most dedicated religious. Their lifestyle and works of religion are to the credit of their community and Chui'ch. And that they are not growing in numbers is cause for lamentation. 6. The progressive group is concerned that its approach to renewal will be judged as not valid, and they will lose their status as religious in the Church. One answer to this is that they have .already effectively ~ converted the community to the status of a secular institute. The picture is extraordinarily complex. My best thinking is that the Holy See could respond in two possible ways: 1. Following the Gamaliel~principle, do nothing. In fifteen years, a brief time in the life .of the Church, the picture will be much more clear. At the end of the century a decision can be made. 2. Designate the religious following the Ten Essentials, including individuals in progressive communities, as "religious. of strict ob-servance," and designate the others by a different terminology. The conservative in progressive communities should be given special consideration.~ ' ~ My conclusion is that there is in the long run little difference between these two approaches. But, for the purpose of identifying the religious in the. Church' and for encouraging religious vocations, the second approach is probably preferable. With respect and fraternal affection in the Lord. That is the end of my letter tothe Holy Father, and end of my presentation to you. And I am grateful~ for your attention. *In response'to a listener, Archbishop Whealon offered the following clarification: By the terms .progre~ssive and conservative 1 intend nothing other than the more or less conventional way used to describe different extremes in the body p~61itic. I am consciously irying pot to use loaded terms in any way, and so am open to any more successful way of expressing these differences. Future Directions in Ministry Barbara Kraemer, 0 S. E Sister Barbara Kraemer is Vice-President of the School Sisters of St. Francis. This article is based on a presen~tation delivered to the, Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary in the course of their.Assembly (August 6, 1984). Sister may be addressed at her generalate: 1501 S. Layton Blvd.; Milwaukee, Wl 53215-0006. Our future directions in" ministry are rooted in our history and in our current context. We are members of apostolic communities in the United States. Our spirituality is rooted in our western culture. The experience of growth and renewal these past years has been basically positive for Changes have not been made lightly, nor have they been made without mistakes and difficulties. Renewal is an ongoing process. My community was founded at a time when ~Catholic schools were being established to teach religion and to giv~ people the skills they needed in an irfimigra~society. Over the years, the needs have changed and also our responses ~m ministry. Todaywe must ask: "What is our unique contribution in education?" Today the descendants of~the German immigrants are members of the middle and upper classes. Do we continue to have a mission to them? What is its new focus? Do we have a mission to new immigrants from Southeast Asia, from Latin America and the Caribbean? There are several areas of blatant need in the U.S. today that help to direct out: efforts in ministry. They are the real needs of real people and they must be part of our consideration as we shape our present and future responses. First, Poverty. Not the t:oncept, but thepeople who are poor. How can we keep in touch with the devastating reality of the poor people around us?.How can we keep our hearts open to them? What can we do so that the distribution of wealth and opportunity will be more equal? "~ ,. Second, .Violence. There is a lack of respect for life in our country, and I'm not speaking only of abortion or capital punishment, but also about child and 9 10 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 spouse abuse, prison conditions, war-making. Are we aware of the violence within us? What steps can we take so that in the future our country and our people stand for a nonviolent world? Third, Inequality of Women. Women in our country receive contradictory messages. Are we convinced that further changes need to be made? What is my or your personal commitment to equality for women? Fourth, Economic Exploitation, There is the philosophy that says we should have more because it's available, that we should sacrifice nothing and enjoy our abundance. And there is the undeniable fact that someone can make a living by exploitation, later beginning a respectable enterprise, made more respectable by donations. People are happy to accept the money because they need it. Playboy Enterprises now has a charitable foundation. Do we scrutinize the source of donations we accept? The response we make to these and other needs is important not only in terms of the what but also the how. The value of our future contributions in ministry depends as much on how we live out our beliefs and values, as it does on the work itself. Therefore, I would like to emphasize three characteristics of ministry that are extremely important for the future: insertion into the lives of people; public witness; and effective use of resources. Insertion Insertion simply means that .we must be part of the people we :serve, part of the society we live in, identifying ourselves as much as possible with the people. Sometimes that seems easy, especially when we come from the same class and a similar background. It is harder when a person with ~a middle-class background goes to teach in a wealthy suburb or to work~at an inner-city shelter for the homeless. It takes careful looking and searching to see the people around us and to recognize what they have to contribute to our lives. Not many, if any, of us rea!ly know what it is to stand in a line at a government office waiting'for an unemployment check,.to personally face the question of abortion or divorce. But iLwe let people teach us, our ministry will not be superficial and it will not be judgmental. Recently,someone. questioned the priorities of a small group of our sisters living in a village in Guatemala. "They spend so much time buying food and " preparing the meal," she said. Their work is basically with the .women of that village and the surrounding area. What better way to understand the life of those women than to identify with how they spend their day! And whose time priorities do we use to measure the value of our presence with these people? Henri Nouwen has spoken about how difficult it is for us to receive from people; we 'always want to give. He pointed out: a servant doesnt decide how h~/she is going to serve. He/she comes to work for people and observes and graduall3i learns how to serve them.~ It.seems that this is something we learn slowly in life. New teachers believe that everything depends on them. They prepare and prepare, presenting a day's work in the first half hour of class and Future Directions in Ministry then wonder what they will do the rest of the day. With time they learn that they don't even know what to prepare or what to give until they learn from the students what they need. Teachers must receive from their students in order to be of service to them. There are some consequences to the approach to ministry: We can't as easily deceive ourselves, believing we are in control. Not to be in charge can be very frustrating! Neither should we be an elite group in the Church anymore, on a pedestal, separated from the rest of the faithful. There is no work religious do that laity cannot do. And maybe the laity can do some things better. We may learn that lay leadership can be far more effective than our own in a parish or a school. We may need to stay for years in an area before we are really accepted by the people. This is often true in places like Appalachia where people are suspicious 6f"here-today, ,gone-tomorrow" outsiders with projects. The people we work with who are poor, who have little, help us examine our own lifestyles. We see what we actually need and what we have accumulated because consu-merism has crept in. One sister, speaking about the poor she encounters in the cour~ system, said; "They keep me honest." In our society and in our wo~:ld, the values that are a.ccepted and carry weight are: competition, power, domination, control--what we would characterize as "masculine" values. What our world needs is an alternative vision: not domination, but in,terdependence; not control, but freedom; not individualism, but collaboration. Within the Church, as religious persons, we already bring many gifts. We have the potential to do more. Sometimes lay women see sisters as rivals .for positions or recognition, rather than seeing them as sisters working with them to make the Church receptive to the contribution of women. Collaboration requires us to leave our ghettos, wherever they are, however comfortable. We need to stretch ourselves, to be with those who are different from ourselves and who can complement the gifts we have to bring. For such collaboration, coalitions can be formed so the power of action for good can be strengthened, i have belonged to the Central America Solidarity Coalition in Milwaukee since I returned from Nicaragua in 1980. ~.There are Catholics, atheists, Lutherans, students, union workers, socialists, democrats, medical personnel and many others in that coalition. It takes us time to come to agreement on directioqs or actions. But there, is respect for the differences, which is cbnstantly an example to me. I ~m convinced that it is worth the effort to make the coalition work because we can reach out to more people. We are not only talking to ourselves, to those convinced of the need to stand with the peoples of Central America. We also talk to the Catholics who are indifferent, to the union workers who want to see the relation of Central America to their jobs, and to many others. Our mission as a coalition is served by our diversity, even though this same diversity can be an obstacle, because people tend to categorize others by their associations. That may be what we are afraid of in taking such a step. 12 / Review for Religious, Jan,-Feb., 1985 To summarize, insertion into people's lives calls for a ministry with them, a -ministry which is reciprocal. It calls us to collaboration with other religious, with laity, with people who have the same goals as we, no matter what their background. There is one other point to be considered, and it is a sensitive one. Why would a musician take a practical nursing course and work in a nursing home? Some would say she is wasting her talents. Why would a Ph.D. go to work in a refugee camp or in a Catholic Worker house when~ she could be teaching? Most often these changes occur because the ministers have inserted themselves into the lives "of the people around them, and are listening to the needs of these pepple. Most often these.people are poor. We continue to hear the phrase, "the preferential option for the poor," and it has a foreign ring to it. The expression comes from Latin America, not from the United States. What does it mean? This preferential option for the poor basically is not about the type of people w~e work with, or where, or what type of work we do. It has to do with our hearts and with the values that inform all we do. It has to do with our priority concern in ministry. The term "preferential option for the poor", does. come from Latin America. The Latin American Conference of Religious-(CLAR) has explained its meaning, declaring a priority for certain poor, those who have these three characteristics: (l). they have nothing, no opportu, nities, no resources (2) they can do nothing, i.e. they have no power, and (3) they struggle in faith and love for justice and for a better world.2 The Church in Latin America has made a preferential option to accompany this group of people. And these are the poor 'who evangelize, who convert us. The question is: can We p~rsonally, can our religiou~s-institutes, make such an option in ministry? Can we support those who make this option? Public ~Mi~ "nistry For'some missionaries the preferential option for the poor has led to their persecution, torture, even death, the same consequences that the poor face in their daily lives. By thifir choice these missionaries give public testimony to Gospel values and to their following of Christ. This'is a second characteristic of ministry, public witness. In the United States our bishops have exercised a public ministry through their positions on racism, the threat of nuclear war, abortion, capital punishment and Central America. They' have not been persecuted, but they have been criticized and wooed. They have generated opposition and reaction. J. Bryan Hehir in the commencement address at Catholic University this past year coffcisdy presented.the meaning of public witness for us in the U.S. Church: In the.end a public church is a community which stands for something--indeed, which Future Directions in Ministry v stands f9r many things. It is the product of people who shape their personal lives in such a way that they make a public d~ifference. In concrete terms, that is the challenge of a public church: to live with a vision which makes a difference for the world.3 In this country we have a unique opportunity to 19e a public church. We are guaranteed freedom of expression and freedom from religious persecution. But many times Catholics do not understand this role for themselves or for the Church. Our tradition of separation of Church and state, designed to guarantee freedom of religion and prevent the establishment of any one religion, has been interpreted to mean that religious concerns are private, and that the Church should stay out of public life. The spirit of the Second Vatican Council is just the opposite. Gaudium et Spes calls the Church tO be a permeating rather than a parallel presence in the world. The mandates of Vati.can II must be carried out in the market place, in political cgnventions, in schooi~, in nursing.homes, in international meetings. To move in this direction is a risk. Bishops, Church people, may lose support and privileges. Religious institutes might lose their tax-exempt status, especially if the message they.speak is a threat to the status quo. Yet how ¯ important it is to hear Church representatives and organizations say no, as Bishop Hunthausen and others .have, to weapons production; ~ say no, as Archbishop Weakland has, to the deportation., of Central American refugees. More and more the Church must be known for upholding the vision of a better world and thus announcing the Reign of God on earth. It is unfortunate that at times we hear more from .our bishops than from our parish priests. There is such a need to awaken a consciousness of injustice. Who is doing it? Are we? Just as we say an institution has a mission or a sponsored program has a mission, so the total religious community or institute has a mission and can make a corporate response to the needs of the world. The community can take a public stance on certain issues, not because they are fads or the latest cause, but because of the values that we believe in as religious persons, as Catholics, as Christians. Furthermore, the leaders of a religious community, by their writing and other.actions, can call attention to injustices and to needs in society and in the Church. For years, the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth, Kentucky, have been using a corporate reflection process in their community. They reflect in small groups and then in larger groups on a certain need or concern, for example, racism. Most of their sisters are located in the south. Publicly they are known as a community tha~ stands against racism. What are our communities known for publicly? How can the Gospel affect the world through our 9ommunities? Another dimension is the public witness of individual members of the community through writing, public appearances, participation in demon-strations, lobbying for reforms, holding prayer vigils, even civil disobedience. Our beliefs and values as a religious community, stated in our documents, are a guide to us as members examining the need for public witness. Increasingly, 14 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 this area of action l~as become more controversial within the Church. as we face the question of public office. It may not always be appropriate for individuals to speak publicly or take political stands. One of.our sisters in'Honduras, Maria Rose Leggol, directs a program for orphaned and abandoned children. The success of her efforts depends on support from all sectors of society and from the Government. Another ' sister in Central America works in a refugee camp. If she wants to continue to work there, she cannot criticize or even complain about anything that happens. This is especially difficult for her because of her background in union organizing in the south, but she makes this choice in order to continue her ministry. What is important is that some of us are present in the public arena--as legislative aides, as members of UN commissions, as writers for national publications and as artists who call to mind the beautiful in this world. Through some of our members we can be present where decisions are made, where values can be influenced. One caution in all of this: we must avoid dichotomies. Rather, we must see the connections. There is not only one way to look at anything. So, we are not all ptiblic figures or writers or artists. But some of us are. And weare all called to be leaders and prophets in our own ministry. The choice is not between direct service and structural change, between education and social justice, between the individual and the corporate. The choice is between cooperation and competition. The challenge is for us to see the connections among all of these types of ministries, and to be a public witness in the spirit of 1 Co 12:4-5: There is a variety of gifts but always the same spirit; there are all sorts of services to be done, but always to the same Lord . Effective Use of Resources As members of religious institutes Wer share in their personal, financial, institutional resources. We do have some money at our disposal and perhaps, as religious communities, more money than many individuals in our society, because the money is held in common. At the same time we also have needs within our-communities, including retirement needs. Therefore, there has to be a balance between the use of inonies to meet those community needs and to respond to ministry needs. A question to ask, as a community, is: What are the ministries that we believe in so much that we are willing to make sure that they continue? We can make sure that they continue in different 'ways. One is~by giving personnel, maybe even sacrificing someone we would like to see in internal community work so that ministry needs can be met. Another by allowing our members to work by contributing services, that is, working for a stipend or lower salary. A third is giving real money, on a one-time or an ongoing basis. Maybe those earning more can contribute or be assessed a certain amount annually to support those who do not earn enough. Future Directions in Ministry ] 15 An example of how to insure an ongoing program, in this case one that meets the immediate food needs of the poor, is the St. Benedict Meal Program in Milwaukee. This program has been organized citywide with many parishes and organizations providing the meal one day a month for the people who are poor and homeless. It is a program that does not drain resources, because different parishes and groups sponsor one day a month. They can afford to do that. It is a program that is systematized so that people are fed every day of the month. Therefore, it is a program that is ensured a long life and is a real service to people. St. Benedict the Mror Parish also had the idea for,the project now known as the Benedict Center for Justice, which helps women in jail through a program of v!siting, of education, and of job counseling. This program is dependent on outside financial resources to be able to continue. There are limits to financial commitments, and the parish may not be able to do much, but they have established a brainstorming group to consider the long-term. Over the years, our religious institutes have made some institutional, Commitments. We must evaluate these to determine whether they continue to respond to the fieeds of people, and whether we have the resources, personal and financial, to maintain them. Institutions can give a service that individuals cannot. Because of the size of an institution and its very existence, it has a certain amount of clout, or power. An institution can have an effect on a political issue, for example. We have been looking at this questirn in relationship to our health care institutions in the United States. We have one rehabilitation hospital, one nursing home, one psychiatric hospital and one general hospital. We have been asking whether we should maintain the one general hospital, and until now the answer has been "yes" because having a general hospital allows us to speak in a forum that would otherwise be closed to us. . An alternative tO owning and operating an institution is to sponsor an institution or a program. For example, our community sponsors the LaFarge Lifelong Learning Institute, a separately incorporated organization, serving the needs of over one-thousand elderly people each semester by providing classes, a place to visit, h.chapel, and a hot meal at noon. The community has no financial obligation to this institute, but some of our sisters, active and retired, work within it. Another example is a project our community sponsored some years ago in the Walker Point area of Milwaukee. It is still bearing fruit, even though the project as such has ceased to exist. A small group of sisters researched the needs of the Walker Point neighborhood community. Three of them began to live and work there. One worked with a handicraft cooperative, another helped to establish a neighborhood newspaper. They all served within a local parish. At the present time, only one of those sisters remains, but now there is a tri-college outreach project, with our college, Alverno, participating, to help women in that area of the city who have not had the opportunity to continue in school, to complete their basic education. So needs change, responses change. If there 16 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 is some ~commitment to an area, sponsorship ofa new program, even though that program h~is a time limit, m~y be one way to serve people, Many of us are familiar with discussions about the meaning of "corporate th.rust~ or ',corporate commitment." Institutions and sponsored programs and parish schools are clearly ',corpora, te" commitments. But there are other ways of serving ,that amplify :our undei'standing of the corporate dimension. For example, the Capuchin priests ~nd brothers have some intentional communities, In one the priests are in different w.brk but they are all committed t~ being part of the inner-city neighborhood the~ live in; and they share the same values and concerns about justice. Another w,ay of looking at the corporate dimension is to see it present in each member,of the community. One member may say about another, "Oh, she is just going off to do her own thing." What that person may not know is that this itnd~vldual may have internalized v~ery well the vision of her foundress and theigoals of her community. Se.eing a need, she might, respond as an individual but very much as part of the community Bishop Kenneth Untener of Saginaw, MI, said to the religious of his diocese that the measure of the val,ue of religious life is the impact of our lives upon others. He says, ~ ' Today your witness is more individuali Today we notice how each of you prays. Today we notice how each of you finds ways to :live out the vow of poverty. We notice how celibate commitment is expressed through your own person. We notice your attempts to be obedient to the Lord's call, to the work of your community, to the needs of the Church. Your respo~nse unfolds in ma~ny different ways . You are aware, I'm sure, that this p~laces different demands upon ~ou. It is One thing to be a member of a community whose Collective life makes an impact. It is quite another thing to make an impact through your own individual life. The Church needs both . 4 If this trend is true, and we know from our experience that it is, then it continues to be exceedingly important that each one of us develop ourselves, our own resources through study, reflection, education and through other ways :of ~keeping ourselves open, to learn more an~l to become more. Experiences of people very different from ourselves can be broadening if we are open to them. One of our sisters, participating in our mission exchange program, went to Peru to develop her Spanish and her understanding of Hispanic people. She works with learning-disabled children in Aurora, Illinois, many of whom.are Hispanic. This year she is back in Aurora, her h~art opened to the pastoral needs of the Churc~h in another part of the. world. We are all aging and though x~e might be happy with .the work we are doing, we have less choice about, what else we might do. The Sisters of Perpetual Adoration in LaCrosse .~ponsored a hostel last summer for their sisters age fifty'five ~nd older. It ~;as a program of theological reflection, in which participants looked at their own futures and possibilities for new directions in their lives, recognizingithat with aging come physical Limitations. The contribution of new members also needs to be drawn out and appreciated. When we think about~lspecific ~vorks, we need to recognize that new members are not necessarily in education or health-care fields in which Future Directions in Ministry many of us have worked. What do they bring? What kind of ministry directions do they point us toward? We had a meeting of all our formation directors from different countries during December, 1983. One of the points mentioned at that meeting was that the new members help to form the community. If we really believe that, we have to find ways of putting it into practice. Sometimes they are so new that they do not take much initiative, or they are drowned out by the initiative of other members. We need to look for ways to hear their voices so that they can really shape the community, which is theirs, in the future. Each one of us must: Consider the treasure that w~ arer the gifts and skills and abilities we possess. We must recognize our own freedom or lack of freedom to make changes, to start on a new path, to "let go." We must take into account our limitations, our personal needs. The deeper our awareness of our own selves, the more we can be in ministry. We, in the United States, in the Catholic Church, have a unique opportunity to be prophetic. We belong to a Roman-based Church that, at the present moment, emphasizes hierarc~iy at the exPense of the prophetic dimension, and the Church needs both. We know that at times our contribution is not recognized. Thdt does not mean that it is not valuable. The Church needs the dimension we bring just as the body needs both arms, each finger and toe. To be prophetic in ministry may mean nothing more (or less) than that each of us and all of us pursfiE our goal as members of our communities, which at root is the goal of the Church and' ultimately of the Gospel, to transform the earth and promote the Reign of God. ' We express our fidelity to that goal through our ongoing willingness to reexamine our ministry priorities. As :we crntinue that reexamination, we must keep before us the people we serve. We must ask ourselves about our awareness of reciprocity and our efforts to collaborate. About the quality and the fearlessness of our public witness; individually and corporately. About the creative and effective use of our many-faceted resources. Then we will be prophets in the Chui'ch of today ¯ and tomorrow, true in our following of Jesus and fa'ithful to the heritage of our communities. NOTES t Henri Nouwen, "The Spirituality of Struggle," a presentation at the annual meeting of the U.S. Catholic Mission Association, May 6, 1984. , 2Cited by Anthony Bellagamba, I.M.C., "The Preferential Option for the Poor," Alba House Cassettes, Canfield, Ohio 4440~6, to be released in Spring, 1985. 3j, Bryan Hehir, "A Public Church," Origins, May 31, 1984, p. 43. 4Kenneth Untener, "The Rich Abundance Within an Earthen Vessel," Origins, June 7, 1984, p. 61. Focused Freedom: To, Someone in Formation Desmond O'Donnell, O M.1. ; Father o'Donnell, is a General Councillo~r of his congregation, and may be addressed at the generalate:~ Oblati; C.P. 9061; 00i00R o m~a-Aureh"o; Italy. His last article in our pages, "The Problem Member in Community;~ appeared In the issue of March/April, 1981. Agood friend confides in you that he or she is considering adopting a way of life which will guarantee reasonable security but no significant material rewards, in which Considerable mobility of residence may be foreseen, in which work-preference will not always be,given, in which marriage and family life ar~ forgone and for which a seven or eight year training period, will be necessary. What would you sa); to your friend? What sort of questions do you think he or she should consider? Is there~ one big question which your friend should face deeply? Before you read further, in this letter, it could be useful to jot down the sort of questions you think you~r friend should think about before he or she gets into this unusual way of life. t No deep reflection is necessary to discover that your friend is thinking ~bout giving up a great deal nor to see that the demands of this way of life are unusual. Can you do it? Is it worthldo~ng? Has anyone the right to ask all this of you? Why are you doing it anyway? What do you hope to get out of it? These are some of the spontaneoqs questions which might come to mind in responding to you~ friend. It is clear that at base there is question not merely of material prosperity, marriage or m~obility but of your friend's very self, of his or her core freedom. Your friend h~s to face the issue of exercising or of losing his or ~her freedom in a very radical way. You are aware~that I am talkin~ about your own respofise to priesthood or to the vowed life. Looking at either from this human point of view that of using.or losing one's freedom---can~,be a good starting point. The questions are 18 Focused Freedom / "19 important for you at this time and they cannot be answered theoretically nor by another person for you. Your own very personal freedom is at stake, The exercise of freedom at any level is personally demanding but at the level of priesthood or the vowed life, one's entire personhood is involved. 31,000 priests asked to be dispensed from their way of life between 1963 and 1978; 60,000 sisters have changed their way of life during approximately the same period. Did these sincere people have freedom? Did they lose their freedom? Did they give it away? 'Did they have it taken from them? Or did they find it only in later life? What does the fact of their presumably painful experience of staying, then leaving and readjusting to a new way of life, say to people life yourself? The failure to deal with this sort of question could mean that you become an additional statistic. Keeping Your Options Open There is a very obvious, and attractive temptation today to avoid the risk and exercise of freedom at any depth. It is to avoid completely all deep and permanent choices like marriage, priesthood or the vowed life. It is to sidestep all unconditional decisions. Besides being aimless, this if-perhaps-maybe-for-a- while exercise of freedom is purposeless, as we are~ reminded by Dag HammarskjiSld -- "The man who is unwilling to accept the axiom that he who chooses one path is denied the others must try to persuade himself, I suppose, that the logical thing to do .is to remain at the cross roads."1 We can understand and admirea married couple very fruii-fully renewing their choice of each other, at regular intervals, but constantly revising or reassessing their choice would hardly make for a deepening relationship any more than regularly uprooting a flower and replanting it would help it~ growth. As Karl Rahner reminded us, freedom is not exercised in the constant revision of choice but in the, ability to make one choice and follow it. Experiencing Freedom . 4, To be free is to be untrapped, free from han/~-ups which could hinder a chosen directioning of one's life. It presumes the ability to shake off anything which might limit the power to say yes in the direction of a deeply-chosen goal. More positively it is the power to surrender one's whole self, to lose oneself even one's life--for a chosen cause: It is the ability to bring oneself together, to collect one's frequently scattered parts, to point them and trigger them all in one important direction. Freedom at its best enables the momentous launching of one's life in a morally irreversible .direction. "Man is free when he is able to make up his mind in conformity with the highest values and the ultimate aims" (John Paul II to the Faculty of Frib~urg University, June I3; 1984, quoted in L'Osservatore Romano 2/7./84 p.3). Maximilian Kolbe was most frbe when he walked out of his cell in 20 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 Auschwitz to take the place of another prisoner about' to be killed:" .Dag Hammarskj~ild tells us about his '.freest moment--"To be free, to be able to stand up and leave every, thing bfhind--without looking back. To say yes" (p,88). ~ Jesus .summa~:izes his life thusT--"I~ lay down my life., no one takes it from me. I lay it down freely" (Jn 10: 17, 18). While this deepest exercise of freedom can sometimes be socially supported and encouraged by less than totally selfless motives, it can come ultimately only from someone who i~ rich indeed--a real adult. No wonder (Jordon Allport reminded us that only adults can commit themselves and that commitment and adulthood arrive simultaneously. Appreciating Freedom It seems to me that one blessing of this age of totalitarian regimes and mind-manipulating techniques is ttlat it is leading to an increased appreciation of freedom. In the past the conscious awareness of freedom was lower because it was less necessary, or less encouraged but now there is a growing sense of human rights and freedom everywhere. Some would see a need to recall St. Paul's words today even in the Church: "Some who do not belong tO the brotherhood have furtively crept i,n to spy on the liberty we enjoy in Christ Jesus and to reduce us all to slavery again" (Ga 2.4): To which he opposes the fact that "When Christ freed us, lie meant us to remain~free" (Ga 5.1). Paul surely appreciated hisfreedom agai.hst those who would limit it even within the Church. ', It is only in freedom that we c.an become our best selves by transcending ourselves in an act of kenosis and thus reflect the justice-fidelity of God by the power of his Spirit---"Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom" (2 Co 3:17). When we use our freedom toldo what w6 know is right or what we know we are called by God to do, we arellike God whose dabar was his word-event, his word-acted-upon in freedom. Our freely acted-upon word no~t only expresses us but it makes us what we are,. as Karo.l Wojiyla, later Pope John Paul II, emphasized in his Acting Person. Thus it is that freedom involves your deepest you. Your free acts express you, and they also make you---especially those rare acts of dedication which influence your life'~ direction deeply. While you can be forcibly limited by others whenexpressing it externhlly, this core freedom can be touched only, and used only, by you. The full and, fruitful exercise of this freedom calls for an ever-deepening appreciation of it. Conscious Awareness Since thefinal choice of priesth~aod or/and of the vowed life is. going to be an expression of your deepest freedom, it is important that you get the feel of this freedom now. You cannot lose yourself unless you have found yourself. It will only be when you have exp'ressed and felt the satisfaction of lesser Focused Freedom / 21 :freedoms that you can gradually appreciate the deeper ones. and finally the deepest one of being "ready at any moment to gather all into one Simple sacrifice"2 as Hammarskji51d put it. -~, Have you recognized yet that every choice is a little death; that every choice makes you in a way that can never quite be unmade? Or have you ex;er thought and reflected upon how prominent people in the Chuich, in your own congregation or in history have exercised their freedom? Why not organize a seminar or write a paper on one of these people and then line it up with the oarticioants' own experience of freedom? And to flex your~own freedom muscles in the exercise of everyday actions such as eating, drinking, fasti~g, going to bed, getting up, keeping to study or prayer exercise/schedules can be a revealing and helpful exercise. This recognition of' the primacy of the practical--just doing it--will add authenticity to the reading and reflection you do on the subject. Your failures to be free can teach you as mu(has your hard won victories. From these you can discover and list--it is good to write them down--the areas of your freedoms and unfreedoms and what it is that contributes to'each. Your freedom to finally choose the vowed life or. to accept priesthood will be on sand or on solid ground depending on the type of soil you have prepared over these early years. The fact that. you fail or succeed in exercising your smaller freedoms could be less important than ~,our discovery of what motivated the success or failure. That iswhy the habit of monitoring your.freedom in a daily examen of consciousness is important. Heightened physical and mental aware-ness has great benefits for richer living: Try to grow in a similar awareness of your freedom by learning to look at it reflectively. Discerning Freedom , ~ To help you in monitoring your freedom-efforts as you grow into~your vocation, may I offer you a guideline or norm? As you find yourself growing in peacefulness, ease, harmony or even enjoyment of your way of life, you can know that you are moving into real freedom in your vocation, This, of course, allows for rough spots and moments of doubt but not for a constant series of such. You will grow into thefeeling that paradoxically you are beco .ming less free to choose outside that way of life as a happily married couple becomes less free to part, with the years. In a way, your growing vocational choice can be compared to an onion with its many layers~ If the core is sound, then each layer originatingfrom the core fits around it and strengthens' it~ As time passes, the healthy core becomes safer with its close-fitting layers protectingly around it~ And a time comes when the core cannot be touched unless the layers are gradually and destructively removed and the entire organism destroyed. That is why. it is difficult to lose a genuine vocation and impossible to lose it suddenly or without gradual and long infidelity. If a person's vocational choice has been sound in the beginning and 22 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 succeeding choices emerge from it and fit it, then what is called loss of vocation has tb be more a partial disintegration of the personality than a departure from something which was part of it. If, !on the other hand, the core has been poorly motivated, the later layers are more like wrapping paper which can easily be removed b~cause ~they do not really belong; they, were put on rather than having emerged from the core. Thee vocation was not lost; it was never there. So it is vital in these early years to beaware of your core freedom, to reflect on it and to relish it.~Each day of ygur life over these early years cannot be a review, a revision nor a momentary rejection of your basic choice just as the layers of a healthy onion cannot be !removed even for constant clinical analysis. On the contrary, each~act is a renev~ing and deepening of what you know was a healthy initial choice. It will help you perhaps in ~onltonng your grdwth into freedom to consider Ivan Illich's question about schooling--,'Is it a place where the child . is~,chasing knowledge or where knqwledge ~s chasing the child?" In these early years, do you increasingly get the feeling that this way of life is something you are pursuing more comfortably eac.h year or do you have the feeling that it .is something clumsily pursuing you and with which you are increasingly less than comfortable? Or to put it another Way, can you see and feel yourself enjoying this way of life freely in, say, tweniy years' time? Is this way of life becoming more "good news" to ~ou each year? If you answer these questio.ns in a clear no or with a hesitant yes, you have reasons to doubt the presence of freedom in your present way of life. . I ~ Spiritual directors now exercise their role less as directors than as someone who accompanies--a sort of spiri.tual friend. And who better to help you monitor your growth in freedom? ~With this friend, you can, as it were, take your freedom out to look at it in the only way possible--how you use it from day~to-day, In the presence of such~ friend, you can bring yourself to account gently and even ask him or her to do it for you. Formators, too, have an important role to play in our growth in the external use of freedom. You can 'r.easonably ask, then, that they fulfill their contractual role- that of leading you into a life'form which they themselves are already living. In recent years .,there may have been a sort of suicide of leadership in reaction to an earlier bver-authoritarian model. But laissez-faire leadership is not a Christian model and if your formators use this, they do you an injustice. If you feel theyare faili,hg you in this way, yo.u can reasonably ask them to encourage, challenge and confront you on your external behavior in such matters as presence at commgn prayer, availability to the community, academic results, interpersonal behavior and pastoral work. Both your spiritual guide and your formators are important, in helping you find your response-ability in freedom. ~ ~ Focusing Freedom ,~ .~ It seems very significant that s~]ch a diverse group as a Dutch spiritual Focused Freedom writer, a Jewish psychiatrist, a French philosopher and an American psychol-ogist stress that focusing is an indication of adulthood. Van Kaam says that permanent commitment is entrance intopotential maturity after the indecisiofi and dispersion of adolescence, while Viktor Frankl stresses that the human person actualizes him or herself only insofar as he or she becomes committed to life's meaning. Gabriel Marcel adds to this by reminding us -- "Man can know himself only if he is committed and only the man who knows himself is ready for ~ommitment." Gordon Allpo~t seems to summarize it by saying that it is only when youth begins to plan for life that the sense of self is complete. Like a river which gathers force when it is channeled, freedom is at its best when it is focused. A man is never so free in his relationship with women as when he deeply chooses and marries one. Freedrm is maximized when. it 'is purposefully pointed in one direction. Because all freedom is ultimately situated in a pla,ce, time'and activity, it must be focused to be full and fruitful. You are now looking seriously at one life-form on which you consider it worth centering your freedom. Your diocese with its people, its structures and its leaders or your congregation with its charism, community living and mission, offer you an opportunity to express yrur freedom in and through them. The question before you remains -- "Is this the structured life-form in which and through which I can freely b~come my best self?. Is this where I want to focus and express my deepest freedom unconditionally?" Hume said that reason must always serve passion and Lonergan described emotion as the mass and momentum of human existence. True, to follow feelings or to be driven by emotions is not necessarily to find one's vocaiion, but feelings and emotions experienced over a time can help us find our personal truth." Despite-the partly foreseen sacrifices entailed in your con-sidered way of life, do you feel that this is where you want to express~our personal gifts;' that the mission of this diocese or congregation is increasingly getting hold of you? Do you feel even somewhat driven as St. Paul expressed it in speaking of his own mission: "It is for'this that I struggle wearily on, helped only by his~' power driving me irresistibly" (Col 1:29) or lik~ Jeremiah: "You have seduced me, Lord, and I allowed myself to be seduced"or like Jesus when he said: "I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were blazing already" (Lk 12.49)? Do you feel a conviction that something important will remain undone if you do not do it because,no one else can make your unique and irreplaceable contribution?' While. this experience has come to some people in one momentarily very strong impulse, it comes~to most of us in a calmer and more prolonged way. But come it must and pres~ent it must be, if you are to launch your life freely into the life-form you are now consideiing. Freedom Through Community One good way to determine the quality of your choice now and throughout your life will be your attitude towards and your actions for or 24 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 against the community you join. ~her.e will ever be a healthy tension between your individuality and the community. Dialogue and discernment will have to ¯ be a permanent part of this interdction but from the point of view of the new member like yourself, he or she can reasonably ask: "Will this presbyterium or c~ngregation give me the experience of a community of believers so that the exercise of my freedom in faith arid love will be supported or am I just being invited into a busy bachelors' club or into a same-sex group of social workers where interaction is generally SUl~erficial and mostly for the sake of smooth interpersonal relationships?" On 'the other side of the dynamic, a modern Jewish scholar poses questions t6o: "The proper use of autonomy begins by repudiating the self as a monad! I am individual and unique but likewise inseparably part of all mankind. More, by my finitude I am necessarily more intimately linked to some of its vast number than to others. I am therefore morally obligated to live my life,in community with them and exercise my personal autonomy in terms of them . I understand that to mean that my community .may reasonably demand of me that 1 discipline my will so that the community can function and persevere . It can also legitimately expect me to sacrifice my conscience when its promptings conflict with central affirma-tions of my group . .Our com¯munities and traditions bear a wisdom far more profound and embracing an,d certainly more enduring than anything we could create on our own. In conflict with it we must often bow to what, against our private judgment but in due humi.lity, we accept as.its superior understanding.'3 I have consciously omitted mtich explicit reference to God in this letter so far. I thought it best to isolate the ~,experience of any focused freedom without naming the central motivation which would inspire it in our case, namely faith in God and in his Son, Jesus Christ. To return to your im~ aginary friend of the first paragraph, sure!y the deepestland most inclusive question for him or her will be: "Why are you doing this?'? Because priesthood and the vowed life are meaningless without faith and a real experience of God. the choice of these vocations without faith would beiself-destructive and ~]ltimately harmful for others also. It is not easy to define priesthood or.~ the vowed life with theological precision but one t6ing remains clear, namely that a deep experience of God must be the motivating force. Even positive motives such as preaching good news or changin~ political structures for the sake of God's poor, will not sustain these life-f0rms. While this faith-motivation does not usually come to us as it did to Paul en route to Damascus, it must be there just the same, despite the often-present doubts which are part of any adult faith. "Father, if it be possible." was i .fiamediately followed by nevertheless spoken in faith and freedom by Jesus. Freedom and Uncertainty The .quest for total certainty iis self-defeating whether it is about hang gliding or about God, whether it i~i abou.t someone we love or the significance Focused Freedom of our own lives. Caution cannot be a substitute for action; it can only accompany it. We must beware of theorizing too much about certainty and freedom in a veiled attempt to eliminate the risks of action. Lot's wife was almost persuaded to leave Sodom and Gomorrah; Agrippa was almost persuaded by Paul to become a Christian and the rich young man was almost persuaded to leave his wealth and follow ,lesus. Their search for certainty paralyzed them. Again, Dag HammarskjSld helps us: "Once I answered yes to Someone or Something. And from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life in self-surrender, has a goal.TM He acted in freedom despite the uncertainty expressed in his "Someone" or "Something." It is surely important to be as free as possible before making important life decisions but this is not to say that we must await the chimera of perfect freedom. Carl .lung reminds us: "Life itself flows from springs both clear and muddy. Hence all excessive 'purity' lacks vitality. A constant striving for clarity and differen-tiation means a proportionate loss of vital energy, precisely because the muddy elements are excluded. Every renewal of life needs the muddy as well as the clear. ''~ Muddy freedom will become clearer #s it is exercised just as the str~earia gets clearer on its journey from its muddy source. Conclusion I find that Robert focused' freedom: Frost offers people like us an ideal, as we grow in But yield who will to their separation, My object in living is to unite my avocation and my vocation as my two eyes make one in sight. Only where love and need are one and work is play for mortal stakes, is the deed ever re.ally done for heaven and for future sakes. NOTES ~Dag Hammarskjtild. Markings Ed. W.H. Auden: Faber and Faber Ltd, London 1966. 2Dag Harfimarskji51d. op. cit., 1. 3Eugene Borowitz Theological Studies. March 1984, "The Autonomous Self and the Commanding Community." 4Dag Hammerskji51d. op. cit., 1. 5Carl .lung Psychological Types Bollington Series (Princetown), 1974, p.244. Trusting in the Providence of God Mary Ann Fatu~a, 0. P. Sister Mary Ann is well. known to our readers by reason of her earlier contributions, the most recent of which was "Catherine of Siena on the Communion of Friendship" (March/April, 1984). She may be addressed at her office as Chairperson of the Theology Department of Ohio Dominican College; 1216 Sunbury Roadi'Columbus~ OH 43219. "Cast all of your cares upon the Lord, for he cares for you" (1 P 5:7). A key figure in the political and dcclesial crises of her day, the fourteenth-century Dominican and doctor of the Church, Catherine of Siena, lived a' spirituality which embraced this radical trust in the providence of God. In her Dialogue she expressed with unique insight a central truth experienced by men and women of faith before and after her: far from providing an escape from the reality of human life, it is precisely such a trust which provides the focal point for a key human conversion. It is a conversion to placing one's trust not simply in one's own limited resources and efforts, "but" in the abundant and intimate providence of God. Paradoxically, it is also this conversion which founds a spirituality capable of nourishing an authentic personal autonomy and mature interdependence. Early in Catherine's life the Lord pledged that he would make her his concern if she would make him her concern. Experience of her helplessness in situations which her efforts proved powerless to change faced Catherine daily with the same choice 'which in some way confronts every human being: either to trust or to despair. "Which of you by being anxious can add a cubit to his or her life? If then you are not able to do even this, why are you anxious about the rest?. Yo~.ur Father knows your needs. Seek first his kingdom, and these things shall be yours as well" (Lk 12:25-26, 30-31). Toward the end of her life, Catherine reflected on the Lord's faithfulness to his promise made in her youth. The result is the section in her Dialogue which stands as a hy, mn of praise to the infinite mercy of a provident God. Her close friend and 26 Trusting in the Providence of God / 27 biographer, Raymond of Capua, wrote that this chapter was an explication of the very foundation of her spirituality, the experience of the frailty of what is Created, and the absolute power of the love of God. °The Choice~to Trust In life's most precious experiences there is perhaps the wordless recognition of,.the fruit of trust. It is the paradox of security in the presence of what we cannot ,unequivocally verify. Around us are alluring traces of the kind of trust which makes human life possible at all: in the vulnerability of a child asleep in a parent's a~:ms; in the secret shared between friends; in the vow that is said and then lived, to love faithfully until death. But life leaves also its scars. Those who know what it is not to trust or to be trusted, who know what it is to be betrayed, recognize also the fruit of distrust in the sense of worthlessness which eats away at their identity, in the anxiety and fear which rob them of peace. ~For each of us, in the face.of what life has held out to us, a deeper question and choice inevitably presents itself in the decisions of everyday. Has life ultimately been gracious to us, or has it cheated and betrayed us? To ask this is to ask the meaning of our life experiences taken as a whole, an6 holy vve will choose to live out the future in the light of that meaning. More than most, Catherine knew what it was to live through the bitterness of life. She knew what it was tO have those for whom she had poured out her life energy turn against her. And yet Catherine made her choice. In and through the weak and often twisted ways of the human heart, she found the reality deeper than all others and which she learhed to trust absolutely. For Catherine, the entire universe is ruled not by forces' which rob and deceive us, but by the provident mercy of God. She learned to trust that all of creation is made for humanity, and it is this fragile and precious work of his hands with whom God ~has fallen "insanely" in love. He has given everything with love and care: every facet of creating, every gift and faculty of our unique persons. In every event of history he has unfolded his mercy, until finally, he did not spare even his own Son. What he wantsqs only our good, and having provided for our every need in the past, he will continue to do so to the end.* Catherine realizes that it is only those who see with eyes of faith and hope, who make the radical choice to trust in God'sprovidence, who are able to receive its fullness. The God who infinitely respects the human persons he has authored will not force his love on .their freedom. His providence will never fail those who place their hope and trust!in him (280): But it.is a trust Which cannot exist side by side with a contrary hope. To trust in oneself is to trust in "what is not." To trust in God is to cling to the one alone "who is." The choice to trust is finally the choice to let go, to entrust oneself, to receive the gift Contained in *The Dialogue: 136; in Catherine of Siena: The Dialogue, translation and introduction by Suzanne Nofke, O.P. (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), pp. 180-181. Other references to this work will be cited in the text by page number. 211 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 every moment of life. Yet how can one receive with love and reverence the tragedies which life holds and which evoke in us only :anger and bitterness? Are not '~life's experiences of disappointment and pain empty of the providence of God? ~On the contrary," the Lord tells Catherine. "No matter where they turn those who trust in my providencewill find nothing but mydeep burning charity, and the greatest, gentle, true, perfect providence" (290). It is not that his providence causes tragedies. Rather, even in life's inevitable tragedies, his providence is great enough to bring life from what is material for death. Itis not that we are to deny or repress human feelings of anger in the face of pain. But working through anger and pain is meant to bear fruit finally in the peace and even joy " which recognize the gift of God given in every event. The Wealth ltidden Within Catherine's experience taught her that what human beings find particularly bitter is the discovery that all that is created will eventually~fail us. The temptation then is to cry out against the God whose providence has .abandoned and deprived us of what our plans had fashioned. We "lift up our heads against the goodness of God," writes Catherine, and draw death from what was intended to give life, because we "do not recognize the wealth hidden within" (219). How is the "wealth hidden within" every human experience to be discovered? One dimension of sin is the human resistance to change,-the unwillingness to grow. "How can you lift your head .against my goodness? Because you do not see that all things except my grace are changing and. because you . are constantly changing, I am constantly providing what you need at any given time" (282). The refusal to olet go of a present and yet outgrown security is so. strong a temptation in us that unless it.is removed from us, it can become an obstacle to the deeper security which alone founds human maturity and autonomy. God permits what is created to fail us so that, in the absence of previous supports, we may cling to the one alone "who is," and so be given the means for deeper growth. The "troublesome thorns" of life God permits not out of hatred but love for us (290). In this way we are forced to learn what we would rather not: that what is created can never be God for us. In the collapse of hope in what is created, we are given .the invitation to see and to turn to the one who will not fail us: "I wanted her to learn that although everyone else might fail her, 1 her Creator would never fail her. and that with or without the help of another person, in any situation or at any time whatever. I know how to and can and will satisfy her in wonderful ways" (296). Those who place their trust not in themselves but in God, eventually experience the fruit of this trust. God himself becomes their provider and gives them his "merry," the Holy Spirit, as their mother to nurse them at the breast of God's love (291). Gradually their fear and insecurity starve for want of food. Trusting in the Providence of God / 29 The Spirit, their mother, feeds them with the milk of gratitude and love. The ones so nourislied become with time strong and confident, able to see life with new eyes in a light given by the Spirit. Slowly they learn to hold "all things in reverence, the left hand as well as the right, trouble as well as consolation." Even in painful situations they learn to reverence the gift "hidden within" as the material for deeper growth. Thus, the Lord tells Catherine, in situations 0f great labor, he gives the gift of even greater strength (292). The "Holy Tricks" of Providence In order to make his people "drunk" with his providence, the Lord devises "holy tricks" perfectly suited to meet their needs at any particular moment. To those caught fast in sin he gives his providence by "plucking the rose" from their thorn. One kind of "thorn" is an enslaving sin; the rose, the lack of satisfaction he gives in the experience of that sin. "They set their affection on something,., but they find nothing there" (297). This gift of his providence is meant as an enticement away from the emptiness and pain of sin by means of the sweeter gift of peace and freedom (297): In other circumstances, the Lord employs still other "holy tricks" of his prowidence. He finds ways to humble the pride which bears fruit in judging others, gossiping, and using the tongue to complain and "spit out hurtful words." As healing, the Lord permits emptiness in a person's feelings, darkness in her mind, and temptations which besiege the senses. "Why do I keep her in such pain and distress? To show her my providence so she will trust not in herself but me." The person who is humbled through these struggles will learn the contrast between her own weakness and the provident love of God for her. In these struggles is contained her liberation, for the Lord himself eventually will free her in deeper ways than she could have imagined. Serenity and peace come unforeseen, not through her own effort alone, but through the Lord's "immeasurable charity, which wanted to provide for her in time of need when she could scarcely take any more" (301). The struggles which humble are in fact the gift of God: "The soul comes to perfection by fighting these battles, because there she experiences my divine providence, whereas before this she only believed in it" (302). For those formed in virtue, the Lord provides in still other ways by using a "pleasant trick to keep them humble.," Often, after they have borne the weight of burdens and sufferings with patience and gentleness, he allows them to feel passion or rage at a mere trifle: "In something that really is nothing, that they themselves will later laugh at, their feelings are so aroused that they are stupefied." At other times, his providence leaves his servants a "pricking" as he did with Paul: "I left him., the resistance of his flesh." Is the Lord able to remove the weakness of his servants? Certainly, he tells Catherine, but his providence leaves his loved ones "this or that sort of pricking" so that they will become humble and "compassionate instead of cruel to their neighbors." For those who suffer from their own weakness will have cause to be all the more 30 / Review for. Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 compassipnate toward the weakness of others (305). .- The Chain of Charity According to Catherine, the most tender means which the provident God has designed to care for us is one anothi~r. The God who in his being is trinitarian communion of love has fashioned us in his image. The inescapable truth etched into our own beings is that we are made by love, and we are made for love. We are, in fact, made to need and care for one another. "In this life I have bound you with the chain of charity. 1 in my providence did not give to any one person or to each individually the knowledge for doing everything necessary for human life. No, I gave something to one, something else to another, so that each one's need would be a reason to have recourse to the other" (31 l). Could he have given, everyone as an individual all that he or she needs? Yes, he tells Catherine, "But in my providence I wanted to make each of you dependent on the others,'so that you would be forced to exercise charity" (312). Thus, for example, the poor who place all their trust in him will experience for themselves his providence.Sometimes in their .need they are brought almost to the brink of despair, only so that they may see all the more clearly the miracle of the Eord~s care for them (314). Sometimes the provident God acts directly, as he did with Dominic, causing bread to appear for his brothers who had nothing to eat. Usually, however, he inspires his loved ones to pray for and to come to the assistance of the poor themselves. In many ways he touches his servants' hearts to provide' for those in need. Even those dedicated to solitude cannot escape the chain of charity with which the Lord has bound his people together. Thus, he inspires a hermit to leave his or her solitude in order to giqe help to another hermit (324). He "stretches out" his providence to his poor by inspiring his servants with compassion for the needs of their brothers arid sisters (315). "The whole life of my gentle poor is thus cared for by the concern I give the world's servants for them" (314). In still another way, the Lord cares for our deepest needs through one another. He tells Catherine that he uses a ~holy trick" of his providence to inspire people with a "special love" for another. It is this "special love" which eventually brings to light hidden insecurity, jealousy, possessiveness, manipula-tion, selfishness. The inner struggle uncovered through the pain of these relationships is meant to lead to humble self-knowledge and dependence bn his healing. As a person grows through these struggles into deeper personal autonomy and inner freedom, "a greater and more perfect love for others in general will follow, as well as for the special person my goodness has given her" (303). Thus, his providence has inextricably bound and woven itself into our care for one another. Our 'own~ persons are the lixJing sacrament of God's providence given to us in one another. As his friends grow more and more one with him in prayer, they become identified with him and live out the Trusting in the Providence of God / 31 experience ofPaul: "It is no longer I who live but Christ lives in me" (Gal 2:20). And as with Jesus, those whose love grows will know both deeper joy and deeper sorrow. The pain of the friends of God is not finally that of offenses done to them, but rather the grief they feel for sin against, the Lord and the destructiveness of sin for the sinner. Those who learn to love "know how ineffably I :love my creatures., and so they have fallen in love with my creatures' beauty for love of me." Through the chain of charity with which the Lord binds his people together, he provides in a marvelous way at one and the same time for both sinner and those his love inspires to intercede for them, The sinner's heart is touched through the prayer of his servants, and these latter are in turn all the more united to the Lord through their p~rayer~ Through their love and yearning for others' salvation, "they are another Christ crucified ,. they have taken his task on themselves" (306-307). Catherine compared God's people united in charity by his providence to an orchestra. The Lord is the "maestros" and each person is an indispensable instrument. Without each of the otl~ers, no instrument,alone is sufficient. The more sweetness with which each one plays his or her instrument the gift of each one's own unique life--the more those who hear are allured by this music to the Lord. "Consider the glorious virgin Ursula," writes Catherine of the legend of Ursula and her companions. "She played her instrument'so sweetly she caught eleven thousand from the virgihs alone." The entire orchestra together is meant to grow more lovely in its sound, swelling to make this music worthy to fill heaven and earth with the praise of God. For those who trust in him, everything which happens in their lives is a gift f~rom God as a way of refining their instruments and rendering the music they play more beautiful. It is his infinite providence which cares for each one and all together, teaching each one what and how to play (311). The chain ofcharit~ with ,which the provident God has bound us to one another will not be loosed even in death. The life of heaven will be a rejoicing not only in him but in one another, and this very joy.will be a continual praise of his providence~ "I have so brdered their charity that no one simply enjoys his or her reward in this blessed life that is my gift without its being shared by the others." The joy of all adds to the joy of each, and the joy of each is the joy of .all (312). ~ To live one's life in trust is a gentle ~'0retaste on earth of the life of heaven. The fruit of trust in the proEidence of God is a joy and peace more secure than what human missteps and failures can destroy. The One who trusts learns to rejoice "in what she sees and experiences in herself and others," and finding joy ~in God's goodness to l~er, she learns to rejoice without jealousy in the goodness of God to others. She "is not afraid thaf she will lack the lesser things because by the light of faith she is guaranteed the greater things" (293). Conclusion For Catherine, trusting in the providence of God is not a spec~c kind of 32 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 "spiritual exercise,~ but the entire content of a life lived in 10ve. The more one lives in hope and trust, the more lavishly will God's providence in fact provide. To live in trust is not something mere human willing can attain; it is rather a gift the provident God most deeply wants to give, and for which he wants his people to ask. Catherine learned that what best nourishes trust is a good memory, a heart and mind that have learned to remember and to reflect upon the experiences of one's own life, and to find there the indisputable evidence of the personal and intimate providence of God. In this way, one's own unique life story becomes the inspiration and encouragement to ask for even deeper trust for the future. To trust in this way is not imprudence nor immatu(ity. It is, rather, a depth seeing which increasingly frees one's energies from inner forces inhibiting personal autonomy and mature interdependence. It entails the paradox of a radical inner poverty and inner contentment. To trust, in fact, is to live secure in the care of the one who can be trusted absolutely. It is to have the peace and freedom and courage to dare, to take risks inspired by the Holy Spirit. It is, ultimately, to have the heart to let go. It was not the fourteenth-century Catherine of Siena alone who had the personal call to live a life of trust in the providence of God. Today also, it is the witness of lives lived.in the maturity of trust in the one who alone is Lord over all, which perhaps will be the most radical statement a contemporary world will hear. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions I and II Address: by Patricia Spillane, M.S.C. Price: $1.25 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Christian Conversion: Suffering Out of Love John Navone, S.Z Father Navone is well known to our readers. The idea of this article is developed at much greater length in his recent Gospel Love: A Narrative Theology (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, Inc.). Father Navone is professor of biblical theology at the Gregorian's Spirituality Institute, where he may be addressed: Piazza della Pilotta, 3; 00187 Roma, Italy. In the seventeenth century, Samuel Crossman wrote that Christ in his passion has:° Love to the 16veless shown That they might lovely be. The passion story is both the good news of God's unconditional love for us as well as the mirror by which we can judge the authenticity of our own life and loves. It changes us from being °unlovely to being lovely (and loving) by showing us what true loveliness could be. Christ is the author and communicator of authentic communion with God. His claim that all authority belongs to him (Mt. 28:18; .In 17:2) and his communication of that authority to others are based on his power to transcend the limitations imposed by human desires and feelings to suffer freely and gladly out of love, When someone truly loves us, we respond to that love by investing our lover with the authority to initiate elements in our life story. When that love is absolute, as in the love of God for us, the absoluteness of that love claims an absolute authority. The story of Jesus reveals that God is Love, and it summons us to share in God's dynamic state of being-in-Love.I The trinitarian imagery of Scripture presents us with the symbolism of transcendent and unrestricted love where the persons are persons by virtue of their relationship to one another. ,iesus is the human incarnation of that loved and loving reiationship to God and the Spirit. Being-in-Love (Father) with 33 ~!4 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 Jesus Christ (Son) entails our accepting a relationship to the Love that transcends every human Ioye.2 We, however, do not establish that relationship; it is given to us. We do not possess it by nature, so it cannot be taken for granted .3 Our self-deception is the failure to accept the gift of God's love and the call to be transformed into God's children in the Son. We merely pretend that our communion with God is authentic, that we share his being-in-Love, if we are not willing to undergo the suffering that is entailed in meeting the demands and total claims of Love. In meeting the demands of L6ve, suffering demonstrates our authentic acceptance of the gift of God's love. The sovereign transforming power of God's love, as opposed to self-love, is manifested in the sufferings of the just. The Drama of Suffering Love The Synoptic Gospels tell the story of Jesus as a drama in four acts. The first act prepares us for what is to come (Mt 3:1-4, ll= Mk l:l-13 = Lk 3:1-4:13); the second act tells the story.of Christ's ministry in Galilee (Mt. 4:12-18:35 = Mk 1:14-9:50 = Lk 4:14-9:50). In the third act Jesus journeys to Jerusalem (Mt 19:i-20:34 =. Mk 10:1-52 = Lk 9:51-18:43) while the fourth act tells the story of Christ's passion and resurrection. As in every good drama, the story invites the onlooker to join in the dramatic action. We are called to become actors within Christ's dramatic story rather than to remain as onlookers marveling at the drama of what is happening to someone else. The evangelists want their hearers to be trans-formed by authentically sharing Christ's life and his Spirit by dying and rising with him. The life of the Spirit is a sharing in the whole life of Jesus, his dying and rising, his self-emptying and his self-fulfilling glorification in God. We cannot be filled by the Spirit unless the self has been emptied to make room for the Spirit's gifts. The mystery of the Cross and resurr6ction expresses the true nature and power of Jesus' being-in-Love, the power and freedom to .be able to love to the end. The disciples, who share their Lord's de~tiny, are also called upon .to suffer. As his ,followers, we must expect suffering, rejection and persecution (Mk 8:34-35; Mt 10:24-25; Lk 6:22; 14:26-27; .In 12:25,26), for the kingdom of God that comes to us in the myster3) of Jesus Christ's dying and rising is a sign of contradiction. Fidelity to the Master means that the disciples must enter into the same struggle that Jesus entered to fulfill God's plan for creation. Opposition to Jesus is manifested within all his human contexts. Mark structures his Gospel to underscore human resistance to the arrival of the kingdom in the person, work and ministry of Jesus Christ. Society resists Jesus (l: 14-3:6)~ Pharisees and scribes, the leaders of the people, engage him in five controversies (~2:1-3:5) and decide to destroy him (3:6). His family, relatives and townspeople are disturbed by him (3:7-6:6), and they fear for his sanity (3:21). Despised in his own country, among his own relations and in his own Christian Conversion / 35 house, he could work no miracle there (6:4:6). Jesus meets with the incompre-hension of his own disciples (6:6-8:33), and he rebukes them for not understanding the miracle of the loaves (8:17) or the necessity of his passion and death (8:31). Fidelity to the will of God meets with human resistance and incompre-hension. If the kingdom of God was ours by nature, Jesus would not encounter incomprehension, hostility and.rejection. His harmony with the will of God entails his disharmony.with all that is opposed to it. His being-in-Love entails his suffering and death out of love that all persons might be-in-Love. He loves his people, fami]3i, disciples and all others with whom his life, vision and mission are in conflict. He suffers out of love for them with the compassion that leads to his passion and death, in order that all might have the fullness of new life in the kingdom. Especially in Mark's story of Jesus, we see that as God's will for Jesus is being progressively fulfilled, he becomes increasingly unpopular until he dies alone--rejected and abandoned by all. Mark's narrative structure makes the theological point that God alone is the fulfilling origin, ground and destiny of Jesus Christ's living, dying and rising out of Love. The coming of the kingdom in the person of Jesus Christ is the ,revelation that God is in love with all human persons and summons them to become a new creation in God's Love. What is demanded of us is repentance and faith in his love given to us in his Beloved Son (Mk 1:11, 15; 9:7). Such repentance and faith entail the suffering out of Love which the Beloved Son himself experienced i.n his prayer at Gethsemane (~Mk 14:36). Jesus experiences suffering out of Love in every human context, the intra-personal as well as the interpersonal; this is evidence for the community of faith that the integrating center of his life transcends every human context. God's lordship in love is a creative goodness which makes others good. When God begins his reign as Father in Jesus Christ, all things are made new in his love,.all things are possible (Mk 10:27; 11:36; Mt 19:26; Lk 18:27). Conversion: Becoming Persons-in-Love Through the example of Jesus' being-in-Love, ~he Christian community sees that God compassionately demands all persons to find and accept their true fulfillment in the gift of his Love so that all might forever be persons-in- Love. God is not indifferent to what weare and become. To accept his love for all is to learn to suffer with his compassionate and passionate love for all, ¯ overcoming our intrapersonal and interpersonal tendencies to remain impersonal. The new life of the kingdom that is given to us in Jesus and his Spirit entails the suffering out of Love for others that manifests our being-in-Love with others. This new life transforms us by making us willing and glad to suffer for others in the service of the kingdom. In the context of the Last Supper, John's gospel implies that Jesus gladly and voluntarily lays down his life that his friends might know the joy of being able to do likewise. ~16 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 True disciples love as the,Master loves. They share a life that is rooted'in God's community-creating love for all, the only love that constitutes the community of divine and human persons which lasts forever. True disciples have solidarity in that invincible love which, despite suffering and death itself, makes them glad to pour out their lives for others. They do not consider themselves to be martyrs or victims; rather, they suffer for others (divine and human) as true friends in the power of that love which alone grounds the eternal friendship that is life in the kingdom, Central to the notion of Christian conversion as suffering out of love is the fact that God wants all human persons to enjoy his life as their own. The gift of God's love is not so much a giving away as a sharing. In loving, God shares himself and all that he is. Jesus Christ enjoys the life and love of his Father; therefore, he is glad to suffer out of that love so that all human beings might share what he most cherishes. But what is perfect in the Master is imperfect in the disciple. The life that Jesus Christ fully enjoys is the life that his disciples are learning to enjoy. The disciple knows the Master to the extent that he or she enjoys the same life and is glad to suffer out of love to secure that life for others. The. solidarity of Master and disciple in suffering out of love for others consists in their enjoying and cherishing the life that they want others to enjoy. Christian conversion is not only an event but also a process that deepens this solidarity through fidelity to the grace and demand of God for responsible lives. Christian conversion, both as event and as process, is participation in the befriending love that Jesus Christ received and accepted from his Father as the integrating center of his life, mission and death for 6thers. Lived Christian conversion entails suffering out of a befriending love that affects all our conscious activities, directs our attention, pervades our imagination, release~ symbols that penetrate to the depths of our psyches, enriches our under-standing, guides our judgments, reinforces our decisions and motivates 0tii~ actions. To enjoy the transforming, benefit of God's befriending love in Jesus Christ and his Spirit implies a gratitude that actively accepts it and makes a religious and moral commitment to sharing it with others. Gratitude for the gift of God's befriending love reflects a humility that takes nothirig for granted. Such humility'brings an appreciation of others and a commitment to them, even when they are superficially unattractive. If we truly appreciate others, we are glad to suffer out of love for them and to befriend them as disciples of ~the Master who lived and died to make his joy ours and to make our joy complete (see Jn 15:11). Some Principles and Practical Points of Reference 1. Being-in-Love is the motivating power for suffering out of Love. 2. If, as Jesus reveals, God is befriending Love, being in befriending Love is the motivating power foi" suffering out of befriending Love for others. It makes us glad, despite difficulties, to befriend others. Christian Conversion 3. Suffering out of befriending Love for others is the self-transcending activity that frees us from self-absorption, self-pity and self-idolatry (i.e., from being impersonal). It frees us for the fulfillment that is being-in-Love with others (i.e,, for being personal). 4. For human beings to be fully personal is, ultimately, for them to be-in- Love befriending others. Sin is the refusal to be personal, the state of the impersonal subject. 5. In lived Christian conversion, suffering is not sought for its own sake; rather, it is embraced only when it is a condition for commitment to the grace and demand of God's befriending love. 6. If lived Christian conversion entails suffering out of befriending Love for others, suffering is not a univocal sign that something is wrong with a person. It may be, as the teaching of the beatitudes implies, the sign that something is profoundly right with a person. 7. We are not committed to persons or values for whom we are unwilling to suffer. We cannot suffer out of love for others when we have no love for them. 8. Being-in-Love is the efficacious ground of self-transcendence required to live responsibly and to be responsible to the pursuit of the truth, however difficult it may be to discover or to accept. It motivates the will to be responsible and to pay the pric.e of responsibility. 9. The fact that Jesus Christ was willing to suffe~ and die for us grounds the primary dogma that God loves us~ To sense that we are loved is to sense something that is true. It may be that imagination is involved in our sensation, but the truth of the dogma will stand. Being-in-Love and willing to suffer out of love for others should never be identified with the presence or absence of any particular feeling or sensation. Our faith and hope is in God, not in our feelings. 10. Because human beings leave something to be desired that God alone can fulfill, suffering out Of love is the condition for the possibility of friendship. Friendship (marriage, community, society, and more) disintegrates with the refusal to endure limitations arid deficiencies in others. Our incapacity for friendship is related to our unwillingness to be committed to others who do not fully gratify, support or console us. There is no lasting commitment to others apart from the willingness to suffer out of love for them. 11. Having time for others is a form of suffering out of love for them. Religious conversion implies that we are living in God's time, that we have the gift of his time for welcoming and listening to others. Consequently, we do not see others as taking or consuming our time; we are free for them to the extent that we are free from the illusion that the only time we have is our own. Prayer is a form of enjoying God's time and transcending our own. Some seldom find time to pray because they are living in their own time and do not want to lose it for life in God's time. The call to pray always is the call to be-in-Love and to live in God's time forever. Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 12. Sufferingout of love for others is a form of our self-investment in them. Inasmuch as communities are formed and held together by a common faith and hope, there is a community-creating and community-sustaining power and value in suffering out of faith, hope and love for others. 13. Inconveniencing ourselves for others is perhaps the most basic form of suffering out of love for others. Unwillingness to inconvenience ourselves for others is a reft~sal to be personal; it is the failure to befriend others at the most rudimentary level of everyday life. No possibility of a lasting commitment to others exists without our being willing to inconvenience ourselves for them daily. 14. The New Testament demand for human transformation through following Jesus' way of the cross should warn those who are tempted to reduce God to their own measure. The self-abandonment that God's befriending love required of Jesus Christ should correct our tendency to manipulate God. 15. Tothe extent that we are convinced that our importance is in God, as opposed to the illusion of an independent self-importance, we are equally convinced that all others have the same importance and are worthy of self-sacrificing and befriending love. The conviction that we exist because God loves us implies that we-find security and a sense of personal worth in God, rather than in the approval that others may choose to give us. 16. If God's will is done, all human persons will be in his kingdom. Our finite, limited, human love is inadequate to the challenge of loving all persons, apart from the gift of God's all-embracing, all-encompassing, all-sustaining, all-forgiving, all-reconciling and all-fulfilling love. His community-creating love for all is the origin and ground of life in the kingdom. 17. Love takes others seriously. How seriously we take others, according to the Judeo-Christian tradition, reveals how seriously we take God. It is the conviction of Jews and Christians that God takes all human persons seriously. How seriously God takes us is implied in the Christian affirmation that God is Love. We know that God is Love because he sent his only Son to live and die for us: We know that such Love transcends words because it embraces human living, suffering and dying. We know that we are truly loved and taken seriously by those who willingly share our living, suffering and dying. We discover the reality of our love for others in willingly doing likewise. NOTES ~See Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology. (London: Darton, Longrnan & Todd, 1971), passim, esp. pp. 105-122, 2Although Being-in-Love is the existence of the Father and Son and Spirit, I pareaihesize Father to highlight the filial relationship of Jesus as Son. 3See Charles Hefling's lntrduction to Frederick E. Crowe, The Lonergan Enterprise (Cambridge, MA: Cowley Publications, 1980), p. xvi. A Clump of Lichen and Me Kathleen Gallas, OS.B. Sister Gallas is Food Service Director at the Sacred Heart Convent and Conference Center, where she may be addressed: P.O. Box 488; Cullman, AL 35056-0488. What ig contemplative life? Why the nuclear arms race? Why the environ-mental devastation? In the aftermath of "The Day After" my reflectivd moments pondered these seemingly unrelated questions. A combination of spiritual reading, n~ws magazines and discussions on the American Catholic Bishops' Pastoral On Peace surfaced this assortment of questions. While pon-dering the last two questions there eventually came over me a sense of futility. What can any one p.erson do to change the course of events toward possible destruction of life and environment? It can even be questioned as to what will destroy what firs!! Even if there' is a nuclear disarmament it will only be a matter of time before life is destroyed through our irresponsible use of environ-ment and our exploitation of peoples around the world as though they were so many pins on a chart. The question of contemplative life I pondered as an altogether different kind of issue. Ordinarily when one speaks or hears of contemplative life and of contemplative prayer, it is understood in terms describing activities limited to a select few. Contemplative life involved Contemplative prayer, and anyone experiencing contemplative prayer was undoubtedly living a contemplative life--which usually meant living a vowed religious life. Neither combination is necessarily true, nor the total meaning. My own convictions saw a distinction between contemplative life and contemplative prayer. Mother Mary Clare, S.L.G., in her book, Encountering the Depths, gives a difference. "Contempla-tive prayer can be experienced, if God wills it, in any such circumstance as he sees fit to bestow, while contemplative life is the life so directed in its simplicity, and separated from the normal distraction of the active world, that it provides the best preparation for carrying out the work of contemplative prayer." How- 411 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 ever, as Thomas Merton said, "Not all who are vowed contemplative religious experience contemplative prayer." After a while I found myself considering the word contemplative as separated from the terms life and prayer. By itself I couldn't limit the meaning of contemplative to a few but asked the question if being contemplative wasn't a dimension of being human, and therefore per-taining to everyone. What is it to be contemplative? This assortment of questions unexpectedly came together and found its own kind of answer in an experience 1 had on a January afternoon. Everything I had been meditating within the context of each of the three basic questions surfaced and synthesized an experience with a clump of lichen. I had been pondering these questions separately without any thought of relating them. However, my experience of lichen gave me the insight that in actuality the answer to the question of what is contemplative life was the foundation to answering the other questions--and all other questions concerning peace, justice and harmony in our relationships with each other and our environment. I am standing at my special place on a particular hillside with an Alabama version of mountains before me evoking the line: "I lift my eyes to the moun-tains from where comes my help--the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth." At my feet is a clump of gray-green lichen with red dots. Flowers? To see them eye to eye I have to lie on my stomach. Then do I see. The lichen grew finger-like projections and each finger tip is painted red. There am I on the ground "eyeballing" a lichen's painted finger nails! At first I laugh at myself. Then at us, the~lichen~and me. I talk to it. "Aren't we a crazy pair? Somehow, this is a fun moment, isn't it? We share a secret, you and I. Others might question my sanity if I were to tell them of our secret delight in each other. However, there must be others like us, for Goethe back in the eighteenth century said: 'Tell no man, tell wise men only, for the ~vorld might count it madness'," My deepest intuitions say that I am not mad in having fun seeing and listening ~ith a clump of lichen. After a while the humor of the situation shifts in mood to a sense of wonder, fascination and appreciation of so tiny a bit of color on a January day. In this Garden of Eden setting comes the urge to pick up this clump of lichen and bring it home to the prayer room--a winter flower for the Lord. But no! in my position of lying stomach flat to th~ earth comes the awareness that I am hugging great Mother Earth who in Greek mythology was named Gaia--a name personalizes and effects a deeper relationship. Gaia and I became one in this°moment--a moment of union. She and I are gift to each other from our God, the maker of heaven and earth. There is the vista before me, t_he clump of lichen below me, and myself. We are responsible to each other and for each other. So, I am one human being and this under my eyes is roughly a 3 x 4 inch clump of lichen. Yet this clump of lichen and I represent a microcosm of life on planet earth. On the one hand it could be said what harm done to pull up this clump +sp~cially with the motive of offering? But how thoughtless and insensitive to Gaia who needs this clump of lichen to maintain nature's balance A Clump of "~chen and Me / 41 so that I might live comfortably. To be fruitful and multiplyr fill the earth and stibdue it doesn't mean that I ravage it, pollute it, coerce it for my own selfish needs and even worse, under the guise of something good. Whose good? How often our God voiced that he spurned such offerings. Some would say that I have done no harm to another human being in pulling up this clump. But I have. Even if it is in innocence, the innocence of thoughtlessness; I have harmed another in contr!buting to making earth an unfit place to live. Gaia is upset. Mother Nature reacts and there can eventu-ally come a separation, a divorce. I could be a contributing cause in the erosion of this hillside. In being responsible to Gala and for Gala I am also responsible to all other human beings. Each of us is responsible to the other for maintaining a harmonious relationship with Gaia who will respond accordingly. In this total economy of life no one human being is insignificant. Neitheris this clump of red-dotted lichen by my side. Just now 1 suddenly recall a long-forgotten story, The Little Prince. The fox is explaining to the prince what it means .to be tamed. "It means to establish ties." "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world." We were asked to subdue the earth, Wouldn't "to subdue" mean "to tame'~. To establish ties, to create a need for each other? To instill a reverence for the uniqueness of each other? In lying flat on the ground face to face with a clump of lichen, I felt an. interrelatedness. The lichen and I were one. My body pressed to the body of earth were one. As far as the eye could see there was not another clump of lichen to be seen amidst the variety of winter-colored plant life. Yet there was the awareness that while this was so on the immediate level, there was also an awareness on another level that the earth was populated with the likes of me and the likes of this lichen. Each was one in the many and the many in the one. I knew an interrelatedness with all in the universe that was human. The lichen would'feel the same with its kind. However, the sense of harmony, the expe-rience of0neness-and-manyness wasn't limited to recognizing this in our sepa-rateness of plant and human, for at the same time there was the feeling of Oneness with each 6ther. The lichen and I knew a oneness with each other as well as a oneness in the manyness of us. Lichen and me. Plant life and human life. Mother Earth Gaia and me, Gaia and the manyness of me. Each and speaks of union. Each and speaks of a union that is life-creating, life-giving, life-supporting. This life with a small "1" could only be because of the gratu-itous, unfathomable love that is Life with a capital "L." It is from the Life and in this Life that the lichen and I have life. We are gifts to each~ other, responsible to each other from the Gift that is Life--maker of heaven and earth. A dialogue from another story, The Farthest Shore, by Ursula LeGuin Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 speaks of this responsibility. The wise magus explains to his young companion the meaning and responsibility of personal choice. "On every act the balance of the whole depends. The winds and seas, the powers of water and earth and light, all that these do, and all that the beasts and green things do, is well done, and rightly done. All these act within the Equilibrium. From the hurricane and the great whale's sounding to the fall of a dry leaf and the .gnat's flight, all they do is done within the balance of the whole. But we, insofar aswe have power over the world and over one another, we must learn to do what the leaf and the whale and the wind do of their own nature. We must learn to keep the balance. Having intelligence, we must not act in ignorance. Having choice, we must not act without responsibility." When did we become responsible for each other? In the beginning of , creation Life hovered over the darkness of the deep and breathed over the waters of the abyss. God said, "Let there be . " With each word of God, each breath of Life a living being was created. Gaia is a living being. This clump of lichen is a living being. I am a living being. Within each resides the breath of Life uniting us as one. Gaia and this clump of lichen act unconsciously accord-ing to their nature. The breath of Life that brought me into being included the freedom of choice. But "having choice, we must not act without responsibility." However, if I am not awakened in eye and heart to that breath of Life within me then my actions are likely to be irresponsible and contrary to the nature Life intended me as a ruler of myself and of the earth. Only if I am awake to this Life breathing within me will I be able to make responsible choices that will be in harmony with all other beings until All is in all, a union of One, a oneness in the manyness. Frederick Franck in his Book of Angelus Silesitis says: "For the awakened.spirit there is no longer a split between 'I' and 'other'." Meister Eckhart asks, "When is a man in mere understanding?" "When he sees one thing as separated from another." "And when isa manabove mere under-standing? . When a man sees All in all, then a man stands beyond mere understanding." Until one is awakened to the Life within there is no unfolding, no con-sciousness that this clump of lichen and I are responsible to each other, gifts to each other for all others in our oneness. Thoughtlessness, insensitivity, ihgrati-tude to the gift of oneself and the gift of each other have compounded to the magnitude of global disaster at the exp.ense of all that represents the lichen and me. In our insecurities and lack of appreciation of each other's unique gifted-ness-- everything that makes up heaven and earth--we have become envious and greedy. In our drive to be number one in whatever area of life, individually and nationally, we have lost sight of our interconnectedness. We have forgot-ten that the world is round'and not fiat. In our linear vision of life we have forgotten that there is a Center that links us as spokes in a wheel. In our fears and insecurities we can be likened to the schoolyard bullies easily provoked when our power position is threatened. In the global schoolyard we clench nuclear warheads. ° A Clump of Lichen and Me / 43 Or? I was about to pull up the clump of lichen to use as an offering and a decoration but I didn't because ~of an awareness that each of us is connected to a Center and interdependent. But on a global level we have those who thought-lessly, selfishly ravage the earth's peoples and places as so many clumps of lichen and for a variety of reasons--least of all, offering and decoration. On the other hand, when done out of offering and decoration it is far more devastating. It is said that greed brings out the animal in us but that isn't true. Animals act according to their nature as designed when breathed,into life. ,~ dog gnawing on his bone is not envious of the dog next to him chewing on a steak. Each is content. Humans in their greed that becomes exploitation of all living beings act contrary to even animal nature in wanting both, their own and what others have. ~ I feel that my experience with the lichen spoke to the fundamental ques-tion, what is contemplative life--what is it to be contemplative? Am I off the track? I don't think so.-It is for each of us to live life moment by moment deliberately, reflectively, consciously, reverently; awarely, thoughtfully, prayer-fully. The majority claim that this isn't possible. But why not? Walter Burg-hardt in his book Season that Laugh and Weep_:quotes his friend William McNamara in defining contemplative as "a long loving look at the real." Burghardt goes on to explain the "real~" Reality is living, pulsing people; reality'is fire and water;~reality is the sun setting over the Poconos and a gentle doe streaking through the forest; reality is a ruddy glass of Burgundy, Beethoven's Mass in D, a child lapping a chocolate iee-crearn cone; reality is a striding woman with wind-blown hair; r~ality is Christ Jesus. Contemplation~is not an abstraction "where a leaf is no longer green, water no longer ripples, a woman is no longer soft, and God no longer smiles." He goes on to say, "This real I 'look' at. I no longer analyze it or argue it, describe or define it; I am one with it. I do not move around it; I enter into it." When one enters into it one becomes one with it. I am that at which I give a long loving look. Sense of separateness disappears.in the embrace. I am convinced that this capacity is within each of us.As I am writing and ponder-ing this (now a summer morning) I'm aware 0fa buzzing fly. The window has a space between outside glass and .inside screen. The fly flew in by the open middle section. It is now buzzing and frantically dashing itself at the top section of panes. This has been going on for over an hour. If it would just stop long enough to take a long loving look at the reality of its situation, it would come to know that the next set of panes is open. The fly would be free to become one with all that is outside the barrier of closed upper-window panes. To be contemplative is a dimension within each of us that must be responded to in order to live in harmony with one's self, with each other, with Gaia. That dimension is there enabling us to be free, but like the fly we frantically dash our lives on window panes of our own choosing. In all the ceaseless buzzing and frantic dashing about we fail to "see" that the next set of panes is op.en which would free us to be one with all we see but interact with through the glass of 44 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 fears and insecurities. We are gifts to each other.~As human beings breathed into existence each of us is endowed with gifts we hold in common as well as those unique to each. Gifts can remain latent or be 'used intelligently ~nd responsibly. But this is an unfolding and a growing that starts from a beginning. In the beginning God created the heavens and earth. In the beginning was the Word. In the begin-ning life breathed. The very words "in the beginning" suggest that there is a past, a present and a future. We all have beginnings and are now in process toward endings. But life is a spiral of beginnings and endings gradually open-ing us to greater circumferences. Beginnings proceed to endings only to find that endings become new beginnings. Life is breathing, bringing us to an expanding awareness and fullness. However time past and time future ismean-ingful if I live the now moment attentively, patiently, caringly, lovingly. Other-wise the clump of lichen is just a clump of lichen to be trampled on or pulled up indifferently, carelessly--for there are no established ties. Again, theqittle prince and the fox: "What must I do, to tame you" asked the little prince? "You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me--like that--in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day." In my experience on that January'day, the lichen and I tamed each other. Ties were established revealing secrets visibly to the heart. As I was walking back home filled with the fullness of Life, pain and sorrow entered. I could identify with St. Francis who cried because Love is not loved. Along the roadside was the trash 6f beverage cans and fast-food restau-rant containers. This marring of the creation of heaven and earth is evidence of a lack of awareness of the meaning of life breathing within all created things. Most of the trash along our highways are food containers betraying the pace and emptiness of our lives. Many people claim they are too busy to eat' reflectively, appreciatively, companionably and as an undivided activity. Too busy to take "long loving looks at the real." Busy-ness reflects an emptiness or a fife lived in qu~intity not quality until it becomes a frantic dashing about. There is not the patience to live the now moment attentively, undividedly. From just considering the kinds of trash I saw along the way, it seems that eating has become something we do while in the process of doing something else, on our way to somewhere else--all activities of another kind that are not entered into fully either. Our attention is fragmented; when the activities of each moment are multiple and experienced indifferently and randomly, as a ¯ necessary activity to get over with, it is a natural consequence to open the window of the car and carelessly toss out the trash on the landscape which goes unnoticed. The fox upon saying goodby to the prihce imparts his secret. "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." "It is the time you have wasted for another that makes this tamed one so important'. Men have forgotten this truth but you must not forget it. You A Clump of Lichen and Me / 45 become responsible forever, for what you have tamed." What is it to be contemplative? Whether described as "a long loving look at the real" or "time you have wasted for another," it is a time consumption that a pragmatic materialistic society rejects because for them time and life are mea-su~- ed in terms of money--cash and flow. The contemplative dimension that enables us to be truly human is there but lost. From still another source, Tom Brown, a woodsman taught by an Apache Indian, describes in his book, The Search, his conviction of the contemplative dimension. There is a place I know where everything lives in harmony. Nothing is envied, stolen, or killed. Instead, everything is shared. The land is everyone's and no one's. Life is sacred there. A dweller in this place thinks highly of human life because he lives so close to the earth. He understands his part in the scheme of nature and is not lost or searching for himself. Where is this place? Does it really exist? Yes. It is within me and can be within you. It is a state of mind; it is an awareness; it is an appreciation; it is an understanding; it is a commitment to life. It is the realization that everything I described is all about us every day of our lives, but we miss it. We are blind to the beauty of a sunset, deaf to the music of the wind, callous to rough bark and soft grass. We speak of salaries and war instead of singing songs of life. We taste the bitterness of pollution and miss the sweetness of wild honeysuckle. We smell bus fumes but never the apple blossoms or clover flower. Life is manufactured and marketed. It is, for many of us, something to be bought or sold, and the more we pay, the better off we feel we are. Empty, untamed and fragmented lives are not awakened to the Life within. There is no awareness of interconnectedness, of taming and being tamed. There is no awareness that the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth and everything therein, is at the center of his universe and the center of each of us. One indifference leads and escalates into another: trash out the window by individuals, pollution and exploitation of land, sea and sky by industry, oppression of people around the world by political systems. If lives were lived contemplatively to what is essential and visible to the eye of the heart, then it would be realized that no being is insignificant because each o

Issue 44.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1985. ; Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries" The Community Prayer of Religious Lay Associate Programs Volume 44 Number 2 ° March/April, 1985 R Evmw ~:OR R r:LIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. R~:vl~:w FOR RELiGiOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1985 by R EV~EW FOR R ELtG~OUS. Composed, printed and manufffctured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Editor Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Associate Editor Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. " Review Editor Richard A. Hill, S.J. Contributing Editor Jean Read Assistant Editor March/April, 1985 Volume 44 Number 2 Manuscripts, hooks for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REvl~:w voR RELIGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. " Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R EVlEW FOR R ELIG~OUS; Room 428; 3601 lAndeR Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Transformations in Religious Commitment .Patricia Wittberg, S. C. Sister Wittberg teaches sociology at The College of Woosier; Wooster, OH 44691. Her previous article in these pages was "Sociology and Religious Life: Call for a New Integration" (Novem-ber/ December, 1983). It has long been obvious that the post-Vatican II period of experimentation and renewal has been marked by .a precipitous decline in the numbers of religious men and women--reflected both in fewer entrants and in a massive exodus of current members. Some observers have attributed this to the perni-cious effects of the reforms themselves,t others to the failure 6f congregations to enact even more reforms, or to enact them more quickly.2 Which of these assessments is more accurate has recently resurfaced as a point of debate, for the shrinkage of communities and their increasing median age were specifically Cited by Pope John Paul II as reasons for the current study of American religious. In this article I hope to explore the role of group commitment mechanisms in the retention or loss of members in religious orders. Two concepts which will be useful in this endeavor are "intentional com-munity" and "association." An intentional community may be defined as a group of persons living together on a more or less permanent basis, who voluntarily surrender control Over some choices which are normally considered private (the focus and means of sexual expressio.n, choice and schedialing of. work, property ownership;and so forth) for the sake of establishing a whole new way of life. Intentional communities call for more commitment than do. other groups, demanding the investment of one's self as well as one's resources of time, money and talents. This investment, ideally, is not shared with other competing organizations, but belongs to the intentional community alone. In contrast, an association is a group of persons who have invested a certain 161 162 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 amount of their resources in the attainment of some common goal or Objec-tive, but who retain more personal autonomy and competing loyalties than would be possible in an intentional community.3 It is the contention of this article that some religious cong~regations--or at least a portion of their members--are moving from an intentional community model of group commitment to an associational one. This transition involves a fundamental change in the character of those religious orders that attempt it, and an examination of what this transformation entails is, therefore, essential. As an aid in our research, we might apply several very good sociological investigations of intentional communities such as the nineteenth-century Shakers and the Oneida Community, or the Bruderhof, a twentieth-century Hutterite group in New York.4 Which of these groups made similar transitions from intentional communities to associations? What happened to them after-ward? How did other intentional communities retain their original commitment structure, and what were the consequences of this retention? The Role of Common Ideology In her study of nine successful nineteenth-century communes (i.e. those that had lasted longer than one generation), Rosabeth Moss Kanter listed the problems that an intentional community must resolve in° order to survive. Steps have to be 'taken to insure that the work necessary for economic self-suf-ficiency (gr.owing food, making craft items for sale, and so forth) is done, that decisions are made to everyones' satisfaction, that close,.f~lfilling and non-ex-clusive relationships are established among members, that new members are recruited and socialized, and that individual uniqueness and autonomy are expressed in a way not destructive to the unity of the group. The self-renuncia-tion involved in these tasks raises the possibility that some individuals will be tempted to withdraw from the community if its demands get to be "too much." To avoid this danger, the members must be encouraged to share a common ideology or world myth that would make them want to subordinate their personal interests to those of the community as a whole.S Once internalized, the group's cosmic myth infuses all of a member's actions with meaning and directs them toward the common goals: I feel that if I have overcome my tendency to return an angry word when a Brother has spokento me, I have resisted the evil spirit. 1 have struck a blow for winning back part of the universe for God Almighty.6 In general, those who study intentional communities agree that groups which are able to maintain their common world view will survive, while those which fail to do so will disappear. The profusion of competing ideologies in twentieth-century America makes this especially difficu!t. As long as the .origi-nal founder of the group is ~alive, his or her charismatic presence, may be enough to maintain the cosmic myth. Howex~er, the founder may lose this charisma over the course of the years, or may die. Intentional communities that are successful in weathering the crisis of their founder's death or fall from Transformations in Religious Commitment / 163 grace are those which have evolved additional, supplementary techniques to foster their sustaining ideology. These usuall~ include common ritual and traditions, common work and recreational activities, boundary maintenance, self-renunciation and sacrifice. Common Ritual and Traditions Sociologists since Durkheim have recognized the importance of ritual celebrations in uniting a social group. As Kant'er expressed it: These rituals both express and reinforce jointly-held values, and represent ways ~f coming together as a group, of feeling closer to One another. For this reason, group rituals are often the most significant and important aspect of community life to members, for it is here that the higher, transcendent meaning of living in utopia is affirmed .7 Successful intentional communities evolved a set of rituals around almost every event: All important occasions in the Bruderhof are marked by a love meal .The dining room tables are arranged in a horseshoe, spread with white tablecloths and specially decorated; the dining room is lit by candles . Everyone gathers outside before the meal. TheY sing songs and walk into the room together.8 Pentecost. is especially important . A huge fire is lit which is the symbol of the burning up of the old and the hope of the coming of the new? These rituals ma~ enact the central aspects of the communal ideology, or they may have more seemingly trivial meanings. The important thing is that, by the regular and frequent group performance of the ritual, the underlying ideology which gives meaning to, the entirety of group life is reaffirmed. Togetherness in Work and Play It is also necessary that the members of an intentional community become emotionally attached to each other as though they were members of one family. Indeed, as Kanter remarks, family terminology such as "Brother" or "Sister" is Often deliberately used to refer to one's fellow group members,t° The development of this familial attachment is facilitated in many groups by requiring that everyone work together at the same limited number of tasks, rather than allowing members to leave daily for eight hours or' more of work outside the community. Common recreational activities also strengthen group family bonds: Perhaps the most memorable thing about the Bruderhof is the singing . There is a song for every mood, every event, every occasion. There are winter songs~ summer songs, morning songs, evening songs, folk songs, love sofi,,gs, birthday songs and wan-dering songs . The singing itself is beautiful and mowng, with effortless three- or four-part harmony on every song.t~ Eating the main meal, or all the meals, ~ogether can also serve a unifying purpose. As would be the case with any family, the more frequent and all-encom-passing the contact among group members, the more intense their mutual 164 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 attachment is likely to be. Intentional communities that are scattered over several locations must get together very often in order to keep their union alive, Zablocki remarks that the three American Bruderhofs both visited and inter-changed residents frequently, and also ran up large telephone bills in calls from one hof to another. A reverse side to this emphasis on family style unity ~equires that steps be taken to root out particularistic attachments which might otherwise lead to division within the group. Historically, monogamous marriage has been a barrier to the full unity of an intentional community, for it establishes compet-ing loyalties in the members. As both Kanter and Coser point out, intentional communities have usually encouraged either celibacy or promiscuity as alter-natives.~ 2 Another frequently used tactic is to discourage "too-close" friendships that shut out the rest of the members. Boundary Maintenance In addition to building up feelings ,of mutual attachment among members and ritualizing the group's unifying myth, care must also be taken to'isolate the community from those aspects of American society which embody competing ideas, attachments and values. Limitations are accordingly established on con-tacts with butsiders (including, especially, non-group parents and siblings of members). In the Bruderhof, most members rarely left the community, and even television watching was done infrequently:" ~ Great care is taken to see to it that the children never h.ear visitors, delivery men or other outsiders say a dirty word. Play with neighborhood children is discouraged. The adult members seldom retain membership in any outside organization, and at one time even their mail was censored and their newspapers and magazines were checked for objec-tionable material which was clipped out,t3 A sense of we/they is deliberately fostered, and the community is Often tbld that it represents a higher, purer way of life which must not be polluted by contact with the uninitiated. ~ An effective way of reinforcing the distinction between in-gro~]p and out-gi'oup is the wearing of distinctive clothes by community members?4 Still another is their development of a distinctive vocabulary to refer to particular activities or at'titudes?5 Finally, it is a good idea if the intentional community can become as "'institutionally complete'~ as possible, so that it depends very little on the outside world for goods and services. This is especially true in the area of education. Many intentional communities attempt to educate the children of their members in separate schools, in order to keep them from any polluting contact with the dutside world: Adult members who desire to add to their education may be forbidden to do so, or limited as to the institutions they are permitted to attend. The Death and Rebirth of the Self A powerful technique for internalizing the world view of an. intentional community is to die to one's old identity and to be "reborn" into anidentity Transformations in Religious Commitment conferred by the group. The Bruderhof novice is. isolated from his past and from his distinctive roles in the out-side world. A woman with psychological training was criticized every time she discussed Something in psychological terms: She was told that this was going to be a major barrier for her to overcome. She was also not allowed to have very much contact with a Sister who had gone to graduate school with her. A woman with an exceptionally beautiful voice was in the habit of bursting into song while sitting alone out of doors or at work. The community made her stop this in order to chastize her ego . Weakening the identity is furthered by the deprivation of choice . The commu-nity decides for [the member] what work he shall do. He has, at least after taking the novitiate, no money of his own. He must ask even for simple necessities like toothpa, ste =. or shampoo.!6 This loss of identity begins ~vith the new member's assumption of his/her guilt and individual worthlessness, often helped along by required self-criticism sessions. Once their old identities are renounced, the individuals receive their entire status and a new sense of worth through the group. A member may, in s6me groups, even receive a new name as a symbol of his/her'new self. With this new source of status and sense of self-worth; as Kanter states, one's self-esteem-depends on unswerving commitment to the norms and values of the gl'OUp.17 Sacrifice A final activity which can be used to deepen a group's commitment to its underlying ideology is to require some sort of sacrifice, When living out the intentional community's world view requires the renunciation of sex .or personal adornment and the adoption of a generally austere lifestyle, the value and sacredness of the cosmic myth is enhanced.18 Members actually find a great deal of joy in undergoing the privations, and often miss them when life becomes easier: That was one of my ti'oubles, giving up clothing. Certain skirts. One velvet skirt 1 had [laughing] oh, how 1 loved that velvet skirt! [Q~ Why did you have to give it up?] Well . we were made to feel., that you shouldn't want something particularly pretty and that looked well on you, that compliments you. This was pride . In order to belike God would wish you to be, you would give up these things. Well, 1 remember 1 struggled withthis and finally one day I was able to march over with a few of these things and my velvet skirt. And I just felt, when I expressed this to [the Housemothers] they rejoiced with me.~9 The Latent Danger in Successful Survival Mechanisms While the five~ mechanisms described above do strengthen the common ideology that had first drawn the members together, they can sometimes become so successful in themselves that the original vision becomes,secondary. The traumatic prospect of !osing all of one's friends may .be sufficient to persuade a doubting member to remain in the community even if he/she no longer ascribes to its worldview. The common pooling of economic goods may strongly discourage a member who has had no occasion for the personal use of money for years from leaving and having to find a self-supporting job.29 166 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 Others, who have not read a newspaper or watched television for several years, may remain in the community because they feel unable to, cope with the unfamiliar outside world.2! Thus, with the passage of time, it may be debatable whether members truly believe in the founder's worldview, or whether they remain because they fear what would happen to them if the~ left~ To avoid this loss of fervor, attempts may be made to rekindle the primal emotional commitment to the group's worldview. Many sociologists have pointed out, however, that unity based solely on emotional feelings is noto-riously ephemeral. Most groups tend either to evolve into a cornmunity based primarily on socially-integrative mechanisms, or else gradually to relax into a looser association in which "members regain virtually full personal autonomy and the commune becomes a cooperative venture in support of its members' individual self-interests. Many of these latter types last for two or three decades, but rarely are they able to produce a second generation."~2 Reflections and Applications The research quoted above has obvious implications for religious life. The integrating mechanisms used by the successful communal experiments strongly resemble certain practices followed, today and in the past; by many religious communities. Furthermore, sociologists who have studied intentional com-munities stress that such value-reinforcing techniques are indispensable if a group's unique world view is to be preserved in the face of the competing values of American pluralistic society. Religious congregations who wish to remain intentional communities without the aid of common ritual, the limita-tion of members' apostolates; boundary maintenance and sacrifice are doomed to failure. Use of these techniques, however, risks the usurpation of the cosmic myth itself. This paper began by contending that some religious communities are responding to this dilemma by abandoning the model of the intentional com-munity altogether and moving toward the less-demanding "associational" model of commitment. Individual religious today often work and live sepa-rately, and come together only periodically foi- prayer or discussion meetings. Whereas intentional religious communities had to adhere to geographical lim-itations in order to preserve their unity (with congregations restricting their members to a particular diocese or a given set of schools or hospitals), the looser associations might be based on some common interest (e.g., social justice, nuclear disarmament, or charismatic prayer forms.) Models for this might be groups such as Pax Christi or NARW, whose members are'.building links of mutual acquaintance that span the continent. Future historians of religious life may see this movement toward association as a radical redefinition, led by the Spirit, of what "religious life" means. Such redefinitions are not new to the Church. Each of the major traditions of religious spirituality--the Benedictine monastics in the fifth century, the mendicant orders in the twelfth, the Jesuits and the Daughters of Charity in the. Enlightenment era--are the Tkansformations in Religious Commitment results of similar communal adaptations to.societal changes not addressed by previous forms of religious life.23 In this way, the Holy Spirit moves and breathes in the Church, and the trend toward looser associations in place of intentional communities can simply reflect the results of prayerful discernment of God's call to a new dimension of service. As was the case in other times of redefinition, the new wine may not fit in the old wine skins. If a congregation chooses the associational model of commitment, therefore, it is necessary to reexamine what, if anything, the evangelical counsels would mean in this new context. Opening the group's membership to married couples may be feasible, since the competing loyalties of marriage would not be as detrimental to these new, less-demanding associations as they had been to the more intense forms of communal living. In fact, since the newer types of association will not provide the emrtional ties and feelings of familial attach-ment which the intentional community had, more and more of the original members may welcome the opportunity to marry and yet to remain in the congregation. The vow of poverty would then have to be reevaluated in the light of providing for members' children, or if members were expected to rent their own apartments and keep their own bank accounts. The congregation would also have a lessened mandate to require obedience from individuals who had competing job or family obligations. With their unifying worldview less carefully shielded from outside influences, members, might refuse to " comply with requests from the congregation, if these infringed excessively .upon their own freedom. There are several dangers in choosing a less intense type of communal commitment. The congregation will risk breaking up completely as its members are distracted by new loyalties: as Zablocki pointed out, few such organizations survive more than two or three decades:22 Also, Canon law (and the I.R.S. !) may not consider these new forms of community living to be tr~uly religious life. The legal ramifications of this have to be explored by both civil and canon lawyers. Loss of tax-exempt status may imperil some of an associa-tion's ministries; loss of canonical status may result in less support'from the institutional Church. Another extremely important question is whether or not an association of religious will be perceived as essentially different from groups devoted to transcendental meditation or saving the whales. Potential members may well question why they shouldbother joining at all, should the association cease to present a distinctive witness to the rest of American society. Finally, an association will not serve as the sole, or even principal, provider of the affilia-tive needs of many of its members: as mentioned above, combining marriage and membership may be the more desired option. For a woman religious over forty, hrwever, the "freedom" of association members to marry may seem a cruel joke in a society where an unbalanced sex ratio and the attraction of men to youngei~ women renders the likelihood of her marriage extremely improba-ble. 24 To compensate for the emotional closeness which her former intentional community can no longer offer her in its new associational form, such women 161~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 may find themselves clinging to family members for support, or, :increasingly, isolated and alone, In the face of the dangers of associational commitment, many religious may feel that there is still a place for the intentional community lifestyle in providing ministry and witness in the Church. If the research on previous intentional communities is to be believed, however, it is impossible to maintain such a lifestyle without integrating practices to strengthen the members' com-mitment. Religious orders that elect to retain or readopt the traditionM prac-tices which had so effectively united pre-Vatican communities will face their own set of dangers. The .tendency, mentioned in the preceding section, for these practices to become sufficient in themselves, and to displace the ideals they were originally designed to protect: will still exist. It was precisely this displacement, of course, which had sparked the post-Vatican movements to return to the spirituality of one's founder in the first place. In addition, prac-tices such as isolation from the outside world and self-renunciation rituals have become suspected of destroying members' personalities and mental health. Communities adopting or retaining these techniques will have to deal with charges that they are fostering immaturity, personal dependency, and other psychological ills.25 A Third Alternative Religious life appears to be trapped between the Scylla of a psychologically-destructive intentional community which tends to become an end in itself, and the Charybdis of an ultimately unstable and gradually co-opted association. A third alternative, however, may be possible. Efforts could be made to use the insights of the research quoted here in constructing integrative mechanisms more adapted to late twentieth-century American culture, taking steps to insure that these mechanisms remain valued means to maintain the founder's char-ism-- absolutely necessary in a group of s6cia!ly dependent human beings, but open to change and replacement lest they become ends in themselves. A congregation at.tempting this alternative would first of all sponsor workshops, seminars and weekends (parallel to the psychologically-oriented conferences on mid,life crisis, burnout, and so forth) which would sensitize its members to' the fundamental necessity of ritual, "common times" of togetherness, and other techniques of group unification and identity affirmation. Particularly ~successful techniques developed or discovered by onegroup might be shared with other groups within or outside the congregation. Policies would be enacted ¯ .by the General Chapter requiring that a certain minimal number of these practices be chosen and implemented by members living in a local house, a city or a region. The leadership of the congregation would need to be empowered to call to accountability those members who persist in isolating themselves from the community. The dilemma of how to avoid the disintegrating effects of diversified minis, tries--while keeping their benefits of individual personal growth and flexible T~ansformations in Religious Commitment response to social needs--would also have to be faced. Once the membership and leadership of a congregation were sensitized to the pressures and competing loyalties that inevitably devolve upon any member who accepts a remote or a nontraditional ministerial position, steps could be taken to minimize these effects. The member might be required to return to the congregation during the summer, for example, to engage in the work onlyfor a limited number of years, or to live with congregational members even if not working with them. The role of sacrifice in uniting a community may also provide possibilities for creative~exploration. Periods of congregational service, whether in leadership or in supporting roles, might be one form of sacrifice; budgetary cutbacks to support Some congregational work among the poor might be another. In any event, religious congregations which wish to remain intentional communities, and .yet avoid the traps into which such communities have fallen in the past, must develop the sociological sophistication to choose the integrating mecha-nisms most suited to their needs and those of their members. Individuals must be encouraged to study and research these techniques; degree programs and summer institutes need to be established to make this possible. Conclusion The dichotomy between intentional community and association which has been developed in this paper marks, in reality, two poles of a continuum along which' most religious communities currently exist. In the ongoing process of moving back and forth between these poles, not all bfa congregation's members are likely to agree, either on the degree of intentional community that remains appropriate for their charism and ministry, or on the customs and practices to be used in achieving it. Communities may even.decide to divide, formally or informally, into subgroups according to the intensity and style of the integrating practices they desire. Wherever on the contihuum~a congregation ultimately finds itself, to the extent that elements of an intentional community are pres-ent, mechanisms will have to be developed in order to safeguard its unity against outside pressures. To the extent that the group resembles an association, the problem of reconciling the affiliative and emotional needs of the individuals with continuing and active membership in the congregation will have to be faced. There is undoubtedly room in the American church for varieties of religious life which exhibit many different degrees of communal or associational com- " mitment. This article has argued, however, that it is extremely dangerous for the ministerial effectiveness and the very existence' of a congregation not to recognize and choose freely the type of commitment proper to its founder's charism in the late twentieth-century United States. Only by realizing and acknowledging the strength~ and weaknesses inherent in the type of commit-ment they have chosen--which presupposes that they know which one it is---can the strengths be emphasized and the weaknesses minimized. This paper is a call for the integration of previously ignored sociological insights 170 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 into the self-study of American religious communities. For some, their very survival may depend on it. NOTES ~James Hitchcock, ~Vocations Holding Up in Traditional Communities" in The Catholic Uni- ¯ verse Bulletin, Cleveland, July 6, 1984, p. 10. * 2Sara Harris, The Sister: The Changing Role of the American Nun (N.Y.: .Bobbs Merrill, 1972), pp. 137-8. 3Benjamin Zablocki, Alienation and Charisma (N.Y.: Free Press, 1980), Chapter 6. 4Sources for my informa[ion on these groups include the following: Rosabeth Moss Kanter, Commitment and Community (Cambridge, MA: Ha~rvard University Press, 1972), Lewis A. Coser, Greedy Institutions (N.Y.: Free Press, 1974), and Benjamin Zablocki, The Joyful Com-munity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980). ~Bennett M. Berger, The Survival of a Counterculture (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981), p. 124. 6Zablocki, p. 29. 7Kanter, p. 47. 8Zablocki, p. 39. 9Zabl~cki, p. 52. 10Kanter, p. 46. tlZablocki, p. 47. t2Kanter~ p. 44; Coser, p. 31. ~3Zablocki, p. 172. t4Kanter, p. 84; Zablocki, pp. 129-30. ~Kanter, p. 84; Zablocki, p. 259 ~6Zablocki, p. 250. tTKanter, p. 103. ~SKanter, p. 76. tgZablocki, p. 185. 20Kanter, p.80; Zablocki, p. 281. 2tZablocki, pp. 282-3. 22Zablocki, Alienation and Charisma, p. 289. S¢ also Herbert Schmalenbach, "The Social Category of Communion." 2JJoan Chittister;~ O.S.B., Women, Ministry and the Church (Ramsey, N J: Paulist Press, 1983) ¯ p. 28. 24Tish Sommers, "The Compounding Impact of Age on Sex,, in Ovil Rights Digest, Fall, 1974, pp. 2-9: ~sZablocki, Alienation "and Charisma, p. 325. Jonah and the Vine M. Basil Pennington, 0 C. S. 0 No stranger to these pages, Father Pennington continues to reside and write in St. Joseph's Abbey; Spencer, MA 01562. The nineteenth century was a great time for religious life. At its opening, empty and ruined cloisters stood everywhere in Europe, the fruit of the Pro-test~ nt Reformation and the French Revolution. By the end of the century not only had many of these ruins" been restored with the renewal of the ancient monastic and religious orders but many new religious institutes had come into being: With the opening of the twentieth century these institutes were stretching out to all parts of the world calling the whole human family to spiritual rebirth and renewal. Then suddenly their spirit ~ seemed to really catch on, and the King of Nineveh rose from° his throne and called all to renewal--good Pope John called down the Holy Spirit in a new Pentecost for all humankind. It was disconcerting. Not only had the institution that was to be called to renewal taki~h the lead, but the Spirit seemed to know no bounds. There was a great spiritual renewal among the other religions of the world, and soon spiritual masters from Hinduism and Buddhism were within what we once considered our enclave, calling forth our young men and women, our.prospective members. ¯ The Lord had given us our consoling vine. It shot up overnight. Remember the burgeoning novitiates after the Second World War, the great novitiate buildings we put up in the fifties and sixties--the ones that stand empty now or serve as .conference centers, or which our Buddhist and Hindu brothers and sisters have taken off our hands? Our vine was suddenly cut down. And we sir on our hill, in our little shelter (our new social security benefits?) and gnash our teeth, or we try to keep on doing what we were doing before, with little of the means and less of the fruit, because we are always more and more out-of-date. ¯ Well, not all of us, maybe, but how many of t~s? 171 172 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 One of the things we can note in the closing lines, of the Book of Jonah: as God calls him to universal compassion there is in him no breath of conversion. He who had called others--so successfully to conversion, himself will not convert. He sits there in his bitterness. We who have so successfully called the Church and the human family to spiritual renewal have we ourselves ~heeded the call of the Council to true spiritual renewal? Or have we just tried some "adaptations" and .now in our bitterness blame them for our present plight. The publication of the new Code of Canon Law offers us an opportunity to be again confronted, rather directly and concisely, by the message of the Second Vatican Council: a call to religious to be religious. (Religious comes from the latin word: religo, to be bound again bound again to God, most intimately.) The opening canon in the section on religious tells us that our life is for those "who follow Christ more closely under the action of the Holy Spirit"; it is a life ."totally dedicated to God who is loved most of all . dedic~ited to his honor, the upbuilding of the Church and the salvation of the world" (Canon 573). It is "through charity to which the counsels lead that [we] are joined to the Church and its mystery in a special way" (Canon 573). When the code comes to speak of the obligations of religious it states first th'at "religious are to have as their highest rule of life the following of Christ as proposed in the Gospel" (.Canon 662). Then it goes on to state that "contem-plation of divine things and assiduous union with God in prayer is to be the first and foremost duty of all ~religious" (Canon 66.3). When it comes to speak about novitiate formation, it says not only that "the novices are to be led to cultivate human and Christian virtues . to be prepared to cultivate the worship of God in the Sacred Liturgy . to be instructed to read and meditate on the Sacred Scriptures" but also "to be instructed to contemplate the mystery of salvation" (Canon 652): Conte~mplative union with God is for all religious, and novices are to be effectively taught how to open their lives to the contemplative dimension of prayer and life. There was a very interesting developmen~ at the Second Vatican Council (P, ope Paul insisted constantly that the'Code of Canon Law is to be but the practical implementation of what the Spirit had said to us in the Council--a ¯ call to constant renewal). At the first session a long treatise on religious life was offered to the Council Fathers, some one hundred thirty pages. The commission was told to boil it down. They returned to the second session~with thirty five pa, ges. Again, the word was to boil it down. At the third session the Fathers found at their places a brief document of nineteen propositions, very much what we have, with a couple of added paragraphs on monastic life. This,new schema had a very long fo0tnote--almost half as long as the whole text. In this footnote the writers explained that the threefold distinction in regard to religious life that had come into common use from the teaching of Aquinas and was found even in Pius Xll's Humani generis, namely active, contemplativ~e, and Jonah and the Vine / 173 mixed, was not to be retained. There could be no such thing as a simply active religious life. All religious, by the very nature of religious consecration through religious profession, were called to contemplative union with God. Some were. to:be "mere" contemplatives." Others were called to pass on the fruits of their contemplation in apostolic ministry. This very significant shift, a real call to renewal, has been largely~ missed. The code spells it out very clearly. Will we hear? We can continue to sit apart in our pathetic little structures and bewail the fact that no one is paying any attention to us any longer, and leave renewal to ,:the laity, the hierarchy, and the clergy--and to the other religions! We can watch creative, new !ay ministries take on our former missions--in itself not a ¯ bad thing at all. We can watch our most promising youth, who really want to do something to make a difference in a world that is hell-bent on global destruction, respond to the call of the great swamis and roshis who practice what they preach, and of the new prophets who have caught the universalist vision and call for global.unification--perhapsnot such a good thing. But the reality of it all is that we, the sons and daughters of the Book, have, in the intimate revelation of God in Christ and in the empowerment of the sacred tradition and the sacramental life, so much more to bring to the human family. It will only I~e when we teach the fullness of the call of the Gospel, so powerfully re-enunciated in the Second Vatican Council, and actually live what we teach, that we will be credible and effective and attractive--in the right sense of that w.ord--again; The great progenitors of the Second Vatican Coun-cil were, first, John Henry Cardinal Newman, who reminded us that doctrine-- and all else in a living Church--keeps on developing. Hence, we cannot stop with Vatican II, but before we advance beyond it, we have at least to get what it has given us. Can we honestly say we have really absorbed the teaching of the documents of Vatican I19. Certainly I can't, and I have been working with them steadily for over twenty years! Second was Teilhard de Chardin, whose call was ~to a new level of consciousness that integrated the whole of creation, centering all in the heart of Christ; in the awesome power of Divine Love that was poured out in our hearts in the Holy Spirit who groans within us to be free to do mighty things in and through us: things of prayer and worship, things of empowerment and life. Have we heard Newman and Chardin? Are we stretching to keep develop-ing, and expanding our loving concern and our creative vision to the whole of. the human project, the divine creative project? Sad to say, not a few monasteries, not a few religious'institutes look a bit like Jonah on his hill, under his little structure, with his wilted vine lying prone across the opening. Elderly monks and religious seem to be saying: "Enough! I won't begin anew. I have done enough. Let it die with me. After all my years ¯ of service they rush on to new things and take no notice of all I have done." Maybe the younger religious don't realize it, but the charism of the com-munity, that precious gift to the Church and the human family, is incarnate in 174 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 the seniors. However, can we blame the younger ones (who are often all too few or even non-existent), those in whom the call to share this same charism is awakening,if they do not see it when the seniors allow it to be hidden under the bushels of structures and attitudes that do not let its light shine forth? The Second Vatican Council, or rather the Holy Spirit speaking through the council, asked us to bring this precious heritage into confluence, or we might even say confrrntation, with the signs of the times. Sure, that is going to cause upheaval or at least unrest and some tension. But what is the alternative? To sit with Jonah in our shack and groan? Renewal .is going on among the laity. They are taking on many of the tasks and missions that ~religious have done so well. And perhaps they are even doing them more effectively in a secular world. Renewal is going on among the Eastern religions and their renewed "religious," the swamis and gurus and roshis, seem to be more effectively serving, and attracting to their ranks, the fine young people who used to enter our novitiates. (How often when standing listening to an impressive young TM teacher or an EST seminar leader or a "Moonie" who has just earned his PhD at Harvard, have I thought to myself: this young man would surely have been a Jesuit in the pre-Vatican II days.) ~ Are we going to watch all this as passive spectators, cheering it on, or worse, lamenting over it? Or are we going to be open to the spirit of Newman and Chardin, adapted to our own particular charism, a priceless gift of God to the Church, and take full part in the tremendous spiritual renewal of our times which we in,great part are responsible for inaugurating? Even if there is a wonderful spiritual renewal taking place in many corners of our society and our globe, they are still just corners. Depressing, competi-tive, greedy materialism is the rampant reality. Millions and millions still are not in touch with the spiritual dimension of their being, and know only ultimate frustration. There is plenty of work for us all. The new code says our consecrated life is to be "an outstanding sign in the Church--and beyond--foretelling the heavenly glory" (Canon 573)--giving to the human person something big enough to call him or her forth fully, and to make life truly worthwhile. This is our call. And so--what now? Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries": The Role of Provincial Superiors Today Gerald A. Arbuckle, S.M. Father Arbuckle has become a more frequent and influential contributor to our pages of late. The present article continues his study of government in religious communities considered under particular aspects. His earlier study, ~General Government: Its Leadership Role Today" appeared in the November/December issue of 1984. Himself a member of his congregation's General Administration, Father Arbuckle resides, and may be addressed, at their headquarters: Padri Maristi; Via Alessandro Poerio 63; 00152 Roma, Italy. ~nnovation is at the heart of survival and growth. Without innovation in response to rapidly changing conditions, human groups stagnate and die. This is true of business firms, of local and national economies. It is also true of religious ~ongregations, of provinces within the congregations.l Religious exist to serve the Church. They are to be concerned not just for the survival of their own province and congregation, but in particular they are primarily oriented to spearhead pastoral and spiritual growth within the Church. They are to be specialists in innovation: "Their whole lives are dedi-cated to God's service." Religious are to show forth "boldness of initiatives."2 In quite expressive language, the document Mutuae Relationes emphatically insists on the innovative role. of religious:~ there is need "to devise new, inge-nious, and courageous ecclesial experimrnts under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit . A responsiveness rich in creative initiative is eminently compatible with the charismatic nature of the religious life."3 Innovation is the generation, acceptance, and implementation of new ideas, pastoral methods or servibes, whatever can help develop within ourselves and in others the kingdom of God. Application and implementation are at the core of this definition; it involves the ability to change or to adapt.4 Easy enough to define innovation. But how does innovation take place? What role do major superiors, especially provincials, have in stimulating change? 175 176 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 This paper is an attempt to answer these questions. I propose to approach this key topic by: -summarizing recent management studies on how innovation takes place; -summarizing relevant research conclusions of applied anthropology; -applying these insights to the role of provincials within religious congre-gations. I believe provincials today face challenges,that their predecessors rarely confronted prior to Vatican II. They are called to be change-agents within their congregations; in fact, I believe the future of their congregations might well be said to rest in their hands. But, through no fault of their own, they often do not know what to do. If they do know what to do, they often do not know how to go about stimulating innovation. Japanese and American Business Cultures During the world's tough economic years after 1978, the picture on either side of the Pacific Ocean was remarkably different: soup kitchens in Detroit contrasted vividly with an apparent freedom from economic depression in Japan, where business firms exported more and mo?e the things that Ameri-cans made once upon a time. Some people almost in a fit of hysteria have called for more protectionism against the "Japanese m~nace." Saner minds, however, do not blame the Japanese or the tardiness of the American govern-ment to build trade barriers, but they blame the limitations of America's managerial culture.5 Recently I noticed a bank advertisement in O'Hare air-port, Chicago, which stated: "In Chicago, nothing takes off faster than a Good Idea." This is not as accurate as it should be, simply because the Ameri-can culture at large, and the management sub-c.ulture, are not as conducive and supportive of innovation as is the Japanese cultural system. Several man-agement experts, therefore, have concentrated their research not so much on the psychology of industry or business management, but on the anthropology of culture and culture change in relation to business action.6 By culture we mean that network of common meanings ~and values that is deeply rooted in the corisciousnessiunconsciousness of a group of people. This network gives life to distinctive structures and institutions, myths and symbols. The symbols of a people have many.meanings that are deeply real to those who share them; they give people a sense of identity, security, purpose. But since they are derived so much more from the heart than the head they are difficult for outsiders to grasp and describe. What are the significant differences b~tween the two business cultures? There are two key variables the individual or potential innovator and the group--and both are given different emphases in the two cultures. Both cul-tures stress the importance of change-agents or innova!ors, that is of people who are gifted with the "art of anticipating the need for, and of leading, productive change."7 In Japanese culture, innovators evoke change in and through the harmonious support and active participation of the ~roup. L~yalty Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries" / 177 to one's group is a most respected personal attribute. The culture emphasizes harmony not for the purposes of maintaining the status quo but for innovation. Group leaders know this and hence concentrate less on the task of production than on thee growth of good relations, morale, value~ that support .innovators within"the group. The innovators themselves do not seek to stand outside the group; they recognize that only through the active support and participation of the group itself will the ideas be implemented) But in Western business culture, reflecting the broader culture of the society, group leaders tend to stress the productive task to the neglect, of group mainte-nance activities. Theoretically there is an assent to the need for building a supportive innovative culture, but "American managers don't quite realize that what they are creating requires a lot of energy and attention from them to sustain."9 The Western culture, and in particular the American way of life, gives vigorous support and status to independence, to being "a rugged individualist." The American West may have been built by thousands of"rugged individuals spread over the vast frontier. But millions of lone rangers employed under a few thousand cor~porate roofs may not much longer prove workable."~° In this system the rugged individual, the would-be innovator or change agent, must struggle and battle alone to prove the. value .of his or her insight. The group is assumed to have what .really adds up to a negative or opposition, role. The individual, as it were, stands outside the .group; the group is not assumed to have any substantial role in helping to stimulate the innovative idea or in participating in .its implementation. In the Japanese culture the innovative idea can tr.uly be said to be the group's, though articulated at first by a particular person; .in American, or Western cultures in general, that is not the case. The consequence for Western economies of course is unfortunate. It generally takes an extraordinarily tough individual to sustain his or her enthusiasm in the face of constant passive or open opposition. Little wonder that managerial researchers complain about the deadening restraints on innovation in Western business cultures. The firms that are notably successful today in America are precisely those where the leadership recognizes that the primary task is to clarify, articulate and insist on key values: quality goods and setA, ices,: the participation of all employees in, discovering .and supporting people who have new ideas for the maintenance of quality. This task of leadership is a tough assignment. If it fails, then the business culture becomes stagnant, oppressive of innovators and new ideas.~ So, if American (and Western) businesses are to become truly competi-tive. with, Japanese enterprises, their leaders must become and remain cultur~al revolutionaries. Then the advertisement at O'Hare airport will be accurate! Innovation and Innovators: ~nsights of Applied Anthropology . Anthropologists in general have the reputation of always aiming to preserve what is traditional. If they do take that approach, it is because the' general thrUst of socio-economic development programs, particularly in Third World 1711 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 countries, has been in the direction of what an expert on fisheries once called "bulldozing the tropics into civilization.''~2 In the 1960s and 1970s (to a less extent) it was rare indeed for development experts to ~ake into account the fact that people are human beings and also have distinctive cultures.,The so-called experts descended as it were from on high with the "good news of develop-ment." The people had to listen "with gratitude," do what they were told and rbecome "rich and good" just like Westerners! Since so many projects have failed or are failing, there is a greater openness to turn to anthropologists to help uncover why "the good news" became "bad news," The ignorance of.the experts might have been bliss for them, but their lack of wisdom has meant immense suffering for the people, The following general conclusions have emerged from the study of anthro-pologists into the success or otherwise of development projects: 1. Changes will succeed only if they are in response to felt needs of the people. The discovery of what in fact are the real felt needs of a group of people is a long and difficult task. It is so easy for the would-be innovator to impose his own needs on people who for the sake of peace agree. I came across an example of two American volunteer development workers on a South Pacific island, who were worried by the fact that the ladies of the village had to go down a rough slope to a river to do the washing~ So, they imported cement, "convinced" the ladies that the use of the village washing tubs would be far more convenient. After the tubs had been built, the good ladies used them for one day and back they went to the river. The volunteers were annoyed, but humble enough to ask why the tubs were not used: "We like togossip about the men; If you wash at the tubs, the men will hear. Also, our backs are sore from standing at the tubs. We like to squat when we do the washing!" In order tO obtain the real felt needs, there must be lengthy and tiring dialogue based on the willingness to learn on all sides, considerable questioning and active listening by the change-agent. 2. Innovative leadership must be encouraged to emerge from within the group and be supported by the group. A girl was taken from a Fijian village and trained in the capital city in how to improve the nutrition quality of village cooking. She went .back full of enthusiasm; within a few days she was back to the old style of cooking. Why? No one in the capital thought it important to work with villagers on the spot to heip them become accepting of change and Supportive of the local innovator. The experts expected the impossible of one person. This is a critical point. Innovators or change agents are "the right people in the right place at theright time."~3 The right people are the would-be innovators because they have ideas that look beyond the established ways of doing things. By the right places we mean that the people who have to be motivated to accept the ideas are willing in fact to be motivated and to participate in implementing Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries" / 1"/9 the ideas. The would-be innovator and the group are not to be in opposition to each other, but are to be integrated.into a team. The task of the main leader or ~main innovator--often one who holds an official position, e.g. government officer, town mayor, village chief--is precisely to help create space for individ- ' uals to "get the,power to experiment, to create, to develop to test--to inno-vate." t4 This means that a tremendous amount of time and energy must go into disposing the group to be open to change, to be positively accepting of the innovator. There is no short cut! The more the group is encouraged to become the agent of its own growth, the more in fact it will b~ sensitive to the need for the right type of innovators. Would-be innovators tend to.fall into two broad types: those who are basi-cally loners, uninterested in the group, possibly deeply bitter about being rejected by the group. Unless they can get over their spirit of excessive individ- - ualism, such people, because of personal reasons and/or the neglect by the group, can obstruct growth. There are others; however, who have been pushed to the margins of the group's life, but who still are deeply attached to the welfare of the group and who in their own way sorrow for the sense of blind conservatism and fatalism that the group expresses. These are the people that should be very specially spotted and encouraged by the main change-agent or change-catalyst. 3. Deyelopment projects are more readily successful, if there is maximum delegation and involvement within small groups. For example, I found credit unions far more successful than large-scale business co-operatives in Fiji, because the former were village-peopled based, but the latter were firmly directed from the capital city by government officials. The people felt the credit unions .were theirs; they "owned them" by participating daily in" credit union affairs, their management, direction. But, this could be done only because credit .union values of cooperation and honesty were con-stantly articulated by the official educational change-agems. And the people were called to the accountable by their own leaders on.the basis of these values. ~ 4. The innovators must not move faster than the group. The innovator can be so far out front that the people lose confidence in the project. The innovator in this case is equivalently' demanding culture changes that require too many risks for the people; identity and security are endangered. So, the people retreat to old and familiar values 'and customs. They cannot be blamed for this. They have everything to lose, but the insensitive innovator with his skills and status may have little to lose. By way of summary, there are three indisputable research conclusions: people definitely resist cultural .changes that appear to threaten their basic securities; they resist changes they do not understand and they resist changes that are being forced oti them.~6 But these conclusions all sound so logical, so obvious. Why are they so 180 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 frequently ignored, in practi~ce by even the most educated and intelligent'of people? I can pinpoint four reasons in particular. First, it is not easy for many of us to realize that all change involves in one way or another culture change, that is change in values, new security systems, and more. And culture change basically is very slow. We belong to a culture that has come to assume instant answers to instant problems! It is difficult for. us.to grasp the reality that the innovation process is a combination of technical and human or cultural factors, rather than being a purely technical or mechan-ical matter. The would-be innovator requires considerable patience and open-ness to learn just how change takes place. o Secondly, leadership is so often confused, with the use of authority. It is assumed that change can take place simply by command.For example, it was decided in the mid-1940s that Fijians should have in their villages hygenic toilets of a simple design. The word went out from London, eventually reach-ing the district British officers in rural Fiji. The fine toilets were built .by the villagers, under British direction, but not used! Officials "forgot" to involve the .villagers in a decision that concerned them. True leadership aims to evoke participation. This is-often more important than what is visibly done. Thirdly, no matter how intelligent and educated the innovator may be, if he is insensitive to the dignity of the people the project will fail. People yearn to grow as people through participation in all that concerns their lives. If they are refused the chance to participate, or if they sense the innovator is out to manipulate them by going through the motions of participation, then they will withdraw from involvement and become passiveand angry observers. When I was researching in Fiji into village development, I was frequently told by colonial officials that "Fijians simply cannot handle their own affairs.': The tragedy is that the people had been told this so often that many had come to believe it. When the credit union movement was brought to Fiji by an Ameri-can Jesuit, Marion Ganey, the people showed that the colonial officials were wrong. The people discovered that they could handle their own affairs. A major factor in this movement of self-growth for the people was the deep faith that the Jesuit expressed in the people and their potential. One Fijian in village summed up what this meant for him: "When he comes into the village, even though he cannot speak our language, we feel ten feet taller and ten .years younger!" Respect for people must spring not from fine words, but from ~the deep conviction in the heart. People sense whether it is there or not. Fourthly, would-be change-agents can fall into what really is culture shock. People when confronted with a culture that is different from their own can feel so lost that they really cannot cope. They lose all sense of judgment and may well begin by acting in a thoroughly authoritarian manner in order to cope. In brief, the findings of contemporary managerial and applied anthropology studies are the same. Innovation is the key to survival and growth. Innovation flourishes in. those cultures in which innovators and people are positively interacting and participating together in implementing the new, ideas. No mat-ter what position the potential innovator holds, e.g. manager, village chief, Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries"/ 181 government officer, church official, member of a group, to be ultimately effec-tive he or she must be imbued with a philosophy of deep respect for the .potential of the people to be masters of their own growth. As George Foster notes: ''The ethic of helping people change their culture includes knowing what the culture is. what its processes of change are. It is ~not enough to be a competent technician, morally fortified with the unquestioned assumptions of goodness of one's profession . The ethic irivolves restraint and caution in missionary zeal. It means. [being] careful not to plan for people, but to work with them in searching for realistic answers to their problems . .It means learning to be humble, to be willing to learn . It means sympathy and tolerance . It means a genuine and unselfish desire to help., in a realistic way based on full understanding of the nature of culture."17 The warning of the wise Lao-tzu centuries ago remains universally true: "As for the best leaders, the people do not notice their existence. The next best, the people .honor and praise. The next, thepeople fear; and the next, the people hat~ . When the best leader's work is done the people~say, 'We did it ourselves.'" Challenges Confronting Contemporary Provincials The Church's culture, prior to Vatican II, was highly structured and open to little change at any level. Its mission was clear and its pastoral methods were considered to be universally validono matter what culture was being evangelized. Religious congregations reflected, this type of culture. Major superiors gave clear commands, reminding people of the importance tq maintain the rules of the community. They commanded; subjects were expected to obey. Certainly they did not expect to be consulted. It was assumed that superiors knew what was right, what God wanted. But with Vatican II superiors and their fellow "religious were reminded that together they hadto s~arch to discover what God was asking of them. Pastoral methods that were once valid could no longer be considered so in a world subject to chronic change. These new emphases and values undermined t.he security and identity of the old religious-life culture. Questions replaced answers; clear and simple command~ gave way to process. Sole authority yielded to rule by committee. We know well the malaise and confusion that hit congregations and individual religious.~a The role of the contemporary provincial is an unenviable one. How can a provincial stimulate a province to accept a culture in which the religious are open to change, effectively willing to participate in change, are supportive of innovation and innovators? In order to understand the complex nature of this challenge, I will construct a "typical contemporary .province culture." I will then summarize various possible reactions on the part of~a provincial when faced with such a culture. Since we are dealing with a cultural construct or type or model, it is inevitable that there will be oversimplifications, imprecisions. Readers can make their own additions or subtractions. A Typical Province Culture -Membership is aging; few, if any, recruits. -A significant number of religious were trained under the pre-Vatican 1112 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 model in which creativity and innovation were discouraged. -A significant percentage of religious are distressed, disoriented, by the theological, pastoral and spiritual emphases following~Vatican II. -The province, in whole or in part, denies that there are real manpower crises which demand positive planning and changes. -Houses are closed; pastoral works put aside, not because of creative, forward~looking pastoral planning, but because the province has run out of manpower resources. -A significant percentage of the province is spiritually uninspired and uninspiring. -Small groups of reiigious or individuals are marginalized because of their innovative pastoral ideas and practices, or because they ask out of deep love for the Church andfor the congregation challenging questions relat-ing to renewal, or because their radical religious lifestyles are uncomfort-able. to the power forces in the province.~9 -Religious strongly support decentralization of authority and personal freedom, but do not support a corresponding accountability to major superiors and to the province. In this cultural model of course there are values and practices that are in conflict with each other. In fact, it can happen tha~ in this model many religious find little of substance that they have in common. What happens when a newly elected provincial is confronted with a province'that approximates this type? He can react in a culture-shock manner or accept the reality in an ~understanding way and, adopting the operational principles that should guide any would-be change-agent (described above), proceed to help cultivate a religious-life culture that is innovative, effectively open to change, a culture in which religious support innovation and partiCipa~te in its implementation. A brief look first at possible models of culture-shock reactions of the new provincial. Again, it is important to note that we are constructing models; it is necessary to indicate emphases rather than rounded descriptions. ' 1. The Minister Provincial: one who concentrates almost exclusively on the welfare of the individual religious; planning and animation are neglected. 2. The Administrator Provincial: one who keeps to his office desk, involv-ing himself as far as possible in paper work; ministering and animation are neglected. 3. The Preacher Provincial: one who concentrates on preaching about the need for change; planning and ministering are avoided. He has an impact on no one. 4. The Laissez-faire Provincial: he opts out of all key functions. He assumes that kind words to all will produce lasting peace. Others assert leadership by default, but it is a leadership that builds up power for some strong sections of the provinre to the detriment of weaker power ~blocks. Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries" / 183 5. The Planner Provincial'. this is the dreamer who devises all kinds of plans for change, but avoids the nitty-gritty of organizing the imple-mentation of the plans, the hard grind of administration and the demanding task of animation and ministering to the religious of the province. 6. The Authoritarian Provinciak this is the one who assumes he can min-ister to the religious, plan, administer and animate allby himself. Refus-ing to dialogue or to delegate, he believes "it is time that religious obeyed, put their heads down and got on with the job." He may set up a variety of committees, not to hear what they say, but to get things done that he decides should be done. Given the pressures on a provincial today, we must not be surprised:if some behave in ways that approximate to one or other of these models. So great can ¯ culture-shock be that individuals may not consciously be aware of why they react in these ways. We are now in a better position to look at objectively what the functions of a provincial are today, how he or she should act in a reasoned way when confronted with the task of fostering a culture supportive of innovation. The Provincial as a Cultural Change-Agent Leadership has to do with meeting needs. Religious need a sense of spiritual purpose, they need to feel valued by fellow religious, they need to participate in decisions that affect them, they need to be stimulated to accept in an ongoing way the call toa deep union in Christ; the province has need to be cleai" as to its goals and how to realize these goals in practice, it needs a culture that is ¯ supportive of change and change agents. Provincials truly exercise leadership to the degree that they respond to these needs. We are here speaking of transformational leadership, as defined by J. M. Bums. For him: "Transform-ing leadership ultimately becomes moral in that it raises the level of human conduct and ethical aspiration for both leader and led, and thus it has a transforming effect on both."20 It is a leadership that rarely uses the authority of the office, not a leadership that moves people to act "by the sheer over-whelming magic of his personality and persuasive powers.TM The type of leadership the provincial should be exercising is described in the findings of applied anthropology given above. It is therefore a leadership that aims to help religious discover, individually ~and corporately, that they have within them-selves the power and the commitment to enter into a process of innovative change in service of the Lord and his Church. Such a provincial is "influential by strengtheningand inspiriting his audience . The leader arouses confidence in his followers. The followers feel better able to accomplish whatever goals he and.they share."~2 This is an extremely tough assignment. A provincial has several definite functions as a leader: to ministe~ in a pastoral way to the needs of individual religious, to plan for the future of the province, to administer the province by implementing the plan and to animate Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 the whole province' to be part of the planning and implementation of the corporate plan. Each function is related to each other function listed. How in practic~ are these functions to be realized so that no one function achieves a priority it should not have? I believe a provincial can fulfill the mandate to lead the province by empowering individuals and groups to use their gifts for the common good; by helping the province to discover 'its common goals; by helping the province to discover the means 0f.achieving the g0als.23 Let me explain the meaning of each of these statements: 1. ?he Empowering of Individuals and Groups ,~ Individuals and groups need to be reminded that they are called to serve the Church as committed religious, placing whatever gifts God has given them at the disposal of others; In the post-Vatican Church this is a most demanding provincial apostolate, particularly when so many religious have been personally wounded or disoriented as a result ofthe cultural changes following the Coun-cil. Tremendous patience in listening is required. Religious in fact may need specialized help if their sense of self-worth and confidence is .to be restored to them. However, the more religious are affirmed in the gifts given by God, the more they are open to participate actively in sharing their visions with others and in supporting innovation. In his visitations the provincial is also able to discover individuals who are already change-agents or potentially so. They may need affirming in their role, particularly if there is opposition to their insights~ The provincial, eventually using his authority, may then decide 'to place these change-agents in positions where these people can be the most productive. He can spot those religious who with further training are able to become change-agents, e.g. as spiritual leaders, administrators, pastoral leaders. ~ At the corporate and individual levels, he articulates the values that relate to the welfare and purpose of the province, e.g. values of'Christian service, cooperation, participation, support for innovators. This role is called the "hands-on, value-driven" approach, an apt description that religious life ani-mation should mean.24 It is a role that requires the provincial to keep challeng-ing the province, to keep 'raising awkward or difficult questions that others do not want to raise, e.g, what is the purpose of what you are doing?why are we in this particular apostolate--just because we. have always been doing it or because this is what God wants us to do because people really need it? what ideas do you have to improve the quality of your apostolate? It is not sufficient to ask the questions; he miast be on the spot, either personally or through a delegate, to hear the answers and to ,question further if the answers are not adequate. Remember, this. is the only way for the real pastoral felt needs to emerge. The more religious.are forced into responding to such questions, the more in fact they are being empowered to utilize their God-given gifts. The word forced needs to'be further explained. In order to be forced into Provincials as "'Cuhural Revolutionaries'" / 185 reacting to realities, it might well be necessary for a provincial .to cultivate in certain circumstances a "planned apostolic neglect or avoidance" of individuals or groups. Sometimes people will not respond to reality until they are forced to do so through suffering and the discovery of their own powerlessness. The discerning provincial will know just when this suffering should be permitted to occur.25 For periods of time he may become the object of considerable anger from the individuals or groups in question who keep demanding that "he solve their problems." I recall me.eting members of a credit union in one Fijian village that for several years had become inactive. They told me that for a long time they blamed outsiders for their problems. The founder, Fr: Ganey, kept away quite deliberately until the people finally realized that they were the source of their own inactivity. They expressed gratitude for the skilled neglebt on his part. Paradoxically, this is an example of the "hands-on, value-driven" type of leadership. 2. Helping the Province to Discover Common Goals . Without common goals, a religious province will break up into many competing groups, struggiing for ascendancy over one another and for:control over ever-declining manpower or financial resources. Just as the. discovery of what the province's felt needs are is a long and difficult process, so also will it be challengingto refine the common goals that relate to these needs. A provincial might be °able to discover the goals ,himself and articulate them to the whole province. Notionally the province might accept them, but in practice they will reject them for they have never had the chance to own them by participating in discovering them themselves. How are these goals to be discovered and articulated? We all know from bitter experience how chapters so frequently end up with finely worded state-ments of goals for°the province and for this or that apostolate. But, once the texts are published they are shelved and nothing happens, until the next chapter when the same procedure is adopted! Recall the anthropological insight above: projects are more readily successful if there is maximum delega-tion and involvement within small groups. If this is done in provinces and the information and experience of the groups are fed up to a chapter or provincial council, then the goals that emerge will more likely be owned by the whole province. A provincial then will use interest groups and, if necessary, foster new groups to emerge that are close to where action is taking place. Delegation is insufficient; he must keep calling them to accountability. When this process is adopted, time-consuming though it may be, individuals with innovative ideas are more likely to emerge and their insights more easily owned by the group. From the point of vie~w of a desk administrator, the approach is not particularly efficient as regards t~he use of time, but it will definitely be effective. It means, of course, that the provincial either directly or indirectly will be present to these groups, actively listening,.challenging them to see their goals and objectives in 186 / Review for Religiouy, March-April, 1985 light of wider corporate needs and goals. If he ignores them, they rightly become discouraged, bitter and angry, eventually either going their own way independent of ~he provinc.e's needs or becoming purely passive, without any interest in innovation. 3. Helping the Province to Discover the Means to Achieve Goals A province that denies it has a manpower problem, when in fact it obviously has, must be challenged to recognize this reality. I heard of one province of a congregation which expected at the very most to have three priests ordained for the coming ten years. The provincial chapter encouraged each apostolate to state their manpower needs; they did and they were accepted without question by the chapter. No one wanted to accept the fact that the total manpower requirements of the province as passed by the chapter were twenty priests beyond what the province could ever possibly field. A province that is really participating in its own growth at the grassroots would never have,reached such an unrealistic state of denying the obvious. A provin-cial will work closely with various interest and apostolic groups, challenging and planning how to achieve the goals established by the groups and by ~the province as a whole. Moreover, the provincial will aim to discover just what the criteria for manpower assessment is being used at the grassroots. For example, if the Church is defined in organizational or hierarchical terms, then low recruitment coupled with an aging membership in a clerical religious congregation is a severe crisis. On the other hand, if the Church is defined in community terms, the present search for new directions promises all kinds of possible ~theological and sociological variations in forms of ministry.26 In addition, a province in which many members have been trained to be passive, uncreative, unsupportive of innovation and innovators will have a manpower crisis that is Open to correction by a provincial. A proxiincial who has the ability so to empower religious to discover that they can be creative even in small ways and open to change will be developing resources within the province that were not able to be considered before. In brief, therefore, the provincial's task is to stimulate the province through its own discernment process to an awareness of its own resources. The criteria-- theological and otherwise--need to be spelled out and repeatedly articulated until owned by the province. They cannot be the criteria of the provincial alone. Qualities of the Provincial as Cultural Change-Agent In this paper~it has been assumed that leadership is "the process of influenc-ing the activities of an individual or a group in efforts toward goal achievement in a given situation. In essence, leadership involves accomplishing goals with and through people."27 It means that the leader is concerned about tasks, but also human relations. A provincial will need to know what the mission of the Church is, the charism and: mission of his own congregation, an understanding Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries" / 187 of the manpower and financial resources of the province. He will need to know the theory that relates to how to stimulate the province to discover the pastoral needs of the people they exist to serve, and how to go about setting and implementing policies: If he has little knowledge of these points, he can still turn to others for help. But he cannot turn to anyone else ffr his most basic and primary skill, the skill of working with people.28 As applied anthropology points out with incisive clarity, this quality must flow out of his sensitivity to , the innate potential in every human person for responsible self-determination. This sensitivity will inevitably produce empathy, which is the ability to accept people as they are, not to condemn, but also to accept them for their potential. The response of empathy is not necessarily verbal. In fact it is primarily an internal response wherein a provincial identifies with the feelings of the province and the religious members.29 :From this sensitivity there will naturally emerge also a gift of listening, a willingness to enter into dialogue with the province and its religious at a speed that is not insulting to the dignity o.f all concerned. A provincial of this. kind is a humble person, aware of the immense riches of God's grace and power that he will discover even in the most wounded of the province's members. Ultimately, for a provincial such qualities of openness and sensitivity will be maintained, despite the considerable testing, only if his own life is centered within the heart of Christ the Servant (Mt 20:25-28). Rather than command with the authority of status and appointment, the servant: shows by example. Servants seek the free choice of those being led.30 This is the model clearly evident in the new Code of Canon Law (618): "The,authority which Superiors receive from God through the ministry of the Church is to be exercised by them in a spirit of service., i. By their reverence for the human person, they are to promote voluntary obedience, They are to listen willingly ~o their sub-jects and foster their cooperation for the good of the institute and the Church, without prejudice, however, to their authority to decide and to command What is to be done." Finally, what amount of time should a provincial give each of his functions? I believe the greatei" percentage of his time should be directed to ministering to the corporate body, that is the emphasis on planning and animating the province to become a culturesupportive of innovation and participating in innovation. I believe the ministry to individuals should occupy less time:3~ This latter is extremely demanding of energy and it can be never ending. But, it is a vital ministry that can be shared with others in the province. If a provincial is not clear as to his role, he can so easily slip into one or other of his functions to the detriment of the other duties. Conclusion A provincial is the officially appointed chief change-agent for a province. Without his vigorously stimulating leadership, it will be most unlikely that his province will become or remain innovative and creative in the service of the Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 Church. I assume throughout the article that inno~,ation in itself will not really be effective, unless it comes out of a province that is turning with renewed vitality to Christ, the Stimulant and Sustainer of all change. I also assume that there is a process of reappropriation of the founding charism, that is members of the province, reflec.ting on the needs of the world around them on the one hand, and the gospel message on. the other, have the same sense of shock at the gap between them that their founder experienced.32 However, I can almost hear a very committed provincial who is deeply disturbed by the type of problems we have listed in the model of the "typical province" above sayz "What you write sounds good, but it is from an ivory tower. I see several houses in my province that have long since served their apostolic usefulness: I know which way the province should move to touch the real needs of people. I see good-meaning people who are in fact obstructing all change. Therefore, I see the need to move fast and decisively; I will close the "houses and disperse ~he men to places of real apostolic need. One needs to be practical, not theoretical!" I fully sympathize with siach a provincial. But, in this article I claim that the most practical way of changing a culture so that it is supportive of positive innrvation, not just for the present but also for the future, is for a provincial to learn to work with people in the ways explained above. Neither people nor cultures are mechanical structures. By struggling slowly 'to enEourage innovators to develop within the culture and to be sup-ported by the culture of the province, the provincial will be acting in a thor-oughlypractical way. This is the lesson of contemporary managerial studies, of the findirigs of applied anthropology, and, of course, of a spirituality of.growth within religious life in the service of the Church. We spoke in the article of the virtues needed in this challenging role. Together, ithey could be united under one virtue--the gift of humor. A common characteristic of dictators, revolutionaries, and ecclesiastical authoritarians alike is the refusal both to laugh at themselves and to allow others to laugh at them.33 He who has a sense of spiritual humor recognizes deep in his heart that ultimately he can do nothing by himself. He needs God, he needs other people. When lie tries to do everything himself, he plays God~ And what could be funnier! ". See how the kings of the earth stand in array. He who dwells in heaven is laughing at their threats [their pride], the Lord makes light of them" (Ps 2). NOTES ~See Raymond Hostie, The l_zfe and Death of Religious Orders: A Psycho-sociological Approach, (Washington: Cara, 1983, pp. 276ff, and Lawrence Cada, Raymond Fitz, Gertrude Foley, Thomas Giardino and Carol Lichtenberg, Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life (NY: The Seabury Press, 1979, p. 60 and passim. Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries"/ 189 2S.C. for Religious and Secular Institutes and S~C. for Bishops, Directives for the Mutual Relations between B~hops and Religious in the Church, Rome, 1978, par. 12. 31bid. 4See E. E. Hagen, On the Theory of Social Change: How Economic Growth Begins (London: Tavistock, 1962), pp. 88-97. 5See Rosabeth Moss Kanter, The Change Masters: Corporate Entrepreneurs at Work (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1983), pp. 17-36 and passim; William H. Davidson, The Amazing Race: Winning the Techno-rivalry with Japan (NY: John Wiley, 1984), passim. 6E.g. see R. M. Kanter, op. cit.; Terrence E. Deal and Allan A. Kennedy, Corporate Cultures: The Rites and Rituals of Corporate IDle, (Reading: Addison-Wesley, 1982); Thomas J. Peters and Robert H. Waterman, In Search of Excellence: Lessons from America's Best-Run Compan-ies (NY: Harper & Row, 1982). 7R. M. Kanter, op. cit., p. 13. 8See Richard T. Pascale and Anthony G. Athos, The Art of Japanese Management (London: Allen Lane, 1982), pp. 116-140); also Chic Nakane, Japanese Society (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1973), pp. 88f. 9R. T. Pascale and A. G. Athos, op. cit. p. 126. ~0Ibid, p. 124. ~See T. J. Peter~ and R. H. Waterman, op. cir. p. 291 and passim. nSee Lucy'Mair, Anthropology and Development (London: Macmillan, 1984), p. 13. ~3R. M. Kanter, op. cit., p. 306. ~41bid, p. 23. ~sSee Gerald A. Arbuckle "Economic and Social Development in th~ Fiji Islands through Credit Unions" in Credit Unions in the South Pacific, edited by Nell Runcie (London: University of London Press, 1969), pp. 90-108. irSee (ed) Edward H. Spicer, Human Problems in Technological Change (NY: John Wiley, 1967), p. 18 and passim; Ward Hunt Goodenough, Cooperation in Change: .An Anthropological Approach to Community Development (NY: John Wiley, 1966), passim;:William W. Biddle and Loureide J. Biddle, The Community Development Process: The Rediscovery of Local Initiative (NY: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1965), passim. ~T Traditional Cultures: And the Impact of Technological Change (NY: Harper, 1962, pp. 268f. ~sSee Gerald A. Arbuckle, "Why They Leave: Reflections of a Religious Anthropologist" in REVIEW FOR RELIrlOUS, Vol. 42, No. 6, 1983, pp. 815-826. ~gSee Evelyn M. Woodward, "On the Grim Periphery: Reflections on Marginality and Alienation~ in REVlEW FOR RELIGIOUS, ~'ol. 42, No. 5, 1983, pp. 694-711. ~ocited by T. J. Peters and R. H. Waterman, op. cit., p. 83. 2'David McClelland, cited by T. J. Peters and R. H. Waterman, op. cit., p. 84. '2David McClelland, ibid. '3See Speed B. Leas, Leadership and Conflict (Nashville: Abingdon, 1982), p. 28ff. ~4See T. J. Peters and R. H. Waterman, op. cit.,'pp. 279-291. ~For an analysis of "situational leadership" see Paul Hersey and Ken Blanchard, Management of "Organizational Behavior: Utilizing Human' Resources (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1982), pp~ 149-175. 26See J. Moore, "Some Aspects of the Sociology of Priesthood" in Social Studies: Irish Journal of Sociology, April 1979, p. 129; and William R. Burrows, New Ministries: TheGIobal Context (NY: Orbis, 1980), p. ll7ff. ~TSee E Hersey and K. Blanchard, op. cit., p. 84. ~sSee T. R. Batten, The Human Factor in Community Work (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1965), p. 181. ~gSee Robert K. Greenleaf, Servant Leadership: A Journey into the Nature of Legitimate Power and Greatness (NY: Paulist, 1977), p. 20f. ~oSee Lawrence O. Richards and Clyde Hoeldtke, A Theology of Church Leadership (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1982), p. 107 and passim. 190 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 3~See comments by Conleth Overman, Current Issues in Provincial Leadership (Washington: Cam, 1983), p. 76. 32See Finbarr B. Connolly, Religious Life: A Profile of the Future (Dublin: Reality, 19~2), pp: 10ft; Diarmuid O Murchu, The Seed Must Die." Religious Life--Survival or Extinction? (Dub-lin: Veritas, 1980), pp. 35-40 and passim. a~See Conrad Hyers, The Comic Vision and the Christian Faith: A Celebration of Life and laughter (NY: The Pilgrim Press, 1981), p. 24. Christ the Center of O.ur Vowed Life by Boniface Ramsey, O.P. Father Ramsey's three articles on the vows of religion are available as a single reprint: i - The Center of Religious Poverty ii - Christocentric Celibacy iii - Cruciform Obedience Price: $1.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Living the Difference: Contemplative, and Apostolic Lifestyles Marie Beha, OS.C. Sister Marie is a frequent contributor to Revieff for Religious. Her last title, "By His Wounds," appeared in the March/April, 1984 issue. Sister Marie continues to reside in the Monastery of St. Clare; 1916 N. Pleasantburg Drive: Greenville, SC 29609. The letter repeated a familiar theme, "I keep wondering why you did it. Why you entered a contemplative monastery, .instead of loving and serving and praying where you were. What have you found there? What's so different about it?" 1 put the letter down and reflected again on the frequency of such inquir-ies. What db they mean? What do they say, not only about individuals, but also, and especially, about the larger picture of the future of apostolic life and the needs of His church? Those questions are much too big for me; I only ask them by way of "consciousness-raising" of you the reader. My purpose here is far more modest than any attempt to answer such questions. 1 would only like to suggest some of the ways in which monastic contemplative life differs from active; apostolic life. To do this I will tell you a story or two. They are true stories; true to my own experier~ce but also limited by it. And further limited, as are most stories, by touching only on externals. But underneath what appears lies all the .difference of attitudes and value choices. In short, my stories hope to be parables! Life in a contemplative, monastic community is a completely different kind of life: it is not active, apostolic life, with more provisions for times of prayer, silence, and so forth. Nor is it, by any means, a reliquary of pre-Vati-can 11 customs untainted by the adaptations of renewal. No, it is a completely different kind of life, a unique way of expressing the love of God and neighbor and of serving the Church which undergirds all Christian life. Let me try to illustrate some of these differences with a parable or two. 191 199/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 A Matter of Timing -, The bell ending supper-recreation had just rung and the schedule 1 had been given guided my steps toward the kitchen. The last exercises of the monastic day were: 7 p.m.: dishes; 7:30 p.m.: Night Prayer. 1 noticed that there were plenty of dishes, stacks of them. The cook had been baking, and so we had an assortment of taxing bowls and loaf trays to add to the usual array of pots and pans. I checked my watch and made some quick equations. Amount of work' to be done divided by time till Compline equals rate of speed at which dishes must be washed. It would be close timing, and 1 pitched in with more good will than skill. After several such evenings 1 began to notice something: I was the only one working at that rate of speed--to say nothing of noise level and general confusion I generated. The other sisters were quietly, peacefully, going about their usual work--at the usual rate of speed. "We'll never get finished that way!" l was right. We didn't get finished on time. Night Prayer did not start at 7:30. But I also noticed that no one else seemed disturbed, l commented on this interesting phenomenon to another sister. She was surprised. She cor-rected my schedule to read: "Night Prayer after dishes?" She also challenged my thinking: "What's the hurry? Where are you going?" Not Counting the Cost My second story could be titled, "Quantity: a Further Qualification?' A generous benefactor had endowed the monastery with bushel upon bushel of Eeaches, all needing almost immediate attention, it was "All hands report to the kitchen" for several days of hard work, punctuated only by the regular rhythm of the Office. At the end of several very full days that, with the community refreshed by peaches served in any number of creative ways, we finally got the remainder of the fruit stored away intb jars. It was with a feeling of genuine accomplish-ment. that I asked the~sister in charge, "How many quarts did we can?" Again that startled !ook. "How many? 1 have no idea, sister; I never thought to count but 1 can if you want me to." Obligingly she did and reported next day. But 1 could see that she remained puzzled by my interest so ! observed, "You hadn't counted them before, had you?" "Oh, no; we just do as many as we can. How many doesn't make any real .difference, does it?" Well, does it? 1 had more thinking to do. 1 could very well imagine any number of people answering that question with a rousing affirmative: "Of course!" Again I computed my answer, based on previous life-experience. Price per jar is the product of outlay for raw materials times the .number of hours needed to produce the finished product. ! pursued my line of thinking a bit further and calculated the cost of our seVeral :days of labor. Evenat minimum wages those were expensive peaches! I didn't see how we could afford such luxuries, I reported my findings .back to the sister of whom I had made my previous inquiry. 1 could see from the expression on her face that she found my analysis Living the Difference / 193 puzzling. "But someone gave us the peaches and we had the time . " Her math went something like this: "given the peaches; given the hard work and the time," 'it all added up to total gift. There was no need for any further computation. Who Is Gifted? "Everything is grace." Everything is gift--if it is given. A visiting sister was being introduced to the community. Name followed name in bewildering rapidity uninterrupted by any qualifying phrase. Only the abbess was further identified by the job-description of her title. I could sense Our visitor"s barely suppressed desire for some functional description to distinguish one "Sister" from another "Sister," and these from still more "Sisters." I began to let my mind roam over the possibilities. You could say: "Sister X is cook right now." But next year it would be another sister's turn either to learn hbw or to manage with expertise. No matter. And "sister A is presently the laundress." A promotion, a demotion? The job meant neither. All such speculation is simply useless, l can still recall with amusement the shocked look on the face of another visitor who had: risked asking an obviously r~fined and very well-educated sister, "And what do you do?" And the sister an-swered, truthfully enough, "Oh, I'm in maintenance right now." The truth is that no amount of natural giftedness, no degree of profes-sional' preparation will ensure success as a contemplative. Accomplishment is far less important than whole-hearted effort. And in this area there are no objectivized standards, no satisfying sense of accomplishment. In a contem- ¯ plative community the most gifted are not the individuals with the most to give, but rather those who give the most of themselves. The prized "positions" are, very often, those that allow for routine repeti-tive work that can quiet the mind and open it for deeper levels of prayer~ a . "lived mantra." But newcomers to contemplative life have to discover these values disguised in the monastic staple of manual work. On the face of things, one could only agree with a new postulant whose previous career in social work had included service in a shelter workshop. On being introduced to the routine work of the altar-bread room, her classic comment was, "What a marvelous type of work this would be"for a shelter workshop." The other sisters engaged in baking and cutting and checking hosts could only enjoy their newfound classification among the "retarded." What does one's doing have to do with who one is? ~. What Do You Do All Day? This is not my favorite question. And frequent repetition has not given me any more ready an answer. Sometimes the more knowledgeable questioner will add with understandable awe--or skepticism--"Pray? Do you pray all day?" Experience has shown me that the bare recitation of the monastic schedule doesn't provide a satisfying answer. In fact, it may well obscure rather 194 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 than reveal the truth about ou~" activity and its meaning~ Only too often the next question is: "Aren't you bored?" No, certainly not. The last time I was bored was so far in the past that 1 would have to mount a sweep-and-search operation to discover it. If the dailiness of my life were not. rich and full 1 would leave and try another style of living, one that offered the possibilities of more interesting avenues of escape! Granted, the e~ternals of the monastic day do have a certain fixed struc-ture to them. From Easter to Thanksgiving and through the New Year, the regularly recurring Hours of the Liturgy spell out continuous praise. Breakfast on Christmas morning will be celebrated in the same silence that prevails at the beginning of any "ordinary" day. So too the gathering peace of a Fourth-of- July evening after Night Prayer will be just as quiet as that of any other completed day. All of which does not rule out celebration. On the contrary, the liturgy of monastic life requires celebration. Unfortunately, it is easier to explain the staples of monastic scheduling than to present the nuances of silent celebrat-ing~ So let me try another story. It was watermelon season in the South, and our garden had produced a superabundance "pressed down and running over" with additional benefactions from other fortunate gardeners. After a full morning of grass mowing I came into choir at noon,:grateful for Midday Prayer's refreshing pause. Dinner routinely followed and the monastic menu had some of the same invariability: simple, nourishing food for which hunger provided most of the spice and sauce: the main dish would be several vegeta-bles completed by fruit for dessert. This day, once again, there were generous slices of cold watermelon. Now I'll confess, watermelon is not my favorite fruit. But as I sat down in silence, .giving thanks by opening myself to enjoyment, l suddenly found myself alive to the deep down goodness of--watermelon! Nothing had ever tasted so good. And another eucharist was celebrated. So what do contemplatives do all day? They celebrate the ordinary and enjoy its giftedness. Routine simply stabilizes their capacity for wonder. Lei-sure opens their work,to prayer and regular periods of formal prayer prevent work from becoming its own taskmaster. Bored? Never. There is too much challenge in the being/doing that is living. "But;" l hear you ask: "what's the living for?" Is Seeing Believing or Is Believing Seeing? If the bottom line of any loving is faith's free assent, then contemplative life can only be sustained in a faith that believes even when there is'nothing to show or even to see for oneself. And it's such blindness that illuminates everything and makes it all worthwhile in redemption's economy. To illustrate with another story or two. 1 had to make a trip to another monastery and ! was laying out my preliminary plans for this unusual venture with the abbess. Would | fly? Or Lt'ving the Difference / 195 take the bus? Sister replied that she would prefer I took the plane: it would be worth the extra expense. I heard her caring, and I appreciated its typical concern. But when next we spoke 1 shared with her the details of my further research on the subject of the. bus and its costs, all carefully detailed and worked out. The abbess stopped me halfway. "But, Sister, I already told you l would prefer thht you fly." That grounded me for a while. She commended my original initiative and recognized my desire to go the way of the poor. "Yet 'He became obedient'; that is what redemption is all about." Many years later I am still struggling to learn and to live in that mystery, believing that a surrender which is adult and free makes whole a world still fragmented by original disobedience. Such simple obedience is only part of the faith story. The contemplative expression of poverty, celibacy, community all take "believing" for their true "seeing." Most of the time, in my experience, all that is visible is the effort required to live out faith's assent, but sometimes understanding is given--that one may believe. Another story. The sign propped up on the refectory table amid the potato salad and the cottage cheese indicated one more national tragedy. "Mrs. S. just called. X has been shot. Please pray." My supper was seasoned by some speculation: Who had done it? And why?--the inevitable, incredulous "why". Later on that evening, when 1 found myself drawn, back to the choir to pray, those samb questions still formed the backdrop of my inarticulate presence before Him. Then, slowly, my prayer became more expressive, not so much with words as with life experience. Who had done it? Not ~them," "out there." No, I had done it. I was involved, deeply so. I was guilty. "Why?" 1 felt the surge of frustration, anger, hatred boil over within me and reach out for revenge, l was there. It was my choice to feel, to know--and to bring it all with me, in me, to Him. l stayed on in the choir in darkness, l could see why l was there, why l am here~ Ultimately it is only faith that makes the difference. So if I were to respond to my original letter of inquiry with a counter-ques-tion, 1 might well ask: "What do you consider Worth a whole life's giving'?" The richness of multiple-choice answers to that question is what completes our world and opens it to the ever fuller coming of His kingdom. The contemplative response is spelled out in a structured leisure that works hard without the sustaining drive of competitive accomplishment. It is a style of life that appreciates individual giving over personal giftedness, that values the simplest of contributed services. A contemplative is constantly surprised by beauty in the ordinary and learns to celebrate it in the language of sameness. The reconciliation of obedience with initiative and eager participa-tion with a .life that deliberately stands apart, these are some of the other paradoxes of contemplative, monastic life. So the stories go. There are many, many more--as .many as there are contemplatives and communities living out their life's faith in values that are expressed with a difference. :Spiritual Direction Frank Wallace, S.J. Father Wallace is engaged in retreat work at the Campion College Retreat Centre (Campion College; 99 Studley Park Road; KEW, Victoria, 3101). Prior to that he had been Tertian Instructor for his province. Pastoral care is a term that covers the work of many helpers whose roles may at times oVerlap, yet are specifically different. There is the parent who nurtures, the teacher who instructs, the religious superior who rules a com-munity, the confessor whose specific function is to convey sacramental for-giveness, the counselor who helps the client get in touch with his or her feelings, helps remove blocks, assists in decision making and psychological growth. And there is the spiritual° director, whose specific function is to facilitate the .encounter between God and the directee; so also do confessors, religious superiors, and perhaps, too, the other.helpers. Yet the spiritual director has a distinctive, specific function, which is emerging ever more clearly.' The Role of the Spiritual Director ~' The experience of most older religious today is that the spiritual director (or spiritual father, as he was often called) was someone you consulted about problems, distractions in prayer, and who helped you in those areas. With the growth in prayerfulness and the awareness of the need for guidance, lest we may "fall off the mountain," with the increasing popularity of directed retreats and houses of prayer, with the work of depth psychology, ,the role of the spiritual director is .seen to be more than problem solving. It is concerned very much with growth in prayer. The spiritual director has been called God's usher and so is one who helps the directee to become more aware of God coming, of God present,,.by being with the directee as he or she is opening up to God's love. Spiritual directing belongs properly, to the opening to,the Sp!rit. As Alan Jones says, spiritual direction is worship, adoration, waiting on God (Explor- Spiritual Direction / 197 ing Spiritual Direction, p. 56). At times, the spiritual director may have recourse to a psychological coun-selor or, if skilled, act as counselor, to assist inthe psychological growth of the directee, because psychological growth and spiritual growth are related, though not synonymous (see Dr. Gillian Straker, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Vol. 38, 1979). There may be distorted images of .God, of self, of prayer, that are blocking the encounter with God and which need correcting for that encounter to take place. In this, however, the spiritual director will not lose sight of the relationship with God as the focus of his or her caring. The valuable work of the counselor in helping the directee to be in touch with his or her feelings and to acc'ept the real self, facilitates the journey to a real God, by means of real communication. So often this experience, to borrow the title of one of Morton Kelsey's books, is reaching for the real, and necessary for growth in spiritual freedom. ~ The spiritual director walks with the directee, who shares his or her prayer experiences, and together they discern what is happening. At the very heart of spiritual direction is discernment, which, in its. full meaning adds a deeper dimension to counseling, as we shall see later. The Rules for the Discernment of Spirits are a valuable cdntribution by Ignatius 'Loyola~to spiritual directing. The Directory of 1591 compares the director to a midwife. Hugo Rahner says of this: "This somewhat remarkable compa'rison of the director tO a 'midwife' is in itself an introduction to that great patristic theme of the 'birth of God in men's hearts,' which the great psychologists and~experts on human nature among the l~athers saw as a.time of internal conflict, during which considerable importance must be attached to the discernment of spirits" (Ignatius the Theologian, p. 140). Recently a friend, who is a mother and who had been directed by me in a retreat, and who had never heard of the 1591 Directgry, wrote to me, andwith her permission I quote: "I rather think you are like a midwife--assisting those in the throes of labor--knowing the birth is to eternal life.We don't see the birth--only the struggle. I know once I reached the stage of b.eing able to push, it wasn't nearly so bad .and .nobody could do the pushing for me. But getting to that pushing stage,was greatly helped by understanding midwives who helped me to know what was happening and where I was at. They encouraged, dispelled fears, transferred confidence, lifted sagging spirits, soothed and cossetted and bullied me throughout." That is as good a description of a spiritual director as I have come across, and it certainly opened up for me the validity of the 1591 image of midwife. Any serious entry into one's spiritual life may cause a great "agitation. of spirits,." as Ignatius Loyola and Peter Favre both said. The director needs to be very encouraging and reassuring, be willing to share the helplessness and pain. Convinced that any experience can be creative Qr destructive, he or she will be ready to encourage at times of fear, discouragement, disappointment. Encour- "191~ [ Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 agement is, perhaps, the most significant help that the director gives. Linked with this is enlightenment, so that the directee sees what is happen-ing, discovers the hidden God or new ways o.f praying. Enlightenment does not mean telling the directee what to do, playing God in his or her life, imposing the director's experience on the directee. The director should be a mirror for the directee to look into, a sounding board to bounce off ideas, a companion of hop, e and !ight. ' In the following model interview we note the encouragement and enlighten-ment ,offered by the director: Director: You have been telling me about, your prayer with Jesus in the garden, and said you were disappointed. What were you disap-pointed about, Mary? Retreatant: I was just fighting distractions all the time. I couldn't slay with the Lord, and I wanted to comfort him. Director: You really wanted to comfort him? That desire is surely from the Spirit, wouldn't you say? Retreatant: I suppose so, yet I really l~eel I let him down. Diredtor: Do you think the Lord is disappointed in you? Retreatant: Well, I didn't do much for him. Director: Have you asked the Lord whether he was disappointed in you? Retreatant: No, but he must be, surely. Director: Could you go to him and ask him? Only he can tell you. your disappointment is real and it is important to find out more about it. So speak to him about this feeling of letting him down. Retreatant: D6 you think this will he!p? Director: I believe it will. And I also hope you haven't forgotten about that desire to comfort him. That's the result of his power at work in you. Retreatant: That's. ~right, I did want to comfort him. So I mustn't be all wrong. Director: Well, talk it over with him. Here the director is trying to encourage and bring the retreatant to the Lord. No doubt he or she will discuss at some time the retreatant's concept of prayer, the handling of distractions, and will direct attention to the Lord's experience of pain in the garden. These are areas arising from the interview about which both must seek further enlightenment. The director will have noted how the retreatant tends to focus on the negative and forget the positive. But haste is made slowly. The Context of Spiritual Direction The context of spiritual directing varies, and so do the people seeking. There is the spiritual direction proper to a retreat. If the retreat is fully directed, the dialogue will be very much centering on the prayer experiences shared. Of course, there will be references to out-of-retreat life, but usually the focus is on the retreat prayer. Sometimes the retreat may be "semi-guided," characterized by one or two talks to the group, and the opportunity to talk with a director. In Spiritual Direction / 199 that context there seems to be less discussion of the individual, distinctive prayer movement, because the situation is not as intense. So in these two retreat contexts we see some variation. Outside of retreat there may be ongoing spiritual direction, characterized by regular, frequent interviews, extending over a year or longer. This will mean discussion of daily life experiences as well as the prayer experience. Often this means that the director moves into a counselor's role, although the dialogue about prayer and God should not be overlooked. There may be the kind of directing relationship that calls for interviews only occasionally during the year, as a kind of "accountability checkup," with the opportunity to talk over one's spiritual life made available at these meetings. Finally, a spiritual director may be sought out in a crisis situation, either because he or she is recommended, or because the alternative of seeking a counselor, psychologist, psychiatrist is too alarming, Although the expectancies and the dialogue in all these cases will vary, the spiritual director, qua director, will focus on relationship with God--though in differing ways, according to the directee's needs. Gerald G. May summarizes the role of the spiritual director very succinctly when he describes it as "a pointing of direction; a 'setting of environment, a sharing of oneself, and a deep attentiveness"( Pilgrimage Home, p. 23, Paulist Press, 1979). Some Qualities in a Good Spiritual Director Ordination, of itself, does not gift the priest to be a spi~tual director. Today we are seeing lay people °and nuns exercising this ministry; and doing so successfully. What are the qualities needed? Love The director must be able to relate to people, to love people, to be free to feel warm to them and to receive their warmth. Morton T. Kelsey in Caring, writes well of this and says: "It is impossible for us to love other people unless we listen to them . The kind of listening I am talking about is listening which does not judge or evaluate" (p. 67). It is the quality of the listening that shows whether you are .loving the person, deeply interested in him or her, listening to know and accept, not to change, judge; evaluate. It is a listening that respects the distance and the difference of the other, a listening that patiently waits for the revelation of the other, a listening that can lay aside personal agendas because of ~he absorption in the other. It is a warmth, however, that is not possessive, that allows the other the freedom to be his or her own person. In The Practice of Spiritual Direction, Barry and Connolly speak of the need to have a "surplus of warmth" (pp. 126-130). They mean "a love for a variety of people, warts and. moles and all," which is characterized by com-mitment, the effort to understand, and spontaneity. The director must be free 200 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 to be his or her own person, not seeking to satisfy emotional needs through the directee, nor imiaosing agenda or experiences on the other. Nor must the director lay fidse expectations on himself or herself by trying to play God in the other's life as a solver of that person's problems. He or she listens so fully that he or she "enters into the skin" of the directee. This demands generous love because it leads into compassion which is shared helplessness, shared pain. It means beifig able to stay with the other no matter how hard that is, losing yourself in the other. Clearly we are not talking hire of sentimental attachments, but love as understood by St. Ignatius in the Contemplation for Attaining Divine Love. Sensitivity, courtesy, gentleness, reverence, patience are all quali-ties that fill'out the love the director must have for the directee, plus a willing-ness to accept silence: He/she is responsible to the directee, but not for. The quality of our responding reveals how we are listening. If there is no response, the directee may not have the sense of being heard, and, as Gerard Egan says, that is "hollow listening." Listening with the head only leads to judgment and just as the directee wants to be heard, so also does he or she want to be accepted, not judged. "Don't worry about that. You have no need to feel that way," as first responses are passing judgments, and reflections on the directee. What he or she wants is to be accepted, and this is experienced through responding with understanding. "I see that is very worrying. You must have been very hurt," and so forth. As the director listens with full absorption, the understanding will deepen, so that the sources of the feelings will be seen. When judged opportune, the director may communicate that deeper under-standing. The goal of listening is total listening, responding from the heart, not merely from the head. Gerard Egan writes well of listening and responding in You and Me. Total listening means listening with one's eyes, ears, head, heart so that one is lost in the other. It is contemplative listening, which hears what is not said, which hears the tone of anxiety, sees the expression of joy or worry, enjoys being with the other, and communicates that: "You are the only person in my world just now." The genuine love we are speaking of is marked by utter honesty and openness with the directee. So there can be no pretense, no bluffing by the director, but a transparent, open love. Brutal harshness and'severity have no part in this honest trust, even though sometimes they are mistaken for it. If there is to be confrontation it is important that~ this come from love, and be seen to come from love. Setting up "win/lose" situations tomes from a desire to Be right, not from love. As the directee experiences being trustbd by the director, so he or she is encouraged to trust the director with that precious "hidden self" that Paul writes of in Ephesians 3:14-21. All this will facilitate a genuine encounter between persons and with God, not just a mask meeting a mask. Sensitivity to the mystery of the other is the soil in which intimate relationships grow. The director needs to be comfortable with mystery, whether it is the mystery of God, of the directee, of self, so that there is this growth in sensitivity. Spiritual Direction / 201 There must, then, be patience to wait on the directee, on God. It is a great temptation to push sometimes, and this must be resisted, for, as Ignatius Loyola teaches, the Lbrd chooses to deal directly with the soul, and the director must not get in the way of this meeting. Simone Weil spoke of "waiting patiently, but with expectation, for the coming of the Lord." As the example of the midwife reminds us, it is only the ,mother who pushes, not the midwife. Dr. Jack Dominian describes this love as sustaining, healing and promoting "growth (Tablet, 14 May, 1983). Toial listening is sustaining because it conveys to the other that you care. A responding that clarifies, confirms and ~ffirms the goodness of the'other, not reinforcing the badness they see, and which" can help open the directee to God's personal love, is healing and promotes growth. There is little growth without pain. Wounded people can be frightened by the love offeredand may lash out in their fear, challenging the sincerity ofthe love offered. The director must be willing to stay in there,"sh~ring the hurt and the helplessness. That~ is compassion, shared helplessness, and the director shares in the growth of the directee as they walk together' in the mystery of pain_ and healing. We are all wounded healers if we are close to Christ. Mary could stand by the cross, sharing the helplessness of JesuS, without moving away because she could "do nothing" for him. At times the directoi-'s role is just to be a presence, helping transform helplessness into strong hope, not hopelessness (2 Co 12:7-10). This can be very difficult and painful, because the more love we bring to a situation, the more vulnerable we are. Peter tried to come between Jesus and his cross because he loved Jesus. Later he learned it was a false kind of Io~e, that was directed more at himself than at Jesus. So, the director may feel deeply the pain of the other and wish to come between the directee and Calvary. Dr. Dominian is not exaggerating when he writes: ~For anyone of us to succeed in loving, we have to suffer, and die a thousand deaths. Here is the encounter between grace and nature at its most powerful" ( Tablet 14 May, 1983¢p. 446). Directors who have stayed with directees in their Gethsemanes will agree. Feelings and Affectivity . The director needs to be aware of the importance of feelings. They are messages to ourselves about ourselves and we are diminished when we do not listen to them. The relationships.between the director and directee, as .between both and God, are deepen.ed as there is a growing .awar¢ness of the feeling responses present, and a sharing of them. ,. Feelings, by Willard Gaylin M.D. (Ballantine Books, N.Y.) and Feeling and Healing Your Emotions, by Conrad Baars M.D. (Logos) are helpful books. Baars speaks of humane and utilitarian emotions, directing attention to the psychic energy emotions release. ., Barry and Connolly speak of Anger, Deep Fears, Warmth.and "l:enderness, and Sexual Feelings, as very strong, deep feelings that people experience. There must be no blaming the other for one's feelings, for feelings are deeply 902 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 personal and must be personally owned. So the director encourages the directee to reveal such deep feelings to God also. Some may be prepared to reveal their so-called good feelings but not those they judge to be negative, e.g. anger. Or they may be willing to share anger (because it is becoming acceptable) but not strong sexual feelings they might be experiencing. Authentic prayer, though, is not a performance. It is an encounter with God, possible only when I am truly myself, One should be on guard against an exaggerated emphasis on anger which can be a cover up for less acceptable feelings as, for example, .sexual feelings. And it seems to have become rather common for persons to blame parents, school, Chur~ch~ their religious congregations for their present unacceptable state. Withotlt wishing to deny the influence all .these have, I wish to stress that our feelings are our ow9, and blaming others is both false and harmful. It is a sign of growing maturity when we accept responsibility for. our now lives. So .often we discover that the feelings that surface in prayer reveal the concept the directee hasof God. Hannah Hurnard in The Hearing Heart tells that for long she could not pray to Jesus, only to the Father. She was afraid of approaching Jesus lest he ask something hard of her. This would indicate that JesuS seemed to her excessively demanding. She was healed of this distortion, and could then pray to him. So a retreatant might pray to Jesus as God, but not as Man; she feels safe that way because she is frightened of men. Yet that fear is hindering an intimate relationship with Jesus, keeping him distant. Somebody else might pray to a God whois infinitely powerful, holy--and also infinitely distant, impersonal. Could such a person':experience that God really care~, is deeply fond of him or her? Perhaps what we see here is a fear of intimacy. The affectivity of the person includes the will, which besides being'an executive faculty, is also a loving faculty. The affective act of the will, "I love you," e~presses the basic desire for the well-being, the continued existence, of the beloved. Besides the will, our affective life also includes our feelings. These~are what I call the surface responses--sad, mad, glad, scared. There is alsoa deeper level of affectivity where dwells our faith, hope, love, peace, which one is aware 6f even though sensible "feeling signs" are missing. For example, a directee may speak of aridity in prayer, and yet there is the longing to pray, together with the awareness of an underlying deep peace. When John of the Cross speaks of the signs for moving prayer into contempla-tion, he is alerting us to these deeper levels of our affectivity. Discernment Thespiritual director is a walking contradiction, in that he or she isto be a "Competent incompetent" as someone has: said. The director must be incompe-. tent, because it is God's work at issue, God's. power that gives the increase (2 Cb 12:7-10; 1 Co 2:1-5). So, we must~tru~t ih God's power at work in the °Spiritual Direction / 203 director and in the directee, "doing infinitely more than he can ask or imagine" (Ep ~:14-21. This attitude must be continually growing and relied upon. But the director also must be. competent, skilled in total listening and in discet:nment. It is the discernment of spirits that is at the heart of.spiritual direction and which ultimately differentiates it from counseling. Ignatius Loyola and Peter Favre were good directors because they were both skilled in dis-cet: nment. As with them, so with the modern director, this skill is learned by being attentive to one's own responses--thoughts, feelings, behavior. Reflect-ing upon these experiences, for instance, the director will begin to observe their beginning, their middle and their end. Thus he or she begins to distinguish movements which are from God, movements authored by self, and move-ments stemming from forces outside, whether good, neutral or bad. The spirit-ual director learns from the movements in his or her own life the skills of discernment. Rarely are things black and white. Sifting tlie good and the bad, the wheat and the tares, is.a gift from the Spirit. The matter for discernment is the actual experiences revealed by the directee. Together, the director and directee prayerfully reflect upon these experiences to distinguish what is God-wards from wtiat is not. The directee, for example, may speak of a "peace-filled prayer." Nrt all peace, however is from the Good Spirit. Some is the result of achievement, some the accompaniment of a tranquil environment, some is the false peace of complacenc~,, and some truly i~ God's gift. What is this "peace" before us now? What are its fruits, and is it enduring? How does it measure with the packet group of Galatians 5:22-24? Humbly, patiently; both director and directee wait upon the Sp!rit to reveal the truth. Perhaps disappointment is reveaied in h sessio_n with the director. "Whom are you disappointed in? What are you disappointed about?" Following through on the answers offered can be richly rewarding, and can point the way in which the Spirit is guiding the direcl~ee. There are many writings about the discernment of spirits to help ,the director. A good knowledge of the Rules ~iven in the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius Loyola is most helpful. Jules Toner has published a Commentary on these Rules for the Discernment of Spirits. This° is the fullest and deepest treatment I have read. Chapter 10 of Fessard's ~fe in Faith and Freedom, Michael Buckley in the Way Supplement 20, Harvey Egan in "The Spiritual Exercises and the Ignatian Mystical Horizon," the Memoriale of Blessed

Issue 44.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1985. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, M O 63108-3393. REvlEw FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1985 by REVlEW FOR R ELIG~OU~ Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR REt,tGtOUg P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor May/June, 1985 Volume 44 Number 3 Manuscripls. books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent Io REVIEW F'OR RELtGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVtEW t'OR RELt~tOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. LoUIs, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. The Charism of Peter at the .Service Of Unity In an ex.change.of Ch~stmas gceetlngs with his "b~:other~ and collaborators" of the Roman Curia, Pope John opaul II reflected at length about the Church and about his niinistry in the Church. The text is based upon the translation of L'Osservatore Romano, 21 January, 1985, pp. 6ft. Dominiasprope est (The Lord is n~arl Ph-4:5). The celebration of Christmas, now fit hand, h~is brought us together once again for this fine custom of exchangin~g good wishes.'.~With minds filled With gratitude we ~repare to kneel before the crib along with the sh'epherdg during this Holy Night, near which the '~Vir~in Mother," proclaimed by'the prophet Isaiah ('Is 7:14), keeps watch with ~ageraffe~ction. 'We knowthat in this fragile Infant still unable to ~peak thei-e comes to me~ us the Etet:nal Word'of'God, ttie uncreated Wisdom Who rulesthe univd~se. He is the Light of God who "shines in darkness," as the Apostle Jdhffsays--adding'immediately with bitter realism: "But the dark-ness did not accept it." L~ght and darkness confront each Other before the manger in which that Infant lies: the.light of truthaffd the darkness of error.°It is a confrontation which does not admit of neutrality. Each one must ChoOse which side to take. It is a choice in which each stakes his 6r her future. The Infant of the Crib, become an adult, will one day say: "If~ou live according to my teaching, you are t~rul~ my disciples; then you willkhow the trfttl, and the trtith will set you free" (Jn 8:31 ff.). ~ ' ~ " The Woi'd of God, in becoming flesh in order to fiaak'e his dwelling among us (see Jn 1:14), comes to bring us the inestimable gift of the knbwledge of the truth: the truth about him,~nd the tr~iii~abotit us and about our transcendent ,destiny. Man cannot.build up himself or his free~io~n~ except on the foundation of this truth. It is therefore a~ exir~meiy'precious girl, one to be safeguarded 321 322 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 and defended. The loss of even a part 0f that integral truth beating in the heart of the Infant "wrapped in swaddling clothes" in the manger would mean that man puts at risk the full realization of himself to a greater or lesser degree. The Church, knowing herself to be the depository and guardian of this truth, is aware of this. She therefore feels invested with a special mission, one which makes her the duty-bound subject of a special service to humankind. To each generation newly arrived to inhabit the earth must she reveal the marvelous plan that God has prepared in his only Son, a plan which will benefit every. child of man who is willing to accept in faith the wonderful initiative of God's love. For this reason the Church, and in her especially the Roman See of Peter, keeps watch at the cradle of Bethlehem. She keeps watch so that these trans-cendent values which the Creator has offered to humankind--truth and free-dom in truth, which is to say love--may not be obscured, much less distorted. She keeps Watch so that, despite all opposing currents, these values may be constantly revivified and be ever more affirmed in the lives of individuals and of families in both the Christian and civil communities and thus in the life of the entire human family. The Church has both a complex and.~unified,awareness of thes~e valpes, as has been emphasized in a well-known passage of the Dogmatic Constitution Lumen Gentium, the twentieth anni~,ersary of which occurred just a month ago (November 21). Paragraph 13 of this fundamental conciliar document recalls the Church's attitude with regard to "the abilities, the resources and customs" proper to the variety of peoples. The Church sees in them "gifts" which the various cultures bring to h~er, and she is therefore happy to take them to herself, even though she is committed to purify, strengthen and elevate them. In p~a. rticular, for the sake of that character of uniyersality, which adorns and distinguishes her, the Church is mindful that she must harmonize these "gifts," bringing them into a higher unity :so that they may cOntribute to the progressive affirn~, afion of the one kingdom of Chi'ist. And hence it is that "in virtue of this catholicity each individual part contributes through its special gifts to the good of the other parts and of the whole Church. Through the common sharing,of gifts and through the common¯ effort to attain fullness., in ~unity, the whole'and each of the pa~s receive increase." . o There is more. Continuing along this line of.thought, the text pres~ents a ¯ fundamental thesis of Catholic ecclesiology. It p.oints out that '.'within the Church particular churches hold a rightful place; these chhrches ream their own traditions, without in any way,.0pposing the primacy of the~Chair of Peter, which presides over the whole assembly of charity and protects~ legitimate differences, while at the same time assuring that such differen~s do .not hinder unity but rather contribute toward it." It would be difficult to expre~ss tills any, more cl~ariy c~r profou'ndly: the universal Church is present~ed ~s a ~ o.mmunion of (p~articular) chu~rches and indirectly as a communion of nations, languages and cultures. Each of these. The Charism of Peter at the Service of ~]nity / 393 churches: brings°its own "gifts" to the whole, just as individual scientific and'~ socihl conquests, as also'the goals of civilization as these are gradually achi, eved, all. make their contribution. Pluralism in the ChurCh So m~h emphasis is given today to ttie "special" Christian experiences of particular church~s in the socio-cultural context in which ehch of them is called to live. These specific experiences--it is stressed---con~rn the Word of God as this is to be .read and understood in the light of the data which emerges from one's existential jofirney. They concerti liturgicalfprayer, which must draw from the c~ltfire to which belong the s*gns, acuop~s and words used m adora-uon, worsh|p and celebrat|on. These experiences concern the theological reflectmn which~ m .turn must have an influence on categories of thought typical' of each ~ulture. And Anally the~ special experience~ concern.~ecclesi~ii' communion itself, which is rooted in the Eucharist, but whose concrete devel-opme~ n~t ~lepend~ on ihe historico-t~nporal condiii6ns which derive from it~ insertion into~the ambience oi" a particular country or of a specific region bf.the world. These are. int~erestmg pei'spectives" because 9f ihe lines of theologicai inves-tigation ,which they seem to open regarding the unfathomable mystery ?f the Cil~urch, ahdeven more because of the possibilities they offer to the°faithful to p~'r~ivg~nd to own ever more fully ihe immense ~ch~s of the new life broughi~ by Christ. ~ But these_ ar~e perspectives which, in order tc~i be fruitful, presume respect for affinescapable Condition: Such ekperiences must not be li~,ed separatei~ or independently of, much less in oppositton to experiences hved by churches ~n oiher par~s of~the world. In order to be constituted as authentic experiences of Church,~(hese entail the necessity of being in har~mony with those ~,hich othe~ Christian~ intouch with other cultural contex(s fe~l called to live in order to be faithful to the requirements which flow fromthe one identical mystery of Ch~s~. This affirmation touches a central°point of Catholic ecclesiology and bears rgeapl"e atetinrd~egn. c~i'eos ~insd cuolgnetr ainrY " itsoo l,tahtieo encisc{le's(o~roileongtya tOi0fn st'h, eb rS eecvoennd t oV faat~,coarn " cCepnutrnicfud-.' In, its paragraph 13, cited above, Lumen G~ntium stresses the possibilities. inherent in a wholesome pluralism. However, it also very clearly, specifies' its limits. True pluraligm is never a divisive factor, but an element whichcontrib-_o ute~ to the building up of unity Within the universal commur~ion of the Church. Communion of Minds, Communion of Hearts - In fact, there exists among individual particular churches an ontological relationship of mutual inclusion. Each particular church, as the realization of~ the ore Church of Christ, is in some way present in all the particular churches "in and from which churches comes into being the one and ohly Catholic 324/ Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 Church" (LG 23).~ This ontological relationship must be carried over onto the dynamic level of its concrete life, if the Christian community does not want to enter into contradiction with itself. The basic ecclesial choices of the faithful of a community must be able to harmonize with the choices of the faithful of other communities so as to give rise to that communion of minds and hearts for which Christ prayed at the last Supper: ~. as you, Father. are i~h me, and I in you~' ! pray tti~they may be [one] in us . tha~t their unity may be compli~te" (Jn 17:21, 23). A particular task bf the Apostolic She consists precisely in serving thik universalunity. Indeed, it'is here that the ~specific office and, we may even say, the charism 6f Peter and his successors lie. Was it not to him that Christ said before the dark night of betrayal: "I have pray6d for you that your faith may never fail. LYou in turn must strengthen, your brothers" (Lk 22:32)? lnd~ed he is the "~ock" on whichChrist willed~to build his Church (see Mt 16:18). It is precisely°fi:o~m the foundation' that the iniegrated si"rength of the efitire edifice is expected. For" this reason, in a dialogue charged with pathos' ,.afte~ the ~esu,rrection, Jestis left to Peter the demanding responsibility: "Feed my lambs . feed my sheep" (Jn 21:15ff). Certainly, the one Supreme Shepherd is the Incarnate Word, Christ the Lord~ And so, with spontaneous fervor the pope'makes h~s own,the words of St. August.ine: "Vobis pastores'sumus, sed sub illo Pastore vobiscum Oves sumus. . . Vobis ex hoc loco doctores sum'us, sed sub ill un'o Magistro.in hac schOla vobiscum condiscipuli surnus" (For you we are shepherds,"biat, unde/ that Sheph,erd, with you we are sheep . For you., we are teachers, but, under that ofie Master . with you we are fellow disciples Enarr in Ps 126:3). This i:10es not eliminate the fact, however, that in the Church each has his own specific .task for which he must one day answer to'Christ. Over the centurie~ the popes have deeply'felt their responsibility for the s'ervice to Catholic bn~ty that was entrusted to them'~i and have soughtto: provide" ~ ford:it in many ways~as by surrounding themselves ,with experienced collfiboratot~"the better to meet the multiform responsibilities of their office. ° Recently, in response to suggestions from the.Conciliar Assembly, we gave exPr,ession to the desire to "internationalize" the Curia, so that'th~ presence of offici~als coming from various parts of the world might'facilitate dialogue with churches living on various co'fiiinents. This morning 1 have the pleasure of meeting with a select representation of the organizafioffg into which the Roman Curia is divided. I gladly welcome the opportunity, beloved brothers in'(~hrist2 to e~press my appreciation to you and to thank you'fo~:'ih~ cOmpe~t~int collaboration which you so generously offer me in the daily fulfillment of the duties inherent in my ministry. The Ministry of Peter . ~ With me you live that "anxiety~for all the churches" which constituted the t'daily tensiofi" of the Apostle Paul (see 2 Co 11:28). This constitutes the daily The Charism of Peter at the Service of Unity /325 tension of every,pope. ~Indeed, it is ~for the Successors of Peter to ensure the convergence towardg the center of th~ Church ofthose many "giffs" to which allusion was made in the conciliar texts we cited. And again it is for them to make provision for those;same gifts to flow outward to the various members of :Christ's Mystical Body, carrying to them new impulses of fervor and of life. There are ordinary means for addressing this apostolic task, among these being ad limina visits. Thus, during.the, present year I have had the pleasure to receive the episcopal conferences of Costa Rica, Oceania, El Salvador, Taiwan, Togo, Lesotho, Peru, Greece, Sri Lanka, Venezuela, Argentina, Chile, Guinea, Ecuador, the AntilleS, B_o!iyia a.nd Paraguay. ' There are also extraordinary means, among which the pope's visits and pilgrimages to .particular churches on the various continents are proving espe-cially effective. Still keen in my mind i~ the pleasant memory of my apostolic journey at the beginning of May to Korea, Papua New Guinea, the Solomon , Islands and Thailand to share the concerns and hopes of the young and promising churches of those lands. Also of significance was the journey during" the month of June which took me to Switzerland and enabled me to strengthen~ the bonds of communion between the See of Rome and the noblechurches of that:nation. Also unforgettable are;the emotions I experienced during my journey :to Canada, when I encountered both those who live their faith in the heart of.a highly evolved ~society and with those who received the gospel message in the context of ancient native Civilizations. Important finally, even if rapid, was the journey in mid-October when, after touching Spain, I reached Santo Domingo, the land from which, almost five centuries ago, evangelization spread into the :New World. On that occasion, too, I was able to meet the people of .Puerto Rico. ~ It is .with joy that I also recall the pastoral visits I made during the course of the year. in Italy: to Bari, Bitonto, Viterbo, Fano, Alatri and then; at the beginning of October, to the churches of Calabria, and finally, in November,~ my pilgrimage to the places sacred to the memory of St. Charles [Borromeo], marking the fourth century of hi~ death. The Apostolic See also maintains a dense network of contacts with all the particular churches in its constant concern not to lose any "gift from above" ,(see Jm 1:17), while at the same time safeguarding the priceless treasure of the Truth of God, along with everything of permanent validity which this has caused to.germinate in the fertile soil of generations of Christians down through the centuries. Neither preconceived prejudice nor deplorable ignorance, there-fore, butconstant ~attention to,"what the Spirit says to the churches" (Rv 2:7)! And this in order "that everything which authentically comes from the Spirit may benefit the entire composite of ,Christ's Mystical Body. Teach the Faith in Its Int grity , , In the context of these reflections we must emphasize ~ also the special responsibility which the :entire episcopate has--cum Petro et sub Petro (with $26 / Review f~or Religious, May-June, 1985 Peter and under .Peter)--with regard to the "deposit~0f thefaith~" entr.usted by Christ to theChurch to be integrally eared for and faithfully taught to genera-tions of people in every age. How can we not recall, the solemn words with which Jesus took leave of the Apostles at the moment of his return to the Father'?. These constitute a precise charge: "Full authority.has been given to me both in heaven and on. earth; go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations. Teach them to. earry out everything I.have commanded you" (Mt 28:18ff). ' Everything! Nothing of the "deposit."_ can be set aside~ tampered'with or neglected. Aware of this, the Apostle Paul addresses to his "disciple Timothy the . categorical imperative: "Depositum custodi!" (Guard what hasbeen committed to you! 1 Tm 6:20), and impresses on him: "I charge you toopreach.the word, to stay with this task whether convenient or inconvenient-~correcting,°reprov-ing,- appealing--constantly teaching.and never losing patience" (2 Tm 4:2). ° Indeed, the faithful of each historical era are exposed to the temptation ' "not to tolerate sound doctrine" and to "surround themselves with teachers who tickle their ears, refusing to listen to the truth and wandering off,to fables" (see ibid, vv. 3 ff). / Our age is also exposed to this temptation¯ An exact duty therefore falls .upon today?s~ shepherds and guides of the People of God: to defend the authenticity of gospel teaching from all that contaminates and distdrts it. Certainly we must be able to recognize and accept the "grod" that our generation is able to express in order to "purify, strengthen and elevate it." The Council reminded us of this (see LG 13). BUt we must also reject courageously whatever bears the imprint of error and sin, whatever coniains substantive threats to truth and to human morality, whatever spreads thrrugh society, ~whether by deceitful maneuver or with arrogant high-handedness, attacking the dignity of the person and the inalienable rights of individuals and of nations. ¯ The Church has the duty to keep watchAn order to defend,the integrity of the .faith and .of Catholic doctrine, warning against the deceits which seek to contaminate it. This is a specific task of hers which she cannot renounce. "Promoting~Truth Is the Duty of the Church The Holy See, for its part, carries out this duty of promoting and protecting the depositU~mfidei (deposit of faith) with the help especially of the Congrega-tion for the Doctrine of the Faith. As is known, following upon the Second Vatican Council, t.he procedures which the'Sacred Congregation fbllows in examining persoffs and writings submitted to its judgment h.ave been somewhat modified with the intention of offering every guarantee to interested persons. The protection of the truth, which is the Church's sacrosanct and indispensable duty, is not achieved by passing over in any way the dignity and rights of the person. Anyone willing to look with unbiased objectivity cannot ,but recognize, The Charism of Peter at the Service of Unity also in the context of recent events, that in its interventions this Congregation is constantly inspired by ~trict criteria of respect for the ~persons with whom it must rela~te. What can be hoped is that an equally respectful attitude,be always accorded .by those persons toward the Congregation itself when they comment, in private 6r in_ public, on its work. The same principle should apply to every member of the ,People of God, since this Congregation intends nothing other than to safeguard from danger the greatest good which the Christian possesses: the. authenticity and integrity of his faith: It is certainly of great importance that there be established within the Church a sincere and open dialogue among the various components of the Pegple of God. ~This dialogue, however, must be understood as a way to search for what is true and just, not as an ~occasion to indulge in words andattitudes scarcely compatible with an authentic spirit of dialogue. Everyone: must always keep in mind the,duty that each has with regard to truth, most of all.that truth which God has revealed and of which the Church is theL~guardian. ¯ The Option for the.Poor Before. concluding, 1 would also like to mention another 0point~whidh is especially being heard today, the "'preferential option for the poor." During the Second Vatican Council the Church has solemnly proclaimed that she.makes this option her own declaring: "[Like Christ] the Church encompasses with love all wh~ are afflicted with human suffering and in the poor and afflicted she sees the image of her ~poor and suffering Founder. She does all she can to relieve their need and in them she.strives to serve Christ" (LG 8). ¯ This ~"option,~'~. stressed so strongly by the episcopates of Latin America today, has been repeatedl); confirmed by me, following the example of my unforgettable predecessor, Pope Paul Vl. I gladly take this opportunity to repeat that the commitment to the poor constitutes a dominant theme of my pastoral activity, a0constant concern accompanying my daily Service to the,. People of God. I have madeand continue to make this "option" my own. I identify .with it. And I feel that this could not ~be otherwise, since it is the Gospel's eternal message. This is what Christ did. This is what Christ's Apostles. did. This is what the Church has done throughout her two-millennium history. In. the face of today's forms of exploiting the poor the Church cannot remain silent. She reminds the rich as well of their precise duties. Made strong with the Word. of God (see Is, 5:8; Jr 5:25-28; .lm 5:1,3-4), she condemns the many injustices which, unfor{unately, even today are committed to the detri-ment of,the poor. ., ~ Yes, the Church makes her own the preferential option for the poor. A preferential option, notg carefully. Therefore not an exclusive, or excluding option--b.ecause the mes_sage of, salvation is meant for everyone. It is an option~ furthermore, which is essentially based on the Word of God, and not on criteria offered by human science or by adverse ideologies which often reduce the poor to abstract socio-political or economic categories. 328 / RevieW for Religious, May-June, 1985 It is an option, nevertheless, which is unwav~ering and irrevocable. As I said recently in Santo Domingo: ""The pope, the Church, and her hierarchy want to continue to act on behalf of the poor, their dignity, their elevation, their rights as persons, and their aspirations to a social.justice'that can n9 longer be delayed" (L'OsservatOre Romano, EngliSh edition, November 26, 1984, p. 8). Nevertheless, the Apostolic 'See which, because of 'the special mission entrusted to it, closely shares in the experiences of the Chfirch in the various regions of (he world, knows that the forms of poverty, to which modern man is'~ subjected are manifold, and4t feels a moral obligation also in i'egard tO these other forms ,of poverty. Alongside, and, so to speak, in the face of the poverty against which the Episcopal Conferences of Medellin .and Puebla have raised their ~oices, there is also the poverty which stems from the privation of those spiritual goods to which the human person by nature has a right. Is that individual not poor who is subjected to totalitarian regimeS which deprive .him .of those fundamental freedoms in which his dignity as an intelligent and responsible person finds expression? Is that person not poor who is wounded by:otfiers in' his-0r her interior relation to truth; in his or her conscienc~e, in his or her most personal convictions, in his or her religious faith? '., " "' ' This is what I pointed out in my previous interventions, most especially in the Encyclical Redemptor Hominis (no. 17), and in the discburse delivered in 1979 before the General Assembly of the United Nations (nos.,14,20), when 1 spoke abfut the violations inflicted today in the"sphere of man's Spiritual goods. There is not only the poverty which strikes the body; there is another;and more insidious one, which strikes the conscience, yiolating the,most intimate sanctuary~of personal dignity. " In this context of the Church's authentic option for the poor must we ¯ include an event which has, aroused a great deal of int(rest this year: the p~blication of the Instruction regard, ing Certain aspects of the "Theology of Liberation.," . ,This document, contrary to some distorted interpretatiofis which have been given it, not only is not opposed to the optio~i for the poor,~ but rather constitutes an authoritative confirmation of'it, and at the same time effects a clarification and a deepening, of it. By emphasizinffthe intimate and constitutive bond whjel~i°unites freedom to truth, the Instruction defends the poor from ill.uSory and dangerous ideolog-ical proposals of liberation which, beginning with real and dramatic situations of poverty, would make of them and their sufferings only a pretext for new, and sometimes more serious opp?ession: The reduction of the Gospel message to the mere socio-political dimension robs the poor of what constitutes their shpreme right: to receiv~ from the Church the gift of the whole truth about the human person, and hbout the presence of th~ living God in human history.~ The reduction of the human being to just the political sphere, in fact, constitutes a threat not only to the dimension of his "having" but also to his ¯ The Charism of Peter at the Service of Unity / '329 "being." As the Instruction ri~ghtly affirms, the totality of the message of ":salvation alone can guarantee also the totality of human liberation (XI, 16). It is for this liberation that the Church has fought and is fighting at the side of the poor, making herself the advocate of their violated rights, the inspiration for social works of~every kind for their protection and defense, and the voice which proclaims the word of God, which summons everyone to reconciliation and penance. It is not by chance that the Apostolic Exhortation which I recently pub-lished against the background of conclusions reached by the Sixth General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops propose~ yet again the fundamental evan-gelical theme of conversion of heart, l did so ~in the conviction that the first liberation to achieve for man is liberation from the moral evil which nests in his heart, since it is there that also lies the cause of "social sin," indeed of every oppressive structure. In this commitment to human liberation from all the forms 0f poverty that frustrate the: full realization of the person, theChurch is sincerely and confi-dently open to dialogue With everyone. She declared this to be her intention by the lips of Pope John XXIIIwho constantly ~tretched outwards in the search for "what unites rather than what divides" humankind; she repeated it in the voice of Paul~ VI who dedicated his first Encyclical, Ecclesiam Suam, to this subject; finally, she confirmed it with an especially authoritative pronouncement in the Second Vatican Council which stated that "[the Church] can provide no more eloquent proof of its solidarity with, as well as its respect and love for the entire human family., than by energizin~ it in conversation" that i8 based on the dignity of the human person and on the profound significance of his activity in the world (see Gaudium et Spes, nos. 3 and 40). .The one who, in the unfathomable divine plan, sits today on the Chair of Peter confirms his own intention to contihue the way of a respectful and sincere dialogue with the modern world arid with those who can speak for it and represent it, because he relies on the possibilities for good inherent in human nature and on the renewing power of Christ's Redemption, which is at work in history. Indeed, it is my profound conviction as I said in my message for the 1983 World Day of Peace--that. 'dialogue is a central and indispensable element in the ethical philosophy of'htiman persons, whoev(i- they may be" (no. 6). In order for this dialogue to be fruitful, however, the competencies of other parties must not be infringed upon, and the Church herself, "by reason of her role and competence, must in no way be confused with the political commu-nity, nor bound to any political system," and precisely for this reason does she remain "the sign and the safeguard of the transcendence of the human person" ( GS 76). The Encounter with ChriSt Permeated by the light and the warmth which emanate from these truths, 330 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 ,we set foot on the threshold of the stable of Bethlehem. He who is born in "poverty" asks us to turn our thoughts and hearts towards the varied forms of poverty which oppress.humanity today. He asks us to go to meet this humanity. "Jesus Christ. made himself poor though he was rich, so that we might become, rich by his poverty" (see 2 Co 8:9)¯ ~ Only by making room for, Christ in our own lives and in the lives of our communities will we be able to resolve the problem of the many, forms of poverty from which we suffer, will we truly become "rich," that is, fully, human. The true,problem, however, remains this: to recognize Christ's right to citizenship in each of the various '~worlds" which make up the'modern world. He and he alone possesses the secret for filling our every "poverty"and arousing in our hearts 'the joy of the true wealth, which, in the last analysis, is the treasure of love¯ . May Christmas bring., to the sons a~d daughters of the Church and to all men and women on earth, a foretaste of the indescribable peace of that new world to which the temporal birth of the Son of God happily and irrevoc-ably gave a beginning. May the Holy Virgin, who carried the Incarnate Word in her womb, prepare us to welcome him with deep faith and grateful love. A Gift of Stilln~s The flame from the candle bums steady and bright: It remains that way until a gentle breeze ¯ . comes its way, and it begins to, fliCker. The flickering is a speaking out and a reachi,ng out fo~ a stillness-- that Stillr~ess has but to be present, touchable, available, gentle. :. How much am 1 like that flame-- at times steady, reaching out, . at times burning bright-- and many times flickerin!! I need 0nly be touched by the Stillness.of the Flame of flames-~ ° Then my light becomes~radiant, penetrating, atz,one with the Light of lights. I have been made a Christ,ed flam!! 'I have been gift.ed with Stillness! Sister Regina Hlavac Mother Scton School 100 Creamery Rd., Emmitsburg, Mp 21727 The Mass in "My Cathedral" Pedro Arrupe, S.J. Father Arrupe is well known to our r~aders. In failing health, his resignation from the office of General Superior of the Society of Jesus was .accepted by the 33rd General Congregation of that Society' in September, 1983. "l~his article and introductory comment is I~ased on a chapter from In Him Alone Is Our Hope: Texts on the Heart of Christ (1965-1983), by Pedro Arrupe, S.J., with a foreword by Karl Rahner, S.J.; see Reviews in this issue, p. 466. . These intimate notes of Father Arrupe were jottings written in the course of 1981. °The ailing General hasnow consented that these notes, however incom-plete, ~be made public. In these pages we are able to glimpse how spontane-ously Father Arrupe has lived his intimacy with 'Jesus Christ in the celebration of the Eucharist in his oratory. " This little private chapel of,Father Arrupe, his "cathedral, "had been for Arrupe the powerhouse of in'calculable energy and dynamism for the ~whole Societp~ of Jesus, a place of inspiration; and a source of comfort and strength. This was the place where, for seventeen years, Father Arrupe performed the most important act of his daily routine--the celebration of the Eucharist. As though talking to himself, in these jottings the writer pauses at salient moments of the liturgy, having all the time the body of the Society in his mind. United to the Heart of Christ--he writes--he felt himself to be a mediator between God and the, Society, and understood better what St. Ignatius had in mind when he set down as the primar);~duty and function Of the General: to be "closely unitedwith God our Lord and intimate with him in prayer and in all his actions,, that from God, the.Fountain of all good, the General may so much the better obtain for the whole body of the Society a large share of his gifts and grace.s, and also a great power and efficacy for all the means which will be used for the;, help of souls"'(Constitutions, n. 723). A mini-cathedral! Just eighteen feet by twelve. A little chapel which had .331 332 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 been prepared after the death of my predecessor, Father Janssens, for "the new general'--whoever this was to be! Providence willed that I should bethe one. I am grateful to the person who had the idea; he could not have interpreted the wish of this new general better! The planner of this tiny chapel may have desired to give th~ new general a quiet and convenient place to celebrate Mass in greater privacy, where he might visit the Blessed Sacrament without leaving his rooms. Possibly the planner did not think how much thi~ little oratory would be the fountain of incalculable power and dynamism for the whole Society, a place of inspiration, consolation and strength---even a living room! This was going to be my room for relaxing in the most active leisure,. where, doing nothing, .everything is done! Just as the idle Mary, drinking in the Master's words, was so much more active than her sister Martha! This was going to be the room where the Master's glance and mine cross each other-- where one learns much in silence. The general would have the Lord all the time, every day, next tO .him-- with just a partition between them: the very Lord who was able to enter through the closed doors of the Cenacle, who made himself ~rese~t among his disciples, the One who would be invisibly present in so many conversations and meetings in my office. They call this little room "the private chapel of the general." But it is a teacher's chair (c6tedra) and a sanctuary: Thabor and Gethsemane, Bethlehem and Golgotha, Manresa and La Storta. Ever the same, ever different! If its walls could speak! Four walls that enclose an altar, a tabernacle, a crucifix, a Marian icon, a zabuton (a Japanese cushion), a Japanese painting, one sanctuary lamp. Nothing else is needed, that's all: a Victim, a sacrificial altar, the Stan-dard of the Cross, a Mother, a burning flame that is slowly being cofisumed while giving light and warmth, and love expressed by two Japanese characters: God/Love. Here is a program of life: a life being consumed in love, crucified with Jesus, in Mary's company, being offered to God even as the Victim which is offered to the Father day after day on the altar. In recent years 1 have often heard it said: "Why visits to the Blessed Sacrament if God is everywhere?" My answer, sometimes unexpressed, is: "Really, they don't know what they are saying. God is indeed everywhere, but 'come and see' (Jn 1:39) where the Lord dwells: this is his house." My appeal is not to arguments and discussion, but to the experience of living in the house of the Lord: "One with much experience will speak with understanding" (Si 34:9). ¯ "The Teacher is here and is calling for you"(Jn.l 1:28). Here those requests. rise s~ontaneously: "Lord, teach us to pray" (Lk l lr:l); "Explain tO US the" parable" (Mt 13:36). When we hear his words, we understand the expression of popular enthusiasm: "No man ever spoke like this man" (Jn 7:46),~or that of the Apostles: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life" (Jn 6:68). Then one understands by experience the significance of that sitting at the Lord's feet and listening to his teaching" (Lk 10:39; see Lk 24:32): 7he Mass in "My. Cathedral" / 333 This "cathedral" is the theatre of the most important act of the entire daily routine: the Mass. Christ is the true and supreme priest, the Word made man. It is a divine attribute to be contained in the smallest place and not_to be circumscribed by the universe. This tabernacle or little tent is not too small.for him, but the entire universe is not big enough to hold him. Each Mass has an infinite value, but under some personal circumstances and in ,some special moments this quality of infinitude .is felt more deeply. There is no doubt that the ~fact of being General of the Society of J~sus, with its 27,000 men consecrated to the Lord and totally dedicated to collaborate with Jesus Christ the Savior in all sorts of difficult apostolates, which may at times lead to sacrificing life in ~o.bloody martyrdom, carries with it a weight of responsibility and a profound sense of universality of its own. I Shall Go to the Altar of God In union with Jesus Christ, I, a priest, carry witl~in myself the entire body ofthe Society. The walls of,this littld chapel look as though they would crack. The tiny altar seems to be.come ~that heavenly "altar on high" iEucharistic Prayer I) where the prayers, of all tl~e members of the Society ascend to the Father "by the hands of his~holy a, ngel.".My altar resembles "the golden altar before the throne" (Rv 8:3)~ referred to in the book of the Apocalypse. If, on the one hand, I feel myself, ~s St. Igna~us would have it, "a sore and ulcer" (Spiritual Exercises 58), "nothing but an obstacle" (todo imped(mento), on the other hand I also find myself identified with Christ, "designated by God a high priest" (Heb 5:10), "ho!y, ,blameless, unstained, separated from sinners, exalted above the heavens" (Heb 7:26), "who has entered, not into the sanctuary made with hands, but into Heaven itself, now.to appear in the presence of God on our behalf".(Heb 9:24). With Christ I find omy~elf ~t.oo a "victim": "I saw standing before the throne., a Lamb as,though it has been slain" (Rv .5:6). The Mass begins on this altar; suspended, as it were, between heaven and earth. If I look upward, I can see the heavenly Jerusalem: Wits radiance l!ke a most rare jewel, like jasper:.clear as crysta!" (Rv 21: l~l). But ~I saw no temple in the city, ~for its temple is the Lord God, and the Lamb is its sanctuary" (Rv 4:2~2-23). If I look downward, I see "human beings~ on the face of the earth, in such great dive.rsity in dress and in manner of acting. Some a~e white, some black; some at peace, some at war; some,weeping,so~e laughi.ng; some well, some s~ick; some coming into the w6rld, and some dying.? (SpEx 106). I am profoundly impressed at seeing from this altar, thus suspended between heaven and earth, all the members of the~Society in the world, toiling and suffering in the midst of their endeavors to help souls, ~sent th~:oughout the whole world to spread his sacred doctrine among all men, no matter what their state or condition" (SpEx 145). How I wish that from this altar blessings may fall as a mighty cascade, graces of light and strength that they need at 334 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 eveiy moment. In this Mass Christ will offer hirrigelf, and I wiih him, on behalf of this worldand this Society of Jesug'. Again, if I raise my eyes towards th~ heavenly Jerusalem, I see God's infinite hdliness, "the Three Divine Persons, seated on ~he royal th~ohe of the Divine Majesty, looking down upon the whole surface of the earth and behgldi~ng all nations in great blindness" (S~Ex 106). Meanwhile the clamor of "We have sinned" surges all the time from the face of the eh'rth~ a clamor tha~ resOufids with the rumbling of a ca~ract: ~the thur~der of thy cataracts" (Ps 42:7); "Then I heard the noise., of many waters and tlie sound of mighty thhnderpeals~ (Rv 19:6). When I feel myself, like the "servant of Yahweh," bearing ~the sins of the Society, chiefly during my generalate, and my own countless person~ilgins', 1 appear "despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, and as one from whom men hide their faces." (Is 53:3). Meanwhile I wish it might be said of me, as it was said of Jesus: ."0port him'was the chastisement that made us whole" (Is 53:5); "He was oppressed and hewas afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth" (I~ 57:7). Thus while I hear the great'penitential act of the Society: "Wd have finn&l, and hax~e acted perversely and wickedly" (l K 8:47), I feel myself "the last of all, ,as one untimely born, unworthy of being called 'a son of the So~ciety'" (~see I Co 15:8-9). This is precisely the feeling that pCrmits me to sympathize with the fallen and the straying, and to grasp the whole meaning of those words of the leiier to the Hebrews: "He can deal gently with the ignorant.and 'wayward since he himself is beset with Weakness, he is bound to offer sacrifice for ~his owh sins as well as for thos~ of the people" (Heb 5:2-3). '" ' "° Christ becomes "the mediator of the n~w covenant" (Heb 9:15). I, too, in union with the heart of Christ and in spite of ever~hing, 1.feel mYself to ~be a mediator, and understand why St. Ignatius designat~es, as the l~fimary function of the General of the Society of Jesus, that "he should be clbsely united with GOd our Lord and intimfite with him, that from the Lord, the Fountain of All Good, the general may',.so i~uch the better obtain foi the whole body of the Society, a l~irge share of his gifts and gra~s, and'algo a great power and efficacy for all the meahs which will be used for the help of souls" (Const 723). My position between God and. the Society of Jesus, as a pribst and during the celebration of the Eucharigt, is that of a "inediatOr between God and men," to "govern the whole body of,the Society . This he will do~rimarily'by his prayer which is full of desires and by his s, acrifices, to 'obtain the grace of preservation and development. : and on his own part he should hold these means in high esteem, and have great confidence in our Lord, since these are the most efficacious means of gaining grace from hi~ Divine Majesty, the source of what is longed for" (Const 789-790). The office of general thus considered appears in all its~ depth and in clear light: "Morning by morning he awfikens my ear. The Lord God has opened my ear" (Is 50:4-5). Aware of my being°a priest with the servant Of 7he Mass in "My Cathedral"/335 Yahweh, "I do notwish to be rebellious or turn.backward; I offered my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to those who pull Out my beard. I hid not my face from shame and spitting" (see Is 50:5-6). But how consoling it is to read in the sacred text: "When he makes himself an offering for sin, he shall see his offspring, he shall prolong his days; the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand; he shall see the fruit of the trav~iil of his soul and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall, the righteous one~ my servant, make many 'to be accounted righteous,, and he shall bear their iniquities" (Is.53:10-11). The Offertory ~" I experience the profound feeling ofstandin~ before the God of mystery (arcano),.the~4gios athanatos (Holy Immortal One) and the Deus absconditus (the hidden God).- I feel that he is present in me and loves me as a father, that he is the fouritainhead of all life, and that' he accepts my offering. As I raise the paten, I.try to penetrate with the eyes of Christ, and with the light of faith, through the infinitude of the universe to the very heart of the Tririity: -"Blessed ~re 3;ou, God of all creation; through ydur goodness we have this bread to offer:."At the same time those .words,from the former offertory text come to my mind: ".-. which 1, thy unworthy servant offer to thee, the living and true God." All my unworthiness, faces,'me again: "despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief' (Is 53:3); "and he shall bear their iniquities" (Is 53:11). You know everything, Lord! As I raise the paten, if'seems to me that all my brothers ,gaze~at it., feeling themselves to be present:?'., and for all those around me." The paten seems to expand as "my innumerable sins and negli-gences" and those of others are accumulating along with the aspirations.and desires of the whole SoEiety. Like'Moses, lfeel that "I am not able to carry all this people alone; the burden is toffheayy for me" (Nb 11:14). I feel as though the hands of all the Jesuits of the v~orld would help me to sustain this most heavy paten, loaded with sins.but also with desires, hopes and petitions. I seem~ to hear the Lord say to me, as he said to Moses: "I will.take some of the spirit which is upon you and put it upon them; and they-shall bear the burden of the people with you, that you maY not bear it yourself alone" (Nb 11:17). And then, as though the paten would become lighter--or my arms stronger I am able~tb lift the patenhigher as if to place it nearer to the Lord. "And also for all faithful Christians, living and dead . and for the salvation of the whole world." I almost feel like fainting when faced with human malice and sin. 1 need that you. stretch out 'your mighty hand, Lord. "I stretched out the heavens alone, ~I~ spread out the earth. Who was with me?" (Is 44:24). Sustained by this powerful hand, I shall be able to carry on: "This bread will become for us the Bread of Life." I now take the chalice with the wine which will be changed into the blood of'Jesus: "Blessed are you, Lord, God of all creation. Through your goodness we have this wine tb offer., it will.become our spiritual drink." t 336 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 This wine, fruit of the vine pressed down in the winepress and fermented, will be converted into the blood shed on the cross. This chalice, symbol of that cup that caused you to shed blood at Gethse-mane, .and that was so bitter that you wished you would not have to drink it, Will soon becrme the chalice of your blood~poured out for the salvatior~ of the world. Into it are now poured .the sufferings of so many Jesuits who, crushed in their turn, have given or shall give their lives for you in a bloody or unbloody manner, their tears,,their sweat., a foul, unsavory mixture,which, when united with your blood; will become pleasant and sweet-scented--the aroma of Christ (2 Co 2:15). ~: "We know that this is to be our lot. ,~to suffer affliction" ( 1 Th 3:3), but irresistibly impelled by your charity "for the love of God overwhelms us" (2 Co 5:14), we choose and beg "to be received under your standard . and bear insults and wrongs, thereby to imitate you better" (see SpEx 147): Certainly you have heard our prayer, for the cup is overflowing, but charity makes us to be "overjgyed with all our.affliction" (2 Co 7:4). This chalice, converted for us into,"a°fragrant offering and sacrifice" (Ep 5:2), is accepted by you as an offering pleasing to God (see Ph 4:18) and will become for us "our spiritual drink." ,, .~ Thu~, bowing before the throne of the Trinity, I can.say with the whole Church: "In the spirit of humility and. with a contrite heart, let, us be received by thee, O Lord; and grant that the sacrifice we offer in thy, sight this day may be pleasing to Thee, O Lord God." Our sacrifice--of Christ, of me, and of the whole Society, asa body united' in the charity of the Holy Spirit, members and head with Christ (see Const 67,1.). United also with "the bond of obedience"(Const 659)~ by which we all, as one man, offer the daily holocaust of our lives, "in which the entire man, without any reser~vation, offers himself in the fire of charity to his Creator and Lord (Letter on Obedience; March 26, 1553: MI Epp IV, 669-681). Our personal sacrifices, united in the da.ily community holocaust, constitute a total sacrifice-- our sacrifice of praise (Eucharistic Prayer IV). Preface and comecra~ion ,, From the heart itself of the Society spontaneously arises that acknowledg-ment: "Father, it is truly meet and just, it is our duty and our salvation always and everywhere to give you thanks:" Our song of praise would join tliat of the angels and blend it into a harmonious choir, every member of which sings in his own voice in.a multitude and diversity of tones, similar to that impressive, chorus formed by that "great multitude which no man could number from.all the tribes and peoples and tongues., crying out witha loud voice, 'Salvation belongs to our God who sits upon the throne, and to the Lamb'" (Rv 7:9-10). Our song would join also ~that.of the Society triumphant in heaven, and that of all the saints: "Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and might be to our God for ever and ever! AmenL' (Rv 7." 12). The Mass in "My Cathedral"/337 Following on this mighty chorus, I.seem to hear a striking silence. "Be silent before the Lord God! For the day of the Lord is at hand; the Lord has prepared a sacrifice and consecrated his guests" (Zp 1:7). "Be silent, a.ll flesh, before the Lord!" (Zc 2:1,3). "There was silence in heaven for about half an hour" (Rv 8: l). Let us, therefore, keep in the silence of our heart, as Mary did (Lk 2:51), everything that is .going to take place on "this altar .in heaven" (Eucharistic .Prayer IV), the mystery of the Passover, in which "Christ was immolated," the mys_tery of the Redemption of the world, the mystery.of the highest glorification of the Father.~"And they were filled with wonder and astonished at what had taken place" (Ac 3:10). The sublime moment of the consecration is drawing near.,In union with the whole bgdy of the Society,0identified with Christ, I hold the host in my hands and pronounce the words "This is my body"--my body, that of Christ; "This is thecup of my blood'--a solemn moment which can be noted only in awesome silence. ~ Christ converts the bread into his body and the wine into his blood, but the one pron.ouncing the sacramental words is I! This identification with him is such that I caia'say, "This is my bod~,,'-' but it is Christ's body! My inner self, is all ablaze--as if I felt the Heart of Christ beating instead of mine, or within ¯ mine! As though his blood was coursing through my veins at the moment of consecration! ~The mystical, sacramental separation of the body and blood of Christ is a reality and a symbol, but he who receives the body receives the whole Christ and he who receives the blood receives the whole as well. The redemption of the world was thus accomplished: incarnation, death, paschal mystery, ~salvation. All this is repeated at this moment in my hands. _I remain "filled with astonishment," yet "I believe, Lord,~help my unbelief (Mk 9:24). Christ in my. hands! The Lamb that takes away the sins of the world is not on the "highest throne" of the Apocalypse, but in my hands, as bread under the sacramental species I believe! At the moment of consecration the perfect glorification of the Father takes place. This will soon be exp,ressed in the doxology: "Through Christ, with him, and in him, in the unity of, the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor~is yours, Almighty Father, for ever and ever." . At this solemn moment I pause a while "in order to reflect and ponder upon what presents itself to ~mY mind (SpEx 53). How does the world appear from this altar? How does Jesus Christ see it? In order to understand this I mus.t enlarge my hear~ to world proportions. Like the Heart of Christ, the heart of the body of the whole Society must be enlarged, and with it the heart of each one of us. Ours must be a heart that embracesall men without exception, as did the Heart of Christ "who desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth" (1 Tm 2:4), so that finally "there shall be one flock, one shepherd" (J~n 10:16). From this altar, between heaven and earth, one gets a better vision and 338 / Review for Religion, May-June, 1985 understanding of the needs,of men and women in the ~,ast ~vorld;:one sees and ¯ unders.tands, now in a new light, the impoi't of that universal'mission: "Go into all the world and preachthe Gospel to the whole of creation" (Mk 16:15), I. personallyfeel myself, as it were; hurled into the world, hnd withi!me the whole Society sent to the wide ,world. Thisqs its target, its~allotted tfisk, until it return again to g!orify the Lord; once the'battle-'for tile kingdom is won. " My ears keep ringing with those reassuring statements:'~"I ~send~ you"~ (Jn 20:21), and "I am with you.always" (Mt 28:20). These words fill ourhearts:. with donfidenc~, My incomparable:companion is Christ'himself; wh6 is pregent not only on this altar but within 'me, filling me with his divinity, and he: sends me to those Who'did not receive him (see Jfi 1:11). 'My response can 6n13~ be: "Lord; whai would you have meto do?" (Ac 9:6),'~and "What ought I t0do f6r Christ?" (SpEx 53). '" :~:- "~ ~ The body of the Sbciety;" in its full awareness of being sent and°strengthened with the power of God, feels rejuvenated and full of vigor and zest; it feels the blood' ~fChrist coursing through its veins, and the fullfiess of thi~ Spirii of Christ pbs~essing its~ve~y being, as if propelled by the rush of a'mighty wind (see Ac 2:2). ~Who.~vill be able to withstand this Society if it faithfullyfollows the line of mission pointed out to it by the Lord?The Societyknows~thai~the life of its members is:that of "men crucified to .theworld and to :'wh6m-the world is crucified" (see Ga 6:14), and that no one will be able to withstahd "the~ wisdom and the Spirit who speaks" in such men (~ee Ac 6:10), nor r~gist their Voice (Jdt 16:14): ~- , ~ The Our Father . ' The Father bfthe Society: all sons of the same Father, of the Father:who, at La Stortia, asked:the Son, loaded with the cross; to receive l~natiti~ as his servant, thereby confirming the name'of "Society°of Jesus.-': The Our Fathe'rqs the perfect pra3~er'for the individual and for the commufiity. "- Who are in heaven: A Jesuit must always look'hehvenwards. There is ,his Father and his fatherland. Our entire life is for. the kingdom. " ", 'You'r kingdom dome: All our labors would be of no avail without the di~ihe help in establiShing this kingdom. The whole Society asks for this grace.most earnestly because it knows that the success of all its undertakings hinges on the answer to this°farayer. Your Will lie done: We must cooperate with the divine will--for Wliiehit is necessary that we know it. ~ Give us, Lord, tlib sense of true discernment for knowing'at every moment what your will for Ug is. 'Keep on enlightening us to find ~our will, and~iving us the strengtli.~o fulfill it. ~ The Society's on13~ goal is the carrying'out of your will--your wilFmani-fest~ d in various ways; but especially through obedience. My responsibility, as Superior General of the Society, is very great,indeed. "To him all auihpHtyis given ad aedifica?idnem (for building up)!" (see Const 736). Your will'b~ done: The Mass in "My Cathedral"/' 339 may ,I never be an obstacle; may I never disfigure, misrepresent, or mistake your will for the Society. It is very painful to think that this might happen. Keep me faithful to your teaching, and ''never let me be parted from you" (the ,prayer°before Communion). ~ ~ . o I onside.r this to be a most necqssary grace. Therefore, bowing before the paten which holds your Body, I repeat this prayer again and again: Death a thousand times rather than to be separated from you! "As the Lord lives. wherever my lord the king shall be, whether for death or for life, there als0 will your servant be" (2 S 15:21)~ ~ With my eyes fixed on the consecrated Host; I present it to the brother who accompanies me in the celebration, and who takes the place.rof all the Jesuitk--just as with the first disciples who,saw Jesus when John the Baptist drew their attention to him. There they saw a man; here we see only a piece of bread. This is an act of true faith: believing against what we see. The act of faith in the Eucharist is indeed "a hard saying; who dan listen to it?" (Jn 6:60). No; Lord, faith in the, Eucharistic, Mysteryis not hard. It is rather a source of immense joy: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words ofete rnal life" (Jn 6:68). I believe! "Lord, I am not Worthy, but only say the word and I shall be healed" (see Mt 8:8), just as you ,healed the centurion's servant. The Society believes that you are~Lord; and wants to. shelter ~you under its roof: in our houses, in our churches in which we want to visit you and contribute to your glorification and cult.'~And.especially the Society wantsto sbelt~i~ you in the hearts of each one .~f us, and .in the tabernacles of each community, where they will-keep,.you .company and seek from you light, comfort and strength to carry out the mission you have entrusted to them. ~ ,, Enter, Lord, under the roof of your ~Society. We need you. There are so °many crises of faith, so mhny sophisticated'interpretations parading as scientifi-cally theological! At times even Christian piety is made light of, as though ,.these manifestations of solid and.~ lgnatian faith were antiquated superstitions. "Anti, my soul shall be saved:,~ Lord, do,not permit the Society,to.yield in this matter, or degenerate from ~what St. Ignatius wanted it to be. Eooking fixedly at thi~ white.Host, I fall on my knees; and 27,000 Jesuits° kneel with me, saying, with the Apostle Thomas; from the bottom of my soul, ~and with .unswerving faith: "My Lord and my God" (Jn 20:28). May the Body of Christ Bring Me to Everlasting Life Lord, keep the whole Society; keep me especially, since you have given me this office of such great responsibility. Communitarian communion; identifica-tion with Christ; a food that is not transformed but transforms. Body of the Society "Christified'--all united and converted into Christ himself. What bet-ter "union of hearts"! (Const) 655). "For me to live is Christ'~ (Ph l:21), now more than .ever. How well Nadal's observations fit in here! "Accept and diligently exercise 340 / Ri~view for Religious, May-June, 1985 the union wherewith the Spirit of the Lord favors you regarding Christ and his powers. Thus you may come to perceive in your soul that you understand through his intellect, will by his will, remember through his memory, and that your entire self, your existence, your life and your actions are realized, not .in you, but in Christ. This is the highest .perfection in this life: power divine, happiness beyond compare" (Nadal, MHSI, Orationis Observationes~ n. 308, p. 122). With this identification of the Society and of each member of the Society with Christ, our aposto!ic activity and our help to souls will gain in efficacity. Our words will be those of Christ who knows which is the suitable word at every moment. Our-plans and manner of apostolate will be precisely those with which th~ Lord will inspire us, which cannot fail to be fruitful--a "Society of Jesus," truly of Jesus, one with him. The Blessing of Almighty God How consoling and moving for me, as identified with Christ, to impart the .blessing, his blessing, to the universal Society, a blessing which cannot fail to be efficacious. This blessing goes to you, workers of the Lord's vineyard, scattered throughout the world and beset with so many difficulties: to you, who are bound to the bed of suffering by pain and infirmity, who offer~ your prayers and afflictions for souls, and for the Church and the Society; to you superiors, who bear a heavy responsibility, and have been entrusted with a task not easy in the present time; to you who are in charge of the formation of our young Jesuits, who are shaping the Society of tomorrow; to you coadjutor brothers, who, in a decisive movement of our history are going through a:profound transformation, and ~who are serving the Church and the Society with so much dedication and selflessness; to you young scholastics and novices~in whom necessarily rests.the hope of the Society for the future, in which 0yot~°ought to be men dedicated to the Church and to souls, in the ,Society deeply, imbued with the .spirit of St. Ignatius; to you very especially, who live in countries deprived of true feedom, who need to feel that the Society is very near to you and values your difficult ministry and testimony; to all of you in the furthermost corners of the world, in the most hidden rooms in our houses, in th~ remotest stations in the jungle. May the blessing of Almighty God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit descend upon you and remain with you always. The Mass in my cathedral is ended. "Go and set the world on fire!" Vocation: Where Gladness Meets Hunger J. Peter Sartain Father Sartain. ordained four years ago, is presently Director of Vocations for the Diocese of Memphis. He may be addressed at the diocesan offices: 1325 Jefferson Ave.; P.O. Box 41679; Memphis, TN 38104-1679. For the past three years I have vacationed with Mike, a friend from seminary days and a priest of another diocese. Inevitably our vacation conversations have turned to the subject of vocation: how~ we had both .discovered the importance :of staying in touch with the roots of our vocations meaning not simply that we felt called to be diocesan priests, but on a more profound .level, that we felt called' at all. We know each other well en6ugh ~o confront~and challenge each other as we discuss possible directions~for our ministry in living out our call. At times we would speak of specific hopes and dreams, our clearest p~ayerful perceptions of our call. Thus it was~that Mike told me he had a deep desire to live a simple lifestyle in community, to Work with the very po6r, and to have some experience ¯ of the desert. In the months that followed this conversatiofi we corresponded about his efforts to start a Catholic Worker community in'his diocese. Event~- ally those efforts,proved unfruitful~ or at. least ill-timed. That was little more than a year ago. F0i'4he past ten months Mike's letters have been postmarked "Zimbabwe," where he was sent with a team from his diocese:to inaugurate a mission. The mov,e happened very fast, but ~e both knew it was right. Not long ago Mike wrote that he realizes his new.ministry is just what he had hoped for--he shares the poverty of those he serves, Who are among the poorest of the, pbor; and the "desert" within is fed by the desert without: his territory has not~een rain in more than two yearS. It.is a difficult mission, and 341 ~42 / Review for Religious, ~May-June, 1985 the transition has not been without its struggles, ~ ~ My friendship with Mike, our sharing with one another the movement of God within us and our pra~,erful support of each other have taught me a great deal about my call and about "vocation" in general. In this article'I will reflect on an understanding of vocation which has proved helpful for me and those to whom I minister as Director of Vocations for my diocese. I do not propose to address every aspect of a complete theology of 9ocation but to offer a frame-work which may help contextualize one's understanding of his or her call to service in the Church. Gladness and Hunger In Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC Frederick Buechner proposes an insightful definition of vocation: "The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet."1 -From the moment I read it this definition struck deep chords within me, for it resonated with my experience of myself and of the Gospel. God calls each one of us to authentic happiness and to service; and these two dimensions of God's call meet in an honest and prayerful search fortruth~ ~ Discovering Our Deep Gladness If anyone wisbes to come after reel he must deny his very self, take up his cross, and begin to follow in my footsteps. Whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life,for my .sake will find 4t (Mt 16:24-25). ~ . Jesus" challenge of self-denial has always intrigued me as.I have,sought to deepen my. response to. his invitation to "come after me." Teilhard d~ Chardin . . . lays ddwn two ~ospel imperatives, self-developnient and " renunciation. The first call of'the Gospel, he says, is'to utilize our talents, develop our, " gifts, and construct our human life. Only then does the call to total ab_negatio_n make sense. We are called to renounce everything and give our life to,,tally back to Ggd. But we must first possess ihat life in~ order to give it away3 At the center of each Christian vocation is an on-going call to know oneself. No response to God's call can be immediately whol#, in the sense that none of us is totally in touch with our_ livesat any one point in. time, especially in the. early, stages ofoformation. One who ~senses a call from God, then, ~ begins a life-long process,of gaining self-knowledge. I believe this search for'self-knowl-edge, when seen in the light,of the search for God and a lovefor God's creation, becomes~a,search for one's "deep gladness~? Authentic happiness lies not in doing what makes me happy but~in being f~ully whorl,am--learning the truth about myself and living it for God and his people, ~possessing" my life so that I can give it back to God. This search can, take place~ authentically only in the context of prayer. "l:hose who pray are inviting the Spirit into their lives; and those who invite the Spirit into their lives are inviting the truth--about God, about themselves and. about the world around them . . Vocation: Where Gladness Meets Hunger The. Fear .and Freedom of Truth There can"exist simultaneously within us a deeply curious,ahd burning need to know ourselves and a consuming fear about what we will find within. ffhere can be~the suspicion that~ what we will find will be unacceptable, or unlovable, or at least something other than that for which w6 had hoped. Nevei'theless,o;the Christian who, genuinely struggles0to follow the Lord will cbme~face-.to~face ,with truth. Living~the Gospel means learning the truth, for as we seek to enflesh the words of Jesus, the Word of Truth enlightens us. If you live according tb my teaching, you are ii'uly my disciples; th'en yo~ will know the ~itruth, and the truth will set you free (Jn 8:31-32). ~° ' Jesus ~ys, "The truth will set y0ia free." Jesus the Truth liberates; it'is lies which enslave. We do not have to look far to see that lies really do ensla e: ~t is the lie that says: "All people are not fundamentally equal" which perpetuates policies and practices of discrimination across the gl6be; it° is theqie that sa~,s: "Unlimited possessions are my due" which causes half the world to go to bed hungry each night; it is the lie that says: "Deep within each of i~s there is some unspeakable ugliness" which can keep us frotri being-freed~-by the ~truth. Lies en~lave, the trtlth sets fre~; and one cannot come to a saving encounter with Trtith 0with0~it facing the truth about-oneself. ~ The"call to~cbnversi~)n can be wrongly interpreted as a call to becoming 's~)ihething I am not, as tho, ugh, somehow, my 'natural condition as God's child. include"~ "unacceptability." But con~,ersion does not m~an becoming acceptabl~ to Gbd. This misapprehension can'be abetted by a pervasive but distorted view 6f the~ human person which carries tile body/soi~l dichotohay to the ultimate degree. Then it is that I become c0n~inced that my body is the worldly/sehZ "~tial/sinful 15art of my existence, and my soul is~the othei'~-worldly/spiritual/i'e-deemable part. Such a view of the human person ~ould only' lead to an unhealthy spiritual dualism which pretends' that only "good" tho~Jghts and "positive" feelings are "worthy" of Gbd; "bad" thoughts and'"negaiive" feelings are therefore to be avoided, even denied at all costs sinc~they originate in the d~irkness of that'"~)ther" part of my being, the part of me which God tolerates but does not cherish. SuCh dis~tortions militateagainst any substantial growth toward wholeness, and th~ Christians who are enslaved 6y them will meet continually with frus-tration' as~ they~find that their "unspiritual" bodies arid "worldly~ thought~ s~mply will not go away. For them, the search for triJ~ih will be a frighte~ng enterpri~; a journey into an unfriefidly and ungodly void. " ~ F6~tUh~tel~, G~Sd does not have designs solely on,our souls. P~ul mak6s this clear in the closing blessing o~" his letter to the Th~ssalonians: May the God of peace make you perfect in holiness. May he preserve you whole and entire, sprat', soul,'and body, ~rreproachable at the coming of our Lord Jesus Chris. He who calls us is trustworthy, therefore he will do it (! Th 5:23-24). For the true disciple of Je'sus conversion rather mean~ transformation in :344 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985' Christ; it embraces a new way of liying in love. Conversion does not mean denying who I am, but acknowledging thar.I am not whole without Jesus, and accepting the wholeness he wishes to bestow on me. Moreover, conversion involves, being fully who I am--holy and unholy--in.Jesus, and discovering in prayer and life with others that only in confronting the truth about myself and holding that,truth up to the light of the Gospel will I be truly free and "deeply glad." The full truth is that I am the sinner redeemed, the enslaved set free, the beloved called t6 love. For ma~y people coming to that full truth is not easy. For them truth is something to be feared, not embraced. ,~They are frighten.ed by the nagging suspicion that at the center of their hearts and heads there is really s0m~eone wh~ is~unattracfive and abnormal, someone certainly not called by God. They are haunted by the~ fear that at the center of their lives there is no "deep gladness," but only a painful sadness. The Fruit of.~Honesty The fear of truth is played out jn a number of w.ays in.houses of formation. It can be manifested in anger, defensiveness, a purely passive submissiveness to authority, and everything in between. Formation ministers, then, r~ust be honest people people so in tune with the freedom of truth that they create an environment which values and demands~b, onesty in every forum. In evaluating ~ndidates they must speak the truth gently but directly~ realizing that any-thing but.clarity is useless and potentig!ly even harmful. They must make evident in themselves the sine qua non, that one must be honest in prayer, spiritual direction, ministry,friendship and self-evaluation; that avoiding the-risk involved in revealin.g oneself to another means avoiding growth, avoidihg a liberating and truth-filled gladness. It goes w, ithout saying that professional counseling~-and the opl~ortunity to inte~rate~ it with spiritual direction--should be readily available for those ministers whrwish to avail themselves of it. To avoid the truth about oneself is to feel, hu.nger yet refuse food. The Church needs ministers who want t~ face the truth. . In writing just now of coming to know oneself I have not mentioned the obvious that the Perso~n who really knows him or herself wil),hapl~ily dis-cover that they really do possess even ~unused talent and untapped potential. I have seen many extremely talented peo~ple--people whose i~bility was widely known and often praised who neverthel'ess were deeply unhappy. They were blind to their talent because they were convinced that the truth about thehaselves was not acceptable. Th~y'~oncluded that any praise directed to them was given only out of sympathy or out of "Christian charity." Often they busied them-selves 'doing too ma~y. things, and their hyper-activit~, ~left~them tir, ed~ and unfulfilled--and sad. Our talents will remain untapped and any use of them apologetic until we discover deep within us ~he uncompromised and joyful love of God. We Vocation: Where Gladness Meets Hunger / 345 ca, nnot discover that love until we seek, with the help of Others, ,to know ourselves honestly. And we cannot hope to know ourselves unless we pray, inviting the Spirit of Truth to abide in us. Henri Nouwen has written: Only in the context of grace can we face our sin; only in the place of healing do we dare show our wounds; on|y with a single-minded attention to Christ can we give up our clinging fears and face our own true nature. As we come to realize that it is not we who ¯ live, but Christ who lives in us, that he is our true self, we can slowly let our compulsions melt a~way and begin to experience the freedom of the children of God.a "Deep.gladness~ comes with the incredible revelation that Christ is our true self and that he calls us from within. Our~deep gladness resides foundationally in kno.wing the truth about our-selves and discovering in that truth the overwhelming love and acceptance of God. The truth frees us from the lies which enslave us and enables us to use our talents Confidently and generously. It causes us to boa~st in the weakness which i~ntensifies ou~r hunger for.God. It teaches us tooffer totally to God what we know to be ourselves. And it liberates .us to see clearly the hungers of the world and to minister to those hungers with a burning gladness. A Hungry World ' I sometimes feel uneasy around the poor, partly because they unwittingly remind me. of my comfortable lifestyle and partly because they challenge me to live a life of true justice. An experience during my seminary~days in-Rome had a profound effect on me in this regard. On the feast of the Epiphany I had gone with a group of seminarians to St. Peter's Basilica for the celebration of the Eucharist at which the pope would be presiding. Halfway through the Mass a friend ~became oill and had tO return tothe seminary;I decided to a.ccompanyohim. Shortly after leaving tl~e basilica we noticed a small, shabbily-dressed woman following us; she appeared to be one of the many poor who live on the streets of Rome, At first we paid little notice, but'~Padually sh6 drewl.up tb within a few feet of us. We assumed that she was going to ask for money, burmuch to our surprise she simply inquired of my friend, ''What's wrong with you?" When he explained that he was not feeling well she took us both by the arm and led us hurriedly to a nearby bar. She ordered two glasses of hot milk into which she stirred several 'teaspoonsful of sugar, and~ three large cream-filled pastries (one for herself). Now we assumed we would be asked to~.~pick up the tab, but tb our total amazement she paid for everything. After admonishing us for not taking better care ofourselves'she told us to eat and drink up.~Then she said she had to be off to Mass because it was a feastday. We never saw her again. That little Italian woman taught"me as much about love as anyone I can remember; she spontaneously and joyfully nourished a hunger I did not know i had: the need to learn to love spontaneously and without conditions. Mother Teresa of Calcutta has written: "In heaven we will all be surprised to find how our poor have helped us to become Christ-like in love and compas- 3~16 / Review f or Religious, May,June, 1985 sion.,4 On that Epiphany l~witiaessed a simple, Christ-like love, and I learned something more about my vocation. ,4 New Vision Self-knowledge is the foundation of the spiritual life; but that is not to say that spirituality is merely a gutsy, prayer-laden introspection whose purpose is to help one feel good about oneself. Prayer itself is suppos~ed to be a two-way street, l seek to know myself that I might possess the life I am giving back to God; I pray that I might know the God to whom I am giving myself; through prayer and self-kngwledge I allow God to open my eyes to the hungers -bf his people~ and hear Jesus' call: "Feed my lambs." The progression, then, is circular: living the Gospel helps one know the liberating truth about God, self and others~ and the.resulting free, dom allows one to learri how t~ live the Gospel more frilly. Nouwen has rightly observed that in ministry one makes visible~vhat is seen in contemplation: "The contemplative life'is a life witha vision, and'~the. life of ministry is a life iri Which this vision is revealed to others."5 Through prayer the eyes and heart of the believer~are gradually transformed into the eyes and heart of the Lord; and having acquired this new vision the beli6ver makes it palpable in life and ministry. Having seen with God's eyes "the hung~e~ of God's people, the Christian senses~a call to'attend those hungers-:-because-iri the faces of the "hungry" is seen the face of Jesus himself. Letting the Lord shap~ our vision or better, 'cure our~blindne~s is a gi~adual process and an important l~art of ~onversion. I'think of the story of the blind man at¯ Bethsaida: , ¯ When they ~irrived at B~thsaida, some people brought him a blind man and I~egged him to touch him. Jesus to6k~the blind man's hanOI and led him outside the .village. Putting spittle in his eyes he laid his hands on him and asked. "Can you see anythingT~The man opened his eyes and said~ ~I can see people but they look like walking trees!" Then a second time Jesus laid hands on his eyes, and he saw peff~ectly; his sight was restored and '~e could see ever3~hing clearly (Mk 8:22-25). Mark .uses this story to illustrate that the disciples~of Jesus only gradually open their eyes~ to ,see ,things as he sees them, just as the blind man 0nly gradually received his sight through repeated contact with Jesus . ,At its heart, conversion means,allowing the Lord to shape our vision through prayer and a~truth-seeking.meditation on his word, and then respond-ing to what we.see. A ~'~ne~w vision" does not mean that things external to us have changed, but that we see things in a new~ and proper light. In ,his poem "Journey of the Magi" T. S. Eliot presents the retrospect of one of the astrol-. ogers who had traveled to Bethlehem to see~the Christ-child; what he had ~een changed and unsettled him: ,~ o, All this fffis a long time ago, I remember, And I would do it again, but set down This set down This: were we led all float way fo'r Vocation: Where ,Gladness ,Meets Hunger /347 "'~irth or Death? There was a Birth, cei~inly, We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death, ' " ¯ . But had thought they were different; this Birth was Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our deatl~.' We returned to" our places, ,these Kingdoms, But no longer at ease here~ in the old dispensatiofi, With an alien people clutching their gods. I should be glad of another death.6 Thevision of Jesus is an unsettling vision, a vision marked by an active ' impatiqnce and a passionat~ dissatisfaction with,r,tbecondition of the worl, d~It is a vision which abhors indifference and is ariimated by hope. It is a vision which can s!ngle out the individual in the nameless~ suffe~ring crowd, and embrace an entire people, having seen one h~urti~g face. It is a vision of compS|ling truth and compassionate l~'e. Our Vocati6n in Jesus It iS precisely~in ~he unsettli.ng ambiguity of a vision which is hopefu~l in the face of hunger that we sense our vocation. Here it is that we hear the Lord telling us to transform our impatience and disSatiSfaction inio active love, as he has done before us. Here we begin to know that it would make us "deeply happy to respond m the name of God to the hunger~ we see. Here we realize that our vocation is, m fact, the vocation of Jesus himself. Ifi the synagogue at Nazareth Jesus revealed his vocation through a passage from the pr.oph~y of Isaiah: The,Spirit of the Lord is upon me; therefore he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring gl~d tidings to th~ poor, to proclaim liberty to ¢hptives, Recovery of sight to the blind ." and release to pnsoners, ~ - ,,. .To announce the year of favor from the Lord (Lk 4:18-19)~, Having been~anointed with the Spirit of Truth, Jesus'finnounced that his vocation was to bring glad tidings to the poor and hungry, freedom to the enslaved, and new vision to the blind. He lived his vocation, and he calls others to do likewise.~. ' '~ Christians discerning their vocaiions must be attentive to the signs of the ¯ times with the sabne.prayerful passion with which'they seek to know themselves. They must be students of culture and current events as well as theology, and they' must strive for a, sense' of compassion which, is world-wide in its scope. God's love ki~ov~s noclass distinctions or' national boundaries. Vocation ministers have a responsibility to challenge those in'formation to understand the prophetic nature of the Gospel, and t~o reject as !nadequate any view of ministry which seeks tl~e salvation of the soul but not of 1he whole person or of society. The attention given to the Church's social teachings today helps candidates for ministry understand the un-evangelized condition of the 348,/ Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 world and the perspective wh!ch is offered to that situation by.the Gospel. Our ~social tradition does not offer specific solutions to every social problem, how-ever, nor should it. Candidates, then, should be given tools to evaluate for themselves what tfiey see around them in light of the Good News. I have learned the most ih life not from people who taught me what they thought, but from people who taught rn'e how to tl~ink. Ministers who have been given tools to think for themselves will be not only more self-confident but ultimately more effective. Like the Beadle Moch~ in Elie Wiesel's Night they will learn tO"pray to the God within me that he will give me the strength to ask him the.right qtiestidns."7 If I value the freedom of truth I will respect the freedom of others." Hunger is not only global and physical, nor is it found only in tenements or on street corners; it is als0 fotihd in the Church. A friend recently.told me that one reason he is considering the priesthoodis because he sees a c.rying n~ed for strengthening communities of faith on the parish level. As a professional.in his early 30s he knows how difficult it is to find support for Gospel values in the marketplace, and his experience of parish life has not always given him or his peers the community support and insight needed for applying the Gospel to everyday life. As he strives to be a better Christian he is often struck by the success of other Christian denominations in formihg communiiies of ~uppon and e~an-gelization. He sees the pri.est ~s a ledder of the faith cbmmunity and recognizes his own talent foi" leading, communicating and creating community. He is asking whether for him priesthood might be the place wherehis gladness and a real hunger meet. The hungers of the world are as many and varied as our gifts. The specificity of one's vocation will emerge as self-understanding and self-love grow into an appreciation of what one has to offer God's people. Truth will meet truth in prayer when self-knowledge comes face-to-face with a cldar, unsettling, inviting vision of the hungers of the world. And that truth will be enlightened by the confident hope won for us in the paschal,mission of Jesus. "What Is Needed Is Trust" Another fruit of prayer and the Christian life is trust. Trust enables us to remember God's deeds on our behalf and gives us confidence that he will care for us now as he has in the past. It enables us to take steps which otherwise we ~would be terrified to take---especially when a vocational~choice confronts us. Answering God's call.means choosing to love in whatever way.love is needed-- it does not mean choosing a new job; and trust in God is needed in order to say "yes" to such an unclea r future. In one of Mike's recent letters he was reflecting on our ministries, his in a mission in Zimbabwe and mine in vocations and personnel work in Memphis. He wrote: Both of us planning and preparing to be parish priests now end up in ministries we each would never have dreamed of and would have run full tilt from if we'd gotten wind of it~ Vocation:~ tVhere Gladness Meets Hunger / 349 before ordination. Maybe that's why Jesus said "Today has enough troubles of its own"---what is left out in that verse is ~lf you knew the troubles of tomorrow you'd be scared to death." Funny they 'don't print t, hat stuff in the Bible. Must They Look for Another? Captive in Herod's prison John the Baptist sends his disciples to Jesus to ask him a question which both scandalizes and indicts us: "Are you 'He who is to come' or do we look for another?" (Mt 11:3). Jesus responds by pointing out the x;ocation he is fulfilling: Go back and report to John what you hear and see: the blind recover their sight, cripples walk, lepers are cured, the deaf hear, dead men are raised to life, and the poor have the good news preached to them (Mt I 1:4-5). The Baptist's question is asked today in countless languages and is born of countless hungers. Jesus responded in his day by, telling John to see in his ministry the fulfillment of Isaiah's prophecy. In our day we can hear our vocation in the question. The Spirit of Truth °helps us discover our deep gladness in sharing the victory of Jesus with God's hungry.world as only each of us can do. NOTES I Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A TheOlogical ABC (New York:. Harper &' Row. Pub-lishers, 1973), p. 95. ~Ernest E. lmrkin~ O. Carm., Silent Presence: Discernment as Process and Problem (Denville, New Jersey: Dimension Books Inc., 1981), p, 13. ~Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Way of the Heart (New York: The Seabury Press, 1981), p. 30. 4Mother Teresa in a letter to a group sponsonng a~ fund-raising activity on behalf of her ministry. ~Henri J.M. Nouwen, Clowning in Rome (Garder~ City, New York: Image Books, 1979), p. 88. 0T. S.'Eliot, "Journey of the Magi." in T. S. Eliot~."~ Se'lected Poems (Near York: Harcourt~ Brace &" World, Inc., 1964), pp. 98. 7Elie Wiesel, Night (New York: Bantam Books, oi982), p. 3. Mary:= Our Encouragement in Christ Donald Macdonald,= S:M.M. FAther Macdonald'is~vdil kno~,n to our readers. His=How It Strikes a ContemlJomry" appeared. in the January/February issu~ of ifiis yeai. He may .be addressed at St. Joseph's;,Wellington Road; Todmorden, Lanc,; OLI4 5HP; England. ,, Whatever the origin of the phrase "When the disciple is ready the teacher will appear," it seems to be universally valid. If ! am not using the bread and butter which is immediately at hand, I need not expect nourishment from richer more ex~)tic food to be found elsewhere. It will prove indigestible to a starved or weakened system. Equally, having used whatever is available I am perhaps ready for more_substantial fare. Saint Paul ~aid as much centuries ago: "l fed you with milk not solid food; for you were not ready for it; and even yet you are not ready" (1 Co 3:2). The variety of retreats, seminars, courses on offer to-religious today worldwide can illustrate this. Some go to them looking for what they cannot properly give. Not all take as mui:h as they had hoped back to their everyday lives. By the~ same token it is not unfair t'o say that not all of those offering guidance on these courses are qualified to do ~so. Academically they may be ¯ competent and their teaching technique'acceptable, but, presumably, what the Christian enquirer is looking for is more than a combination:of these two skills. One need scarcely go to a Christian institute for that. This is in no way to denigrate the academic, but to suggest that it may not be enough to throw light on the meaning of Christian existence. To restrict the guidance to that level may be to largely miss the point. With so many voices competing for the religious' time and attention how is one to choose? How best use what may be on offer? In the light of the opening sentence it might be practical to heed its-implicit warning. Rather than first scan the brochures and programs with a view to finding light and encourage-ment elsewhere, why not ask oneself.how one is using the resources of one's 350 Mary: Oub Encouragement in Christ own neighborhood? Supposing I choose to go on a course in a twelvemonth from.now, how can I be sure that I am today making best use of what my ordinary environ-ment offers? This would be a.genuinely worthwhile preparation for wheat is. to come. We are open to so very many influences, from the prophets and evange-lists to the anonymous advertiser and third-rate magazine. What other people think can be a dominant influence, none the less powerful for being much of the timeun.~recognized. Is there, therefore, a Christian influence for good in my local area that I-have not tapped and, maybe, ignored? Undoubtedly; there may be several, but I wish to suggest that, unfortunately, perhaps Our Lady may be such for some of us. This is regrettable as "Mary. is. clearly a teacher of the spiritual life for individual Christians."~ A Guide Must See For anyone to,offer guidance presumablyone ~nust see ~A light speaks i'or itself. Arguably one reason for the lack of vocation and commitment among some re!igious is that they, do not see. "As our Congregation is now I,would not encourage anyone to join," is a remark widely heard: A sister at-a gathering of religious,was struck by the sad, tired, almost featureless faces of so many. She thought,of~her.mother and sister who had,lived particularly hard lives, yet seemed,,younger and more alive than her.religious sisters about her.Within such a context~it is unrealistic to call people to follow when self-evidently they do not see the way: "If the tru~mpet gives an.uncertain note, who will get ready for battle?" (1 Co 14:8). ~ There is a degree of insecurity in all of us. The~best of us has but partial vision, "for we walk by faith not by sight~ (2 Co. 5:7). It is all the more encouraging therefore to live in the company of a woman who has known the ¯ fearful insecurity that day-to-da~ life can present, and within that situation,has seen God. "Blessed are the pure of heart ,for they shall see God", (Mt .5:8). Our Lady, immaculate from the moment .of her conception has, therefore, never been coarsened by sin, and has been given in full measure the blessing of seeing God. Her heart was a sheer capacity to receive whatever God would give her: "Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you., for he who is mighty.has done great things for me" (Lk 1:28, 49). She is thus alert and alive to God ~eyond anything we can understand. So full of the Holy Spirit, that the Word of God once taken root in her heart became enflesl~ed in her body, so that "the child to be born will be called holy, the Son ofGo'd" (Lk 1:35). No creature has ever assimilated the Word of God so complete!y "a.s the Holy Mother of God and the worthy Associate of the Redeemer."2 In other words, "God who had special!y, chos~n~me ~vhil~ still in my m~ther's v~omb, called, me through his ~race hnd chose to reveal hi~'Son in me" (Ga 1:15). If those words ar,,6 true of aul whht d~ they say of Mary? Her entire person is "clothed i~God'i ~hb, i,n her case especially, has taken every thought . . . prisoner, captured to be brought into obedience to Christ" (2 Co 10:5). So, at one with the will of God 352/ Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 that she is instrumental, in the providence of God, in bringing into~the world a .neck creation in her Son: "For anyone who is in Christ ther~ is a new creation; the old creation has gone, and now the new one is here. It is all God's work" (2 C,o 5:17). She is'the mother of God, a new creation in Christ. Following the biblical tradition, one so pure must see so Clearly. It is God's Spirit who enlightens."The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will Overshadow you" (Lk 1:35), says it all, Her eyesight she shares with most of us. Her insight isa giftfrom God. The unutterable, andin her case, unfettered holiness of God is so present to her, "that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit Within you which you' .have from God. You are not your bwn" (1 Co 6:19). So the Spirit generates the capacity~to See God every-where in a sacramental world, from the joyful expectation of the ~birth-of her Son, to standing crucified with him on Calvary. To see is, therefore, not necessarily to understand, butto b-eliex~e whole-heartedly arid commit oneself totally to God present in every circumstance, so "that I might live to God, I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I wh6 live;~but Christ Who lives in me; and the life Inow live in the flesh I lix~e by ;faith in the Son of God who lo~ed me and gave himself for me" (Ga 2:19-20). Once true of St. Paul, how much more of Our Lady? Her humanity really earths her among us ~s her faith, and so her insight, finds her blessed among us all. She believed, entrusted God with the gift of herself--"Lo me, God's hand: mayd~'---in the lovelywords of Julian of Norwich's translation which seem to express the. courage in vulnerability of every young person with life before them.3 The result is a person wholly "dead to sin and alive,to God in Christ Jesus" (Rm 6:11~). As such, she will leave an enduring mark on the human race, representing light for so~ many as over the centuries "deVotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary is an indication of the 'Church's genuine piety., because it takes its,origin and effectiveness from Christ~ finds its complete e~pression in Christ, and leads'through Christ in the Spirit to the Father.TM Much of this is beautifully focused in Psalm 131. She,might have sat for the portrait,~ ~ O Lord'my heart is not proud nor haughty my eyes. ~ I have not gone after things too great ',n,or marvels beyond me.~ Truly I have set my soul in silence and peace. As a child has rest in its mother's arms, :even so is my soul. " This is the mind of one ~ho sees. Thei~e is no~ a :superfluo~s .word. Eve'ry-thin~ per~pheraihas been stripped away leaving a faith which is'real without b~i~ig"~m~talli~:. MuCh (hat th~ world might ~c~ffei" has been seen and seen through. There is no ~uggestion' bf fear of life, ri~the~ its 'acceptance. :~'Hae 'po~t fiyes life,, takes his stahc~ ~th~n it, not escaping from it. Silence and peace are both powerful and positive possessions'~sugg~ting Mary: Our Encouragement in Christ'/ ~great assurance--in the poet's cage, in God'. His faith is such that it best expresses itself in the child asleep in his mother's arms, the symbol offserenity and trust~ We will never know the price thepsalmist paid for such faith, but the image he presents unmistakably reflects the genuine article. This is why it can speak to us of Our Lady. It is the single gaze of one who looks oh life,from within the vantage point of faith in God, in h~er case, "because God by calling you has joined you to his Son Jestis Christ; and God is faithful" (1 Cb 1:9). Here is the"un~hanging core of changing circumstances: The, religirus looking for a guide to Christian living could' gain much if willing to open themselves to such~agaze "an immense reservoir of silence and pe~ice tested b~y life. The Blessed Virgin Mary offers a calm vision and a reassuring word to modern man."5 This comes from the heart of existence, as Christian reality would have us see that "you are the body of Christ and individually, members 6f it. If bne member suffers, all suffer togethei'; if one member is honored all rejoice together" (1 Co 12:26-27). Remarkably; both Our Lady and the individual religious are "neither male nor,female; for you all one in Christ Jesus" (Ga 4:28). Whatever concerns one concerns the other, and prirticularly in Our Lady's case, the law of the body is lived to "owe no one anything except to love one another" (Rm 13:8). This governs the interchange between them, taki.ng nothing away from ~her preeminent place in the com-munion of saints."6 It isall of a unity as in a living body, yet neither loses their identity. The medium of exchange is knowledge and love heightened in grace, and nothing in human experience is more personal than that. - So the image of mother ~nd child, powerful in any culture, represents a genuine Christian reality. It needs only to be seen to be understood:~ ~and going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother" (Mt 2:11). :~.'. "But standihg by the cross of Jesus [was] his mother" (Jn 19:25), one in flesh and spirit with her Son"at so many levels. ,, "In the Virgin Mary everything is relative to Christ and dependent upon him. 7 That same stance in Christ sh~ takes with us today--however life treats us: The compassionate mother, "so oned in love" ~'ith us in her Son, not least in our suffering and insecm'ity, can bring a depth' of realism to~ the present moment which can transform it in faith.8 Hilaire Belloc superbly expresses what many have seen when, incensed ata Protestant bishol5 ordering the removal from a church of a statue of "a female figure with a child," he felt impelled to respond: Prince Jes~s in mine agony Permit me, broken and defiled Through blurredand glazing eyes to see A female figure with a child. "Ballade of Illegal Ornaments" This is, of course, the prayer of one who sees one of the most comforting realities of the Catholic faith. The vision is from within the everyday Christian community. Belloc's singular poetic gift may express it, but it stems from his common Christian faith. Reality really is like that. There is a realism, purity, ~.354 /Rg.viewfor Religious, May-June, 1985 warmth and concern in the engagingyulnerability and strength of mother and cliild that can clarify the Christian °vision. H,~ere the religious ~n stay today, making grateful, explicit acknowledgme_nt in wooder, that "now the life you have is~hidden with Christ in God. ~.,.~ he is your life" (Col 3:3).,.It is a pr,esent reality not a future hope, seen solely by faith. It is su~,ely no footnote but must follow~ logically, that God having created suc.h a delightful person must-want her known and loved. Clea.rly she means everything to her Son, and whatever the human .race aspires to as all generations call her blessed,.it comes a poor sec0nd~ to how God has loved her in.~Christ. "He wills it to be known ,that all whodeligh(in him should delight in her too, with the same pleasure he has in her and she in him."9 In this instance the medieval~mys.tic only~articulates what the authentic Catholic voice has always known. ¯ G'~do."loved tier for his own sake andhe loved her for our sake too: he gave h~r to himself and he gave her also to us."~0 The disciple was only the first of many who having heard the.crucified Christ say "Behold your mother," from that instant takes her into his own home (see Jn 19:27). For so many she "can walk into the.heart without knocking," as Chesterton said of Doctor Johnson. A Guide Knows The Path An additio.nal, reason for deepening our awareness of the presence of Our Lady is that. because of her calm, God-centered gaze she can help us put together the pieces of a sometimes fragmented life. Part of the ~reason for atte_ndin.g courses and seminars is the hope of learning how to cope with the puzzling present. She, is an ,integral, if ancillary, part of "God in Christ. " reconciling the world, to himself"(2 Co 5:19). She can thus help us see Christ~, ~as~from his conceptiowto ascension and subsequently,,she is intrinsically part of his life, not some external charitable "meals on wheels'? servic~e. Some seem to,see M~ry as a distraction, almost a maverick, drawing attention away from what God has done for us in Christ. So, for example, a London based journalist once wrote of the visit of Pope Paul VI to Fatima,that this wasa clear sign that he should resign. By going there the pope showed that he was obviously afraid of, the contemporary.world and for the Church's place in it, and so he visited ,Fatima as a man might regress to childhood when the adult world becomes all but unbearable. , One did wonder at this opinion when newspapers carried reports oLa million or so people at Fatima at the same time as the Holy Father. One should, of course, be careful of countingheads, but it might ~have given the journalist pause, pontificating from a typewriter in London, exercising power without the responsibility which burdened the pope, to consider whether at least some of those pe0ple~saw something which he did not? "Devotion to the ~Mother of the Lord becomes for the,faithful an opportunity for~growing in divine~grace, and this is the ultimate aim of all pastoral activity."~ Another ,journalist, writing of the present pope's evident ttevotion of, Our Mary: Our Encouragement in Christ / .355 Lady, sees it as something specifically of the man, and not for the' ChUrch. It stems, the journalist"believes, from losing a sick mother when he was nine, -having no sisters, and the on the whole harmful influence of Saint ~Louis-Marie de Montfort'steaching, as well as the particular history of Poland/,Although Pope~ John Paul is a twentieth-century figure, because of~his backgroimd, and not"least the tragic history of Poland leaving such an individual ma'~k on his devotion to Our Lady, "the rest of us can only look on admiringly and wonderingly.''~2 Again, should one be surprised at the journalist writing~so confidently and patronizingly for "the rest of us," speaking presumably for the Christian Catholic world? It is just possible that the pope; too, carl assess the psychological, theological and national influences on himself at least as well as~ the journalist, and has come to a different conclusio~i. One might also consider that whatever influences produced such a twe~ntieth-century Christian man, might be welcomed in a cofitemporary Church suffering i~large part from loss of nerve. Journhlisti~ opinion,is legitimately free. It is un]'air to the'writbr and unwise of the reader to read it as Gospel. o One recalls thejou~rnalist G. K. Chesterton writing of Mary and thdconvert. He came across a rather garish image' of Our Lady in Italy when he wa~ hot yet ¯ a Catholic. "I never doubted that thig was the figure of the ~Faith; that she embodied as a complete human bein~ still only human all that this Thing had to say to humanity. The instant I remembered the Catholic Church I remem-bered her; when I tried to forget the Catholic Church I tried to forget her; when I finally saw what was nobler than m~y fate;the freest and liArdest~of all my'actsbf freedom, it was in front o'f a gilded and very gaudy little imhge of her in'the port of Brindisi that I promised the thing thht 1-would do if I returndd tO my own land."~3 Chesterton delighted ifi the title'0f Catholic and journalist, and Our Lady did:not ~'ragment the faith ,for him. Of course one might research Chesterton's pdsgibly romanticiz6it picture of~ English history, ~is attachmi.~nt to Geoffrey Chaucer, his domestic circumstan-c~ si andso construct an explanation of why.he believed as he did. But ~iould that tell the whole story? OneO~an build'virtually anything on ass~mptidn and inference. The subjective is in the eye of thebeholdei'-.-and assess'0r, tbo ~' wh6 ventures what is at l~e~t an0educated guess. Meanwhild' life ig to be li~ed~= ~2hesterton could never have kept his feet and 'his humor in'his contemporary~ wdrld ona diet of rom~intici~srri, no more than Woiild ~the present pope who tias been brought up in a particularly hard ~cho01. Such men-know'what :the~ believe. Life has tested it. In every individual Christian experience, surely space has to be allowed for" the'presence of the Holy Spirit. This0is~the one Constant factor in everyorfe's life which can never be properlyasgessed. The column may add up to Our satisfac-tion, but in any account of the individhal Christian life the ~fnswer can only be provisional',~a~ so aiuch" can never be known, "for the Spirit reaches, the'depths of everything,~even the depths of G6d . 'Now instead of the spirit of the world we have received the Spirit that comes from God; to teach us to under, 356 /"Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 stand the gifts that he has giyen us" (1 Co 2:!0, 12). The Spirit gives light enabling us to see. If those words are true of the ordinary Christian and Corinth seemed encouragingly full of such pe0ple.---what do they say of Mary? . They speak .volumes for ourselves. They deserve~ time for wonder, reflection and assimilation. Consider a woman who never at any instant put self-will in the way of t6e Spirit's enlightening, energizing presence? As ever, the best that can be sai~ of the Christian is preeminently true of her, as ~'God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us"- (Rm 5:5). Here lies the key to Our Lady as a guide to the Christian, helping to find a ,w9y among so many conflicting paths. Many, enlightened by that same Spirit, "above all . . . had recourse to the Virgin,s intercession in order, to obtain from the Spirit the capacity for engendering Christ in their own souls,"~4 She is~ seen radiating the glory of God. There is no suggestion of the esoteric or the Gnostic. Mother and child imply responsibility. Their needs are .imme-diate and practical. The religious, enlightened by the Spirit to respond to such a God-given presence, will be none the worse f6r the cold douche of realism such company brings. God,is always, in th~ situation but never at our beck and call. Mother and Son have walked every step of the road on earth, "obedient unto death, even death on a cross" (Ph 2:8). Familiarity in their case breeds affection and compassion enc.ouraging us to integrate life in faith. A Guide Leads Home Finally, besides helping the religious to see an~l integrate life in God, Our Lady can also reflect the radiance of God's glory. As with the earlier word "delight, fu!," "radiant" is not immediately associated with faith. This isin part because., while the transcendent is real, it is continua~ lly neglected though never in Our Lady's c.omEany. Her personal experience of God left an unfor-gettable imprint upon her. "For:it is the God whq said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' w.ho has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge.of the glory of God inlthe face of Christ" (2 Co 4:6). ff the impa, ct of God in Christ ¯ on Pau~l can~, only be compared to the creation of light, what do those words say "of the Blessed Virgin's free consent and cooperation in the plan. of redemption .w)5 Realityis Christ-centered. Everyone and everything is illumined by his light enab~ling us to see what God islike (glory). The present.moment is then transformed. We need such light to see what,is really ~there, to begin to gfimpse Christian existence. OutLady's .strong, selfless, evocative presence can only help, "for it is not ourselves that we are preaching, but Christ Jesus as the Lor.d, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake" (2 Co 4:5). The words are Paul:s_but the sentiments Mary's too. There is the perspective in which she lives one person in Christ with ourselves. The contemporary religious does not have, a.surfeit of authentic Christian support t9 afford to neglect such a person. And this, let it~be empfiasized, is to be-found in the heart of the Church now, quite literally for the taking. When Paul then goes on to marvelously outline what should be basic Christian experience if only we ~.w,~.h_e speaks Mary: Our Encouragement in Christ / 357 above all for Our Lady, as indeed he speaks for us: "And we with .our'unveiled faces reflecting like mirrors the brightness of the Lord, all grow brighter and brighter as we are turned into the image that we reflect; this is the work of the Lord who is Spirit" (2 Co 3:18). Here is genuine Christian visior~, tl~'e'meaning of religious life. The glory of God in Christ transfigures us progrdssively insofar as we ar~ open to the love of God in the present moment~ Life is God giving himself to us in Christ in every circumstance not excluding death. 'Living in faith in Such a world we become like what we see. "Now we are seeing a dim reflection in a mirror; but then we shall be seeing face to face. The knowledge that I have now is imperfect; but then I shall know as fully as I am known" (1 Co 13:12). That knowledge and vision Our Lady now enjoys t~afisfigured in God. The religious might wish that of the many influences on him~known or unknown, the light of God in such a person might not be the least, "for it is impossible to honor her who i~ 'full of grace' (Lk 1:28) without thereby hofior-ing in oneself the state of grace, which is friendship with God, communion with him and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. It is this divine grace ~vhich takes possession of.the whole man and conforms him to the image of~ the Son of God. (Rm 8:29; Col 1:18)."~6 ~ Living like this implies that contemplation is basic. "Contemplative" does not mean arcane, esoteric, unreal. It is the attempt to live in the present, aware of what~is there; alive to God in Christ now, rather than pining for.a past memory or future hope. Wherever we are God is. The conteml61ative sees the connection. Categories of timd, place, occupation, structure, people, no longer 'shackle as the moment is transfigured in Christ. To the outsider with no faith, it may seem to be attempting to rationalize a welter of characters and evefits into a rather complex artificial plan, rather like the coach planning tactics before a game. But given faith working through love (see Ga 5~6), the Christian finds it progressively simple, though not easy, rather like the player moving almost by reflex once tlie game begins. The time for discussion,is over. Nowis the time for action. To be effective.the need is for interior silence,~stillness and assimila-tion or how else can ond r~cognize what is happening? If there'is,no center only'the peripheral can register. The world of Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven might be accessible inthe room in which this is being read, but unless the radio is turned on, and turned to the correct wavelength, it will n~ver be heard.To be unaware of such a world is a pity. To be conscious of it, yet unwilling or unable to switch-it on is real impoverishment. Religious life today may be a Chastening experience, though none the worse for that, perhaps humiliating us~ as we~at last see that nowo~'my one hope and trust is that I shall never have to admit defeat, but that .now as always I shall have the courage for Christ to be glorified in my body whether by my life or by my death. Life to me of coursb is Christ" (Ph 1:20-21). We need~help. We have help if only we see what i~ there. Looking elsewhere for guidance in seminars, retreats and courses is sensible and worthwhile, all things being equal, but, as 1 have tried to suggest, perhaps &~$ / Rey~w for Religious, May, June, 1985 secondary. Even the qssential restructuringof religious~ life may do more for the .system than for the individual~if it leaves me untouched (see, Perfectae Carita-t/ s, n. 4).~A rebuilt community reflecting subsidiarity, psychological well-being .and~pr.acti~! relevance may not be ,enough for meaning eyen if it is for occupatign.~ The danger lies in taking my identity from what I am doing or ot.ber people's estimate of what I am doing. As has been seen so.often these past twenty ye~.rs or s0, once circumstances c~hange, so, too,, can the religious, who~:~nhappily, fiod themselves virtually naked, alone and afraid as the struc-ture which gave th~em stability changes yet again. Their identity came essentially from 0u~ide of th~emselves. What does one do? Build another structure? -.Yes, in part, but as an imperfect person in an imperfect world I cannot expect too much from that. The new model is using the same all too familiar building material. Much better, surely,~to~shouldo'~.more personal responsibility as did Our Lady, who, "in her own,,Particular life, she fully and responsibly accepted the will of God (see Lk 1:38). the first and the most perfect of Christ's disciples."~7 As i cannot realistically legi.slate for anyone else, what room for maneuver, do I have myself?. The scope is immense. ~. . A contemplative reading of the Gospel might suggest that the worid is harsher than,ever we believed possible. Our Lord, we recall, was_crucified with his mother ~s~nding beside him. That is horrific and all too recognizable today. The patterh '.is plainly set out in the Gospel, "for we were so utterly and un~bearably crushed that we despaired of life its'elf., but that was.to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead; he delivered us. '~ and he .will deliver us; on him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again" (2 Co 1:8-10). Note the tenses of those verbs! There speaks authentic Christian experience up to and including the present day. Perhaps I have to make-that experience mine as did Our Lady, St. Paul and countless others? It is a recurring cycle and can ferrify the individual"botl~ in fact and in anticipation. The natural tendency is to run away to another job, anotheg~course, another structure, another place, another explanation. While very understandable, the Gospel does not suggest that salvation is found in that. If there~is any validity in what has been written here, why not look within ones~elf? Since I am christened, perhaps there is more going for me than-I have yet known? God is in every sit .uation everywhere. God is to be glimpsed in.Our Lady~ Saint Paul, the sisters who taught me catechism as a child, and in so many mo~. True, God needs none of these to reach me, no more~than he need use Church or sacrament. But I do need guidance, encouragement and vision. .I need_ .light. Inevitably this means that I need people: ~for .I longto see you . twant to be among you to receive encouragement myself through the influence of'your faith on me as of mine on you" (Rm4:l 1-12). ~ .Left to myself, with my scaled-down model of God made largelY, in my own image, my religious life might be spent with the small changeor petty cash of experience. What a pitiful waste! Whereas with the strong, challenging, Mary:. Our Encouragement 'in Christ understanding presence of Our Lady at the heart of the ~hurch as reflected in the Gospel, I migh[ (will?) find in her_~omp~ny a light which ha§.brought so many to her Son in the centuries of the Church. One in Christ through baptism, even if only partially glimpsed, will show that she is no more of a static fixture in a stained glass window than I am myself. It is not' the juxtaiaosition of immobile figures in a quasi,infinite hierarchy. There is no need to attempt some uneasy collage. That is for a museum not the Church. "Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?. So that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life?" (Rm 6:3-4). "All of us" are alive in Christ! Our Lady, so graced by God as to be supremely one in him, is therefore especially alive and active. The clo~er one is to Christ the more one is alive and active. She compels no one. She is simply there. As to the cautionary opening sentence of this article--the Christ!an disciple by reason of need alone ought always to be ready for help. Sub tuum praesidium is a very ancient prayer. NOTES ~Marialis Cultus, C.T.S., London: 1974, n. 21. ~ 21bid, n. 15. ~Julian of Norwich, A~Re'velation of Love, ed. M.rGlasscoe, Exeter: 1976, eh. 4. ¯ 4Marialis Cultus, Introduction, pp. 8-9, .'~ .5lbid, n. 57. 61bid, n 28. " 71bid, n. 25. o s Julian of Norwich, op. cit., ch. 18. 9Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love, e~l. C. ~/oltors, London: 1973, ch.~25. ' iOMari~lis Cultus, n. 56 " ~ ' °. " ~qbid, n. 571 ,2p. Hebblethwaite, "The Mariolo~y of Three P0pes,t' Way Supplement, No. 51, October, '1~984, p. 68. " ~3G. K. Chesterton, The Well, and the.Swallows, London: 1906, p. 176. ~ ,, ~ ~Marialis Cultus, n. 26. ~5lbid~ n. 6.~ : ~Ibid, n. 57. ~Ibid, n. 35. Information to.,Transformation: An Integrated Spirituality for theoReligion Tea cher J. J. Mueller, S.J. Father Mueller came to St. Louis University's Department of Theological Studies in the summer of 1994 from Gonzaga University (Portland) where he had been teaching theology. He may be addressed at St. Louis University; 3634 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108. Most articles begin in predictable ways: a statement of purpose, a thesis, a definition, or perhaps a description of the topic ~at hand. This one will be different, not to be different but to shake the cobwebs from what we have become familiar with. Let's begin with a flight of the imagination. Imagine yourself as a visitor from another planet on ~mission to investigate th~ educational habits of earthpeopl~. You have visited the North American continent because it has beautiful blue oceans bordering it which doi~ exist on your pl~anet, and as long as you have to make a long trip in the galaxy you might as well choose a beautiful setting. While fact-finding, you discover that there are two educational systems. You have visited the public school system and now it is time to visit the private system, particularly the Catholic schools. You are beamed down.to from your spaceship to the school (where 5;ou' are piesently teaching). Looking at your school, you as the other-world visitor discover a teacher who does not exist in the other system: the teacher of religion. Your curiosity is piqued. You conclude that by occupation these teachers of religion serve a unique educational role and distinguish the character of Catholic education. Perhaps they have special power in the society? No, it seems that the occupation of a teacher of religion is a powerless job; that more than 99% of the population does not seek the job but wants others to accept the job. Perhaps a teacher of religion cams more money, then, because the job is so selective? No again. 36O o ~ Information to Transformation Religion teachers earn less than most people and even less than fellow teachers. ~Well, perhaps a teacher of religion is a terrible service jobthat no one wants but ."someone has to do it?" Wrong again. The schools themselves state that the reason they are a rival education~il-system is precisely to educate students with rrespect to religion. As a'~isitor from another planet, you are becoming frustrated trying to analyze exactly what the teacher of religion is. Underpaid, overworked, and not receiving the i~ppreciation he deserves, a teacher of religion does not resemble any other occupation. Perhaps, then, a teacher of religion is a kind of spiritml person unique to .this society? No again. Religion teachers seem to be no better or worse thhn anyone else. They don~tbecome presidents or even principals,' let alone bishops or saints. There may not even be a patron saint for religion teachers. Then perhaps religion teachers are like grandparents who keep tradition alive and transmit wise moral norms? Wrong again. Reli-gion teachers are often considered iconoclasts, reactionaries, andparents can be heard to utter the judgment: "They donX teach the doctrine that I learned at school." With the spaceship ready io leave, you have to make the final report. Y6u write, "Religion teache~:s are the most unique teachers inall the earthly world. They function as teachi~rs but are more like spiritual leaders. It ~secms that humans aren't chosen for this role but, instead, a few offer to commit themselves to this role thereby becoming public symbols of what life is all about. By occupation, they seem to represent what is distinctive of Catholic education. They carry the traditions of the earth and at the same time create the possibil-ity of a better future. Perhaps they could be summed up as those in education who work at informing students about the'transforming quality of human life. With this report, the visitor returns to a planetofar, far away. My flight of the imagination has less to do with an exercise of the imagina-tion than a new congtruct by which to appreciate the unique role of the teacher. of religion in our world. Our alien's report that "humans aren't chosen for this role but, instead a few offer to commit themselves to this role"expresses what I think is the essential element in religion teaching and the topic that I wish to address. The teacher of religion is one who commits him or her self to the occupation of transforming others. As a commitment, the occupation most resembles a vocation, i.e., a "calling." We use the word~ vocation in education--for example as in vocational training--to signify occupations. I mean "vocation" both in that sense--a person has, an occupation or job as a teacher, andin the sense of a spiritual charge--a person responds to a faith community to discharge faith responsibil-ities of that community. The teacher of religion then lives the dual role of teacher and minister. it seems to me that some reflection should be done on the integration"of these two responsibilities in light of the commitment. In theological talk we are speaking about'spirituality. Spirituality means the behavioral.living out of. 362 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1985 Christian faith through particular religious convictions and commitments. Although many possible spiritualities exist and more wiil occur, I believe that the teaching of religion makes a consistent claim for an integrated spirituality that brings together the various respon.sibilities, or obligations, ~of a church, school, family, and individual wherein life is interpreted. At the same time the responsibility proceeds in the same manner: from information to transforma-tion. In sum, an integrated spirituality unifies the pr~ocedural dynamic_ within the various communities 'of interpretation. Rather than speak about how to teach religio.n, this presentation focuses upon.the religion~teacher. The concern is not the pedagogy in.the classroom, i.e., how to present material, but how. to live both inside and outside the classroom influenced by the commitment to teaching religion .within a faith community.~The model of spirituality that I offer comes from the model of student-te~acher relatignship of Jesus and hisofollowers: what we call disciple-ship. Discipleship as Jesus defined it in action is.unlike any other. ~The relation-ship between Jesus and his disciples reflects the relation of Jesus to God. Discipleship to~day continues to take as its model the relationship of Jesus to God and the disciples' relation to¯ Jesus. The relationship of Jesus to the F~ather, and the disciples to Jesus has three stages: God calls a person in a given situation, one hears in a situation, and then that person is sent out or what is called missioned. Part I: God Call~ Us ° The first important factor is that the teacher of religion is a Christian who believes. Never is a religion teacher considered a mere communicator of knowledge. The teacher is expected to be living alife of faith. Very~ simply, to live a life of.faith implies an ongoing commitment to the self-communication of~ God. For the Christian, the interpretation of belief resides in Jesus Christ and the power of his life that flows out actively in our own day through the Holy Spirit. The believer then becomes a disciple in the twentieth century in continuity with Jesus' life,.death and resurrection. To be a disciple, according to the synoptic Gospels, implies "to pick up one's cross and follow me." What, is the nature of this cross for disciples? In mode~rn language we~might describe it as the "cross of reality".where God calls us in our situation today. If you will imagine~ ~a cross like Jesus died on. with horizontal and vertical lines, then the disciple, like Jesus. embraces the extremes of each crossbar with most of the body centered in the middle. The four dimensions of the cross of reality are: backward, forward,, inward and outward. These are the four extremes that comprise our situation to hear God and respond accordingly. Backward Backward : means the past. It implies two thousan~l years of Christian tradition inserted into a longer historical tradition wherein .I find myself today. Information to Transformation / 363 I am.born into the :middle of a' story that is unfolding, Hence the weightof that tradition rests upon me. I am an individual believer within that tradition and I possess a communal identity. The teacher of religion is not free to discard this tradition and the identity which, flows forth: whether Scrii~ture, the doctrinal history of the Church, or the history of the Church herself. Because we are constantly being re-created in~ continuity with our past, we .Christians have long memories that speak of .God's continued interaction with us: If ], am. to respond as a disciple today, I :cannot betray.my past. Forward Forward means the future: It implies .that Christians do not stan~d still like settlers but move ever outward like pioneers. As pilgrims "on the way" who journey through life with feet solidly set upon the earth, we seek thekingdom~ of God where love reigns and,empowers everything. Hence~ Christians are-people of hope who depend upon the re-creative actipn of the Holy Spirit to make all things new. The teacher of religion proclaims this forward transfor-mation of life in love as .the purpose of all that we do . ~ Inward . ,~, , ~ ~ -~,~Inward means the individual.° It implies that God has given me_~lJrimary-responsibility over my own self. I make the decision either to center everything in,my life in God or not. My physical environment'which is called a body, my~ psychological and emotional life;and myspirit comprise my inwarddimension. These o.too are influenced~ by-other .factors such as family, chemicals, ~disease, temper~ament and love. Hence, beinga Ch.ristian implies being totally in.touch with the various dimensions of.what constitutes me as a human beingin order to hand everything of my self over to the Lord.The teacher of religion is a believer who continually works on this inward dimension of handing his or her very self totally over to the Lord. - Outward ~ ,~ Outward means other people. It implies all the social relationships which comprise human life. No one is an island and Christian belief never stops with the,individual. It is thoroughly corporate, first in those who believe called church°and secondly in the connect

Issue 47.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1988. ; R~vw.w ~:oR R~L~C~ff)us (ISSN 0034-639X). published every two months, is ediled in collaboration with lhe facuhy members of the Dcpartmcnl of Theological Studies of St. U)uis University. The edito-rial offices are located a~ Room 428:3601 Lindcll Blvd.: St. [~uis, Me. 63108-3393. R~v~w R~a.ffm~us is owned by the Missouri Province Educalional lnslilule of the Sociely of Jesus, St. [~uis, Me. 01988 by R~v~w FO~ R~JG~OUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year: $22.00 for two years. Other countries: add $5.00 per year (surface mail); airmail (Book Rale): $20.00 per year. For subsc~iptioh orders ur change uf address, write: REVIEW ~'o~ RELIt;IOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors JanuarylFebruary, 1988 Volume 47 Number I Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor shuuld be sent to R~:wt:w FOa R~:L[t:mus; Ruom 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence abuut the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be urde'red frum Rt:\'~t:w voa Rt:L~t;n~us; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. A major pnrtion of each issue is also available on cassette recurdings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New Yurk, NY 10010. Review for Religious Volume 47, 1988 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Septem-ber, and November on the twentieth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Mi-crofilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48 ! 06. Copyright© 1988 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. A major portion of each issue of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is also regu-larly available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually im-paired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. The Consecrated Lives of Apostolic Religious Today Mary Linscott, S.N.D. Sister Mary is on the staff of the Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes (CRIS), specializing in the area of constitutions and general chapters. Her previous contri-bution to these pages was "The Service of Religious Authority: Reflections on Gov-ernment in the Revision of Constitutions." Sister Mary resides at her motherhouse, Suore di Nostra Signora di Namur; Largo Berechet, 4; 00152, Roma, Italy. When a group of sisters came to my office recently to discuss a theme for a presentation, we had little difficulty in finding one, and the focus seemed to sharpen almost of its own accord. The topic of religious con-secration was an evident subject for at lea~t three main reasons: I) its in-trinsic importance; 2) its importance in renewal; 3) its importance as be-ing at the heart of much of the crisis in religious life since the Second Vatican Council. It is also the key to future development. We concentrated on the consecration of religious, and more espe-cially of sisters whose institutes, are dedicated to works of the apostolate. We assumed as a starting point, that all religious of whatever style of life are both contemplative and apostolic by the fact of their vocation and profession. They express the contemplation and the apostolic effective-ness differently in accordance with the founding gift of their institutes or of the branch of the institute to which they belong, but the dimensions of contemplation and of apostolate are common to all. Having agreed on this, we addressed ourselves to those religious who express their contem-plation and apostolate in an active dedication to works of mission. For the sake of brevity, we called them apostolic religious. 3 4 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 Three lines0of thought emerged: 1) the challenge to sisters of apos-tolic life twenty years after the Second Vatican Council; 2) consecration as the heart of apostolic religious life; 3) living that consecration in the Church today. The Challenge to Apostolic Religious Twenty Years After Vatican II A Matter of Identity The challenge facing many apostolic religious is a matter of identity. The fruitful period for the foundation of religious congregations of sis-ters dedicated to apostolic works was approximately from the end of the French Revolution to the first third of the present century. Emigration, the exploration of new continents, the consequent expansion of the Church, the needs created by the industrial revolution, and the political and social developments of the nineteenth century, all called for a Chris-tian service inspired by the works of mercy. The need was met largely and often heroically by institutes of sisters who responded to the call and founding gift of God by undertaking works which expressed the grace ,' he gave: works of education, health care, social rescue, pastoral serv-ice. At that time, few other people were concerned about these areas of need. The sisters were identified, exteriorly at least, by their works, their dress, their convents, their mode of life. They were easily recognized, usually respected, and sometimes put on a pedestal. But whatever the re-action to them, their own identity was secure. They knew what they were about and what they had come to do. Their future seemed predictable, and a young woman presenting herself as a postulant could have a rea-sonable expectation of what her life of serv.ice would be like. The fact that security of works has changed is a natural historical de-velopment. Evolution is necessary and inevitable. Some religious who identified their vocation with what they were doing, certainly had a cri-sis over this. But even the extraordinarily rapid rate of change which has marked the evolution of apostolic works in the past thirty years, was not enough in itself to challenge the religious of apostolic life as they have been challenged since 1966. The issues are deeper. Two great insights of Vatican 1I have had a profound effect on the sense of identity of the apostolic religious: the universal call to holiness, stated in Lumen Gentium, chapter 5, numbers 39-42, and the criteria for renewal of religious life, ~;tated in Perfectae Caritatis, number 2. The universal call to holiness blurred the traditional notion of religious life as a state of perfection, and the criteria for renewal sent religious back to the gospel, .the primitive inspiration of their institute and the changed Consecrated Apostolic Lives conditions of our times with unexpected results. Let us look briefly at these two insights of the Council since they have both obliged sisters of apostolic life to go tothe roots of their identity and to find these in their religious consecration. The Universal Call to Holiness Originally chapters 5 and 6. of Lumen Gentium were conceived as a single entity so that the universal call to holiness actually did embrace all the members of the Church with no chapter distinction between laity and religious. Even in the present separated presentation, the thought of the two chapters is unified and continuous. Lumen Gentium sees~the Church as the people of God, chapter II) hierarchical (chapter III) lay (chapter IV) and called to holiness (chapters V and VI). The Code of Canon Law follows approximately the same pattern, dealing first with Christ's Faithful and then with the hierarchy and institutes of consecrated life. The decree on the Apostolate of Lay People (Apostolicam Actuosi-tatem, 18, XI 1965) develops much more richly the role of the laity in the Church, and Gaudium et Spes opens.up clearly and strongly, the enor-mous role that is theirs precisely because of the call to holiness. The emer-gence of the laity is the logical fruit of chapter 5 of Lumen Gentium ~nd it is not surprising that some of the best writing in preparatio.n for the coming Synod on "the vocation and mission of the laity in the Church and in the world twenty years after the Second Vatican Council" uses terms that a few decades ago would have been thought proper to relig-ious. The concept of the laity as the people of God and the exploration of the depths of, baptismal consecration havebeen slow to leaven the think-ing of the Church and, like all great truths, may have been liable to ex-agg,~ ration in the process. There has been error both by defect and by excess. One school of thought has argued that, if all are called to holi-ness, no way of life is in itself more holy than another; baptism is every-thing, and there is no consecration~beyond that of baptism. Th~is would cut the ground from under all forms of what the Church specifically calls '"consecrated life." Another school of thought has taken the line that, if all are called to holiness, then all, in some obscure way, are called to echo or model the way of life long recognized in the Church as a ~'state of perfection." This confuses the style of life with the substance of ho-liness and moreover does not do justice to number 31 of Lumen Gentium which insists that "their secular character is proper and peculiar to the laity." 6 Review for Religious, January-February 1988 In practice, a remarkable renewal of the laity is actually going on. This is not simply a matter of effective lay movements such as St. Egidio, i'Arche, the Focolarini, the neo-catechumenates and charismatic groups, all of which are especially attractive to young people, but also of a ground swell in favor of the laity. There is a quality of spirituality, of mission, of responsibility in the Church, of active participation that was not known before the Council l Whereas formerly the lay person was identified negatively as one who is not a c!eric or a religious now the nega-tive description is complemented by something much more positive; the laity are "the faithful who by baptism are incorporated into Christ, are placed in the.People of God, and in their own way share in the priestly, prophetic~.and kingly office of Christ, and to the best of their ability carry. on the mission Of the whole Christian people in the Church and in the world" Lumen Gentium .31). The sense of identity is much surer, and it is very clear that one does not have to be a religious to be called to holiness, .to be in .mission in the Church and to be responsible for many of the things that religiOus of apostolic life have done since their foun-dation. This has been a challenge.for many. if all are called to holiness and our work can be done by others, why be a religious? Some Effects of Renewal At the same time as the movement connected with the laity, there has been the parallel movement for the renewal of religious life. Perfe~tae Caritatis (n. 2) called for a renewal and an adaptation of religious insti-tutes in the changed conditions of our times. It is a matter of history that the adaptation, which was the easier and the more evident of the two un-dertakings, happened with great rapidity. In some cases it took place be-fore the implications of true renewal were grasped. In many instances it was not so much an adaptation as a complete transformation which moved an institute away from the expression of its founding gift that had been visible, identifiable and a lived tradition. Adaptation was necessary but the Council assumed an adaptation resulting from and in conformity with the renewal of basic values in religious life. Renewal was to, give a focus to the adaptation~ and criteria of discernment to guide it. With-out such parameters, the attempt to be one with the changed and chang-ing conditions of our times could only involve religious in an endless spi: ral of charige to the point where their identity would no longer be in them-selves but in their conformity to current conditions. The ada.ptations of the past twenty years have gone very far. In a re-action to being identified by their works, many institutes in the early 70s Consecrated Apostolic Lives / 7' laid a heavy emphasis on being rather than on doing. Then a counterac-tion, stressing the idea of mission without adequately defining it, moved back to doing, although this was expressed in new terms, often with a strong social emphasis.~ The shifts were evident in most aspects of apos-tolic religiouslife: There was a far more immediate insertion into soci-ety than .in the past: an active presence and outreach characterized by soli-darity with and preferential option for the poor, the oppressed and the marginalized. The types of work done, while not giving up the traditional health, educational and pastoral services where these remained neces-sary, included a wide variety of new ministries, often in the fields of hu-man promotion and some times of socio-political involvement. Forms of community changed. There were fewer large, institution-like convents but a multiplication of small, loosely structured, inconspicuous resi-dences with a relatively short life span. Structures of government cailed for participation and shared responsibility. Prayer had to be adapted to the new forms of life and work and often became largely individual. For-mation was sometimes uncertain because the life itself was not clear. Too much was left to the Choice of the person entering. The dramatic reduc-tion in numbers posed a problem in itself, and there was a lack of confi-dence on the part of many sisters with regard to their own future. Unless there was a strong grasp of the root values of religious life and a genuine renewal of these, the adaptations of the late 60s and 70s could bri.ng sisters to the point of asking serious questions about their idi~n-tity as religious. The crisis was sharper for sisters of apostolic life since their apostolates brought them into close contact with the crisis that the Church was living at the same time in her effort to be open to the world and be a Church of the poor. Those same apostolates also brought to-gether the sisters and the laity. More than one religious asked: what is the difference between me, who am a sister of apostolic life, and my sis-ter at home, who is a professional Christian laywoman?'It is not prayer; it is not work; in many cases it is not dress; it is not home conditions or lifestyle. The question: "why be a religious?" was being posed from adifferent angle. Some sisters left religious life because they could not answer it with any degree of integrity. Convinced that all share the same call to holiness, the same baptismal consecration, that all take part in the same mission of Christ, that we build the same body of Christ in the com-munion of the Church, that we are all members of the priestly, prophetic and royal People of God, and not seeing much evident difference in the works by whi(h religious and laity express all this, these sisters virtu-ally asked whether there was a difference at all. I~ / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 This is the crux of many a vocation crisis for apostolic religious. The answer in individual cases is never easy because the question itself im-plies that there is already doubt and insecurity. The important thing is the basis on which the doubt and insecurity are met. Two points matter. One is to su[gport and encourage all that is said of the dignity and great-ness of the lay vocation. Religious do not find their own identity at the expense of the laity or by playing down the-laity. On the contrary. The stronger and greater the lay vocation, the more it can help religious to develop their own, and all that the laity have by baptism is also the basis of'the Christian life of.the religious. The second point is to make the ques~ tion concrete and positive. In one sense: "How are we different?" is the wrong question if it is a defensive attempt to fix on what separates us. We should rather ask: "What is it that makes us religious? What does it commit us to? How do we live it?" Many sisters who, possibly could not put that essential specification into words are yet s~ufficiently con-vinced to give their lives because of it--and that speaks for itself. When we do try to put it into wgrds, it comes to the Christian call to holiness and to union with Christ in mission in the Church expressed, not in secu-larity as is the case with the laity, and not through ordination as is the case with the c.lergy, but through religious consecration: a consecration of the whole person which is a new expression of baptism and which is effected by public vows accepted by the Church and made in commu-nity. Our identity, our raison d'etre, our place in the Church have their roots in our religious consecration. For many of us this consecration is specifically apostolic. Consecration The Nature of Our Apostolic Consecration The new Code of Canon Law is very clear that consecration is the basis and specific characteristic of our life as religious, and it has two fine a~ticles to this effect. The first is canon 573.1 which says: "Life consecrated through the profession of the evangelical counsels is a sta-ble form of living in which the faithful follow Christ more closely under the action of the Holy Spirit and are totally dedicated to God who is su-premely loved. By a new and special title they are dedicated to seek the perfection of charity in the service of God's kingdom, for the honor of God, the building up of the Church and the salvation of the world. They are a splendid sign in the Church, foretelling the glory of heaven." The second is canon 607. I: "Religious life, being a consecration of the whole person, shows forth in the Church the marvelous marriage established Consecrated Apostolic Lives by God as a sign of the world to come. Religious by their consecration consummate a full gift of themselves as a sacrifice offered to God,. so that their whole existence becomes a continuous worship of him in love." All the important elements are there: the reality of a consecra-tion to God which takes the whole of life; the rootedness in baptism; the newness; the response of love to the love of God which calls to a rela-tion which is mutual gift like marriage; the commitment to a personal fol-lowing of Christ more closely; the form of the consecration which is by public vows; its public nature; the ecclesial dimension which is in the Church and for the building up of the Church; the stability and specific-ity; and the fact that it is for others: a witness to.the fact of God, of heaven, of the reality of the invisible things of faith that is for the good of all God's people. For us, sisters of apostolic life, there are two other very important articles: canon 673 which states that the apostolate of all religious consists primarily in the witness of their consecrated life and canon 675 which makes clear that, for institutes dedicated to apostolic works, apostolic action is of the very nature of the consecration. Such action is to come from union with God. It is to confirm and foster this union and is to be exercised in the name of the Church and in commun-ion with her. Let us look at some of these ~lements more closely. . Consecration involves, at least implicitly, choice by God and the dou-ble idea of separation for him and dedication to him. In the Old Testa-ment, it came to mean a declaring sacred, a setting aside a reserving or separating out for God which recognized his holiness. In the case of per-sons, Yahweh himself consecrated as, for example, in the wonderful call of Jeremiah (Jr 1:5) whom he foreknew, loved, called and set aside for his ~own service even before he was born. In the new dispensation, Jesus is consecrated and sent (Jn 10:36): "For them do I consecrate myself" (Jn 17:!9). His Church is a consecrated nation, "a people set apart to sing the praises of God" (1 P 2:9). From this consecrated nation God° freely chooses and calls certain ones, as he did the prophets and apos-tles, to live their sharing in his covenant in a way which involves a fur-ther or new consecration. This may be sacramental, in the case of priests; secular, in the case of members of secular institut+s; religious, when it is made through religious profession. In each case it is an unmerited gift of God which, like love, cannot be rationalized. It is something that God works in us and to which we respond. The woman called to be a relig-ious is invited by the Father to a closer following of his Son, is given a particular intimacy with the Lord and is transformed by the Spirit in a-unique relationship of love given and love returned consciously, freely, Review for Religious, January-February 1988 totally. She is separated for and dedicated to this and she gives her life to it in joyful hope and gratitude. She finds in it the inexhaustible source of her own growth in holiness and of her effectiveness and fruitfulness at the service of others. Such a consecration is deeply rooted in baptism and is a fuller ex-pression of the baptismal commitment. Baptism, by which we receive the fruits of the redemption in Christian initiation, establishes a relation with God which is trinitarian and ecclesial. Any further bond with God will be marked by the same characteristics. It can only develop further the relationship of baptism. That is why religious consecration is a dedi-cation; not to the following of Christ to Which we are already bound by baptism, but to the closer following; not to the love of God and neigh-bor because that is already contained in baptism, but to God supremely loved and to service as a pledge for life; not to being Church because we are already fully members of the Church by baptism, but to taking that particular place and role in the Church which are indicated by our religious profession. The consecration is rooted in baptism yet it is new. It is not given to all the baptized and is not an automatic consequence of baptism. It is new because it binds us to new dimensions of the bap-tismal consecration. It is new because it is made with awareness and choice; new as a response of love to a particular call; new because it com-mits us to constant ongoing conversion; new because it constitutes a new iife for God in Jesus Christ (see Redemptionis Donum, n. 7). This new consecration has a particular character: it is marked by a love that is mutual gift--the love of choice and self-giving which is the 10ve of one spouse for another. The Code of Canon Law chooses the im-age of "the marriage established by God as a sign of the world to come" as its description of religious life. From the depth of the love of Jesus comes the call'to Consecration, and this saving call by God's grace, as- -sumes in the depth of the person called, the actual form of profession of the evangelical counsels. ~In this form is contained the answer of the religious to the call of Christ's love: a love of self-giving responding to the divine self-giving. This is the heart of religious consecration: a mu-tual surrender of love which embraces the whole person. The words of Isaiah: "I have redeemed you, you are mine" (Is 43: I), seem precisely to seal this love which is a love of total and exclusive consecration to God. However, mysterious as it is from many points of view, religious con-secration is no abstraction. It involves a particular way of life here and now in a form approved by the Church. Of its very nature such-a way Consecrated Apostolic Lives of life wiil include prayer, mission, service and communion with others who have the same consecration in a particular religious family. It is in a down-to-earth community, in the Church and world as they are today, and in accordance with a specific set of approved constitutions in a given institute that we live our religious consecration. Moreover, consecration takes place through the profession of public vows. The vows are public by their nature and they pledge those who make them to a fraternal life in common (see can. 607). Not only do they set apart and dedicate the consecrated person to God but, as a chief means of fostering this new relationship, they incorporate the person into a religious institute which has its own law and which encourages growth in consecration in its own way. We sometimes talk about religious consecration generically but, as a matter of fact, it is always both specific and concrete. There is no such thing as vows made in general. They must be according to the constitu- .tions of a given institute. In their turn, the constitutions express the found-ing gift given by God to a person or group: Francis, Dominic, the seven founders of the Servites, Mary Euphrasia Pelletier, or Julie Billiart. Each of these lived their own consecration in a way which attracted others, and the institutes which they brought into being are channels for the'~work of the Holy Spirit continuing the gift of God in later generations. Fidel-ity to the identity which is rooted in the gift of God is, therefore, of high importance to any institute. It is transmitted through the consecrated lives of the members and through the consecration of new members, for the consecration itself reflects something of the specific grace, purpose, na-ture and spirit of the religious family in which it is made. It is clear that, although religious consecration involves a stable way of life, it is not a once and for all act. It is the beginning of a new phase of the inner journey to union with God, but it requires a lifelong growth that we call formation, and structures of support and order that we call governmept. We deepen our consecration all our life long. Nor is con-secration self-regarding. It is directed to the fulfillment of God's kind purposes and so is:for the sake of the whole Church. It benefits all God's people. The present Holy Father has expressed this very beautifully when he said that by the fact of consecration the heart of the religious is sealed with the sign of the biblical spouse (see Sg 8:16) and at the same time opened to all the sufferings, needs and hopes both of individuals and of the world. Receiving the love of the Father through the heart of Jesus, the religious enters in a particular way into the economy of the redemp-tion: the transformation of the entire cosmos through the human heart from within. This transformation takes place through the love which con- Review for Religious, January-February 1988 stitutes the very substance of religious consecration. It is by their conse-cration itself, then, that religious take part in the most complete and radi-cal way possible in the shaping of the new creation which must emerge from the abundance of the Paschal Mystery. (see Redemptionis Donum, nn. 8 and 9). This is their deepest sharing in the saving mission of Christ. The consecration of the apostolic religious, however, has a special note. In their case the deep, consecrated sharing in Christ's mission has an expression in apostolic and charitable activity which is of the very nature of their religious life. This activity is a "holy ministry entrusted to them by the Church, to be performed in its name" (Perfectae Carita-tis,. n. 8). It is a ministry closely connected with the founding gift and identity and rooted in consecration. To accomplish it, the entire relig-ious life of the members should be imbued with an apostolic spirit, and all their apostolic activities with a religious spirit. Here we touch the heart of apostolic religious consecration in practice. The apostolate is not something added on to our life of consecration: it is essential to that life. Everything in us~must be "imbued with an apostolic spirit." There is nothing outside it. It embraces the whole of life. We are apostolic, not because of What we do or do not do, but because we are consecrated in such a way that all is done as one sent by God in the name of Jesus and in the power of his self-giving love. The complementary side of thee coin is equally important. The works that we undertake to fulfill the "holy ministry entrusted to us by the Church" are not simply professional ac-tivities. By the fact of consecration, they are to be "imbued with a re-ligious spirit." We are consecrated for God, for the Church, for his peo-ple, not simply to do works which, however good, can be paralleled by many a generous person,° whether Christian or not. Our service is to be a sign of Christian vocation, witnessing to realities that are unseen but eternal. That is why our apostolic action must always proceed from un-ion with God and must confirm and foster that union. We are apos-tolically effective to the extent to which we live ourconsecration. The Place of O~r Apostolic Consecration in the Church Our consecration as apostolic religious is an ecclesial reality, exist~ ing only in and for the Church, the sacrament of salvation of the Christ who is consecrated affd sent. The Code says that we exist to'build up the body of Christ (can. 573.1). Certainly, our consecration is mediated through the Church. The public vows of religious are recognized and re-ceived by ecclesiastical authority, and the life to which they give rise is a divine gift to the Church which does not exist outside her. The Church r(cognizes, fosters and encourages the establishment and growth of re- Consecrated Apostolic Lives ligious institutes. She has the responsibility of discerning gifts and of ap-proving the individual constitutions according to which consecration by vows is made. She also gives the particular apostolic mandate according to which we have a specific, visible and public share in the saving mis-sion given to her by her founder. Our consecration commits us to a dou-ble service in the Church. In the first place, by a free expression of God's will, we are called to do and be intensively, exclusively, publicly and with our whole lives what all Christians are called to do and be by the universal call to baptism described in Lumen Gentium. Our consecration by vows in community frees us from many preoccupations and respon-sibilities of daily life in the areas of possessions, affectivity and choices precisely in order that we may be completely given to this one priority. If we are not living for the sake of others, we are not living our religious consecration because it is for them every bit as much as for ourselves that God has given his gift. We see a kind of parallel in civil life. All citizens have a responsibility for public o.rder and the well-being of so-ciety. Usually all strive to keep the peace. But some do it as a service to the others which is a life commitment. They do it publicly, exclu-sively, giving all their time and energy to it and, in some cases, life it-self. They are not more citizens than those who have chosen other ca-reers, but they express their citizenship in.a specific way for the benefit of all. God has always acted in a similar way with his people. All share the covenant; all are a royal,, prophetic, priestly nation; all are a conse-crated people set apart for God. But it is precisely ,because of this uni-versal call to holiness that God has called individuals and groups to im-age the covenant, to recall it, to live it in a way that is a constant re-minder, so as to help their sisters and brothers to be faithful to it. This call from among the people of God and for the sake of the people of God is not merited but free. It does not argue personal sanctity and does not imply any form of superiority. There were kings who failed, reluctant prophets, unfaithful priests, and apostles who betrayed or denied their Lord. But there is aneed for persons in the line of the prophets and apos-tles who are called by God, set. apart and dedicated to him, and who give up everything to follow him more closely. They focus the common call of God's people and keep it before the eyes of all as a challenge, encour-agement and truth that give meaning to life. The first service that results from religious consecration stands in this tradition. The second service is the more obvious one of apostolic works. There is an intimate connection between the founding gift which originated an institute, the consecration by which members are incorporated into the "14 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 institute, and the works which express the institute's corporate sharing in the mission of Christ. The three cannot be separated. In recognizing an'd approving an institute and mediating the consecration of its mem-bers, the Church acts on a discernment which she has made of the action of the Holy Spirit responding to.the needs of God's people. This divine action usually involves a perception on the part of the institute's foun-dress of some aspect or attribute of God which enables her to see human needs in a particular way and to respond concretely. My own foundress' wonderful awareness that God is good made her want to share her per-sonal experience of his goodness with the people of her rural area of north-east France who had never he~ird of him. This corresponded with the des-perate need for social and religious formation which followed the French Revolution. The result was a sharing in Christ's mission by an aposto-late of catechesis and education. Educational works are not one option among many .for Sisters of Notre Dame. They are the apostolate by which we share and continue St. Julie's founding insight and they are mandated for us by the Church because of this. Most apostolic institutes can trace the relation--founding gift, consecration, apostolic works-- pretty clearly. For example, the very name, Sisters of the Good Shep-herd, is a summary in itself. The Sisters of Mercy are another case in point. So are the Sisters of the Good Samaritan and the Little Sisters of the Poor. In each case, the Church is enriched by a concrete service in an area which she herself has approved and which has its roots in a di-vine initiative continued in consecrated life. Such a service is a matter of faith as well as of professional 'competence. It has a solid ground of continuity as well as diversity in its ongoing development. Both in itself and through the forms of service to which it has given rise, religious consecration is a witness in the Church to the reality of things hoped for and believed but as yet unseen. Consecration is a re-sponse of love in faith. The apostolic religious, by the fact of her conse-cration, asserts her conviction about the reality of God, the truth of Je-sus Christ, the presence of the communicating Spirit. She gives her life to this. In full consciousness of her personal inadequacy, she accepts the responsibility of being salt and light, sign and reminder. She accepts it, moreover, corporately in community with others shar.ing the same un-merited gift, and in a stable way--not simply when she feels like it, or when things go w~ell, or for a certain time, but for better or for worse as a life commitment. The ChurCh has the right to count on the witness and works of consecrated religious. Consecrated Apostolic Lives The Place of Consecration in Our Lives At this point it might be helpful to sum up briefly the place of our apostolic religious consecration in our lives as individual members of our institutes. What does it commit us to? First, to a closer following of Christ, .personally and loved above all, and, in him, to a continuous wor-ship of God in charity. This involves a life like that of the apostles: not a knowing about the Lord but a knowing and loving the Lord himself, taking on his mind and heart in the ordinary things of every day, letting ourselves be transformed by him until to live is Christ (Ph 1:24). This deep love of the person of Jesus gives meaning to our consecrated lives and the foundation of any apostolic spirituality. It is expressed in the vows and it alone can ensure the poverty of heart, the surrender of love and the free obedience that we strive for through our vows. Secondly. we are committed to a sisterly life in common precisely because the un-ion with Christ through love also unites us among ourselves. Commu-nity is characteristic of the religious form of consecrated life. It is the expression of a spiritual bond, a communion, which is Christ among us, our hope of glory (Col 1:27). This bond reflects the Church a~ commun-ion: the aspect so strongly brought out at the 1985 Synod of Bishops. It is also the bond of apostolic following: of sharing the same mission of Christ, in the same way and under the impulse of the same Holy Spirit. This bond is stable, and has its concrete expression in commu-nity as our form of life. We commit ourselves in the third place to a shar-ing in Christ's mission which is corporate, personal and ecclesial. We each accept our personal Part in the mandate which the Church gives to the institute as a whole and we carry out our own mission under the author- ~ity of our institute and according to its traditions. Fourthly, we commit ourselves to fidelity to our own religious institute as God's gift to the Church and to us. This means fidelity to its nature, character, purpose and identity, to its way of life, to its spirit, to its mission, apostolate and works. Such fidelity has to be both honest and creative, respecting both the need for continuity ant] the necessity for change. Finally, implicit in all this is that we commit ourselves to Christ's goal and to Christ's means: prayer, service and the cross in the very apostolates that we do with him for the Father's glory and the salvation of the world. Our con-secration requires that our works come from and lead to union with God. That is one reason why our commitment in faith is a source of confi-dence, joy and hope. Review for Religious, January-February 1988 Living Our Apostolic Consecration Today. The Conditions of Our Times (Perfectae Caritatis n. 2) Perfectae Caritatis pointed to the conditions of our times as one of the three major criteria of renewal. They certainly play a great part in the way that the apostolic religious lives her consecration today. Some sisters bemoan them, others exult in them, others a~ain try to escape them or pretend that they are not there. One good way to approach them is to remind ourselves that we are not living our religious life in 1988 by chance. It might seem easier to have been a "Mother of the desert," or a seventeenth-century pioneer, or even one of our pre-Vatican II sis-ters, sure of her predictable horarium and occupations. However, the fact is that it is here and now that we are living our religious consecration because that is God's choice for us. Of all the possible periods of his-tory, this is the one that his love found best for us. It is not a mistake or an oversight. We know and have believed in his love and this is how he shows it. Our first response has to be a wholehearted Yes to the fact that we INe in our own times. This is our hour. We do not have any otfier, and if we do not accept it,'something will be forev~r lost to God's glory and to the Church of Christ. It is here in this place, now .in this time, with these sisters, in this Church, in this society that each of us carries on the saving work of Christ to which our consecration c6mmits US. What are our times? Certainly they are a period of very rapid change, not to say upheaval, both in the Church and in the world. The years since the Council bave seen significant shifts in long-accepted values and atti-tudes and the raising of questions probably unthinkable in a previous gen-eration. Moral problems are complex. Instant communication has brought nuclear issues, violence, the uncertain striving for world peace, questions of human dignity,~ world hunger, armaments into many peo-ple's homes. Computer technology is easing work on the one hand and on the other posing some deep problems about the future of human de-velopment. One thing is sure. The clock will not turn back. These are our times with their hopes and fears and challenges. We have to know them if we are to live our consecration according to the mind of Christ, because they raise questions about the adaptation of our style of conse-crated life and work. Four areas have been particularly affected by social and ecclesial de-velopments since Vatican II: community, works, formation and govern-ment. The extent of the pressure has varied from culture to culture but Consecrated Apostolic Lives / 17 the general lines are worldwide, and I will confine my observations to the English-speaking world as being the one I know best. Community has moved from the accepted model of a more or less en-closed life with its own traditional .interpretation of being-in-common through uniformity of timetable, prayer, presence, habit, to a present state of considerable diversity. There have been successive phases. Im-mediately after the Council,there was a false dichotomy between com-munity and apostolate and, in reaction to this, the tendency to absolu-tize either one or the other. Then there was the cry for small communi-ties. In the late seventies, by a misunderstanding, anything that was termed "monastic" was considered nonacceptable for apostolic life. Then there were cluster communities, intercongregational communities, international communities, and the cases of sisters living alone. Much of the discussion centered on structure, size, location, style of living and form of government. All these are important, but the considerations need to go deeper if we are to renew,community in a way that corresponds to our times. What is needed is a living witness to the possibility of unity among people. The quality and evidence of community living: that is, the fact of persons living like the apostles did, united to Christ, and to each other because of him, is part of the good news that we bring. Com-munity exists as the expression of communion ir~ the Lord. For this rea-son it is an obligation for religious; notan obligation which is imposed, but an obligation of love which flows naturally from our consecration. It is by the values of consecration and corporate mission that commu-n. ity life is to be evaluated. Certainly, there are changes in the require-ments and possibilities of community life, but probably what needs prayer-ful reflection is the connection between present.trends in community styles and structures and the v~alues of consecrated religious life that these are meant to promote. The touchstone is our consecration: the basic ele-ment which determines the.raison d'6tre., the purpose, the relationships and the nature of community. It is not a~clearcut area. There are good apostolic reasons for many of the changes that are taking place: new needs evident in both the Church and society; much greater specialization and professional mobility; fewer sisters; less stable corporate com-mitments because of the variety of demands; a different kind of outreach to the needy and the marginalized. But the criterion for discernment in decisions that have to be made must first of all be the consecration in which religious community is rooted. What kind of community are we building? What values are we trying to support? If the bottom line is our consecration, our communion in Christ will be such that the witness of Review for Religious, January-February 1988 our community living will be an apostolate in itself. "By this all shall know that you are my disciples, that you have love one for another" (Jn 13:35). If the communion of consecration does not solve all the struc-tural problems, it gives the one sure context for the evolution of com-munity. Something similar has happened in regard to works, and this is not separate from but closely related to developments in community. Ours is a corporate mission: a joint sharing in the one mission of Christ which is an ecclesial mandate taken up by the fact of our consecration to God in a parti.cular institute. It has both the strength and the limitation of its specificity. It is strong because it commits the whole institute to a cer- (ain direction: the service and works which express its founding gift. It is limited because it requires us to forego other kinds of works which are not part of that gift or which are more properly done either by the clergy or by the laity. One of the difficult things to foster in recent years has been the poverty of heart that can accept the limitations of consecrated service for what they really are: fidelity to God's will as expressed in the founding gift and lived tradition, and not some kind of failure in gener-osity. We do not look for variety of works for its own sake. We are not called to act as if all the social, political, economic, educational, pas-toral or medical good in the world depended on us. We are not seeking our own fulfillment. But we are living our consecration to the Christ who was sent in ways which are much more sophisticated than they were twenty years ago. We need a good deal more specialization. We find our-selves called by a wider range of needs. We have more collaboration with other religious, with the laity, with public bodies. We find ourselves faced by increasing demands just when our diminishing numbers and ris-ing median age seem to give less possibility of meeting them. Here it is the mission to which our consecration commits us that is the stable cri-terion for discernment. What are we sent to do? For whicl~ service in the Church of today did the Lord prepare our particular institute? That is where our fidelity must lie. It is our fidelity to our institute's part in Christ's mission that determines our corporate decisions and, within the corporate identity, the works of the individual religious. With regard to formation, I want to make only one remark at this point: namely, that the conditions of our time are one important element in the formation process. We donot carry on our formation in a vacuum or, please God, in some airborne way that is out of touch with reality. The young women who come to us come from today's society with its attitudes, values, habits and ways of acting. It is twenty years since the Consecrated Apostolic Lives Second Vatican Council, so very few of our candidates will have expe-rienced the often healthy security that marked pre-Vatican II religious life. Although conditions change from one culture to another, most young women have known only a rapidly changing world and a suddenly changing Church. Why come to institutes in process of changing their lives and revising their constitutions? At the same time, older sisters, em-bracing or resisting or avoiding the changes of the past twenty years, have been faced by the challenge of an ongoing formation which has to take into account the conditions of the times while it deepens and fos-ters growth in all the areas of consecrated life. Alike for the candidate and for the golden jubilarian, the focus is consecration. The candidate is preparing for it. The older sister is deepening it by her daily ongoing formation in community. How do we ensure this process today? How do we set formation in the late 1980s squarely in the perspective of our con-secration to the God who sends us in mission? Finally, government has been greatly affected by the values, particu-larly the political values and principle~s, of our times. Democracy, par-ticipation, subsidiarity, consensus, shared responsibility, collective de-cision making, due process appear in some shape or form in most drafts of constitutions. There is a stress on collectivity and leadership and on the gifts of the individual sister. All this is a curious amalgam of much that is good in the tendencies of our times but it has three striking char-acteristics: it usually avoids with great care any clear authority, organi-zation and general structure, all of which are necessary if government is to work; it makes no a~;sumption of faith, but seems to aim at effi-ciency of function rather than efficacy of purpose; it does not necessar-ily relate the government structures of an institute to its founding gift and tradition, yet this relation is critically important. The influences on gov-ernment have real potential for good but they cannot be accepted uncriti-cally or simply because they seem to be the trend of the times. How do we discern which ones will be helpful? Allowing for the existence of our own traditions and of the general law of the Church, which processes and structures will best promote our religious life and service? Again it comes down to which ones will support and foster our consecration in mission. It is evident that values have to be clear and deeply accepted, but the touchstone for decisions is consecration. Response to Our Times What we offer to the men and women of our time is the dedication to God, to the Church and to the saving work of Christ in our world that is contained in our consecration. It is a self-giving which witnesses to "20/Review for Religious, January-February 1988 love through service: a witness of faith which makes us signs of the God we cannot see, and of the invisible realities that everyone hopes for. It need not be dramatic. Most of the time, it seems very ordinary and rou-tine. But we must be deeply convinced of its necessity and validity. God has chosen each of us before the creation of the world to live through love in his presence and to continue actively the mission of Christ in our world here and now. These are his "kind purposes" (see Ep 1:5). We have, therefore, three centers of focus in our one consecration: Christ, the Church, and the world, and it is from these interrelated centers that our style of response to our times takes its shape. I suggest that the Church and society today need among religious~ not so much planners, as contemplatives; not so much professors as proph-ets; not so much public servants as apostles. It is witness rather than words or works which speaks in our time. It is therefore as contempla-tives who are one with Christ, as prophets who hear and communicate his word in the Church and as apostles sent in our own world that we live our consecration, whatever our work may be. That is the heart of our response. We are to be contemplatives, not because of a lifestyle that is en-closed, but because we have committed ourselves by our vows to live always the particular response of faith, hope and love by which we open ourselvesto the revelation of the living God and to communion with him through Jesus Christ in the Holy Spirit in every aspect of our lives. The contemplative dimension of our consecration is basically a reality of grace. It is a gift of God by which we know him as Father (see Jn 14:8) in the mystery of the Trinity dwelling within us (see Jn 14:23). By it we savor what Saint Paul calls "the depths of God" (I Co 2:!0) and. by the gradual purification of the paschal cross all our lives long, we come more and more to meet God in everything and in everyone, to serve him in our sisters and brothers, to. love, adore and praise him in the daily round of our duties. Our consecration commits us to this: to live, be and serve in the perspective of God no matter what our workg may be. Our joys and our sufferings, our immediate tasks and the responsibilities which take time, attention, patience and professional competence are very much part of our lives and are the occasion both of our apostolic .effectiveness and of our personal growth, but we can never afford to let them obscure the vision of faith by which we witness to the reality of what we hope for: to the truths that we cannot see. It is in this contem-plative faith suffusing our lives and publicly expressed as the basis of Consecrated Apostolic Lives our consecration that we find the conviction of the validity of our life and of the value in the Church and world of today. We also serve as prophets. Individuals were called from among the people of Israel to listen for God's word, to hear it and communicate it. They were members of a pro.phetic people at the service of that people and they were one of God's ways of keeping the people faithful to the covenant. In the Church, too, the Lord of history has called some, for the sake of all, to a prophetic role among his people. Jesus is the grea~t prophet: the one who is both message and messenger. In him is the full-ness of the Holy Spirit who is the Spirit of prophecy. It is in him and to him that we are consecrated as religious. In that consecration there is a distinct sharing in his prophetic mission. We are to be united with God o in our contemplation but, both individually and corporately, we are also to listen to his word, to recognize it in our own times, to speak it in the way that we live and serve and relate to others. This is no easy matter. A look back at Jeremiah or Isaiah or Jonah or Ezekiel will remind us that we cannot talk lightly about being prophets. It is significant that none of the prophets wanted the role. Moses objected. Jeremiah re~proached the Lord. Jonah ran away. Yet something of their vocation is ours, and we have to face the devastating challenge to complete poverty of heart that they recognized and feared. What does it involve? In the first place; a humble acceptance of God's choice and of God's message. Itis his teaching through Scripture, through the Church, through a tested discern-ment of our own situation properly approved, that we are to speak by words, by action and by life. We do not preach our own .message, we do not decide to whom we will go nor with whom we will work; we do not choose where we will give witness. We do not have an eight-hour prophetic day; it is a calling that takes our whole life. We forgo our own security to depend on God. We accept the cost of prophecy: the suffer-ing, the likely rejection, the misunderstanding, the self-giving that may cost life itself. We are sharply aware of our own inadequacy and defi-ciencies, of our inability to be and do anything without the power of Christ acting in us. And most of the time that power acts in secret. The most effective prophets are often the ones who are least a~iare of their prophetic work. But the very fact of our vows, publicly professing val-ues that speak pr.ofoundly to sex, possessions and self-determination, the fact of our life in community, which speaks to the segregation, aliena-tion and marginalization of so many people, and the fact of our service. in mission given out of love, not out of compulsion, all make us a part of a presence and action in the Church that is distinctly prophetic. Review for Religious, January-February 1988 As apostles, we are sent to carry the good news. Jesus Christ is risen from the dead. He is alive now and among us. We have met him; he knows and loves us and all those whom we serve. The fruits of our con-templative faith and our prophetic calling are in our apostolic mission. "As the Father has sent me, I als0 send you" (Jn 20:21). This is why t.he element of missioning: of sending and bei.ng sent, is of so much im-portance in our religious life. We are sent into the world, sent to our works, sent to our communities. We accept the" sending, which is the most effective expression of our obedience, with the same love and free-dom as Christ accepted his, because he makes it possible. Through the Church and through the" mediation of our own institute structures we con-tinue in our own times the work of the Christ who was sent. This is a critically important value in setting up p.rocesses of missioning today. Christ, the Church, and the world combine in the consecration of the apostolic religious to give a commitment to God in community in mis-sion which, in, the concrete reality of the conditions of our times, is a witness eloquent in itself. It has to be lived with full generosity and fi-delity if its potential, is to be realized. Rooted in consecration and ex-pressed in apostolate With the rest of our community, it can be a truly prophetic witness and it is on this level above all that we have something very valid tb bring to our times. Conclusion Despite the questions with which we began these reflections, it must be clear that the consecration of sisters dedicated to apostolic works has a particular place in today's Church. It is by vowed consecration lived in community and approved by theChurch, that we are religious at all, and it is as religious that we receive our particular sharing in the Church's mission. This sharing involves witness to God and a service to our sis-ters and brothers in Christ, that can take many forms but the forms have to be consonant with our consecration, with our founding gift and' tradi-tions, and with the Church's mandate. Our life needs love, faith and fi-delity; it needs a constant sensitiveness to Christ, to the Church and to ~he world; it needs a firm conviction as to its own validity. All these are components of the formation we receive and in which we continue to grow. So long as that growth is centered on what is essential to our life: the vowed consecration in community to the Christ who Was consecrated and sent, not to condemn the world but to save it, we will be increas-ingly what God intends us to be in the Church: witnesses of faith, signs of hope, evangelizers through service. The side-effects of this will come of their own accord: the quiet evidence of a way of living that offers al- Consecrated Apostolic Lives / 93 ternate values to those of sex, money and power; the long-term impact on society of educat.ional 'or pastoral works that consistently operate on Christian principles; the witness of service willingly given for reasons that have nothing to do with professional advancement, ambition or per-sonal gain; the existence in the Church on a permanent and reliable ba-sis of persons and institutions who are channels of God's love in action mirroring the presence among us of Christ the teacher, Christ the healer, Christ the reconciler, Christ the Good Shepherd. This is what we are about today as apostolic religious. May the Lord who consecrated us and began his good work in us, bring it to its completion (see Ph 1:6) for it is only in him that we bear fruit for the Father's glory (Jn 15:8)and he has promised to be with us, even to the end of time (see Mt 28:20). The One Prayer of Jesus David P. Reid; SS.CC. Father Reid, whose interests are "peace, family and the relationship between life and religion,;' teaches New Testament at the Washington Theological Union. He is especially grateful to Sr. Margaret Therese Evans, S.N.D., for encouraging him in seeking publication of this article and for editing its text. Father Reid may be ad-dressed at: Washington Theological Union; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Md 20903-3699. The power to praise is itself your gift. ~,.very prayer is ultimately some shadow and some part of the praise of God. To be able to praise God, of course, is itself God's gift. The fact is we do not pray on our own strength; we pray out of discovering a strength within us. We just hope that our presence, our attempt, is itself prayer. In other words, we come with a tremendous sense of humility into the act of prayer. We hope that our effort at doing certain things re-ally is prayer offered to God. There is only one "pray-er": that is Jesus. Anything we do is a par-ticipation in the one prayer addressed to God through Jesus. When we go to pray, we can be mindful of the Japanese Buddhist in a shrine in Kyoto, or the Hindu taking care of a poor man on the streets of Calcutta, or all the people of the world wanting to pray. In the light of the Gos-pel, we believe that we all share but one prayer: the prayer of Jesus. All the prayer of the whole world reaches God through Jesus because God's ultimate revelation to the human is Jesus, the Christ. We enter into a stream, a wide stream of life. We can have a great sense of solidarity with our human family of brothers and sisters through-out the world as each tries to pray in his or her respective way. Some- 24 The One,,Prayer of Jesus how or other, the prayer of each is nudged this way and that, is cele-brated this way or heard that way. Somehow or other the prayer of each is taken by Jesus and offered to the Father. When we pray we hope that we have heard the prayer of Jesus and that we are releasing his prayer into the world. As we enter into prayer, his prayer is released through us into all the nooks and crannies of this huge, complicated world of hu-man beings. "The power to pray is itself your gift." Who is this gift of God? Je-sus! The power to pray is Jesus. Theologians speak about the "anony-mous Christian" and about the convergence of all things towards God as the "omega point." We, even with our.feeble efforts, are a part of that wide drama. Sometimes it is hard to keep .our footing in this mar-velous procession through Jesus to the Father. We want to bail out. But we were never asked to succeed. Rather we have been invited to become pari of the prayer who is Jesus. "Accept my effort, Good God, and make it part of the prayer of Jesus." Deep down we know that all we do is to offer ourselves. The point is made clearly each time we pray at ,.the Eucharist: "Pray, brothers.and sisters, that our offering may be ac-ceptable . " Our offering is united to the offering of Jesus. The of-fering of Jesus is lovingly accepted by the Father. It becomes a sacrifice. We do not presume to call our offering a sacrifice. Only God makes holy. Only God makes a sacrifice. Only God's action accepting our of-fering makes it a sacrifice. Jest]s' prayer, acted out in his loving self-donation on the cross is totally and completely acceptable to God. Jesus is God's gift. Jesus is God's power to pray. Only in his power do we pray to God. Only his prayer fully resonated with the Father's desire to redeem the world. Perhaps all of us experience problems with prayer. These can be prob-lems of all shapes and makes; at times, problems of faith, at other times, problems of discipline. It will help to solve.some problems to underscore the humility and honesty with, which we come to prayer. We place ~ur-selves in the presence of the praying Jesus. The evangelists portray Je-sus in prayer with the intention of inviting us to be with him. The sim-ple statement: "I prayed this morning," may in fact be too proud. All I did was place myself alongside of the only pray-er there is, Jesus. This is the most exciting and beautiful part of prayer. Recall the scene in Luke's gospel where the Pharisee and the publi-can pray. One of them trots up to the front of the temple and pours out his prayer, while the other one i~ depicted as hanging back, terribly con-scious of the small offering that he is making; he knows that this whole 96 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 thing of praying could fall apart in his hands at any moment. I suggest that this reaction is central to the experience of prayer. "I must decrease, he must increase." We come to pray with a deep sense of our frailty but secure in our awareness that Jesus is the pray-er to whom God has re-sponded. God raised Jesus from the dead, sure sig~'J that God heard the prayer of Jesus. His whole life was prayer because his whole life led to the response of God in raising him up. In prayer we are asking that we be heard as was Jesus. This brings a beautiful unity to our prayer and a deep consolation. All the many ways we pray are efforts to enter :the prayer of Jesus. It would be unwise to evaluate the various ways of praying and declare one way better than another. Each comes from our broken lives at a par-ticular moment and is offered through Jesus who likewise knew many ways to pray to his Father. We give a very concrete interpretation to the idea that we should pray always. Many persons have experienced a whole new creativity in prayer by choosing to call up6n this gift of God in a whole.variety of situations. The gifts of God are not to be compared but only identified as God's gift for this time and in this place and in these circumstances of my life. So it is wise not to compare gifts of prayer but to marvel at the way in which God enables us to pray as we need at any given time. This is true also of the prayer of dryness, even the "prayer of distraction" if we are permitted to coin such a term. Distractions in prayer are a big problem. The problem is not, how-ever, that we have distractions but how we handle them. When we find ourselves distracted, we must re-read the distraction. We must put our-selves in touch with the feelings that were experienced in the distraction. It could be that the distraction is what God wants us to bring to conscious-ness and sur~'ender to him in this prayer. When we offer our distractions to God often we are offering our real selves at that moment. We are "praying from the gut." That's what~.~God wants. God wants our real lives, here and now made part of ever-being-prayed prayer of Jesus. Our distractions are putting flesh on the prayer of Jesus now. How? We are enfleshing his prayer in the midst of that distraction. We are taking the prayer ofJesus and allowing it to become part of our world. It may mean praise, it may mean glory, it may mean healing, it may mean contrition. All the more power,fully therefore do we conclude our time of prayer with the simple refrain: "tht:ough Jesus Christ our Lord." As I conclude my prayer'with this refrain I am greatly consoled. It is not just a nice way to end a prayer; itis the only way both to begin and to end. Often I am distracted during'those prayers at the Eucharist when we recall all The One Prayer of Jesus / 97 those for whom we pray. And before I know where I am we are praying the final doxology. If I trust Jesus praying in me, I can abandon myself in that final sweep as our prayer reaches out to God in the outstretched arms of Jesus: "Through him, with him, in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all honor and glory is yours, almighty Father, for ever and ever." As the Amen of the community resounds in my ears, I can letgo of my frailty and recognize again that all our strength comes from our being rooted in God. If God could be so "distracted" as to take up his abode in our midst, we can see our distractions as an invitation to take up our abode in God. So our i~sue then is to be very much in touch with the prayer of Je-sus, to believe deeply that we are baptized into his prayer. That prayer is going on inside of us constantly. To take time to pray is to tap into that deep vein, that deep thrust of life which is going on inside. We are in Christ. We are profoundly in Christ.~We are far more in Christ that we shall ever imagine. To pray is to come home to ourselves in the depth to which we are being plunged into Christ. To live is to belong to the community of praise. Now what is Jesus Christ doing in his prayer in the midst of us? He is leading us into the community of the praise of God. We become part of his prayer because his prayer is access to the community of praise. In the imagery of the Letter to the Hebrews, it can be said that Jesus leads us into the Holy of Holies. We are ushered into the presence of God. The wildest dreams of the Old Testament people are fulfilled. Many longed for the joy of going to Jerusalem. Three times a year the pious Jewish person went up to the Holy City. These visits were the high points of the year. All the remainder was lived in the valleys of expectation. Hear the psalmist say it in words of unspeakable beauty: For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand elsewhere. I would rather be a doorkeeper in the ,house of God than dwell in the tents of wickedness (Ps 84:10 RSV). For them the annual pilgrimages to Jer.usa!em expressed a hope that God would grant such a request: access to God's presence in the midst of the community of praise. They set out for Jerusalem hoping and pray-ing that.they could make the journey and then be .found not unworthy to enter into the very presence of God. Only the high priest could enter the Holy of Hblies once a year. That is what it meant to be alive: to be given access in the community of praise to the very presenc.e of God. 91~ / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 This image of the community of praise is a very powerful image. To develop it I suggest a reading of the healing of the Samaritan leper in Luke's gospel. The story is known to all: On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Gali-lee. And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance and lifted up their'voices and said, 'Jesus, Master, have mercy on us." When he saw them he said to them, 'Go and show your-selves to the priests." And as they went they were cleansed. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned b_ack, praising God with a loud voice, and he fell on his face at Jesus' feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. Then said Jesus, 'Were not ten cle-ansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" And he said to him, 'Rise and go your way; your faith has made you whole" (17:11-19 RSVi. A painful part of being a I~per was that one was denied access to the community of praise. Jesus sent the lepers off to thd priests to be read-mitred to the community of praise. They discovered that they were healed while on the way there. The Samaritan did nbt need a priest to declare him readmitted. In a daring move, he stepped out in faith and declared that the new situation~ in which he now stood was indeed the community of praise. He rejoiced and praised God. " Jesus' purpose in preaching the kingdom of God was to direct peo-ple °again to the community of praise. He had come from that~commu-nity of praise and he ,was leading people back to that community of praise. He would give us access to the community of praise to the glory of God. And th'e proclamation of the kingdom was to overcome the things that held us back from that 9ommunity. Call it Satan, call it the reign of Satan, call it whatever you will. But he set himself very directly against those things that held back people from allowing that formula of praise to really resonate in their hearts. It is interesting that the person healed is not only a leper; he is also a Samaritan. There was only one thing worse than being a leper in a Jew's eyes; that was being a Samaritan. Here there is one, both a Samari- ,tan and a leper, who finds that all that Jerusalem ever stood for is right here now before him as he praises God for the gift of Jesus. It is won-derful! One finds a whole new redefinition of Jerusalem, of temple, of Samaritan and of what it means to belong to the community of praise. How lovely i~; thy dwelling place, O Lord of Hosts. My soul longs, yea, fainis for the ~ot~rts of the Lord; my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God iPs 84:1 RSV). The One Prayer of Jesus In all of the gospels, but especially in Luke, there is an emphasis put on the response of the people to a miracle performed in their midst. It is part of telling the story to underscore the reaction of the participants. Here Luke gives a story which outdoes all others in presenting this reac-tion of praise. The favorable reaction is proportionate to how much the person felt bound by the particular malady. Every miracle restores a per-son to the community of praise; the story of the Samaritan has as its spe-cial purpose to point out that Jesus restores one to the community of praise by removing the blocks that hold back people from access to God. The purpose of the miracles and the purpose of recounting the miracles is less proving that Jesus was divine than illustrating how Jesus gave ac-cess to the Divine. Only God can give access to Godself and Jegus as God's beloved Son rejoiced in giving to humankind access to his Father. Such access is life. Jesus restored the dead to life as a pledge of the Father's power at work within him to lead us all finally to the praise of God's glory forever. Jubilate Deo As our singing in harmony fades and dies Jubilate Deo the music of the silence rises from within our hearts set free by the Spirit who loves to play in the stillness of united hearts. Noel Davis 257 Abercrombie Street Chippendale, N.S.W. Australia 2008 A Word About Praising John Sheila Galligan, I.H.M. Sister John Sheila resides at Mary Immaculate Convent; 10th and Moore Streets; Phila-delphia, Pennsylvania 19148. Without doubt, even a cursory reading of Scripture reveals that the theme of praise pulses in the depths as well as on the surface of the biblical tra-dition. We are swept along at an almost breathless pace as explicit prayers of praise, invitations to praise, and reflections on various aspects of the act of praising come to the fore. With enthusiasm and confidence the Psalmist proclaims resolutely: "I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall be ever in my mouth" (Ps 34:2). God himself praises his gen-tle servant: "Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom my soul delights" (Is 42: 1). In the Gospels these words are reit-erated in reference to Jesus: "This is my beloved Son, on whom my fa-vor rests. Listen to him" (Mt 17:5; see Lk 9:35; Mk 9:7). A close ex-amination of the countless references to "praise" shows that praise is not merely an emotional outpouring, but a theological statement of depth ¯ and seriousness. Throughout Scripture the central meaning of praise seems to indicate the human person as receptive and responsive: recep-tive to the discernible presence of God, responsive in the expression of wonder and awe. Praise is a key element in the life of the spirit. Abraham Heschel, a noted Jewish theologian, makes an incisive comment: The secret of spiritual living is the power to praise. Praise is the harvest of love. Praise precedes faith. First we sing, then we believe. The fun-damental issue is not faith but sensitivity and praise, being ready for faith. ~ 3O A Word About Praising Little do we think about the nature of praise--though nowhere does the might of the spirit appear so openly, so directly and tangibly present as in the act of giving praise. What does it mean--to praise? Surely, an examination of the nature of praising and its place in our lives would be an enriching endeavor. Praise: Its Nature Several passages from the writings of the acclaimed Christian apolo-gist and literary critic C. S. Lewis offer substantive material for reflec-tion and application. The theme of praise is etched into his works with a laser-like intensity of conviction: conviction crystallized in his experi-ence. An understanding of its determinative importance in human life per-meates his works. The tenor and thrust of Lewis' insight are most fully developed in a chapter of his book Reflections on the Psalms. There he affirms that praise is an expression 9f approval, a positive affirmation.2 To praise God is to acclaim, magnify, honor, and glorify him. Praise is a commin-gling of wonder, awe, adoration, and thanksgiving. To praise is to ac-knowledge lovingly and accept gratefully not only what God is in him-self, but what he is for the human person. Authentic praise involves ex-altation, sensitivity to the sacred, awareness of indebtedness to God. It seems to be born when the mystery of God and the mystery of the hu- ¯ man person meet. Praise, Lewis maintains, is th~ dynamic response of a creature who knows himself or herself to be the object of God's infinite love. Lewis personally gave "praise" for coming to this discovery after a slow and hesitant faith-struggle of more than thirty years. With. straightforward sim-plicity he writes of his conversion: The Prodigal Son at least walked home on his own feet. But who can duly adore that Love which will open the high gates to a prodigal who is brought in kicking, struggling, resentful, and darting his eyes in every direction for a chance to escape?3 Here again we see that praise is essentially a receptive and respon-sive attitude, the diffuse and grateful conviction of being known and loved by God. Lewis draws our attention to the fact that praise is a response to an objective value and, therefore, an expression of the will. As such, he sug-gests it is not just something sentimental, nor does it primarily refer to a special intensity of feeling. Rather, it concerns the extremely solid and sober matter of responding to an objective good. Praise is the "correct, 39 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 adequate, and, appropriate response" to someone or something that de-serves it.4 Therefore, the Psalmist can state, "Praise is rightfully yours, O God" (Ps 65:2). In every conceivable case praise signifies much the same as approval.5 We find that the Psalms frequently issue an invita-tion to praise with a "because" as they proclaim the reason for honor and praise: "Praise the Lord, for he is good; sing praise to our God, for he is gracious; it is fitting to praise him" (Ps 147:1; see Ps 33:1). Thus, the issue of praise is not primarily our feelings and our words; the issue of praise is God." Essentially then, to praise is to discover a value, appreciate it, and in some way express this appreciation. Overtones of ampler meaning emerge from Lewis' attempt to clarify the meaning of "appreciation." The word appreciation for him, means to "love and delight in. ,,6 The beginning of praise is appreciation--and the beginning of appreciation is a sense of humble awe in the face of the mystery of the enduring love and goodness of God. In the light of this we could perhaps say that praise is a form of the truth to be grasped by the spirit. Lewis stresses, too, that to praise is to forget the self and break down the walls of self-absorption and resistance to God. Praise is fueled by love; therefore, selfishness smothers praise. With a dash of daring and characteristic dry humor, Lewis points out his discovery that "the hum-blest, and at the same time most balanced and capacious minds, praised most, while the cranks, misfits, and malcontents praised the least.''7 Praise and Creation: Matter Really Matters Not surprisingly, Lewis constantly affirms the sheer "goodness" of all that God has created. There is no good trying to be more spiritual than God. God never meant man to be a purely spiritual creature .He likes matter. He invented it.8 This marvelous truth is illustrated with a clear and steady focus through-out Scripture and in consequent theological reflection. "God saw that it was good" is a refrain repeated seven times within the first thirty-one verses-of Genesis (see Gn 1:4,10, 12, 18,21,25,31). Heschel's comment is apt: The biblical words about the genesis of heaven and earth are not words of information but words of appreciation. The story of creation is not a description of how the .world came into being but a song about the glory of the world's having come into being: "And God saw that it was good" (Gn 1:25),9 A Word About Praising The whole earth is full of God's glory. Psalm 148 calls us to recog-nize the wonder of God's work and express it in word. Because God has clothed creation with loveliness, the Psalmist sings: "All "your works praise you" (Ps 145:10). We find the theme frequently in poetry, per-haps most beautifully expressed in the Canticle of the Sun by St. Fran-cis. Throughout his works Lewis indulges his delight in the reality of the world with i~nthusiasm and zest. Readers find themselves immersed in powerful imagery and scenes which create the memorable impression that matter really matters. Lewis constantly celebrates the "profusion of pleasure" which lies about us. Always he extends the marvelous in-vitation: Come out, look back, and then you will see--this astonishing cataract of bears, babies, and bananas: this immoderate deluge of atoms, orchids, oranges, cancers, canaries, fleas, gases, tornadoes and toads.~° in the. mystery of creation he sensed the presence of God. It filled him with wonder and gratitude. According to Lewis, not to praise what God has crea~ed is not to see. He would agree with Elizabeth Barrett Browning's pertinent observation in the poem "Aurora Leigh": Earth's crammed with heaven And every common bush afire with God; And only he who sees takes off his shoes-- The rest sit around and pluck blackberries. The world is "crammed" with the marvelous. Yet our perception is frag-ile and lacks intensity. We can be blind and deaf and dull. Therefore, Lewis is adamant: We may ignore, but we can fiowhere evade, the presence of God. The world is crowded with him . The real labor is to remember, to at-tend. In fact, to come aware. Still more, to remain awake. I I Lewis' insights are unambiguously positive. He urges us to rejoice in the "joy, pleasure and merriment which God has scattered broad-cast.''~ 2 He thrilled to the genuine delight which one should discern in the patterns of pleasure that God has created. The inexhaustible fecun-dity of the "glad Creator" provides a riot of light and color, taste and smell. ~3 Even Sci'ewtape, the senior devil in Lewis' Screwtape Letters, attests tO the truth that God "is a hedonist at heart . Out at sea, out in his sea, there is pleasure and more pleasure. He makes no secret of 34 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 it; at his right hand are pleasures forevermore." 14 Praise and the Present Moment: Time Touches Eternity Without doubt, Lewis roots praise, in an appreciation of what is "ex-traordinary" in the ordinariness of the present moment. An intuitive and pervasive perception of the fact that every moment is significant, draw-ing its power from God's presence and efficacy in it, under,,lines Lewis' assertion that the "Present is the point at which time touches Eter-nity." ~5 That God's loving and caring presence is~prismed through the present moment strikes the core of his understanding of the nature of praise and its intimate connection with Providence. This notion is crucial in the great theological vision of Julian of Nor-wich, whose statement "All shall be well" is rooted in the reality of "All is well.''~6 A splendid text in Romans also embraces the vision: "We know that God makes all things work together for the good of those who love him" (Rm 8:28). Reality and actuality exist only in the present moment. Because of this, Lewis exhorts us to reflect upon the question, "Where, except in the present, can the Eternal be met.9''~7 A disciplined and intelligent grasp of the art of appreciatipn of the present moment permeates Lewis" works. In his science-fiction novel Perelandra we are told that Maleldil (God) is in every place, "even in the smallness beyond thought." Realizing that a glimpse of God's hand at work in the zigs and zags of our experience can be bewildering, yet providential, he writes: The pattern is so large that within the little frame of earthly experience there appear pieces of it between which we can see no connection, and other pieces between which we can . Before the world was made, all these things had so stood together in eti~rnity that the very, signifi-cance of the pattern at this point lay in their coming together in just this fashion.~8 And in a letter to his friend Arthur Greeves, he shrewdly observes: The great thing, if one can~ is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptionsOof one's own or "real" life. The truth is, of course, that whht one calls the interruptions are precisely one's real life--the life God is sendingone day by day. 19 Thus, a realization that the present moment is enlivened with an incar-national intensity and. vision is crucial to spiritual growth. And in the won-der of this awareness we respond with. praise. To prai~se thi~ singularit.y A Word About Praising of the moment is the fruit of spiritual maturity. Praise and Joy: The Serious Business of Heaven Praise, according to Lewis, is an outburst of the heart, an act of buoy-ancy and spontaneity. Praise transmutes feeling into delight. He urges us to remember that praise is the "mode of love which always has some element of joy in it.''2° It is immediately apparent that here Lewis is as-serting something that strikes at the heart of the meaning of praise: In human experience praise is intimately intertwined with joy. In short, we are confirmed in our sensing that profound joy can generate praise and praise is the springboard for joy. Again Lewis observes that "all enjoy-ment spontaneously overflows into praise."2~ He states, "I think we de-light to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses, but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation . The delight is incomplete until it is expressed.' ,22 The richness of this state-ment rests on its suggestiveness as well as on its explicit message. It brings to the fore that fact that a sense of admiration, permeated by love, is drawn to completion in praise. Praise and Suffering: A Sacrifice of Praise If a primal and central quality of praise is joy, what are we to under-stand in Scripture's invitation tooffer the Lord a "sacrifice of praise" (see Heb 13:15; Ps 50:14; Ps 54:8)? It is a remarkably powerful and some-what unsettling image. Perhaps further exploration of the truth that a proper and healthy awareoess of our "dependency" on God is the most fertile soil for growth in spiritual maturity would be helpful. We have already noted that a reverently' surrendered heart is the wellspring of praise. Nothing so ham-pers the capacity to praise as the desire to control and the temptation to manipulate. The focus of praise is not the self; therefore, praise is part of an asceticism. :Lewis comes to grips with this notion in the summary statement: The proper good of a creature is to surrender itself to its Creator--to en-act intellectually, volitionally, and emotionally, that relationship which is given in the mere fact of being a creature . In the world as we now know it, the problem is how to recover this self-surrender.23 "Self-surrender" demands courageous fidelity to the demands of disci-pleship. It urges that we cut through all the swaggering and petty indul-gence of the ego, .that we crack the hollow of self-reliance. The death 36 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 to self that constitutes surrender becomes an instrument of hollowing and hallowing, a means of rooting our security in God. Bluntly challenging, this "self-surrender' '--and almost more dismay-ing than comforting! A superficial reflection might give the impression that this is a negative kind of experience, with no connection to the act of praising. 'Delving more de.eply, we find yet another level of meaning. For praise must flow out of and then back into the reality of a silent sur-render to the mystery of God's love for us--love most fully exemplified in the crucified and risen Christ. In reality, there are no deep expressions of love, no deep experiences of love that are not in some way the consequences of a sacrifice of self. We may deny it, ignore it, or repress it, but deep down we know it is true. Yes, we are involved in a paradox here. Marvelously concrete, Le-wis states: "We shall draw nearer to God, not by trying to avoid the suf-ferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them and offering them to him; throwing away all defensive armor."2'~ Through offering a "sac-rifice of praise," we are drawn out of the shallows of life to greater depth, to newness of life. God provides us with situations in which we must be more faithful, more patient, or more loving th~in we ever imag-in( d being before. This draws attention to our experience of contingency and limitation. Our fickle natures shy away from offering a sacrifice of praise because the "sacrificial" element hurts. Lewis' insight is on target: "We shrink from a too naked contact [with God], because we are afraid of the di-vine demands upon us which it might make too audible.' ,25 The rich in-terplay between love and suffering is acknowledged in his assertion that Christianity is "hard and tender at the same time. It's the blend that does it; neither quality would be any good without the other,''26 To be poised and ready to plunge into living out this surrender is to desire conformity to God's plan for us. Thus, "obedience" is at the heart of offering a sacrifice of praise. In his book Perelandra, the man Ransom jolts us with the challenging question: ".Where can you taste the joy of obeying unless He bids you do something for which His bid-ding is the only reason?''27 The paradoxical meaning of offering a sacrifice of praise is evidenced in the experience of great joy. A deeply appreciative perception of truth, beauty, or goodness triggers a reaction, or rather a response, in which the feeling of joy is linked with a feeling of lack. Lewis develops this notion by describing his moments of greatest joy as experiences of :'in- A Word About Praising consolable longing."28 Our inability to rest in such moments, to grasp and cling to and somehow claim them, reveal them as an anticipation, a,preparation for full enjoyment of their source: God. Lewis. reminds us that we have "a root in the Absolute''29 and therefore he can state, too, that "all joy reminds; it is never a possession."3° God's design is to keep us on tiptoe, to nourish our thirst for himself with little "glimpses" into what will some day be forever. The painful lack that is constitutive of these '"patches of Godlight" in the woods of our experience"3~ summon us to move beyond. To offer a "sacrifice of praise" is to allow our innate appetite for the Infinite, our thirst for God himself, to dislodge us whenever we are inclined to settle down. Praise and Adoration: Fused Moments of Felicity Authentic praise sometimes goes beyond the scope of emotion; it is the threshold to the transcendent. Thus Lewis speaks of praise in con-nection with what spiritual theologians would call contemplative prayer. He notes that praise is intimately linked with what he calls "Apprecia-tive Love." This love rejoices in exclaiming, "We give thanks to You for Thy great glory." Appreciative love, Lewis writes, "gazes and holds its breath and is silent, rejoices that such a wonder should exist." and he adds that God "can awaken in man, toward himself, a supernatural Appreciative Love. This is of all gifts the most to be desired."32 In an-other place he calls this special love "the gift of adoration.''33 In such a profound and pervasive spiritual experience, knoffledge 'and love are so intimately united that they can actually be identified with each other. To understand what happens here is to enter into the lovely land of the mystique of the heart. "Praise" at such moments involves ~imazement, not understanding; awe, not reasoning. Seized and refreshed by.the overwhelming spell of the loveliness of~God's words and works we exclaim, "How right it is to love You!" (Sg 1:4). In the smallness beyond thought we discover a level where we are stunned by the ineffable: "Who can utter the mighty doings of the Lord or utter all his praise?" (Ps 106:2). There are insights that lie beyond the power of expression; the heart perceives more than the word can convey. At such moments the human person deeply expe-riences the disparity between desire for expression and the means of ex-pression. We are stunned at the inadequacy of the spoken word to inter-pret the heart's knowing. In a sense, then, the highest form of praise is silence-~creative si-lence pervaded by an awed sense of the grandeur of God. A reverential and sacred silence best expresses our admiration and love. This kind of Review for Religious, January-February 1988 silence touches the face of the Father, embraces Christ, and experiences the reality of the Spirit. Even though a loving heart has no words, it cannot contain itself. St. Augustine gifts us with a memorable image: "Love grown (old is the heart's silence; love on fire, the heart's clamor" (En. in Ps 36: 14). He gives us a rich and comprehensible description of the heart's clamor, the melody of the heart: This kind of singing is a sound which m~ans that the heart is giving birth to something it cannot speak of. And who better to receive such "jubi-lation" than the ineffable God--ineffabl~ because you cannot talk about him. And if you cannot talk about him; and it is improper just to keep silence, why, what is there left for you to do but "jubilate"--with you, r heart rejoicing without words, and the immense breadth of your joy not rationed out in syllables (En. in Ps 32:8; see En. in Ps 99:5). In this marvelous fusion of thought and feeling, in the heart's rejoicing without words, praise and wonder are born. In her poem Interior Tree Anne Morrow Lindbergh echoes Augustine. She describes one of those rare moments of ecstasy, one of those inexpressible "joy touched with glory" (see I P 1:8) moments when a whisper of eternal truth overwhelms one with its beauty: Fused moments of felicity, When flame in eye and heart unite Come they from the earth, or can they be The swallow of eternity? Authentic praise springs like a song from the depths of our hearts~. It steps beyond the act of giving thanks because it often becomes an ex-pression. of adoration. In an act of ardent praise we turn to God in de-light, attend to him with loving appreciation. Therefo.re, Lewis can fit-tingly link up praise as we know it on earth with the idea of the ultimate joy of praising God in heaven: If it were possible for a created soul fully to "appreciate," that is, to love and delight in the worthiest object of all and simultaneously at every moment to give this delight perfect expression, then that soul should be in supreme beatitude.34 In saying this Lewis follows a very ancient Christian teaching which can be traced back to the writing of Augustine. Delving into his works, we find he mulled over the meaning of heavenly beatitude: There it will be our whole task to praise and ~to enjoy the Presence of A Word About Praising God . . . all our sorrows will be taken from us, and nothing will remain but praise, unmixed and everlasting (En. in Ps 86:8). He states it again with typical depth and clarity: What shall we do? . . . What will be there? What business shall we have? . . . What activity? . . o This will be our activity, the praise of God (En. in Ps 85:23). The tenor and thrust of this vision introduces into the meaning of praise the essential components of love and joy. Here Lewis writes with com-pelling suggestiveness: The Scotch catechism says that man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever. But we shall then know that these are the same thing. Fully to enjoy is to glorify. In commanding us to glorify him, God is inviting us to enjoy him.3'~ Lewis' vision is baianced; therefore, he moves beyond the present exis-tence-- calls us to reflect upon the untold resources Of meaning in the es-chatological dimension of praise. Conclusion This exploration into the nature of praising reveals that if we seek to grasp the reality of praising in its full breadth and depth, we must strive to live in the light of the truth of who God is and who we are. What elicits, inspires, and sustains pra.ise is the word of God, the Scripture. Fed by this word the response of praise will become the leitmotif and ba-sic tenor of our lives. Its ordinary, transcendent, and eschatological di-mensions will mold the soul-line, the inscape of our hearts. The contemporary milieu, with its unhealthy emphasis on utilitari-anism and materialism, continues to strangle and corrode our sense of wonder. Its hollow hedonism tends to smother~radical amazement and appreci~ation and their consequence--praise. Perhaps we have bartered a sense of wonder and praise for facts and function and gradually numbed our senses and darkened our vision. Even 'so, the human person has the capacity and power to grasp the lasting values of beauty, harmony, tenderness, and truth. Little wonder that Augustine invites us to glory in the splendor of the truth and good-ness of praising with our whole being: Sing praises with your whole being; that' is, praise God not only with your tongue and your voice, but with your conscience, with your life, with your deeds (En. in Ps 148:1-2). 40 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 This straightforward invitation underlines the truth that praise is a way of understanding, insight into a way of "being" in touch with God. Scrip-ture invites us to sing praises with our "being"--to sing praise like David, of whom it is written: With his every deed he offered thanks to God Most High, in words of praise. With his whole being he loved his Maker and daily~had his praises sung (Si 47:8). NOTES t Abraham J. Heschel, Who is Man? (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1965), p, 116. z C. S. Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms (Glasgow: Collins, Fount Paperbacks, 1977), chapter IX, pp. 77-83. 3C.S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early L~ ife (Glasgow: Collins, Fount P.aperback,, 1977), pp. 182-183. 4 Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms, p. 78. 5 Further clarification on the etymology of the word praise is helpful. Praise is de-rived from the Latin pretiare, "to prize," which in turn derives from pretium, "the prize." To prize something is to value it highly, to appreciate it. Appreciation is a.n essential element of all praise. See Paul Hinnebusch, Praise: A Way of Life (Ann Arbor; MI: Servant Books, 1976), p. 247. 6 Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms, p. 81. 7 Ibid, p. 80. 8 C, S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (New York: Macmillan Paperbacks, 1960), p. 65. .9 Heschel, Who is Man?, p. 115. ¯ ~0 C. S. Lewis, Miracles (New York: Mac~nillan Pape~'backs, 1978), p. 66. I~ C. S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1964), p. 75. ~z C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain (New York: Macmill~in Paperbacks, 1962), p. 115. ~3 Lewis, Miracles, p. 114. ~4 C. S. Lewis, The Screwiape Letters and Screwtape Proposes a Toast (New York: MaXimilian, 1961), pp. 101-102. ~5 Ibid, p. 68.~ ~6 See Julian of Norwich, The:Revelations of Divine Love, trans. James Walsh (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1961), Chapters 34, 35, and 82. ~7 C. S. Lewis, "Historicism," in Christian Reflections (Glasgow: Collins, Fount Paperbacks, 1981), p. 146. ~8 C. S. Lewis, Perelandra (New York: Macmillan Paperbacks, 1965), pp. 147- 148. ~9 W. Hooper, ed.,'They Stand Together: The Letters of C. S. Lewis to Arthur: Greeves (1914-1963)(New,York: Macmillan Paperbacks, 1979), p. 49 I, December 20, 1943. A Word About Praising Lewis, Letters to Malcolm, p. 90. Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms, p. 80. Ibid, p. 81. Lewis, The Problem of Pain, pp. 90-91. C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1971), p. 170. 25 Lewis, 26W. H. novich, 27 Lewis, Letters to Malcolm, p. 114. Lewis, ed., Letters of C. S. Lewis (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jova- 1966), p. 250, July 17, 1953, to a lady. Perelandra, p. I 18. 28 Lewis, Surprised by Joy, p. 65. 29 Ibid, p. 177. 30 Ibid, p. 66. 3~ Lewis, Letters to Malcolm, p. 91. 32 Lewis, The Four Loves, p. 191. 33 Ibid, p. 178. 3,~ Lewisr Reflections on the Psalms, p. 81. 35 Ibid, p. 82. Expressing the Feminine: In Search of a Model Marietta Ger~iy, O.S.B. Sister Marietta is a member of the Department of Religious Studies at the Univer-sity of Dayton where she may be addressed at 300 College Park; Dayton, Ohio 45469- 000 I. In The Flight from Woman (1965) Karl Stern wrote about the defeminiza-tion of society caused in part by the scientific revolution of the last three hundred years. The rejection of feminine wisdom, he explained, contrib-uted to a dehumanization which has affected us relationaily. Today a movement flows from deep within the unconscious, that in-vites us to value and express our total personhood, to act in a holistic manner. The strong opposition to the feminine in our culture and tradi-tion is one of the reasons for this movement and for the corresponding interest in rediscovering feminine images. Whenever individuals or the human race are imperiled, something begins to stir within and move them toward the fullness of graced human living. Today we are becoming aware that both femininity and masculinity are innate in each of us and that both are to be valued and given expres-sion. Just as in a musical creation there can be a melody and counter-melody which alternate in prominence, so our femininity and masculin-ity ought to alternate in prominence. Even though in music these melo-dies can stand alone, the presence of the other enhances and creates a fuller, stronger, more pleasing effect. So if either masculinity or femi-ninity is suppressed or dormant, our manner of communication will be less effective or even less destructive. This, in fact, has been the situ-ation in our Western culture. Now that the sleeper, femininity, is awak-ening, new energies are being activated. When activated, those energies 42 Expressing the Feminine / 43 begin to personify themselves and to seek expression. How this creative power will manifest itself will depend in part upon our fantasies, our crea-tive imagi.nation which needs to be stimulated by the symb.ois and mod-els of both our culture and our Christian heritage. A musician receives inspiration hearing a number of different interpretations of the same com-position, yet her own performance flows from her inner well of sensitiv-ity. In such a way the new awakening of our femininity urges us to look beyond ourselves in a new way to reflect upon the lives of people in our tradition, to search for ways of expressing this femininity, ways which resonate with and enhance our own imagination. Virginity Regina Coil draws attention to an ancient understanding of virgin-ity. In her article "Challenging and Reclaiming Symbols" Coll states that at one time the word "virgin" meant "a woman who had grown, to some kind of integrity and wholeness." ~ Esther Harding in Women's Mysteries writes that it meant being "one-in-herself."2 Helen Luke is on to the same sense as she indicates virginity "is so thin a concept when confined to the physical plane."3 It takes On a full and beautiful mean-ing when the older and broadermeaning is recovered. The ancient mean-ing is significant today because it applies to both men and women. It calls for a unified way of being and of relating. It calls for non-fragmentation. David Knight writes about virginity in a similar manner by suggesting that virginity is an active and harmonious oneness of our bodies with every other part of our being.4 He states that virginity means a refusal to respond out of only a part of ourselves, a refusal to promote separateness or disintegration; it is an intense .yearning for integrity. Knight further indicates that virginity accents our unity with others, not an easy task when we have built up our egos and relied on our false identities. Alienation of selves, building of walls, setting ourselves apart; above, over and against, insensitivity and a lack of intrapersonal and in-terpersonal connectedness are violations of this integrity. And so our past exclusionary emphasis on personal autonomy needs to be modified. Hans Urs von Balthasar also speaks of virginity as unity as experienced within someone who is free of division. Such an approach also seeks to retrieve the lost meaning of this important reality. This emphasis on unicity invites us to let go of all that holds us back and prevents the release of energies so necessary for a full life. A musi-cal analogy says it well: for music to be music the musician must involve the entire physical, mental and emotive self in expressing the music. Just as the musician must be totally involved to render the music in an aes- 44 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 thetic manner, we too must be totally involved, be fully alive in order to be effective relationally. Today's movement toward the rediscovery of the feminine is a move-ment toward the fullness of personhood which ought to render us more cap~ble of unrestricted responses. Femininity This present movement toward the feminine is flowing from our new consciousness. Today femininity is being acknowledged and valued. Be-cause of this, various modes of expressing femininity are being sought. Does Mary as Mother present an image for the expression of femi-ninity that can be honored today? Before addressing that question a clari-fication or description of femininity is necessary. F.J.J. Buytendijk de-scribes it as that adaptive dynamism (which) does not elicit any resistance and leads to the discovery of quality and .stature, to encounter with things as they are, and thus to the discovery of value. This discovery, however, is never complete; there is an inexhaustible wealth of value in being that never ceases to elicit a meditative and tarrying contact with being.5 Openness, receptivity, creativity, gracefulness and tender caring are considered characteristics of this adaptive dynamism. This adaptive dy-namism or femininity, according to Buytendijk, manifests itself as a way of being-together-with that is both giving and receiving, that is recipro-cal, and 'not one-sided. This adaptive dynamism is not to be equated with the female sex, though it is woman who is capable of giving the clearest expression of femininity, just as man gives the clearest expression of masculinity. No individual existence in the concrete is exclusively masculine or ex-clusively feminine. It is not possible for an existence to develop so en-tirely according to one mode that it lacks all traces of the other. Mascu-linity and femininity are both possibilities of human existence as such, understood in terms of consciousness or an approach to reality, which is necessarily intentional and equally necessarily a "togetherness" with other being.6 When we are dealing with real people, all that we often can see is a predominance of masculinity or femininity. However, full human dig-nity flows from a balanced harmonization of botlq dynamisms. Without a balance of masculinity we would have a feminine imbal-ance getting lost in a chaos of pathic connection without any ability to stand apart or to objectify. Unbalanced masculinity may be described as Expressing the Feminine the projection of a world of hardness, of stubborn resistance, of precipi-tousness. ~On the other hand, this masculine capacity for expansiveness, functioning in a supportive role, provides a precious balancefor our femi-nine capacity of being~together-with, of connectedness. Motherliness Forms are being sought today for expressing our adaptive dynamism, femininity. This femininity is not to be limited to one form or manifes-tation. A variety of forms is possible, one being motherliness. Motherli-ness is best characterized as a fostering, supporting, cherishing, caring manner which flows from a receptive, adaptive dynamism. It is a man-ner of being that sets aside the temptation to analyze, to plan, to project. It can be described as a presence which receives the other into self and sees and feels with the other. Feeling, though essentially involved, is not all tfiat is involved. "Motherliness" or "caring presence" is basically an empathic presence. It is a receptive presence that invites an inner trans-formational change. If "caring" is truly motherly, the one cared for will feel ~he recognition of freedom and will grow under its expansive sup-port. "Motherliness" need not smother. The one cared for will be free tO respond as herself, to follow her own interests without fear and anxi-ety. Motherliness, as a respectful, careful togetherness in selfless giving, fos-tering, nourishing, cherishing and caressing, is always the powei'.ihat everywhere elicits the unfolding, the realization of hidden potential of what is good, tender, fragile or subtle, whether in human beings or in nature or in culture. This is what happens in human relationships of friendship and love, in real education and in loving work.7 Buytendijk speaks of motherliness as caring, as feminine fruitful-hess. 8 The transformational effect of caring can only happen if the car-ing person conveys that he values the intensity of the connection with the other and if the caring person is genuine. A Contemporary Model: Mary Today's renewed interest in rediscovering our feminine images, in-cluding our scriptural Marian images, flows from our new consciousness, our movement toward the feminine. 19Iodels and images are needed to stimulate our imaginations, to aid in the shaping of our feminine energies. A variety of models is needed because femininity can be expressed in various ways. Mary, as repre-sented in Scripture, is one of those models. 46 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 The images of Mary as the attentive, Virgin, Mary as Woman, and Mary as Mother are receiving renewed interest and are taking on a new meaning. The ancient meaning of virginity as a holistic and integrated way of being is expressed by Mary. She possesses a unity which can help other people find their unity. In the Magnificat we see the fullness of her re-sponse: decisive, responsible, total and caring, a response that made and continues to make a difference to the world. This way of Understanding virginity can give us reason to pause and give the image of Mary as Vir-gin further consideration. The representation of femininity through motherliness can be seen in the scriptural passages which presentoMary as a "caring presence," a presence which encourages a change of heart, a personal togetherness where there is a call of one heart to another, a call to the other in the freedom of each to realize self. Some of these passages are Mary's visit to Elizabeth (Lk 1:39-45), the Magnificat (Lk 1:46-56), Mary at the wed-ding feast at Cana (Jn 2:1-12), Mary at the foot of the cross (Jn 19:25- 27), and Mary gathered together with the disciples in prayer at the birth of the Church (Ac 1: 12-14). Each presents Mary manifesting this genu-ine way of being-together-with, of acting holistically, and with integrity. These scriptural representations, as well as others found in tradition, can serve a dialogic function in our movement toward the rediscovery of the f+minine. By pondering them in our hearts we too might conceive creative ways to shape our lives in response to the invitation from the unconscious to accept our femininity, to live out our total personhood. NOTES ~ Regina Coil, "Challenging and Reclaiming Symbols," Religious Education 80 (1985), p. 381. 2 Esther M. Harding, Woman's Mysteries: Ancient and Modern (New York: Harper Colophon Books, 197.1), p. 125. 3 Helen M. Luke, Woman, Earth and Spirit (New York: Crossroad,. 1981), p. 48. '~ David Knight, The Good News About Sex (Cincinnati: St. Anthony Messenger Press), pp. 30 I-312. 5 F.J.J. Buytendijk, Women: A Contemporary View (New York: Newman.Press, 1968), p. 299. 6 lbid, p. 299. 7 Ibid, p. 357. 8 Ibid, p. 355. Collaborative Leadership in Apostolic Ministry: Behavior and Assumptions David Coghlan, S.J. Father Coghlan reaches management and organizational behavior and works as a proc-ess consultant with groups on planning and change. He may be reached at the Col-lege of Industrial Relations; Sandford Road; Ranelagh; Dublin 6, Ireland. The ~zontext of religious apostolic leadership has changed a lot over the past twenty years. Twenty years ago religious had a very definite pre-dominance in institutions of ministry. They were dominant numerically. They were the sole formulators of policy. They created the culture of the institutions. Lefidership was exercised in an autocratic manner that did ¯ not readily allow for dissent or question. Since Vatican II there has been a gradual~change. Religious life has been renewed, in terms of spiritual-ity, structures, and culture. The number of religious has declined, chang-ing the way religious are present in their ministries and provoking ques-tions about the future of particular ministries. On the level of values there has been growth in an appreciation of the ministry of the laity. Overall there has grown a neff focus of ministry---evangelization--with its en-couragement of a greater openness to the contemporary world and the articulation of the integral relationship between faith and justice. Lead-ership too has changed. In research on leadership there has been a move-ment away from a focus on the person of the leader toward a focus on the process of leadership. Leadership is no longer understood in terms of personal traits but in terms of a process between roles, a group, and a situation. In the religious-life context terms like "collaboration," "sharing ministry" are prominent. Decision-making appears to have be- 47 48 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 come a group activity, with, perhaps, the consequent role of the formal leader sometimes ambiguo.,us. It is the purpose of this article to chart the issues of leader behavior so as to clarify the implications in the develop-ment of contemporary apostolic leadership in an environment of change. Patterns of Leadership Styles Thirty years ago an article written on leader behavior posed the ques-tion, "Should a leader be democratic or autocratic in dealing with sub-ordinates-- or something in between?" That article became a standard text on the complexities of how leaders behave. ~ In the article the di-lemma of leader behavior is presented in terms of a scale, with points on the scale related to the degree of authority used by the leader and to the amount of freedom available to the group of followers. The extreme left end of the scale represents the leader behavior that maintains a very high degree of coAtrol in decision-making, while the extreme right of the scale represents the leader releasing a high degree of control. The points in between represent varying degrees of the use and release of control. On the extreme left point.of the scale the leader makes the d~cisions and informs the followers. The definition of the problem, the diagnosis, and the selection of a solution from among alternatives is done by the leader. He provides no opportunity for the followers to participate di-rectly in the process. Coercion may or may not be implied. Further to the right of the autocratic position is where the leader, rather than sim-ply announcing a decision, persuades the followers to accept it. This ap-proach might assume a resistance to the decision, hence the persuasion. The next point to .the right on the scale is where the leader Presents his idea and invites questions. The followers get the opportunity to under-stand more fully the leader's thinking. The leader is still in control of the decision-making process. The point to the right of this is where the leader presents a tentative decision which is open to cha0ge. The leader continues to have the initiative of defining the problem and choosing the solution, but he is open to influence. This is more or less the midpoint of the scale--all the points to the left are those where the leader's use of authority predominates. The points to the right are those where the followers have an increasing degree of freedom in terms of a decreas~ing use of power by the leader. To the right of the midpoint is the point' where the leader presents the problem, invites sflggestions, and then makes the decision. Here there is a critical change. The leader no longer presents a solution. The followers get the opportunity to suggest solu-tions, from which the leader may select. Giving the followers more free-dom is the point where the leader defines the limits of the problem- Collaborative Leadership / 49 solving process and gives the followers the right to make the decision. The point on the extreme right of the scale is where the leader permits the group to make decisions. The question then follows: How does the leader decide where his be-havior should be located on the scale? How autocratic must he be? How democratic can he be? There are three areas to be considered in answer-ing such questions. Fir~;tly, there is the leader himself. The leader must ask himself questions about his own values, needs, motives, skills, goals, and assumptions about subordinates. His value system and assumptions about people, particularly his subordinates and how they are motivated, are significant elements in leadership behavior.2 Th+ leader needs a de-gree of self-awareness to be in touch with what personal needs are being met in a particular leadership style. The leader's tolerance for ambiguity is another key element. The leader's self-image and self-knowledge are the ground on which an individual style of behavior is built. Secondly, there is the group of subordinates to be considered. The leader, besides looking at himself, must look at the group he is leading. He must con-sider the expectations, motivations~, knowledge, experience, competence, skills, and goals of the subordinates, and how they are interested in and committed to the issues. There is the added complication of the effect of the leader on the group, intended or unintended.3 What a ieader per-ceives to be flexibility the group may perceive to be inconsistency. So leader will need to be clear on °the impact of his behavior, particularly an unintended impact.4 Thirdly, there is the situation to be considered. The leading of~groups does not occur in a vacuum. There is the effect of the nature of the issue to be considered. An issue that has far-reaching effects on the life of the group may require a more participa-tive approach .to a particular decision than would a practical decision that has a less significant effect. There is the amount of time available to be considered. Some emergency decisions can often be appropriately made in an autocratic manner because there is not the time for consultation. The organization or wider cultural context may set limits to the ways de-cisions are made. In a context where participation is perceived as hav-ing a high °value, autocratic decisions may not be appreciated or permit-ted. In summary, there are three areas to be considered in the decision on choosing an appropriate leadership behavior. There are the leader's own values,, assumptions, skills, and self-confidence. There is the actual group of subordinates, with its level of experience, skills, and commit-ment. There is the situation, whicl~ includes the organizational context, 50 /ReviewforReligious, January-February 1988 the amount of time available, the nature of the issues, and the cultural assumptions. The effect of the leader on the group is a significant fac-tor. From a sensitive balancing of each of these three areas, the leader chooses what is appropriate behavior. This requires the leader to be self-aware and have diagnostic skillsin the areas of organizations, groups, and individuals in relation to particular tasks. The emphasis on "appro-priate" is the emphasis that emerges from the definition of leadership that is , ontin, gent on the process between a specific role, the group that is constituted as followers, and the situation. Leadership is situational. The Dilemma of Contemporary Apostolic Leadership The above framework for understanding the choices of behavior a leader has in contemporary apostolic ministry has very cleai" uses. There has been a definite movement from the autocratic, nonconsult~itive style of former generations to a more participative, collaborative style. This has grown out of a number of factors. From Vatican II there has devel-oped a new sense of the ministry of the laity which has opened up ques-tions of how the laity can be colleagues in ministry with religious. Re-ligious themselves, because of the renewal of religious life and the de-cline in numbers, have reviewed their approach to their apostolates. There.remains a~dilemma. The search for the appropriate point on the leadership behavior scale is a real search. There is a discomfort with an apparent slide to the right along the scale from autocracy to abdication of power. There is an ever-growing sense in religious, through renewal of the charism of each congregation,' that the values the religious stand for are central to a congregation's ministry. Religious do not want sim-ply to hand over their apostolates, for they value the mission they have in those apostolates. They want their mission to continue, perhaps with-out them, and certainly not in the same way as formerly. That isthe first area from which an appropriate choice is made. The leader values the mission of the~congregation and wants that to continue to be enshrined in the new situation or in a new structure. At the same time the leader values c'ollaboration and the s.haring of ministry. Sharing is an activity that implies mutuality. Ministry can perhaps only be shared with those who are willing andable to be in a sharing relationship. Therefore, the group with which sharing is hoped for must be evaluated in those terms. Thirdly, there is the situation. The decline in the numbers~of religious must be faced. The state of the world demands an urgent response. The issues are deeply significant. So the choice of appropriate lehdership style is made in the weighing up of the values of the leader, the assess-ment of the group, and the nature of the situation. In those terms it seems Collaborative Leadership that the choice is that of a collaborative style, that is, of a position some-what to the right end of the scale discussed, but not at the extremity. I am attempting to clarify what is actually happening so that relig-ious, by having a framework, can understand it. My hypothesis is that, in seeing that the choices are not simply the two extremities of the scale, the dilemma can be intelligently faced and appropriate choices made. Organizational Leadership A great deal has been written on leadership in organizations over the years. Famous leaders of organizations have written their autobiogra-phies to share with the world how their particular approach to leadership was successful in their organizations. In abstracting from all these ac-counts it seems that a leader of an organization has three roles.5 The leader is an "organizational leader," by which is meant that he leads the organization in a general management role. This typically in-volves being responsible for the accomplishment of the organization's stated plans. It means creatively maintaining and developing the organi-zation's capabilities in its external and internal domains so that achieve-ment of its taTsks is possible. The organizational leader integrates the mul-tiple functions and specialist areas within the organization. These are com-plex tasl~s and require all the qualities of efficiency that are accepted as being a core ingredient of a high management role. Secondly, the leader is a "personal lead+r," a leader of people. He must be personally able to create loyalty. He personally stands for and promotes the values of the organization, and so his actions must be congruent with those val-ues. It is his behavior as leader that forms the culture of the organiza-tion. Thirdly, the leader is the "architect of purpose." In this role he is the custodian of corporate objectives,'establishing and presiding over the setting of goals and the allocation of resources, and making choices from strategic alternatives. He defends the organization from external threats and internal erosion. The instillation of purpose in place of im-provisation and the substitution of planned progress instead of drifting are the most demanding tasks of the leader of the organization. It requires great intellectual capacity to con(eptualize corporate purpose, and it re-quires creativity to recognize strategic alternatives. It requires a critical capacity to analyze the strengths and weaknesses of proposals on paper. A novel system in an American company is one where the pension of the retired chief executive officer is reviewed five years after he has re-tired. The rationale is that after five years the co .mpany will know how good a leader he was when he was in office! 52 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 There is a parallel in relation to religious apost61ic leadership. A ma-jor superior or a director of an apostolate has those same roles. He is an organizational lead,r, a personal leader, and the architect of purpose. He is entrusted with thb effective administration of the organization, be it a region, a school, or a hospital. The organizational leader role is exer-cised in the day-to-day desk work, the eternal round of meetings and re-ports, all working to keeping the organization in operation and fulfilling its mission. As personal leader there is the maintenance of the charism and values of the congregation. The personal care of one's fellow relig-ious is akey responsibility of a major superior. As architect of purpose, the apostolic leader integrates the processes of planning and renewal in terms of the congregation's charism, the needs of the external environ-ment, and the internal resources.6 It involves going beyond the immedi-ate arid everyday decisions and emergencies to thinking strategically about a future to be created. These three roles of high-level leadership can be applied to the di-lemma of leader behavior. The choice of leader behavior in terms of the scale of options and in terms of the three areas of consideration is fun-damental to the roles of organizational leader, personal lead

Issue 47.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1988. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS iS owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1988 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add $5.00 per year; for airmail, add $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVtEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. BOX 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors May/June 1988 Volume 47 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Effective, Nondefensive Communication Between Clergy and Religious Women Robert J. Wicks, Psy.D. This article is adapted from an invited address presented at the 1986 Annual Vicars for Religious Eastern Regional Conference on November 7, 1986, at the St. Raphaela Retreat House, Haverford, Pennsylvania. Dr. Wicks, author of Availability. the Problem and the Gift, is Professor of Pastoral Counseling and Director of Program Development in the Loyola College Pastoral Counseling Department; 7135 Minstrel Way, Suite 101; Columbia, Maryland 21045. Good communication cannot solve every problem; to think so is naive. However, good communication can set the stage for metanoia (conver-sion). Therefore, in light of this all must be done to take advantage of the opportunity it offers-~even though, as one might expect, the cost of this conversion (in terms of openness, patience, and persistent assertive-ness) may be quite substantial. Considering this cost, from a psychological point of view there must be a real effort taken to remove all of the unnecessary interpersonal stress involved through the employment of good communication techniques; whereas, from a spiritual vantage point we must see the goal of effec-tive communication and relationship formation between male and female leaders of the Church as a positive challenge which inspires further steps toward openness rather than one that is threatening and discouraging, caus-ing avoidable anxiety. The movement toward Christian intimacy and interdependence must then be based on a hope that is very much tied to our faith; for with a strong faith--even when we are in the midst of an interaction that seems 321 399 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 to be pulling us apart or are in an apparently complete impasse--we will never lose sight of the key biblical injunction "Be not afraid." In the simple words of Paul to the Philippians: In the name of the encouragement you owe me in Christ, in the name of solace that love can give, of fellowship in spirit, compassion and pity, I beg you: make my joy complete by your unanimity, possessing the one love, united in spirit and ideals. Never act out of rivalry or conceit; rather, let all parties think humbly of others as superior to themselves, each of you looking to others' interests rather than his [her] own (Ph 2:1- 4). His call must be one that all men and women in Christ must heed. And clergy and religious women (the term "religious women" is used instead of "women religious" because it is more inclusive) need to lead the way in continuing to model this struggle for partnership in ministry. One of the realities that I believe many of us do not realize about com-munication between clergy and religious women in this age of occasional ministerial conflict between women and men is that communication is better now between these two groups than ever before in the modern Church. In the past the dissemination of information may have been easier and the discussions more comfortable, but if we are to look at commu-nication as a two-way communication where self-disclosure and the un-covering of agendas are involved, communication between clergy and re-ligious women is, in a real sense, a recent post-Vatican II phenomenon. Prior to this, in many instances because of structures and roles, the in-formation flowed primarily in one direction; this was not only unfair to all concerned but it also held back the Christian community because com-munication is a mainstay of interpersonal vitality. With these points as a backdrop then, we must enter into the topic of effective, nondefensive communication between clergy and religious women with a sense of reality and a deep attitude of hope. If we want, psychology can provide practical information to help, but we must also recognize that this is a spiritual movement; tht~s, in this light we have a responsibility to guide it but an equal mandate not to try to control it. To do so would only prove both frustrating and disastrous. In an effort to place sound psychology at the service of this move-ment, three questions will be addressed: I. How do people respond to communication?This question is im-portant because we often have the assumption that communication is nor- Effective, Nondefensive Communication / 323 mally received with welcome arms and are surprised when this does not happen. II. Who is receiving the message? This question is helpful to address because of the dramatic way a message can be affected, accepted, or re-jected when there is little reflection on whom we are addressing in terms of a number of variables. III. How is effective communication an element in an overall trans-formation of one's attitude and response to God? Good communication is only important if it serves to build up the Kingdom--the Kingdom within ourselves and the Kingdom among ourselves, that "Sacred Space" within which we make the spiritual journey. I. What Are Some of the Ways People May Respond to Communica-tion? Communication can be greeted in a number of ways including: with suspicion or paranoia, with unrealistic expectations, or with hope and chal-lenge. Understanding a bit about each of these types of responses is help-ful when preparing for or involved in communicating with others. Suspicion or Paranoia: Alan Paton once said that some persons "fear social change more than they fear God." Communication often leads to change, and in the institutional Church there sometimes is a sense of suspicion or even paranoia about where the current movements will lead. Nowhere is this more evident than with respect to the move-ment toward full partnership on the part of women. Quite honestly, al-though the suspicion and paranoia are not warranted if we have real trust in the Lord and are healthy psychologically, there is still a reality aspect to the whole issue which is senseless to bury or deny. Communication, real communication--which has at its heart the burning desire for inclu-siveness- is a Trojan horse in the institutional Church today. Inside the horse is true Christian equality--something that will, as it develops and grows, bring with it confusion and concern, just as Christ did in his times to his religious structure. So, although we really must not turn back and hide ourselves behind former types of organizational breakdowns (to do so, I think, would be a futile and sinful exercise in misplaced nostalgia for past structures), th.e question we must not hide through Christian de-nial or behind "chronic niceness" is whether, in envisioning unity, we are also prepared to face many systemic questions which may shake us as a body to the core? Unrealistic Expectations: Among the unrealistic expectations of com-munications we sometime~ hold on to are that good communications will almost always produce comfortable agreement, or somehow if it is done 324 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 correctly will always be pleasant. Agreement does not occur all of the time; this is natural. However, some people erroneously believe that if there is not agreement, it means the communications involved are not good. This is false because there could be a meeting of the minds but the minds may not agree. This is an important point to realize in the Church today. The Church takes time to change; those who have had time to see the institutional manifestations of the Church around the world and have reviewed Church history know that the structures often take time to catch up to the reality of the movement of the Spirit in the People of God. So, while communications and respect between clergy and religious women must be at the top of our agenda, to expect that this will lead to immediate change of certain laws, traditions, and systems is to court unnecessary frustration. Another unrealistic expectation is to expect that if communications are good the results will be pleasant. This is obviously also not true. To see injustice-~either in our own behavior or others--is certainly not a joy. As a matter of fact, good communication may bring us closer-- truth has a special power to do this--but we may not feel it because the issues that divide us may become clearer and we may feel more alien-ated because we are starting to honestly confront them. Using the terminology of Merton, in communications our "true selves" may well see each other and be attracted but at the same time our "false selves" will probably turn and run for their lives! For in-stance, let us take the case of a clergyman who is a firstborn male with an eastern European background. For him to have to face as a result of communication the possibility that he has been acculturated to see him-self as the "worthy one," someone to be waited on hand-and-foot, and that he must somehow in the Spirit of the servant Jesus move away from this learned style is not going to be easy. Likewise, for a religious woman to own the fact that she has been displacing some anger she rightly feels about injustice in the Church onto a particular priest who has not shown any evidence of sexism but has happened to be nearby when she was feeling her justified frustration is also not pleasant. Hope and Challenge: However, thankfully, communication can also be greeted in a positive way. It can be greeted with a sense of hope and challenge; and that is the attitude we must all seek to "put on" as we would seek to put on Christ. Yet this positive Christlike attitude does not deny that communication takes effort, is easily affected, and often gets distorted because of past experiences. Effective, Nondefensive Communication / 325 Gestures never substitute for actions; this all of us probably would admit to knowing. Yet one of the burdens of the human condition is that we often make a gesture when we think we are taking an action. This is especially so in communication. Real communication requires that agen-das be cleared. We must risk speaking our minds and our hearts, but often we shy away from this because we can lose face, uncover unpleas-ant anxieties, or lose our position in the relationship (even though this position is a matter of self-protection rather than of Christian friendship). The "bottom line" then is that, even with a sense of hope and challenge, good communication takes real effort. II. Who Is Receiving the Message? Age, socio-economic background, race/ethnic origin, intelligence, and any number of other determinants will affect how our message is re-ceived. This is especially important in terms of personality and sociali-zation as a result of gender. With respect to personality and communication, given the focus of this paper, the specific factors which we will treat here are domination and avoidance. Domination: Some people have a great fear of being dominated or influenced while others are themselves dominators. In both cases, the per-son will receive communications in line with these personality determi-nants. Sometimes very bad past ministerial experiences will cause this kind of issue to be at the forefront. An example of this is the person in ministry who has been--in the name of "Christian service"--pulled into doing all kinds of work and has filled all kinds of inappropriate roles. He or she may then respond to communication in what I call a "pseudojustice" mode. Trying to communicate with such persons about involvement can be like pulling teeth because of their fear that their own space will be intruded upon as it has been in the past. With them you may feel exasperated and feel like yelling: "I'm not trying to control you. All I'm trying to do is to find out how you would like to serve as part of the team." The hidden agenda such people have and their past feeling of being dominated and forced into too many unwanted, possi-bly unsuitable roles need to surface and be dealt with so communication and involvement can proceed. On the other hand, for persons receiving the message who are them-selves dominators, the problem will be somewhat different. In this case they show constant concern that if they agree or open up they might lose necessary control of the situation. In communicating with them, the situ-ation is also frustrating because if you are not careful you may begin to 326/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 feel that you are in fact gUilty of trying to wrestle control or get away with something. To such persons, nevertheless, you must express the idea clearly and question their hesitation so that they can get in touch with the domination problem they are experiencing. (Th.e more uncon-scious the problem is, howex;er, the more defensive the person will be because of a lack of awareness about it and a resistance to looking at it on his or her part.) Avoidance: Avoidance of involvement with another person may be due to a number of reasons. When we are speaking about communica-tions between clergy and religious women, though, one of the primary concerns could be the fear of heterosexual intimacy. As we learn from the psychological literature (for example, Daniel Levinson: The Seasons of a Man's Life), this may especially be a problem with males because of a confusion between genital relationships and nongenital heterosexual relationships. In Levinson's words: A man may have a wide social network in which he has amicable, "friendly" relationships with many men and perhaps a few women. In general, however, most men do not have an intimate male friend of the kind that they recall fondly from boyhood or y.outh. Many men have had casual dating relationships with women, and perhaps a few complex love-sex relationships, but most men have not had an intimate nonsexual friendship with a woman. We need to understand why friendship is so rare, and what consequences this deprivation has for adult life (p. 335). For the religious woman, the case may be a failure to have had enough heterosexual opportunities herself to feel at ease in the situation; another reason could be a negative history early in life or in ministry (for example, steps at healthy intimacy either rebuffed or responded to in a genital way thus producing confusion, anger, or possibly unwarranted guilt). Now that we have looked at the above two elements in understand-ing whom we are communicating with--since the "who" very much de-termines how a message will be received, let us briefly look at the dif-ferences communication takes on from the socialization a person receives because of gender. Gender, along with the socialization and human development that oc-cur in line with it, is a very crucial variable in how someone receives communication. Carol Gilligan (In A Different Voice: Visions in Matur-ity, Harvard University Press, 1982), Robert Kegan (The Evolving Self, Harvard University Press, 1982), and Jean Miller (Toward a New Psy-chology of Women, Beacon, 1976) b.ave shown that recent studies on Effective, Nondefensive Communication women's psychological development characterize them as more open to, and interested in, affiliation than men. However, of more import is that these findings, rather than being evidence of regressive dependence, are reflective of a high level of development that should be integrated with (male-oriented) differentiation at each level of maturity. Joann Wolski Conn, in her work Women's Spirituality (Paulist, 1986), points to this: ¯ . . o.ne should notice the similarities between the Christian goal of un-ion with God demonstrated by loving care for all persons, and the ideal of human maturity promoted in essays by Miller, Gilligan, and Kegan. Gilligan rejects autonomy as the only appropriate goal for human ma-turity in moral decisions and presents instead a goal which equally val-ues relationships . [Kegan] explicitly intends to present a model which listens as carefully to women's experience as it does to men's. As a result, his model demonstrates how the qualities which have come to characterize men and women stereotypically--autonomy and relation-ship-- are the focus of life span tasks at every stage of everyone's de-velopment . Miller explains that autonomy as the goal of maturity is a carry-over from men's experience and implies that one should be able to give up affiliations in order to become separate and self-directed. Women seek more than autonomy as was defined for men; in-deed, they seek a fuller ability to encompass relationships simultane-ously with the fullest development of themselves. Too often women are misinterpreted or penalized for affirming to men a basic truth: every-one's individual development proceeds through affiliation as well as dif-ferentiation. And this development involves conflict which is an inevi-table fact of life and is not necessarily harmful (60, 61). The above is particularly relevant for us here because it is the devel-opment of the female "gender" (as opposed to biological sex), with its emphasis on affiliation,versus the male "gender," which focuses on sepa-ration, that determines whether communication will be sought to build up the Kingdom via an emphasis on relationships or via an attempt to foster "God's will" by furthering a truth or cause at the possible ex-pense of excluding intimacy in the process. ¯ This is not said to disparage men. Jesus in his communication mod-eled both the male and the female gender (that is, he stood for the truth but saw charity and relationship as the greatest law). On the other hand, in an effort to attain equality, it is equally possible for some women to mistake "machismo" for the masculine gender and seek aggressive power in their communication rather than an assertive appropriate de-fense of the truth that will in turn bring us together as brothers and sis- ~i98 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 ters. Consequently, gender is an important issue when reflecting on the person with whom we are trying to communicate. III. Effective Communications as an Element of Overall Transforma-tion Changes in one's attitude and approach to life are areas in which thera-pists have had a long-standing interest. Because of this they are aware of the resistance to change that people have-~even when there is an ex-pressed conscious desire to progress. One way of dealing with such re-sistance, bad habits, or unwanted yet seemingly ingrained negative pat-terns is to address one or all of the following: behavior, cognition, af-fect, and imagery. (I am indebted in this section to my colleague Rich-ard Parsons for his model for therapeutic intervention based on the first three of the factors just listed.) This information is important with respect to what we have already discussed because unless communication is seen as an element of one's overall need to be transformed in approaching God, it will not be suffi-ciently integrated into one's life to have significant impact on one's daily outlook. For instance, when a depressed person comes in for treatment, the problem during the course of therapy can be dealt with in each of the ar-eas listed above; the following is a sample: Behavior: The person is helped to develop a strategy to get out of bed and move about since activity and depression do not coexist well to-gether. Cognition: The person is assisted in recognizing negative thinking, seeing the link between it and depression, and learning how to correct for this thinking as a way of dealing ultimately with a negative belief sys-tem. Affect (emotions): The person is encouraged to express negative emo-tion (anger) so it is not directed against the self in a destructive fashion. Imagery: The person is given exercises in positive imagery as a means of correcting the inordinate negative images that the person fre-quently has and erroneously believes. In this way, the person is able to enter upon a process of self-reeducation, in terms of which, rather than behaving, perceiving, feel-ing, and imaging negatively, he or she realistically and positively takes greater and greater hold. In our openness to grace (using the above model including behav-ior, cognition, affect, and imagery), similar moves must be taken with respect to.ensuring the presence and growth of effective, nondefensive Effective, Nondefensive Communication communication between clergy and religious women. As a way of en-suring this, in each of the four categories, a series of sample questions is offered. They are not so much a comprehensive list as a way of ap-proaching what we have covered in this paper on a broader scale. How they are addressed initially and every day will help determine how the clergy and religious women feel about and act upon their stated desire to open up clear lines of communication between them--regarding, that is, what they do, perceive, affectively experience, and envision. Since emotions are hard to impact directly (except with drug therapy or via ex-ercises in catharsis--that is, ventilating emotions when relating an event to a friend so that the emotions do not come out in an inordinate way in an encounter with someone else), the three we will focus on in terms of a listing of reflective questions are: behavior, cognition, and imagery. (Naturally, there will be some overlap between categories.) Behavior: 1. When someone treats me with disrespect/anger, do I inquire about it or do I withdraw and absorb the negativity or retaliate against the per-son? (Am I able to say: "You seem angry. Is it me that you are angry with or someone/thing else?") 2. Do I time sensitive interactions correctly, or do I bring up things at a time when the person will feel on the spot, rushed, or unable to re-spond? (The "attack-in-the-open" or "hit-on-the-run" techniques.) 3. Do I let other people's behavior (defensive, angry, rigid.) de-termine (excuse) a like negative response on my part? 4. When I have a confrontation, do I employ empathy and respect? 5. Do I group people (sexes, roles . . .) together, or do I take the trouble to appreciate each person individually? 6. Do I treat my partner in ministry like a child or parent or assume one of these roles myself in communication? 7. Do I demand that people agree or have a constantly pleasant de-meanor as a price of interacting with me? 8. When I communicate, am I trying to be myself, or am I trying to project an image so as to keep people controlled, at a distance, or in awe of me? 9. Do I hide behind the rules--be they correct or not--as a way of ending a conversation or cutting off a person's desire to brainstorm or be an adult with me? 10. Do I give in--in the name of "charity"--because I want to be liked? 330 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 11. Am I difficult to deal with and .overly exacting about a job de-scription- not merely to ensure justice is done, but as displaced revenge for past injustices, hurts, or inordinate demands? In other words, am I willing to be assertive enough to set limits for people when I am being asked to do things I should not do, and, on the other hand, am I gener-ous enough to go the extra mile when it is called for rather than hide be-hind a "union-type" contract which may destroy ministerial morale? (This question is material for an article in itself, given the undeclared psy-chological war that is often taking place between some manipulative, con-trolling, dominant ministers in the Church and the obsessive-compulsive persons who report to them.) 12. Do I use emotional words or parental actions (pedantic tones, sar-o casm . . .) as a way of controlling or attacking other persons? 13. Do I use indirect or passive aggressive/dependent behavior as a way of getting back at someone because I cannot or will not face my own anxiety about being directly assertive? 14. Do I catch myself when I am not taking someone seriously or am making a premature judgment about him or her? 15. Do I tie people up in specifics, rules, or implications rather than allowing them to share their hopes, ideals, and visions with me? 16. Do I look for defensiveness in the other person as a help to moni-tor how I am presenting my view? (Am I using evaluative rather than de-scriptive language, which then sets the other person up to respond nega-tively?) 17. Am I being specific and recent, rather than vague, general, or historical? That is, am I dragging in what I perceive to be the person's whole negative history with me? 18. Am I falling into the trap of employing a communication de-stroyer such as: ordering, directing, commanding, warning, admonish-ing, threatening, exhorting, moralizing, preaching, lecturing, giving so-lutions, .judging, criticizing, blaming, flattering, name-calling, shaming, withdrawing, humoring, or diverting? i9. Am I acting the way I am because of the person's "church cre-dentials" or because of who they are as persons . . . my brothers and sisters in Christ? 20. Am I giving other persons enough distance, or am I moving ahead in the communication and relationship because of my own needs, my own sense of where relationships should be after a given period of time? Effective, Nondefensive Communication 21. Am I able to not "take the whole stage" or "hide behind the curtain" but instead find an appropriate verbal place in the communica-tion? 22. Am I self-disclosing enough without inappropriately or too rap-idly overwhelming the other person with my personal life? 23. Do I use anger, pouting, tears, tantrums, or seduction to get my way? 24. Do I look for the other person's point in communication so it re-ally can become a two-way process of exchanging information? 25. Am I looking for those signs in myself which would help me see when in my interactions and thoughts I may be setting myself up for un-necessary failure? (Do I expect that the reality of the diocese or present partner in ministry will meet my ideals and, when it does not, see it as a total failure?) Cognition: I. Do I try to be as clear as possible in the way I express myself--in other words, do I try to look at all my motivations and agendas? 2. Do I catch myself when I feel either angry, anxious, or guilty so I can try to understand the source of it rather than merely blaming my-self or someone else? 3. Am I sensitive to the times I personalize things? For instance, do I quickly take the blame for some external negative event that I was not primarily responsible for and as a result feel unnecessarily angry/guilty? 4. Do I hold on to the biblical quotation "Be not afraid" at a real belief/trust level to the extent that I can move forward in communica-tion even during those times when I feel pain, rejection, threat, or panic? 5. In my communication of the expectations I have of people, am I presenting them in a way which puts them on the spot, or do I really try to call them to be all they can be without embarrassing them because they are where they are? 6. Do I predict failure or put the other person down in my mind even before the communication has had time to develop? 7. Do I pick up my feelings of annoyance or frustration and catch the underlying thought which is causing it and thus avoid lessening my motivation to continue the communication and work through the prob-lem? 8. Do I fearlessly try to separate my motivations and agendas so I can see what mature/immature elements are involved in my thinking when I prepare for an important discussion, confrontation, or meeting? 332 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 9. When I am at an intimate level with a person, am I checking all the thoughts going through my mind---even the negative or unrealistic ones--as a way of picking up my unfulfilled preconscious desires or needs so they do not interfere with the communication or lead me to act out some immature behavior that would be detrimental to the relation-ship? I0. Am I thinking that, if this person does not like me, it means am not likable in general? Or do I believe that when I am on a ministry team everyone must get along equally well? 1 i. Do I see disagreement as tantamount to disloyalty or start to be-lieve such an attitude if I am given that message by the person with whom I am communicating? 12. Am I willing and able to recall past supportive adult situations I have had with other partners in ministry so I do not generalize when I have a bad experience in the present? Imagery: 1. Am I imaging myself as an assertive sister/brother of Christ, or do I perceive a non-Christlike negative image of myself? 2. Am I truly imaging the opposite sex as being in the image of God? (Am I able to image her/him as being my superior even if I am now her/ his superior in the apostolate?) 3. Do I image myself as loved so I can behave as a healthy person rather than a "good/nice" person who retreats, placates, etc., because of a desperate need for acceptance? 4. Do I try to cut through all of the past culturally determined im-ages I have had of the Lord in order to reenvision the masculinity (as op-posed to the "machismo," power, superiority . . .) of Christ, and am I also able to see Jesus as mother? Or, do I really believe this area is silly and avoid it? 5. Do I take the "Abba" image of God as my guide and meditate on it as an assertive yet tender role model? Or do I still have a "superego-oriented," patriarchal image of God? These are just some of the questions that must be faced with respect to behavior, cognition, and imagery if communication is to change and become effective, if our attitude is to be truly transformed. Epilogue Abraham Heschel once said: [A person's] plight is not due to the fear of nonbeing, to the fear of death, but to the fear of living . The fear of living arises most corn- Effective, Nondefensive Communication monly out of the experiences of failure or insult, or having gone astray or having been rebuffed. It is rooted in the encounter with other human beings, in not knowing how to be with other beings, in the inability or refusal to communicate, but above all in the failure to live in complete involvement with what transcends bur living. I think that, in discussing effective, nondefensive communication be-tween clergy and religious women and in looking at our behavior, cog-nition, and imagery, we are being asked whether we will fear living or whether we will live in complete involvement. We are being asked whether we will follow "Holy Mother the institutional Church" in such a strict way that we are not open to "Holy Mother our God" to the ex-tent that we allow her to carry us where she will. The questions being asked here, then, are not easy ones. Neither are the answers so immediate and accessible. Psychology can help, and we should employ it wherever we can. But, in the last analysis, it is prayer and spirituality that will turn the tide. James Fenhagen said at one point in his book Invitation to Holiness (Harper & Row, 1985, p. 57): "People live cautiously because they pray cautiously." I think this is so, and I think St. Peter felt it when he was confronted at Rome's gate after being asked the question: "Quo vadis?" Accordingly, I wonder, in this whole issue of communications and rela-tionships between clergy and religious women (as might also possibly be the case with respect to the modern movement toward a lay-centered Church), whether it would be too dramatic for us to see that the whole Church is at the gate being questioned again by the Lord as to our cour-age, fortitude, and faith? I wonder. I wonder. Leading People into Prayer Paul Wachdorf Father Wachdorf, a priest of the Archdiocese of Chicago, is an associate dean of for-mation and a spiritual director at Mundelein Seminary. His address is: University of Saint Mary of the Lake; Mundelein, Illinois 60060. For the past six years I have served as a spiritual director for the theologi-ans at Mundelein Seminary, the graduate school of theology of the Arch-diocese of Chicago. An increasing number of our incoming students have never been in a seminary. Frequently their knowledge of the history and teachings of the Church and of the various prayer traditions of the Church is at a very basic level. Some come with no prayer life at all. For others, their experience of prayer is limited to saying prayers, occasionally read-ing from the Bible, or talking to God. One of the challenges I have faced as a director in working with these students is to lead them into a deeper experience of prayer. Out of my experience of the last six years, I would like to share some of the insights and practical wisdom that I have found helpful in work-ing with these students. Although I have worked primarily with semi-nary students, I believe that what I have to say can be helpful to anyone working with beginners in prayer: spiritual directors, RCIA facilitators, pastoral-care ministers, homilists, prayer-group leaders, and many oth-ers. It is very important to be aware of the special issues and concerns that beginners in prayer face as they seek to come before God. The Foundational Conviction The most important insight that I have come to is this: God leads peo-ple into prayer. Through God's own invitations, people come to prayer in their own good time and way. As a director I can invite people to a life of prayer. I can walk with them in their attempts to pray. I can help 334 Leading People into Prayer / 335 to facilitate their movement into prayer. But I cannot make them pray, and I cannot control the movement or the experience of God in their prayer. As a director I have had to face my own impatience and desire to have someone become a person of prayer overnight. I have come to see that there are many starts and stops; but, over time, people are given the gift of prayer. Prayer cannot be forced. It is a conversion experience. When people come to experience firsthand the power of God at work in their lives and prayer, then prayer becomes something that they want to do and not something I expect them to do or something they are obli-gated to do by the Church. Until this happens for them, I try as much as possible to affirm their fledgling efforts to pray and to be understand-ing and accepting of them in their failures, their discouragement, and their resistances as they attempt to pray. Beginning by Doing When I meet.with prospective spiritual directees, I tell them that one expectation I have of them is that they commit themselves to developing a regular prayer life. Furthermore, within the context of spiritual direc-tion, I want them to talk about what happens to them when they do pray. I also tell them that I am not going to dictate to them how, when, or how often they should pray, nor am I going to scold them in their failures or difficulties with prayer. I am not indifferent about their prayer life. Within the framework of God's gift and their freedom, I try to be an accountability factor. What is a value to me, I want to be a value for them. In addition, I tell them that their commitment to prayer insures that what we do within the con-text of spiritual direction becomes more than just guidance and counsel-ing. Some of those I direct have told me that my invitation to prayer has been an important stimulus in their attempts to develop their own prayer life. In Solidarity and With Support At Mundelein Seminary, the full-time members of the formation team commit themselves to an hour of personal prayer every morning in our house chapel. We invite the students to join us in our time of prayer, and many of them do. In this hour of quiet time with God, there is a soli-darity that develops among us. Many of our students have said that this daily commitment of the formation team to prayer has been an impor-tant witness and invitation to them in their own prayer life. 33t5 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 Related to this, on occasion I have invited a student I am directing to join me for this time of quiet prayer. We have used a common prayer form or passage from Scripture as the basis of our prayer. Afterwards we spent some time talking about what we experienced in our prayer. Within the context of direction, I try to share on a limited basis, and when-ever I feel it is appropriate, some of the content of my own prayer life and what happens to me when I pray. These two things have helped some of my beginners in prayer to come to an experiential insight into what can happen when they open themselves up to God in prayer and to understand what prayer in gen-eral and what specific prayer forms can be like for them. The Spiritual Dialogue About Prayer When I first meet with new spiritual directees, I ask them to spend some time telling me their life history. Among other things, I ask them to tell me about their prayer life and their experiences and images of God. In particular, I ask them if they have ever had what they consider to be a religious experience or a powerful experience of God at work in their lives. What I have found is not only that many of those I direct have had such experiences but also that these experiences have played an impor-tant part in their own vocational discernment and their understanding of God. I have also found that people feel very shy or embarrassed about hav-ing had such an experience, have never told anyone about it before, and have a difficult time articulating just what the experience was like. As a director I find that it is very important for me to listen carefully to what they have to say, to reassure them that they are not weird or crazy, to invite them to explore further what they have experienced, and to give them permission to talk about such experiences as they might occur in the future. During the course of direction, I ask people to talk about their prayer life in terms of consistency, method, content, and inner feelings associ-ated with praying. Initially they find this difficult since they frequently lack the language to talk about what happens interiorly when they pray. Very often they have not developed the ability to sit quietly for any ex-tended period of time, to notice what they are feeling, and to distinguish the difference between distractions and movements of God. As we begin, I encourage people to talk about whatever they thought or felt or experienced in their prayer, whether they considered it to be significant or not. I find it important for me to move slowly and to be Leading People into Prayer patient with their attempts not only to pray but also to notice and talk about their experience of prayer. I also find that I need to be sensitive to their desire to please me, to do well in their prayer, or to have some-thing significant to say. I need to reassure them that whatever happens in their attempts to pray is fine with me and is pleasing to God. Related to these considerations is another question we examine early on: For whom is prayer intended? Is it primarily for my benefit, for what I get out of it? Or is it primarily for God? If prayer is just for my benefit and if nothing seems to be happening, I will feel it is a waste of time and will be tempted to give it up. On the other hand, if prayer is for God, it does not make any differ-ence if anything "productive" seems to be happening. Even if it feels like a waste of time to me, I am praying because I am giving my time to God in a way that says that my relationship with God is primary. The fact that I am consistently present to God in my prayer is initially far more important than what ! do or what happens when I pray. When peo-ple come to a different understanding of what prayer is and for whom it is intended, they relax and are more open as they approach prayer. Resistances, Difficulties, and Dryness Beginners in prayer are usually eager and enthusiastic as they begin to develop and deepen their prayer lives and to experiment with new prayer forms. They may experience in new and surprising ways the power of God at work in their prayer. As time passes, however, and they run into resistances, difficulties, and dryness in their prayer, they may become discouraged and disheart-ened with their prayer life. They may feel as if God has abandoned them. It is important to help them understand the dynamics of what is going on in their prayer. A list of some of the common difficulties that tend to make prayer difficult for beginners follows: a) Called to a Different Prayer Frequently the difficulties encountered by beginners in prayer are con-nected to being called by God to a different way of praying, to a deeper level of prayer. Although this is true for all pray-ers, it is especially true for beginners. My experience with beginners in prayer is that they soon discover that the ways of prayer taught them as children and carried with them into adolescence and young adulthood are no longer satisfying to them. It is important to let them explore their dissatisfactions and new yearn-ings and to help them see that perhaps God is calling them to a differ- Review for Religious, May-June 1988 ent, deeper way of praying. b) Wondering What to Do Exploring different ways of praying, however, often brings begin-ners to another difficulty: They do not know how to begin or what to do in their time of prayer. They are intimidated by silence and fear that noth-ing is going to happen or that they will be plagued by distractions. When they are unfocused as they come to prayer, when they have no sense of how to open themselves up to God so that God can enter into their lives, prayer will be extremely difficult for them. I find it is important to explore with beginners what prayer is, what attitudes to bring to prayer, how to interpret and deal with distractions, and what prayer techniques may suit them and open them up to God. If they know their Myers-Briggs type indicator, I offer to go over with them some of the research that has been done on prayer and tem-perament. One resource I would suggest is the book Prayer and Tem-perament by Chester Michael and Marie Norrisey (Charlottesville, Va. : The Open Door, 1984). The Myers-Briggs type indicator seems to be a limited but useful tool in helping people to understand how they ap-proach the world. This understanding can put them in touch with a fa-vored and a shadow side of prayer, an insight that can open them to a sense of God at work in their lives. c) Unworthiness Another difficulty beginners face is the feeling that they are not wor-thy to pray. More specifically, they feel unworthy to come before God, that they have nothing worthwhile to offer to God, and that .they are not worthy to receive anything from God in their time of prayer. These feel-ings are often connected with earlier lifestyles which now cause shame. Sometimes they are connected with images of God which portray God as a perfectionist or as a harsh, impersonal, unforgiving judge who pun-ishes wrongdoing. I find that it is important to let people freely explore their life histories, their images of God, and their own sense of unwor-thiness. d) Looking at All Facets of Life I encourage those I direct to get in touch with their feelings and to tell God in their prayer what they are feeling, thinking, and experienc-ing. This tends to bring into focus several related difficulties for begin-ners in prayer. Leading People into Prayer / 339 The first is their image of God as all-knowing. If God is all-knowing, why should they bother to express what God already knows? A second is that they are often not in touch with what they are feel-ing or with inner movements which might or might not be of God. They have never cultivated the reflective side of their lives. A third is that they are frequently suspicious of emotions, especially those they consider to be negative or sinful, such as anger, lust, or de-spair. They have a difficult time admitting to themselves that they have such emotions. And even when they do, how, for example, could they possibly express to God their angry feelings? Such feelings can be very threatening to them and can reinforce their sense of unworthiness before God. It is important to help beginners get in touch with their feelings and thoughts, to claim them in a non judgmental way, and to begin to express them to God in their prayer. As they do this, God is able to be with them as they are and as he wants to be with them. e) The Right Time and Place Difficulties in prayer can also be related to lifestyle and environment. A poor environment, such as the clutter of their rooms where there are many distractions, can make prayer difficult. I encourage beginners to explore various prayer environments to help them discover a place where they can be with God in peace. The time of day for prayer is important. "Morning" people or "night" people need to adjust prayer times according to their natural biological rhythms. I encourage people to find a time of day when they can give quality prayer time to God, a time of alertness and concentra-tion. The general rhythm of life affects prayer. A scattered life or a life out of balance will not help prayer. One needs a regular and rhythmic balance of work, play, and attending to relationships. I encourage peo-ple to examine their life patterns because a healthy life is related to healthy prayer. t') Consistent Commitment Inconsistency or not enough time given to prayer can make prayer difficult. The development of a healthy, loving, life-giving relationship between any two people requires that they spend sufficient, consistent, quality time together. Our relationship with God is no different. If God is to be present to us as God truly desires, we have to make time for this relationship to develop. It is important to explore with beginners the dis- ~140 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 cipline of consistent prayer. g) Wasting Time with God In the midst of the hectic pace of modern life, it is difficult to find time to pray. Often, for pragmatic, production-oriented Americans, prayer seems like a waste of time. People can always think of "better" ways to spend their time. The need that beginners have for productive prayer is one that needs to be carefully explored. I encourage them to see prayer as an opportunity to waste time gracefully with God. h) Dealing with Setbacks When people miss prayer for a day or two or three, they become dis-couraged. They may want to give up on prayer. My response is encour-agement. When they miss, they do not need to get upset or give up on prayer as a lost cause. I tell them to come back. Prayer is a decision that continually needs to be renewed. If they fall, they should simply get up and start over again. God, I believe, is not all that interested in how many times they have fallen. God is more interested in how many times they got back up and started over again. i) Desolation In his Rules for the Discernment of Spirits, Week I [322], St. Igna-tius suggests three important reasons why we suffer desolation or diffi-culty in prayer. David Fleming, S.J., in The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978, pp. 210-211), "reads" the text of St. Ignatius as follows: I. It is our own fault because we have not lived our life of faith with any effort. We have become tepid and slothful and our very shallow-ness in the spiritual life has brought about the experience of desolation; 2. it is a trial period allowed by God. We find ourselves tested as to whether we love God or just love his gifts, whether we continue to fol-low his call in darkness and dryness as well as in light and consolation; 3. it is a time when God lets us experience our own poverty and need. We see more clearly that the free gift of consolation is not something we can control, buy, or make our own. These Ignatian guidelines are geared for beginning Christians. When explained properly, they can be helpful in giving beginning pray-ers some insight into what might be happening in their prayer. Leading People into Prayer / 341 Prayer in Direction I invite those I direct to take time, if they are comfortable in doing so, to join me in prayer at the beginning and/or at the end of our ses-sions together. My/our prayer might be spontaneous or more formal. As we begin, the prayer is a simple petition inviting God to be a part of our time together and asking for the guidance of the Holy Spirit. As we end, the prayer might be a moment of thanksgiving or praise to God for the ways in which the Spirit works in our lives and in the process of spiri-tual direction. It is important not to force this. Beginners in prayer are not usually very comfortable praying out loud or spontaneously. At the same time, such prayer does sensitize beginning pray-ers to the importance of con-tinually inviting God to enter into their lives and of noticing and acknowl-edging the ways in which God can and does act in their lives. Conclusion My experience is that leading people to prayer is an art and not a sci-ence. There is no one textbook approach that works for everyone. Prayer is something very personal and unique. It is a special relationship that develops over time between God and the pray-er. People come to prayer in their own good time and way. As a spiritual director, I cannot make prayer happen; but I can help to facilitate this loving relationship. In work-ing with beginners in prayer, I do not apply the suggestions I have of-fered in this article in any structured or systematic way; but I have found that there are certain common themes and experiences that it is good for me as a spiritual director to be aware of as I seek to lead people under the influence and guidance of the Holy Spirit into a life of prayer. Marian Year: A Prolonged, Ardent Pentecost Gene Barrette, M.S. Father Barrette last wrote for us in the November/December 1987 issue. The pre-sent article has been adapted from a letter of his to the La Salette Missionaries, of whom he is the superior general. His address: Missionari di N. S. de la Salette; Pi-z, zza Madonna della Salette, 3; 00152 Roma, Italy. I'leturning to Rome from Argentina on June 6, 1987, after nearly twenty-four hours of travel, I was only hazily aware of the events of that day. I noticed some members of my community in front of the TV joining the Holy Father as he prayed the rosary at St. Mary Major's Basilica. A Veri-table prayer chain around the world was formed as simultaneous trans-mission linked groups of the faithful praying in some of the major Marian shrines on five continents. Later in the evening a group from the house went to the Pentecost vigil celebrated in St. Peter's Square, a ceremony full of splendor and evocative images of fire and flowers. These were festivities marking the pope's official opening of the second Marian Year in the history of the Church. This special year, which will close on the feast of the Assumption, 1988, was launched with media fanfare, receiv-ing extensive TV and newspaper coverage here in Rome for a couple of days. And yet, I must humbly admit, in my own jet-lagged heart I felt little excitement or response. In fact, when the Marian Year was first announced, a little demon voice in me had muttered: "What is this man doing? Here the world is facing enormous problems: war, possible nuclear annihilation, the col-lapse of social structures, massive oppression and injustices, and moral confusion; and what does he hold out to the world? A Marian Year!" My 342 Marian Year / 343 initial reaction was not only less than enthusiastic, it was even slightly embarrassed. How shallow that reaction was! For what has Pope John Paul done? I believe he has done something very prophetic, prophetic in the same sense that La Salette is so pro-phetic. At La Salette Mary described a world suffering from famine, dis-ease, and turmoil. And yet what did she propose as a solution? Prayer, attendance at Mass, fasting--in a word, conversion. She proposed solu-tions that in the eyes of the world certainly could only appear "foolish." And so too, perhaps in the eyes of the world or, even worse, in our own worldly eyes, the pope's proclamation of a Marian Year as an important way to prepare for the Third Millennium may seem foolish. But it is the kind of foolishness that in the eyes of God is, in fact, wisdom. In proclaiming a Marian Year, the pope is saying to all of us: "Be-hold your mother!" Yes, this is a year that can help us behold and relate to this maternal reality which is life-giving and life-nurturing; and the life that Mary gives and nurtures is precisely the Christ-life so desper-ately needed in the famine of our days. Yes, behold our mother; behold the woman who is our privileged doorway to Christ, Christ who in fact is the only true answer to the fragmentations, oppressions, and forces of nonlife and darkness threatening our today and shadowing our tomorrow. Any word or act that leads us to this heart of our reality is prophetic. Bringing Mary Out Of Eclipse It is no e×aggeration to say that Marian devotion suffered a diminu-tion during the past twenty-five years or so. Some blame the Vatican Council, others hold theologians at fault. And yet no council has ever spoken so beautifully of Mary as does Lumen Gentium, nos. 52-69. Promi-nent theologians such as Karl Rahner, Schillebeeckx, and even the non- Catholic Max Thurian have written exquisitely on Mary. Bishops' con-ferences have issued pastoral letters on Mary, such as the American bish-ops' beautiful letter Behold Your Mother. The eclipse came as an over-reaction to excesses that at times existed in some Marian devotions; the eclipse also came because our attention was focused on other essential aspects of our Christian, ecclesial life. But Mary is so integral a part of the fabric of our faith that she can-not remain in eclipse. In fact, in Argentina Cardinal Primatesta, in a con-ference to the members of the Council of the Congregation, went on at great length to emphasize that it is Marian devotion that has preserved the Christian faith of the Latin American people over the centuries. This great gift cannot remain in eclipse. :344/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 Through the Marian Year, Pope John Paul wants to put dramatically before our eyes and our hearts this life-giving reality that is Mary, Mother of Christ, Mother of the Church; your mother and mine. We are not dealing with pious images or metaphors nor with devotional projec-tions; we are dealing with a reality present to us. Do we recognize this presence? Is it vital for us? Permit me to use an analogy to help me get my point across. Walk outside and look up into the air. Do you hear music or voices and see images? Of course not. And yet that seemingly clear air is full of sounds and images. All you need is a radio or TV and click--you capture them. You hear the music and the voices, you see the pictures. All you need is the proper instrument, properly tuned and with a power source. It is the same thing with the presence of God, the Lord, the Spirit--and yes, of Mary. They are real presences. But unless we have our minds and hearts empowered by the Spirit, attuned in faith, then there is no way that we can be aware of these presences; no way that we can respond to them; no way that we can be touched and transformed by them. In a cer-tain sense the Marian Year is a "tuning time" for us; tuning in to the presence of Mary to her people. How sad it would be not to take advan-tage of this gift. This Spirit-inspired invitation of the Holy Father to give Mary her rightful place in our lives is not intended to lead us simply to a superfi-cial polishing-up of Marian devotion. It is actually a call to enter into the richness and the profound meaning of a Marian spirituality. As John Paul's recent encyclical Redemptoris Mater suggests, it is a question of seeing Mary not simply as part of our "doctrine of faith," but much more of Mary as part of our "life of faith." Mary is the prototype for our own stance before God and the world. Mary has led and continues to lead the way on our pilgrimage of faith. Recognizing that and actively drawing strength from that reality is one way of insuring that Mary will no longer live in a sort of eclipse. This is not the place for a treatise on the fundamentals of a Marian theology. I simply encourage you all to give Redemptoris Mater a prayer-ful, meditative reading. The encyclical, plus chapter VIII in Lumen Gen-tium, gives an excellent summary of Mariology. In these pages I simply want to point out some aspects of Mary that can touch our life of faith; points that may.be light and food for our own journey. Mary: Model for Our Pilgrimage of Faith A recurring phrase in the pope's encyclical is Mary's place in the "pilgrimage of faith" (6, 14, 25, and 26 especially). The whole image Marian Year / 345 of the pilgrimage of faith is a dynamic one capturing the movement, the evolution, the story of a people, of individuals. What is this "pilgrimage of faith" that the Church has lived out through space and time in her individual members? The pope says that its essential character is interior, a "question of a pilgrimage through faith, by the 'power of the Risen Lord,' a pilgrimage in the Holy Spirit" (RM 25). The essential element of this interior pilgrimage is the response that each person gives to the encounter with the Holy Spirit. The faith-response of yes-~offiat, a total "obedience of faith" to the Spirit invit-ing into God's plan-~creates a receptive space for the conception and birthing of Jesus. This pilgrimage of faith is of crucial importance not only because of what it accomplishes in the individual, but more because of what is accomplished through the individual: making Christ present in the world. And Mary, in a unique and special way, is present to and part of this ongoing pilgrimage. "Mary is present, as the one who is 'blessed be-cause she believed,' as the one who advanced on the pilgrimage of faith, sharing unlike any other creature in the mystery of Christ . Among all believers she is like a 'mirror' in which are reflected in the most pro-found and limpid way 'the mighty works of God' " (RM 25). Mary is the prototype and model for all faith-pilgrims. And what can we learn when we look at her response? We discover that "to believe means 'to abandon oneself' to the truth of the word of the living God ¯ . . accepting fully and with a ready heart everything that is decreed in the divine plan., a complete openness to the person of Christ, to his whole work, to his whole mission" (RM 14, 39). This total acceptance, this total giving oneself to God's plan, is evi-dent throughout Mary's life: in thefiat of the annunciation moment, in the journey to Bethlehem and the birth in such humble surroundings, in the flight to Egypt, in the "ponderings in her heart" during the early years, in the intercession at Cana, in the years of remaining in the back-ground during the preaching, teaching, and healing and on the fringe of the crowds adulating or condemning, at the foot of the cross, and then in the midst of the apostles for the empowering on Pentecost. Certainly it is not difficult to see in Mary the total gift of her person to serving the saving plan of the Father. Unique? Yes, Mary is. And yet we share in the same call, the same mission. As the American bishops stated in their pastoral letter: "Mary conceived in her heart with her whole being, before she conceived in her :346 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 womb. First came Mary's faith, then her motherhood. Faith is the key . All who truly follow Christ become 'mothers' of Christ, for by their faith they bring Him to birth" (Behold Your Mother, 71). This radical response of faith, as Cardinal Ratzinger effectively stated in a homily at St. Mary Major's on June 10, 1987, shows that Mary is "above all the sign of the fecundity of faith in history." The fecundity of faith is that it brought forth Life itself, which is Jesus. Je-sus is God's supreme entrance into history. It is in Jesus that God once and for all puts history on the road of salvation, of liberation, of com-pletion. Jesus is the ever present Life that transforms history. What bet-ter way, therefore, to move towards the third millennium than to look at Mary, the supreme example and model of the power of faith to bring Jesus into the world? The Marian Year is an invitation to do this. Mary: A Maternal Presence Mary is model for our pilgrimage of faith, but she is more. She is an accompanying maternal presence--guiding, interceding, helping with the sensitivity that only a mother can have. And that is also a reality-- she is truly a mother to each of as. Mary as mother of the human race, again, is not just poetry. It is clearly stated and established at the foot of the cross. "Woman, behold your son. Son, behold your mother." Mary as model is a great gift of the Father to us; but even more, Mary as mother is the great gift of the Father and the Son to us. Again, in the words of Pope John Paul, "Mary's motherhood which becomes man's inheritance is a gift; a gift which Christ himself makes personally to every individual . Of the essence of motherhood is the fact that it concerns the person. Motherhood always establishes a unique and unrepeatable relationship between two people: between mother and child and between child and mother" (RM 45). Mary is not "out there" somewhere; she is intimately linked with you and me, whether we pay attention to that link or not. This relationship is part of our reality. Turning and relating to Mary as our mother is not an appeal to senti-mentalism. Rather it is turning to a source of life. Again Cardinal Ratz-inger had a beautiful and suggestive image in his homily: "If the Church in its everyday life does not want to be reduced merely to an arid institu-tion or to an activism that burns itself out, it must look to Mary. Life can grow and develop only under the warmth of a maternal heart." It is there under the warmth of the mother's heart that life first begins and grows in the womb; and it is in the light and warmth of the love of a mother's heart that life continues to grow and be strengthened and made whole years and years after leaving the womb. This immense maternal Marian Year / 347 love Mary has for us has a transforming power. Why do we hesitate or simply neglect to reach out for and seize this maternal love? It may be just the thing that many of us and our people need to turn our lives around and become spaces open to the Spirit and be Christ-bearers. The picture of Mary as our mother certainly is central in Mary's ap-parition at La Salette. She began with the words "Come near, my chil-dren . . . I have great news to tell you." In these very opening words there is already great news: the news that we are her children, and there-fore she is our mother. While Cardinal of Cracow, the Holy Father gave a very insightful observation on the motherhood of Mary during a homily he preached on the occasion of the seventy-fifth anniversary of the presence of the La Salette Missionaries in Poland. Speaking of Mary as mother of the hu-man family, mother of the Church, he said, "We know well that a mother who loves cries more than once . . . and if among the Church-approved private apparitions of Mary there was lacking this Mary in tears, our image of maternal love would somehow be incomplete. The mother who loves, sometimes weeps. Even more when a grave danger menaces her child . Her maternal tears are a special proof of love, necessary for humanity, necessary for our people today." How often do we ourselves draw near to those tears of love? How often do we lead our people to those tears of love? ¯ The tears that Mary's love produces are shed in response to our own pain, our own suffering, our own danger, our own brokenness, our own sinfulness. Towards the end of Redemptoris Mater (51-52), the Holy Fa-ther refers to the lines from one of the Marian hymns after compline: "Loving mother of the Redeemer, gate of heaven, star of the sea, assist your people who have fallen, yet strive to rise again." He speaks of the great advances of recent times in human history. And yet, throughout the marvels of our journey in time and space with all the transformations we have witnessed, there remains a fundamental transformation, and that is the ongoing transformation from falling to rising, from death to life. As the Holy Father points out, "the Church sees Mary maternally present and sharing in the many complicated problems which today beset the lives of individuals, families, and nations, and she sees her helping the Christian people in the constant struggle between good and evil, to en-sure that it does not fall or, if it has fallen, that it rises again." This should resonate in each of us if we are sensitive to our own pil-grimage of faith with its rhythms of falling and rising, with its experi-ence of our fragilities and infidelities, with our failings and beginnings 341~/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 anew. Such is our experience as individuals; such is our experience as a community, as a congregation, as a Church, as God's people. Mary's appeal at La Salette certainly relates to our need for conver-sion. (Is the same thing perhaps happening today at Medjugorje?) Yet why do we shy away from this gift offered to us? Why are we so often indifferent, blas6 about these obvious signs of maternal love rushing to us, children in danger, children in pain, children needing help? Is it that we feel that we are big boys now, grown up, ~tnd therefore no longer need-ing this consolation, this warmth, this encouragement, this drying of our own tears, and this loving embrace that helps us believe in our own good-ness and the Spirit's action sending us onwards in new beginnings again and again? The Marian Year can be the privileged occasion for us to re-discover this great gift if we have been neglecting it, or to deepen our love for it if we have not forgotten it. Mary: Continued Presence in Mission to Us Mary, model for us on the pilgrimage of faith; Mary, continued pres-ence as mother. Let us now look at Mary and her own mission, which continues today. As Redemptoris Mater (21) reminds us, Mary's own sense of mis-sion began to be felt at Cana. There we see Mary's solicitude, her com-ing to people in the wide variety of their wants and needs. This solici-tude has certainly been manifested during this last century and a half in her apparitions, especially at La Salette, where her caring wrung tears from her heart. Mary's mission has a twofold movement. She comes to the aid of human needs, but this means that she brings those needs within the ra-dius of Christ's salvific power, as she shows at Cana. At La Salette this is seen in the image we have of the two children, representing our bro-kenness and neediness, being drawn into the radiance that streamed from the crucifix, the ultimate symbol of Christ's saving love. "Thus there is a mediation: Mary places herself between her son and mankind in the reality of their wants, needs, and sufferings . Her mediation is in the nature of intercession: Mary intercedes for mankind" (RM 21), a truth echoing Mary's own words at La Salette, "How long a time have I suf-fered for you . " Lumen Gentium (62) described this same reality: "Taken up to heaven, she did not lay aside this saving role, but by her manifold acts of intercession continues to win for us gifts of eternal sal-vation." This mediation, this mission, this divine pastoral, we might say, continues in the history of the Church and the world. Marian Year / 349 Karl Rahner describes Mary's life as "the archetypal apostolic event . What the apostolate is can be read from her and what she did; she is a productive pattern for the apostolate, not a mere ideal instance of its abstract essence" ("Mary and the Apostolate," Mission and Grace, vol. 1, p. 181). He then outlines some of the characteristics ob-servable in Mary's apostolate. They can serve for reflection on our own apostolate during this Marian Year. In the apostolate of Mary: a) There is a consciousness of its being a mission given from above. (How vivid is this conviction for our own life and ministry?) b) She shows a capacity to wait for the right moment, to know that the mission is to be fulfilled in God's time and manner. (Does not much of our own discouragement at times come from relying too exclusively on our own power, our own schedule, our own programs?) c) There is self-withdrawal behind the person she serves; most of her life is hidden, it is Christ who is brought to the fore. d) There is loyal perseverance. Mary did not merely say yes once, in one great moment. She sustained that yes patiently, silently, con-stantly in the serene assurance of the true believer, in the mature sim-plicity of real greatness, throughout a whole lifetime. (How strongly do we strive for this in our age of easily abandoned commitments? How con-scious are we of deepening this yes every day?) e) There is the cross, a heart stabbed through with the sword of suf-fering together with her Son; there is even the noncomprehension of the decrees of God and of the actions of the Lord himself whom she served. It is an apostolate of hope against hope, of faith before victory is won, of a venture whose reward is not paid in advance, of a loyalty that gives all. (To what extent can we find this spirit of sacrifice, of trust, during our darkest and driest moments in our own lives?) These are foundations for a ~olid Marian spirituality inserted into the very fabric of our apostolic call and going way beyond simple devotion. Yes, Mary is there for us as model for our apostolate. But even more, she is there as a source of the help that we need. Not help with this or that small favor, but help for our deepest need--help in being effective Christ-bearers. Mary's Magnificat Finally, Mary serves as a powerful example and model of the capac-ity to recognize what God has done and is doing in our lives. Her Mag-nificat is precisely this: Mary's personal experience of God's action in herself and in her people. This consciousness compels her to break out 350 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 into simple and wholly inspired praise, boldly proclaiming the undimmed truth about God, who "has done great things" in her as well as in the whole universe (RM 37). Mary was truly attuned to what God was accomplishing. Could we not write our own Magnificat---on a personal level and on a community level? I recall how touched I was in Angola upon hearing of a mission community having its yearly meeting with its satellite communities. The celebration began with the recounting of their history: how the commu-nity had started, the first ones involved, the failure of the first commu-nity, the second effort, the people involved, the priests who served them. And this was not simply read, but was corrected and added to by the mem-bers themselves. They were recounting the Lord's deeds, the great things he had done for them. And in this regular exercise they were keeping this reality vividly before them. What a beautiful way to attune one's heart and mind to the reality to which we can so often become blinded! The Magnificat is also used extensively as a solid Marian light which makes us vividly aware of God's love of preference for the poor, the hum-ble, and how this is intimately connected with the Christian meaning of freedom and liberation--of redemption. Here again Mary has her place. She can serve as an inspiration in this aspect of the Christian mission be-cause, as stated in the Instruction on Christian Freedom and Liberation published in 1986, "Mary is totally dependent upon God and completely directed towards him, and at the side of her Son she is the most perfect image of freedom and of the liberation of humanity and of the universe" (97). Mary helps us understand that the most radical source of true lib-eration of individuals and even structures is precisely this total surren-der or, as she reminds us at La Salette, this submission to God and his plan for us. Without a revolution of the heart, merely political and so-cial revolutions only lay the foundations for the.next revolution in an end-less chain of humanly oppressive and destructive revolts. Mary proclaims the great things that God does, but these are done for those "who fear him," those who not only are poor and lowly, but have surrendered to him. Mary calls, in a variety of ways, to this radical revolution, which is first and foremost conversion. There is much richness to. draw from here and in other truths about Mary, such as her role in the growing appreciation of the feminine as-pect of the divine presence and the Church. Mary truly offers a seem-ingly inexhaustible source of faith reflection. And again, the Marian Year is an invitation to do such reflection. Marian Year / 351 How Celebrate the Marian Year? Concretely, what are some of the things we can do to benefit from this year of grace? First of all, spend time with Mary. It is as plain and as simple as that. If we are not already doing so, we should make time for her in our day. Let us do like the apostle John and welcome Mary, take her into our own home. Let us bring her into everything that makes up our inner life; that is to say, let us take her into our human and Christian "I," as the pope beautifully expressed it (RM 45). This is the first step: profess our faith in Mary's great love and presence by simply spending time with her and opening our hearts, our lives, as wide as possible to her maternal love. Prayerfully read Redemptoris Mater and other texts on Mary. Again, do this to feed the heart more than the head. Avoid reading only the kinds of works that foster such a strong analytical, critical spirit that one ends up with slices and splices, theological abstractions about Mary, but not with a living presence. Read not to try to dispel the mystery that natu-rally accompanies any great truth of our faith, but read to encounter this mystery with ever greater love. Read and pray to move from professing to living a deep love for Mary, Mother of Christ and of the Church. If some of us have left the rosary aside, let us explore ways to begin to re-discover its possibilities for reflection, for rhythmic, simple centering on Jesus and Mary. If you have a good imagination, use it. St. Ignatius in his Spiritual Exercises does not neglect this tremendous power that we have. In re-cent. years we have easily dismissed using the imagination in prayer and meditation, often because of our climate of high intellectualization, often from a desire to quickly arrive at more advanced levels of prayer. My own suggestion is to try imaging as you spend time with Mary. The re-sults may surprise you. Visualize Mary with you in every situation of your life and of her life. Talk to her, let her talk to you. Let her hold what is still the child in you that may be trembling with fear, doubt, an-ger, confusion, fatigue. Hear her call you by name; hear her invite you to come near; hear her send you forth. Write your own Magnificat. Spend time tracing the great things God has done both in your own life and in the congregation. Recognize God's action in the flesh and blood of your own history: when and how he looked with favor on his lowly servant; when and how he smashed and scattered you in your pride, cast you down from any little thrones you had set up for yourself, or sent you away aware of how empty you re-ally were when you thought you were so rich; how and when he lifted 352 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 you up even as you experienced most forcefully your own lowliness. Put all that into concrete, vivid terms. And then give praise. Then write your own fiat. Look into the depths of your present and look out towards the possible future and with conviction spell out the fiat, the yes, even though you are not sure of the cost, the possible ex-iles, the shape or duration of the cross you may have to carry, to climb upon. "Yes--be it done to me according to your word." Yes, I let go of my plans, my conditions. I surrender, I submit. Fiat! Again, spell that out in the concrete terms of your own life. At the same time, offer a prayer to Mary asking for her assistance to live out thisfiat as fully and as deeply as possible. And let us not fail the people we serve. Invite them to Mary. Let us attract and lead them to what the pope calls the "specific geography of faith and Marian devotion., these special places of pilgrimage where the People of God seek to meet the Mother of God in order to find, within the radius of the maternal presence of her 'who believes,' a strengthening of their own faith" (RM 28). Our shrines, our programs of devotion, all these can be sources of grace through Mary for the con-tinuing pilgrimage of faith. Be creative in bringing Mary to people and people to Mary. I close with words from our Holy Father's prayer for the Marian Year: "Mary, you received Jesus with ready obedience and undivided heart. You allowed yourself to be led by the Holy Spirit's hidden and powerful action. Sustain us, O Virgin Mary, on our journey of faith." My own prayer for all of us echoes the pope's prayer at a Mass re-cently in Foggia: "May this Marian Year be for individual souls and for the entire community a prolonged, ardent Pentecost." Personal Responsibility in .Initial Formation Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D. Sister Melannie's most recent contribution to this journal is her "Quotations for Com-munity" in the January/February 1988 issue. She may be addressed at Notre Dame Educational Center; 13000 Auburn Road; Chardon, Ohio 44024. For most formation directors, one thing is clear: One of our main con-cerns in the initial formation process is to encourage personal responsi-bility in the persons we direct. What is less clear is the answers to these questions: What exactly is personal responsibility? Why is it so impor-tant in initial formation? How can we encourage it in our directees? What are some signs that a person is, indeed, growing in personal responsibil-ity? And what are some of the obstacles to our encouraging of personal responsibility? This article attempts to explore some answers to these questions. It is based on a series of discussions that our initial-formation team had this past year. I am indebted to our candidate director, Sister Annete Adams, and our director of temporary professed, Sister Mary Catherine Caine, for their valuable input on this topic. Although we were primarily inter-ested in personal responsibility in initial formation, much of what is said here can also apply to the ongoing formation process as well. What is personal responsibility? It is perhaps easier to describe personal responsibility than it is to define it. We saw personal responsibility as a person's ability to make good decisions and to accept the consequences of his or her decisions. Such decisions are made freely; they are not made out of fear or guilt or coercion. The decisions or choices are basically good; that is, they are 353 354 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 based on Gospel ~alues and they are motivated by love. They take into consideration factors other than the person's own feelings and prefer-ences. And, finally, the decisions are open to the Spirit and open to change as life presents the individual with more knowledge, more expe-riences, and more insights. Why is personal responsibility so important? There are a number of reasons why personal responsibility is so im-portant in initial formation. One reason concerns one of the goals of the initial-formation process: the making of a life commitment. Such a com-mitment is valid only if it is made freely, with adequate knowledge and understanding, and if it proceeds from love. In other words, the very mak-ing of valid vows presupposes personal responsibility. But personal responsibility extends beyond the making of a commit-ment; it is essential for the living of such a commitment in a healthy and happy way. Once a person "graduates" from the "schoo| of initial for-mation," he or she is expected to assume responsibility for his or her own growth and development. It is crucial, then, that formation direc-tors see and encourage personal responsibility throughout the initial-formation process. A third reason why personal responsibility is so vital concerns the nature of religious life today. The many changes in the structures of re-ligious life since Vatican II call for far more personal responsibility than in the past. Changes in our understanding of the vows and community also put far greater emphasis on an individual's ability to make good de-cisions and choices. How can we encourage personal responsibility? If personal responsibility is so important in initial formation, what are some of the ways we can encourage it in the persons we direct? One way we can encourage it is to talk about it. We do this not once and for all, but over and over again, in a variety of ways, from different per-spectives as the person grows and matures in the initial-formation proc-ess. We should talk about personal responsibility in both a general way and a specific way. In a general way we discuss with them the nature and importance of personal responsibility. In a specific way we talk with them one on one about how responsible they are. This means we have to ask some probing questions such as these: When and where are you praying? How do you see yourself carrying out your duties such as study, housework, your involvement in community? What are your responsi-bilities in your current ministry and how are you handling them? What Personal Responsibility in Formation / 355 personal decisions or choices have you made recently? Do you see these decisions or choices as good? Why or why not? How are you getting along with the people you live with and work with? Do they see you as a responsible person or not? A second way to encourage personal responsibility is to allow the per-son in formation the freedom to make choices--both good choices and not-so-good choices. This means that as directors we allow an individ-ual to make mistakes. It has been my experience as novice director that some of the worst choices my novices made were some of the most bene-ficial for their growth. Thirdly, we encourage personal responsibility by affirming a person when we see him or her assuming personal responsibility. We can also encourage it by allowing our directees to live with and work side by side with professed members of the community who have achieved a healthy level of personal responsibility. Nothing teaches better than example. What are some signs of personal responsibility in a person? What are some tangible signs that a person in formation is assuming personal responsibility? For brevity's sake, I will merely list some of those signs as we saw them: The person: --gives evidence of self-knowledge and self-esteem --is basically happy and at ease with life --is able to learn from experience --is able to do things he or she does not like to do --gives evidence of being essentially self-directed ~isplays a consistency between stated beliefs and choices --is able to draw from a variety of sources when making serious deci-sions --gives evidence that he or she has thought through and prayed over the more serious decisions he or she has to make --is open to suggestions and direction --is able to deal with irresponsibility in others; this means he or she can accept it when necessary, but also is able to confront it when this would be the more appropriate option --is consistent in behavior no matter who is or is not present --gives evidence of a healthy interdependence with others --assumes initiative ---can deal with boredom or routine 356 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 --- can handle both failure and success What are some obstacles to encouraging personal responsibility? As formation directors, what are some of the obstacles we face in trying to encourage persona.I responsibility in the persons we direct? I think the main obstacles come from three different sources: our directees, the wider community, and ourselves. Sometimes the persons we have in initial formation make it difficult for us to encourage personal responsibility. Some individuals come to religious life desiring to hand over all personal responsibility in the name of holiness. They come to us with a tell-me-what-to-do-and-I-will-do-it attitude. In sharp contrast, others enter religious life equating personal responsibility with let-me-do-whatever-I-want-to-do. Both types make it difficult for formation directors to encourage a healthy personal respon-sibility. Other times one of our obstacles may be members of the wider com-munity. Some professed members may possess an obsolete understand-ing of initial formation which says, "Tell the novice what to do. If she does it, fine. If she doesn't, tell her to leave." When a formation direc-tor, in the name of freedom, allows a person in formation to make a poor choice, other members might cry out: "You're letting her get away with murder!" At times like these, formation directors must be convinced that there is much more to formation than having a directee make what ap-pear to be "the right choices all the time." But the greatest obstacle to encouraging personal responsibility usu-ally lies within ourselves as formation directors. We can fall into two "camps" depending on our personalities. If I, as a director, am a per-son who likes to be in control, then I might want to control my directees too much. This means I might not allow them the real freedom to make their own decisions and thus to grow through them. Perhaps I might con-trol their choices through force or even charm. Perhaps, in the name of saving them the pain of a poor choice, I might tell them what to do. Or maybe I control their decisions for fear of what the next director or the wider community will think of me. On the other hand, if I am fearful of my authority as a formation di-rector, I might adopt a laissez-faire style of direction. This means I might let anything and everything go. I might not challenge the persons in for-mation. I may be afraid to question the choices I see them making. Be-cause most communities have so few in initial formation, I might be tempted to "keep" everyone no matter how much irresponsibility I see. Personal Responsibility in Formation / 357 In conclusion, then, we have seen that growth in personal responsi-bility is an integral part of the initial-formation process. But more than that, it is an intrinsic component of lifelong happiness. Someone has said, "There can be no happiness if the things we believe in are differ-ent from the things we do." Through the encouragement of personal re-sponsibility, formation directors can help individuals achieve greater har-mony between belief and behavior. Your World is Your World, mythirst. Love, will all these as beautiful earthly treasures as the one stillbemine? You give me orshall I each day? lose forever will I see thesmell the changing of burning leaves, of the sky., noreveragain will I watch see the trees the birds fly ofmy autumn days beyond my horizon., change their dress? will I feel wherewill the touch all these be, of warm water Love. ? as it caresses oh! surely, my flesh, I'll have or its cold them all coolness in having You! as it slakes Claire Mahaney, R.S.C.J. Valparaiso Community 140 Valparaiso Avenue Menlo Park, California 94025 Refounding Through Values Barbara D. Ledig Ms. Ledig is president of Omega Associates, Inc., in Santa Clara, California. With others from Omega, she has for almost ten years helped religious orders and congre-gations to adjust, with value-based systemic discernment, to the significant changes of the post-Vatican II world. This paper explains the theory and practice of Omega's methods, methods that will be used in the August 1988 workshop for religious lead-ership personnel to be held at Santa Clara University and sponsored by that university and by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. She may be addressed at 410 Pinehurst Avenue; Los Gatos, CA 95030. What is happening in our institutions today? This question is being fre-quently asked by religious congregations, educational institutions, health-care facilities, and,~more recently, sectors of business and industry. It seems that the guidelines and structures that characterized these systems since their first formal beginnings have become increasingly unfocused. This is unsettling not only for those who administer and lead these institutions but for those affected by them. A major portion of society, therefore, is dealing with a shift that is little understood, a shift accom-panied by anxiety and indecision. Solutions that once worked have be-come obsolete and there are no models for new ones. Our religious institutions are experiencing this shift more profoundly than many others in that they have been around for a longer time. They are, therefore, further away from their beginnings, beginnings rooted an historical reality very different from the one in which we are currently living. Members of these institutions are finding that the ideas on which they were built and the type of management that enabled them to sur-vive and flourish are no longer working. The population of religious per-sonnel who drive these institutions is diminishing; as a result people who do not necessarily share the original values that gave birth to them are 358 Refounding Through Values / 359 the ones responsible for making decisions regarding the way they func-tion and how they will be carried into the future. An Historical Perspective The extreme change in the Western world resulting from the French and American Revolutions and the Industrial Revolution in England led to the birth of the great teaching and mission orders of the 1800s. These orders, especially those of women, generally came to operate on a basis of uniformity in dress, behavior, and prayer, with detailed rules and con-stitutions regulating daily life. It was through Vatican II in the 1960s that these issues were readdressed and the Church began to return to a more flexible, collegial orientation and urged religious congregations to re-study and return to their founding charism. Communal life in the convents, and seminaries, where often a hun-dred or more people shared living quarters, began to take the form of small communities for the purpose of increasing the quality of life through relationships in which personal growth could more readily be en-couraged and nurtured. The ultimate goal was increased unity in the Church for the purpose of common mission. The vision was a good one but did not anticipate sufficiently the wide range of skills needed to cope with a radically changed environment and more complex interpersonal relationships. The old hierarchical structures and lines of authority were removed or became unclear, and participative decision making was en-couraged. The effects of these changes increased dramatically over the years and are now being experienced in their extreme. The Dynamics of Transition The removal of clear lines of authority has created multiple handi-caps for those in leadership positions. When clear rules dictate what is right and wrong and when authority is vested in one person, as was the case before Vatican II, decisions can be made on objective criteria that are commonly understood and accepted. When these lines of authority become hazy, when the guidelines are unclear, decision making becomes a more complex issue. Personal and communal discernment, methods that have replaced the more authoritarian ones for decision making, re-spect the integrity of the individual on the one hand but require a more complex level of skills on the other. There has been a shift from a rigid structure to a more flexible one. During the last seven years our work with numerous national and inter-national congregations has, however, shown that this shift is incomplete. Most religious institutions are resting somewhere between a hierarchi- 360/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 cal, rule-oriented structure and a flexible, collegial one. The result is con-fusion, internal conflict, and tremendous stress on leadership. It is a time of difficult transition. Older sisters and priests who have given their lives to build these in-stitutions in order to provide relief to the suffering through their minis-tries feel unappreciated and confused about changing a way that was once so strongly validated. Younger sisters and priests are also experiencing confusion about the past as well as the uncertain futures into which their congregations are moving. The dynamics of such a transition are two-fold. There is a pull back to the old, secure model on the one hand and an equally strong pull to move quickly to a new model on the other. Mem-bers of a congregation caught in the first dynamic may become rigid, an-gry, and controlling while those in the second are prone to overly inde-pendent behaviors. In both cases there is a loss of meaning. These dy-namics are not necessarily related to the different age groups within the congregation but appear to be more dependent on the personalities of the individuals. Going back is not possible, nor desirable. What once worked was ap-propriate for the times. Society has changed, our institutions have changed, and people have changed. How do we bring clarity, unity, and efficiency into our institutions so that they can serve the function for which they were created and at the same time enable them to respect and dignify the growth and well-being of the individuals they serve? The hi-erarchical structures that once worked so well must change in form to meet the demands of this new age and become flexible structures that fa-cilitate caring for individual members and releasing the original energy of the charism of the congregation. The values that gave birth to the in-stitution must be renewed and preserved so they 'can flow through its mem-bers and be expressed in mission, but the way in which those values are expressed must change. The structures that have been removed must be replaced by value-oriented ones. In order to effect this change the insti-tution must first become clear about what values lie at the heart of its system. The core center of values, the faith center, must be identified and clarified. Once this is accomplished the clarified core values, imple-mented by historically congruent means, provide the new structures which enable appropriate adaptation to the future. The Nature of Values Values are not a new phenomenon in our society. Aristotle and Plato spoke of them in the light of ideals, or virtues. They were dealt with mainly in the abstract in terms of states of being to be strived for. Refounding Through Values / 36"1 St. Paul spoke of values in his letter to the Galatians: "Anyone can see the kind of behavior that belongs to the lower nature: fornication, im-purity, and indecency; idolatry and sorcery; quarrels, a contentious tem-per, envy, fits of rage, selfish ambitions, dissensions, party bouts, or-gies, and the like . But the harvest of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, fidelity, gentleness, and self-control" (Ga 5:19-23 NEB). In this case values were seen as signs that differentiated behaviors guided by the Spirit from those that were not. In more recent history we have the value-clarification movement of the 1960s and in the 1980s the high point of value consciousness in busi-ness and industrial settings brought forth largely by such books as In Search of Excellence by Peters and Waterman, Theory Z: How Ameri-can Business Can Meet the Japanese Challenge by Ouchi, and Corpo-rate Cultures: The Rites and Rituals of Corporate Life by Deal and Ken-nedy. However, the reality is that it has been difficult to work with values because they tend to elude the possibility for practical application and measurement. The work of Omega Associates, Inc., of Santa Clara, Cali-fornia has been focused on value research for the past twenty years. Dur-ing this period of time we have worked on discovering ways to identify and measure values so that they can be used more creatively to enhance the quality of human life. The first step in this ongoing process was the identification of 125 value words in the written and spoken language. We found that these val-ues appear consistently throughout the life span of individuals and or-ganizations and appear to be stable and evident across all social strata, languages, and cultures. They constitute one segment of a values theory developed by Brian Hall, Benjamin Tonna, and more recently Barbara Ledig which is the basis for an understanding of how values on the indi-vidual and corporate level work. The values theory holds as a basic assumption that language influ-ences behavior, whether it is written language, spoken language, or the language of art and architecture. Some words and groups of words have a greater effect on behavior than others, and we call these words values. The value words we identified form the basis for computerized programs which analyze values in individuals, groups, institutions, and documents and serve as a framework through which we can look at all sections of a system through a common denominator. The basis of the framework is the 125 values. The principles which guide the understanding of how 362 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 the values work are found in the values theory. Values Theory and the Genesis Effect The basic concept underlying the values theory is taken from an an-cient idea that has only recently been confirmed by modern science. That is, each thought, feeling, and action is preceded by an internal image. That image is transformed into action through language, the language of values. Value words are conveyers of energy and form configurations that reflect the internal imaging process through human or organizational behavior. That is, they identify clusters of human experience and act as a bridge between the inner world of thoughts, feelings, sensations, and intuitions and the outer world of concrete reality. Values are understood in this context as behavioral priorities that an individual acts on. This proc-ess has been defined by Hall as the "genesis effect" in a book by the same name and is based on the biblical concept that it was through, the spoken word that God transformed an inner image of creation into real-ity. In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss, while a mighty wind swept over the waters. Then God said, "Let there be !ight," and there was light. God saw how good the light was . Then God said: "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. Let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and the cat-tle, and over all the wild animals and all the creatures that crawl on the ground." God created man in his image; in the divine image he created him; male and female he created them (Gn 1:1-4, 26-27 NAB). Values and Their Patterns To identify and clarify our values is a step in the right direction, but what do we do with them after that? Our research has shown us that it is not so much values in themselves that are important, but the way in which they combine with other values in one's life and the priority these combinations take at a given time. We have long been aware of some of the value combinations and the way they can be grouped into clusters and patterns. However, a significant point was reached in our work just six years ago due to new advances in computer technology. Brian Hall and associates of Omega in cooperation with students in the Graduate Di-vision of Counseling Psychology and Education at Santa Clara Univer-sity in Santa Clara, California, discovered new ways to measure and ap-ply values and new ways to break them into patterns and clusters so that they could be compared and contrasted more extensively. This gave us Refounding Through Values more comprehensive information regarding their meaning in the life of persons and institutions. Since that time we have validated our meth-odologies and applied them extensively in religious, educational, and health-care systems involving several international cultures and over 6,000 individuals. The information we obtain from the identification and comparison of value priorities and clusters is used to do a value analysis for the pur-pose of understanding the qualitative nature of the values and their rela-tionship to the meaning system of the individual or the institution. Once this is clear, rigid rule-oriented structures can be replaced by new life-giving ones based on the energy and purpose inherent in the individual or system rather than on external, objective criteria that may be histori-cally biased. Value Pattern I: Phases and Stages In this value pattern we see the 125 values placed along a progres-sive developmental scale divided into phases and stages. The range of the phases is from I to IV with those most basic to human life and devel-opment falling into Phase I. These values progressively become more com-plex as the human being grows and develops, with Phase IV reflecting values of maximum complexity requiring high levels of intellectual, spiri-tual, and emotional development and an environment that supports their expression. This developmental scale does not assume a positive or negative value but rather places emphasis on the integration of the values in the life journey of the individual or the institution in terms of the skill de-velopment needed in order to live them out behaviorally. It is the com-bination of the values and how they fall against the backdrop of the four phases in relationship to one another that determines the quality of life expression. Each of the four phases is divided into two stages, an A stage and a B stage. Values in the A stages are personal values, and values in the B stages are those lived out primarily through institutional interaction. These institutions include the family, place of work, church or syna-gogue, government structures, and religious congregation. Because a per-son's value choices are always limited and influenced by the institutions in which he or she lives and works, the degree to which this interaction can be measured and understood influences the degree to which the per-son can have clarity about the environment's effect on the quality of his or her life. The end result is heightened insight and the ability to make more focused choices. Likewise, an institution can become aware of the 3611 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 impact it is having on its members. Value Pattern II: Act, Choice, and Vision The value combinations in their phases and stages can also be pat-terned according to the priority they take in one's life in terms of pre-sent choices, past development, and emerging futures. Choice values are those that are the present focus of one's life in terms of time and energy expenditure. These choices are not always made freely but are condi-tioned by one's life circumstances. For example, a person may value his or her family a great deal, but if a crisis in the work place occurs he or she may have to work twelve hours a day until the crisis is resolved. In this case, the value of family would of necessity become secondary in terms of the time and energy available to be dedicated to it. Act values are those values that are foundational to human life. They are the basic values which enable survival and security in the world. When these values are threatened by a change in one's environment, such as a move to a new culture or the loss of a job, priority energy must be diverted from the areas of choice in order to deal with the change. Vision values are those values which energize us and pull us toward hopeful futures. They motivate us in the present by giving meaning our day-to-day experience and enabling us to see beyond ourselves and our present reality. In an institution, Act values serve as the foundation in terms of poli-cies, procedures, benefits, and so on. The Choice values are those which guide day-to-day direction and define the management structure. Vision values provide the purpose of the institution and affect the way in which Choice values are operationalized. Value Pattern III: Cycles A third value pattern emerges when the combinations of values in their personal and institutional dimensions form cycles of development. There are seven such cycles, and each has its own unique worldview. Information around the values in each of these cycles helps in the inter-pretation of an individual's or group's leadership and management style, ethical orientation, faith stance, management of time, and behavior pat-terns under stress. Of particular significance to professional religious per-sonnel are the different ways in which the vows can be understood at each of these cycles. The first cycle is called the Primal Cycle. At this cycle the individ-ual experiences the world as a hostile and alien place in which primary needs are those centered on security and survival. He or she emphasizes Refounding Through Values / 365 material possession because it is through material structures that survival is made possible. This is primarily the world of young children or aged adults who must depend on others to care for them and provide them with basic security. However, through the life journey most people will ex-perience values in this cycle from time to time, for we never lose our need for safety and security. The ethical stance of this cycle is one of self-interest which insures survival. A leader who operates primarily out of Cycle I values will have an autocratic and authoritarian style with his or her subordinates for the purpose of maintaining total control. Delegation comes with difficulty because it is perceived as a diminishment of personal power. God is ex-perienced as a savior who heals one's pain but who is distant and imper-sonal. The task at this cycle is to learn the skills needed to survive in an alien environment and to develop a creative and positive imagination that will facilitate healthy movement into other cycles. The second cycle is the Familial Cycle. As the world becomes less alien and new skills are learned, there is an emphasis placed on values related to belonging to a family, a particular group, or a respected insti-tution. It is important to learn skills that enable one to be accepted by and to contribute to the group. The ethical stance at this cycle is based on fairness and mutual re-spect. Laws and rules are expected to be followed so as to maintain an ordered environment. A leader operating out of this cycle will tend to be benevolent to those who work for him or her but will expect them to obey the rules. The attitude is best described as maternal or paternal in that followers are cared for but are not given any authority. This becomes problematic when the follower wants more autonomy and responsibility. At this cycle God is experienced as a parental master and teacher, through one's parents and through the ministerial figures in the church or synagogue. The primary task at this cycle is to learn skills through formal edu-cation and to begin to understand the world more broadly. Sound relig-ious education in the Faith and in Scripture are important. The third cycle is called the Institutional Cycle. It is here that the world begins to be experienced as less alien than before, and increased emphasis is placed on education as a means to achievement and success. There is often tension between the time spent with one's family and the time spent doing things necessary to enable the family to survive. 366/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 Ethical choices are most likely to be based on what the law and re-spected institutions say is right. A leader operating with priority values in this cycle will have a bureaucratic style and will place high value on efficient and orderly management. Loyalty to the company will be ex-pected and rewarded and disloyalty considered a serious offense. The bu-reaucratic leader may delegate to others but only to those who are most skilled and who have proven their loyalty. God is experienced as master and teacher and is often represented through the ministers and priests of the church. The sacramental life and personal prayer are considered important, as are institutional religion and commitment to a local church or synagogue. The primary task at this cycle is to learn interpersonal and social skills and the skills of one's profession. It is also a time to begin under-standing the difference between one's own values and the values held by one's family. It is a time of preparation for conversion to special service related to God's call. The fourth cycle is the Intrapersonal Cycle. At this time the world begins to be experienced as less certain than before, and new questions arise regarding previously held beliefs and attitudes. A search for new personal meaning and values may be embarked upon and the teachings of formerly respected institutions looked upon more critically. Profes-sional successes may become less important as the individual strives to discover his or her unique skills and abilities. There is a pull between a strong need for independence and meeting the demands of the institu-tions of which one is a part. Issues around social justice may take on new interest and lead to increased involvement in political or social arenas. The ethical orientation at the Intrapersonal Cycle becomes confused as one pulls away from old ways of making decisions and strives to put into action values that are beginning to create a new, more individual-ized way of assessing reality. A leader with priority values at this cycle will struggle between meeting the needs of the institution and being sen-sitive to the more personal needs of his or her employees. It is a time of confusion and of search for the balance between these two, often op-posing, factors. Hence, it may also be a time of inaction because it is simply too difficult to make decisions. This is a transitional stage of lead-ership, sometimes referred to as laissez-faire, for things are very often left to happen as they will. It is critical for persons operating at this cy-cle to learn the skills that enable them to make decisive decisions which meet both institutional needs and the needs of the individuals in the in- Refounding Through Values stitution; otherwise there is the risk of returning to a more bureaucratic and controlling management or leadership style. God is now becoming internal and personal as a friend and lover in-stead of master and teacher. For many, this period is marked by conver-sion to a new commitment to the Faith. The development of skills in the imaginal area is needed in order to see the world more wholistically and creatively. Meditation and spiritual exercises as well as attention to one's physical health are important for growth into a world that is experienced as more complex. It is important to find a p~rticular life-sustaining value system that enables a new com-mitment to faith. The fifth cycle is the Communal/Collaborative Cycle. Individuals functioning at this cycle will experience the world as a place in which they feel they can participate by using their unique skills in a productive way, The search is now concentrated on discovering new ways to inte-grate individual abilities with the needs of society. Because of the high level of interaction at which the individual is now functioning, issues of time management become critical. Persons at this cycle begin to see the world more clearly, resulting, in an increased awareness of issues around justice and oppression. It becomes impera-tive that they have support structures such as a group of respected peers and trusted friends as well as people of the same professional status and ability with whom ideas and problems can be shared regularly. Ethical choices at this cycle are based on the personally meaningful set of values that have developed, and actions are guided by an inner con-science. Laws are respected but not considered infallible. A charismatic and democratic leadership style becomes possible, for the individual has a new sense of personal creative energy and a renewed vision of an in-stitution that can be efficient and can dignify its members as well. Be-cause leaders of this type are in high demand, issues of time manage-ment, stress, and personal health are more important than ever. God now is experienced as a personal friend and companion sharing in the new ex-pression of the gifts that are becoming a part of the individual's life ex-perience. The sixth cycle is the Mystical Cycle. When individuals are able to acquire the skills, maturity, life experience, and integrated personal de-velopment which characterize this cycle, they begin to experience the world as a revered gift they must be responsible for and with which they must creatively interact. 3611/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 Ethical choices are based on an awareness of the rights of all human beings. Activities include doing those things necessary to diminish in-justices in institutions and organizations. A leader operating with the val-ues and skills of this cycle is called a Servant leader. Servant leadership is characterized by interdependence, mutual responsibility, collegiality, and creativity. Group decision making becomes a natural process, and authority is always used corporately. God is now lover, friend, and Lord of creation. Persons at this cycle experience humanity in a new, more complete way through God's eyes. Intimacy with others is a condition for intimacy with the divine and re-quires radical commitment to service and the contemplative side of one-self. This means balancing the personal experience of intimacy with con-templative solitude and obligations to work and service. Those persons who are able to achieve this high level of functioning must learn new skills, the most critical being the skills that will help them to balance their involvement in the development of just and humane in-stitutions with ample time for solitude and intimacy. It is this balance that will enable them to maintain the level of emotional, physical, men-tal, and spiritual integration necessary for being a powerful and yet posi-tive influence in the world. The seventh and last cycle is the Prophetic Cycle. The world here is viewed as a mystery for which "we" must care. "We" is used in this case as Prophetic leadership primarily expressed at a global level. It requires the collaboration of all institutions concerned with human dig-nity and justice. It is also expressed through being a member of a sup-portive community of peers who appreciate a global level of involve-ment. Global involvement assumes equal attention to local levels. Ethical choices at this cycle lead to involvement in activities de-signed to improve the balance between the world of material goods and the needs of each human being. Prophetic leadership is characterized by interdependence at an interinstitutional and global level and is concerned with global ethical issues centered in ecology, human rights, and tech-nological advancement. God is now experienced as the Lord of creation calling all people to cooperate in establishing a more just and ecologically balanced order in the world. A critical skill component of this high level of development is an awareness of the field of consciousness of all of the preceding cycles and the ability to interact with persons at each level. Spiritually, there is a new appreciation of God's Lordship over the whole creation and a reali- Refounding Through Values / 369 zation that all people are being called to cooperate with God in estab-lishing a more just and ecologically balanced order in the world. Value patterns I, II, and III are based on the perspective of the Hall value theory that holds that life is developmental. In this case time is ex-perienced as linear, moving from the past into the future. This is a help-ful way to view the values in their connection to skills as skills are learned step by step in the developmental process. In reality, however, our past and future can only be experienced in the present. Past devel-opment affects the quality of our lives in the present as do our envisioned futures. This brings us to value pattern IV, which sees life as wholistic, with past, present, and future forming the present reality. Value Pattern IV: Goals and Means Values The fourth value pattern is the combinations of Goals, which are long-term values, with Means, or short-term values. A large part of the analysis of values is concerned with this interactive, or dialectical, rela-tionship between Goals and Means. The significance of these combina-tions can be realized when one looks at the difference in the quality of the behavioral expression of different combinations of Goals and Means values. For example, when the value of Worship, a Goal value, is ex-pressed through the Means value of Institution, the behavioral conse-quence would be personal worship through institutionalized expressions such as attending Eucharist or praying the Liturgy of the Hours. When the same Goal value of Worship is expressed through the Means value of Expressiveness/Flexibility, the result may be worship through faith sharing, dance, or creative liturgy. Two people sharing the same Goal value may be at odds about how this Goal value is expressed. Likewise, persons in religious congregations, united by the same goals, may be di-vided in their opinions about the way in which these goals should be ex-pressed. Frequently, institutions have Goal values that are in keeping with the original vision on which they were founded, but have outdated Means values for reaching those goals. Understanding the Value Patterns: The Discernment Process The methodology for working with value information must be con-sistent with the nature of the values themselves. For that reason, unlike most methodologies that were designed to give reports based on factual findings, the methodology for collecting value information and analyz-ing value patterns is based on a process of discernment, a reflective proc-ess that raises questions rather than gives answers. There are several steps in the discernment process. 370 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 The first step is the collection of information. The information (I) must be high-quality information as well as statistical/financial informa-tion and (2) must be collected in a consistent manner. High-quality information is information that comes close to the pulse and heartbeat of all parts of the system. It is, in this case, value infor-mation. It is collected consistently by specialized instrumentation that uses an underlying algorithm based on the 125 values and the values the-ory. All of the information is processed by the use of the methodology of Convergence, Congruence, and Confirmation. ConVergence occurs when particular value patterns repeat themselves. The information is then checked for Congruency with what the person or persons in the institu-tion know to be true about themselves and for Confirmation in the lived reality. The Instrumentation is as follows. HT-Doc This abbreviation refers to the HalI-Tonna method of collecting in-formation from the formal documents of the institution. This may be the philosophy of the person or persons who founded the institution in which its purpose, mission, and charism are delineated as well as information contained in the rules, constitutions, or directives. By analyzing the val-ues in each paragraph of the documents, a values.profile can be obtained on the paragraphs, on each part, section, and chapter, and on the docu-ments as a whole. In addition, identified areas of interest throughout the documents--such as those dealing with leadership, charism, vows, and mission---can also be analyzed for their value content. These value pro-files are then reflected on and analyzed in terms of congruences and dis-crepancies and the significance they may have in light of internal con-sistency. The information derived from these profiles can be translated into practical applications. For example, by looking at the value patterns in the Act, Choice, and Vision areas, it is possible to see what the docu-ments are saying in terms of the Act area as related to policies and pro-cedures, the Choice area as related to management structures, and the Vision area as related to long-term goals. In a religious congregation the Vision values would define the expression of mission. The Hall-Tonna Inventory of Values The Hall-Tonna Inventory of Values is a 77-item forced-choice ques-tionnaire which raises questions relative to an individual's preferences and choices. The result of this questionnaire is a 15-to-25 page report which shows the individual's priority value choices on a developmental scale. A set of questions is raised for each cluster of value choices. The Refounding Through Values / 371 recipient of the report is then asked to respond to these questions by read-ing through them and identifying those that reflect issues of priority con-cern based on specified criteria. If desired, the Hall-Tonna Inventory of Values can be combined for specified groups of individuals in order to produce a composite profile. This is often helpful in looking at the com-bined values of a leadership team, local house, or general council for pur-poses of planning, education, or creating a corporate mission-and-philosophy statement within the boundaries of the value information ob-tained from the analysis of the documents. Another way to apply this in-formation is to look at the composite values of the entire institution and compare them with the envisioned values of the institution as expressed through its documents. The Hall-Ledig Interview Format (Interform) This is another method by which information can be collected on in-dividuals through a one-hour personal interview for the purpose of com-paring value information from the Hall-Tonna Inventory of Values with value information from the lived reality. Once the collection of information has been completed, the second step in the discernment process is reflecting on the information. The information which has been collected thr.ough one or more of the above instruments is then reflected on and analyzed. The value pat-terns which have emerged are compared with one another, convergences and discrepancies are noted, and discernment questions are raised from the composite information. It is, once again, through the process of Con-vergence, Congruence, and Confirmation that priority issues can be dis-cerned from the large amount of data collected. If more than one type of instrumentation has been used, the process repeats itself each time with questions being raised based on the internal relationship of the value clusters to one another, the relationship between different sets of value clusters, and the relationship between sets of value clusters gathered with each type of instrumentation. This brings us to the third step of the discernment process, which is acting on the information. The focal issues in the data that has been col-lected up to this point have now been identified. Each issue results in a series of discernment questions. As the questions are responded to, the plan for action begins to unfold based on the discrepancies in the infor-mation gathered with each type of instrumentation as well as discrepan-cies between the information from all of the instrumentation used. The information is then moved to action in the form of value-based policies, procedures and minimal-norm statements, leadership training, education 379/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 focus for initial and ongoing formation, and long-term strategic planning. Conclusions The Church today, like many of our institutions, is experiencing a significant crisis. On the positive side this can be seen as a call, a call to reevaluate the way in which it is moving into the future. History has introduced new concept