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Issue 34.4 of the Review for Religious, 1975. ; Review ]or Religious is edited by faculty members of the School of Divinity of St. Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building: 539 North Grand Boulevard: St. Lot, is, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copy-right @ 1975 by Review [or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A; Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.75. Sub-scription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $11.00 for two years; other countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor July 1975 Volume 34 Number 4 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humbuldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. Women Priests and the Episcopal Church Leonel L. Mitchell Leonel L. Mitchell, whose most. recent publication is: Liturgical Change: How Much Do We Need? (Crossroad Books, 1975), is an Episcopal priest and Assistant Professor, Department of Theology; University of Notre Dame; Notre Dame, IN 46556. It is the intention of this paper to treat the topic of the ordination of women quite narrowly. It will not deal with the general question of the biblical, historical, and theological considerations involved in the ordination of women to the priesthood, but will attempt the more modest task of reporting the con-temporary debate as it exists in the Episcopal Church. This debate has two related but distinct foci: (1) the desirability of amending the canon law of the Episcopal Church so as to permit the ordination of women to the priesthood, and (2) the "ordination" last year of 11 women to the priesthood by three bishops without diocesan jurisdiction in violation of the presently existing canons. There are many in the Episcopal Church who strongly favor the or-dination of women, but condemn the action th~it was taken in Philadelphia on July 29, 1974. ". The 1973 Canterbury Statement of the Anglican-Roman Catholic Inter-naiional Commission ( A R CI C ) entitled "Ministry and Ordination" detailed in 16 headings a common statement of Anglica.n and Roman Catholic understand-ing of the meaning of "ordination in the apostolic succession." A few quotations from this statement should make clear what ministry it is to which women seek ordination in the Episcopal Church, and why this debate is of con-cern to Roman Catholics: Despite the fact that in the New Testament minisiers are never called 'priests' (hiereis), Christians came to see the priestly role of Christ reflected in these ministers and used priestly terms in describing them . Not only do [Christian ministers] share through baptism in the priesthood of the people of God, but they are--particularly in presiding at 51~. / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 the Eucharist--representative of the whole Church in the fulfillment of its priestly voca-tion of self-offering to God as a living sacrifice (Rom 12:1) Nevertheless their ministry is not an extension of the common Christian priesthood but belongs to another realm of the gifts of the Spirit. (Par. 13) Ordination denotes entry into this apostolic and God-given ministry, which serves and signifies the unity of the local churches in themselves and with one another. Every in-dividual act of ordination is therefore an expression of the continuing apostolicity and catholicity of the whole Church. (Par. 14) What is involved, then, in the Anglican discussion is not whether women are full members of the Body of Christ and share in the priesthood of the Church, nor is the question one of their suitability to serve as Christian ministers. Women can and do serve in non-sacerdotal ministries in the Episcopal Church. The question is solely whether women can (not should) be ordained to the ministerial priesthood and serve as presidents of the Eucharistic assembly. I do not believe that arguments based on the inexpediency of ordaining women deserve serious consideration. It will always be inexpedient to do something we do not wish to see done. If women can be priests, then what but masculine prejudice prevents them from being so ordained? The question then turns on the hinge of "Are women proper subjects for the sacrament of priestly ordination?" Anglicans do not usually formulate the question in this way, but it is what they mean. Unlike the Roman Catholic Church, the Episcopal Church permits the or-dination of women to the diaconate. In 1862 the Bishop of London revived the order of deaconess in the Church of England by ordaining a woman by "im-position of hands." In 1885 the first such ordination was performed in the United States by the Bishop of Alabama, and in 1889 the American Episcopal Church regulated what it called the "setting apart" of deaconesses by ap-propriate canons. By setting up separate regulations for deacons and deaconesses, however, the canons raised the question of whether deaconesses were deacons, or ministers of some other sort. They did not wear stoles, nor assist in ministering Communion. In remote mission areas without a priest, deaconesses often led prayer ser~iices, officiated at Matins and Evensong, and conducted baptisms and funerals, but in ordinary parishes they served as sacristans, parish visitors, and directors of Christian education. They were, in fact, considered by many priests to be, as it were, "secular nuns" who could do useful things around the church. The fact that the diaconate itself was not well understood did not help to clarify the role of the deaconess. The apostolicity of the order of deacon has been continuously asserted by the Anglican Church, but in fact, deacons who are not fledgling priests have been almost totally unknown since the 16th cen-tury. The.revival of the "perpetual diaconate" for men in the period following World War II has produced a revival of interest in the diaconal ministry, and a beginning of the study of the diaconate as a ministry in its own right, not as a rung on the ladder of ecclesiastical preferment. Women Priests and the Episcopal Church In the Episcopal Church the question of the status of deaconesses was forcefully raised by the late Bishop James A. Pike, who (whatever his failings) was never afraid of a good fight. In 1965 he declared on his own authority as Bishop of California that deaconesses were women deacons, and proceeded to act on that assumption by recognizing Deaconess Phyllis Edwards of his diocese as a deacon. In a ceremony at Grace Cathedral, San Francisco~ he in-vested her with the deacon's stole and presented her with the New Testament from which she read the eucharistic gospel. She also assisted in the ministra-tion of communion in the manner usual for Anglican deacons, by ad-ministering the chalice. The lawyer-bishop was careful to explain that the ser-vice was not an ordination, since, in his view, Deaconess Edwards had already been ordained a deacon when she was "set apart" as a deaconess. Since most Episcopalians had never given any thought to the subject of the ordination of deacons of either sex, they were horrified. The bishops reacted (as Anglican bishops frequently do) by appointing a study commission to report on "The Proper Place of Women in the Ministry of the Church." At about the same time in England a similar report, entitled "Women in Holy Orders," was presented to the Archbishops of Canterbury and York. In 1968 the Lambeth Conference, the decennial meeting of Anglican bishops from all over the world, accepted the principle that deaconesses were "within the diaconate" and referred the question of the ordination of women to the priesthood to the various national churches or provinces, for further study. In 1969 the General Convention of the Episcopal Church, meeting at the University of Notre Dame, amended its canons to permit women for the first time to be licensed as lay readers and to administer the chalice. The 1970 Convention formally endorsed the position that deaconesses were women deacons and amended the canons to that effect. From 1970 on, therefore, men and women have been ordaindd to the diaconate in the Episcopal Church under the same set of regulations, by the same rite, and clearly to the same office. There was, of course, one important difference. Male deacons were either candidates for the priesthood, or they intended to combine service as a "perpetual" deacon with another occupation from which they expected to derive their income. The women, on the other hand, were go-ing into full-time professional ministry, like most of the men with whom they had graduated from seminary. Few of them saw their vocation as being to the "perpetual" diaconate, but the possibility of ordination to the priesthood was denied them. In 1971 the Bishop of Hong Kong and Macao, acting after consultation with his diocese and the Bishops of South East Asia, ordained two women to the priesthood. The previous bishop had pe~'formed a similar ordination in 1944, during World War II, but the Archbishop of Canterbury had formally refused to recognize the ordination, and the woman ordained, ki Tim Oi, renounced her orders for the peace of the ChurCh. This time the Anglican Con-sultative Council (which is a secretariat rather than a decision-making synod) interpreted the resolutions of Lambeth 1968 to permit him to act: ~i14 / Review for Religious, l~olume 34, 1975/4 This Council advises the Bishop of Hong Kong, acting with the approval of his Synod, and any other bishop of the Anglican Communion acting.with the approval of his Province, that, if he decides to ordain women to the priesthood, his action will be accept-able to this Council. (Resolution 28, Anglican Consultative Council, Limuru, Kenya, 23 February-5 March 1971) The resolution carried the Council 24-22, and it was on the strength of this ap-proval that Bishop Baker p~:oceeded with the ordinations. In that same year the American bishops were asked to endorse the princi-ple of the ordination of women to the priesthood and the episcopate, and to prepare legislation for that purpose. The resolution was presented by the Bishops' Committee on Ministry. The House of Bishops (in customary fashion) appointed a study committee of seven bishops. This was the second study commission of the American bishops on the ministry of women in l0 years. The complaint of women that the question has been sufficiently studied would seem to be justified. The report was presented to the bishops in 1972. A straw vote was then taken on the question of the ordination of women to the priesthood. This was a simple expi'ession of personal opinion, not a legislative vote. The bishops voted 74-61 in favor of admitting women to the priesthood. This is the approval of the bishops so often mentioned in the debate since. The report itself exhibits an internal schizophrenia, including two different versions of a section on "Scripture, Tradition, and Images," one favoring the ordination of women, the other opposing it. It was distributed, not only to the bishops but to all priests and other interested persons, in mimeographed form, and was later printed in the 1973 Convention Journal. It begins with the assertion that the Church admits both men and women to the diaconate, and cites New Testament precedents (Romans 16:i, Acts 9:36, I Tim 3:8-13) and the opinion of C. H. Dodd: We may fairly suppose that the order of deacons which emerged in the second century. had its origin in Paul's own time; and that it included women as well as men. (Dodd, C. H., The Epistle of Paul to the Romans, p. 235) The report describes the contemporary understanding of the diaconate as ':murky and confused" and calls for a fresh statement of the meaning of the diaconal ministry. It is interesting that the acceptance of women as deacons is not considered controversial by the bishops, but is the assumed starting ground for further discussion. Certainly no such consensus could have been obtained in 1965. Turning from the diaconate to the priesthood, the report describes the or-dained priest as "called of God and authorized by the body" to act for both the Lord and his Church "in ways far beyond our understanding." It asserts: His priesthood is not derived from the Church nor has anyone a right to claim priesthood; the priest is called to receive a gift in ordination, which comes from the Father. But his call and the gift are alike recognized and ratified by the Church; he acts for them in exer-cising the gift. Thus the authority and accountability conferred in ordination have a dou-ble reference. No man exercises priesthood in a vacuum. Women Priests and the Episcopal Church / 515 When it considers the possibility of the ordination of women to the episcopate, the report confronts the question directly: In the case of episcopacy, as in that of priesthood, the suggestion of a duality of repre-sentative roles raised in some of our minds the question as to the significance of male-hess as a necessary attribute or characteristic of the Bishop. Perhaps even more than the priest, the episcopal Father-in-God imagery is that of a male figure and none of us doubts the extraordinary tensions and problems which would confront the Church were women to be chosen to be bishops. But the question remains, in some of our minds, whether it can be said that female-ness is a diriment impediment to their consecration as bishops. I believe that this puts the question in proper terms. It is not a matter of whether one thinks a specific woman would or would not make a good priest. That is a pastoral question to be answered by those specifically charged with approving candidates for ordination. Some women, like some men, would make unbelievably bad priests. If this is true of some of the 11 women or-dained in Philadelphia in July 1974, it is demonstrably true of many of the already ordained male priests in the Episcopal Church, and, 1 assume, in other churches as well. The report then proceedes to two sections upon which the committee was divided. In the first it presents arguments again~st the ordination of women, and in the second it presents arguments for it. Most of the debate on the sub-ject in the Episcopal Church has been simple and straightforward. Opponents of the ordination of women have said that there is no support for it in Scripture or Tradition, that the Church has never ordained women, and to do so now would be stark novelty, and therefore both uncatholic and heretical, its ad-vocates have countered that there is nothing in Scriiature to forbid it, that there is no a priori theological reason for not doing it, and that the mere fact that it has never been done is no argument at all. They point out that to argue simply on the basis of contrary practice is to commit the Church to the view that change is either impossible or wrong--a doctrine which all admit has been widely believed, but which deserves to be relegated to oblivion--and which is demonstrably untrue in such cases as the Church's attitude toward slavery. A great deal of the literature which supports the ordination of women has argued with undeniable truthfulness that much of the opposition of male priests to the ordination of women stems from the men's insecurity in their own sexual and ministerial roles. Itis undoubtedly also true that at least some of the women seeking ordinat.ion have comparable problems, but neither point seems worthy of serious consideration, and the bishops' report does not raise it. It is, of course, theoretically possible to argue that although all of the people actually opposing the ordination of women are doing so from unworthy motives, the position itself is true. It is likewise possible to argue that although none of the candidates actually presenting themselves should be ordained, it is proper to ordain women. More concretely, it is hardly reasonable of the Church for it to set up a system in which all but the most stout-hearted will become discouraged long before they are actually accepted as candidates for ordination, and then complain about the lack of humility and modesty of the 511~ / Review for Religious, l/olurne 34, 1975/4 survivors. The principle of abusus non tollit usum needs to be applied with great rigidity here. The section of the bishops' report which opposes the ordination of women to the priesthood may be taken as representative of the best argumentation on this side in the Episcopal Church. The "prominent and honored place" of women in the ministry of the New Testament and the Early Church is freely admitted. Phoebe is recognized as a deacon, Dorcas as a "disciple," the daughters of Philip as prophets, and others as teachers and evangelists. It further affirms that women have an honored place in the ministry today, but that place is not in the presbyterate. It permits, even urges, the ordination of women to the diaconate, and condemns the failure of the contemporary Church, including that of many priests and bishops, to understand the meaning of the diaconate as ari order separate from, but not subordinate to the presbyterate. It makes a sharp distinction between the priesthood which is shared by all Christians, men and women alike, as full members of the community, and ad-mission to the cultic ministry: To belong to the cultic ministry is no part of the perfection of Christian membership in Christ. That the Church has acted as if it were, and as if lay-people were second class Christians is only too true. It is only too true that lay women have been excluded from the decision making processes of the Church; this is one of the causes of their present anger and frustration. But we cannot right this wrong by committing another. The actual arguments raised against the ordination of women to the priesthood appear to be two, one symbolic and one historical. The symbolic argument is summed up in the conclusion: The ordained Christian priest must act officially in the person of Christ, and male-ness is therefore required for a priest to act in this way. A woman priest, it is claimed "must lack the full symbolic meaning of Chris-tian priesthood, and to that extent must be defective." Masculinity and male-ness are seen as symbolizing the initiating creative and recreative act of God toward mankind, an act transcending nature, and constitutive of the Church. The historical argument is that, although women exercised a multitude of ministries in the early Church, there were no women presbyters or bishops. On the evidence, to admit women as Bish'ops and Priests is to overturn the practice of the New Testament Church, and the Catholic Church ever since. It considers that some evidence of an unmistakeable intervention of the Holy Spirit "such as we find in Acts" would be necessary for so momentous a change, and rejects the idea that the fact that some women genuinely believe themselves called to the priesthood is evidence of such an intervention. It has always been the duty of the Church to tell a man whether or not he has a true voca-tion to the priesthood, and the Church has this task today. If the Church says no to these aspirants, it would seem proper to assume that their question has been answered by the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Women Priests and the Episcopal Church This section of the report concludes: This momentous step must not be taken by a small branch of a particular Catholic Church on its own initiative, without reference to the remainder of catholic Christendom, and, 1 am sure, against the convictions and sentiments of a majority of its members. The appeal to the consensus fidelium of the Catholic Church of the ages strikes strong responsive chords in most Anglican hearts, and their concern for the effect of any unilateral action on the Anglican-Roman Catholic or the Anglican-Orthodox dialogue is genuine. The section of the report defending the ordination of women compares it with the adoption of the Canon of Holy Scripture or the development of the threefold ministry as "legitimate developments of what was implicit in the revelation of Christ from the beginning." It makes extensive use of the article "Biblical Anthropology and the Par-ticipation of Women in the Ministry of the Church" by Professor Andr6 Dumas of the Protestant Faculty of Theology in Paris, which was published in 1964 in Concerning the Ordination of Women. a report of the World Council of Churches. This article contrasts the Jahwist account of the creation and fall in Genesis 2:4-3;24 with the Priestly account in Genesis 1, in which man and woman are both made in the image of God and given joint authority over crea-tion. According to Dumas, the only theologically significant reason for the ex-clusion of women from the Old Testament priesthood was the belief that woman's true vocation was to be a mother in order to perpetuate Israel until the coming of the Messiah. This, he says, Christianity specifically rejected as anti-Messianic. There is, he points out, nothing in the New Testament about motherhood as a sacred vocation, since that vocation has been fulfilled by the motherhood of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The report admits the power of the male imagery applied to priests, but comments: Its power is derived from deep springs in the human spirit and from important forces in our culture and his.tory. Insofar as it reflects truths about masculinity and femininity it can be a significant instrument in our grappling with reality. Its limitations lie, of course, in the fact that there is no analogy in Deity to such imagery, no way t6 identify in Deity the anguish and the beauty inescapably part of the man-woman differentiation in humanity. The overwhelming tradition of the Church against the ordination of women is freely admitted, but declared to be irrelevant. The profound changes in the roles of men and women in society, it feels, ~eans that any decision in-volves change: The problem for Christians is not how to get back to what was, but to bear witness in the midst of what is; and even the choice to stay where we are, if we make it, will be the choice of a new position which has got to be mai:le in the presence of real people, not ghostly memories. The report notes that thep0sition of other Churches is also changing, and the effect of permitting the ordination of women on the ecumenical scene may 51~! / Review for Religious, I/olume 34, 1975/4 as easily be positive as negative. It also points out that popular opinion, and the spirit of "women's lib" are not valid considerations, but the Church must deal solely with the question "Is God now calling women to Priesthood?" If the answer is yes, the Church must respond, whatever the cost, and if it is no, the Church must also take the consequences of that decision. The final section of the report raises a number of questions, on the answers to which the committee was presumably divided: Is it not true that Christ's priesthood is too comprehensive to be contained by the sym-bolism of one sex, that in fact its variety and d.epth call for full sacramental feminine ex-pression in order to represent a God who sustains both masculinity and femininity? If this is true, might we not be on the threshold of a new dimension and awareness of the un-searchable riches of Christ? Far from confusing sexual roles or affirming "unwise" values, might not the ordination of women assure the enrichment of our understanding of humanity in Christ by guaranteeing the presence of both its components visibly present in the offering of the Oblation which is Christ's and ours? Like many discussions of synods of bishops, the report ends with no recommendations, except to "meet the issue head on." The bishops concluded their discussion with the straw vote already mentioned. When the Anglican Consultative Council met in Dublin in July 1973, they reaffirmed their position that individual national or regional churches might proceed to ordain women, if they so decided according to their synodical processes. The vote in favor was 50-3, compared with the 24-22 vote in 1971. The next significant step in the process occurred when the General Conven-tion of the Episcopal Church met in Louisville in September-October 1973. Legislation. to change the canons to permit the ordination of women to the priesthood and the episcopate was introduced into the House of Deputies, and was there debated at length. The final vote fell short of the needed majority. Since this vote has been the subject of much subsequent controversy, it re-quires further elaboration. The General Convention is the legislative body of the Episcopal Church. It consists of bishops and clerical and lay deputies. The deputies are elected by diocesan synods, four priests and four lay persons from each diocese, regardless of size. On substantive matters the deputies vote by dioceses and orders and a majority is required in both orders for passage. The vote on the ordination of women was clericalmYes 50, No 43, Divided 20; Lay--Yes 49, No 37, Divided 26. The divided delegations were split 2-2 and therefore unable to vote either for or against the resolution. The result was that although the proposal had a plurality of votes, it did not receive the absolute majority re-quired. This situation is not a "fluke." The rule, like that requiring the ratification of amendments to the U.S. Constitution by three-quarters of the States, was written into the Constitution of the Episcopal Church to make it difficult to change basic items of Church structure, and to make it impossible for a bare majority to do so. The question of whether the majority of clergy and laity of the Episcopal Church actually favor the ordination of women to the priesthood is difficult to answer. Certainly many have made it abundantly clear that they will "leave Women Priests and the Episcopal Church / 519 the Church" if such action is taken. On the other hand, at least one bishop has promised to resign if the ordination of women is not permitted, and some women have indicated that they will withdraw from the Church if the ordina-tion of women is finally defeated. Since the resolution did not pass the House of Deputies in Louisville, it was neither debated nor voted upon by the bishops. "A Statement of Conviction concerning Ordination of Women'~ signed by 60 bishops was inserted into the minutes, on a point of personal privilege by the Bishop of Indianapolis. This was intended to encourage the women deacons, whose genuine disappointment in the failure of the Convention to authorize their ordination to the priesthood was recognized by all. I share the opinion of many of those present at the Louisville Convention that a number of those who voted against the ordination of women did so in the firm belief that the Church was not prepared for this step at that time. Their opposition was not absolute, but conditioned by the need to prepare the "folks back home" for such a radical change in practice. As the Anglican Con-sultative Council had phrased it in 1971: Anglicans have genuine difficulty in entertaining the idea that there might be women priests, and, lacking experience, they cannot forsee the consequences if any were to be or-dained. In the days following the defeat of the resolution by the Deputies, rumors spread through the Convention that some bishops intended to go ahead without authority and ordain one or more women. The House of Bishops, wishing to squelch these rumors, passed a resolution of collegiality and loyalty, pointing out that the Deputies had rejected the principle of the ordina-tion of women, and that the Presiding Bishop was appointing a "competent committee" to study the matter in depth. The resolution affirmed the adherence of the Bishops "to the principles of collegiality and mutual loyalty, as well as respect for due constitutional and canonical process." It was clearly the failure of four bishops to abide by this decision which caused the House of Bishops to react as it did to the July ordination in Philadelphia. They looked for a full discussion and decision in 1976 at the next General Convention. But the situation was not to remain static till then. On July 10, 1974, four bishops, all retired or otherwise without jurisdiction, met in Philadelphia, at the urging of a group of lay and clerical leaders, to con-sider the possibility of proceeding to ordain women to the priesthood. Bishop Charles Hall, retired of New Hampshire, withdrew after this first meeting. On July 20, the Rt. Rev. Lyman Ogilby, Bishop of Pennsylvania, in whose diocese the service was actually held, refused both his consent and his approval to the ordination. On July 25 the Most Rev. John Allin, the new Presiding Bishop, telegraphed the eleven women and three bishops, asking them to reconsider their decision. At this same time Bishop Ogilby notified his diocese that clergy who par-ticipated in the proposed ordination would be "conducting themselves in viola- 520 / Review for Religious, P'olume 34, 1975/4 tion of the Constitution and Canons of the Church," and would thereby be subjecting themselves tO possible discipline. He and the Diocesan Standing Committee also met personally with the Rt. Rev. Robert DeWitt, the former bishop of that diocese, and asked him to withdraw from the proposed ordina-tion. On July 29 the ordination took place. The ordaining bishops were the Rt. Rev. Robert DeWitt, formerly of Pennsylvania, the Rt. Rev. Edward Wells, Retired Bishop of West Missouri, and the Rt. Rev. Daniel Corrigan, formerly director of domestic mission work for the Episcopal Church and later dean of Bexley Hall Divinity School in Roches~ter, New York. The Bishop of Costa Rica, the Rt. Rev. Antonio Ramos, was present but did not participate in the ordainiiag. He was the only diocesan bishop in the group. On July 31 the Presiding Bishop called the House of Bishops into special session August 14-15 in Chicago to consider the situation. In the meanwhile, formal charges were filed against the participating bishops by the Bishop of Western New York. They were later withdrawn, then reinstated, and at the present writing are still pending. 146 bishops voted at tha~ meeting. They adopted this resolution by a vote of 129-9 with 8 abstentions: The House of Bishops in no way seeks to minimize the genuine anguish that so many in the Church feel at the refusal to date of the Church to grant authority for women to be considered as candidates for ordination to the priesthood and episcopacy. Each of us in his own way shares in that anguish. Neither do we question the sincerity of the motives of the four bishops and 11 deacons.who acted as they did in Philadelphia. Yet in God's work, ends and means must be consistent with one another. Furthermore, the wrong means to reach a desired end may expose the Church to serious consequences unforseen and undesired by anyone . Resolved, that the House of Bishops, having heard from Bishops Corrigan, DeWitt, Welles, and Ramos the reasons for their actions, express our disagreement with their decision and action. We believe they are wrong; we decry their acting in violation of the collegiality of the House of Bishops as well as the legislative processes of the whole Church. Further, we express our conviction that the necessary conditions for valid ordination to the priesthood in the Episcopal Church were not fulfilled on the occasion in question; since we are convinced that a bishop's authority to ordain can be effectively exercised only in and for a community which has authorized him to act for them, and as a member of the episcopal college; and since there was a failure to act in fulfillment of constitutional and canonical requirements for ordination. The resolution went on to call for the 1976 General Convention to recon-sider the issue of the ordinationof women, and for all involved to wait for that reconsideration. Apparently this is not going to happen. There have been several occasions on which various of the women have functioned as priests. The most publicized events were the celebration of the Eucharist at Riverside Church, and the ap-pointment of two of the women priests to the faculty of Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, Mass., with the provision that they will function as priests in the seminary chapel. There are at least two cases being prosecuted Women Priests and the Episcopal Church / 521 against male priests, for allowing one or more of the women to celebrate or con-celebrate the Eucharist in their parishes. The truly important aspect of the Bishops' August statement is not their disapproval of the ordination. No one seriously expected them to approve the flaunting of canon law and their own resolution of collegiality. It is the ap-parent acceptance of Bishop Arthur Vogei's theological analysis of the ordina-tion, and the bishops' refusal to accept the "validity," not simply the "regularity" of the ordination. It is freely admitted on all sides that the ordina-tion was in violation of the actual canon law of the Episcopal Church on several counts: 1. There is no provision for ordaining women to the priesthood. 2. The women were ordained neither by their own ordinaries, nor with their consent. 3. The required canonical consent of the Diocesan Standing Committees was not obtained. Two of the candidates did attempt to obtain this consent, but it was refused. One diocese (Central New York) has granted it post fac-turn. (The Standing Committee is an invention of the American Episcopal Church in the 18th century which sought successfully to limit the arbitrary power of bishops by requiring the formal consent of a Standing Committee of priests and lay persons to all ordinations, sales of church property, and certain other acts.) Prior to voting on the motion, the Bishops received the report of their Committee on Theology, delivered by the Rt. Rev. Donald J. Parsons, Bishop of Quincy, and formerly Dean and Professor of New Testament at Nashotah House Seminary, and the Rt. Rev. Arthur Vogel, Bishop of West Missouri, a member of the Anglican-Roman Catholic International Commission and formerly Professor of Systematic Theology at Nashotah. The resolution adopted quotes verbatim from their reports. Bishop Vogel's view, expressed in his report, is that validity means "juridical recognition of a ministry by the Church." In this view to call a ministry "invalid" does not mean that it is not true, efficacious, or genuine, but simply that it is not juridically recognized. It is apparently this recognition which the House of Bishops denied the ordination of the women. My personal interest in this decision is that it shifts the ground of "accepted" Anglican theology from the old mhnual theology which calls sacraments valid if the criteria of proper matter, form, intention, minister and recipient are present, to a newer concept. There can be no doubt, in the old terms, that the ordaining bishops intended to ordain the women to the priesthood. They went out of their way to use the "right form," by using the official 1928 version of the ordination rite, rather than the commonly used provisional form of 1970. There has never been any dispute about the right of retired bishops to continue to exercise episcopal functions, and, in fact, many retired bishops have been the principal consecrators of their successors. The stand is taken by Bishop Vogel, and the House, instead, on the nature of the Church as a Eucharistic community, under the presidency of the Bishop. 522 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/4 The Holy Eucharist is offered by the whole community; the bishop unifies the action of the community by his presidency of the assembly. The bishop at one time, in a sacramen-tal manner, (1) represents the Son to the assembly, (2) represents the people of God, (3) represents the Church to itself. His actions in ordaining, then, are actions within the Community. He ordains "not as an individual but as the head of the eucharistic community." Bishop Vogel quotes the Orthodox theologian Dr. J. D. Zizoulas in saying, "There is no ministry in the Catholic Church that can exist in absoluto," and again, "there is no apostolic succession which does not go through the concrete com-munity." He comments: Within a diocese the bishop and presbyters form a college among themselves; the bishop and deacons constitute another community. The important point is that ordination, ac-cordingly, is entrance into a new community--the ministerial community--rather than the bare bestowal of a power. In ordination bishops do not pass on a power which they possess as individuals to other individuals who do not have it. That would be a baton-passing theory of ordination; the community would count for no more than the crowd watching a relay race. Here we find sacramental theology and theology of ministry tied solidly into ecclesiology, so that they are not left to wander in absoluto, causing endless problems for sacramental theologians. Ministry is within the eucharistic community of the Church. This is a primitive, and patristic view, often associated with the name of St. Cyprian of Carthage, and is, in the best sense of the word, "Episcopal" ecclesiology. Bishop Vogel concludes: The intention must originate in the community and be sacramentally personified by the community's bishop or his delegate within the episcopal college. Such authorization is necessary, or the people and bishop are not acting as a community--as one with the Church. Where there is no such authorization, where the jurisdiction of one bishop and com-munity is usurped by a bishop (or bishops) without jurisdiction, community and collegiality are broken . The ingredients of an ordination simply were not present. The bishops' conclusion that the group assembled in P, hiladelphia was not a real eucharistic community can, of course, be debated. On the other hand, the bishops, priests, deacons, and lay people who gathered in the Church of the Advocate in Philadelphia on July 29, 1974 did not claim to be a local con-gregation gathered around their bishops, nor did they claim to be the "rem-nant" of the True Church, separating themselves from a false institution. They claimed to be acting in and for the Episcopal Church, of which they were all members. But, the bishops object, they were not only unauthorized to act for the Episcopal Church in ordaining these women, the ordaining bishops were specifically bound by an undertaking with their brother bishops not to act in this way. The inevitable result is that the Church does not recognize their act. At this point, some people cry "Foul!" They object that they have meticulously followed the rule~ of the manuals to make sure that their acts would be recognized as valid, but the bishops have changed the rules, moving from a Medieval scholastic conce.pt of validity to a Cyprianic and Eastern one. Women Priests and the Episcopal Church / 523 The protest certainly has point, but it is paradoxical that most of the usual supporters of the kind of manual theology which the bishops rejected in Chicago are opposed to the ordination of women, while those most vocally concerned with the communal nature of the Church support their ordination. The idea, however, is not novel in Anglican theology, and fits well, in fact better, into traditional Anglican teaching than does manual theology. Both William Temple and Michael Ramsey spoke of the bish@ in ordination as not acting apart from the Church. This presentation, of its nature, cannot end with conclusions, but only with an observation, and a number of questions, which I believe to be those that presently face the Episcopal Church. They will, 1 believe, illuminate the dis-cussion of related issues in other Churches. The observation is that the Bishops of the Episcopal Church appear united in their belief that women have been given too small a share of the decision-making processes of the Church, and, whether or not the ordination of women to the priesthood is authorized in 1976, it seems clear that women will get more important positions in the "power structure." The questions are these: 1) Is female gender a diriment impediment to ordination to the priesthood? In this context the remarks of Robert F. Capon are exceptionally apt: If women are human, we can no longer go on talking about them as if they were some of our best friends. They are us. Any doctrine of the ministry, therefore, which effectively says that they are anything less must be abandoned. ("The Ordination of Women: A Non-Book," in Anglican Theological Review, SS 2 [Sel~t. 1973] p. 77) There are, nevertheless, a few Anglican theologians, and several bishops who would respond to our question with a solid yes. 2) If it is granted that women can be ordained, should a Church as numerically insignificant as ~he American Episcopal Church, even with the support of the worldwide Anglican Communion, alter 1900 years of contrary custom and proceed to do so? Many Anglicans would answer with the Orthodox that such things must await the summoning of the 8th Ecumenical Council. Anglicans are com-mitted to the view that they are only a part of the Catholic Church, and are reluctant to go out on a limb alone. Ordaining women will certainly cause the Episcopal Church problems in its dialogue with both Roman Catholics and Orthodox, but if it is right, then fear of unjust excommunication has never been an acceptable defense for failure to act. 3) Granted that it is possible, is it necessary for the Episcopal Church to ordain women, even at the cost of splitting our own Church? Certainly, if we do ordain women, we must be aware of the'havoc we shall raise with thestatus quo. There is already a shortage of"payingjobs" for priests in the Church and ordaining women will compound the problem. The women themselves are also likely to wind up underpaid and overworked in parishes that men have turned down. These dangers must be honestly faced. 524 / Review for Religious, lZolume 34, 1975/4 4) Finally, there are the large questions of the meaning of ordination. Can bishops, simply by virtue of their orders, and without the authority of the com-munity whose bishops they are, confer orders? Traditional Western sacramental theology has said yes, but that it is wrong for bishops to act in this way. Traditional Eastern sacramental theology has said no, that they act only in and for the Church. This is the position which the American House of Bishops took in Chicago. It is a position which seems to hold promise for a sacramental theology based upon the doctrine of the Church as the Body of Christ, and Christ Himself as the true minister of the sacraments. Reprints from the Review "The Confessions of Religious Women" by Sister M. Denis, S.O.S. (25 cents) "Institutional Business Administration and Religious" by John J. Flanagan, S.J., and James I. O'Connor, S.J. (20 cents) "Authority and Religious Life" by J. M. R. Tillard, O.P. (20 cents) "The Death of Atheism" by Rene H. Chabot, MoS. (20 cents) "The Four Moments of Prayer" by John R. Sheets, S.J. (25 cents) "Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation" by the Congregation for Religious (35 cents) "Meditative Description of the Gospel Counsels" (20 cents) "A Method for Eliminating Method in Prayer" by Herbert Francis Smith, S.J. (25 cents) "Religious Life in the Mystery of the Church" by J. M. R. Tillard, O.P. (30 cents) "Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits" by John R. Sheets, S.J. (30 cents) "Consciousness Examen" by George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. (20 cents) "Retirement or Vigil?" by Benedict Ashley, O.P. (25 cents) "Celibacy and Contemplation" by Denis Dennehy, S.J. (20 cents) "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat" by Herbert F. Smith, S.J. (20 cents) "The Healing of Memories" by Francis Martin (20 cents) Orders for the above should be sent to: Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 Revision of the ConstitiJtions: Meaning, Criteria and Problems Juan Manuel Lozano, C.M.F. Father Juan Manuel Lozano was Visiting Professor of Spirituality in the Divinity School of St. Louis University during the past semester. He is on the faculty of Lateran University and of his Institute's seminary: Claretianum; Via Aurelia 619 15, 00144 Rome, Italy. Religious communities are at present engaged in the final stage of the revision of their Constitutions in the aftermath of Vatican Council 11. Most of them, indeed, have already celebrated their first General Chapter after the Special Chapter of Renewal; and, according to the norms in force they must send the resulting text to the Holy See after the last touches are made by the next General Chapter. Institutes are still bustling especially because all the members of the various communities have been called to participate in the review of what had been their basic codes. Perhaps it will be helpful to set forth some personal ideas and experiences on the meaning of the present work of revision and on the problems which have been created by it. 1. The Starting Point The revision of their Constitutions by all religious institutes had been made obligatory by Vatican II in its decree, Perfectae Caritatis (par. 3). From the text of the decree itself, it is evident that the center of gravity of this paragraph was not the revision of documents, but rather the spiritual renewal and adapta-tion to the times of religious life in all its various aspects: the manner of living, praying and working, and the government of the various institutes. The revi-sion of the Constitutions emerges as a consequence of this in the second part of the paragraph cited: "Therefore let constitutions, directories., be suitably revised and, obsolete laws having been suppressed, be adapted to the decrees of this sacred synod." 525 526 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/4 The principle for the revision of the Constitutions, basic documents that are intended to inspire and rule the life of a religious community, is, therefore, to be drawn from the preceding paragraph of Perfectae Caritatis (no. 2) where both renewal and adaptation have been defined. In fact, even if in the text, probably because of Latin usage which prefers to join adjective to a substan-tive rather than two substantives, has the form: accommodata renovatio, in-stead of renovatio et accommodatio, the rest of the paragraph makes it clear that the council is referrit~g to two different realities by the term: a movement of spiritual renewal in fidelity towards the Gospel and towards the spirit of the founder, and another movement of fidelity to the real, historical condition of man: "renewal" and "adaptation." In speaking of the first movement, the council uses a biblical term: to go back, to return (sh~b) with God as its object is an expression commonly used in the Bible to designate conversion.~ A constant return to the sources of Christian Life and to the founder means, therefore, that a permanent move-ment of conversion must characterize religious communities. Religious life has always to return to being the privileged expression of Christian and authentic religious sentiment. Since this privileged expression was formulated in the past, in those historical periods in which the Church and the religious com-munity were founded, this conversion implies a return to the past, a pilgrimage back to the sources. Yet this return to the past happens only on the surface, since neither Christ nor the gifts of the Spirit that were granted to the founder belong!to the past; they are always alive. From this perspective, renewal might better be termed "a going inside" rather than "a going back." For its part, adaptation also should mean "a going inside"--an entering into actual, living humanity. And thus, religious life, following the logic of the Incarnation, must embrace both the Spirit that comes from God and the needs that come from society. Both renewal and adaptation, then, are two different expressions of a constant search for authenticity. This means that there are two basic facts, subsumed by the council in its recommendation of renewal and adaptation, that will influence the revision of the constitutions: human fallibility, and human historicity. In terms of these realities, religious life is constantly exposed to a series of trends that originate both from within (the community itself) and from without (society). And so religious life must constantly return to its double source of inspiration. As a matter of fact, human fallibility seems to have more effect on the daily life of the religious than it does on his Constitutions. For, even if the charism of infallibility does not extend to the spiritual doctrine that is ex-pressed in the Constitutions (they remain, after all, a purely human comment on the Gospel), it is nevertheless true that very often they have been written by one who was a faithful disciple of Christ, and that they have always received the approval of the Church. And this approval of the Church guarantees that the Constitutions are at least a sufficient guide by which to lead a life that is ICf. Jer 3,22; 4,1. Hos 6,1; Joel 2,12 . . . Revision of the Constitutions: Meaning, Criteria and Problems / 527 committed to divine service. On the other hand, the approval of the Church does not assure us that the text of a given Constitution will keep its value per-manently, or that it is the best possible expression of spiritual doctrine, etc. This reality, of course, is connected rather with human historicity than with human fallibility. Nor does it seem to me that the approval of the Holy See guarantees fidelity on the part of the community to what had been the idea of the founder. The Church, to be sure, gives canonical approval to those ideas that the com-munity believes best expresses its spirit. And in so doing, the Church recognizes that the community in pursuing its project has a right to exist within the People of God without interference in regard to the more technical problem of the fidelity of some later changes to the idea of the founder. There are some communities which have obtained from Rome approval for a change in the formulation of their ministries which research has demonstrated were not truly faithful to the idea of the founder; they are now going back to the older formulation. On this level of being faithful to the original idea of the founder, Constitutions are subject to human fallibility, just as is religious life itself; and a revision may thus be necessary. Historicity touches the Constitutions more deeply, In certain instances, even when they were actually written by the founder, Constitutions appear too strictly conditioned by the limits of a mindset that was common at a certain time and in a certain society. Founders were, thank God, real, living men; they were not only the recipients of a charism, but they were also the products of a particular ambience. Some Constitutions, composed in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, i.e., in a time when spiritual theology was in decadence, show an approach to some features of Christian religiosity that may hardly be kept as permanent, classical formulations: for example, a purely negative ap-proach to consecrated chastity, a negative way of expressing mortification, a passive doctrine of obedience. Now, can we honestly think that a text which spoke of chastity only to forbid any kind of sexual acts expressed the basic value of consecrated chastity? Or that a text which expressed a very austere image of self-denial without enlightening it by the glory of the Resurrection could be the direct reflection of the Gospel? Or, on the contrary, were these the fruit of the spiritual attitude of a particular culture the natural causes of which can be uncovered by historians? We have to come to the conclusion that in the area of spiritual theology there are obsolete expressions just as there are ob-solete juridical or disciplinary norms. Not only Canon Law, but theology, too, is a product of history. Other, more recently written Constitutions have a purely juridical-disciplinary character in that they reproduce with few variations the Normae secundum quas, a document that was elaborated by the Congregation for Bishops and Regulars at the end of the last, and beginning of this century.2 2Published, e.g., by L. R. Ravasi C. P. in De Regulis et Constitutionibus Religiosorum. Rome 1958, pp 187-226. 52~1 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/4 Now the Normae expressly exclude from the Constitutions every kind of text dealing with theology and spirituality.3 This was quite understandable as a reaction against the simple exhortatory booklets that had been sent to the Holy See by most of the founders during the last century. It was also the result of the juridical optimism which had engulfed the Church in years in which Congregations of simple vows received their first official acknowledgement as religious institutes, receiving for the first time definite norms concerning their status in the Church, and years in which the entire Latin Church became in-volved in the creation of its first Code of Canon Law. What we have is the product of a certain mentality, one which belongs neither to the basic evangelical values of religious life nor to the charism of particular founders. This mentality is connected with a certain historical situa-tion. And, of course, it is impossible for any text to be in complete abstraction from its own times. Even the Rules of St. Augustine, St. Benedict and St. Francis are historical monuments, the reflection of a particular period of human history, as well as source documents of profound spirituality. In calling for renewal, th~n, th6 Church is clearly not asking that religious remove their Constitutions from every historical context, since, in any case, this would be quite impossible. But there are different ways of being related to history. A classic text, even if it keeps the flavor of the times in which it was composed, can give a balanced formulation of values that are permanent, and for this reason it will appeal to many generations. Other texts, however, re-main more on the surface, and tend to be influenced more strongly by the limitations of the culture in which they were written. This should neither sur-prise nor disappoint us. It takes time, after all, to develop a classical master-piece! Immediately after the promulgation of the decree, Perfectae Caritatis on October 25, 1965, two tendencies began to emerge among religious. One tendency, the more conservative, tried to limit the revision of the Constitutions to the suppression of obsolete norms and to adaptation to the new decrees. Revision, understood thus, followed the criteria which had inspired the earlier re-edition of Constitutions that had been necessary after the promulgation of the Code of Canon Law in 1917. The other tendency, more liberal and aware of cultural conditioning, pres-ent in many texts, affirmed the need to adapt the entire text of the Constitutions to the "spirit of the Council," i.e., to the theological and spiritual vision which had been growing in the Church during recent decades but which has burgeoned enormously in the aftermath of the Second Vatican Council. Since the decree, Perfectae Caritatis, speaking in a very general way, could not fix precisely the extension of the revision it called for, the problem remained aNormae I, IV n 33: Ravasi p 183. The prohibition was practically abolished in the new Normae issued in 1921. Cf Ravasi p 231. But at that time most .of the Constitutions of the modern Congregations had already received their last form. Revision of the Constitutions: Meaning, Criteria and Problems / 529 unsolved until the motu proprio, Ecclesiae Sanctae, was promulgated, in which Paul VI fixed criteria for the revision that was to take place. Prior to this, it had been possible to suppose that the depth of any revision would de-pend in every case on the quality of the original basic text. But this was precisely what was at issue in the discussion between both tendencies within the various communities. 2. Criteria for Revision On August 6, 1966, Pope Paul VI published his motu proprio, Ecclesiae Sanctae, which looked to the implementation of four decrees of the Council, the second of which was Perfectae Caritatis. In this portion of the document, one section is dedicated to the laying down of criteria for the revision of Constitutions: Ecclesiae Sanctae II, 12-14. The motu proprio, in dealing with principles for the revision of Constitutions, showed genuine development. Not only did it fix some points firmly, but it traced the general pattern that all Constitutions must follow. The criteria he gave can be summarized as follows: A. Constitutions, as religious life itself, must have a twofold aspect: doc-trinal and canonical. "Doctrine" here embraces two different facets: 1) the common elements that are essential for religious life in its union with the Church; 2) the par-ticular charism of the institute, expressed by the original idea of the founder and developed by an authentic living tradition. The "canonical elements" are to define the character, purpose and means of the institute. Character refers to an Order with autonomous monasteries or with centralized government, a Congregation of simple vows, an Apostolic Society, a Secular Institute, etc. Purpose embraces the general goal of religious life, and the particular charism of the individual community. Some communities have special ministries. Others are oriented in general towards evangelization in all its forms. The universal or particular character of their mission in the Church should be clearly expressed. In the Normae secundum quas that is followed by most of the modern Congregations, the general and particular goals were separated in two different paragraphs? These two paragraphs can be blended into one rich formulation that reflects the living unity in which they are associated in reality. Means are all the particulars that further community life, the profession of the evangelical life and the special ministry of the community. Therefore, they include spiritual and canonical 4No~'mae 1901 il, I, 1 nn 42-46, Ravasi p 195. cf also p 234. In the Normae the two purposes were called primary and secondary, using a terminology which sounds at least strange when applied to institutes whose founders had been first moved by the idea of responding with an apostolic ministry to certain concrete needs of the Church. The apostolic purpose (sometimes expressed through a fourth vow, or an equivalent commitment) has been the core around which the religious life has developed in many Institutes, from the Knights of Malta, to the Dominicans, Jesuits, Lasalle Brothers, Claretians . This is the reason why the praxis of calling both purposes general and specific has prevailed. ~i30 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 norms, basicstructures of government, requirements of formation and incor-poration, and the works of the apostolate. The introduction of this first principle in the motu proprio, i.e., that both doctrinal and canonical elements are required in any proposed revision, con-stitutes a fortunate change of direction in the policy that had formerly been followed by the Church. We have seen that the Normae secundum iluas ex-cluded every kind of doctrinal expression. And even if the idea was later tempered, in actual fact Constitutions remained mostly juridical codes. Now, if this might have been acceptable for Constitutions of the Regular Orders which also have a "Spiritual Rule" as part of their basic documents, in all in-stitutes founded after the Mendicant Orderg, the Constitutions are their only basic code. Therefore they have need of a doctrinal definition of the vocation and spirit of their respective communities. B. Constitutions are to be a text of essentials. The motu proprio emphasizes this characteristic. Constitutions must con-tain "the principles of religious life/and/the necessary juridical norms" (no. 12). For this reason, all elements that are not related to the basic features of the kind of religious life professed by the particular institute should not be in-cluded in its Constitutions. This recommendation of the Pope offers a very rich idea of what Constitutions ought to be. Constitutions should be a "charter" of charity, of communion,5 in which all the members of the institute, though they belong to different times and cultures, are able to recognize their own vocation and spirit. This implies that only the really essential features, of that vocation and spirit should be defined in the Constitutions, leaving the res~ to the initiative of the Holy Spirit and to the inescapable pluralism that varying circumstances demand. St. Benedict had well expressed this idea when, in explaining why he is opposed to setting down many norms about food and abstinence, he states in his Rule: "Everyone has received from God his own gift, one in one way, another in a different way. So it is with some hesitation that we fix/any/ measures for others.''6 From this point of view, Constitutions should express a minimum--the essential minimum. C. The motu proprio explicitly excludes from Constitutions all elements which are subject to change, which are now obsolete, or which correspond to local usages. Behind this criterion lies the idea 'that Constitutions should, as far as possi-ble, retain a permanent value.A community cannot change its Constitutions frequently without jeopardizing the peace and stability of the community. Therefore Constitutions should now tend to be what the "Rule" was for the Orders: a permanent and undiscussed source of inspiration. D. Regarding the form of Constitutions, the motu proprio recommends concision and precision. SThis was the. title given by the Cistercians to their most ancient constitutional text. Cf PL 166,1377-1384. 8Regula 40,1-2. Revision of the Constitutions: Meaning, Criteria and Problems / 531 Concision: "necessary norms., not excessively multiplied" (no. 12, b). Precision: "in suitable and clear words" (no. 12, a); "in an adequate manner" (no. 12, b). 3. Conclusions and Problems The first criterion, viz., that Constitutions should contain both doctrine and laws, often de facto means the redaction of a new text. As we have already mentioned, many modern Constitutions had only a juridical-disciplinary character. This is probably the main reason why the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes, in a statement published on July 12, 1968, declared that the revision of the Constitutions could be understood as the writing of a new text. The only condition is that the individual community must remain within the limits set by the nature, aims and spirit of the institute. Another reason that recommended the composition of a new text was the great difficulty experienced by many communities when they began to in-troduce partial emendations such as new paragraphs on obedience, celibacy, community, liturgy. There were deep differences between two approaches to spirituality: the one being largely individualistic and ascetic, the other being communitarian, liturgical and ecclesial, and these began to appear more strongly. Some communities which had begun to modify the old text finally arrived at the decision to write a new text. Other communities had decided from the beginning to write a new one. In my own experience with different in-stitutes, this decision to rewrite has been a wise one. The application of the criteria laid down by the Ecclesiae Sanctae has given a new shape to Constitutions. This fact has provoked a certain uneasiness among many religious. At first, they did not know what to do with the new doctrinal style. They missed the old disciplinary norms. And we cannot blame them for this. They had been accustomed for years to another kind of legisla-tion. Some of them even expressed their suspicion that the suppression of prac-tical norms was of[en the fruit of a certain relaxation. This attitude seems to result from a twofold misunderstanding: First of all, the new texts do not really make concessions in the direction of relaxation. Certainly they show a more positive approach to the basic features of Christian life and, therefore, the negative vocabulary~ that had been cherished by the Christian spirituality of the last two or three centuries tends to disappear. But if emphasis is placed on the positive and central elements of Christianity, this does not dissipate the negative consequences. Even if new Constitutions focus on following Jesus, they do not forget that in order to follow Him, we have to leave everything for Him. We cannot forget that this is the precise perspective of Christian spirituality as it is presented in the Gospels. On the other hand, there are doctrinal statements which are much more exigent than practical rules prescribing certain austerities. The invitation to be "a sign of contradiction" found in a new text is much more exigent than the rule requiring permission every time a sister leaves the house. The second misunderstanding concerns the value of the doctrinal section. 532 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 Religious are commonly agreed that the new doctrinal texts express in most cases a very rich spirituality. But some of them do not seem to appreciate the exact value of these statements which seem to them to be less binding than the old, disciplinary texts. This is a mistake. The doctrinal texts of the Constitutions do not contain a mere theological reflection. They express the idea that the community itself has of its own vocation and spirit in the Church. And therefore, they bind all the members as long as they desire to remain in the community. Far from being a merely theoretical explanation, they contain what might be called a "constitutional doctrine." Religious who are uneasy with the new style of Constitutions should recall that a text which traces the basic features of a vocation and spirit, a text which describes a mode of existence instead of prescribing a set of practices, a text which prefers the indicative to the imperative is actually more in line with the evangelical idea of Law. The deep difference between the Old Law and the Sermon on the Mount is that Jesus proposes a vocation to men who are no longer servants but friends.7 And who will argue that the Beatitudes are less binding than the Decalogue, even though they move on a different level? The commandments of not killing, of not committing adultery, of not stealing re-quire a material observance, because they express a minimum. The beatitudes on peacemakers, on purity of heart and on poverty on the other hand require a growing fidelity to the Spirit. They express the basic features of Christian ex-istence. If, from one point of view, as has been mentioned, the Constitutions should be the definition of an essential minimum, at the same time the principle that states they should contain the doctrinal formulation of the vocation and spirit of the community makes them also to be the expression of an ideal maximum. They propose a calling which is never completely fulfilled; they show a path on which no one should stop; they set forth the means by which religious can grow in the Spirit. This, also, is the exact meaning of the Beatitudes. We are never completely "poor in spirit," but the poorer we are, the more blessed we are. "You came here to be one heart," writes St. Augustine at the beginning of his Rule for the Servants of God? But he knows that on this earth we are never completely "one heart.''a St. Benedict, too, is well aware of this fact, when he finishes his Rule with the invitation to grow and to grow yet more.~° Constitutions are supposed to reflect the dynamic tendency of Christian ex-istence. Consequently, their observance implies a double fidelity: fidelity to the letter of the essential common laws, and, more profoundly, a dynamic, grow-ing fidelity to the Spirit. 4. Constitutions and Complementary Norms The reduction of the Constitutions to an essential "basic rule" implies as a 7Saint Ambrose, De l~iduis 12,72-73, PL 16,256-257. aRegula ad Servos Dei I, PL 32,1378. Epistola 211,5 PL 33,960. aDe bono coniug. 18,21 PL 40,387-388. ~°Regula 73. Revision of the Constitutions." Meaning, Criteria and Problems / ~i33 consequence the need for a complementary code that should contain more detailed norms. The idea of this complementary "Directory" was suggested by the Pope in Ecclesiae Sanctae. Such a code formerly existed in many Congregations: called in French institutes the Directoire, in the Roman canonical tradition of other Congregations it has been called the Codex luris Addititii (the code of complementary laws.) This Directory is supposed to contain the norms that are ordained to im-plement the Constitutions in all the aspects of the life of the community; prayer, particular traditions, formation, government. All norms which can easily be subject to change should be inserted into this complementary text rather than into the Constitutions. The Directory remains under the exclusive responsibility of the General Chapter while the Constitutions, after their ap-proval by the Holy See, can no longer be modified by the community without approval from Rome. There is today an even greater need for a complete legislation in each in-stitute, for, if the criteria followed in the provisional draft of Canon Law in regard to religious becomes definitive, many norms which were before fixed by common law will be left to the initiative of the individual institute. Since such a "complete legislation" will be made up of two texts, the Constitutions and the Directory, the institutes which have postponed the composition of the second text should now begin to work towards the formulation of their Directory. In suggesting this, we are aware of the heavy burden that such a procedure places on the religious especially of smaller communities. On the other hand, it is worth cautioning against an attempt to fix rapidly an abundance of such com-plementary norms just for the sake of having a "complete legislation." However, at least the most important norms, such as those concerning elec-tions, requirements for certain offices, incorporation into the institute, re-quirements for formation, etc., should be fixed, and the decisions made by the General Chapter should be listed clearly and in order (following the same order as the Constitutions). Furthermore, the Directory should be provisional. Since it will remain within the competency of the institute, the General Chapter will be able to improve upon it in progressive fashion. 5. Definitive Approval of the Constitutions and the New Canon Law The announcement that a new draft of Canon Law in regard to religious is now under study seems to have introduced a new factor of uncertainty in the process that leads to the fixing of a definitive text of the Constitutions. And we can surmise that definitive approval for revised Constitutions will not be granted by the Holy See until the promulgation of the new Canor~ Law. Cer-tainly, since both the new Canon Law and the Constitutions of each com-munity will contain fewer details, there will be less possibility that some points of the Constitutions will be in contradiction to the new code. But there will be many points in which it would be better if the Constitutions used the ter-minology adopted by the code. Will this mean that the period during which the Constitutions will remain under the responsibility of the individual institutes 534 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 will be prolonged by the Holy See? Since religious seem now to have overcome in large part the insecurity which had accompanied the change of their con-stitutional norms, it is possible that the Holy See will study the possibility of giving more time to the maturation of both the Constitutions and the Direc-tory. But it is also possible that the Sacred Congregation for Religious will prefer to open a period of dialogue with individual communities in which the Constitutions will be subjected to examination from both sides, even if they will no longer be under the exclusive responsibility of the individual institute. Surely in either case Roman sagezza will find a way of avoiding the repetition of what happened in the first decades of this century when many Constitutions approved in the first fifteen years of the century had to go back to Rome ten years later to be adapted to the then new Code of Canon Law. Back Issues of the Review The following is a list of the back issues of Review for Religious that are presently available: The first twenty-five volumes (1942-1966) inclusive of the Review have been reprinted in twenty-five clothbound volumes. Volumes 1 to 20 (1942- 1961) sell at $6.50 the volume; volumes 2l to 25 (1962-1966) sell at $7.50 the volume. 1967: All issues 1968: All issues 1969: All issues 1970: All issues 1971: All issues 1972: All issues 1973: All issues 1974: All issues 1975: All issues (except January) (except January) Some of these issues are available only in small numbers. The issues cost $1.75 (plus postage) each and should be ordered from: Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 Affirmation: Healing in Community Sister Gabrielle L. Jean House of Affirmation, Inc., is an international therapeutic center for clergy and religious, located at 120 Hill Street; Whitinsville, MA 01588. Sister Gabrielle L. Jean, Ph.D., is Director of the Worcester Consulting Center; 201 Salisbury Street; Worcester, MA 01609. Founding of the House of Affirmation The House of Affirmation is an outgrowth of the Worcester Consulting Center for Clergy and Religious which was established in 1970 in response to the expressed needs of the religious professionals of the diocese. The impact of Vatican II had been strongly felt by the clergy and religious who had to meet increased pressures from the demands of decentralization and responsible in-volvement in social and ecclesial issues. The services of the Consulting Center provided a religious professional the opportunity for self-discovery through the contemporary approaches of psychiatry and psychology in ongoing dialogue with theological developments. The Vicar for Priests and Religious, Diocese of Worcester, when ap-proached by the members of the Interim Senate for Religious, was informed of the fact that a sister-psychiatrist was working at the Worcester State Hospital; it was suggested she would probably help in the organization of mental health services for the religious and clergy of the area. The sister, Anna Polcino, a Medical Missionary physician-surgeon who had returned from West Pakistan a few years earlier, was invited to membership on the planning committee which had been brought together to think through the logistics of the enter-prise. She then became the first director of what was to become the Worcester Consulting Center. A young diocesan priest, Thomas A. Kane, was then com-pleting his doctoral work in clinical psychology and he became co-director of the Consulting Center. 535 636 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/4 The overriding goal of the Consulting Center was to help the clients become fully human, consistently free persons within the context of their ecclesial calling and social insertion. Sister Anna and Father Kane undertook to meet this goal through a threefold program of service, education and research. Since its opening, the services and programs of the Consulting Center have included individual consultation, group consultation, group process communication labs, personal growth groups, candidate assessment, lectures and workshops. After two full years of operation, however, it became apparent to Sr. Anna that the outpatient facilities were not sufficient for some religious and clergy who had come to the Consulting Center; there was definite need for an inten-sive residential treatment program. Thus was the House of Affirmation con-ceived. It became a reality in October, 1973, when the doors were opened to its first residents in Whitinsville, Massachusetts. Dr. Anna Polcino assumed the responsibility of psychiatric director of therapy and Dr. Thomas A. Kane became its executive director. The residential center pursues the same goals as the Consulting Center; namely, service, education and research. Philosophy of the House of Affirmation The philosophy underlying the House of Affirmation's existence and operation can be succinctly stated as: treatment of the whole person in a wholly therapeutic environment. Mental health professionals adhering to this basic philosophy meet a real challenge when their clientele is constituted by other professionals whose religious values are central to their vocational choice and identity. Religious men and women have chosen a celibate way of life which jars with the usual Freudian model of therapy. And so an alternative had to evolve to meet the needs of this relatively important and clearly delineated sociological group of celibate religious professionals seeking psy-chological help. A group situation provides a favorable environment for the social relearn-ing that constitutes therapy. Modern psychology emphasizes the tremendous power of the environment on human development and behavior; our sur-roundings exert a molding influence on our behavior. In "milieu therapy," the expectancies and attitudes of the treatment staff are central to bringing about social rehabilitation but the "psychotheoiogical community" concept of the House of Affirmation goes beyond this milieu therapy with its inherent psy-choanalytic orientation and reductionism. There is an existential concern with rediscovering the living person amid the compartmentalization and dehumanization of modern culture. Interest centers on reality as immediately experienced by the person witl~ the accent on the inner-personal character of the client's experience. The therapeutic community supplies the type of accept-ing or impartial reactions from others that favor social learning. Besides, the therapeutic environment prevents further disorganization in the client's behavior by reducing his intense anxieties. Affirmation, Healing in Community / ~i37 Psychotheological Therapeutic Community The House of Affirmation has developed a unique model in its psy-chotheological therapeutic community. The expression "psychotheological community" implies a quest for communion with God and with man. It is an accepted fact that personhood can only be realized in community, and this phenomenological aspect of man's human predicament aligns the model with the existential therapeutic movement.-It seeks to analyze the structure of the religious professional's human existence in view of understanding the reality underlying his being-in-crisis. It is concerned with the profound dimensions of the emotional and spiritual temper of contemporary man. The importance of community looms large in the current psychological literature. Stern and Marino state that "religion and psychotherapy encourage community engagement with life; both can be distorted to emphasize a kind of pulling back in order to ensure personal safety. Insofar as they foster openness, they become true protectors of the role that love can play in cement-ing human relationships, and consequently, the reconciliation of society. The establishment of relationships is the first step in establishing the community. As a stranger becomes familiar, we are in a better position to reach out to him, to join our lives more closely. Our differences will never disappear and we will find it necessary to sacrifice a degree of autonomy.''1 Each person in the community remains a unique individual. He may grow and change in the community but he will retain his identity. Personal union of community members serves to bring out and enrich what is uniquely true of each individual. "Growth in community will be effected by all those active and passive elements that created favorable conditions for the growth of unity and charity: openness, receptivity, sharing, giving, receiving. Community connotes oneness without loss of identity, a sharing in the interiority of another without the sacrifice of personal integrity.''~ The adaptations recommended and wrought by the Second Vatican Coun-cil have changed the pattern of environmental demands on Christians at large, but it has wrought this change even more on formally professed religious men and women. Some have adjusted quickly and almost with eagerness to these changes wliile others have been.floundering in the insecurity of a slow and painful assimilation of change. The poignant experience of confusion, doubt and sense of loss has taxed the coping ability of many who, cut off from safe moorings, question their identity and authenticity in what they consider an un-charted land. The post-Vatican period demands maturity and balance on the part of those chosen to minister to the people of God especially because much risk is involved. ~E. Mark Stern and Bert G. Marino, Psychotheology (Paramus, N.Y.: Newman Press, 1970), p. 66. ~Sister Daniel Turner, "The American Sister Today," in The Changing Sister (Notre-Dame, Ind.: Fides, 1965), pp. 309-310. Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/4 The Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium, emphasized the aspect of community when it spoke of the Church as a "sign and sacrament of man's union with God and of the unity of the whole human race" (LG, 1). The religious community as such cannot form the person although it should provide a setting in which the individual human being can emerge as a fully functioning adult. For too long, religious communities of men and women as well as priests in rectories have had. a task-oriented rather than person-oriented environment. Yet personal development is a basic prerequisite to a meaningful life in society at large and in the local community where the celibate lives. This follows logically from the principle that love of self precedes love of others. However, I can only know myself if another reveals me to myself just as I can only come to a real love of self when I come to the realization that I am loved by another. Likewise does man find his meaning and sense of identity in and through others. The person-oriented group helps man realize his personhood when, through the truth and goodness'of his con-freres, man's own powers of knowing and loving are released. In the therapeutic community of the House of Affirmation, the resident can formulate his own reactions, share them in social communication and thus become aware of the commonness of his own anxieties. By sharing his reac-tions with peers, he is practicing the very techniques of social interaction in which he has typically remained unskilled. In the reactions of his peers with whom he shares his daily activities, the resident finds the acceptance, support, protection, challenge and competition which enable him to develop more valid self-reactions. In addition, the therapeutic milieu provides the opportunity for social interaction among residents and staff. The House of Affirmation is neither a place of confinement nor a haven for "rest and recreation"; rather, it is a miniature social-religious community planned and controlled to facilitate the social learning of its residents. The professional staff members have accepted as the general goal of psychotherapy to help the "unfree," childishly dependent person become a genuine adult capable of "responding affirmatively to life, people and society.''3 The focus is on self-understanding and insight-building of an immediate and current nature in view of helping the individual to grasp the meaning of his existence in its historical totality. Ultimately, the mentally healthy client will attain freedom to choose, maturity in outlook and responsible independence. The life of the celibate can be viewed as an ongoing process of interaction with the religious, social and natural forces that make up his environment. The meaning that life assumes for a celibate depends on his personal response to these forces. The celibate community constitutes a union of persons who par-ticipate in a common love-response to the call of Christ.4 The key to a proper 3John Dalrymple, Christian Affirmation (Denville, N.J.: Dimension Books, Inc., 1971), p. 10. 'Sister Helen Marie Beha, OSF, Living Community (Milwaukee, Wis.: Bruce Publishing Co., 1967), p. 21. Affirmation, Healing in Community understanding of community lies in participation which becomes a unifying force which, at the same time, allows for individual differences. Is not willingness to receive from him one of the dearest gifts one can give to another? Participation characterizes the relationship of individuals united by love in community. All encounters assume meaning in that context; they become avenues to change. The difference his presence makes in the overall community process gives meaning to the celibate's life. Being human really means coming to grips, in a creative way, with the concrete situation in which we find ourselves. The ex-perience of here-and-now is crucial, for life is today--not yesterday or tomorrow. The same applies in the therapeutic situation be it individual or group: the ongoing, immediate experience of residents and therapists as they interact becomes the phenomenological focus in therapy. The total phenomena ex-perienced at any moment in time is what describes man's existential situation; the experienced event is what is brought to therapy. Listening to others as per-sons, looking into their eyes, mind and heart with deep sympathy, feeling that this person is suffering, is appealing to us as a person--is this not affirmative response to Christ's summons: "Love one another as I have loved you" (.In 13:34)? The call to Christian life is ideally expressed in the experience of the Eucharist which is the community experience par excellence. The Eucharist builds up a community of faith, and so it stands at the very center of the psy-chotheoiogical community that is the House of Affirmation; it reveals the solidarity of all members in Christ. It is the same solidarity that is expressed in the opening words of the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, Gaudium et Spes: "The joys and hopes, the sorrows and worries of the men of our time are ours" (GS, 1). The House of Affirmation has thus accepted the challenge of the Fathers of Vatican II who urged, in the same document that we make appropriate use "not only of theological principles, but also of the findings of the secular sciences, especially of psychology and sociology" (GSo 62) to help the faithful live their faith in a more thorough and mature way. In its Decree on the Ap-propriate Renewal of the Religious Life, Perfectae Caritatis, the Council Fathers pursued the same line of thought: "The manner of living, praying, and working should be suitably adapted to the physical and psychological con-ditions of today's religious., to the needs of the apostolate, the requirements of a given culture, and to the social and economic circumstances" (PC, 3). In the article pertaining to chastity, religious are urged to "take advantage of those natural helps which favor mental and bodily health . Everyone should remember that chastity has stronger safeguards in a community when true fraternal love thrives among its members" (PC, 12). Celibate religious professionals who are trained in psychiatry and psychology can bring to bear their own experience in coming to a better understanding of the emotional problems of religious and priestly life today. Such is the case in both of our outpatient Consulting Centers and the residential treatment center of the House of Affirmation. ~i40 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/4 For too long, celibates have been frustrated when seeking professional help since they were limited to psychiatrists and psychologists who had little un-derstanding of their religious commitment; the misconceptions that could arise often deterred religious and priests from seeking psychiatric-psychological help. Our residential treatment center has been set up to minimize the threat and the possible alienation attendant on presenting oneself to a professional-type establishment. A home-like atmosphere has been developed which has proved most therapeutic and which prepares the individual to respond to therapyin a very positive manner, and that contrasts with the resistance that is frequently found when working with the laity. At present, there are twenty residents at the House of Affirmation of which thirteen are men. An attempt is being made to establish a better men/women ratio but the fact is that more men than women are referred for residential treatment. The professional staff presently includes one psychiatrist, six psy-chologists, two pastoral counselors and one registered nurse. The basic com-ponents of the therapeutic program are: Mode of therapy Time per session Weekly Individual 1 hour twice Group (same therapist) 1 1/2 hours twice Intercommunication lab I 1/2 hours once Psychodrama 1 1/2 hours once Residents' group (no therapist present) 1 hour once Group design I hour once Ancillary therapies: Photography I 1/2 hours once Movement therapy 2 hours once Physical therapy 1 hour once Alcoholics Anonymous 1 hour once Ceramics 2 hours once Yoga 1 hour once Art therapy 3 hours once Lectures; Psychology/psychiatry 1 hour once Psychotheological reflections I hour once Spirituality 1 hour once An individual priest, sister or brother may be referred to the House of Af-firmation for the purpose of coming to a better understanding of his emotional problems and/or to resolve them. However, the client is always informed that unless he comes of his own free will, therapy will be of little avail to him. No resident is accepted for treatment on the mere recommendation of his religious superiors; the applicant must indicate willingness to come for therapy. The principle of confidentiality is crucial to the operation of the House of Affirma-tion; privacy is maintained at all times. This has produced a sense of security Affirmation, Healing in Community / 541 and trust and the clientele has grown geometrically. Since its inception, it has been stressed that the purpose of the House of Affirmation is not so much keeping the celibate in the religious or priestly life as helping him become truly human and consistently free. Through therapy, he can come to his own deci-sion about his future. In the course of therapy, the client comes to view his experience in wider perspective and he gains a better future orientation. Self-growth demands that the individual have something to aim for, a goal which can be brought into reality through committed action. The individual's task will then be to ac-tualize this possibility, to make it a reality. As a person begins to respond to his feelings, he sees possibilities in his future and makes attempts to achieve these; by so doing, responsible independence increases in his life-style. Many of the problems that have been presented at the consulting centers and at the residential center have been classified as deprivation syndromes and as what Freud has described as repressive neurosis. In the first case, lack of love and acceptance (lack of affirmation) has crippled the psychological func-tioning of individuals; in the latter case, one encounters priests and religious who have made excessive use of the defense mechanism known as intellec-tualization. Many of these individuals are not aware of their emotions and have even repressed anger in their life as celibates. The repression in this in-stance often came about by faulty training which presented the emotion of anger as "unvirtuous," an emotion not to be expressed at any time. Yet Christ found it appropriate to express His emotions: "The angry man who picked up a cord to drive the buyers and sellers out of the temple, who wept in sadness over Jerusalem, who was bathed in sweat before His arrest was not a stoical, emotionless man.''s Through therapy, individual clients become aware of their emotions, are informed that their emotions are basically good and are encouraged to express them in a healthy way within the context of a celibate life. Individual therapy is supported by group therapy where anger-feelings may be expressed and accepted as such. The re-educative process is somewhat long and painful but it "pays off" in a more personally satisfying and productive life. Having been af-firmed by a significant other in the course of individual therapy and, in turn, affirming others, the healed resident knows and feels who he is. He finds that he is different from others but that he is acceptable, that he belongs in com-munity, that he is contributing to it and changing it. He has come to realize that there is a unique place for him in society, that he has a unique contribu-tion to make to it, that he can choose freely to do and to love.6 The effectiveness of this model has already been substantiated by in-house research. It is very likely that it will find still further support for its claims with the passage of time. 5Dalrymple, op. cir. p. 111. nThomas A. Kane, Who Controls Me? (Hicksville, N.Y.: Exposition Press, 1974), pp. 75-76. Prayer: A Thematic Bibliography Compiled by David Ricken Mr. David Ricken is a seminarian of the Diocese of Dodge City, Kansas. His current address: 1501 Belleview--Apt. //3; La Junta, CO 81050. The purpose of this bibliography is to present some of the best authors and books on prayer to a variety of people who are in(erested in prayer for a variety of reasons. This bibliography is divided into several themes so that the reader may easily select that book which is best suited to his interest and purpose. Of course, division brings limitation, and the placement of each work into one particular theme is, on occasion, arbitrary and personal. Attempt has been made, however, to classify each work according to that theme which appears to be central to the book. Obviously, there are many more books on prayer which have not been listed here. However, better to have read one book and to pray than to have read many books and to not pray. l--Prayer: Introductions: Bloom, Archbishop Anthony. Beginning to Pray. Paramus: Paulist. This book is an experience in prayer and contains helpful suggestions and en-couragements to begin one's quest of love for God. Chapman, Dom John. The Spiritual Letters of Dora John Chapman. London: Sheed & Ward, 1935. This work is a compilation of letters, and does not pretend to be a survey or summa of the spiritual life; );et it has become a classic, mostly because of its sound advice on spiritual life in general and mysticism in particular. Guardini, Romano. Prayer in Practice. New York: Pantheon, 1957. 542 Prayer." A Thematic Bibliography / 543 Written by an excellent theologian of several years ago, Prayer in Practice is a thorough, highly intelligible introduction to prayer. The scope of the book is broad, and the author delicately intertwines and balances theory and practice. Jarrett, Bede, O.P. Meditations for Lay-Folk. St. Louis: B. Herder This book is a series of well-thought-out essays on every aspect of Catholic thought and living, but the few sections on prayer are especially fine. Father Jarrett shows prayer to be, in one sense, the "pondered love of God," the lifting of the mind through the heart, and the gradual taking on of God's point of view. It also tries to relate prayer to every possible circumstance of life, thus broadening the base of prayer, making it something more than a narrowly spiritual activity. Father Jarrett shows that there is a totality to prayer, as there should be a totality to man's life with God. He also shows that prayer is normal, since God is interested in every human being and every human being is called to a deep and intimate life with Him. For Father Jarrett, prayer is eminently the "'voice of faith," the living embodiment in one's life of what one believes. It is the natural blossom-ing of the knowledge of the Faith in one's life. It is the voice and nourishment of a per-sonal seeking of God. Maritain, Jacques and Raissa. Prayer and Intelligence. New York: Sheed & Ward, 1943. Comprising less than fifty pages, it is a study of prayer based on St. Thomas and St. John of the Cross. It is not written in philosophical or theological language, but sets forth in very simple language the path of prayer for Christians and is applicable not only to the learned theologian and religious teacher, but also to the ordinary housewife who is a child of God and called to a life of prayer. McNabb, Vincent, O.P. The Path of Prayer. Springfield, 111.: Templegate. This small book is written in the form of a "diary of Sir Lawrence Shipley," and in it Father McNabb embodies some of the fundamental principles of prayer, based on the theology of St. Thomas Aquinas. Prayer is shown to be the habit of leaning on God and the total ordering of one's life to God. It also shows that prayer does anything but produce passive men. Rather it opens up every human possibility and the use of every human gift in God's service. It is a careful reflection on the principles and implications of the life of prayer, enabling one to begin building a personal "pragmatic" of prayer. Rahner, Karl, S.J. On Prayer. Paramus, N.J.: Paulist. With that bold insight and careful respect for the truth so characteristic of him, Rahner has given us the fruit of his search for God. It is clearly discernible that for this eminent theologian, there is hardly.a distinction between theology and prayer. In a style which is easy to understand, he articulates his vision of prayer, one which is truly authentic and truly beneficial. ll--Prayer: Reflections: Caretto, Carlo. Letters From The Desert. Maryknoll: Orbis, 1972. This is prayer incarnate. Prayer as passion, as compassion, as the life and breath of a virile and contemplative mind in a passionate search for the core of his being. Prayer drove Carlo Caretto into the desert, where he could listen to the voice of God in silence and solitude. There is a freshness and primitive innocence to his words as God begins to take hold of his whole being. This is the chronicle of one man's desert experience. Caretto, Carlo. The God Who Comes. Maryknoll: Orbis, 1974. ~i44 / Review for Relibious, Volume 34, 1975/4 This is another presentation of Brgther Carlo's thoughts and reflections from his solitude in the Sahara desert. Written in a simple and direct style, the main thrust of his writing deals with man's hope for "the God Who comes." The book treats ofthe Church as an in-stitution of men and women and as a divine reality which through its renewal and change will evermore make known the gratuity of God. In parts, Brother Carlo speaks of his own life in solitude, his prayer, his contempla-tion and his own dialogue with Jesus. Farrell, Rev. Edward J. Prayer is a Hunger. Denville: Dimension, 1972. Father Farrell writes of prayer as a hunger to be intensely experienced and as a journey to be creatively undertaken. These reflections in solitude encourage the reader to keep a "journal" as an enticement to prayer. The book itself exemplifies this "'journal" ap-proach and helps one to begin to see what prayer is all about. Nouwen, Henri J.M. With Open Hands. Notre Dame: Ave Maria, 1972. With gentleness and authenticity, Nouwen has here developed an artistry which is at once rare and most welcome. With Open Hands is a prayer, for it helps the one who enters into it to allow the walls which he has built around himself to crumble. The author truly teaches the reader to open his hands. Turro, James. Reflections--Path To Prayer. Paramus, N.J.: Paulist, 1972. The beautiful blend of captivating color photographs and a profound text has produced a masterpiece which can lead to prayer with ease. Ill--Prayer: The Presence of God. Abhishiktananda (Henri Le Saux, O.S.B.) Prayer. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1972. To be Christian is to be contemplative. To be Christian is to live in awareness of the presence of God. Contemplation is not the private possession of monks and nuns, priests and religious. It is a gift of God to every man to be exploited and enjoyed. Born in the West, this monk has completely immersed himself in the spiritual heritage of the East. He is one of those phenomenal men who has not lost the roots of his own tradition, but is himself a bridge between East and West. Brother Lawrence. The Practice of the Presence of God. Springfield, I11.: Templegate, 1963 (3rd Edition). This little classic is Franciscan in its primitive simplicity, almost like a page out of a diary of St. Francis. The sheer beauty of God has captivated the heart of Lawrence, and the glimpses that he gets of God in the world around him and in God's Word shatters his heart, developing a spirituality that destroys every last ounce of the fear and diffidence that once motivated him. The introduction by Dorothy Day puts the times of Brother Lawrence into focus and the trans.lation by Donald.Attwater is limpid and clear. This is an account of growth in genuine prayer and the gradual opening of one man's mind and heart to the loveliness of God. It is a paradigm of prayer of great depth and beauty. IV--Prayer: Hesychasm or Prayer of the Heart: Anonymous. The Way of the Pilgrim, and The Pilgrim Continues His Way. (translated from the Russian by R. M. French) New York: Seabury Press, 1965. Prayer." A Thematic Bibliography / 545 After hearing in an Epistle the exhortation of St. Paul "to pray without ceasing," a pilgrim sets out on a journey to do exactly that--to pray ceaselessly. In inspiring narratives, the author instructs the reader about continual interior prayer. This is an ex-cellent introduction to the "Jesus Prayer." Chariton, Igumen (compiler). The Art of Prayer: An Orthodox Anthology. London: Faber & Faber, 1966. Dove Publications. This great anthology is concerned chiefly with one particular prayer, the "Jesus Prayer." This simple prayer has become the edifice upon which many Orthodox have built their spiritual life and through which many have penetrated to truth. This compilation of texts from spiritual men of many ages demonstrates the depth and riches of such a simple prayer.*** Kadloubovsky, E., and Palmer, G. E. H., translators. Writings from the Philokalia on Prayer of the Heart. London: Faber & Faber, 1951. "Philokalia" means "'love of the beautiful" and it was the purpose of the Fathers of the Eastern Church to instill a sense of the beautiful and the sacred in their disciples. Concerned with hesychasm or prayer of the heart of which the "Jesus Prayer" is the prime example, these writings instruct and exhort the Christian in the way of the prayer of the heart.*** Maloney, George, S.J. The Jesus Prayer. Pecos: Dove Publications, 1974. George Maloney is steeped in the Russian hesychasm tradition, and this little booklet is an invaluable introduction to this form of prayer. A Monk of the Eastern Church. On the Invocation of the Name of Jesus. Ox-ford: S.L.G. Press, 1970. Nearly every sentence of this little book is loaded with power. To really appreciate it one must live with it, almost devour it. The author proceeds very logically from an explana-tion of the form of the "Jesus Prayer" to the explication of the theological implications and nuances contained in the "Jesus Prayer." A Monk of the Eastern Church. The Prayer of Jesus. New York: Desclee, 1965. This is considered the ciassic guide to, and explanation of, the "'Jesus Prayer." V--Prayer: The Scriptural Approach: The Psalms by God and man. Von Balthasar, Hans Urs. Prayer. Paramus, N.J.: Paulist Press, 1961. Father Hans Urs Von Balthasar has divided prayer into three main sections: "The Art of Contemplation," "The Object of Contemplation," "Polarities in Contemplation." He approaches the subject in a very masterly fashion, applying copiously many texts drawn from Sacred Scripture. He re-orientates prayer by re-orientating man, reminding him that he is redeemed, a son of God. Bro, Bernard. Learning to Pray. Staten Island: Alba House, 1966. 546 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 Despite his many assertions of generous disposition and openness to God, man always seems to find an excuse not to pray. Expanding on the texts, "Lord, teach us how to pray," and "could you not watch one hour with Me?" Bro sets out to show that prayer is a very necessary and vital part of faith. Johnston, William. "The Mystical Reading of the Scriptures--Some Suggestions from Buddhism." Cistercian Studies, #1, 1971. Johnston maintains that while Scriptural exegesis has "boomed ahead with great 61an," the understanding of Scripture at a deeper level than scholarship has made little progress. He suggests that Christians can learn from Buddhism ways of understanding Scripture at a deeper level--primarily through the use of the Koan and mantras taken from Scripture. Worden, T. The Psalms are Christian Prayers. London: Chapman, 1962. The purpose of this book is to re-orient andto change the reader's outlook on the ideas of the Old Testament. It attempts, and succeeds in creating a new mentality in the reader, one which assents to the truth that the Psalms are Christian prayers. VI--Prayer: Mental: Lehodey, Dom Vitalis, O.C.S.O. The Ways of Mental Prayer. Dublin: M. H. Gill & Son, 1955. Noted for its simplicity and clarity of style, Lehodey has succeeded in writing an excellent guide for mental prayer. The accomplishment of Lehodey in this work should not be dis-missed or overlooked because of what appears to be, in recent decades,, a declining in-terest in mental prayer. Rohrbach, Peter Thomas. Conversation with Christ: An Introduction to Men-tal Prayer. 3rd Ed. Denville: Dimension, 1965. Modeled after the prayer of St. Theresa of Avila, Conversation With Christ makes one point: mental prayer is "conversation with Christ." The style is simple and lucid. This makes an excellent introduction to this form of prayer. VII--Prayer: The Oriental Approach: Johnston, William. Christian Zen. New York: Harper & Row, 1971. Almost entirely practical in nature, this little book tries to make sense of Zen for the Christian by explaining some of the methods which can lead to "enlightenment." (cf. The Still Point, a book by this author which gives a psychological explanation of Zen and a discussion of the meeting point of Christian mysticism and Zen.) (cf. Silent Music, another book by this author which treats of the science of meditation. He writes of the similarities of the deep states of consciousness in various religious traditions. A good scientific evaluation.) Stevens, Edward. Oriental Mysticism. New York: Paulist, 1973. This is an integrated treatment of mysticism which combines experience, theory, and practice. Treading Buddhism, Zen, Hinduism, Taoism, the author discusses the necessity of meditation and the need of Western man to develop this ancient art. Temple, Sebastion. How To Meditate~ Chicago: Radial Press, 1971. Prayer." A iThematic Bibliography / 547 The author, a former Hindu monk, provides here n.ot only a "'complete guide to yoga techniques," but also an excellent resource book foi" meditation. VIII--Prayer: Contemplative and Mystical: ' Anonymous. The Cloud of Unknowing and the Book of Privy Counseling. (ed. William Johnston) Garden City: Doubleday, 11973. This is the classic Western exposition of the Byzan~tine tradition of mysticism which found its richest form in the writings of the "Pseudo-Dionysius." Recognizing that God is beyond all our concepts, that the Lord of Heaven add Earth is clothed in Mystery, the "Cloud," formulates a pragmatic of prayer based upon this profound insight into the transcendence of God. The unknown author recognizes that the vitality of prayer must be maintained and that the very obscurity of faith can deter from prayer. Prayer here is not understood as a static act, however, and that is where the author recognizes that he may be misunderstood: it is an attitude of mind, a "looking towards God," a life-style and a modality of thinking and acting. The Introduction by William Johnston is scholarly and thorough, linking the Cloud with other prayer traditions. The Cloud itself is a tightly reasoned book and is meant rather as an encouragement to those who find themselves quite alone in their searching and pursuit of God. This aloneness, this "forgetting," this "unknowing" is part of the pursuit, and the profound advice of the author of the Cloud leads to a number of important convictions in the whole business of prayer.*** Borst, J.M.H.M. "A Method of Contemplative Prayer." Review for Religious 33:4 (July, 1974), 790-816. The author makes an orderly recommendation of different "phases" of contemplative prayer and strongly urges that if one wants to be contemplative, he must practice con-templative prayer regularly. Catherine of Sienna. The Dialogues of St. Catherine of Sienna. Westminster: Newman Press, 1950. St. Catherine's dialogues are a lucid commentary on a living relationship with God and in them she mediates and articulates the full implications of theology regarding man's relationship with God. She lays down the conditions for growth in a vibrant and vital relationship and by the use of stirring and striking imagery communicates something of the scope and texture of true holiness. What is especially significant is the positive view of human things and the role of personal initiative and responsibility. From the theological point of view, she articulates the reality of a "personal providence," the intimate care and concern that God has for each one per-sonally and the tension and dynamics of this personal Providence. The end result is the strengthening of the spirit in a profound and personal hope in God and the growing ability to read the living signs of this hope in one's own life. This is "mysticism" at its best, but a mysticism completely devoid of subjectivity, opening up the mind to the rich possibilities of a personal encounter with God. Unfortunately, the translation is a bit archaic, but the living thought of St. Catherine still comes through.*** Higgins, John J., S.J. Merton's Theology of Prayer. Spencer, Mass.: Cistercian Publications, 1971. 54B / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 This study of Thomas Merton's theology of prayer shows the total consecration to com-panionship with God which was Merton's legacy. It shows the unity of Merton's thought and development, the spiritual passion that characterized his early years and the develop-ment of that passion to something close to spiritual genius. Merton's ability to nourish his prayer-life from hundreds of different sources, and the blossoming of that prayer-life in his varied writings reveals the depth and dimensions of this remarkable spiritual per-sonality. Prayer, in all its richness and beauty, is shown to be the result of normal faith and normal intelligence--but as fully exploited in a personal pursuit of God. This is different than is to be found in some other studies of prayer, in that it shows the embodi-ment of a prayer tradition in the life of one man, a man for whom God and prayer were the totality of life. Merton, Thomas. The Ascent.to Truth. New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1956. The finest introduction in any language to the mystical theology of St. John of the Cross. A lucid and clear exposition of the whys of prayer in the Juan de la Cruz tradition, with distinctions and clarifications which make it a very valuable theological work. Perhaps the finest of Merton's early works in which he shows himself to be a superb and masterly theologian. Merton, Thomas. Contemplative Prayer. New York: Herder & Herder, 1969. In Merton's solid "educated English," he traces the steps to an "educated awareness of God," the cultivation.of which is the finest fruit of faith. His thought ranges from the lim-pid simplicity of the early monks to the most brilliant insights of contemporary theology. This is adult spirituality at its best, with the Merton mind showing the full human and personal implications of a life of prayer. In this book, Merton becomes the guru, the prayer-tutor, sharing his own convictions and prayer-life with a wider audience. Merton, Thomas. New Seeds of Contemplation. N.Y.: New Directions. in this book, Merton covers all the elements of the interior life building up to a solid con-templative life of prayer. This is a very good psychological description of the experience of contemplative prayer. It is a revision of one of Merton's early works, perhaps the most enduring of the early writings. Morales, Jose L. (editor) Contemplative Prayer according to the Writings of St. Theresa of Jesus and St. John of the Cross, Doctors of the Church. An excellent compilation of texts about contemplative prayer by two great con-templatives.*** Underhill, Evelyn. Practical Mysticism. New York: Dutton, 1960. This highly competent and well-known author in the area of mysticism has here succeeded in clearing up the nebulous, ethereal thinking that is often characteristic of things dealing with the mystical. Voillaume, Rene. The Need of Contemplation. London: Darton, 1971. Contemplation is ndcessary for man's very survival, and it is time for man to begin to cultivate a contemplative attitude by proceeding to the heart of things. Love will overflow from the reservoirs of each individual's living contact with Christ. Love begets love; love begets contemplatives. Whalen, Joseph, S.J. Benjamin: Essays in Prayer. New York: Newman, 1972. An initiation into the world of wonder is an appropriate description of Benjamin. Whalen perceives the contemporary human situation and introduces the reader to the con-templative act--to wonder. Prayer." A Thematic Bibliography / 549 IX--Prayer: The Holy Spirit: Bennet, Dennis & Rita. The Holy Spirit and You: A Study-Guide to the Spirit- Filled Life. Plainfield, N.J.: Logos Int, 1971. This is an especially thorough and helpful explanation of that facet of the experience of God which is often called "the Spirit experience." Well done. John of St. Thomas. The Gifts of the Holy Ghost. (tr. by Dominic Hughes, O.P.) New York: Sheed & Ward, 1951. This classic work, using the framework of the traditional teaching on the Gifts of the Holy Spirit, focuses on the action of God leading a person to freedom, to openness to God and to a deep life of prayer. The book shows how the gifts and action of the Spirit prepare a man for his encounter with God, giving him clarity of vision, flexibility and resilience, making fertile his freedom, and leading him to explore the wonder and magnitude of God. The book is difficult reading in places, but the implications of the teaching are critical to any real life of prayer. John of St. Thomas shows that the gifts are purification, education, insight and are the full blossoming of faith and a vibrant love of God. By the gifts, the seeker of God begins to share, in some small degree, in the abundance and plenitude of God. In the words of St. Thomas, the gifts are the deep interior currents of a life of prayer, giving to a man a certain kinship, a connaturality with Divine Things. They make a man a lover of God, the~, bring about a state of intimacy with God and Divine Things, and give a foretaste of beatitude. By tl~e gifts, a man exchanges a human standard for a Divine one, and begins to measure his life and his expectations by a Divine yardstick. They open wide the horizons of loving God, enabling a man to "'dream the im-possible dream." Sherrili, John. They Speak With Other Tongues. N.Y.: Pyramid, 1964. A very skeptical journalist relates his contact with and eventual experience of the gift of tongues. This is a valuable explanation of the not-too-long-ago unusual phenomenon which has become wide-spread and highly significant. X--Prayer: Best Sellers: Carothers, Merlon R. Prison to Praise. Plainfield, Logos, Int., 1970. Praise and thank God for all things, even for bad situations and circumstances. This is the basic tenet of a series of books on praise, written by this author. Carothers uses l Thess 5:16-17 as the basis for this form of prayer which has proven itself a powerful aid in revolutionizing people's lives. Parker, Dr. William F. and St. Johns, Elaine. Prayer Can Change Your Life. New York: Pocket Books, 1957. This best seller discusses "prayer therapy," a psychological experiment in prayer which helped forty-five people to grow to greater emotional wholeness and to gain peace of mind. For a good understanding of the nature of Western Mysticism, see "The Nature of Mysticism" by David Knowles in the Twentieth Century En-cyclopedia of Catholicism. ***It is to one's advantage to bring to this book some experience in prayer and especially an understanding of the spiritual, theological and philosophical milieu of the age in which the author wrote, in order to appreciate the full impact of the work. it is also to one's advantage to read this book under the guidance of a spiritual advisor. Models of Poverty Gerald R. Grosh, S.J. Gerald R. Grosh, in addition to teaching theology at Xavier University in Cincinnati, is a member of the staff of the Jesuit Renewal Center; P.O. Box 289; Milford, OH 45150. In his latest book, Models of the Church,~ Avery Dulles elucidates five models2 of the Church which he finds operative "in the minds of the faithful. He analyzes each one in terms of the advantages and disadvantages that each model has in aiding Christian living. Ultimately, Dulles says that the Church is a mystery and that no one model can adequately encompass a mystery. Rather, he states that the models are mutually complementary like the ¯ different shades and colors that blend together to create a total picture. The book is very freeing since it allows for various models and opens up other dimensions of the Church--especially for those persons who are locked into one framework. The aim of this article is to do for our notion of poverty what Dulles has done for our notion of the Church. In our time religious generally are uneasy about their practice of poverty. Often it seems that specific features of our practice of poverty can be amply justified if they are taken one by one. But the features taken all together, the total picture, clearly leave much to be desired. What is wrong? Where do we fail? Perhaps the failure in poverty, if indeed it is failure, results from a too exclusive concentration on one model of poverty, from our failure to let our own dominant model of poverty be balanced ade-quately by other models. It is the belief of this author that a clarification of the 1Avery Dulles, Models of the Church (Garden City: Doubleday and Company, inc., 1974). 2A model is an attitude of mind or a mental framework. It is a way of looking at and understand-ing a particular phenomenon, it points more to a structure of the mind than to a particular con-tent. 550 Models of Poverty / 551 models involved would facilitate the discussion as well as the choices that are made. I shall delineate seven models which 1 see operative in our discussions of poverty. I shall briefly describe each model, indicate the spiritual value which it strives to encompass, indicate its advantages and disadvantages, and list some practical suggestions which might be in accord with a given model. 1. Pnverty as Cnmmunitarian Sharing The call to religious life is a call to living the vows in community. Religious life witnesses to the experience of community as we share our lives together and work toward the common goal of preaching the good news of Jesus Christ. The vow of poverty, then, calls us to share not only our living together and working together but also our material goods. This is rooted in the experience of the early Church: "The whole group of believers was united, heart and soul; no one claimed for his own use anything that he had, as everything they owned was held in common" (Acts 4:32). This model of poverty as communitarian sharing points to the fundamental unity which we have as religious--namely, a unity of heart. We are all believers. We share a common vision of faith and hope. We are united in love. Each person's value is not what he owns or has, but who he is. So deep is our oneness that we live in community and share our possessions. The goal is the underlying unity of mind and heart. One of the advantages of this model is that it aims at eliminating differences between "rich and poor" and focuses on the equality of all. It at-tacks the roots of ownership which can so easily foster vanity and greed. Thus whatever is given to one is given to the whole community and goes to "the common barrel." The spiritual foundation for this mutual sharing of goods is the mutual care that the members of a given community have for one another. The disadvantage of this model is that it becomes more difficult to live as life becomes more complex. We know that we need certain things for apostolic use. How, then, does one regulate the quality and quantity of goods that are needed? How does one maintain the equality of all and the non-ownership of all? The traditional response t6 this dilemma has been to link the acquisition and use of goods with receiving permission for them from the superior. The underlying purpose of asking permission has been to aid our acting as non- . owners and to help free us from the power that is present in ownership. But it has been difficult for individuals not to compare what they have with what others have and therefore to justify their own acquisition of the same thing or of something else. It has been difficult for a superior to say "no" to one where he has said "yes" to another. Furthermore, critics of the system have pointed out that an adult makes his own decisions and that this practice has often seemed infantile. Also, as superiors so readily grant permission, the require-ment has come to be seen by many as a formality to be gone through or even ignored. It has also been difficult to draw a fine line between what one needs and what one wants. 552 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 In the judgment of this author, in so far as poverty has been linked to ask-ing permission for goods, it has failed--whether one blames the notion itself or the persons who have failed to live it. However, the model of poverty as com-munitarian living does have something to offer us today. The essence of the model is the mutual sharing of material goods in community. It would seem to preclude the private appropriation of goods (personal TVs, personal cars, etc.). It would also seem to preclude the free disposition of one's salary, e.g., the buying of books or equipment, travel, relaxation, or even almsgiving. 2. Poverty as Simplicity of Life- The second model of poverty is that of the frugal life-style or "simplicity of life." This model focuses clearly on poverty as a fact, i.e., material poverty. The spiritual foundation of simplicity of life is that it aids to singularity of pur-pose and locus--namely on the Lord and His work. Nothing else matters that much. This model of poverty is easily linked with the model of poverty as un-ion with the poor. Stated simply, this model of simplicity of life points to the fact that a poor man does not have a lot of material possessions or the free dis-position of a lot of money. The advantage of this model is that it can act as a deterrent or as a negative norm for how we spend our money. Does a poor person have a color TV or is he able to jet across the country, or have a stereo set? How often can the poor person or family afford steak? Lavish spending is seen as an insult to the poor who struggle for their food and their meagre existence. Such spending is also seen to imply contempt for human w~rk and the dignity of man involved in working hard for a day's pay. Also, as with the model of poverty as com-munitarian sharing, this model takes away the sense of power that is involved in the possession of goods and in the lavish disposition of one's finances. The advantage, then, of this model of poverty is that it keeps one mindful of his union with the poor Christ and honest in terms of what he spends. Its primary disadvantage is that it can cause one to be so absorbed in bookkeep-ing and penny-pinching that he loses the perspective of apostolic service. However, there are also other possible disadvantages that can accompany this model. Too great an emphasis on material things can lead to a pharisaism which overlooks the more important poverty of spirit. It can also result in divisiveness and criticism within communities as some will need more things than others to carry out their apostolic work. The particular way of living according to this model would call a person to be continually mindful of how his or her standard of life compares with' the poor. Such things as careful personal and community budgets, economical automobiles, buying articles on s.ale, adjusting budgets to meet emergencies, are evidences of the

Issue 13.1 of the Review for Religious, 1954. ; A. M.D. G. Review for Religious JANUARY 15, 1954 Apparitions and Revelations . Aucjusffne ~. Ellard Screening of Candidates . WilliemC. Bier ¯Reading for Religious . Edward F. ~aresch6 Aurelian Spirituality . Sister Mary of Carmel Book Reviews Questions and Answers Communications VOLUME XIII NUMBER 1 RI VII:::W FOR RI::LIGIOUS VOLUME XIII JANUARY, 1954 NU/vlBER 1 CONTENTS APPARITIONS AND REVELATIONS: ATTITUDES TOWARD THEM Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. 3 PRACTICAL REQUIREMENTS OF A PROGRAM FOR THE PSY-CHOLOGICAL SCREENING OF CANDI-DATES- William C. Bier. S.J .13 COMMUNICATIONS . 27 READING FOR RELIGIOUS---Edward F. GareschL S.J .2.9. SPECIAL PUBLICATIONS . 34 AURELIAN SPIRITUALITY~ister Mary of Carmel, R.P.B .3.5. "APPARITIONS" OF OUR LADY . 45 PAMPHLETS AND BOOKLETS . 46 BOOK REVIEWS-- The Spiritfiality of St. Ignatius Loyola . 47 BOOK NOTICI~S . - . 48 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS . 49 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-- 1. Special Confessor for Individual Sister .53 2. Special Spiritual Director, Not Confessor .53 3. Blessing by Mother Superior' . . 54 4. Successive Terms in Different Houses .54 5. Length of Years in Office for Superior General .55 6. Terms of Office for Superior General . 55 VOCATION INSTITUTE . 56 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, January, 1954. Vol. XIII, No. 1. Published bi-monthly: January, Ma~ch, May, July, September. and November at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter January 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Augustine G. Ellard, S.J., Adam C. Ellis, S.J., Gerald Kelly, S.J., Francis N. Korth, 8.3. Copyright, 1954, by Adam C. Ellis, S.J. Permission is hereby granted for quota-tions of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscription price: 3 dollars a year; 50 cents a copy. Printed in U. S. A. Before wrltlncj to us. please consult notice on Inside back cover. Review for Religious Volume XIII January--December, 1954 Published a÷ THE COLLEGE PRESS Topeka, Kansas Edited by THE JESUIT FATHERS SAINT MARY'S COLLEGE St. Marys, Kansas REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is in~lexe¢l in the GATHOLIG PERIODIGAL INDEX Apparit:ions and Revelat:ions: At:t:it:udes t:oward Them Augustine G. Ell~ird, S.J. ASIDE perhaps from fully cloistered nuns, one could hardly be so ill informed about what is going on in Catholic circles as not to notice how often in recent years apparitions and reve-lations from heaven have been reported and what a great stir they make among the people. Troublesome times were always wont to bring, forth a multi-tude of such prodigies. Our days, after the two world wars, the attacks of communism, the threats of atomic catastrophes, and all the disturbing effects of these great movements, are unsettled in a high degree. Moreover--a point in which we differ markedly from previous generations--the means of communication now are so fast and far-reaching that any extraordinary occurrence can become known almost immediately throughout the widest areas. One might suppose that in our enlightened and skeptical and materialistic century a rumor of marvelous happenings would create doubt and cynicism rather than eager enthusiasm to participate in whatever appears supernatural. The contrary, however, seems really to be the fact. At least in one case the excitement became so great and disor-dered that it was necessary for tbe ecclesiastical authorities to launch an excommunication against tbose who were letting their feelings run away with their reason (Heroldsbach, near Bamberg, Germany: nineteen persons were excommunicated: July, 1952). Throughout the whole Catholic world there seemed to be so much excessive credulity toward reported celestial visitations that it was felt im-perative to publish an emphatic warning in the semi-official paper of the Holy See, L'Osseruatore Roneano (February 3, 1951). Some of the best-known of these real or alleged celestial interventions are listed on pages 45-46 of this number of the REVIEW. If one is to distinguish true from false and to preserve an intel-ligent and balanced attitude toward what he hears recounted, it is necessary to have some little acquaintance with what a well-instructed Catholic should think about apparitions and revelations. AUGUSTINE G. }~LLARD ¯Importance of the Right Attitude The importance of taking the proper attitude toward apparitions and revelations can be very great. If Christ our Lord should deign to appear and speak to one, it is clear that He should be received and heard with the great.est rever-ence. Simi!arly if some other person from heaven, say the Blessed Virgin, should honor one with a visit or message, one ought to re-spond with becoming respect and gratitude. God would be singling one out individually for a favor, and even working a miracle to cbnvey it. If the apparitions and revelations be objective and one's reaction right, they sometimes turn out to be the most significant graces for one's own personal sanctification. On the other h.and, one can also make poor use of them, or even let oneself become, the dupe of hal-lucinations, and then the evil consequences can be disastrous. Good Effects The lives of the saints are full of examples of favors of this kind that led later on to other and greater graces. To say nothing of St. Paul's experience on the road to Damascus--because one might argue that it was not merely a private apparltion--we could instance such cases as the following. St. Teresa of Avila experienced very many visions and revela-tions and was much helped by them in becoming the great saint and apostle that she was. Once she beheld a seraph lancing a fiery dart into her heart and she heard Christ Himself ~ay, "In future you will be jealous, for My honor not only because I am your creator and your king, but as My true spouse. My honor is yours: your honor is Mine." Such an experience could not but have a most potent in-fluence upon her subsequent spiritual development. Referring to a number of her visions, she wrote: "I could never regret baying seen these heavenly visions and I would not exchange them for all the good things and delights of this world. I always considered them a great favor from the Lord, and I think they were the greatest of treasures; often the Lord Himself would reassure me about them. I found my love growing exceedingly" (Life, chap. 19: Peers's translation of the Comptete~ Works of St. Teresa, I, 188). St. Catherine of Siena could not be formally and visibly espoused to Christ with a ring and other ceremonies withou,t being powerfully stimulated to advance in sanctity and in the service of 4 danuarg, 19~¥ APPARITIONS AND REVELATIONS the Church. A succession of visions helped Joseph of Cupertino, the great Italian Franciscan miracle-worker of the seventeenth cen-tury, to become the incredible .saint that he was. Several of the great religious, orders are indebted in greater or lesser measure for their origin, or at least for their actual historical course of development, to" apparitions and revelations. Saudre~u lists numerous.examples of this fact (L'Etat M~tstique, 1921, p. 221). It is said that the confirmations of both the Franciscan and the Dominican orders were owing in part to visions granted to Pope Innocent III. When St. Francis asked for approbation for his nascent order, the Pope seemed unwilling to give it, and many ~of the cardinals were actively opposed to the move. Then the Pope had a dream in which Francis appeared supporting the Lateran Church which seemed to be in danger of collapsing. Something similar hap-pened five years later in favor of St. Dominic and his order. Ac-cording to t~adition, the founders of the Servite order (seven young men of Florence, in the early part of the thirteenth century) had a vision of the Blessed Virgin and were inspired by her to give tip the secular life and devote themselves to God ,exclusively. Later on, in another vi.sion, she gave them their habit, their name, and an indi-cation as to what rule they should adopt. ' The history of the Church, especially of its devotional life, abundantly illustrates what a mighty influence apparitions and revelations can have for the faithful generally. Outstanding instances that occur to the mind at once are the mission of St. Juliana of Liege (i 193-1258) in bringing about the institution of the solem-nity of Corpus Christi; St. Simon Stock (c. 1165-1265) and the devotion of the scapular; the apparitions of Jesus to St. Margaret Mary and the tremendous force now of the cultus of the Sacred Heart; Lourdes and all the pilgrimages to that shrine; and lastly, Fatima and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Without apparitions and revelations there .would have been no St. Jeanne d'Arc; without her, Frefich and European history would be very different. Owing in part at least to a special revelation St. Catherine of Siena was able to induce Pope Gregory XI to re-store the papal curia from Avignon to Rome. Evil Results On the other hand, private revelations or apparitions, and their counterfeits especially, can also have very serious evil consequences. AUGUSTINE G. I~LLARD Reaie~u for Religious Those that are really genuine a~e at best and in themselves graces of an inferior sort. They belong to the extraordinary phenomena that occasionally mark the pursuit of virtue. Like other miracles, they are not'supernatural in the absolute sense. Of themselves they do not give one a greater participation in the divine life and a Fight to a higher degree of beatitude in eternity. One can be favored with miracles, or even work them, and still in the end find oneself ex-cluded from the company of the elect. "Many will'say to me in that day, 'Lord! Lord! did we not prophesy in Thy name, and cast out demons in Thy name, and do many miracles in Thy name?' And then I will declare to them, 'I never knew you; depart from Me, you workers of iniq.uityV " (Matthew 7:22.) Some good people are like the ancient Corinthiafis whom St. Paul had to instruct about the relative values of "spiritual gifts" and charity: "Now, earnestly desire the grdater gifts; and yet I will point out to you a far more excellent path," namely that of charity. Then follows the celebrated passage in praise of charity: "If I spoke With the languages of men and of ~ingels: . . . But the greatest of these is love" (I Corinthiaris 12:31-13:13). Moreover the spiritual masters always call attention to the fact that there are many great dangers and difficulties connected with this unusual type of divine favor. It is quite possible to make bad use ~)f good graces. True apparitions and revelations may be misunder-stood and misinterpreted. Instead of being used for the purposes for which they are given, they may be diverted to faulty human ends. They may lead to pride and presumption, and thus eventu-ally to spiritual catastrophe. They are peculiarly apt to lessen the purity of one's faith and charity. At the very least they may dis-tract one from the greater and better graces of the .supernatural life. False visions and revelations, besides playing havoc with the lives and virtues of those who imagine that they receive them, can lead whole multitudes astray, deprive them of the benefits of the proper practice of their religion, and make religion' itself a mockery to outsiders. For thes~ reasons theologians and enlightened spiritual directors always try to discourage people from developing too much interest in these minor, though indeed more spect.acular, manifestations of divine favor. APPARITIONS AND REVELATIONS Wrong I, nitial Attitudes . . Among the generality of 'lthe faithful, e~pecially those who ar, e less intelligent or less well educated, there will always be the ineradi- . cable human tend.ency to get e.xcesslvely excited over-fresh reports of supernatural occurrences." There will always .be some who are gul-lible enough to accept almost any rumor. They are curious to have some experience of what is mysterious and weird.-. They are eager. to obtain some divine favor or other. Influencing one another and exemplifying the faults of crowd psychology, they almost inevitably go beyond the limits of sound reason and the cautions of their ec- Clesiastical superiors. Devout individual souls of some proficiency or ambition in the spiritual lif~ often succumb to an inordinate interest in private ap-paritions and revelations, but in a different way. They would dearly love to receix~e some special personal attention from God or the Blessed Virgin or the saints in heaven~ ~It would be wonderful to have ~ real experience in som~ way of the supernatural. They appreciate the joys of spiritual, consolatiori a'nd would gladly enjoy the maximum of them. An unusual sign :from God, actually vis-. ible or audible, could miraculously facilit;ite their efforts to make progre.ss in the interior ways. They would feel more like the saints, who, they imagine, lived in a world of supernatural phenomena. Aiming 'too muchat extraordinar~r ex.periences, rather than at the more prosaic practice of virtue, they would find some of their fondest desires gratified.' Such tendencies appear at times in very pibus and excellent souls. Nevertheless all spiritual authorities are unanimous and urgent in counseling people who are cultivating the interior, life not to desire or seek anything of the kind. Instead of occupying themselves with favors that are of inferior worth and sometimes positively danger-ous, they should concentrate on the more desirable graces, those that properly sanctify one and enhance one's solid virtoe. Otherwise they may fall victims to various hazards and deceits. A very humble man would be preoccupied, not with looking for special, extraordinary favors, but irl endeavori~ag to lessen his unworthiness of'aug favor. A-prudent'man would be wary "about getting himself into many distractions from what he should really be about; One who is on the watch for marvelous phenomena may indeed get them, not from above, but from the insidious evil spirits, ever-ready to turn to their purposes a c.ravir~g that is not wholesome.~ ' " 7 AUGUSTINE G. ELLARD Reuiew for Religious No 'one is more emphatic in cautioning good people not to seek apparitions and revelations of their own, or does it with more au-thority, than the great mystical doctor of the Church, St. John of the Cross. Reading. what he has to say about such phenomena should cure a sensible person of any hankering that he may have for the marvelous element in ~he spiritual life "Ascent of Mt. Carmel, II, chapters XVI-XXXII). - Thus, for example, he writes: "In order to come to this essential union of love in God [that is, the state to which St. John is guiding his readers], the soul must have a care not to lean upon imaginary visions . for these cannot serve it as a proportionate and proximate means to such an end; rather they would disturb it, and for this reason the soul must re-nounce them and strive not to have them. For if in any circum-stance they were to be received and prized,, it would be for the sake of the profit which true visions bring to the soul and the good effect which they'produce upon it. But i~ is not necessary, for this reason, to receive them; rather it is Well always to reject them for the soul's benefit" (op. cir., Peers's translation, I, 134). The best effects of such divine communicati'ons are received in souls that resist, rather than seek, them. "Let confessors direct their penitents in faith, instructing them frankly to turn away their eyes from all such things, teachingthem how to avoid the desire and the spirit of them that they make progress, and giving them to understand how much more precious in God's sight is one work or act ~f the will performed in charity than are'all the visions and communications that they may receive from Heaven, since these imply neither merit nor demerit" (op cir., I, 184). Recipients" Attitudes But suppose now, no matter what a person's previous attitude toward visions and r~velations has been, that one really occurs, or at least seems to occur. What i~ one to think? What should one do? If it is not quite evident at once, without any examination at all, that what one seems to see or hear is from above, one should try to disregard it arid pay no attention to it. One should rather en-deavor to 'busy oneself with something else. Such is the advice of the saints and theologians. Thus St. Teresa writes: "Both with infirm and healthy souls .there is invariably cause for misgivings about theke things until it becomes clear what kind of spirit is responsible. I Januar~l, 1954 APPARITIONS AND REVELATIONS believe, too, that it is always better for them to dispense with such things at first, for, if they are of God, dispensing with them will help us all the more to advance, since, when put to the proof in this way, they will tend to increase" (Interior Castle, "Sixth M~insions," chapter III; Peers's translation, II, 280). Soon after such an occurrence one should of course consult a prudent director, give him a full account of the whole matter, and then be sensible enough to abide by what he says. In c~se it is immediately and perfectly evident that one has to do with a visit or message that is really of divine origin, then one should receive it with becoming courtesy. What this' will consist in will depend upon who has appeared or who' is speaking. If, for instance, it be Jesus Himself, as happened to St. Margaret Mary, or the Blessed Virgin, as at Lourdes, one would show the utmost rev-erence and respect. If an angel or a saint from heaven or a soul from purgatory should be the visitor, one's reception would be what is fitting under the. circumstances. Any communication would be listened to. The next thing by all means is to see one's director "and let him know just what happened. Then, with becoming docility a'nd humility, one should be guided entirely by his judgment. Patience also may be necessary; it may not be possible for him to come to a conclusion at once. This is exactly what the saints did themselves, and what they recommend for others. Thus one submits to the Church, and is safeguarded from following in the devious ways that history records of many deluded visionaries. What is private and unofficial is sub-ordinated to what is public and official. Care to keep in agreement with the infallible Church is the only sure means of avoiding illu-sion, not to say hallucination. Even if for a time there should seem to be a contradiction between God giving directions immediately in a revelation and God directing through the Church, one should fol-low the Church's rep, resentatives. It is thus that God is truly pleased. One time St. Teresa was instructed in a revelation from the Lord to make a certain foundation. Her superior, Father Gratian, desired that she should make another one instead. She obeyed promptly and simply. Father Gratian was aware of the difficulty, and being surprised that she did not object, later on questioned her about the matter. Teresa answered that she acted as she did "because AUGUSTINE G. ELLARD' '"::: ' '." ~', Reoieto for Religious faith tells me that the orders of Your Reverence are the expression of the will of God, whereas I am never sure of my revelations." Showing the proper diffidence in oneself and docility toward au-thority is a sign in favor of one's vision or locution, and may be a means of promoting its acceptance. On the contrary, excessive in-sistence on having a direct personal communication from God might lead to suspicions against one and resistance. One may feel that something divine and very excellent is being neglected or lost, and to bear this trial well may test one's patience and humility. But if it r.eally be from God, in His own good time He will make it tri-umph. Thus it was on13i after the death of Blessed Juliana of Liege that her divine commission to help bring about the feast " : Corpus Christi achieved the desired result. Sometimes a person gets some practical injunction in a private revelation; for example, to promote a certain devotion, to take steps toward raising a shrine, to make a pilgrimage, and so forth. Here the first great rule is to begin by seeking prudent ,counsel from one's director or superiors, and to conform to it. The second general principle is not to do anything of the kind unless independently of ¯ the supposed revelation there seem to be good reasons for it. Thus one follows both supernatural good sefise and the revelation. Then the suggestion from above becomes the occasion rather than the principal cause of what is done. The more extraordinary the un-dertaking appears, the greater must be the reasons otherwise known which justify it, the greater one's care in considering the whole mat-ter, ands the more cautious one's general attitude. Humility and amenability to direction are both excellent signs of union with God and means of getting co-operation from others in doing the work of God and of the Church. Reported Apparitions and Revelations The great practical problem for most of us is what attitude we should take, not toward visions or locutions of our own--most of us do not have very many!--but toward the apparitions or revela-tions that we hear or read about. In Catholic spiritual literature there are volumes and volumes from the saints and other devout persons purporting to give new re-vealed knowledge On the life of Christ, for instance, or on His Pas-sion, or on the experiences of the Blessed Virgin. Moreover the public press nowadays very frequently has news 10 danuar~l, 1954 APPARITIONS AND P~EVELATIONS reports about alleged recent revelations. The Scapular, for Septem-ber- October, 1950, gives an account in particular of fifteen appari-tions, of the ]31essed Virgin since Fatima, and it adds, "There are reports of others in Spain, Poland, Roumania, and Sicily, but so far the news is sketchy and incomplete" (pp. 3 ft.). There are also the apparitions listed by the Clergtl Montbtv (Ranchi, India) and re-ferred to at the beginning of this.article (see pp. 45-46). The query what stand-we should adopt toward such reports affects all of us and nearly all- the time. To disregard true messages from heaven would be unbecoming, displeasing to" God, and inju-rious to ourselves. But neither do we wish to be duped by the vic-tims of hallucination. Here we may consider a simple and obvious solution of the problem. It will be very easy. to apply and very safe. But unfor~ tunately it will not always be available, especially in the beginning when popular interest and excitement are at their height. In an-other article we.can discuss the distinctions and difficulties that meet one who inquires into these matters more thoroughly. For the pres-ent let us be satisfied with the simplest answer. This plain and facile solution is, "Follow the approbation or disapprobation of the official authorities in the Church, either the Pope or the bishops! If they have not spoken yet, by all means sus-pend judgment, and wait until they do!" , The Church can judge. The" supernatural is her special field, and in it she has a unique competence. She also has the accumu-lated ~xperience and wisdom of twenty centuries. Her theologians know the criteria by which to distinguish the supernatural from the natural, Her investigators can judiciously gather all the evidence for the facts. They can visit the place where the. vision is said to have occurred and interrogate the persons most intimately concerned. When appropriate, they can bring in witnesses that are expert in science, medicine, psychology, and other specialties. They go about their work calmly and critically, not excitedly and enthusiastically. Finally, they have the peculiar assistance of the Holy Spirit. Hence' they can come to a well-founded decision. It is never, however, proposed as infallible. We cannot judge. Of all .the people who hear or read of the apparitions and revelations that are currently reported not one in a hundred knows the principles on the basis, of which critical judg-ments about them are to be made. Even if everybody did know 11 -AUGUSTINE G. ELLARD those criteria well, still practically they could not ascertain the ~acts reliably. Because of distance and remoteness, or lack of opportunity to inquire carefully, 0r--perhaps most of all--want of sufficiently trustworthy a, ccounts, it is really impossible for nearly all persons who merely read or hear such reports to get a critically certain, fac-tual foundation for judgment. Hence, for want of evidence, they are not in a position to pronounce. Therefore, the sensible thing to do is to follow the official deci-sions of the Church~ whether episcopal or papal. One alw.a.ys does best precisely in agreeing with the Church. She does not expec.t what is proposed as divine revelation to be received as such without miraculous intervention demonstrating that God corroborates what His messenger says. She does not go to either of the two extremes of roundly denying in advance all private visions or locutions or Of readily admitting those that are being bruited about. With the competence of a.specialist in the domain of the supernatural, and with absolutely unique promises of aid from the Holy Spirit, she investigates individual cases with great care and pro-nounces decisions that should command the respect of all. Besides, one who thinks with the Church will preserve his sense of perspec-tire and attach relatively little importance to private revelations as compared with the great official public revelation entrusted long ago to her by Christ and the Apostles. During the interval that elapses between the first report o~ a new vision and the approbation or disapprobation of the ecclesiastical au-thorities, the best and the most prudent thing that one can do is to be patient, hold one's opinion in abeyance, and await the official judgment. Otherwise one runs the risk of rejecting, what is au-thentically of divine origin-or of sharing in the evil consequences of hallucination or downright imPosture. To be intelligent about the whole matter in a very general way, one 'might well review, the principl.es that should guide one's thinking by reading the pertinent pages in some such work as Tanquerey's The Spiritual Limb, pages 700 ft., or Poulain's The' Graces of Inte?ior Prayer, pages 299 ft. "Do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits, whether they are from God; for many false prophets have gone out into the world". (I John 4:1). ."Test everything; hold fast to what is good" (I Thessalonians'5:21). 12 Prac!:ical Requiremen!:s of a ¯ Program for t:he Psychological Screening ot: Candidat:es William C. Bier, S.3. [EDITORS' NOTE: This is the second of two articles adapted from papers presented at the Fordham Institute on Religious and Sagerdo~al Vocations, duly, 1953.] THIS article begins with a premise established previously,I name-ly, that psychological' testing has a role to perform and a con-tribution to make in the selection of candidates for the reli-gious life; in other words, that such a program is theoretically de-sirable. The purpose of the present article is to consider the practi-cal feasibility of such a procedure. In other words, would the in-auguration of such a program at the present time be a prudent step? Prudence of Such a Program Father 'A. Pl~, O.P., in a rather remarkable paper bearing the significant title, "Unconscious Attraction to the Religious Life," writes as follows: "If the psychologist can give us warning at the outset, it would surely be a sin not to ask for his services. The sacred character of grace, especially the grace of vocation, as well as respect for the hu-man person make it a serious olSligation for us to use every possible means to avoid mistakes about vocation.''2 With this statement I think that few would be in disagreement. The crucial question, however, remains: Can the psychologist give us warning of unsuitability in the case of an applicant? There is difference of opinion on the answer to the above que.s-tion. Father Felix Duffey, C.S.C., has written an over-all excellent book on this general subject, called Testing the Spirit.3 At the be.- ginning of his book, he gives a scriptural quotation which might be taken as a very apposite motto for any whose work involves the dis-cernment of vocation. The quotation from I Timothy 5:24 reads lWilliam C. Bier, S.J., "Psychological Testing of Candidates and the Theology of Vocation," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, XII (1953), 291-304. 2A. Pl~, O.P., "Unconscious Attraction to the Religious Life," Religious Life: II Vocation. Westminster, Md.: Newman, 1952, p. 109. SFelix D. Duffey, C.S.C., Testing the Spirit. St. Louis: Herder, 1947. WILLIAM C. BIER Review [o~ Religious as follows: "Some men have faults that are plain to view; with others, discovery follows upon. the heels of ,inquiry." Although Father Duffey is much impressed by the need of sound mental health among applicants for the religious life and writes the book for this reason, he believes, nevertheless, that the use of mental aptitude tests for the examination of candidates for the religious life would be "imprudent.''4 When we inquire into the basis for this conclusion, we find that he assigns tw.o reasons. The first is this: psychometrics (psychological tests) are not infallibie. One may legitimately ask what method, particularly in so difficult a matter, is infallible? If the use of psychometrics is imprudent becat~se the tests are not infal-lible, then the use of any other method would have to be judged equally imprudent. Certainly the substitute solution proposed by Father Duffey is not infallible, whereby spiritual directors and supe-riors, with the aid of a series of questions proposed by the author and without any particular training in the field of psychology, are left to judge of the psychological suitability of candidates. In the course of explaining these questio.ns, Father. Duffey makes a large number of astute and helpful recommendations,, but it seems that the over-all res,ult of such a method would be a return to the "unscien-tific and haphazard experimentation" in determining the mental health of candidates to the religious life, against which the book is aimed. The second reason given by Father Duffey for the rejection of psychological tests in the evaluation of candidates is that no reli-gious aptitude tests exist. In this respect, Father Duffey is perfectiy correct; his supposition, however, may be questioned, because no specific religious aptitude tests are needed, as vcill be seen later in this article. The question which must be asked with respect to psychological tests and their use in 'the evaluation of candidates for religious life is th~s: Have the techniques of psychological testing advanced to a point where they are able to furnish us with helpful information relative to applicants before admission? To this question I give an unhesitatingly affirmative answer: they can furnish us' with such in-formation. Whether the actual use of them will be prudent or not depends on how they are used. At the present time there is great need to stress the importance of the proper use of psychological tests. I have had occasion to observe 4lbid.o p. 6. 1# danuartt, 1954 PSYCHOLOGICAL SCREENING the reaction of Catholics to the psychological-testing movement over a period of years, and I have frequently noticed an initial suspicion of these tests give way to enthusiastic endorsement when it is seen what these tests are able to do, for instance, by way of prediction in school work. Yet this enthusiasm for psychological tests is some-times extreme and riot sufficiently tempered by an appreciation of their limitations. This matter is mentioned here because it is pos-sible to discern something of the same process under way with re-spect to the use of psychological tests in ~he examination of candi-dates for religious life. An initial reluctance to employ such adjuncts seems to be growing in some quarters into an overenthusiastic and oversimplified acceptance. When it is bruited about that such tests have been used with a certain degree of success, there is a tendency to think that all that is necessary is to find out what tests have been used and to give them. A series of articles, published in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS during 1949, 1950, and 1951, may perhaps have contributed to the above viewpoint. In these articles .the use of psychological tests is recommended as a help in evaluating the fitness of applicants for the religious life; and in terms of the practical initiation of such a pro-gram it is suggested that, when nothing better is available, the pro-gram could be begun were dne of the members of the community to take certain courses in psychological testing. The following quota-tion is drawn from one of the above-mentioned articles: "The ideal prerequisite is that some member of the community be trained in the field of psychometrics. As a .preliminary step, sev-eral basic courses in tests and measurements may suffice. In lieu of trained personnel, the services of someone who is sympathetic to testing, who will conscientiously adhere to manuals of directions, and who will be extremely careful in interpreting results may be utilized."s It is evident that the above writer considers that a training in psychometrics is sufficient for the director of such a program. For reasons explained more adequately later in this article, I am unable to agree with these recommendations. It would be my opinion that a much broader training in psychology is needed to undertake the in-terpretation of psychological tests in such an important matter vocation and with a special-interest group, such as applicants for the SSister M. Digna, O.S.B., "A Tentative Testing Program for Religious Life," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, X (1951), 75-76. 15 WILLIAM C.'BIER ¯ Review [or Religious' priesthood and religious life. The recommendations offered in the above quotation assume that psychological testing is automatic to an extent which, in my opinion, cannot be supported in theory and which consequently is dangerous to apply in practice. It is clear that the present article assumes so .mething of a middle position in this matter. On the one harid, I fed that psychological testing has developed to a point where it can prudently be used in the selection, of candidates for religious life. On the other hand, I consider it essential that such a program be set up in an adequate manner. With the wrong approach, more harm than good can re-sult from the attempt. The crux of the matter, from a practical point of view, is how the program would be developed. The re-mainder of this article will consider the practical requirements for the adequate inauguration of such a program. Once the principle is accepted that psychological tests have a con-tribution to make in judging religious vocation, it becomes dear that there are different ways in which this principle may satisfactorily be applied in practice. The program suggested below is only one wa3', and it is certainly not the only way, in which the above principle can .be applied. The main advantage in outlining a program of applica-tion is to illustrate the level upon which the work needs to be done, and to ~all attention to certain requiremdnts which must be met in any application of psychological testing to candidates for the reli-gious life. Requirements of the Program What is necessary" above all else is that a p~ogram for the psy-chological testing of applicants for the religious life should be put in the hands of the right person, and this person is, ideally at least, a member of the religious institute in question, who has had adequate psychological training. This combination is particularly desirable and advantageous; but if it cannot be had, then the first requirement .may be waived, but not the second. It is essential that this program be" in the hands of h competently trained psychologist. Such a per-. son will be able to make a maximum contribution if he has had the experience of living a religious life, but he can still make his essential contribution even if this is not the case. What is needed is not merely acquaintance with psychological testing, but a general training in psychology. I would think it imprudent for anyone to undertake the administration of such a program who does not have at least a 16 January, 19.~4 PSYCHOLOGICAL ~;CREENING ' master's degree in psychology; and it would be highly desirable that the director haxle'more training than that, not only thebretical, in terms of courses, but practical, in terms of experience. This sort of testing is not a field for novices and beginners in psychology; it re-mains a difficult task even when one is able to bring to it the maxi-mum which modernlpsychology can offer in training and experience. The director assumes responsibility for the prog.ram in the.sense of,select~ing the tests-and procedures to be employed, supervising if not actually.admin!stering the tests, and above all interpreting the' test results. The interprethtion of.the test result~ is the ~rucial part of the program, and this is the portion which is far from ahtomatic and makes the fullest demands in terms of psychological, tra.ining,' understanding, a'nd i.nsight. As a result of the testing prggram,.th~ director will offer to the" religious superior ~ re~ofiarfi~ndation 0ri each candidate ~e~ted. Tl~e' prog.ram director serves as a. spec.ial consultant to the superigr in tile s~lection of candidat'es'. 'In this respect, the role of the program ad-i .ministrator i.s pur~ely ,advisory, so that the sgperior loses none of his l!berty of actidn. He does, .however, secure more information aboi~t each candidate than would otherwise be available to him, so that hisi judgement of suitabilitylmay have a more adequate foundation. A program, such as the one suggested, supplements, but in no way sup~ plants, the traditional sources of information oh the suitability, of candidates. This aspect will be most adequately achieved if the recommendation of the program director on tile suitability of each candidate b~ made independently of these traditional sources of in-formation. The shperior will then have at his disposal, when he comes to make a judgement on the suitability of the candidate, both' sources of information, so that his decision may be truly as well founded as it is possible to make it. Tests Prior to Admission " My recommendation would be that these tests should be given" to the applicants prior to admission, as it is only in this way that the information derived from them Jan possibly aid the superior in determining the application of candidates. There may be some diffi-culty in arranging for the testing of candidates prior to entrance, but, the benefits of so doing repay whatever effort is involved. It may be noted that it is not necessary that all the candidates be brought to-gether in one place for such testing. It is quite feasible to have sev-, 17 ~¢II~LI.~I C. BIER eral testing centers, and since the first tests are group tests;'as will be explained, it is entirely possible to have them administered by some one else, Who can be easily trained for this limited purpose, and the test results sent to the program director. The only other alternative would be to wait until after admission and to give them during postulancy or noviceship. This is not only a second-best solution, but one which Icould not recommend at all. A number of reasons combine in pointing to the desirability of conducting the tests prior to admission. In the first place, it is easier at that time for the applicant to cooperate in taking the tests to the extent needed for their validity. It must be recognized that most psychological tests of personality rely for their validity upon the co-operation of the respondent and must assume that the questions are answered frankly and honestly. There are very few personality tests whose rdsults are unaffected by deliberate attempts at falsification. This is a limitation in the use of most personality tests which must be appreciated and. faced. Prior to admission, the proper atmosphere of cooperation can more readily be created by letting the applicant see that no favor would be done him by accepting him into rel{gion if he were not suited for such a way of life. He can be led to accept this viewpoint on natural grounds (a misfit in life is a misfortune at any time, but doubly so in religion) and for supernatural motives (he .wishes.to enter religion only if such is God's will for him). It is not implied that it is impossible to obtain such a measure of co-operation after admission, . but it is then more difficult because the individual already has a position to protect. To leave religion, even shortly after admission, involves a loss of self-esteem, fear of criti-cism on the part of others, the thought of failing one's family and one's friends, and many other intimate and personal considerations, all of which operate as a temptati6n to reply to tests in a manner calculated to make oneself appear in a favorable light rather than to give an accurate picture of oneself. The judicious applicant usually keeps the fact of his application to himself until after he has actually been accepted, precisely in order not to create for himself the kind of pressures mentioned above. It is well known that it requires much more courage to leave religion, when one finds that one is unsuited, than it does to enter; but what may not be so readily appreciated is how quickly after admission these defenses mobilize, and their mo-bilization, perhaps in ways so subtle as to be hardly appreciated by the individual, would interfere with the test results. 1"8 danuarg, 1954 PSYCHOLOGICAL SCREENING Closely allied to the above reason for holding the tests prior to: admission is the added advantage to the applicant that his unsuit-ability for religious life be made known to him as soon as possible. The difficulty of readjustment to life in the ~vorld after a period in religion is well known; and, if this readjustment can be spared the applicant, it is clearly beneficial. From the point of view of the religious institute, when the tests hre given only after admission, there will be an inkvitabletendency to let the doubtful candidates stay and give them a trial, since they have already entered. Experience proves that this is the precise trouble with doubtfully suitable religious. They are accepted in the first place because they are doubtful and hence not clearly excluded. For the same reason, they.are passed on from the postulancy to the novitiate, and from the novitiate to temporary and perhaps final vows. At each stage it becomes more difficult to reject them, not because they are any more suited for religious life, but simply because they have been in.religion for such and si~ch a length of time. The place to eliminate doubtfully suitable c~indidates is at the time of ap-plication. The attitude to be adopted in the case of doubtful candi-dates has been discussed in the previous article.6 The final reason for recommending that the tests be given prior to admission is a technical one but, in some ways, it is the most compelling reason of all. It is this: Were the tests given during tulancy or noviceship, it would be impossible to interpret the re-sults. Introduction to the religious life is a profound experience, and it seems that such an experience would have inevitable repercussions in the psychological make-up of the individual. However, at the present time we know next to nothing of the impact of religious life on psychological functioning, and hence we have no base line where-by to interpret the results of psychological testing given during a time of intense religious experience, such as the postulancy and nov-iceship certainly provide. It may be objected that part of the function of the novitiate is to determine the suitability of novices for life in religion. While such is undoubtedly true, it would seem that this principle is some-times misunderstood. Primarily, the function of the novitiate is a positive one: to train the young person in the following of Christ through the practice of the evangelical counsels and the particular rules of the religious institute. The novitiate assumes the suitability 6REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, XII (1953), p. 291. 19 WILLIAM (2. BIER Review for, Religious "of its novices; its fundamental function is to train them. Second-arily, it is true, the novitiate tests suitability, but only as the latter develops as a. corollary flowing from novitiate training. Suitability is essentially an admission problem, and /'/arm results when admission problems are passed on to the novitiate. They then become novitiate problems, to the detriment of the essential function of the novitiate, which is training in the religious life. When unsuitability develops in the novitiate, it should be an unsuita.bility which was not ap-. parent upon application, and which only appeared under the more protracted and more penetrating scrutiny of the novitiate. Kind of Tests Ernploged At this point consideration may be given to the kind of psycho-logical tests which would be employed in the evaluation of candi-dates for the religious 'life. The specific tests to be employed is a technical question for psychological experts, and in a general discus-sion it is advantageous to refer only to the kind of psychologic~il tests to be used. Specific tests "can only be chosen in the last analysis with respect to a specific situation--hence in terms of a speqified r~ligious institute--and this is an additional reason why the ques-tion of specific psychological tests cannot be introduced into a gen-eral discussion. In order, however, to discuss even the kind of psychological tests to be employed, it is necessary to introduce, some specification with respect to the type of religious institute concerned. To illustrate the principles involved, the instance of a religious institute accepting candidates for the priesthood will be chosen. This case is sufficiently general to provide considerable immediate application,, and to make it possible for other religious groups to consider the application of these principles to. their own specific-situations. Among psychological tests there are what are referred to as group tests, i.e., tests which can be administered to a group of people at the same time. It is recommended that the program of.psychological' tests for applicants for .the religious life start with tests of this kind. All applicants would be required to take these tests prior to admis-sion, and they could be administered in smaller or larger groups de-pending upon circumstances, and in whatever, way would prove generally most convenient. These tests would be chosen and de-signed to furnish information on the suitability, of candidates in two general areas: academic or intellectual suitability, and psychological 2O danuar~l, 1954 PSYCHOLOGICAL SCR~NI~q~/ or personality suitability. In the area of academic suitability, investigation would be madd~ of intellectual ability and academic achievement. It is rec~inmended that ability be measured by two tests, preferably two tests taking different approhches to the matter, e.g,, a spe,ed test and a power test, thecomposite of the two tests being taken as an over-all index of-academic ability." One or more achievement tests may be. given, and their function wo~il~l be to determine the relationship between abil-ity and performance. Ideally, achievement should be on a par wi~b" ability, and notable discrepancies between the two become helpful, and someti~m~s important, interpretative factors. It is evident that a certain level of ability and academic per-formance is needed for the course of studies leading to the priesth, ood and 'for the subsequent work of the ministry. It is true, however, that various indices of such ability and performance are already available, for instance, in school marks. It might be thought, there-fore, that psychological tests for these attributes are an unnecessary duplication. Tests in these areas are not, perhaps, essential; but they are desirable, and they can be very helpful. In school marks, ability and application are mixed in unknown degrees, and in terms of preparation for the priesthood, it becomes important' to sift out the relative roles of each. Religious training can furnish the moti-vation needed for appIication to study, but it cannot supply ability, where the latter is lacking. Added application can compensate for deficient ability, but only within quite narrow limits. It is a fre-quent fallacy .to assume that, with an individual of limited ability, the same amount of extra application and diligence will spell success higher up on the academic ladder as it did earlier, for instance in col-leg~ as it did in high school. It cannot, do so, however, because an equivalent performance at the higher level requires greater abifity, and an individual who has already been achieving only by reason of added application is overwhelmed on reaching the higher level of academic work. Consequently, a reliable estimate of ability, as distinct, from" application, is needed in order properIy to evaluate the academic suitability of candidates for the priesthood. Furthermore, applicantscome from different schools; and unless one is familiar with each school, it is difficult to evaluate the significance of the grades attained. There is the further advantage of comparing all of the applicants, from whatever school, according to the same cri-terion, and this aim is achieved when all of them take the same psy- WILLIAM (~. BIER Review/~or Religiou.s chological tests. It must be remembered that selection in'this case is not merely for the work of a few years, as for entrance to college,but for a lifetime undertaking; and in a matter of such importance, it would, be more appropriate to speak of checking and re-checking, rather than of unnecessary duplication. Recall, too, the general role suggested above for these tests, namely, to furnish an independent estimate of suitability. An applicant's school grades, °for instance, may be so low as not to recommend him, but hi~ teachers explain this fact as due to the necessity of work outside of school or to an unusual amount of extracurricular activities. The superior wishes to know whether this report is accurate, or whether it is rather a charitable interpretation on the part of his teachers, influenced per-haps by.their opinion.of the applicant as a person and, it may be, as one judged by them .to be a desirable candidate in all other respects. The psychological tests will furnish the superior in a case of this kind with exactly the independent estimate which is needed. Finally, since suitability must be judged on a total basis, the ability level of the applicant may be important in terms of his personal tendencies, as will presently be explained. Since the over-all function of the program of psychological tests is ~o offer supplementary information on'the suitability of candi-dates, the information furnished in the area of psychological suit-ability is the most important, because it is'in this area that the least :information is usually available. It~will be recalled that" Father Duffey, quoted at the beginning of this article, felt that' the psycho-ilogical testing of applicants for the r~ligious life was not currently :feasible because no religious'aptitude tests are a;cailable. I should like .at this point to develop the notion suggested earlier that no specific~ :religious aptitude tests are needed. What we wish basically to discover with respect to the applicant :is whether he is a mature, stable, well-integrated person: in a word, a fundamentally normal person. If he is such, the~a he is, psycho-logically speaking, a good prospect for the religious life. Some per-sons by reason of their psychological dispositions will.find religious life naturally more congenial than others~ but it must be appreciated that. what is needed in terms of the evaluation of candidates is an estimate, not of congeniality, but of fundamental compatibility and suitability. The individual who is psychologically unsuitable for religious life is such because he.,is, in general, not a psychologically well:integrated and well-balanced individual. He would not,.be toa January/, 1 ~,5 4 I~SYCHOLOGIC~tL SCREENING well suited for many other things as well; .religious life is only one of them. However, he is more unsuited for religious life than for cer-tain other things because of the added psychological demands of ligious life. The conclusion to be drawn from this premise with respect to psychological tests for applicants for religious life is evi-dent. Specific religious aptitude tests are not needed; what is needed is an estimate of the general maturity, integration, and balance of the personality. Hence we are able to employ psychological tests which give us this sort of information. It must be recognized that the only basis for estimating the likelihood of psychological adjust.- ment to religious life is the previous adjustment manifested by the individt~al. It may be taken as a fundamental principle in this mat-ter that there is no reason to expect an individual successfully tO adapt himself to the demands of religious life if he ~has nbt anteced-ently been able to adjust to the .ordinary problems of life. -Thus, the psychological tests employed are aimed at providing a reliabl~ estimate of the psychological adjustment of. the, individual, as veal, d in previous inter;personal relationships and life .situations~ Here, even more than in the area of intellectual testing, reliance. should not be placed upon any single test, but several should be em-ployed and the composite result of all considered in arriving ~it .a decision. The questionnaire type of personhlity tests, when admin-istered in the proper atmosphere where the answers will be given frankly and honestly, can furnish very. helpful and reliable informa-tion about personality maturity and integration; but they can well be supplemented by certain of the less-structured, i.e., in technical terms, the projective personality tests. From the several, personality tests which are administered comes the basis for the judgement of psychological maturity, stability, and integration. Such an indi-vidual is, from the psychological point of view, .in the words of canon 538, ". fit to bear the burdens of the religious state," Another factor v~hich must be considered, however, is attraction for the religious life. Not everyone who is suited for religious life is attracted to it. Granted that this attraction is fundamentally a grace, is it not likely that it builds on a certain.natural disposition of cl-;ar-acter and personality? Since the priesthood and religious life make an effective appeal to only a relatively small portion of our Catholic young people, most of whom would be psychologically suited, there must be something different about them, and it seems quite likely that such differences would descend into the psychological compo- 23 .WILLIAM C. BIER Reoie~o ~:or Religious nents of personality. When we a~tually administer psychological tests to groups of candidates applying to enter religious life, we find that. they do score somewhat differently on these tests than other comparable groups. The earliest findings in this respect were mis-interpreted, and it was concluded that religious and seminarians as a group were characterized by marked abnormal and neurotic tenden-cies. Actually, of course, these findings simply meant that these groups were different from the population at large, and that the psy-chological tests were sensitive enough to pick up these differences. These findings do have one important bearing, however, on the use of psychological tests in the screening of candidates, and it is this: serious mistakes in interpretation will almost surely be made if test resul~s, with a special group of this kind, are accepted at their face value. Any personality test which is employed, whose norms are based upon the general population, will have to be adapted for use with candidates to the religious life. The degree of adaptation is ' something which can only be determined through actual use, and this clearly reinforces the viewpoint presented earlier 'chat the use of these tests is not automatic, and cannot be. made so at the present time. This is unquestionably work for the psychological expert, and for him alone. Results so far obtained in the use of psychological tests with religious men and women indicate that psychological adjustment as applied to life in the world and life in religion is an analogous con- Cept, meaning that it is partly the same, and partly different, in the two cases. It is partly the samebecause the same psychological re-sources at the disposal of the individual are employed in the two cases but adjustment is partly different because the demands are different, and so too are the psycholbgical satisfactions involved. A word on the interpretation of test findings may be in order at this point. It is evident that some .applicants would exclude them-selves on intellectual grounds alone, no matter how stable and well-integrated their personalities. It must be remembered that we are .considering the case of an applicant for the religio~s priesthood, and a certain level of intellectual ability is clearly required in such.,a case. .On the other hand, some applicants would exclude "themselves on .personality grounds, no matter how.high their level of intellectual ¯ .ability. In certain other instances, however, the interrelation of .ability and personalit~ proves decisive. A man of somewhat limited .ability but well-integrated personality might be judged suitable, PSYCHOLOGICAL SCREENING while a second applicant of the.'same ability, but of a less-balanced personality, could be judged unsuitable. In such a case, it is neither ability alone (which presumably is low, but not impossible) nor personality integration alone (which while poor is not itself pro~ bibitive) which is judged unfavorable, but the combination of the two. An applicant of limited ability would find the course of s~udies for the priestl~ood a constant strain, and prolonged stress of this kind is calculated to accentuate any personality.difficulties which might already be present. Final Portion of the Program Thus far, reference has been made only to group psychological tests in the evaluation of candidates. It is necessary that the group-testing progr~am be supplemented by a certain amount of individual testing. Depending upon the size of the group of candidates to b~ examined, individual intelviews may be feasible. If it is possible "to make arrangements for them, they are very helpful. Such inter-views will be most advantageous if held after the group testing, be-cause they can then be made to supplement the information derived from the general test results in a most helpful way, and can prevent misinterpretation which might possibly result from the use of test results alone. Whether it is feasible to arrange individual interviews or not, it will sometimes be necessary to resort to supplementary in-dividual testing. There will always be some cases in which the group tests will give inconclusive results, and it would be unwise, if not unjust, particularly in the earlier stages of a testing program, to settle the matter on the basis of group tests alone. At this stage, it is my recommendation that the program should have consultants. I would suggest that one consultant be a clinical psycholggist and the other a psychiatrist. Only those candidates would reach this stage of the program in whose case the group tests ¯ gave positive reasons for doubting their suitability for religious life. It is not necessary, nor, as far as I can s~e, is it desirable that every candidate for religious life be interviewed by a psychiatrist; but ~ucl~ is necessary in some cases. The group testing reveals the cases in which such a psychiatric judgement is needed. Thus, in the difficult and doubtful cases, the director of the testing program has the inde-pendent judgement of two experts to guide him. It would be my conception that the clinical psychologist and the psychiatrist serve as. consultants to the program director, and even in these cases the latter 25 WILLIAM C. BIER .assumes the responsibility for the bver-all recommendation on the candidate which is given to the superior. The .final recommendations on each candidate which are made to the superior may profitably be divided into those which are favor-able, unfavorable, and doubtful. Sometimes even when group and individual testing is complete, the only judgement which can be made on a candidate, in fairness both to the applicant and to the reli-gious institute, is that he is a doubtful prospect for religious life. Yet everi here, which is the least satisfactory outcome, the program has something to offer, because the doubt is in all cases a positive one and the superior knows the reasons why the candidate is a doubtful prospect. In work of this kind humility is by all means necessary. Indeed, any other attitude would be preposterous in a matter where the outcome depends on the interplay of God's grace and man's free will. It.is clear, therefore, that a program such as the one described in this article will not solve all admission problems, nor can it be expected to do so. Its contribution, though genuine, is limited. Even with 'the help of such a program, mistakes in admissions will be made, but almost surely there will be fewer mistakes and they will be less seri-ous. One of the great advantages of a program such as the one out-lined above is that it makes it possible to profit to the utmost from the mistakes which are made. It is assumed that the records of the tests will be kept. If the program director will then study the progress of the applicants in religion, he will learn much, both about his tests and about his predictions based upon them, and this is in-formation which can be gathered in no other why. Some of the tan-didates tested will leave after admission, and it is evident that infor-mation about such candidates, as far as it is obtainable, will con-tribute substantially to the improvement of the program. It would seem that a sustained program of admissions and follow-up, such as that projected here, would be a particularly valuable adjunct to reli-gious admissions which depend ultimately upon the superior, and superiors change frequently according to the provisions of canon law. A program of this kind can help a new superior avoid some of the mistakes of his predecessor. A program of psychological tests such as that envisioned here can be of some immediate assistance in the selection 6f candidates. It is clear, however, that such a program must be considered to be in 26 danuar~!, 1954 COMMUNICATIONS an experimental stage for some years, while the test results are per-mitted to validate themselves against time and against the progress of the candidates in religion. A judicious use may be made of the test results even in these early years. The tests will, however, be-come more valuable in time, when their, validity has been verified. In conclusion, .I would stress the fact.that psychological testing can touch only the natural foundation for religious vocation, which in its essential aspect is the work of God's grace. Its role, therefore, though genuine, is limited; but when applied prudently, it will al-most surely be a helpful adjunct in the most difficult task of scru-tinizing the suitability of those who, inspired by'a right intention, present themselves as applicants for admission to religious life. 'ommun{cal:{ons Reverend Fathers: The article on the particular examen in theJuly, 1953, issue of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, entitled "A New and Vital Approach," by Father De Letter, S.2., was thought-provoking. You invited com-ment. It'seems to me that there really are. religious (and let's hope there are many) who after years of striving after perfection cannot derive much help from the particular examen if they merely try to break an unwanted habit or work against their pet sin. There are even some, perhaps many, who cannot for the life of them find out what their predominant fault is; And this is not to be wondered at. Surely fervent religious can be expected to reach a certain stage of perfection beyond which it is hardly possible perceptibl~/to go, though they do advance in holiness continually as they increase in sanctifying grace, even without their knowing it. Should such drop the particular examen? By no means. Also for them it is a great aid to perfection. But for them especially is the new and vital approach suggested by Father De Letter. . I don't know just how new this is. It is certainly new in its presentation in that issue. But it has long been practiced in many different ways by religious here and there. And it is the only sen-sible way of handling the particular examen for those who have made such progress in the spiritual life as suggested above. 27 (~OMMUNICATIONS Now, to be practical. Take a good religious who wishes to prac~' rice the particular examen and has no special fauIt to overcome. This religious wants to be very close to God always. But he is extremely busy all the day long in the various tasks assigned to him. He is prone to forget God's presence. Looking about for ways and means of remaining in the presence of God, of being intimately united with Him always, he recalls that the saints and ascetical writers tell us that 6he of the best means is the fervent utterance of ejaculatory prayers or aspirations, made either' orally or mentally. He makes it the subject of his particular examen to keep close to God by saying such prayers often during the day. Between tasks, as he goes about from place to place, etc., etc., he quietly (and always fervently) says some little prayers. To make the matter doubly meritorious, he learns scores of indulgenced ejacu-lations and makes it a point to use only those and thus be a constant helper of the holy souls. Any prayers, different prayer~ remember. The purpose is recollection, walking in the presence of God. The means, the prayers, mental or oral. He calls twenty prayers said a unit. For each unit he marks one. If in the evening he has ten units, he marks simply 10 in'his booklet (which must always be' around and never neglected). That means 200 ejaculations during the day. ' It is almost'unbelievable hbw one can grow in union with God by means of a particular examefi like that. --"UNLESS YOU BECOME." Reverend Fathers: On what authority the price df Lex Propria was given (in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Nov., 1953, p. 330), we.do not know. However, this particular work was a one-printing edition solely for' Benedictine Abbeys and Convents. Notices to this effect were sent to Benedictine superiors and .an order card was included on which the only price given was 75 cents per copy, plus postage. Furthermore, all orders had to be placed before July 15. We have received a num-ber of orders since you p.ublished the wrong price (50 cents). We trust you will correct this in your next issue. --THE ABBEY STUDENT DRESS. 28 Reading J:or Religious Edward F. Garesch~, S.J. RELIGIOUS life remains the same in its essentials througl'i the ages, but how different are the circumstances in which the reli-gious of different periods have to live. This is notably true in regard to the supply of reading matter and the choice which religi6us of this time have to make among a multiplicity of books. In more simple ages. the volumes which religious read were few and preci6us.~° "In the days when everything was written by hand, books weke of great price and value. Now, the many devices for the multiplicatidn of print have d~luged the world with.books arid booklets and peri-odicals. On the one hand religious are offered volume after volume composed especially for their own use; on the other hand the eno?- mous quantity~of.secular publications intrudes even into the cloister." It is interesting to note.that, ifi spite of the great development of forms of entertainment, read, ing still holds its place as a popular: amusement. Hence the greater number of books and periodicals have this as their primary, purpose. They seek to tempt, readers to buy and' read for the motive of interest and amusement. "Serious and factual book~ are alsomultiplied withc~ut end. Every issueof the weekly book supplements contains a surprising number of titles; and of course not nearly all the published books can be reviewed. Many o~ them are not even mentioned. Through school libraries and the like, many religious have access to some of these current pub-lications. As to magazines, the revenue publishers secure from ad-vdrtising or from immense sale of copies makes them publish editions so large tfiat hardly anyone reads them thr6ugh. A Real Problem Now all this presents a real problem tothe devoted religious who wishes to love and serve God and to help his ffeighbor to.the'best of his powers. He knows that reading is a great means of instruction and of advancement in the spiritual life, that it is a source of infor-. marion useful in his work. But how shall he choose among so many books and periodicals? How shall he solve the problem of what is best for him to read? Someone may say that obedience will solve the problem for him. But the older religious especially, and those employed in important 29 EDWARD F. GARESCHI~ \ Reuiem for Religiou~ and responsible positions, are given a great deal of liberty in the choice of what they read. Even the younger members cannot always secure personal and specific guidance in this matter. Thus one may fall into a desultory habit of reading which deprives the mind and the heart of much precious sustenance and guidance, and wastes time which might be much better used. A careful consideration of this subject of what is best to read or leave unread ought to be helpful for many religious who sincerely wish to be as wise and holy as they can. To read is to feed one's mind, imagination, memory, and feelings. One can draw a close parallel therefore between the proper selections of mental and bodily food. A great deal is written and said nowadays about the importance of choosing .the right nourish-ment. Everyone is alert to the dangers of infected or contaminated food. The right proportion of hydrocarbons and proteins, of vita-mins and minerals, is known to b~ important for the preservation of health and strength. The danger of overweight and underweight, of a deficiency or excess of the elements of nutrition, is generally known. Importance of Reading But good spiritual, mental, and even emotional nourishment is no less important: indeed, it is far more essential to one's w~ll-being because the soul is so much superior to the body. Our happiness and holiness depend in gr~at measure on the nourishment we give our spiritual selves. Though conversation and experience are also very important, one of the great means by which we nourish our soul properly is the correct choice of our reading. Food ought to be appetizing in order to be more easily digestedl Similarly, reading that holds our attention and interest is usually more readily assimilated. To read out of custom or out of a sense of duty is meritorious, but things so read are not as likely to impress us and stay with us as those in which we are interested. Hence, when we choose books that appeal to us, they are more likely to help, everything else being equal. But these interesting books ought to be solid, important, and of special help to us. The great variety of spiritual books now available ought to make a choice easy. Superiors surely will be desirous to provide fo~ every religious what he most likes and needs in the way of spiritual nourishment. One plan that seems good and practical, for the large communi- 30' January, 1954 READING FOR RELIGIOUS ties, is to have a community library, with a librarian who will see to it that the worth-while spiritual books are quickly secured. Any religious, even from another house, can write to the librarian for the books he wishes to read, to be mailed to him in a special cover and returned in the same cover within a specified time. In this way, without too much expense, many religious can have the benefit of the community library. The community librarian will also become expert in advising religious about their reading. Several small com-munities might group together to support a central library; or the large communities might let the smaller ones share, perhaps for a small fee, in the facilities of their central library. These are means of ensuring that each religious may have the book he likes and needs. Life is so short find the good books are so numerous that we shall never be able to read them all even if we use every moment of our reading time. Why waste the precious hours, therefore, on use-less or inferior reading when the best is none too good for the hour-. ishment of mind and heart? Foremost among worth-while books are good lives of the saints. What could be more interesting in itself to the follower of Christ, who aspires t9 close and perfect union with Him, than to read how other souls attained that union? For-tunately, modern lives of the .saints try hard to tell the truth about the subjects of their stories, and so it. is possible for the religious who reads to learn a. great deal about holiness-in-action. Books of Devotion There are also many books of devotion, written from various ~iewpoints and about many subjects. Some of them are very old, written centuries ago, but are now appearing in new editions. There are also excellent modern books, whose style and manner are espe-cially adapted to the present-day mind and taste. It is to be noted, however, that these books, though they all beaf the imprimatur of the Church, are not all of equal value or authority. In fact the imprimatur means merely that there is nothing in th~ book against faith and morals. It does not mean that the authority issuing the imprimatur agrees with all the statements and ideas in the book. Each book has as much authority as its author can command. Even of the saints it is said that not everything they wrote was necessarily holy. Still more is it true that not everything in Cath-olic books of devotion is necessarily wise and prudent. Some empha-size one phase of piety, some another. Some recommend one devo- 31 EDWARD F. GARESCHi~ : tion and others insist dn quite different ones. Some good.souls inclined to be like ~he man who leaped on horseback and rode off rapidly' in all directions. They want to practice all devotions at once, .to follow all the different systems of asceticism. By .assimi-lating so many different spiritual ideas, good in themselves but gulped down indiscriminatingly, they contract a spiritual indiges-tion. Good spiritual books come under the second and third classes in Bacon's statement that some books are merely to be tas~ed, others to be chewed and swallowed, and still others to be digested thor-oughly. To read the Gospels or the Imitatibn of Christ, slowly and thoughtfully, may bring more spiritual benefit and solid nourish-ment than many times the hours passed in reading hastily less-abiding spiritual books~ Recreational Reading But nowadays the mind craves lighter and more recreational food, just as the bodily taste demands sweetmeats a~ad hors d'oeuvres. StiII,°even in recreational reading, the religious owes it to himself to exercise a prudent choice. How extremely foolish it.is, to ~ay nothing. worse, if one who is vowed to Christ takes up w?rldly and tainted .stories, magazines, and books. If be has no business with such books and periodisals, he freely opens his mind and imagination and feelings to the contamination of the world--an act of great unwis-dora, to say the least. Newspaper reading is almost needful for religious who teach, who write, or who have to deal with others. But what a difference there is between reading and reading when it comes to the news. Here a great waste Of time is possible when the reader wants to pore. over every item. SeIective reading will give, in a few moments, all that is worth-while in the daily papers. One can become accustomed also to very rapid reading which gathers the gist of the article in a frac.tion of time. About magazines and papers, nearly everything may be repeated that was°said about books. There are so many good ones; why waste time on the tainted and the trivial? Some experienced readers refuse to read any book that is less than a year old, because within a year the value of some books, if they ever had any, has quite disap-peared. Time is so precious and life is so short that when you do read a magazine be sure it i~ Worth-while. One way to insure the right sort of reading is to have it conven- Januar~t, 1954 RE!~DING FOR RELIGIOU~ iently at hand. We have said a great deal, in writing for lay folk. about the "book at the elb0,w." When we have a few moments to spare, we are not likely tb'go very far for what we reid. Rather, we pick up the book oh' periodicM that is nearest and begin to read it. Hence, to have good books and periodicals at hand is a great step towards getting them read. On the other hand, to keep worthless and trivial literature at a distance i~ the' best way to avoid wasting the precious moments we have for reading. The publishers, whether of books or magazines or newspapers, know this principle well, and they act:upon it to get their publica-tions bought and read. Wherex~er we turn, we see newsstands, book departments in stores, book and magazine counters even in drug-stores. It is the easiest thing in the world to pick up one's reading matter from all these sources, wherever we go. Henc.e, even into the Catholic home there pours a flood of best sellers and of popular magazines and newspapers which carry the world and the flesh into the sacred family circle. People wonder why they have so many distractions ~nd temptations, why their thoughts are often so trivial, why they dwell so little on th~ things of God and the interests of the Church. The reason is that they are victims of the powerful and ceaseless propaganda of high-salaried circulation managers and book agents. "'Dieting" Required Even into religious institutions some of these worldly and often- 'tainted publications find their way, and they are dressed up and flavored so as to deceive even the elect. But the poison for the soul is more deadly than that which ~nly affect~ the body. And, after years of reading these worldly publications, even religious need a strong antidote to keep them firm in faith and hope and love. It is hard and sometimes trying to .confine one's reading to what is best and noblest. Yet it is the o,nly reasonable course for a reli-gious to take. So also it is difficult at times for those who have to go on a reasonable and normal diet in order to preserve their health to keep strictly to what the doctor orders. In the one case as in the other, the reward is great. It is good to be healthful and vigorous, well nourished and of normal girth of body. But it is still" a hap-pier thing to be clean and strong of spirit; to have a mind, a heart, a will helped and nourished by a great faith, a burning hope, a vig-orous charity. Our conscious life of the mind is made up of a succes- EDWARD F. GARESCHI~ sion of thoughts, memories, impressions. If these are pure and joy-ful, holy and clean, then our life itself is so, because our thoughts color our days and bring them their sunshine or shadow. The ino ward life of thoughts, of will, of motives and desires is what makes us happy or unhappy, and we cannot readily perceive how much this is affected by what we read. ~,rhile thd religious ponders these things for his ownspiritual good and inner happiness, his charity will make him desire to help others also to choose well what they rea'd. ~vrhen you conceive an enthusiasm for a good and holy book, y.ou will be able to recom-mend it to others with more genuine interest, x~rhen you yourself choose your reading wisely and well, you will have more influence on the laity and even on your fellow religious to promote good reading. SPECIAL PUBLICATIONS We have received, with the compliments of The Most Reverend John Mark Gannon, Bishop of Erie, a beautifully bound and printed volume entitled l~VIemoirs¯ --The Semlrlarg 01: Montezuma. It contains the documents and writings of Bishop Gannon, Chairman of the Bishops' Committee for Montezuma Seminary, and of. his episcopal associates. The volume was prepared by The Very Reverend James M. Powers, Director of Charities in the Diocese of Erie. The book has not been placed on the market at this time; the present limited edition was subsidized by Bishop Gannon. This story of superb American Catholic charity which con-. tributed upwards 9f $1,500,000 to the education of Mexican priests, and of the seminary which to date has trained some 770 priests for the ministry in Mexico deserves wider dissemination. Cahiers de dosdphologie is a new periodical founded l~y the Research and DocL umentation Centre at St. Joseph's Shrine, Montreal. The Centre, which was estab-lished 'a few years ago, purposes to collect microfilms and publicatlons on St. Joseph and to promote various kinds of research, "to foster Josephology." It will be p.ublished twice a year. Price in American countries: $2.50 per year: $1.25 per copy. Address: Centre of Research and Documentation, St. Joseph's Shrine, Mon-treal 26, Canada. San Juan de la Cruz: Valor Psicologico de s& Doctrina, by Ft. Victorino Capanaga de San Agustln, won first prize among all the competitive works sub-mitted to the Spanish Universities on the occasion of the fourth centenary of the birth of St. John of the Cross. This study of the psychological value of St. John's mystical doctrine contains a long introduction, a section on the "structure of the soul," and a final section on "mystical phenomena." We received it from: Imp. Juan Bravo, 3, Madrid, Spain. No price given. 34 Aurelian Spiril:ualit:y Sister Mary of Carmel, R.P.B. [EDITORS' NOTE: The institute of the Sisters Adorers of the Precious Blood was founded at St. Hyacinthe, Quebec, by Mother Catherine Aurelia in 1861. It is a contemplative institute and should be distinguished from the Sisters Adorers of the Most Precious Blood, an active congregation. The present article concerns the con-templative institute, which has monasteries in Canada and the United States, as well as in Rome, Cuba, and 2apart. A monastery flourished in China until it was suppressed by the Com.munists. The mother house for the French-speaking section of the institute is at St. Hyacinthe: for the English-speaking section, at London, Ontario. ] BECAUSE of the centuries of Christian thought behind its intro-duction into the schools of spirituality, the teaching of Mother Catherine Aurelia of the Precious Blood, embodied in the Rule of her institute and in her writings, is enriched with the spiritual treasures of these schools and influenced by them, while presenting and maintaining individual characteristics. It hol~ls a reflection of the dignity and glory of its elder brothers and sisters in the history of the Church and from its lowlier place among them radiates a new light. If it is young in its almost one hundred years of existence, it is old in its devotion, the Precious Blood. This devotion extends to the age of the Apostles. Saint Paul writes of it in a sublime manner ¯ in his Epistle to the Hebrews, and Saint Peter associates with it the adjective which has become almost a part of the word. "Precious Blood" was written for the first time by the Prince of the Apostles in his first Epistle. The' devotion goes back further, to Calvary and the.sacred Passion of Our Lord, even to Hi~ infancy when, in the mystery of the Circumcision, He shed the first drops of His ,blood. Still further back through the centuries preceding the comii~g of Our Redeemer, His blood was prefigured in that of the sacrificial animals of the Old Law. Father Faber, in his excellent work on the Precious Blood, would take us in contemplation to the ageless now before the creation of the world and show us in his inimitable way the unbe-ginning procession of the Precious Blood emerging from the mind of God. With these ancient and sacred realties arching the edifice of her life of prayer, the Sister Adorer of the Precious Blood has an obliga-tion of nobility. She must be marked with the characteristics of a 35 SISTER MARY OF CARMEL Reoieto for Religious family that posesses an eternal crest--the shield of the Precious Blood of 3esus. In a world of great and worthy exterior activity, in an age of actionists, insignificance lends to the hiddenness of the life of the daughters of Mother Catherine Aurelia.In this they possess a s~trong bond with her and her cofoundresses to whom the Most Reverend Joseph LaRocque, Bishop of St. Hyacinthe and founder of the in-stitute, could say, "Nothing could surpass, beloved Daughters, the insignificance of your origifi . " Influences~ In the direction of Monsignor 2oseph Raymond, later to become cofounder of the Sisters Adorers of the Precious Blbod, we.find the earliest and the most prolonged notable influence on the soul of Aurelia Caouette, latdr Mother " Catherine Aurelia of the Precious Blood. The importance of that influence is brought before us in the wo~ds of Bisfiop 3oseph LaRocque which he spoke to the members of the community shortly after Monsignor Raymond's death' on the feast of the Precious Blood in 1887. "My. dear children," said the founder, "read the writings of your Father who had such great zeal for the sanctification of your souls; you will find therein the sub-stance of his piety and his heart." While still very'y~ung, Aurelia Caouette received, in the words of Saint Catherine of Alexandria, the inspiration which was the first indication of her vocation in life: "I feel in my soul all tl~e energy of tfae Divine Blood. It is a generous Blood which aspires o~ly to be shdd." In the fact that she was a tertiary in the order of Saint Dominic can'beseen the.,early influence of the Dominican Rule on her soul-li~e. Her attraction to the great Dominican, Saint Catherine of Sienal remained with her throughout the futhre years, although it is possible that the saint's outstanding devotion to the Precious Blood was its power. A Carmelite influence may be found in the modified similarity of the cloistered life of her spiritual daughters to that 6f their eider sisters of Carmel and in the blending of austerity with the lighthear~e~lness and joyful gaiety characteristic of Saint Teresa of Avila. That the spiritu.ality of Saint Ignatius of Loyola notably affected that of. Mother Catherine Aurelia and her spiritual datighters IAny" influences which came to the foundress in an e'xtraordinary manner have been omitted. da.nttary, 1954 AURELIAN SPIRITUALITY ! is evident. In chapter three of the Rule, which treats of mental prayer, we read, "The Adorers will therefore apply themselves with the greatest diligence 'to this holy exercise using principally the method o,f Saint Ignatius of Loyola." Here it is well to emphasize that, contrary to a general misinformed opinion, the "'method" of Saint Ignatius is not a set mould depriving the soul of that liberty of spirit in .which God delights; and to safeguard the religious against this error, she is cautioned: "Undoubtedly when the Holy Spirit makes His Divine operations felt in the soul, instructing ~nd directing her, she has only to abandon herself to the attractions and impressions which He communicates, without restricting herself rigorously to a method.': AlWays concerned with the prayer-life of the religious, the insti-tute provides advice for all. The beginner is encouraged by this prac: tical directive: "For the use of persons unable to meditate easily, Saint Ignatius toward the end of.his Spiri.tua.1 Exercises proposes three ways of praying appropriate to the dispositions and cap, ac.ity of those lea~t accustomed to prayer." There follows a detailed expla-nation of these in an extract from the Spiritual Exercises by Bel-licius. And through t'he pages of her Spiritual Directory, the Adorer is. guided in her conduct to the h.eighlts of contemplation, should God favor her with this gift. It is worth noting the co'nclu.din~ sentence in this section: "The soul should commit herself with docility to the direction of a wise and enlightened man and faith-f. ully obey him." The importanc~ rightly attached to the particular examen by the founders and foundress of the Sisters Adorers of the Precious Blood marks a further influence by the Saint of Loyola. An echo of his military strategy is held .in "Experience never fails, to prove these happy results in favor of souls who. make good use of the arms and method of the particular examen." The annual retreat is also to be made, as far as possible, after the method of Saint Ignatius. Lastly it is interesting to note that the Ignatian influence affects not only the prayer-life of the Adorer but extends to all her 'em-ployments: "No matter what employment is given her, she shows neither sadness, discontent, disquiet nor unhappiness." Saint Ignatius regarded all things as means to the glory and service of God, and the daughters of Mother Catherine Aurelia are urged to become ac- 37 SISTER MARY OF (~ARMEL Review for Religious quainted with¯ this holy indifference as it was understood by Saint Ignatius. The reciprocal influence of Bishop LaRocque and Mother Cath-erine Aurelia, founder and foundress of the institute,.is summarized in the words which he used when distributing the Rule books to the young community: "I must present the first copy to your Mother Foundress, as the representative of the whole Institt~te, of which she is truly the Mother, as I am the Father. I could have done ¯ nothing without her, as she would have done nothing without me." These lines also evidence the submission of the foundress, who penned the following excellent tribute: "O Father of our religious life, what do we not owe thee for the past! What do we not owe thee for the future--for the doctrine, the spirit you have left us: for the blessed pages that your hand has traced for us." Essential Principles The essential principles which gave birth to Mother Catherine Aurelia's requirements of her spiritual daughters, as found in the Rule and customs and in her writings, are worthy of consideration. There was a definite sense of balance evident in the outlook of the foundress. We can remark this first in her conception of God as holy and merciful. Her realization of His holiness is emphasized in her imposition of adoration and reparation as prima~y duties: and the religious are invited to represent to themselves the greatness, the pow.er, the infinite.majesty of God and their own misery, extreme in-digence, and profound baseness as motives for remaining annihi-lated in the divine presence. God, Who is infinite holiness, is out-raged by the sins of mankind, and Mother Catherine Aurelia calls upon her .daughters to make reparation and, as it were, places in their hands uplifted in prayer the expiatory chalice of the Precious Blood. The infinite mercy of God gives confidence to the religious of the Precious Blood in their intercession for sinners; and day after day, year after year, they plead for them, untiring in their ceaseless quest for souls. How could their efforts wane, with these words of their foundress and leader echoing in their hearts: "Beloved virgins, I conjure you to be holy! To become so, fix your feet on the rock of Calvary. It is ~here you will find the swiftness of the stag in order to run to the conquest of souls without ever deviating from the path which God for this purpose has traced out for you. It is there you will find the strength to fight valiantly and generously. For your 38 ,January, 1954 AURELIAN SPIRITUALITY armour you will have prayer, penance, separation from the world and the mortification of your body, heart and soul." Participating in Mother Catherine Aurelia's conception of Christ, her spir.itual daughters regard Him principally in His charac-ter of Redeemer accomplishing redemption by the shedding of His blood. Each day at the moment which marks the time of His death on Calvary, the religious, prostrate before Him, say: "Jesus has shed all His Blood for love of us and died on the cross. Let us adore Him and thank Him." The approach to Christ is one of reverence and of confidence, from which emanates desire. The intensity of that de-sire bursts forth in sincere efforts to bring to souls the fruits of the Precious Blood shed so fully for all. Christ, the High Priest, by His own blood obtained for us an everlasting redemption, as Saint PauI tells us. In her Rule, in the conferences of her Father Founder and in the counsels of her Mother Foundress, the Sister Adorer of the Precious Blood is invited to regard Christ as her Spouse also, "united with Him no less by sentiments of tender love and persevering piety than they are closely and especially consecrated by the Vows of Religion." Mother Catherine Aurelia's outlook on human nature was a recognition of its potentialities. She saw ir capable, as it is, of op-posites-~ its power to sin, its power to love God. She beheld the sublime possibilities of the human soul aided by grace, never effaced by the greatness of sin because of the power of the redeeming Blood ba treasure of which the Adorers are, in a sense, administrators in the interests of those who are not of the perfect age of grace, retarded by ignorance, indifference, or sin. "By dwelling on creatures the mind is kindled into loving divine goodness. For all the perfections scattered throughout thff universe flow together in him who is the spring of all goodness. If therefore the goodness, beauty and freshness of creatures so draw our hearts, how much more then God who is their source? Creatures are but rivulets, he is the main stream.''~ Thus teaches Saint Thomas Aquinas, and these dispositions towards created things are evident in the writings of Mother Catherine Aurelia. She was conscious of the beauty of nature. By it her thoughts were lifted to heaven and to the omnipotence of God, not to creatures, for even in the most per-fect of them she found inadequacy. 2Thomas Gilby, Philosophical Texts, n. 127. 39 SISTER MARY O1~ CARMEL Review [or Religious' _Perfection Having briefl~r considered these conceptions, it is interesting to observethe ideal ofperfection as it is understood by the members of the.community, an ideal handed down by the founders and fdundress. For their, spiritual daughters, perfection consists in ui~ion with God. They know that religious perfection must built on the foiafidation of Christian perfection'; that all Christians share the obligation to fulfill our divine Lord's command, "Be you therefore perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect"i that the duties coinmon to all the followers of Christ are to b~ fulfilled according to on'd's st~ite with intensity and exactitude. A )eligious must direct ti~i steps tothe perfection of love and in this consists the genera!. spi~!t Of the ~eligio'us state, while she must possess also the particular spirit of her community. For contemplative religious this consists in the" striving after, advancing in, and perfecting of the interior life and:in the faithful dbservance of the rules and constitutions of her c6fiamuni~y. 'Saifit Paul has saitl, "This is tl~e will of God, yotir' Sandtification."" The daughter of Mother Catherine Aurelia might v~ith all truth say, "This, my Rule, is the Will of God for me, the means of my sanctification." The. Rule is not mere letteri It is spirit too. The latter gives life and love and meaning to the former. Destiny In the preface of her Rule, the religious is given the glorious des-tiny. of the community--to retrace and reflect, as much as possible, the imag~ of the divine charity in the shedding of .blood. Christ loved His Father in a sublime act of reparation; He.loved mankind in offering to men redemption by His blood. The heart, of the re-ligious must b~, as it were, a replica of the love-filled heart of Christ, offering that-love in which hers is immersed by her fidelity to the obligations she has embraced. Her love for her fellow beings' com-mences in the cloister and reaches out to embrace the world and be-yond. Mother Catherine Aurelia, in the burning desire of her heart, had said that she would like to see the words, "Charity, Union ~nd Concord," written in letters of gold on the wails of all her monas-teries. That was a symbolism of her desire that the perfection of charity be inscribed in the thoughts, words, and deeds of all of her spiritual daughters in their associations with one another. The Crucifixion of Our Lord is the most silent and the most tre- 4O AURELIAN ,SPIRITUALITY mendous "I love y6u" ever known. It is a divine love song Written to the rhythm of blood softly falling from "His great wounds. What an exalted ideal of love is set before the religious! She must bring to souls the fruits of Christ's sacrifice--sanctification and salvation. In doing so she must, as has been stated, retrace and reflect as much as possible the divine charity. Her day is the Passion! Its dawn finds her prostrate in union with.Jesus in the Garden of 0lives. At dusk she is in hdoration of Jesus Christ in the mystery of His death and burial and in adoration of the eternal repose which God takes in Himself. How can she be happy with the weight of divine sorrow ~on-stantly within her? This is one of the delightful paradoxes of our holy faith. The daughter of Mother Catherine Aurelia experiences the indescribable happiness bf union with ~he Beloved. Than this, no greater happiness can exist on earth. Moreover she hag the flap: piness of proving her love by participation in His desires, His suf-ferings, and His sacrifice. She has the enviable certainty of knowin~ the willof the Bdloved at each moment of her life and in Him the strength to fulfill it. She enjoys the contentment of doing what she desires to do upon earth in following her ~tocation and has the well-founded hope of continuing in the perfection of her vocation of adorer thrqughout a joyous eternity. The silence of the divine charity which she endeavours to reflect is in her seclusion from the world and, in the cloister, more inti-mately in the hi.ddenness of her life with Christ in God. Particular Ends Sharing the common end of all contemplative religious, the Sis-ters Adorers o~ the Precious Blood have four special ends. (1) To render repeatedly their loving homage to the ~dorable blood of God made Man, poured forth for the sal3ration of the hu-man rude. "To adore[ Ah this is her unique element on earth," Mother Catherine Aurelia had written of each spiritual daughter, and her loving homage is a homage of adoration. Her whole life. is constituted to attain this end, and the means are prudently presented to her in her Rule and hdr Spiritual Directory. (2) To glorify and honor in a particular manner Mary Im-maculate in her Conception. This is a complement of the aim Of her religious life. Seven years after the proclamation of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception fell from the lips of the Sovereign 41 SISTER MARY OF CARMEL Revieu~ [or Religious pontiff, young Catherine Aurelia and her cofoundresses assumed for themselves and for all generations of their .religious community the joyful obligation of paying special homage to the Mother of God in the exalted privilege of her Immaculate Conception. Long years before Our Lady came from heaven to the Cova da Iria to appeal to all her children to be mindful of bet heart, the foundress appealed to her religious to take their delight in that pure heart, urging them to learn how the holy Heart of Mary takes her greatest delight in the privilege of her Immaculate Conception. Through the Immaculate Virgin we have the Precious Blood. In view of the sbeddlng of the Precious Blood, Mary was given the privilege of immaculacy from the first moment of her conception. It is a necessity that the one devotion be associated with the other. Into the dovecote of Mary's Immaculate Heart, Mother Cather-ine Aurelia placed her daughters. She enkindled in them a courage .which cfin come only in having M~ry Immaculate as their co-worker and mediatrix, "that her daughters might be strengthened. To what purpose? ". to work for the glory of the Blood Divine!" (3) To assiduously adore Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament of the altar. "Assiduously" gives to the religious some idea of the in-tensity of the adoration expected of her. It must be a painstaking, persevering adoration. She is in the presence of the Blessed Sacra-ment many times in the course of the day; but in the moments which constitute her hour of adoration of ,lesus in the Blessed Sacrament, her obligation is more specific, more personal; for then the entire community is depending on her to fulfill in a direct manner in its name the third principal end of its existence. It is then that she is expected to accomplish the desire of ~lesus by offering His blood and with it to unite the offering of her entire being for His service and glory. (4) To devote themselves (as victims), if God will accept them, and continually offer to the Lord the merits of the blood of Jesus Christ to obtain the conversion of sinners. It may be noted here that the Holy See cancelled the expressions "victim," "immolation" in the Rule and Spiritual Directory; and in keeping with the spirit of this directive the Sisters themselves changed the dialogue in the cere-monial of profession. However, since it is evident that Rome did not object to the idea of complete self-giving which the founders in-tended by such expressions as "victim" and "immolation," the founders' writings are kept unchanged. 42 danua~/, 1954 AURELIAN ~PIRITUALITY "Many souls go to Hell because there is no one to make sacrifices for them." These words of Our Lady of Fatima remind forgetful mankind of the fecundity of sacrifice and of our duties towards our fellow beings. Meditation on them will bring a realization of the saneness of this particular end of the vocation of a Sister Adorer of the Precious Blood and of the necessity of this purpose. Because many do not make their share of sacrifices for sinners, there must be others who will assume the responsibility of filling up what is wanting on the part of the human race. The indifference, ingrati-tude, and sinfulness with which the Precious Blood is treated, the want of respon.se .to divine love, urge the daughter of Mother Cath-erine Aurelia to embrace her vocation as a reparatory soul, and over and dyer again she is reminded of this by her holy founders and foundress. She "offe.rs herself in union with Him, her.Model, and her Spouse of Blood." The merits of that blood are ransom which she offers for the conversion of sinners. F.rom.her fidelity to this purpose of her vocation emanates a consolidation of true interests, a solidarity which strongly unites her to her fellow creatures through-out the world although she is exteriorly separated from them by the nature of that vocation and the sacrifices she has embraced. Suffering Suffering is inseparable from man during his sojourn on earth. His attitude towards it affects his endurance of it, for endure it he must. A burden willingly assumed is a lighter burden. Mother Catherine Aurelia regarded suffering as an opportunity. Every occasion of it was grasped avidly because she had a true sense of its value. Her Redeemer and Spouse had taught her this and her life was a testimony of her appreciation of the cross. She called her spiritual daughters "Virgins of Calvary" and referred to sufferings as their jewels. To a woman, jewels are precious because of their value, and they are an adornment. See, then, what sufferings are to the Adorer of'the Precious Blood! They are not depressing, some-thing to be avoided. They are a precious adornment. Just as the wounds of Jesus are an eternal, glorious proof of His infinite love for us, sufferings willingly accepted are,. to the daughter of Mother Catherine Aurelia,' so many opportunities of imitating her Spouse, of making her like unto Him, and of testifying her love--small wounds indeed compared to the great wounds of Christ, and often,hidden; but wounds, nevertheless, telling Him of her responding love. On SISTER MARY OF (~ARME~L Review [or Religious the occasion of taking her departure from a daughter-house of her community, the foundress said, "I leave happy in the thought that we are going to suffer and' to suffer much." This was not an atti-tude occasioned by an isolated circumstance, but it was her constant regard for the cross. Labour "St. Thomas considered the contemplative life, to which are added exterior Works, the most useful and meritorious. This life is yours, for though contemplatives, you have your hours of work ac-cording to the Rules and obedlence. Thus wrote Bisl~op LaRocque and thus, too, did Mother Catherine Aurelia regard labour: "Wholly penetrated with sentiments imbibed from the pious ex~rcises of prayer, of Mass and of Holy Communion, the Sisters will each morning take up with holy joy the yoke of labour and observanc.es truly crucifying. They will submit thereto like humble sinners, dbing eveiytbing' in a spirit of expiation, and to accomplish the special end of our Institute, which is to save souls, not only by player but also by work, which our blessed Father Founder regarded a~ one of our principal penances." Again, Bishop LaRocque im-posed labour upon the members of the community as a compensation for the austerities of the great religious orders. A thirst for fruitful penance was expected of his spiritual daughters. This is to be satis-fied by the joyful acceptance of the work allotted to them; a gen-erosity in assisting the overburdened; a peace, calmness, 'and gravity in the performance of their ta~k~. The horary of t'he. community presents a well-ordered" day, gua.rding the hours of prayer from the " intrusion of ill-regulated manual duties, and instilling into the hours of Work the spirit of continual prayer. Glory to the Blood of Jesus . - Glory has been defined as knowledge to which is linked admi~a-tion, as splendour, honour, renown. In these definitions we per-ceive that the "heart-cry" of the daughter of Mother Catherine Au-relia, sincerely accepted, is weighted with a responsibility~a respon-sibility to do all within her power, assisted and enlightened by 'God, to increase her knowledge of the mystery of the Precious Blood; arid as that knowJedge becomes expansive, there emanates a relatively in-creasing admiration, . and the Sister Adorer is filled with the desire to give glory to the blood of Jes{as. It is her duty, as well as her de-sire, to pray incessantly that the Precious Blood may be known; 44 January, 1954 "APPARITIONS" OF OUR LADY loved, and received with ardent faith by all men: It is therefore ob-vious that the plan of Redemption, the Incarnation, the seven blood-sheddings, the Sacred Passion and death of Our Redeemer, and the Blessed Sacrament are subjects for meditative prayer dear to the heart of every Adorer, for in them her knowledge is increased and her zeal animated to radiate from the. confines of her hidden life to souls throughout the world; and for them her supplications become more fervent that their knowledge, too may increase and that fitting homage to the adorable Precious Blood ensue. These dispositions must impregnate each moment of the life of the Adbrer, and the very beginning of her foundress's sublime, "Remember, O my DaughtEr," bursts with startling suddenness into the words that bring an awareness of the obligation attendant on her throughout each moment of her life, "that the cry of thy heart should be, 'Glory to the Blood'," and in this is the unifying and culminating purpose of the varied duties of her particular vocation. The spirit of the community is a challenge that is taken'to, the extent of the individual's understanding and appreciation of the concept!ons of the founders and foundress and to the extent also of her own generosity aided by the grace of God. "APPARITIONU' OF OUR LADY° The August, 1952, number of The Clergy Monthly contains a list of alleged apparitions of Our Lady during the years, 1931-50. The list was first published. by a German magazine in Europe in December, 1951; and up ,to that time only two of the apparitions had been approved by ecclesiastical authorities, whereas four-teen had been rejected. Six were still undecided. Whether any further decision has been made on these six, we do not know. Following is the list as it appeared in The Clergy Monthly: Approved 1932/33 Beauraing, Belgium. 2 boys. 3 girls. 1933: Banneux, Belgium, 1 girl--12 years old. 8 apparitions. Rejected, 1931: Ezquioga, Spain. 2children: later up to 150 "seers." 1937/40: Heede, Westphalia. 4 girls--12-14 years, old. apparitions. 1944: Bergamo, Italy. 1 girl--7 years old.12 apparitions. 1947 : Bouxieres-aux-Dames, Belgium, 1947: Espis, France. 1947/49: Forstweiler, Wiirttemberg. 1 woman. 8 apparitions. 1948: Assisi, Italy. Crowd. A statue of Mary moves. 1948: Gimigliano, Italy. 1 girl--13 years old. More than 100 45 PAMPHLETS AND BOOKLETS 1948: Lipa, Philippines. 1 postulant in a convent¯ 1948: Aspang, Austria. 1 man~61 years old. 1949: Fehrbach, Palatinate. 1 girl--12 years old. 8everal apparitions. 1949: Hasznos, Hungary. Crowd. 1949: Lublin, Poland. Crowd. "Our Lady weeps." 1949/50: Heroldsbach, Bavaria. 4 girls and other children. Many apparitions. Undecided 1945: Codosera, Spain. 1 girl--10 years old; later up to 100 "seers." ¯ 1946: Pfaffenhofen, Bavaria. 1 girl--22 years old. 3 apparitions. 1947: Tre Fontane, Rome. 1 man, 3 children. 1947: Urucaina, Brasil. 1 priest. (Cures.) 1948: Cluj, Rumania. Crowd. 1950: Acquaviva Platani,. Sicily. 1 girl--12 years old. 7 apparitions. PAMPHLETS AND BOOKLETS THE BRUCE PUBLISHING COMPANY, Milwaukee 1, Wisconsin: The Chris-tian Life Calendar, by Rev. Gabriel W. Hafford and Rev. George Kolanda. $1.00. CATECHETICAL GUILD EDUCATIONAL SOCIETY, St. Paul 1, Minnesota: Mary Talks to Us, by Don Sharkey. 15 cents.--The Family Rosary, by Joseph A. Breig. 15 cents. FIDES PUBLISHERS ASSOCIATION, Chicago 10, Illinois: Con[irmation, 25 cents, THE GRAIL, St. M~inrad, Indiana: From Five to Nine, by Bruno McAndrew, O.S.B. 25 cents.--Our Mother, by Emile Neubert, S.M. 25 cents.~ur Lady of the Hermit, by Paschal Boland, O.S.B. 5 cents.--Little Saints, by John and Margaret Moore. $1.50.---Friends Indeed, by Robert Wood, S.M. 15 ccnts.-~Be You Perfect, by Robert B. Eiten, S.J. 15 cents.--The Mass Year. 35 cents.--His Name Is desus, by Julia C. Mahon. $2.00. SCAPULAR PRESS, New York City 16, New York: Life with Mary, by Thomas McGinnis, O. Carm. 50 cents. SHEED AND WARD, New York 3, New York: Are We Really Teaching Relig-ion?, by F. J. Sheed. 75 cents. ST. JAMES FRIARY, Riverton, Illinois: My Spiritual Director, by Ft. Athana-sius Steck, O.F.M. 50 cents. TEMPLEGATE, PUBLISHERS, Springfield, Illinois: A Map of Prayer, by Fr. R. H. J. Steuart, S.J.--The Path of Prayer, by Ft. Vincent McNabb, O.P.-- Contemplative Prayer, by Pete de la Taille, S.J.--The One Thin9 Necessary, by Rev. Bruno Scott James.-~Detight In The Lord, by Fr. Daniel Considine, S.J.-- Fifty Meditations on the Passion, by Archbishop Goodier, S.J.--Wbat Is Contem-plation, by. Thomas Merton, O.C.S.O.--A Treatise on Interior Prayer, by Dom Innocent Le Masson.--Meditations on the Litany of the Sacred Heart, by Juliana of Norwich.--"A More Excellent Way," by Archbishop Goodier, S.J.--Treatise on the Religious Life, by Dom Innocent Le Masson. 35 cents for each booklet. 46 THE SPIRITUALITY OF ST. IGNATIUS LOYOLA. By Hugo Rahner, S.J. Translated by Francis John Smith, S.J. Pp. xvll -I- 142. The Newman Press, Westm;nsfer, Maryland: 1953. $2.75. Although the title does not suggest it, Father Hugo Rahner's purpose in this book is "to present the development of the essential features and history of the spirit; of service in the Church." St. Ignatius Loyola was a man of the Church with an ideal of perfection essentially formed by service in the Church. Hence, the origin of his spirituality provides the author with a concrete ex-a, mple in which to study the development of the essential features of the spirit of service. Each of the three influences that went into the spirituality crystallized in the Spiritual Exercises is considered: first, the influence of Ignatius's family, country, and culture: then, the in-fluence of traditional Christian piety, especially as it reached Ignatius in the Imitation of Christ and in the spiritual readin~ of.his conva-lescence- conversion at Loyola (Ludolph of Saxony's The Life of Christ and Jacopo de Voragine's The Golden Legend); finally, the decisive influence of the mystical illumination granted to the saint at Manresa along the banks of the River Chrdoner. In this experience "Ignatius, the pilgrim and the penitent, was made over into the man of the Church"; here he became aware of how his limitlessly ex-pansive love for God was to be submitted to the service and given form within the visible Church. Turning from the development to the history of the spirit of service in the Church, Father Rahner merely indicates the historical continuity of this spirit by sketching its characteristics in a few key "men of the Church": the first St. Ignhtius, of Antioch (whose name Inigo de Loyola appropriated after his conversion), St. Basil, St. Benedict, St. Augustine ("the greatest of all the men of the Church"), the Sienese Saints Bernardine and Catherine. In this perspective St. Ignatius of Loyola appears as one of the long series of providential figures raised up by the Holy Spirit at critical times in history to re-emphasize the truth that there is no true service of God that is not service somehow in the visible Church. This study is as rich as it is brief. The text reads so easily (thanks to the fully satisfactory translation by Francis J. Smith, S.J.) that one needs to consider the twenty full pages of documenta- 47 BOOK NOTICES Reoietv for Religious tion in order to realize that Father Rahner has given us here nothing but the distilled essence of an immense work of research. All who love "that true spouse of ,Jesus Christ, our holy Mother, the hier-archical Church" will be grateful for the understanding of the spirit of service in the Church afforded by'this book. All to whom Ig-natian spirituality is important will find in Father Rahner's work a most penetrating insight into the meaning Of the Spiritual Exercises. --JOHN FRANCIS CLARKSON, S.,J. BOOK NOTICES REDEMPTIVE INCARNATION, by Albert L. Schlitzer, C.S.C., continues Notre Dame's University Religion Series, Theology for' the Layman. This book covers the matter usually treated under Christology, Soteriology, and Mariology in seminary manuals. The topics are proposed as questions in pleasing imit~ition of St. Thomas Aquinas. In each case the theological sources are cited: Sacred Scrip- " ture, Fathers of the Church, councils, papal decrees--all concluded by a clear statement of the theological development of doctrine. In-cluded at the end of each chapter are review questions and addenda showing the impact on daily life of the truth studied. Differences of opinion among theologians are sometimes indicated but generally not developed. Little space is given to modern speculative develop-ments. Thus the Blessed Virgin Mary as co-redemptrix in objective redemption is barely mentioned and hesitatingly so. No mention is made of human solidarity with Christ in His redemptive "work. Nothing is said of Mary's Queenship. But professors of college re-ligion may very, profitably examine this paper-bound book before selecting a~ text for their classes. 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Robert Wade on Zombie Ideas, Being inside the World
Bank, and the Death of Ethics in Economics after the Marginal Revolution







The global
economy is at the core of some of the main issues in contemporary International
Relations. But how do we understand the global economy and what impact does
that have on how we deal with the power politics around it? A fault line seems
to have emerged between those who take economic theory seriously and those who
denounce it for being part of the problem. Informed by his training as an
anthropologist, Robert H. Wade—professor at the LSE—takes a different tack: he
bases his engagement with the way in which Adam Smith has been appropriated to
advocate for a dominant view of 'free markets' on real-world economics and in-depth
accounts of insiders. In this Talk,
Wade—among others—discusses experimentation in international economic
regimes, why the International Financial Institutions don't fight economic
crises, and the powers and perils of being inside the World Bank.




Print version of this Talk (pdf)




What is,
according to you, the biggest challenge / principal debate in current
International Relations? What is your position or answer to this challenge / in
this debate?



If we'd reframe
your question as being more broadly about global studies, I think that one of
the really fundamental questions is how and why it is that the precepts of neoliberalism
have penetrated into every nook and cranny of Western societies, and have
penetrated to a very large extent many non-Western countries.



This has
happened especially, but not only, through the agency of the IMF and the World
bank, which have imbued these neoliberal principles; through the mechanism of
graduate education: children of the elites in developing countries go out to
American, British, other Western universities, and they learn that this is
'true' economics, or 'true' IPE, or 'true' Political Science, and then they
come back and implement these same principles and make them a reality back
home. But across the globe, this even holds for the Nordic countries. In
Iceland and other Nordic countries, from the 1980s, networks of people sharing
a belief in neo-liberal precepts, began to form and sort of place each other in
key positions within the state, and in politics, and built a momentum in this
direction. These precepts have become understood as just natural, as in
Margaret Thatcher's 'there is no alternative'.



I live in the
UK, and the great bulk of the British public really does believe that the
government is just like a household writ large, and the same rules of budgeting
that apply to the household should apply to the state. That when times are
tough the household has to tighten its belt, cut back on spending, and it is
only fair that the government does the same, and if the government does not, if
the government runs a deficit in hard times, then the government is being
irresponsible. And this is a completely mistaken and pre-Keynesian idea, but it
is a 'zombie idea'—that is, however much arguments and evidence may be mounted
against it, it just keeps coming up and up and up, and governments come to
power riding on this zombie idea and a flotilla of related ideas.



The persistence
of this zombie idea is all the more amazing as we just had a global financial
crisis in 2007/8, which would prompt a rethinking of these ideas. But these
neoliberal precepts have been, if anything, more strongly reinforced. In
previous hard times—and obviously the 1930s depression is the exemplary
case—there has been a stronger move towards, what you could call, social
democratic precepts. But not this time! Indeed, even after the crisis, the
whole of the European Union with 500 million people is even more thoroughly structured
on the basis of these ideas. I am thinking of what is popularly known as the Fiscal Compact signed by the EU Member States in 2012, which commits all governments
to balance budgets all the time—that is, first, the structural deficit may not
rise above 0.5 percent of GDP. Second, the public debt may not rise above 60
percent of GDP. Third, automatic financial sanctions are levied on governments
that exceed these two thresholds. Fourth, the whole procedure is supervised by
the European Commission, and this is presented as in the name of sound
budgeting. This package is presented as justified by the proposition that
government is a household writ large. The most elementary principles of
Keynesian macroeconomics show why this is not simply mistaken, but a disaster,
and will keep generating recessionary pressures. It is sold as a kind of excuse
for avoiding to put in place the essential conditions for the monetary union,
namely, a common budget and a sizable transfer mechanism to the regions just as
exists in the United States. But they do not want to do that, but still they
call this agreement 'cooperation', which is all about not cooperation, but
about writing these dictates around this zombie idea written into the very
basic architecture of the EU. Beyond EU politics, it materializes all the way
down to, I don't know, the function of the privatization of the Post Office, it
goes all the way down to the sort of capillaries of how universities are run,
and the incentive systems that have placed upon academics, and there is very
little pushback. The one reason, why I am almost completely delighted about
Jeremy Corbyn's election as the leader of the Labour party, is that this is one
small case of where there seems to be some concerted pushback against these
zombie ideas. The point being that the established Labour party basically
bought into this whole set of neo-liberal ideas. It combined maintaining the
overall structure of inequality in society with more emphasis on providing some
help to the poor, but they had to be hardworking poor.



Yet, one knows
that there can be dramatic changes in the prevailing zeitgeist of norms. One
knows that there can be big changes in the space of a few decades and the
question is can one imagine a scenario in which they might be a big change in
norms back to a more kind of social-democratic direction. So where will this
take place? Because of technological change in the labor market, there is a
real big crisis of employment with many middle-class jobs cut out and
polarization in the labor market. This might then induce a political movement
to have a much bigger change in income distribution than anybody with power is
now talking about. Talk of re-distribution these days is really almost entirely
around redistribution through the state, but the point I would make is that if
there is to be any significant reduction of inequality, especially inequality
at the top, there has to be more attention to changes in market-income
distribution.



Let me explain. The
share of profits in national income has been going up and the share of labor
income has been going down. So we should harness the shareholder structure of
the market to affect a more equal income distribution by enabling a much wider
section of the population to buy into the profit share. At the moment the
profit share goes to senior executives and equity holders, but equity holders
are highly concentrating at the top of the income and wealth distribution. If
equity earners could be spread much more equally, then a much wider section of the
population would get income, while they sleep so to speak. We could institute
something like trusts, whose members could be the employees of a company, the
customers, the neighbors of the company, and the trust would borrow on capital
markets and take out insurance against the repayment of the lending of loan and
then it would buy shares, it would use that borrowed money to buy shares in the
company, and the company would pay out dividends on the shares and then that
dividend income coming out of profits would be distributed to the members of
the trust. That would be a way of getting the rising share of profits in
national income distributed out to the population at large. I particularly like
this metaphor of "earning income while you sleep", since at the moment it is
only the rich people, who are earning income while they sleep. Somehow that facility
of earning income while you sleep has to be made much more widely and available—by
using the market against itself, so to speak.





How did you arrive at where
you currently are in your thinking about International Relations?



I suppose the starting point was really this; my
father was a New Zealand diplomat, so we moved quite often. By that time I was
twelve my parents were posted to Colombo, Ceylon as it was called then. After
having lived just in Western countries, I suddenly encountered at this very
formative age Colombo and Sri Lanka. I was just amazed by that experience; by
the color, the taste, the exoticness, but I was also very struck by how the
many boys at the same age as me, were walking around with no shoes. I particular
remember this boy carrying a baby on his shoulder, the baby looked half-dead
and covered in scabs, and I think it was then I got the idea of just how
unequal the world was. Then at university I studied economics, but I also
visited my parents in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and I got another sense of that
great disparity in wealth and living standards. At this time I had come across
Adam Smith and the wealth of nations question and that helped to encapsulate or
to crystalize my interests. So I wanted to go the Institute of Development
Studies in Sussex and  got enrolled for a
PhD in economics, but en route I spent several weeks in India and during that
time I began to dwell upon just how boring and how useless everything I studied
under the name of microeconomics. I kept thinking of these dreadfully dry
textbooks of marginal cost curves and marginal revenue curves and utility function
and difference curves etc., which I had forced myself to sit exams in. By this
time I had done a little bit of fieldwork, living on Pitcairn Island in the
middle of the Pacific.



When I got back to Sussex after fieldwork I announced
that I wished to not do a PhD in economics, but to do one in anthropology
thinking all the time, that this would actually be more use for understanding
why for example India, where I had been, was so very poor. So that's what I did:
a PhD in anthropology… In some ways I regard that as having been a mistake,
because the sort of mainstream of anthropology is very far away from the Adam
Smith questions. Having done the degree in anthropology, pretty soon I began to
change direction and pay much more attention to the state, to the state
bureaucracy. I went to India and I studied the Irrigation Department and other
related departments. I went to South Korea and I studied state irrigation
agencies and I went to Taiwan and I studied the state more broadly. So I was
kind of moving up from my Italian village, moving kind of up the scale in terms
of state agencies and then the state as a whole.



Then I went to work for the World Bank in the 1980s and
my main reason for doing that was not to do the research the World Bank wanted
me to do, but rather to study the World Bank from the inside as fieldwork. If
in some ways switching to anthropology was a mistake, in other ways it was not,
because I approached those kind of Wealth-of-Nations-questions in a way very
different from how economists approached them. For example when I went to
Taiwan and studied the trade regime, the first thing I did was to go and talk
to people who operated through the trade regime, whereas I noticed that the
published works by economists celebrating Taiwan's free trade regime was based
on what the rules said and what certain government officials told them was the
case. They had never actually talked to
people who traded through the trade regime. If they would have, they would
have learned about all the covert controls that went on such that there was
quite a distinction between the liberal face of the trade regime and the
reality of the trade regime. The reality was that the government was managing
trade in line with industrial policy, but the government absolutely did not
want the world to know that. So all this was kept hidden and I was really
regarded as rather unwelcome visitor—and in fact to this day my book Governing the Market (1990, read the
introduction here) is not well
received in Taiwan. It says the government of Taiwan did a good job of managing
the market, but they want the world to believe that Taiwan is a free trade
country. So that is the kind of intellectual trajectory that I have been on.



So I think that the value of the anthropology PhD was
that it really taught me, in practical terms, the meaning of the
anthropological maxim, which is 'soaking and poking'. To put it another way—I
love this—anthropologists are social scientists, who believe that the plural of
anecdote is evidence. And indeed I place a lot of weight on anecdotes, on
gossip, on the stories people tell, whereas economists would be much happier
reducing, let us say, South Korea's trade regime to one data point in a matrix,
and then compare that data point with, let us say, Malaysia's data point to see
how the trade regimes are correlated with growth, or something like that, and
that is really not my interest.





What would a student need to
become a specialist in IR or understand the world in a global way?



Despite what I've just said, I do think that a graduate
training in economics is very useful, provided one does not believe it. And that is really
difficult, because the socialization pressures are intense: if you do not say
the right things—which are neoliberal type things on the whole—then you will
likely not get a high grade. But I have noticed that economists tend to know
how to think, how to make arguments,
they tend to understand the idea of causality, and that may seem an astonishing
thing to say on my part, because it implies that students coming from other
disciplines are often weak in understanding the very basic ideas of causality,
but that is my experience. I had many students coming from, who knows, IR or
Political Science or Sociology or Anthropology, who clearly do not have much
idea of causality; they can describe things, but they find thinking in terms of
cause and effect, in terms of independent and dependent variables, in terms of
left and right side, they just find it difficult. So I do think that there is a
lot to be said for studying economics, and mastering the maths, provided that
the critical facility is not lost. That is point number one.



Point number two is that I think that there is a huge
premium on doing fieldwork, and the field work maybe in developing countries,
but when I say field work, I don't just mean going out to villages, going out
to see poor people 'over there'. I am talking of fieldwork inside bureaucracies:
to try and understand the culture, the incentive systems that people are
working under—fieldwork at home so to speak, in the countries one comes from. From
the students' point of view, it is clearly much easier to sit in the LSE
library to do the research. So in my marking I give quite a premium to a
student actually doing fieldwork, going out and interviewing, and having the
experience of writing up and interpreting the interviews and somehow fitting it
back into a larger argument—but really few students actually do that, and I
think that that is a real, real big mistake. Mind you, the same risk holds for fieldwork in economics as it does for
studying economics: I encourage students to work for (do fieldwork in,
experience) the World Bank; and several have—but to the best of my knowledge
almost none of them has kept their critical perspective. They really come to
buy into it.





The relations between states are settled
either through diplomacy or warfare. Why would we have to focus on economics to
understand IR?



Because economics—such as
for example balances of payment, surpluses and deficits—set the constraints and
incentives on countries in terms of their relationships with each other. A great
deal of diplomacy is driven by economic pressures: diplomacy to get other
countries to for example open their markets, or to cut deals with countries—'if
you do this, we will do that'—deals that may relate to areas that are rather
different, for instance if you buy more of these of our exports, we will help
you fight such and such country, because the manufactures are in my
constituency.



So, in a way, the way you
framed the question is part of the reason why I react against the discipline of
IR: because it tends to treat diplomacy, war, and so on, as somehow rather
separate from economic pressures, and I see these economic pressures as very
powerful drivers of both of the other two things. As another example, one of
the drivers of the Syrian conflict was that there was an acute drought (like
Weizman observed in Theory Talk #69, red), which meant that many people
were rendered destitute; rural areas flooded into the cities, and the Assad
regime just was—understandably—unable to cope; and large numbers of young men,
concentrated in cities, rootless and with no jobs, just were recruiting fodder for
the Wahhabi sect. I have always thought of economics—not so much as in the
making choices in conditions of scarcity, that is sort of Lionel Robin's definition—in the sense of Alfred Marshal, about how people make a
living, as a very fundamental driver of a lot of what happens in International
Relations.





Pikkety recently published Capital in the
21st Century, causing quite the stir. But why would inequality
between people matter for IR?



Let me comment by invoking
a very contemporary exhibit—the migration crisis in Europe now. Maybe a decade
ago I looked at the figures and if you took the
average income of the EU-15 prior to latest extensions and then expressed the
average income of countries outside of the EU—including sub-Sahara Africa—as a
percentage, then there was a really dramatic falling away of income levels
relative to the EU, in countries all around the EU and whether you took market
exchange rates or purchasing power parity. If you went round to sub-Sahara
Africa and took the average, it was more like two percent in market exchange rates
and seven percent in purchasing power parity; and the 'problem' is that there
is certainly here a rather thin slither of sea between Africa and the promised
land of Europe and to the east there are these great open planes, where armies
can go up and down to the speed of light, so to speak, but people can also move
pretty quickly across these planes.



So all one has to do—and this
might just be only a bit of an exaggeration—if one is on the poor end of this
poverty pyramid is hop across the border and you have a chance at least of
getting a very appreciable increase in living conditions and income, with which
you can then get savings to remit back to home. So the migrations pressures are
just huge. So that is one reason for linking inequality to issues in International
Relations—really fundamental issues, and very very difficult to dissolve.





You've done anthropological fieldwork inside
the World Bank—an institution drawing a lot of criticism from its detractors in
IR. Can you shed some kind of light about what kind of 'animal' the World Bank
is?



First of all, let me say
that at the micro-level—the level of the people you know and the people I know
inside the World Bank—I agree that there are people doing a lot of good work.
But if you look at the organization more generally—the World Bank and also the
IMF—they are clearly instruments mainly of US foreign policy—and any number of
US senators, members of the House, have basically said that. When they are
defending the International Financial Institutions (they often criticize them),
they do so by saying they are important for US foreign policy. And you have to
look at the governance structures to see how it is that the US in particular—but
Western states more generally—have from the beginning, through the very Articles
of Agreement, created a structure which locks in their power, and has made it
very difficult for other countries (including Japan) to significantly increase their
shareholdings. The US has kept the presidency of the Bank and the much less
recognized Number Two position of the IMF, and has used these positions to have
a very strong influence.



Just to illustrate what the
Bank and the Fund do: at the time of the East-Asian crisis—specifically the
Korean crisis in 1997-1998—the IMF mission was in Seoul. The negotiations were
in a hotel there. David Lipton from the US Treasury (and a former student of
Larry Summers who was by then Deputy Secretary) was just down the corridor of
where the negotiations took place, and every so often the IMF people would walk
out of the negotiations and consult with David Lipton, then come back in and—as
Paul Blustein reports in his book called The Chastening—often said
something rather different from what they had been saying before they consulted
with David Lipton.



Just to take another
example, the US being able to appoint the president of the Bank—to appoint a
person known personally to the Treasury Secretary or to the Secretary of the
State, or both—is really of great value: when there is a 'trustful relationship'—or
a relationship of dependency, the president being dependent on those who
appointed him in the Administration—it is possible for those people in the Administration,
or people close to them, to just ring up the president of the Bank, and talk in
a very informal, confidential, trustful way about what is happening in Latin
America, or what is happening in the Middle East, and what the US thinks the
Bank should or should not be doing in those places. Larry Summers appointed a
protégé of his to one of the regional development banks, and this person—who is
very senior in the bank—told me that Larry would frequently ring him, while he
is being driven home in the evening from the Treasury, just to have a chat
about how things were going in her region, and to pass on suggestions about
what the Bank should be doing there, and to get intelligence from her about
what was happening in the region, and so on. The point is that, making these
personal connections is of immense value, but at the same time, the US
Congress, in particular, is very much against having a big Bank against allowing
a capital increase for the World Bank—so that the bank could, as it should be
doing, increase its lending for infrastructure investment ten times. It is just
a complete scandal how little the Bank has been lending for the past 20 years
or more for infrastructure, for roads and power stations and so on. The US does
not want the Bank providing socialistic competition with the private sector: it
says these things are for the private sector to do, and the Bank has to take
care of poverty, because the private sector is not interested in poverty.



So the US wants to keep the
presidency of the Bank, it wants to keep, secondly, its unique veto right on
the big decisions, such as decisions on whether to increase the capital base—but
provided those two things are met it does not care that much about the Bank. In
the case of the Fund, the US is also very powerful, but of course the Europeans
have a bit more relative power. Right now I think the world is in an even more dangerous
sort if financial condition than might appear, because the IMF is acutely short
of secure or guaranteed lending resources, so if there is to be another round
of crisis—as I think is entirely likely within the next five years—the Fund
depends upon borrowing short-term from member countries, like on six months
terms, but member countries can say 'no', and that means that the Fund's
ability to fight crises is quite constrained. The Fund should implement what
was agreed in 2010 by all the member countries represented on the board of the
IMF: to roughly double the quote of the guaranteed lending resources, that is,
resources the countries actually hand over to the Fund, over which they
actually give up country control. All the relevant capitals ratified it with
one exception—the US—because Congress refused because the individual barons,
who are not under that much party discipline, each said to the Treasury: 'look,
the question of the IMF is of zero significance to my electorate, so if you
want my vote on the IMF, you have to give me things that I want like projects
in my constituency and so on'. The Treasury added up the demands of the people,
whose vote had to be won, and it considered those demands were just way, way,
way over the top. As long as a Democrat is in the presidency, while the House
is controlled by Republicans the world is sort of held hostage to this. Beyond
this example, this actually entails a structural problem: the US blocking or
producing a gridlock in international organizations, because the Congress is
hostile to international organizations, because Congress sees it to imply a
loss of US sovereignty. The only way to end this gridlock is to end the US veto
in the Fund and the Bank, but the problem is that the US can veto any measures.



One response of the big
developing countries is to create bypass organizations—such as the Asian
Infrastructure Investment Banks, such as the new Development Bank, such as the
Contingent Reserve arrangement the BRICs have established, and then a growing
number of sort of regional development banks. And I think that that is a good
thing, but it does raise questions about coordination, about who is looking
after, if you will, the global interests, global issues such as climate change.
In short, we need a genuine World Bank, rather than the American-Bank-in-the-World
we have today.



You engage thoroughly with economics and
economic theory. Now there seem to be two kinds of critical approaches to
economics in IPE: one criticizes its rationality as flawed, and another buys
into its rationality but attempts to point out where actual policy gets it
wrong. Where do you stand in this?



If you take the example of
how the EU attempted to impose fiscal rules on Greece, you see a notion of
rationality which draws upon these very primitive notions that I referred to
right at the beginning, where the government is just a household writ large,
and the same set of rules that apply to the budgeting of the household must
apply to the government as well. Here, the assumption is that any macroeconomic
proposition must have microeconomic foundations, that it must be derivable from
propositions about microeconomic agents acting in this sort of self-maximizing
way, and if you cannot derive macroeconomic propositions from those micro
foundations, then there is something unreliable, un-rigorous about your macroeconomics.
So what are then the sources of these micro-economic assumptions?



This leads us to one
fundamental and almost completely unaddressed weaknesses of economics can be
traced back to the Marginal Revolution in the late 19th
century. From that moment onwards, there has been an attempt to model economics
on physics, and that was very explicit on the part of people like Pareto and
Walras, and Jevons, early Marginalist thinkers. They even drew up tables with
terms of physics, like velocity, on one side, and then corresponding terms in
economics on the other. That had a huge benefit in terms of the 'science' of
economics, because it cut economics loose from Adam Smith's and other classical
economists' preoccupations with issues of morality and ethics. Adam Smith
thought his most important book was not the Wealth of Nations but his Theory of Moral Sentiments, on which he was working,
revising yet again, when he died. For Smith, economics and morals were never
separate worlds, but intimately related. So for him, the Theory of Moral
Sentiments and the Wealth of Nations were just twins. The point
about the marginalist revolution, and the embrace of physics as the model, was
that it cut economics free of all that sort of subjective stuff about values. So
economics after the marginalist revolution set off with the assumption that not
production, but the movement of individuals in markets engaged in trading with
each other became the center of gravity of economics. Making the study of exchange
rather than the study of production central was analogous to, say, Boyle's Law
in physics. Boyle's Law in physics explained the
movement of molecules in gasses, as a function of the pressure applied to the
gas. So why did they make that analogy?



The point of likening of
individuals in microeconomic actions with molecules in gasses was the
following. Everybody knows that we do not apply any consideration of
ethics or moral sentiments to the movement of the molecules in gas, so neither should
we apply any notions of ethics or moral sentiments to the movements of
individuals in market exchanges. And that was the way that all considerations
of ethics, of morality were just removed from economics. I for instance asked the
question to well-known American growth theorist, as we were walking down the
street in Providence at Brown University: 'is it moral for people to freeride?'
And he said, 'yes of course, provided they do not break the law'. So ethics and
questions of morality have been almost completely expunged from economics in a
way that would horrify classical economists including Smith; and a particular idea
of rationality has been an important part of cleansing economics from those
moral considerations. George DeMartino, editor of the Oxford Handbook of
Professional Economics Ethics which just appeared has a wonderful phrase to
capture this—'econogenic harm': the harm built into the way that economics,
professional economists work.





Haven't specific fields, like development
economics—a field you engage with yourself—advanced to overcome these
weaknesses in economic theory?



Let me root my answer again
in observations about the linkages between theory and practice, for it is in
practice that economic theory really does its work and its politics becomes
visible. It always amazes me we have had a development industry in place for
roughly the past 70 years with vast numbers of people, organizations, money all
orchestrated underneath this umbrella of development; yet if you go back and
read what the early writers about development and economic growth said—I am
thinking of people like Paul Rosenstein-Rodan, Myrdal, Hirschman, Prebisch, but also Moses Abramovitz. If you go back and look
at what they were saying, it seems to me that we have not advanced all that
much. Sure, we have advanced a lot in terms of econometric techniques, but in
terms of substance we have not. One conclusion I draw from that is that it is
really important that international regimes—for example, World Bank and IMF
loan conditions, but also WTO regimes—give room for experimentation, because it
is really not the case that 'there is no alternative'. This Washington
Consensus agenda has clearly not been effective in accelerating production,
upgrading it, and production diversification, or export upgrading, or export
diversification. So, there should be written into the regimes a lot of room for
experimentation. But this isn't there because of the political origin of these
regimes; because of what western countries want for the rest world, namely, to
open the rest of the world to their markets.



In the 80s there were a lot
of experts in industrial development in the World Bank and they did good work,
promoting industrial growth and investment in productive infrastructure. But
then Anne Krueger came in as chief economist, and brought in a whole lot of
people with her—who, like here, were arch-neoliberals. The industrial growth
people were invited to find employment elsewhere, or to rebrand themselves as
experts in who knows what, environmental assessment, primary education, or good
governance. There was no room for them. This also fitted well with some bad
experiences the Bank had had with investing in infrastructure. It had gotten
into a lot of trouble with large-scale infrastructural interventions such as
roads and dams and the like from, especially, US NGOs mobilizing Congress—which
then put pressure on the Treasury and so on. My lament throughout this whole
conversation has been that we seem to have become just locked into this
direction that was set in the 1980s, and it is very difficult to see what kind
of economic catastrophe would be necessary to give a sufficient shock to
reroute the global system of economic governance.



So after the 1980s, the
Bank sort of backed off and began saying that development, economic
development, was about poverty reduction—the slogan of the Bank became, 'our
dream is a world free of poverty'. You can understand that shift partly in
terms of pulling out of the concern with production to get into safe territory,
but also because poverty reduction seemed to sort of take care of inequality,
because you reduced inequality to poverty—to the poor 'over there', and we can
feel good about helping them; but we do not want talk about inequality, which
involves us, because then there is the question of justice of our income.



But then the most recent
turn is that we're seeing a renewed push for infrastructure in the World Bank
and western development agencies. I think that you can link this recent
infrastructure push to uncertainty about the sources of economic growth. In the
West there is a real question about sustaining economic growth without housing
bubbles and stock market bubbles—in other words, without endogenously building
financial instability. There may well be a similar sort of issue in terms of
the growth of developing countries.





Last question. Adam Smith seems to be
constantly present in your work as a critical interlocutor. How come?



I kind of engage in a
critical debate with Adam Smith, but especially with people today, who believe
his ideas. I often start to frame arguments in terms of his famous 40 word
summary of the causes of the relative wealth of nations, which he actually
wrote in 1755, which is to say long before the first edition of the Wealth
of Nations. I will just tell you what these 40 words say, and then I will
tell you the significance of them. He said:



'Little else is
requisite to carry a state to the highest degree
of opulence from the lowest
barbarism than peace, easy taxes, and tolerable
administration of justice; all the rest being
brought about by the natural course of things.'



So I am struck by how today
many economists say or imply that this is essentially right; you need some
qualifications of course, but essentially that is the nub of it. You might have
to translate peace, easy taxes, tolerable administration of justice into more
modern terms, but that is the essence of it. For example, Gregory
Mankiw—Professor of economics at Harvard, former chair of the National Council
of Economic Advisers during the Bush administration, and author of a very
popular textbook in economics—said in the Wall Street Journal in 2006: Adam Smith was right to
say that – and then he gave the 40 word quote. The renowned economists Timothy
Besley and Torsten Persson wrote Pillars of Prosperity, which also
begins with Smith's 40 words, and they even see the book as a kind of
elaboration, but in that same kind of spirit, of Smith's basic idea. So my
point is that these ideas are still current; they are still the sort of front
of a lot of neoliberal thinking. I am just astonished these ideas all these
centuries later remain so powerful. I have had at the back of my mind the idea
of organizing an international competition to provide a contemporary 40 word
statement, which is sort of equivalent to Smith's, which would obviously have
to be of a more global character, encompassing the globalized world economy.







Robert Hunter Wade worked at the Institute of
Development Studies, Sussex, 1972-95, World Bank, 1984-88, Princeton Woodrow
Wilson School 1989/90, MIT Sloan School 1992, Brown University 1996-2000.
Fellow of Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton 1992/93, Russell Sage
Foundation 1997/98, Institute for Advanced Study, Berlin 2000/01. Fieldwork in
Pitcairn Is., Italy, India, Korea, Taiwan. Research on World Bank
1995-continuing. Author of Irrigation and Politics in South Korea (1982), Village
Republics: The Economic Conditions of Collective Action in India (1988,
1994), Governing the Market: Economic Theory and the Role of Government
in East Asia's Industrialization (1990, 2003). Latter won American
Political Science Association's award of Best Book in Political Economy, 1992.



Related links





Faculty profile at LSE
Read Wade's The Piketty
phenomenon and the future of inequality (2014, real-world economics review)
here (pdf) 
Read Wade's Capitalism
and Democracy at Cross-Purposes (2013, Challenge) here (pdf) 
Read Wade's Rethinking
Industrial Policy for Low Income Countries (2007 ADB Conference paper) here
(pdf) 
Read Wade's Bringing the
State Back In (2005, IPG) here (pdf) 
Read Wade's Is
Globalization Reducing Poverty and Inequality? (2004, World Development)
here (pdf) 
Read Wade's Creating
Capitalisms (Introduction to 2003 book 'Governing the Market') here (pdf) 


Print version of this Talk (pdf)

Issue 40.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1981. ; 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, MO 63108. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1981 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $17.00 for two years. Other countries: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscriplion orders or change of address, write: REVIFW I:OU RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Jeremiah L. Alberg, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor May/June, 1981 Volume 40 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW RELtGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVII-:w for RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. The Feel of Apostolic Contemplation-in- Action David J. Hassel, S.J. Father Hassel's earlier article, "The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery," appeared in the November, 1980 issue. The present article is also a chapter from his projected book on prayer. Father's address is: Jesuit Community; Loyola University; 6525 N. Sheridan Rd.; Chicago, IL 60626. To contemplate is to see a thing or an event or a person as a whole. It is to grasp the totality of a situation and then to let wonder rise, deep fears and hopes surface, the fire of ambition be kindled, and the still-point of one's being touched. Thus contemplation not only views wholeness but also begins to instill it in the contemplator, an experience much needed in our fragmenting times. Persons lacking commitment to focus their energies, families lacking the love to heal their wounds, and nations lacking noble purpose to render them united--all need contemplation as much as the thirsty and starving need drink and food.' Now the power of contemplation appears in theaction which it structures and directs. Thus contemplation-in-action not only carries appreciation for the whole of a situation and thus renders the contemplator more wholesome but also enters into the very situation contemplated to make it more wholesome. For this reason, the more active a person is and the more deeply he or she interacts with others, the more important becomes contemplation for this person's every action. Indeed, the more explicitly tThis thirst and hunger for the meaning and wholeness of life is eloquently and poignantly record-ed in Studs Terkel's interviews with people from all walks of life. His contemplative book, Work-ing (Avon, New York, 1975, pp. xiii-xv) discovers "the happy few who find a savor in their daily job," and the many whose discontent is hardly concealed: 321 322 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 aware we become of contemplation-in-action within our experience, the better we can promote it in ourselves and in others for the healing of our wounded world. But, as always, difficulties arise which keep us from recognizing contem-plation- in-action and from living it more deeply within our experience. First of all, one can observe with envy the high intensity of secular contemplation in the action of artist or business person and can then expect this same intensity to occur within one's own religious contemplation-in-action. False expecta-tions always result in discouragement. Secondly, because monastic people do much of the writing about contemplation, one can mistake monastic contemplation for the apostolic type more characteristic of lay people, diocesan clergy, and active religious orders. Again, confusion here can dissipate religious energies. A third problem connected with recognizing contemplation-in-action is that the latter is an awareness permeating all one's activities. Therefore, it cannot be exposed by merely lifting off one or other layer of experience, nor be isolated by tracing its roots in one particular activity. Consequently--and this is the fourth difficulty--contemplation-in-action will express itself in a great variety of modes as it appears at diverse levels of experience and in different activities, even though it may be a single pervasive attitude. As a result, a person may be lamenting his or her failure at contemplation-in-action while unknowingly practicing it with some success. Perhaps the following exploration2 of these four problems may yield some inkling of what contemplation-in-action is and some recognition of how the contemplative-in-action feels. This, in turn, could be the source of new satisfaction in one's life, perhaps even the beginning of a certain settled happiness. Religious Contemplation-in-Action Out of the Secular The first problem facing us is the confusion of secular with religious contemplation-in-action--an understandable mistake since the first naturally leads into the second. Like all forms of contemplation-in-action, the secular variety discovers and promotes remarkable wholeness in the contemplator and in the object contemplated. For example, the portrait-artist, while center-ing her consciousness intensely upon the child to be painted, tends to fall in love with the latter as feeling and insight blend gradually into the beautiful whole of the portrait and of the person portrayed. The craftsman, too, is fascinated as the pitcher, shaping under his hands at the potter's wheel, is lifted out of the clay in a blend of graceful shape with smooth pouring. The 2I am greatly indebted to Vincent Towers, S.J., James Maguire, S.J. and Donald Abel, S.J. for their detailed comments on the rough drafts of this article, to Mrs. Mary Ellen Hayes for advice and technical assistance, to Dr. Julia Lane for expert encouragement, to the Warrenville (!11.) Cenacle community for their helpful.suggestions. Contemplation-in-Action / ~2~ novelist also shares in this disciplined joy of secular contemplation-in-action. Saul Bellow could not have given us Herzog, nor J. D. Salinger presented us with Holden Caulfield of The Catcher in the Rye, unless each had gone through a period of 'possessed aloofness' while in his imagination he watched and chronicled the full-bodied development of Herzog or Holden out of a vast variety of detailed activities. In the artist or craftsman or novelist, then, one witnesses the power of secular contemplation-in-action for producing that beautiful whole which delights the artist's own heart and the hearts of all beholders. But such contemplation-in-action is not limited to the sphere of the arts. Watch parents playing with their firstborn child and note their total concen-tration on eliciting new responses from it. As the child slowly unfolds before their eyes during its first twenty-four months, they become ever more dedicated to educating it to beautiful soundness of body, mind, and emotions. If this is not contemplation-in-action, what is? In a similar way, the neurosurgeon, carefully and even exultantly applying his previous week's study of X rays, medical research, and techniques to a brain operation, also experiences this contemplation-in-action as he restores wholesome life to his patient. So, too, the lawyer contemplates-in-action when she manages to see her way through the myriad details of a personal injury suit towards those underlying legal principles which will structure for her a forceful, tight case on behalf of her client, Nor is the business person without contemplation-in-action when intense ambition is painting a new vision and directing precise lines of energy to effect this vision. The resultant business organization is a daring orchestration of people and processes brought to total life for the wholesome delight of the business person's mind and heart and for the good of the community. Evidently, then, secular contemplation-in-action operates within any work, artistic or scientific, speculative or practical, to produce wholesomeness in both the contemplator and the action-situation. Explicitly, each of us has, in some way, experienced these types of secular contemplation-in-action and implicitly we compare their qualities with those of our own religious contemplation-in-action--to the depreciation of the lat-ter. Each of us asks in guilt: "Where in my religious contemplation-in-action is the intense centering, the fascinated.vision, the possessed aloofness, the total concentration and dedication, the exultant application to life, the deep satisfaction in wholeness, and the intense ambition of secular contemplatives-in- action?" Why should not the religious contemplative-in-action be \ discouraged--especially if he equates secular and religious contemplation-in-action and does not know that they are meant to nourish each other reciprocally and precisely out of their difference. To understand their respec-tive differences, let us consider how they cooperate. Religious contemplation-in-action completes the secular. For the wholes of self and of object discovered by secular contemplation-in-action take on fuller meaning and larger value witfiinthe more comprehensive wholes of the 324 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 everyday world and of God as these are found by religious contemplation-in-action. A dynamic reciprocity operates here between the two types of contemplation-in-action. As the secular contemplative-in-action (artist, business person, parent, neurosurgeon, or lawyer) enters more deeply into the object to find its wholeness, he becomes more aware of his personal wholeness since the intense concentration on the object demands full awareness of his powers. But such total awareness of object and of self eventually leads into fuller awareness of the everyday world since the secular contemplative must fit himself and the object contemplated into the larger world of, e.g., serving a client, supporting a family, relaxing socially with friends; wondering about the worth of the object produced by the secular contemplation-in-action. Eventually every secular contemplative-in-action has to ask those terrible questions: "How do I and my work fit into the ongoing world? Why should I continue to ply my art, trade, profession, parenthood? Where am I, my family, and my work heading finally?" Such questioning usually leads to the more religious questions: "Is there anything more than this total world? Is there someone or something permeating this world and leading it to a higher destiny, a fuller life? Can I contact this mysterious one or am I already doing so?" When such questions finally lead into the experience of a meaningful world and of a transcendent God, then religious contemplation-in-action has evolved out of the secular and now redounds to the enrichment of the latter. To see how this is possible, note what happens when a family friend at-tempts to heal a family quarrel. He listens intently as the various family members describe the events leading up to the quarrel. The friend tries to piece together (to do a secular contemplation of) this setting and the quarrel. Once he feels that he knows the whole scene, he endeavors to help each family member see this whole so that each can experience some healing-into-wholeness as each admits his or her own faults, the good points of other fami-ly members, the need to forgive each other, and the necessity of planning together for a better family future. This secular contemplation starts to become contemplation-in-action when each family member begins to act out of this vision. Such secular contemplation-in-action begins to move into its religious counterpart when each family member finds a reason to act beyond himself or herself for unified family action, e.g., the preservation of the fami-ly tradition or the hope for future family members. Later, this religious contemplation-in-action attains fullness when individually the family members think of themselves and act as Christians carrying Christ's presence within the family, and when socially this same family as a group does healing actions which image the future Great Community of the Great Tomorrow beyond the grave. But factually, this neat cooperation between secular and religious contemplation-in-action often breaks down. There is a tendency in each human to abort secular contemplation-in-action before it can rise into the religious. St. Augustine describes vividly how this happens when a person at- Contemplation-in-Action / 325 tempts .to control the world, his fellow human beings and himself apart from or in conflict with God's law and providence. In this case the secular con-templative so concentrates on another person or a business project or a grand scheme as to lose sight of the more comprehensive wholes of community-justice and of God's people. Here secular contemplation becomes divorced from religious. The result is that the secular contemplative becomes hypnotiz-ed by the object of contemplation (nothing else is of equal value), then abject-ly slavish to the latter (the object becomes the only hope), then frantically con-servative of this object (e.g., a beloved, a job, an ambition or fond hope, a favorite pastime like gambling or fishing, a power over others). Because all the person's efforts are so fiercely focused on saving his project, he tends to dissipate mind, heart, and imagination. Thus, in an ironic way, the con-templating person literally fragments himself in efforts to mold his private world into a lasting wholesomeness which fits his own self-image and peculiar needs, but which fails to fit the true wholeness of the world and the Transcen-dent One. As a result, even a person's secular contemplation-in-action tends to disintegrate when its religious completion is aborted. To put this positively, religious contemplation-in-action is a contempla-tion whose resultant activities aim to render man more wholesome within the wholing of the world as the latter develops within the dynamic whole of the Transcendent God. The vision of Teilhard de Chardin which sees the universe converging towards the transcendent Omega Point is one illustration of religious contemplation-in-action. The exuberance of such religious contemplation-in-action once achieved can then redound upon its secular counterpart to render the latter passionate for truth and eager for beautiful action within its peculiar sphere of influence. F~'om all this it should be clear that secular and religious contemplation-in- action are distinct and mutually modifying phases in the contemplative person's wholesome life.3 To confuse one with the other is, then, to neglect one for the other and even to risk diminishing both since they are so naturally interdependent. But even within.religious contemplation-in-action, there is a further clarification to be made. Its monastic variety is different from the apostolic, even though, again, both types are needed to stimulate and to enrich the life of God's people. Here, too, confusion of one with the other debilitates life. Within Religious Contemplation-in-Action, the Monastic and the Apostolic Differ Discouragement is just as apt to arise from confusing the apostolic and the 3Karl Rahner shows the intimate connection between secular and religious contemplation when he demonstrates that supernaturally elevated transcendentality (i.e., God's self-communication in grace) is mediated by any and every categorical reality, (i.e., by the world). For the Christian, there is no separate sacral realm where alone God is to be found (Foundations of Christian Faith, translated by William V. Dych, Seabury Press, New. York, 1978, pp. 151-152). 326 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 monastic within religious c0ntemplation-in-action as it is from equating secular and religious contemplation-in-action. For, to seek continually the qualities of one in the other is to be permanently misled and disappointed. Although all forms of secular contemplation seek for wholesomeness in con-templator and in object contemplated, nevertheless as many types of secular contemplation occur as there are types of contemplators, e.g., artist, lawyer, neurosurgeon, philosopher, business person, parent, novelist and so on. It should be no great surprise, then, that the monastic religious contemplation-in- action of the Poor Clare or the Carthusian will be different from its apostolic counterpart in the life of lay person or diocesan priest or apostolic religious. In monastic contemplation the monk or nun searches deeply, within the roots of his or her innermost being, for personal wholeness and for the mysterious wholesomeness of God's life within this being. Now such a demand-ing search becomes possible only if the person withdraws from the more active concerns of life in the everyday world of the apostle. In his Contemplative Prayer, Thomas Merton makes it clear that the monk must devote himself in a special way to renunciation, repentance, and prayer if he is to sound the depths of his being for God.' In monastic religious contemplation-in-action, the quiet sinking into self to find God requires a strict control of attention as one undergoes the rigors of hard manual labor, very close community living, sometimes deafening silence, and occasionally piercing loneliness. Thus the relief from cultural pressures which enables monastic religious contemplation-in-action to occur is hardly an escape from suffering the harsh demands of love and of the daily labor for survival. But it is a religious contemplation-in-action diverse from that of the apostle in the world of art, business, medicine, education, and family. Unfortunately, much less is writteri about apostolic religious contemplation-in-action than about the monastic varietywespecially from the view of the layperson.~ Because the apostolic contemplative is ordinarily working in a professional position or a ,trade or a skill-job (secretary, housewife, telephone linesman, and so on) and is frequently involved in team-work, he or she must give much attention to the daily concerns of the world--the very concerns from which the monastic contemplative explicitly withdraws. Ttfis apostolic religious contemplation-in-action is more depend-ent on secular contemplation-in-action for its dynamism because apostolic contemplatives are intently pursuing professional jobs, trades, and skills through eight to ten hours per day. As a result, the apostolic contemplative is more concerned with outer wholeness of self and world, whereas the monastic 'Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer (Doubleday-Image, Garden City, N.Y., 1971 pp. 19-20). ~Thomas Vernor Moore's Life of Man with God, (Harcourt Brace~ New York, 1956), though quaint, contains case histories of ordinary people enjoying strong contemplation in action. Contemplation-in-Action / 397 contemplative concentrates more on the inner wholeness. Evidently both types of concern are needed by the civic and ecclesial communities since they complement each other. The outer beauty of technological, scientific, and cultural wholeness must be appreciated and promoted if the inner beauty of man's ultimate meaning and destiny is to exist and to be known in depth. On the other hand, the inner beauty of such wholeness makes possible all the outer beauty since the loss of ultimate meaning and destiny in human activities renders technology, science and culture vacuous: if not vicious. Nor is the withdrawal of the mohastic contemplative to be considered unique to this type of contemplation. The apostolic contemplative must prac-tice a somewhat similar asceticism if he or she is to be a first-rank artist, lawyer, neurosurgeon, teacher, sports star, philosopher, business person, or parent. In order to focus intensely upon the contemplated object, such contemplators must withdraw steadily from distractions, occasionally from family life, often from comforts, not rarely from the spotlight of flattering attention. Though the person dedicated to apostolic religious contemplation-in-action may be immersed in the concerns of the world, still he or she must learn to live hidden within the teamwork of the institution and to withdraw from disruptive self-seeking of fame, fortune, and fun. Such withdrawal is essential if the contemplator is to discover better the wholeness of object, self, world, and God. For the aim of every contemplative is to become more whole in order better to see, in all their wholesomeness, other people, the tasks at hand, professional teamwork, family health, national purpose, ecclesial community and God himself. For this reason, the withdrawal should make one more attentive and appreciative of other people, of one's business, of art and music, of wholesome sanctity (a redundant phrase), of professional skill, of science and technology, and of oneself. Such wholesomeness, when appreciated, gives deep intellectual joy and is the fullest reward for disciplined suffering. Consequently, the various types of contemplation-in-action must be carefully distinguished so that each can be pursued with finesse. But since contemplation-in-action has so many ways of expressing itself according to each one's peculiar gifts, situations, aims, and tradition, it is no easy task to discover one's own way of contemplating-in-action. Since each type of con-templation aims at wholeness of object contemplated and of person con-templating, a major error here could fragment the contemplator's personality and induce shoddy activity within his or her specialized secular contemplation-in-action. With this caution in mind, one delves hesitantly within his experience for the feel of apostolic contemplation-in-action, especially since this experience runs so deeply and so uniquely. Towards the Feel of Apostolic Contemplation-in-Action Because apostolic contemplation-in-action is present deep within many actions of the secular contemplative, it can be approached only gradually 328 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 through four steps. The first step consists in answering a series of questions constructed to bring into better focus the secret unity of one's everyday ex-perience. Later, in a second step, reflection on the various levels of this every-day experience helps us to recognize at what level apostolic contemplation-in-action originates. The third step is to work out an explicit definition of such contemplation according to these levels. Here, in a fourth step, one can finally note the feel of contemplation-in-action as it happens within various levels and modes of experience. But let us now take the first of these four steps by leisurely answering for ourselves the following questions: I. Why do I usually get up on time in the morning and not let people wait? 2. Why do I bother to cook breakfast for others and not just for myself? 3. Why do I share my car with others and, on occasional rainy mornings, leave early to get them to work on time? 4. Why, at the job, do I help out on someone else's project when mine is not finished yet? 5. Why should I avoid the second beer at lunch because it makes me loggy at work? Who really cares about my efficiency? 6. Why scrimp and save for others--esp~ecially if they are likely to squander the savings? 7. Why take work and worries home from the~ job? Why bother studying at night to complete degree work or to be more competent in my next day's work? 8. Why keep up correspondence with friends or answer the third telephone call when I'm so tired at night? 9. Why be the one who usually corrects the children and who gets their resentment? 10. Why sometimes spend money meant for entertainment on the needs of others? 11. Why squeeze into the already packed day the Eucharist and another fifteen or more minutes of prayer? In other words, all these why's add up to a single last question: Why do we stretch ourselves out for others hour after hour, day after day, month after month, year after year? Could the answer be that, amid all our sneaky ways, our clever vanities, our downright sins, and our cute manipulation of others to our own desires, we nevertheless do have a strong practical concern for peo-ple, for their welfare and happiness? Could it even be that, deep within, we each feel God quietly encouraging us to stretch our lives out to others? Could it be that, deep within, we want to delight the heart of God? If so, then this is what is called "the stretch," the almost constant doing.of the more difficult out of respect for others and for God. It is, in other words, the willingness to bleed slowly for loved ones and even, at times, for mere acquaintances. This "stretch," then, turns out to be a dynamic unity running through all the day's events to give them meaning and direction. Could it be that this is our seeking Contemplation-in-Action / 329 for God, our God-hunger? Is this our restlessness with anything less than God--a restlessness which renders us mystified at the self-serving actions of the trifler, the super-ambitious, and the bun vivant? Indeed, is this "stretch" or God-hunger the apostolic contemplation-in-action for which we are searching? It would seem not. For such contemplation lies underneath "the stretch" to make it happen. We must yet distinguish various levels of experience and then move underneath each to find the deepest level from where apostolic contemplation-in-action originates. And we find that there are four levels of experience to distinguish. The first or sur-face level is where minor irritations, like the sound of loud rock-and-roll music or the itch of eczema or the sudden hiccup occurs and where minor joys like a satisfying meal or a long sleep or a relaxed laugh, happen. Underneath this surface level, lies the second or physical level where the pains of ulcers or neuralgia lurk and the joys of exuberant good health or of strong sexual pleasure energize one. Underneath these two levels is the third or psychological level where one trembles with fear of failure in one's work or shrinks at seeing the beloved suffer, and where one also is Warmed with the security of being .loved deeply and faithfully by an admired person, or experiences the deep satisfaction of witnessing one's children growing up well. Underneath these three explicitly conscious levels which we all can recognize lies a more hidden fourth level known only implicitly, i.e., by con-trast with the top three levels. Thus a person can feel great joy and serenity at this fourth level, while at the upper three levels he feels terrible suffering and apparent fragmentation. Or the reverse may be the case. "Everything is going my way in health, job-~atisfaction, family life; I've got everything--except that I feel uneasy and deeply restless underneath all of this." In both in-stances, the person feels almost schizophrenic--so clear is the distinction be-tween the top three levels and the deepest fourth level of experience, so direct-ly reverse is the flow of events between the top-three and the fourth levels. Puzzling as this experience is, it is also a revelation of the fourth level where the root of contemplation-in-action lies and it will eventually lead us to the "feel" of apostolic contemplation-in action.6 Apostolic Contemplation-in-Action Is a Heart-Awareness of God and His People To state matters bluntly, apostolic contemplation-in-action is not "the stretch," the disciplined reaching out to others and to God from the third level of experience. It is not the constant calling to mind of God's presence, nor 61 have given a fuller description of these four levels of experience in "The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery," (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, VOI. 39, 1980/6. pp. 808-810, 817-819). Confer also "Phenomenology, Psychiatry, and Ignatian Discernment" (The Way, Supplement #6, May, 1968, pp. 27-34) by Felix Letemendia and George Croft for a similar description of four levels of experience. 330 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 constant explicit aspirations, not the "Jesus prayer," nor one's favorite scrip-tural mantra on the second level of experience. It is not constant conversation with God on the second and first levels.7 Apostolic contemplation-in-action may cause these behaviors, but it is not any one or all of them. Rather, it is more like a heart-awareness of God, an affectionate and deep alertness to God in all events, a strong and warm conviction of God's loving presence at the fourth level underlying and yet permeating all life's experiences and hap-penings. 8 This heart-awareness seems to be always operative, like the buoyancy of a cork under water, always unobtrusive, like quiet background music in office or dining room, always implicit, like a mother's awareness of noisy children in the backyard while she is concentrating on a new cake recipe; always pulsing, like the tennis player's awareness of the beloved watching his match from the grandstands; always underlying, like the companionship between two friends whose attention is riveted on an engrossing motion picture; always growing osmotically, like the friendship between two people sitting in the front seat of a car and silently viewing the. countryside during a long trip. This heart-awareness appears not in the least to interfere with conversation or with algebra-solving or with. business-planning or with party-laughing or with landscape-painting or with surgical operating. Indeed, it can be said that this heart-awareness is actually a person's awareness of God's awareness of him while he works through the events of the day--much as when the lover tennis-star is implicitly aware of his beloved's awareness of him as she sits in the grandstand watching his play.9 This heart-awareness is like the alertness of the saints to God's providence in small happenings. God, like the air, is embracing the saints, enabling them to breathe, acting as the medium for all the surrounding events. In such an at-mosphere, nothing is insignificant. There is a second way in which this heart-awareness of God, called apostolic contemplation-in-action, can be described. It seems to be also a per- 'In reading Henri J. M. Nouwen's books and articles on spirituality, I have rarely felt anything but strong agreement--except for one article: "Unceasing Prayer" (America, Vol. 139/3, July 29--August 5, 1978, pp. 46-51), where Nouwen declares: "We convert our unceasing thinking in-to unceasing prayer when we move from a self-centered monologue to a God-centered di;~logue (p. 48)." Though he characterizes this prayer as contemplation, as attentive looking at God, and as presence to God, still the heavy emphasis on thinking and imagining in the article could lead the reader to a false mentalistic perception of praying always. 8In Love Alone (Herder and Herder, New York, 1969, p. 89), Hans Urs Von Balthasar compares the unceasing prayer of heart-awareness to the "the way a man is always and everywhere influenc-ed by the image of the woman he loves." 9 John S. Dunne (The Reasons of the Heart, Macmillan, New York, 1978, pp. 46-54) gives an acute description of this heart-awareness of God wherein one feels known and loved deeply by God. He puts it in Meister Eckhart's terms: this is a laughing between God and man which images the Trinitarian life of mutual joy between and in the three persons. Contemplation-in-Action / 331 son's awareness of God present within him and working out through him into the lives of others. It would explain somewhat Paul the Apostle's remark: "I live now, not I, but Christ lives in me." In this implicit heart-awareness there is even a sense of acting beyond one's capacities, or of being borne along to meet events for which one feels strangely prepared beforehand. This does not imply that such experience is without suffering. On the contrary, the heart-awareness has the tendency to make one more sensitive to the suffering of others and of one's self and even more ready to assume sorrow. For, remarkably, this heart-awareness opens one up not only to God but also simultaneously to God's people and his world. It would seem to contain a readiness for friendship, and for the obligations consequent upon friendship. It is not a state achieved by spiritual gymnastics, by much reading on the meaning of life, by the use of diaries, by experimental prayer-sessions, by con-stant aspirations, and God-conversation, or by psychological dynamics. Rather, it seems to arise within the disciplined service of others out of love. In other words, "the stretch" seems to set up the conditions in which this heart-awareness, this apostolic contemplation-in-action, occurs. The latter would seem, then, to he a natural development in a healthy life of service to God and his people. It appears to be an availability to others which is adaptive~to their needs, hopes, joys and sorrows and which consequently takes on emotional coloring and religious content by way of this adaptation. For this reason, it would seem that apostolic contemplation-in-action is not an esoteric gift but one which is given to many good people by a God eager to promote such heart-awareness of himself and of his people. After all, such awareness would seem to include a penchant for fulfilling the two Great Com-mandments under a vast array of different circumstances and, therefore, under many diverse modes of action. It is time, then, that we considered some of these modes. In this way we can experientially both test the understanding and get the feel of apostolic contemplation-in-action. Various Modes in Which Apostolic Contemplation-in-Action Is Felt Apostolic religious contemplation-in-action as heart-awareness of God is, then, a deep good will towards God, a warm desire for God, a loving remembering of him in his people and his universe. This single basic convic-tion naturally expresses itself in a thousand different ways according to the thousand diverse activities of the apostolic contemplative. Among these thou-sand ways are the following eleven (if you can recognize them in your ex-perience, then you have, I would ~hink, the "feel" of apostolic contempla-tion- in-action): 1. Hope: a pervading sense of the worthwhileness of one's present life and work for the future; a certain fearlessness in facing radical changes within one's community amid the sudden turnings of history. "Why is everyone so depressed?" 2. Patience: St. Paul's hypornone, the strength to stand underneath and to 339 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 hold everything together when all seems to be coming apart and others are deserting the supposedly sinking enterprise; a kind of dilapidated, yet dedicated, serenity amid much suffering and uncertainty. An ~'old-shoe" type says: "What's the big ~panic about?" 3. Need to be Hidden in teamwork: a wanting to contribute one's best quiet-ly; and yet, in times of stress, a boldness to take on the tough job of leadership. "Tell me what you want done--and if you can't tell me, I'll tell you." 4. Passive Alertness to Others: a willingness to wait, to listen, to hear out a person or a situation; a deep respect for the individuality of others; a refusal to domineer in conversation-work-dispute; no demand for a return on love given--because of trust in the other and in God. "I've got time to listen. Relax." 5. A Senseof Being Companioned through the day (at the fourth level): never being alone because at the centei" of one's heart and of the whole world'is the beloved: a turning to God, and frequently finding him there waiting. "Why worry about anything so long as the Lord is with me?" 6. Sense of an Intimate Providence in one's life, of being cared for with remarkable delicacy: events that at first put everything in jeopardy and turmoil eventually turn out to be fortunate; chancehappenings are later seen to fit together with precision; surprises'are taken as God's special attention to a person rather than as senseless interruptions to his or her life. "Someone loves me and is guiding me to himself over this rough road and dangerous terrain." 7. Sense of Belonging to God, to the Church (his people), to the mother of God, to one's community (parish, family, neighborhood, religious order, charismatic prayer-group): a sense of finally being at home--no matter where I travel; a deep content with God, world, oneself in the midst of contradiction. "Yes, my God owns the world--now what's the problem?" (". the world, life and death, the present and the future, are all your ser-vants; but you belong to Christ and Christ belongs to God" I Co 3:22-23.) 8. Firm Conviction of Doing Exactly What God Wants at the Moment and of not wanting to do anything else or to be anywhere else: a sense of rightness (without righteousness) about one's present action; a determined sense of vocation which is nevertheless ready for change; riding hard, yet sitting easy, in the saddle. "For the moment this is where it all is." 9. Constant Hunger to Serve Others: to give them joy, to help them expand their personalities in happiness-knowledge-commitment--even though the servant (e.g., teacher, counselor) will be soon forgotten and very likely will have little'to show for his or her services. "How can I be of help without getting in your way?" 10. A Steady Sense of Gratefulness to God: for the fullness of one's life--for each person, event, knock-at-the-door; a wonder at how much God has entrusted to oneself; gratitude, the mark of maturity and full humaneness. Contemplation-in-Action "How could you be so good to me, Lord?" 11. Finding God in Others: seeing by faith that this person is beloved by God; not projecting some Christ-image on the person so that the latter is not seen for himself and is therefore depreciated, but rather discovering this new value in the person, and therefore serving him more carefully, listening to him more attentively, finding his core-goodness. "He is my brother and Christ's brother.'" 0 These eleven modes (they could be a thousand) have an inner unity amid their diversity." First of all, each is concerned with the wholeness of both the contemplative and the object contemplated. For example, hope sums up the whole past and present to send the totality into the future without a constrict-ing fear; patience serenely holds the present fragmenting situation together; hidden teamwork binds the group together and offers leadership when fragmentation or misdirection threatens; passive alertness to others offers time and support for the healing process; the sense of being companioned at the center of one's being leads into a sense of providence intimately and delicately converging all events towards a full future goodness; the sense of belonging to God-community-worm produces a wholesome contentedness which paradox-ically can issue into fierce efforts to build a better community and world with the firm conviction of doing exactly What God wants at the moment; the con-stant selfless hunger to serve others naturally builds wholesome community; and the steady sence of gratefulness to God means gratefulness to other which, in turn, produces the close unity of friendship.'2 Clearly, then, this heart awareness of God, this apostolic religious contemplation-in-action, fulfills well the definition of contemplation as the perceiving and the building of wholesomeness in the comtemplative and in the object contemplated. There is a second inner unity among these eleven modes of contemplation-in- action. Evidently, each mode is itself an attitude (an habitually lived value) which inspires and molds the.activity flowing out of it. In other words, the mode of contemplation controls the actibn of apostolic religious contemplation-in-action. But each of the eleven attitudes embodies, in its own way, a single attitude common to them all: a total accepting of all reality (God, t°Yves Raguin, S.J. (Paths to Contemplation, translated by Paul Barrett, O.F.M. Cap., Abbey Press, St. Meinrad, Ind., 1974, p. 82), stresses that "the love of God teaches us to love others for themselves., just as they are, with all their defects and with all their hopes." Here he finds common ground between Eastern and Western schools of contemplation, but also great differences (pp. 4-11). "In How to Pray Always without Always Praying (Fides/Claretian, Notre Dame, Ind., 1978) Silvio Fittipaldi, O.S;A., speaks of prayerfulness as a basic life-orientation under!ying all one's activities (p. vii). He then deftly shows how deep questioning of everyday events (pp. 11-27) and a constant wondering-longing about life (pp. 29-40) can be a praying always. These are two more modes to add to the eleven already noted. '21n his Letter to the Colossians, St. Paul, when listing the signs of Christian growth (1:9-12), ap-pears to mention five or six of these modes of contemplation in action. 334 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 world, self, people) and a sense of being, in turn, accepted by all reality.' ~ This attitude is a deep welcoming of all the people and events of life--an attitude symbolized when one's arms are extended wide in service and one's face bears a confident smile of trust." Now among the eleven modes, one may rise in prominence to succeed a second which then recedes to be called upon at a later time for a different situation. Though a person~may temporarily feel, for example, less hope or less sense of intimate providence, nevertheless these attitudes remain even though submerged under the new succeeding mode of, e.g., passive alertness to others. Meanwhile, the single deepest attitude of simple acceptance or welcome is being expressed in one of the eleven (or one thousand) modes. The modes, of course, vary according to the needs of the situation, the type of work being done, or the growth-phase of the contemplative-in-action. But always the single basic attitude of welcoming acceptance knits them together with expectant trust in God and his world. Could it be that this unify-ing attitude is what enables the apostolic contemplative "to pray always"? Could it be, then, that this basic acceptance of God and of his world is the ac-tive embodiment of a man's fundamental option?" The negative side of this acceptance is dramatized in the death-bed rejection of family, God, and world, when the dying person implies: "God, you'v.e cheated me consistently with this harassing world of yours and with this demanding family of mine. Now stay out of my life forever." Such basic cynicism, bubbling corrosively in each of us, can eat away the roots of apostolic religious contemplation-in-action. To face our cynicism may be to see more clearly the radical source of such ~c.ontemplation. Human Cynicism Versus the Divine Indwelling Over our contemporary culture a vast cloud of cynicism rolls, paralyzing the self-sacrificing attitude which empowers apostolic religious contempla- "Hans Urs Von Balthasar, in his article "On Unceasing Prayer" (Theology Digest Vol. 25/1, pp. 35-37), takes this basic attitude to be a readiness to hear God's word at all times in all things, events and persons. "To pray always, therefore, means to make real what is--in turning to God and to the world." For Von Balthasar, such constant prayer is kept alive by articulated or formal prayer in which it is remembered. "The books of George Maloney, S.J., sketch this weldoming attitude in various ways. Inward Stillness (Dimension Books, Denville, N.J., 1976), sees it as a loving surrender in all things to God's loving guidance (pp. 91-92) and as a heart-prayer of constant thankfulness (p. 99). Nesting in the Rock (Dimension Books, 1978, pp. 86 ff.), develops this theme. The Breath of the Mystic (Dimension Books, 1974, pp. 181-183), speaks of contemplation-in-action as a "contuition," a simultaneous awareness of the creature and of the dynamic presence of God within the creature as its ground of being; it is, then, a lov, ing affinity for all with all b~ings. ~qn his How to Pray Today (Abbey Press, St. Meinrad, Ind., 1975, translated by John Beevers, pp. 40-41), Yves Raguin, S.J., finds that the basic disposition for prayer is acceptance of the human condition. Such acceptance first acknowledges that every good act is under the influence of the Holy Spirit and then enjoys this fact amid all the ups and downs of secular activity. Contemplation-in-Action / 335 tion-in-action. In the face of mammoth social problems, contemporary man is oftencounseled: "Always watch out first for Number One, otherwise you'll be suffocated by other people's needs." The human mind and heart then con-cludes: "Apostolic contemplation-in-action is impossible." And the Lord replies within the heart of each person precisely as he responded to Peter's similar complaint in the episode involving the rich young man: "Yes; it is im-possible- without God." This complaint often takes the form of an objection: "How can I who am so aware of my own fragmentation and partialness be expected to help others to wholesomeness? Who am I to attempt apostolic contemplation-in-action?" The very formulation of this objection is a humiliating experience, yet the humiliation happens to be the first step in doing such contemplation-in- action. Tho married couple raising three young children has known from the days of the first birth that the one spouse's partiainess will, paradoxically and often humiliatingly, be the source of the other's wholesomeness. Hus-band and wife need each other's partialness to become whole, just as they need their own growing wholesomeness to lure their children to wholesome living and just as they need their children's needs tO call them to greater wholesomeness of action. Christ, knowing thoroughly the agony of bringing fragmentation to wholeness, is there to help with Cana's sacrament of matrimony. Thus, apostolic contemplation-in-action, through this sacra-ment, can be intimate to the daily routines of married life; while at the same time the seeming impossibility of marital contemplation-in-action reveals to the cynical that the heart-awareness of God and his people is pure gift. Not rarely the most cyn. ical person of all concerning apostolic contemplation-in-action is the priest ministering the sacrament of reconcilia-tion, that efficacious sign of ultimate wholeness. In the confessional, his fragmented, partial self laments: "I should be confessing to this good pe{son, not he to me. His wholesomeness comes through the more deeply he sorrows over his failures to be of help to his wife and children, his friends and co-workers." Yet as the Lord permeates the priest's absolution to heal the peni-tent, he simultaneously heals the priest precisely through the iatter's humilia-tion at his own fragmentation. The gift of reconciliation for the penitent can often contain the gift of apostolic contemplation-in-action for the priest. Somehow, in allowing God to work through him, the priest has acted beyond his own capacities as a human being and has simultaneously increased the wholeness of the penitent and of himself. But this example is not meant to imply that apostolic religious contemplation-in-action is easily acquired and done. For this basic attitude of welcoming acceptance of God and world, this heart-awareness of God and his people, animates and directs "the stretch," that continuous, disciplined action of serving, healing and challenging others beyond one's own capacities. For the gift of heart-awareness of God and his people demands that the apostolic contemplative constantly and painfully grow in generous action for 336 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 others. To operate beyond one's capacities in this way means to take risks con-tinually and to undergo humiliations inevitably. There must, then, be some unique source of illumination and strength within the being of the apostolic contemplative-in-action. Otherwise, he or she would fragment under the pressures and demands of such a life. It would appear that the divine indwelling of the Trinity is this ultimate source for apostolic religious contemplation-in-action. In Christ's prayer for his disciples (Jn 17:18-23), a prayer of "wholing" action, he speaks of "send-ing" the disciples, and all his believers, just as the Father had sent him so that "All may be one as you, Father, are in me and I in you; I pray that they may be [one] in us, that the world ma.), believe that you sent me." Apostolic contem-plation- in-action becomes, then, the manifesting of the Son, Jesus Christ, to the world in the apostolic actions of the contemplative. But the very action promoted by Jesus within the contemplative has also contained Jesus' mani-festation of the Father to this contemplative. As a result the contemplative's action in the world reveals both the Father and the Son. In this way, the apostolic contemplative becomes Their living glory expressed for all to see in the contemplative's maturing manhood or womanhood. Such action enables Father and Son to be present incarnately to the world. At the same time, the Spirit, indwelling in the people of God and in the contemplative, inflames the contemplative's actions so that they become more truly and fully acts of love (caritas) which simultaneously cause wholeness in others and in the con-templative. Here apostolic religious contemplation-in-action is seen to go far beyond the human capacities of the contemplative as it heals the world into wholesomeness through "the stretch." At this point, the problem of apostolic contemplation-in-action becomes more evident. Misunderstanding of it makes one feel falsely guilty for not hav-ing mystical graces of extraordinary mental vision and will-strength, for not being able physically to see Christ in the other, for not keeping the morning's solitary prayer in unbroken continuity through the day, for not enjoying fre-quent upsurges of strong consolation during work. But rather, it would seem that apostolic contemplation-in-action is the gradual and painful explicita- ~tion of the divine indwelling operative in all the contemplative's actions. It is the slow bringing-to-consciousness of the Trinity's workings within the con-templative's actions, within "the stretch." Now this gradual awareness is, concretely and basically, the apostolic con-templative's developing attitude of welcoming acceptance towards God, his people, and his world. By operating unobtrusively behind and within all the contemplative's actions in the world, this attitude leaves the contemplative's senses, mind, emotions, decision-power, and imagination free to concentrate on the particular work and the persons at hand. As a result, the contemplative is not less, but more, present to the work and the people; not less, but more, alert to their needs; not less, but more, hopeful of their expanding wholesomeness. Such total dedication, made possible by apostolic religious Contemplation-in-Action / 337 contemplation-in-action, becomes that magnificent self-forgetfulness which Karl Rahner sees as "praying always" and as beautiful surrender to God." Consequently, this deep heart-awareness of God and his people which constitutes apostolic contemplation-in-action can be a gradual expansion of the indwelling Trinity's effective presence within the contemplative's "stretch." This presence rises slowlythrough the contemplatives's whole be-ing so that his arms can go out in self-forgetting welcome to God and his world. Thus, the contemplative's subsequent actions carry ever more passion, strength, intelligence, compassion and wholesome beauty. Such con-templative action can then manifest strong love without crushing the beloved and competent service without condescension to the beneficiary. For it will in-clude the fuller action of the indwelling Trinity seeking to make all humans one as the Father, Son and Spirit are one in their own eternal wholeness of the divine family. ~6Karl Rahner, The Religious Life Today (Seabury, New York, 1976), p. 49. 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 White Robed Citadins of Paris M. Grace Swift, O.S.U. Sister Grace teaches at Loyola University of the South. Her mailing address is: Box 192; Loyola University; New Orleans, LA 70118. Ancient bells begin their clamorous count-down of eleven hours. A hooded nun, enshrouded in yards of creamy white wool, rises from her place on the matted rug-covered nave floor of St. Gervais et Protais Church, Paris. She mounts the steps, bows deeply before the icon enshrined on the massive altar, and with her Easter taper, lights the seven-branched menorah standing in back of the Eucharistic table. The Sunday liturgy begins as the celebrant and choir proclaim the central theme: "All you who have been baptized in Christ have put on Christ, Alleluia." During the next hour and a half people from all corners of Paris, indeed from all corners of the world, will find themselves involved in a liturgy that is uniquely prayerful, reverent, dramatic, and stunningly beautiful. For this is why this community came to be--to provide for harried urbanites a setting where they could find an oasis of prayer, where a celebration of the sacred mysteries could unfold with the leisurely, spellbinding grandeur of a true monastic milieu. The people of Paris have voted with their feet for the effort. Before the liturgy begins, the monks (roughly about a dozen) enter individually and kneel on the left side of the wide nave, their prayer area en-cased on two sides by choir stalls. An equal number of nuns, wearing the same deep-sleeved white habit enter, with only one apparent difference in their clothing: the nuns wear the capuche on their heads, while the monks allow it to hang down the back. In back of the kneeling monastic communities, the nave is filled with worshippers whokneel, like them (and very close to them), on the reed rug. Others sit on benches or chairs at the sides and in front of the altar area. In France, one may look in vain in many churches for young people at- 338 Citadins of Paris / 339 tending mass, but here, they are conspicuously evident. One willowy lad sits cross legged on the floor, proclaiming by his rigidly straight back and tucked in chin that he has dabbled in Zen. At times, many of the youths uninhihitedly imitate the profound, fetal-positioned bows of the worshipping monks and nuns. Some wear the special metal cross that identifies them as youths who have spent a week at Taiz6. A turbaned black girl peals forth the French lyrics with the sobbing overtones her tribal ancestors once used to summon dark Senegalese spirits. No guitars, no cheap gimmicks draw them there, for this liturgy is designed to meet the tastes of some of the most cultured urbanites of the world. Along with the youths, a solid strata of bourgeois Parisians also compose the congregation. Everywhere one spots nuns of various congrega-tions, as well as many men who by their nondescript blue and gray suits reveal to a trained eye that they are French priests. They, too, need the nourishment of St. Gervais. As mass progresses, a drunk ambles down the side aisle and dazedly turns 360°. With a blank stare at the congregation and a gesture of appeal with his hands he mutters, "Mes fr~res." He provides no lasting distraction, for all attention is riveted on the liturgical drama. Its magnetism lies not only in its splendid integration of prayer and majestic Byzantine-style music, but also in the witness of the monks and nuns themselves. The communities in charge of this liturgy are now called Les Fraternit~s Monastiques de Jerusalem. The monks started life under the leadership of Pierre Marie Delfieux on November 1, 1975, with the invitation and blessing of FranCois Cardinal Marty of Paris. On December 8, 1976 a company of women formed in a neighboring area near the Church of Notre Dame des Blancs Manteaux. The Rule specifically states that there never was or would be any intention of having a mixed community; each group has its own separate establishment and administration, though they do celebrate the liturgy together and share the same spirit and aims--to be monks and nuns in the city, or citadins.~ They have no pastoral, sacramental, teaching, or organized charitable commitment. Signs notify the public that for weddings and sick calls, they can contact the neighboring churches. The members of these groups aim chiefly: 1) to be present in the city and 2) to celebrate the liturgy and divine office in company with the townspeople. The liturgy being a prime concern of their existence, they take time to plan and execute it with all the artistry their con-siderable, combined talents can effect. In choosing a style of.music for their services, the leaders concluded that much of the contemporary church music was shallow, both musically and theologically. Wanting a dominant style that would manifest a global unity, 'Two articles in French give some information al~out these communities: Jean Leclerq, O.S.B., "Tendances Monastiques Actuelles," Nouvelle Revue Theologique, 10e Ann6e, No. i (January- February, 1978), pp. 90-102 and "Naissance d'une Fraternit~ Monastique ~t Paris," Carmel (April, 1976), pp. 56-66. 340 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 they chose Byzantine modes to accompany their Roman liturgy. With lyrics based upon psalmic and patristic sources, translated effectively into French, the simple, strong, rolling harmonies are easily mastered. The result is almost total participation by the congregation. St. Gervais boasts one of the oldest and finest organs in Paris. It is used selectively and effectively at the end of the liturgy and during special times of meditative prayer. The sisters, with beautiful, clear voices, take an active role in leading the singing, in reading, and in gathering together the offertory procession, which always includes lay people and children. An abundant use of incense in the liturgy adds even more of an aura of Byzantine mystery to the ceremony. The Fraternit6 includes several priests. For the Sunday liturgy, the con-celebrants sing, in three harmonic parts, the canon of the mass. Some other parts of the mass, sung alone by the chief celebrant, are accompanied by a background of soft, harmonic melody, hummed by the monks and nuns. At communion time, the frdres and soeurs draw together to form a half-circle about the altar, completed sometimes by lay. members of the congregation. The priests chant in harmony: "Receive the body of Christ," to which the congregation responds in the same harmonic parts: "We receive the body of Christ." A huge host, the size of an American dinner plate, is broken and dist~'ibuted to the encircled brothers and sisters. The same sung ritual accom-panies the chalice. The result is a moving evocation of a truly shared banquet. The total impression given by all the reverent and graceful movements of the mass is that this is the most important event in the lives of the celebrating com-munity- which is just as it should be. The Monastic Fraternit6s The vocation of citadin was revealed to the founder of the F.raternit6s after profound searching in prayer. The rules for community life have been developed in stages, after actual experience in communal living. The guidelines (for communal use only) are now contained in two mimeographed volumes: l) Au Coeur des Villes, au Coeur de Dieu (At the Heart of the Cities, At the Heart of God) and 2) Le Livre de Vie(The Book of Life). Abundant scriptural references in the latter remind the reader that Mary lived, Jesus taught, the apostles evangelized, and prophets and priests of old sacrificed, in the city. Christ fought the devil and conquered him in a city; the fire of the Holy Spirit descended in a city. The beloved of the Canticle sought her Lover while running about the city, and one day He will make the city his beautiful spouse. Indeed, Heaven itself is a City. "It is there that we must remain," the Rule affirms, since God himself dwells there, and thousands of his brothers work, love, weep, sweat, sing, search, struggle and pray there. The Church of St. Gervais is surrounded by all the civic bustle entailed in commerce and governmental administration. It is near the Quais du Seine where lovers stroll l and tourists buy postcards. Its metro stop is H6tel de Ville, the seat of many offices of Parisian city government. Walking in another direction, a visitor Citadins of Paris / 341 soon meets Rue Rivoli, a thriving center of cheap stores and sidewalk vendors selling anything from ice cream to wool stockings. The picturesque Tie Saint Louis, an ancient area called the Marais, and le Forum des Halles are also located in its orbit. The Rule does not lightly gloss over the difficulties of trying to live a monastic life amidst the allurements of one of the world's most beguiling cities. But, the Livre de Vie asks, "Being torn in two directions, is this not the cross?" To be able to live in the city without succumbing to its worldliness, rules of life are spelled out in the Le Livre de Vie which provide for the monks and nuns an armor of fraternal charity, interior and exterior silence, and liberating poverty. Concrete community guidelines focus upon five related points: 1) Fraternal Life 2) Prayer 3) Work 4) Silence and 5) Welcome and Sharing. Fraternal Charity The Rule never ceases to demand love, both of humanity in general and, harder still, of each other. "Only a very great love can offer the world a legitimate and fair defiance," the Livre de Vie explains. "Our vocation is to be a theophany of the love of God, a living icon of the Trinity. There is no more beautiful liturgy, no more eloquent witness, than that of fraternal love. We must live in the heart of the city the mystery of that love." Along with such a sublimely beautiful articulation of theory, the rule gives some concrete sug-gestions for achieving it: "Ask each day that God pour into your heart love for your brothers, and also to place love for you in their hearts. God can refuse nothing to a community who prays this way., ask the trinitarian God to reveal to you the secret of his unity in plurality . In order to succeed in loving, become transparent. Let yourself be known and seek to know. Knowledge opens the way necessarily to love . Do not be content to be a brother of all; be also a friend of each . Pray that the monastic fraternity be entirely translucent to the Presence of the Word, as a foyer of Light . " Prayer Designedly, the community life of prayer has both very public and very private features. Compline is said in their own oratories, but for the monks, the other hours are sung in St. Gervais, with public participation. The p~riod of evening pra~;er begins around 5 p.m. At that time, monks, nuns and townspeople begin to gather for meditative prayer, followed by the evening office. The office flows into the liturgy about 6 p.m., which finally finishes about 7:15. On Thursday night, the monks keep a prayer vigil from 8 p.m. to 7 a.m. "Pray in the night in the center of the miseries and joys of the city, where ~God has placed you, as a watchman awaits the dawn," the Livre de Vie exhorts. The founders realized that the execution of such a horarium and liturgy each day could be draining; for that reason the communities have a poustinia (desert) time during Sunday afternoon and the full day of Monday, 342 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 which is spent in the country outside Paris. They join Parisians in the national custom of taking a grand vacance during the month of August. Work To support themselves, the members of the Fraternit~s must take jobs in the city. Guidelines demand that their work must be truly useful, prayerful, well executed, and bear witness to their professed poverty. In line with their vow of obedience, their job is chosen in consultation with the prior and council of the community. No job may be taken which could alienate or destroy their religious equilibrium. By a deliberate option to work only part time, they hope not only to free themselves for liturgical participation, but also to manifest to an acquisitive society their own disinterest in amassing wealth. Though they take menial jobs, there is no political aim or thrust to this option. "Ni Marx, ni Keynes, ni Mao. mais Jesus," declares the Livre de Vie. They are to have no role whatsoever in political life, since in that arena, divisions, confronta-tions and compromises are the rule of life. Instead, they are to manifest the Gospel of Peace in the polis by their lives of justice and truth. This alone is their "political" role. However, in an elocution to the community, Cardinal Marty urged them to be "revolutionary"-- but revolutionary in fidelity to their monastic commitment only. Silence To combat the noisy assaults of city streets, with their roaring, swirling masses of buses, autos, motorcycles and scurrying citizens, the monks and nuns are urged by rule to drink deeply of the wellsprings of prayerful silence: "At work, in the street, in your comings and goings, in the public transport, in the midst of the brouhaha of the city, carry interior silence with you. Take, each day, large expanses of silence, and when the evening comes, meditate on your couch in peace and silence. God lives in you; listen to him." Welcome and Sharing One purpose of the Fraternit~s is' to provide an enclave of such silence and peace for other Parisians. Guests are welcomed to full participation at the silent dinner served at their flower-bedecked wooden tables. In contrast to ~normal French custom, no wine, and little meat are to appear at the table. Round loaves of thick crusted, substantial bread form an important part of their diet: Though visitors are welcome, there are definite limits placed upon thepenetration of Paris (and the world in general) into the horarium of the monastic community. Afternoons are for lectio divina. The Livre de Vie tells the entering candidate to leave aside his address book, and to give up once and ~f for all shows and cinemas. Television has no part in their life, but a summary of the day's news is read at breakfast from the newspaper. Citadins of Paris / 343 Life-Style Guidelines for the community actually allow for a diversity of life-styles and a diversity of relationships to the community, within limits. However, only those who agree to follow the Livre de Vie may make final profession. Presently (1980) the Fraternit~s have the status of a pious union. After a postulancy of three months and a novitiate of two years, a candidate makes temporary profession "entre les mains" (between the hands) of the prior. After a period suitably long to discern a true vocation to the life, the bishop of the local church receives the perpetual profession of vows of the candidate in the local church, for the universal church. The coule blanche, the liturgical habit, has many sacred significances. It reminds the wearer of his white bap-tismal garment when he dons it. Its radiant whiteness recalls as well the Transfiguration and the angel on Easter morn, who wore a garment white as snow. The Ancient One in Daniel's vision had snow bright clothing, and a man in dazzling robes appeared to Cornelius in Acts. At home, the monks wear a short, blue hooded smock, topped by a wooden cross suspended from the neck. The latter is also worn with their street clothes. The sisters, like many other groups, have types of non-liturgical dress that vary with their jobs and mode of life. Several wear floor-length blue habits, veils and capes in the streets. Others wear the simple clothing of working women. Spiritual Wellsprings The founder acknowledges his debt to many traditions in developing the spirituality of the Fraternit6s: to Benedict, Dominic, Augustine, Theresa of Avila, the Early Eastern Fathers, Charles de Foucauld, and above all, to the first Christian community described in Acts, as well as the fraternity immediately surrounding Jesus Christ himself. The Livre de Vie and Au Coeur des Villes are liberally enriched with quotes from sources as widespread in time as St. John Cassian and Catherine de Hueck. Believing that communal self-sufficiency in spiritual matters is ossifying, members are urged to nourish themselves on outside resources. The candidate is encouraged to spend a week at a school of prayer at Troussures, France, and make a retreat at a monastery such as St. Benoit sur Loire. Finally, a month-long desert experience at a place like Assekrem, Morocco, is encouraged. Future Plans It is quite evident that this group has tried to proceed every step of the way attuned to the promptings of the Spirit. The Fraternit6s have been invited to bring their type of monasticism to various cities. So far, they have accepted one invitation: under the priorship of Bishop Michel Marie Darmencieo, a member of the Fraternit6, they now are situated at St. Victor's Church at Marseilles, the scene of a monastery established by St. John Cassian. By rule, the community is forbidden to own property or t6 build anything. Wherever they go, they must rent their dwelling place. Into whatever city they do go, ~i44 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 ~they will enter with the purpose expressed in the explanatory sheet distributed in St. Gervais; to "experien.ce the difficulties, alienations, struggles, work, constraints, fatigue, noise, pollution, pains and joys, the sin and the holiness" of the city. Wherever they go, they likewise bear with them the spirit expressed in the Livre de Vie: "Do not forget that the community where you live is the privileged part of the universe where you are to situate yourself. May your monastery be first of all a part of the world where there is life, where love is shared, where joy, work, fervor, praise and peace are to be found. As at home, so also in the world. Reveal and find God in the heart of the world; remember its first beauty and anticipate its happiness to come. In the desert of the urban world may your monastery be an oasis of peace, prayer and joy; an epiphany of Love." On the final page of the Livre de Vie, Psalm 136 is transcribed: . If l forget you Jerusalem, Maymy right hand wither. One does not easily forget a liturgy at St. Gervais in communion with Les Fraternit~s Monastiques de Jerusalem. End of Drought 1 half awoke last night And wondered if I'd heard Soft whisperings outside my window. 1 was about to go back and continue my dream Then 1 stopped--and listened again. Yes, it was true A gentle rain Soft falling on my lawn. The bone cracked earth and croaking grackles Could drink again. It was a stealthy rain Loathe to intrude on the silent sleepers. Then in the morning it blew full blast And blessed the farmers and the flowers. Sr. Mary Margaret O'Grady Holy Ghost Convent 301 Yucca Street San Antonio, Texas 78203 Transfer to a Contemplative Community Marie Beha, O.S.C. Sister Marie's last article in these pages, "The Discernment of the Contemplative Vocation," appeared in the January 1981 issue. Her address remains: 1916 N. Pleasantburg Dr.; Greenville, SC 29609. These very days of your transition are perhaps the time when everything in you is working at him. Rainer Maria Rilke Though the changes in religious life consequent upon Vatican 1I are still too recent for adequate evaluation, they are beginning, at least, to come into the focus of observable patterns. One of these is the phenomenon of transfers from one religious congregation to another. A small but significant number of religious have opted to remain in religious life, but to live out their vowed commitment in another community. Perhaps this .emerging pattern will have something important to say about the future of religious life itself, and about the kinds of communities that have a future. However, any such speculation seems very premature at this point. What is immediate is the process itself, and what it means for individuals and for their communities. A few workshops have been devoted to this process of transferring, and several articles have appeared describing some of its pains and joys. But, for the most part, what has been presented is the movement from one apostolic congregation to another. The present article wishes to focus on transfers from an apostolic community to a contemplative one, a process that relates not only to the transfer phenomenon but also to that growing concern for prayer, and 345 346 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 especially for contemplative prayer, which has been one of the most hearten-ing aspects of the contemporary renewal of religious life. Transferring from one apostolic congregation to another has its own dynamics, quite distinct from what is involved in making the transition into contemplative community life. Failure to appreciate this difference makes it more difficult for communities and for individuals to cooperate with the promise and to evaluate the phenomenon. At the same time there are elements common to any such transferring--questions, for example, of the danger in-herent in the change, the discernment of motivation, as well as the paschal grace of such uprooting and coming into new life. It is the purpose of this paper to present some of these aspects as they are experienced in unique ways by the "contemplative transfer." Dangers and Difficulties To begin with a warning is only appropriate when there is real danger and when the danger may not be immediately evident. Such seems to be the case in regard to transferring. The process of transfer can be dangerous and the danger remain somewhat hidden, since the holiness of the objective may obscure a faulty theology undergirding the process, some confusion about growth in prayer, along with some elements of escapism and/or mixed motivations. The consequences of transfer can be as serious as the loss of religious vocation for the individual and the disruption of peace for both communities involved. Faulty theology may present the contemplative, monastic community as a more "perfect" form of religious life, even downplaying the importance of apostolic involvement as "too worldly." Since any vocational choice can only be evaluated in terms of the person choosing, speaking of an objective "state of perfection" seems to miss the point. Just as religious life itself can be termed a more perfect state (even in the Vatican II terminology ofPerfectae Caritatis) without implying that it would be so for any particular individual, so too, could some such judgment be made about contemplative life. But what is "~ important for the individual to consider is what is better for himself, not what is "more perfect" in the abstract and the general. Moreover, a spiritual theology which rests on the assumption that "one must always do the more perfect" is doomed to run into danger on the rocks of human limitation. Such perfectionism threatens strain and excessive preoccupation with self, neither of which fosters a contemplative spirit. Even for those who are immune from such a false theology, there remains a possible confusion about development in prayer. Sometimes a call to contemplative prayer is translated into a call to monastic life--with conse-quent loss.for the whole Christian community. The transition from a form of prayer that is more active to one that is more passive is a difficult time for anyone. Thomas Dubay has called this the "crack" period in religious development, and it may be compared with the difficulties and crises that are Transfer to a Contemplative Community part of any of the transitions from one life-stage to another. Such critical times do not provide the stability that makes possible good life-choices. Growth into a more contemplative form of prayer is actually part of the development that can be considered "normal" for most persons who are serious about prayer. It says more about the munificence of God's gifts and his desire to be one with us, than about any need to change communities. The latter is a very different kind of call and consequently, one that needs to be discerned separately. Transferring to a contemplative monastery during a crisis time in prayer might mask a reluctance to face the difficulties of persevering in prayer during times of dryness. Individuals may imagine that once they are enclosed, distractions will disappear and consolations will return--in abundance. They will be quickly disabused of such hopes in the everyday of monastic living. Even the prospect of having ample time provided for prayer will prove to hold its own challenge. For "more time" can also mean "more demands": more awareness of distractions, more painful dryness. Add to this all the unsettle-ments that are bound to be part of such a radical adjustment as transferring and prayer may well prove to be even more difficult than before. Similarly, any secret desire to escape the challenges of renewal or to insulate oneself from painful community relationships will be tested in the closeness of contemplative community. Unfortunately, some religious seem to equate monastic religious life with the kind of structured life in community that prevailed before Vatican II. So the desire to transfer can spring from a search for a more compatible expression of apostolic religious life, rather than ~t'~a genuine contemplative vocation. In reality contemplative communities have been just as much affected by Vatican II renewal as have apostolic congrega-tions. Changes, for example, in the living out of enclosure have caused just as many painful tensions as have adaptations in apostolic involvement. Struc-tures have developed in both forms of religious life and will continue to do so. Renewal requires participation, not escape, no matter where one is called to live. Nor does a transfer necessarily ease the tensions of community relation-ships. On the contrary, living in the close, everyday proximity of enclosed community may only heighten such tensions. Spending all one's days with the very same people, in a restricted area and with a limited sphere of activity can never provide escape from the interpersonal. "Contempla(ive community" actually requires a well-developed capacity for sharing life with others, including a delicate balance between intimacy and a respect for solitude which enables one to live with others in a silence that communicates life. In a similar way, an authentic call to transfer is anything but an escape from apostolic involvement. On the contrary, what will be needed is a vibrant desire to be given to and for the sake of others, joined with a faith that is strong enough to translate this call into an everyday service that is not sustained by any immediately tangible results. So if a person is dissatisfied with the :348 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 results of his apostolic work, it would be foolish to try and escape into the even less satisfying life of faith that is the "labor" of the contemplative. And if anyone hopes to find a variety of stimulating options within the everyday tasks of contemplative community, he will be rapidly disillusioned. Even the more plausible motivation of resolving a conflict between prayer and activity can speak more of escapism than of genuine call. Vocation is not discerned negatively, but only through such positive signs as a genuine desire for a life of prayer (not just more time for prayer) and a belief that this self-gift will bear fruit in and for the Church. Such positive criteria for discern-ment will be presented in more detail in the following section of this paper. These, then, are a few of the hidden dangers rising from faulty theology, a confusion about growth in prayer, and tendencies to eseapism, which could prompt an individual to transfer for the wrong reasons. Still to be considered are some of the real dangers involved in the process itself both in terms of the individual and of the communities involved. When a person professes vows, the commitment is made to God, but it is made within the context of a particular community, and this communitarian aspect is not to be changed lightly. Though made by man and so changeable in itself, life in community embodies a call that is divine and eternal. In all its particularity, community gives a specific form to vocation. While not of the essence, still this form may be a very important, even necessary, condition for vocation to grow and flourish. Consequently, changing from one community to another risks undermining the stability of the individual's commitment. If the new community does not provide the hoped-for environment, return to the former one may prove to be impossible and so a vocation may be lost. Other risks inherent in transferring center around the extent of adjustment which will certainly be profound. "Culture shock" is almost inevitable. Even though the "natives" of the adopted community speak "English," still new values, different associations will make it difficult to discover the meaning of words and actions, of response, and of nonverbal communication. The result will be a feeling of lostness and confusion that cannot be met by something as simple as asking questions. For there are no words in which to phrase the ques-tions, no answers that make sense. There may even be an unnerving lack of awareness that something has been "misunderstood" until confusion has deepened into a cloud as indefinite and suffusing as fog: Similarly homesickness for one's community of origin can be even more profound than the feeling that accompanied one's first leaving home for the convent. For the home that is now being left has claimed more of one's adult life and so has called for a freer choice, a more committed response. To leave ~one's family for .the sake of forming new life-bonds is part of the naturalpro-cess of growth and development. But leaving the community of one's first choice for another is not so natural, and the consequences are often profound and disturbing. In the process a certain spirit of criticism can develop. This may even bea necessary part of discernment as one reevaluates call and response, one's own Transfer to a Contemplative Community / ~149 vocation and that of both communities involved. But such critical reflection can become a pattern of thinking that keeps one on the periphery, "watching" and judging way beyond the period when this stance is necessary. This spirit of uninvolved criticism chips away at commitment and makes participation in community impossible. Such are a few of the real dangers involved for individuals who are con-sidering transfer'ring. What are the risks for the communities? Loss of membership in the original community is one obvious area of concern--not just the obvious matter of a person leaving this community to join another. What may be far more painful is the kind of vocational questioning that can arise among other members of the parent community. Such reevaluation may be wholesome, if it leads to renewed discernment of and commitment to one's own vocational choice. But it can also be weakening if it simply adds to diminished morale, feelings of hopelessness and that sense of disillusionment that plagues so many during times of transition. Similarly, the community receiving the transfer can have its peace dis-turbed if the new member, already a formed religious, brings along an incom-patible spirituality together with an undocile mind and heart. Within the closeness of contemplative community, such lack of harmony can be pro-foundly disturbing to all, with consequent loss of service to the whole Church. Such are the dangers in~,olved, both for individuals and for communities. The difficulties are real; the cost is certainly not minimal. The basic question is, then: Is transferring worth theprice? Are the real risks offset by still greater advantages? Are there compensations for the dangers? Yes, if transferring ac-tualizes a more personalized call-response, leading to still deeper commit-ment. When such is the case, not only will the individual find fuller life in the Lord, but both communities involved will also be enriched; such is the unity of all members in the one Body of Christ. The whole question of transferring, then, seems to hinge on the validity of this new call-within-a-call. Theologically such development is possible since the only absolute fidelity in this special covenant relationship is found in a God "whose love is everlasting." The response of any individual can only par-ticipate in this love through an ongoing "creative fidelity" aimed at fashion-ing all life's choices in the light of an original baptismal commitment. The direction for such responsiveness will always be toward greater specificity, a more personal love. Though this ongoing response will be shaped within the context of a particular community, this form, while remaining important, is still only conditional. It may be changed, if this will serve to realize more closely one's first commitment t6 the Lord. Particularly, then, for our present purposes the issue revolves around discernment of an authentic call to transfer from apostolic to contemplative life. Discernment an Authentic Call to Transfer What might be some of the signs that one is being called to deepen one's ~i50 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 baptismal commitment by transferring religious profession from an apostolic congregation to a contemplative community? Here we shall suggest a few of the practical ways in which the traditional vocational criteria of desire, right motivation, and ability to live the life, are evidenced in the case of a proposed ttransfer. \ A long-term desire for contemplative life seems one of the clearest signs that someone should undertake the risks of making a transfer. In many cases, this desire was already present at the time the individual entered religious life but, for a variety of reasons, it was never actualized. Circumstances may simply have made it impossible; ignorance or poor advice may also have con-tributed. So the desire was put aside, perhaps completely forgotten. Profes-sion was made, and that commitment lived out wholeheartedly and with joy. But years later the desire for contemplative life reappears. Sometimes it is recognized as a familiar part of one's past; sometimes it comes as a new and surprising idea with recognition only following later. In either case, such con-tinuity with the past provides a sense of direction in the unfolding of one's per-sonal salvational history. Even when.the desire for contemplative life is not remembered or recogniz-ed as part of one's past, at some point in the present the emergence of this desire becomes so strong that it can no longer be ignored. When first en-countered consciously, the desire is more often a matter of wanting to live out contemplative values rather than a careful comparison/choice of active-i verSus-comtemplative community. A whole life devoted to prayer, supported and challenged by a community of other "pray-ers," by solitude and silence, combined with a very simple, even austere style of life: these are some of the values that become increasingly important. As desire for them grows, so, too, does the longing for a way of living them out more fully and completely. At first this may be met by providing more time for prayer, arranging to live in a prayer-centered local community or one which is experimenting with a simpler way of living. For some, such restructuring of life-style is the answer; for others this is not enough, and the desire continues to grow. A period in a House of Prayer may be another option and, once again, this may provide the right balance of prayer and active apostolate for certain individuals. For others, the quest must continue simply because the desire for a purely con-templative life continues, increases, and must ultimately be met in life. This longing for a way to live out contemplative values may lead one final-ly to a moment of realization and choice. Apostolic religious life can no longer ~provide the support, stimulation, structure for the kind of contemplative life to which the religious feels called. And at this point, transferring becomes a matter of vocational decision. Such recognition is eminently paschal, filled as it is with the painful realization that one must leave behind his "homeland" and "pass over" a desert of unknowns. Yet there is also joy, an anticipation that what lies ahead promises more life, deeper peace. Even the pain of leaving the congregation of one's first profession is somewhat tempered by the realization that unless he Transfer to a Contemplative Community had given of himself there, had truly identified, there would be no loss now. Nor would there be much hope of future success. This experience of having been fully part of one's original congregation, of having found peace and joy in community there, is almost a presupposition of any authentic call to transfer. Someone who has not been happy originally probably will not find any more satisfaction in contemplative life. On the other hand, an individual who has known what it means to give himself to community and in community may come to realize that another successful identification is possible, even though it will be made with some pain. This returns us to the whole complex question of motivation. Why should an individual who has already made profession consider transferring his com-mitment to a contemplative community? In the preceding section we examined a whole series of false motivations, including poorly founded theological prin-ciples, escapism, and an inadequate understanding of contemplative life. These need to be confronted, not in the safety of abstraction, but in the reality of one's own life-experience, and with the realistic help of others who know the individual and both forms of religious life. Of even greater importance is the discerning of positive motivation, since a mere lack of obstacles does not give clear indication that a person ought to go ahead in a certain new life direc-tion. Vocation is positive call, not just an absence of negative criteria. To ask the "why" of one's motivation is important and fruitful but only so long as one keeps in mind that the "answer" cannot be found by adding up worttiy reasons, for, in the last analysis, human motivation remains mystery. It can never be known in its totality, with certainty. The reasons we give are, at best, approximations, and the final answer to the "why" is found only in the living out of the decision. Having recognized that a list of reasons never adds up to certitude, still it can be an indicator that an individual should risk the time and energy of a fur-ther discernment in actual life. Very often the "why" of a transfer can only be phrased in an unsatisfying "because, somehow, I can do nothing else." Such an experience of almost necessity, of inability to do anything else with one's life until this pressing question has been answered, may be an uncomfortable, but true indicator of basic motivation. Such necessity, though, is not a matter of compulsiveness, but rather of a freedom that grows, once the internal logic of choice has been admitted and acted upon. A person may come to discover that his whole movement of life has been in the direction of contemplative vocation, though the surface geography of his activities has been quite different. These very differences may even have been unconscious protest. Such, for example, is the case of an individual who has been a strong advocate of apostolic spirituality, of social involvement, of variety in ministries. All the while, what the person has been seeking on the deepest level, is a way of giving himself completely to the Lord. All the above are real ways; all have been tried. But all still leave something "wanting." "How can I be more giving?" becomes less of a question to be considered. Now it demands an answer that must be made in life. ~52 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 Traditionally, someone entering the monastery is asked, "What do you seek?" If the first answer, not just in liturgy, but in life is "The Lord," then there is good hope that what is being sought will be found. This is not to say that the person considering transfer has not already "found the Lord." But, like the good Christian who considers religious life just because of his previous discovery of the Lord, so too the individual who seriously considers transfer should only be desirous of greater union, a kind of intimacy that, for this par-ticular individual, seems more realizable in contemplative community. Put in still more concrete terms, someone who is already a religious may apply for a transfer because he experiences a desire to give prayer an absolute priority of time, energy, life-focus. In apostolic religious life, consideration of the needs of others, and of one's response to these needs, must always be cen-tral to discernment; this seems to be the meaning of apostolic spirituality. In monastic life, however, the central concern is the totality of life of prayer, and it is this dedication to prayer which becomes one's service to others. Consequently, the desire to give oneself to others through total dedication in prayer is central to any discernment of contemplative vocation, and this becomes even more critical when there is a question of transfer. This is because the person desirous of transfer has already internalized a spirituality of active, direct service, and his transition to a quite different orientation may not come easily or quickly, But unless an individual can come to see silence, solitude, simple manual work, austerity of life-style as contributing to a life of abiding prayer, and further, believe that personal prayer, lectio and liturgy are one's own call to building up the Body of Christ, then contemplative, monastic life will seem empty and fruitless. Moreover, such belief cannot re-main an intellectual assent, nor even an abstract faith-value; it must become personal conviction and motivation for life. Ultimately, then, desire and motivation are just the beginnings of discern-tment for a contemplative vocation. Only by living the life can the presence or absence of God's enabling grace be discovered. So let us conclude by sug-gesting some of the areas which will be particularly relevant in the life-testing of a call to transfer from apostolic to contemplative religious life. Will the potential transfer-person be able to go beyond the initial obstacles of radical adjustment with all its attendant anxiety, of separation from the original community which has provided so much of his identity and emotional support? Put in more positive terms, will the person, first of all, "survive" the transfer? For some, the culture shock, already alluded to, is so severe that there is consequent loss of health or debilitating emotional disturbance. And this, not just in the first crisis of adjustment, where it might well be expected, but increasingly as time goes on. When this happens, life experience leads to a negative discernment. On the contrary, when the Spirit is truly inspiring a person to make the transfer, then, despite the pain, growth will occur. Radical adjustment, separation anxiety, culture shock will all be in the service of conversion. The Transfer to a Contemplative Community / 353 individual will grow and grow in contemplative ways. A new identity will begin to emerge when the more familiar response of teacher, nurse, "member of." are no longer applicable. There will be a new appreciation for one's unique giftedness as person, simply because one is and one exists as a special expression of the Father's creative love. Growth will also occur through positive identification with the new com-munity. Ac.ceptance takes time but gradually new relationships will be formed, an individual will fit in, and his suitability for the life will be confirmed by the response of the community. What begins in strangeness will end in familiarity. For example, enclosure will no longer be a matter of adjustment, perhaps of difficulty, but will evolve into a simple means of ensuring the kind of solitude necessary for prayer. Prayer, in its turn, will grow and deepen. The regular praying of the Liturgy of the Hours in choir will no longer be unfamiliar ritual, nor frequent "interruption," but regular nourishment and opportunity for praise. The simplicity of the life, far from being monotonous, will lead to peace, making possible a "richness" of response that can only be sustained within a somewhat austere life-style. All of this, however, takes time. It requires effort on the part of the one who transfers; it requires also acceptance and assistance on the part of the community. Above all, it requires the empowering grace of God's call. When all of these are present, and when the passing of months and even years has allowed for a new identity to be formed, then the transferred person will final-ly come to recognize himself as a contemplative, a member of his new com-munity. The past will merge into this new present and integration will occur. For example, former skills and talents will find new expressions or will be sacrificed, "counted as nothing," in view of something still more worthwhile. Painful parts of the past will be healed; grateful remembering will allow all that has been to be incorporated into the present and open the way to the future. In short, adjustment will make way for gradual growth, and this growth will be in the direction of incorporation into the new community. When this occurs, the transfer will have been accomplished, and a new identification will have been made. The individual, as well as both communities, will be enriched, because, whenever life is lived more fully, the w.hole Body of Christ is vitalized. Let me conclude with a comparison. Among the old Irish monks, the grace of martyrdom was described in three ways: the "red" martyrdom of shedding one's blood, the "white" martyrdom of desire to give One's life for the sake of the gospel, and finally, the "green" martyrdom of exile, of pilgrimage and ac-cepted separation for the sake of new life in Christ. The transferred person may well find the grace of this unique vocation expressed in the hope-filled "green" of separation from what is familiar, good, loved, for the sake of greater union-- in contemplative community. The Right to Solitude Roman Ginn, O.C.S.O. Father Ginn, a monk of Gethsemani Monastery in Kentucky, has been living as a hermit in Latin America for the past fourteen years. His last article, "The Ladder of Prayer," appeared in the January, 1980 issue. Father Ginn's marling address is: Apartado 44; Huajuapan de Leon; Oaxaca, Mexico. The renewed interest in hermitical life during the last three decades should not be viewed with alarm but as a rediscovery of one of the first and most traditional forms of contemplative life. This rediscovery is taking place at a time when men are becoming more aware of their essential needs and rights. Speaking in the Music Council assembled by UNESCO, the violinist, Yehudi Menuhin, declared some twenty years ago that silence is one of man's princi-pal needs and concluded: "I hope that the right to silence will be recognized as being as important as the right to pure water and air." But the same claim should be extended to solitude. For if man is a social being who cannot develop as a person in perpetual solitude, in a very true sense he is also an un-social being who experiences the impersonality and artificiality unavoidable in relations with others (excepting perhaps with those who form his intimate cir-cle) as a kind of violence. The person's relation with society is problematic and neither his need for communication nor for solitude can be left unsatisfied without damage. But how can solitude be called aoneed and a right? Neither primitive peoples nor children feel any such need. But this is because they do not see it as a positive value but as isolation. Even the ea,rly Hebrews missed its positive side. They regarded solitude as an evil, a co~nsequence of sin, and promised God's special protection to those .moist exposed to it: the poor, widows, strangers and orphans. The Greeks however attained a positNe view of it. The hero of the Greek tragedies lives in a solitude that is both a condemnation and 354 ~ The Right to Solitude / :355 a privilege. Sophocles, for example, presents Oepidus as passing from a period of painful isolation into a new form of solitude that has something divine about it. But even if the Hebrews never escaped from a negative concept of solitude, they discovered the key to its understanding as a positive reality. For they gradually realized that each must 'learn to separate from the collectivity and face God and his will as an individual as well'as a member of society. They also saw that God could call some individuals to positions of confrontation with society which would force them to live in isolation. But they never managed to transform this isolation into a privileged situation and a means of closer union with God. So, without grasping the value of their discovery, they passed on the secret that man's development as a person is somehow connected with his ability to temporally break his ties to society in order to take possession of himself as a unique reality, an individual and responsible I. They present Jeremiah, for example, living through an isolation he deplores without know-ing how it is slowly transforming him from a timid, village youth into God's iron, ~ The oriental religions appreciated solitude as something positive long before the coming of Christ. Early Buddhist texts are full of its praise as a means of spiritual development. Even though Buddha himself later prescribed communal life for his followers, he never lost his esteem for solitude. In a statement preserved by the Itivattka, for example, he says: "O monks, have your dwelling and delights in solitude. Rejoice in solitude, dedicated to mental calmness in the depths of your selves, without forgetting to meditate, penetrated .with intuition; seek your dwelling in desert spots." The Udana records the story of the monk Bhaddiya who lived in a mango forest. Passersby had often heard him repeating over and over: "What happiness!" When they told Buddha about him, he called the monk and asked for an ex-planation. Bhaddiya replied: ¯ Sir, before, when i was a layman and enjoyed royal power as the father of a family, I had guards distributed both inside and outside my palace . And in spite of the fact that I was protected and safeguarded in such a way, I lived tormented by fear, restless, suspicious, frightened. Now, sir, wherever I find myself in the woods, under a tree or in a solitary spot, even though I am alone, I live without fear, tranquil, trustful, without trepidation, unworried, in peace, with whatever others give me, with my mind as free as a forest animal. This is why I repeat: "What happiness, what happiness." The poetic sections of the Buddhist canon love to use images of forest animals to describe the advantages of the solitary life. "Like a lion that over-comes everything, that wanders victorious as king of the forest, visiting its most distant corners and unfrightened by rumors." The solitary individual is likewise compared to the elephant and rhinoceros. The localities chosen by the first followers of Buddha as most apt for the pursuit of their end are another indication of the positive value they saw in solitude: mountains, forests, caves and cemeteries. 356 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 When Christian monasticism appeared in the mid-third century, it manifested a similar love for solitude, inspired of course by Jesus' example (See Mr. 4). Like their Oriental brothers, the Christian monks regarded it as the mother of the spiritual life. Cassian felt that normally the more solitude a monk had, the greater was his perfection.He put his third conference on the lips of Abbot Paphnutius, who lived in such inaccessible places that even other hermits "only with great difficulty caught a glimpse of him every now and then." Such a man was fittingly surnamed the Buffalo. But the fact that most of the praises of solitude in the early Church originated with monks (or ex-monks like St. John Chrysostom) does not mean it was something that concerned them alone. If they exploited it more than others, it was only because in general they took Christian life more seriously, and experienced the positive role of solitude in its development. Their appraisal has been confirmed by modern philosophers. Kierkegaard among Christian, and Nietzsche among non-Christian thinkers strongly stress the importance of solitude for personal development, If they exaggerate, this is only a perhaps necessary reaction to modern society's fear and devaluation of solitude. Nietzsche makes it the supreme value, one indispensable for the growth of all others. For a Christian it can only be a means, even though one - greatly neglected today. As the Greeks saw and the Hebrews sensed without clearly understanding, solitude reveals man's deepest self to him making it possible for him to become aware of his interior resources and discover meaning in his life. Because of its value in helping the individual pass from the suggestion of the collectivity to the liberty of maturity, it is a basic human right that must be carefully p~eserved. For the Christian it is also the entrance into that most sacred and secret .region of the person--his interiority--where union with God takes place. As St. Augustine loves to repeat, God is in the most intimate part of us. He is more truly within us than we are. Even after one has experienced enough solitude to develop into a mature person, periods of it will continue to be necessary, during which one's self-possession may be renewed. Otherwise a gradual self-alienation can set in that will prevent the individual from entering into deep and lasting communion with others and will allow him or her to sink into the negative solitude of isola-tion. Positive and voluntary solitude is a good way to prevent negative solitude. Such periods of solitude should not be used to sleep or simply rest in, but to feel out one's roots actively and become more one's true self before God. Only by doing this will the individual again become fit for fruitful rela-tions with others. There is al~;ays a danger however that we will turn solitude into an ab-solute, and be tempted to stay there. This would not be right, for God calls very few to follow in Abbot Paphnutius' footsteps. Too many buffalos would upset the Church's spiritual ecology. The ideal in most Christian lives will always be a happy balance betw~ei~ solitude and s6ciety, as Jesus himself lived The Right to Solitude / 357' it. To stay longer in solitude than God wills can lead to spiritual sterility. But after all the danger of overstaying one's time in solitude is not great. For, as many who have attempted hermitical life during the last thirty years have discovered, if the solitude is real, it will become unbearable for someone who does not belong there. As one of the Desert Fathers remarked: "The desert vomits out those whom God has not called into it." Covenanl The Father knocks at my door seeking a home for his son: Rent is cheap, 1 say. I don't want to rent. I want to buy, says God. I'm not sure 1 want to sell, but you might come in to look around. 1 think 1 will, says God. I might let you have a room or two. 1 like it, says God. 1'11 take the two. You might decide to give me more some day. 1 can wait, says God. I'd like to give you more, but it's a bit difficult. I need some space for me. I know, says God, but I'll wait. I like what 1 see. Hm, maybe 1 can let you have another room. 1 really don't need that much. Thanks, says God. 1'11 take it. I like what 1 see. I'd like to give you the whole house but I'm not sure-- Think on it~ says' God. 1 wouldn't put you out. Your house would be mine and my son would live in it. You'd have more space than you'd ever had before. 1 don't understand at all. I know, says God, but 1 can't tell you about that. You'll have to discover it for yourself. That can only happen if you let him have the whole house. A bit risky, 1 say. Yes, says God, but try me. I'm not sure-- 1'11 let you know. I can wait, says God. 1 like what I see. Margaret Halaska, osf On Being a Superior Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Father Meenan resides in the Jesuit community of 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Though it may seem strange, .I would like to begin a treatment of the role of the superior by reflecting for a bit on the phrase we so often use, "Thy will be done." When prayed, as in the Our Father, does it make any sense at all, when you think about it? Is there, for instance, some ,super-God" to whom the prayer is addressed, asking that he take care of God so that he makes sure that God's will gets done? Or maybe God doesn't know what his will is, so we pray, "Hope you find out." Perhaps God is in a struggle, so that our prayer is equivalently, "Hope you win!" In other words, this phrase doesn't make much sense--if you just take it at its face value. But I think that the phrase does begin to make sense when ! begin to realize that, in using those words in prayer, I've taken a stand. Whether I join my will to his in prayer or not, his will is simply going to be done. What I am saying when I use those words is, "I want his will to be done. I 'want in' on the whole process. I want to be involved." And so there is a commitment of myself to the project when I say, "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done." Then the prayer begins to make sense because it takes me from the luxury of being a bystander and puts me right in the middle of things. It begins to make me hungry that his will be done. And then, in truth, it becomes the prayer of my heart. Then it becomes a real prayer--and a fruitful starting point for a reflection on the role of being superior. The problem is that the words come too easily. The problem is that I have grown up with the words, and I lose track of them, of what they say. The problem is that I have said them too often. I fiave gotten used to them. And so they lose the force they should have: that there is a great project afoot, and I want to be involved in it. And this, basically, is what this article on the role of 358 On Being a Superior / 359 / the superior is going to be about: God's will for the person who is superior in t the exercise of the office of being superior. For purposes of this article, I don't care about the sociology of leadership. I don't care about the psychological dimensions of community. And I certainly don't care about the canonical details of implementing the office. What I do care about is the~spiritual a___.__~sp.e__~c_t 9 fob_ei_.o.ng s__~up.e~r_ior, of getting a feel for the role of being a superior. I care about the conviction that one has in exercising the office of superior. Conviction is going to involve feeling, precisely because one's whole person is involved in the truth of what he is saying when he speaks or acts from conviction. What I would hope to evoke in the course of this article is a conviction, a felt truth, that locates the person, invests the person, identifies the person in what he knows. To this end, I would invite the person who is superior to share with me, through these pages, in a meditation. I.f we are going to make a meditation together, we ought to have a "com-position of place." For this, I have chosen Peter at the lakeside, after the Resurrection, when, according to John's gospel, Christ said to Peter, "Feed my sheep'." Just before this, he had asked Peter, "Do you love me more than these?" Isn't it a shame how cheap we have made the word "love" today? What does it mean to say, "I love you more than these"? The question is important because what is at issue is the building of a life on the love of God. But how do we know if we do love God? Is our confidence in our love go-ing to come out of our feelings? Well, for most of us, God isn't "real" enough for us to have very strong feelings about--except rarely. And probably in those moments, often enough, the individual is deluded. In point of fact, most of the days of my life, I don't feel love for God. How do I know, then, if I love him enough to be able to build a life on love? t/~ I f I love, I will do the work of love. I f love is there, the fruit of love will be there. If I am concerned about the things of the Lord, about him and his kingdom and his service and his glory, then I know I love. I don't care what I feel. I know I love, because the fruits of love are there. Even here, though, the issue is not all that clear, simply because I can also fake the fruits of love. I can ape them. I can do great and good things, noble and glorious things--without love. I can do them just because I am ambitious, or because I hate to leave things untidy and have a neurotic concern for neatness, or because I want to be noticed, or because I have career preferences, or because I have a developed sense of responsibility, or because the easiest way to be invisible is to be merely and conventionally competent since, if there are no problems in my sector, nobody is going to stick his nose into it--and that is what I want t'o be, invisible. What is done for any of these reasons does, I suppose, represent the "works of love," but these works stem out of my love for myself in one fashion or another, not out of my love for God. 360 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 In determining the presence or absence of the love of God, then, it is clear that the intention is going to be very important--not the expressed intention, but the real intention. And the real intention is in the heart and soul, lying under the words I use to express it. The grace of our meditation will be the grace not to be deaf to God's call, but prompt and diligent to do his most holy will. If being superior is a chore, a task for an individual, then that individual is going to fail. If it is not a work of love, then at best he will be merely a good administrator. At best, he will make the canonists happy. But if being a superior is a response to God's call, if there is an eagerness to be prompt and diligent to do his will, then the person will not be the performer of mere tasks: he will be a superior. 'From what has just been written, it is clear that I am convinced that being ¯ superior is a very definable, concrete, explicit vocation from Almighty God to a particular individual. In terms of this call, God says to those whom he sum-mons in this fashion, "Feed my sheep," which is the core reality of the voca-tion of being a superior. You see, being a superior is a vocation, a call from God. It is much more concrete than one's'~all to enter a congregation. It is more clearly defined than one's professional competence. In the present circumstance of the Church, superiors have a definite term: a beginning, a measurable beginning, middle, and end to this concrete call that they have. Their call includes definite areas of responsibility, rather more clear than in the usual run of job descriptions. The superior has a definite flock to be fed. Being a superior, then, is easily discernible. Is it really a call? We religious have a way of using all sorts of pious vocabulary with a great deal of conviction--so long as we are talking about somebody else. We have all attended at one time or another the circumstances of somebody else's tragedy, when it's easy for us to see that tragedy so clearly in terms of God's providence for them and for the victim. But when it comes to ourselves, somehow we find that our faith is rather more brittle. Too often for us religious, it is very easy to isolate "God's providence" into some abstract awareness of God as "Lord of History" because, for example, of what .he did to Israel, what he's done to the Church, what he's doing in the history of the world at the present time. Is God, though, Lord of your life? If he is Lord of yliofue,r then how can you explain the meaning of being superior, if not in terms of his Lordship? Is God faithful and loving? Because, if he is, how are you going to explain being superior save in terms of his faithful, loving exercise of Lordship in your regard? We can see how it gets to be a bit more difficult to be quite so confident of the "providence of God" when it begins to reach closer to home. It is much easier to see him as Lord of others than as Lord of myself. Does God care for the congregation? If he doesn't care for the congrega-tion, then he couldn't care less who was superior. If he does care for the con-d gregation, then he must care very much about who is superior--though this On Being a Superior does not mean at all that he has chosen the best possible person. It doesn't mean that he has chosen the most competent person. It doesn't even mean that he has chosen an able person. It just means that he has chosen a person. He has exer-cised a definite, deliberate choice in wanting you to be a superior of his com-munity for which he cares very much, in regard to which he says toyou, "Feed my sheep." It is time now to return to the reflection with which we begari regarding our earnestness for God's will. How earnest are we for God's will? Not out there, ~not in the future, but here and now. The,fact is that either God is not God at all, or he has call~ed you to b____~e a superior. If he has called you, he has expressed his will. You can choose to ignore it if you--want, but you cannot intelligently deny this fact without denying that God is God. b\ Being a superior is a vocation to do what? To feed his sheep in all the ways that make sense. His.sheep are workers in his vineyard, and the superior's feeding of his sheep is going to include nurturing their capacity to work in his vineyard--to be apostles. His sheep are your sisters or brothers in Christ. These are not vague groups of girls or boys that walk in the front door of an institution. These are your sisters or brothers in Christ, persons who have a call to the community that you say you love. These are the sheep that he has entrusted to you to be nourished by you. If all of this is true, then the only adequate approach to exercising the i office of superior is going to be as an act of religion. The alternative is to ex-clude God from your individual salvation history, the salvation history of your congregation, and the salvation history of the Church and world today. Therefore it follows that the key which unlocks the whole mystery of being a ~ superior is going to be found in the area of acts of religion--which is the same area that includes the taking of your vows in the first place. This is the same area, too, that envelops your whole prayer life. This is in the same area as your whole living for God. If this is true, then the individual is going to want to be a superior after the mind and thought and heart of Christ. His mode of being a superior is going to be the expression of his r~ligious involvement in God's will--or it is nothing. In seeking to make this act of religion real, the superior will make use of many aids to help him. But it is the act of religion that is going to give life to the whole process. So the superior will make use of whatever he can learn from management theory, from the psychology of the human person, from the sociology of community. He will make use of all these because they are tools given into his hands, tools that make it possible for him the better to enflesh into reality the act of religion that is his response to God's call. But if this religious response is not effectively there, if the soul of the pro-cess isn'~ present, all that's left is'a corpse. And no psychologist is ever going to make a corpse come alive. If all a superior does is to oversee the production of a corpse, then he would be better off seeking a position on a middle- 369 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 management level of some large corporation and make cars for the rest of his life. At least it would be a safer way of wasting his life; and he would only be touching others merely in their jobs. We religious like to talk a great deal about zeal. If you are serious about zeal, then you have to see in this call from God to be a superior a concrete way of enfleshing your zeal. Otherwise, you are going to be lost in a dreamland, phantasying about future generations of yet unborn souls whom you will "save" some time or other, some place or other. If you were serious about zeal, then you would be very much taken with God's will. If you were serious about his will, and thought that he was calling you, then your zeal would be a hunger to respond to his call, and he has called you to be a superior. In saying to you as superior, "Feed my sheep," he wants you to take unto yourself his sheep, those very special ones whom he has called in a very special way, and who, therefore, need a very special kind of nurtur- ~inagn,d he has sayiodu, You feed themsey sthheeapt, swo hat I have sown in their hearts may come alive." What we commonly see today is a great deal of reluctance on the part of } persons who are unwilling to become superiors for a variety of reasons. ~ From the beglnmng of time, but especially ~n the present age, a man would be out of his mind to want to be a superior. In fact, to want to be a superior is usually a guarantee of failure: not necessarily administrative failure, the failur--"~f-s~perficial effectiveness, but the substantive failure of one who, though called to be of and for Christ's kingdom, may live in exterior darkness, all the while doing great things with brick and mortar--and quite possibly destroying souls for the sake of his mere brick and mortar. So there is fear in the face of taking on such an office, and it is common today. Ther_e ar~t least tw_o~.possible_sources.of_this._~fear. One of them is healthy, eminently healthy, and the other is unhealthy. The healthy fear, I think, comes out of vision. The person who has this healthy fear, for instance, would usually have a fairly clear idea of what the founder wanted in starting the congregation. He has a pretty good idea of the value of a soul, and therefore also has a pretty good idea of the preciousness of each of those special souls called by God to religious life, and whom the superior is supposed to nurture in this vocation. In terms of such a vision, the person would have a very clear and distinct notion of the goal--not of the practicalities, but of priorities and purposes. A person with this kind of vision also recognizes that the vision is of God. And a person with that kind of clarity must see himself as unworthy. So he says, "No, not I. I can't do this." Now there are two t~ings that are healthy about that fear. One is that this sense of unworthiness comes out of self-knowledge of a sort that would arise ~when a person looks at himself against the background of such a vision. With this self-knowledge, in looking at the job, at what the call is, he is aware of his very real impotence; he has a sense of his utter helplessness. The other healthy aspect of such a fear flows precisely from this On Being a Superior / 3{}3 awareness: it is that the individual has a clear and distinct sense of one's need for God in responding to such a vocation. He cannot fulfill such a call, and therefore he would need God. Beingaware of his unworthiness, he has a very healthy desire not to be a superior--until it becomes clear that this call is truly from God. Then, retaining his sense of unworthiness, knowing that God chooses weak things of this world to achieve his purpose, the individual ac-cepts God's call and, in his need, turns to God. Such an individual truly has the spirit_of.a_superior's vocation. . Th~nheal~ the, but more common fear that has become particularly fre-quent" "--~---'---"-'-'during our time in religious life stems, for whatever reason, from a loss of vision, or, alas, from the fact that the individual never had a vision in the first place. When such a person is confronted with the job-requirements, he is often faced with something that is, for him, vague, blurred, unmanageable. He often asks, "What does obedience mean now? What do any of the vows mean now? What does the apostolate mean now? What does the vision of the congregation mean now?" And on, and on, and on. His fear is as blurred as is his sense of vocation itself. Without a vision, such a prospect for the office of superior does not look out to God's vineyard, but into the interior of the community. All he sees when he looks around is conflict, antagonism, varieties of resistance, burdens and crosses--and he wants no part of that kind of crucifixion. So, for his own security and comfort, he is afraid to be a superior. And that kind of fear, if the job is thrust upon him regardless, leads to paralysis, a paralysis that can find a variety of ways of expression. He can be .the do-nothing, the absolutely do-nothing type, who keeps his hands totally off everything except the signing of checks once a month--and this only if the treasurer has succeeded in making an appointment. Or he becomes the type who is only an~administrator. He becomes only the outside contact-person working with benefactors. He becomes only the friend of t

Issue 53.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1994. ; OUS Christian Heritages and ContemporaryLiving MARCH-APRIL 1994 ¯ VOLUME 53 ¯ NUMBER 2 ¯ Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048 ° Fax: 314-535-0601 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ° P.O. Box 29260 ¯ Washington, DC 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1994 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. review for religious Editor David L. Fleming Associate Editors Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Canonical Counsel Editor Elizabeth McDonough OP Assistant Editors ¯ Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Advisory Board Joann Wolski Conn PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~in Sammon FMS Susanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MARCH-APILIL 1994 ¯ VOLUME 53 ¯ NUMBER 2 contents 166 feature In the Midst of the Times: Religious Life and the Ever-Present Experience of the World John W. Padberg SJ presents three historical perspectives on religious life to aid in imagining and planning for the future. commitments 182 Vowed Witness in a Church Intent on Love 189 196 David Maria Knight suggests that religious are examples and models of that dramatic gesture which is a key element in launching anyone into passionate relationship with God. Quest for an Undivided Heart Theresa Mancuso ponders a heart focused on God in a life of consecrated chastity. Imaged Celibacy: A Reflection for Priests Brian C. Yates proposes a way of imaging that allows us to enter more freely into the reality of celibate living. challenges 200 Needed: An Ethic of Memories 208 214 222 Joanne Marie Greer suggests various ethical aspects that need to be considered when sharing memories, especially those which are a part of therapeutic counseling. ADiscipline of Self-Respect William Mockus describes the need for spiritual discipline as a function of self-respect. A Transformational Journey Annete Adams SND observes the cycle of the monarch butterfly to gain understanding about the spiritual-direction process. Community for Today and Tomorrow Janet Roesener CSJ sets forth the call and challenges for reli-gious to live a covenantal community life. 162 Review for Religious 231 238 254 263 directions Fruitfulness versus Achievement Peter G. Van Breemen SJ reflects on the distinction which we Christians need to make between achievement and the biblical notion of fruitfulness. Old Brothers and Young, Dreams and Visions Robert C. Berger FSC uses images of the Hebrew Scriptures to shed light on the action of God and the relevance of brother-hood. Just Look at the Lord Joel Giallanza CSC presents a simple and practical melding of our desire to pray and our praying from Teresa of Avila. Pray Always: John Cassian on Distractions Kenneth C. Russell applies the insights of John Cassian to help us live a life focused on God amidst the distractions of the modern world. reflections 273 Genesis Continued Mary Michael McCulla CDP poetically reflects a kind of Genesis account of woman. 278 Called to the Harvest Vera Gallagher RGS enters us into her experience of God's healing grace in people's troubled lives. 285 report U.S. Hispanic Catholics: Trends and ~7orks 1993 Kenneth G. Davis .OFMConv presents a panoramic of the year's events within the U:S. Hispanic Catholid community. departments ¯ ¯ 164 Prisms 303 Canonical Counsel: Norms for Renewal and Reflections on Its Progress 309 Book Reviews Marcb-/lpri11994 163 prisms ~edo not necessarily compliment our-selves when we compare ourselves to the first disciples of Jesus. For example, the two disciples on their way to Emmaus do not symbolize either gospel people (evange-lizers) or apostolic people (on a mission). In a way, of course, they are pilgrim people, journeying, although they are running away from Jerusalem, where their lives are meant to be centered. They know a lot about Jesus-- enough to k6ep talking about him at least between them-selves or privately with an amiable stranger. Yet what stands out in their telling of the Jesus story is their own disappointment. Disappointment may be the common cross that afflicts us followers of Jesus all the more because we like to describe ourselves as Alleluia people. These two disciples symbolize disappointment immediately after Jesus' pas-sion. During the active ministry of Jesus, a rich man with much fervor wanted to lead a holy life, but walked away from Jesus--disappointed with his kind of "Beatitude" challenge. Other disciples caused Jesus such pain by their leaving that he asked Peter and the others identified as the Twelve, "Will you leave me too?" People had left cha-grined by all this foolish talk about Jesus being the food and drink of their lives. They were unwilling to live with promise in such incarnate guise. Disappointment can certainly be a difficult cross to bear for us Christ-followers. For us present-day disciples of the one who has overcome death, it somehow seems "not right" to have to continue to face defeat, failure, and betrayal, especially from agents that speak or act in Christ's 164 Review for Religi?us name. How can we not be disappointed when the Vatican is the only agency among all the world's states which recognizes a repressive government in Haiti? How legitimate the disappoint-ment is when we face the problem of certain clerics or religious who betrayed a trust by their sexual abuse of a child! How disap-pointing for us as a community is the high percentage of failed marriages, often within our own families--marriages celebrated with all the beauty and solemn commitment of the wedding Mass! Are we ever disappointed with ourselves--after years of striving to be Little Flowers--at still feeling more like the scrubby weeds found along abandoned railroad tracks? Disappointments come in all sizes--some so big that they seem insurmountable, but others so small and daily that we suf-fer them as the necessary "colds and flu" of our spiritual life. Disappointments come at all stages of life development. Young and old and all the in-betweens face unrealized or shattered dreams, an if-only sense of things left undone, feelings of aban-donment by ones they love. Where does the event of Christ's resurrection touch most directly the practical living of our lives? I would suggest that we need to look towards our experience of disappointments. We test quickly the firmness of our faith in the resurrection by our lived response to disappointment. Among us followers who want to distance ourselves from this hierarchical church or to walk away from a disheartened priesthood or to dismiss a seemingly anachro-nistic religious life or to reject a cumbersome parish structure, we find an identity with the two disciples on their way to Emmaus. The question we face is whether we will take the time from all our talk or activity to listen to and recognize the call to believe what is central to our faith: Jesus is risen, and our response to disap-pointment need never be a time without grace, an experience without new life. The Easter e{r~nt translates into our creedal "I believe in the resurrection of the dead." But the daily disap-pointments that make us die by inches are where we all need to let our resurrection faith have.its effect. As with the two disciples on that first Easter evening, it is in our hurrying back into a dis-appointing Jerusalem--with our faith in the risen Lord--that we truly act as evangelizers arid people on mission. David L. Fleming SJ March-April 1994 165 feature JOHN W. PADBERG In the Midst of the Times: Religious Life and the Ever-Present Experience of the World The reader of these reflections by an historian will have noted at once that their title is a variation on the immediately preceding theological essay by Elizabeth Johnson csj, "Between the Times: Religious Life and the Postmodern Experience of God." That reprise is quite deliberately meant to introduce the reader to the com-plementary. intent of these remarks, in accord with the overall structure of the Religious Life Futures Project. That comprehensive, study of "the future of religious orders in the United States" included six independent ele-ments or "research units" in its work. The first five were a national survey, leadership studies, studies of caring peo-ple and of visioning groups, and a series of individual interviews. The sixth unit was to be a two-part theologi-cal/ historical monograph, of which the first part was to provide a theological framework for interpreting the data gathered in the study and this second part was to be "an historical postscript" or a set of reflections on that theo-logical essay from an historical perspective. John W. Padberg SJ is director of the Institute of Jesuit Sources in St. Louis. This article will be part of a companion book to The Future of Religious Orders in the United States: Transformation and Commitment (Praeger Publishers, 1993) by David J. Nygren and Miriam Ukeritis. His address is Institute of Jesuit Sources; 3700 West Pine Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. 166 Review for Religious The theological essay concludes saying, "For religious life in the United States it is now Advent, the most honest season of all. ¯. What is needed is vigilant patience, profound prayer, and the ability to act boldly toward that future where new forms of evan-gelical life will develop" (Johnson, p. 24).1 This essay will take off from that judgment, which is both correct and important. Advent is a new beginning, but it comes after the conclusion of the year-long liturgical season during which we first await and long for the arrival of Jesus and then in turn remember and cel-ebrate the impossibly good news that he himself is: a hidden life of long duration, the preaching of the good news in person and in word, his seeming defeat in his terrifyingly real passion and death, and then the paschal triumph. We might be tempted to think it is all just a cycle, but then the year goes on beyond the life of Jesus, like an arrow into the future, to tell us that the spreading of that news and the imparting of that life take place in the down-to-earth reality of the post-Pentecostal church which, if we stop to realize it, still lives on as our present church. And then the year begins again with another Advent. The history of the church has recorded many such Advent and subsequent varying seasons. So has the history of religious life in the church. As the theological essay notes, "the evangeli-cal following of Jesus in the church, traditionally called 'religious life,' has been incarnated in a great diversity of forms [which] have consistently emerged from the insights of individuals and groups responding to the Spirit in the crucible of cultural change" (Johnson, p. 7). If it is true that "the only reason for religious life is the experience of God" (Johnson, p. 16), and that such experi-ence is a "postmodern" one "between the times," it is true in another sense that the only way such religious life is lived is "in the midst of the times" and in the context of "the ever-present experience of the world." Hence the complementary title of this essay and the tenor of its remarks. The theological essay suggests that the emerging "under-standing of [religious] life is primarily that of persons and com-munities called to prophetic ministry embedded in a contemplative relationship to God" (Johnson, p. 12). It maintains that beneath changes in structure are changes in attitude and that underlying such changes in attitude is a postmodern experience of God. "Postmodernity is conscious of the end of progress, the limits of reason, the sad isolation of the unconnected individual, and the March-April 1994 167 Padberg ¯ In the Midst of the Times Spiritualities significantly influence the ways in which °religious congregations remain faithful to their original purposes and the ways in which they respond to human need. catastrophe that results when nature is disrespected," while wish-ing to keep from the modern era such goods as "the emphasis on human dignity and human rights and their expressions in liberty and equality. Postmodernity is awake to the egregious failures that the modern ethos has wrought. It wants to go Away-From-Here" (Johnson, p. 18). But meanwhile it is absolutely nec-essary to remember that the "Here" from which postmodernity seeks to escape still mightily influences our cur-rent life. And while the contexts of pre-sent and past are inevitably different, the reactions to past contexts might yield clues as to how we shall react to the pre-sent context. Religious life has of neces-sity existed in several such past contexts of a world changing around it. Often enough that life took on a particular character from the ways in which its members, men and women religious, looked both on change "in the midst of the times" and on the "ever-present experience of the world" around them (to quote again from the title of these present reflec-tions) and from the ways in which they judged both world and change or history. The body of this essay will deal especially with those two matters. It will, firs.t, present several such modern changes in reli-gious life in the midst of changing times, in other words, several examples from history. Secondly, it will reflect more generally on the ways in which religious life responds to change and to the experience of the world, because the nature of those responses characterizes in part the dominant spiritualities which inform either religious life in general or a particular form of that life. Such spiritualities, in turn, significantly influence the ways in which religious congregations remain faithful to their original purposes and the ways in which they respond to human need. As the executive summary of the study concludes, "fidelity to the spirit of the founder and responsiveness to critical and unmet human needs are basic to the original mission of religious com-munities" (Summary, p. 42).2 168 Review for Religious Three Times in the Midst of Change In its fifteen-hundred-year history in the Latin Church of the West, religious life has experienced upheaval more often than is realized. To look only at the modern world, such upheaval has happened in a major way three times in the last four hundred and fifty years: during the time of the Reformation (beginning in 1517), during the time of the French Revolution (beginning in 1789), and in the renewal which was asked for by the Second Vatican Council, which ended in 1965. First, the Reformation. The whole notion of religious life was rejected by the Protestant reformers. This rejection had its foun-dation in their theology, but it gained popular support because religious life had lost much of its credibility. The scandalous rep-utation of many religious congregations and their members-- especially male religious--was all too often deserved. One does not have to read Chaucer (before the Reformation) or Rabelais (dur-ing it) for examples of why that reputation was well deserved. The church documents in those years, calling for reform, are vivid enough. Over and over those calls for reform were made, and over and over again they were ignored. The effects on religious life in the lands of reform were dev-astating. In England men and women religious had already been brutally driven out of their houses. In other countries monks and nuns left their orders in droves. Even in lands that stayed Catholic, the numbers of persons entering religious life dropped drasti-cally. So bad had the reputation of religious life become that more than once during the Catholic reform it was proposed to the Holy See that all but four orders of men, and most orders of women, be suppressed. And yet, in the midst of this seemingly impossible situation, during the Catholic reform new orders and congregations arose, grew in numbers, and flourished. Older orders gradually took themselves in hand, reformed, and prospered. Why? The second major upheaval took place at the time of the French Revolution. While the religious orders in general had been far more faithful to their rule and to the furtherance of the spiritual lives of their members than at the Reformation, still many, even the most active of them, had often lost touch with the changing world around them, a world influenced in many ways by the Enlightenment. The Revolution brought chaos to the church and to religious March-April 1994 169 Padberg * In the Midst of the Times life. Europe was the home of most of the members of the church. It was the place where the administrative structures, the finan-cial resources, the educational establishments, the charitable apos-tolates, the seminaries, the religious congregations had existed for more than fifteen hundred years, all in aid of the preaching of the gospel and the celebration of the sacraments. Quite simply, the Revolution swept away most of these realities upon which the church depended and in which religious life had embodied itself. The properties from which many of the dioceses and orders drew their support were secularized by the new governments and sold to the highest bidder. (For example, Cluny, the acme of Romanesque architecture, the glory of. the Benedictine Order, the second largest church in the Christian world, was destroyed, in part by revolutionary ideology and frenzy but mostly by several good middle-class families who bought it after the state had con-fiscated it and then had it taken down, stone by stone, to be sold for their profit as building material, all in the name of the sanc-tity of private property.) Many of the religious orders were officially abolished in the lands reached by the Revolution; members of almost all of them were turned out of their houses and left to fend for themselves. In 1789, as the French Revolution began, there were some two thou-sand Benedictine establishments in Europe; by 1815 only about twenty were still functioning. In fact, of the many religious orders of men in existence before the French Revolution, only two, the Christian Brothers and the Jesuits, have ever again grown to be as large as they were before the Revolution or larger. And yet, the hundred and fifty years from the Revolution to the beginning of Vatican II were for religious congregations and orders the most unusual years in the history of the church. More new congregations were founded than in any comparable period in the history of the church. More new congregations of women were founded in that century and a half than in the whole previ-ous history of the church. The older orders grew again. More missionary congregations were founded than ever before, and more women and men went to the foreign missions. Why? To turn now to our own histories, and the third upheaval, the Second Vatican Council brought undreamt-of change to the church and to religious life. Many in the church had hoped for change, but no one could have imagined the depth and breadth of the change which did occur. This is not the place to rehearse 170 Revino for Religious those postconciliar events of the past twenty-five to thirty years. The theological essay has well noted many of the changes that took place. Perhaps, however, the quantity and especially the qual-ity of that change can be evoked by recalling ten words or phrases from Vatican II. With the two exceptions of the words "liturgy" and "revelation," none had been common in the church before the council. The other eight are: aggiornamento, collegiality, dia-logue, people of God, inculturation, religious liberty, joy and hope (gaudium et spes), and ecumenism. The realities behind those words raised expectations and produced changes which often have gone beyond either the worst fears of those who wanted no change or the best guesses of those who hoped for it. But whether we now react with dismay, delight, or doubt, many of the details, good, bad, or indifferent, of the world of the church and the world of religious life in the church of thirty to forty years ago have changed irretrievably or even vanished. In and through those changes since Vatican II religious life has been in tur-moil, as it was in the two other great Changes were not introduced from some source external to the church such as the Reformation or the Revolution, but came about internally, from the church itself'at Vatican II. modern upheavals. A very great difference, however, is that these changes were not introduced from some source external to the church such as the Reformation or the Revolution, but came about internally, from the church itself at Vatican II and from what has been truly in its proportions a paradigm shift in the church's self-understanding. The notion of "tranSformation" in the organiza-tional realm, as described in the Religious Life Futures Project, is utterly apt here for what has happened in the~ church. "It refers to qualitative, discontinuous shifts in members' shared under-standings of the organization, accompanied by changes in the organization's mission, strategy, and formal and informa| struc-tures" (Summary, pp. 9-10). In the midst of all this, religious orders and congregations were themselves directly asked by the church to review and revise their own way of life in the light of the council's teachings, in accord with their originating charism, and in adaptation to the March-April1994 1 ~1 Padberg ¯ In the Midst of the Times needs of today. In general, they have taken this request seriously and generously, often at great personal and institutional cost. They, too, have been caught up in the process of transformation. And yet, in this case, the optimistic aftermath of the two ear-lier upheavals has not occurred in the wake of Vatican II. Why? A brief response to the why asked at all three junctures will come later in this essay. The Experience of the World and of History The second major part of this essay will include some reflec-tions on the particular types of spirituality that inform the inner life and the external activities of religious orders. Again, why? Because on such various types of spirituality which inform reli-gious life in general.and specific orders in particular will depend religious life's understanding and judgment of the times in which it lives and of the world which it experiences. "Spirituality" is here understood simply as the way an individual or a group habit-ually acts in learning about and loving and serving God in accord with God's self-revelation in and through God's deeds, especially the greatest of those deeds, Jesus Christ himself. The heuristic structure used here to describe a variety of spir-itualities3 distinguishes four possible ways in which they view the world and history in the midst of a particular time and space by the responses to this question: Does a spirituality.view or not view the world and history as positive means to express itself and to practice a growing relationship to God? "World" includes not only the obvious natural, material world but also human society and institutions. "History" includes especially process, develop-ment and change. In practice, of course, no one of the four resul-tant types of response exists in its absolutely pure state, and obviously in real life they all exist in. particular sociocultural con-texts. In addition, all four types are always intermingled. Perhaps most importantly, each of them is in itself a good. To distinguish them however is, in general, useful for clarity and, in particular, for helping us to see where our contemporary religious life stands and how we might be inclined to move to the future. The first response to world and to history says no to both of them. The second says no to the world and yes to history. The third says yes to the world and no to history, and the fourth says yes to both world and history. 172 Review for Religious Particular examples may clarify these categories. The first response, a spirituality that says no to the world and no to history, might be called an apophatic spirituality, one which comes to a knowledge of God by way of negation. This is the type of spiri-tuality often and somewhat misleadingly known as mystical, for example the kind expressed through such works as The Cloud of Unknowing, or through the works of John of the Cross, or more recently through some of the writings of Thomas Merton. It is important to note that such a spirituality does not necessarily see the world as evil or history and change as meaningless. Rather, such an apophatic spirituality emphasizes that God is beyond any concepts and that the most authentic expression about God is negation of any specific image from world or history. A person goes to the love and knowledge of God through unknowing or through darkness. In our present and our immediate future, in .what the theological essay describes as "the dialectic between divine absence and presence" (Johnson, p. 23) such a spirituality and the postmodern experience of God may increasingly find sup-port in each other. A second type of spirituality finds an expression of the authen-tic not in the world but in history, that is, in change and conver-sion. In saying no to the world but yes to history, it is a prophetic type of spirituality. For example, the Old Testament prophets offer both judgments and interpretations of history. Through his radical poverty, Francis of Assisi said no to the abuse of material wealth that his world of the early 13th century was involved in; in so doing he gave to the poor a sign of hope in a God faithful to his promises. Such a prophetic spirituality is often characterized by living one or more of the gospel values to an extreme. Such a spirituality surely informed the first examples of religious life among the desert fathers and mothers of the Egyptian Thebaid. Other examples of such a prophetic spirituality, in addition to Francis and his poverty, would be early Christians spurning the world and awaiting the call of martyrdom and contemporary Christians motivated by the gospel to practice civil disobedience. Today, as the theological essay puts it, when accepted "forms are breaking down, interpretive support systems, are collapsing, rift~ with the institutional church exacerbate the darkness, [and] many members are in distress" (Johnson, p. 24), we may have a situation in which religious congregations say no to a world that is passing and say yes to a hoped-for change to a more fully gospel-inspired March-April 1994 173 Padberg ¯ In the Midst of the Times future "in the risk that God is faithful in judgment and grace" (Johnson, p. 14). ¯ Third, what might be called a "locational" or a "city of God" spirituality says yes to the world and no to history. But here the When we seek a stable world and way of living in it or when we focus on a particular community or place or on our own hearts, we localize ideal, unchanging circumstances, bringing a changeless "city of God" dimension to our spiritual lives. world may be a world. Th~ authentic is located in one special place, in a world, geographical, psychological, temporal, theological, to the exclusion of other place's, with the changeless-ness that the fulfillment of that king-dom implies; that place then becomes a reflection of the kingdom of God. For St. Benedict it was the monastery as the place in which to live out the Rule. For The Imitation of Christ it is the safety of our own hearts where "you will see the kingdom of God come into your soul." For some it is the familiar church of pre-Vatican II observances. This type of spirituality may be the most common type throughout Christian history. It has also been one of the characteristics of every other type of spirituality and a force for stability in the midst of chaos, It may be an especially inviting and understandable spiri-tuality for those who have just come through a revolution. VChen we seek a stable world and way of living in it or when we focus on a particular community or place or on our own hearts, we are highlighting a way, or place that has worked for us. As a conse-quence we localize ideal, unchanging circumstances, bringing a changeless "city of God" dimension to our spiritual lives. Finally, there is a spirituality which answers yes both to world and tb history. This can be called an apostolic spirituality. To avoid misunderstanding the term and its application to religious life, let it be~ clear that everyone, of course, even in the most con-templative order, is called in some way to apostolic endeavor, to a life committed to the spread of the kingdom of God. But not everyone is necessarily called to an apostolic spirituality, a'spiri-tuality which seeks God primarily through involvement in the world and the transformation of its history. Ideally, such an apos- 174 Review for Religious tolic spirituality sees the world and history as a locus for trans-formation and for self-transformation. Most of the orders and congregations founded since the Reformation, and especially since the beginning of the 19th century, have been inspired by the ideal of an apostolic spirituality. But because the church since the Reformation, the Enlightenment, and the French Revolution has often made quite hostile judgments of the world and of history or change, this is a difficult double stance to maintain. One can easily multiply examples of church mistrust and con-demnation of the world as a source of self-transformation. And even if we have often thought the world could be such a source of self-transformation provided it had a different history or pro-vided we managed to change it, we can easily multiply examples of church mistrust and condemnation of change as a source of self-transformation, especially if it were suggested that change should apply to religious orders and more especially to the church. The way in which to give positive answers to both world and his-tory can vary greatly. Several of the 16th- and 17th-century Catholic reform reli-gious orders of women are examples of an attempt to do so. Mary Ward had a vision of such a spirituality for her Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary and attempted to put it into practice. But the apostolic group, of "that incomparable woman," as Pius XII called her in praise, was forced out of existence by an uncompre-hending Vatican in the 17th century, only to be papally approved in the 19th century. The Sisters of St. Joseph, of the same 17th century, quietly and obscurely flourished, in part because while liv-ing such an apostolic spirituality, they called no widespread atten-tion to it. The members of the Society of Jesus, for the end proposed to them by its founder, Ignatius Loyola, who could "find God in all things," were supposed to find the self-transformation of holiness through an involvement with the world in spreading the ldngdom of God. It was a world that Ignatius and his first companions knew by experience was changing and needed new ways of living and preaching the gospel. But it was very difficult to get across to many of the next gene?ations of Jesuits that both present world and inevitable change were to be taken seriously as part of a Jesuit apostolic spirituality. In its more recent his-tory, the Society of Jesus in its spirituality continues to seek for "the conversion of the individual," but it also wants to help "to transform the world into a fit habitation for justice and human- March-April 1994 175 Padberg ¯ In the Midst of the Times ity." In so choosing a double yes, it recognized the need to take seriously both the world around it and history, process, develop-ment, and change. In the 19th century, when the Society of Jesus was univer-sally restored after the French Revolution, it could not and did not For all of the 19th century, religious, life inclined heavily not to an apostolic spirituality, with a yes both to world and to history, but rather to a locational or "city of God" spirituality, with a yes indeed to the world but with a no to history or change. both the real successes wish to deny the world itself as the locus of its endeavor. It could hardly do so and be authentically Jesuit. But that world was in the midst of great change, and the church and all religious orders, including the Jesuits, were acutely uncomfortable with change and reluctant to respond pos-itively to it. In the midst of a world in which they had never been more active and thought they had an apostolic spiri-tuality, the church and religious orders were not only uncomfortable with that world as they found it, but also often nos-talgic for a past world and in fear of a world changing yet more before their eyes. In such circumstances, for all of the 19th century, religious life inclined heav-ily not to an apostolic spirituality, with a yes both to world and to history, but rather to a locational or "city of God" spirituality, with a yes indeed to the world but with a no to history or change. This fundamental attitude may help to explain and the real failures of the 19th-century structures and activities and spirituality of religious life with which most orders'and congregations lived until Vatican II. More gen-erally it also may help to explain the puzzlement; the ambiguity, even the dismay with which religious life looked around after Vatican II and could not fathom where it stood or how it expressed its relationships with the world and with history. Which one of the four sets of responses to the world and to history best characterizes the spirituality of most religious life today? When the question is put that way, there is not and should not be a single, monolithic answer. Fidelity to the originating charism and "to the spirit of the founder and responsiveness to critical and unmet human needs" imply and indeed mandate both 176 Review for Religious such a diversity in religious congregations and such an overriding purpose that, as a result, each congregation, in order to be true to itself, will have a response particular to itself, a response which at the same time will always look to those needs. There is a yet deeper question. Why answer.at all? Why reli-gious life at all? What was quoted earlier in this essay still remains the fundamental answer: "The only reason for religious life is the experience of God." It is not only in religious life, of course, that a person experiences God, but that fundamental experience, how-ever dark or bright, however tumultuous or serene, however unin-terrupted or intermittent, has to anchor our experience of the world in the midst of time and our responses to the world and to history or change. The Response to Need Let us return now to the three points at which the question why was raised, the three times in the modern world at which religious life experienced major change in church and world and thus also in itself. Just as at the beginning of religious life in the Egyptian desert and through its earlier centuries, so also, in the post-Reformation church and the post-Revolution church, reli-gious life was a response to a need. For the monks and nuns of the desert, it was a need to live out the gospel and to follow the Lord more faithfully than they thought they could in a society in which the Constantinian church and empire had made peace and had come to rely on each other. In the counter-Reformation century, religious congregations, of direct apostolic service especially, arose in response to the Catholic revival that emphasized a renewed preaching of the gospel (hence congregations for urban retreats and country missions); works of charity (hence religious commu-nities that worked in orphanages and hospitals and prisons); the centrality of the sacraments (hence congregations devoted to urg-ing the reception of confession and Communion); the outward expansion of the gospel to newly discovered worlds (hence for-eign- mission congregations)~ and Christian education (hence con-gregations that took on schools and colleges and seminaries and the publishing of pious books and pamphlets and tracts of all kinds). "Active" religious congregations, both new ones and reformed and revitalized ones, arose in response to specific needs, religious and secular, of church and civic community. As for the March-/ltrri11994 177 Padberg * In the Midst of the Times more cloistered or so-called "contemplative" orders, while they did indeed grow, growth was much slower and reform of the inter-nal life of the community was more the norm. When one asks why the apostolic-service orders grew so dra- When one asks why the apostolic-service orders grew so dramatically in the 19th century, response-to-need again seems the fundamental answer. matically in the 19th century, response-to-need again seems the fundamental answer. In Europe a shattered institutional structure had to be rebuilt. Many of the old and formerly religious educational and social institutions had been confiscated by the state, which was often at least determinedly secularist and often actively anticlerical. The second great wave of European colonial expansion into Asia and Africa took place, with the consequent open-ing of mission fields. Meanwhile the church in the persons of its highest officials and of .most of its members was determinedly con-servative and often actively hostile to the polit-ical, social, c~altural, and intellectual currents of the age. Frequently, then, European Catholics thought that only institutions parallel to but indepen-dent of the state would "protect the faith." To respond to those needs as thus perceived, new religious congregations arose locally, regionally, and nationally. Their founders and their members had maps, the almost unchanged Tridentine rules and regulations, expressed and implied and still unquestioned, of church and reli-gious life. They had the experience of present but traditional unmet needs. They responded, generously and heroically, within the boundaries of that map. They had little imaginative ability to see unmet needs that were new. But neither did the church, for example, in the case of the socially unjust consequences of the Industrial Revolution. In the,United States of the 19th century, the circumstances were somewhat the same, somewhat different, The rules and reg-ulations of religious life were the same as in Europe, but the insti-tutions of Catholic life had to be built up from the beginning, and, as the century went on, the building had to take place right in the midst of an immigrant flood of poor, uneducated Catholics coming into a vastly different and somewhat hostile environment: Here, too, the need seemed to be for institutions to protect the faith of the immigrants and to introduce them into American 178 Revie'w for Religious society. To respond to those needs, here, too, new apostolic or "active" congregations arose and old ones established branches in the United States. They too had the same maps; they knew from experience that those maps had to be modified, simultane-ously felt guilty when they did so, and were often unable to offer to Rome a theoretical basis for the changes. While apt at devis-ing new strategies in traditional apostolates, those congregations, too, lacked the imaginative ability to see unmet needs that were new, for example, in the case of the black population and the unjust institutions of slavery and then of segregation. But at least through the 19th century and up to the end of World War II and the assimilation of the Catholic population into the economic and social mainstream of American society, the active religious congregations responded visibly and successfully to the immedi-ate educational, social, and economic needs of American Catholics. At the third major upheaval in religious life, the one follow-ing Vatican II, religious were called on not, of course, to tear up the old maps and discard them, but surely to revise them thor-oughly in the light of:the council's teaching. But such revision is not a short-term, easily~done task. Religious life in the United States is still at it and, from an historian's point of view, has not been at it very long yet, not even quite a full human generation. For Americans, used to quick results, this seems both intolerable and discouraging. And the analogy of map ~revision can only be partial, since not simply documents but also attitudes, insights, and patterns of practice enter into such a revision. As for experience, the theological essay describes well the "social, economic, and political forces at work in the culture of the United States [as] contributing to changes in religious life" (Johnson, p. 10). All of those forces, even those least direcdy con-nected with the church or religious life, have been part of the context of our experience of that life since Vatican II. They have modified both our reading of the maps of the past from which we came and our tentative responses to the present. The imagi-nation to see how to put those experiences to positive use in con-temporary religious life is still in short supply. What we need most is the imagination to conceive of what we want that future to be. ' March-April 1994 179 Padberg ¯ In the Midst of the Times Something is going to happen to religious life in the United States over the next ten years. What will it be? Future History as a Conclusion An historian is really not a prophet in any of the usual dic-tionary meanings of that word. He or she neither "utters divinely inspired revelations" nor is "gifted with more than ordinary spir-itual and moral insight" nor "foretells future events" nor necessarily is "an effective and lead-ing spokesperson for a cause, doctrine, or group." But near the conclusion of these reflec-tions, an historian might urge on the readers of this essay an exercise sometimes called "future history," an exercise within which one can think about the future with realism and imagination. Briefly, taken literally, the exercise asks present participants in an activity or institution to write here and now but as if from a particular point in the future at least part of the history of what "has" happened in order to get to that future. It thereby requires the participants to imagine what might have happened and to select those things which they think most likely to happen to bring about that imagined future. The purpose, quite frankly, is to provoke people to turn their minds to the future decade. Something is going to happen to religious life in the United States over the next ten years. What will it be? That exercise in future history begins by looking back from the year 2005. What will have happened to religious life in the United States? For example, imagine the community of which you are a part enjoying in the year 2005 a successful existence in the service of the gospel, the church, and the human community. What characteristics describe that success? How did the com-munity achieve that success? Most importantly, what five impor-tant decisions were made by the community in 1994 to 1999, the first five of those years, to make it the success it now is in 2005? On what five things in those five years did you and your com-munity and the ministry you work in and your coworkers come to a consensus which contributed to making your community, its inner life and its exterior works, the success that it is in 2005? The future is in the present in such decisions. This framework for imagining and planning can bring us quickly to concrete details and can gently force us to face up to what we think realistically possible. 180 Review for Religious Where does one start in developing.such a future history? Perhaps with three questions: First, how would I describe to myself what I think my religious congregation fundamentally is? Second, what are the absolutely essential characteristics of its reli-gious community life? Third, what are the absolutely essential characteristics that any work it undertakes should have, be that work contemplative prayer or civic networking or anything in between? With the best answers in hand that we can presently give to those questions, derived from our present experience of the world in the midst of the times in which we live as religious, we might go on to imagine what ideally we want to be in 2005 and to plan what practically we can do to achieve that goal. Neither an historian nor anyone else could have predicted what as a matter of fact did come after the original Advent. What did take place in the coming of Jesus was a deed that was faithful to God's original purpose and to the origins of our salvation in the fulfillment of God's promises. It was an experience of God between the times, surely thus a postmodern experience in that it broke out of all past and present categories, and also a deed that con-tinues to be active even in the midst of times in the presence of the Holy Spirit in a world still "charged with the grandeur of God." That post-Advent deed and its consequences are the foundation for the yet unimagined post-Pentecost future of religious life. Notes ' Page numbers refer to Elizabeth A. Johnson CSJ, "Between the Times: Religious Life and the Postmodern Experience of God," as pub-lished in Review for Religious 53, no. 1 (January-February 1994): 6-28; hereafter Johnson. 2 Quotations from the Executive Summary of the study will refer to the text in Review for Religious 52, no. 1 (January-February 1993): 6- 55; hereafter Summary. 3This structure is taken from an article by E. Edward Kinerk SJ, "Toward a Method for the Study of Spirituality," Review for Religious 40, no. 1 (January 1981): 3-19. March-April 1994 181 DAVID MARIA KNIGHT Vowed Witness in a Church Intent on Love commitments I spent several years in the confused and glorious hey-day after Vatican II writing and speaking on the goal and value of the re.ligious vows. Inspired by the theology of Karl Rahner, I presented them, in a nutshell, as the "real-symbolic expressing (and therefore experience) of response to the transcendent call of grace." In English this meant that each vow was a way of realizing, of "making real," both to ourselves and to others, the truth of the faith, the hope, the love we were giving to Jesus Christ and his gospel. Poverty is a "real-symbolic" expression of the fact that we have set our hopes for fulfillment and security not on material possessions, but on the riches of the kingdom. Real poverty, voluntarily embraced, is a way of saying we really hope in God's promises, we really place our trust in God. Celibacy is an expression "in the flesh" of our belief that anyone who accepts "the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ" can have with God, now, on this earth, a rela-tionship of love as real as marriage, as satisfying as mar-riage, and as developmental of us as loving persons as the most ideal marriage could be. One does not have to be a celibate to be in spousal relationship with Christ--it is implicit in our baptismal consecration as "brides in the David Maria Knight is a priest of the Memphis diocese. He is a well-known author and speaker. His address is Sacred Heart Church; 1324 Jefferson; Memphis, Tennessee 38104. 182 Revie.w for Religious Bride" who is the church--but the commitment to voluntary celibacy is one way to realize, to make real in flesh and blood and action, the truth of this relationship that our faith tells us about and to experience interiorly the passionate intensity of the love we are giving to God in Jesus Christ. The vow of obedience is a real way of expressing our faith in the active presence of Jesus in the church as true head of his Body on earth, and an expression of confidence that he is able to use us and will use us effectively for the work of the kingdom through the government of those who speak for him with authority in his Body. This was new. It was a departure from the traditional way of explaining the vows as means for overcoming attachment to pos-sessions, desire for sexual pleasure, and pride. The new Catechism of the Catholic Church, although it takes a much more inspiring and positive approach to religious life elsewhere, still describes the "evangelical counsels" as "having as their goal the removal of any-thing which., could be an obstacle to the development of char-ity" (no. 1973). I believe that even if nothing within us were an obstacle to the "perfection of charity" the vows would still be inestimably desirable as passionate expressions, in flesh and blood, of the reality of ourfaith, our hope, our love for God in Jesu~s Christ. Their primary value is not in what they remove, but in what they give: the deep, personal awareness (and witness in the church) of relating to God in passionate faith, hope, and love. I find myself now, however, immersed in lay spirituality. As pastor of a parish--a position I requested precisely to "field test" a plan for.spiritual growth in parishes which I have been devel-oping for ten or fifteen years-- I am fc~cused on preaching and teaching the spirituality of the laity as they are defined in Vatican II (a definition which distinguishes the secular laity from lay reli-gious): those who "live in the world; that is, in each and all of the secular professions and occupations [and who] live in the ordi-nary circumstances of family and social life, from which the very web of their existence is woven." Vatican II not only makes clear, but assumes it is "evident to everyone," that "all the faithful of Christ, of whatever rank or status, are called to the fullness of the Christian life and to the per-fection of charity." This, I believe, is the key to all the aftermath of Vatican II. Pastoral ministry has had to refocus.The goal of parish life is no longer to provide the laity with those services they need March-April 1994 183 Knight ¯ Vowed Witness in a Church Intent on Love to "save their souls." It is to lead the laity, all of them, closer to the "perfection of love." Parish ministry has changed from store keeping to intensive marketing, from a "maintenance spiritual-ity" to a spirituality of growth. Gone are the days when parishes Religious have the personal experience of committing themselves to total response to the gospel and have training and practice in living it which should make them the natural "coaches" for the laity. existed just to provide a preordained set of services, and the only stress on the priest was concern about providing them well. Now every parish is, or should be, a center fomenting desire for "the fullness of the Christian life" in all of its members and pro-viding the motivation, instruction, and sup-port necessary to keep every member growing toward the "perfection of charity." Now every pastor faces the challenge of dis-covering how to do this. And it is not easy; the paths a whole parish can follow to greener pastures are neither familiar nor well -worn. But the goal is clear: parishes exist to support that kind of living in their members which makes the life of every single one of them a "way of perfection"--a term we used to reserve for the vowed life of religious. The life of every Christian should be avis-ible, lived-out response to the first of all commandments: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your strength, with all your mind." Jesus' words "If you would be perfect." are addressed to all. To every one of his followers he says, "Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect., strive first for the king-dom of God." How does religious life fit into all of this? There are some obvious answers we need not dwell on, because they should be evident to everyone: Religious have the personal experience of committing themselves to total response to the gospe.1 and have training and practice in living it which should make them the natural "coaches" for the laity as the whole church turns toward this goal. Also, the "fullness of the Christian life" includes involvement in ministry, which is explicit in our bap-tismal commitment. There is no question about the fact that reli-gious, the majority of whom are nonordained women, are the most experienced and effective "lay ministers," taken as a body, that the church has ever known. In the historical context of what 184 Review for Religious is and not only in the abstract context of what theoretically ought to be, it is still true to say, "If you want it done, get a nun!" But there is another way in which religious life fits into this picture of the "new church" striving en masse for perfection, and I think it is something which must be recognized if the conversion of every Christian way of life into a way of perfection is going to succeed. Religious are examples and models of that dramatic ges-ture which is a key element in launching anyone into passionate relationship with God. When Jesus said to the young man in Matthew's Gospel, "If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor. ," he was giving, not a command and not a "counsel," but an example. The young man came out of a legal-istic tradition. Jesus acknowledged this in the beginning by meet-ing him on his own ground and saying, "If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments." The young man was still thinking legalistically when he said, "Which ones?" so Jesus gave him a list. But when the boy said, "I have kept all these; what do I still lack?" and showed that there was something in him impelling him beyond a religion of law observance, Jesus recognized in him a kindred soul, someone who could learn what he came to teach. Then Jesus said (and now I am paraphrasing), "Well, if you want to live by my 'new way'--if you want to be perfect, to 'live life to the full'--here is something you can do to start with which will show that you understand what it is all about. Go, sell everything you have, and give the money to the poor. Then you can come and follow me." What Jesus was calling for was a dramatic gesture--something that would catapult the young man into another orbit of response to God. He may have been thinking explicitly of the gesture Elisha made when Elijah the prophet called him to be his successor: Elijah set out, and came upon Elisha, son of Shaphat, as he was plowing with twelve yoke of oxen; he was following the twelfth. Elijah went over to him and threw his cloak over him. Elisha left the oxen, ran after Elijah, and said, "Please, let me kiss my father and mother good-bye, and I will fol-low you." "Go back!" Elijah answered. "Have I done any-thing to you?" Elisha left him and, taking the yoke of oxen, slaughtered them; he used the plowing equipment for fuel to boil their flesh, and gave it to his people to eat. Then he left and followed Elijah as his attendant (1 K 19:19-21). March-April 1994 185 Knight * Vowed Witness in a Church Intent on Love Jesus asks all, takes all, is worth all. Why did not Elisha just have one of his workers lead the oxen back to the barn and put up the equipment while he left with Elijah? The answer is obvious: After what he had said to Elijah and Elijah to him, Elisha felt the need to make a dramatic gesture, just to show how willing he was to leave everything immediately and give himself to the service of God. This gesture was necessary, not only to win Elijah's confidence, but so that Elisha himself would know, without any shadow of doubt, that he was sweeping everything out of his heart in undivided dedication to what he was called to do. What Jesus said to the rich young man about "selling everything" was just one example of the kind of dramatic gesture which would show that the man understood, before he started to follow Jesus, what the terms of discipleship would be. In a nutshell, Jesus asks all, takes all, is worth all. What he offers is the "pearl of great price" and the "treasure hidden in a field" for which we must be willing to sell every other pearl, even everything we own. What he said to this young man was no dif-ferent from what he said in several places elsewhere. And essentially what Jesus tells the young man is the same thing he proclaims to all when he says, "whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple" (see the whole of this passage, Luke 14:2 5-3 3). Another translation miti-gates for modern ears the Hebrew starkness of "hate fath+r and mother" by making it "turn your back on father and mother." This puts the interior attitude into the form of a dramatic gesture again, but the meaning is the same: "Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And if you want to know you do not love father or mothei" more than me, make a dramatic gesture that proves it." Jesus could just as well have told the young man, "If you want to embrace my way, show it by leaving home; abandon your father and mother!" Or he could have used the example Matthew cites right before this and said, "Go make yourself a eunuch for the sake of the kingdom; that will prove you are taking me seriously!" Jesus is a teacher; he.is trying to make a point. It is of no concern to him whether his followers are rich or poor, married or celi-bate, living with their parents or missioned a thousand miles away 186 Review for Religdous from them. They can be living the "perfection of charity" in any of these situations. What Jesus is saying Ks that anyone who authentically follows him must be, in fact, total and undivided in love for God, or at least be consciously committed to such total and undi-vided love. And it is characteristic of human beings that we do not really know what is in our hearts until we express what is in them externally. As 'Karl Rahner puts it, "We do not know that we really believe in the two birds in the bush until we let go of the one bird in the hand." We cannot know that our treasure is in heaven unless in some way we renounce the treasure we have stored up on earth. And if we want to know that we really believe in the invis-ible God in our heart, one effective though rad-ical way to discover it is to give up the visible man or woman in our arms. To launch ourselves into a "way of perfection," we need to make some dramatic, radical gesture which says to us and to others from the outset that we are for real. This is what religious know, what they have experienced, and what the centuries-old tradition of religious life has demonstrated: To launch ourselves into a "way of perfection," we need to make some dramatic, radical gesture which says to us and to others from the outset that we are for real. Jesus Christ is not real to us until we take him for real. And to give up things which are very, very real to us, such as money, marriage, and independence, is a very powerful, passionate way to take him for real. It is authen-tic, it is legitimate, and it works. In the "new" church, which is consciously oriented toward the "perfection of love" as the go.al of every Christian's way of life, religious have the role of witnessing to the need and to the efficacy of expressing dramatically one's commitment to this love. Religious need to understand their vows as the dramatic expres-sion of their own intention to live single-mindedly--in "purity of heart"--in total, passionate, undivided love for God. The vows are a dramatic gesture, but a real one, like that of the bride strip-ping herself for the bridegroom. They are a gesture given daily-- every day, all day--as the expression of enduring, faithfully passionate love. The purpose of the vows is to focus our hearts on the person of Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ offers himself daily in the dramatic gesture of March-April 1994 187 Knight ¯ Vowed Witness in a Church Intent on Love the Eucharist--"This is my body, given up for you." He asks us to open ourselves physically to him, to receive him into our bodies in the dramatic gesture of Communion which pledges us to be one with him in heart and mind and soul, in the living of our lives and in the offering of our lives together with him, the Lamb of God, for the life of the world. Religious have understood for centuries the significance of this language of love. Whatever else they did or did not do, religious, whenever it was humanly pos-sible, participated in the eucharistic celebration daily. Those men and women who daily lived their lives in love, who daily gave expression through their vows to their passionate intention of loving the Lord their God with their whole heart, whole strength, whole minds, grasped without need of explanation the appropri-ateness of joining themselves to Jesus Christ in the passionate daily expression of his love in the Eucharist. Sometimes people ask, "Why is there no sacramental conse-cration to religious life as there is to marriage and priesthood?" Perhaps an answer is that religious ire not consecrated to a par-ticular function in the church the way priests and married people are; their function as religious is that of all the baptized: to bear witness to Jesus Christ and his gospel in the total, passionate, daily oblation of themselves. But religious, by their particular and different way of life~ do this in an explicitly recognizable way. Religious life, when it is authentically lived, is a visible, convinc-ing sign (as martyrdom is) that total dedication to Jesus Christ is possible, that the grace of undivided love is present and active in the church. Sacraments are "visible signs instituted by Jesus Christ to give grace." Perhaps we can say that religious life is "grace made visible in a total commitment to Jesus Christ that is a sign," In this case the sacramental expression of religious life--as of every Christian life which actually aims at the "perfection of love"--is the eucharistic celebration. Religious, who have .been called to make their lives a dramatic gesture of love, celebrate the meaning of their vocation when they join themselves to the dramatic expression Jesus gives to his passion, to his passionate love, every day in the Mass. 188 Review for Religious THERESA MANCUSO Quest for an Undivided Heart On a dark autumn night in Far Rockaway, the rough Atlantic lurches and rolls up the sand. The tide is coming in. Foamy waves crash along the shore, filling rocky crevices with a salty spray, dislodging, sometimes, the fearless gulls that perch precariously on the jetty's edge waiting for their prey, regardless of season, regardless of cold. High up on a boulder overlooking the surf, I perch myself, silent in the coming night, watchful as my three German Shepherd dogs dart back and forth into the water playing tag along the beach. A ripe harvest moon hovers above, the only source of light as the gathering darkness wraps the shore in stillness. Alone now except for the roaring sea,which seems alive in its noisy motion, we are sandwiched here between heaven and earth, time and eter-nity. It is a good place to think, a great place to pray. In this deserted cathedral of earth and sky and sea, I often find renewal for my soul. Solitude, silence, and surrender calm and soothe when I am lonely or afraid or when, perchance, I have momen-tarily lost sight of the vision that impels me. Many-splendored master that it is, the sea is both healer and challenger and the everlasting Face of the Deep is forever a reminder of human lone-liness, longing for God. Many years ago in the romanticism of adolescence, like many others, I was drawn and fascinated by the ideals of religious life and led to embark on a spiritual journey on which celibacy, con- Theresa Mancuso's article "Prayer, Memories, and God" was published in our July-August 1993 issue. She'lives at 448 Seventh Avenue; Brooklyn, New York 11215. March-April 1994 189 Mancuso ¯ Quest for an Undivided Heart secrated chastity, was considered the pearl of great price. For the crown of Sponsa Christi, the young religious was inspired to sac-rifice the heart, forgetful of every, human longing--not knowing for sure all it entailed. To the precious star of chastity we set our sails so long ago and far away, willing to journey through the per-ilous waters of life, armed only with faith and emboldened by the little we knew or understood about reality or ourselves. Maturity was far off, then, as we took ,.the golden chalice of chastity with both our hands, intent on draining it to the dregs. Time folded round about us like the arms of the sea as decade by decade we were washed in the flood of human experience from which there is no return. There is a solitude and silence deep in the heart of conse-crated celibacy, a surrender that echoes in the still point of the soul. Despite the changes time inscribes on the idealism of youth, it is a refreshing experience to meet today's consecrated virgins, men and women of various ages for whom religious chastity has never lost its meaning. Of their lives and their experiences, let us take note. The consecrated virgin is rather little understood and even less appreciated in the modern world. Nevertheless, religious chastity is still the sign and seal of the kingdom of God among us. We try not to forget where we came from or where we are going. There is something indelibly written in the human heart by the vow of chastity. Regardless of all the changing cultural mores in the world about us, regardless, too, of our own restless hearts, the unspeakable beauty of this vow is bound up to the essential integrity it sustains, the quest and achievement of an undivided heart. When those of us who vowed our lives to consecrated chastity long ago and far away confront the reality of today, who we are and what we. have become, deep questions await us. Have we emerged through the years with undivided hearts? Have we found the pearl of great price? Has chastity given us power to love all God's chil-dren, to nurture the world in the spirit of faith, to sustain great and noble friendships without losing the balance of a virginal heart? Is celibacy still our pearl of great price, or has it become an embarrassment to us in a world of sexual adventure,., excess, and casual alliances? Doe's chastity still shine within us with the light of happiness that shone in the promises of youth, or is our love for 190 Review for Reli~ous the celibate ideal so damaged by time and tarnished by temptation that it is long forgotten, pushed to the back of our mind as if, indeed, we had never given ourselves to God? Have we grown tired of trying? Have we lost our precious pearl? The.monk (monachos) or nun (monache) stands in the breach of the universe, a marginal person, monos-- alone. In that desert there is solitude, silence, and surrender, but there is also tenderness, joy, freedom, and peace, the gifts of the Spirit and the happiness of an undivided heart. To be alone with God in the vastness of time is sometimes frightening. We came to religious life burning with desire for union with God. The spiritual goals of enlighten-ment and self-giving called us to surrender our entire existence, everything,, right down to the deepest longings in the human heart. How shall we know if the promise has been fulfilled within us? Eschewing too much analysis, it is not with-out merit to examine ourselves with regard to chastity, for what we paid the greatest price for shall indeed be our sweetest con-solation. The reality of celibacy takes us into solitude, not once and for all, but over and over again. Every time we face the silent stillness of an unencumbered life, we recognize the act of sur-render (for there is really no other alternative), an act that leads time and time again straight to the heart of God. Along this way the saints have gone, and we may follow. Monks and nuns are not alone in celebrating the joy of the undivided heart. Many others, to be sure, in the world about us, have sacrificed sexual expression for the love of God, the practice of intensified religious living, the service of others, and the deepening freedom of the human spirit. Why be celibate in a world exploding with sexuality? Why be chaste in a society glutted by sensual allurement? Why refrain from instant and immediate gratification? The promise of chastity remains today what it has always been, an uninterrupted, pro-foundly unifying discipline of the heart, a calming of emotion. Apatheia. Passionlessness. The emptying of explosive divisive attachment. Our long journey-to God is a quest for an undivided The reality of celibacy takes us into Solitude, not once and for all, but over and over again. March-April 1994 191 Mancuso ¯ Quest for an Undivided Heart Chastity for the kingdom of God shines beside marital chastity as a vocation complete and magnificent in itself. heart, stripped of attachment to all that is not he. Kenosis. Emptying. But we do not strive to abandon passion in order to be phlegmatic zombies. We do not strive to over-come attachment so that we can be cold, mechanical people, devoid of love. Instead, chastity is the baptism of all our feelings, all our emotions, the freeing of all the power within us, zest for life, creative energy. Chastity is the focus of our vision on God,or it is nothing. Celibacy asks its practitioner to pour out its most intimate being, not into the void, but into the Total Ultimate that is God. Chastity calls for continual repentance, continual surrender. Metanoia. Change of heart. The surrender of sexual distraction and satisfaction removes from a human being those concerns about intimacy that. often eat up the larger portion of human consciousness and creative preconsciousness. The heart that is focused on God is empowered to love and embrace the entire world, not for self-satisfaction, but with gen-uine and authentic interest and care. Our consecrated celibacy should make us more loving, more caring, more gentle and tender, compassionate and kind. That is the reality of an undivided heart. To be all things to all for the love of God, unselfishly, with purity of heart--that is the joy of chastity, the empowerment of the virgin. When today the world scoffs at virginity, it acts and reacts without understanding or knowledge of what it truly is. Our quest for an undivided heart is not futile, not wasted. It is the journey of courage that takes us into the fullness of God's abiding presence, more and more revealed to us proportionately as we lay aside all that is not God. The whole point of celibacy is union with God, nothing more and nothing less. Chastity is free-dom from the pursuit of pleasure and popularity, freedom from encrustations of endless self-adornment for the sake of vanity or "sex appeal," freedom from uncontrolled emotion and undisci-plined desire--indeed, freedom from self in areas where self may be the worst enemy. We do not posit'the beauty of consecrated chastity over against marital chastity, but beside it, its sister state. Chastity for the kingdom of God shines beside marital chastity as a vocation 192 Review.for Religious complete and magnificent in itself. Monos, alone. The splendor of the celibate heart is not servile frigidity nor some holier-than-thou imagined adornment of the soul. The consecrated virgin is not opposed to the married; the virgin lives as ultimate marriage of the spirit. The splendor of celibacy is the quickening of abil-ity to embrace the world unselfishly and bring God's love back into it. By surrendering one's right to nurture one's own offspring, one is free to take the children of humanity into one's deepest embrace and to love and serve them forever. Celibacy is a font of energy in the undivided heart, a direEting of the life force to the Life Giver. We need never be ashamed for having made this choice--indeed, for having been chosen for it. Most religious have tasted the price of celibacy. Many have traveled far from the safety of religious communities in which the vows were made, those havens where temptation was kept very much at bay. Unexpqsed and untested, we thought ourselves pure. Later, mind and heart were tested by the real world. The promise of celibacy is far deeper than all the dreams 'and aspira-tions of our youth. Life has a way of sweeping away illusion. One by one we find ourselves devoid of excuses, alone in the wilder-ness wfiere we must do battle against the pull of desire. But God teaches us quietly with relentless compassion until we understand the vigorous truth of what it is all about. And then the years are gone. Single-mindedness in the undivided heart bears fruit in quiet happiness. One finds, after all, that God is always with us, his love underpinning everything we are, everything we do. All earthly delights pale beside the effulgence of God reveal-ing himself to those who seek him with a pure heart. Immersed in him completely, we are given a new ability to focus on the things that really matter. Nor should we think of celibacy as just a physical state. It is more a state of mind, a field of completion for the soul, a refin-ing instrument that fine-tunes emotion. Chastity with diligent constancy chips and chisels all the corners of the human heart. It makes us who we are, but slowly, slow. We are forever becom-ing. As the sea chips and chisels the shore, so does celibacy remove the dross of selfishness as it refines the heart. Not without pain. Not without suffering. But, most importantly, not without joy. I watch a gull swoop down into the waves, taking his catch from the sea. The small fish is caught, devoured, by the power-ful beak of the gull, for this is nature's way. Then the lonely sea March-April.1994 193 Mancuso ¯ Quest for an Undivided Heart Our quest for an undivided heart seems to take a whole lifetime. gull flies up out of the wave and is lost to sight in the evening sky. It reminds me that I, too, fly alone over the'ocean of life, single in the world, without a mate, for one great purpose, God. The gull and I are one for this single fleeting moment as the night steals on and the only sound in the darkness is the song of the sea. Two beings in the universe, separate and complete, starkly alone. Somehow in thavfleeting moment I come to understand why I choose .celibacy. All the props have disappeared since the day on which I promised chastity to God. It is very different now, the life I am leading, Those who inspired me have vanished from the earth in the sweet embrace of death or are far away from me. Our destinies, once so closely entwined, grew separate through the years. The whole world has changed, but the heart remains the same. Over time we face our dragons, such as they are. There is no exemption. Life batters the foundations on which religious vows are built. Suffering and sin touch everyone. The best we can do is to keep on choosing God first, for he has chosen us. To keep on choosing God is to celebrate the vow of celibacy for the love of God and for no other reason. To keep one's eye on the goal is to remain in an undivided heart. All along the way we just keep fac-ing ourselves, as we are, for better or for worse. Staggering truths reveal themselves, but they do not come home to us all at once. As the years unfold, bit by bit we uncover the truths of who and what we really are. Life insists that we go beyond the images, far beyond our misconceptions and imaginings. Sometimes it is a painful, searing journey. Our quest for an undivided heart seems to take a whole lifetime. It was not the work of the novitiate nor completed in the ceremony of vow day. The richness of the vowed life dawns slowly a long way down the road from where we started. As the moon rises higher in the sky over Rockaway, the dark-ness fills with a luminous aura. The sea quiets down as the tide rests inland. The dogs hunker down beside me, digging deep cav-erns in the sand to lie down in. Questions of celibacy have long challenged me, not just tonight, but many nights for more than a quarter of a century. Now, in this luminous nightfall on the shore, all inne~ rhythms find themselves attuned to the sand and sea and sky. One with the universe for a single moment, the burdens of a 194 Revie~ for Religious lifetime fall silently into the waves. Configured in stark simplic-ity, it suddenly makes sense, lt's all about an undivided heart. I did not notice the stars coming out slowly in the black dome of sky as the evening wore on. They twinkle now light years away, far above me. There they are just as they have always been. But I didn't notice them, not until now. Only now do I see them clearly, a starry quilt across the heavens wrapping land and sea in the blanket of their glory. The whole point and purpose of religious chastity seems suddenly at last so clear, so complete. The quest for an undivided heart. Through it we are called to create an interior environment free from the remnants of undisciplined love, unrea-sonable attachment, self-centered emotionalism, and the display of ego. Celibacy re~noves distraction from the undivided heart. One consecrated to celibacy still stands in this troubled world as a sign of the kingdom of God as the stars stand from age to age, forever. Gathering my things, I descend the rocks and leave the beach, dogs at my side. The stars are twinkling high above and the sea's roar is silent. Everything is still as the fullness of nighttime falls. The burden of loneliness is gone; commotions of the mind are silent. With renewed conviction I head for home, focused, for a while at least, on the pearl of great price that once was mine and calls me still to the undivided heart that finds its all in God. Vocation Poets and prophets Are born to bleed And orily lesser ones weep. To have heard and held in hollow heart a word Seared lips al~ne may speak Is glory enough--is glory indeed! Janet Benish March-April 1994 195 BRIAN C. YATES Imaged Celibacy: A Reflection for Priests This reflection on celibacy considers the imagination in e life of a celibate. To put the theme bluntly: Do I see and imagine myself as a celibate? Do I see my celibate self as a lov-ing and lovable man? The apostolic exhortation "I Will Give You Shepherds" (Pastores dabo vobis, 7 April 1992) says, "The gift of self, which is the source and synthesis of pastoral charity, is directed to the church" (§23). My query is this: Is the self that comes to mind in these questions and in this statement my real and true self, or is it in practice my false self?. My false self--using Thomas Merton's distinction--is what may be described as my mask, my shadow, my empirical self, the self I develop in my own likeness rather than in the likeness of God. I develop the false self to cope with the trials of life; it is the self I project and display to the outer world of people and experience. The true self, on the other hand, is that deeper new reality which lies hidden within me as the image of God, the word of God that I am, the new man described by St. Paul. To paraphrase Merton, the real I is simply one's self and nothing more, one's self as it is in the eyes of God. First, then, do I as a celibate try to work at making my false self celibate? Do I attempt to accomplish the task of making who I think I ought to be celibate? Such an approach is all of my own doing--granted all the goodwill in the world--and is prone to utter frustration. Why? Because celibacy needs to be linked not to Brian C. Yates, a diocesan priest, writes for us from Galilee House; 60B Blair Street; Bondi, N.S.W. 2026; Australia. 196 Review for Religious the false, unreal, pretended self, but rather to the real self. I am firmly of the opinion that many of us celibates have tried to make our false selves celibate. It is, however, only when we get in touch with our real selves by honest and true self-knowledge and awareness that we accept ourselves as created by God in his own image and likeness. We then accept the word of God that each of us is. Only when we discover our true self and discover the real-ity of God dwelling within us can we admit that our identity rests on our being loved by God who dwells within. By throwing off the hold the false self has on me, I become open to the gifting of the Holy Spirit. The "Come, Holy Spirit" invocation is a cry from the true self, not the false self. Second, do I image myself as a celibate loving and lovable man? I propose that celibacy thrives as a reality in our lives only when our graced active imag-ination never lets us forget that we possess it as a gift of the Spirit of God. In other words, if celibacy is not imaged as a desired gift, it will not continue to be there as a gift or in any other way. The invitation to image is suggested by Jesus' question "What are you looking for?" (Jn 1:38). Men who have been ordained to the priesthood have been so gifted because, over the course of years, they have imaged priesthood and celibacy as the gifts they are. The art of imaging is not fantasy or mental picture making, nor is it a means of escaping reality and life's demands. Rather, it is the way which Providence uses to get us into the real. It is the energy and power of one's mental faculty that operates through the medium of images, symbols, myths, stories, and parables--for example, the kingdom of heaven is like a pearl of great price, a dragnet, a hidden treasure, a festive wedding banquet. Imaging is a way of knowing--it is beyond mere reason and rational thought. When we image, we intuit and we use our feelings, emotions, and memories, without excluding logic and planning. In fact, these latter ingredients prevent us from sinking into mere reverie or daydreaming. The process of imaging has been aptly caught by the saying that "we tend to create what we love." Do I love celibacy? That is the question. The desire, under grace, to image is encouraged by St. Bernard's remark "The desire is the pledge of the fulfillment of the Imaging is a way of knowing-- it is beyond mere reason and rational thought. March-April 1994 197 Yates * Imaged Celibacy The image of celibacy has a life of its own, a life to be subsequently realized in practice. desire" and by Ricoeur's observation that to change behavior we .need to change the image. I propose that celibates will find their lives greatly enhanced by the practice of imaging celibacy. If one does not image celibacy as a gift to the true self, much energy will be exercised on the task of avoiding temptation, of coping, of excessive concern about the quality of interpersonal relationships, of asking "How far can I go?" or expressing one's sexuality in inappropriate ways, of offering up dif-ficulties, of living encumbered by suppression and repression, of merely tolerating the law of celibacy from outside as a technical requirement of ministry. When a man images celibacy as a gift to himself and practices a celibate lifestyle as a loving and lov-able person, he authors his own life as a free disci-ple of the Lord. Freedom and life are the results of such imaging and such practice. The image of celibacy has a life of its own, a life to be subse-quently realized in practice. As long as it stays healthy by being consciously lived, this life of celibacy prevents a takeover by outside factors. On our spiritual journey the passionate energy of imaging is aptly expressed in Luke's preamble to the Last Supper. Jesus' image is proclaimed: "I have greatly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer." This image, this desire, was acted upon by Peter and John: "Go and prepare our Passover for us" (Lk 22:7-16). The imaged desire of Jesus became a reality--it hap-pened. The Beatitude "Blest are the single-hearted for they shall see God" (Mt 5:8) further captures the imaged energy of the celi-bate. This blessed "sight of God" is shown again in the imaged and vigorously implemented desir~ of Zacchaeus to see Jesus. His running out in front and climbing the sycamore tree secured the presence of Jesus in his house that very day (Lk 19:1-10). Annie Dillard, in her story of the Weasel in Teaching a Stone to Talk, writes of "people taking vows of poverty, chastity, and obe-dience by choice. The thing is to stalk your calling., to grasp your one necessity and not let it go." If their vision has become blurred, celibates need to regain appropriate ways of imaging their choice of celibacy--they must stalk their calling. They must do this in conjunction with their own self-knowledge and aware-ness, their conscience and their value system, They must not shun 198 Review Jbr Religious the effort involved in such imaging and such living. They must keep looking in the right direction, in season and out of season: "They shall look on him whom they have pierced" (Jn 19:37). The Sacred Temple You will find your way by the grace of God over the broad dirt road through the merchant mob: the press of children selling holy cards, the pretty, gypsy girls and brown, drunken bards yelling: "No. no plaster., alabastert." as the ocean air fills with rum and laughter rum and laughter Scattering seagulls like failed prayer's fruit in a once quiet place the mob is upon you pushing, tugging, pulling at your jacket with old gum and bloody, sad gods of plastic their playfully wild dogs between your feet looking, whining, growling for something to eat something to eat But, then your senses blur. You are taken into, away, beyond the soul awakens where the bright sweetness of eternal Light consumes that crazy mob of our false delights where the Word of God draws with gentle bands and you know and are known where the birds fly home to the holy land. John Boyd OSB March-April 1994 199 JOANNE MARIE GREER Needed: An Ethic of Memories challenges In my current careei- I teach and supervise religious who are in training as pastoral counselors in M.A. and Ph.D. programs. Personal memories, memories of inter-personal exchhnges and relationships, are very live issues for these trainees, both in their emerging clinical compe-tence and in their own processing of their own pasts. This article is a result of my reflections deriving from my work with the students. Those reflections were crystallized by the following incident. Quite by accident I met Maria, someone who turned out to be a link to my past of almost forty years ago. I found that Maria was a close current friend of Anna, some-one I had known rather well in high school and also been with in the novitiate. I had moved to another part of the country and had not seen Anna since. Further exchanges ensued: "Well, do you know X?" "Did you know Y? . Did you also live under Mother Z, and what did you think of her?" "Did you visit such and such a place?" and so forth. Then my new acquaintance said, "Oh, by the way, my friend Anna is sometimes called [a slightly salacious nickname] within her community. No one will tell me the story behind it." With a moment's reflection on my part, I was able to supply the embar-rassing information, which came from Anna's life around age sixteen, When she and I were schoolmates. Joanne Marie Greer PhD is director of research in the Pastoral Counseling Department of Loyola College; 7135 Minstrel Way, Suite 101; Columbia, Maryland 21045 200 Review for Religious Later I was reporting this incident to Susan, a current-day friend. I had felt troubled by the exchange with Maria about Anna's nickname, but could not put my finger on the reason. I was certainly not jealous of Anna's friendship with Maria. Anna had not been a close friend of mine, and I had not thought of her in years. My friend Susan reproached me for telling the mean-ing of the nickname, saying: "What you remember of Anna does not belong to you. It belongs to you and Anna together. If Anna had wanted her current-day friend to know this about the past, she would have told her herself. Besides, when Maria tells Anna what she knows, Anna will be troubled. She will wonder what else you may tell Maria about the past." I conceded that Susan was right, and felt 'there was some deep wisdom in her comment. I continued thinking about it off and on for several days. I finally concluded that this apparition from my past had caused me to momentarily regress in my judgment in a way which I still regret. But it may be useful to describe how I reached this conclusion. In this way my medium--this article--becomes part of my message, that memory is a volatile and indeterminate thing. As a psychoanalyst I have learned the professional discipline of analyzing my own thoughts carefully whenever I feel troubled, lest my lurking disturbance throw me off balance in my clinical work. Initially I set out to trace my own free associations to the exchange about Anna's nickname and to Susan's subsequent reproach. The first thing I recalled was working in the novitiate of my order, and the secrets I had painfully held within. I then moved on to the memory of seeing the pain of the novice mistress when it got back to her what gossipy and critical-things the departed trainees had said about her to their relatives and friends. I had found the novice mistress a very difficult work supervisor, and I understood the diffuse anger of the disappointed, disaffiliated postulants and novices. I resolved, however, that if I ever left the order (as I afterwards did) I would keep its dirty laundry to myself. I simply did not want to cause such pain, and I cut off all mem-ories to guard against remembering and talking. I went so far in this that none of my in-laws even knew that I had spent ten years in the convent. Memory .is a volatile and indeterminate thing. March-April 1994 201 Greer ¯ Needed: An Ethic of Memories Another association that came to mind was to a recurring cur-rent- day announcement in my parish bulletin, inviting people to join a counseling group entitled "Adult Children of Dysfunctional Families." The invitation listed several questions. If one answered yes to these questions, the implication was that one should join this discussion group. I recalled that I always read the list of ques-tions with rising irritation and impatience. I am well aware that the answers to these questions can indicate a multitude of subtle or gross psychological difficulties. I also know that these diffi-culties are unlikely to be helped by ten sessions of parent bashing, however ghastly one's parents may have been. In fact, my experi-ence has been that such discussions often give persons with seri-ous characterological difficulties a new excuse to indulge in self-pity, instead of helping them to effect in themselves hard psy-chological changes. My thoughts then went to some students in my pastoral-coun-seling classes who seemed unable to learn anything abstract because their own memories were so enlivened by the class mate-rial. I had to work against the tendency of these few to turn the class into group therapy. This led my thoughts to my admiration for a student who came to me and said simply, "I don't want to go into details, but I'm dropping your class because it's getting me too upset. I'll take it again in two years, after I've done some work in therapy." I also connected my associations to my original contact with psychoanalysis. At that time I was aware of being quite depressed at the impending death of my mother-in-law and the illness of my young son. I went to my HMO (health maintenance organi-zation) for the twenty sessions of psychotherapy included in my employer's contract. After ten sessions the supervising psychia-trist threw up his hands and said, "Go have psychoanalysis. You spend half your energy avoiding mourning over the loss of your friends in the convent, so you cannot stand up under the pres-sure of the present. We cannot do anything for you in ten more sessions." I took his advice, found it helpful, and became so inter-ested in analysis that I ultimately became an analyst myself. So I had become a "specialist in memories," as a roundabout result of my original avoidance of memories! How did this con-nect to my indiscretion in sharing my memory of the meaning of Anna's nickname and to my subsequent discomfort? I spend part of each day listening to memories that are eatin, g 202 Review for Religious at my clients, my analysands. For their own personal benefit, I almost always discourage them from sharing these memories out-side the sessions. They would dissipate the emotional power gen-erated by private reflection and structured therapeutic work on their memories if they broadcasted them to friends and relatives. That emotional power would then be less available for real per-sonal change. Anger, grief, and disappointment are powerful emotions. In the psyche they are similar to oil or coal that can be converted to fuel, used as energy for action and redirection. Endless talk dissipates rather than concentrates this energy. But I have a second reason, an important ethical one, for discouraging people from sharing these old memories that they discover as we work in therapy sessions. Memory is a tricky thing. What we empha-size, and what we forget, depends not only on what happened, but on our intellectual capacities at the time of the event and on our ability to endure the truth. What we remember is seldom the whole story. Here is the advantage to keeping these memories within the therapy sessions. If kept within the treatment relationship, this potential discrepancy between past facts and current memories is simply more grist for the therapeutic mill. If we discover together a suppression of some aspect of the past, within the ses-sion we can very usefully explore why that bit of information was so carefully forgotten and what change has made it possible to remember now. The layering of memories is such a common-place that psychoanalysis has a special name, "screen memory," for a memory that hides behind it yet another, more traiamatic mem-ory. In a full-length analysis of a person with a traumatic but largely forgotten childhood, I have seen the "screen" layers turn out to be more than two deep. This constitutes an excellent i'ea-son for those in treatment to hold their tongues while continuing to trace the red thread through the tangled skein of their mem-ories. There is, however, yet another ethical aspect to the question of sharing a memory from treatment. Suppose the person in treat-ment decides to give a sibling a play-by-play description of the current status of the therapeutic work. Several major problems ensue, which seem to me to have important ethical dimensions. First of all, the listener may have shared some of the experiences What we remember is seldom the whole story. March-April 1994 ]03 Greet ¯ Needed: An Ethic of Memories in the recovered memories. But the listener may not have a ther-apist or other suitable confidant with whom to work through the feelings stirred up by these confidences. Even if the listener is a current-day friend who did not share the speaker's experiences, the friend .may have had similar experiences which are suddenly brought into working memory. In either case, this recollection occurs, not when the listener chooses and feels ready, but when the speaker thoughtlessly imposes this unexpected psychological task. This is one good reason that therapy per se is a profession and not a friendship task. Professional therapists have been trained to attend to their own intrapsychic reactions to the client's dis-course. The client realistically depends upon this aspect of the therapeutic contract in order to be free of the burden of caring for the therapist's psyche during the sessions. Moreover, the client need feel no guilt at all about burdening the therapist, because the client is paying the therapist to perform this intrapsychic task. It is the therapist's job to have recourse to self-analysis, peer supervision, or a resumption of personal treat-ment if a client's discourse about traumatic memories then arouses troubling feelings and memories in the therapist. To expect this same degree of accommodation from a friend would be exploita-five. Such concomitant self-care cannot be appropriately forced on a nonprofessional in order to make one's friend more "useful" in working through one's past. To force this task upon a friend would be appropriate reason to feel quite guilty. A very serious problem may follow the sharing of one's mem-ories outside of therapy as if they were firm fact. The uncon-scious operates by a set of "primary process" laws. The psychoanalytic term "secondary process" refers to our rational, adult way of thought processing and is roughly equivalent to "rea-soning." In contrast, primary process is the more primitive and imaginative way of thinking that takes place in dreams, creative productions, and memories. In primary process the part may be substituted for the whole, or vice versa; one person may be sub-sfituted for another, or one event for another, because of some yet unnoted logical connection between them. In dream analysis these connections can often be recovered by asking the analysand to systematically free-associate to each element (noun, verb, or adjective) of the dream narrative until the stream of associations runs dry. But in memories per se, often the missing or substituted elements become clear only much later, when the remembering 204 Review for Religious person overcomes resistance to a more accurate memory. The dangers of sharing the "interim drafts" of the final memory should be obvious. Terrible hurts may be imposed on the innocent. But suppose the memory is accurate and stands fast over time in the face of careful analysis? There still seems an ethical prob-lem in broadcasting such a memory. Memory by definition refers to the past. The persons in the memories have current-day rela-tionships with other innocent people. For example, suppose a sib-ling who molested you now has a wife and children. What good would be served by venting one's rage within the family and destroying the peace of the newer family members? One would be obtaining revenge, or at least emotional ventilation, at the expense of the innocent. Certainly the person who recalls experiences of victimization and exploitation has every right to establish a psychological dis-tance from the past abuser. But this can be done without sharing one's thoughts. Further, over the course of a long mental-health treatment or course of counseling, the analysand usually arrives at a position of compassion towards those who caused them suffer-ing in childhood. Even in cases of former physical or sexual abuse, the termination of treatment finds the survivors in a position of forgiveness combined with appropriate self-protection, rather than a position of vengeful attack. This psychological disposition is serendipitously not only more Christian, but also more life enhancing. As we approach the end of treatment, I have sometimes been thanked for insisting on the confidentiality of the ongoing treat-ment. In the heat of remembering, one may wish to confront one's torturers. But later, after the pain has been alleviated, an analysand is often grateful that some small but meaningful rela-tionship remains, for example, with parents who are now under-stood to have been pitifully impaired by their childhoods. After the incident of Anna's nickname, one result of my asso-ciative process was a new realization that middle-aged people who have been, or still are, in a religious order have not one but two families of origin. The usual past practice of admitting very young candidates means that many candidates completed adolescence and entered young adulthood with a second set of parents, the training staff. Moreover, the drastic changes involved in enter-ing a religious order could be expected to cause, and did cause, massive regression in many candidates. This means that, in effect, March-April 1994 205 Crreer * Needed: An Ethic of Memories they spent not only some of adolescence but even all of adoles-cence and some of a second latency period within the cloister. It would be theoretically likely that the usual mechanisms of for-getting childhood trauma, recovering it in garbled form, and feel-ing a need to work through it would be present When is a memory private, and when is it community property? When must it be told, when may it be told, and when must it be kept secret? in such people with regard to t~0 childhoods and two sets of parents. My reflection led me to include myself among those who had such a past and to recall that my main dissatisfaction with my training analyst had been his utter incapacity to imagine my life experience as a young religious. Thus Anna's nickname pointed me to a new task in my ongoing self-analysis. My second realization was a personal grasp of a dilemma'I have listened to many times from the victims of family crimes. When is a memory private, and when is it community property? W-hen must it be told, when may it be told, and when must it be kept secret? I had learned that this question may surface about something as large as incest or as small as a nickname. As in many of the subtle ethical dilemmas in life, there is no pat answer to this question. It is well to keep this in mind. Here a final memory linked with Anna emerged, and I under-stood another of the roots of my early resolve against giving pain by narrating private memories of my past convent experience. In this memory I was a novice, on vacation at a rustic seaside camp connected to a rural high school owned by the order. Along the length of the washroom wher~ I was brushing my teeth, there was a ventilation space just under the eaves, open to the cloister walk outside. Out on the cloister walk I recognized, among a group of visiting major superiors, the voice of the nun who had been principal of my school when Anna and I were students together. Another superior who did not know me mentioned my name. My old principal, who had not spoken to me in three years, remarked, "Oh, yes, that one is full of the Old Nick." My eyes filled with angry tears. I felt it was unfair to judge me at age eigh-teen by my behavior three years before. At that point in my current-day reflections, I realized that each of us is in a process of becoming. Those who have remem- ~06 Rwbiew for Religious bered us only by some static moment and then have passed out of our lives do seem to have an ethical obligation to keep their own counsel. After all, persons being impugned via the narration of memory may, in effect, no longer exist; they may be thoroughly different from the persons called to mind by the reminiscence. In any case, they deserve the benefit of the doubt. Participants in therapies which focus upon memories of years ago need to keep this in mind. So do ordinary folk, particularly as they age and their store of memories becomes larger and larger. Easter Lily Your bell is poised for announcement, green-white at first, the color of music not yet tongued. We have come to expect drama: spring's green entrance, the dandelion invasion, snow in the orchard, and those housewrens concealing their nest in the ivy-veiled oak. This morning you trumpeted six gold notes from your ivory cave, a fanfare for the resurrection from the dead. Avis Kunca Kubick March-dt~H11994 207 \~ILLIAM MOCKUS A Discipline of Self-Respect Forthose seeking direction in their spiritual journeys and for .1_ .those who journey with people seeking God's direction, how we use the word discipline needs to be given attention. Our assumptions about discipline significantly affect our spiritual exer-cises and practices. A few years ago a cartoon depicted one man saying to another, "Yes, I'd like to reach spiritual perfection as soon as possible; then move on to bigger and better things." Obviously, this perception of "spiritual perfection" relates more to ego achievement than to true spiritual growth. But, like most humor, what makes it funny is its nearness to truth. We desire to grow spiritually, but we are not sure of how or when the goal is reached. When asked what they desire at the beginning of a retreat or a spiritual-direction relationship, many people say a closer or more intimate relationship with God, a more faithful practice of prayer, or a sense of security around what they are already doing in prayer even though it may "feel dead" to them. Often, from what we have been taught and have come to believe about spiritual perfection, we assume that greater disci-pline, meaning greater self-control, will produce the desired spir-itual fruit. To pray well, we believe we must control our wandering imagination, our body, even our breath. We believe that, if we fdil ai' our discipline ot[ self-control, then we or someone else may judge our spiritual life, if not our entire self, to be a failure. William Mockus, a diocesan priest from Paterson, New Jersey, currently serves on the. retreat team at Bon Secours Spiritual Center. His address is Bon Secours Spiritual C.enter; 1525 Marriottsville Road; Marriottsville, Maryland 21104. 208 Review for Religious We have long recognized that, in developing most worth-while skills, some type of discipline is required. We assume, then, that living Christian lives "skillfully" must involve the "discipline" of putting the Jesus story into our everyday activity. But our image of God should not ignore Jesus' own activity at work within our lives as they are. Having such an image involves a different sort of discipline. Rather than straining to achieve a degree of spiritual perfection that will allow us to feel secure by sheer force of will, we need to seek a "disciplined faithfulness to our own advancing StOry." In the spiritual life the essential ingredient is relationship-- our individual relationship with God and our communal rela-tionship with one another in God. It is for the sake of these relationships that discipline is important, but only secondarily. In our growing-up years, it is important to learn some discipline, some self-control. Without "boundaries of behavior" for impulses and emotions, we would do much harm to ourselves and others. Good boundaries are important for developing ego identity and strength. For adults, however, it is a mistake to confine one's thinking about discipline to self-control. For people beyond young adulthood, viewing one's need for spiritual discipline as a function of self-respect can be more help-ful than striving after an unrealizable degree of self-control. In fact, spiritual (and emotional) growth may be more hindered than helped by too much of it. Mature Christians realize this. Increased self-respect comes from patient growth in God, not from aggres-sively building oneself up to self-perfection. Discipline for the journey is more a matter of trusting in the Spirit's movement than of standing tall or standing one's ground. We do not arrive at "spiritual perfection" as much as journey toward it in hope and faith. Here a healthy discipline of self-respect can prevent us from abandoning the quest for spiritual perfection in frustration because we lack enough self-control to arrive at some idealized point of our own choosing. This adjustment in our understanding of spiritual discipline can help us move from a success/failure model of spiritual life to one of ongoing progress. It is a call for respect of one's "true self" rather than control over one's imperfect self. The practice of self-respect, like most spiritual tasks, requires a real commitment to discipline. But it is a discipline that has patience for the grow-ing self's time of maturation and integration. March-April 1994 209 Mockus * A Discipline of Self-Respect People often perceive their lives as somehow overshadowed by what they have come to understand as their vocation or calling: the idealized notion of being a Christian, to be perfect as their "heavenly Father is perfect." Traditionally we have been taught to strive toward spiritual perfection in prayer and spiritual practices. Unfortunately, for us limited human beings, the reality of our many imperfections is often contrasted too harshly with the ideal. No matter how we struggle we always fall short of our desired perfection, and the ideal always eludes us. If self-perfection is the goal, the flawed reality of our lives usually confronts rather than comforts us in our spiritual quest. In terms of God's perfection, and our own expectations, we always fail. Nevertheless, thanks to the desire that God places at the core of our being, we keep. striving in one way or another to deepen the relationship with the One who is the source of all our desire. Yet, when we do not respect our own truth and wisdom, we too fre-quently seek some magical prayer discipline or some miracle that will deliver us from our failure-ridden struggle. If God wants us to be perfect, then more fervent prayer, or Jesus, or some spiri-tual director will help us finally achieve it--right? For those who seek "spiritual perfection," reaching the goal is constantly frustrated by human limitations. One's prayer disci-pline or acts of charity, one's responsibility to family or commu-nity, fulfillment of one's commitments or vows can never be as they should be because perfection moves as soon as it appears within reach. Considering what might be years of frustration in attempting to reach an idealized image of oneself, it is easy to understand some people's difficulty in determining how to improve their spir-itual practice or in ever finding the "comfort zone" of a commit-ted daily prayer practice. The built-in danger of a self-perception based on an ideal is that the reality of our limitations causes us to judge our efforts harshly, no matter how hard we try--unless in frustration we give up the quest. A typical response to what often feels like constant failure is grief or, worse, despair. In Vital Spiritualities Jerry Broccalo explains the distinction between a spirituality of the real and a spirituality of the ideal while recognizing the value of each. As with the rest of life, when it comes to our spirituality there is a radical difference between the ideal and the real. We too often confuse the difference. Despite the God-life within us, we are not God; weare not 210 Review for Religious perfect and cannot control everything in our life, especially its limits. A discipline of self-respect allows us to see the truth of our humanness more clearly. It requires that we discard the belief that our perfection is within our power. God is God; we are not. Our spiritual growth does not depend on our ability to control reality, but rather on our ability to surrender con-trol. ~ This surrender depends on our recovering what may be termed our "firsts." Making the shift from a discipline of self-control to one of self-respect is a matter of taking the right steps in sequence. One cannot skip the first step in the" process. We need to recover our appreciation of the first commandment, the first beatitude, and the first three steps of any twelve-step program thfit deals with addictions. Each of these firsts points to several parallel truths. We are not in charge, we need God, and we cannot control everything about our lives. The truth behind all of these firsts is that we are mor-tal and limited, as well as graced and saved. We cannot assume the power to judge or condemn ourselves for failures or wrong choices. Although we may judge an action or the lack of action as evil or sinful, it is God's domain to judge the person: Poverty of spirit, the first beatitude, requires that we real-ize exactly who is and who is not God in the human/divine rela-tionship. Because I know that prayer, exercise, and setting boundaries around my appetites are all essential for my well-being, for my "true self" to grow strong, I know that I need discipline, but not the discipline of self-control based on an ideal image of myself. Perhaps the most common temptation to idolatry is the ongoing desire to see myself only through others' .eyes. Butmy holiness depends on being my true self and worshiping the God in whose image I was made rather than a god made in my image. The discipline of self-respect compels me to do these things because .of what Christ has taught me about the reign of God within me. When I do not practice the discipline involved in liv-ing the Good News, I am being respectful of neither nay true self nor the gospel. If I do not pray or care for my body with proper diet and exercise, I need to look again at my spiritual discipline. But even then I have no right to condemn and crucify myself. A discipline of self-respect allows us to see the truth of our humanness more clearly. March-April 1994 211 Mockus ¯ A Discipline of Self-Respect Instead, in honest humility I can admit nay lack of self-respect and recommit myself once more to following the Lord rather than pursuing my idealized self. A discipline of self-respect calls me to constant conversion and does not allow me to assume divine authority over my own, or someone else's, failures. This discipline is one of true humility, and holds that human beings may not usurp God's authority. Maybe this is why the first commandment is the first, and the first beatitude is first, and why the same three steps are put at the beginning of every twelve-step recovery program. The first step is the need to recognize our dependence on God. The first steps in recovery, like the first beatitude and the first commandment, contradict the common belief that, if only we exercised enough self-control, we would pray better and live better and thus become more holy--and, pre-sumably, this level of spiritual perfection would make us more loved by God. This may be more a form of spiritual consumerism than a spiritually mature relationship with God in Christ Jesus. One may object that this type of spiritual discipline sounds too much like those theories which so casually justify the selfishness and self-centeredness of contemporary culture. From teachings learned in our growing-up years, it is easy to believe that all talk of self-respect promotes attitudes that are too self-centered. Admittedly, the danger of self-righteousness always remains with us, but it may be worth the risk to use the spiritual discipline I propose in the hope of gaining a more God-centered rather than self-center.ed view of what discipline is meant to be. The phrase "discipline of self-respect" may suggest imma-ture self-centeredness. People often assume that, if a spiritual dis-cipline does not involve self-denial, then it must be some form of narcissism. But such an ego-driven and immature sense of self is not what we are speaking about. We are advocating respect f0r one's "true self," as Thomas Merton uses the term, where the egoless self encounters the reign of God within one's life. In a conversation several years ago with Dr. Frederick Franck, I inquired about the Buddhist notion of decreasing one's ego desires and the Christian notion of dying to oneself. Dr. Franck responded that "first one had to have an ego." Before one dies to oneself, one must be a self or have what may be termed a' healthy ego, a sense of one's own true self. For the believer, Christ' is not only the image of the invisible God; he is also the image of our true self encountered within the reality of our lives, not in 212 Revie~v for Religious some unrealizable ideal. A discipline of self-respect is not self-ishness. It is a way to understand spiritual discipline as a call to die to one's false self-centeredness in order that one's true Christ-centeredness may be more fully realized in our lives. It is God's reign rather than our own that this discipline seeks. This call to be our "true selves" is always new and meaning-ful, no matter what age we are or in what stage of life we find ourselves. Whether we are young and need to control our impulses and urges, or mature and need to respect the truth of our real but limited lives, our spiritual discipline must reflect our experience of life and God. What is required in the spiritual jour-ney, if it is to be more God-centered than ego-centered, is a healthy and humble discipline towards one's true self. This disci-pline involves an ongoing quest for self-knowledge and self-respect and an openness to God's constant and loving call for conversion. If one's discipline of prayer or exercise or eating or working is to be tru!y healthy and whole, it must be balanced and con-gruent with one's true identity. It cannot be mere conformity to the images and masks we have held before us, whether these are images of perfect beauty or perfect sanctity. One's spiritual per-fection, then, is not a goal to be chalked up on a self-actualiza-tion chart. It is not a matter of self-mastery, but of self-surrender. The discipline of self-respect is a matter of surrendering to one's true self, encountered at the point of contemplative union with the God who made us just the way we are. Correction Do you know what the word KUMASI becomes when the spellcheck of a computer program encounters it? It becomes CHUMPS. Our apologies to the KUMASI diocese of Ghana mentioned in Susan Rakoczy's article "Charismatic Renewal and Consecrated Life" in our November- December 1993 issue, page 913. March-April 1994 213 ANNETE ADAMS A Transformational Journey May living room can be a cozy place in the winter. Making fire in the fireplace, watching the flames, listening to the crackle of wood, catching a glimpse of a spark breaking away, all move me into a very reflective mood. There is some-thing about a fire in a fireplace that captures my spirit and invites me to quiet. I began to think about images: fire, sun, wind, water, animals, insects. Since images have played an important part in my spiri-tual journey, I looked back to see what image has spoken most powerfully to me. That image is the butterfly. I began reflecting on the monarch butterfly about ten or eleven years ago. Did you know that in its caterpillar stage it can resist moving into the next stage? It can postpone moving into the chrysalis until the fol-lowing spring. This experience reminded me of a time I had been resisting a change in my own life and thinking of all the reasons why I was not the person for this new ministry. Why me? Why now? Why not someone else? I struggled for a long time and finally one day, too tired to fight anymore, I just sat and listened to some reflective music. As I listened, someone came into the room and told me of a wonderfulsight she had just seen. She had watched a beautiful monarch emerge from its chrysalis. She had never seen such a wondrous transformation. For me that was a very powerful moment, for it spoke to me of my own moment of surrender. It was not until I surrendered that I could begin to be free enough to say yes to what I was being Annete Adams SND has been a teacher and a formation director. Currently provincial secretary, she also gives retreats and does spiritual direction. Her address is Notre Dame Educational Center; 13000 Auburn Road; Chardon, Ohio 44024. 214 Review for Religious invited to do. Was this the beginning of another time in my life that was beckoning me into my own chrysalis, to a state of fertile emptiness, to a time of waiting, inviting a transformation? That image .and that symbol are still with me on my journey. I sit here now, in the midst of another transition time in my life, knowing it is time to let go, to move on, uncertain about what is ahead, and yet excited about what might emerge and bring new life and energy. I remember being on a week-long retreat and feeling as though I were a chrysalis. There was not a thought, a prayer, a song, or a gesture that spoke to me. I took a walk that day through a very quiet neighborhood and got lost. A monarch butterfly on the ground caught my eye. I went to look at it. It was dead. I remember picking up this fragile bit of creation, too beautiful to leave there, and holding it in my hand as I walked on, seemingly forever. I came to a park and sat on the grass, opened my journal, and drew what I saw; somehow it became a priceless gift for the day. At the end of the time I took it to a "safe place" where it would not be trampled on and then began my journey back. I remember sharing the incidents of the day with my director. I told her I could not even imagine why I was carrying, so care-fully, a dead butterfly. Her question to me was simple and yet profound: "Did you ever think that the dead butterfly was you-- the part of you that died, that is no longer--and that is why you carried it with you until you could let it go? I knew at once that the suggestion in her words and eyes was true. I had been look-ing outside myself for the answer when in fact it was within. As I reflected on this image later, I noticed near the fireplace a small sand castle. It had been given to me as a gift because of my great love for Teresa of Avila and her Interior Castle. I wondered if each dwelling place could be like another cocoon--a place of darkness, a place pregnant with all the possibilities of newness and a place of deep union between the lover and the Beloved--as it awaits its moment of transformation. Such a simple image and yet what profound insights! All this reflecting brought me to con-sider my own journey and' that of those on the road with me. I reflected on spiritual direction for this journey of ours. Have you ever watched the cycle of the monarch butterfly? To me it seems similar to what happens in spiritual direction. The journey is one of wonder and joy. The journey is one of searching, watching, waiting, mystery, and transformation. Marcb-.4pri11994 213 Adams ¯ A Transformational.yourney The egg of the monarch butterfly looks like a very, very tiny pearl. The Searching To get yourself a monarch-butterfly caterpillar, you would do well to look in a field, along the road, or in a garden for the milk-weed plant and then to examine its leaves and stalk carefully. The egg of the monarch butterfly looks like a very, very tiny pearl. You can take the leaf on which the egg rests and place it on a moist sponge; in time you will see a tiny caterpillar emerge to begin its new life. If you cannot find an egg, then you should look for an already hatched monarch caterpillar--with its eas-ily spotted black, white, and yellow circular bands--wherever it has left a trail of partly con-sumed milkweed leaves. Directees do their own kind of searching in spiritual direction. They search for a director who will help them unfold their real selves, one who will help them search out the truth, one who will love them for who they are and continually journey with them as they come to know a God who nourishes them on their journey. In spiritual direction directees search and find; they search and sometimes do not find; but they do not stop searching, no matter how painful it becomes. It is not the director's demand that makes this contihued search happen. It is their realization that God's search for them is much greater than their search for God because God's love for them is unconditional. The Watching If you really want to watch the monarch caterpillar in its var-ious stages, then you need to put the portion of the plant that the caterpillar is on into a large glass jar and cover it with some fine netting. The caterpillar moves all over the plant, continu-ally eating bits of leaqes, taking in all the nourishment it can for the journey. In very quiet moments, with your ear over the top of the jar, you can hear the sound of each bite. It is that kind of posture of attentive listening that is part of being a spiritual director. It takes many quiet moments to notice what is happening in a directee's journey. It takes the right setting, an atmosphere for growth, openness, and readiness for the jour-ney. The directees need to place themselves in a setting where spiritual direction can take place, to prepare themselves to be 216 Review for Religious receptive to however our God wishes to feed them with words, prayers, songs, or silence. The Waiting The caterpillar needs leaves from the milkweed plant every day. You can watch in silence each day for its constant growth-- watching it become larger and larger until one day it stops eating and begins searching for a place to attach itself so as to begin the mysterious and won-derful work of forming the chrysalis. I have watched for many hours in utter amazement at how care-fully the caterpillar walks around and around its container until it finds the place to fasten itself securely. Th

Issue 45.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1986. ; 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, MO 63108-3393. REview ~oR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1986 by R~v~w ~oR RELiGiOUS. 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 (postage). Airmail (Book Rate) $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVtEW FOIt 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 May/June, 1986 Volume 46 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW I~UGtOUS; 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 Folt 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. Our Lady of Wisdom Donald Macdonald, S.M.M. ,, Father Macdonald's "The Price of Poverty" appeared in this year's January/February issue. Last May/June saw another Marian article by Father Macdonald entitled "Mary: Our Encouragement in Christ." Father's address rdmains: St. Joseph's: Welling-ton Road: Todmorden: Lancashire OLI4 5HP: England. ~ recall being kindl~, received in a convent, but the longer I stayed there the more uncomfortable I felt, because for apparently aesthetic and liturgical reasons ~there was no room in the chapel for a statue or picttire of Our Lady. It was frankly embarrassing to pass Our Lady presiding over a hymn-board ~n the corridor outside while i was free to go into the chapel without a blush. It°made no sense. One should not exaggerate the place of Our .Lady but neither should she be underrated. So, in a generally compli-mentary book-review, the reviewer remarked that while the author rightly spol~e of devotion to Our "Lady as inseparably part of Christian life he "rather overstresses the idea of Marian m'~sticism." One wonders how he knows that, since mysticism touches levels of e~perience much of which must be left unsaid. Can anyone throw a tight ring around personal expe-rience particularly at those depths? On the day his engagement was announced, G. K. Chesterton wrote the woman he was to marry that "I think it is no exaggeration to say that I never s~iw you in my life without thinking that I underrated you the time before." t This is a superb compliment for anyone to receive, especially from a mindsas rich as Chesterton's. Clearly he saw depths in the girl 321 ~122 / Review for ReligiouMs, ~Iiy-June, 1986 unseen by her butcher or dressmaker. Lo~,e, presumably,' gave him the necessary insight: Such God-gi~en insight is needed to understand anything of Our Lady in the providen.~e of God, particularly if we accept that "insight is an attempt to think in the present a. .breakthrough requiring much intellectual d~smanthng a, nd dislocationa .c.c.ompanied by a sense of surprise., genuine perception . He who thinks that we can see the same object twice has never seen. Paradoxically, insight is knowledge at first sight." 2 This is surely borne out by experience. Father Peyramale, the parish priest of Lourdes, knew more ,of the faith than Bernadette Soub~rous, just ¯ as the superiors of the novice Catherine Labour+ had a wider experience of religiouslife than did she. NO ldoubt, too, biblical scholars in the time of Th~r'ese Martin knew more al6out Scripture than she did, but who today among the contemporaries of!those three girls could claim to approach their insights into the ways of God? Can anyone quantify their subsequent influence for God and for g~od? One spoke patois, another not 9t all publicly .u.ntil shortly before she died; while the third wrote of what she knew in three note-books onl~ because she was as.ked to. Eacti of these women's lives was illumined by a vision of Our Lady who left her distinctive mark on all three, not least in their wholly sane, understated, selfless lives. What Bernadettelsaid of herself could be said of all of them including Our Lady "When 3~ou have finished with the brush you put it behind the door"--except th~at God has other plans. Their influence widens. The risk for thee c,ontempor~ry religious might be in leaving "the brush behind the door." What has been called "chronological snobbery" can obtain here to3. The insights of the latter part of the twentieth century are assumed to be superior to thos~ of peasant, country or middle-class ,y, oung women in nineteenth~entury France. Following the sam~ ~qogic, Our Lady can be dismissed as possil inevitably~limited by her lack today, and by her geographical God is present in each life. It is tliese women are to be conside ~ly a Galilean peasant girl whose insight was of formal ~ducation,~as this is understood locafion~ That assumption should be tested. this that makes the difference and by which red. Of each of the four women it could be said: "She was a woman uprig, ht, outright." "Her will was bent at God'](G. M. Hopkins, "Margaret Clither'ow" an unfinished poeo). The strengthl,.vulnerability and powerful pulse httracting them can be felt in that last monosyllabic line. There is no need of any Cultural baggage in order to sl~are what they see. Neither the water-tables feeding the wells of Nazareth n~or the politics of nineteenth-century France m.atter. Anyone in the company of these~ women may.be drawn by what Our-l_ady of Wisdom / 323 they see, glimpsing in each cage~perhaps "the Christ-ed :beauty of her mind" (G. M. Hopkins op. cir.). They travel light. The will of God is the point: "Let it be done to me according to your word" (Lk 1:38). Perhaps we cannow consider Our Lady as a reflection of the presence of God. The Gift of Wisdom It has always been difficult to speak of the presence of God not least because a finite mind is trying to express an awareness of transcendence. One biblical, tradition which attempted this was the ~Wisdom literature (includihg Job, Proverbs, Qoheleth, Ben Sira, Wisdom and some Psalms), Beginning in cultures outside Israel as basically advice to the young man Who would make his way in the world (a "Young, Upward Mobile Man's Guide to the Galaxy" perhaps), when taken into Israel it was inevitably recast through belief in the underlying presence of God as the basis of reality. So "the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom" (Ws 9:10), that is putting God first as against the practical atheism .of the person for whom '~'there is no fear of God before his eyes" (Ps 36). From this standpoint, God's presence was seen in creation, the history of Israel and in individual lives under the guise of wisdom, latterly personified'in a. female figure. God's presence as expressed in Wisdomwas to be seen everywhere:' "She herself walks about looking for those who are worthy of.her . in every thought of theirs coming to meet the~m" (Ws,6:16-17). "Wisdom is quicker to move than any motion; she is so pure, shepervades and.perrfieates_all things. She is a breath of the power of'God . untarnished mirror of God's power, image of his goodness . Herself unchanging, she makes all things new" (Ws 7:24-27). "l resolved to have her as my bride, I fell in love with her beauty" (Ws 8:2). "My counselor in prosperity, my comfort in care and sorrow. I love those who love me; those who seek me,eagerly shall find me" (Ws~9:17). Slowly to reflect on those lines is to glimpse the intimacy and reality of God's presence in a sacramental world. Such insight is a personal possession. They know of whatthey speak. So in the creation of the universe by God: "I was by his side, a master ~craftsman delighting him day by day, ever at play in his presence, at play everywhere in his world, delighting to be with the sons of men" (Ws 8:30-31). Such a universe, then, is no alien, monolithic force hostile to mankind but a place in which God is present, delighting to be with his creation. Experiencing life in this way, God's presence is seen as delightful, as life now obviously has meaning since it is underwritten by God. "I came forth from the mouth of the Most .High and I covered the earth like mist . Then the creator of all things instructed me . He said, 'Pitch your tent in Jacob'. I have breathed out a scent like choice myrrh. I am like a 324 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 vine putting out graceful shoots. ApprOach me you who desire me, and take your fill of my fruits, for memories of me are sweeter than honey, inheriting me is sweeter than the honeycomb. They who eat me will hunger for more., they who drink me will thirst for more. Whoever listens to me will never have to blush, whoever acts as I dictate will never sin" (Si 24:38, 13, :17, 19-30). Again, such reflection on life in the light of faith findsGod's presence everywhere awesome and mysterious, yet beautifully attractive. As the figure of Wisdom is now personified it might be dismissed as yet another imperfect image, a crutch to lean on when looking for God's presence in the mystifying world. But surely there is no need nor is it intended to imagine anything at all. This is no television commercial with a female figure ,cavorting across the screen advertising some product. The insight given by Wisdom and remember, following Abraham Heschel, that insight is to see for the first time--is so much richer and nuanced and is to be understood on another plane: Insight not eyesight, and imagination is wanted now, to see beyond and above the imagery. The gift of Wisdom is meant to give just this taste for and insight into the presence of God in every aspect of reality. God is there in every moment eager to make his presence known. Having "pitched" his tent among us, his presence is such that once tasted one can only "hunger for more." Obviously:for the Christian this. speaks of Christ in every line, particu. larly as Paul and John present him, but, traditionally this was seen too in the person of Our Lady of Wisdom. Such Wisdom writings were to be found in the liturgy of her feasts. The personified figure of Wisdom was seen in'her, and as expressed in the liturgy, the faithful were invited to delight in her as a. supreme expression of God's presence among us. Cen-turies of meditation on the Wisdom writings instinctively suggested Our Lady. It was a delightful, pleasant, accessible world combining the world of transcendence with the encouraging familiarity of a faithful mother. God's presence as reflected in her indicated that potentially there were no heights we could not scale even though our insight was at best imperfect. It was a lovely atmosphere she brought with her as she was seen among us as one of us, rejoicing in God her Savior (Lk 1:47), and we with her. Few would deny that that is less so now. The atmosphere has changed. In Catholic liturgical, literary and devotional life the lovely, wondering, ever reiidy to be surprised insight of an earlier time seems to have been replaced by the prim, puritan regimentation of an old-fashioned school-room. Instead of an ever-deepening insight needing all the resources of Wisdom literature to try and express what was felt and experienced, today one has the impression that not afew of our pastors, teachers and cate- Our Lady of Wisdom / 325 chists who occupy the commanding heights and lower slopes of everyday teaching in the Church, have seen Mary once--and seen her "plain." They might have come ashore from The Mayflower yesterday. The approach to Our Lady today reeks of the catechical-center and schoolroom. It is all reminiscent of a certain type of teacher so accurately sketched by Charles Dickens, who asked a girl who had spent her young life with horses and knew and loved them, to describe one. She was incapable of coming up with the only answer he would accept: "Quadruped. Gramini-vorous. Forty teeth~ namely twenty-four grinders, four eyeteeth, and twelve incisive. Sheds coat in the spring . Hoofs hard, but requiring to be shod with iron. Age known by marks' in mouth. Thus (and much more).''~ How many of those who flock each year to the Kentucky Derby would recog-nize that either? Though the teacher is perhaps overdrawn, it does not mean that the point is overplayed. The issue was real and perhaps still is. To present Our Lady chiefly in terms of Model Christian or Model of Believers is not wrong but deadens a relationship. To speak of anyone in such categories isolates them from the rest' of us. Models automatically distance themselves. They are to be looked up to, rarely made part of oneself. To speak principally of Our Lady in such terms is to put her on a pedestal in a most damaging way: apart from, static, of yesterday rather than today; whereas traditionally within the Catholic community she was of God and of us, truly a present inspiration as we delighted in her com-pany. So Mary, Model of the Church, while true, is of the classroom not of life. It is, too, not unfair to remark that when she is spoken of as "Woman of~Faith" or "Model of Believers," this carries strong overtones of the contemporary defeatism wherein faith, before it can~be reckoned as authentic, is laced with a strong solution of doubt. None really sees, so the best that can be done is to pool. insecurities, as even the best of us are in the dark. Our Lady, by association, is correspondingly diminished. Yet faith in biblical terms was never the vague hope that Someone might be there to make sense of life in an at times frighteningly puzzling world. Rather was it the bedrock assurance that God is there and we are real to him, even though often unfelt and unknown by us. Trust, therefore, is at the heart of the biblical reality, and on this the Jewish and Christian communities were built. The best of both communities enfleshed it. Our Lady too embodied the prophetic vocation, helping us in the task .of realizing that ~we live in the universe of His [God's] knowing, in the glory of attachment" (Jr 1:5).~ So the community enjoyed her company, welcomed her and delighted to hear anyone speak well of her. She could appeal to anyone, whether from the cachot of Bernadette, the countryside ~126 / ReviewJ'or Religious, May-June, 1986 of Catherine, :or the middle-class household of Th6r~se. Today the colors are subdued, a pale reflection of what they once were. The use of the 'W, isdom writings to express what was felt about her has given way to such warmth as there is to a winter's sunlight. Now she is almost exclusively spoken of as "Mary," and one cannot help feeling that much has been lost in the contemporary would-be organized Church that was freely available to everyone in an earlier, possibly more untidy home. The wonder of insight is missing. ~.It is, of course, explained that one owes it to non,Catholics to be careful in the way we speak of/to her. This is true. Yet it should be recognized that there are real differences between .us both in faith and atmosphere, stemming from faith as a way of life not an academic code. The ethos of the evangelical Protestant, for example, is not easily expressed in terms of Greek Orthodoxy's devotional life. Both are valid traditions, but they are undeniably different. Yet if one has the good fortune of belonging to The Ecumenical Society of.the Blessed Virgin Mary it may prove a revelation to see and hear how easily Christians of every denomi-nation speak of her. I, too, very much value the invitation given me some years ago to belong to the Methodist Preachers' Fellowship, and find within its integrity, respect and support that it is possible to speak of Our Lady. (The Methodist Neville Ward, it will be remembered, wrote in Five for Sorrow, Ten for Joy, a very fine book on the rosary). It is "megaphor~e diplomacy"---publicly shouting at one another--tliat is to be feared, not in expressing how one genuinely bdieves and lives within a context of respect and understanding: I wasat a Protestant school until I was twelve and have,the highest regard .for what I was taught there, The local minister would drive us in his car to Mass, unasked, on really_wet wintry Sundays--and he later became moderator of the Church of Scot-land. So perhaps I may claim first-hand experience of the Protestant ethos and .am far from unsympathetic to it. It is a strange paradox.that while the eighth chapter of Lumen Gentium and the later Marialis Cultus, to say nothing of the present Holy Father, express a recognizably Catholic feeling and continuity, so unlike much of current teaching and. devotional life, somehow there has been a break from what once was, and the person of Our Lady has been almost lost in the concept. To see Our Lady then reflected in the feminine figure of Wisdom is to see in her a transparent reflection of the transcendence and immanence of God's presence, She is n6where and she is everywhere. This may puzzle some who consider in so broadening her significance that it may somehow Our Lady of Wisdom / 327 lessen her value in the'community. This might be so if she is seen as just. one specific piece on the chessboard, somehow .to be welded into aft'overall strategy. But the reality of theoChurch, of course, is of a community created and indwelt by the Spirit of the living God. It is a living organism in which we each relate to'one another in 12hrist through grace-enlightened knowl-edge and love. Our Lady; supremely orie with the will of God, is therefore an influential channel of ttiat life: "And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the babe leaped .in her womb; and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy. Spirit" (Ek 1:41). Seen in this light; therefore, coming from the heart of the Christian community, she is never an inquisitive aunt, obtrusive neighbor nor cling-ing friend. Nor is she a static figure with. her own particular niche in the wall, to be referred to now and agai'n. As th6 lovely feminine figure of Wisdom Owing more to insight than eyesight or imagination is lost in the wonder of what she suggests, so too Our Lady. Sowhen G. M. Hopkins in a well-known poem comparing her to the air we breathe, spoke to her as, World-mothering air. a'ir wild . Fold home. fast hold th3~i'child. he is talking of life and limitless freedor~ not limitation. He is not-advocat-ing a stranglehold distancing one from God, caught up in Mary's apron strings in'a state of permanent adolescence. Rather does she, as ~lid Wis-dom, mediate the presence of God that perhaps has to be experienced to be understood. The traditional prayer, "Virgo respice, Mater, adspice, audi nos, O Maria. " perhaps.puts it at its simplest. One scarcely needs a translation to feel that prayer convincingly suggesting on her part atten-tion, anticipation, concern, fellow feeling, x+hich, while relishing her company, is at the same time an act of faiih in the underlying reality that "He who is mighty has done great things for me. and holy is his name"(Lk 1:49). Gift of The Spirit Perhaps the °point may~be further underlined by considering God's presence as expressed in the experience of Spirit,, A thesaurus could find many words to 'express it life, breath, wind describing an intangible reaiity. As an expression-of God's presence it indicates that it can be experienced everywhere but never held. The Spirit of God brought this universe into being, and the: same creative Spirit was responsible for the existence of the community of Israel, inspiring within it particular individ-uals to, perceive the presence and guidance of God~ So "God would speak with Moses face to face, as a man ~peaks to his 'friend" (Ex 33:11). As a result of this intimacy he was instrumental in helping to build the commun- ~121~ / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 ity. Similarly, on receiving the prophetic spirit, "Elijah arose like a fire his word flaming like a torch" (Si.48:1), empowering.,him almost single-handed to hold ca'fly Israel together against colossal! odds. This influence of the Spirit of God suggests that a man is taken out of himself, often despite himself. As Amos, probably the first of the writing prophets, put it: "The lion roars: who can help feeling afraid? The Lord God, speaks: who can refuse to prophesy?" (Am 3:8). Enlightened by the Spirit of God .withinthe community of Israel, such people were given such insightSnto their own age that in the name of God they felt compelled to speak and act. The eyesight of most of their contemporaries was blind to what their God-given insight enabled them to see in a world illumined by~ God's spirit. As the Spirit of God dwelt within the heart-,of Israel so no less emphati-cally says St.~-Paul. was the Spirit present within the Christian cgmmunity. As God was present in the Holy of Holies of the Jerusalem temple so Paul tried to open the eyes of the Corinthians to the° wonder of his presence among .them: "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you. God's temple is holy, and that temple you are" (1 Co 3:16-17). God present among s~uch people individually and collectively points the wonder of it all in view of who they we?e: "not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful., of noble birth" (I Co 1:26). Nondescript, marginal people for ~he most part--as was said of the unfortunate boxer. '~not even a household name in his own house'--God evidently "chose what is foolish . . . weak . . . low and despised" (I Co 27-28). Enlightened by the wisdom and Spirit of God as a member of that community, Paul does not apologize for its surface crudi-ties as his insight enables him to see within to the Spirit's indwelling presence. It is a creation of God, and like all his gifts "can only be under-stood by means of the Spirit" (1 Co 2:14). Reflecting long and often as he must have done on what was being created in and around himself, Paul comes to see that "the Spirit reaches the depths of everything, even the depths of God . . . Now. " . fie have received the Spirit that comes from God, to teach us to understand the gifts that he has given us" (1 Co 2:10-12). This is a phenomenal insight as Paul wrestles with the almost inexplicable to aid the Corinthians' self-under-standing. Their lives are radically touched and empowered by God, mo~Jing from the depths of his Spirit to theirs. Meaning little to others in view of their lack of status, they mean everything to God. And it was this same Spirit. which enabled Paul never to be quite beaten by the constant bread and butter inconsistencies, and. to see the reality beneath._ It is all, Paul reflects,, ~eminiscent of the wisdom of God which so often seems to stand logic on its head. lts linchpin is the crucified and risen Christ "whom God Our Lady of Wisdom / 329 made our wisdom" (1 Co 1:30) in the face of a disbelieving world. Such insight~does not come from the schoolroom or marketplace. It is a gift from God enabling "those'who are called. [to see] Christ thepbwer of God and the~visdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than men" (I Co 1:24-25). This same pattern is true of Our Lady. She is to be understood ihen from within the community. An ostensibly nondescript person from unre-markable Nazareth if one considers the circumstances of her calling, yet the inner reality can only be gauged insofar as one is given to see what is meant when "The Holy Spirit will come upon 'you, and the power of the Most Highs:will 6ve'rshadow you" (Lk 1:35-36). The creative spirit of God which once brought this universe'into existence, now through her willing co6per-ation (see Lk'l:38), brings to birth a new creation in her Son. Such is the effect of the Spirit's power and presence that "the child to b~ born will be called holy, the Son of God" (Lk 1:35). This is the defining feature of her life: Mother and Son are inseparably linked. One with him at birth, home and crucifixion, she is found within the early Christian community pray-ing. So it has been for centuries as she ~is seen among us preeminently lovable and faithful, empowered by wisdom and the Spirit. The Christian community has responded accordingly, as in every nation under heaven all generations have called her blessed (see Lk 1:48). Today in much contemporary .teaching and practice, the brush appears to have been put back behind the door. It is not without significance that this has happened at a time when the values of the numinous, transcend-ence, silence and worship are under severe pressure. Mainstream liturgy, teaching and devotion have virtually nothing to say of the contemplative. Such a need is fostered from the edge, not the center. When influential numbers of our pastors, teachers and opinion-formers generally, seem to lack any obvious feeling for the contemplative, it may beno surprise that they display or encourage little warmth for Our Lady, Seat of Wisdom. ~Vhen meaning has to be on the surface and immediately comprehended, it is perhaps inevitable that so rich and varied traditions of the Church, not least as regards Our Lady, have given way to a subdued monochrome world. : Let Your Gaze Become My Prayer Perhaps all of this may be finally summarized in a few lines from a prayer of St. Anselmto St. John the Evangelist, asking for the love of God: "Ifthen, sir, your gaze has more good in it than my prayer has devotion, let your gaze become my prayer."5 This is a very fine expression of the role of Our Lady, the saints and our fellow-Christians in the Church, one person 331~ / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 in Christ. with ourselves (see Ga. 3:25-28). The individual Anselm asks the aid of the evangelist .John, whom he sees in faith to be now wholly caught up in G6d:.So he asks th~it his own self in his prayer be taken up into sharing what St, John sees. °He speaks to John but looks beyond him following the evangelist's gaze. Love has been described as two people looking in the same direction. What they see draws them togetherenabling them to live as one in a new reality. This we have here. Anselm's prayer is felt to be inferior to John's vision so he asks that "your gaze become my prayer." This, inthe main, is what is meant by Our Lady's patronage. Filled from her conception with the ~,isdom and Spirit of God in vieW of her voc~ition as Mother of God, her whole being reflects the Orie who has mad~ her who she is as she rejoices in God her Savior (see Lk 1:47)i One person in Christ with her, the Christian; and anyone genuinely.asking her he!.p._;'_w.a.n._t.s_t_.o~be taken into her being and held by what she sees "Let your gaze become my prayer." So easy to relate to, inviting, the individual to come in his or her own way, her life is givenomeaning by her Unflinching attachment to the will of God in good days and bad. Such a person is no obstacle between us and God if her gaze becomes our prayer, as the words and images drop away before the holiness of God. One can, of course, with the apophatic tradition, which maintains that it is impossible to say anything of God other than that he is, try to put everything that is not God into a "cloud .of forgetting" leaving only a naked intent for God. So our Lord, sacraments, Our Lady, Scripture, saints--:-~ everything must go. "If you see the Buddha kill him." Well yes, but even the Engiish mystic who expressed this so supremely well, giving as the bottom line between oneself and God, "Worship God with all you have got. All-that- you-are-as,you-are worshipping ail-that-he-is-as-he-is," has his reality first defined in Christ, and must recognize therefore that "it is God for his own loving purpose who puts both. the will and the action into you" (Ph 2:13):6 Whether he adverts to it or not, the ontological reality underpinning his:every movement and prayer is Christ in whom "all things were created. :. He isb(fore all things and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the Church,' (Col. 1:16-18). Reality is thus held in the overarching Christ who reconciled us to God by "making peace by the blood of his cross., by his death" (Col 1:20-22): Blood and death together are irrevocable, costly and messy (so much so that the sensitivities of the Jerusalem Bible translators cause them to omit "blobd"), ~butit was precisely in Christ's crucifixion and resurrection that he can now "present you holy and blameless and irreproachable before him [God]"(Col 1:22)? We are unforgettably marked with the sign of the cross, In Christ, therefore, is found 'the very oxygen enabling us to breathe the air Our Lady of Wisdom/~ 331 of God. One admires the climber attempting Everest, but one knows that he could not set foot on the lower slopes, far less reach the summit without-oxygen. It is never seen but it is always there, and in Christ we are sup-ported by a whole ~loud of ~vitnesses, prophets, apostles, saints among whom is preeminently the Mother of God. They interact with us in Christ in every moment of every day whether we are conscious of it or not. There is no need of mental images of Paul, Our Lady, or even Christ himself. Attachment to Our Lady in this context should not be seefi as a limiting form of prayer. To see her so is possibly to have a fixed, static view of Christian reality not unlike the wooden, materialist outlook of popular nineteenth-century science. The truth of science as glimpsed today is so wonderful and mobil~ that much of it cannot even be imagined, yet its beauty clearly enthralls many, light years away from the earlier approach. Immaturity ~s the problem. We are, for the most part, too pedestrian. But in this lies our salvation. Everyone in Christ is for us. It may be a sign of the times that in an .age full of self-assertion we find it hard to believe that anyone can be self-effacing. But the GOspel reality is just that, "For all things are yours." whether Paul, Bernadette, Catherine, Th~rEse or Mary, "or the world or life or death or the present or the future, all are yours; and you are Christ's; and Christ is God's" (1 Co 3:21-23). We are, perhaps most of us, infants in Christ, with at best an.imperfect, grasp of God loving us i.n Christ, unable without wisdom and the Spirit to see the simplicity of ,Paul's insight, holding all of reality in the present moment in-Christ. But we know the claim that the child has on Christ. And in this above all, surely he is at one with his mother. NOTES tMaisie Ward, Return to Chesterton, Sheed and Ward, 1952, p. 34. 2A. Heschel, The Prophets Vol. 1, Harper and Row, 1971, p.x6. 3C. Dickens, Hard Times, Chap. 2. 4A. Heschel, op. cit. Vol. 2, p. 267. 5B. Ward, The Prayqrs and Meditations of St. Anselrn--Pfayer to St. John the Evan- 'gelist (2), Penguin, 1975. ~ 6C. Woltors, The Cloud of Unknowing and Other Works and The Epistle of Privy Counsel, chap. 4, Penguin, 1978 . 7C. A. Anderson Scott's plausible observation with regard to St. Paul in general is instructive: "The allusion to the blood of Christ, here (Rm 3:25) as in other passages~in Paul, is probably connected with.the overwhelming impression which Paul had received as a spectator of the Crucifixion." Footnotes to St'. Paul (CUP, 1935): Personality, and Religious Adjustments in Older Candidates Matthias Neuman, OS.B. Father Neuman, well known to our readers, whose latest contribution, "The Holiness of Saint Francis: Spiritual Vision and' Lived Suffering,, ~appeared in the issue of September/October, 1985, contin'u6s to teach at Saint Meinrad Seminary; Saint Mein-rad, lndiana :47577. For the past four years my primary occupation has involved directing the pre,theology program in our s.,eminary. This special year-long program ffims to prepare a certai:n group of young men for entrance into a regular course of theological studies for priesthood. These are candidates who already possess their college degrees but who have had no course work in philosophy or theology--or any exposure to a regular spiritual formation program, The very existence of college-graduate or pre-theology years in seminaries bears witness to a significant shift in recent vocational patterns. Fifteen years ago my first-year theology course would have had one or two "older" individuals; they were routinely mixed in with the students who had graduated from various college seminaries. In a decade and a half those one or two have swollen to better than half the first-year classes in many theologates around the United States. This means that a significant portion of today's priesthood candidates are waiting to "test" their possible ~voca-tions until after the college years and after some significant work and societal experience, A similar phenomenon appears among applicants for religious orders of women and men. Almost any meeting of formation personnel deals with some issue or problem concerning "older vocations." Indeed it is not uncommon for a formatiOn directress to be younger than several, of her charges. 332 Adjustments in Older Candidales / 333 While many observers applaud this shift in vocational process, and both priestly and religious recruiters have begun to plot ways of casting their nets in these newly-discover6d waters, the formidable challenges of providing a solid and effective regimen of formation should not be glosse~l over quickly. These men and women come to seminaries and religious houses at a considerably different stage in life than do graduates right out of high school or college. It will not suffice to merel~ ~transfer previous spiritual, academic and social formational methods to ~this new wave, for they bring quite different problematics for spiritual formation, academic programs and general adjustment to religious institutional life. The first year of formation in particular needs to pay.close attention to: l) the backgrounds of these people, 2) the life transitions they are experiencing, and 3) the adjustment problems they will most likely encounter. The first three sections of this article ~ill address these topics in more detail,~and the concluding section will offer some suggestions for helping the candidates themselves to manage this initial transition period more effectively. Backgrounds The ages of these older vocations may range from the mid-twenties to the mid-seventies. (Several were even ordained irf their 80s!) However the bulk of such callings has been in the 25-45 age bracket and I will focus most of my comments on that group. *~- ' 0 Perhaps the first major item format.ion personnel should~-~recognize is that these people-~'even at age twenty-five generally possess a somewhat. solidified personality structure. This doesn't necessarily imply that their personality structures are well-shaped oreven healthy, but simply that they have been hardened to an extent by the pressures of work, societal survival and recreational interactions. Educational research has tended to show that the first two years after college exert, a significant hardening, and even. a temporary halt, to attitudinal and conceptual growth. This can be seen as a natural result of mov~ngfrom the more fluid world of college into a societal context where work-pressures demand a~more fixed cast to one's goals, plans and attitudes. Thus, these individuals differ from the far more malleable candidates trained in the seminary or academy systems of years past. Even though they are obviously considering a major career shift by investigating a priest-ly or religious calling, they usually retain a good deal of .their solidified personality structure. They may not-even be aware of how habitual they have become in. patterns 9f relationship, daily routines and general atti-tudes. Those who have lived alone for even two or three years have devel-oped private habits of socializing and personal recreation which mayclash 3~14 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 strongly with the regular demands of community living. These st~rongly formed !ife-patterns also emerge in the realm of spiritu-ality,. It is not unusual for these men and women to have already expe-rienced in a variety of ways a verY powerful presence of Godin their lives, a Eresence that has been both sustaining and nourishing, a divine presence that has been greatly responsible for calling them to a switch of life-tasks. Many older candidates attest to some kind of "conversion experience" that brought them to this new way .of life even if they had been "possibly considering it." for years. This conversion experience and presen~c.e of God usually has shaped.their personal .spiritualities to a great extent. In particu-lar, the styl~es o.f prayer they favor are generally associated.with the qualities of that particular presence of God, e.g., God in nature~and an individual mystical prayer, God° in a conversion from sinfulness and a prayer of penance, God in~ .familial tradition and a structured devotional prayer. Without. being reflectively aware of it,osuch reasong have usually con-jured up an image of either priesthood or religious life that is primarily an intensification of their personal spirituality. (For example, one young man, age 30, who was converted by his reading of the New Testament~defined the primary task of the priest as teaching the Bible to people.) A formation direct_or may find these candidates to have imperceptibly meshed together~a particular style of prayer, a favored presence of God, and an implicit image of priesthood or religious life. The tight interweaving, of these factors .can cause average to severe problems in the adjustment to a formation pro-gram; the tampering with one item (e.g., teaching different prayer styles or a v.ariant image of religious life) may be perceived by candidates as a threat to the spiritual background and religious experience that gave them their new spiritual impulse. Perhaps the most-common example of the above dynamic occurs in trying to instill a sense of the value and importance of common prayer. Few of my priesthood candidates come with much appreciation or experience of the Liturgy of the Hours. Living as individuals in society, they have usually forged strong patterns of private prayer. Introducing them into the common morning and evening prayer of the semin.a.ry occasions a crisis for some each year. Common prayer does not,meet their "personal needS"; it co~mpetes with private prayer; their former sense of closeness to God gets worn away. Some begin to feel very hostile toward the seminary for ruining their intimacy ,with God:and thus threatening their vocation. It will have to be a sensitive formation program that can "deconstruct" a. person's reli-gious background, i.e. break it into its compon.ent parts, so that the indi-vidual may assimilate'in a healthy~way.the spiritual components of a sound priestly, or religious-order spirituality. Adjustments in Older Candidates 335 People who have worked for even a few years at a competitive job in the societal labor force will accumulate some, highly fixed patterns of routine daily life. The schedule of most jobs mandates some regularity. Daily and weekly habits of work, r~creation and friendships give rise to a network of personal supports that soften the challenges of life. These supports, or "strokes" in the recent psychological lingo~ help to carry a person°through ~the down times of regtilar living. Similarly persons who in an-intefise occupational setting, such as a social case worker, personnel rfianag~r or teacher, may have silently linked part of their adult identity to these supports. - One of the standard planks for a personal identity is the positive affir-mation we receive from the,. significant individuals in our lives (family, friends, mrntors, students).We call on this affirmation regularly~if the pressures ~of our job consistently erode bur well-being and identity. The entranize into a seminary or religious house removes persons from both the comforts of their habitual routines and the necessary strokes of signifi-cant others. This abse~ce may give rise'to a profound gense of loneliness or even abandonment. Perirds of confusion and depression soon compliote matters even more. An insightful formation program needs to be con-stantly alert to these possibilities, and d~velop ways of ?egularly informing and assisting candidates to understand and' process these and similar experiences. A report from a meeting of Midwest seminary rectors in 1981 summa~i"- ized nicely a g,bbd numbef of additional background issues which these priestly candidates bring to the seminary (and religious life). ,. Experience indicates that the can~didate who has made applicatipn for theology school without previous seminary experience possesses all or some of tile following characteristics: he has little or~' no experiefice, in community living; he has not had or.has had little experience of spiritual direction and is concerned about his ability to use the direction offered him; he perceives' himself as very much an outsider in the seminary com-munity; he is unfamiliar with the special language employed both in the professional life of the seminary, e.g., academics and liturgical practice, as well as commufiity living experiences; often he is a man of practical expe-rience. with varying ability to deal with issues on a speculative level; if he is older, he might well have an exaggerated sense of his age; he is more conservative in his spirituality particularly if a recent "conversion expe-rience" has led him to ~hear the call to priesthood; he has high anxiety conceriaing the de~cision which he has recently made to enter the seminary.1 Although much more could be said about background, I will limit my observations to the preceding comments. Formation personnel should 356 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 remember that these older candidates may be more mature and worldly-wise than ~th0se fresh .o~ut of college: but they bring their ~unique bevy of problems with them. Many of these difficulties are frequently connected to a hardened personal and religi6us identity and the unconscious manner in which various factors get meshed (e.g., prayer style, validity of conversion, and expectations). Frequently these problems boil to the surface when candidates get fitted into the regulated worlds of the ~eminary or religious community. (NB. Seminaries and religious houses may ~be psychologically highly regulated even without minute daily schedules. Long periods of the day may be free and unstructured, but those hours are also 7"filled" .with pow.erful academic, ministerial and spiritual expectations. Such a day is regulat.ed not by schedule but by official expectation.) None of the above.problems should be considered insoluble. In my experience the great majority of candidates can successfully negotiate these personal and religious challenges. But the formation program as such needs to positively assist.,these men and women to identify accurately what is happening in their lives. These transitional adjustments are not usually vocational crises, and sudden hostility toward the seminary, religious community or individual superior is not always a problem with authority. To understand what is happening emotionally a clear presentation to them of the range of personal transition going on needs to be conveyed. Multiple Transitions As the previous section mentioned, a young man or woman coming to seminary or religious community after several years of work and societal experience will confront a variety of transitions. Usually the candidates are somewhat aware and a bit apprehensive about the challenges ahead and they are ~bgnizant Of what they have "given up." Howeverl up6~ arrival at their new place of r~sidence they can be overwhelmed with the thrill of a new religious start.Having left the world where one struggled to survive religiously in a secular and cynical culture, they begome exhilarated in the environment of a supportive, like-minded community. Even the most dis, tant hopes of spirituality and ministry suddenly seem possible. (Every year each new group ,of candidates within .the first two weeks wants to add even ¯ more prayer services to the school's. Eucharist, morning rand evening prayer.) Thus the man~, transitions of life get forgotten ina tidal wave of religious fervor, but the transitions are still going on silently and relent-lessly. In time they frequently turn that tidal wave into a scorched desert of barren feeling. The transitions' are frequently more complicated and subtle than the Candidate realizes. The first transition is the move from a secular world Adjustments in Older Candidates / 337 with its pockets of popular religiosity into an encompassing ecclesiastical religious world. In the former situation faith and religious practice have served as powerful, value-laden forces ttiat supported, protected and nour-ished the individual; in the latter situation religious practice is :a constant, pervading element of almost every waking activity. An ecclesiastical reli-gious world often fails to separate the trivial and the important, the special and the ordinary, the cynical and the solemn. It's religion twenty'four hours a day! One ~young man said, "I've talked more God-talk in the last six months than in my previous twenty~six years combined. It's blowing my mind!" This religious overload takes its toll on the psychic system: the young man or woman may begin to feel he or she has lost that "something special" which faith provided. When all'is religious, nothing is religious! They may become distressed by their first in-close dealings with religious practices that are, routine, cynical and sometimes blatantly hypocritical. Their inexperience at differentiating motives and practices within a total ecclesiastical world can make them feel that the only way out is global rejection. The formation program needs to regularly help the candidates express and process their feelings towards the total religious community. Individuals obviously vary, but my students generally show signs in three weeks to a month of inner turmoil over their newfound ecclesiastical world. ,The transition to an ecclesiastical world will slowly induce other nega-tive ramifications. Young ,adult candidates begin the initial year with an amount of confidence they have built up in maintaining their faith com-mitment against diverse social presst]res. It is not unusual for some to have had to justify their vocational change to family, friends and coworkers; repeated justifications build in them a certain sense of well-being about their commitment. Other people publicly acknowledge them to be more religiously oriented for going to a seminary or convent. But upon entering the total ecclesiastical world, they soon perceive themselves as complete novices in more.ways than~one, They listen to conversations or classes filled with" church jargon and they soon judge themselves to know practically nothing about faith or religion. Liturgical customs befuddle them and they are embarrassed to ask names of objects, vestments or devotions that ¯ everyone else seems to know"intimately. Three months ago they were explaining many aspects of the Catholic faith to' coworkers; now they can easily perceive themselves as religiously dumb or incompetent. This partic-ular transition may contribute to their conservative stance, which is really a means of salvaging some vestige of religious dignity from their past. This transition, likeo all of them, can be jolting, but it can also be worked through. ~i31~ / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 Another key transition is the movement from one fixed social setting to another. Seminaries and religious communities tend to be enclosed, regu-lated societies (by laws or general expectations or both). Daily schedules and societal routines, such as meals, common prayers and social relation-ships can be vastly different from the social style that older candidates have become accustomed to. The-predominance,of same-sex relationships causes real hardships to some; the absence of children or family settings may be bothersome; the lack of free, unstructured evenings or weekends or the lack of a car and its freedom disrupt.the previous.ways that individuals had dissipated tension. That tension now accumulates and begins to boil within. ¯ I have found that on6 of the largest and most troubling transitions for young adults is the entrance into a trainin.g'program where theend is preparation for a. public role, along with the public evaluation that role requires. The priesthood as public leadership in the Chtirch and the eccle-sial witness of a religious community both demand evaluations of, persons seeking to enter those positions. Many older candidates have never thought of their religious pursuit through this lens,~-having confined their religious practice to a predominantly interior, individual and privatized realm (as is the fashion ofmost religious practice in the United States).2 The communal environment of seminaries and religious communities is saturated by the air of evaluation. Evaluation procedures are everywhere in current practice: academic, personal, spiritual, and so forth. All individuals must evaluate themselves (and others).on an annual basis. Each priesthood candidate will undergo an overall evaluation by faculty, and formation personnel on such matters as intellectual competence, social skills, pastoral abilities and spiritual growth. Externalization of what has often been a highly privatized religious realm can be terribly upsetting for the young adult. Some simply cannot see that,such matters should be evaluated publicly; the intense individualism of their religious background and expe-riences reacts strongly. Others become oversensitized, fearful. They worry about expulsion for unknown: reasons or accusation .by some Grand Inquisitor. Still others .may become hesitant because they°'fail to separate the realm of public behavior and standards from interior faith and direc-tion. A criticism about their lack of social abilities~can be "understood" as a criticism about °the integrity of theif~faith. A good. formation program should work with candidates to help them both understand and interiorize the meaning and demands of assuming a public leadership role, or the public demands of community~belonging. One young man said, "I just don't ~want to. be ste.reotyped~." I responded. "Sorry, it comes with the job." Many of these young adults who grew up in Adjustments in Older Candidates / 339 the age when traditional Catholic distinctions had slipped into shadows do not know the distinctions between "internal" and "external" forum. This must be carefully spelled out, and repeated from time to time. Even with all this, the appreciation of what a public religious leadership role demands does not occur without prayer, struggle and guidance through spiritual direction. The appreciation and interiorization of a public religious respon-sibility (beyond that of a private, personal spirituality) possesses all the elements of a significant conversion experience in life.~ To truly recognize the priestly ministry or the vowed religious life as constituting an ecclesial figureis also to accept thgse lifestyles as embodying~a responsibility to the whole Catholic world and Catholic tradition; this reaches considerably beyond a personal arid private" religious obligation. It requires an accep-tance and interiorization of public behavior, skills and attitudes which relate as much to the community of the Church as to my personal relatiom ship with God. Life transitions do pile up on the young adult who arrives at a seminary or religious community and seeks to discern a prssible calling to priest-hood or vowed life. We have considered several of the major ones: into an encompassing ecclesiastical world, from one fixed social setting into a quite different one, arid into a ~climate of higlfiaiablic evaluation. The anxieties generated by these transitioris can become severe, as the rii~xt section will show. For the l~resent fie simply need to note them and recognize that a Victic of directly addressing these transitions needs ~to be a constant com-ponent of both the formational and spiritual-direction program for these young adults. The Trauma of Transition For more than a decade the Alban Institute in Washington, D.C.I has studied the dynamics of "transition technology" in ministerial situations (e.g. from seminary to par!sh; from associate to pastor,,from one parish to another)) Leaders of the°institute recognized that those occasions when a person moves from one "known" social setting into a new and relatively unknown social setting constitute some of the most ~vulnerable periods in an individual's life. Although many organized-church traditions have fre-q uently moved, individuals from place to place as a matter of policy, little has been.done to help them make effective transitions to their new ministry or enable them to manage the sometimes severe traumas which may occur. (Th'e "grace of obedience"~was thought to effect the desired rebalancing:) The research of the Alban Institute has shown tl~at beginmngs in a pastoral situation are important; that the first months of adjustment frequently determine one's long-range adaptation and effectiveness in a new setting. 340/ Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 (In fact, more and more dioceses and religious houses are coming, to recognize the incredible influence of the first full-time placement.) Much of this research on transition technology becomes extremely relevant to young adults entering seminaries and religious communities for the first time. My particular seminary program deals with about thirty youngmen a year. l.would say it is.common for better than half of each group to feel some uncomfortableness over the transitions the$, experience. Their dis-comfiture may range from mild annoyance to severe personal upheaval. It is not unusual for an enthusiasm of the first weeks to slowly diminish and give wayto a growing diso'rientation. Some begin to.worry that they made a mistake, and the seminary .becomes a fearsome, t~rapping situation because their previous job has.been discontinued and their housing sold or leased. Others just ask over and over, "Why am 1 here?" and can't seem to find a satigfactory answer. A few may worry that their entire faith is crumbling; they can't explain sudden doubts which appeared where only months before there was absolute conviction. This time of doubt and dejection is frequently accompanied~by physical symptoms. Nagging illnesses like colds or upset stomachs pop up; physical weariness becomes the order of the day. Changes in bowel habits or sleep-lessness can increase anxiety. A transition experience cuts across all dimen-sions of life: physical, psychological, social and spiritual. We must understand the effects of social transitions on all these human areas,,and be ready to help people negotiate them. Psychologically, in a period of transition, by definition a young adult coming from secular societal life to the seminary or religious community, his or her daily patterns of life have all been removed, and new patterns do not immediately emerge. In certain aspects these individuals are like.immi-grants, slowly searching and experimenting for new roots. This time change may cause strong internal feelings to erupt. Some individuals Who previously held positions of authority and responsibility in the societal work force now feel the disorientation and worthlessness that lack of authority and status may bring. And there is no work or service in their new life to compensate. The sudden displacement of responsibilit.y may spark feelings of worthlessness or humiliation. (~Karl Marx had a valid insight in saying that a good deal of our personal identity comes from the socially significant work we do.) Lastly, the h~avy outpouring of psychic energy that goes with meeting new people, places and routines day after day leaves everyone tired and feeling a bit drained, and that weariness usually compounds the other negative feelings. This trauma of transition is not unusual, neither is it .a test that will, Adjustments in Older Candidates / 341 necessarily overwhelm a certain percentage of candidates. If these persons understand the probability of its occurrence at some time ~n their first year, do some preparation, and know some techniques of personal management, they are~able to handle it with a modicum of discomfort. One last point.should be watched: there it a quite normal dynamism of expectation which may w6rk havoc in situations of transitions, and I have frequently noticed it in pre-theology candidates. These young men often come from societal settings where they have been able to exercise some Christian service and engage in personal spirituality projects on a limited scale (perhaps in a parish volunteer setting or a Christian social-action group). When they enter the seminary and begin formal preparation for priesthood, their expectations escalate and they "assume" an immediate increase in Christian serviceand spirituality practices. But with full-time classes and school activities they are soon doing less actual ministry than before, and their personal prayer gets mixed up by the communal obliga-tions mentioned before.4 Psychologically their expectations are "gunning" the spiritual motor, so to speak, but socially they are in Park, and they find that they are grinding themselves down. This dynamic needs to be watched and worked with by formation personnel and spiritual directors. Older candidates need to formulate sl6~vly and patiently a "plan of identification" just as the Alban lfistitute counsels new ministers to work gradually towards formulating a plan of ministry for their new pastoral assignment.5 Just as six months is a recommended period of grace bef6re initiating parish changes, it is p]-obably a reasonable time-allotment for new-candi-dates before they attempt to assess (and escalate) any personal expectations they place o'n themselves. Suggestions for Personal and Spiritual Management The perception that older priesthood and religious candidates require qualitatively different kinds of formation programs is an ,idea that has already taken deep root among vocation and formation personnel. Signifi-cant strides have been made in many areas like course instruction and communityqiviiag requirements. I fiaerely hope to add a bit to this growing body of knowledge b~ suggesting some tactics and strategies to assist these individuals working through their initial adjustment or transition phase. These comments are more often applicable within the first six months of entry into seminary or religious community. The first strategy, in the line of preventive medicine, is quite simply knowledge, an awareness that some transition-anxiety will probably occur no matter how fine and enthusiastic the first weeks may be. There will undoubtedly be a great diversity in how individuals manage transitions; for ~149 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 some the adjustments may be slight, but few will have no problems what-ever. Simply to have in one's awareness a basic grasp of the multiple transitions, and how these transitions produce p~rsonal stress will provide guidelines for interpretation and action. To diagnose a difficulty ~icc.urately. is the first essential task in any kind of counseling. In this instance it may offset the further anxiety that can result if the young persgn feel.s that his or her vocation or faith is disintegrating. A second level o.f strategy would articulate a set of tactics that °might assist the young adult inthe midst of transition stresses to cope with these pressures. These tactics are similar to managing any "survival situation.TM They can be briefly summarized: 1) Lowe.rpqrsonal expectations. Instead of escalating their demands upon themselves to pray more fervently, work harder and do more service to others,, efforts should be made to cut back on these eoxpectations temporarily. The key here is to conserve physical and psychological energy for the tasks of psychic self-preservation. These indi-viduals are already operating at a reduced, energy level (due to the drain that social transitions exert), and there is no way they can successfully meet escalatedexpectations. Repeated failures merely compound guilt and nega-tive feelings, 2) Increased rest. The bodily systems are the foundation for psychological and emotional health as well as for making accurate judg- ¯ ments. When emotions are depleted, the body needs rest to coalesce strength and rebuild proper balance. For a time one may have to sacrifice other elements in the daily schedule in order, to get some additional rest time. 3) Pay attention to building daily routines. One of the reasons for high energy drain in transition times is that ever~h.ing is. ne,.w (people, places, schedule, social expectations). An inordinate amount of attentive awareness goes into "meeting" new people and performing even simple daily tasks. Habit or routine is Of value precisely to relieve that constant outpouring. Seek to regularize daily work-times, eating .and rest habits, companions, and so forth. 4) Spiritual direction and counseling. It always helps to talk tlirough problems, especially with a person who can provide a wider frame ~of reference. It does take some humility to asks. for help, particularly when one wanted so much to get off to a fabulous start in a new career. 5) Remind yourself that perserveranc.e is a Christian virtue. The young adult might remember that he or she has ~already made a very significdnt personal decision (to seek a testing of priesthood or religious life) and that decision should be stuck to "in good times and in bad," as any promise ought to be. A third, strategy would be to:recognize that a dynamic similar to the grieving process needs to tran_spire in the person. For many of these older candid~ites there is a break and removal,from friends, supports and joys of Adjustments in Older Candidates living. A sense of loss may strike them~ sharply as the first bloom of seminary or religious-community life wears off. The classic stages of the grieving process denial, anger, bargaining,,depression, acceptance cab find analogues in this context: fighting the onset of discouraging feelings, anger at the institution or superiors, bargaining to find some accomodating way, and so forth. Formation personnel should help candidates to realize that such feelings may be part of the natural adaptive process and not simply a rejection or d~nial of their vocations to priesthood or religious life. At particular moments it helps to say clearly ~hat one must give oneself permission to be discouraged or angry or depressed. That~acceptance may be necessary if an individual is to work the grieving process to a resolution and a newfound balance. Finally, a major theme of the pre-theology or novitiate year, which can be successfully introduced when the candidates are a couple of months into the program, is that of Christian conversion. A goodly number of older candidates arrive at their respective ecclesia~stical institutions as the result of some form of conversion experience, and so they often feel that the major part of the conversion process is behind them. The theological understand-ing of conversion as lifelong, process, with the tougher steps still ahead, becomes more graspable as the first sheen of the year wears off and people settle into the long haul Of personal and ministerial formation, lndeed conversion becomes more challenging the deeper it penetrates into our hearts and souls. Later people may look back and realize-that the expe-rience which brought them to seminary or religious community only cracked the surface. The more difficult and richer stages lie yet in the future. The preceding strategies are some helps I have found in aiding candi-dates to grapple with and conquer the onset of transition anxieties in their first year of seminary or religious community. By no means are they meant to be complete and exclusive. The formation literature that deals with this new form of religious and ministerial candidate grows steadily in breadth and depth; these reflections are intended to be one voice in that continuing conversation. NOTES ~"Candidates Entering Schools of Theology Without Prior Seminary Experie.nce," Report of Midwest Catholic Seminary Rectors (Duplicated Copy-1981), pp. 2-3. 344 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 2John Coleman "The Situation for Modern Faith," Theological Studies 39 (1978), pp. 601-632. 3AIban Institute materials 'include a series of pamphlets and workbooks by Roy M. Oswald: Crossing the Boundary Between Seminary and Parish; The Pastor as New-comer; New Beginn(ngs: Pastorate Start-Up Workbook. 4A similar process can transpire in religious community candidates even though they experience common prayer as a part of their ideal. This happens when an individual has so meshed his or her religious self-identity with a particular form of private prayer, that they are perceived as inseparable. It can be more difficult to unravel these situa-tions in religious community settings because of the difficulty of finding some "sabbati-cal time" to do the rettiinking and revaluing. 5Ro3/M. Oswald, New Beginnings: Pastorate Start-Up Workbook (Washington, D.C.: Alban Institute Publications, 1977), pp: 33-65. 61 have dealt with these dynamics further in " 'I'm Just Making It': Survival as a .Spiritual Value," REVlEW FOR R E~.~G~OUS 37 (1978), pp. 277-278. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions land II Address: by Patricia Spillane, M. S~ C. Price: 151.25 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. SL Louis, Missouri 63108 Extremism in Ignatius of Loyola Tad Dunne, S.J. Father Dunne, who previously taught systematic theology at Toronto's Regis College, is now Director of Novices for the Detroit Province. He may be addressed at Loyola House: 2599 Harvard Road: Berkley. Michigan 48072. Retreats can be deceptive. Wewithdraw from our daily0meanderings and ascend to some lofty point from which we can see, from a spiritual perspec-tive, where our journey has taken us and where it is going. We may feel a need for an outlook quite opposite to oar culture's, even extremely so in some sense, if we are to live a vibrant spirituality in the midst of the world. From that vantage point, we search the gospels for some absolute ideal against which to test our everyday activities. And usually we come away with a vision simple and uncompromising. Then we come down from the heights, and before long we start work-ing on a balance between these opposites: not too talkative, but not too silent; not a workaholic, but not lazy; don't jump to conclusions, but don't accept everything mindlessly either. We look back on our retreat from quite a different perspective than we had while we were in it. Then we saw ourselves as refusing to com, promise with the world; but now we feel maybe just a little more faithful or a little more loving, and we count that small gain as our humble best. IS this retreat desire for some spiritual extreme an illusion we amuse ourselves with while p.erc.hed far above the harsh realities of the city? Or is the opposite true: that our adaptations to everyday realities compromise something in us that is precious in the sight of God? Ignatius of Loyola was one person, among many others in our history, who pushed for the no-compromise attitude: ~6 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 Just as people of the world who follow the world love and seek with such great diligence honors, fame, and esteem for a great name on earth, as the world teaches (hem, so those who are progressing i9 the spiritual life and truly following Christ our Lord love and intensely desire everything oppo-site (GE 101).~ This sounds impressive, but many doubt that we can make such a ¯ black/white distinction today. Unlike Ignatius in his day, we perceive a certain continuity between religious values and secular values. Our society's hospitals, its welfare systems, our efforts to eliminate poverty and to estab-lish political grounds for world peace all point to a growing convergence of what "the world" and what Christians intensely desire. Indeed, a case could be made that it is chiefly because of Christian values that the Secular City is gradually taking on humane, even spiritual goals for the human race. So should we regard Ig.natius' contentious approach to life as just a temporary stance made necessary by the chaos of the Church and of society in his time? I would like to argue a strong "No!" Strong, because unless we see some practical usefulness to an "everything opposite,, attitude, we would lose our sense of what is radidal about being Christian. We would gradually grow accustomed to "the world" as it is, and lose our critical 'sense. We w6uld have no razor-edged criterion for weighing practical alter-natiVes in ourapostolates. But what exactly does Ignatius mean by "everything opposite?"Para-doxically, he also counseled balance in many areas of life. So we can legitimately ask in what sense ought we be spiritual extremists, and in what sense men and women of prudent balance? Although I focus m~inly on Ignatius, I have no doubt that most°of the spiritual giants in human history would know what Ignatius was talking about. A Dialectic of Desires First of all, this "everything opposite" attitude does not refer to external social or cultural realities. It does not mCan that we should be opposed to all modern institutions just because they are "of the world." In any cage, these are always a mixed product of intelligence and ~aliqe, of good will and stupidity, and so in their regard we try not to throw out the baby with the bath. What Ignatius is talking about is rather ~ithe inner realities of consciousness. The "everything" which ought to 15e opposite to the "world" means inner desires. The disciple's desires ought to be completely opposite to the worldly penchant in us to "love and seek with such great diligence honors, fame, and esteem for a great name bn earth,~as the world teaches." Let me explain this more .fully. On the one hand, we revel in praise, we take pains to protect our Extremism ih Ignatius of Loyola/347 reputations, and we easily pour our energies into making a name for ourselves. On the other hand, rebukes chasten us, insults sting us, and injuries humble us. However, even when these humiliations are unjustified, we do have to admit that the shock to our pride does have a therapeutic element in it. In some small way, we need a come-uppance now and then. To be "put in one's pldce" can shatter self-defeating illusions we cherish about ourselves. What is very important to notice here is thatwhat honors do to ore: sense of ourselves, and what put-downs do, "are completely opposite. It is these opposing senses of'ourselves, I believe, that Ignatius means°by "everything opposite." Wl~at Ignatius gives in the General Examen, he expands upon in the meditation on the Two Standards (SE 136-148).2 There he shows how different acquired tastes about lifestyle usually lead to quite deep and quite opposite longings abo~t one's self-awareness. On the one hand. the taste for m0ney'leads to a desire for a great name. On the other, the taste for poverty usually leads to a longing for a certain anonymity the kind that frees a person to live without crippling self-concern. And beyond the great name anti th~ little name lie the r~al objects of one's deepest love what Ignatius calls either a.life of pride or a life of humility. Learning the Dialectic of Desires ~ Now few people recognize that, in faCt, they long either for pride or for humility. In"one's everyday choices,, most things seem morally gray, with-out serious consequefices., And yet they do add up to a direction in one's life, a direction that sooner or later reveals whether a person is self-centered or not. So it takes some reI:le~tion to real'ize for oneself that underneath a great number of apparently harmless concerns there lurks one's fundamen-tal inclination to pride. Likewise it takes some measure of self-reflection to notice the interior movements that in fact are a person's desire for humility. Once both these movements are recognized,° we can see that they are entirely opposite pulls in consciousness. Moreover, we can then begin to recognize that this dialectic of desires fihderlies our every activity, and see how it profoundly determines the person we become and the stamp we leave on our world. Given the'importance of this self-education in inner movements, it is no wonder that Ignatius prescribes more meditations on the Two Standards than on any other in the Exercises. ~ Still, we must admit, despite repeated meditations on the Two Stan-dards and nur~erous exhortations on the value of resisting the pull to ownership and to be held in high esteem, even the spiritually mature do not easily maintain.such a dialectical attitu.de toward their inner movements. And so we must ask why an "everything opposite" attitude is so difficult to 348 / Review.['or ReliL, ious~ May-June, 1986 live out. One reason is that we have failed to see the point of the Two Standards meditation. We may shave "done it" during a retreat and felt we got the point. Perhaps we understood Ignatius' view of the spiritual struggle very well and saw its connection toomaking choices in life. So we act as though it is enough to grasp the concept of spiritual struggle; we sincerely hope to bring the concept to bear in our everyday situations. What we forget is that life is concrete, not abstract. The people and the situations around us are a profoundly mysterious jumble of grace and malice, requiring in-depth reflection every day. Mediiation is .not analysis. Nor is =t simply ar~ appreciation of an abstract vision. Rather, meditation should be an ongoing and strenuous exerc=se in understanding the interac-tion between our concrete surroundings and our inner struggles. Ignatius, in fact, appeals very little to the concept of struggle. By that I mean that he does not analyze the meaning of "acting a, gainst" considered as a principle from which actions can be determined. It is one thing to acknowledge that life is a struggle, but quite another to name exactly what we are struggling with each day. In his practice and teaching of discernment Ignatius seldom appeals to an abstract rule of life. Instead, he appeals to imagination and to history to show that life is essentially a dialectic of desires, because he wants us to realize it in our own lives. For example, in the General Examen, he asks that the candidate for the Society of Jesus "ponder" how helpful it is to imitate the humiliated Christ. Does "ponder" mean conceptualize and ar~.lyze here? Not at all. The candidate is asked to imagine spiritually advanced men and womer~ and to notice how in fact they "intensely desire" to be clothed exactly as Christ, because of the love they bear him. lgnatius does not tell the candidate to imitate Christ humiliated and poor. He directs him only t,~ im.agine what the loyal disciple desires. Likewise in the Two Standards, the retreatant imagines the "servants and friends" of Christ, how they are naturally attracted in the direction opposite to pride, and how they attract others in the direction of h~mility.' I believe that ~Igriatius is trying to help the retreatant distinguis~h between several otherwise nameless, interior experiences. By focusing on the disciple instead of the Master, Ignatius clearly means to have us consider which Of our inner experiences, among the many that occur, corresponds to that particular attraction to Christ which the true disciple experiences. In other words, he wants us to discriminate among inner desires, not apply some facile, clean-cut rules about behavior. I said that Ignatius appeals also to history to teach us about these two pulls in consciousness. He does this in two ways. First, he directs a~tention Extremism in Ignatius of Loyola to the purposes which motivated Jesus in his work on earth so that we might better imitate him. True disciples "desire to resemble and imitate our Creator and Lord Jesus Christ. since it was for our spiritual profit that he clothed himself as he did" (GE.101 ). Notice that lgnatius calls Jesus "our Creator." This makes the choices of Jesus for poverty and humiliations a deliberate revelation of how we can best fulfill the purpose of our creation. Our Creator, Jesus Christ, came with this express purpose--to "give us an example that in all things possible we"might seek., to imitate and follow him, since he is the way that leads us to life" (GE 101). For Ignatius, God desired to enter human history in person, taking on the only condition that truly gives life, a condition of poverty and humility. If there was any doubt which inner desire one can depend on, now we see clearly that Jesus Christ freely and wisely chose .poverty and humiliations. History now has a model-member to guide it~ Jesus Christ, not just Lord but Creator as well, in imitation of whose interior .desires we find real life. Ignatius appeals to history in another manner which;although it is less obvious in the texts, underlies everything in the General Examen and the Exercises. Like St. Paul, he boldly sets his own historical experience and that of his first companions as the measure of what abnegation means in the concrete. In Chapter. Four of the General Examen, which Ignatius wrote with the overall intention that novices accept the idea of abnegation,3 we find this reason given: "For where the Society's first members have passed through these necessities and greater bodily wants, the others who come to it should endeavi~r, as far as they can, to reachthe same point as the.earlier ones, or to go farther in our Lord" (GE 81). In other words, the candidate is told that he is entering a community which is not leading itself; it is being led by God. Like Israel, the Society's founding historical expe-rience is normative for the Society's continuing style.Therefore for the simple reason that God moved the early companions to love poverty and humiliations in order to achieve the humility of Jesus, so too shOuld the later companions, because this is not just human work but the very labor of God nbt only in our psyches but in our history too. Isee two kinds of meditations which these reflections should prompt. First, we should learn for ourselves how to recognize when ~we are pulled toward humility and when towards pride. To do this, it may help to compare our~own inner experience to that of deeply spiritual persons. Their outwardly simple and self-effacing lifestyle is a manifestation of a militant obedience, to a deep and steady love within. Authentic people avoid applause, not because they are shy but because they are courageously maintaining a spirit which is very precious to them. Second, we should meditate on the various stories in which God acted ~ / Review for Religious, Ma.v-June, 1986 for the Church through Ignatius, or through any of the men and women who understood the struggle within. Their story is part of our history, and our story draws its meaning from that shared history. God indeed has entered history permanently, not only in the person of Christ Jesus but also in the hearts of our spiritual ancestors. Ignatius and his companions, in particular, recognized that their experience of begging and mockery gave them great joy. And why? Because they felt a concrete share in the expe-rience of their~Creat0r and Lord. Once they decided to form a community, they wrote constitutions with the purpose of structuring, as far as possible. a continual reenactment by its members of their'often difficult yet greatly joyful desires. We can read Scripture in the same way. By attending to the inner experiences which lay behind the texts of Scripture, we can recognize the two pulls of consciousness and the meamng of each, For example, when Jesus heard the woman cry out, "Happy is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursedyou!" he replied, "Not as happy as those who hear the Word of God and keep it!" (Lk 11:27-28). As I read it, this text says that the ~hief concern of a happy consciousness is inner obedience, not family loyalty nor pride in the fruits of one's labor.- For another example, we hear the reading from Wisdom, "I esteemed her [wisdom] more than scepters and thrones:. I loved her more than health or beauty" (7:8-10). What else is this wisdom but, the constant desire to live with ,the regular humiliations that come with living in the truth? Once we understand that what we call "salvation" is in fact the outcome of a tension in consciousness, we can read any scriptural stories and recognize familiar inner movements in ourselves. In this fashion, by seeing our pres-ent experience in the light of the gospels, we can grow to love the humble, self-transcending path. An Empirical View of the Dialectic Having said all that, there .still remains a nagging question. Many deeply spiritual men and women in fact have meditated in this way, have lived in actual poverty, have been stung by the insults, and know the joy that can accompany these experiences, but they regard this as a persono! asceticism only. They possess only vague notions of what the humble way has to do with peace in the world and the ongoing struggle of cultural and political leaders, to achieve it. Perhaps they believe in the~principle that pride pulls down nations, but they have no mental frameworkfor under-standing how it does so. Nor do they perceive how anyone~'s humility might everbuild up a nation. As a result, while they may live out a dialectical attitude ih their personal.lives, they can make no connections between it Ertremism in Ignatius of" Loyola / 351 and contemporary political science, psychology, sociology and economics. And so they seem to ache for the world but know nothing about how to improve it. Our world, after all, is thoroughly empirical, unlike Ignatius' world. which it seems, doted more on eternal verities. Were Ignatius alive today, 1 believe that besides appealing to imagination and to history, he would add a functional explanation of how the dialectic of desires underlies social progress and decline. That is, he would seek to explain how an inner penchant for doing without funds or fame works to bring about a redemp-tion in Christ Jesus that would mean something to this world. Or. to use his terms, he would explain what role ',discernment of spirits" plays in "redeeming" the world: To work out that functional explanation of how discernment of spirits facilitates redemption, we have to express the movements of the good and bad angels in terms that the average person can find in experience; °There are two experi.ences in particular which we must point out. each repr_esent-ing a pull or drawing in consciousness on the side of Christ's standard. First- is the experience of intending the truth. This experience relates to an extremely broad range of objects, and yet, as experience, it is quite distinct from many other kinds of inner experience. To "intend the truth" means to want to know reality, to search for answers to questions, and to respect the truth when we find it. This intending, this search, this respect, pulls against a counter-drift in us which settles for simple answers, for impressive words, for tricky, solutions, and for comforting illusions. Second is the experience of intending the good. This too relates to a ¯ broad range~ of objects and yet is quite a distinct feeling in consciousness. We ;'intend the good" when we weigh options for the sake of discovering what is objectively the best choice. In doing so, .we pull against ~ counter-tendency which seeks the merely satisfying, the subjectively comfortable. To want the truly good often means to choose a more painful path, but a better .one. And the criterion we use .to tell which is better is not only an examination of pros and cons.but also and chiefly, I believean expe-rience of fulfilled,or frustrated desire in our hearts. With these two experiences in mind--the intention of truth and the intention of good we can analyze how an "everything opposite" attitude works redemption in concrete situations, and how a failure to be strongly contentious prevents redemption from taking over. Let me illustrate this in several different areas of life. Some Illustrations To a great extent we all have difficulty with our feelings. Speaking for 352 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 myself, whenever I meet a stranger at a party, I seem to listen to our conversation with one ear and to my inner apprehensions with the other. It doesn't work very well because I often say things I immediately feel foolish about. Just when I hope to make a good impression, 1 feel I make a bad one. This happens because my mind was not fully on what we were talking about. I was also thinking about how to feel accepted, and so I blurted out things unrelated tothe topic of our conversation. Things are not much better with friends either, particularly when it comes to dealing with anger. When a friend gets angry with 'me, I want to strike back or at least defend myself. But neither reaction helps me under- 'stand what has gone wrong, and this failure to understand only makes it that much harder to work out an amicable solution. The ideal, of course, is to be able to acknowledge the truth of my own feelings and the feelings of others. This means workifig both to name the feelings and to pinpoint what the feelings are focused on--not an easy task for anybody. Negative feelings in particular are often repressed, and yet they are our best indicators that something of value is going ~ wrong. Because they are meant to alert us to harm, we should take them seriously, making every attempt first to acknowledge them and then to understand what they are all about. But this requires a no-compror~ise attitude towards those, pulls inside us which spring to "defend our poor egos. Those pulls create illusions which seduce us and cushion us against taking the sometimes painful responsibility~of facing the truth and doing our real best. For another illustraton of how dedication to reality and to objective worth helps bring order and sense into an ot.herwise ch~aotic situation, consider how communities tend by nature to be self-centered. As a com-munity we may be very realistic and quite responsible where each other are concerned, but this does nothing to prevent us from being aloof and oblivious to outsiders. Every community tends to reinforce its owri biases, to congratulate itself on its victories, and to speak a language full of value judgments 'that no one questions. Members seldom wonder whence its resources come and where its garbage goes. They seldom question whether or not its enjoyments are paid for by the sweat and malnutrition of foreigners. Unfortunately, for all the values inherent in community, there is very little in community itself that directs it beyond itself. These powerful gravi-tational forces toward self-centeredness can be found in communities of all sizes: couples in love, large families, ethnic groups, labor unions, nations-- and even religions. But all such communities live among other communi-ties. They contain subgroups, and they belong to larger groups. Wittiout some cultural commitment to the larger, more common good, subgroups Extremism in Ignatius of Loyola / 353 cut back their good will and limit their creativity to what benefits them-selves alone. So the normal demand for large-scale cooperationis regularly sacrificed for some small-scale gain: first for this and then for that faction. Sadly and ironically, once this game of competition between groups begins, none of the groups benefits as much as each of them might have, had they all shared their wits and their good will with one another. Historically, self-centered communities have enlarged their vision and commitments only when they have been provoked from within by a prophet. Usually.the prophet gathers a select community of like-minded people together to become the leaven in the dough. But before the prophet speaks a single word or calls a single disciple, he or she bbeysan inner pull toward truths and values that run counter to the prevailing attitudes. Prophets have reputations for being contentious. They get that way because they already fight an interior battle between illusions that are familiar and truths that are strange, between old, accepted ways of treating people and new, more dignified ways. So they cry out to the people they love, calling them to realize that they are playing a no-win game with other groups. When prophets are successful, a reform movement will get under, way only insofar as it deals with the community's concrete relations to other groups. The measure of its success will be the degree to which it demolishes any self-centered myths which its own authorities may propagate in the name of community strength or unity. But its members have to wake up intellectually. Only when they recognize these myths in themselves and wage an interior war against them will this peaceful revolution be~in. For my final illustration, I want to highlight the inner struggle that takes place in what we call the deep thinkers--scientists, historians, philo-sophers, and theologians, both the professional and the amateur. Contrary to popular opinion, deep thinkers often do not have an astronomically high I.Q. They work slowly but steadily. Nor are they born "bright;" they become aware of long-range implications and complex problems only by a steady fight against their minds' drift toward the easy answers. Again, you can see my point. On the one hand, we all experience a pull " toward a bogus form of knowing; the kind that relies on memory, rhetoric and bluffing. On the other, we also experience an "entirely opposite" pull towards asking honest questions, and searching for the best explanations, fighting against any worry that someone else .might beat us to a solution. We all have felt the desire to belittle intellectual inquiry and to disregard journals of opinion; even as we secretly wish we had the staying power to work for a more than surface understanding of the world around us. We cannot excuse our anti-intellectualism on the grounds of mental 3~4 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 dullness. The so-called "dull" can be extremely bright when it comes to practical and immediate concerns, Here lies the road to pride again. On its own power alone; our intelligence would n~ver stop asking questions about anything, no matter how remote. But when, the fruits of our reflections are not immediate and palpable, then a prideful concern for our own welfare forces its way in and compels our intelligence to surrender. We yield to the forces in our consciousness that move us toward easy answers, silly responses, and. make-believe solutions. While we all recognize these pulls in ourselves, we should notice what happens when psychologists, histbriians, political scientists, economists and the like give in to them. Their shortsighted solutions to human crises 'make life more miserable not just for themselves but for countless other human beings. Yet no jury indicts them for malpractice. No preacher denounces them from the pulpit. Instead, we give them the benefit of the doubt that ~'they did their best." But upon their interior obedience to the canons of truth--an obedience monitored by themselves alone--hangs the future of anyone whom their theories, and policies' touch. From this large-scale perspective, we can see better that every time someone settles for'merely partial answers to problems, he or she usually introduces a solution which itself needs fixing by someone else. Of course, this is only a general explanation of how bad situations get worse, but it does explain how a contentious spirituality can work to better the world we live in. Only an "everything opposite" attitude towards this downhill intel-lectual slide will regularly bring about .intelligent and long-range solutions to the problems that beset God's people. Conversion to the Dialectical Attitude "Everything opposite" means a conversion--one that requires some-times anger but often gentleness to maintain. It means recognizing that oners interior is a battleground of two opposing kinds of movements, whose :outcome has direct manifestations in one's psychic health, one's prophetic spirit, and one's intellectual freedom. These, in turn~, have a direct .effect on:family harmony, social justice and on the broad philosophies and theories that shape out: human institutions. The conversion ought to be total,.because there is no event in our everyday lives which does not derive its meaning from how we responded to it. As Christians, we stand in a peculiar relationship to.~this conversion to a dialectical .attitude. The functional explanation givrn above, of how dis-cernment of spirits works to create a better world, could stand on its own without any~reference to Christ Jesus. This is an asset insofar as Christians can share a vision, a language, and a praxis with non-Christians--which Extremism in Ignatius of, Loyola we must certainly do if we are to tackle issues of social justice with any seriousness. Such cooperation can even be the beginning of a dialogue about ultimates in truth and goodness leading to the Good News of Christ Jesus. But a functional explanation by itself is also a liability insofar as Christians might forget to name just who it is who moves the soul to face the truth and do one's true best. So it seems incumbent upon theologians and catechists to express the age-old doctrine of redemption in Christ Jesus and the Spirit in functional categories drawn from the dynamic~ of con-sciousness and the workings of history. This is a large order, but fortu-nately one already, being taken up by many today. A final word of caution: Such an "everything opposite" attitude is not learned overnight. It takes time to name which inner experiences corres-pond to "intending the truth" and which to wishful thinking; which to "inte,,nding the good" and which to securing the merely comfortable for ourselves. And we learn by our mistakes. But Without the slightest exag-geration we can say that in this matter there should be no compromise. Only an extremism about our inner movements can give us the day-to-day balanced judgment and love that redeem the world. ~ NO~ES ~ General Examen. This document was written by Ignatius for the purpose of teaching candidates for the Society, of Jesus what Jesuit life Would require. It was meant to be given:in a retreat setting, requiring some serious meditation. See George E. Ganss, ed., The Constitutions of the ~Society of Jesus (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970) pp. 75-118. My references above refer to paragraph numbers. 2Spiritual Exercises. See Louis 3. Puhl, ed., The Spiritual~Exercises of St. Ignatius (Wes.tminister, MD: The Newman Press, 1959), References are to paragraph numbers. 3Joseph de Guibert, The Jesuits: Their St~iritual Doctrine and Practice (Chicago: Loyola UniverSity Press; St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1964) p. 141. The Spirit of Holiness Living in Us E. A. Ruch, 0 M.L Father Ruch teaches philosophy, at the National University of Lesotho (P.O. Roma 180; Southern Africa). He has just completed a study leave in France. Spiritual theology distinguishes three stages in our progress towards holiness: The purgative (cleaning) stage which consists essentially in a breaking-away from sin, not merely out of fear of divine punish-ment, but out of a God-given awareness of God's love for us; The illuminative stage in which we grow in a personal understanding of who God is, an awareness which always culminates in the realiza-tion that "God is love"; The unitivestage which is a personal love-response to God's love for us and thus a gradual transformation of ourselves into true children of God sharing in his divine nature. Holiness is infinitely more than just being a good man, someone who meticulously obeys the law of God. We live in a redeemed world, a world already reconciled with God, but in which we are called to "become the goodness of God" (2 Co 5:21). This is why the standards of holiness which Christ sets us are much higher than those of "the Scribes and the Pharisees" (see Mt 5:20-47). Jesu~ has come to complete the law, to raise it io a level which we cannot attain by our human strength. Indeed, he expects us to be "perfect as (our) heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt 5:48). He wants us to become "fully developed, complete, with nothing missing" (Jm 1:4). He wants us to "be holy in all [we] do, since it is the Holy One who has called [us], and Scripture says: be holy, for I am holy" (I P 1:IS). We must not, therefore, confuse a high standard of moral purity with holiness. Moral purity is only the starting poittl on our way to holiness. The Spirit of Holiness / 357 Beyond our human struggle for justice and goodness, there is a gift from God which transcends all human limits. Let me try to exploin this by means of a parable. Let us suppose a diver who, having stripped off his everyday clothing, is preparing tb plunge into the pool. Undressing does not make a diver. It is only when he has left terra firma and confided himself tothe new element, viz. water, that his life as a diver begins; for it is only a beginning. Let us now follow the diver's experience under water. He begins to discover the marvels of the underwater flora and fauna: a truly new world opens: to him. True, he also begins to discover the dangers of this life, but the beauties he discovers are more than a match for the risks incurred. More and more he finds pleasure in diving and in exploring this new world. And yet, every once in a while he has to return to dry land to refill his compressed air cylinders and to take a rest in his own, more familiar world. Let us now imagine such a diver being gradually transformed into an "aquatic animal," i,e, into a kind of new man, capable of living, breathing and working under water in perfect ease, not even wishing to return to his formerly familiar, yet highly toxic atmosphere of nitrogen, oxygen and carbon dioxide. Life under water has become a "second nature": it is now his "real" life and his original one would be considered as "abnormal." He is now a new creature "fully developed, complete, with nothing missing" who no longer wants to leave his newly acquired mode of existence, and who finds "life outside" meaningless, boring, heavy and poisonous. He now "lives and moves and has his being" in God. He has "become like him, because he sees him as he really is" (1 Jn 3:2). We have here a neat image of growth in holiness. First of all, God, through his Spirit living in me, prompts me, urges me to "take the plunge" and to be '~baptized in the Spirit." He then begins the long process of revealing the beauties and risks of life in and with God. Finally he initiates that transformation into his own life which will only be completed in eternal beatitude, but which is already partially shared through faith in the joy of discovering the life of God in us. I would now like to show the role of the Holy Spirit in these three stages. The Purification When John the Baptist preached the metanoia; q.e. the "turning-around," the "about-face" which is required in our sinful life, he strength-ened his preaching with the effective symbol of immersion into the water of the Jordan as a sign of personal cleansing. But John also knows that he cannot achieve more than mere moral purity. He is still a man of the Old ~1511/ Review for Religious; May-June, 1986 Testament ("The least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he is" (Mt 11:11))~ We are called to much more than moral purity and John proclaims his role as Precursor of the one who will baptize "with the Holy~Spirit and withfire" (Mt 3:11). The symbol of fire a~ an element of purification is well known throughout the Scriptures: More effectively than water, because it goes to the hearvof the matter and not only to its surface, fire cleanses from within. It burns away the impurities as one,burns the chaff after winnowing (Mt 3:11-12).~ .~ Fire as a ~ymbol of the Holy Spirit is, of course, well known from the Pentecost event and the "tongues of fire." Another purifying force in spiritual life is the loneline.ss, suffering and silence of,the "desert experience." Like the people of Israel who have to be purified of their Egyptian habits through their forty years of wandering through the desert, so also Jesus himself was "led by the Spirit out into the wilderness to-be tempted by the devil" (Mr 4::1; Mk 1:12 and ~Lk 4:1). The Spirit will invite us too from time to time to retire into solitude and silence, because this is the precondition for hearing the voice of God which would become inaudible in. the hustle and bustle of our daily, life in our,~nervous and tension-filled world. And just as fire is painful when it burns away impurities, so ~the solitude of the desert is frightening. St. Teresa of Avila insists very strongly on the importance of "the grace of quiet" for spiritual life (Way of Perfection, ch. 33). St.John also points at another necessary purification: to bring the desires of the flesh under th~ control of the spirit: Unless ~ man is borfi through water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. What is born of the flesh is flesh; what is born of the ,.Spirit is spirit (Jn 3:5-6). Thus purification is part of a p(~ocess of acq~iiring a new life (see v. 3). "l:he real life is not the one given by the flesh; only'"the Spirit. gives life" (J~n 6:63). Above all, purification from sin is a condition for receiving the gift of ¯ theo~Holy Spirit. Therefore Peter announces to the people at Pentecost: You must repent .and everyone of you must be baptized in the name of Jesus 'Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit (Ac 2:38). In reverse, the Holy Spirit is specifically given to the Apostles to,enable them to forgive sins: Receive~the Holy Spirit. For those whose sins you forgive they are for-given; ofor those whose sins you retain, they are retained (Jn 20:22). ~' We are fighting a running battle against the forces of evil. We are the The Spirit of Holiness / 359 accused in an endless courtcase in which Satan is "the accuser of'our brethren., who accuses them day and night before God"(Rv 12:10). But this a~:cuser has been "thrown down" (ibid) by the Holy Spirit who is our Advocate. Because the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Truth while the devil is the "spirit of disorder" ( I Jn 4:6) and of "falsehooi:l ~ind murder" (Jn 8:44).~ In our fight with the spirit of evil who tries to turn us away from God. the Advocate "will be with you forever, he will be continually at your. side. he will be m you" (Jn 14:17). ~hus the Holy Spirit appears also as the one who sustains us in our temptations, who provides us with arguments to beat the devil. Even when we fire facing evil earthly powers, we need have no worry, because "ttib Spirit of your Father will be speakir~g in you" (Mt 10:!8-20). Like a good advocate he will prove the "opposition" wrong(see Jn 1~:9-11), by convict-ing the world ofits sinfulness and consequently of the fact that without Christ's victory the world is meaningless and lacks all ultimate purpose. In his epistle to the Romans St. Paulexplains this purifyi~ng role of the Holy Spirit by stating that the Hrly Spirit takes people who are living by "the law of sin and death" which is characterized by "the misdeeds of the body" (Rm 8:1, 13)and he makes them "spiritual": Your ~nterests. however, are not in the unspiritual, but in the spiritual. since the Spirit of God has made his home in you. In 'fact. unless you possessed the Spirit of Christ you would not belong to hire. Tl~ough your ¯ body may be dead it is because of sin; but if Christ is in you, then your spirit is life itself because you have been justified: and if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, then he who raised Jesus from the dead will give life to your own mortal bodies through his Spirit living in you (Rm 8:9-10). The Spirit does not only transform our soul and cleanse our mental habits our thoughts, our feelings, our emotions he also "spiritualizes" our bodies to prepare them for the resurrection. Our bodies became mortal "because of sin"; the cleansing from sin through Christ's "Spirit living in us" is the cause of our immortality.~ What are the spiritual transformations which the Spirit operates in our souls? St. Paul opposes the spirituality and holiness of the Old Testament and that brought about by Christ's Spirit living in us. The Spirit transforms our "spirit of slaves" livingin fear, into a "spirit of.sons" who have been "set free"(Rm 8:14-23; see 1 Jn 4:17-18). It is a new attitude with regard to the law that takes hold of us: we do right not because_ we are afraid, but because we love. On the other hand, and for the same reason, i.e. love, this freedom is never licentiousness, because we are living in the Spirit: If you are guided by the Spirit you will be in no danger of yielding to 360 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 self-indulgence, since self-indulgence is the opposite of the Spirit . . (Ga 5:16). In other words: the presence of the Spirit in us does not justify bad behav-ior, but should enable us to avoid bad behavior. Hence also Paul's claim to the Corinthians that no on~ can curse Jesus and be in the Spirit of Jesus (1 Co 12:3). Paul's whole apostolic life was dominated by his struggle to make the new converts realize this new dimension brought about by faith in Christ: an externally imposed Law is replaced by the promptings of the Spirit from within (see Ezk 36:26-27; Jr 31:33). The true Christian is doing good because the Spirit moves him from within his very freedom. Even our faith in the Gospel is the work of the Spirit and it is this faith, rather than outward observances that justify us (Ga 3:2). It is a pagan (or an Old Testament) attitude to do good or to refrain from doing evil out of fear of hell, or in order to curry God's "favors," rather than out of inner convic-tions growihg out of love. A Christian attitude stems from the Spirit within us and from our readiness to let the Spirit become active and effective in us and through us. Since the Spirit is our life. let us be directed by the Spirit. We must stop being conceited,, provocative and envious. (Ga 5:25). The Spirit which he sent to live in us wants us for himself alone (Jm 4:5); (literally: 'The Spirit. yearns, earnestly for our love'). No one who has been begotten by God sins: because God's seed remains inside him. he cannot sin when he has been begotten by God (1 Jn 3:9).2 But God will not sanctify us without us. It is from within our freedom that God acts and lives in us. We must collaborate with his promptings, for God has an infinite respect for our free will. Nor is it sufficient to have received, the Holy Spirit once and for all, like some kind of seal, medal or honorific title. He has to live in us. We have to grow in him by letting his influence in our lives become more and more continuous and pervasive. It is precisely this growth which supposes an inner cleansing. We cannot serve two master~; at the same time: one must diminish if the other is to grow. As long as our life is cluttered with worries, with sins, with ourselves, with the world, with pleasures and so forth, there is little room for God to grow in us. He is not going to sneak into our life, as we gradually clean out the house just ahead of him. We have to make a clean sweep before God arrives. But we are afraid of the apparent spiritual poverty, of the empti-ness, of the echoing hollowness within us. The Spirit gives us the courage to empty ourselves (see Ph 2:7) so.that we might experience God making irruption into our life. The blood of Christ, who offered himself as the perfect sacrifice to God The. Spirit of Holiness / 361 through the eternal Spirit, can purify our inner self from dead actions so that we do our service to the living God (Heb 9:14). In short: the first level of the Spirit's action demands, but also produ-ces an inner cleansing, a reorientation of our lives, an openness to the guidance of the Spirit and a readiness to be transformed. Without this there simply cannot be any.growth in spiritual life, because without it we are not capable of putting ourselves into a listening attitude towards God, and without_ this listening attitude there will not be that inner enlighten-. ment whereby God wants to make' himself personallY known to us. Enlightenment and Learning Si. John presents us the Holy Spirit as the'Spirit of truth: "I shall ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate3 to be with you forever, the Spirit of truth whom the world cannot receive since it neither sees nor knows him; but you know him, becauSe he is with yo.u, he is in you. [he] will teach you everything and remind you of all 1 have said to you" (Jn 14:15-16, 26). This theme of the "world" which cannot see God ,recurs often in John. The world is blind to God because it is too much concerned with other, rela, tively unimportant things. The Word of God is the true light which many people refused to receive (Jn 1:9-13). But there are also those whb, throughout the history of salvation, have let themselves be enlightened by the Spirit of God. The Holy Spirit inspired the prophets (see Lk 1:67; Ac 21:4; 28:25;.) and the writers of Scripture. He guides the lives of those he inhabits (see Lk 2:25-26) and he leads Jesus himself through his ministry (Lk 4:14, 18)oand makes him,utter prophetic words (Lk 10:21). Indeed it is the Spirit who, in the form of a dove, points at the Messiah as the voice of the Father is heard at.Jesus' baptism (Mt 3:16-17; Mk 2:10; Lk 3:21-22i Jn 1:32-34; ~1 Tm 3:16). It is by the Holy Spirit that Jesus performs his m.iracles (Mt 12:28). In short: the Holy Spirit makes us become aware of Jesus,as the Messiah and of his redemptive role. This is why the Gospels are so 6utspoken against those who "sin against the Holy Spirit" (Mt 12:32; Mk 3:28; Lk 12:10) because this sin blinds us to the revealing and illuminating role of the Holy Spirit without which we cannot reach God nor pr.ogress in holiness. ("No one can say 'Jesus is Lord' except by the Holy Spirit" 1 Co 12:3). In other words, the sin against the Holy Spirit makes God's essential work in our life, viz. our sanctification, impotent. Jesus has proclaimed the Good News to us: he is the Good News, but we are incapable of fully grasping what this means unless the .Spirit opens our eyes: It is for your own good that I am going, because unless I go, the Advocate 369/ Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 will not come t6 you; l~tit if I do go, I will send him to you . I still have many things to say to you, but they would be too' mucfi for you now. But " when'~the Spirit of trt~th comes he will leadyou to the complete truth, since he will not be speaking as from himselfbut will only say what he has learnt . Jn 16:7-15 (passim). ~ " ~- We clearly see the effect of the Spirit on the apostles at the moment of the Pentecost event!~ Now, the coming of the Holy Spiritdoes not imply the revelation of neff doctrines, but the creation of an inner receptivity and capacity for underst~hding the Good N~ws of Christ in a more personal way:. You have been anointed by the Holy One, and have all recei'bed the knowledge'., you do not need anyone to teach you; the anoiming he gave you teaches you everything; you are anointed with truth, not with a lie. (1 Jn 2:20, 27). Thus the Holy Spirit generates faith, the ability to listen and to hear, in us and she convicts the "world" of its basicsin of unbelief (see Jn 8:21, 24, 26; 15:22). In reverse he convinces the believers of Christ's divinity (see Jn 10:33; 19:7) because l~y returning to the Father in his human bo.dy, Jesus shows that his true home is in heaven (see .In 13~ 1; 20:17). Finally the Spirit gives to the believer the unshakable confidence in the power of God who has overcome the empire 6f evil. Thus, by revealing the glory of Christ and enabliiig us to b~elieve in Christ, he makes us listen to him who reveals to us the glory of the Father. The Acts of the Apostles have been called the "Gospel of the Holy spirit." They are full of incidents in which the Spirit illuminates the minds and heart~of~the apostles and of the believers. Let us me~'ely'mention a few of them almost at random. He gives to the believers the gift of speech in foreign tohgues (Ac 2:4), he inspires the words of the apostles (Ac 4:8.31), he gives Stephen an, irresistible power of argumentation against his detrac-tors (Ac 6:10) as Jesus himself had predicted (Mk 13:11; Lk 12:H-12). On several occasions the Spirit gives people the ability of predicting the future (Ac 21i,~; 11:28); he guides the decisions of the Church in admitting pagans (Ac-8:29, 40; ~10:19, 44-47; 11:12-16; 15:8),'in limiting the relevance of the Jewish laff (Ac 15:28) and in determining the mission of Paul to the pagans (Ac 13:2 sq; 16:6-7; 19:1). Occasionally he gives very precise g~uidelines for th~ apostolate (Ac 8:28). But ~bove all the Holy Spirit reveals himself internally to those who receive him, usually in baptism, by giving them the power of praising God in words-inspired by God himself [the gift of tongues](see Rm 8:26-27; Ac 9:31; 10:44; 19:1-7.). Indeed one could say that the Holy Spirit was clearly the power behind the expansion of the ~early Church. The Spirit of Holiness / 363 This power is usually revealed and released in a prayerful atmosphere. Throughout Acts, one gets the impression of a people moving about in an inner spiritual dynamism, open to God, ready to expect any kind of mira-cles. Of course they are_ ordinary human beings like you and me. They sometimes become almost obsessively enthusiastic (like the Corinthians), while others (like the Gala~tians) remain fearfully attached to traditions. In this they do not differ all that much from the Churchof today! But there does seem to be a genuine desire throughout the early Church to let the Spirit rule the life of the faithful. St. Paul himself tells us that he is not bothered by his weakness, precisely because he" knows that he can always let ttie Spirit and the power of God Speak and pray in and through him (Rm 8:26-27). He knows that he is not preaching his own ideas nor by his own power, but by the power of God (1 CO 2:3) and that "the Spirit reaches the' depth of evet:ything, even the depth of God" (1 Co 2:10). This is why he chides Timothy for his timidity: God's gilt was not a spirit of timidity, but the Spirit of power, and love. and self-control (2 Tm 1:7).~ And~just as the Spirit give~'to the preacher the words to preach, to the prophet the message to proclaim and to the teacher the doctrine to teach, so also he gives to the listeners the inner .power to understand with heart and mind, and the wisdom to apply what has been taught in their personal life: May the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of ~lory, g~ve you a spirit of wisdom and perception of what is revealed, to bring you to full knowledge of him (Ep 1:17,). Out of his infinite glory, may he give'you the power through his Spii'it for your hidden self to grow strong, so that Christ .may live in you through faith, and then, planted in love and built on love. you will with all the saints have strength to grasp the breadth and the length, the height and the depth . (Ep 3:16-19). By thus gradually growing, in God's wisdom, we will be filled with the '~utter fullness of Ggd" (ibid v. l~J). ,, But God ca~ only fill us with his wisdom, !f we have let ourselves be emptied of the wisdom of the "~orld." Hence,the purification stage.must precede and will itself grow in _proportion to the gradual~growth in "enlightenment." We can only grow "little by little" (Ws 12: !-2). Secondly we mus~ play our fa,irt by taking a humble, listening and receptive attitude in sile~ace ~nd. patience. And thirdly, the Holy Spir!t comes to each one of us personally, but always within the context of and for the sake of the whole Church, the Body of Christ (see 1 Co 14), because "God is Love" and v~hatever he does in us and through us,~in on13~ take place within a 364 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 love-relationship, This is why love is the greatest commandment, but also the greatest of all gifts of the Spirit: the gift which not only includes all others, but also the only one which is to remain forever (1 Co 13). We 'do not receive the Holy Spirit for our exclusive personal enjoyment, but for sharing him with others through apostolic action. As Jesus says to his apostles: You will r~ceive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you, and t~en you will be my'witnesses (Ac 1:8). More than half the passages in the Acts which speak about the Holy Spirit mention him in a directly apostolic context. This is also why the Holy Spirit is presented in such an intimate relationship with the Church that Peter can say: "It has been decided by the Holy Spirit and by ourselves." (Ac 13:28), while the Book of Revelation affirms: "The Spirit and the Bride [= the Church] say: 'Come'"-(Rv 22:17). A final point worth mentioning in the present context: If it is true that the illumination by the Spirit is proportional to our emptying ourselves of our own ideas, then it is easily understandable why the poor in spii-it are given preference in the kingdom of heaven (Mt 5:3),~ why "these things" have been hidden frrm the worldly wise and revealed to children (Mt 11:25) and why only children can enter the kingdom of heaven (Mt 18: !-4). Union in Love The Christian religion is not merely an ethics, i.e. a list of actions to be done or avoided. Jesus' struggle with the Pharisees (see Mt 5:17 sq and 23:13-32), as well as St. Paul's arguments to show the powerlessness of the Law to save us (e:g. Rm I-7) are proof enough of this. Nor is Christianity merely a beautiful doctrine dogmatically proclaimed a~d faithfully but blindly accepted: If I knew all the mysteries and all science, and if I had the fullness of faith. but without love, lam nothing (! Co 13:2). God wants to call us to a new life. I~e wants to change our identity from within, not merely our mode of external behavior. He wants us to be reborn "through water and the'Spirit'' (Jn 3:5) so as to enable us to enter into the kingdom of heaven. It is through the Spirit of Goal that this "rebirth" as children of God takes place: The Spirit himself and our spirit bear united witness that we are children of God. And if we are children we are heirs as well: heirs of God and coheirs with Christ, sharing his 'suffering so as to share in his glory (Rm 8:!4-17; see Ga 4:6~7). The Spirit is our passport for our new. "ciiizenship," because we have been The Spirit of Holiness / 365 stamped with the seal of the Holy Spirit of the promise, the pledge of our inheritance which brings freedom to those whom God has taken for his own to make his glory praised (Ep 1:13-14). Of course in this life we still know God only "dimly, as in a mirror" (1 Co 13:12), and yet e~,en in this limited way, God already reveals himself to us from within, from his presence in us through the Spirit: We know that he lives in us by the Spirit that he has given us (! Jn 3:24). We can know that we are li~ing in him and he is living in us, because he lets us share his Spirit (! .In 4:13). The Spirit is .an" experienced reality. Even the places and buildings where the early Church was gathering "were shaken" when they were "filled with the Holy Spirit" (Ac 4:3 I) and the Holy Spirit is often described as "falling on" people (Ac 10:44; 11:15). It is like falling in love: it is an experience difficult to explain to someone who has never experienced it. The kingdom of God is therefore not merely something to be expected in the life to come. We are already living in this kingdom, which can be identified with equal right with the Holy Spirit and with the Church, provided the Church is not merely seen as an administrative structure. St. Paul refers to our transformation into children of God as something already realized: We were buried with [Christ] in baptism [and we]'have been raised up with him" (Col 2:12-13). However, this new reality demands, right here and now, a new mode of life: Put off your old nature which belongs to your former manner of life. and be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and put on the new nature, created after the likeness of God iri true righteousness and holiness (Ep 4:22-24). We are incorporated into the Spirit (Rm 8:1, 9. We are "temples of God"( 1 Co 3:16; 6:19). We have been 'Zraised up with Christ" (Col 3:1). It is for this reason that all "Paul's moral instructions are so severe. Moral instructions and calls to holiness are one and the same for Paul, and they center, as .one can expect, on the two commandments of love of God and~ love of neighbor. Because of the Spirit dwelling in us, we are able to love God and to love our neighbor with the same kind of love with which God himself loves us: The love of God is poured out into our hearts by the Holy Spirit who is given to us (Rm 5:5). The first thing that changes in our new, Spirit-filled life, is our relation- ~166 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1986 ship with God in prayer: The book of Genesis tells u.s .of Enoch~ who was livinga life of such 'intimacy with God that he was absorbed into God, that he vanished in him (Gn 5:24). The original familiarity with God as des-cribed in paradise is re,stored. We learn to relate to God truly a~ our Father because ,"God has Se.nt the Spirit of hi~ Son into our hearts crying 'A~bba! Father!'" (Ga 4:6; .see Rm 8:26). Our ~vorship is no longer tied to places, times, rituals, and'words, but becomes "worship in0 spirit a.n~d in truth (b~ecause) God is °soirit" (Jn 4:24). Above' all, our worship ~s no longer dominated by fear because ° love will come ~o perfection in us when we can face the day of judgment without fear; because eVen in this worm we have 'become as he is. In love ~there is no fear', but fear is driven out by perfect love" (1 J'n 4:17-18; she "~ Rm 8~21~29)~ So to pray in the Spirit of God (see Ep 6:18) means to pray in an attitude of fearless love: God is love and anyone who lives in love lives in God and God lives in him (l Jn 4:16).~ This means thaLGod lives in us-and we live in him, but also that as a result weare transformed into God's essentially loving nature. This transforma, tion will not only reveal itself in our relationship with God, but also in our relationship with our fellowman. We are living a lie if we claim to love God, to be a child of God, while not loving our neighbor: We can ,be sure that we are in God only when the one who claims to be living in him is living the same kind of life as Christ lived (1 Jn 2:5-6). Now God's love for us was revealed when God sent into ,the world his' only Son so that we could have life through him . Since God loved us' so much~ we, too should love one another . As long as we love one another, God will live in us ~'nd h~s love will be complete in us. (I Jn 4:10-12). This whole,newdoving relationship is planted inu~ by the Holy Spirit living in us and e.nabling us to grow in him and thus to become more and more ,like Christ whose .Spirii he is. ¯ If we live by the truth .and in love, we shall "grow in all ways into- Christ ~, who is the head by whom:the whole body is fitted and joined together. "~ So the body grows until it has built itself up in love (Ep 4:15-16):~ . This body,,building itself up and. growing in love, is the Church. This is also why the gifts and charisms are to be used for "the common good" (see 1 Co 12:7; 14:3r4, 26) and are of no account without the cha,rity which~gives The Spirit of Holiness / 367 them meaning (1 Co 13). Jesus wanted us to be perfect "as our heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt 5:48) and he summarizes the whole Law and the Prophets in the commandments of love (Mt 22:40). Our growth in perfec, tion can therefore only be a growth in this twofold, love and this growth is essentially God's work because we have been chosen by the prox)ident purpose of God the Father to be made holy by the Spirit, obedient to Jesus Christ and sprinkled by his blood (I P 1:2). The lives of the Saints are beautiful illustrations of this powerful and effective dwelling of the Holy Spirit in the soul. In all their differences, they have struggled through these three stages of growth in holiness. Some have put more emphasis, on their sinfulness and on the need for inner purifica-tion; others have spent most of their life trying to penetrate deeper and deeper into the knowledge of the mysteries of God, not only with their intellect but with their heart and their whole being: All have been led towards a life of intimate

Issue 29.1 of the Review for Religious, 1970. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDI.TORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Eilard. S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to R~wEw vog l~uG~ous; Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63~o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~9xo6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Provirice Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright (~) 1970 by RZVzEw' FOR RELIOIOUS at 428 East Preston Str~:t; Baltimore, Mary-land 21202. Printed in U.S.A. Second class posta[~e paid at Baltimore, Maryland and ai addiuonal mailing offices. Single copies: $1.00. Suhscsiption U.S.A. and Canada: $5.00 a year, "$9.00 for two years; other countries: $5.50 a year, $10.00 for two yean. Orders should indicate whether they ah: for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to RFvu~w FOR RI~LIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions; wl~re ~ccom-padded by a remittance, should be sent to Rgv~zw ~OR RELIGIOUS; P. O. ~X 671; Baltimo~, Ma~land 21203. Chang~ of addr~, bu~ co~es~nd~ce, and ord~s not a~ ompa~ed a remittance should be g~Ltotous ; 428 East ~eston Ma~land 21202. Manu~ripts, ~itofial cor- ~s~ndence, and ~oks for r~iew should sent to REVIEW FOR gELIOIOUS; 612 Hum~ldt Building; 539 North Grand ~ul~ard; Saint ~uis, Mi~uri 63103. Qu~fions for answering should ~ the Qu~fio~ and ~we~ ~tor. JANUARY 1970 VOLUME 29 NUMBER 1 REVIEW FOR Volume 29 1970 EDITORIAL OFFIG'E 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 BUSINESS OFFICE 428 East Preston Street Baltimore, Maryland 21202 EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Published in January, March, May, July, September, Novem-ber on the fifteenth of the month. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOLIS is indexed in the Catholic Peri-odical Index land in Book Re-view Index. Microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS i8 available from University Mi-crofilms; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. GEORGE WILSON, S.J. Community. and Loneliness Not another article on communityl Haven't we all heard enough on that subject to last us through our next ten general chapters? Perhaps. But I hope the reader will excuse me if I muse a bit out loud on some questions in this area which I feel we have neglected in spite of the deluge of analyses, anathemas, and recipes to which we have been treated in recent years. The reflections which follow will have only the merest semblance of any order. I make no apology for this. It happens to represent for me the state of the issues, which recurrently bob to the surface of my consciousness like the flotsam from a variety of experiences with religious men and women over the past six years. It strikes me, incidentally, that flotsam may be a particularly apt word inasmuch as some of these experiences involved rather disastrous shipwrecks. We might make a good beginning by taking eight giant steps backwards to a typical religious community in the year 1962. (We now know that such a thing never existed, of course; beneath the surface each com-munity was really very different. In those idyllic days, however, we might very well have lived under such an illusion.) We heard about the Council---the typical first reaction was "I wonder why?"--so we prayed for the gentle rain of the Spirit. We prayed for the success of the Council more or less as we would have prayed for a Eucharistic congress. We prayed for rain and we were treated to a ty-phoon. And not least in the area of what we came to call "community." We might even have to remind our-selves now that the word "community" was hardly ever heard before the Council. And certainly if we used it at all, it was not with all the psychological baggage with which it is currently burdened. In those ÷ + George Wilson, $.J., teaches theol-ogy at Woodstock College in Wood-stock, Md. 21163. VOLUME 29, 1970 + 4. 4. George Wilson, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS days we might have spoken of "common life"--but that was such a different thing. I hope I will be for-given the whimsical reflection that in those days "com-mon life" was frequently used to engineer the rigidity which precisely destroys all life, whereas today our more likely mistake is to invoke "community" in order to perpetrate all the most bizarre diversities which haven't the foggiest connection with the people with ¯ whom we live. Lest this latter remark be misconstrued, let me .hasten to add that it is not in any way a plea for more togetherness. I suppose at this point I am just suggesting that we abandon the futile gesture of trying to baptize the many sensible, good, and apostolic things done by religious with the tag "community." If indeed they are sensible, good, and apostolically profitable, they will remain so even without the tag, as long as the religious lives up to his or her basic commitment to the group. At any rate, I think we would all admit that "com-munity" has taken on new burdens in the renewal years. The new factor consists in the conscious emphasis on personal enrichment of the life of the individual through the intimate sharing of life with similarly dedi-cated persons. This is not to suggest that religious life in previous decades did not bring rich personal satis-faction to the lives of many wonderful and wonder-fully human beings. It is one of the cruel illusions of some of our fiery reformers to think that they dis-covered the category of the personal--cruel to others because it seems to cast a shadow over the accomplish-ment of their great lives of service, but even more cruel to the reformers themselves because, being, an illusion, it prevents them from seeing precisely the beauty of lives lived for years at a steady, if less ro-matically intense, warmth. One is tempted to think of beams and motes and so forth. Be that as it may, the difference between then and today is not, I would submit, that between coldness and warmth, but rather between a then in which the warm personal successes and the cold impersonal failures were just lived, and a today, in; which they are consciously sought after (warm personal relationships) or consciously and ruthlessly knocked down (the merely functional, computerized, impersonal civilities). People were always warm (some) and cold (some) and they still are today (some of e~ch). Wheat and cockle and all that. It is just that we religious have as a group grown more reflective about how it happens; we have evolved a new set of forms which define and give contemporary expression to warmth and coldness (and we .are evolving even newer forms at a dizzy pace); and we are more consciously searching out the ways to increase the successes and minimize the failures in the process. All of which is good. Religious communities not only should be places in which the full development of human personal potential for life and love and happiness takes place, they should also be evidently such. Signs which don't communicate are worse than anomalies: they have the fateful chameleon capacity to become counter-signs. Let it be proclaimed once and for all: a man or woman giving his or her life to Christ in a religious society should find there the ac-ceptance and warmth and affection which any hu-man being has a right to look for in his commitment to any other person or group of persons. Unfortunately this still does not get us out of the woods. I say unfortunately, because I am afraid that many religious feel that the mere affirmation is enough by itself to answer all difficulties. To draw a bold caricature which probably never happened, I ~aave the recurring fantasy of a contemporary religious say-ing: "A religious community should be an intimate group of people who are in love with one another. I don't feel that way about any of the eight people I live with and I certainly know non~ of them feels that way about me. So this isn't a community, and I'm get-ting out of this farce." Put in such a starkly simplistic form, some of the ambiguities which lurk within our thinking about community are thrown into a new light and some finer honing of our questions is called for. What degree of intimacy can a person realistically hope for with eight people selected more or less at random by somebody who won't be living with them? Yes, the community should supply warmth and personal sup-pol: t--but just who is the community when I say that? Does the community commit itself to being my only source of deep personal relationships and human ful-fillment? Need it always and in every instance even be the primary source? Is it possible that by failing to face these questions we have created a thought pattern in which the individual religious is unwittingly taught to have entirely unrealistic expectations and then when these cannot be met he or she is compelled to seek their fulfillment elsewhere? It has been observed in the case of marriage that our current high divorce rate can be directly attributed to the fact that modern man's ex-pectations from marriage are, contrary to a superficial view, actually much higher than in the past; would the increasing rate of departures from religious life be say-ing the same thing about our expectations concerning it? I would not pretend to answer all of these difficult questions in the space of a brief article. But perhaps we + 4. + Loneliness VOLUME 29, 1970 5 + ÷ ÷ George Wilson, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 6 may move the dialogue along a bit by examining a couple of areas: (l) the people with whom I should expect to find "community" when I commit myself to Christ in a religious group, and (2) one of the false understandings of community under which we may have been unwittingly operating. First, to the people. The operating principle of many religious today would seem to be that I should be able to attain to deep intimacy with all the members of my local community or else it is all a sham. I will leave aside the question which the older religious, often quite legitimately, is frequently heard to ask, namely, what in the name of all that's holy do they mean by "deep intimacy"? My presumption for the moment is that the people in question are attempting to point to something real of which they have already had some experiential taste and which they do expect to find in religious life, however halting they may be in articulat-ing what they mean by it. In other words, I can also sympathize with their common response of "if you don't even sense what I'm talking about, that's even sadder than the fact that we don't have it here." At this point the meaning of "deep intimacy" is not my con-cern. But leaving it descriptively for the moment at the level of a vague but real experience whose presence or lack can be grasped by any sensitive human being, my question is rather: With whom should I reasonably expect to achieve it? There is a "tradition" (of very recent vintage, I sus-pect) which would be shocked that the question is even raised, since sell-evidently this kind of relationship has to be achieved with one's local community. To which my question in return would be: is it all that self-evident? I ought to find a~ceptance and warmth and affection in the community of people to whom I have committed myself, but does this lead me realistically to expect a relationship of deep intimacy with the eight members of my local community? At about this point in the dialogue it is not unlikely that someone will be thinking: "But just look at the community of our first foundersl They had this kind of deep relationship, but we've lost it." The comparison is frequently made and I would like to suggest that it masks a fateful equivocation. To use the word "com-munity" to describe a handful of people who freely and individually sought each other out through a proc-ess of long personal contact and testing, and then to make this a model for one's expectations when one is assigned to a random collection of eight individuals out of a 500-man (or 35,000-man) congregation to which I commit mysel/-~this is surely courting intellectual con- fusion and psychological disaster. The founding group had a sense of community and generally very intimate relationships. (Would one seem too cynical if one were to suggest that we have probably romanticized even the latter element? A sober reading of our early histories would suggest that for all their vision and charisma our founders generally had to be very hard-headed, down-to-earth wrestlers in order to. survive the fierce opposition which their vision generated.) The fact that they had both these elements in one integrated, lived way should not make us forget that they are two different things. Perhaps a parallel drawn from a related area may be of some assistance here. The movement known as the Teams of Our Lady (or by its original French title, Equipes-Notre Dame) consists of married couples who are established into communities of six couples each. It is important to note that the couples do not as a rule choose the other couples with whom they will de-velop as a team; the leadership of the movement usually gathers them on the basis of factors such as geographical proximity and so forth. The goal of the team is to help one another grow in holiness, which involves assisting each couple to find the ways to express love in the various situations into which their marriage and family life call them. The forms and practices of the spiritual life vary from couple to couple. The role of the other couples in the team is to foster the individual couple's unique growth, not to dictate a particular recipe for conjugal sanctity. The point of the parallel is that the testimony of the couples in the movement reveals that they have discovered experientially the distinction be-tween a successful team and what they call a "cozy team." A given team which is functioning well may gradually develop also into a cozy group; the couples and their children may begin to socialize apart from the explicit team structure, they may begin to gravitate to-ward other team couples in deep friendship. Or they may not. The point is that couples find that this factor is not essential to the success of a team. Teams can reach great depths of spiritual sharing and mutual assistance and growth without a great deal of socializ-ing or what one might call camaraderie. Indeed there are teams whose rating on the latter scale is very high but in which nothing of significance with regard to the goal of the movement is happening. It will be instantly objected that the supposed paral-lel is fallacious because of course these couples already have their primary needs for intimacy satisfied else-where, prior to entry into a team. The objection has some merit; certainly the parallel limps. On the other hand, it would be a bit cavalier to dismiss it out of + 4, VOLUME 29, 1970 4. 4. 4. George Wilson, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 8 hand simply on those grounds. We must face the fact that when we admit the inadequacies of the parallel we are not thereby justified in ignoring the facets in which it does touch home in spite of its hobbling gait. Nor--more importantly--may we thereby surrepti-. tiously insert the assumption that the religious must of course find his or her admitted needs for intimacy satis-fied within the local cgmmunity. Despite the weak-nesses of the parallel I submit that this notion remains at this point in the case exactly that, just an assump-tion. What are we to say of its value? It occurs to me that we might make a better assessment of it if we pose some specific situations for ourselves. Suppose that a given sister or brother or priest, were to discover that he or she finds it much more pleasant to be with, say, a member of the lay faculty or some parishioner or fellow nurse than with members of the local community. A deep and rich friendship has evolved through sharing important experiences together. There may be several such relationships. The religious may honestly face the fact that he shares a deeper level of friendship with people beyond the community than with those inside ~t. Should this be a disturbing discovery? Should it lead to the conclusion that this religious group ~is only a hollow facade and that honesty dictates a resignation from the group? My own personal answer would have to be negative. If I might take a stab at describing the stages of the re-cent development of community life styles, I would suggest that it has proceeded along the following lines: (1) the "lived" stage mentioned above. There were de facto some rich friendships in religious communities. There was also an explicit doctrine which inculcated fear of any human warmth. The healthy were always able to put this doctrine in psychological brackets and go on about the business of living, which is to say, trying to be human. The less healthy were more crippled by the tradition or, as a perhaps harsher judgment would have it, allowed themselves to be crippled by it. At this stage relationships outside the community were the ultimate no-no. (2) The explicit doctrine was gradually battered down by the new openness to in-sights from the human sciences, if it did not simply crumble from the weight of its own unreality. Friend-ship, warmth, openness became values to be consciously striven after. Rather ironically we rediscovered that fusty old English word "Thou~' (as .in "I-hyphen- Thou"; but never in hymns, pleasel) and eyeball-to-eyeball became the image of the day. But this was all to be within the community--it is no accident that our word "pagan" has as one of its earliest meanings simply "an outsider." And although the explicit doctrine of suspicion of friendship was finished, an unwritten tradition had evolved very quickly, according to which the community where friendship had to be discovered was the local community. In the meantime a third step was taking place, one which deserves a separate paragraph because it repre-sents the present for many religious. Having been con-sciously opened to the value of the human, they discovered that it existed outside the religious group as well. They inevitably began to experience the rise of friendships with persons outside the group. In some communities the explicit tradition quickly adjusted to this new fact by seeing it as a natural consequence of openness to personal relationship and accepted it as a good thing; in others the notion has had a more bumpy ride. For all, the -~ituation became more tense when father or brother or sister found that there were many more inviting people outside than in. The new tradition has created an intolerable bind for many. They are being told in effect (1) that every human being needs some deeply fulfilling human re-lationships, (2) that these should not be fostered out-side the community, or at least (3) that even if outside relationships are acceptable one should be able to reach that same level of intimacy with those religious with whom one happens to live as a result of the need for a teacher of remedial reading---a placement deter-mined by someone who in all probability will not be sharing the local community situation. At this juncture I am not. sure whether I have more .to fear from my. friends than my attackers. I can imagine one group hailing me because I have shown that they were right all along, that all this deep relationship business was exaggerated and all we really have to do to have .community is to be civil. (Sometimes things get so bad in dealing with this mentality that one is almost tempted to agree and settle for that, but civility seems to be one of those things you cannot have all by itself; either we aie going forward to love and warmth or else we are soon back in the cold jungle.) A group .on the opposite side is saying: "Of course that's not what he means. What he's clearly shown is that the only solution is to let everyone choose his or her own local group. Then we' can reduplicate the intimacy of our founding fathers." A third group is made up of the poor harried school,supervisors and provincials, and they are probably muttering in the corner that I have leveled another juvenile a.ttack against that old straw man, the im-personal bureaucratic sturcture, when they have had ÷ 4. ÷ ÷ ÷ 4. George Wilson, S.$. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]0 their insides torn out trying to respect the personal needs of individuals in the face of important com-munity commitments. Which means it is time for fixing our position. I am not going back on my stand affirming the importance of warm and deep human relationships for all human beings and therefore for all religious. Nor on the other hand am I convinced that a group of people which has a job to do can simply let its members form all its subgroups on the basis of free association untram-meled by the facts of broader common commitments. And I have the greatest sympathy for those in the com-munity who have the difficult task of reconciling per-sons, pegs, and holes; their service, far from being mere bureaucracy, is generally one of the most excruciatingly personal ones in the whole community. No, our solution lies neither in shrinking back from personal relationships nor in totally free association. I would suggest that the sources for an answer are in two places: in the broader pool of the larger religious community and in the open personal concourse of religious with the outside world they serve. A religious need not feel especially troubled on discovering that there are no close personal friends among those with whom he or she happens to live, provided that some-where in the larger religious group there are those with whom such a relationship exists. And the com-munity should foster the normal means by which such relationships can flourish and grow: the chance to choose vacation partners, freedom to visit and recreate to-gether without the other members of each one's local community feeling slighted, trips within reason (proportioned by the same responsible norms which two lay friends might have to use in making such a decision, such as available funds, other commitments, and so forth). Beyond the incarnated friendships of those in different local communities warm relationships with other men and women outside the community should be expected to arise, be fostered when they do, and be given the normal modes of expression which suit such relationships (if sister has to be home by midnight on a particular occasion, it is not because she is sister but because she is an adult human being with a responsibil-ity to perform as an adult the next morning--and that is something she should be free to discover for her-self by trial and, alas, error). In this way we can ease the impossible demand which has been placed on the local community by the tradition of unreasonable ex-pectations. We will of course still have to be open to growth in the depth of our relationships in the local community. We will have to be on our guard lest the needs of more withdrawn members of the local group go unattended. But paradoxically, it is just possible that we may be better able to meet these basic demands of love on the local scene if we do not expect that scene to fulfill all our human personality needs. All of this might become more acceptable doctrine if we were to examine the normal patterns of mature and healthy individuals-in-community. It is quite natural for the mature adult in our society to func-tion within a wide diversity of social circles simul-taneously, to have his own needs met and to meet the needs of others in a variety of ways and on different levels. This is true even of that most intimate of com-munities constituted by the one-to-one relationship of marriage. The husband lives on one level with his wife, on another in his field of occupation, on still another with a few very close male friends (with whom his wife may or may not be on such close terms), on another with more casual social acquaintances; he may even have a select group with whom his only contact may be a weekly game of handball. The wife's circles will be analogous; in some instances they may range more broadly than his, as for example in the parish or neighborhood. At times their circles will coincide, at times not. They will strive to enlarge the areas they share (which may not necessarily mean that they do the things together; they learn to enrich each other by sharing what they have done separately). But one thing is sure: they know that if they demand even of this re-lationship that it satisfy all their personal needs for intimacy, it will become involuted and shrivel up and die. It is true of the couple; it is true of the family on a different level; and it is true of the individuals in a given local religious community. If we are supposing, then, that a particular religious will not have any really close friend within the group with whom he or she must share years of human life and work, are we not exposing the religious to a frightening risk of loneliness? This very real question brings us to the second area in which it was suggested that we might clarify our thinking, namely, a false understanding of community which may unwittingly be causing a lot of unhealthy departures from religious life. Actually it is really a false understanding of loneli-ness rather than immediately one of community which is at issue; but on a given level these are really correla-tive notions, and our understanding of the meaning of loneliness has its impact on our expectations from com-munity life. The issue was brought home most force-fully to me in a response by Thomas Merton to an ÷ ÷ VOLUME 29, 1970 ]! George Wilson, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ']2 interviewer's question, as reported in Motive for Octo-ber,. 1967. The interviewer touched on the issue of celibacy and solitude; and Merton's answer read in part: I think I can say I have experienced levels of loneliness that most people do not allow themselves consciously to admit. From a certain point of view I can say bluntly that to exist as a man without relating to one particular woman-and-person who is "my love," is quite simply a kind of death. But I have enough experience of human love to realize, too, that even within the best of relationships between man and woman this loneliness and death are also terribly present. There are mo-ments in human love in which loneliness is completely tran-scended, but these are brief and deceptive, and they can point 9nly to the further and more difficult place where, ultimately, two lonely and helpless persons elect to save one another from absurdity by being absurd together--and for life (pp. 36-7). This explicitation of the fact that there is a certain kind of loneliness experienced within the most intimate of unions and even in its peak moments can be of in-valuable assistance in clarifying our expectations from religious life in community. Whether we consciously admit it to ourselves or not, we.do tend to interpret the meaning and value of various human experiences by comparing them with expectations from other ways of life. This is a perfectly human process, for man is, after all, a prudential being. But the worth of the process depends on the realism with which we view the two situations. It is my convic-tion that a number of religious have made the decision to leave, religious life on the unhealthy basis of a judgment that the loneliness of religious life would be assuaged by the relationships available in lay, and particularly married, life. It is important to be dear 0n what is being asserted here. It should be evident that there is no criticism of these people intended, and certainly not a condemnation. Nor is there any at-tempt to dispute their assessment that indeed for them life with this particular religious group had become intolerable due to the type of loneliness they actually experienced. What is at issue is the use of a principle according to which religious life itself would involve a loneliness that is unique to it and would therefore be ".solved" by departure from it. This is, I believe, an unreal assumption and any decision based on it is un-healthy because unreal. Clark,Moustakas has written a precious gem of a book .which .should be required reading for all religious in formation. Entitled simply Loneliness (Prentice-Hall ';Spectrum". :paperback), the brief work makes a valuable contribution to our discussion from two points of view. Moustakas first alerts us to the fact that the one word "loneliness" can actually cover two distinct reali-ties. One consists in the experiencing of my fundamental human uniqueness, separateness, and inalienable re-sponsibility for myself and my decisions, and actions. No one can stand in my shoes, no one can do "my thing." This quality of genuinely human experience, which Moustakas .calls existential loneliness, is quite simply a part of being human: Loneliness is as much organic to human existence as the blood is to the heart.~ It is a dimension of human life whether existential, sociologidal, or psychological; whatever its deriva-tives or forms, whatever its history, it is a reality of life. Its fear, evasion, denial, !and the accompanying attempts to escape 'the experience of being lonely will forever isolate the person from his own existerlce, will' afflict and separate him from his own resources so thht there is no development, no creative emergence, no growth in awareness, perceptiveness, sensitivity. If the individual does not exercise his loneliness, one signifi-cant capacity and dimension of being hum~in remains unde-veloped, denied (pp2 When we allow ,ourselves to experience this reality in all its dimensions; we discover that is, is a gomplex phenomenon which includes both the painful acknowl-edgment of our igclination to evade responsibili.ty by leaning on someone else as well as the exhilarating discovery of the Ipower of our deepest self and its capacify for respo.hsible accomplishment.-This kind of loneliness, which belongs to every adult's life, has to be distinguished from ~inottier reality which is call'dd by the same name but is really the anxious fear. of being left alone. Moustakas calls this latter loneliness anxiety: Loneliness anxiety results from a fundamental breach be-tween what one island what one pretends to be, a basic alienation between man and man and between man and his nature (p. 24). Modern man is ;plagued with the vague, diffuse fear of loneliness. He goesI to endless measures, takes devious and circuitous pathways] to avoid facing the experience of being lonely. Perhaps the !loneliness of a" meaningless existence, the absence of values, convictions, beliefs, and fear of isolation are the most terribl~ kind of loneliness anxiety (pp. 26-7). The fact that. twqt.very different realities can go by the same name g~ves r, lse to the question: When a religious laments the loneliness of the religious group and de-cides to resolve ~he tension by separating from the community, tehic~ lcind oI loneliness is he or she at-tempting to resolve? Please note that I am not trying to answer the ques-tion in any particular case. It may very well be that the .individual may have wakened to the very valid realiza-tion 'that life in this particular group does involve such a measure of pretense, superficiality, and meaningless Loneliness VOLUME 29, 1970 George Wilson, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]4 forms that he or she is in danger o~ total self-estrange-ment. When there is the concomitant realization that the individual is impotent to do anything about this destructive communal pattern, it may be the better part of valor to shake the dust of this group from one's shoes. (What one in such a case makes of his personal commitment to serve God as a celibate-- which need not be in this community--is a broader question whid~ would take us beyond the scope of this article.) On the other hand, there is the possibility that a person may be unwittingly seeking to evade the existential loneliness which he just happens to be ex-periencing more painfully now than at previous stages of his growth; and this would of course be an impossible quest. This kind of loneliness is just part and parcel of being human; and no change from one community to another, even if the latter is the community of marriage, will change that fact. It might seem that all of this leaves us with a de-pressing prospect: we are going to be lonely come what may. Here Moustakas' second contribution opens vistas unsuspected by the togetherness generation, for he re-minds us of the positive value of the experience of loneliness. Loneliness is a condition of existence which leads to deeper perception, greater awareness and sensitivity, and insights into one's own being. New images, symbols, and ideas spring from the lonely path. The man living his life, accepting all signifi-cant dimensions of human existence is often a tragic man but he is a man who loves life dearly. And out of the pain or loss, the bitter ecstasy of brief knowing and having, comes the glory of a single moment and the creation of a song for joy. In creative loneliness there is an element of separation, of being utterly alone, but there is also a strange kind of related-ness-- to nature and to other persons and through these ex-periences, a relatedness to life itself, to inspiration, wisdom, beauty, simplicity, value. A sense of isolation and solitude is experienced, but a relatedness to the universe is maintained. Only through fundamental relatedness can the individual de-velop his own identity. The individual's loneliness is an ex-perience in growing which leads to differentiation of self. The person's identity comes into relief as he breathes his own spirit into everything he touches, as he relates significantly and openly with others and with the universe. Without any deep and growing roots in the soil of loneli-ness, the individual moves in accordance with external signals. He does not know his place in the world, his position, where he is or who he is. He has lost touch with his own nature, his own spontaneity (p. 50). Paradoxically it is only in the creative experience of our aloneness that we can come to realize the gift which we alone can bring in relatedness to those we love. It is true that only the love of another opens us up to the acceptance of our own worth (a point which must be emphasized to complete the picture, necessarily limited by Moustakas' perspective); but it remains true that the actual experiencing of our unique worth is our own act, one which inevitably isolates us even from the lover who stands outside en-couraging us to seize our own goodness and value, to create our true self: In actualizing one's self, one's aspirations, ideals, and inter-ests, it is often necessary to retreat from the world. One must have strength enough to withstand the temptations which arise when one is completely alone. This does not mean becoming uprooted or alienated. It means accej~ting the existential na-ture of man's loneliness and seeing Its value in the creation of being, in the emergence of self-identity, and in a more fundamental, genuine life. Cast in this light, loneliness be-comes an illuminating experience and it leads to greater heights (p. 50). The Christian should be the first to recognize the deep truth in this phenomenological description. Is it not simply another of the myriad rich forms in which the paschal mystery presents itself? All genuine life is life-through-death. In proclaiming His way Christ was also disclosing the inmost law of human life. The freedom of vocation is not the freedom to evade this law, but the freedom to choose where we will experience it. We may be alone within a religious group or alone alongside a marriage partner or simply alone in the midst of the human crowd. But alone we shall be. Whether this death of aloneness becomes the resurrec-tion of love and relationship is the real issue. That will depend in any case on our willingness to accept the loneliness and in the acceptance to be raised beyond ourselves: Loneliness is as much a reality of life as night and rain and thunder, and it can be lived creativ~ely, as any other experience. So I say, let there be loneliness, for where there is loneliness there is also sensitivity, and where there is sensitivity, there is awareness and recognition and promise. Being lonely and being relatedare dimensions of an organic whole, both necessary to the growth of individuality and to the deepening value and enrichment of friendship. Let there be loneliness, for where there is loneliness, there also is love, and where there is suffering, there also is joy (p. 103). We all need acceptance and warmth and intimacy. Our religious group should at least make it possible for us to achieve it or else it is not a community at all, much less a Christian one. But the group can no more supply for the painful task of passing through the loneliness of self-acceptance, which is the price of self-transcendence, than could any marriage partner. That cup, and that privilege, is ours. Except that by an awesome mystery Christ has also made it His. + 4- 4- VOLUME 29, 1970 ]5 GERALD~A. McCOOL, S.J. Commitment to One's Institute: A Contemporary Q estion Gerald McCool, S.J., is visiting asso-ciate professor of philosophy at Bos-ton College; Chest-nut Hill, Massa-cusetts 02167. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 16 The* question whether his institute as it concretely exists retains its right to bind his conscience is no longer a rhetorical one in the mind of many a religious subject. Directors of conscience who have been con-fronted with this question by religious of diverse ages in many different congregations are aware of this fact. They are also aware of their own increasing difficulty in finding satisfactory answers to the problems posed to them by religious concerning the nature, extent, and duration of the commitment to a concrete religious institute which even perpetual vows entail today. The origin of these problems is in part sociological. In-stitutes have changed radically in the past few years, and the rate of change has been uneven. Different groups in the same congregation look on the Church, the world, and religious institutes quite differently and entertain what seem at times irreconcilably diverse hopes for their future. Communal agreement is hard come by, and the unity in life and work which in the past contributed to a religious' sense of peace and se-curity no longer manifests itself on the empirical level. Naturally directors of conscience are not ignorant of the efforts being made by almost every institute to reach agreement on their basic religious and apostolic goals. They have learned during the past few years the im- * This article is a revision of a paper presented at the Seventh Biennial Institute in Pastoral Psychology, held at Fordham Uni-versity, June 16-20, 1969. In its present form it is focused more sharply on the current problem of commitment to one's own institute. The original paper, entitled "The Conscience of the Religious Subject," will appear in the forthcoming volume, Con-science: Its Freedom and Limitations ed. William G. Bier, S.J. (New York: Fordham University, 1970). portance of urging patience and charity on religious of all ages and persuasions. As defection rates increase, however, and morale problems become more grave, even in institutes which are going through the process of renewal, directors are becoming painfully conscious that much more is needed than exhortations to faith and supernatural hope in the future. Too many religious are beginning to question the assumption which under-lies such exhortations--the connection between God's personal call to them and their commitment to their institute. A genuine doubt 'is ~growing in their mind as to whether total commitment to their institute in the traditional sense is the more perfect form of Christian life today. Some may ask indeed whether the form of life led in their institute as it is, or promises to be in the immediate future, represents a truly moral way of living. These questions, of course, have been raised in the past. They recur at every period of trouble, re-newal, and reform in the Church and in religious life.1 That they should recur again today is in itself a cause for neither surprise nor disturbance. What is troubling, however, is the discovery on the part of religious and their directors that trenchant answers to them are so difficult to find. The New Situation in Religious Lile This inability to find a clear and persuasive answer to the contemporary difficulties concerning a religious' commitment to his institute does not come from simple failure of nerve, unimaginitive rigidity, or impatience at the rate of change, although these factors are opera-tive in the present crisis in religious life. It is rather the resultant vector of two forces whose interplay has still to be examined with sufficient care and penetra-tion: (1) the effect of institutional change on a subject's commitment to his institute in a period of open ended ecclesial evolution and (2) the powerful impact upon religious life of the theological pluralism which now exists, and will in all likelihood continue to exist, within the contemporary Church. The interplay of these two forces has created a new situation in religious life in which it is no longer possible for the individual re-ligious subject or his director to determine the nature, value, and obligation of his commitment to his in-stitute and to his fellow religious through a simple x St. Thomas replied to d~fficulties of this sort in his Summa contra Gentiles, III, 130-8. Suarez produced a similar defense at the time of the Counter-Reformation; see William Humphrey, Fran-cisco Suarez: The Religious State. A Digest o] the Doctrine Con-tained in His Treatise "De statu religionis'" (London: Burns and Oates, 1884). Commitment VOLUME 29, 1970 ]7 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 18 application to his individual situation of the theology of the religious life which carried religious safely through the early years of the post-Vatican renewal.2 The existential development of religious life and the rapid evolution of theology have confronted the individual religious with a problem of conscience with which they cannot cope alone. The individual religious and his director require the aid of theologians and the help of their own institutes. And they will receive that help only if firstly institutes and theologians together accept the fact that the early post-Vatican period is over and that a new religious and theological situation is in existence now, and if secondly the institutes, with the careful help of theologians, make clear and definite decisions about their life and work based on an in-telligent commitment to a theology of the religious life which they accept. In the early years of post-Vatican renewal, the director of conscience found in the post-conciliar theology of the religious life a clear grounding of the supernatural value of the life of the counsels and an exposition of the relation of institutional structure to personal vocation. With their help he was able to work out a ~ For the influence of process thought on Catholic philosophy, see Leslie Dewart, The Future o] Belie] (New York: Herder and Herder, 1966) and the stimulating and provocative article of Eugene Fonti-helle, "Religious Truth in a Relational and Processive World," Cross Currents, v. 18 (1967), pp. 283-315. Its influence upon highly respected theologians can be seen in three important articles which appeared recently: Wilhelm Kasper, "Geschichtlichkeit der Dogmen," Stimmen tier Zeit, v. 179 (1967), pp. 401-16; Avery Dulles, "Dogma as an Ecumenical Problem," Theological Studies, v. 29 (1968), 397- 416; and George Vass, "On the Historical Structure of Christian Truth," Heythrop Journal, v. 9 (1968). For the newer approach in moral theology which will affect religious life, see George Curran, Christian Morality Today (Notre Dame: Fides, 1966) and Absolutes in Moral Theology (Washington: Corpus Books, 1968). The Catholic theologian whose name is closely associated with the new theology of hope, esehatology, and earthly realities strongly influenced by the independent Marxist philosopher, Ernst Bloch, is Johannes B. Metz; see his Theology o] the World (New York: Herder and Her-der, 1967). These books and articles are simply a random sample of recent publications by serious and influential writers. There is no doubt that we are in a period of rapid and profound theological development. We must realize, however, that the process epistemol-ogy and metaphysics which are winning increasing favor with serious Catholic theologians does not simply call into question the philosophical grounding of the traditional Christian wisdom spir-ituality associated with the names of Augustine, Bonaventure, and Thomas, which underlies so many classics of the spiritual life; it also challenges the epistemological and metaphysical foundations of some of the most influential post-Vatican theology of the religious life, notably that of Karl Rahner. Ignorance of ~his fact can cause woe to an unwary retreat director, especially in communities of younger religious. It can also be a source of trouble for congrega-tions which are rewriting their constitutions. satisfactory understanding of the mutual obligations of subject and institute with which he could handle per-sonal problems of commitment in congregations as they then existed. This theology also enabled him to cope with the personal problems of the early post-conciliar years when many congregations dragged their feet in implementing the Vatican II reforms. It proved a rea-sonably satisfactory instrument for solving the prob-lems of individual religious in the later and more dif-ficult period of communal involvement in renewal in which community division with its consequent fear and hostility became a problem for many institutes. If we simply review the history of those stages in the evolution of religious life we may be able to see why the re-ligious and his director were able to deal with the question of religious commitment as an individual prob-lem then and why it is that today they are no longer able to do so. Post-Vatican Theology: Nature and Value o] Reli-gious Life Post-conciliar theology defended the value of the counsels as an integral part of the Church's eschatologi-cal witness and indicated the role which religious in-stitutions play as visible signs of her holiness,s In doing so it clarified the reasons which justify the renunciation of fundamental human goods through the three vows. It also explained the ecdesial basis for the authorita-tive specification of the religious life in institutes in which a life of rule is lived under the direction of re-ligious superiors. Religious belong to what Karl Rahner has called the charismatic element in the Church. Their conviction that God has called them to follow Christ in the re-ligious life is based on a non-formal process of in-ference which Saint Ignatius has called the discern-ment of spirits. Their decision to follow the divine invitation is freely taken. "Its motive is growth in the service of God and their neighbor and in the intimate union with God which Christian writers from patristic times have called holiness. The renunciation of earthly goods which the vows entail is justified because it is the manifestation of the Church's eschatological faith and hope. Through this renunciation religious institutes give living public witness to the Church's certitude that life's significance does not rest exclusively on the encounter with God in the use of His creation but on the lived 8See Karl Rahner, Theological Investigations, v. 3 (Baltimore: Helicon), pp. 58-104 and SchriIten zur Theologie:. v. 7 (Einsiedeln: Benziger, 1966), pp. 404-79. See also Ladislas M. Orsy, Open to the Spirit (Washington: Corpus Books, 1968). ÷ ÷ ÷ Con~mltraent VOLUME 29, 1970 19 4, Gerald A. McCooi, S.I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~0 hope of an encounter beyond the limits of space and time.4 A religious community in the visible Church is a response to a common charismatic call in which its members participate and which is the supernatural bond of their union. Since that call is given in the Church as a summons to give stable social witness to her holiness and hope, communal life of the counsels acquires visible form in the diverse religious institutes. Thus the interior charism unique to each institute finds the external expression through which it can be thema-tized and communicated; and the interior bond of charity which binds its members to God, to the Church, and to each other receives verbal expression in its con-stitutions.~ Consequently religious vows are not taken in vacuo. They are always taken in a specific institute whose constitutions thematize the charismatic vocation to which each religious commits himself. Through her approval of the constitutions the visible Church commits her-self to the religious as authentic witnesses of her life and hope. On the basis of this theological justification of the nature and value of the religious life, the religious sub-ject at the beginning o[ the post-Vatican renewal was able to set down some general principles for the forma-tion o[ his conscience in relation to his commitment to his institute and to the legitimate demands on him which followed from it. (1) His decision to follow the religious life is morally justified through its public eschatological witness and through its service to God in the life of His Church. Its nature is distorted and its moral value compromised if it degenerates into an irresponsible flight from par-ticipation in the world through fear or dislike of God's creation. From the theology of the free person in the Church it follows that an individual call to manifest her sanctity through the public witness of the counsels should come in every generation to a number of generous Christians. Not only may Christians be religious, some of them should be. (2) Although the constitutions of a religious institute are not identified with its common charismatic call, its inner spirit, and its internal bond of charity, the con-stitutions cannot be separated from them either--a fact * Rahner, Schrilten, v. 7, pp. 404-34. r We notice here the strong similarity between the relation established by Rahner in his spiritual theology between institutional structure and charismatic call and the relation established by St. Ignatius between religious rule and the interior law of charity in the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus. which Saint Ignatius saw most dearly. The constitutions of an institute are not purely juridical regulations with little or no relation to its interior spirit. They are the medium through which the religious vows can specify and maintain a perduring commitment to a common way of life. Consequently, superiors, in fidelity to God and to the Church, have an obligation to see that they are observed. For, if a way of life is allowed to grow up within an institute which is at variance with the specific manifestation of the. Church's holiness which it has been called to manifest, that institute has lost the supernatural justification for its existence. Thus com-plete freedom to follow individual decisions cannot be permitted to a subject in a religious institute. A Christian called to religious life is called to accept a limitation on his freedom through obedience to his institute and its superiors. ($) Furthermore, since he shares in a common charismatic call which is incorporated in a specific in-stitute, indications of the divine will should ordinarily come to him through his institute and its superiors. Although there can be legitimate conflict at times, it is hard to reconcile a religious vocation with the convic-tion that the subject must make every important decision on his own responsibility and that the moral authority of a religious superior is restricted to his right to offer counsel. As one religious order recently expressed it: "A man who, time after time, is unable to obey with good consdence, should take thought regarding some other path of life in which he can serve God with greater tranquility." 6 The theology of the religious life which flourished after the Council not only gave the religious subject a dearer picture of the nature and value of the religious life than he had previously possessed; it also provided him with the principles through which a number of the problems arising from the conflict between obedi-ence and his moral conscience could find an answer. A proper understanding of the theology of the religious life made it clear not only that the constitutions of an insitute specified the obligation of the subject but that they also specified and restricted the legitimate authority of his superior. Superiors may rule only in accordance with the constitutions; and, in an institute whose reason for existence is to manifest the Church's sanctity and supernatural hope, they must rule religiously. Through his vows the subject has acquired a claim upon the conscience of his superior. For he has received a per-sonal call from God to a life of individual witness and Society of Jesus, Documents of the Thirty.First General Congre-gation (Woodstock, Md.: Woodstock College, 1967), p. 55. 4. Commitment VOLUME. 29, 1970 21 + 4. 4. Gerald A. McCool, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS service within a specific community. Not all of the de-mands which God makes on him can be determined by following uncritically in a quasi-automatic way the gen-eral orders of superiors. A number must be determined in-dividually by the discernment of spirits. Since the subject's vocation has been entrusted to his institute, he has the right to the personal direction and understanding of his superior in his efforts to discover God's personal will for him. The superior in turn has the inescapable obligation to provide it, and to provide it as a religious superior and not as the director of a secular enterprise. Further-more, a religious institute is a community of free in-dividuals within a visible Church to which they have a definite responsibility. God will inspire them through thoughts and desires to move their institute to greater service to His Mystical Body. As they are bound to communicate these thoughts and desires to their superiors, superiors, because of their responsibility to their institute and to the Church, are bound to listen to their subjects and to consult them individually and collectively. The "Relectant'" Stage oI Post-Vatican Renewal In the period immediately after Vatican II these principles were not the commonplaces they have long since become. Older religious can still recall the thrill of their discovery through personal reading or through the conferences of retreat masters. Government at that time often left much to be desired in many a religious institute. Superiors, who were at times quite ignorant of the theology of the religious life, ruled impersonally and on occasion gave the impression of a political mode of action which did not show the proper regard for the rights of the subject and the true interests of the universal Church. The problems of conscience which this mode of government created for intelligent, sensitive, and far-seeing religious are too well known to call for repetition here3 Nonetheless the informed religious subject or his di-rector felt that they could chart a reasonably clear course of action through which a subject could fulfill his personal call to genuine Christian life and activity in true commitment to his institute. Most of .the problems of that time, after all, were simply the result of a subject's living in an institute whose life and government were not in accord with the approved theology of the religious life. Subjects who were equipped to do so would work for the reform of their 7 For a well documented and frank account of these problems, see Robert W. Gleason, The Restless Religiou~ (Dayton: Pflaum, 1968). institutes through personal action. Others, while wait-ing [or the coming reform of their institute, could fre-quently solve their problems by using the principles of traditional moral theology concerning the reaction of a subject to an unjust command. Difficult as this period was psychologically, it was not a period in which the religious subject necessarily felt discouragement about the ability of the approved theology of the religious life to solve his present problems and bring about the eventual renewal of his institute. The Period o[ Rapid Evolution and Renewal After this initial period of hesitation and resistance, religious institutes entered into the general movement of renewal and reform to which each congregation was asked to contribute through a revision of its consti-tutions. As it proceeded, that task proved more diffi-cult than most religious anticipated that it would be. It was at that period that the beginnings of the present question of the commitment of the religious to his institute began to manifest itself. Once a movement of evolution and reform gets under way, commitment to the existing constitutions of an institute becomes provisional. It is---or was--assumed that in their re-vised form they will be a more exact expression of the present charismatic call which God is now addressing to the institute. Yet, since the constitutions specify the common commitment of the subjects to the insti-tute and to each other, their sudden mobility, after a long period of stability, has affected the bond of union in the evolving communities. Problems now arise in the conscience of the religious concerning his relation to his community and his fellow religious which were not there before. When the post-Vatican reform began it was rather generally agreed that the period of communal discern-ment of spirits would reach its consummation in a renewed institute to whose revised constitutions the individual subjects could commit themselves with peace of soul. But in a changing world and in a changing Church, who can say when the period of evolution will come to an even relative rest? And now that we are learning to think of God and His revelation in terms of process and event rather than of substance and stable judgment, can we any longer feel that stable constitu-tions are any longer desirable or even possible? Does not that make any set of constitutions provisory and relative? Furthermore, discernment of spirits is not an automatic process whose success is guaranteed. It is a delicate work of grace. Human resistance, weakness, and obtuseness can prevent it or delay it until the 4- VOLUME 29, 1970 4" "4" Gerald A. McCool, S.$. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS "~4 kairos, the providential time allowed by God, has passed. Religious, both subjects and superiors, who are con-cerned with changes in the life and work of their institute know very well that the movement of renewal, like every human movement, is not the outcome of a simple impulse of the Holy Spirit but the resultant vec-tor of multiple and complicated forces. Secular ideas and desires are in the heart of every man. Worldliness and spiritual blindness will make their contribution to the movement too. That is why the process is called the discernment of spirits, and that is why, like every discernment of spirits, it is a risky business. In the process of discernment of spirits whose term is still undefined, an ambiguous situation is created concerning the very nature of the life to which the mem-bers of the institute have given their vowed commit-ment. If the present constitutions are to undergo revision, perhaps indefinitely, what is the subject's com-mitment to them in their actual form? If the institute should take a wrong turn or miss its kairos, what will be his commitment to the constitutions in the future? It would appear that the religious subject is invited to enter upon an indefinite process of judging his institute in its fidelity to the call of grace and that his individual judgment will have a radical effect upon his commit-ment. It is not surprising, therefore, that uncertainty about their future commitment to their institute has begun to trouble the consciences of many religious and that divergent hopes and fears concerning the form of its future life and work make them perplexed over the attitude which they are called to take in relation to their superiors and fellow subjects. At a time when the future of his institute is undefined, when should a superior or a fellow subject be deferred to as a religious who is exercising under grace his authentic call as a prophetic leader and when must he be resolutely and uncompromisingly opposed as a traitor to the institute? In what does loyal commitment to one's institute con-sist at the present time? What is charity, and what is selfish cowardly silence for the sake of peace and per-sonal survival? These are the difficult questions which the director of conscience is asked to solve time after time. The task of aiding the religious subject to discern the movement of the Spirit from the distorting influences of human infidelity, complacency, and weakness has been complicated by the rapid evolution of theology in the post-conciliar Church. The theology of the Church, of revelation, of grace and nature, has been the subject of considerable, and sometimes turbulent, debate dur-ing the past few years. The consequence has been a renewed discussion concerning the nature of Christian holiness, the force and duration of the vows, and the value of the witness of the counsels in their tradi-tional institutional form. This lively discussion cannot fail to call into question the fundamental understand-ing of the religious life which is taken for granted by many sets of constitutions. More may be involved than simple adaptation and renewal. Perhaps radical and total revision may be called for in the light of a newer theological understanding of the religious life. Should that be the case, what then becomes the status of loyal commitment to the constitutions of one's holy founder? Nevertheless, working on the principles of classical post-Vatican theology, the director of conscience felt until fairly recently that he was in a position to guide a religious toward the solution of his problems about commitment to a divided and changing institute. Since the Church had invited religious institutes to reform their constitutions, it was a safe assumption that many of them were no longer adequate expressions of the community's charismatic call. Furthermore, since com-munal discussion on various levels was the recom-mended means, there were good prima facie grounds for the assumption that the interplay of different points of view would be the means employed by the Holy Spirit to manifest the form of life and work to which the institute should now commit itself. Classical post-Vati-can theology also gave the reason why this process could be expected to lead to radical changes in some insti-tutes, s The type of religious life suited to monastic-contemplative communities is very different from that demanded by an active-apostolic group. The order and form of life and prayer, the religious virtues re-quired of subjects, the relationship between subject and superior differ widely in these two types of institutes. In the past this essential difference was not sufficiently appreciated, and active congregations, especially of women, received a set of constitutions which were not suited to their active life. In such groups we could an-ticipate great changes. Likewise we would expect that at a period in which the secular institute is coming into its own some institutes or groups within existing institutes would be moved by the Holy Spirit to adopt this form of life for their active apostolate. Church historians during the post-Vatican period of renewal reminded religious and their directors that ~ Orsy, op. cit., pp. ÷ 4- 4. ¢o~t VOLUME 29, 1970 25 4. 4. Gerald A. McCool, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS movements of renewal and reform within religious groups were often the result of the work of charismatic leaders. And often the prophetic action of such leaders led to dissension and ultimate division in their own institutes. The work of the Spirit can be accomplished through bitter disagreement and ultimate division of groups which were once united. This was true of the divisions among the Franciscans and the Carmelites. It was true in the United States when the Paulists seceded from the Redemptorists to form a new congregation. On the basis of these historical and theological con-siderations, which are quite familiar to anyone who has even a general acquaintance with the post-conciliar literature, directors of conscience were able to derive a number of principles to handle problems of religious commitment in divided and evolving institutes. These prindples, which worked successfully and still retain a good deal of their validity, can be summed up as fol-lows. (I) Since it is not inconceivable that the interplay of conflicting hopes and fears which divide an institute may be destined by God to lead either to a painful but providentially destined division or to a dearer under-standing of the future form of life to which a united institute can commit itself, the individual religious sub-ject cannot deny in an a priori way that in the same congregation commitment to the institute and corre-spondence to their special grace may reveal itself in dif-ferent subjects through fundamentally different orienta-tions. Whatever may be the consequence which God ultimately intends, these diverse hopes and fears can be a faithful answer to a charismatic call which, for the moment, remains a common one. If they should lead to an ultimate division, the new institutes will be re-lated to each other through their origin in grace. They will be filial or sister institutes. (2) Therefore the individual religious subjects who find themselves in such an evolving situation are still united by the bond of fraternal charity and justice. Each is still called upon to contribute in the measure of his ability to the clarification of the future options which are emerging now. (3) Meanwhile the subject remains under the obedi-ence of the institute through whose constitutions his vocation is specified at the present time. Its rule, its superiors, and his fellow subjects retain the claim on him conceded to them by his vows. Since its mem-bers are being led to their future vocation through their present institute, ways of acting or of withdrawal from common activity which violate the justice and charity he owes them are not permitted to him. The New Situation in Religious LiIe Today, however, the director of conscience is begin-ning to wonder if it is safe for him to handle individual difficulties about religious commitment on the basis of these general principles. In the first place they are based on the theology of the religious life which is associated with the Constitution on the Church and the Decree on the Renewal o] the Religious Li]e for which he could once assume general acceptance among religious. In terms of that theology religious life is justified on the basis of its witness to the sanctity and eschatological hope of the visible Church. In the second place they rested on the assumption that unless there was striking evidence to the contrary each institute was passing through its providential kairos and was being led by God to its providential renewal or division. In the third place they took for granted that, unless clear evidence to the contrary existed, each religious could be assumed to have given a stable commitment to his institute and to his fellow religious, the nature and extent of which was given accurate expression through the constitutions. On the basis of that commitment, a supernatural bond existed among the members of the congregation. They were a family, a society within the Church with all the rights and expectations which membership within such a family entailed. It is becoming increasingly difficult for the religious subject or his director to make these assumptions as confidently as he did in the past; and if they cannot be made, the whole context within which problems dealing with religious commitment must be solved has been changed. There are many reasons for their present difficulty. To begin with, it is no secret that the movement of renewal is not going well. The defection figures are becoming alarming. Many religious, rightly or wrongly, seem to have reached the conclusion that in the movement of reform their institute has missed its kairos. Either it has failed to yield in time to the move-ment of the Spirit or it has yielded too much to the spirit of the world. In any event, these religious have decided that the form of life and work prescribed by their institute is no longer the way in which they can do the most for God. Other religious have withdrawn interiorly and made no secret of their withdrawal. Even though they remain within .the institute, they are alien-ated from it and leave their fellow religious uncertain about the depth, extent, and duration of their com-mitment to it. The longer the present unhappy stage of renewal continues with its increasing number of ÷ ÷ ÷ ~omm~ment VOLUME 29, 1970 ÷ + 4. Gerald A. McCool, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS defections and interior withdrawals, the greater will be the uncertainty of the religious subject concerning the commitment of his fellow subjects and even of his su-periors. And, if he can no longer be certain that their actions are proceeding from commitment to the insti-tute. how should be behave toward them? Should he continue to deal with them in all simplicity as fellow religious? Or should he be prudent and follow the ordinary rules of political morality? Furthermore this disturbing ambiguity concerning his fellow religious' commitment to the institute does not come simply from ignorance of the judgment which they have made, perhaps definitively, about its [actual state. It also comes from uncertainty about the norm which they are using to measure its spiritual health and prospects for the future. Increasing theological di-versity, legitimate enough and even necessary within the larger body of the Church, is beginning to lead to di-versity among the members of the same institute con-cerning the nature and end of the religious life, the virtues which should characterize religious, the hope to which they witness, and the extent and duration of the commitment which they make to the community and consequently to each other through the three vows. That such diversity exists today among the mem-bers of religious groups is clear enough to anyone who has been engaged in the work of religious renewal. Often it lies beneath the surface, dividing religious who are not yet fully conscious of the depth and extent of their division. It shows itself, however, in retreats, in discussions, and in reflections about the formation of religious when different conclusions flow from dif-fering presuppositions which should be analyzed and clarified. Consequently, for many a religious subject his in-stitute has become a very unstable community. He has the uneasy feeling that its constitutions in their present form, even after their revision, and the style of life and work which its superiors prescribe or permit, through uncertainty, expediency, or a genuine desire to "paper over differences" for the sake of peace, no longer ac-curately express the nature, extent, and duration of the commitment which many of his fellow religious are making in reality to his institute in its actual, concrete form. Yet the commitment of his fellow religious creates the bond which makes the institute a living reality. Its duration makes the community a stable family; the depth, extent, and primacy which it occupies in a religious' life determines the depth and breadth of his association with his community and the priority which that association holds among the other commitments, professional and social, in his life. A notable change in the commitment of a significant number of individ-ual religious cannot fail to modify the nature of their institute. Thus, after a certain limit, ambiguity about the object, depth, and duration of its subjects' present commitment places the real nature of their institute in doubt. This doubt in turn creates a second doubt in the mind of the individual subject about his own obli-gation to the organization as it presently exists in the real order, and this doubt cannot fail to afl~ect his own commitment. Obviously this is an escalating process which, ultimately, can lead to a major change in an institute or even to its destruction. This agonizing doubt about the real nature of his institute today as a result of the change in the commit-ment of his fellow religious is the new problem of commitment which is troubling the peace and under-mining the vocation of many religious who weathered the storms of the earlier periods of renewal quite success-fully. This time, however, neither he nor his director can solve the problem by themselves with the resources which they now possess. The nub of the problem is a doubt which the religious cannot resolve himself. Since he cannot read hearts, he must be able to as-sume with reasonable probability that the vows as they are specified in his institute accurately express a genuine and stable union of minds and wills among its subjects. If he cannot make that assumption, he does not know what it is to which he has pledged him-self through his commitment to his community. Neither does he know what communal support, natural and supernatural, he may expect in return. Need to Eliminate Ambiguity To eliminate this ambiguity, or at least to reduce it to the proportions which are compatible with the existence of a viable religious community, existing in-stitutes, especially the larger ones, will have to confront more clearly, and perhaps more courageously than they have done so far, its two major sources: the uncertain relation between their constitutions and the genuine commitment of their subjects and the unanalyzed re-lation between their constitutions and the theology of the religious life on which they rest. Some institutes will be asked to examine more honestly their present state. Does their religious life as it is actually lived conform to the ideal which their institute proclaims? Prolonged compromise and delay of genuine renewal, even for apostolic and economic reasons, inevitably lead to ambiguity concerning the real commitment re-quired of a subject in the institute and can easily lead 4- 4- 4" Commitment VOLUME 29, 1970 29 4. 4. 4. Gerald A. McCool, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS today to discouraged alienation among the young and generous. Other communities are being asked to ex-amine more carefully whether they are called to lead a contemplative or active-apostolic life. Although they are different vocations, both are viable. Is it not possible that in some institutes a division into separate groups following each of these vocations might be a healthy, and perhaps a necessary thing?9 Theological Pluralism and the Constitutions Because of the increasing theological diversity which is already affecting the Church of the present and which will mark the Church of the future even more pro-foundly, it will be necessary for each institute to clarify the theological suppositions which justify its basic choice of life and work. The development of philosophy and theology within the Church, the ihfluence of process philosophy and theology upon Catholic understanding of ecclesiastical structures and the formulation of doctrine, the impact of a newer understanding of the relation of grace and nature, of eschatology and earthly values upon Catholic understanding of the spiritual life have had their effect on religious' attitudes toward prayer, penance, action, contemplation, and service of the Church. That there is a diversity on many of these topics and that such diversity will continue is a fact that we must accept. That there will be and should be a much greater range of free opinions in the Church of the future is a position which most theologians accept today. And if such diversity means, as it seems it does, diverse understandings of the nature and value of re-ligious life, this is a fact which we must accept and whose implications we must analyze. When diverse theological opinions become free in the Church the right to live one's life in the light of them must be respected. If they are solid enough to base the commitment of a total life, the legitimacy of a religious institute based on them can hardly be denied. If, on the other hand, the solidity of opposed theological opinions remains strong enough to ground the commitment of a total Christian life, the legiti-macy of a religious institute grounded on them cannot be questioned either. Thus we may find in all likeli-hood that there will be in the Catholic Church re-ligious living accordingly to theologically diverse under-standings of the religious life. What would not make sense, however, is that they should be endeavoring to do so in the same institute. For it is difficult to under-o For a provocative discussion of this point, see Felix Cardegna, "Future Forms of Religious Life," Catholic Mind, v. 66, (1968), pp. 9-13. stand how constitutions embodying one fundamental conception of the religious life could thematize a com-mitment to an opposed one. Such constitutions would be simply a juridical form concealing basic differences. They could not be the vital expression of communal witness and spiritual unity. Consequently religious congregations, especially the larger ones which have the resources to do so, must examine very soon the theological presuppositions which lie at the basis of their constitutions. Do their con-stitutions express a conception of the religious life which is still viable and to which they wish to give the witness of their lives? I[ not, then they must change the constitutions, even though they express the dearest thought of the holy founder. If so, then they must spell out their fundamental theological position.s, even though there may be other opposed positions which are now free within the Church. If this is done, the individual subject will have a chance to see what it is to which the institute commits itself and to judge whether or not he wishes to make the same commitment. Retreat directors will have a better chance to help individual religious in their endeavor to find the will of God and novice masters will be in a better position to give solid answers to the reasonable questions of the young. This will not be an easy task. It will take openness, skill, and the employment of the best theological talent which a congregation has at its disposal. Its urgency, however, is becoming more apparent every day and we may anticipate that before long the general chapters and congregations of the larger congregations will be obliged to address themselves to it. 4. 4. 4. VOLUME 29, 1970 SISTER M. TERESANTA RYS, C.S.F.N Recreation, and Relaxation in Religious Life ÷ ÷ Sister Teresanta writes from Marian Heights; 1428 Mon-roe Turnpike; Mon-roe, Connecticut 06468. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The Psalmist says: "Have leisure and know that I am God" (Ps 46:10). Recreation and relaxation presuppose leisure time. The term leisure will be used repeatedly in this paper and hence must be defined. The concept of leisure cannot be expressed in simple synonymous terms. To do so would be to risk misinterpretation. The explanation of the con-cept will form the introduction to this paper. Leisure, it must be clearly understood, is a mental and spiritual attitude--it is not simply the result of external fac-tors, it is not the inevitable result of spare time, a holiday, a weekend, or a vacation. It is, in the first place, an attitude of the mind, a condition of the soul, and as such is utterly contrary to the ideal of "worker" in each and every one of the three as-pects under which it was analysed: work as activity, as toil, as a social function. Leisure is a form of silence, of that silence which is a pre-requisite to the apprehension of reality: only the silent hear, and those who do not remain silent do not hear.leisure is a receptive attitude of mind, a contemplative attitude, and it is not only the occasion but also the capacity for steeping one-sell in the whole of creation. - Leisure is not the attitude o[ mind o[ those who actively intervene, but o[ those who are open to everything? From the outset it can be seen that leisure is meant to lead us to God. This is not to imply that time, activities, and negative aspects as off-duty time and non-work activi-ties are not related to leisure.2 But these are not of its essence. Regarding the elements of time and activity, ". 1Josef Pieper, Leisure the Basis ol C, ulture, trans, by Alexander Dru (New York: New American Library, 1963), pp. 40-1. a See Roll B. Meyersohn, "Americans Off Duty," in Free Time: Challenge o] Later Maturity, ed. Wilma Donahue and others (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 1958), pp. 45-6. leisure is unobligated time which can be spent in any way one wishes. It is supposed to be refreshing, diverting, and enriching, and what set of activities provides for such qualities is to be a matter of personal taste." s Philosophers, spiritual writers, and psychologists throughout the ages have acknowledged the predomi-nance of the divine motive in leisure, but at the same time they have emphasized the physical benefits as well. Plato, for instance, says: But the Gods, taking pity on mankind, born to work, laid down the succession of recurring feasts to restore them from their fatigue, and gave them the Muses, and Apollo their leader, and Dionysus, as companions in their feasts, so that nourish-ing themselves in festive companionship with the Gods, they should again stand upright an~erect.' One author paraphrased Thomas Aquinas' position on leisure by stating that the man who reasons and contem-plates "must occasionally relax the tension of reason by resting the soul. This rest of the soul is a form of pleasure.''5 Currently, Father Kevin O'Rourke, O.P., notes that man is a composite being--body, soul, mind, emotions. These work as a unity. Just as a body has need of refreshment, the emotions and mind need it, too. This refreshment they get from recreation.6 Because the world in which we live places so much value on work and activity, many persons, including religious, determine the worth of an individual by how much and how well she produces. Whatever is done must have a utilitarian purpose or it is worthless. The individual be-comes a functionary. This, in spite of the fact expressed by Alexander Reid Martin: So the poets and philosophers for thousands of years have agreed upon the supreme importance of leisure. But modern man apparently cannot avail himself of this blessing. With more leisure time available, there is a lessening capacity to en-joy it and to use it creatively and constructively. Modern man finds that he cannot relax to order.7 As religious who are pressed for time, zealous to do all we can to further God's glory through our various apostolates, we must beware of the fallacy of overwork. Throughout the Christian centuries we have become imbued with the idea that work is noble and good, and that it is through work that we will help achieve our sal-vation. Many of us have, as stated, accepted the fallacy of 8 Ibid., p. 48. ' Plato as cited by Pieper, Leisure, p. 19. ~ e Father Emmanuel, O.C.D., "The Need of Relaxation," Spiritual LiIe, v. 7 (1961), p. 222. ~ See Kevin O'Rourke, O.P., "Recreation in the Religious Life," Acta Records (Chicago: Acta Foundation, 1964). 7Alexander R. Martin, "The Fear of Relaxation and Leisure," American Journal o] Psychoanalysis, v. I1 (1951), p. 45. 4" VOLUME 29, 1970 + + 4. Siste~ Teresanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the worth of an individual based on her ability to work. We have allowed ourselves to believe that unless we are occupied, we are wasting our time, we are allowing our-selves to be idle, and idleness is a breeding ground for the devil's wiles. Even our recreations have taken on a functionary air--the knitting to be done, the stockings to be darned, the papers to be corrected--all, so that we wouldn't waste timel Sixty years ago, Bishop John L. Spalding noted: We are too busy, we do too much. And the temper our rest-less activity creates makes us incapable of leisure, which is the end of work. The man is worth, not what his work is worth, but what his leisure is worth. By his work he gains a livelihood, but his leisure is given him that he may learn how to live, that he may acquire a taste for the best things, may acquaint himself with what is truest and most beautiful in literature and art, in science and religion, may find himself, not chiefly in the nar-row circles of his private interests, but in the wide world of noble thought and generous emotion? (emphasis added) There are some people who feel that leisure must be justified, for example, we relax or take recreation in order to work more efficiently or in order to restore our strength and energy. This is to revert to pragmatism. Joseph Pieper, a philosopher of our day, notes that how-ever much a person may restore health and energy through leisure, this is not primary, because leisure, like contem-plation, is of a higher order than the active life, and this order cannot be reversed. No one who looks to leisure simply to restore physical, mental, or spiritual powers, will ever enjoy the real fruits of it. He states: The point and justification of leisure are not that the func-tionary should function faultlessly and without a breakdown, but that the functionary should continue to be a man --and that means that-he should not be absorbed in the clear-cut milieu of his strictly limited function; the point is also that he should retain the faculty of grasping the world as a whole and realizing his full potentialities as an entity meant to reach wholeness? The philosopher elaborates this point and states that celebration is the soul of leisure and that since it is so, the justification and possibility of leisure is the same as that of celebration of a festival--and that basis is divine worship.1° The history of religions concurs in this judge-ment: whether in the days of Greece and Rome or in the Christian era, the "day of rest" was a day reserved for divine worship. This time was withdrawn from any specif-ically utilitarian ends: Separated from the sphere of divine worship, the cult o| the s Bishop John L. Spalding, "Work and Leisure," Spiritual Lile, v. 10 (1964), p. 78. ~ Pieper, Leisure, p. 44. lo See ibid., p. 56. divine, and from the power it radiates, leisure is as impossible as the celebration of a feast. Cut off from the worship of the divine, leisure becomes laziness and work inhuman. The vacancy left by absence of worship is filled by mere kill-ing of time and by boredom, which is related to inability to enjoy leisure; for one can only be bored if the spiritual power to be leisurely has been lost.~ Fear of Relaxation Before proceeding to the practical application of the above stated principles, it may be well to examine more specifically why religious tend to have what amounts to a fear of relaxation and recreation, why they tend to be so utilitarian in their outlooks. Many pre-Vatican II constitutions, in the chapters deal-ing with recreation, did stress the importance of partici-pation. Many encouraged religious to occupy themselves with handiwork, which supposedly gave them a sense of satisfaction in contributing to the common good even dur-ing hours of recreation (as though their conversations, their interest in fellow religious were not a form of contributing to the common good). One may ask how a person could give undivided attention to another when she was busy darning or embroidering? Father Kevin O'Rourke notes that individual religious must contrib-ute to community recreation--it is a time of giving our-selves to others and hence an obligation in charity,x2 Although the Vatican Council did not say a great deal about the recreation of religious as such, it did note in the Decree on the Ministry and Life o[ Priests that they should "readily and joyfully gather together for recreation." 13 And Pope Paul, in Ecctesiae sanctae, ex-plaining Per[ectae caritatis, notes that with regard to the order of the day: "Religious. should also have some periods to themselves and be able to enjoy suitable recrea-tion." 14 Nevertheless, it must be admitted that our novitiate training, the customs of communities, and the consti-tutions have taken their toll regarding attitudes toward recreation and relaxation. Because of these influences, many religious experience guilt feelings regarding the use of leisure: When we are not busy, we feel guilty. We are torn between hours spent efficiently organizing our lives and the minutes we set aside to waste. For many regard recreation as a waste of time ÷ and have devised ways of relaxing while washing the car or en- + 4. u Ibid., p. 59. ~ O'Rourke, "Recreation." ~ Walter M. Abbott, S.J., ed., The Documents o! Fatican H (New York: Guild Press, 1966), p. 551. "Paul VI, ~tpostolic Letter Ecclesiae Sanctae (Boston: Daughters of St. Paul, 1966), p. 34. Leisure VOLUME 2% 1~70 35 ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Teresanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS gaging in strenuous exercise. Indeed we are still men who lead lives of quiet desperation. Perhaps I should feel guilty not because I have done too little but because I have tried to do too much. Unlike the poet, I have been so busy that I have lost my playful sense of wonder. I have forgotten to accept myself as I am and have been driven to exhaustion by futile strivings to be someone else. That is why I cannotpray, forprayer involves, a turning of my whole being toward the Lord~(emphas|s added). Some people can rest and relax on holidays and during rest periods set aside for this purpose, only when they are told to do so. They cannot permit themselves to stop, bu~ rely 'on outside authority--they are victims of a com-pulsive, authoritative regime, which can be either inner or outer or both. "In any case, a system of bargaining develops. Work and play become part of a reward and punishment philosophy. Rest is something that has to be earned. All of this smacks of a philosophy dominated by a God of vengeance Of the Old Testament and not of the God of mercy of the New Testament." 10 Some individuals relax only when they have some physical illness, because then they feel justified. The problem of retirement is closely allied to this. Some persons refuse to give up, because they feel they are letting the community down. When they are all but forced to retire, there may follow a rapid disintegration of the whole personality--organic, emotional, intellectual, and moral, because the person's phil6sophy of life prohibited true, healthy relaxation and the creative use of leisure time.17 To return to generalities, there always exists the dan-ger of allowing the sister's work to dominate her life; this isespecially true when she likes the work she is engaged in. Everything is controlled by the task to be performed--even when she recreates, she does so in order to function more effectively, and recreation otherwise becomes meaningless (as does prayer, incidentally). Be-fore long, her specialty pervades every aspect of her life, and she becomes enslaved to one view. Such a sister must take care to place work in its prdper perspective in the totality of her religious life. Work may lead us to God, but it may also distract us from Him. To maintain this proper perspective, prayer and meditation are essential,is Those who tend to be busybodies would also do well to recall a study made by E. D. Hutchinson on the bio-graphical data of many creative minds--poets, authors, composers, and so forth. He found . that the experience of sudden creative insight never oc- ~Envoy, v. 5 (1968), pp. 114-5. Martin, Fear of Relaxation, pp. 43-4. See ibid., p. 44. Envoy, v. 5 (1968), pp. 116-7. curred during the peak of mental effort, but always during a period of relaxation . in general, Hutchinson f,o, und that following a long period of what he calls "obsessional preoccu-pation with a problem, during which nothing was accomplished and there was considerable frustration, the creative thinker relinquished the problem completely. After he had relinquished this compulsive preoccupation for a period of weeks or months, the whole answer would come to him out of the blue. Hutch-inson calls this period of relaxation the period of renunciation of the problem.~ Scripture supports this contention: "The wisdom of the scribe cometh by his time of leisure; and he that is less in action, shall receive wisdom" (Sir 38:25). The pejorative significance of the inability to be leisurely and to relax is also impressed on the person's inability to rest, even in sleep. Some people feel they always have full command of their senses, which causes tension. When sleep is related to this compulsive feeling of having to be alert, it surely cannot be a means of re-laxation. It may also be pointed out that the fear of relaxation is typical of people who are unwilling to depend on others for anything--their independence becomes compulsive, and it is sometimes paraded as the virtue of self-reliance or .individuality. Such compulsive independence is indi-cative of self-distrust, actually, and of the inability to truly relax because of the imminence of intense emo-tional conflicts,a0 Those who feel that they must always be busy in some "useful" activity are the ones who subscribe to the idea expressed in the saying: "Satan finds mischief for idle hands to do." The idea of keeping busy to keep out of trouble expresses it similarly. This attitude shows itself in the person's inability to play and to ~,ork in a leisurely way. Again, those who are dependent upon a fixed routine or schedule indicate the presence of internal conflicts. The routine is self-imposed and they either comply or defy it, but they are not free. Hence, they. are unable to truly relax and use leisure time creatively. To them, leisure is always freedom [torn something, not freedom [or something.21 Such persons put themselves into straigh~ jackets and do not want to be free, to act on their own, because in doing so, they set inner conflicts into motion. Leisureliness in Work Binding ourselves to work is binding ourselves to a utilitarian process in which our needs are satisfied. Our whole lives are consumed by this process. We must ask ~Martin, Fear o[ Relaxation, p. 44. ~See ibid., p. 46. ~See ibid., p. 48. 4. + 4. Leisure VOLUME 29, 1970 + 4. 4. Sister Teresanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~8 and answer the question: What causes a person to be so bound, and how can she free herself? Joseph Pieper an-swers: . to be tied to the process of work may be ultimately due to inner impoverishment of the individual: in this context everyone whose life is completely filled by his work (in the special sense of the word work) is a proletarian because his life has shrunk inwardly, and contracted, with the result that he can no longer act significantly outside his work and perhaps can no longer conceive of such a thing~ (emphasis added). And now, what can be done about the problem? Much, of course, depends upon the willingness of the individual to admit to herself that she is so addicted, to whatever de-gree. Without this admission, there can be no cure. Once this is made, the individual must enlarge the range of interests she has. She must learn to make leisureliness a part of her life and not limit herself only to work-related interests. But "the provision for an external opportunity for leisure is not enough; it can only be fruitful if the man himself is capable of leisure, and can, as we say, 'Occupy his leisure' or. 'work his leisure'." ua Of course, it does little good to tell a person, or for a person to tell herself, that she must not have guilt feelings or fear of relaxation. There must take place concrete efforts at relaxation and recreation--the way to develop a sense of leisure is to be leisurely. Initially, the guilt feelings will remain and may, indeed, occasion more guilt and fear. But it is only in repeated efforts and with the encouragement of someone who appreciates the value of recreation ". that I can hopefully come to appreciate the need for worthwhile recreation to sustain the religious values upon which I have grounded my life." ~4 When one is able to recreate well, one is able to pray and work well. A well-balanced, mature personality will be the conse-quence. Finally, "when the individual is able to say and to feel that convention, schedule or routine is his slave, then the compulsive needs to defy, comply, or rebel do not arise, and healthy relaxation and leisure become possible." :5 Prayer and Education Throughout this paper thus far, it has been stated that leisure is a spiritual attitude, that leisure is of a higher sphere than activity, that leisure is justified by divine worship, and that prayer is necessary to maintain a proper balance between work and leisure. It would seem from this that leisure is closely related to our prayer life. Per- Pieper, Leisure, pp. 50-1. Ibid., pp. 54-5. Envoy, v. 5 (1968), pp. 117. Martin, Fear o/Relaxation, p. 48. haps as religious we ought to delve more deeply into this aspect of leisure. "Prayer requires leisure, and it ought to become our leisure." ~0 Again, this presupposes that we know what leisure is. Here especially we should note that neither prayer nor leisure are utilitarian. Both prayer and leisure are those times when we need not try, but simply be hu-man, as perfectly human as possible.27 During these times we can simply be ourselves, and not be striving to be someone else, or to be striving to measure up to some goal. Forcing artificial prayers into our minds is not praying in a leisurely way. We must learn to allow the Holy Spirit to pray in us as He wills. Prayer affords us with the opportunity to get rid of preoccupations. Simply going over the day or some plans, while keeping in mind that these are for the Lord, consti-tutes prayer, and is an excellent means of banishing pre-occupations. Preoccupation with work, recall, leads to compulsive action and an inability to be leisurely; by the same token, it leads to an inability to pray: "Activism and its roots are as much in a lack of leisure as a lack of prayer." ~s Accepting prayer as leisure will help us to relieve our daily tensions; but this can be only if we do not regard leisure and prayer as a duty or as a means of relieving ten-sion. By just praying or recreating, we ease tension. And, of course, this will redound to the benefit of the commu-nity in which we live. Carrying the idea of prayer as leisure a step further, we can see a relationship between a Mass and a commu-nity recreation well celebrated. For in the Mass there is a dialogue between God and His people. There is commu-nication. Now, recreation to be really recreative must involve communication, too: "It is not stretching a point to see community recreation as the extension and fruit of the festive dialogue of the Mass; in itself it has something of the nature of a ritual and might indeed be considered a sacramental for community." .oa So, if we personalize the community recreation, if we "celebrate" it in a leisurely way, we are preparing ourselves for a personalized celebra-tion of Mass. It was noted that the task of education is to help in-dividuals to an awareness and appreciation of what is best in our culture, because in doing so, we are aiding them in acting more perfectly human. Some authors question -~ David B. Burrell, C.S.C., "Prayer as Leisure," Sisters Today, v. 37 (1965-6), p. 410. ~See the re[erences first given in notes 1, 15, 26. = Burrell, "Prayer as Leisure," p. 413. n Aloysius Mehr, O.S.C., "Community Exercises in Religious Life," REvmw for RE~.lcloos, v. 21 (1962), p. 337. ÷ ÷ ÷ Leisure VOLUME 29, 1970 39 Sister Teresanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS whether we should classify any aspect of leisure, recre-ation, or relaxation as "better" or of a higher type. This is not intended. What is meant is simply that, because appreciating such things as art, music, drama, and litera-ture involves the use of our more perfect faculties, they are of a higher class than those involving the use of less perfect faculties. Nor is it intended to imply that either use of leisure time is to automatically be exclusive of the other at all times. Once. again, leisure time should be spent so as to add to one's total personality--but let us not forget that this includes, most importantly, our spiritual and intellectual stature: "Leisure time, profitably employed, should bring every Sister to a consciousness of the reality of God, whether it be through listening to beautiful music, look-ing at an art object, or reading a literary work that ex-plores the depths of the human heart." a0 The type of education that an individual receives will affect her attitudes toward leisure. Consequently, it ought to be our endeavor to give our Sisters a very liberal educa-tion, both formal and informal. Certainly, in today's world, we need specialists in the field of education. But those chosen as such must be careful lest their specialty become their all-consuming interest. And those not chosen to specialize in a given subject, must avoid the error of not being interested in a given field--be it music, art, literature, or whatever--because then they would fail to enrich themselves. Communities must be sure to provide sufficient opportunities for their members to develop their potentialities and interests, lest these be allowed to atrophy. If the sisters have sufficient leisure time and adequate opportunities, more of them should become more original and creative. They will con-seqfently become more perfectly developed as whole persons. The typ~ of education our sisters receive ".must offer them access to the wealth of thinking and specula-tion, to the arts and sciences, that lie at the basis of the best in our culture . The goal of education should not be so much to teach as to offer the opportunity to ex-perience growth of the total personality, including, of course, exercise of the mind and the aesthetic skills." 31 Only then can we justly expect them to make good use of their time, both on the job and off it. And we shall be acting to prevent many problems which inevitably arise =Sister Marian, I.H.M.~ "Leisure Time: A Spiritual Asset or Liability," REVIEW FOE KEL~CIOUS, V. 20 (1961), p. 365. =George Soule, "Free Time--Man's New Resource," in Free Time: Challenge to Later Maturity, pp. 75-6. in later years when persons have not learned how to act leisurely. We must be honest and admit that many sisters look upon leisure, recreation, and relaxation as an escape from.the toils of the day or from the monotonous exist-ence some may have to endure for various reasons. And so, it would seem, they quite naturally turn to the ever increasing viewing of television, listening to "light" music, or reading pseudosophisticated reading material found in some current magazines, all of which require little mental exertion. Education plays an important role in aiding sisters to become selective in the type of activi-ties chosen for use in their leisure. Otherwise, the sister ". will never become the educated, cultured woman her profession as educator on any academic level demands; much less will she furn out to be the mature religious woman who can say without any reservation, 'I live, yet it is not I who live, but Christ who lives in me'." as Some may object, stating that they have not been thus educated or trained. The community may then choose to conduct workshops for this purpose, using their own sisters whose profession has trained them to be knowledge-able in the various fine arts. Sisters themselves could con. verse with these professionals and learn to be selective. Not liking to read, listen to good music, or view art is not really reason enough not to engage in these activities. Sisters must learn that they can acquire a taste for them. Granted, this is not easy; it depends upon the willingness of the individual and her repeated efforts. The cultivation of an interest in the arts is as much her responsibility as the understanding and skill she is required to have in her profession. I[ there is a separation between the cultured professional and the zealous religious, the inevitable resuh is a divided personality.33 Finally: Religious women must be women of discernment. They must come to see and be convinced that compartmentalization of their minds interferes with their raison d'~tre--that of trans-forming themselves into souls owned by Christ and changed into Him. Their recognition of the genuine values inherent in the good use of leisure time, will, in reality, bring them closer and closer day by day to an adherence to the truth, and to the One who is Truth Itself.** Once again, this is not to imply that physical activities ÷ are never to be used, nor that leisure is not ever meant for ÷ simpler types of relaxation. These are needed, too, be-cause they fortify both mind and body by not making difficult demands on either. ILei~re, Sister Marian, "Leisure Time," p. 365. See ibid., pp. 370-1. Ibid. VOLUME 2% 1970 41 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Play Under the general heading of "play" we can develop many ideas. ]?or example, our work may become play-- when we aquire a relaxed attitude toward it as opposed to compulsive preoccupation: "Enjoyment comes from doing the best I can without the anxious feeling that I must do everything or be dubbed a failure. The fact that I reserve time for living the inactivity of recreation gives me the presence and peace of mind I need to respond fully to the moments." 36 The Sacred Scriptures have repeated incidents of play: God created the sea, with all its schools of fish and many ships, "to make sport of it" (Ps 103:25-6); exegetes of the Bible apply the passage from Proverbs 8:27-31 describing an observer of creation to Mary who "was delighted every day, playing before him at all times, playing in the world: and my delights were to be with the children of men"; and, of course, there is the famous incident of David playing and dancing before the ark of the covenant (1 Chr 15:29). Perhaps we should take the example, lest we take our work too seriously and it make us its slave and we become proud and self-sufficient. We must be serious about our work to a point--but, then, we must find enjoyment in it.3n Because play involves successes and failures, it helps a person to adjust to these in the more serious business of li[e. Because it teaches the person to "rub elbows" or socialize, play teaches teamplay: The experience and training received in good play are indis-pensable to the well-adjusted individual . Play is training in ajpplication and concentration, and it is training, in socializa-aon. ;. There is no better means o[ turning interest away from self and such unhealthy things as phantasy and self-centeredness toward the objective world of-things and people than absorption in play . Play. is an indispensable train-ing in the serious work oF lifeY The primitive drive of aggression in an individual adult is satisfied for a part in work and education. But not all excess energy and aggression can thus be diverted. Another outlet is found in play. Besides providing such an outlet, play teaches us to overcome dislikes and hatreds which may otherwise develop to unreasonableness. Unless excess aggresiveness and energy are released in some beneficial manner, it will produce mischief and mental illness.3S The discussion on play quite naturally brir~gs to mind a~Envoy, v. 5 (1968), pp. I13. so Mehr, "Community Exercises," p. 338. S~Arthur Timme, "The Significance of Play and Recreation in Civilized Life," Mental Hygiene, v. 18 (1934), p. 54. ~ See ibid., pp. 54-6. other, more active forms of recreation and relaxation. It should be understood that active leisure applies to all. Some would tend to limit it to chronologically young persons. Perhaps a bit of an explanation would be useful, especially when we recall that Alexander Reid Martin warned that unless a person learns to use leisure properly, she may experience a rapid disintegration of her person-ality once leisure is more or less forced upon her. Actually, it is unfair to label an individual by age, be-cause it deprives her of equality. Thus labeled, a sister is judged, not by her personal qualities or lack or them, but by what is expected of her because of her particular age. George H. Soule notes that no one has yet exactly pin-pointed the essence of aging, either physiologically or psychologically, but that most experts agree that the differences within an age group are far greater than differ-ences between age groups.3~ To be arbitrarily placed in a group often leads to a person's reacting as expected, and this in turn influences the deterioration spoken of, at whatever age level. Generally speaking, however, youth can and does find opportunities for recreation and relaxation. There re-mains the danger of being overzealous and overambitious and of acquiring a sense of responsibility that they must take on added burdens as the congregation's median age rises. Of this, the young must beware--they, too, must develop leisureliness, which will not allow them to be-come preoccupied in any endeavor. The ability to be leisurely and to be able to recreate ourselves should be grasped by middle age, because . by this time most of us have reached a plateau in our jobs or professions. This is not to suggest that, t~or the specially qualified or generally ambitious, there are not further peaks to be climbed. But for the generality of us, I think, we have probably attained the peak of our job or career, and it is time to relax. We can still do our da),'s work, honesdy and competently. But we can also start thinking of our souls. By thinking of our souls I am not speaking purely in a religious sense, though I would not for a moment discount the importance of that. I am thinking rather of a reexamination of ourselves as individuals and of our lives up to this pointwto what extent we have found meaning and to what extent we have failed to find meaning, and then to realize quite soberly that this comparative leisure we have earned may stretch on for us for perhaps another quarter of a century.'° Normally, because an individual has achieved her work goals by middle age, she also derives most satisfactions from it during these years. Thes~ satisfactions she usually shares with the community, and the community should be a~ Soule, "Free Time," p. 62. 4°Clark Tibbits, "Preface," in Free Time: Challenge to Later Maturity, pp. xi-xii. ÷ 4- 4- VOLUME 29, 1970 43 ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Teresanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS an in~entive for the individual to advance herself even more.41 But once again the sister should beware of be-coming too engrossed in her work and her own personal satisfactions, because this. will narrow her other interests. Then, when she later becomes less efficient and no longer gets such satisfactions, she will have little to go back on: "We are told that people stranded without interest goals, who seem to have no rationale of existence, often become frustrated and lapse into physical or mental illness." 42 This applies to any age group, but since satisfactions are greatest in middle age, perhaps this is the most dangerous age in regard to the fallacy of overwork and underplay. The so-called senior members of the community should not, by any means, be excluded from active leisure-time activities. It is most important that these sisters be kept active and creative, since their physical ability to work is limited, as is their sphere of interests. The community must make special provision for an organized leisure-time program for these members above all. It would be well if they had some professionally trained sisters to accomplish this. More and more colleges are providing courses in recreation leadership, because of the demand in society for such individuals. Surely, it would be to the community's advantage to have such trained personnel. These same sisters could conduct workshops for the local homes and offer suggestions as to how recreation periods could be more relaxing and more beneficial: "Sound rec-reation programs may promote good will, tolerance and understanding, and may improve societal relationships, all of which are significant to the maximum develgpment of personality." 4a Concerning the use of leisure time by all age groups, we find that all activities fall into one or more of the following categories: social and cultural advancement, creative expression, entertainment, recreation, personal development, fostering life, creative maintenance, and classification and ordering.44 These groups of activities bring about certain desired effects: diversion, which counters self-center~dness; expression, which reverses feel-ings of frustration; the struggle ]or survival, useful against regression; creativeness, a method of liberating thwarted instincts; membership, which combats feelings of iso-lation and lonesomeness; participation, to maintain a ,1 Nels Anderson, Work and Leisure (New York: Free Press, 1961), p. 180. '~ Ibid., p. 257. *a Raymond A. Snyder and Alexander Scott, Pro/essional Prepara-tion in Health, Physical Education, and Recreation (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1954), p. 5. ~See Maurice E. Linden, "Preparation for the Leisure of Later Maturity," in Free Time: Challenge to Later Maturity, p. 89. sense of self-esteem; social acceptableness, to help main-tain a good self-image; recognition, which counteracts embitterment; meaningfulness, to aid in establishing the true value of nature and life; contemplation, which con-tributes to effective judgmental functioning; sharing, to aid in improving a person's opinion of herself; and simple enjoyment of living.4~ The achievement of the above mentioned effects, certainly, will contribute to a more perfect personality. All of them result from the proper use of leisure activities. All o£ them can be achieved by any individual who de-sires to do so. But some may ask for more concrete exam-ples of how to acquire these abstract values. There are any number of ways, of course, and each way must be suited to the individual, who must consider her own physical and psychological needs. In selecting recrea-tional activities, the sister should always keep in mind that which will give her the most satisfaction at a given time. The activity in which she can best create, achieve, find beauty, fellowship, and relaxation, is of more lasting value than one which yields only one or two satisfac-tions. 46 Following is a list of activities which might be engaged in by sisters. The list is only suggestive, and not all-inclu-sive. It is offered merely to aid sisters in selecting activi-ties to make their leisure time more profitable. Active games and sports: Dodge bail, relays, softball, basketball, bowling, volleyball, rope jumping, bicycle riding, swimming, ice skating, and calisthenics. Social activities: Card games, barbecues, parties for special occasions, puzzles, dancing, and various table games (scrabble, parchesi, monopoly). Music: A cappella choirs, action songs, community singing, instrument playing, composing music, listening groups, music appreciation courses, music study groups, and music instruction. Arts and crafts: Drawing, carving of various kinds (soap, wood, and so forth), needlework, painting, paper craft, and sewing. Drama: Theatre attendance, charades, choral speech, creative dramatization, and song impersonations. Nature and outing activities: Excursions or trips to art museums and to places of religious or historic interest; flower arrangement; gardening; and nature study, col-lection, and identification. Literary, languages, and related activities: Creative writing, lectures, reading, mental games, radio and tele- ~ Ibid., pp. 89-92. ~See George D. Butler, Introduction to Community Recreation, 4th ed. (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1967), p. 240. This book is highly recommended to anyone interested in recreation leadership. Leisure VOLUME 2% 1970 45 ÷ ÷ ÷ vision programs° and study groups in literature or lan-guage. Seroice activities: Directing glee club, orchestra, dra-matic groups, assistance in organizing holiday celebra-tions, and assistance in public relations programs. The preceding list should at least indicate the wide diversity of activities which bring satisfaction and re-laxation to various individuals.4; If there is a recreation leader, she should be sure to consider differences in age, interest, skills, place available, time, size of the group, and the funds necessary and available.4s Having a recrea-tion leader, whether on a local, regional, or provincial level, would surely enhance the recreation program. It would be more organized and more e~cient and con-sequently more beneficial to those involved. Special mention must be made of vacations as a form of leisure. Recently, communities have increased the length of vacation periods and have relaxed regulations governing the way vacations are to be spent. Actually, nothing in canon law regarding religious specifies that a religious must have a vacation, but it seems that some kind of vacation is a normal requisite for an individual. It is doubtful that visits to one's family and relatives should be counted as a vacation, because these are often marked by strenuous activity and loss of sleep, so they are not physically relaxing. Even if they provide relax-ation, they can hardly be considered a religious vacation: "A vacation for religious should serve the purpose of intensifying the community spirit.'° 49 A vacation should be taken in a place away from the regular religious houses, where sisters could get together to rest, play games, and get to know one another: "In relaxation and recreation the religious see one another in a new light, and often discover remarkably fine qual-ities that they never knew existed. In my opinion there is nothing like a good community vacation for fostering a good community spirit." 50 It is recognized by superiors and sisters that all of this is true and good, but obstacles, especially financial ones, will always remain. Nonethe-less, everything possible should be done to carry out a vacation program. Regarding the idea of individual religious saving gifts or offerings to pay for the vacation, it would seem con-trary to present canon law which states that gifts received by an individual become the property of the institute. Even if the religious asks permission, the asking of per- Sister Teresanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 46 See ibid., pp. 253-8. See ibid., pp. 264-72. Questions on Religious LiIe (St. Marys, Kansas: R~wEw FOR R~.mious, 1964), p. '112. Ibid., p. 113. missions usually pertains to what the religious needs, not what she desires. It the community permits sisters to make trips and visit their families, the community should pay the expenses. The community ought not insist upon or condone a policy of those who get the money, get the trips:51 Common life also requires that, generally spe.aking, equal opportunities be given to members of a commumty. Hence a superior could allow the members of his community to make a pious pilgrimage provided that he supplied the necessary ex-pense money for such members of his community as do not have relatives or friends who are willing to pay for them.~ However, as witnesses of the poverty of Christ, religious themselves should not desire unduly long and expensive vacations, for poor persons are unable to take such vacations. For Senior Sisters The final part of this paper will be devoted to the area of leisure, recreation, and relaxation for senior sisters. Of course, what has already been stated applies to all sisters, seniors included. But it cannot be denied that these sisters need and deserve special treatment; hence, aspects of leisure which pertain specifically to them will be treated separately. The senior sister as a member of society has, like most others, leaned on her role as worker. All other roles-- friend, citizen, adviser--revolved around her worker role in life. When she retires, she must learn to use her time and place her values differently, because new relation-ships to persons and things develop. "If mental and physical deterioration are to be avoided, new interests and new goals must be found, or old interests and aspira-tions rediscovered . The recreation program offers a fruitful means of satisfying activity for them." 53 As with everyone else, however, the primary responsi-bility for appropriate use of leisure rests with the sister herself. There are some recommendations that will help her to benefit from her new-found role. As suggested by Dr. Maurice E. Linden, these are: (I) Continue to develop your resources. Contrary to popu-lar opinion, the human m~nd continues to develop its capacity well into the seventh and eighth decades. (2) Increase your social effectiveness. Because older people have fewer human drives to contend with, they can channel their energy, thus becoming more socially effective. (3) Enjoy your wisdom. It can be a great source of gratifica-tion now, formerly denied because of inexperience. ¯ t See ibid., pp. 64-5. ~ Ibid., p. 63. ~Arthur Williams, Recreation in the Senior Years (New York: National Recreation Association Press, 1962), p. 18. VOLUME 2% 1970 + ÷ ÷ Siste~ Te~esanta REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 48 (4) Advance the tenets of human progress. The experience of the older mind gives it the capacity to diStinguish the good from the bad, thus enabling the community to preserve values built up over a period of time. (5) Externalize your interest. As a result of many successes in life, the older person should have the ability to be less selb centered an.d more interested in other people. (6) Place your value in quality. Again as a result of experi-ence, the older mind is capable of seeing the intrinsic value in both persons and things, and those formerly considered insig-nificant now are appreciated. (7) Don't be a spendthrift of time. Maturity enables a per-son to appreciate the value of time and aids her in spending it profitably. (8) Make your human relationships durable, It is a quality of a mature person to be unswerving in devotion to persons and to principles. (9) Don't capitalize on dependency. It is a responsibility of the young to care for the old; but well-adjusted older persons prefer to be as independent as they are capable.of being. (10) Exercise judicious independence. It is unwise to with-draw from the currents of daily life and thus deny the young people the benefit of accumulated experience and knowledge ~" These are just some suggestions that senior sisters may find helpful. It would seem that they are striving to ad-just to their situation. The communities must do all that is possible to aid these sisters, through the establishment of an effective program for the use of leisure. As men-tioned, more than in other groups, there is a definite need for trained personnel for this program. There is a need for a varied program, suited to the individual sister: "Diversity is the keynote of the per-manently successful program." 55 The program should be so planned as to include every sister. And every sister should be encouraged to participate, guarding against the tendency to just sit and watch. But her participation must be voluntary. Only in this way will her real abilities shine forth, and only in this way will she give vent to self-expression. Above all, if the program for the aging sisters is to be successful, it should be designed to improve community living. Those charged with developing the program must have confidence in the senior sisters and must be cognizant that ". older people can learn new skills, but., they learn more slowly and need to engage in recreational activities at their own pace." 56 Dr. Carol Lucas con-ducted a pilot program of study at Columbia University and authored a book in which a recreation program for ~ Linden, "Prep

Oral history interview with William Warren Steele, conducted by Jennifer Payne at Norwich University in Northfield, Vermont, on 12 September 2013, as part of the Norwich Voices oral history project of the Sullivan Museum and History Center. William "Bill" Steele was a member of the Norwich University Class of 1959; his interview includes discussion of his classmates and his memories of Norwich University as well as his later career and his family history. ; 1 William Steele Oral History Interview Interview Date: Interview Location: Sullivan Museum & History Center, Norwich University Interviewed by Jennifer K. Payne Transcribed by Thomas H. King III JENNIFER PAYNE: This is Jennifer Payne with the Norwich Voices Oral History Project. Today's date is September 12, 2013 and we're at the Sullivan Museum and History Center and I'm with Bill Steele. Welcome. WILLIAM STEELE: Thank you. JENNIFER PAYNE: Can you give me your full name please. WILLIAM STEELE: William Warren Steele. JENNIFER PAYNE: And where were you born? WILLIAM STEELE: I was born in - we lived in Roxbury but I was born in Montpelier in 1937. JENNIFER PAYNE: Ah-ha, ok. Do you have a nickname? WILLIAM STEELE: Bill JENNIFER PAYNE: Ok. What made you decide to choose Norwich? WILLIAM STEELE: Mainly it was family history. We didn't have a lot of guidance in those days about possibilities of college and all that, and my grandfather, two uncles, my father, and my cousin had all gone to Norwich. So it was sort of expected that a male Steele would go to Norwich and so that's where I went and also Norwich had a great influence over Montpelier in those days. My junior varsity high school football coach was a Norwich man. My girl's father was a Norwich man. Norwich sort of permeated Montpelier. So it was sort of a no-brainer I would go to Norwich and I did. JENNIFER PAYNE: Oh. So you were class of 59? WILLIAM STEELE: Class of 59, yeah. JENNIFER PAYNE: And what was your major? WILLIAM STEELE: Electrical Engineering. JENNIFER PAYNE: Who was your roommate? WILLIAM STEELE: Well my freshmen year it was Dick Thayer and Tom Turner. We were in Alumni Hall and I wouldn't have missed that for the world. It was a fire trap, but it was a lot of fun and Tom and Dick were my roommates. We were all three engineering majors. Dick later on changed to business I think, but we were all in one room for that freshmen year and I wouldn't have missed the Alumni Hall experience for the world. 2 JENNIFER PAYNE: What was it about, what was it about it exactly? Were there, was there anything that you remember doing there that you liked? WILLIAM STEELE: It was an old, old building, and as I say a fire trap, and because it was a fire trap there was no sprinkler system or anything in those days. It was all very old wood, dried out, painted probably 30 times, and so if a fire had ever started it would have gone pretty fast. So in our rooms we had, in front of the window, we had a high stool and on that stool was a bucket and we had to keep that bucket full of water all the time, and that was inspected to make sure no algae was forming so we had to take the bucket down and clean it out and refill it with water every day to make sure that didn't happen. So it was pretty basic in those days. But I made a lot of friends there, ah, Dick and Tom, and Pier Mapes. I think Jack Joyce was with us in those days. Friends that have lasted up over the years. JENNIFER PAYNE: That's wonderful. Were you in a fraternity? WILLIAM STEELE: No, no. Fraternities then, oh I think about a third of the Corps, when I talk about the Corps I'm talking about total student body, because if you were in Norwich you were in the Corps. So about a third of the Corps belonged to the six fraternities. The other two thirds of us did not. It was, it cost 12 dollars a month which wasn't insignificant in those days, and I only had 20 to begin with. So that, and also when I got to Norwich I didn't know what fraternities were. I had no background in any of this and as a result when they started talking about pledging and rushing and that kind of thing, I didn't have the foggiest idea what they were talking about. So the fraternity experience sort of passed me by and when Ernie Harmon got rid of the fraternities a few years after I graduated I wasn't too sorry. There was a lot of, Ernie Harmon thought that fraternities did not belong in a military school, and I think in retrospect that I agreed with him. JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow. Did you play any sports? WILLIAM STEELE: I played intramural baseball and that, that was it. And that was my freshmen year. After that I was not sports inclined. JENNIFER PAYNE: What activities did you do? WILLIAM STEELE: My freshmen year, you know when you're a freshmen you do everything. After that you do nothing [laughing], particularly when you're an electrical engineer because your total focus was on getting through the engineering curriculum. But my freshmen year I belonged to the Glee Club, which was sort of fun. We did some traveling. And I belonged to the Drill team and that was a lot of fun and we did traveling with that also. JENNIFER PAYNE: Oh wow. What did you do to relax? WILLIAM STEELE: I think - our entertainment, most of it was pretty regulated. You know we started in the morning would be rousted out, we'd march down to breakfast, we'd come back and then it was time to get your room cleaned up and get ready to go to your first class. Then in the evening it was back to the barracks and then almost immediately go down for dinner, and then when you came back from dinner it was study. So most of that was pretty regulated. I can 3 remember the one really bright spot relaxing time during the week was when we went down to Harmon Hall in the basement where there was the only TV on campus and we would watch Air Power [on Sunday Nights] 1. That was the big thing, was watching Air Power and it was all air power from the Second World War of course. And that was the big bright spot. There were some other things, I mean we did do some things in Montpelier, some social things in Montpelier. But the, but Montpelier was a little difficult. Most of us did not have cars. So if you wanted to go into Montpelier for something normally you hitchhiked. And so I hitchhiked back and forth many a time. JENNIFER PAYNE: Right up Rt.12. WILLIAM STEELE: Yup JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow. Do you remember any songs? If you were in the Glee Club did you, do you remember any songs from your year? WILLIAM STEELE: Oh there was one that the faculty really liked: "There is Nothing Like a Dame" from South Pacific. And that was great, a whole bunch of guys of a mens school isolated and everything. The faculty thought that, that was most appropriate. So we sang that. Of course everyone sang "On the Steps of Jackman." I'm not sure that anybody sings that anymore because it's sort of outdated. JENNIFER PAYNE: How does it go? Do you… WILLIAM STEELE: It was, oh I remember it well. JENNIFER PAYNE: Would you? WILLIAM STEELE: Of course, "On the steps of Jackman, crying like hell, lies a new born baby. Can't you hear that son of bitching bastard yell? Oh who could be the father? Maybe it's you. Just another bastard son of old NU." [Laughing] JENNIFER PAYNE: That was wonderful. WILLIAM STEELE: Well you know it's sort of out of date now, but because of the sexual revolution and everything else, but back in those days there was sort of an image of a Norwich guy getting lose, impregnating some local girl, and then bugging out and hiding back in the Corps. And the idea of, you know, we talked about it but I never saw it happen, but we talked about lining the Corps up and having the girl troop the line up and down with a baby in her arms, looking for the offending cadet. So that was the kind of image that went on in those days, and the idea of a girl bringing the baby and putting it on the steps of one of the barracks, which Jackman was then. It was Headquarters Company. That was sort of an image that everyone was in favor of. Interesting thing, during our 50th anniversary, which was just 4 years ago, we were all lined up on the steps of the new Jackman, and when we were lined up for the picture being taken somebody started singing "On the Steps of Jackman" and the whole class sang it. 1 Added at the request of William W. Steele '59. 4 JENNIFER PAYNE: Oh I wish I could have been there for that. WILLIAM STEELE: [Laughter] That's a, yeah too bad they didn't have a microphone. JENNIFER PAYNE: That would have been great. Oh boy. Who was your favorite instructor at Norwich? WILLIAM STEELE: Oh that's easy. His name was Martin Webb. And at the end of our sophomore year we were told that we were gonna really be brought into line because we had coming our junior and senior year a new professor and his name was Martin Webb. He was 42 years old, he was a full Colonel in the Army, had been selected for Brigadier General at the age of 42, which is pretty fast, and then had taken a physical, had a heart condition and so the Army tossed him out. And he decided to come to Norwich, which was a military school, to do his teaching. So we, the other professors had instilled fear in us to this guy was going to come and really crack the whip. Well he came and that was not the way he operated at all. He took us under his wing, and he was the greatest example of a man I think that I have ever met. He did everything right. I can remember we were very proud when we had winter carnival of most things because he was there, he was our professor, and he was real full of carnival. And he had the most expensive class A uniform dress blues that I have ever seen. In those days we thought it cost $300 which would probably be like $1500 or $2000 now. Very good material and of course tailored to fit him exactly. Martin Webb took care of us and he made sure, he tried to make sure that we were properly trained for what we were going to do and of course a lot of us went into the Army. And so what he would do, which was illegal because the drinking age then was 21, he would have Sunday afternoon receptions at his house, and he would be dressed in his dress blues, and his wife Silvia would be in a hostess gown, and they would have our class, which was only 8 people, our senior class, out to their house for h'ordeuvres and drinks. And I didn't really realize it at the time, but what he was doing was grooming us for the social life of the Army. It was just one of those things that he took on, and then I think within a year of the time I graduated and went out to New Mexico I got a letter from Colonel Webb, and he had found a job that he thought I might be interested in, in Vermont. And of course I already had a job at White Sands Missile range so I wasn't interested in that. It just shows that even after we graduated he was looking out after us. Yeah one of the finest men I ever met. I came back five years after I graduated, they had an engineering symposium, and we were, some of us graduates were going to talk to the undergraduates at Norwich. And I came back for that, and Martin Webb had died within a few months before that. That bad heart of his that got him thrown out of the Army finally caught up with him and he had collapsed and died and so that was sort of sad. But he was the best professor that I ever saw, and the finest man I ever met. JENNIFER PAYNE: That's wonderful. What was your least favorite class at Norwich? WILLIAM STEELE: [Laughing] Advanced mathematics. And it was, and the reason I tell myself now was probably because the professor, well he probably knew his subject better than any other professor knew his subject at Norwich. He was a mathematician. He knew, he had worked with Einstein during the Second World War on the Atomic Bomb as I understand it. Brilliant guy, but could not relate to students, and could not teach, and we all had a lot of 5 problem in his class. I won't mention his name, but we all had a lot of problem in his class and I did especially. So yeah that was my least favorite of all classes. JENNIFER PAYNE: What do you remember most about being a rook? WILLIAM STEELE: [Laughing] I guess, because I had not assumed great responsibility yet from my life there was a certain freedom that came from that. And there was a certain, ah, nice sense that came with the organization and the discipline and the regularity of Army life. It was very comforting. You knew where you were, you knew what your status was, you knew what to do, you know who to go at certain times, and that was pretty comforting most of the time. And then again because I hadn't grown up at the time, I didn't have the sense of responsibility that I probably should have had. So that was a pretty good year. I liked that. Also I made a lot of friends that year that have been friends ever since. JENNIFER PAYNE: But was there, was there, was the part that you didn't like, was it, was there anything you didn't like about being a rook or? WILLIAM STEELE: Yeah, you couldn't have a car. You were with, at that time our total enrollment was about 700. So you had 700 cadets isolated in a very small town with no car. So there wasn't, a social life was sort of possible if you had the money and could find the transportation. Other than that it was a little difficult. JENNIFER PAYNE: How were you disciplined, when you were, if you were ever disciplined? WILLIAM STEELE: [Laughing] Oh I certainly was. Can almost be an expert on that. I'm not sure about the way it's done now, but in those days 99% of the discipline was done by the Cadet Corps itself. It was done by Cadets. The faculty and the staff played almost no part in it whatsoever. The battalion and regimental disciplinary boards, which was the highest level of discipline, could exact any punishment up to and including suspension for three years. Now if your offence required expulsion, then the faculty came into it or the staff came into it and I think actually the president came into it for final approval. But other than that it was all students. But I have a story for an exception to that, which was made in my case [Laughing] when the faculty got involved in it. I don't know if you're familiar with the name of Maurice Smith? JENNIFER PAYNE: Yes WILLIAM STEELE: Maurice Smith, I think he died within the last couple of years. JENNIFER PAYNE: Maurice Smith? WILLIAM STEELE: Maurice Smith yeah. JENNIFER PAYNE: He's a 102. WILLIAM STEELE: He's a 100 and he's still alive then, ok. Let me tell you a story about Maurice Smith [laughter]. He was at that time a Lieutenant Colonel and an Assistant Commandant of Cadets. I had a cousin who was class of '33, valedictorian of '33, who was a very good close friend of Maurice Smith. And my cousin came to Norwich for a Middlebury game once. Well my cousin who was pretty wild, anyway, and he, when he came he stayed with 6 Maurice Smith. So before he left for the game, he and I were going to sit at the game together, before he left for the game he filled up his flask with Maurice Smith's scotch and brought it to the game and then insisted that we sit on the Middlebury side. Well I was in my Cadet uniform so that wasn't entirely proper but he was my much older cousin so I went with him and we sat on the Middlebury side. And of course all of the Norwich side was looking over across the field at us, and my cousin bought a blanket which he put in our laps presumably to keep warm. But about every 15 minutes would take the blanket and we'd throw it up over our heads and we'd pass that flask back and forth. And well of course Maurice Smith was looking across as the Assistant Commandant of Cadets, was looking across the field and he could see all of this and he knew that he had a Cadet illegally drinking his scotch. [Laughter] So now the next story I'm going to tell you, I have no proof that there is a connection, but I think that there was. A month or two later during winter carnival I was the Officer of the Day and I went ahead and did my duties and everything. About two days after that I received a letter from Maurice Smith with 7 first class charges on it, some of which had a grain of truth to them, some of which had no truth at all to them. But any one of which could have gotten me kicked out of Norwich or at least suspended. So I had to sit down as a 20 year old cadet and, and type out an official letter responding to all of these charges. Which I did, and several days went by, and finally -. In those days the mess hall was one big room with tables for 10 people and everyone was served the same food. And in the corner was what was called the crow's nest which was were the Cadet Commander and his Exec. Officer sat. And it was quite tall, there's stairs going up to it. So I was called up to the crow's nest and I was told by the Cadet Exec. Officer that Colonel Smith had referred the whole matter to them, for them to adjudicate. So the Exec. Officer said "we have decided that if you would agree, we will give you 12 demerits and the whole thing will go away." Well in those days you were allowed 12 demerits a month before you had to start walking tours, and seniors very rarely got demerits for anything. So I said "Ok I'll take the 12 demerits and we'll call it even." [Laughing] So that's the only time that I can really remember personally when anybody other than a member of the Cadet Corps got involved in disciplinary action and I think I know the reason why. [Laughter] JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow and that would be, the reason was because? WILLIAM STEELE: Because I was drinking his Scotch in front of him and he couldn't do anything about it [Laughing]. JENNIFER PAYNE: What was the hardest part of attending Norwich? WILLIAM STEELE: The hardest part? Well you know you're a kid when you're in college, and you don't have a great perspective about the outside world and what's going to happen. And I think one of the things I worried most about was how well I would be prepared to go out and do a job of electrical engineering. It turned out that was the least of my worries. Norwich prepared me very, very well. I've met people from lots bigger colleges and people with advanced degrees that I could compete with very easily. So Norwich did very well for me, but I did worry some about that when I was a cadet. And I think that and just passing all the courses was, and when I say passing all the courses, in engineering in those days, and it was changed thank god, in engineering in those days all you had to do was to pass every course. That's all. There was no 7 grade point average requirement. So if you got - you could conceivably graduate with a 1.0, having got a D in every course. Martin Webb, the aforementioned Colonel Webb, the year after I graduated he became the head of the department, and he changed that and he said he was going to change that. Because what was happening, it was very difficult to get a 1.0. I mean we flunked out. I think we had over 30 electrical engineers my freshmen year and we graduated 8 or 7 I think. So it was very difficult to get that 1.0 and, but when we got out nobody knew all about that. So our low grade point average was put up against people from other schools who had perhaps a 2.5 average, and it was very difficult when we got started. Well Colonel Webb changed that. He made a higher grade point average as being required and made it somewhat easier for it to get that higher grade point average. JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow. What would say is the most important thing that Norwich taught you? WILLIAM STEELE: Discipline, organization, I think without question. And, and it stays with me today. It's something that has helped me all my life and it's just part of me now, so. JENNIFER PAYNE: What did, what did "I Will Try" mean to you as a student? WILLIAM STEELE: Nothing. It meant, well I shouldn't say nothing. As, I meant it has obvious connotations that you will try, you will exert an effort and all that. But aside from that it didn't mean a whole lot. Later on it meant something far more than that. It meant, whether or not it was a good motto or not and I never thought it was particularly imaginative, but it was historical. I think it was Truman Ransom that said that and it was picked up. But later on it became just about good or bad. It became about Norwich tradition and to me that became very important, still is very important. JENNIFER PAYNE: So how do you think, let's see, I want to talk about your professional life so tell me what happened after you left Norwich and how you got to be an engineer. WILLIAM STEELE: What happened was I had no job when I graduated from Norwich. My mother was living in New York City at the time so I went down to spend a couple weeks down there tramping up and down the streets of New York City finding if, I remember Aramco, Arabian American Oil Company was one company that I interviewed with. Didn't really know how to do an interview and it was a little difficult for engineers to get jobs. It was just one of those low points. But my father who was in the Army and stationed at White Sands Missile Range gave me a two week vacation as a graduation present, a two week vacation in New Mexico, in the great southwest. So I flew down there and stayed two weeks and I arrived there with 40 dollars and 40 pounds of luggage, 'cause 40 pounds of luggage was what those old propeller driven airplanes would take. And I stayed two weeks and I loved it. I loved the weather. I'd wake up early in the morning, it was, it's high altitude down there, 3/4000 feet, and the weather is perfect day after day after day. And I decided I wanted to stay so I cashed in my return trip plane ticket and got another 40 dollars for that and that lasted me another couple weeks, and then I had to get a job. So I got a job there with civil service at White Sands Missile Range. That was pretty much what my career was from then on. 8 JENNIFER PAYNE: What did you do, what did you do for White Sands Missile Range? WILLIAM STEELE: Well I started out in the television division which was doing special television set ups, for instance - of course a missile range, like any test range, tests Army materials, Army systems. And some systems when you test them you have to surveill them with television, and so we designed that kind of system. For instance there was a hot/cold chamber that we would put the material into. We had to design a television system that would withstand the heat and the cold so we could put it in there and take a look at that material from the outside while it was being tested. There's another one, a centrifuge, which was a big spinning thing, and we mounted a camera on the very center of that pointing straight out the arm toward the material being tested. So you could view that as it went around. JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow. WILLIAM STEELE: So then another job that I had was, we were doing a drone test out at Yuma Proving Ground, which was several hundred miles away over in Arizona. And I was sent over there in order to put in a television system that would provide surveillance of the drones when they were on the launch pad and as they launched. JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow, very interesting. WILLIAM STEELE: It was that kind of thing. Then after that I went into meteorology. JENNIFER PAYNE: Really? WILLIAM STEELE: Yeah, we had a big meteorological group and engineering division that would build data collection systems for the meteorologists. So I did that for several years and after that I went to work for Astrodata Corporation, one private industry which built timing systems. And then they went bankrupt so I was out of work and after that I ended up, in 1972, I ended up in Yuma Proving Ground. And at Yuma Proving Ground I got some really, I got two wonderful opportunities there. And the first one was - laser technology had begun essentially in 1960, that's the first time they got laser action and some actual light out of a laser rod. So this was then 12 years later when I went to Yuma Proving Ground, and they were about to be sent a laser radar to be evaluated. And so I got there at the right time and I was assigned that job. And it was the first general purpose laser tracking system in the Department of Defense. So I got a chance to do the evaluation of that, to buy some more. It turned out to be terribly successful. Then in 1973 I think it was, I was sitting talking to my boss, and an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel appeared at the door. And he said "My name is Val Denninger and I'm looking for a place to test a new navigation system." Well we had never tested a navigation system before, but laser tracking systems were ideal for doing that because what would happen - you'd put the navigation system on board an aircraft to tell you where the navigation system said the aircraft was, and then you would track the aircraft with laser trackers which would tell you where it really was. So my boss was a smart guy and so he asked a couple of questions on how does it work and so on and so forth. And we didn't know whether that - this guy had a great line, and we didn't know how much of his line was a little hokey and how much was real. So my boss asked him, he said, "At what level are, is that project being funded every year?" And Val told us, 9 I've forgotten the number but it was huge. 100 million or something like that which in 1972 was a lot of money. And we said, my boss said "First of all come in and sit down and close the door." Because every test range is looking for a lot of test work to do, it's our living. And the next question he asked was "And what do you call this system?" And Val said, "We call it the global positioning system, the GPS." And at that point we really got interested and it turns out that the dollar value that Val had given us included putting up all those satellites. That's what made it so big. So at that point we decided we really wanted that system. And we were a little tiny range, Yuma Proving Ground is not a large range at all, and we were in competition with White Sands Missile Range, which was huge, and Edwards Air Force base. So we decided we were the only ones that had operating lasers at that point, or had one operating laser at that point. So we sat down, they had the money, we had the will, and they fed us a lot of money for software development to buy more laser trackers and everything else and we just turned our work force into preparing to test the GPS. And sometime along, I've forgotten when maybe 1974, we were officially selected as the primary test range for the GPS and I was assigned as the range product engineer for that. And my job was then to coordinate all of the facilities for Yuma Proving Ground for testing this new thing, and so that was a great challenge. I'm probably the only person you'll ever meet that can tell you exactly how the GPS works and how it determines your location. It's a mathematical process. So I got to do that for I think, we flew the first test flight of a C-130 aircraft in 1976, and after that we were still testing the global positioning system up until I left Yuma Proving Ground in 1985. So that was an absolutely wonderful opportunity to get involved in something that turned out to be very big. JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow that's amazing. That's, you mentioned the 4 generals that were in your class. WILLIAM STEELE: Yes JENNIFER PAYNE: And it's just amazing how your class and your colleagues have just been involved in such incredible projects. GPS is so big. WILLIAM STEELE: Yes, yes. And the 4 generals, the 4 general officers and our class was I think 153, and the 4 general officers, first of all lightning. As far as I know we had only had one 4 star general before our class and that was I.D. White in the class of 1922, interestingly enough a classmate of my father's when he went to Norwich. And I think Sully Sullivan was the second 4 star we got, and lightning really struck because he was made Chief of Staff of the Army, I think 1990 to 1994. Then about the same time Bill Streeter became the Commander of the Military District of Washington, which included Arlington Cemetery and Fort Myer down there, some other things. We had Don Edwards who was, for about 16 years I think, the Adjutant General of the State of Vermont. And then we had Dick Durgens who was a Brigadier General. So we had 4 general officers out of the class and as well as Pier Mapes who was president of NBC television for affiliates. JENNIFER PAYNE: Amazing. Who were your family members? What are their names of your family members that were here? I would like to get them on the record. 10 WILLIAM STEELE: Oh ok. My grandfather was the first one that went here. He went here for only a year and he took pre-, he took law here. And he was then the class of 1882 I think. JENNIFER PAYNE: He's that Fredrick Steele? WILLIAM STEELE: Yes JENNIFER PAYNE: Ok WILLIAM STEELE: Yeah, he was class of 1882. He went here for one year and then came under the influence of Dr. Mayo downtown in Northfield. And Dr. Mayo was a homeopathic physician and my grandfather then decided he would be a homeopathic physician. So he went to Hahnemann Medical School in Chicago for two terms. Came back, studied under Dr. Mayo for a while, and then moved down to Gaysville which is in the township of Stockbridge Vermont and practiced there from 1883 to 1903. And then he moved to Montpelier and, to ease up his workload. But I don't think it eased up his workload a whole lot. When he was in Gaysville he was always looking at the south end of a horse going north you know, because he was going around to Bethel and to Springfield and all those towns around there in a buggy, and he wanted to ease that up a little bit. So he moved to Montpelier, moved to 152 Main Street. Now when he was in Stockbridge he was the State Representative from Stockbridge to the State House of Representatives. And then he was elected as the senator from Windsor County, and did most of his work in the Vermont state legislature on medical things. Then when he moved to Montpelier of course he was in Washington County. He was then elected to the Vermont senate from Washington County, senator from Washington County. And in those days they had three kinds of medicine and one was allopathic, which is what we would call today regular medicine. And then there was homeopathic medicine, which today has sort of degenerated into wheat germ and that kind of thing, but in those days they did everything. They delivered babies mostly, and they set limbs. It was before abdominal surgery so there wasn't any of that, but surgery on the limbs and everything they did, and everything else. And then there was eclectic medicine, and eclectic medicine was based on Native American medicine. And those three were the three that were recognized in the state of Vermont. Well at that time I think my grandfather had come to the conclusion that allopathic medicine was the way to go, and of course he was right in retrospect. And so he joined the Allopathic Medical Society and participated in that and when he was in the legislator he came to the conclusion that you ought not to have three kinds of medicine, you ought to have one kind of medicine. So he sponsored legislation that passed easily, probably based on some other states' legislation. I don't know that I'm guessing. But what it did was set up a board of two allopaths, two homeopaths, and one eclectic medicine practitioner to set up one set of standards for practicing medicine. And that passed easily in both houses, was signed into law by the government, by the governor, and became the basis for what is now state boards for medicine in Vermont. JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow. WILLIAM STEELE: And that was my grandfather. Wonderful guy, my hero because in his will he left me enough money to go to college for four years [laughter] which solved that problem in those days. The second one to go here was my uncle, whose name also Fred Elton Steele, he was 11 Fred Elton Jr. And he went here I think for three years and then transferred down to a medical school in Baltimore and finished up his medicine there. I think he graduated sometime around 1903 or 1904. And both of those guys - of course medicine was a little bit simpler then - both of them were M.D.s, they were both surgeons, and they were both psychiatrists. In fact my grandfather was the first psychiatrist in Vermont and used to make trips down to Brattleboro to the retreat down there to treat the patients down there. And in those days they had no standards for psychiatry or anything else. He showed an interest, was willing to take the time, so he became a psychiatrist. My uncle had psychiatric training and he became a psychiatrist. Worked with the Veterans Administration for years, ending up down in Northampton, Mass. JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow. WILLIAM STEELE: Then the third one that went here was my uncle Edwin Harrington Steele. And he got his education he started out as an electrical engineer I found out years later, and then got interrupted because we had the First World War and he was pulled out or joined and went over to France as a corporal and fought in the First World War. And then when he came back he entered Tufts and became a dentist. And when he became a dentist he married a fellow dentist and they moved to Waterbury, Vermont and practiced from probably 1924 or so until his death in 1977 I think. Had a practice in Waterbury, yeah. JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow, that's a long career. WILLIAM STEELE: [My father, Warren Brooks Steele, was the fourth member of the family to go to Norwich entering in the Class of '22. The reason for his departure three years later is a little mysterious. He was not suited to the academic life and that probably had something to do with his departure. His claim was always that it had something to do with the Mount Home Cemetery next to Norwich. According to his story, he snuck out one night and rearranged the letters on the cemetery sign to read "Hope On Me" Cemetery and was expelled. No matter which story is true, he worked at several odd jobs but joined the National Guard where he received his commission when 21 through correspondence courses. He was called to active duty as a major in 1940 to be the Executive Officer of Selective Service in Vermont. In 1943 he was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel and sent to the China/Burma/India theater and then at the end of the war he took command of the Tokyo Ordnance Depot in japan where his family joined him. In 1953 and now a Colonel he was riffed as part of a plan to reduce the number of reserve officers who had left their civilian jobs to be in the Army. He reverted to Master Sergeant until 1960 when he retired as Colonel.]2 WILLIAM STEELE: Yeah. And then the [fifth] one that went to Norwich was Fred Elton Steele III, and he was very active with Norwich until he died. He was in his 90s when he died. And he was valedictorian of the class of '33 and became, went into the Army around the Second World War. Then he went teaching, he went to teach at the Merchant Marine Academy at King's point on Long Island and got some sort of a Naval commission down there. Taught down there for a long time and eventually moved back up to Montpelier at 40 Liberty Street and taught up at Vermont College until his retirement. And then there was me. And that was, that was, there was 2 Added at the request of William W. Steele '59.12 one other thing that I found out - in my class of 1959 was an Ed Steele from Waterbury. And we knew each other of course, we knew each other's name was Steele, and that was about it. He was a business major and a good athlete, basketball player, and we graduated and run off. And I don't know, it's probably about 10 years ago I got a call and "Is this Bill Steele?" I said "Yeah." "This is Karen Steele." I said "Yeah." [laughter] And she said, "From Waterbury." I said, "You must be a relative of Ed's." And she said, "Yes I'm his wife." And I says "good" and she said, "I'm calling because I'm doing genealogical research." And I said "Are you going to tell me that Ed and I are related." And she said, "yeah you're third cousins." So whenever I'm in Vermont I usually stay with Ed and Karen for, for three days or so and we do genealogical research, so. JENNIFER PAYNE: That's wonderful. Um. What advice would you give a Rook today about how to survive and thrive? WILLIAM STEELE: How to survive? [Laughing] JENNIFER PAYNE: Yeah. WILLIAM STEELE: How to survive at Norwich? JENNIFER PAYNE: And survive, yeah, survive at Norwich. WILLIAM STEELE: At Norwich? JENNIFER PAYNE: Or in the world, either. WILLIAM STEELE: If I had it to do over again, I would be, I would take the military aspect of Norwich very seriously. I would do my very best at developing myself as a leader, because Norwich offers you a magnificent opportunity to do that. I would advise anyone to enjoy Norwich but don't forget why you're here, to study hard because your grade school and high school academic record tend to get lost, but your college record doesn't. it follows you all the rest of your life and I would advise people to study very hard and to take full advantage of the leadership opportunities that Norwich offers. I didn't do any of that, but that's what I would advise. [Laughing] JENNIFER PAYNE: So what does "I Will Try" mean to you now? WILLIAM STEELE: Mainly to me it means tradition. It means Norwich tradition and I think Norwich traditions are terribly important, ought to be paid attention to. A lot of them have gone by the wayside and I'm sorry to see that. After we left, I don't know I think it might have been sometime in the 1980s, "I Will Try" was changed I think to "Essayons" and then changed back to "I Will Try." I don't think that should have ever been changed. I never liked "I Will Try" as a particularly good motto but it's tradition, it's been around since a, for a long time. Also something that was changed was our sports teams were always known as the Horsemen. It was the Norwich Horsemen and we had banners with a Cadet on a jumping horse and that kind of thing. That was changed to the Cadets. Norwich is not West Point, it's not supposed to be West Point, it wasn't founded as a West Point. It was founded for citizen soldiery, not professional soldiery, and I think that that Horsemen should have been kept. And if anybody, if anybody questioned that in this day, when women have been admitted to Norwich - something I was fully 13 in favor of and so was everyone else, well I'll deal with that in just a second - but if anyone were to complain well the Horsemen is gender specific, I'd just say the term Horsemen, if you look in the dictionary it's not gender specific, it can apply to women just like chairmen can. And I think it should have been kept and I would very much like to see it changed back. Now a word on, on women being admitted to Norwich. From my perspective Norwich has always followed the Army, it prepares people for the Army. And when the Army changed from brown shoe to black shoe, Norwich changed from brown shoe to black shoe. When the uniform changed, Norwich in my day used the regular Army uniform just with Norwich insignia, which was a great advantage because when the seniors graduated they would take off their class strip and the Norwich brass and they would have their first uniform, which was a great advantage for a poor second lieutenant coming out of Norwich. And I was sorry to see them change that also. When the regular Army changed their phonetic alphabet. See I was in Easy Company, which the next year became Echo Company. From the old, it changed from the old Abel, Baker, to Alpha, Bravo phonetic alphabet. Norwich changed and when the Army changed and admitted women it was within the Norwich tradition and practice to follow what the Army did. If you're going into an Army with women and you're going to have to deal with whatever problems and opportunities come along with that, you'd better be trained for it and Norwich does that. And I have always been so proud of Norwich, and I brag about Norwich all the time, because places like West Point and VMI and the Citadel all have had big problems and resistance to admitting women. And at Norwich it just happened without any ripple, it was accepted, we went on from there. And I thought that that had to do a lot with the fact that the command structure at Norwich was seamless. It was seamless from the president of Norwich down to the Cadet Corporal. We were all part of the same disciplinary administrative function. There wasn't any big dividing line between the student body and the responsibilities of the faculties and staff. So when the president said we will have women at Norwich, everybody saluted the flagpole and said "yes sir" and we had women at Norwich. JENNIFER PAYNE: Is there anything else you would like to add? Anything else you'd like to say? WILLIAM STEELE: Just that, that when I graduated from high school I had very little experience or knowledge of the opportunities of various colleges and all that. And I ended up at Norwich as much from family tradition as anything else. If I had it to do all over again I would still go to Norwich, and I would go to Norwich for the discipline, and the order, and all that kind of thing that it taught. Because I have never seen any other school that taught it like Norwich did, and taught the assumption of responsibility at such an early age. Because, as I mentioned before, Cadets exercise all the discipline in the Corps of Cadets or virtually all of it and I haven't seen any other school that did that, and that taught you at a very early age. In fact I was talking with one of our ex Cadet Colonels and he said you know there are a lot of Cadet Colonels that never have had as much responsibility, real responsibility, again in their career as they did that senior year as the Commander of Cadets. JENNIFER PAYNE: Really? 14 WILLIAM STEELE: So, yeah that what I think was really great about Norwich and why I would go back. JENNIFER PAYNE: That's wonderful. Thank you so much. WILLIAM STEELE: Well thank you for having me. It's been fun. JENNIFER PAYNE: I really enjoyed this. I'm going to hit the stop button. [She turns the microphone back on] JENNIFER PAYNE: There we go, you're on, ok. So tell me about General Sully. WILLIAM STEELE: Sully? Sully at that age was a very interesting guy because he didn't seem to have a whole lot of direction. He was a member I think of Sig Ep fraternity and a lot of his social life and everything was based around Sig Ep. He was not particularly good academically as I remember it, and, surprisingly enough, he was a Rook for his first year as we all were and a buck private for the next three years. He never made corporal, never made sergeant, never made officer. And, again didn't seem to have a whole lot of direction. He, his plans were, as I remember it, and I think the year book says that his plans were to go into business when he got out of Norwich. And instead of course he went on to be Chief of Staff. So, but one thing I found that was very interesting, we would be sitting around deciding what to do at say on Saturday afternoon we'd decide what to do on a Saturday night. And we'd say, well should we go to a movie, should we go down to Burlington to UVM to the basketball game or something, and we'd discuss it and Sully wouldn't say anything. And we finally say ok let's go to the basketball game down in Burlington. And then everyone would turn around and say "What do you think Sully? is that ok?" [Laughing] So, although he never adopted leadership role in the Corps of Cadets he had an enormous amount of charisma and leadership just built into him which I always thought made him Chief of Staff of the Army. And then when he was Chief of Staff he came to El Paso, to Fort Bliss, and gave a speech there and I was in the audience and what he told, he was speaking to people that might be the parents of people entering the Army, and he said "Don't worry if your kid is not a born leader. Give him to us in the Army and we will teach him leadership." And I thought that I've never been able to relegate two things, that this guy who was probably the most natural born leader I ever met in my life, would say "It's not necessary to have any of that, we'll just teach it to you." JENNIFER PAYNE: Huh. WILLIAM STEELE: So, yeah, Sully worked in the mess hall and in those days we would march down to the mess hall in formation, go in, there were table for ten people a piece all through the mess hall and we would be assigned a table and we would sit there. Senior Cadet, Cadet with the most rank at the table would be the table Commandant. All of the, or the Cadet Commander and his Exec. sat in a very elevated platform with stairs going up to it called the crow's nest in one corner of the mess hall. And typically what would happen is that announcements would be made when everyone was there, corps would be called to attention, announcements would be made, and then grace would be said. And then as soon as grace was said the doors from the kitchen would open and the waiters would come out with these carts with terrines on them and you 15 might, you'd have a terrine of mashed potatoes for instance and a terrine of corn and maybe a platter of breaded veal or something. One for each table and they would be but on the table, and the table Commandant would take his share and pass it on down. And one of the great things about Norwich was it was the table Commandant's job to make sure that the rook at the end of the table got as much food as all of the people proceeding him. So it was very, very good training for officers that whose primary responsibilities was to take care of the men, and that meant the privates as well as the subordinate officers. And Sully was one of those waiters. And as I remember it he was a waiter for four years. He was well known as the waiter, and the waiters did not go to formation, they left their last class and went right to the mess hall to get ready. And then they left the mess hall and went to their next class in the afternoon. And I think as I remember it for that they got free meals, they didn't have to pay the board part. So that's what I remember about Sully mostly. He roomed in Goodyear Hall on the third floor I think his senior year. I was, about the only time I ran into him was then because I was on the first floor of Goodyear. I was in the MP's for three years at Norwich and that's where, that's why I would run into him most of the time. And the other guy that I remember of course was Pier Mapes and Pier became - NBC Television had I think 11 presidents. Tt was under GE and they would have a president, they had a president for programming and they had a president for finance and a president. Pier Mapes became the president for affiliates. And I know the last time I saw him he said "Bill you're from El Paso." I said "Yes." He says "KTSM right?" I said "Yeah that's the NBC affiliate." So he knew all of those, but in college Pier was a tall gangly guy. Not athletic, not coordinated enough to be athletic, but the friendliest and nicest and least affected person that I ever met. Really good guy. He was in our company which was Easy Company our freshmen year and that's where I got to know him best, and then we both belonged to the Episcopal Church and did a lot of that work together in school. But Pier was a cheerleader, and Pier came from a family of money I think, in fact I know he did. And when he was a cheerleader he showed up dressed as a cheerleader out of the 1920s. He had a real raccoon skin coat and a megaphone and he would lead cheers doing that and I can remember when we were freshmen, we're sitting down talking in the evening ya know and Pier said "You know to be successful in business you don't have to be smart, and you don't even have to work real hard." He says, "but you have to make sure that you don't make any enemies, that you get along with everyone." And that's sort of what Pier did and later on, I mean 45 years later on, not too long ago, I had an occasion to call Pier to ask him about something. I've forgotten what it was and I said, "Pier do you remember what you told me when we were freshmen, 18 years old in college?" He said "no" and I told him you don't have to be smart to get along in business, you don't have to work real hard but you have to get along with everybody. He says "No I don't remember that," he says, "but ya know he said I was pretty smart as a kid wasn't I?" I said "Yeah I found out later on you were." So yeah that was what I remember best about Pier. Pier, I googled Pier and I found out I think his father's name was Pier Mapes also and his father was also a big executive with NBC and I believe when NBC got the contract to broadcast the Miss America contest his father had something to do, was in charge of that. And he decided that the Miss America contest ought to have a theme song. And so he went out and he contracted out 16 to have someone write a theme song for Miss America and that's where the "There she goes Miss America" came from. I think that was Pier's father that did that. JENNIFER PAYNE: Oh my gosh. Wow. WILLIAM STEELE: Good guy. I saw him at the 50th reunion 4 years ago. Still the same guy, still totally unaffected, one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet. Smart guy too. JENNIFER PAYNE: I have to ask you 'cause you mentioned it a couple times, the food. How was the food, how was the chow when you were here? WILLIAM STEELE: Well [laughing] I thought it was good. Of course food when you are told what to eat, you're going to get lots of complaints, so of course there were lots of complaints. But by and large I thought it was very good. Standard meals, scrambled eggs and cream chip beef on toast and, and uh for breakfast. Yeah I thought it was very good and with the regulation that went on at the tables everybody got enough to eat. We didn't have it like it is now where you go in and select what you want and eat pizza three times a day if you want it. We were fed good balanced meals and so that along with. But one thing we did not have then that they have now, Norwich has improved greatly by the way since then. We did not have a whole lot of exercise. When you were a freshmen you were given calisthenics I think one day a week, something like that, not very much and that was about it. And there were no, there was no equipment. There was no weight room or any of that. No swimming pool. So when we had a chubby little fellow come in to the Corps of Cadets, four years later he would graduate as a chubby little fellow. We didn't have nearly the emphasis on health and fitness that they do now because the Army didn't. The Army did not have that. I was in Japan right after the Second World War - 1946, 1947 - and living on an Army post and a lot of those soldiers were grossly out of shape. Not in good shape at all and when the Korean war happened, 1950 I think it was, those were the troops they sent over to fight. And those troops were not in condition to fight and that's why they got slaughtered. And I think now the Army is emphasizing fitness a great deal more and so is Norwich and that's a great advantage. We had no fitness room, we had no swimming pool. You could go down and run around the track if you wanted to and that was about it. JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow. WILLIAM STEELE: Yeah. Other advantages that they have now - we had no laundry then at Norwich. To get your laundry done you can have it done one of two ways: in the basement of Harmon Hall they had a laundry counter. You would take your laundry down give it to them, they would ship it downtown and your laundry would be done downtown and then shipped back and you would pick it up in Harmon Hall. The other way you could do it, they had a standard tin box with straps around it and you could put your dirty laundry in there and send it home and have mom do it and send it back. And a lot of people did that. JENNIFER PAYNE: Really? 17 WILLIAM STEELE: And when I got out of Norwich I sent a letter back and said you know you've really got to get laundry facilities there. And so I got sort of a letter that was designed to put me off and but I noticed a few years later they had installed laundry facilities here. The other thing we didn't have was multiple ROTC types. We had Army ROTC. JENNIFER PAYNE: That was it. WILLIAM STEELE: That was it. And our Cadets, we had one or two that took their commissions in another service, I'm not sure how that worked. But they didn't have Air Force, Navy, Marine Corps, they didn't have any of that. It was just plan Army ROTC. We did have one thing that I think they've done away with. If you were a very good military person, got good marks, good recommendations and everything you would become a DMS which was a Distinguished Military Student. If you were a DMS in ROTC you could take a regular Army commission. You wouldn't be reserve it would be regular Army, and I think they've done away with that. I think the regular Army is strictly West Point graduates now, that's my understanding. JENNIFER PAYNE: You grew up a little while in Japan. Was your dad in the Military? WILLIAM STEELE: Yeah he was in the Military, shipped over to command Tokyo Ordinance Depot right after the war. We went over in November of 1946 which is about less than a year and a half after the war, everybody had 15 months after the war ended and we were some of the first dependents over there. JENNIFER PAYNE: Really? WILLIAM STEELE: Which meant well there was a school, so when I went to school I went to school with English kids and Australian kids and all that. I skipped school a lot and [laughing] because I found a way to get around it. But, that was it. I spent most of my time, my entertainment, I was 9 years old when I went over and 10 when I came back, but most of my time was spent in what was the Red Cross Club, became the Service Club, which was for enlisted. And they had pool tables and ping pong tables and things like that and free coffee all the time. So that's where I spent all my time. We would go to the post, my father would go to his office and I would go to the club, and maybe meet for lunch, and then I'd go back to the club and spend all my time there. Learned how to drink coffee there at nine years old [laughing]. And later on, things were pretty wild then and my parents, my father was a Lieutenant Colonel then and he and my mother went for a vacation to, with a stop at Hong Kong, and to the Philippines. But the three of us stayed there right outside of Tokyo, and a Captain and his wife came and lived in the house and sort of babysat for us. Which was pretty wild because they, let's see we drank beer, I was 9 years old, we drank beer. I learned how to drink beer, my sisters had mixed drinks, they were 11 and 13. They were older so they had mixed drinks. I had beer. We smoked, I learned how to play poker, and was not a bad poker player when I was 9/10 years old. So it was pretty wild bringing up and most of my friends were Japanese. I spoke no Japanese. They spoke no English. Didn't make any difference we still played together and all that. The house we lived in was beautiful. It was a college president's house. The living conditions were incredible because the occupational Army took over things like that. So we had a two story stone house, and this is for a Lieutenant Colonel, with manicured lawns and manicured everything outside. 18 JENNIFER PAYNE: Nice. WILLIAM STEELE: That's where we lived. We had, for a family of five we had 7 servants. We had Mama San who was the chief maid and then she had her 13 year old daughter who was my buddy then, and she lived there also. Then there were 3 maids. And I'm not sure there's an upstairs maid and a downstairs maid and maybe a kitchen maid or something. There were three maids, and then there was the boiler man who was sort of the handyman and he took care of the boiler that heated the house and took care of everything else around. And then the last one was the cook. Always had trouble with the cook because the cook, we had two or three cooks and they all had short tempers and threw pots and pans around and all that. But, so we had 7 servants for a family of 5 over there. JENNIFER PAYNE: Oh my gosh. WILLIAM STEELE: It was pretty, pretty interesting. The biggest event I can remember there was my father and the whole family being invited to the Chinese Embassy for a big party and [laughing] I think I was 10 by this time, by the time this happened. So I went and the Japanese serving girls didn't know any different, they were taught to do certain things and that's what they did. And I was on my third martini by the time my mother figured out what I was doing. So after a couple martinis I had to dress like an adult and I saw this beautiful Chinese girl in a red gown and I decided that I wanted to dance with her so I went over asked her to dance. And she indulged me, we danced as best as I could. It was fun. Yeah I remember that evening very well. But there were no rules, an occupational Army doesn't worry about too many rules and too many standards. It was a pretty wild year. Then I came back to the United States in the 5th grade and all of a sudden it was culture shock all over again [laughing] and I couldn't do all the stuff. I really had to study, make up for a misspent year in Japan having played hooky from school at least half the time. JENNIFER PAYNE: Did you play poker at Norwich? WILLIAM STEELE: No, No I never played poker after Japan to speak of. I played pretty good poke, but it was everybody played poker which meant that you didn't have to be that good at it. But when I came back then the poker games were sort of dominated by people who were really good at it and you didn't, either you should get really good at it or you should stay away from it. And I found that out I think one lesson and that was it for poker, so. JENNIFER PAYNE: Sounds like it was a very interesting year. WILLIAM STEELE: Yes it was a very interesting year. Yeah it taught me that if you're going to be in a war, you'd better win because you're a lot better off if you win then you are if you lose. And the Japanese, one of the reasons we had so many servants is because the Japanese economy was destroyed. A great deal of Tokyo was destroyed. You know we fire bombed them with the Doolittle Raid. [Coughs] Excuse me. And so one of the things the American occupation was doing was hiring as many Japanese as possible so they would not starve to death. I can remember, I'm one of the few people I know who actually saw Douglas McArthur. Because if you think of that you know a lot of people have seen Eisenhower and the other Generals from the 19 Second World War, but McArthur was sort of scarce. And the reason he was is because during a great deal of his career he was in the Philippines sort of remote, and then after the Second World War, and then of course Second World War he was in the South Pacific. After the Second World War he moved, his office was in the Dai-Ichi building in the middle of downtown Tokyo. So he was out of the country most of the time, that's why nobody had seen him. But I can remember seeing him once and all the stories about him were true. He was the most dramatic actor that you ever saw in your life. And we were traveling along, we'd gone to downtown Tokyo to do some shopping. And of course we were using an Army Jeep and I was the 9 year kid so my mother sat in the front seat beside the driver, my two sisters sat in the two rear seats, and then I sat on the ground or on the floor with my feet down by the gear shift and my back up against the back seat. And all of a sudden we got stopped, and the reason we got stopped is that when Douglas McArthur came to work in the morning everything stopped. The traffic was stopped. And so I sort of heisted myself up so I could see out the front window and here came a line of what must have been, oh probably six motorcycles with lights flashing, and then at least two cars, and then motorcycle escort in back. And this was McArthur arriving for work at the Dai-Ichi building. And his car stopped, they let him out, of course still with all the flashing lights around. They had a line of MPs on either side of the sidewalk going up to the Dai-Ichi building, and crowds of Japanese, I mean must have been 20 or 30 deep, just wanting to get a glimpse of McArthur. And so he got out and he had the, the crushed hat with the 50 mission crush on it that he always wore, all he did he took the grommet out of it so the sides sort of drooped down, and the corn cob pipe and he was a tall, tall guy anyway. And no mistaking who it was and he stood up in between that line of MP's into the Dai-Ichi building and of course the MP's dispersed and the escort dispersed and we were allowed on. But it was quite a dramatic scene and my understanding was that scene went on every single morning he went to work [laughing] and whereever he went. JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow. WILLIAM STEELE: He was quite something. I don't think he did a, frankly a good job of commanding because he was in charge of all of those troops in Japan and let them get totally out of shape because nobody expected another war to come along. And I think now that we've learned our lesson and I think that the Army will not make that mistake again, but they certainly did then. There's no question who was in command of Japan. McArthur was in command. Everyone knew it, he made sure that everyone knew it [laughing]. JENNIFER PAYNE: Wow that a good story.Yeah. Wow, anything else? WILLIAM STEELE: No I think that's it this time. JENNIFER PAYNE: Ok, alright no that's good, that's really good.

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Ad-dress, BLEW BROTHERS & CO., Dept. 8, Monon Bldg., Chicago. 111. IF YOU CALL ON C. fl. Bloeher, Jeuuelei*, Centre Square, He can serve you in anything you may want in REPAIRING or JEWELRY. , • . . 1 WE RECOMMEND THESE FIRMS. "FOUR POINTS" Quality of material; thorough-ness of workmanship; perfection of style, and fairness of price are the four cardinal points of this tailor store. J. D. LIPPY, ^9 Chambersburg Street, GETTYSBURG, PA. CITY HOTEL, Main Street, - Gettysburg, Pa. Free 'Bus to and from all trains. Thirty seconds' walk 'from either depot. Dinner with drive over field with four or more, $1.35. Rates, $1.50 to $2.00 per Day. Livery connected. Rubber-tire buggies a specialty. John E. Hughes, Prop. For Artistic Photographs TIPTON, The Leader in Photo Fashions. Frames and Passapartouts Made to Order. C. E. Barbehenn THE EAGLE HOTEL Corner Main and Washington Sts. ©rattalatuma Literal, 50c. Interlinear, $1.50. 147vols. Sirtumaroa German, French, Italian, Spanish, Latin, Greek, $3.00, and $1.00. Completely Parsed Caesar, Book I. Haa on each page interlinear translation, literal translation, and every word completely parsed. Long rowels marked. $1.50. Completely Scanned-Parsed Aeneld, L $1.50. Completely Parsed Cicero, Oration I. $i.». HINDS. NOBLE & ELDREDOE 31-33-35 W. 15th St. New York City Schoolbooks of all publishers at one store PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. II Of Novelties for the Fall Season, including Latest Suiting, Coating, Trousering and Vesting. Our Prices are Right. SPECIAL CARE TAKEN TO MAKE WORK STYLISH AND EXACTLY TO YOUR ORDER. CUill CQ. Seligman, Taiio*. 7 Chambersbupg St., Gettysburg, Pa. R. A. WONDERS Corner Cigar Parlors. A full line of Cigars, Tobacco, Pipes, etc. Scott's Corner, opp. Eagle Hotel GETTYSBURG, PA. Pool Parlors in Connection. D. J. Swartz Country Produce in Groceries Cigars and ToDacco GETTYSBURG. Established 1887 by Allen Walton. Allen K. Walton, Pres. and Treas. Root. J. Walton, Superintendent. Hiimmelstown Brown Stone Company and Manufacturers of BUILDING STONE, SAWED FLAGGING, and TILE, WALTONVILLE DAUPHIN COUNTY, PENNA. Contractors for all kinds of cut stone work. Telegraph and Express Address, BROWNSTONE, PA. Parties visiting quarries will leave cars at Brownstone Station, on the P. & R. R. R. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. A&**44**M4**M4«444 mtt m w«. ttj - - - , I 126 THE MERCURY. VOX HOMINIBUS. BY "ATLANTIS." AROUND the purple azure hill, The river spreads its waters broad, And with its beauty calm and still, Forever murmurs praise to God. And where old ocean dashes wild And hurls the broken wrecks on shore Her thunders say to nature's child, " I praise the Lord forevermore ! " Within the forest's leafy shade Where wooing winds do softly sigh The message by the leaves displayed Is, " Glory be to God on High ! " The lowing herd, the fiery steed, By limb and form and instinct true, Give to their great Creator meed, Honor, and praise most justly due. But man, Creation's royal child, His body formed for God's own fane, Himself this temple hath defiled And mocked his maker's glorious name ! But sweeter far than Siren's song, Fair Virtue cries in accents plain " Ye men ! seek health, forsake the wrong And God's own image thus regain." _ THE MERCURY. 127 THE HOLY GRAIL OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY. J. EDWARD LOWE, '06. THE past teems with brilliant failures. Woolsey, Solomon, Socrates, Antony, Brutus and Caesar; love, glory, dominion, disgrace, disgust, ingratitude. " He must be fenced with stronger mail Who would seek and find the Holy Grail." The king saw that few of his knights had reached the lower plane of perfect manhood. Few of King Arthur's knights knew the real meaning of the vision. They followed the Grail from curiosity or because others had seen it, therefore the quest was not for them. Their rashness raised an insurmountable barrier between them and their hopes. But we, as Sir Galahad heard, may hear the " still small voice " calling for us to follow. According to a very old tradition the Holy Grail was a cup made of one great sapphire, out of which Jesus drank wine at the last Supper. The Grail-bearer was put under a vow to be chaste and pure of heart. This cup was brought into Britain by Joseph of Arimathea and preserved in his family for many years, an object of adora-tion by pilgrims. The heathen prince Arviragus gave Joseph an isle of marsh whereon to build. Joseph was thankful to the king for this marshy spot, a place very hard to build upon ; but better than to be refused admission. Here he erected a small church, with no other material than the wattles from the marsh. He dedicated that small church to the Great Jehovah, and placed the Holy Grail therein. When it shone before the knights of Camelot, it became necessary for them to leave all and follow it. It is necessary for the knights of the twentieth century to leave all and enter this quest. One of Joseph's descendants broke his vow of chastity, and the Holy Grail disappeared. It became an object of devout search throughout the world by the knights of the Round- Table, and at last the first appearance of the Holy Grail was thus related to Sir Percivale by his sister who was a nun. » - f i i .••»-'( r * IMIMIB llih 128 THE MERCURY. "Sweet brother, I have seen the Holy Grail ; For, waked at dead of night, I heard a sound As of a silver horn from o'er the hills blown, And I thought, It was not Arthur's use, To hunt by moonlight; and the slender sound As from distance beyond distance grew Coming upon me—O never a harp nor a horn Nor aught we blow with breath, or touch with hand, Was like that music as it came ; and then Streamed through my cell a cold and silver beam, And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail, Rose-red with beatings in it, as if alive, Till all the white walls of my cell were dyed With rosy colors leaping on the wall ; And then the music faded, the Grail Past, the beam decayed from the walls and The rosy quiverings died into the night." This was told to the knights by Percivale, and they fasted, watched and prayed. Among them was Sir Galahad, called the " Morning-star," the " Sinless," and who always wore white armor. When he heard of the vision his eyes became wonder-ful and beautiful. Merlin, the enchanter, made a chair and placed it in the vast circular hall. It was carved with strange figures; like a serpent ran a scroll of letters in a tongue that no man could read, " Perilous " for good and evil. If any man sat in that chair of destiny, he would be lost. By misadventure Merlin sat in it, and died. When Galahad heard of Merlin's doom, he cried, " If I lose myself, I save myself." On a summer night while the great banquet lay along the hall, the vision came ; Galahad sat in Merlin's chair, " All at once, os there he sat they heard A cracking and a riving of the roof, A rending, and a blast, and overhead Thunder, in the thunder there was a cry, And in the blast, there smote along the vast hall A beam of light, seven times clearer than day ; And down the long beam stole the angel with wide-spread wings in celes-tial white, bearing the Holy Grail. All over covered with a luminous cloud, And none might see who bare it, and it past." Under an enchantment, Arthur and his court are sustained by a shadowy life, while the procession of the Grail passes nightly before their eyes. They can not be released by death THE MERCURY. 129 until Galahad, the unstained hero, comes into the castle, and, by asking the meaning of the Holy Grail, breaks the spell. Galahad enters their midst; but fails to ask the question. The knights waited breathlessly until he heard a voice and swore a vow. . " Sir Percival vowed before them, that he had not seen the Grail, and would ride, Twelve month and a day in quest of it, Until he found and saw it, as the nun His sister saw it; and Galahad swore the vow And good Sir Bors, Sir Lancelot's cousin, swore, And Lancelot swore, and many among the knights, And Gawain swore, and louder than the rest." Lancelot and many of the knights heard it; sorrow filled their hearts. When Arthur on his return from exterminating a band of heathen heard what had befallen them, he foresaw failure, and failure in this meant failure in all. The knights of the twentieth century do not look upon the Grail as a phantom, it has long since been revealed to them. Neither do they regard the Grail-bearer a mysterious winged form ; but we are able to imagine that we see in the centre of a great glory the appearance of a man, clad in a robe intensely white; 'above its shoulders tower the tops of wings shining and folded ; a star over its forehead glows with steady lustre, bril-liant as Hesperus ; its hands are stretched toward us in bles-sing; its face is serene and divinely beautiful." The Idyls of the King is the latest and greatest picture of man's conflict with sin and fate. The basis of the poem is found in the mystical story of King Arthur and his Round- Table. We need not stop to inquire whether Arthur was a historical character, or a myth, whether the birth-place of the legend which Tennyson has so clearly depicted in his Idyls', was on the misty mountains of Wales, or among the castles of i-ritain. Whatever the origin of the story may be, this fact is certain, that in the middle ages the name of King Arthur had come to stand for an ideal of royal wisdom, chivalric virtue and knightly power. It stands as the central figure in the Idyls of the King. Arthur formed the fair order of the Round- Table a glorious company, the flower of men, that they might have as an object: ISO THE MERCURY. " To serve as a model for the mighty world, And be the fair beginning of a time, To reverence the king, as if he were Their conscience, and their conscience as their king, To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, To lead sweet lives in purest chastity." Arthur and his glorious company of knights dwelt in their great hall at Camelot. Peace came like spring, for the king had driven out the heathen, and his kingdom blossomed like a rose in richness and beauty. Constant was the pastime of the tournament, where the eye of beauty beheld the brave deeds of dauntless knights. What was the supreme signification of the quest for the Holy Grail? Undoubtedly the poet means symbolizing the attainment of spiritual perfection; this work is a parable. The struggle depicted is our own in which we are engaged every hour. The dual nature of man is at strife. Soul against sense. There is a Round-Table today. We lack Arthur, but a greater Arthur is here. We are the descendants of the knights of the sixth century, and Christians of the twentieth cen-tury. Our conflict is as severe, our goal is the same, our op-portunities are greater. " 'Tis as easy now for the heart to be true • As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, 'Tis the natural way of living." There is a Holy Grail for modern knighthood to strive for. The Grail signifies for us the attainment of a lofty character, perfected manhood, purity of life, courage, truth and all that makes a man. All free men may unite in this quest. The basis of a purpose to form a perfected character, lies not in an evil character, but in a free will. The soul is not foredoomed to a hopeless struggle, but is free to choose between good and evil; and individual destiny is decided by the choice. The past teems with brilliant failures, whose examples should be as beacons to steer us safely from the shoals of present and eternal ruin. Amb'tion establishes its shrine and nations bow THE MERCURY. 131 down and worship. But the niornful cry of Woolsey sounds in our ears : " Cromwell, I charge thee fling away ambition; " men too eagerly follow after the phantom, pleasure. The splendor of Solomon filled his brimming cup, and he drained it to its dregs, and exclaimed in despair, " All is des-tiny." " Knowledge is power," cries the sage ; that is the highest good of life. A deep pathos invaded the gloom of Socrates' last hour. He died like a philosopher, yet without hope. Antony sought for success in love, Brutus in glory, Caesar in dominion. The first found disgrace, the second dis-gust, the third ingratitude, and all found destruction. Great-ness is by 110 means the key to happiness, for some of the greatest men have been the most miserable. Neither does folly prophesy misfortune, for the fool is ordinarily lucky. Let us enter the quest for a higher ideal, work out the problem of life, not bit by bit, but in all its glorious beauty and complete-ness. Be monarchs of ourselves; sway the sceptre in our humble sphere, that we may be crowned in the Fair Celestial city, where the splendor is indescribable, such beauty the human eye has never seen. The throne of Arthur was secure and his reign began prosperously. The poet says that his poem is a tale of human life shadow-ing sense at war with soul. The conflict is in our own exper-ience and lies in the inward struggle. The king, who wore the white flower of a blameless life, is a man in whom the spirit has triumphed. His kingdom rests on this foundation. His aim was to bring his realm into harmony with himself; to build up a spiritual and social order, on which his character would be impressed with the highest and noblest thoughts imaginable. His task was to elevate his people to a higher plane, socially and morally. His greatest foes were not the heathen, for he had subdued those ; but they were the pas-sions and the evil nature in the hearts of the people within his realm. Throughout the world in all ages this conflict is trace-able. The chaste knights of the sixth century rejoice in Sir Laun-fal, " who flashed forth in his unshared mail, to seek in all climes for the Holy Grail;" also in Sir Galahad the pure, U2 THE MERCURY. called " The Morning Star." The chaste knights from the six-teenth until the present century rejoice in Luther, " The Morn-ing Star of the Reformation." The moral knights of the sixth century rejoice in Sir Percivale; those of the twentieth century rejoice in Moody; they left all vain-glorious rivalries and fol-lowed the sweet vision of the Holy Grail. The victorious souls of the sixth-century rejoice in Lancelot and Arthur, noble kings of their country. The victorious souls since the eigh-teenth- century have idolized Washington "The Father of his country; " those of the twentieth century reverence their assasi-nated president, William McKinley. Yes, the Holy Grail of the sixth century was not a phantom. It is the most splendid and most mystical description of the Idyls. The achievement of the quest was the noblest and greatest deed the chivalry of Arthur's order could attempt. The king planned for a delay of the quest, until his knights had attained the necessary degree of social order, and moral perfection. They had been to the ends of the earth in search for the Grail, only to find it at their own door, when genuine charity and love for their fellowmen took possession of their hearts. The same is true of the modern age. We should make a measure of our lives, not by days and weeks, but by thoughts and deeds ; so that when our forms are no longer seen, and our voices no longer heard, may it be said of us, that we spent our lives for the Holy Grail. THE MERCURY. 1.33 COLLEGE OPPORTUNITIES. ESSAY, '07. THERE are very few men, if any, who realize fully, when they enter college just what lies before them. They are apt to look upon the institution and to judge it from their knowledge of preparatory schools. They fail to realize to what extent their sphere of action has been changed, and conse-quently lose valuable time and opportunities before becoming aware of this great change. This, at least, was the writer's experience, and in order that others may not make the same mistake this article is written. Of course the primary thing the student comes to college for is the curriculum work, and this is the very thing that he is most liable to neglect. But it should not be fixed in mind as so much grinding to be done or as so much work to be gotten over as easily as possible, for it is nothing of the kind. The curriculum is not merely so much Latin and Greek and Mathematics mixed up with a few 'ologies and 'isms. But it is the result of years of study by master teachers and of cen-turies of experimenting. It has been evolved from the in-numerable sciences and branches of study known to man. It has been found by theory and by practice that the regular college curriculum of the present time is the course of study that best prepares a man for an active place in the world, and best rounds out his personality. The professors by whom the studies are directed are men of great experience—men who are especially strong in their departments. This advantage of expert instruction the stu-dent has throughout his entire course. It is no small oppor-tunity for students to have such a course of study under such direction open before them. It should not be neglected in any particular, for if it is, the student will awake, as many be-fore him have done, after a year or two have passed by, to find that he is losing in the race—that he is not gaining in its en-tirety that for which he came to college. The curriculum, then, is the primary object. There are opportunities within it, however, of achieving success along M '34 THE MERCURY. special lines. The prizes are offered for this purpose. They are stimuli to greater proficiency. The opportunities for literary attainment are almost unlimited. The inexhaustable libraries will furnish the best books, both of referance and of literature, that the student may need. The essay prizes are incentives for the cultivation of his literary talents. The Literary Societies offer opportunities for practi-cal experience in writing, in public speaking, and in clear thinking while before an audience. They offer training in composition, in oratory, in debate and in various other literary exercises, all of which are of the greatest importance to the college man. The college publications offer additional oppor-tunities for literary experience, such as managing or editing a paper, or more generally, writing up for publication any event of importance, or putting in presentable form the ideas one may have about a certain subject. It is a valuable experience to be on the staff of one of the publications, or at least to be-come a contributor to their columns. There is much to be gained, or lost, by the associations in college. The student's success depends, more than he knows, upon the company he keeps. To be one among several hun-dred young men of high ideals and aspirations is a privilege granted to comparatively few. There are all kinds of men in this student body, men who will be among the leaders of the world's activity in the coming years, and men who will never be anything more than ordinary. If he chooses the former (men) as his companions, his work and habits of study will grow like theirs, easy and natural, and become a source of pleasure to him. But if, on the contrary, he should select the latter men—those who spend much of their time loafing about the pool-room, the cigar-store, or the hotel, letting their golden opportunities slip by unheeded—his inclination will grow along this same line and the object and aim of his college course will, in some degree, be lost. The Y. M. C. A. offers another broad field of action. The active Y. M. C. A. man becomes prominent among the students and weilds an influence for good. It is advantageous to the student to take an active part in this work. It brings him into I THE MERCURY. 135 closer touch with a larger number ol students and he profits by it. This in itself is a broad field and might be dwelt upon to some length, but space does not permit. College offers many other opportunities in addition to the ones before mentioned. For instance, the musical clubs, the orchestra, the dramatic clubs, all with their training and enjoy-able trips, athletics, with all that goes with them, all are in-viting the student to enter them and profit thereby. But all this requires work, in fact, every opportunity offered by college implies work on the part of the student. So we might say, in a word, that the great opportunity a college offers is Work. But it is the right kind of work, and the 'right degree of work to meet the needs of the student. The ideal college life, then, is the well planned, well regulated, strenuous life. So, since we came to college to work and the college offers us work in abundance, let us not be turned away from our purpose by any momentary pleasure-giving avocations, but let us rather do as much work as possible and thereby lay up for ourselves imperishable treasures of discipline, knowledge and power. A PLEA FOR POETRY. BY S. E. SMITH, '07. IN the childhood of the world, in the rosy-fingered dawn of Greek civilization, history and literature began. The ac-cumulated fancies of the ages united in the story of the wrath of Achilles and of the wanderings of Odysseus. The mighty warriors of that day were models of physical courage and de-lighted in slaughter and destruction. Yet, when their feuds were laid aside for a time, they were not ashamed to listen to the deeds of war, love and revenge, clothed in the sensuous imagery of that age. The Odyssey frequently tells us " and a divine bard sang gloriously." Indeed the poet was a welcome guest in the palace of every Achaean king. The land of Aeneas brought forth its bards and in the Augustian age they were 136 THE MERCURY. among the most honored of men. The populace loved poetry and the proud patricians were not slow in helping a poor poet. Thus, Horace, a clerk, becomes a gentleman of leisure under the patronage of Maecenas. In all the Imperial city there was a genuine love for the Muses' art. When the mistress of the world gave way before the barbarian hordes, the love of song still continued. The Germans, with all their vigor and brut-ality, were delighted with the rude rhymes of their day. Our Saxon ancestors loved the fierce lines of Beowulf, brimful of a coarse brutality and horrible murders. Such was the poetry which delighted our Saxon forefathers as they drank and ca-roused in their banquet halls. And then, when the scene of the world's progress shifted to the British Isles and Albion as-sumed the leadership in the world's affairs poetry was given a new impulse. The long line of poets from Spenser to Tennyson have fashioned for themselves monuments which will endure. In England the poets have received every consideration. Many of them have been pensioned by the government. The office of poet-laurate has been a glittering ideal for every English bard. The free air of America has inspired many of her rugged sons to song and during the past century a noble company of poets appeared. Thus, have the poets flourished since the earth first cradled the infant soul of man. They have been universally loved because they have spoken to the heart. They have furnished the inspiration tor useful deeds. They have supplied the balm of Gilead for many a heart wound. They have armed the mightiest of warriors, they have soothed the most timid of women. The kingly Gladstone found daily help in the study of Homer. His manly character gained strength for mighty political battles through contact with the poets. Such has been the influence of the poetic muse upon the world. But times have changed. In this land of ours a new influence has appeared. It has quickened the national pulse. Under its spell material progress has been so great that the sluggish blood of Europe has been amazed at the rush of our national life. Today America is setting the pace for the rest of the world. In the material things of life Columbia is supreme. But as a nation we have paid for this supremecy. THE MERCURY. 13; We have given up that which satisfies the soul for that which delights the body for a time. As a nation we are unacquainted with the poets. Of course everyone knows the names of the great poets and can tell works they have written. But how many are acquainted with the works themselves ? How many can repeat from memory a half dozen lines from the works of four different poets ? We Americans no longer see visions in the poets' lines. We are too commonplace. We have for-gotten that the poets have clothed the infinite in finite terms. Indeed, by foresaking the poetic Muse, we have lost the very breath of heaven. What is the cause of this national indiffer-ence to the masters of English verse ? Let me tell you a story. Two lads of nine go out for a walk in the woods and with child-like eagerness search for treasures. The one is attracted by the smooth stones, gleaming in the bed of the foaming brook. He takes off his shoes and stockings and wades in the rushing waters. He gathers a great heap of the shining pebbles. He fills his pockets and places the rest in his hat. The other boy cares not for the flinty baubles but finds delight in the flowers growing on the grassy bank of the stream. At length they start on their way homeward. The pebbles in the hat become so heavy that their owner is obliged to fling them away and those in his pockets become so heavy that they are a burden. At last they reach their home and the boys show their treas-ures. The first boy tired out by his heavy burden drops the stones on the floor and the white pebbles are not as beautiful as when they lay in the bed of the stream under the bright sun. The second boy puts his flowers in water and for a week their soft colors are a reminder of the glorious woods. Like the first boy we Americans are too much occupied with the pebbles, material things of life. We neglect the flowers, the poetry of life, which can open to us a glimpse of the eternal. It is no wonder that Americans grow old before their time, that when we contemplate the temporal comforts which we have secured, there comes a satiety which is almost a loathing. The Ameri-can method has made life a scramble for wealth and position, a ceaseless round of duties. No time is there for a fellowship with earth's choicest spirits. The business man will tell you he 138 THE MERCURY. has no time for poetry. We of the coming generation are catching his spirit. Oh, what a mistake! By shunning the companionship of the poets we are cutting ourselves off from the noblest thoughts of the world. Our plea is for a wider ac-quaintance with the poets. Our desire is that the gems of poetry may be fixed in the halls of memory. The poet has a message for every experience of life. Thus, when the tempter comes luring us into the paths of questionable pleasure, the message of the Scottish bard rings out: " Pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the bloom, its beauties shed ; Or like the snowfall along the river, One moment white, and melts forever ; Or like the Borealis rays which flit Ere you can point their place ; Or like the rainbow's lovely form, Evanishing amid the storm." When the madness of man is upon us and in our folly we be-gin to judge our fellowmen, Joaquin Miller, the poet of the Sierras, reminds us: " In those whom men pronounce as ill I find so much of goodness still ; In those whom men pronounce divine I find so much sin and blot. I hesitate to draw the line When God has not." When we are dissatisfied with our surroundings and long for distant scenes, we should hear the mild rebuke of Emerson: " Why see Italy Who cannot circumnavigate the sea Of thoughts and things at home but still adjourn The nearest matters for a thousand days ? " The poet has a message for those who buy and sell. would be fewer bad bargains if Lowell's lines were memory: 1' Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us, The begger is taxed for a corner to die in, The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us, We bargain for the graves we lie in ; At the Devil's booth are all things sold, Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold ; There held in THE MERCURY. 139 For a cap and bells our lives we pay, Bubbles we earn with a whole soul's tasking ; 'Tis heaven alone that is given away, 'Tis only God may be had for the asking." And then, when life is dark and disappointment and the end of lile are like clouds in the way, how comforting is Tennyson's expression of an eternal hope: " Sunset and evening star And one clear call for me, And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea. " But such a tide as moving seems serene, Too full for sound and foam, As that from out the boundless deep Turns again home. " Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark ; And may there be no sadness of farewell When I embark.- " And though from out the bounre of time and place The flood shall bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face, When I have crossed the bar." These are a few poetic gems from the inexhaustible minds. They are not for weaklings. Poetry is not effeminate as some have affirmed. The ages acknowledged it the language of the soul. It unites the mortal with the immortal. It brings the largest vision of opportunity and service. The way is open- Nature abhors a vacuum. Our minds must think some thoughts. Shall we allow the cares and worries of our present existence to cloud minds which are immortal ? Let us keep our hearts in harmony with the Infinite by a companionship with the poets. Then will our souls rise from things of earth to their eternal home. V1/ - 140 THE MERCURY. TOM LAYMOND'S DECISION. STORY. DARE I keep on playing ? How can I give it up? Is it wholly impossible lor me to become both an athlete and a scholar ? These were the words that involuntarily fell from the lips of Tom Laymond as he sat alone in his cosy room in one of the dormitories of the Newton College in one of the New England States, trying as he had tried time and time again, since entering college, to decide whether he should give up his football and his prospects of a position on the " Varsity" eleven and devote all his time to study. Tom Laymond had been born and reared in the little village of Compton in the heart of the Green mountains, and there among the hills and valleys he had developed a strong, vigor-ous body as well as a keen and energetic mind and it was little wonder that during his three years in the acadjmy of a neighboring village he had developed into a star half-back idolized and envied by all the boys of the academy. Now he had entered college and during the two short weeks that he had been there, he had shown such promise that coach Weston had already given him a position as sub-halfback on the " varsity " eleven and had spoken so encouragingly that his hopes for a permanent position were high and not un-reasonably so. But as he had found the opportunities for ath-letic development much greater at the college than at the academy; he found also that his studies would be more diffi-cult and would require much more time. At the beginning of his college career Tom had promised his parents that he would never allow anything to tempt him to neglect his studies. And now he found the questions already mentioned confronting him. With his love for football and his desire to be a great athlete, battling against his determination to keep up his stand-ard of scholarship, no wonder the struggle was a hard one and had to be fought over and over again. Matters with Tom continued this way for several days. Sometimes he would almost determine to play football, regard-less of the cost, and again he would almost decide to give it up. But he kept hard at work under Coach Weston, who being THE MERCURY. 141 much pleased with his efforts placed him in a game with one of the rival colleges as " varsity " half-back and kept him in during the entire game. It was a hard contest but Tom was finally pushed over the goal line for a touchdown which won the game. And as he limped wearily from the field, Jack Leighton, one of his warmest admirers, called him aside and introduced his sister Hazel. Bruised, torn, and covered with the dust and dirt of the battle, it was little wonder that Tom felt slightly confused as he looked into the face of this fair maiden. For Hazel Leigh-ton was beautiful enough to set the heart of any man throb-bing, let alone that of this young athlete. Tom hurried away to dress but those few moments that he had gazed into the face of Hazel Leighton had wrought a great change in the heart of Tom Laymond and more than this as he hurried away to-ward the gymnasium he overheard some words of admiration which she spoke to her brother. That night the battle with Tom raged more fiercely than ever. A new and powerful argument had sprung up in favor of athletics, for he cherished in his heart the image of beautiful Hazel Leighton, and her words of admiration were constantly passing through his mind. In spite of all this he stood firmly in his resolve to maintain his scholarship and finally after toss-ing upon his bed until dawn was stealing over the eastern hill-tops, he arose determined that he would give up neither but become both an athlete and a scholar. So quietly and earnestly he went to work on his lessons for the coming day. Having made this decision Tom went about his work and play with an energy and determination that invariably conquers all difficulties, yet many were the trials with which he met dur-ing the remainder of his course, and at times he thought that he would have to fight the old battle over again. But gradu-ally the season drew to a close and with his mind and energies all centered on the final game with Goston University he for a time forgot his troubles. The day for the game finally arrived and early in the after-noon it was called. Before many minutes it was seen that the teams were well matched, so well indeed that during the first - ■ -w l^f^' ' 142 THE MERCURY. half each team scored a touchdown ; but during the second half the ball surged back and forth near the center of the field ; first in possession of one side and then of the other. Finally, with only three minutes to play, Tom broke through the line and by a brilliant dash carried the ball over. For a while it seemed that the Newtonians had gone wild. Cheer after cheer they gave and, rushing from the sidelines, they seized Tom and carried him from the field in triumph. Yet amid all his glory Tom could not fully enjoy himself until he met the smiling eyes of Hazel Leighton and heard her words of praise. Then he gave himself fully to the enjoyment of the occasion feel-ing that those few words from her lips far excelled the plaudits of all his fellow-students. Football season being over Tom soon found time beginning to drag and also to his amazement that he made little, if any, improvement in his class standing, because he was neglecting his physical training and he soon began to see that physical and mental training should go hand in hand; for the trained mind is worthless in a ruined body and a strong body is power-less without a mind to guide it. So each day he was more impressed with the wisdom of his decision to become both an athlete and a scholar. Thus Tom continued throughout his college course. He became not only a football star but also a " forward " on the basketball team and " crack " shortstop of the baseball nine. Yet his work did not suffer and at the close of his college course he ranked second in his class. But he won also what he prized far more than all his honors and that was the heart and hand of Hazel Leighton, and one beautiful evening in June as they strolled along the pathway from the college talking, of the days when they were almost strangers, Hazel turning to Tom said : " Now. I want to tell you how I first came to love you. I admired you first as an athlete, afterward as a student; and I soon found that one worthy of so much admiration was worthy also of my love." And Tom clasping her in his arms replied: " Then you also, above all things else, I owe to my decision." THE MERCURY. 143 CHARACTER AND ITS INFLUENCE. Bv ZENAS O. FISCUS, '07. Character is one of the greatest motive powers in the world. In its noblest embodiments it :xemplifies human nature in its highest forms, for it exhibits man at his best. Although genius may command admiration, character the more secures respect. The former is more the product of brain-power, the latter of heart-power, and in the long run it is the heart that rules in life. A man to possess a noble character need not be a great man as the world classes great men. That man has a true, noble character who uses his gifts rightlv and does his duty in what-ever station of life he may be situated. At the same time while duty, for the most part, applies to the conduct of affairs in common life by the average of common men, it is also a sustaining power to men of the very highest standard of character. They may not have money or property or learning or power; and yet they may be strong in heart and rich in spirit. And whoever strives to do his duty faith-fully is fulfilling the purpose for which he was created and is building up in himself the principles of a manly character. Intellectual culture has no necessary relation to purity or excellence of character. A man may be accomplished in art, literature and science and yet in honesty, virtue, and the spirit of duty might well pattern after some poor, illiterate peasant. But back of character lies a chain of actions, thoughts, and feelings each of which contributes to the education of the temper, the habits, and the understanding, and exercises an in-evitable influence upon al! the acts of our future life. There-fore with the light of great examples to guide us, every one is not only justified but in duty bound, to aim at reaching the highest standard of character. Men of high character carry its influence wherever they go When Washington consented to act as commander-in-chief of the patriot army during the Revolutionary war, it was felt as if the strength of the American forces had been doubled. Again, many years later, in 1789, when Washington, grown old, had withdrawn from public life and was living in retirement at Mt -.-.- . ■ -*- — . .--.'., «.-«. - 144 THE MERCURY. Vernon, and war with France seemed imminent, President Adams wrote to him saying, " We must have your name if you will permit us to use it; there will be more efficiency in it than in many an army." Such was the esteem in which the great President's noble character and eminent abilities were held by his countrymen. Thus Washington left behind him the ex-ample of a great and noble character as a model for his nation to form themselves by in all ages to come. Then again a nation must possess character if it would en-dure and this is secured only through the character of the in-dividual. Where national character ceases to be upheld a nation may be regarded as next to lost. When such a state is reached that honor and obedience are seemingly lost, the only remedy is the restoration of individual character and if this be irrecov-erably lost there will be nothing left worth saving. THE MERCURY. 145 THE CONSUMMATION. w F. MOSER, '07. HY should we turn to lesser art When free in nature 'round By far degree the rarest hue, The truest song is found ? Awakened by the day's decline, To life they quickly spring, While o'er the land in joyful tones All nature's heart doth sing. What hue is like the dying hue The darkening evening holds ? Its crimson and its amber sweep In rolling, swelling folds? Among the kingdoms of the clouds, The monarch's royal robe, It well portrays in flashing rays That monarch's crown is love. What note is like the swelling chord That from the wild birds come, When at the evening winging swift To distant forest home? Its melody floats earthward While the volume rolls along, As 'neath the sky swift passes by The songster and his song. It almost seems as if the sky Were painted in our sight While from its portals sweetly sounds The chorus of the night; And though the arching dome may seem To lose its last bright ray, The gloom but serves to usher in The glory of the day. ^MflNBfl 146 THE MERCURY. "THE SPECKLED HORSE." BY H. A. MCGILL, '06. The time—evening of Feb. 7th, in the year of our Lord 1902; the place—the great city of London ; and the man Jim Grath —criminal, ex-convict and kidnapper. " I'm tired, so tired, sir, you said we'd soon see the Beautiful Lady." The brave little voice quivered pitifully, and the great blue eyes of the tiny lad in kilts, looked up fearlessly, if full of tears, into the hardened face of the man. All day long they had tramped these two, " miles and miles " it seemed to little Rob, from the handsome home where he had lived with the " Beautiful Lady," to the strange and narrow streets through which this queer man now hurried him. The " Beautiful Lady " was a name the child had given to the step-mother, whose short stay in the home of his grave, silent father had brought days of unknown and undreamed of happiness to little Rob. Days, which had suddenly passed away, when one stormy night, she came with* flushed face, and tear-bright eyes, to say good-bye to him. "Why had she gone ? The question had been in the child's mind ever since that fatal night, but he dared not ask the father, whose love had, until her coming, been the one bright spot in his lonely little life. For, to this, the child of his first wife, the man, judged by acquaintances to be cold, haughty, and mercenary, had given the love of a heart long hidden from the world, and the child, in the wonderful wisdom of his childhood, had accepted it without question. In this same spirit of unquestioning faith, the boy had held out his tiny hands to the " Beautiful Lady," when she came through her marriage of convenience, to the home of the man whom the world called her fit companion for life's journey, the man who seemed as cold and proud as she herself. So it was, that despite her bitterness, and her cynicism, this little child had wrought a miracle, and through the love which sprang up in her heart for the son, grew the love, that suffered in secret for the father. Of course this state of affairs should have soon ended in a wonderful " finale" of enlightment for the man,and joy for the THE MERCURY. 147 woman, the chief goal of the romantacist should have been reached at once, and " all gone merrily as a marriage bell." Yet real life rarley runs along the lines of romance, and sad truth compells the statement that these unhappy people were at last forced, through their many quarrels, into a permanent separation. These things, however, Rob could not understand. Had not he said that he would take care of her, and buy her everything in the world, when he was a big man ! But she had only smiled at this generous offer, and hugged him tight, so tight, that it almost hurt, then put him down quickly, and gone away out into the dark night, never to come back to him again. Now, this morning while he played near the edge of the park, all alone with his thoughts, this strange, good-natured man had come. He had told him all about her, the " Beautiful Lady," and the man seemed to know her well, and had prom-ised to take him to her so that he could ask her again to stay with him. She had given him the Speckled Horse, maybe she was sorry now, and wanted him for herself. " You see the Speckled Horse is very nice" he had told the strange man as he showed his treasure, " and maybe she will come back if she can have him again." But now he was very, very tired, and the Speckled Horse was so heavy. He seemed to have sharp edges and points all over him, that stuck into Rob's arms and chest as he walked, and hurt, then, all of a sudden, he jumped out of his arms, and went rolling off into the gutter, and Jim, the strange man, who now did not smile, any more, but scowled, gave Rob a hard jerk when he tried to go after him, and said " come along in here young one." He did not even seem to remember that "the Speckled Horse was very nice'' and " had belonged to her." Into a strange, foulsmelling house they hurried, and left that wonderful steed to perchance an awful fate. Rob could not understand again, and he sobbed aloud. Lights hurried to and fro in the great suburban mansion, and over its surrounding parks. All afternoon the searchers had been working, and now returned only to report fruitless labors, and start once more upon their quest. To the man who sat there worn with anxious dread in the midst of his 148 THE MERCURY. riches, the minutes dragged as hours and were far out-stripped by his bitter thoughts. Suddenly upon the threshold of the great library door stood the woman; she, whom he had thought to use as a figure-head in his handsome mansion; she, whose beauty was to have impressed his acquaintance, just as his wealth and position had already done ; the woman, to whom much had been given, according to his worldly stand-point, but who had failed him, and repaid his bounty by the disgrace of his name. With one quick impulsive gesture she held out her arms toward him, then suddenly dropping them asked, in a voice so broken and changed, that he scarcely recognized it, " The boy, have you not yet found him ?" He rose quickly to his feet and, faced her in his bitterness. " What is that to you ?" he said, "You can not care, or else you would not so soon have left both him and me. Why do you come here now to taunt me that I have lost him ?" Turning her face from the scorn of his angry eyes, she answered brokenly," "Because I loved him too, and——" " And ? and what ?" he questioned," You," came the almost inaudible reply. In the great room silence reigned—a silence that could be felt; then, as a log burned itself out and fell upon the hearth the man lifted his bowed head and crossed over to his wife. As he raised her down-cast face between his hands, he looked deep into the eyes, where sorrow struggled with a light before unseen, and said in a voice made gentle through a great hu-mility. "Let us go, and search for him together." [TO BE CONTINUED.] %> THE MERCURY Entered at the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second-class Matter VOL. XIII GETTYSBURG, PA., OCTOBER, 1905 No. 5 Editor-in-chief HARRIET A. MCGILL, '06 Exchange.Editor MARY B. MCGILL, '06 Business Managers THOMAS FAUST, '07 E. VICTOR ROLAND,'07 Associate Editors - H. F. SMITH, '07 CLIFFORD HARTMAN, '07 W. B. RICK, '07 Advisory Board PROF. J. A. HIMES, LITT.D. PROF. G. D. STAHLEY, M.D. PROF. J. W. RICHARD, D.D. Published each month, from October to June inclusive, by the joint literary societies of Pennsylvania (Gettysburg) College. Subscription price, one dollar a year in advance; single copies 15 cents. Notice to discontinue sending the MERCURY to any address must be accompanied by all arrearages. Students, Professors and Alumni are cordially invited to contribute. All subscriptions and business matter should be addressed to the Busi-ness Manager. Articles for publication should be addressed to the Editor. Address THE MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORIALS. To the Freshmen of Pennsylvania College : Dear Friends, Years come and go, and once more it is the duty as well as the great pleasure of a MERCURY staff to welcome the new class which has entered the portals of our Alma Mater. Wel-come— how significant is the word, what hope of future promise does it contain, and how great the expectations which its utter-ance arouses. We need you, newcomers, that is what it means. We need you in the Y. M. C. A., in the class-rooms, on the athletic field, in the halls of our rival literary societies, and greatly indeed does the MERCURY need your help and coopera-tion. Do not let the feeling that you are strangers withhold your interest in your College—she belongs \.o you, use her. If I50 THE MERCURV. you have ambition, do not fear the fate of brave Caesar; there is no " honorable man " among our higher classmen who will condemn you—start in and win. There is, for instance, a priz*, which the Pen and Sword society has offered for the best pro-duction of any kind, to be published in our college monthly. There are but three more numbers to be issued by the present staff, and until this number, no one has tried for that prize Do you wonder that you are needed ? Any person handing his prc-duction and a nom de plume to Dr. Himes has a fair trial (or the winning of this prize. One person may write as many articles as he desires, all will be noticed. Do not let our student-body be shamed before the Alumni of the Pen and Sword by the ingratitude of not even trying for the prize, which they so kindly offer. There are more ways than one to show that you are worth something to your Alma Mater. Try this one, Freshmen, and good luck to you. Sincerely, "THE STAFF." As we begin another year in our college course it will be profitable, perhaps, to old students as well as new, to say a few words on athletics. Not to expound many new facts and theories but to impress one and all with the necessity of ath-letic training and encouragement. We have come here to develop and strengthen our minds to encounter the many disappointments, failures, successes, etc., in life. We must keep in mind, however, that an exceedingly well developed mind can accomplish little without a sound, healthy body. Take advantage of our athletic field, gymnas-ium, tennis courts, etc., in your spare moments, and you will develop with your mind, a stronger, healthy body. One is necessarily a companion of the other and if you have ambition some day to amount to something above the ordinary it is nec-essary for you to be sound in body and mind. Then, in concentrating your efforts with those of others, you will be able, if not to make a varsity, to help develop one. This is where the true college spirit lies. No varsity can sue- THE MERCURY. 151 ; ceed without a second team and, when the true love of Alma Mater is present, each one strives unselfishly toward the better-ment of the varsity. Thus in bettering yourself you can at the same time by sincere cooperation promote the standing and welfare of your College. Further, if through some reason you are not able to lend your efforts to the physical making of the varsity, give them good honest support. All efforts will be in vain unless there is a loyal support by the entire student body. Learn the yells and don't be afraid to use them in encouraging the team. When asked for financial support give it promptly and as lib-erally as possible. Give all candidates encouragement and don't be too ready to find fault with the coaching, placing and management of the teams. In short, give your attention to the welfare of the college, which surely includes all that has here been said, and be a good, loyal College man. c. H. The Senior was weary: He had finished his last summer vacation at home, and well launched upon the duties of his last Collegiate year, had been thinking of the future. He had planed wonderful things for himself, this Senior. A career already marked with the word success, a position secured immediately after his graduation, " health, wealth, happiness," and in short many things. In the meantime, however, the Senior fell asleep. It was then that there came to him a strange dream, and a strange vision—the meaning of which he cannot understand so he fain would inquire from the seers of his Alma Mater, as to the interpretation thereof. Although the Senior had never been an athlete he saw himself in the garb of an acrobat, and heard, above the sound of a great concourse of people, the voice of a trainer, whom he had never seen before, yet whose personality seemed strangly familiar, speaking to him, and giv-ing him his final directions. It seems that his task was the climbing of a great promontory, along which there were cer-tain resting places to which the trainer could follow him with ad-vice and encouragement. From the top this eminence how-ever, could be seen a great mass of ice and snow which must i 152 THE MERCURY. be lept before the acrobat could reach another promontory, from whose height he must cast himself into the crowd below. And, in order that through this last feat he might come to no harm, the Senior had prepared for himself a matress to throw before him, and make for himself a landing place. Slowly, and with much hope in his heart he began the ascent, and upon the first resting place was the trainer, who with words of cheer bade him pass on. So was it with the second and third stages, but when he reached the top, without thought of the faithful trainer, he flung his matress before him, and leaped through ice and snow upon the other promontory. So far, all had been well, it was here that fear sized him, as he gazed upon the great depths be-low, and strained his eyes to find a vacant place in the multi-tude where he could throw his matress. It was then, that he burried his face in his hands, and cried in great despair to the trainer, seeking aid in his distress, yet scarce expecting it. Then suddenly as he faltered trembling upon the brink, his trainer as by a miracle stood beside him, and pointing to the matress at his feet, said in that gentle, patient voice, with which he had been want to coach him. " It is too broad— you must return, and make for yourself a narrow one, thus alone will you find room in the crowd below. It was then that the Senior awoke, and now in his bewilder-ment, would know the interpretation of his dream. In truth his wish shall be granted, for he has been blessed above his fellows through the spirit of warning. Thus say the seers. The first promontory is the College course—the second the symbol of his position after leaving his Alma Mater before he has taken his place in the world; the matress is his idea of what that place shall be, and the trainer, well the trainer is known to all men, his name is Experience. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS. } /*■ FURNITURE Mattresses, Bed Springs, Iron Beds, Picture Frames. Repair Work done promptly. Under-taking a specialty. * Telephone No. 97. L Bendei 37 Baltimore St., Gettysburg, Pa. The Windsor Hotel 1217-29 Filbert St., Philadelphia. Headquarters for Students. Thoroughly Renovated, Refurnished and Remodeled FRANK M. SCHEIBLEY, Manager. Graduate of Lafayette College 1898. A Complete Encyclopedia of Amateur Sport Spalding's Official Athletic Almanac FOR 1905. EDITED BY J. E. SULLIVAN (Chief of Department of Physical Culture. Louisiana Purchase Exposition). Should be read by every college student, as it contains the records of all college athletics and all amateur events in this country and abroad. It also contains a complete review of Olympic Games for the official report of Director Sullivan and a resume of the two days devoted to sports in which savages were the only contestants, in which it is proved conclusively that savages are not the natural born athletics we have heretofore supposed them to be. This is the first time in which the athletic performances of savages have ever been systematically recorded. This is the largest Athletic Almanac ever published, containing 320 pages. Numerous illustrations of prominent athletes and track teams. Price rp Cents. For sale by all newsdealers and A. G. SPALDING