Suchergebnisse

Issue 28.1 of the Review for Religious, 1969. ; EDITOR ¯ R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 631o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 3~i Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~9~o6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited v¢ith ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial ottices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. 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Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and books for review should be sent to REvlr:w rOa R~L~GIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint ~ouis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answermg should be sent to the address Gf the Questions and Answers editor. JANUARY ~969 VOLUME ~8 NUMBER t REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Volume 28 1969 EDITORIAL OFFICE 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. Dlederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gailen, S.J. Published in January, March, May, July, September, Novem-ber on the fifteenth of the month. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is indexed in the Catholic Peri. odical Index and in Boo/~ Re. view Index. Microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Ml. crofilms; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. HILARY SMITH, O.C.D. Qgiet Prayer for Busy Busy religious today seem to be shying away from more contemplative approaches to prayer. The references to quiet and recollection in the older spiritual books are considered now to refer back to a time when every-one's approach to God was modeled on that of cloistered nuns and monks. Yet, outside the religious life people as diverse as Walter Kerr and about the importance of some we are to maintain our sanity. I think it might be helpful the approach to God through Harvey Cox are writing kind of quiet periods if at this time to see that recollection and periods of quiet is neither an approach suited only for monastic congregations nor simply a far out, naturalistic fad in-dulged in by flower children. I think it might be profit-able to examine the approach some of the busy fathers of the Church used in treating of prayer to show that traditionally the effort to find God through recollection was not a practice limited to people in monasteries and cloistered convents. It is interesting to see what a lofty concept of prayer some of the busiest fathers of the Church recommended to their equally busy congregations. While the fathers did speak of prayer as asking God for things, just as preachers a few years ago did, they did not hesitate to talk or write about prayer as a simple raising of the heart to God, as recollection. This might be expected among the monastic Fathers such as St. Basil. But I think it is significant that the more active fathers--bishops, teach-ers-- should tell their congregations--the same people they warned about fornication and drunkenness--about the higher kinds of prayer. It will be helpful, before looking at the works of the fathers, to establish a fairly clear idea of the notion of praye~ that we will be looking for. What we hope to find are suggestions on the part of the fathers that their ÷ ÷ ÷ Hilary Smith, O.CJ3., lives at 7907 Bellaire Boul-evard in Houston, Texas 77096. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ Hilary Smith, O.C~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS congregations of working men and housewives practice what we would call today, or at least would have called a few years ago, "mental prayer." In St. Teresa of Avila's classic definition, mental prayer "is nothing but friendly intercourse, and frequent solitary converse with Him who we know loves us." 1 This definition of prayer is broad enough to include methodical meditation and even vocal prayers said well, but I believe that it shows that the essence of mental prayer is not a systematic arrangement of considerations with a concluding resolution. Rather mental prayer consists essentially in "tratando," dealing with God, in a friendly way. St. Teresa presents a more specific method of mental prayer, sometimes called the prayer of active recollection. "It is called recollection because the soul collects together all the faculties and enters within itself to be with its God," St. Teresa says in the now quaint sounding language of faculty psychol-ogy. It is with this specific form of prayer, active recollec-tion, that we shall be especially interested. It is impor-tant for us today to understand that this approach to prayer was not peculiar to St. Teresa or to the medieval monastic tradition. It represents a traditional Christian approach to prayer recommended to busy Christians long before men and women with education and leisure were almost all found in monasteries and convents. I hope that the following few remarks of the fathers on prayer will show that the early fathers, not haunted'as spiritual writers a few years ago were, by the spectre of Quietism, did not hesitate to recommend to their congregations a form of prayer that we might think to be too lofty or too mystical. One. very good example of a father of the Church addressing himself to ordinary lay people yet recommend-ing a lofty prayer of recollection is St. Gregory of Nyssa. He was almost certainly married, since in his treatise on virginity he says that he regrets that he himself is pre-vented from attaining to the glory of this virtue. Al-though it is true that he lived in a monastic community for a while, he is most famous as the active bishop of Nyssa, a post he held for eight years., In his works es-pecially in his commentaries on the Lord's Prayer and the Beatitudes, he has in view the needs of the average Christian. Although he is inclined to the asceticism of the desert, he is not a desert father living in isolation from the world around him--a world that seems in many ways similar to our own--but rather a man living in the .1 St. Teresa, Way of Perlection, in The Complete Works o/ St. Teresa, trans. E. Allison Peers (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1950), v. 2, p. 115. world, steeped in its culture and interested in all it has to offer.~ In his treatise on the Lord's Prayer, St. Gregory de-scribes his idea of prayer: "First my mind must become detached from anything subject to flux and change, and tranquilly rest in motionless spiritual repose, so as to be rendered akin to Him who is perfectly unchangeable; and then it may address Him by this most familiar name and say: Father." a St. Teresa's description of the prayer of recollection in her commentary on the Lord's Prayer is closely parallel. She says: "The soul withdraws the senses from all outward things and spurns them so com-pletely that, without its understanding how, its eyes close and it cannot see them and the soul's spiritual sight becomes clear." 4 We must be careful to understand that neither St. Teresa nor St. Gregory is describing some form of mys-tical prayer. St. Teresa is careful to explain that what she is describing "is not a supernatural state but depends upon our volition; by 'God's favor we can enter it of our own accord." 5 Thus St. Teresa distinguishes this recol-lection from what the students of mystical phenomena called "infused contemplation." St. Gregory is not so explicit, but he gives us to understand that the mind lifts itself from created things and places itself at rest in God. There seems to be no question here of God effect-ing something extraordinary in communicating with the Christian. Less to the point is St. Gregory's definition of prayer in general. He says: "Prayer is intimacy with God and contemplation of the invisible." n Though not so graphic as the earlier description, this definition shows St. Greg-ory's lofty concept of prayer; and, found in a treatise written for laymen, it shows that he was not afraid of presenting his lofty ideas to ordinary people. Another early Christian writer who recommends a contemplative type of prayer to ordinary men and women is Origen. His treatise, De Oratione, one of the first Christian treatises of prayer, was written as a reply to questions raised by his friend and patron, the married deacon Ambrose. Although Origen does not describe a kind of active recollection as clearly as St. Gregory, he does indicate that married folk, such as Ambrose, need not confine their praying to the recitation of vocal pray-ers or to asking God for favors. His description of the preparation for prayer brings to mind St. Teresa's defini- = St. Gregory of Nyssa, The Lord's Prayer. The Beatitudes, trans. Hilda C. Graef (Westminster: Newman, 1954), pp. $, 8, 15, 19. 8 Ibid., p. ~8. *Peers, v. 2, 115. 5 Peers, v. 2, 110. 6 St. Gregory of Nyssa, p. 24. + ÷ ÷ Quie~ Prayer VOLUME 28 ~.969 5 4- Hilary Smith, O.C.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 6 tion of prayer as a friendly converse with God. He says that by the very way one disposes his mind to prayer, by the very attitude with which one prays, "he shows that he is placing himself before God and speaking to Him as present, convinced that He is present and looking at Him." 7 Further on he says: "When praying let us not babble, but let us speak to God"; and, "When we pray in this way [in secret] we shall be conversing with God." In another context, in his Contra Celsum, Origen speaks of approaching God in a similar, contemplative-like way. Celsus has complained that the Christians do not worry about the cult due to the national idols, nor do they erect temples for their own worship. Origen answers in a beautiful passage where he says that Christians carry the image of their God within themselves. Every Chris-tian, he says, "strives to build an altar and carve a statue himself, keeping his eyes fixed on God, keeping his heart pure, and trying to become like God." s Again in De oratione, Origen recommends that Am-brose find a quiet place in his home to pray: "If you want to pray in greater quiet and without so much. dis-traction, you may choose a special place in your own house, if you can, a consecrated place, so to speak, and pray there." 0 Origen might well have been speaking to today's busy sisters. Another Church writer known for his work on prayer is Tertullian. Scholars say that Origen very likely drew many of his ideas on prayer from a Greek translation of Tertullian's De oratione. Some idea o[ his realistic recom-mendations to busy people on prayer may be drawn from this remark in his treatise on marriage and remarriage. He has been speaking of the value of continence as an aid in attaining union with God. Then almost equating prayer and union, he says that "men must need pray every day and every moment of the day." This may seem like only a paraphrase of the command "Pray always," but in the context it can be considered as an elaboration of Christ's command. Tertullian does not take Christ's words to mean that we should be constantly petitioning God for help, but rather that Christians should be con-stantly united to God in prayer through much the same kind of converse or treating with God that St. Teresa recommends. One last remark, this h'om St. John Damascene, may serve as a summing up ot what we have seen in St. Greg-ory o~ Nyssa, Origen, and Tertullian about the possi-r Origen, Prayer. Exhortation to Martyrdom, trans. John J. O'Meara (Westminster: Newman, 1954), p. 37. Cels., 8, 17, 18; quoted in Jean Danielou, Origen (New York, 1955), p. 35. Origen, Prayer, p. 43. bility for a contemplative approach to prayer for busy people. It is true that at the time he produced his little work, Barlaam and Joasaph, he was more of a monk than an active preacher, but he says that he is summarizing the ideas of the fathers before him. He says that the fathers define prayer as "the union of man with God," "angel's work," and "the prelude of gladness to come." He asks: "How shalt thou converse with God?" and an-swers: "By drawing near him in prayer." And he ex-plains: "He that prays with exceedingly fervent desire and a pure heart, his mind estranged from all that is earthly and grovelling, and stands before God eye to eye, and presents his prayers to him in fear and trem-bling, such a one has converse and speaks to him face to face." lo Better known, and at the same time a perfect example of a man who was busy, prayerful, and ready to recom-mend prayer to his congregation was St. Augustine. The ditficulty in discussing St. Augustine's approach to prayer briefly is that he has said so much about prayer. I have selected a few passages in which he seems to be speaking especially to busy people and in which he seems to be dealing with what we would call mental prayer, and more specifically with the approach to mental prayer that we described above as active recollection. Shortly after his conversion, before his baptism, Augus-tine retired for awhile to the country where he might have the leisure for prayer. We know from his Con-fessionsix that at this time he began to pour out his soul to God using the words of the Psalmist. But his corre-spondence with his friend Nebridius reveals that at the same time he was trying to withdraw from the noise of the world to find God in the depths of his soul; that he was, in our terminology, practicing mental prayer. His withdrawal was not a flight into the desert or monastery. He still considered himself and Nebridius as "busy people." The recollection he recommends to Nebridius is a practice made easier by the.solitude and leisure he is enjoying for a time in the country, but it is a practice which he says will be helpfullin the midst of activity. First he tells Nebridius of the advantages of adoring God in the "innermost recesses of the soul." He promises him that this recollection brings with it a "freedom from fear," and "an inner peace which permeates our human activity when we return to activity from our inner shrine." Finally, he tells him: "You, Nebridius, are free 10St. John Damascene, Barlaam and Joasaph, trans. Gr. Wood-ward and H. Mattingly (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1937), p. 295. ~ St. Augustine, Contessions, trans. F. J. Sheed (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1943), p. 185. + + Quiet Prayer VOLUME 28, 1969 Hila~J Smith, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS of fear only when you are inwardly recollected." lz From the Very beginning of h.is life as a Christian; St. Augustine shows, an attraction to solitary converse with God. His own prayer and the advice he gives his busy friend Nebri- ~lius furnish an interesting contrast to the prayer for-merly described in convent spiritual 'reading books. There is no question in St. Augustine's mind about re-pe~ iting many vocal prayers or following-some well-or-ganized meditatiOn plan. A few ~ears later, now a priest, St. Augustine con-tinued his exhortations, .encouraging a ~ontemplative approach to prayer, in The Lord's Sermon 'on" the Mount. He comments on Christ's words: "But when you pray, enter into your chambers." The chambers, h~ says, are our hearts.' We must close the door on things without, "all transitory and visible things which through our fleshly senses noise in upon us while we pray." Then there takes place a turning of the heart tO God; and this very effort we make in praying calms the heart, makes it clean and more capable of receiving the divine gifts. He says: "It is not words we should use in dealing with God. but it is the things we carry in our mind and the direction of our thoughts with pure .love and single affection." These ideas, coming as they do early in St. Augustine's life as a Christian, and very much like, in spirit, the teachings of the neo-Platonists on contemplation, may seem more like Platonism than Christianity. In fact, it might be argued that most of the people cited thus far, including St. Teresa, were influenced by.Platonism. It is not within the scope of this paper to discuss the influence of Platonism on Christian mysticism, nor is the question of great practical import. If authorities on prayer have found that they could effectively approach God in a way that resembles the approach of some philosophers to peace or wisdom, then the marvelous thing is not that some Christians are using a pagan philosophy in their prayer, but rather that there is such a universal inclina-tion in human nature to withdraw from the hustIe and bustle of the world from time to time and turn to loftier things. This inclination was recognized by the pagan philosophers and far eastern mystics, but it can find its best realization in a Christian context in which a personal God comes to live intimately with those who are really dedicated to Him. Later in his life, St. Augustine kept hi~ lofty concept of prayer, although, as a result of his struggle with the Pelagians, he seems to make more mention of prayer as petition. He has to explain that no one can receive ~St. Augustine's Letters, trans. Sr. WilIrid Parsons, S.N.D. (New York: 1951), v. 1, p. 157. grace simply by asking for it, but rather we ask because we have been moved by grace. Nevertheless, his classic definition of prayer in the ninth sermon on the Passion shows that he is not limiting the prayer of his congrega-tion to vocal prayer or meditation. He defines prayer as "the affectionate movement of the mind towards God." In the Enarratio in Psalmum 85, we find the idea ex-pressed above by St. Teresa that prayer is converse with God. St. Augustine says: "Your prayer is conversation with God. ~Nhen you read, God speaks to you; when you pray, you speak to God.'.' As St. Augusdnffbecame more and more imbued with the theology and language of the Bi, ble and more forgetful of Platonism, his thoughts on prayer at6 expressed more in Biblical metaphors than in philosophical abstractions. He had told Nebridius to turn away f(om created things and try to converse with God in the center of his soul. His descriptions of this contemplation of God are not too unlike the instructions of the neoPlatonists on the contemplation of true wisdom. In his later years, St. Augustine continues to instruct Christians on~ the importance of dealing With God through the heart, not just with the lips, of worshiping God in spirit, in truth, not simply in an external way. But now he presents his teaching more in the words of Christ, St. John the Evangelist, the Psalms, and less in the language of Plodnus. He frequently cites Christ's directive about praying in our own chambers, and he explains that the chambers are our hearts,is He quotes Jesus also on not using many words when we pray;14 He likes to point out that the Psalmist who so frequently calls or shouts to God is crying with his heart: " 'You have heard, Lord, the voice of my prayer. You heard when I shouted to you.' This shout to God is made not with the voice but with the heart. Many, with their lips ¯ sil.ent,~ shout with their hearts; others, making a great deal of noise with their mouths, have their hearts turned away and can ask for nothing. If then, you are going to shout, shout from within where God hears." ~ St. Augustine, then, all through his life recommended to his congregations a lofty form of prayer. He did not think it unrealistic to suggest that his people, who Were not cloistered nuns or monks, should strive after a prayerful, contemplative awareness of God's personal presence. Very likely he had achieved a contemplative union with God himself in the midst of his bu~y life and knew that it was possible for others. The modern, harried religious should not feel that his own contemplative aspirations are at all unrealistic. Rather he should see taEnar, in Ps, n. 5; Epis. 130. 14 Sermo 80. 15 Enar. II in Ps. 30, serm. 5. ÷ + ÷ VOLUME 28, 1969 9 ÷ Hilary Smith, O.C.D . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS them as an important aspect of the Christian tradition in which he lives. Another great, active Church father with lofty ideas about prayer is St. John Chrysostom. He also defines prayer as a "conversation ~vith God." a6 He explains the first verse of Psalm 140, "Lord I shouted to you and you heard me," as the cry of a deeply prayerful man. The Psalmist here, he says, speaks of "an internal shout, from a heart of fire. He who thus shouts with his heart, turns to God with his whole heart." Always interested in the affective nature of prayer, he makes an important dis-tinction in explaining verse one of Psalm 5: "You hear my shout." The shout, he says, is not "an intonation of the voice but an affection of the mind." 17 To indicate the lofty nature of the kind of prayer he has in mind he says that it is a duty which we have in common with the angels. To pray with the proper rev-erence we must remove ourselves from worldly things and place ourselves in the middle of the choirs of angels. Although St. John Chrysostom has special praise for the life of monks he is anxious that everyone should give themselves to prayer, "both civil servants and private citizens, both men and women, both the elderly and the young, both slaves and freemen." as And he gives special instructions for busy housewives who would like to spend some time in quiet prayer. He reminds them that unlike their husbands "in the middle of the forum or before the tribunal, stirred up by external things as by heavy waves," housewives should be able to sit down for awhile in the privacy of their homes and recollect themselves. In this way they are like those who go out to the desert, bothered by no one: "Thus the housewife, always remaining within, can enjoy a permanent tran-quillity." Obviously St. John Chrysostom had the same notion of a housewife's life as many men today--and his ideas were probably received with the same disdain. But we are not citing John Chrysostom so much for his socio-logical data as for the importance he attaches to a con-templative form of prayer even for housewives. He ex-plains that even if she is forced to go out to Church or to the baths, once she has acquired the habit of recollection she need not be perturbed. What is more, the prayerful, recollected wife will be able to quiet a restless husband and help him forget the worries and cares of the forum.19 If we remember that St. John Chrysostom recommends a certain amount of solitude and prayer for everyone, ~ In Cap. X1 Gen., Horn. 30 n. 5. a7 Exposit. in Psalm. 5, n. 3. rs Homil. encomiast, in S. Meletium, n. 3. a~ In Jo. homil. 61, nn. 3, 4. we can profit from his commentary on Christ's prayer away from the crowds. St. John is not suggesting that everyone flee into a desert, but rather that everyone imi-tate Christ by leaving the noise of society for a little while to be able to pray and thus to return strengthened and fortified. It is thus that St. John explains the words of St. Matthew: "After he had dismissed the crowds he went up into the hills by himself to pray." ~0 "Why did Christ go up into the mountain? That he might teach us how appropriate is the wilderness, is solitude, for calling upon God. He thus frequently sought the wilderness and spent the night there that he might instruct us that we ought to seek out tranquil times and places for prayer." ~x St. John insists that the solitude necessary for prayer is not the physical solitude of the desert. Christians can pray everywhere because "God is always near." We can pray "in the bath [St. John seems especially interested in the possibility of prayer here] on the road, in bed, before the judge." ~ He says that it is not necessary to be rich or a philosopher to pray, but that even manual laborers can pray "as in a monastery: for it is not the comfortable-ness of a place, but an upright life that brings us quiet." ~3 St. John's insistence that everyone can pray everywhere at any time is b:.sed on two principles: First that God is always near to us, actually living in us as in a temple: "The grace of the Holy Spirit makes us temples of God so that it might be easier for us to pray." ~4 Secondly, we can pray always because in prayer, "the mouth makes no sound, while the mind shouts." Religious should understand, then, that aspiring to a more simple, contemplative approach to prayer, even in the midst of a highly active life, is not at all unrealistic. In fact it is more in keeping with the Christian tradition and the aspirations of human nature than the formalized meditations stressed so much in religious houses in the last two or three centuries. It is an approach to God long fostered by some of the most active fathers of the Church and recommended by them to their equally active con-gregations. .-o Mt 14:23. -~ In Mt. homil. 50. m Homil. de Canan., n. 11. ~ Ad llluminand. Cateches., I, n. 4. =4De Anna, serm. IV, n. 6. + 4- Quiet Prayer VOLUME 28, ]! VINCENT P. BRANICK, S.M. Formation and Task ÷ ÷ + Vincent P. Bran-ick0 S.I~I., is a mem-ber of the Maria-nist Seminary; Regina Mundi; gri-bourg, Switzerland. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS A dilemma confronts those charged with the forma-tion of religious today. A program of formation which encourages the spontaneity of the religious, one which minimizes regulations and concentrates on personal re-sponsibility seems to be the only valid method of forma-tion today. This is true not only for houses of formation but also for active community life where growth in per-sonal identity and in a way of life must continue. But in such a program of formation severe difficulties of vocation often arise. Self-doubt replaces original enthusiam. Scep-ticism challenges the very viability of religious life. And many leave. I believe these vocation difficulties are neces-sarily connected with this type of formation. In such programs administrators engage and direct the critical spirit of members to the interior structures of the life. Focusing on the life of the individual and the com-munity, this criticism strives to minimize the regulated activities and increase the optional elements of daily life. By allowing a religious to choose for himself the details of his life, the administrators hope both to develop per-sonal autonomy and help the younger member to identify himself fully with the life of the community. Seldom, however, do these great hopes materialize in a more vigorous religious life. In fact where superiors implement these reforms most whole heartedly, the greatest difficulties seem to arise. The critical spirit focuses on the interior structures of the life, and the agonizing questions begin. To what minimum should we limit our regulations? What is the basic concept of re-ligious life from which we can derive these minimum regulations? Can the present superiors be trusted to define religious life as it should be? Can a member rely on anyone but himself to conceive the definition and regulations of the religious life he is to lead? This distrust, self-doubt, and aggression generated by this type of criticism is isolating religious in an extreme individualism and is draining away real enthusiasm. The difficulty, however, is not with the criticism in itself, I believe, as with the notion of regulation implied both in this type of critical questioning and in the defensive at-tempts to answer. The basic difficulty consists in a loss of the practical sense of rule, in attempts to deduce rules from a defined concept of religious life rather than from a practical selection of religious tasks. Without an appreciation of objective task as the coun-terpart of rule, the efforts to criticize and modernize our programs of formation are developing an ex.ag.ger.a.ted self-consciousness. Our great emphasis on minimizing rules and developing autonomy is throwing out of bal-ance the dynamic but delicate dialectic of human life ¯ between self-consciousness and self-forgetfulness in task, between subjectivity and objectivity. "Responsibility," "fulfillment," and "freedom," the key words of today's personalism, pertain to subjective states of an individual, just as "minimum regulation" and "optional time" pertain to the subjective or interior conditions of a community. These terms indicate a re-flection of the subject on himself. As developing from this reflection, they are abstract and formal, belonging to a secondary thematic. As categories of human life they are certainly valid; but when taken out of their relation to a concrete activity in a concrete situation, they are deceiving. When considered outside of this relation, these terms appear very precise in. idealistic simplicity. They are ideals and in their simplicity, they evoke a radical response, a response that is immediate and totally absorbing. Men die for freedom. Priests leave their Church for fulfillment. But when these categories are not separated from their context in life, their simplicity is lessened by the com-plexity of daily business. Their radicalness is tempered by respect for the values of concrete situations. The re-sponse to these ideals can still be radical and totally ab-sorbing, but in a way that is more realistic, persevering, and in the end more effective. The objective and concrete counterpart of these sub-jective and reflex categories is task. Task is the creation of values that can be shared, values not simply of an individual subject but of a public world, where many can partake. Yet, task is more than a man's material work. It includes also his duty to worship God, his duty to be thoughtful and thankful of truth and beauty, because such duties are eminently public, even when accom-plished in silence. Task is the outward going service of that which is not self. By emphasizing task as the necessary correlative of subjectivity, we respect the nature of the human subject. Man is no't an enclosed container but an outward thrust to another. Human subjectivity is basically intention-ality. The self becomes self in becoming other. Here we 4. ÷ Formation and Ta~k VOLUME 28, 1969 + ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 14 have the fundam.ental human paradox--a man finds himself through his interest in another, a man achieves personal autonomy by binding himself in love of the other, a man can reflecton ideals only when engaged in tasks. Only the altruistic love of a task can preserve and intensify personal autonomy in the unavoidable restric-tions imposed by daily choices. Choosing some goal or some means to a goal always restricts and limits, whether a person simply accepts, another's choice or whether he chooses for himself. A decision always ex-cludes a multitude of alternatives. But a person who loves his task in no way loses autonomy by this restriction. In his love he concentrates himself in the positive core of his decision, locating his life in the values he wants to accomplish. Without that love he remains scattered over all the alternatives so that the restriction of the al-ternatives becomes a restriction of self. For example, one who loves the task of community prayer can accept the restrictions of a community schedule. One who loves his task of witnessing to eschatological values can accept disengagements from some elements of the commerce of civilization. In these loves a person seeks the fulfillment of what is not himself, and by so doing he develops in and through the unavoidable limitations. Fulfillment by love of task is such a common occur-rence that we tend to overlook it. We find it in the suc-cessful professional man, in the loving parents of a fam-ily, in the dedicated missionary. Conversely, we are struck by the lack of autonomy in the person concen-trating on his own stature in a type of adolescent self-consciousness. The person concentrating directly on achieving his autoflomy is the person least capable of finding it. By centering his attention on himself he can-not maintain the intensity of his normal thrust to the outside without which he cannot live as a mature free man. The man without a task is a tragic figure. The soul searching into which he is forced only aggravates the loss of identity he suffers. He is caught in a closed circle until another comes to him and appeals for his cooperation. In our present appreciation of personalism, the notion of task has faded from importance. Task appears as an impersonal category, something to do rather than some-one to relate to. But in no way are task and person op-posed. Rather the two notions are inseparable in the understanding of human relations. A task has signifi-cance only in view of the person who will benefit from it. And relating to a person implies concrete action that is more than purely symbolic gesture. To limit our cor-poral activities in interpersonal dynamics to mere signs of interior attitudes is to attempt an angelic community and to end up in a gross sentimentalism. Our interper-sonal relations are not simply encounters between spirits. Human community demands the creation of values through corporal work as a medium of com-munication. Task as an impersonal category is an in-dispensable presupposition for a truly human person-alism. A human community receives its unity and its identity from its common tasks. No community can exist on its own substance. A community which concentrates only on interior community life will never attain the well being of its members. The cohesion and dynamism of a com-munity results from a common advancement toward a goal which transcends the community. The convergence of the members with each other results from the con-vergence of all the members on a common goal. In selfless striving for this goal, the members find them-selves united. Their mutual confidence rests on the con-fidence each has that the other' is striving for the com-munity goal, or at least is not surreptitiously seeking his personal advantage to the detriment of that goal. Dis-unities are constructive only if they occur in the context of a greater dynamic unity. If the members agree on their general task, their different ways of conceiving the specific work enter into a productive dialectic. Even adamant differences about the means to accomplish a task are not divisive in the context of agreement about the end. But where members disagree on the basic task of the community, where they dispute the primary pur-pose of themselves as a group, there can be no dynamic coherence. No amount of dedication of the members to each other as individuals can supply for this lack of dedication to a common task. No matter how much the members love each other as persons, they cannot function together. In such a group, accord can exist only by agree-ment not to work together. That is, accord can exist be-tween individuals, but not between members of a func-tioning community. After saying all this about the dependence of the in-dividual and. communitarian subject on its tasks, we cannot stop here without risking a onesided distortion. All I have said is open to the totalitarian interpretation that individuals and communities should uncritically accept and dedicate themselves to tasks handed to them from the past. This is not true. A continuation of the analysis of the relation between self and task indicates why this is not true. Our objective tasks are not fully intelligible in and by themselves. These tasks depend on the subject just as the subject depends on the tasks. Every task presupposes a certain readiness in the subject. Ira man is not ready to meet objective realities by a Formation and Task VOLUME 2B, 1969 15 V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS certain sensitivity or openness to them, he will never recognize them when he comes across them. And with-out this recognition the objective task can never exist. An educational task exists only for an educated person. A religious task exists only for a religious person. Only by knowing his own religious demensions can a person articulate and thereby give reality to an objective reli-gious task. Besides depending on a subject's recognition, a task also depends for its existence on a subject's freedom in accepting or rejecting it. A task exists only as someone's task, and only in a person's free decision can a task be-come his. The automaton cannot create a task for itself because it cannot freely identify its good with the accom-plishment of the task. A free decision is thus necessary for the existence of a task, and such a free decision pre-supposes a subject who has already achieved.a degree of selfhood or autonomy. This dependence of the object on the subject holds also for communitarian dynamics. The recognition and free acceptance or rejection by a community of its task presupposes a level of coherence and self-understanding already .existing in that community. A task could never draw a group if the group could not direct itself through a group decision. We seem to have an unbreakable circle here. The autonomy of the subject presupposes a thrust toward its objective task, but this thrust presupposes the au-tonomy of the subject. In reality this mutual dependence exists more as a dialectic or oscillation between self and task, by which the subject grows in maturity and his work grows in precision and importance with each turning of the self to his task and from task to self. At the beginning of this dialectic lies, on the one hand, the basic openness of the human spirit, and, on the other, the original call of reality which can only be the direct appeal of God Himself. Task, as this dialectic reveals, has a role in human life which is at once relative and absolute. Any given task will be relative because it depends on the subject who can therefore criticize and change it. This dependence of the task on the recognition and decision of the subject refutes a totalitarian submission of the person to his work. The autonomy which the task confers on the subject is the autonomy l~y which he can dominate the task. But because this autonomy is indissolubly linked with task as such, task is absolutely indispensable to human existence. We cannot change or criticize our need to work as such. And this absolute need to give ourselves to task is present in a concrete way in any given task no matter how temporary or contingent it is. In all its provisional and contingent character, the task at hand remains the source of dynamism for the human dialectic of growth. In fact, the mature development of task requires a very delicate balance between self-reflection and outward-going service, between critical detachment and dedicated engagement, between autonomy and abnegation. Today in many areas of religious life, I believe, we have upset this delicate balance. The sudden wave of self-criticism which religious life has undergone has over-weighted the subjective pole of the dialectical balance. Individuals and communities have almost locked their sights on themselves in a direct concentration on their subjective fulfillment. The surging experience of the need to criticize and modernize the communitarian tasks is failing to issue into a more intense outward dedica-tion. This need to criticize and modify tasks has resulted primarily from the advances of Christian theology in the last twenty years, advances which in a way climaxed and received great publication in the Second Vatican Council. Modern theological insights showed the great horizontal expansiveness of Christian life, the great variety of ways in which Christianity can be :lived. The former theologies. tended to picture Christian life in a rather narrow ver-tical plane which allowed variety only in terms of hier-archic positions. The various tasks of Christian life dif-fered from each other because some were more perfect than others. This gave an absolute character to de-cisions in the selection of concrete tasks. In this narrow but precise view of Christian life, the various tasks of religious orders--their ways of prayer, their apostolic works, their degree of cloister--all seemed direct deduc-tions from the gospel following necessarily from a totally unlimited acceptance of Christianity. By showing the horizontal expansiveness of Christian life, modern theology has changed this view. We can now see many ways of acting and working as Christians, each way with a dignity proper to itself, a dignity that is not simply a limited edition of that belonging to a more perfect task. Modern theology has not depreciated the basic tasks traditional to religious life; but it has rela-tivized them by presenting them in the context of other tasks, thus showing that the acceptance of a task results more from contingent decisions than from absolute de-ductions. There are pressing needs for so many tasks that no necessity binds a community or an individual to one or the other. Seeing for the first time the contingent and provisional character of their tasks, many communities and individ-uals are experiencing a real crisis of identity. The tra-ditional tasks on which they built their identity seem 4- ÷ 4. Formation and Task VOLUME 28, 1969 ]7 ÷ ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]8 to have been depreciated because they have been rela-tivized. For people who tend to think always in ab-solute categories, this relativization of traditional com-munitarian tasks is anguishing. Many religiou.s have become worried about their fulfillment and autonomy through such tasks. This worry often leads to a search to reabsolutize the community tasks, finding a modern task that is the task of the Church today. Although opening new possibilities and purging re-ligious life of obsolete structures, this intense concern about personal antonomy and this criticism of all tasks at hand is impeding the turning outward toward work in self-dedication. By fixing attention on tile subject, this critical self-consciousness is obstructing the oscillation between selfhood and task and in this way is diminishing the general vitality of religious life. Houses of formation are especially susceptible to this loss of vitality becanse it is there that the dialectic be-tween religious identity and religious task must begin. Equipped with neither the subjective identity of a re-ligious congregation nor an understanding involvement in its present tasks, candidates arrive usually with simply a willingness to enter. At this moment of entrance only a vivid presentation of tasks can engender enthusiasm, a presentation of tasks which the person sees worthy of his dedication. Concentrating on such tasks a young religious will gradually develop a self-possession in the style of the congregation that will make him fully responsible for its works, that will allow him to live without thought of external pressure, that will enable him to criticize and modify his tasks. But if on entering religious life or during the years of formation, he sees in the administrators a paralyzing hesitation regarding tile most basic tasks, if his program of formation turns his attention constantly back to him-self in questions of autonomy, fulfillment, and minimali-zation of rules, the dialectic of growth can hardly begin to operate. There is certainly no facile answer to the problem of developing religious enthusiam in a time when all tasks of religious life are being revaluated. We cannot simply ignore the severe doubts that do in fact exist in the minds of administrators. But the present hesitation to present concrete tasks to religious is serionsly hampering the possibility for formation. A rehabilitation of religious task must take place on two levels. The first level is that of the Church as a whole. On this level we can recognize a permanence and uni-versality of tasks. In the life of the Church there is a permanent need for some people to pray in a way that disengages them from personal participation in the eco- nomics and politics of our world, just as there is a per-manent need for others to ~ray in a way that involves them person.ally in economic and political progress. These needs derive from the very nature of Christianity. On this universal level we can articulate a theology that shows the beauty and depth both of the traditional and. o~ the new tasks of the Church. Such 'a theology of the functions of the Church can present these tasks in such clarity that they engender enthusiasm and initiate self-dedication. The second level is that of the particular congrega-tion. On this level we must learn to understand the co,,n~tin, gent and limited nature 'of the congregation'~ en-traiace into the universal work'of the Church. From the expansive range of ecclesial tasks, each with its own theology and permanence, a" congregation must decide on specific tasks to assume. This decision is necessarily contingent on historidal and p~rs~nal ,circumstances, but this contingency need not prevent an intense adherence~ to the tasks. The decision by a congregation will be based on its continge~tt capabilities, as a result of a his-tory of insights and ~pecializatiops, but in that decision a congregation enters into theuniversal dimensions evangelization. A chosen task may not be the most cen-tial, the most perfect possible task of the Church today, but by accepting it with its limi(ations, a religious con-gregation can take its part in the whole work of the Church in all its depth and beauty. The only alternative' to this is a perfectionist idealism that paralyzes all forts. Although in the actual appropriation of a task the two levels blend together, each operates according'to its own rules. The first level is theological and universal; the second, historical and contingent. Formation to task takes place on both levels. It educates to a vivid aware-ness of the universal tasks of the Church and to an ac-ceptance of the contingent communitarian decisions by which a society shares in these tasks. By focusing attention on the fulfillment and spon-taneity of the individual, many programs of formation today run contrary to the needs of both levels. The tasks of the Church are being obscured. Relieving the anguish-ing needs of the people of the world, bringing all men to an intimate knowledge and love of Christ, worshiping God as a community~these tasks of the Church are being displaced by concern for personal development. At the same time, the emphasis on minimizing rules and foster-ing spontaneity is blurring the need to accept the con-tingent communitarian decision of a task and the struc-ture of authority that makes the communitarian decision possible. Certainly we should be pruning away obsolete Formation and Task 19 rules, rules which are no longer associated with a task. But the effort simply to minimize rules for its own sake is equivalent to the effort to minimize community tasks. For a religious dedicated to the community work, the minimization of rules is not a burning issue. The dis-tinction between what is regulated and what is optional is of secondary importance. Rules appear as means of coordinating community effort, as expressions of what the community expectsof an individual, how he can contribute to the community functions. Since contribu-tions to the community functions may vary in a contin-uous range, from indispensable activities to actions which have little relation to the community work, the categories of "regulated" and "optional" are simply in-adequate to divide the day. Endless discussions about the precise limits of regulations indicate that the ques-tion of task has not yet been resolved. Formation must begin and end with mission, a selec-tion and a confiding of tasks, an education of people to the realities of these tasks that evokes their love for the good to be accomplished through these tasks. Trying to educate people to self-direction without at the same time giving them tasks will always tend to a loss of self-giving. Educating people to love and know tasks, allowing the tasks to draw people will inevitably result in a develop-ment of responsibility and self-confidence. The dynamism of task is the only atmosphere conducive to human autonomy. ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, S.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 20 JOSEPH FICHTNER, O.S.C. Religious Life in a Secularized.Age Vatican Council II, in its decree on The Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life, analyzed our renewal as a twofold process and laid down two generic principles for the pursuit of that renewal.1 The first principle takes us historically backward, the second forward. The first principle is a continuous return to the gospel of Christ as a basic norm of the religious life, and the second is an adjustment or adaptation to the physical, psychological, cultural, social, and economic conditions of our day. But at this point already one should ask the question: Is not religious life caught in a false dilemma when it at-tempts to return and renew itself at one and the same time? 2 How can it move backward and forward simul-taneously? Is it possible for religious to draw their in-spiration from the gospel as well as adjust themselves within the context of a secularized age? The decree underscores the return to the gospel ideal first of all; this is why a concerted and communal effort is to be made to catch anew the gospel inspiration as a rule of life and conduct. Yet the gospel presents reli-gious with no stereotype of their life that is always and everywhere valid and that they can turn to when-ever they find themselves in religious straits. In order to re-evangelize we have to ask questions of the Bible out of our own concrete, contemporary life, because the religious life experience of 1969 presents us with prob-lems. The problems are compounded because we have till now developed only the embryo of a new style of life which shows very indistinct features of further growth. XN. 2. "E. Schillebeeckx, "Het nieuwe mens- en Godsbeeld in conflict met her religieuze leven," Ti]dschri]t voor theologie, v. 7 (1967), pp. 1-27. I have followed to a large extent the development of ideas in this article. See also Soeur Guillemin, "Renovation de l'espHt et des structures," Vie consacrde, v. 38 (1966), pp. 360-73; she covers much of the same ground from a more practical point of view. Joseph Fichtner, O.S.C., is a faculty member of Crosier House of Studies at 2620 East Wallen Roadi Fort Wayne, Indiana 46805. VOI'UME 28, 1969 - ~oseph Fichtner, O~.C. REVIEW F.OR.RELIGIOUS We are asking questions, therefore, which the past Christian generations could not have asked since they did not live in a secularized age. The gospel cannot reply to questions not put to it; nor does it await questions from us which were already put to it by generations past.,'It is inconceivable that we should inquire .intb the Sc'riptures from the same van-tage point, say, as Sts. Jerome and Augustine had to do for .their respective communities whose members did not take vows but simply pledged themselves to persevere in their religious purpose. The medieval monks interpreted the Bible in a much different way than we can, and they tended to encapsulate the religious life into a profession of the three vows, a notion retained by canon law in its definition of the religious state.3 The former tendency was to regard the religious experience as a form more or less of flight 'from the world, of self-denial; renunciation, the exclusive service of God. We must strenuously reject the identification of the evangelical community life with the fo~ms it has taken in a given period and locale. Perhaps~- though you will have to judge this for yourselves--the change with the times and places is harder for the woman religious because of her naturally (and in other respects advantageously) conservative spirit. The past.historical ~onception of religious life hardly coincides with the demands made upon'human life by a secularized society.4 If we are to research the gospel for goals and guides to present,day religious .life, then we will have to approach it with an open mind, not with the m~ntality of our forebears, founders or foundresses, most of whom lived in a pretechni.cal, preindustrial, pre-democratic age. We may e~,en, have to rephrase our. ques-tions once. we listen to the cadences of God's word. The gospel may. echo. to us the question whether we have been tuned in to the secularization process critically, whether our life context offers any guarantee of human values. The times we live in, with their alternate possibilities of. good~, and evil, do not simply call for an unqualified adaptation. .-Hence what the decree aims atis that religious.evaluate their world in the light of the gospel. Some kind of eval-uation has already.been done for the Church at large in the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World; here the world is seen from a threefold view-point-- as created, as fallen and sinful, and as loved and redeemed.5 Religious life itself has to be reinterpreted 8 C. 487. ' ]. Bonnefoy, A.A., "Presence au monde ~an.s une vie religieuse," Vie consacr~e, v. 39 (1967), pp. 353-67. ; . ~ 8 E. Pin, $.J., "Les insfituts religieux apostoliques et le ~hang~- ment ~ocio-cultuel," Nouvelle revue thgologique, v. 87 .(1965), pp. 395-411. by means of a confrontation between the two, gospel and world. Without such a confrontation, the attempt either to re-evangelize or to adapt is empty and meaning-less; it is sold short by too much evangelization on the one hand and too much humanization on the other. The only way to arrive at a confrontation of the two is to examine human experience today in the light of the gospel and to understand the gospel from the viewpoint of contemporary human experience. Man today looks upon the natural world as the raw material out of which he can create his own world. The supremacy he feels over the things of the world is chang-ing his view of himself too as part of this world. Through his own scientific work he finds himself able to live a more human life; by humanizing the world round about himself he is discovering more human values. One of the values that he has freshly uncovered and that have prompted him to make the world more hu-manly livable is his freedom. Freely and creatively he would carve out of the world a home where the human community can exist in justice and love. He is filled with an indomitable desire to build a better world where men can live together in the solidarity of justice and love. But the humanization of the world by means of science and technology has also created, by way of a byproduct, the danger for man to render this world uninhabitable. The Great Society has been so organized by man that it has well nigh done away with other human opportunities such as the contemplative side of life offers him. He is forced almost to flee from the world in order to have the time and place for that contemplation which does not only regard the things of God but respects the dignity otr his fellowmen. Man risks the danger of treating his fellowmen as things and of overpowering them, of using and abusing them as he would the things of nature. If he loses his respect for his fellowman, he is liable to manip-ulate him, exploit him, and usurp his rights to human achievement.6 Of all the human qualities young people wish for themselves and expect of others the most out-standing are personal right, authenticity, trust, under-standing, loyalty, and honesty. They reject any and every sort of depersonalization. Man can so dominate the world socially, economically, and politically, that he runs roughshod over his fellowman. So the same scientific and technological progress can be both a boon and a threat to a more human existence, depending upon the use to which man puts it for his fellowman. The whoIe secuIarization process that has fallen into human hands has affected man's stance toward religion, 6S6eur Marie-Edmond, "Qu'attendent les jeunes filles de la vie rcligicuse communautairc?" Vie consacrde, v. 39 (1967), pp. 40-50. + Religious LiIe, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 23 ÷ ÷ Joseph Fichtn~r, 0~.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS though primarily it is a social event that of itself need not lead to any irreligiosity. It does, however, set man upon the pinnacle of the temple of this world; it puts him into a relationship with the world which he never yet experienced. This change of relationship and his own understanding of it is bound to alter his view of God. While formerly the Church was the means of bringing his attention to God as He operated in nature, history, and society, now that man has asserted his creative power over the world, he has at the same time contrib-uted to its desacralization. God would seem to be left out; man comes to the fore. As a result the conclusion we can easily reach is that secularization and desacralization are pagan, heathen, or anti-religious. But the fact of the matter is that this proc-ess has both Christian and non-Christian elements and hence cannot be accept.ed unqualifiedly or uncritically. If anything shakes the younger generation, it is their fear for the destiny of a world so insecure in its secular struc-tures. To give the secularized world its due, we must ac-knowledge it with faith as God's creation to which he gave an autonomy and secularity. Our belief in His act of creation implies that the world be left wholly other than God---creaturely, human, worldly. 0nly if we recog-nize the world for what it is can we catch some insight into who God is, as Someone unworldly, transcendent, uncreated. The more we tend to sacralize the world, the less transcendence do we attribute to God and the less likely are we to worship Him alone. Acceptance of the world and everything worldly from a divine point of view means setting the world free for man; to secularize it is to allow it freedom, a created autonomy. In a sense, then, the secularization process follows from Christianity itself as a consequence of its refusal to commingle, confuse, or fuse God with the world. Chris-tianity has no intention of divinizing or Christianizing or baptizing the world from within, but rather of keeping the world humanized through the retention of its essen-tially human values. Christian secularity is precisely this, that Christians in a spirit of faith discern the dif-ference between the concrete Christian and the pagan elements which make up the world and allow it to be itself. Grace makes it possible for Christians to prepare for Christianization, that is, to secularize and humanize the world by means of a faith outlook. The Gospel does not sterilize the heart of man, emptying it of an appre-ciation of all earthly and human values; rather it opens to him the same full human perspective which Christ had in assuming and recapitulating humanity. Sin alone dims or eclipses the possibility of that perspective. This is the kind of world, its history and culture, in which we must situate the religious life, and this is the same world in which we can ask the appropriate ques-tions of the gospel for the inspiration of the religious life experience. A false understanding of the world will in-evitably lead to a series of false questions. It will incline the religious to view nature, the world, man, negatively, and argue for a flight from the world. The old concept of God.has undergone a change along with the old concept of the world. But the death-of-God theology has evidently failed to come up with a new con-cept of God. In the. past Christianity was always con-vinced that God is inaccessible and ineffable. Faced with the radical inability to express themselves about God or present him to their fellow Christians, theologians and mystics resorted to an apophatic or negative theol-ogy. They admitted to knowing less about who God is not than about who He is. Oftentimes God was popularly conceived as one who intervened in the world; such repre-sentations of Him in the ordinary theological manuals reflected the social and cultural milieu. The experience of faith in God was colored by the social and cultural context necessarily, but 'this did not render it less authen-tic than the experience of faith in our own cultural situation. 'If our era is less sure of and less concrete in its con-cepts of God, it is because we have turned God into a big question mark and into a popular conversation piece. Perhaps there has been more conversation about Him since his "death" than there ever was while He was still considered "alive." We would like to unmask all the former illusions about God and do away with all the pseudo-gods of the past, but in getting rid of all such idols we have not clarified or facilitated the making of God in our own image. By raising the problem of God in our own day, we are likely to forget our own human condition which threatens to falsify the truth about God. In searching for Him we run the risk of creating other idols .than those we just finished demolishing. One of our approaches to God which hides some of His reality for us and which we may be guilty of in the religious life is to think that we can dedicate our-selves to him directly and exclusively. This approach may be devoid of any real, concrete content, a sort of chase into empty space, a flight after some utopian ideal. The only way remaining for us to express ourselves about Him has to derive from our experience within this world and within this era of salvation history. God speaks to us through men, their world and history; this is the hearing aid by which we can listen to His voice. There r.eally is no opposition between God's word in Holy 4- Religious Lile, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph Fi~htner, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Scripture and the authentic religious life experience of today, for the Scriptures provide us the norm whereby we can be faithful listeners to His word as it appeals to us in today's life experience. The latter feeds our under-standing of God, concretizes it, and gives content to our belief in God. To overlook this fact is to retrace our steps to the days when Christians felt it their duty to separate or alienate themselves from the world. We have no criticism to offer of their religious posture, be-cause it had meaning for them, but it leaves us without a real living God. Today we have the idea that to try to approach God directly and exclusively, without any worldly and human medium, is an unchristian illusion. We are inclined, if not theoretically then practically,, to distinguish between a Christian and a pagan secularity. We believe we come in contact with the living God in and through and with our fellowmen. This does not mean that as Christians we do not respond to God immediately and personally, but that our relationship with Him is real and concrete be-cause mediated through worldly and human realities. Christ experienced the immediacy of God's presence in Himself, in and through His humanity. He willed to be-come God in human form. In like manner we encounter God in the immediacy and mediacy of that image and likeness of Him which is man. What is immediate and what is mediate are not mutually exclusive but are linked together in our relationship to God. Against this modern background the religious life must examine the Scriptures to seek the solutions for the problems facing it. Sacred Scripture contains a number of evangelical counsels that simply are irreducible to the three classic vows the medieval monks or nuns pronounced. In fact, the gospel refers to only one counsel,7 one which was not expressly imposed or urged upon the early Christians.s It teaches that the perfection of love is attainable by all Christians, whatever their state of life, without their having to keep the counsel of celibacy.'° All Christians are called to an observance of the commandments and the other evangelical counsels in order to attain the per-fection of love. The one counsel alone is left to the free choice of every Christian and is the evangelical source from which the religious life has grown. Essen-tially, therefore, the religious life is a freely willed Chris-tian celibate life. This life is lived mostly in a community because few people freely will to live it in solitude.~0 7 Mt 19:10-2. s 1 Cor 7:25. ~ 1 Cor 13. ao Soeur Marie-Edmond, "Qu-attendcnt les jeunes filles?" The personal choice of this style of life is motivated by the gospel and makes sense fo~ alifetime only in virtue of the same~ The force of this motive is borne upon those young people who because of the instability and.change-ability of our age fear giving themselves to any style of life demanding continuity and stability. One who is will-ing to spend his entire life ~s a Christian celibate does.so because he is sensitive to the grace of 'God .cifll'ing. him in thegospel. He feels himself responsible to" God-who so strongly affects him that He becomes the source"of his religious life. But ~he particular form or structure of the religious life inspired by the gospel is ~as such a human project and a human construct. The whole human side of this life has developed in the course of history and is bound up with its vicissitudes. It,has t6 face the challenge of changing customs and cultures in older to survive arid renew itself. .We misunderstand the gospel message if.we base bur choice of a celibate life on a gupernatural motive alon~, as if we conceive the delibate life as a ctfoice between the natural good of marriage and .the supernatural good.of celibacy.11 Dedication of a celibat~ life to God has both immediate and mediate aspects about it, just a~ marriage itself. A couple united in Christian man'iage have an immediate duty toward God though they may mediate their love for Him through each other and thdy mayex-periefice tension and conflict in a way similar to what religious feel when they try to mediate their love for God through the world' and their fellowmen. The reli-gious life therefore has no immediate relationship to God without a worldly and human mediacy. Sometimes the immediacy of the religious life is more apparent, .'for instance, when religious live and work in community~ pray, celebrate the liturgy; at other times, in the apos-tolate, the mediacy of such a life comes into starker relief. Christian ~elibacy has also a human meaning, a natural value aside from its supernatural value, for otherwise, no matter how religiously or supernaturall~? motivated it is, it will somehow be left hanging in the air. Essen-tially it does not consist in a.chgice between God and 'a life partner; rather it is a positive choice of aw~y k)f life having natural and human meaning for those who have the iniier ability to embrace, it. Their choice, when you analyze it thoroughly, does not come down to one be-tween God and creature or between God and the world of man, but it is one which springs from the wholenes~ of his being. Celibacy of its nature permits the celibate to concen- ~ Schillebeeckx, "Het nieuwe mens- en Godsbeeld," p. 12. 4- +- +. Religious Ei~e, - Seculhri~ed Age VOL'U~E 2~, 4" 4" 4" Joseph FichOtn.Se.rC, . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS trate upon a certain life value and to dedicate to it his entire life. He freely accepts celibacy because he is con-vinced this is the only way, special as it may be, for him to be totally expendable. The value he has discovered within himself so fascinates him that he is willing to remain unmarried to achieve it; he places himself at its service; he considers it a part of an authentic life. Christian celibacy, moreover, adds to the natural value a religious, charismatic value, especially if men and women would concentrate their whole life upon its value because they would be witnesses to the world of their conviction. Within the Church their witness to the value of celibacy is a more easily and understood sign. It is seen to be a means some men and women take for the sake of the kingdom of God. Religious give to the world an irreplaceable witness of a supratemporal element alive and at work in it. In a sense they transcend history, manifesting a supernatural value and significance--point-ers to a life beyond the present. The better they can serve mankind in this way of life, the better they are able to serve the God who founded His kingdom among men. Religious men and women will show to the world the. authenticity of their life only if they commit them-selves totally to it, convinced that their expendability makes their style of life worthwhile. Others may sacrifice marriage for the sake of a tem-poral career--scientific, social, political, cultural; but Christian celibacy on the contrary entails sacrifice for the sake of a religious value. In both instances there is a sacrifice of a human value, but in the latter a trans-cendence of the religious self becomes evident. The sacrifice points to a transcendence--men and women are willing to give up marriage not for some secular good but because they want to give evidence of the religious dimension of life.x2 The religious sign value of celibacy too easily fades out or is lost among those who engage solely in a secular career, good and beneficial to society as it may be. More than ever in the past religious must be a sign of the transcendence of God in the midst of a secularized world, even when at times this sign may appear to be nothing else than a protest against a world gone pagan. They give eschatological witness of a life that overcomes the temporality of this worldAa Christian celibacy has essentially a close affinity to the other evangelical counsels, poverty and obedience, in that they too contain positive human and religious values. Heretofore the general tendency has been to re-gard the counsels or vows too negatively and isolatedly. = Karl Rahner, "Reflections on the Theology of Renunciation," Theological Investigations, v. 3, pp. 47-57. 18 Lk 20:34-7. When a problem arises, we are prone to isolate it and to forget it may have far-reaching and entangled roots (the race problem provides a good example in those who advocate job opportunity for a cure-all). Perhaps we lose sight of that unity of purpose which brings all counsels together--the following of Christ in His kenotic life; and especially the unity of the person living a trinity of counsels. Like Christian celibacy, poverty and obedience are questionable because in our time and culture they seem to lack any positive value. Today's trend is to stress the need of getting rid of poverty and of accentuating free-dom, and thus to outdate them. The question then arises how are we religious to retain the positive, human values of the two at a time when they are considered caricatures or illusions of reality. For example, how are we to evaluate poverty in a society characterized by mass production, mass consumption, white-collar work, a so-ciety preferring to poverty a prosperity that promotes health, welfare, and education programs, and leisure? Religious poverty makes sense only if it is in keeping with the real poverty existing among peoples today. Its inherent demand is that we live on a similar basis with the poor and at the same time, precisely because we have pledged ourselves to be poor, join in the effort to better the lot of the poor. Religious poverty must square with the economical situation of society and must take into account the level or standard of living. Young reli-gious are filled with a sense of sha~'ing rather than econ-omizing (as formerly) material, intellectual, and cultural goods--a spirit more current with the times. A balance has to be struck between the means and the end of the religious institute which, in any case, will require a special moderation in food, clothing, recreation, and a determination to earn a communal living by hard work. In addition, various kinds of social work performed by religious may lend themselves to social progress. Religious community life can no longer model its authority upon the medieval feudal system. Religious authority that appeals for obedience in the name of God's will is old-fashioned; it dates back to that old era of the divine right of kings. It leads to a confused idea that superiors must reign and their opinion must prevail under the pretext of deriving their authority from God. On the other hand, wherever like-minded people are ¯ gathered into a community, however much they may be motivated by love, they will still have to hold to the inte-grating factors of authority and obedience. Faithful re-ligious do oblige themselves to observe the will of God. Such a spirit of obedience is all the more sensible when Religious Li]e, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 ~9 ÷ ,÷ ÷ Joseph FicOht~n.Cer., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ¯30 it believes God speaks His will not only through the superior but within a life situation, within a community living together with love, friendship, dialogue, for the common good, and from within one's Own conscience. This type of obedience is not a blind following of the .superior's will rather arbitrarily determined or unex-plained, nor the keeping of meaningless, minute, mean commands, a routinized life without any commands at all, a perfunctory performance of duty without any pro-fessional competence, but an open-eyed observance of God's will as it is made known within an entire life situa-tion. The American practice of obedience functions best in an equalitarian atmosphere; Americans will not tol-erate supremacists in their midst; they are. used to bu-reaucratic (in the good sense of the word), consultative government. The religious life then consists not first and foremost in a negation, the exclusion of positive human and religious values, but in a special Christian, meaningful way of life. This life does entail the sacrifice of such values as wealth, marriage, independence which most Christians freely choose and cordially treasure. By the mere mention of the words "sacrifice" or "renunciation, we are likely to turn off people who think such practices .dwarf the human personality or stifle its spirit.14 Renun-ciations, however, are emphatically no evasion or escape f.r.om the world. The paradoxical fact about them is that they detach us to some degree from the world so as to allow fuller involvement in other ways.15 Religious do not directly choose to sacrifice earthly and human values, but they do choose a Christian way of life full of other and superior values accepted in a spirit of faith, hope, and love. Tertullian once re-marked: "Every choice implies a rejection." ~0 In choos-ing a kenotic way of lift Christ did not sacrifice human values m~rely for the sake of supernatural values; His prefere, nce was for a way of life out of various, meaning-ful messianic possibilities. Among other things His was a predilection for a celibate life because it left him free to establish the kingdom of His Father.17 Religious likewise are inclined toward a style of life which does not drive them from the world but enables them to orient their life, energy, and competence toward the world's future. Theirwhole thrust is to take the world with them to God, and this is the reason for their willingness to accept sacrifice or renunciation along with that a4 Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, n. 41; Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, n. 46. ~ K. Rahner, "Reflections." 16 Apology, 13, 2. ~"~ Lk 9:23. faithful and unconditional service they would give to God and their fellowmen. The loving service they offer concretizes that self-emptying which contradicts an egotistic spirit. The love they dedicate to God and to the world of men expressly calls for self-criticism, sacrifice, and self-emptying. If there is any emerging feature of the new-style religious life it is the conviction of its' mem-bers that they have to be present in and open to the world. The fact that the religious life is a matter of lifelong choice makes it difficult for people of our times to recog-nize its value and meaning. They are quite well con-vinced, and rightly so, that man is so built as to be un-able to appreciate the unknown dimensions of a human act binding him for a lifetime. Human psychology is so complex that for one to make such a binding decision wonld oftentimes be irresponsible, lighthearted, an act tmcharacteristic of the human will. This attitude is exemplified not only in the modern outlook upon the religious life but upon marriage too. Can man morally commit himself to an obligation that, humanly speak-ing, seems to be contradictory to his very nature? No matter how free and knowledgeable his act may be today, he cannot foresee tomorrow--he may react differently to his choice once he is put into hard circumstances where he is likely to experience his failings. To validate and give meaning to his decision, his only alternative is to entrust himself to Christian hope. That this modern mentality has a glint of truth about it, there can be no doubt. But there are values which for the moment we cannot, certainly not [ully, appreciate or approve, which nonetheless surpass the momentary situation and are imperative for the integrity of man. They have an enduring value; they hold good in any and every situation (with some exceptions) which man has to abide by if he is to be true to his own nature. In the matter of the counsels and their public pro-fession, the vows, we are dealing with a choice that in the first place is not ethically binding, it is not necessary, it is not a matter of commandment. So why should anyone be obligated to keep his choice for a lifetime if he has freely willed it in the first place? Man has an intrinsic right to freely change his mind, to decide tomorrow against his decision today. But this human vacillation is obviously giving the world much trouble. The value of following the counsels for a lifetime lies not in a freedom of choice alone but in the free and faithful acceptance of a way of life. It evidences how a religious finds it pos-sible and meaningful to dedicate himself for life despite his failings and mistakes; he accepts a lifetime of service. Fidelity too, and not only freedom, is a basic human + Religious Lile Secularized VOLUME 28, 1969 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS quality, .substantiated by both the nature of man and his history. The will-to-fidelity must have meaning therefore; it is not a mere will-o'-the-wisp; it is the expression of the human self once and for always. Despite the fact that man can point to the vicissitudes of history and to the uncertainty of the future, that he can personally leave himself open to various possibilities for the sake of ex-periment, to see how he reacts to them in the process of maturing, still his human limitations tell him that he cannot experiment or vacillate in his decisions forever. His human limitations force him to make that decision to which he can devote the totality of his life. This is what psychologists have called the "fundamental op-tion," which has its correlative reality in a fidelity to grace and is motivated by a single love, the following of Christ. The fidelity, and integrity of a life of the counsels springs from our efforts, gradual and constant, to per-sonalize them, unify them, liberate ourselves thereby from the selfish impulses which may dominate our lives. Fidelity and integrity are ours to the extent that the counsels permeate us; taken together they add up to a complete style of life. I dare say one reason for religious discontent stems from the failure to bring the three counsels within the focus of the one fundamental option. The saying, "Divide and conquer," applies here: the more divided and disrupted a life, the greater the loss of personal energy and the less resistance to difficulties.18 To be a full man is to be faithful to the true self. It is by totally giving that each of us becomes totally him-self. The full Christian is one who gives a faithful re-sponse to that divine fidelity which never fails him unless he proves faithless to himself. The basic human reason for the inviolability of the religious life is the fundamental option, and not the pub-lic vow from which the religious can be dispensed. The religious who opts for the celibate life is a living em-bodiment of the counsels, particularly celibacy; they do not exist in the abstract or in vows or in constitutions. In making a lifelong choice man wants to be true to himself and thus to bind himself in the service of a basic value. This value is an enrichment to both the religious him-self and to his community. The value, as it were, me-diates between the person and the community, recip-rocally helping the person to serve the community and the community to respect and draw benefit from the per-son by warding off some risks of instability. In its wider scope, the value of a religious community extends to the unlimited horizons of the Church and society. When See Summa theologiae, 2-2, q.44, a.4, ad 3. a person publicly announces his fundamental option to live a celibate life in a religious community, he makes an appeal to the community to help him be a full man and a full Christian. He is helped negatively when the com-munity does not interfere with or hinder the realization of his fundamental option--the development of his personality under grace; he is helped positively when the community has a concern and care for his life ful-fillment. The binding force of a vow is derived immediately from the option one makes of God but mediately from the religious community and the Church in which the religious pronounces his vow. The religious .vow has a quality of reciprocity between the religious himself and the community of his profession. Between the two there exists a sort of two-way street of right and responsibility. In our sociotechnic world there still is much need of the other-directed spirit, of teamwork and a measure of con-formity and mutual respect to obtain the same goals. The religious cannot oblige the community onesidedly, nor can the community willfully or lightly discharge its duty toward the religious. Just as the religious can prove unfaithful to his community, so can the community fail the religious particularly if it does not renew or up-date itself. The human and Christian quintessence of the reli-gious life consists of a special concentration upon a lifelong value by means of a freely willed Christian celibacy. Whatever is added to this quintessence is of human creation and consequently is historically con-ditioned. The evangelical inspiration is subsumed into a variety of concrete forms and structures and institu-tionalisations, all of which are bound up with historical experiences and cultural patterns. None of them has eter-nal value, not even the form(s) the founder or foundress gave to the gospel message. Whenever the evangelical inspiration is found wrapped in a new life experience, its particular value can be questioned and criticized by the psychologist, sociologist, economist, hygienist, anthro-pologist, and others interested in the practical life of man. They compel us to rethink the religious life as it is time-honored and -bound in our constitutions. It is a fatal mistake to identify the latter with the gospel in-spiration. The Council fathers of Vatican II were not unmindful of the fact that religious institutes periodically revise their constitutions in order to adapt themselves to time and place. Surely in calling for a radical overhauling of the religious life they were thinking of the social and cultural revolution we are passing through, when slight and detailed changes and modifications are not enough. + + + Religious Li~e, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 33 + ÷ Joseph Fichtner, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS There is much room for consolidating, deepening, and trimming. The crisis we face is deeper and graver than we know; it is clearly evidenced by the revolutionized concept of man and God in our secularized age. If the religious institute as we know it is to survive, we must make a heroic effort to restructure and revitalize it. It does not need a heart transplant, but it will need a series of blood transfusions. Needless to say, the religious institute that cannot or will not adapt will sing its own requiem. The gospel inspiration of the religious life offers no guarantee that the various traditional forms or structures have to endure forever. A religious institute may well have served its purpose and should go out of existence or coalesce with a more viable group. The life experience today is so new, so revolutionalized, so secularized, that in a sense all re-ligious institutes can be considered old which do not reinterpret the gospel in the light of the new life situa-tion. We have to bear a crisis so severe that only a radical restructuring of the religions institute will tide it over: This restructuring has to be more than an offscouring of antiquated practices, making our life easier or more sociable. It has to arise from a thorough re-evangelisation which asks questions of itself and of life as religious live it in a secularized society. Nobody can accomplish this tremendous task but the community itself, and especially its young members who are not baffled by the new life experience becat~se they have been born and raised in it. But one can hardly insist enough upon the duty of the entire community, young and old members, to enter into the restructuring phase. This is not a task divided between the young members pushing ahead with a crea-tive spirit and the old upholding the canons of ortho-doxy. Both have to be patient and indulgent. Nor is it a summoning of an endless series of meetings and discus-sions where members reflect upon their life, haggle back and forth over community life, the apostolate, the struc-tnre of authority, and what have you, yet in the mean-while make no effort at experimentation with new forms and are fearful of groping toward a reincarnation of the religious life. Who does not feel stymied by an inconsist-ency between thought and action, plan and life? Given plenty of room for experimentation, for pilot projects, not necessarily in every monastery or convent but here and there where local needs require it and the proper authorities are willing to assume the ultimate responsi-bility, where everybody enters enthusiastically and not merely tolerantly into the experimentations, thus mani-festing their loyalty to the institute, the religious life will blossom out anew, perhaps in an unsuspected way-- at least under the mysterious, unforeseeable guidance of the Holy Spirit. ANDRI~E EMERY Experiment in Counseling Religious When* I began working at the Hacker Psychiatric Clinic in 1961---on the staff of which I am the only Catholic, unless I count one doctor, who although baptized Catholic does not consider himself a member of the Church--the general opinion of the staff would have paralleled the oft-quoted but not sufficiently validated statement that many more religious than lay persons were mentally ill. At that time they thought, I guess, that most if not all religious must be at least a little crazy.~ In the past seven years the climate of opinion in our clinic has changed, not as a result of apologetic dialogu-ing but through every day, pragmatic experience. Today, if one were to ask our staff for an opinion, they would probably say that the problems of religious were rather similar to those of lay people but that on the whole the religious seemed to be more insightful, more intelligent, and more motivated toward resolving their problems. O£ course, except for the very ill, who constituted merely a fraction of our religious clientele, intelligence and moti-vation could be presupposed; otherwise they would not have asked for psychiatric help. The Hacker Clinic is not a subsidized agency but a private clinic with some 20 professionals on the staff, most of them psychiatrists (M.D.'s). Because of its private character, patients who seek help there are mostly middle-class, financially independent or well insured, and thus comparable to the well-educated and, sup-posedly, well-socialized religious. In the past three and one half years 156 religious--73 men and 83 women-- and 6 diocesan priests were seen in our clinic. I, personally, spent more than 3500 hours interviewing these men and women. Since each person * This is the text of a talk given on August 8, 1968, at the Ameri-can Canon Law Society's Workshop on Renewal at Notre Dame, Indiana. 4- Andr~e Emery, area director of the Society of Our Lady of the Way, is a sociologist and clinical counselor residing at 127 South Arden Boule-vard; Los Angeles, California 90004. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ admitted to our clinic undergoes a full evaluation, which includes testing and psychiatric consultation and in-volves interviews with at least three different profession-als, and since some religious were seen in therapy not by me but by other members of our staff, the total hours spent by our clinic with religious and priests could easily be three or four times this number. I did not include in my 3500 hours time spent in workshops, conferences, seminars, personal interviews during educational ven-tures, nor time spent evaluating aspirants before they were accepted into a community. Thus the 3500 hours, and some, were devoted entirely to direct clinical inter-views, either for evaluation or for therapy. The 156 religious seen in the past three and one half years--118 of whom were finally professed--represent 34 communities. Of the finally professed 66 were religious sisters, 5 were religious priests, 31 were major seminar-ians, 14 were teaching brothers, and two were members of a secular institute of men. One religious priest was on leave of absence, one woman religious was exclaustrated, and three were dispensed from perpetual vows shortly before coming to the clinic. Of the remaining 38 religi-ous, 21 had temporary vows--5 men and 16 women-- and 17 were novices, of whom 14 were men. Only about 10 per cent of these patients were diag-nosed psychotic and approximately another 10 per cent as severely neurotic. The majority merely had problems, probably not very different from those who did not seek our help. The median age of all religious men and women and diocesan priests whom we saw was 28 years. The median age of the men was somewhat lower than this figure, be-cause of the relatively large number of seminarians and novices among them, and that of the women was some-what higher. Only 19 per cent of the women and 8 per cent of the men were over 40 years of age. The services rendered by the clinic varied. 78, fewer than half of the total, were simply evaluated by us. Of these we recommended therapy or counseling for 37, but to our knowledge only in ten instances was our recom-mendation followed. The other 27 did not receive the recommended help. At present, there are 10 men and 10 women religious in therapy in our clinic, 7 of them for less than a year, 13 for more than a year, and there were 64 others in therapy who are no longer coming. 22 hospital patients were visited daily; the majority who were outpatients were seen once or twice a week, and a few follow-up cases were seen once a month. All were seen in individual therapy, but 15 were also in group therapy. Priests and brothers attended group sessions with lay men, the sisters had their own group. 86, or more than half of all the religious and priests seen by us in the past three and one half years, told us that they wished to leave the religious or priestly life. Had we had longer contact with those whom we have merely evaluated, the number might have been even larger. We did not ask them directly about this and not all volunteered unasked-for information in the first in-terview. Exactly half of those who mentioned leaving did leave, most of them shortly after evaluation and without hav-ing been given an opportunity for further counseling-- or perhaps not desiring it. Ten who were in therapy in our clinic left their communities after therapy was in-terrupted against their wishes or against our recommen-dation. Of the 74 whose therapy with us was not interrupted, only four left--three during therapy and one after mu-tually agreed termination of therapy. These figures speak for themselves: problems can and should be solved rather than run from. After listening carefully to a relatively large number of religious men and women, I asked myself the ques-tion: Are their problems similar or different from those that weigh down our other patients? We cannot separate our personal growth and our in-dividual crises from the historical development and con-temporary crises of the group with which we are identi-fied. There is no human being who is free from the influence of the society into which he was born and in which he has been raised. While we sift perceptions and experiences through our personal physical and psycho-logical apparatus that is very particularly our own and give them special emphasis and slant, our apperceptions, our symbols, our values, our conflicts, our likes and dis-likes, the very traits that we think of as most personal, most expressive of our individuality, are suprapersonal. They are consensual with the culture in which we are rooted; at least they must be such if we are to be con-sidered "normal" and not "odd" by our contemporaries. This was brought home to us rather early in our ex-perience with religious patients. At that time some of our non-Catholic staff still expected to find intolerable conditions triggering if not causing the acute problems of religious. (Off the record, I have seen conditions in religious houses of men which I, or most any woman, religious or lay, could not have tolerated, and I am sure that some men, in turn, would feel the same way about our houses.) But to come back to the clinic: Not more than half a dozen of our religious patients described without corn-÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 37 4. Andr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 38 plaint, external circumstances in their convents that seemed intolerable to us. The remarkable thing was that. the communities from which they came were all foreign in their origin and rule and also in their membership. The conditions described would have seemed intolerable to most American religious, too; yet the religious who lived under these conditions, including our foreign-born patients, did not find it particularly intolerable. And so we had to face the fact that our judgment of what was tolerable or intolerable was made from' the point of view of national culture, which was the same for American doctors as for American religious from active congrega-tions. Taking this basic dependency on the culture group for granted, we cannot be astonished that many of the basic problems of religious men and women in the United States do not seem to differ greatly from those of other American men and women. The growth of Western civilization, together with its stratification and specialization, has created models of shifting, sectional, and contradictory prototypes, from Ronald Reagan to Martin Luther King Go Malcolm X. Ours is a mobile society, multi-valued, materialistic, outer directed, as the sociologist would say, easily brain-washed by mass media, advertisements, fads, and. ffish-ions. It is peer-group oriented rather than hierarchical and, at present, is plagued by rebellions, which while not necessarily more violent than those of the past are cer-tainly more ubiquitous. Change and not stability is the epitome of this kind of society even in human relationships, as the steadily in-creasing divorce rate dramatically shows. That time, and thus change, is a human dimension was already recog-nized by Heraclitus 2500 years ago. But the rate of change is not constant; some structures change slower than others; and there are periods when the same entity, be it matter, living being, or human society, slows down or accelerates. The period in human life when change is most evident is adolescence. Yet Erikson, who is perhaps the best known psychologist of this country, calls this period "moratorium"--delay of adulthood, which the young person needs to integrate earlier childhood experiences and to learn to conform to the larger society which will soon replace his immediate family environment. In our Western world--and, particularly in the United States which is considered the apex of it--this morato-rium on adulthood has become extended far beyond the period of physical and sexual maturation and," thus, adolescent problems he.avily "interlace and aggravate the problems that young adults, as a matter of course, must face. It is not that our young who marry or enter religion are much younger in age than were those in former generations, but their readiness to assume adult respon-sibilities, particularly continuing responsibilities, seems to be less. Young and not-so-young religious who were born and nurtured in our culture are no less exempt from this extended moratorium and its consequences than are their married counterparts. Is it really--as we often hear---~the hierarchical struc-ture of religious communities that keeps religious im-mature? More immature than their lay counterparts? We did not find religious more immature or more frequently immature. But, obviously, those who did not wish to assume responsibility, for whatever reason, had a better excuse, a ready-made rationalization. Still, the child wife, the happy-go-lucky husband are not rarities either. The impulsive adolescent who marries or enters religion, having "fallen in love," will back out quickly, and this will be less traumatic for the religious than for the married. But those who cling to the idealized image con-structed by their immature motivations and resist facing reality---even a reality not inferior to their fantasy, just different--will experience severe crises, in marriage or religious life alike--one, two, five, ten years after their initial commitment. The fantasy wears away bit by bit, leaving them numb, empty, and somehow feeling cheated. I was told with great feeling by a 25-year-old mother of four that she had just discovered that she was not a teen-ager any more but "mommy" and that she did not like it a bit. As a matter of fact, she did not know whether she liked children at all. And I had to listen to a very angry, very depressed young superior of 28, who "just wanted to do a good job," but whose ambition was thwarted by the non-cooperation of several sisters, in-cluding one severely mentally ill, and who found that she could not maintain the unruffled, cooly kind exterior that earned her the early appointment to office. The pedestal broke, both under the community where "such things could happen" and under her who could not live up to the fantasy ideal. But to go a step further: Not only does our culture extend the moratorium on adulthood, it openly vaunts that adulthood is not worth aiming for. We have a cult of youth--the historical development of which, though relevant, cannot be presented here. Youth has ceased to be regarded as a transition period in which adult living is learned, in which adult identities are crystalized. It has become an aim, an identity, a subculture, emulated in some ways by the broadest segments of society. Who wants to be an adult today? (And who wants to be a + + ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 39 A~dr~e JEnt~ry REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS religious superior?) The model wears a miniskirt not only on her hips but in her (or his) head. At the same time, in strange contradiction but with unavoidable logic, we have put terrible responsibilities and burdens on young shoulders, probably more so than did any former generation. One of the main characteris-tics that differentiate human from animal life is time binding: the ability to transmit experience from one-generation to another. To demand from young people that they learn all the answers "on the go," pragmati-cally, by experimentation, to pretend that in the few years of their lives they could and should discover or duplicate the accumulated experience of mankind is sheer hypocrisy, or what is worse, delusion. The im-mature cannot become mature in human society with-out guidance. To quote Erikson: "By abdicating, by abrogating responsibility, the older generation deprives the young from forceful ideals which must exist for their sake--if only so that they can be rebelled against." Ra-tionalizing our inconsistencies and vacillations, our cow-ardice and lack of principles, with the excuse that it frees them from dependency does not help the young to grow. Is the peer society of the street gang superior to the authoritarian family still found in urban minority groups and in farming areas? If we elected (or, God forbid, appointed) only religious under 35 years of age into all offices, would that really guarantee a better gov-ernment than when we acted according to a different cultural pattern and gave the offices only to the old and supposedly "wise"? Are the younger more tolerant, do they show more empathy, more Christian virtue than the old? Or the other way around? No. The generation gap is legitimate only as an ado-lescent phenomenon--as a pause (though a very active pause) in which the young person has left childhood behind and has not yet reached adulthood. Otherwise the gap is mostly semantic: personalities clashing because they do not use the same symbols, same words, for the same concepts. Interestingly, now it is the old who are expected to learn the jargon of the young and not the other way round. I still smile when I remember a recent conference attended by some 200 people where no one was less than twice 16, and most three times that age and more, and where we had to sing Ray Repp songs during Mass--which in my opinion are both poor music and poor theology--just to show that we were "with it." To this point I have spoken only of a basic social fact--I don't like to call it problem--that affects both lay people and religious in our culture and which is at the root of many symptoms that we encounter in the clinic. There is an important facet of the present confusion that (oncerns religious and priests in particular. At a recent discussion in our clinic I was asked whether I could specify the ideal, the model of a religious--his own concept of his role or identity. I had to admit that had I been asked this question ten years ago, or even five, I would have thought it answerable--but not now. Incidentally, I have asked this same question of several major superiors and received just as vague a reply. It becomes more and more clear that the theology of religi-ous life still needs to be written. Up to the time Pope John opened the windows of the Vatican, we have had--and to some extent we still have--a subculture of religious institutes, distinct though related to othe~ subcultures of the Catholic Church. In the United States the religious subculture was colored by Irish-French, or rather 'French-Irish Ca-tholicism. This religious subculture, this cultural island, was well defined, stable, hierarchical, in contrast to the mobile, multi-valued, peer-oriented culture that sur-rounded it. It had not only a particular philosophy but also its own symbolism and language--understood only by the initiated but understood by all of them much in the same way. Because of its confidence-inspiring stability and the idealism of its teachings, it greatly appealed to many: to the searching, to the young who wanted to cut the apron strings but still needed support, to those who needed status, or those who wished to leave behind materialism, competition, and self-seeking. In a sense it was all to all: it provided security and challenge, asceticism and freedom from cares, opportunity for self-development and oppor-tunity for self-sacrifice. Or so it seemed. As we have been a nation on wheels for some time, not only the present generation of religious but at least two previous ones had to do quite a bit of adjusting to this distinctly delineated structure when they left their families of origin. Perhaps the children of foreign-born parents found it easier to adjust--perhaps not. It de-pended on how much they introjected or, conversely, rejected the values of their primary group. But whether first, second, or fourth generation of Americans, all who entered attempted to adjust to religious life as they found it. I said, attempted to adjust, because our early up-bringing cannot be completely eradicated and conflict patterns will persist. Many of our seriously ill patients were older men and women: some chronically ill with symptoms of chronic frustration in attempted adjust-ment; some acutely ill, with primary processes breaking through the surface of more or less successful controls exercised for years. Adjustment to the religious life, however, has not been 4- Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 4] ÷ ÷ ÷ A~tdr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS entirely a one-way street. Needs and values which the individual member brought from his primary culture had also an effect on the religious institutes. These slowly changed, became more American in character, sought some kind of equilibrium with the broader society around them. Still, on the whole, they remained distinctive. Thus, the young person who entered might have found it more or less ego syntonic, more or less cor-responding to his personality and early upbringing, but rarely found it completely so. The religious way of life always demanded sacrifice, self-denial, rejection of some earlier values. At the same time it offered sufficient re-wards to enable the individual to exist in it. And then, if I may say so without offending, after Vatican II we suddenly changed horses mid-stream. The point here is not whether the change was for the better or for the worse, and most of us hope and trust that it will be to the better; nor am I questioning the need, in some respects the overdue need, for change. I merely wish to underscore the unavoidable problems that arise from such a massive and headlong change. For the sake of illustration, imagine that you are a teacher, nurse, or drill-press operator and on short notice you are told that your job description and the require-ments for employment have been redefined and that the procedures as well as the rewards have been changed. Moreover, not only are the old role definitions super-seded, but you are told that you must get new directives and guidelines--except that you are not sure from whom or what. Would you not get upset? As one of my patients said: "Formerly we knew that if we got on the boat that went in the right direction and didn't get of[, we were ok. Now we are made personally responsible to get where we are going, but no one has yet thought it through how to get there." Under such circumstances it is understandable that severe conflicts develop. You will say that most of the changes were thoroughly discussed and dialogued, that they were not sudden, that opinions were polled, votes were taken. No one's good will and integrity are being questioned. But even if experiments Were discussed beforehand, did we evalu-ate them thoroughly afterwards? This conference is an attempt to do so. Just how long is it that we have been discussing them? Two years, three years, five years? If we cannot integrate complex childhood experiences during the normal years of adolescence and must extend the moratorium, just how long do you think we need to sift and integrate the huge mass of divergent opinions, rules, roles, and behavior that has been sprung on us in the recent past? A frequent consequence is panic, and not necessarily among the old timers who now have an excuse to remain passive, to leave the initiative to the young, and, if they cannot resist temptation, to sit back and criticize. It is more often the young who panic, because the responsi-bility is too great. Hence exodus of many young progres-sives. Willy-nilly, they accept re.sponsibility for them-selves, but not for the groupl And one cannot blame them; the rules of the game are equivocal and they do I . not know what will prove rewarding. When the religious role is merely a thin veneer on the .I personality, under the abrasion of uncertainties and clashes it wears off. Religio6s ,,who s'eeme,d, to be well adjusted now revert to tlaeir real selves--and since public disapproval has diminished--leave the subculture with which they were not fully identified. It is only lately that we have come to recognize that ¯ I keeping young religious isolated for long periods in the exclusive company of their peers, even for the sake advanced education, did not help them develop ~rich human qualities and did not foster community spirit. They tended to remain a sepa, rate group which out of psychological necessity had to f, ancy itself better and dif-ferent from others, inside and outside the community. The unreality was further inflated when the young sisters were assigned, strmght from school, into positions which their lay ¯counterparts ~could achieve only .after many years of hard work. We liave seen the young Ph.D. who was made a full professojr right after she received her degree leave the community when she encountered the first serious obstacle; the[ young R.N., supervisor without ever having been a rookie nurse, getting doctors, staff, and patients into turmoil land feeling "defeated for good"; the young priest, promiiing member of his order, going literally on a sit-down strike because he could not do all that he expected from hi~nself and from others. Into this group belong also t~e men and women whose delayed adolescence led to so-cAlled "late blooming" and who leave religious life because of real or purported .I sexual oroblems. In our experience, there were far fewer of .these than generally assumed, at least among the women religious. Here I must stop and quali[y~ what I have just said. In the last two months 78 case histories accumulated on my desk, of clients not seen by us in the clinic but about whom I was consulted by a non-sectarian adoption agency. These are cases of seventy-eight ex-religious, most them college graduates, many with advanced degrees, who left their convents 6 to 18 months ago and who are expecting a child out of wedlock. They are mostly in their middle thirties, and most of the fathers of the child ÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 Andr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 44 to be are members of underprivileged minority groups. Not one was a victim of rape. Practically all said the same thing: our community did not change fast enough with the times; our community is not involved with the poor and underprivileged. We wanted to get dose to people in a personal apostolate (none of them were trained social workers); we wanted to live with them in the inner citymand get involved. And so they did. A few of them stated that they were advised by priests to leave the celibate life and get married. But, one of them added bitterly, they never warned her how few eligible men there were in her age bracket. Not knowing these women personally, I cannot judge how many had serious sexual problems, for which this certainly was not the answer, and how many were naively following fashions or using broadly preached but not sufficiently thought through slogans to excuse their im-mature acting out. As regards the quoted advice, it seems to be freely given to both men and women religious, as if marriage were a cure for sexual problems, to be used on prescriptionmwhich incidentally doesn't work rather than a sacrament and a responsible human relationship requiring maturity and mutual respect from the part-ners. ~Arhile some of the foregoing is a regrettable but pre-dictable reaction to stress, enhanced by a cultural incli-nation to buy what is advertised or what is in fashion, irregardless, there is an additional psychological com-ponent in the existing confusion among the religious. When a person searches for a new identity or new iden-tification, by definition he ceases to act in the role of a mature adult. He regresses to quasi-adolescence, to turmoil, indecisiveness, influencibility, impulsive acting out. We have seen this syndrome frequently in refugees and adult immigrants when they tried to adjust to their new country and its culture. The search for new mean-ing, new relevance, new identity in the religious life, whether to the better or worse, per se increases the turmoil caused by other individual and social factors. Perhaps the present quasi-adolescent upheaval of the religious is unavoidable, and hopefully it will lead us into a more and better integrated religious adulthood; but it is painful for those who go through it and more often than not embarrassing for the onlooker. Having become aware of widespread immaturity in comtemporary society and of its consequences, we are now inclined to fall into another pit. We are tempted to demand the impossible: that the girls and boys who enter our institutes, seminaries, convents, be mature. Per-haps maturity could be demanded if we would up the entrance age by some 20 years, in the hope that someone else would give the young the necessary guidance and would develop their personalities for religious life. We cannot stock novitiates and seminaries with sure bets--we have to take chances. We cannot screen out all who are immature, because if we do we abdicate as religious educators, as adults who take the responsibility for nurturing and forming the young. And certainly we should not screen out anyone on the basis of one test, given in absentia and scored by someone who never saw the applicant in person. On the other hand, we should not let young religious take perpetual vows when there is a serious question regarding their suitability. Severely neurotic persons, not to speak of psychotic or potentially psychotic ones, should not be burdened hy commitments which they will not be able to keep. But, when a professed member of a community be-comes disturbed or mentally ill, do we have a right to say that he should never have entered, that she never had a vocation, that they should be let go if at all possible? Are only the perfect seated at the banquet of the Master? Father Orsy last night said that St. Peter would not have been canonized--I don't think he would have been ac-cepted into a novitiate. Are our disturbed brothers and sisters very different from us but for being harder hit by suffering? Who is my neighbor? Only the under-privileged in the inner city? These troubled men and women in our communities are our closest neighbors. They are our poor: we have accepted them, we formed or tried to form or deform them, and we must bear their burden if we are to be called Christians. There are great differences in attitudes toward disturbed religious in their communities. Trying to get rid of them, with the shallow excuse that they never had a vocation and never should have been accepted, is injustice, even if there should be some truth in it; sending them from house to house or cramming them into the motherhouse is no answer to the problem either, and neither is the plan to live in an apartment with chosen friends the solution. When I said good-bye to the chief of our clinic, he said: "You will make a theological point, won't you? [He meant some reference to religion.] After all, you will be speaking to religiousl" I am tempted to belabor for a couple of minutes the often heard remark that no one wants to commit him-self today--which is true to a certain extent. But more often than not we found that persons, religious or lay, are desperately hungry for commitment. They want to give themselves to something or someone. They so very much want to entrust themselves to some group or indi-vidual. But they have not learned to trust because they Counseling Religious VOLUME ~'8, J.969 + ÷ Andr~e Emery REVIEW'FOR R'EL'~G IOUS ,t6 have not found anyone really trustworthy in their young years. Therefore they want and need some tangible evi-dence of appreciation, something in exchange--love or ~uccess--and they want a way out if things do not work out. Their needs are unfulfilled childhood needs; their reservations are rooted deep down in bone and marrow. The concept of commitment is not easily reconciled with such reservations--certainly not Christian commitment which must be an adult act of self-giving. I know that the saints and particularly the mystics are not "in" now, but rarely have I found a better description of the "perfec-tion of charity" (if I may use such an antiquated term) than in one of St. Catherine of Siena's mystical dialogues when she heard our Lord say." I have placed you in the midst of your fellows that you may do to them what you cannot do to me, that is to say, that you may love your neighbor of free grace without expecting any return from him. Someone asked how to tell whether a tree brought good fruit? We are too often inclined to think of success as good fruit. From where did we, Christians, get this notion anyhow? Of instant success as a must? Or even as hard-earned reward of the just? Christianity always was a losing cause, at least in the short run. Few apostles have reaped where they have sown. There was a small item in the Los Angeles morning paper the day I left home. I cut it out because of its deep significance for us. The follow-ing is an excerpt from it: The finest sermon he ever heard, said Dr. Eugene Carson Blake, was just three sentences long. It was delivered by Miss Kathleen Bliss of the Church of England, before the Central Committee of the World Council of Churches last year. In a very brief closing service we had sung the ancient hymn, "Veni Creator Spiritus". Dr. Bliss then read from the Gospel of Luke in the 4th Chapter, the account of Jesus returning to Nazareth and entering into the Synagogue and opening a book where it read, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering the sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to pro-claim the acceptable year of the Lord." ,, Then Dr. Bliss spoke her three sentences. Our hymn was a prayer in which we dared to ask for the presence and guid-ance of the Holy Spirit. We never know whether He will come or what He will do to us if He comes. I remind you that the scripture account which we have just heard goes on to tell us that Jesus' neighbors in Nazareth then tried to kill Him." .There is another variation on the success theme that is even more disturbing than the naive expectation of in-st~ int reward. In our work with religious we frequently came face to face with a man or woman, capable, tal-ented, "who was deeply angry, resentful, depressed, be-cause he or she was not omnipotent. Some wanted to change others, some wanted to change themselves, some sought external success, recognition, others the persdnal satisfaction of achievement, or, occasionally, material goods. None of them faced "this carnal reality," the limits of human existence, in themselves and outside. They wanted something and therefore it had to be. If it did not happen, they went on a "strike" or they became negative, withdrawn, maneuvering-~each according to his personality. Passive-aggressive? Not always. But what-ever the pathology or the character structure, with one's "third ear" one perceived the echo of the ancient pro~nise: And you will be like God--all knowing, all powerful. When the promise did not come true, there came forth the even more ancient answer: Non serviam. I will not serve. Familiar? Some years ago it was thought that emotionally dis-turbed and mentally ill people were often preoccupied with religion. Actually, in certain crisis periods of life, such as 5-6 years in childhood, in adolescence, in the so-called change of life, when approaching death, people become preoccupied with basic human problems: life-death, love-hate, God or the void. There is a certain logic in that people should turn to God in periods of suffering and turmoil--though sometimes this might be expressed in the form of cursing. I might have misunder-stood one of the earlier speakers, and if I did, I apolo-gize, but it seemed to me that she said that the suffering and the dying are always completely self-centered. Not always, as many concentration camp cases have shown, to mention only extreme instances. When an individual is deeply rooted in a culture that recognizes the tran-scendent, and if his childhood trust was permitted to grow into adult faith, even if he experienced shorter or longer periods of emotional fatigue (to use an euphe-mism) in high and low periods of life he will return to God. This is why I was deeply shaken by the fact that of the 161 religions and priests to whom I have listened for several thousand hours, only two, one priest and one brother, mentioned God. No matter how much I would like to shun it, how can I avoid asking the question: What tragic lack in us, Christian parents of the present generation, religious men and women, teachers, nurses, social workers, catechists, what tragic lack in us has buried God so deep that even the suffering and the troubled cannot reach Him today? Indeed, there is a need for renewal that goes far beyond adaptation. + ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 ANDREW J. WEIGERT Social Dimensions of Religious Clothing Andrew J. Wei-gert is a faculty member of the De-partment of Soci-ology and Anthro-pology at the University of Notre Dame in Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The Catholic experience as presently interpreted in America is undergoing many changes.1 In the midst of such widespread change, there may be a danger in under-valuing certain sociological dimensions of clothing in the case of the religious orders, both men and women, and to some extent for the diocesan clergy as well. The prob-lem is no doubt most pervasive in the religious orders of women. At the same time, there seems to be some un-clarity and lack of simple sociological principles to in-form the discussion and aid in the decision making. A folk adage has it that "the cowl does not make the monk," but the resistance offered to changes in religious garb from certain quarters makes it apparent that some may think differently. Nor is such resistance always to be attributed to unthinking conservativism. It may be based on a well founded respect for the "reality" and social, power of appearances. These realistic bases for questioning the advisability of change for the sake of change deserve respect and should be distinguished from various traditions which grow around uniforms (for example, saints appearing in a certain habit) as attempts to legitimize and sanctify a uniform for all times, places, and social orders. The present discussion of religious clothing will focus around two value orientations which are taken to be more or less conflicting: witnessing for other-worldly (transcendent) values, and identifying with this-worldly (immanent) values. In order to witness for other-worldly values, an individual must be recognized as standing for such values; and the sign, for example, a uniform which cannot be identified with contemporary cultural styles, which enables him (throughout this paper, the him will refer to the "religious," both male and female, with all wish to thank Sisters Rosina Fieno, C.S.J., and Mary Margaret Zaenglein, I.H.M., for criticizing .an earlicr version of this paper. II due respects to the latter) to be recognized as a witness also sets him apart from non-witnessing persons. Simi-larly, in order to be identified with this-worldly values, an individual must be recognized as belonging to the group which shares these values. Social recognition, as mediated by clothing, is a cognitive process whereby the viewer classifies and labels individuals according to his interpretation of their tailored appearance. An in-escapable social-psychol0gical dimension of every social order is the necessary visual "giving off" of information about his place and identity in that society which each individual proffers in his appearance. Stated aphoris- ~tic.ally, a member of society cannot not "appear," tha

Issue 1.2 of the Review for Religious, 1942. ; A. M. D. G. Review for Religious MARCH 15, 1942 S,~f. Joseph's Titles to Honor ¯ . .Aloysius C. Kemper The Scapular Devotion. : . William A. Donaghy Perfection and +he Religious . Augustine Kl~as LeoJ on the Incarnation . Cyril Vollert Profession of a Dying No,~ice . Adam C. Ellis The S+udy of +he Decalogue ¯ .- . Gerald Kelly Some Recommended Spiritual Books Book Reviews (~ues÷ions Answered Decisions of the Holy See VOLUME I "" "~-':. NUMBER 2 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ¯ VOLUME' I MARCH 15, 1942 NUMBER 2 CONTENTS SAINT JOSEPH'S TITLES TO RELIGIOUS HONOR Aloysius C. Kemper, S:J . 74 THE SCAPULAR DEVOTION AND THE SABBATINE PRIVILEGE William A. PERFECTION AND THE RELIGIOUS--Augustine Klaas, S.J. 9.4 ANNOUNCEMENT --'The Editors . ¯ . SOME RECOMMENDED SPIRITUAL BOOKS . 105 THE DOCTRINAL LETTER OF LEO I ON THE INCARNATION Cyril Vollert, S.J . 112 PROFESSION OF A NOVICE IN DANGER OF DEATH Adam C. Ellis, S.J . ¯ . 117 PAMPHLET REVIEWS . 122 RELIGIOUS AND. THE STUDY OF THE DECALOGUE Gerald Kelly, S,J . 123 BOOKS RECEIVED . ' 135 BOOK REVIEWS PROGRESS IN DIVINE UNION. By the Reverend Raoul Plus, S.J. 136 COLORED CATHOLICS IN THE UNITED STATES By the Reverend John T. Gillard. S.SIJ. 136 ONE INCH OF SPLENDOR. By Sister Rosalia of Maryknoll . 137- LITURGICAL WORSHIP. By the Reverend J. A. Jungmann, S.J. 138 MARYKNOLL MISSION LETTERS ~ . , . . 140 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 7,. Communion on Holy Thursday . 1,41 8. Obligation of Sponsor in Baptism or Confirmation . 141 9. Separation of Novices and Postulants at Recreation . 142 10. Superior's Right to Read.Mail of Subjects . . . 142 DECISIONS OF THE HOLY SEE OF INTEREST TO RELIGIOUS 143 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, March, 1942. Vol. I. No. 2. Published bi-monthly: January, March, May, July, September, and November, at The College Pre~s, 606 Harrison Street, Tope~ka~ Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Application for second class entry pending. Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.J., G. Augustine Ellard, S.J., Gerald Kelly, S.J. Copyright, 1942, by Adam C. Ellis. Permission is hereby granted for quotations of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscription price: 2 dollars a year. Printed in U. S'. A. Saint: Joseph's Titles t:o Religious Honor Aloysius C. Kemper, S.J. THERE is no need at the present day to undertake a § vindication of the honor paid to St. 'joseph, foster-father of our Lord and most chaste spouse of Mary. Devotion to. him has taken so firm a hold on the popular mind, and his cult hag been so repeatedly and unstintingly approved by the Church, that St. ,Joseph stands next to Mary as the Saint °most highly esteemed and honored in the celestial hierar~chy. It is perhaps no vain hope to look for a marked increase in devotion to him and in a more insistent, confident appeal to his mighty intercession in the stress of the actual national and international crisis. St. ,Joseph ~was indeed from time immemorial regarded as eminently a social patron by various groups and religious families, in view of his headship of that singular holy group, the Family of Nazareth.- In 1621 the General Chapter of the Carmelites chose him officially as patron of the whole Reformed Order. Soon after began to appear for the first time the title of Patronage of St. 'jose~ph under which the holy Patriarch was'honored by numerous orders, religious bOdies, kingdoms and states both in the old and new world. It was not until 1847, however, that Plus IX extended the feast of the Patronage to the universal Church. From that papal grant the devotion received a new, vivifying impulse that resulted in a truly phenomenal growth. It was again Pius IX who, during a particularly calamitous period of his pontificate, bethought himself of a new title which had not until then been bestowed on any angel or saint. 'On the feast of the Immaculate Conception, in 1870, the " 74 ST. J,OSEPH'S~ TITLES TO HONOR Holy Father declared St. Joseph Patron of the Universal Church, the proximate motive for this elevatioff, being that "at this most sorrowful time the Church herself is beset by enemies on every side,, and oppressed by grievous cidamities, so that .wicked men imagine that at last the gates of hell are prevailing against her." The immediate occasion, then, for the new title was the urgent crisis of the Church at the moment. But in the same decree a more general motive for the papal action is al!eged: '"On account of this sublime dignity (of foster-father of Jesus) which God conferred on His most faithful servant, the Church has always most highly honored and lauded the most Blessed Joseph next after his Spouse, the Virgin Mother of God, and. has implored his intercession in all her great necessities." No one can fail to detect in this pontifical utterance a very sig-nificant placing of St. Joseph as one to be honored next to Mary. Nearly twenty years later, on August 15, 1889, Leo XIII issued a warmly enthusiastic encyclical letter1 -on devotion to St. Joseph. It is worthy of note that he ~hose another principal feast of Mary for this pronouncement. In it, in a more explicit manner, he placed Joseph after Mary . in the hierarchyof the Blessed, insisting "that the Christiafl people should grow accustomed to implore with an especial piety and confidence, together with the Virgin Mother of God, also her rnos~ chaste spouse, the Blessed Joseph." After recognizing that the cult of St. Joseph had advanced notably since the declaration of the Universal Patronage, Leo XIII wished to add his own authority in moving Chris-tian piety to new endeavors. He not only vindicated to St. Joseph his proper place in the devotion of the faithful next to the Virgin Mary, but for this he assigned two out- 1Quaraquarn pluries. Cf. The Ecclesiastical Review, Vol. 1, P. 362. 75 AI~OYSIUS C. KEMPI~R standing reasons, whicl~ he first briefly Stated, then feelingly expounded: "Jos.eph was the husband of Mary and the reputed father of Jesus Christ. From these two prerogatives derive all his dignity, grace, sanctity, and glory. Undoubtedly the dignity of the Mother of God is so sublime that nothing can excel it. Yet because between ,Joseph and the Blessed Virgin there existed the bond of matrimony, there can be no doubt that he approached more closely than any One else to that most lofty dignity by which the Mother of God sofar surpassed all other creatures . . . Again" he alone stands forth amongst all men by the singular dignity of having been divinely chosen to be the guardian of the Son of God, and considered by men to be His father." Here, then, is officially stated the basis of all solid devo-tion to St. Joseph, namely, his eminent dignity which sur-passes that of all the saints excepting only the Blessed Mother of the Redeemer. This dignity moreover is due to Joseph's position in the Holy Family of which he is the divinely appointed head and guardian, as husband of Mary and foster-father of Jesus. The marital and parental func-tions which he thus exercised in that l~lessed Family impli-cate him as closely as may be in the carrying into execution of the mystery of the Incarnation of the Son of God. "When the fulness of~ time came, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the Law, that he might redeem those who were under the Law, that we might receive the adop-tion of sons" (Galatians 4:4). In tha~ tremendous drama 3oseph had more than an accessory par~ to play. His coop-eration was essential. He was appointed to live and labor within the inner circle of the Incarnation, and his whole activity was displayed in the secret unfolding of this mystery. 76 ST. JOSEPH'S TITLES TO HONOR Joseph's actual presence and operation .within the circle of the Incarnation is vouched for by the simple gospel nar-rative familiar to every child. Je,sus, Mary, andJoseph are there always found together, the latter as husband of Mary and father of Jesus. In the genealogy according to St. Mat- . thew (1: 16) we read, "And Jacob begot Joseph the hus-band of Mary." Again (1:18) "When Mary his Mother was betrothed to Joseph"; ( 1 : 19) "But Joseph her husband being a just man. "; (1:20) "Do not be afraid' Joseph ¯. to take to thee Mary thy u2ife"; (1:24) "So Joseph. to0k.unto him his u2ife.'" The relation of husband and wife between Mary and Joseph is thus plainly asserted in St. Matthew. Both Matthew and Luke frequently place the three holy persons inimmediate j.uxta-position. Thus, (Matthew 2:13) "An angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph, saying, 'Arise, and take the child and his mother, and flee into.Egypt'." Four times in the brief nar-rative of the flight into Egypt are the three names thus brought together. St.Luke (2-:16) tells us of the shep-herds that "they found Mary and Joseph and the babe lying in the manger." This Evangelist is particularly intent on calling attention to a true parental relationship that bound .Joseph .to the divine Child. Thus (2:27) "And when his parents brought in the child Jesus" (at the Purification); (2:33) "And his father and mother were marvelling at the things spoken concerning him"; (2:41) "His parents were wont to go every year to J.erusalem"; (2:48) "Behold thy father and I have been seeking thee. sorrowing." These latter words, spoken under stress of strong emotion, quite unconsciously reproduce the manner of address current in the holy house at Nazareth. The character of the mutual relations within the Holy Family is thus clearly established in the gospel; Joseph is the bus- 77 ALOY$1US C. KEMPER band of Mary and in a true sense the father of Jesus. The point that should be emphasized on reading this narrative is, that Joseph is not an extrinsic companion to a closely united pair, nor a mere accessory, interested specta-tor, or helper, but is an integral and essential member of this sacred trio. This is a truth that seems often not to have been fully recognized even by those bent on showing Joseph ~his due honor. In the popular mind particularly,due per-haps inpart to catechetical instruction that was calculated to.be both safe and adequate, St. Joseph is the victim of a minimizing p~ocess that deprives him of his full dignity. Frequently the negative statement is stressed that as man 3esus had no father, and that consequently all genuine paternity should be denied his appointed guardian; or that Joseph was merely reputed to be the father by men who mistakenly looked upon Jesus as the carpenter's Son, Jesus not being his Son at all. Similarly it is often thought that ~Joseph was not the real husband of Mary, but only a faith, ful protector, serving as a safeguard to Mary's undoubted ¯ genuine motherhood in. the public eye, a consort-in name but not in reality. Besides, Mary's ~rirginity, sealed by vow, might seem to preclude the possibility of a true mar- ¯ .riage contract that would mak~ the two strictly man and wife. As a result of this endeavor to shield the exclusive divine sonship of the Child, and the virginal conception of the Mother, Joseph's full dignity is sacrificed; and he is denied the glory of the very position whence "derives all his dignity, grace, sanctity and glory," as we heard Leo XIII claim. Joseph is thus reduced almost to the status of an honorary member of the Holy Family and counts for little in the scheme of the Incarnation, Indeed, what appear to us unworthy travesties of the true glory of St. Joseph were 78 ST. JOSEPH'S TITLES TO HONOR seriously maintained and defended by more than one Cath-olic author even during the pontificate Of Leo XIII. How false such a rating of the position of the great Patrihrch would be becomes at once evident if we briefly examine the reasons that underlie the succinct gospel state-ments above enumerated. First of all, the Blessed Virgin contracted a true and proper marriage with Joseph, and this is a truth of faith according to all theologians. There was, therefore, no true sense in which it might .have been said of Mary that she was the reputed wife of Joseph. In the case of both, virginity and marriage were most perfectly con-joined, so that, as LeoXIII strongly urges, bothoare at the same time perfect exemplars of virgins and spouses. The teaching of the Church, confirmed by the Council of Trent, supposes that a true and perfect marriage bond subsists, even ihough the parties do not consummate their union. Such a marriage bond, with all its consequent .rights and duties, existed between the virgin Joseph and the Virgin Mary. They were mutually possessors and guardians of each other's spotless virginity. In the second place, it must ever be borne in mind that Joseph was the father of Jesus in a very real sense. The express statement of the gospel to this effect is not-to ~be qualified by reducing this relationship to a paternity that was only apparent. It was indeed a paternity entirely unique in kind, but most true in every, sense except the one which would make Jesus the Son of Joseph by natural gen-eration. This latter relation Scripture itself is careful to exclude; and it is with reference to this wholly natural paternity that Joseph is asserted to have been merely the reputed father of the Child. Jesus was not the carpenter's Son in the only way the people probably suspected. But He was the virginal, fruit of Mary's womb which could 79 ALOYSIUS C. KEMPER never becomingly and above suspicion have been brought into the world except within the chaste union and intimacy of two virginal spouses. It was entirely necessary for the blessed consort to shield in public esteem the fruitful vir-ginity of his true spouse: and even in this restiicted sense his paternity was no empty name. In what other sense it was real and w~olly admirable will be presently shown. Another consideration to be carefully weighed is this. In the divine plan the whole mystery of God becoming man was to remain profoundly hidden until such time as the reality of this divine prodigy of love could profitably be made public. 3esus Himseff only very gradually and with consummate prudence revealed His divine filiation during His public ministry; and its full import, inclusive of the virgin birth, was scarcely even surmised during Christ's earthly lifetime except by a favored few. Before it became finally known, 3oseph had already departed~this life, when his office of duly obscuring and shielding both the divine Son and the Virgin Mother bad been brought to a close. But this function of obscuring for a time both the Son and the Mother, necessary though it was for the proper execution of the divine decree, was neither the only one nor the most important one to give reality and splendor to the paternity of 3oseph. Suarez2 tersely says: "The Blessed 3oseph not only bore the name of father, but also the sub- Stance and reality which belongs to this name, in as far as it can be participated by any man, carnal_ generation alone excepted. He possessed accordingly a father's affection, solicitude, and even authority." He was fully and admi-rably a father to 3esus in providing Him a true home with all its unspeakable, charming intimacy, with early educa-tion, protection against danger, sustenance earned in the ZDe M~Isteriis Vitae Cbristif'Q. 29, Disp. 8, Sect. 1, n. 4. 80 ST. JOSI~PH'S TITLES TO HONOR sweat of his brow, and all of these exercised in a most per-fect and holy way, towards a Son truly his, as no father either before or after him, In addition to this intimacy Leo XIII, in the encyclical already referred to, thus expresses the reality of Joseph's fatherly office: "Accordingly, from this double dignity (as husband of Mary and father of Jesus) there followed spon-taneously the duties which nature prescribes for fathers of families, so that Joseph was the legitimate and natural guardian, curator, and defender of the divine house over which' he presided. These offices and duties he zealously exercised until the end of his lifel He strove to protect his spouse and the divine Child with supreme love and daily assiduity. He provided by his labor whatever was neces-sary in diet and maintenance for both. He was ever the unfailing companion, helper and consoler of the Virgin and Jesus." These are titles to a singularly sublime father-hood that is ill served by heaping about it the familiai denaturing negatives: "as man, Jesus had no earthly father; Joseph was only/ the foster-father, the reputed father of Jesus, not His real father in any sense." Such, then, are the titles on which isbased the dignity of St. Joseph: he is the true husband of Mary, a real father of Jesus, and an intimate, necessary cooperator in the strategic~ us.hdring into the world of the Incarnate Word. We haye. already heard two popes conclude frbm this unique and exalted position of Joseph that in dignity he excelled all the saints except bnly Mary Immaculate. It is true the Imitation (Book III, 58, n. 2) cautions us not to compa.re the saints one with another or to dispute their relative graces and merits. But for the Virgin and St. Joseph the comparative method alone does justice to the father and mother of Jesus, and most of the Fathers and ecclesiastical ALOYSIUS C. KEMPER writers have resorted to it in their case. Mary's incompa-rable excellence amongst the saints as the Mother of God entitles.her to a special worship reserved exclusively to her which, theologians style h~/perdatia. Since St. 2oseph is now by common consent ranked next to her as belonging to the hypostatic order, as we have seen, attempts hace been made to secure for him also a singular worship to be styled protoclalia, that is, the highest honor paid to any saint after Mary. The Church has not yet yielded to these entreaties, as she has also thus far refused to admit his name into the Cor~iiteor and the Canon of the Mass. On the other hand she has not shown herself averse to the claim now every-where urged that ~loseph is after Mary the greatest of the saints. Rival claims might be made in the case of St. ,lohn the Baptist and the Apostles, and these claims have been care-fully weighed by theologians. Of the Baptist our Lord Himself declared, "Amen I say to you, among those born of women there has ndt risen a greater than ,lohn the Bap-tist" (Matthew 11: 11). Yet our Lord could not have meant tl~is in an absolute sense, for He immediately adds, "Yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he." Relatively to all the patriarchs and prophets of the Old Law the Precursor of the Lamb of God must be placed at the head of them all. It is revealed that he was cleansed from original sin before his birth, but even this extraordinary privilege leaves him still outside the exalted circle of the Holy Family and the immediate actors in the execution of the Incarnation. The question of the superiority of the Apostles in dig-nity over all the other saints except the Mother of God has been reverently asked through the centuries, and conflicting answers have been given. St. Anselm amongst others 82 ST. JOSEPH'S TITLES TO HONOR declares: "Even the Baptist was inferior to'the Apostles in dignity for there is no ministry greater than the aposto-late." St. Thomas seems to favor this view. Suarez~ how-ever; ventures it as a probable opinion that the ministry of St. 3osepb was of a higher order than that of the Apostles for the reason that the latter pertained to the simple order of grace, while Joseph was immediately associated with the Author of grace within the order of the hypostatic union. Hence this theologian modestly concludes, "it is not temer-arious or improbable, but on the contrary a pious and very likely opinion thatSt. 3oseph excelled all other saints in grace and beatitude." The view of St. Thomas he explains by remarking that the Angelic Doctor regarded the aposto-late as the highest ministry in the New Testament; whereas the office of the foster-father of Jesusbelonged properly neither to the 01d nor to the New Testament, but to the Author of both who as the "cornerstone joined them into one." This probable and still too conservative opinion of Suarez, however, has long ago yielded to the unquestioned belief voiced by Leo XIII when he unhesitatingly declares: "There can be no doubt that he (Joseph) approached more closely than any one else .to that most lofty dignity by which the Mother of God so far excelled all other creatures. " We have thus considered the sublime dignity attaching to the double office of Joseph as father of JeSus and spouse of Mary. From this dignity may at once be deduced the eminent gifts of grace with which he was endowed and the incomparable sanctity he attained. It is a theological axiom that God duly apportions grace according to the state and office to Which He calls a soul. Joseph's correspondence with this grace was so perfect that Scripture is content to style him, even before his union with Mary, simply "a just BLoc. tit. sect. 1, n. 10; sect. 2, n. 6. ALOYSIUS C. KEMPER man." How he must have advanced to unspeakable per-fection of sanctity through all the years of daily contem-plation and intimate association with the holy and Immacu-late Virgin, his spouse, and the Holy of Holies, the Incar-nate Son of God! Truly, the life of heaven on earth! A second corollary is deduced by Leo XIII from Joseph's position in the Holy Family. "The divine house," says the.Pontiff, "which Joseph ruled by. fatherly author-ity contained the beginnings of the nascent Church." As a consequence "the blessed Patriarch considers the innu-merable multitudes of Christians that compose the family of the universal Church as entrusted to him in a .special way, and that in it, as the husband of Mary and the father of Jesus, he enjoys practically paternal authority." The dig-nity, sanctity, and power of Joseph, these three are on a par in the mind of the Holy Father; hence his whole ericyclical is a ringing exhortation to all the faithful and to the uni-versal Church to "go to Joseph," to honor him as his exalted dignity demands, to emulate the virtues of his sanc-tity which are resplendent for all classes in the Church, and to have recourse with unfailing confidence to his very real 'fatherly authority by which he is still "lord over his house-hold and ruler of all his possessions." The exhortation of Leo XIII is as timely today as when first uttered; nay if possible, it has grown in timeliness and urgency. Today more than ever, under stress of the most colossal menace that has ever threatened Church, .state, and civilization itself, we shall not fhil to remember one cer-tain haven of refuge, and to make it a precious habit of our spiritual life' in all our needs, to "go to Joseph," after Mary, the greatest of saints. 84 The Scapular Devo!:ion and !:he Sabba!:ine Privilege William A. Donaghy, S.3. ALTHOUGH thousands of Catholic~ loyally wear the little cloth yoke which is the symbol of their ~levo. tion to our Lad~, many of them are unaware of the Spiritual wealth with which the Church has endowed the Scapular. Most Catholics~ moreover; are ignorant of the wide variety of scapulars; and there are many minor points and problems connected with the devotion that even reli-gious might profitably consider. It is the purpose of this article to present a brief sketch of the devotion's historical background, to give some of the theology connected with it, and to indicate moral and pastoral aspects of it. The traditional account of the rise and growth of the Scapular devotion brings us back tO the thirteenth cen-tury. In those ancient days, the English Crusaders brought back to England from Palestine a little group of .hermits who had been living the religious life on Mount Carmel, the rugged backdrop against which Elias the prophet had confounded the priests of Baal, as the Third Book of Kings recounts. In England, these brethern were joined by a fiery hermit named Stock--so called, because he had been living peni-tentially in the trunk, or stock, of a tree. Much like the Baptist was this shaggy zealot, in his rough clothing, his gauntness, and his white-hot devotion to God. When he attached himself to the Carmelites, he took tl~e significant name of Simon, a name wealthy in memories and prophetic of leadership. The tiny band prospered so well in England that soon WILLIAM A. DONAGHY their numbers demanded some sort of local supervision and jurisdiction. Simon Stock was named Vicar-General and, in the year 1245, he was designated General of the whole. ¯ order. ~ All along, the ideal of these holy men had been one of strict seclusion, prayer, and penance. But at that time, even as in our own, students were thronging to the universi-ties; and the need of a highly educated clergy to guide this intellectual generation became increasingly apparent. Simon decided to train his younger members to meet this demand: buk some of the elders regarded his decision as a desertion of the cloister and a dangerous innovation against which they "firmly set their faces. Meanwhile, outside the cloister walls, jealous eyes had been observing the rise and growing influ-ence of the Friars, and now these enemies raised an outcry for the suppression of this "upstart" order. Sagging beneath his ninety years and the burdens of office, besieged from Without and suspected within his own household, Simon Stock withdrew, in 125f, to the mon-astery at Cambridge, where he begged a sign of solace from the Queen of Heaven. Apparelled in light and attended by angels our Lady appeared to him holding in her hand the- B~own"Scapular: "Receive, my beloved son," she said, "this habit of thy order; this shall be to thee and to all Carmel-ites a privilege, that whosoever dies clothed in this shall never suffer eternal fire." Almost a century later, Mary appeared again, this time to the man who was short!y to become Pope 3ohn XXII. To the future Pontiff, she gave new evidence of her gener-osity and extended and enlarged the Scapular Promise by an addition which has come to be known as the Sabbatine or Saturday Privilege." Afterhis elevation to Peter's chair, 3ohn published this private revelation in a Papal Bull. Our 86 THE SCAPULAR DEVOTION Lady had assured him that she would release from Purga-tory any members of her order on the Saturday following their deaths. Let us now examine these promises more in detail to see what they mean and imply: The Scapular promise, in the first place, comprises.two elements: 1) "Whoever dies clothed in this habit"; 2) "shall not suffer the fires of Hell." Now, only the members of the Carmelite Confraternity are entitled to wear the "habit," that is, the Brown Scapu~ lar. Hence the words of our Lady, "clothed in this habit," involve membership in that confraternity. One must, therefore, voluntarily enlist in Mary's great brotherhood before a priest authorized either by the Holy See or by the Carmelite General, to receive members. The officiating priest, moreover, unless he has a special privilege to the contrary, must enter the name of any new confrfire in a reg-ister of the Confraternity. Now formally admitted, the candidate is allowed to wear the Scapular; he is now "clothed in this habit." Obviously the large habit of Carmel fulfills this condi-tion; as does its small imitation, the Brown Scapular. And by grant of Plus X, in 1910, the scapular medal may now take the place of any cloth scapular in which one has been validly ~nrolled1. The subsequent words of the Scapular promise guaran-. tee that any wearer of the "habit" will escape the fires of hell. We must not, however, interpret this falsely. A man who dies in mortal sin, no matter what his garb, cannot be saved; that is eternal truth. What, then, does the assurance 1In allowing the substitution of the medal for the various scapulars, Pins X stated that those wearing the medal could gain all indulgences and participate in all spiritual favors attached to the scapulars. Nevertheless, some consider it safer to use the Brown Scapular itself when trying to bring about the death-bed conversion of impeni-tent sinners. Cf, The Ecclesiastical Reoiew, 3ul~r, 1941, p. 43. reED. 87 WILLIAM A. DONAGHY . mean? To determine the meaning, it will help to recall the general nature of the various scapular confraternities. As we shall see later, there are many scapulars and many ¯ scapular confraternities. Through the years, the Popes have decreed the patronage, ,guidance, and control of these pious org:inizations to different religiqus orders and con-gregations of the Church., When, therefore, a man joins a confraternity, he aggregates himself in some degree to the religious body which has special control of that confra-ternity; and he thereby participates in the end and purpose of that order or congregation. All these great religious :communities have this in common, that it is their aim and intent to strive towards perfection in the spirit and accord-ing to the path of the three evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and. obedience. In their .degree, the scapular con,- fraternities share the aim and object of the parent order or congregation; .hence the confreres, to a limited extent, pledge fidelity, to the same high evangelical ideal. Merely to wear the scapular without baying this spirit in the soul would not only not be virtuous; it would be perilously close to, the,dry and sterile Pharisaism which our Lord so mercilessly, .ondemned. The scapular, .too, is a link which binds the wearer to the members of the first and second orders and to his fellow .members in the confraternity, thus enabling him to share on earth some of .the special fruits of the communion of saints. How absi~rd'and dangerous it would be, then, to imag-ine that th~ scapular is a magical amulet, charm, or fool-proofs. passport to heaven! Against the Semi-Pelagians who exalted man's natural powers and self-sufficiency the Coun-cil of Orange hurled a definition which re-echoed in Trent. For the Church teaches that even for the just man, the actual grace of perseverance requires a special help from 88 THE SCAPULAR DEVOTION God. It is in the light of this dogma, in fact, that some great theologians seem to understand the Scapular p.romise; for they interpret it to mean that anyone dying in our Lady's . confraternity and wearing her scapular will receive through her at the hour of death either t.he grace of perseverance or the grace of final contrition. The lessons for the office of St. Simon Stock quote the promise. But before he sanc-tioned- the office, Pope Leo XIII inserted the adverb "piously" ("pie"), to make the promise read: "Whoever dies piously wearing this habit will not suffer the flames of hell." Turning now to the Sabbatine or Saturday Privilege, .we find that the Bull of John XXII proclaiming the privi-lege declares that our Lady wanted John "to. make known to all that on the Saturday following their death she would deliver from Purgatory all who wore the Carmelite Scapu-lar." In a Bull of approbation, Paul V confirms the prom-ise but confines its application to those "who in life wore our Lady's habit, were chaste according to their state, recited the Little Office, and abstained on Wednesdays and Satur-days except when Christmas fell on one of those days. These: clients will Mary help by her intercession and her special protection after their death, especially on Saturday, the day which the Church has especially dedicated to. her." It is worthy of note that a priest who has the faculty of receiving candidates into the Scapulhr Confraternity. has also the power to commute the conditions necessary for the Sabbatine Privilege and to substitute other devotional practices. As Pope Paul. lays them down, the requirements whereby one renders oneself eligible for the Sabbatine privilege are too clear to need further explanation. Once again the shining sanity and unshakable love of truth WILLIAM A. DONAGHY which characterize the Church have removed any danger of pre.sumption or superstition. Thus far we have given the traditionally accepted accounts 6f these two private revelations to St. Simon Stock and Pope 3ohn XXII and have made the obvious commentary on them. However, it is only fair to admit that these revelations have been attacked not only by non- Catholics but by sincere Catholic scholars as well.- For-tunately, ¯ we do not have to examine the evidence of the conflicting parties and decide the matter for ourselves. .We can raise the whole controversy to the higher plane of dogmatic values. Several Pontiffs have blessed and approved the scapular promise and the Sabbatine privi-lege; under the watchful eye of the Church, thesedevotions have been preached for centuries; and such confirmation of their validity is sufficient proof for the Catholic mind which realizes that the living, teaching Church rests not on the cornerstone of a library but on the Rock that is°Peter. It is true, .of course, that the great public revelation which Christ committed to His Apostles closed with the death of the last Apostle. It is this. fixed and unchanging body of truth which the Church guards. When from time totime She defines a dogma; she affirms that the truth in question,, actually and really is part of ,that' Apostolic deposit of faith. Other private revelations which have come to individuals down through the ages/neither augment nor complement the Apostolic revelation. Strictly speaking, therefore, one is not bound ,to beli~v,e in them; nor, do they. as such, pertain to the authority of the Church. But it is the office of the Church authentically to interpret and authoritatively to decide whether or not the content of such revelations agrees with the eternal truth of which she is divinely instituted custodian. She could not condone any 90 THE SCAPULAR DEVOTION offense against either faith or morals. In his great work on the Sacred Heart devotion, which was privately revealed to St. Margaret Mary, Father Bain-vel points out that the Church's approbation signifies that there is nothing in the devotion contrary to faith or morals. Moreover, Margaret Mary's holiness, on which the Church has set the crown of canonization, is ampl~ testimony of her right to,be believed. The apparition to her is, as Father Pesch notes, only the occasion of public worship of the Sacred Heart; the real reason for the worship is the author-ity of the teaching Church accepting the devotion and incorporating it into her liturgy. So, too, with the Scapular devotion. No matter what one may think of its historical foundations, it rests on the bed-rock of divine authority. Perhaps there is no bette~r proof of the Church's attitude towards the Scapular than the indulgences, almost "innumerable" as St. Alphonsus exclaims, which she has heaped on it. Best known and most widespread of all scapulars is the Carmelite Brown Scapular, to which the foregoing remarks apply. But there are many other scapulars. One fre-quently hears references to the "five scapulars"; and it might be interesting to mention and describe them sketchily. The white scapular of the Most Bleised Trinity, marked by a blue and red cross, is the badge of the confraternity associ-ated with the ~Trinitarians. Then there is the red scapular of the Passion, control and direction of which Pius IX com-mitted to the Lazarists; the blue scapular of the Immaculate Conception, under the Theatine Fathers; the black scapular .of the Seven Dolors represents the confraternity which the Servite Fathers direct. These, with the Carmelite scapular, are the "five scapulars." As we have mentioned, a priest receives the faculty to 91 WILLIAM A. DONAGHY admit members into these various confraternities either from the Holy See or from the General Superior ofthe reli-gious family in charge of the confraternity. The receiving priest must-bless the scapular and invest the candidate with it, although it is sufficient investitureif the priest simply lays the scapular across the shoulder of the recipient. During a mission, or when there is a great crowd of candidates to be admitted, some priests have the power of enrolling people in the scapular without personally placing it on the person who is to wear it. For the blessing of a scapular, the simple .sign of the cross is not sufficient; the priest must use the prescribed formula, which is necessary for validity, though he may always use the shortest of the three blessings given in the Roman Ritual. Furthermore, any priest who has the faculty to bless scapulars and the resultant power to enroll candidates in the corresponding confraternities, has also the power to enroll himself. What of the scapulars themselves? They must not be round or oval but must be square or oblong; they must be made Qf wool, and, although it is permitted to ornament them with needlework.or painting,, the color proper to each must prevail. These conditions all affect validity. In the Ecclesiastical. Review for August, 19411 Mr. John Haffert pointed out that approximately half a million worthless Scapulars are bought annually in the United States. Unscrupulous dealers make them of felt, which is cheaper ¯ than wool. The cords binding the oblongs of the scapular may be of any material or color, except for the scapular of the Pas-sion which requires red woolen strings. The scapulars must be. worn constantly, but if one has laid them aside for a perio~t, he may resume wearing them and thus revive his title to the privileges and indulgences attached to them. 92 THE SCAPUL,~R DEVOTION Only the first scapular needs to be blessed; after that, one simply get a new pair and puts them on. The scapular medal is a substitute for the cloth scapu-lar, granted by Plus X, in 1910. Missionaries request~ed the concession, because the wearing of the cloth scapular was a great inconvenience for their native converts. The l~ontiff did not wish to have the medal supplant the cloth scapular, however: and his successor Plus XI permitted a protected scapular, enclosed in ~loth, to overcome objec-tions of a sanitary sort. Other great theologians look with regret on the passing of the cloth scapular and the popu-larity of the medal; but the medal has official approval and styles have changed so radically since 1910 that many more now have reason to substitute the medal for the cloth scapu-lar. ~!~rho may bles~ the scapular medal? Any priest having the power to bless that scapular which the medal is to replace; and a simple sign of the cross is sufficient to endow the medal with precisely the same indulgences which the cloth- scapular would enjoy.° In fact, the priest may bless many scapular medals, even if he cannot see them--as would be the case in a crowded church. But if a medal is to represent several different scapulars, the Sign of the cross should be repeated for each of those different scapulars. These are only a few aspec[s of, the scapular, the humble heraldic symbol of devotion to the Queen of Heaveri. There are many others and one might write a long work on the subject. But the whole matter is .admirably summed up for us, as far as its practical side goes, in the words of St. J~lphonsus de Liguori, the Church's great Doctor of Morals. He epitomizes his own attitude towards this devo-tion briefly and significantly: "For my own part," he writes, "I havebeen careful.to receive all these scapulars." Pert:ec!:ion and !:he Religious Augustine Klaas, S.J. " I. Introduction //r~EI~FECTION is for priests and religious. I am only a layman. I am fortunate to keep my soul in sanc-tifying grace. Perfection is not for me." --- Religious have often enough heard similar views expressed by good, exemplary layfolk, who seem to imply that they would lead the perfect life if only it were "for them." Is the life of perfection "'for them" ? Most certainly it is. Priests and religious have no monopoly on perfection. The invitation to it comes to the laity from the lips of Our Lord, Who, after He had explained the principles of perfection in the Sermon on the Mount, said to the multitude: "You there-fore are to be perfect, even as your heavenly Father is per.- .fect" (Matthew 5:48). St. Peter echoes these words in a letter to the Christian communities of Asia Minor: "As the One who called you is holy, be you also holy in all your behavior" (I Peter 1 : 15). And St. Paul: "This is the will ofGod,your sanctification". (I Thessalonians 4:3). Later St. Paul clarifies this. idea when he transmits to the Colos-sians the greetings of Epaphras, "who is ever solicitous for you in his prayers, that you may remain perfect and com-pl'etely in accord with all the will of God" (Colossians 4:12). That this is not an easy task was declared by Christ Himielf when He said to all: "If anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me" (Luke 9:23). Though not always cor-rectly understood, even by religious, this doctrine of uni-versal perfection has been the constant teaching of the Cath- 94 PERFECTION AND THE RELIGIOUS olic Church. It is forcefully reiterated by Pius XI in his encyclical on St. Francis de Sales ($anuary 26, 1923) ;. "We cannot accept the belief that this command of' Christ (Matthew 5:48 above, previously cited by the Holy Father) concerns only a select and privileged group of souls and that all others may consider themselves pleasing to Him if they have attained to a lower degree of holiness. Quite. the contrary is true, as appears from the very generality of His words. The law of holiness embraces all men and admits of no exception. What is more, it appears that Francis de Sales was given to the Church by God for a very special mission. His task was to give the lie to the prejudice which in his lifetime was deeply rooted and has not been destroyed even today, that the ideal of genuine sanctity held UP for our imitation by the Church is impossible of attain-ment or, at best, is so difficult that it surpasses the capabili-ties of the great majority of the faithful and is, therefore, to be thought of as the exclusive possession of a few great souls. St. Francis likewise disproved the false idea that holiness was so hedged around by annoyances and hard-ships that it is inadaptable to a life lived outside cloister walls." Again, in the Encyclical on Marriage (December 31, 1930) : "For all men, of every condition and in whatever honorable walk of life they may be, can and ought to imi-tate that most perfect example of holiness, placed before man by God, namely, Christ our Lord, and by God's grace to arrive at the summit of perfection:" Hence, we see that men, women, and children, of every age, condition of society, and state of life not only can but should ascend the mountain of perfection even to its lofty summits. And they have done so. Some, like King Louis of 95 AUGUSTINE KLAAS France or Henry Of Germany, Queen Elizabeth of Hun-gary, Chancellor Thomas More of England or the lowly Benedict Labre of France, have been declared officially to have reached a heroic degree of perfection. Many more, like Matt Talbot, the lumberyard worker; Jerome Jaegen, the banker; Anna-Maria Taigi, the housewife; Frederick Ozanam, the professor; and Guy de Fontgalland, the pupil, have not yet been canonized. Tens of thousands more have their lives of heroic perfection writtdn only in the Book of' Life!. If the laity have a.strong invitation to strive for perfec-tion, the clergyhave a~command to seek that perfection implied in their high vocation. The Canon Law of the Church declares that "clerics must lead an interior and exterior life holiertha'n that of the laity and give thes~ the good example of virtu'e and good works." The .Bishop must see to it "that allclerics receive.~frequently the Sacra-ment of Pen;ince to be purified of their faults; that each day they apply themselves duriffg a certain length of time to the exercise of mental prayer, visit the Most Blessed Sacrament, recite the beads in honor of the Blessed M6ther of God, and make their examination of conscience . . . " (Cf. Canons 124-127). These-are essential spiritual practices leading directly to that high spiritual perfection demanded of the priesthood by.Christ and His Church., No one~ can read the ',Exhortation to the Catholic Clergy" of Pius X or.the Encyclical of Plus XI on the Priesthoodwithout being con-vinced of the necessity of perfection for the clergy. Their sublime calling to be "other Christs," their daily ministry 1Canon Arendzen raises an interesting question in The Clergg Review for October, 1941, p. 248. He wants to know whether the Church has ever canonized a married saint, apar~ from martyrdom? By married person he means one who ,actually lived in conjugal life till death, not widowers or widows, or persons who, though m~rried. lived as brother and Sister, at least for many years. If the answer is negative, it Would seem to indicate that abstinence from conjugal life is a prerequisite of heroic sanctity, or at least of canonization. What do our readers think about it? 96 PERFECTION AND THE RELIGIOUS of offering the Holy Sacrifice and of dispensing the Sacra-ments to the faithful requires much more than ordinary holiness of life. indeed, St. Thomas says that to serve Christ - in the Sacrament of the Altar "a greater interior sanctity is required than even the religious state demands." Then, too, effectiveness in apostolic work is altogether bound up with spiritual perfection. The Cur~ of Ars brought an averag~ of three hundred penitents a day to his confessional, not so much by eloquence of sermon or exactitude of litur-gical function as by his eminent personal holiness. So important is perfection for the clergy that theologians speak of a "state of perfection" for him who has the plentitude of the priesthood, the Bishop: his consecration presupposes in him a high degree of perfection already attained. Religious also are said tO be in the "state of perfection," that is, the state of perfection to be acquired. Religious are not necessarily perfect when they enter into the religious life, but they have the obligation to strive for perfection; they must put forth an honest effort to attain to it. The Canon Law of the Church defines the religious state as "the firmly established manner of living in community, by which the faithful undertake to observe not only the ordinary pre-cepts but also the ~vangelical counsels, by means of the vows of obedience, chastity, and poverty" (Canon 487), ~and declares that "each and every religious, superior as well as subject, is bound to tend toward the perfection of his state" (Canon 593). Hence, perfection is the specialty of reli-gious, the object and goal of their whole lives. They must strive earnestly for it, according to their particular institute and rule. Indeed, to refuse outright to do so, cannot-be excused from sin. The nature and limits of this obligation upon religious to strive for perfection will be discussed in a later section of thi~ article. This, at least, is true: there is AUGUSTINE KLAAS no state of life in which perfection is easier of attainment,. since in the religious life so many obstacles t6 it are removed and so many efficacious means to achieve it ~are provided. Hence, .it is not at all surprising to note the preponderance of religious who have been raised to the honors Of the altar. Statistics show that of the one hundred and forty-six saints canonized between 1600 and 1926, one hundred and ten were religious~. In a world-wide radio broadcast on Febru-ary 12, 1931, Pope Pius XI addressed to the religious of the Whole world these encouragin~ words on the excellence Of the religious life: "Sfriving after thebetter gifts and observing not only ' the precepts but also the wishes and counsels of the Divine King and Spouse by the faithful observance of your holy vows and by the religious discipli.ne of your entire lives, you render the Church of God fragrant with the odor Of vir-ginity, you enlighten her by your contemplations, you support her by your prayers, you enrich her by your knowl-edge and teaching, you daily perfect and strengthen her by your ministry of the word and by the works of your apos: tolate. Therefore, as you are partakers of a truly heavenly and angelical vocation, the more precious the treasure you carry, the,more careful watch you must keep, so that you do Got only make. your vocation and election certain, but also .that in you, as in most faithful and devoted servants, the Heart of .the King and Spouse may find some consolation and reparation for the infinite offenses and negligences with which men requite His ineffable love." II. Perfection, In General Perfection, then, is for the layman, the cleric, anti in a peiuliar way for the religious. Whatever may be the pre- 2Incidentall~r. the first nun to be solemnl~r canonized b~i the Church was Saint Clare of Assisi. She died in 1253 and was canonized in 1255. Her feast is celebrated on August 12. PERFECTION AND THE RELIGIOUS cise nature of the obligation and invitation to perfection, it is certain that perfection is possible for all. and strongly urged upon every one without exception. Does this mean that perfection is manifold? Is there one kind of perfection for the layman, another for the priest, and still another for the religious? By no m~ans. Perfection is one. Essentially, perfection is the sameforall. It is the same as to object and general means. What differences occur, are only incidental, a matter of different specific means employed, a matter of different circumstances, environment, and opportunity. Nor do religious orders and dongregations differ essentially as to the perfection for which they strive, each in its own particular way. Basically, the perfection of Francis of Assisi, Benedict, Dominic, or Ignatius Loyola does not differ from that of Theresa of Avila, 2oan of Arc, Sophie Barat, .Pius the Fifth, Charles Borromeo, John Vianney, Thomas More, or Francis de Sales. There are many lanes and many types of ~ars On the lanes and various travellers in the cars, but there is only one broad highway of perfed-tion leading to God. What is the nature of this common essential perfec-tionmperfection in the strict sense--sought after by lay-man, priest, and religious alike? A simple illustration or two will help to clarify our ideas. A watch is perfect when~ it fulfills the purpose for whic~ it was made, namely,, to tell the correct time. This it will unfa!lingly do if all its parts are in place and if it functions exactly. Presupposing the parts, a watch's perfection lies mainly in its functioning, in its faultless activity. Not that a perfect watch must always be running. It must however be capableof running per-fectly, capable of achieving its purpose, the telling of ,the exact time. Hence, we may say that the perfection of a watch consists in its habitual disposition to' function so as 99 AUGUSTINE KLAAS to unerringly tell the time. Or consider the student. The purpose of the student is to acquire the knowledge and intellectual proficiency demanded by the academic degree he is seeking. Granted that he has talent, sufgicient health, books, and other necessary acquirements, he will secure this kriowledge and consequently his degree by his activity,, his mental activity reflection, study, and research. And, other things being equa.1, the more develof0ed and precise his intellectual activity~ is, the .more perfectly will he achieve his purpose, the acquirement of knowledge and his degree. The perfection of the student therefore consists mainly in his intellectual activity. This does not mean that he ceases "to be a student the moment he stops studying, for he remains a student even though he '. sleeps~-of course, at-the proper time and place! What~makes him a student is an acquired disposition, a habit of intellectual activity in the pursuit of knowledge. The m6re perfect his mental habit and activity are, the more perfect a student will he be and the more per, fectly .will he .acqui/e knowledge and his degree. The purpose for which God. made man is that~ ulti-mately man be united to God in the enjoyment of the beatific vision in heaven. Now, this union admits of degrees. It will be more perfect in proportion as-sancti, lying grace is gr~eater in the soul when man comes :to the end of his earthly life. Thus, practically speaking, man's~per~ fection in this life consists in maintaining and increasing sanctifying grace in his soul, so that this life of grace may grow more and more "to perfect manhood, to the mature measure of the fulness of Christ" (Ephesians 4:13). How is this sanctifying grace increased in the soul? In two ways: first, by the worthy reception of the sacraments, which of themselves, as God's instruments for imparting grace,---ex, opere operato, as the theologians say,mincrease 100 PERFECTION AND THE RELIGIOU6 sanctifying grace in the soul; and secondly, by our activ-ity, bex opere operantis which can merit an increase of sanctifying grace. Like .that of the watch and student above, our perfection will consist principally in our activity. But what kind of activity? Not necessarilyphysical activity, for the Brother who excels as an athlete will not inevitably be more perfect than the Brother bound by paralysis to a wheel-chair. Neither does perfec~tion consist in mere intellectual activity, since Sister Mary Sapientia hugging her doctorate of philosophy is not necessarily more perfect than Sister Mary Martha hugging her pots and pans in the kitchen. Possibly Anna-Maria Taigi, that incom-parable plebeian housewife and mother, was more perfect than her learned confessor, and Guy de Fontgalland than some of his professors. Perfection does not consist in physi-cal prowess or intellectual acumen; perfection is concerned principally with will activity, that is, moral activity, the doing of good. And this moral activity is not merely natural: many pagans in the modern world do an immense amount of good but they are far from the perfection we are speaking of. When we speak of perfection we mean super-natural moral activity, that will activity which presupposes sanctifying grace in the soul and has the assistance of actual grace in its performance. Furthermore, perfection does not mean a bare minimum of doing good, but the utmost in quantity and quality, according to our capacities of nature and of grace, according to our circumstances of time, place, and opportunity. By frequent acts of doing good we merit an increase of sanctifying grace in the soul. By frequent acts of doing good a stable disposition or readiness" to do good. is formed, which in turn facilitates further good acts. Hence,- spiritual perfection may be defined as fi habitual supernatural disposition or readiness to accomplish as much good as one's IOL . AUGUSTINE KLAAS capac.ities and opportunities permit. By the' acts that flow from this disposition, by doing the maximum good, we achieve our life's purpose, the maximum growth of sancti-fying- grace in our souls and ultimately a greater union with God in the happiness of heavens. In heaven alone shall we ac.complish good to the t:ult extent of our capacities of nature and of grace. On earth, only two persons have done so, Jesus Christ, because He was the God-Man, and the Blessed Virgin, by special privi-lege. Ordinarily, however, it is impossible to realize this supreme ideal of perfection. In fact, it could be heresy to say that it were possible, for Catholic theology teaches that without a special privilege we cannot abstain for a lengthy period of time from committing at least semi-deliberate venial sins, that is,.sins of frailty and surprise, and hence, to that extent, we shall always fail to do our full measure of good. To the end of our lives we shall ever sincerely pray "forgive us this day our trespasses." The Church has condemned repiatedly the doctrine of an entirely~ sinless perfection in thisworld, as was taught by Pelagius, Molin0s, and others. On the other hand, the Church has also con-demhed in no uncertain terms the Alumbrados and the Qaietists for maintaining that we can arrive at such a state of lofty perfection that, overflowing~ with divine grace, we can neither progress nor regress any more in the spiritual life. Now, if there are limits to our sinlessness and limits tff our positive capacity for doing good, we can never accom-plish all the good of which we are theoretically capable: we can never reach the ideal norm of perfection. Neither did the saints attain tO it upon this earth. What, then, does aFor a fuller development of these ideas, confer Zimmerm~nn, Otto, S.J., Lebrbacb dee Aszetik, Herder, 1932, p. 16 ft. 102 DERFECTION AND THE RELIGIOUS perfection in this life really mean? It means an ~ver closer approximation to the ideal, the getting as near to the ideal as is humanly possible with the measure of God's grace.- given to us. This is exactly what the saints did. It means negatively, the avoidance of. deliberate venial sins and the greatest possible avoidance, of imperfections and semi-deliberate venial sins; and positively, the utmost perform-ance ofall good, whether¯ of precept or of counsel. Coun~ sel, of course, as here understood, is not restricted to the evangelical olaes of poverty, chastity, and obedience, but is taken in its w~dest sense, as referring to anything not of obligation: for example, to hear Mass on Sunday is a pre-cept, but to hear Mass on an ~ ordinary week-day may be a counsel for a particular individual. There is now no ques-tion of ~mortal sin. The ,battle against fully deliberate venial sin has been won, though occasional lapses may still . occur. Imperfections and semi-deliberate venial sins are avoided as much as possible. God's commandments and precepts, and above all. His counsels are faithfully carried out as far as is humhnly possible with the aid of God's grace in our particular position and circumstances of life. Hence, practically speaking, spiritual perfection consists in the habitual disposition and readiness of soul tO avoid imper-fections" and semi-deliberate venial sins as much as possible and, presupposing the observance of the precepts, in the utmost carrying out of the counsels, according to one's par-ticular circumstances of life and measure of God's grace imparted. This common perfection, sought after so earnestly by priests, religious, and laity, cannot be computed mathe-matically; it will vary with the individual, according to the many factors involved. ~lust as we cannot estimate the heroic perfection of the canonized saints relative to each 103 AUGUSTINE KLAA8 other or indeed to uncanonized ones, so we cannot estimate the perfection of individuals on this earth, except in a very general way: Perhaps spiritual perfection may be com-pared to exquisite perfume; individuals to vials. The vials are of various types, colors, capacities, artistic designs, and values: the excellent perfume in them is of almost countless blends, some very rare and costly. All, however, have a quality in common; all give forth the sweet fragrance of perfection, so pleasing to God and to. man. Perfection, as we have said, consists mainly in activity. Now, spiritual activity implies the possession and exercise of the virtues. Among the varied combination of virtues found in persons striving for perfection, is there one which always predominates? Is there one virtue which rules all the others like a queen and may be called the essence of perfe.ction? (To be continued) ANNOUNCEMENT After the publication of the first issue of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, we received many kind letters ofcommendation. We tried to answer ¯ each.letter, but we found that impossible. We wish to take the pres-ent occasion of thanking all who have sent us encouragement and suggestions. When the ,January issue was published, we printed what we con-sidered an amply sufl~cien~ number to satisfy all requests for back numbers and sample copies. But our supply was soon exhausted. However, we have arranged for a reprinting, and we shall soon be ablk to satisfy those who wish their subscriptions to begin with Volume 1, Number 1. --THE EDITORS. 104 RecornrnendecJ Spiritual Books THE PRESENT list of spiritual books and those that will follow from time to time are designed to be of practical assistance to religious, who by rule and inclination do a considerable amount of spiritual reading each year. The lists will include the spiritual classics of the past and also those more modern sl~iritual books which are of greater worth to religious. Only works written in English or that have been translated into English will be listed. Communities that are gradually building up a spiritual library will find in these guiding lists that fundamental nucleus of worthwhile books that must be the foundation of any spiritual library. No attempt was made to make this list complete, as it will be added to periodically. The books listed are for genera/, spiritual reading, unless otherwise indicated. Another list for general use will appear in an early issue of the REVIEW; and these will be fol-lowed by lists of a more specialized nature, for example, books for young religious, for more mature religious, meditation books, books on higher prayer, and so forth. Suggestions will be welcomed. In citing the books, it was deemed sufficient to give the name of the author in alphabetical order, the yearof his death if he is no loriger living, and the title of the book. Occasionally a short com-ment is added. Publishers are not mentioned, as these books can be procured through any large publishing house or bookstore. Read-ers may find it helpful to make a card-index list of these authors, as this can be conveniently augmented. I would suggest to those who are beginning a library to purchase the more modern books first, and then add the older classics progres-sively. Specifically, I would recommend starting with the following authors: Goodier, Leen, Marmion, Maturin, Mother Loyola, ~Plus, Pourrat, Saudreau, and Tanquerey. Of course, spiritual books per-tinent to one's own order or congregation will generally be given the ~reference in any library. Small communities that cannot afford a large library might obtain the advantages of such a library by pooling resources with other houses, and establishing some practical circulating system. ---~UGUSTINE KLAAS, S.J. 105 RECOMMENDED SPIRITUAL BOOKS ADAM, KARL The Spirit ,of Catholicism. Christ Our Brother. The Son of God. All excellent books for inspiration. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI, SAINT (1787) Ascetical Works, transJated by Grimm. 12 vols. AUGUSTINE, SAINT (430) The Confessions, edited by Dora ¯Roger Huddleston. Readings from St. Augustine on the Psalms, edited by Jos. Rickaby, S.J. The Teachings of St. Augustine on Prayer and the Contempla-tive Life, by Hugh Pope, O.P. BASIL, SAINT (379) Ascetical Works, edited by W. Clarke. 1 volume. These works describe the fundamental principles of monastic asceticism. BENEDICT, SAINT (543) The Rule of St. Benedict, translated with an introduction by Cardinal Gasquet. .The Rule of St. Benedict: A Commentary, by D0m Paul De-latte. Benedictine' Monachisrn, by Dom Cuthbert Butler. BERNARD, SAINT (1 153) Treatise on Consideration. translated by a priest of Mount Melleray. Treatise on the Love of God, translated by R. Terence Connolly. The Steps of Humility, translated by G~ B. Burch. The Life and Teachings of St. Bernard, by A. 3. Luddy, O. Cist. (Expensive.) Plus XI, in an Apostolic Letter recommended the reading of St. Bernard to religious. BLOS!US, ABBOT LOUIS, O.S.B. (1566) Spiritual Works. 6 volumes. ~ BONAVENTURE, SAINT (1274) Holiness of Life, edited by Ft. Wilfrid, O.F.M. Franciscan View of the Spiritual and Religious Life,mthree ,treatisds of St. Bonaventure, translated by P. D. Devas. Meditations on the Life of Christ, translated by Sister M. Em-manuel, O:S.B. (Excellent Fianciscan meditations, but of doubtful authenticity.) The works of St. Bonaventure were also recommended by Pius XI. 106 RECOLLV~NDED SPIRITUAL BOOKS BRUYERE, MADAME CECILIA (1909) Spiritual Life and Prayer. CABROL, ABBOT ~'-'ERNAND, O.S.B. Liturgical Prayer, Its History and Spirit. The Mass, Its Doctrine, Its History. The Year's Liturgy: Volume I, The Seasons; Volume II, The Sanctoral. CATHERINE OF SIENA, SAINT (1380) The Dialogue, translated by A. Thorold. Letters, edited by V. D. Scudder. CHAOTARD, JOHN B., O. CIST. (1936) The True Apostolate, translated by F. Girardey,C.SS.R. (On the relation of spiritual life to apostolic activity.) FABER FREDERICK W. (1863) Bethlehem. At the Foot of the Cross. All for Jesus. The Creator and the Creature. The Blessed Sacrament. Growth in Holiness. The Precious Blood. Spiritual Conferences. Faber's works are devotional and acutely psychological. FARGES, MSGR. ALBERT The Ordinary Ways of the Spiritual Life. (One of the best treatises on ascetical life.) FRANCIS DE SALES, SAINT (1622) Library of St. Francis de Sales. 7 volumes. St. Francis is the patron Saint of spiritual writers. His works were also recommended to religious by Plus XI. All religious should read them. FRANCIS OF ASSISI, SAINT (1226) The Wdtings of St. Francis of Assisi, translated by P. Robin-son, O.F.M. The Little Flowers of St. Francis of Assisi. The Ideals of St. Francis of Assisi, by H. Felder, O.M.Cap. GARRIGOU-LAGRANGE, REGINALD, O.P. Christian Perfection and Contemplation, translated by Sister M. Timothea, O.P. (One of the most widely discussed books in recent years.) GASQUET, F.AIDAN CARDINAL (1929) Religio Religiosi, (On the purpose and end of the religious life.) GAY, BISHOP CHARLES (1892) Christian Life and Virtues. Religious Life and Vows. 107 RECOMMENDED SPIRITUAL BOOI~ GOODIER, ARCHBISHOP ALBAN (1939) The Public Life of Our Lord Jesus Christ. 2 vols. The Passion and Death of. Our Lord Jesus Christ. Ascetical and Mgstical Theologg. The Life that is Light. 3 vols. (Meditation Outlines.) The Meaning of Life, and Other Essags." Witnesses to .Christ: Studies in the Gospels. Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Jesus Christ, the Model of Manhood. A More Excellent .Wag. (A ~pamphlet.) The School of Love. The Prince of Peace, Meditations. The Crown of Sorrow, Meditations~ Fiftg Meditations on the Passion. The Risen Jesus, Meditations. GOURAUD, MSGR. ALSlME. A Return to the Novitiate. (For monthly recollection.) GUARDINI, ROMANO The Spirit of the Lit~rgg. The Church and the Catholic. Sacred Signs. HEDLEY, BISHOP JOHN (19,15) The Holg Eucharist. The Light of Life. "['he Spirit of Faith. Wisdom from Abooe. Our Divine Saviour and Other Discourses. Lex Levitarum. or Preparation for the Cure o( Souls. A Spiritual Retreat for Priests. : A Spiritual Retreat for Religious. A Retreat: Thirtg-Three Discourses. IGNATIUS LOYOLA, SAINT (1556) The Spiritual Exercises. The Spiritual Exercises of ~St. Ignati'us, translation and commen-tary by J. Rickaby, S.J. The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, .with commentary by A. Ambruzzi, S.J. A Companion to the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, by A. Ambruzzi, S.J. JANE FRANCES DE CHANTAL, SAINT (1641 ): The "Spiritual Life. JOHN OF THE CROSS, SAINT (15 91 )' Complete Works. translated and edited by E. Allison Peers. 3 vols. (For mature religious.) 108 RECO/vIMENDED SPIRITUAL BOOKS JUERGENSMEIER, FRIEDRICH The Mystical Body of Christ as the Basic Principle of Religious Life. (A complete treatise on the spiritual life in terms ¯ . of the Mystical Body.) KEPPLER, BISHOP PAUL WILHELM (1926) " More Joy. On Suffering. LALLEMANT, LOUIS, S.3. ' (1635) Spiritual Doctrine. (For mature religious.) LEEN, EDWARD, C.S.SP. Progress through Mental Prayer. In the Likeness of Christ. The Holy Ghost and His Work in.Souls. Why the Cross? The True Vine and Its Branches. All are highly recommended. LOYOLA, MOTHER MARY (1933 The Child of God. Confession and Communion. Trust, A Book of Meditations. Welcome! Holy Communion: Before and :~fter. Hail Full of Gracer. Thoughts on the Rosary. With the Church. 2 vols. CoramSanct~simo desus of Nazareth. Heavenwards. MARMION, ABBOT COLUMBA, O.S.B. (1923)~ Christ the Life of the Soul. ,~ Christ in His Mysteries. Christ the Ideal o~ the Monk. Sponsa Verbi. The Way of the Cross. Words of Life on ~he Margin of the M~ssal. Sayings of Abbot Marmion, edited by Mother Mary St. Thomas. Certainly one of the greatest spiritual masters. MATURIN, BASLE WILLIAM. (1915) Self-knowledge and Self-discipline. Some Principles and Practices ~of t,h.e Spiritual ,Life. Laws of the Spiritual Life. Practical Studies on the Parables. MESCHLER, MAURICE, S.J. (1912) ~ Three Fundamental Principles of the Spiritual Life. Life of Our Lord desus Christ, in Meditations. 2 x~61s.' The Humanity of desus. St. doseph. The Gift of Pentecost. RECOMMENDED SPIRITUAL BOOKS MULLALY, CHARLES, J., S.J. Spiritual ReHections for Sisters. 2 volume series. NEWMAN, JOHN HENRY CARDINAL (1890) Favorite Newman Sermons, selected, by Daniel M. O'Con-nell, $.J. Heart to Heart: a Cardinal Newman Pra~lerbook, compiled by same. Kindhj Light: a Second Cardinal Newman Pra~lerbooh, com-piled by same. The Spiritual Le.qac.u of Newman, by William Robert Lamm. S.M. (A splendid synthesis of Newman's spirituality.) POURRAT, PIERRE Christian Spirituality. 3 vols. (A basic work; the only history of spirituality in English. The final fourth volume has not yet appeared in translation. A "must'; book. for serious study. Rather expensive.) PLUS, RAOUL, S.J. God Within Us. Living with God. Reparation. In Christ Jesus. Radiating Christ. The Eucharist. How to Pra[t Alwa[ls. How to pra[t Well. Facing Life---Series I: --Series H: Christ in His Brethren. The Folly of the Cross. " The Ideal of Reparation. Mary in Our Soul-life. Baptism and Confirmation. Meditations for Religious. Holiness in the Church. Progress in Divine Union. Meditations for Young Men. Meditations for Young Women. Dust, Remember Thou Art Splendor. RODRIGUEZ, ALPHONSUS, S.J. (1616) Practice of Perfection and Christian Virtues, translated by J. Rickaby, S.J. (Also recommended to religious by Plus XI.) SAUDREAU, MSGR. AUGUSTE The Degrees of the Spiritual Life. 2 vols. The Wail that Leads to God. The Life of Union with God. The Ideal of ~he Fervent Soul, These books cover all phases of the spiritual life; originally de-livered as instructions to nuns. SCARAMELLI, JOHN, S.J. (1752) The Oirectorium Asceticum, or Guide to the Spiritual Life'. 4 vols. 110 RECOMMENDED SPIRITUAL BOOKS TANQUEREY,ADOLPHE, S.S. (1932) Doctrine and Deootion. ~ The Spiritual Life. (This is the best'systematic work on ascetical theology in English. It is used as a text-book in some colleges. A "mus.t".) THERESA OF AVILA, SAINT (1582) Complete Works, translated by L~wis, edited by B. Zimmer- .man, O.C.D. (For mature religious.) THERESA OF LISIEUX, SAINT Autobiography. THOMAS A KEMPIS (1471) The Imitation of Christ. Groote or others.) (1897) (Sometimes attributed to Gerard THOMAS AQUINAS, SAINT (1274) Apology for Religious Orders. Religious State, Episcopate and Priestly Office. The Commandments of God. The Three Greatest Prayers. On Prayer and Thb Contemplative L~fe. These books must be studied, not merely read. TISSOT, JOSEPH (1894) The Interior Life Simplified. ULLATHORNE, BISHOP WILLIAM B. (1889) The Endowments of Man. Groundwork of theChristian.Virtues. Christian Patience. VONIER, ABBOT ANSCAR, O.S.B. (1938) Christ the King of Glory. A Key to the Doctrine of the Eucharist. The New and Eternal Covenant. Death and Judgement. The Life of the World t~ Come. The Angels. The Divine Motherhood. WILL)~M, DR. FRANZ The Life of desus Christ. Mary the Mother of Jesus. These books place Christ and His Blessed Mother against a background of Jewish life and customs, minutely but interest-ingly described. 11.1. The Doct:rinal Le!:!:er ot: Leo I on !:he Incarna!:ion Cyril Vollert, 8.3. THE recurrence of the Feast of the Annunciation centers our attention on an event which is never very far from the consciousness of a religious. It is the most astounding event that ever took place on this earth, the Incarnation of the Son of God. We shake our heads help-lessly when we try to appreciate what happened that day. It is too vast for the imagination to picture, too tremendous for the mind to grasp. How can we understand, with our feeble intellects, a Being who is both God and man? How can human language explain such a fact? Here, if any-where, we have need of a teacher, an interpreter. And such alone is the Church. He who will not hear the Church will go astray. No wonder, then, that throughout these two thou-sand years those who reject the Church reject this truth or, impatierit with God's revelation, pare down the truth to fit their own narrow minds. Some have insisted thai the Ttiing is impossible; and therefore Christ is only God, not man; or He is only man, not God. Others have taught that Christ was not a single Person, but two persons, God with His own divine nature, man with his own human nature. Still others, rebelling against this absurdity, and seeing in Christ only a single Person, concluded that He could have only one nature; and so, while before God became man there were two natures, one divine and one human, after the union of the two the human nature was swallowed up in the divine. Such was the notion of an ignorant and opin-ionated old monk, Eutyches by name, who in the fifth cen- 112. LEO I ON THE INCARNATION tury started a heresy which caused a theological hurricane in his own day, and which, with variations, still persists. But by the Providence of God the See of Peter was at thatl, turbulent moment Occupied by a saint and a learned theologian, Pope Leo I. Upon receipt of a full report of the error of Eutyches and the commotion stirred up by his heresy, Leo wrote a doctrinal letter about the matter to Flavian, then Bishop of Constantinople. In this letter the Pope set forth the truth in a statement so clear and exact that the Bishops assembled at the General Council of Chal-cedon a few years later acclaimed with enthusiasm. "Peter himself has spoken by the mouth of Leo"; and, "whoever does not accept the letter of our sainted Bishop Leo is a heretic." This is the famous dogmatic epistle or so-called "Tome" of Pope Saint Leo, an epistle justly cele-brated as one of the most important documents ever penned by a Roman Pontiff. In the conviction that the golden words of Leo are too precious to remain locked up in the Latin language and stored away in Volumes thumbed only by theologians and research scholars, the editors ~)f this REVIEW have desired that the principal sections of this letter be made available in an English translation. The rest of this article is devoted to such an attempt. St. Leo's Letter . All the faithful knowthe creed by which we profess belief in God the Father Almighty and in Jesus Christ His only Son, our Lord, who was born by the Holy Spirit of Mary the Virgin. By these'three propositions the machina-tions of almost all the heretics are thwarted. For belief in the omnipotent Father points out the Son, who is co-eternal ¯ with the Father and in nothing differs from the Father. because He is God born of God, Omnipotent of Omnipo- 113 CYRIL VOLLERT tint, Co-eternal of Eteraal; not later in time, not less 'in power, not Unequal in majesty, not divided in essence: And this same eternal, only-begotten Son of the eternal Father Was born by the Holy Spirit of Mary the Virgin. His birth in time, however, has taken nothing from that other divine and eternal birth from the Father; nor did it add anything, but was wholly contrived .for the redemption of man, who had been ensnared; for its purpose was to conquer death, and by its power to overthrow the tyiann~r Which the'devil exercised over death. We could not overcome the author of sin and death, unless He whom neither sin could besmirch nor death hold captive had taken.up our nature and made it His own. And so by the power ofthe Holy Spirit He was conceived in the Womb of His Virgin Mother, who gave birth to Him without hurt to her viriginity, just as she had conceived Himi without loss of the same. But we must take care not to misunders~tand this birth, which is so uniquely wonderful and so wonderfully unique. The nature proper, to the human race was not takefi away, by this new and unheard of procreation. The Ho~ly S16iri~, it is true, gave fruitfulness to the'Vir~gin, but the real body of the Son was derived from (he bod~r of the Mother. And so "the Word was made flesh, and"dwelt among hs"; .that is, the Wisdom of God built a house in the flesh which He took from a human being, and which He animated with a rational soul. ~ Thus, then, with everything pertaining to both of these natures and: substances remaining intact and coming together in one P~rson, lowliness was taken over by Majesty, weakness by Strength, mortality by Eternity. In order to pay the debt of our deplorable state, an inviolable nature was united to one that could suffer, so that one and the same Mediator between God and man, the man Jesus 114 LEO I ON THE INCARNATION Christ, could die according to one nature, even though in the other He could not die. Such was the remedy suitable to our distress. Therefore the true God was born with the complete and perfect nature of a real man, whole and entire in His own divinity, whole and entire in our humanity; in our humanity, I mean, such as the Creator made it in the beginning. This nature Christ assumed in order to restore it. The Son of God, then, has come upon our lowly earth, descending from His celestial throne without quitting the glo~ of His Father, heralding a new order of things, with a birth that is utterly unique. A new order: that is to say, He who is invisible in His own nature, has become visible in ours; He who is incomprehensible has will'ed to be com-prehended; He who exists before all time began to exist in time; the Lord of the universe, veiling His ihfinite majesty,. took the form of a servant; God incapable of suffering did not disdain to become a suffering man; God immortal did not refuse tO submit to the laws of death. And His birth was unique: for undefiled virginity, without experiencing con-cupiscence, has furnished a body of flesh. He received human nature from His Mother, but assumed no sin. But His miraculous birth does not make the human nature of our Lord ~lesus Christ, born of a Virgin, different from ours. For He who is truly God is also truly man; and although the lowliness of man and the sublimity of Deity are con-joined, there is nothing contradictory in this union. For just as God is not changed by the mercy which caused Him to become man, so neither is His humanity absorbed by His divine majesty. Each of these .natures, though in union with the other, performs functions proper to itself: ~the. Word does that which belongs to the Word, and the flesh does that which belongs to the flesh. One of these is resplend-ent with miracles, the other succumbs to injuries. And 115 CYRIL VOLLERT just as the Wor~l does not relinquish equality with the glory of the. Father, the flesh does not surrender the nature belonging to our race. One and the same Person, as we cannot repeat too often, is really the Son of God and really the son of man; God, because "in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God"; man, because "the Word was made-flesh and dwelt among us"; God, because "all things were made through Him, and without Him was made nothing"; man, because he was "born of a woman, born under the Law." His birth according to the flesh is proof of His human nature, birth from a Virgin is a sign of His divine power. Surely when He says, "I and the Father are one," He is not speaking of the same nature as when He says, "the Father is greater than I." In a word., then, although in our Lord Jesus Christ. there is only one Person, who is both God and man, the lowliness which He~ has in common with us is from a dif-ferent source than the grandeur which He has in common with the Father. From us He has the humanity in which He is inferior to the Father, from the Father He has the divinity in which He is equal to the Father. ' This,. then, is the faith in which the Catholic Church lives, in this she grows: we believe that in Christ Jesus there is neither humanity without true divinity, nor divinity without true humanity. ~ Such in part, and without any indication of the sec-tions omitted, is the authoritative dogmatic letter written by Pope Leo I, on the 13th of June, 449. Several General Councils later incorporated some of its phrases into infallible pronouncements which in the face of heretical, opposition defined-the true. doctrine concerning Christ as revealed to the world byGod. 116 ¯ Prot:ession ot: a Novice in Danger of: Deat:h Adam C. Ellis, S.~I. pOPE Saint Pius V, a member of the Order of Preachers, issued a Constitution called Summi" Sacerdotii on August 23, 1570, whereby he allowed any novice of the second order of Dominican nuns who was in danger of death ~to make her religious profession, even though she had not completed her canonical novitiate.His motive in doing so, as stated in the Constitution, was to provide spiritual consolation for the dying novice who would otherwise be deprived of the merit of the religious profession inheaven. To the onovice thus professed at the hour of death he fur~ thermore granted all the indulgences and Other favors which the professed nuns enjoyed in the same dircumstances, and added a plenary indulgence to be gainedat the moment 6f death. By reason ~f the communication ot~ privili~ges wiaich existed between the first and second orders of St. DominiC, this favor of Saint Pius V was extendedto the first order of Friars Preachers. Later on othe~r~religious institutes obtained the same favor from the Holy See by special indult or by way of. approval of their constitutions in which it was con-tained. Pope Pius X extended this privilege to all novices of every religious order or congregation or religious society by the Decree Spirituali Consolationi of September 3, 1912, which was published by the S. Congregation Of Religious on September 10, 1912. This Decree laid down detailed regulations regarding the profession tO be made by a novice at the hour of death and regulated its effects: 117 ADAM C. ELLIS The new Code of Canon Law, which was promulgated in 1917, made no mention of the aforesaid privilege; hence the question was raised whether it was still in effect. At a -.,plenary session Of the Eminent Cardinals who form the S. Congregation of Religious, held on December 29, 1922, it was decided that the privilege still existed, and the pro-visions for this profession established by Pius X were repeated with certain additions, .and approved by Pius XI on December 30, 1922,. and ordered published the same day. We shall give the text of this document of the S. Con-gregation of Religious with a brief explanation of each point. In everg order, congregation, religious societg, or mon-asterg of men or women, likewise in institutes in which common life is observed although Oows are not taken, henceforth it is allowed to admit to profession, consecration or promise, according to the rules and constitutions, novices or probationers who, in the opinion of a doctor, are so gravely ill that they are considered to be at the point of death, even though they have not completed the period of novitiate or probation. The privilege is general, and extends to all novices, not ~onty in an order or congregation or society in which vows are taken,, but also in institutes whose members live a com- .mon life without taking public vows, but who usually, according to their constitutions, make some form of conse-cration or promise of perseverance. The only condition laid down in the general grant is that the novice, in the opinion of a ,doctor, is sick unto death. However, in order that novices or probationers ma~l be admitted to the above-mentioned profession or consecration-or promise, it is necessary: I. That they shall have canonically begun their novi-tiate or probation. 118 PROFESSION OF A DYING NOVICE The text is the same as that issued by the S. Congrega-tion of Religious in 1912. Up to that time the terms "novitiate" and "probation," "novice" and "probationer" were used synonymously. In the Code, however, the terms "probation" and "probationer" have been omitted in favor of "novitiate" and "novice", which are used exclusively to indicate those who hax;e been admitted to the period of trial preceding the religious profession. Canon 553 tells us that the novitiate begins with the reception of the habit, or in some other manner prescribed by the constitutions. This is what is meant here by beginning the novitiate or probation canonically. Postulants have not as yet begun their canon-ical novitiat.e; hence they are excluded from the privilege in question. Such is the opinion followed in practice by the S. Congregation of Religious. 2. That the superior who admits the novice or proba-tioner to the pro[ession or consecration or promise mag be, not onlg the respective major superior to whom this power belongs bg reason of the constitutions, but also the actual superior of the monasterg or novitiate or house of proba-tion, or a delegate of ang one of these superiors. Under normal' circumstances only the superior indi-cated in the constitutions can admit a novice to the profes-sion of vows. UsuallTthis power is reserved by the consti-tutions either to the superior general or to major superiors such as provincials~or their equivalent. In the case of the novice who is at the point o.f death, the local superiorof the monastery or no;gitiate house also has this power. If time permits, however, it would seem proper to refer the case t~ the major superior. To admit to profession means to give the novice permission to make his profession. The superior who does so in the case of a novice at the point of death does ¯ not need to .refer the case to his. council or to the chapter. 119 ADAM C. ELLIS Even though the dying novice be outside the monastery or novitiate house, in a hospital or sanatorium, for instance, he may be admitted to his profession, so long as .he is a canonical novice. Superiors may delegate their power of admitting the dying novice to profession, either to some other member of their institute, or to any other religious or priest, e.g. to the superior or to the chaplain of a hospital. 3. That the formula of profession or consecration or promise shall be that in use in the institute outside the case of sickness; and the vows, if taken, shall be made without determination of time or of perpetuitg. The ordinary formula of the vows, consecration, or promise is to be used, without any reference to time. There-fore such terms as: "for three years," "for ever," "for my entire life," are to be omitted. 4. That the novice who made such a profession or con-secration or promise shall share in all the indulgences, suf-frages, and other graces which the trulg professed religious receive at death; the dging novice is moreover mercifultg granted in the Lord the remission of all his sins in the form of a plenarg indulgence. This provision of the original decree of Pius X has been incorporated into .the Code in canon 567, except for the plenary indulgence. Hence every novice shares in all the privileges and spiritual graces granted to his institute, and if he dies, even though he does not make the profession in question, he has a right to the same suffrage.s which are pre.: scribed for the professed. If the novice does make his pro-fession before death, he receives a plenary indulgence granted him by the Holy See. This plenary indulgence is enjoyed only at the moment of death, since Pius V expressly states this, and Plus X intended to grant this favor in the same way in which it was originally granted. 120 PROFESSION OF A DYING NOVICE 5. That this profession or consec?ation or promise shall have no effect other than to confer the graces' (favors) men-tioned in the precedingonumber. Hence: (A) If the no~2ice 6r probationer dies intestate after ~uch 'a profession or con-secration or promise, the institute cannot lay claim .to any of the property or rights which belonged to him. (B) If the novice recovers before the expiration, of the time required for his, noviceship or pr.obation, he shall be in exactly the same condition as if he had made no profession. Accord- .inglg : a) he may freetg return to the world if he wishes to do so; b) superiors can dismiss him; c) he must fill out the entire time prescribed in each institute for the novitiate or probation, even though it eJcceed one year; d) at the expira-tion of this time, if he perseveres, the novice must make a new profession or consecration or promise. ¯ The profession made by the novice at the hour of death is personal 'and conditional. If ,the novice dies, he enters eternity as-a true religious, and receivesthe same merit as any other religious by reason of his corisecration of himself to God. " I.f he recovers, the profession made has no, canoni-cal effect whatsoever. The novice is in the same condition as he was before be .fell ill, and consequently, he, on his part, must fulfill .all the requirements of the law for his subse-quent profession. He is canonically free to leave.the novi-tiate at any time, if he so desires: Superiors, on their part, may dismiss him as they may dismiss any other novic~. The entire purpose of allowing a novice to make his profession at the hour of death is to give him the spiritual consolation of dying as a religious. Finally, the Sacred Congregation declares that there is no objection to inserting the foregoing provision in consti-tutions of orders and congregations, if the institutes them-selves ask to do so~ i21 ADAM C. ELLIS The use of the privilege contained in the declaration of the S: Congregation given above does not depend upon its being inserted in the constitutions of an institute. All dying ¯ ~novices may be allowed the use of the privilege, even though it is not contained in the constitutions of their institute. But if the institute wishes to insert the provisions of this instruc-tion in its constitutions, it must first obtain the permission of the S. Congregation of Religious, which will grant it for the asking. PAMPHLET REVIEWS ~ We have received several booklets that are deserving of special notice in a periodical such as ours. A Novena to St. Francis Xavier is a series of reflections on salva-tion and missionary work, written especially for children. The Wag of the Cross, by a Maryknoll Missionary, is a manual for the Stations which is particularly interesting because the illustrations are artistic woodcuts representing the characters of the Passion as Chinese. For information about the booklets, write to The Maryknoll Bookshelf, Maryknoll P.O., New York. A Saintly Shepherd of Souls is a pamphlet life of the Venerable John Neumann, C.SS.R., the fourth Bishop of Philadelphia. Itcon-tains 47 pages of interesting and inspiring facts. The author is the Reverend Albert Waible, C.SS.R., Vice-Postulator ofthe cause of the Venerable Neumann. The pamphlet may be procured from the Mis-sion Church Press, 1545 Tremont St., Boston, Mass. 5 cents a copy: $3.50 per hundred. Besides the foregoing, we have received two booklets by the Right Reverend Raphael J. Markham, S.T.D. : Apostolate to Assist Dying Non-Catholics; and Apostolate of Prayer for S~roinarians. We hope to treat Monsignor Markham's messages at some length in future issues of THE REVIEW. 122 I eligious and 0t: he Decalogue Gerald Kelly, S,J. I1| T IS the imperative duty of the pastor to give his days I and nights to the consideration of it (the Decalogue) : and to this he should be prompted by a desire not only to regulate his own life by its precepts, but also to instruct in the law of God th~ people committed to his care." These very strong words are quoted from the most authoritative of all catechisms, Tl~e Catechism of the Council of Trent, (also called The Ro~an Catechism). The injunction is, of course, directed to pastors of souls: but it scarcely need be pointed out howap ipropr¯iate it is for all religious, even though they be n0~ pastors, or even priests. The per-sonal reason is applid~ble to all of us; the fact that we have embraced the life of t,he Counsels does not exempt us from a careful observance of: the Commandments, The apostolic reason is also apphc,able to a very large percentage of us. Comparatively few of us.are not called upon at one time or another to:give catechetical instruction. I. Content of the Decalogue One may state, therefore, without fear of contradic-tion that religious should study and meditate over the Commandments of God. But a further question might well be asked: What should they study? What ought they to know as an aid to their personal observance of the Deca-logue and as the proper and sufficient equipment for apos- ~tolic work, should they be called upon to catechize? ~Thi~s is an important practical question, and it can hardly be answered without a few preliminary remarks concerning the content, or subject-matter, of the Decalogue. 123 GERALD KELLY It is sometimes said that every Commandment, even though it be phrased negatively ("Thou shalt not") ,, really contains two sides, an affirmative and a negative. It com-mands some things and forbids Others. This statement is a step in the right direction. It helps to counteract a purely negative attitude toward God's law. But, though a step in the right direction, the statement does not go far enough. It stil! leaves the Commandments difficult to explain. It is, perhaps, better to say that each Commandment, even though phrased in a purely negative manner, really does three things: First, it indicates a whole field of virtuous acts which it is both natural and becoming for a human being to perform; secondly, it commands certain minimum essentials of.virtue necessary for preserving the dignity of a o human being; and thirdly, it forbids certain thoughts and acts which either mar or destroy thebeauty of human nature. In subsequent issues of~this REVIEW we shall give thor-ough explanations of these Various aspects of the Com-mandments., For the present purpose, each aspect can be illustrated by a brief reference to the First Commandment. At the beginning of the Decalogue, we find the expres-sion: "I am the Lord, thy God." This is rather the foun-dation of the Commandments than a part of any one of them. It expresses a great and fundamental truth from which the Commandments flow in logical,' natural sequence. Itpresents us with a sublime picture of reality.~ On the one hand is God, almighty, eternal, a being 0f supreme and infinite excellence, and the Creator of the world; on the other hand is man; a creature endowed with intellect and free will, produced entirely by God and depending absolutely on God for all the good that he is or has or does. One who appreciates this basic relationship between 124 THE STUDY OF THE DECALOGUE man and God will not find it difficult to conclude that man ought to acknowledge his. relationship. A whole-souled devotion to his Creator is a good thing for man; and-any: acts by which he can honor God are good and appropriate for him. Fit expressions of his place with referenc~ to God are such things as adoration, the prayer of petition,~ praise, or thanksgiving. If God should speak to him, man should listen reverently and should place the most absolute faith in His word and the most unhesitating trust in His promises and in His power, and so forth. Thus, even the first glance at the reality of God and man, shows a whole field of per-fection that it is appropriate for man to cultivate. That is What is mean~ by saying that each Commandment ir~dicates a sphere of virtuous acts that it is natural and becoming fdr man to perform. From the point of view of mere appro-priateness, there is no limit to this sphere of action; the more frequently and the more fervently man can thus honor God, the better it is, The only actual limit is man's small capacity and the fact that his other needs and duties in life must necessarily prevent him from spending his entire time in explicit acts of worship. Realizing now the fitness of man's worshipping God, We come to the Second point. Are all of these acts of wor-ship optional for man, or are some of them obligatory? The very law of nature answers the question. Man must per-form some of these acts of virtue; without some worship of God, he fails to live up to the dignity of his created human nature. So this is the second thing that the Commandment does: it prescribes the minimum essentials of virtue in this field, some acts of adoration, some prayer, and so forth. Finally, we come logically to the third aspect. If acts of divine worship are appropriate for human nature, and certain acts are obligatory, it follows that any acts which conflict with~ this fundamental law of worship are 125 GERALD KELLY unworthy of man. Thus, he is forbidden to give to a crea-ture the honor belonging uniquely to God, forbidden to worship God in an unbecoming manner. These prohibi- ¯tio, s form an important part of the Commandment, bht by no means the principal part of it. They are not even understood without some reference to the positive side. The foregoing brief analysis of the First Commandment illustrates the statement that each Commandment may-be considered under three heads: the virtue indicated; the vir-tuous acts.prescribed; and the vicious acts t:orbidden. With this divisidn clearly in mind, we are now in a position to take up the question: what should a religious study in regard to the Decalogue? II. What a Religious Should Know To reverse the order and begin with the prohibitions, all religious should have a clear, well-defined knowledge of those things in which they themselves are likely to be tempted. They should know what precisely is forbidden, and to what extent it is forbidden, .that is, whether a viola-tion would be a mortal or a venial sin. This degree of knowledge is necessary for personal peace of conscience, and it should be imparted bymeans of adequate instruction. The policy of leaving all personal perplexities of conscience to be solved by an occasional word from a confessor is not a sound one. Very often a person who has not received ade-quate instruction is unable to express his difficulty to the confessor or unable to appreciatethe congessor's advice, and this sometimes leads to long periods of racking and entirely needless doubt. Moreover, the policy of hedging when explaining moral obligations to religious, of confusing ascetical norms with moral norms, slight obligations with serious obligations, is also difficult to justify. It breeds false consciences and often enough is the cause of scruples. 126 THE STUDY OF THE DECALOGUE Of course, it may be said that many of the prohibitions of the Decalogue will not affect religious: they will be seldom or never tempted in some matters. However, there is the further fact that a large percentage of our religious do give catechetical instruction on the Commandments. Now, even the small Baltimore Catechism, treating of the First Commandment, lists suchforbidden things as these: making use of spells and charms; belief in dreams, spiritists. and fortune-tellers: presumption; despair. The ability to teach the First Commandment requires that one have a. dear, soundly-theologicalknowledge of~ what constitutes sin in these matters. And the ability to teach the other Commandments requires, among other things, that one know the difference bdtween such things as blasphemy, cursing, and profane words; between just anger and inex-cusable anger; between thoughts and actions which are directly against purity and thoughts and actions which are merely dangerous to purity. A teacher should know these differences, should know also what makes a sin of injustice, disobedience, hatred: and when such sins are venial, when mortal. One does nbt get these notions by intuition: nor do the simple ,definitions of the c~itechism furnish a sufficient knowledge fo~? the teacher, inregard to almost; every sin listed here, great theologians draw sharp distinctions. These distinctions can be known only when they are studied and competently explaine& As fbr the things prescribed by the Commandments, the same:limits may be set for the minimum essentials of knowledge demanded of the' religious. He should know precisely what is commanded, and. whether itis commanded under pain of serious or Venial sin. He should know these things f0i his own peace of conscience; he should know them as a necessfiry background for his teaching, in case he should ,be called upon to instruct others ~,' i27" GERALD KELLY All this is not intended to carry the inference that reli-gious need a confessor's knowledge of the Decalogue. Nor is it even insinuated that teachers of the catechism should give their pupils complete descriptions of all the sins listed in the catechism or all the subtle distinctions that can be made between mortal and venial sin. But religious should know what is necessary for their own peace of conscience, as well as those things that form a necessary background for giving catechetical instruction, so that, when called upon for an explanation, they can give something that is simple and adapted to the listener and, above all, that they may avoid giving inaccurate answers that imbed themselves into a young soul like a malignant germ and that breed what eventually becomes a practically incurable case of scruples. Strictly speaking, the Commandments, in the sense of Divine Laws imposing moral obligations under pain of sin, consist only in preceptsand prohibitions~ Yet the study of the Commandments should not be limited to such things. These obligations cannot be correc~tly understood without some appreciation of what has been called the first aspect of the Commandments, that is, the virtues indicated by them, For how is. one to perceive the reason why he must worsbilo at some time and in some manner, unless he first realizes that the worship of God is a good and beauti-ful thing in itself? How is one to understand the obliga-tion of obedience, unless he first perceives the inherent good-ness of respect for legitimate authority? How is one to appreciate the obligations of chastity unless he first, becomes conscious of the dignity and beauty of the divine plan of paternity and family life, of which chastity is the guardian? Evidently, for th~ religious themselves, this first and eminently positive phase of the Comma'ndments is a decid-edly salutary subject of study and meditation. They may have relatively few temptations to violate them; but they 128 THE STUDY OF THE DECALOGUE have abundant oppbrtunities for living them and for loving them. Surely the refrain of the ll8th Psalm, "O Lord, how have I loved Thy law," should fill the soul of every-one dedicated to the service of God. It ~should lighten an'd make joyous the burden of his own obligations; it should communicate inspiration tO those with whom he exercises his apostolate. And the,people with whom we deal are sadly in need of inspiration; it is surprising how many of them, even ~he good people, have a decidedly negative and uninspired attitude towards the Commandments. All of us are, no doubt, familiar with the following typical scene of boy life. ~We can call the boy 3ohn, aged ten. He has finished his supper and is paging somewhat listlessly through the newspaper. He has seen the comics and the sports page' so there is reall~r nothing in the paper to-interest him. Actually he is not perfectly at ease. One gloomy eye is straining toward his bedroom where certain evil things called schoolbooks await him, another gloomy eye is straining toward the' kitchen, whence his mother will presently emerge' and order him to betake himself to those same sctiool books. (There are still some mothers like that.) Suddenly he h~ars welcome sounds. He rushes to the door and peers Out. Yes, it's "the gang" getting ready for an evening game. No more gloom in his eyes now; ~hey are all eagerness. ' "Morn," he calls, "How about letting me go out and play just one game? I'll be back in a little while." "No, 3ohn," comes the firm answer. "You've had plenty of platy today. It's time to study now, so get to your books." No amount of coaxing prevails over his mother's firm-ness, and finally 3ohn turns from the door. But the bright-ness is gone again from his eyes. Heavy feet, heavy heart, 129 GERALD KELLY slumping shoulders: he is the picture of youthful misery as he trudges his way from the sounds of boyish delight and slumps down into a chair over the dreaded school books. "She's a good mother," would run his thoughts translated into words, "but she doesn't understand. Otherwise she wouldn't make it so hard." That little drama of the child-world exemplifies the negative attitude of many even good people toward the Commandments. They find in the Commandments only ten negations of comfort and ease and content, ten privations of pleasure and freedom. They turn away from these for-bidden pleasures with a heavy Step and a heavy heart. They find no thrill in the keeping of the Commandments: often they seem to have a sneaking suspicion that God, like 3ohn's mother, just doesn't understand: otherwise He -would not make it so hard. In the various moral crises of life they overcome themselves, they keep the law, but even their victories are dulled by that boy-like heaviness of soul. They will be faithful, cost what it may: but the only joy of it lies in the subsequent good conscience. They deny them-selves, they repress themselves, and in these conflicts with self, it never occurs to them to lift up their heads and lighten their hearts with the thought that in thus repressing their lower selves they are really expressing their better selves. If possible, we should prevent or change this negative attitude. But we shall hardly do this unless we ourselves appreciate the beauty of God's law. The Roraar~ Cate-chism suggests several motives calculated to inspire a love of the Decalogue, and in particular it. stresses the fact that the observance of the moral law "proclaims more eloquently the .glory and the majesty of God than even the celestial bodies, which by their beauty and order excite the admira-tion of the most barbarous nations and compel them to acknowledge and proclaim the glory, the wisdom, and the 130 THE STUDY OF THE DECALOGUE power, of the Creator arid Architect of the universe." These solemn words touch on something fundamental to the Commandments: their relation to the glory of God. This theme is too large for fuli~ treatmen~ here. " The next section of this article contains a merely partial development of it, an indication of one kind of prayerful reflection that may serve to increase our appreciation of the Decalogue as a code of moral beauty. III. The Decalogue and Moral Beautg The observance of the Decalogue gives God great glory. In order to avoid theological technicalities in expanding on this motive, it will not be out of place for us to indul'ge in. the following bit of reverent fantasy. Imagine you have a pair of wings that will take yo~u back through time'. Swiftly you pass the century marks, the nineteenth, eighteenth., first., on into the ages before Christ, before Moses, until at last you come to the dividing line between time and eternity. You cross that line, then you turn back and rub it out; and, though it all seems quite absurd and impossible, you are alone with God before the creation of the world! You are alone with God, and you have this problem ~to solve: Why might God create the world? Remember that God is an intelligent being, and if He is to create, He must have a reason; yes, and a reason that is worthy of Himself. You are looking for that reason. Where shall you look for this reason for creating? Only in God; nothing else exists. So you must look intently upon God; you must, so to speak, search the depths of God for some possible reason for the existence of creatures. Your first search, though filled with wonders, is a dis-appointment. ,Here in God is all perfection in an infinite degree; here is the marvelous inner life, the Blessed Trinity. revealed: the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, infinitely 131 GERALD KELLY happy and blessed in Their possession of the Divine Essence and of One Another. But this is no reason for creating; this is rather a reason for not creating. There appears to be neither need, 'nor use, nor even the possibility of any other being. So you shake your head and turn away; you have not solved the riddle of creation. But look again, look deeper, as it were; and in- the clear placid ocean of Divine perfection you begin to see-the pat-terns of a limitless number of tiny beings, none of them equal to God, but each of them reflecting something of God. Here is one of the vast treasures of the Divinity, the tremen-dous possibility of s~arino His loveliness. Here you see the types of a great variety of beings, each of which God could bring into existence, each of which in its own way and according to its own limited capacity,, could manifest some-thing of the Divine Perfection. You have solved the riddle; you have discovered a reason for creation worthy of God Himself. It is His own Goodness which is, so to speak, a fountain of perfection that He can share with others, without loss to Himself. Thus, our little trip of fantasy has brought us face to face with the truth solemnly defined by the Vatican Council, that God created the world, not to acquire anything for Him-self or to increase His own perfection; but simply to com-municate it to otl~ers. This sublime truth, the object of our fantastic journey into the creative mind of God is intimately associated with the glory that man gives to God by the observance of the Commandments. If we return now from the mind of God into the realm of creatures, we na~turally expect to find that every creature, be it tiny, be it great; is a finite.expression of God, a reflection of some divine perfection. The drop of water, the grain of sand, the flower in the field, the family kitten, the sun, the moon, the stars, the entire universe-- 132 THE STUDY OF THE DECALOGUE each and all of these things show forth in some way the beauty, the loveliness, the majesty .of God. And they do this simply/~ beir~g tt~emseloes, by being faithful copies of~ the original masterpiece hidden within the depths of God. Everything in the world reflects God's goodness, and thus gives God glory, by following the law of its nature. Even those who never think of God are constantlT recognizing this law of the nature of things in their search for comfort and beauty and goodness. The cook enters her kitchen and bakes a cake that makes one's mouth ,water. She does not do this by seizing a. number of things at ran-dom, kneading them into some kind of dough, and tossing the mixture into the oven. She follows a definite recipe, and this recipe is only a formula worked out on the prin~ ciple that certain things react in a certain way with other things and produce a definite result. The engineer goes into his laboratory and plans a stream-lined train or some elec-trical marvel. He is searching for the laws that God wrote into the materials. The physical culturist who specializes in the body beautiful simply makes use of God's laws of sound and symmetrical bodies. The orchestra, playing a symphony that almost transports one into another world, follows the same notes that once burned through the brain of the composer. The composer is called a creator, yet he has not created. The music is also God's creature; the com-poser merely discovered .and applied the laws of harmony to produce this thing of entrancing beauty. So it is all through nature, true beauty is achieved by having things act according to their natures. That law is apparent in the simplest and in the grandest things---in the cake, in the symphony, in the splendors of the heavens. And the same law holds for man's contribution to the beauty of the universe; he must follow the law of his na-ture, the Decalogue. Man's duty and privilege is to sing 133 . GERALD KELLY unto God a glorious hymn of praise; the notes are the Com-mandments. Following these notes faithfully; he constantly ¯ raises toward heaven a sweet-toned benedicite which far ,surpasses any human composition. His unique contribu-tion to the beauty of the universe is moral beauty, and this, as The Roman Catechism points out, excels all the splen-dors of the irrational world. We all know something of the beauty of a single human soul in which the divine likeness is unblemished by sin. What if all souls were like that; what if all men at all times and in all places observed the Commandments of God! The combined interior beauty of all those souis 'would be indescribable; and exteriorly also the world would be a paradise. The one true God would be worshipped every-where according to His will; His holy name would be sounded only in reverence; all authority, as it comes from Him, would be pledged to Him .and exercised only according to His wise laws; parents would be devoted to their children, and children to their parents; human life and property and honor would be sacred;~ purity and marital fidelity would be everywhere esteemed. No idolatry, no persecutions, no blasphemies, no murder, no thefts, no .unjust. wages,, no obscenity, no backbiting or slander, no wars, no class conflict!! We could close our jails, divorce courts, reform schools; we could do away with burglar alarms and safes. There would be noarmaments to con-sume our capital, no death-weapons to slay our youth. A picture such as this reminds one of the Garden of Eden. Of course, when we view the moral turmoil that actually exists, we must label such a picture another fantasy. Yet it is .well for us to contemplate it, unreal though it happens to be; for it shows us the beauty and harmony the Com-mandments are supposed to produce. It shows us what the world could be, if man, like the irrational things, lived up 134 THE STUDY OF THE DECALOGUE to his nature. In the last section of this article, some considerations were offered that may help towards an appreciation of the Commandments as laws of moral beauty. Only the Deca-logue was mentioned exp!icitly, but for their personal meditations, religious might easily build upon that notion and see how all the laws that govern them are intended to bring out more sharply.some form of goodness. For in-stance, we know that God has given us not merely human natures, but super-natures; the life of Grace; and for pre-serving and developing this higher form of goodness He has supplemented the Decalogue with the laws of the super-natural life. The Church, legislating with authority from God, has given .us other laws, planned to make us good Catholics. The founders and foundresses of our religious societies, captivated by some particular form of Christlike-hess, have drawn up their constitutions with the aim of developing this Christlikeness in their followers. By the observance of these various laws, we can scale a tall pyramid of moral beauty. But we should ever keep in mind that at the base of this pyramid is the law that St. Augustine rightly called the foundation and epitome of all laws, the Decalogue. BOOKS RECEIVED (To be reviewed later.) MEDIEVAL HUMANISM. pan),. New York. THE CATHOLIC REVIVAL IN ENGLAND. By John J. O'Connor. MacMillan Compan),. New York. FAST BY THE ROAD. B), John Mood),. The MacMillan Compan)'. York. PRINCIPLES OF CHRISTIAN AND RELIGIOUS PERFECTIOI~L Brothers. Poughkeepsie, N. Y. By Gerald G, Walsh, S.J. The MacMillan Coat- The . New Marist 135 ook Reviews PROGRESS IN DIVINE UNION. By the R6~,erend Raoul Phs, S.J. Pp. 142. Translated from the French by Sister M. Bertlile and Sister iVl. St. Thomas, Sisters of Notre Dame, of Cleveland, Ohio. Frederick Pustet, Inc., New York, 1941. $1.S0. This little work of the well-known French ascetical writer treats cl~arly and forcefully of two. great means of making progress in union with God: namely, "generous self-conquest," and "the spirit of prayer." To the former, four chapters are devoted, each one devel-oping a major motive for self-conquest: self:preservation, expiation, imitation of our Lord, and redemption. If the redemptive process is to be completedby the Mystical Christ, that is, if more and more individual soul~ are actually to be brought to the divine life, then it is simply necessary that more and more good Chri.~tians, themselves already members, should make up in their persons what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ and thus put themselves into condition to enable others to enter that mystical incorporation or to grow in it. Christians need not only to be assimilated to Christ themselves and to be united with Him; they must go beyond this point and carry out the work of Christ in bringing others, as many as possible, to the saving knowledge and love of God. But self-conquest alone is not sufficient. To it must be added prayer, especially mental prayer, in it one learns "to experience in one's wh01e being the reality considered: the greatness of God, the immensity of His love, the infinite mercy of our Savior . the expiatory or redemptive pow. er of suffering, the incomparable price of life, or the splendor of deatfi." The work closes with a section on recollection and th~ continuous maintenance of union with God throughout all of one's occupations. No doubt this little book of Fr. Plus's xvill be much welcomed by the many for whom he has become a favorite devotional author:--G. A. ELLARD, S.,J. COLORED CATHOLICS IN THE UNITED STATES. By the Reverend John T. Gillard, S.S.J. Pp. x -f- 298. Josephlte Press, Baltimore, 1941. $3.00. All who are interested in, the Negro problem, whether from a purely scholarly or a practical point of view, will welcome this new 136 BOOK REVIEWS statistical study. Father Gillard is a well known authority on the Negro question. This, together with the care with which he has gathered his statistics and the caution with which he presents his findings, renders Colored Catholics in the United States a valuable reference book. It is not a new venture for Father Gillard. Rather it is an improvement and amplification of an earlier volume published in 1929. The book contains a pleasant mixture of facts and comment. The facts were gathered from the dioceses of the United States and the numerous organized enterprises that are predominantly Negro, and are presented in convenient tables. They cover: the Colored Catholic population according to dioceses, sections, states; free colored, slave, and white population for Southern and Northern Louisiana for the years 1810 and 1860; capacity of Negro Catholic churches in Louisi. ana in 1860; a scholarly estimate of the number of Negro Catholics in the United States at the time of emancipation; and statistics, on the churches, schools, missions, priests, nuns, and welfare works dedicated to Colored Catholics. Throughout the book Father Gillard contrasts the condition of the various fields of work in the past with the present, and offers some explanation of the losses and gains. He gives a full treatment of the difficult problems of indifference, prejudice, and migration. Since this book is something of the nature of an almanac, it is unfortunate that it is not available in an inexpensive paper-bound edition. While there is need of a well-bound edition for schools and libraries, a paper-covered copy would be convenient on the desk of every student of the race problem or worker in any of the many fields of endeavor for the betterment of the Colored race. This is especially true since the available census statistics on Colored Catholics are admittedly inaccurate.--J. T. WHITE, 8.3. [NOTE: Our readers are very likely aware of the fact that Father Gillard died quite unexpe.ctedly since this book review was written, mED.] ONE INCH OF SPLENDOR. By Sister Maw Rosalla of Ma~knoll. Pp. 90. Field Afar Press, New York, 1941. $1.00. It is good for us all to realize that the Catholic Church is truly catholic. This is one of the effects of this book. Here is a tale of old China, a whitened harvest field of souls crying for reapers. It is into this distant land that the Sisters of Maryknoll carry the torch of faith. ¯. 137 BOOK REVIEWS We go at once into the home of Chinese peasants, we see the women fingering and studying the crucifix on the Sisters' habits. The Sisters go on from village to village0 from that of Long Sand Bar to Dangerous Rapids and farther to the village of the Fr~igrance of. the Cinnamon Tree. And everywhere, into both Catholic and pagan homes, they bring the good news, the truth of the Lord of Heaven. In towns, far removed from priest and chapel, they form Rosary Sodalities which will meet on Sunday for the benefit of those unable to travel the 19ng distance to the mission church. Everywhere they recruit members for the Study-the-Doctrine- Time, the catechumenate, to be held within a few months at Rosary Convent. All their work is directed towards this goal f to get pagans to come to this instructiori class. Then, at the convent, during forty days, intensive instruction is given the neophytes. We see old women, young children, all trying to master the fundamentals of our religion. Red marks appear on brown foreheads, as the long nails of Chinese fingers bruise the skin in their effort to trace the sign of the cross. Finally, the examinations are held and the three score and odd pagans are baptized. The Church has grown another inch irr China. This book is recommended for convent community reading. Readers will find that the problems of missionary Sisters are not altogether different from those which they themselves experience. And a greater love for our Faith, which is so eagerly embraced by the Chinese, should spring up in the soul. An'inspiring oneness will.be experienced with these courageous Sisters who have left home, with all the word means, to bring light where before there had been 0nly darknes~.--M. J. DONNELLY, S.~I'. LITURGICAL WORSHIP. By ~1. A. Jungmann, S,J. Translated by a monk of St. John's Abbey, Collegeville: foreword by Rt. Ray. Alculn Deufsch, ¯ Abbot of Collecjeville. Pp.xil -k 141. Frederick Pustet, Inc., New York. 1941. $1.2S. This is a very precious little book, the best in its field known to the reviewer, and, though meant in~fiist instance for priests, both in subject-matter and in presentation, it' should appeal to all religious as Christians and as worshippers of God. In the late Summer of 1938 the Carffsianam at Innsbruck held an institute for priests on "The Theology of Today," at which '~the 138 BOOK REVIEW8 central topic of discussion was the matter of giving a mor~ forceful and dynamic expression to'abstract theological truths." Father 3ung-mann's lectures there delivered, although advanced by the author as something of a rough sketch, were demanded for publication, The German original appeared, in consequence, in 1939. The present reviewer has had the work within arm's length since then and has read it, not once or twice, but six or seven times. No author, so it seemed, had so clearly "isolated" the essentials of Christian worship, none so felicitously outlined the basic laws of development inherent in the very nature of theliturgy. Whether one is interested in some small point" of the present stiucture of the Office, or concerned with the place of the vernacular in modern Dialog Mass, the ultimate a'nswer, illustrated, by historical facts and instances, was almost sure to be indicated in 2ungmann's slender book. It is a great boon to have this now. made available in the.incomparably wider circles of the English-language public. One can list in a moment the themes handled in the volume, but only familiarity with the book itself can convey an idea of how much light is shed on a whole array of pointsall to the fore in the current liturgical movement. Starting with the elemental definition, "Liturgy is the public worship of the Church," the author with skill, and logic, and tact, shows the shortcomings of other definitions, while he draws out the unsuspected depths contained in the formula defended. The second chapter, "In Whom is the Liturgy Reposed?," deals with priesthood, the Priesthood of Christ in Head and members, and the relation of.the ministerial priesthood of Holy Orders towards both Head' and members. "Two Tendencies" are briefly sketched in Chapter Three, that of liturgy toward the beautiful and that of liturgy toward popular appeal. In tracing the working out of these tendencies, a good deal of basic religious psychology is mirrored in miniature. Chapter Four is the kernel of the book: it deals With the Ground- Plan, that worship (ideally) begins with a reading, which is followed by a song, then prayer by the people, and finally, prayer by the priest. In the remaining chapters each of these elements is handled at greater length by itself: The Reading (V), The Singing .(VI), The Prgyer of the People (VII), and The Prayer of the Priest (VIII). Each chapter is scholarly, each chapter is valuable, and their cumulative effect is irresistible. 139 ¯ BOOK. R

In the present essay, I will examine the traces of coexistence between the Muslim and Christian world in architecture and literature, using the examples of the mezquita, or 'mosque', and the most important novel of Spain, Don Quixote of la Mancha (1605;1615) by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. This study incorporates an interdisciplinary approach that utilizes historical, literary, and architectural methods to explain the dual function of the margin— its architectural function in the Mosque and its narrative function as used in specific chapters from Cervantes's novel. Furthermore, I will show how the architectural margin of the wall of the mosque was familiar to Cervantes's readers who lived in Spain and this familiarity allows Cervantes to exploit the metaphorical meaning of the literary margin as architectural margin. A metaphor establishes an equivalency between a pair of images; the best-known example of which belongs to Ezra Pound, the founding leader of Imagism (1912-1923). This is a school of poetry that endorsed clarity of expression and simplicity through the use of precise visual imagery. The best known metaphor is Pound's own, in which faces are compared with petals in the poem, "In a Station of the Metro": The apparition of these faces in the crowd: Petals on a wet, black bough. Through his architectural and literary metaphor, Cervantes covertly expresses his personal beliefs about multiculturalism that could not be directly expressed for fear of censorship by the Inquisition. ; Winner of the 2020 Friends of the Kreitzberg Library Award for Outstanding Research in the Senior Arts/Humanities category. ; In the Margins of Literary and Architectural Discourse: A Comparison of Arabic Commentary in Cervantes's Don Quixote and Moorish Architectural Inscription Pablo Picasso: Don Quixote, August 10, 1955. Internet: Public Domain Alexandra Parent SP 415: Seminar on Don Quixote Professor Stallings-Ward 28 February 2020 1 Introduction The history of the Iberian Peninsula is a rich one, filled with influences from the entire European and Asian continents over time. When we think about Spain, there is one defining factor that distinguishes her from the rest of Europe: the presence of racial, ethnic and religious influence from Africa, and, resulting therefrom, a unique moment in world history: the confluence of three major world religions in one geographical place. Christianity, Judaism, and Islam once flourished side by side in mutual tolerance and economic interdependence in the Andalusian region of southern Spain, known as 'Al-Andalus,' in the High Middle Ages. Tolerance of others who are different, as Maria Rosa Menocal points out, is the underpinning of this unique historical coincidence and the essential component for the development of science, philosophy, medicine, urbanization, and hence trade and commercial prosperity.1 The Jews and Christians of Muslim Andalusia flourished economically and culturally under the Umayyad, whose dynasty (661-750) was transplanted from Damascus to Cordoba by Abd al-Rahman (756- 1031) after a civil war between two rival Caliphates. These three religions borrowed language and architecture from one another leaving traces of their coexistence, not surprisingly, within the architecture and literature of Spain. In the present essay, I will examine the traces of coexistence between the Muslim and Christian world in architecture and literature, using the examples of the mezquita, or 'mosque', and the most important novel of Spain, Don Quixote of la Mancha (1605;1615) by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. This study incorporates an interdisciplinary approach that utilizes historical, literary, and architectural methods to explain the dual function of the margin— its architectural function in the Mosque and its narrative function as used in specific chapters from Cervantes's 1 Menocal, The Ornament of the World. 2 novel. Furthermore, I will show how the architectural margin of the wall of the mosque was familiar to Cervantes's readers who lived in Spain and this familiarity allows Cervantes to exploit the metaphorical meaning of the literary margin as architectural margin. A metaphor establishes an equivalency between a pair of images; the best-known example of which belongs to Ezra Pound, the founding leader of Imagism (1912-1923). This is a school of poetry that endorsed clarity of expression and simplicity through the use of precise visual imagery. The best- known metaphor is Pound's own, in which faces are compared with petals in the poem, "In a Station of the Metro": The apparition of these faces in the crowd: Petals on a wet, black bough.2 Through his architectural and literary metaphor, Cervantes covertly expresses his personal beliefs about multiculturalism that could not be directly expressed for fear of censorship by the Inquisition. My essay is divided in three sections. In the first section, I will present a historical overview of Muslim presence in the Iberian Peninsula. In the second section, I present a survey of Muslim Architecture in Andalusia based on the results of a photographic study of architecture I did while visiting Spain during study abroad. I survey the presence of Muslim architecture found throughout Andalusia, placing particular emphasis on the function of the margin in the design of the walls of the mosque reserved for the calligraphy that features citations of scripture from the Holy Koran. The margin, although small in size compared to the rest of the entire structure of the mosque, is as I will show, actually the most important part of the mosque. In the third section of my essay, I analyze the literary margin treated in the episode of the lost manuscript in Volume I: Chapters Eight and Nine of Cervantes's Don Quixote. I will look at 2 Judith Stallings-Ward, Gerardo Diego´s Creation Myth of Music: Fábula de Equis y Zeda. London: Routledge, 2020, 175. 3 the coexistence of the Christian and Arab writers in Cervantes's Don Quixote. The collaboration between Cervantes and Cide Hamete Benengeli allows Cervantes to establish a metaphor between the architectural margin of the mosque and the literary margin of the manuscript as the place for covertly expressing his esteem for multiculturalism and his condemnation of the expulsion of the Moors by national decree; a ploy he uses to escape censorship by the Inquisition. The play with spatial perspective (margin vs center) and the severance of the manuscript (with the lost section recovered in the market of Toledo) establishes the architectural and narrative metaphor that recalls the physical and cultural coexistence between Muslims and Christians valued by Cervantes. In addition, I examine how Cervantes extends this metaphor to also evoke the rupture of that coexistence through expulsion of the Moors, which Cervantes believed broke the backbone of the country. Part I: Historical Overview of Muslim Presence in the Iberian Peninsula The invasion of the Iberian Peninsula began with one young man named Abd Al- Rahman, the son of the Arab family ruling Damascus in the east—the Umayyads. However, during a civil war, his family was massacred, and his escape left him the sole survivor. He fled through North Africa into Cordoba where he began to establish himself as the Caliph, or ruler.3 After the Visigoth monarchy fell, Muslim control dominated the Iberian Peninsula. From 711 through 1492, Islamic society had a long and profound presence on shaping Spanish culture until the Christian kings unified the country. By 716, almost all of Iberia, with the exception of the far northwest and mountainous regions, was under Muslim control and the province was name 'Al- Andalus'. By naming the country in this manner, it directly opposes the 'Hispania' title that the 3 BBC Worldwide Learning, The Moorish South: Art in Muslim and Christian Spain from 711-1492. 4 Romans gave the peninsula, foreshadowing the enmity between the religions of Islam and Christianity.4 Abd Al-Rahman sought to recreate his cultural roots here in Iberia. The peninsula was dominated by the Umayyad dynasty, who had no affiliation to the eastern Muslim dynasties at the time, and were met with little to no resistance from the small groups of Christians still living in the peninsula. As demonstrated in Figure 1, the conquering forces came through Northern Africa and thus were also comprised of Berber forces from that region. By 741, there were approximately 12,000 Berber forces, 18,000 Arabs, and 7,000 Syrians entering through the Southern tip of the peninsula. This totaled anywhere from 4,000,000 to 8,000,000 living in the Iberian Peninsula at the time.5 6 Islam and Christianity under Islamic Rule By the mid eighth century, the population of Iberia had grown exponentially and became more diverse both racially and religiously. Although Muslim forces had conquered what remained of the Visigoth territories and established themselves as the dominant, ruling power, a 4 O'Callaghan, A History of Medieval Spain, 91. 5 Phillips and Phillips, A Concise History of Spain. 6 Alchetron.com. "Umayyad Conquest of Hispania - Alchetron, the Free Social Encyclopedia," August 18, 2017. https://alchetron.com/Umayyad-conquest-of-Hispania. Figure 1: Depiction of the route of Abd-Al Rahman and the subsequent conquests of the Muslim Empire. From Internet: public domain.6 5 majority of the population living in Iberia was still Christian. This undoubtedly posed issues for the Moorish rulers who practiced Islam. As a result, conversion became a necessity for Christians. It is important to distinguish between the upper and lower class when discussing the notion of conversion. Many Visigoth royalty, nobles, and influential families saw it in their best interest to convert and to do what they could to join the new rulers in an effort to pursue political advantages.7 Yet, the majority of Iberia was home to lower class Hispano-Roman Christians who converted out of survival. Despite this, many of the people in this situation retained their Christian faith while adopting Muslim customs like learning Arabic so as to appease the rulers. The name given to these people are mozárabes, or 'Mozarabs', meaning 'Muslim-like'.8 A Christian writer noted the following about Christians living under Islamic rule in 854: Our Christian young men, with their elegant airs and fluent speech, are showy in their dress and carriage, and are famed for the learning of the gentiles; intoxicated with Arab eloquence they greedily handle, eagerly devour, and zealously discuss the books of the Chaldeans (i.e. Muhammadans), and make them known by praising them with every flourish of rhetoric, knowing nothing of the beauty of the Church's literature, and looking down with contempt on the streams of the Church that flow forth from Paradise ; alas ! The Christians are so ignorant of their own law, the Latins pay so little attention to their own language, that in the whole Christian flock there is hardly one man in a thousand who can write a letter to inquire after a friend's health intelligibly, while you may find a countless rabble of kinds of them who can learnedly roll out the grandiloquent periods of the Chaldean tongue. They can even make poems, every line ending with the same letter, which displays high flights of beauty and more skill in handling metre than the gentiles themselves possess.9 It is evident from this passage that the Christians admired the Arabs for the type of civilization they created. The Mozarabs recognized that the Arabs had something to offer them in terms of literature, character, and even language. This demonstrates that on some level, there was an 7 Phillips and Phillips, A Concise History of Spain. 8 Phillips and Phillips. 9 Alvar, Indiculus luminosus; quoted from Arnold, The Preaching of Islam; A History of the Propagation of the Muslim Faith, 137-138. 6 acceptance of Muslim culture and practices which set the foundation for the incorporation of Islamic architectural styles and writing styles to be continued after the Christians' reconquering of Iberia. Christian Kingdoms and "La Reconquista" When the Muslim forces conquered Iberia, they were not able to infiltrate the regions in the north. These regions were not seen as an apparent threat because they were isolated, poor, and not heavily populated, so the Moors did not make a vigilant effort to convert or control these Christians.10 However, the Christian states organized themselves into kingdoms and solidified their control in northern Spain by the mid-twelfth century before moving into Southern Spain during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. The progression of the Christian kingdoms' conquests can be seen in Figure 2. 11 At the height of the reconquest, there were seven individual Christian kingdoms within the peninsula: Asturias, Galicia, Aragon, Navarre, Leon, Castile, and Valencia. Each of these kingdoms had their own struggles trying to gain territory, power, and recognition. The Kingdom 10 Phillips and Phillips, A Concise History of Spain, 55. 11 "Reconquista+General.Jpg (1600×914)." Accessed February 19, 2020. http://4.bp.blogspot.com/- ofiGywz891k/TzynBPnsc7I/AAAAAAAAAok/ECNzH3rSp3E/s1600/Reconquista+General.jpg. Figure 2: Timeline of the Christian King's Reconquest of the Iberian Peninsula. Internet: public domain.11 7 of Navarre was largely under the control of the French to the north and did not have much to do with the conquering of other Spanish Christian kingdoms, let alone taking a stance on combating the Arab south. However, not only were the Christian kings working to overthrow the Islamic caliphate and reconquer Iberia from the Muslims, they were all vying for control amongst themselves. In the tenth century, Alfonso III expanded into the regions of Galicia and Leon slowly gaining more territory and strengthening his Christian kingdom to combat the Moors. The kingdoms of Castile and Leon unified in 1085 and then under the kingship of Alfonso VI, they conquered Toledo.12 Toledo is situated where the Moorish Al-Andalus and the Christian kingdoms of Castile and Leon border each other, so the conquering of Toledo was a push in the right direction for the Christian kings' ultimate goal of expelling the Moors from Spain. In the northeast, Alfonso I of Aragon began consolidating his power and conquered Zaragoza by 1134, and joined with Barcelona in 1137 to form the Kingdom of Aragon. By this point, the Muslim empire was facing many issues in trying to run their territories and were slowly losing their sphere of power in the south. King Fernando III of Castile was able to penetrate Al-Andalus and conquer the Andalusian cities of Cordoba and Seville in the mid-thirteenth century. So, when the two kingdoms of Aragon and Castile prevailed over their Christian counterparts, they were left with only the Emirate of Granada as their last steppingstone to banish Muslim rule from the peninsula. King Fernando II of Aragon and Queen Isabella of Castile married in 1469 and this consolidated the royal authority of Spain.13 In January of 1492, the city of Granada fell to the Spanish forces and this ended the 780 years of Muslim control in the Iberian Peninsula. This was the final act of La Reconquista and the beginning of the age of Los Reyes Católicos or 'The Catholic Kings.' King Ferdinand and Queen 12 Phillips and Phillips, 306. 13 Phillips and Phillips, 116. 8 Isabela ruled into the first few years of the sixteenth century, which is marked as the beginning of the Spanish Inquisition—a judicial institution that was used to combat heresy in Spain. Islam and Christianity under Christian Rule Islam first began to submit to Christian rule during the period when the Christian kingdoms were all building up their states and conquering each other in the eleventh century. When Toledo was captured in 1085, allowing the Muslims to stay was crucial to the economic stability and the intellectual advancement of Christian society.14 With the expulsion of the Moors came the expulsion of their religion and began the institution of Christianity, more specifically Catholicism. The immediate issue that the church saw after the reconquest of Spanish cities was the need to introduce their ecclesiastical structure, so they began to assign bishops to these major cities in addition to creating two new ecclesiastical provinces.15 This rapid organization and dispersion of the Catholic religion in previously Islamic territories was not good news for those Muslims still living in Spain after the reconquest. The Christians could not simply expel the Muslims because in some places they made up the majority of the population and were an integral part of the economy for the country.16 Muslims who continued to live under Christian ruler adopted the name mudéjares or 'mudejars' in English. This name is derived from the Arabic word mudajan meaning 'permitted to remain' with a colloquial implication of 'tamed or domesticated.'17 Ironically, the same way the minorities were treated under Islamic rule, to include Christians, was now how the Muslims were treated under Christian rule. The Mudejars would practice their religion, law, and customs in addition to being permitted to continue their 14 Watt, A History of Islamic Spain, 150. 15 O'Callaghan, A History of Medieval Spain, 488. 16 Watt, A History of Islamic Spain, 151. 17 Watt, 151. 9 craft so long as they paid a tax. It was not uncommon for these minority groups to distinguish themselves by dressing differently and even inhabiting different quarters of town. During the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, a period known as the Mudejar age, it is evident that there is a culture common to both Christians and Muslims, and that coexistence, to the point of assimilation, was possible. However, it is important to note that the Christians, being the dominant power, were selective in what they chose to assimilate. The most evident piece demonstrating assimilation is the artistic productions, both architecturally and literarily. It was obvious that incorporating the Muslims into society was necessary and beneficial, but towards the end of the fifteenth century, economic disparages were becoming obvious and the Mudejars were the wealthier of the two groups. This jealousy and animosity led to a growing prejudice of Mudejars and once Ferdinand and Isabella unified the peninsula, they turned this prejudice into policy. The previous flirtation of religious tolerance was coming to an end, but due to the policy written for the surrender of Granada, many people of Islamic faith were briefly safe in 1492, so these religiously intolerant policies attacked other groups, namely the Jewish factions of the country. This period of brutal intolerance is known as the Inquisition, and it drastically influenced Spanish society for the years to follow, to include Miguel de Cervantes's Don Quixote of La Mancha. Part II: Survey of Muslim Architecture in Andalusia Moorish architecture is something that when one sees it, they know it. It is a mixture of oriental and occidental to create a recognizable and unique form of architecture. There are certain staple architectural features that help make this style so well-known and are also the features that other cultures adopt simply because of their beauty. Some of these features include 10 stone parapets with Islamic crenellations, horseshoe windows and doors, towers sometimes evoking a minaret, domes, arches, slender pillars, and many of these features were typically constructed with alternating colors of yellow and red brick and stone.18 The following figures demonstrate these architectural features. 18 Kalmar, "Moorish Style: Orientalism, the Jews, and Synagogue Architecture," 73. Figure 4 (above): The series of arches and horshoe shaped doors. Taken by Alexandra Parent in the Royal Alcazar in Seville, Spain. January 31, 2018. Figure 5 (below): The classic Islamic crennelations and attention to detail that characterizes all of Islamic architecture. This is also exemplatory of the domes that were utilized in Moorish architecture. Taken by Alexandra Parent at the Royal Alcazar in Seville, Spain. January 31, 2018. Figure 3: The slender pillars and open courtyards. Taken by Alexandra Parent at the Alhambra in Granada, Spain. February 23, 2018. Figure 6: The Torre del Oro or Tower of Gold located in Seville, Spain. Exemplifies the use of towers and minarets in Islamic architecture. Taken by Alexandra Parent in Seville, Spain. April 12, 2018. 11 19 These features are apparent throughout all the everyday buildings within the cities of Al- Andalus, but they also came together to make great, exceptional buildings. One in particular is the Great Mosque in Cordoba. This was built when the religion of Islam was only a century old, so it is renowned as one of the first mosques ever built. This mosque is truly grandeur in architectural style in addition to sheer size. In Islamic faith, it is forbidden to depict Allah, or any religious figure, so the traditional methods of using a painting to inspire religious awe was not possible, thus allowing for architecture to take its place. As seen in Figure 7, the rows of archways are seemingly never ending and absolutely uniform. 20 The architectural margin of the mosque (Fig 8 and Fig 10.D), which Cervantes metaphorizes with the annotation of Dulcinea written on the margin in Don Quixote, refers to the most important part of the mosque: the inscriptions. In the Islamic religion, as aforementioned, worshipping any idols or to depict Allah, Muhammad, or any other important religious figures 20 "The Mosque-Cathedral of Cordoba (Spain)." Accessed February 19, 2020. https://www.turismodecordoba.org/the-mosque-cathedral-of-cordoba-spain. Figure 7: The Great Mosque located in Cordoba, Spain. Known for the uniformity and neverending archways and pillars. From Internet: public domain.20 12 through paintings are prohibited. So, the role of the inscriptions becomes the most important and revered part of the mosque much like the depiction of Jesus on the cross is worshipped by Christians. This is because the inscriptions are the holy words of the Koran. The phrase most 21commonly inscribed in these architectural margins are 'only Allah is victorious.' The metaphor Cervantes makes between the architectural and literary margin is developed to a second degree with the handwriting in the margin of the manuscript being Arabic calligraphy. This can be compared to the inscriptions in the architectural margin of the mosques, which are also written in Arabic calligraphy. This type of writing is very distinct from Western modes of writing because the purpose of Arabic calligraphy is "no como un medio utilitario de 21 Fernando Aznar, La Alhambra y el Generalife de Granada. Monumentos, 12. Figure 10: Architecture of the Mosque21 (from left to right and top to bottom): A) ataurique B) interlacing decoration C) calligraphy in the margin of the wall with scripture "Only Allah is Victorious". Also shown in Fig 11. D) horseshoe arc E) muqarnas F) half horseshoe arcs G) arc with muqarnas H) column with crowned capital Figure 8 (above): The horsehoe shaped windows and use of alternating colors and very detailed crennelations. The Arabic calligraphy can be seen above the windows. Taken by Alexandra Parent at the Alhambra in Granada, Spain. February 23, 2018. Figure 9 (above): Fig 8 on a closer scale to better see the calligraphy 13 comunicación entre los hombres sino como un medio sagrado de comunicación entre Dios y los hombres," meaning, it is not like a utilitarian means of communication between humans, but rather a sacred means of communication between God and men.22 This type of calligraphy that Arabs place in the margins of their mosques obviously have religious value and is called caligrafía cúfica or 'Kufic calligraphy' as is shown in Figure 11. 23 The text written in Arabic calligraphy in the margin of the wall of the mosque is epigrafía. It is present in all mosques and throughout the royal palace known as La Alhambra in Granada. As Fernando Aznar explains, "El texto tiene gran importancia en la decoración. Frases que ensalzan a Alá, o que hace referencia a las bellezas del lugar donde se encuentra, ditando a veces a los constructores de cada zona, se reparten por todos los muros de la residencia real."24This quote says that text has great importance in the decoration of the buildings, and that the phrases that praise Allah, or that refers to the beauties of the place where Allah is located, are all throughout the royal palace. It amplifies the important role that language has in religious symbols. 22 "La Caligrafía Árabe." 23 "Arabic Inscription." Alamy. Accessed February 24, 2020. https://www.alamy.com/stock-photo-arabic-inscription- carved-in-a-palace-wall-of-the-alhambra-in-granada-17181753.html. 24 Fernando Aznar, La Alhambra y el Generalife de Granada. Monumentos, 12. Figure 11: An example of Kufic calligraphy. The style of the Arabic writing in this image is classically used in Islamic mosques to state the word of Allah from the Holy Koran. This is the architectural margin. From Internet: public domain.23 14 Moorish Architectural Influence Under Christian Rule As the Christians slowly began organizing themselves into kingdoms and conquering Moorish cities in Al-Andalus, two incredibly different cultures met each other. As previously stated, an assimilation of sorts was taking place by the Christians who were adopting Islamic practices and other elements of their culture. Architecture was one of these elements that Christian rulers not only preserved, but in some cases built from bottom up utilizing these inherently Moorish styles. Using the example of the Mosque of Cordoba, it is important to note that in the middle of this Islamic prayer hall, there is something unknown to Islam; a Catholic Cathedral (Fig. 12, 13, and 14). This addition was made in the sixteenth century after the Moors were abolished from Iberia. The rulers who erected this cathedral demolished the central columns in order to make room for the Christian edifices, however, Charles V recognized the gravity of this action and how it drastically changed the ambiance and historical significance of this architectural feat. This cultural vandalism by the Christians is symbolic of the enforcement and imposition of their religion onto a different group of people. This theme is also apparent in the literary works of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries to include Don Quixote of La Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes. Figure 12: Located in the middle of the Great Mosque of Cordoba. Christian, gothic architecture meeting with Islamic architectural styles. Taken by Alexandra Parent. January 31, 2018. 15 An example of Mudejar work is the Cathedral of Seville, built after the demolition of a mosque, in order to increase the power of the Christian rulers. The architectural style of the building is very European and gothic with high vaulted ceilings and stained glass.25 As a statement piece for Christianity in former Islamic Spain, it is not expected for one to find traces of Moorish architectural influence, but there is. The Cathedral was built by Christian architects, so there was no lack of qualified Christian craftsmen, however there are qualities inherently Moorish that make its way into this grand architectural achievement. As depicted in Figure 15, the high altar in the Cathedral is adorned in so much detail that it mimics the Moorish tendency to not leave any blank space. The incessant ornamental decoration style that was a part of Islamic Spain bled into and permeated traditional Christian and European styles of architecture making its way into the very soul of Christian craftsmanship. Although the Christian Spanish rulers 25 BBC Worldwide Learning, The Moorish South: Art in Muslim and Christian Spain from 711-1492. Figure 13 (right): Christian altar located in the middle of the Great Mosque of Cordoba in Spain. Taken by Alexandra Parent. January 31, 2018. Figure 14 (left): Example of Christianity inserting itself into Muslim architecture. Taken by Alexandra Parent. January 31, 2018. 16 erected this cathedral as a statement to assert their religious dominance, the Moorish aesthetic had already made its way into the minds of the architects of that era. In addition to this, the minaret attached to the Cathedral of Seville, La Giralda (Figure 16), is evidence of this as well. The construction of this minaret concluded in 1568 and is the twin tower to the city of Marrakech. Having begun construction in 1184, La Giralda is host to the visible mixing of Moorish and Christian culture. Through the stonework, inscriptions, and different styles used, La Giralda is evidence of this assimilation of cultural and architectural practices. 26 Perhaps the most notable architectural feat in regard to Moorish influence on Christianity is seen in the Real Alcázar, or Royal Alcazar. At first glance, it is a very distinct Moorish-looking building in terms of architecture; it contains the classic Moorish archways, courtyards, crenellations and pillars (Fig 17 and 18), so it would be reasonable to conclude that it was 26 "Cathedral of Seville. Aerial View." Accessed February 24, 2020. https://seebybike.com/blog/must-see-cathedral-and- alcazar-of-seville/cathedral-of-seville-aerial-view/. Figure 15 (right): The altar located inside the Cathedral of Seville. Known for it's incredulous detail and extravagant style that is suspected to be a result of lingering Moorish influences. Taken by Alexandra Parent. January 31, 2018. Figure 16 (left): An aerial view of the Cathedral of Seville. It includes many influences of Morrish architecture to include the large tower known as La Giralda, the minarets all over the building, and the many domes that make up the cathedral. From Internet: public domain.26 17 constructed under Islamic rule. However, Christian king Peter of Castile, also known as Peter the Cruel, commissioned the Alcazar as his royal palace in the fourteenth century. He made the Alcazar identical to the architectural stylings of the Spanish Middle Ages. So, the question arises as to why a Christian ruler would deliberately choose Islamic decoration? The answer is that it comes down to power. By appropriating the Islamic art and traditional expressions, the Christian ruler projects a sort of authority over the minority subjects.27 The Moorish expressions of wealth and power are understood differently than traditional Europeans, so by creating something that the Muslim population would recognize as powerful, Peter the Cruel wielded a sort of power over the Mudejars. 27 Fernández, "Second Flowering: Art of the Mudejars." Figure 17 (left): The courtyard of the Royal Alcazar. Despite being built by a Christian king, it has many, if not completely full of, influences from Islamic architecture. Note, the pillars, the archways, the courtyard, the crennelations. Taken by Alexandra Parent. January 31, 2018. Figure 18 (right): The Royal Alcazar in Seville, Spain. This wall has both Christian and Islamic influences. Note the differences between the lower floor and the second floor of the archways. The bottom is much more functional and plainer, like traditional Christian architecture whereas the top portions are much more detailed and colorful such as depicted by Islamic architecture. Taken by Alexandra Parent. January 31, 2018. 18 Part III: The Literary Margin Treated in the Episode of the Lost Manuscript in Volume I: Chapters Eight and Nine of Cervantes's Don Quixote When reading Don Quixote, the reader is frequently taken off the main narrative path involving the adventures of the main characters, the knight and his squire Sancho Panza, and led down secondary narratives involving encounters with characters who interrupt the main narration with tales of their own stories of love, captivity, and triumph. The complexity of the narrative shows the novel to be an amalgam of many different short novels, much like the way of the river Amazon, which is fed by many smaller rivers, at the heart of which is Cervantes's parody of books of chivalry. Nevertheless, the one unchanging constant is the way the novel opens a window onto the life and times of the man who wrote it. Cervantes's novel reflects his lived experience rooted in multicultural society whose heterogeneity was the source of Spain's economic and agricultural well-being. Cervantes saw the well-being of his country destroyed by the Hapsburg dynasty's religious intolerance and persecution of minorities who did not convert from their Jewish or Muslim faith. Cervantes himself was of Jewish ancestry. His father was a surgeon, a vocation known to be practiced by Jews. Cryptic references to his Jewish ancestry appear in the portada, or cover page of this novel. For example, the phrase from the book of Job—after darkness light is hoped for—and references to their inability to worship on the Sabbath appear in the first chapter of the novel; a day when the Jewish population must be in duelos and quebrantos, or 'pain and suffering'. While a student, Cervantes was arrested and ordered to have his right hand cut off for allegedly shooting a man who had insulted his sisters. Cervantes escaped punishment by fleeing to Italy from where he joined the Holy League (an alliance among the Vatican, France, and Spain) in the Battle of Lepanto, a major battle against the Turks in the waters of the 19 Mediterranean, during which Cervantes lost the use of his left hand. After his distinguished military service in this major victory against the Turks, Cervantes was taken captive and held prisoner for five years in Algeria. His profound understanding of the Islamic world of the Maghreb, as the northern region of Africa is known, is reflected throughout Don Quixote. Upon return to Spain, he obtained work as a tax collector tasked with gathering funds throughout Andalusia for the construction of the Spanish Armada. His detailed knowledge of the geography and customs of Southern Spain is reflected throughout the novel as well. Cervantes's experiences from his military expedition against the Turks, his years in captivity in northern Africa, his travels through Andalusia, and his Jewish ancestry can be added as another factor that forged the broad multicultural perspectivism formed in his novel. As a student, Cervantes was taught by Lope de Hoyos, a known follower of the Dutch humanist philosopher Erasmus of Rotterdam. Erasmus criticized the empty ritual of the Catholic Church as well as its intolerance for Christians, especially followers of Martin Luther, who sought an unmediated religious relationship with God; one that did not require mediation by a Catholic priest. The teachings of Erasmus, an intellect who denounced the hypocrisy of the Catholic Church and its persecution of minorities and different versions of Christianity, are embraced by Cervantes and find expression in a covert manner in Don Quixote (II: 22-23).28 The episode of the lost manuscript (Volume I:8-9) reflects the perspective of multiculturalism and diversity Cervantes gained from the life experiences outlined above. Chapter eight is first and foremost about Don Quixotes's iconic battle with the windmills, the most well-known episode of the novel. Don Quixote's illusion leads him to believe that the windmills were originally giants that have been transformed into windmills by his enemy, the 28 Judith Stallings-Ward, "Tiny (Erasmian) Dagger or Large Poniard? Metonymy vs. Metaphor in the Cave of Montesinos Episode in Don Quixote." 20 wizard Freston, to cheat Don Quixote from a victory in battle against them. The deception of the knight conveys Cervantes's use of humorous parody to denounce the books of chivalry whose fantasy version of reality has brainwashed Don Quixote. A subsequent adventure in this chapter reveals Don Quixote has another lapse of reason. He believes that a Basque woman travelling to Seville, preceded by two Benedictine friars who are not in her party, and surrounded by her own men on horseback, is a princess being kidnapped. Upon observing once again his master's mind in the grip of delusion, Don Quixote's squire Sancho Panza replies, "This will be worse than the windmills."29 This foreshadows the battle that Don Quixote will ultimately have with the Basque. At the end of Chapter eight, we are left with both men having their swords unsheathed and raised at each other, but then the narration of the story abruptly stops. The narrator, a literary form of Cervantes inserted into the story by the real historical Cervantes, begins to speak directly to the reader as if in an informal conversation with them to convey that the end of the scene and the rest of the history are missing.30 This narrative style continues into Part II, chapter nine when the narrator begins a search for the missing manuscript. In this chapter we are brought to Toledo and the narrator brings the reader through the Alcaná market. The narrator Cervantes tells the story of his journey to find the manuscript in the market and how he comes across a young boy trying to sell him some notebooks, old torn papers, and other small commodities. Cervantes is inclined to pick up a certain book that the boy has and realizes the script on the front is in Arabic. Since he could not read Arabic, he finds a Morisco aljamiado, so called for their ability to speak both Arabic and Spanish, who can help translate the manuscript. It was not difficult to find this person and soon Cervantes flipped to the middle of the book and asked the Morisco to translate. Cervantes points out the availability of translators of 29 Cervantes, Don Quixote, 62. 30 Cervantes, 65. 21 all classic languages in the market, thus underscoring the advantage of multicultural spaces such as the markets of Spain. As the translator--the Morisco aljamiado--began to read the page, he laughed at something written in the margin: it stated, "'This Dulcinea of Toboso, referred to so often in this history, they say had the best hand for salting pork of any woman in La Mancha.'"31 The narrator immediately knew that this was the missing manuscript he was looking for, so he had the Morisco read even more. It is then that the reader learns the novel was originally written in Arabic by the Arab historian Cide Hamete Benengeli. Narrator Cervantes commissions the Morisco to translate the entire novel, paying him in "two arrobas of raisins, and two fanegas of wheat," so that the story of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza can be continued.32 This process of translation of the original manuscript from Arabic to Spanish is now the source of the narrator Cervantes's history of Don Quixote, and it is a collaboration between the literary Christian "Cervantes" and the original Arabic author Cide Hamete Benengeli, delivered through the translator. The reader is now being told the story through someone else's eyes and mind. The novel descends into a rabbit hole of authorship in which, ironically, the new lens is a Morisco translator. This metaphor demonstrates that true Spanish history is written as a compilation between Christianity and Islam, not one or the other, thus demonstrating historical Cervantes's disdain and disapproval of the expulsion of the Moors. Rather, Cervantes displays the importance and necessity of diversity and multiculturalism. The true author, historical Cervantes, also establishes a metaphor between the literary margin, in which the literary Cervantes discovered the novel was indeed Don Quixote, and the architectural margins of the mosque. Cervantes does this in a very clever and implicit manner, 31 Cervantes, 67. 32 Cervantes, 68. 22 otherwise he would be severely censored. Through this implied metaphor of architectural and literary margins, Cervantes is able to write a novel that has commentary to covertly express his condemnation of the Moors and announce his glorification of multiculturalism. The focus of attention placed on the margin of the manuscript wherein Arabic commentary is written calls to mind the architectural margin of the mezquita, or 'mosque', in which the Arabic calligraphy is written. The comparison between the textual margin of Cervantes's manuscript and architectural margin of the walls of the mosque would be easy for the readers of Cervantes's day to recognize given the prevalence of Muslim architecture throughout Spain, as my survey in the first part of this essay shows. Furthermore, the handwriting in Arabic by the Arab historian easily calls to mind the calligraphy used for citations from the Koran. The Arabic commentary—associated with the authoritative word of the Koran placed in the margin of the walls of the mosque—second guesses the religious purity of Dulcinea, the object of courtly worship by the Christian knight. When the translator points out the Arab historian's commentary in the margin of the manuscript, that 'the Lady Dulcinea has the best hand at salting pork,' he taints her purity by placing her in contact with a food source that is considered polluted for Muslims. The comment casts Dulcinea in tainted light. The Arab historian's questioning of religious purity occurs in tandem with the questioning of the authority or authorship of the history of Don Quixote. The literary Cervantes is a Christian writer, but he is not the true author of the original manuscript; the Arab historian Cide Hamete claims true authorship; and Dulcinea is not the pillar of religious purity she is perceived to be. The play with the double meaning of the margin (textual vs architectural) occurs with the play of spatial perspective between margin vs center. The reader sees through Cervantes's use of the metaphor as a multicultural perspective that questions the absolute status of Christian 23 authority and Christian purity. The play with meaning and perspective in Cervantes's treatment of the margin in chapters eight and nine may be taken to one final and third level of development. The margin, shown to be central in connection with the ruptured or severed manuscript, is a covert expression for Cervantes's esteem for the contributions to Spanish society by the Muslim population of his country and his condemnation for their expulsion by governmental degree from Spain. In the eyes of Cervantes, this broke of the backbone of Spain's culture and economy since the Arab population made up an incredibly large portion of the Iberian Peninsula. Cervantes accomplishes this by, not only changing chapters, but beginning a whole new section of the novel. Part I concludes with chapter eight and the pending battle between Don Quixote and the Basque, then Part II begins with the narrator Cervantes informing the reader of his journey to find the rest of the novel. Being wary of the censorship that plagued others during the Inquisition, Cervantes chose this metaphorical approach to convey his true sentiments about the situation of Spain at this moment in history. This rupture in Don Quixote's history is reflective of the moment in Spain's history where law has been decreed to banish something so inherent to the nation itself: the Moorish people. By placing these episodes side by side, Cervantes invites the reader to compare the delusion of the Hapsburg imperial vision and its expulsion of the Moors with the episode of the windmills. The blindness of Spain's government seems even more laughable than Don Quixote's own misguided attack on the windmills. Cervantes's play with the margin allows him to express his views on multiculturalism in an indirect manner that allowed him to escape censorship by the Inquisition. The Inquisition was not savvy enough to realize that this profound division between Part I and II is symbolic of the division of tolerant Spain into an intolerant Spain. After Cervantes 24 died, the Inquisition did censor and expurgate a passage that was considered too directly stated. In chapter thirteen, Don Quixote is once again declaring his servitude and attesting to the beauty of his beloved Dulcinea of Toboso. In his description to Vivaldo, he uses a Petrarchan metaphor, a very classical and renaissance style of poetry, to describe Dulcinea. Don Quixote states (Volume I:13): "Her tresses are gold, her forehead Elysian fields, her eyebrows the arches of heaven, her eyes suns, her cheeks roses, her lips coral, her teeth pearls, her necklace alabaster, her bosom marble, her hands ivory, her skin white as snow, and the parts that modesty hides from human eyes are such, or so I believed and understand, that the most discerning consideration can only praise them but not compare them."33 While eloquently put, Cervantes is nonetheless making references to the private areas of Dulcinea's body and thus was censored by the Catholic Church in 1624 after his death; they dared not censor him before since his novel made him so beloved by the people. Cervantes was too clever to have to follow the rules. His questioning of authority was apparent from the very opening words of the novel when he writes, "[s]omewhere in La Mancha, in a place whose name I do not care to remember…"34 Cervantes conveys how exact places and names are all arbitrary and are not relevant to the novel. This echoes Cervantes own questioning of authority and Spain's religious Inquisition going on that persecuted the Moors and other minorities alike. 33 Cervantes, Don Quixote, 91. 34 Cervantes, 19. 25 Conclusion The religious tolerance and interdependence between minorities of Al-Andalus, which are reflected through the architecture of Andalusia and also underscored in Cervantes's Don Quixote through the metaphorical treatment of the literary margin in the episode of the lost manuscript, seems evermore elusive today. In light of the divisiveness and racism rampant in our society that mars efforts toward multiculturalism and diversity, such as those undertaken at universities like Norwich, tolerance seems like the impossible dream that is the object of the quest of the chivalrous knight Don Quixote. 26 Bibliography Arnold, Thomas Walker. The Preaching of Islam; A History of the Propagation of the Muslim Faith. New York: C. Scribner's sons, 1913. http://archive.org/details/preachingofisla00arno. Aznar, Fernando. La Alhambra y el Generalife de Granada. Monumentos Declared of World Interest by Unescco. Mariarsa:1985. BBC Worldwide Learning. The Moorish South: Art in Muslim and Christian Spain from 711- 1492. Documentary Film. The Art of Spain: From the Moors to Modernism, 2009. https://fod.infobase.com/p_ViewVideo.aspx?xtid=39408. Cervantes, Miguel. Don Quixote. Translated by Edith Grossman. 5 edition. New York: Harper Collins, 2003. Fernández, Luis. La Historia de España en 100 preguntas. Madrid, Spain: Ediciones Nowtilus, 2019. https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/norwich/reader.action?docID=5703133&ppg=1. Fernández, María Luisa. "Second Flowering: Art of the Mudejars." Saudi Aramco World, The Legacy of Al-Andalus, 44, no. 1 (February 1993): 36–41. Harsolia, Khadija Mohiuddin. "Captivity, Confinement and Resistance in Mudejar and Morisco Literature." University of California, Riverside, 2016. WorldCat.org. https://search.proquest.com/docview/1849025713?accountid=14521. Kalmar, Ivan Davidson. "Moorish Style: Orientalism, the Jews, and Synagogue Architecture." Jewish Social Studies 7, no. 3 (2001): 68–100. "La Caligrafía Árabe." Accessed February 21, 2020. http://www.arabespanol.org/cultura/caligrafia.htm. Maíz Chacón, Jorge. Breve historia de los reinos ibéricos. 1a. edición. Quintaesencia ; 6. Barcelona: Ariel, 2013. http://catdir.loc.gov/catdir/enhancements/fy1313/2013369841- b.html. Menocal, Maria Rosa. The Ornament of the World: How Muslims, Jews and Christians Created a Culture of Tolerance in Medieval Spain. Reprint edition. Boston: Back Bay Books, 2003. O'Callaghan, Joseph. A History of Medieval Spain. 1st ed. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1975. https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/norwich/detail.action?docID=3138541. 27 Phillips, William D., and Carla Rahn Phillips. A Concise History of Spain. Cambridge Concise Histories. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. https://library.norwich.edu/login?url=https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true &db=e000xna&AN=490553&scope=site. Raquejo, Tonia. "The 'Arab Cathedrals': Moorish Architecture as Seen by British Travellers." The Burlington Magazine 128, no. 1001 (1986): 555–63. Sheren, Ila Nicole. "Transcultured Architecture: Mudéjar's Epic Journey Reinterpreted." Contemporaneity: Historical Presence in Visual Culture 1 (June 1, 2011): 137–51. https://doi.org/10.5195/contemp.2011.5. Stallings-Ward, Judith. "Tiny (Erasmian) Dagger or Large Poniard? Metonymy vs. Metaphor in the Cave of Montesinos Episode in Don Quixote." Comparative Literature Studies. 43.4 (2006) special issue: Don Quixote and 400 Years of World Literature. 441-65. Stallings-Ward, Judith. Gerardo Diego´s Creation Myth of Music: Fábula de Equis y Zeda. London: Routledge, 2020. Urquízar-Herrera, Antonio. Admiration and Awe: Morisco Buildings and Identity Negotiations in Early Modern Spanish Historiography. 1 online resource (289 pages) vols. Oxford: OUP Oxford, 2017. http://public.ebookcentral.proquest.com/choice/publicfullrecord.aspx?p=4850548. Watt, W. Montgomery. A History of Islamic Spain. Islamic Surveys; 4. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1977.

Social Class in Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things TomyPriyoUtomo English Literature Faculty of Languages and Arts State University of Surabaya tomy.priyo@gmail.com Prof.Dr. FabiolaDharmawatiKurnia, M.Pd. English Department Faculty of Languages and Arts State University of Surabaya fabkurnia@gmail.com Abstrak Karyasastraadalahrepresentasikehidupansosial.Di dalamkehidupanmasyarakattertentu, seperti India, adasebuah system yang dinamakankelassosial.Kelassosialmembawamasalahsebagaidampak yang tereflekisdalam novel The God of Small Things karyaArundhati Roy.Tujuandaripenelitianiniadalahuntukmengungkappenggambarankelassosialpadatokoh-tokohdandampaknya.Dalamskripsiini, data yang digunakanadalah novel The God of Small Things karyaArundhati Roy yang diterbitkanpenerbit Flamingo.Dalammenyelesaikanmasalah yang sudahdipaparkan, penggunaanteorikelassosialmilik Karl Marx akandiaplikasikan. Penggambarantokoh-tokohkelassosialdianalisadenganmenggunakandefinisikelas yang didukungolehpelbagaiaspeknya.Sedangkandampakdarikelassosialdianalisadenganmenggunkankonsekuensidarikonsepkelassosial.Tokoh-tokohsosialkelasdigambarkanmelaluibeberapapoin yang mencangkupkekayaan, pekerjaan, danpendidikan.KelassosialatastergambarpadasosokPappachi,Mammachi, Baby Kochama, danChacko.SedangkanKelassosialbawahtergambarpadasosokAmmu, Velutha, Rahel, danEstha. Olehkarenaitu, kelassosialpadatokoh-tokohtersebutmemeberidampakpadakesehatanfisik, kesehatanjiwa, kehidupankeluarga, pendidikan, agama, dansistemkeadilanpadakasuskriminal.Jadi, halinisepertiduridalamdaging yang sudahmengakarpada system kehidupansosial di India. Hal ininampakpadakasusAmmu yang haruskehilangan status sosialnya, hargadiriPappachiterhadapMammachi, dantokoh-tokohlainnya yang meenghadapimasalahkelassosial. Kata Kunci: India, masyarakat, kelassosial. Abstract Literary work is the representation of social life. In a particular social life, such as India, there is social class. The social class dribbles the ball of problems as the impact in Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things is one of the representation of it. This thesis is aimed to reveal depiction of character's social class and impact of their social class. In this thesis, Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things published by Flamingo is used as the main data source. In answering the statement of the problems, theory of social class based on Karl Marx's view is applied. The depiction of the characters' social class is analyzed using definition of social class and supported by aspects of social class. The impact of the characters' social class is analyzed using the consequences concept of social class. The main characters' social class is portrayed through several points. They are wealth, occupation, and education. The Upper social class is portrayed on Pappachi, Mamachi, Baby Kochama, and Chacko. Then, The Lower Social class is portrayed on Ammu, Velutha, Rahel and Estha. Therefore, social class on the characters gives impact on Physical health, mental health, family life, education, religion and the criminal system justice. So, this thesis portrays the intimate enemy of the system that has been rooting in India that always brings problems caused by it, the social class. It can be looked at the fall of social status of Ammu, the dignity of Pappachi toward Mammachi, and other characters who face the same problem of social class. Keywords: India, society, social class. INTRODUCTION In social life, people are demanded to live in integrated individuals where each individual delivers different characteristics. These differences finally construct a problem within the social life, especially economic problems. Economic problem has been classic problem that cannot be avoided in modern life, thus people are categorized by their capability in economic status or class. This categorizing unconsciously creates a phenomenon where society is sorted. The sort of society based on the economic capability seems to have been articulated by Karl Marx, where society with low capability to product will be dominated by the society with high capability to product. Marx exclusively distinguishes three major classes, each of which is characterized in its role in the productive system by 'the factor of production' it controlled –the land-owners, obviously, by their ownership of land; the capitalists ('bourgeoisie') by their ownership of capital; and the proletariat (working class) by their 'ownership' of their labor-power (Worsley, et al., 1970: 302). Finally, social class turns to be tight and the distance among classes go further. In modernism, construction of society is shaped by the demands to live better. This way indirectly emerges competition that a one should defeat the other one just to earn the economic status. This also becomes the base of Western to colonize and dig the domination to Eastern and African. Indeed, colonization has been passed, and all people has freed, but it has not been clear at all. Behind this fact, colonization has leaved behind the effects toward the people who have been colonized. Sometimes, this fact slaughters keenly the problem of the post-colonized people, for instance in India. In India, there is known system of caste, Brahman, Kshatriyas, Vaishyas, and Sudras. Some 3500 years ago invaders from the north, known as Aryans, imposed the caste system; there is no conclusive evidence that they originated the idea of caste in India, but it seems to be the most likely explanation. The Hindu religion divides the population into five basic groups. The highest groups are known as Varnas (colors) and beneath them come a group without caste, the Untouchables. The four Varnas consist of: Brahmans (a priest caste), Kshatriyas (a military caste), Vaishyas (a merchant or agricultural caste), Sudras (a laboring caste). These caste has been like a stamp to people's destiny and it impacts to their statues in society. These statues are not decided by what they have economically but from what caste they are. Then, it turns to be interesting thing when this system is faced with the problem of economic in modern life (Nobs, 1980: 30—31). As modern people, ability of delivering feeling is not only through direct utterance. The freedom to think, to articulate what they feel finally reach the world of literacy based on the experiences. In the literacy, meanings are accommodated with the beauty of words. Hence, in literary work, especially novel, the view of society including the problem of class can be mediated. It is added by Richard Taylor's Understanding the Elements of Literature, he says that literature is art that essentially created by imagination of the author's experiences (Taylor, 1981: 1). Wellek and Warren even assert that literature can be treated as a document that contains of historical idea and philosophy (Wellek& Warren, 1984: 111). Subsequently, literature work can be something important, crucial, and even interesting thing to dig up with interpretation. The crucial things can be seen in Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things. TheGod of Small Things depicted the life Indian society. The setting of the story takes place in Kerala. The story tells us that comunism or even religion which teach us about equality in human rights in the reality it can not change discrimination and patriarchy in society. The main characters in this novel are Estha and Rahel. They are twins. Their grandfather is the owner of a company from Christian which is very high class (touchable). But their mother has marry with the Hindust man, it means she must change become lower class (untouchable). Max Weber stated that the social class is divided into trhree layers- the upper class, the midle class and the lower class. The higest level is held by educated and wealthy family. This includes Pappachi family. Their social classes are in the high social classwhich gives the member of this class has different life styles,attitudes, educations, and opportunities in the society. The next class is lower class (untouchable), untouchable person can not touch high class. They are uneducated person. They are not allowed to work in high position. In this novel untochable personis Velutha. Velutha is a paravan. Paravan is the lowest caste in Indian. Furthermore, the richness of this novel has glimpsed on the awards that attaches on Arundhati Roy herself and hers. It needs to know that The God of Small Things has won The Man Booker Prize for fiction in 1997. Arundhati Roy herself is a famous Indian novelist and social activist. In 2002, she won the Lannan Foundation's Cultural Freedom Award for her work "about civil societies that are adversely affected by the world's most powerful governments and corporations," in order "to celebrate her life and her ongoing work in the struggle for freedom, justice and cultural diversity". In 2003, she was awarded 'special recognition' as a Woman of Peace at the Global Exchange Human Rights Awards in San Francisco with Bianca Jagger, Barbara Lee and Kathy Kelly. Roy also was awarded the Sydney Peace Prize in May 2004 for her work in social campaigns and her advocacy of non-violence. In January 2006, she was awarded the Sahitya Academy Award, a national award from India's Academy of Letters, for her collection of essays on contemporary issues, The Algebra of Infinite Justice, but she declined to accept it "in protest against the Indian Government toeing the US line by 'violently and ruthlessly pursuing policies of brutalization of industrial workers, increasing militarization and economic neo-liberalization". In November 2011, she was awarded the Norman Mailer Prize for Distinguished Writing. It shows that she is one of important writer in India. Her literary works always tell about social and tradition also symbols to be analyzed. In the instance Roy shows Indian culture as the identity in her literary work. Most of her master piece is showed about social class, tradition in Indian culture. She wrote many books such as an ordinary person's Guide to Empire, War talk, Public Power in the Age of Empire, Power Politics, The Checkbook and the Cruise Missile and The Cost of Living. After all, it is unarguable to be questioned that Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things is full of crucial issues. Based on those facts, the crucial issue that emphasizes on this thesis is in the social classes, thus the potential title that can be put on it is "The Intimate Enemy of Social Class in Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things". RESEARCH METHOD The used method is descriptive quality; it means that the essence or the quality of the data becomes the reference to work rather than the quantity of the data. With interpretation toward the data, the analysis can be worked. Interpretation becomes crucial step because with regardless this, the analysis cannot be maximally operated. It is also as the technique of the study. Then, the approach of the analysis sharpens to mimesis where the universe is used as comparative literature toward the result of the analysis. Indirectly, it includes in extrinsic approach where the sociality is referred as the universe. SOCIAL STRATIFICATION In social life, they always have something that is appreciated. That can be wealth, knowledge, education or economic. In Narwoko&Bagong'sSosiologi: TeksPengantardanTerapan, SoerjonoSoekanto states that in rural society, land and livestock are often considered more valuable than education. On the contrary, it does not happen in modern society. In society, people who have valuable goods in large quantities will be more appreciated rather than people who have a small amount. Thus, they will be considered as low class (Narwoko&Bagong, 2004: 152). This low class construction, because there is characteristic of "not" low class. This construction finally creates categorizing that can be called as stratification. Sorokin states that 'Stratification' is a term used to characterize a structure of inequality where individuals occupy differentiated structural positions and the positions are situated in layers (or strata) that are ranked hierarchically according to broadly recognized standards. The implied reference to sedimentary layers from geology reflects the relative permanence of the posited structure and the long history that is assumed to have generated it. Stratification researchers focus primarily on the empirical study of the sources of the rankings that generate the hierarchy of strata, the mobility of individuals between strata, and the mechanisms of integration that allow societies to cope with the existence of persistent inequalities between strata (Narwoko&Bagong, 2004: 153). Aristotle observed two millennia ago thatpopulations tended to be divided into three groups: the very rich, the very poor and those between. It shows that in ancient times people have come to know and recognize the hierarchy system in society. Social stratification can basically be distinguished into three kinds. They are Class, Status and Power (Worsley, 1970: 288). SOCIAL CLASS According to Karl Marx's Theory of Class, as quoted by Chris Livesey, it is stated that class is the motor of social development. Marx argues that society has developed through four main epochs ("period time"). They are Primitive Communism, Ancient Society, feudal Society, and Capitalist Society. For him, only the first epoch (the "primitive communism") is free from some form of social stratification on the basis of class. This is because, for Marx, class forms of social stratifications only come into existence once people start producing more goods than they require fulfill their everyday needs and gatherer society are basically subsistence societies; that is people can only manage to hunt/ gather enough food for their everyday needs (sociology.org.uk). To describe in detail this theory, it needs to be classified based on the definition, aspect, and consequences of social class. Karl Marx is one of the first writers who analyzes class differences. He sees class as a phenomenon of any society where the ownership of wealth and the means of production, factories or land, gives an economic basis for stratification. Marx also outlines different stages in history in which the ownership of property gives one group control over others. The group, which controls and owns the means of producing food and goods, is the dominant class. Furthermore, Marx argues that there is a constant struggle, a class struggle, and this conflict between the different classes brought about changes in society (Nobs, et al., 1980: 28). Therefore, the conflict among classes are grounded by the domination of a high class over the low class. Class itself, as Lenin says, is large groups of people differing from each other by the place they occupy in a historically determined system of social production, by their relation (in most cases fixed and formulated by law) to the means of production, by their role in the social organization of labor and consequently, and by the dimensions of the share of social wealth of which they dispose and the mode of acquiring it (Collected Works, Vol. 29: 421). Furthermore, Karl Marx divides social class into two classes. They are Capitalist class (or "bourgeoisie") and Working class (or "proletariat"). Capitalist class is those who own and control the means of production (which involves ownership of such things as land, factories, financial institutions and the like). And working class is those who own nothing but their ability to sell their labor power (that is, their ability to work) in return for wages (Henslin. 2003: 284). Similar to Karl Marx in discussing about social class, Max Weber tries to generate it with defining social class as a large group of people who rank close to another in wealth, power, and prestige. These three elements separate people into different lifestyles, give them different chances in life, and provide them with distinct ways of looking at the self and the world (Henslin, 2012: 276). Aspects of socials class are classified referred by wealth, by occupation and by educational level. Each can be used for different purposes or they can be combined (Worsley, 1970: 292). According to Henslin, the primary dimension of social class is wealth. Wealthconsists of property and income. Propertycomes in many forms, such as buildings, land, animals, machinery,cars, stocks, bonds, businesses, and bank accounts. Incomeis money received as wages, rents, interest, royalties, or the proceeds from a business (Henslin, 2003: 276). Furthermore, the spread of material resources among the population is an important indicator of social inequality, while changes in this distribution over time indicate whether society is becoming more or less equal. The investigation of the spread of personal income and wealth, however, is fraught with difficulty because of inaccuracies in the data, the problem of deciding the relevant unit of analysis (whether to use individuals, families or households), how to assess the non-monetary benefits derived from government expenditure, and the way individuals' positions may change over the life-cycle (Abrecombie, 1994: 120). Occupation is another aspect of class that definitely can be included as the ground of belonging to a class.People give less prestige to jobs that are lowpaying, require less preparation or education, involve more physical labor, and areclosely supervised. For example, people in every country rank collegeprofessors higher than nurses, nurses higher than social workers, and social workershigher than janitors. As soon as people develop of being specialized kinds of work, they also get the idea that some kinds of work are more prestige than others. The high prestige occupations generally receive the higherincomes; yet there are many exceptions. The next is factor is education. According to Lindemann, as quoted by Sharon Link & Alexandra Howson in Sociology Reference Guide: Defining Class, it is stated thateducation plays a significant role in one's social position, that is, to aperson's place in the social hierarchy and ultimatelyin stratification. Education also can provide equalityof opportunity and contributes directly to social mobility (that is, to one'sability to move upwardly from one's social class of origin). Social and economic indicators such as income and occupation are typically used to measure social class, and education plays a significant role in determining one's employability, employment, and income (Danziger& Reed, 1999). Education therefore plays a crucial role in the likelihood of people being able to improve their social class location by moving into higher occupational classes. Education is seen as having different functions. Within a consensus or functionalist perspective, associated with the work of Talcott Parsons, education is seen to have a role in socialization; it contributes to ensuring that children are 'trained' to comply with the demands of the social system. Indeed, for many people, education exists to ensure that individuals learn how to be good citizens and thereby maintain an efficient, stable social order. Consequently this view of education emphasizes merit, ability and effort and the needs of society or the economy. Such a view also expresses in the idea that education is about individual opportunity (Raines & McAdams, 2006). When social class exists in society, there will be many impacts given. According to Henslin (2003: 288), consequences of class are divided into six categories. It is very good to be applied as the impact of the social class in The God of Small Things. They are: (1) physical health (2) mental health (3) family life (4) education (5) religion and (6) criminal justice system. SYSTEM OF CASTES IN INDIA India is a country where system of caste grows basically. There were four original castes, separately created by Brahma: Brahmans, Kshatriyas, Vaishyas and Shudras. This fourfold division has its origin in the Vedas, the sacred books of the Hindus, and one of the 'most ancient books in the library of mankind'. They are admitted by all the adherents of the Hindu system to be the primary and infallible authority on the origin of the castes (Keanne, 1978: 24). Senart defines a caste as a close corporation, in theory at any rate rigorously hereditary : equipped with a certain traditional and independent organization, including a chief and a council, meeting on occasion in assemblies of more or less plenary authority and joining together at certain festivals : bound together by common occupations, which relate more particularly to marriage and to food and to questions of ceremonial pollution, and ruling its members by the exercise of jurisdiction, the extent of which varies, but which succeeds in making the authority of the community more felt by the sanction of certain penalties and, above all, by final irrevocable exclusion from the group. While, according to Sir. H. Risley, a caste may be defined as a collection of families or groups of families bearing a common name which usually denotes or is associated with specific occupation, claiming common descent from a mythical ancestor, human or divine, professing to follow the same professional, callings and are regarded by those who are competent to give an opinion as forming a single homogeneous community (Ambedkar, 1916: 3—5). In India, there is known system of class based on the caste. Thus the caste is having seemed to a thing that is flown in people's blood. Hindu religion divides the population into five basic groups. The four highest groups are known as Varnas (color) and beneath them come a group without caste, the Untouchables. The four Varnas consist of Brahmans (a priest caste), Ksathriyas (a military caste), Vaishyas (a merchant or agricultural caste) and Sudras (a laboring caste). Within these groups there are thousands of subdivision; among the Brahmans there are more than 500 subdivisions and there are over 200 divisions of people without caste (Nobs, et al., 1980: 31). India's majority population is Hindu (although it is worth noting that Hinduism is highly variable). Caste is often regarded as a social structure arising from Hindu practices and ideas. But, other religious groups in India also make caste distinctions. Muslims, Christians, Sikhs, Buddhists, and Jains have historically recognized and reinforced caste and/or varnadistinctions (Mines, 2009: 67). SYRIAN CHRISTIAN AND KERALA HISTORY Kerala provides a particularly interesting case study on race because religions are divided from each other based on caste. That is, not only do Hindus follow the caste system, but Christians as well (Sonja, 2001: 129).The Syrian Christians pride themselves on being one of the earliest Christians in the world and trace their conversion to the year 52 AD, when the Apostle of Jesus, St. Thomas arrived on the Kerala port city of Malankara near the bustling trade hub, Muziris.19 According to Syrian Christian communal history, after the death of Christ, the apostles went to different lands to spread the Word of God. St. Thomas went east through Babylon, present day Iraq and onto India. On arriving at the Kerala coast in 52AD, St. Thomas reportedly performed a miracle in front of Brahmins taking a ritual bath. He threw the water in which the Brahmins were bathing into air and it stayed there (Chittilaphilly, 2000:14). Then, The Brahmins impressed by this miracle, immediately asked to be baptized. St. Thomas established churches at Kottaickal, Kokamangalam, Paruetta, Chayel, Kurukkanikulam, and Palloor. He also established chapels and erected crosses at Niranam, Pallipooran, Vattamarry, Cranganore, Palloor and Kuthamana before he was martyred outside Chennai. During St. Thomas's tenure in Kerala, he performed miracles and acts of penance that draw pilgrims to St. Thomas sites to this day (Sonja, 2011: 31). "When I was young, low-castes had to get out of the way of an upper-caste. They would know to get out of the way because the upper-caste would travel with a servant. Every now and again, the servant would call out "hoi". When I was a young girl, I would hear that. "Hoi…" and then a little while later, "hoi". If the low-caste was on the path, he would hide off the path until the upper-caste passed. They used to get out of our way too. My mother told me that us Christians would have servants to sweep the ground before us as we walked so we would not step on any bugs. We were just like upper-caste Hindus" (Sonja, 2011: 36). Restrictions were also placed on worship—lower castes were not permitted to worship the 'high' Hindu Gods (Shiva, Vishnu, and Krishna) but were relegated to demon worship. Temple entry for low-castes was denied. Low-caste Hindus and Christians were prevented from obtaining and education and excluded from public service and government positions (Sonja, 2011: 36). Namboodiriswere exempted from land taxes while low-castes had to pay taxes and fees for even the right to use an umbrella or a palanquin. Namboodirisalso controlled the informal judicial system. While they were exempted from the death penalty, low-castes could receive the death penalty for ordinary offenses such as theft. The sentences of low-caste criminals were brutal: death by elephant trampling, blown from mouth of cannon, hung for 3 days, and mutilations (Sonja, 2011: 36). Historians have conjectured that regulating the oldest son to marry within the caste ensured that the illam(Brahmin property/residence) was kept caste pure (Sonja, 2011: 38). Only converted upper-caste Hindus would be accepted as part of the Syrian Christian fold (Palakunnel, 1999: 221). THE UPPER CLASS Characters who are Upper Class in the God of Small Things are: Pappachi, Mammachi, Chacko, BabbyKochama, Estha and Rahel. The novel tells us about social life in Ayemenem, a rural area in Kerala, India. Pappachi is one of the richest people in the area. He lives in a good wealth. Every single thing that he does shows that he is a rich person. Thus, Pappachi belongs to the upper social class. The higher class people, such as working class women or women who has rich husband usually have a higher life-style. It can be seen from the way of their life. Appearance becomes the most important thing for upper class women. They usually wear expensive clothes or expensive stuff to show off to other people that they are upper class. Mammachi here, in the novel, in the reality of the novel, is told as the wife of Pappachi, a Syrian Christian with high social class. Becoming a wife of the man from high class, indirectly, will lift up her status in front of the society's eyes. With that fact, Mammachi "should" have a life as upper class, with glamour life style, exclusive life, and everything with highest quality. Expensive, that is the proper word for her jewelries, as been exposed to this statement, "Margaret Kochamma took Mammachi's hand. The fingers were soft, the ruby rings were hard" (Roy, 1997: 83). There, the fact is barely exposed, how Mammachi's passions and desires toward jewelries, especially for the expensive ones. Wherever her body exists, wherever her feet step up, wherever her life strolls up to her social life, the jewelries never go to waste to be leaved, it is always following to decorate herself to become "like" upper or high class as usual. Probably, it can be related to the characteristics of women universally, that they likely to show off their jewelries to appear the impression of their status, class, and wealth. Chacko is the first child of Pappachi. As the oldest child, plus a fact of his sex is men, Chacko has privilege. Furthermore, in India, men are having high position especially in social life. It can be understood that India is Patriarch Country where men must have privilege to control everything including women. Going back to Chacko's fact, in the family system, Cahcko can claim to own all properties in the family. As Mamachi's Pickles company, the controller, the manager, the one who has major right is the oldest men child, and he is Chacko, it can be read on this statement, "Legally this was the case, because Ammu, as a daughter, had no claim to the property" (Roy, 1997: 28). Based on that fact, it can be supposed officially that Pappachi's and Mammachi's wealth will be inherited on Chacko, while Ammu, as the women child, has no right on that privilege above those wealth or properties. It presents that Chacko has a govern of Pickles Factory. It is strengthened with the statement of Chacko confesses that the factory is his own. That is clear factually that Chacko has good wealth that means he is a high-class man. Actually, it is important to add that Chacko also has a potential to manage the factory because Chacko has been educated, he has good level of education. Thus, it drives his brain being clear of thinking cleverly, managing something in a god way, and giving good profit. For additional information that supports it, "Chacko had been a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford and was permitted excesses and eccentricities nobody else was (Roy, 1997: 19). Baby Kochama is the sister of Pappachi, John Ipe. She is the most famous person in Kerala. "He was a priest of the Mar Thoma church. Reverend Ipe was well known in the Christian community as the man who had been blessed personally by the Patriarch of Antioch, the sovereign head of the Syrian Christian Church—an episode that had become a part of Ayemenem's folklore" (Roy, 1997: 12).John Ipe is not common priest, she becomes famous because she has been blessed personally by Patriarch of Antioch. Patriarch of Antioch is the Head of Christian Syrian Church. Because of that, after John Ipe has been blessed by the the Head of Christian Syrian Church, John Ipe is respected by the people around her. It means that John Ipe has high social class, especially for people in Ayemenem. Ammu is the last child from Pappachi's family. As the child of high-class family, Ammu automatically belongs to be high-class one. Her life, lifestyle, and education have shown that Ammu is high-class one. Education is something important for a one with high social class. It is usually considered as he step of a one to be high-class one. It is also a factor that can support a one to be high-class one because it can influence the sight and the view of people around him or her to consider as high-class one. Ammu is drawn as a woman that has good education, this educated woman continuously affects her status. It is seen by this statement, "Ammu finished her schooling the same year that her father retired from his job in Delhi and moved to Ayemenem." (Roy, 1997: 19). After finishing her education, Ammu marries to someone. Ammu marries to someone with good wealth. Ammu meets with her husband in a party, the party where rich men jostle and show their wealth off. It is accepted when it is called as a party where rich men assemble, because the irrational thing must be happening when the party is for poor men or low class because the Touchable and the Untouchable must not be touched each other. While Ammu is high-class one, and she comes to a party. The party logically must be a party for high class, and the man that marries to Ammu must be a man from high class. Several weeks pass, Ammu marries with him. "He was on vacation from his job in Assam, where he worked as an assistant manager of a tea estate. His family was once-wealthy zamindars who had migrated to Calcutta from East Bengal after Partition." (Roy, 1997: 19). THE LOWER CLASS Characters who are Lower Class in the God of Small Things are: Velutha, Ammu, Estha and Rahel. Lower social class in this novel is strongly drawn in Velutha's character. Velutha is black but he is so smart. Social class rises strongly through his life. He lives in poverty. As the main character, Velutha belongs to the lower social class. Life background has significance role and it makes his having lower class level as poor people. "He was called Velutha-which means White in Malayalam-because he was do black. His father, Vellya Paapen, was a Paravan. A today tapper (Roy. 1997: 35).The quotation shows Velutha's life background. Velutha is a son of Vellyan Paapen whom a Paravan. So, it automatically makes Velutha become a Paravan too. Paravan is the lowest caste in India. It is also called Untouchable. A Paravan contains of poor people because usually Paravan only work as a lower labor. Velyan Paapen works as a maid in Pappachi family, it means that he cannot deserve his son to get a good financial condition. It brings Velutha living under poverty. Social class rises through his poor condition, because the economic condition he has, indicates that Velutha belongs to lower class people. Ammu is a Christian Syrian from upper class. However, after she gets a divorce with her husband, her status also changes. From being a high class, he turns it in to lower class. After divorcing, Ammu comes back to Pappachi's home in Ayemenem, Pappachi welcomes it because of his compassion toward Ammu, his daughter. But, it does not take to many time for Ammu to decide to get off of the home. Because Ammu "secret" love with Veluthe has been revealed up, thus it drives Pappachi angry and Ammu gets off. Ammu has to fulfill all necessity for her life, she has to work to earn money. Before that, she works at the Pickle factory of her family, but when she has been dropped out of her home by Pappachi, Ammu search for other job in other place. Job is the important factor in dragging the strata in front of the eyes of society socially. People from high class usually have prestige job with good salary. Because it can influence to what life they choose, by buying everything, shopping everything, and establishing their arrogance of the wealth. Following that, the impression of being an upper class can be sought and decided. However, behind that fact, the lower class only has lower jobs, those lower jobs jail their economy. The limited economical conditions will never change their status and strata in front of the society's eyes, thus, their status will keep being lower and never being changed. Ammu, then decides to work at a hotel as a receptionist, and working as a receptionist is not a prestige one. Additionally, the hotel is not five stars hotel, it is only a small hotel with low standard, as has been quoted on this statement, "Ammu had lost the latest of her succession of jobs—as a receptionist in a cheap hotel—because she had been ill and had missed too many days of work." (Roy, 1997: 76). Nevertheless, working here has dropped the health of Ammu down. Probably, it is caused by her changing life, from living in good house with good treatment to living in a low life. His illness finally sharpens to the way she works, she often gets the absences on working, and it makes her getting the fire as a receptionist in that small hotel. Furthermore, working at a small hotel will not give gret significance of changing for a woman like Ammu, particularly for what she gets on his salaray. This quotation can be regarded, "On that last visit, Ammu spent the morning with Rahel in her room. With the last of her meager salary she had bought her daughter small presents wrapped in brown paper with colored paper hearts pasted on." (Roy, 1997: 77). 'Meager salary' explains clearly how small the salary that ammu gets, and it must not fulfill enough for her necessity. The work of Ammu like this is not the prestige one and the salary is too small. That is the main point of this talk, it is concluded that Ammu becomes a lowe class after facing divorcing. The divorcing is added by her love with a low class, Velutha, that facts slap her status in front of the society. Socially, her status collides and becomes one of low class masses. Estha and Rahel are the twin of Ammu with Baba. Estha and Rahel have unique life in this novel. When they are still child, Estha and Rahel are treated by Ammu in her family life that is from upper class. However, although they are live there, there is an unsaid rule that sets Ammu and her children have no right anymore to live in Pappachi's house. But, Pappachi's commission breaks that rule, so that is why they can still enjoy to live in Pappachi's house. It is clear to be understood that Estha and Rahel can be put in to a detail that they are children from upper class. Estha and Rahel can enjoy a trip with family private car that for low class that is the most greatful trip. The trip that they will ever enjoy. The trip they never imagine. The trip they never fantasize because they have been adapted to jostle in the public transportation with the bad smell and disgusting sweat of poor people. Their life is painted in that public transportation and tripping with privacy car is only a part of their fantasy. Estha and Rahel also often go to cinema, it is even told that they have watched film entitled "The Sound of Music" three times. After watching it, they go home to Ayemenem, with one night over sleep in a great hotel. Plus, the smell of food, their trip becomes perfect. The fact like that, is something that is only for upper class, it is important for low class of having it. This lifestyle, indeed, need much money, thus it belongs to upper class with good condition economically, besides that, it is also becomes the viewpoint of valuing the strata of a class. Rahel is a daughter of Ammu. After being left by her brother, Estha, who is sent back to his father, Rahel becomes sad, the sadness grows peaking up when she has to be leaved by Ammu. Rahel, then is treated by Mammachi. All the need of Rahel is fulfilled by Mammachi. As the grand daughter who grows in upper class family, Rahel gets good education. "She spent eight years in college without finishing the five-year undergraduate course and taking her degree. The fees were low and it wasn't hard to scratch out a living." (Roy, 1997: 9). Rahel then continuous her school to a university, and it is not a big problem for Mammachi to pay all the charge of the school. Rahel spends eight years in that university and ends it with no graduation, or it means that Rahel drops out. She even decides to marry to a man from America and go with him to America. Actually, that is not good marriage for Rahel. She is too hurry up to marry. "Rahel drifted into marriage like a passenger drifts towards an unoccupied chair in an airport lounge. With a Sitting Down sense." (Roy, 1997: 10). After deciding to marry and move to America, Rahel does not enjoy her life, because she is not treated as an upper class. Because Rahel has married, her life burden goes to her husband's own. Thus, Mammachi does not pay anything of Rahel's life anymore. However, the age of the marriage is too short, not long after that, the marriage is broken down. Rahel divorces with her husband, and it insists Rahel to work to stay alive and fulfill all necessity for her life in America. It is clear to see that Rahel live in the circle of low class life. She works as a waiter in an Indian restaurant in New York. It is easy to be classified that working as a waiter is one of low class job, it has no any prestige. That job just give little earn for her life daily. Life he has to pass is different with the life he gets in Ayemenem. Rahel also ever works as an employee in a gas station. This job is not a job that can give her good earn in salary. This fact, one day, makes a procure offers Rahel to become a sexual worker where she can get more money. This is simply clear to understand, how low Rahel life in America, and she can be put in to one of low class people. THE IMPACT OF THE SOCIAL CLASS In this section, the impact of social class will be explained. The impact of the social class will be revealed through several characters that have connection each other. The consequences of social class by Henslin (2003) will be used to analyze the impact of the class. The consequences of class that will be used to explain are family life, education, religion, and criminal justice system. Pappachi, the character who is drawn as Upper Class has some impact in his social life. Those are family life and mental health. Papachi has good education, he has prestigious job, besides that, he also has good wealth. It makes him becomes a character or a one who is upper class. The wealth and the prestigious job he has makes him always looks prefect. He desires to be looked as the perfect one around the people. As a man with upper class, Pappachi becomes very famous in Ayemenem. It can be seen to the quotation above, when Pappachi passes away, Indian Express, a newspaper with English letters, writes the news about the death and the funeral of Pappachi. It means that, Pappachi is not only an upper class one, he is more than that. However, the important part that can be informed in this fact is, the class of Pappachi. It is not easy for low class to be put on the newsletter, only important information that can be considered as the important news to be informed, and low class does not belong to. Mammachi is an Indian woman character. As an Indian woman, Mammachi receives all things happen to her. Mammachi marries to Pappachi who is an upper class. Thus, it can be seen that it is not easy to have a couple from different class, especially upper class. However, Mammachi has been ready of facing all the risks, the risks that bring the consequences of social class.Mammachi is accustomed to get hit from Pappachi. Mammachi does not do anything because for Indian women, women, as a wife,have to serve their husband. So whatever her husband does to his wife then his wife must accept it. "He never touched Mammachi again. But he never spoke to her either as long as he lived' (Roy, 1997: 23). So, Mammachi is never really touched or talked at all to Pappachi until Pappachi died. Besides family life, Consequence of social class also influences to the religion. People who are Christian Syrian, are supposed to be upper class than Hindus. In an intriguing chapter of Modernization and Effeminization in India, Anna Lindberg discusses how jobs within cashew factories in Kerala are dependent on one's caste. The dirtiest job, shelling the cashews, is done by the lowest castes of the factories. Shelling is the most unhealthy job as it involves removing the roasted nuts from the corrosive black oily shells. The next step up is peeling, or removing the brown skin from the cashews and is performed by both the scheduled castes and the Ezhavas caste (Linberg, 2005: 55). That quotation explains indirectly how caste affects the job of people in India. People with upper caste will throw the obligation and duty of the job to the lower caste, and people with upper caste prefer choosing clean and light works. Thus, the lower caste, people with the lower caste always works with dirtiness job, and low class job. Chacko is the first son of Pappachi and Mammachi. He was born from upper class family, and it makes the life of Chacko is surrounded by the wealth that can sink himself in the sea of this life. Upper class is portrayed clearly in this novel and it is reflected by Chacko's character. It can be looked at the background of education and of lifestyle of Chacko. The background of education of Chacko that is laid on Oxford and marries-divorces-re-marries, and gets back to Ayemenem, and ends it with heading the Pickle factory, have proven that it is the interesting life to have. However, this social class, finally affects his mental health. As the head of the Pickle factory, Chacko actually can do everything he wants, he has that chance. As has been exposed on this follows statement, "He would call pretty women who worked in the factory to his room, and on the pretext of lecturing them on labor rights and trade union law, flirt with them outrageously." (Roy, 1997: 31). Chacko has a habit of calling all beautiful women who work at the Pickle factor. He invites them with reason to teach them about the rights they have to have. However, Chacko does not do that, it is just a reason. Chacko tries to sleep those women with giving them money. For Chacko, spending much money for sleeping with women, is not a great problem. The condition of his economy, especially money, can guarantee it. Baby kochama is a character who has upper social class in the novel. Her social class then gives impact toward criminal justice system. One with upper social class is usually respected. Once, when Baby Kochama arrives at a police station, she is treated as if a queen. The police treat her very well, with great attitude, and so much respect that is never hidden in the police's mouth. She ever sells a lie to the police, and the police trust it by taking it for granted. Based on that fact, it can be articulated that the impact of Baby Kochama as the upper class is really affecting to her life, her life that is full of respect by the people or the society around her. For the support to proof it, this statement can be supposed to, "Baby Kochamma misrepresented the relationship between Ammu and Velutha, not for Ammu's sake, but to contain the scandal and salvage the family reputation in Inspector Thomas Mathew's eyes." (Roy, 1997: 122). It is clear when it is known that Baby Kochama sells the lie to the police just because she does not want her family gets down of reputation. The way Baby Kochama utilizes her status in the society is very tricky. She reconstructs the story of Ammu and Velutha because the relation between the two is such a shame thing for the family, especially for Baby Kochama's family that is from upper class. With no having any choices to save the reputation, Baby Kochama finally does the lie, with regardless the value of lying is lower than lower class status. Impact of Ammu as lower social class is drawn in physical health and criminal justice system. Ammu suffer from many diseases after he gets out of Ayemenem's house. As has been exposed on this follows statement, "Who came back to Ayemenem with asthma and a rattle in her chest that sounded like a faraway man shouting" (Roy,1997: 76). Her weak economical condition grave illnesses suffered by Ammu. There is not much that can be done by Ammu. Eventhought she is sick, she still has to work to meet all her needs. Living in poverty make Ammu can not treat her disease. Her physical changes occur from groomed Ammu and beautiful become Ammu who has disease and ugly. Ammu physical changes that profoundly changed drastically make her looks very different. When Baba, who is a Hindus, marriage with Ammu that makes the church doesn not want to bury Ammu. because for the church Ammu has different class from them. So, Chacko dicides to bring Ammu's bodies to the electric crematorium. Ammu's bodies are treated very badly, they wrap the body of Ammu on a dirty mattress. How Ammu's bodies are treated very clearly illustrates how Ammu's social class. Her marriage that is considered wrong, living in poverty and disease she has, it all led to Ammu suffer until she dies. Cremation place that is used to burry Ammu's bodies is very dirty. From the above quotation clearly seen what people is burned in that place. Only the bodies of beggars, criminals and police custody are burned on the ground. It is impossible for bodies of people wiyh high social class and have good econmomic condition is buried in that ground. Unfortunately again, no more families are present in addition to the ground except Chacko and Rahel. Impact on the character Velutha great looks of the criminal justice system. Velutha as a lower social class is treated badly in the criminal system. When velutha is accused of making a mistake then the police catch him in a bad way. They do the violence which is not a procedure of arrest. They woke Velutha with their boots (Roy, 1997: 144). The police wake Velutha who is asleep with their hard shoes. The police do not want to touch velutha because he is a lower class. Velutha gets injustice. The police directly commit violence on Velutha without asking first what happen actually. On Estha's character, social class gives impact on his mental health. Estha who is accustomed to luxury living in Ayemenem's house. One day he has to move because his mother send him bank to his father. Where the condition of his father is different with condition in Ayemenem's house. Estha finished school with mediocre results, but refused to go to college. Instead, much to the initial embarrassment of his father and stepmother, he began to do the housework. As though in his own way he was trying to earn his keep. He did the sweeping, swabbing and all the laundry. He learned to cook and shop for vegetables (Roy, 1997: 6). His mental health is disturbed after he decides not to continue his education into college. Estha starts doing what he should not do. He does all the homework that should be done by women. And since then Estha starts rarely speak until one day he really stop talking altogether. Estha performs regular activities without spending a single word. He does not care what the people around him are doing. He will still silent. Although his twin sister, Rahel, is next door and talk, then Estha still keep silent. This condition sometimes makes Rahel think whether Estha become mad, as has been exposed on this follows statement, "Had be seen her? Was be really mad? Did be know that she was there? They had never been shy of each other's bodies, but they had never been old enough (together) to know what shyness was" (Roy, 1997: 44).EStha's mental condition shows that social class can also give impact on mental health. Rahel is raised by mammachi after Ammu die. Of course being raised by mammachi will make life in very good socio economic condition. Raised by Upper class lifestyle makes an impact on family life of rahel. Rahel who has been abandoned by both parents become a very naughty girl. Because she never get a good attention from all her family. Uncle Chacko and Mammachi just give her all the material only. Rahel gets all the facilities that she need so she can reach high education. it is clearly explained how Rahel who are not given attention by all her families. They are just busy with their own affairs without considering the love that needed by Rahel. She is just given all the material she needs such as clothes, food, and money. That all makes Rahel become a naughty girl. Rahel is actually a beautifull smart kid, but she often makes the act that make her eventually are punished and expelled from the school. In the above quotation illustrated how Rahel delinquency in schools. Rahel is first convicted when she is at the Convent of Nazareth. She is caught decorate dorm room door with a flower head. And the next day she is tried and given punishment by the head monastery. Six months after, Rahel is expelled from school because she is already given many punishments and she still keeps naughty. It is all because of Rahel ever caught smoking, she also ever steal and burn bun of Houseministers. Rahel becomes naughty because of she never gets a good attention. Here, it clearly shows that social class olaso give impact to family life. Rahel eventually grows into adulthood without attention and affection of a family. As an Indian women, Rahel's future is determined also by her marriage. CONCLUSION Based on the recent analysis of the data, the result can be concluded that all the issues that have been revealed by statement of the problem can be drawn. There are two conclusions which can be concluded. The first is about the depiction of the social class, the second is about the impact of the social class on the character. The first conclusion is about the existence of social class experienced by the character in the novel. Karl Marx divides social class into two classes. They are Capitalist class (Upper Class) and Working Class (Lower Class). The existence of social class can be seen by wealth, occupation and educational level. As Worsley says that each of the aspects can be used for different purposes or they can be combined. So the character in the novel is divided into two classes. Upper class's characters are Pappachi, Mammachi, Chacko, BabyKochama. And the lower class's characters are Ammu, Velutha, rahel and Estha. The social class can be identified by their economic background, their way of life, their way of dressing, and the standard of living. The second conclusion is about the impact of social class on the character. The impacts of social class are divided into six categories. They are: physical health, mental health, family life, education, religion, criminal justice system. Every character has different social class impact. Furthemore, the writer also find some characters who have different social class. Here, Ammu, Rahel and Estha are Upper social class. Because of some problems, their social class is changed from Upper social class to Lower social class. And it also makes different impact for them. REFERENCES Abrecombie, Nicholas. et al,. 1994. The penguin dictionary of sociology (3rd edition). New York: Penguin Books Ltd. Al-Qudaeri, Golam Gaus & Muhammad Syaiful Islam. 2011. "Complicity and Resistance: Women in Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things". ISSN No. 1948-1845 (Print); 1948-1853 (Electronic). Ambedkar, BR. 1916. Caste in India: their mechanism, genesis, and development. Julundur City: The Awami Press. Chittilapilly, Paul. 2000 The Life and Nature of the St. Thomas Christian Church in the Pre-Diamper Period. Kochi: LRC Publications. Chu, Yu Ru.2006. Recasting India: Caste, Trauma, and the Politics of Transgression in Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things. 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Jayeson Vance Leading Tour at Alcatraz, 2012 ; Business at the Crossroads - Ogden City is a project to collect oral histories related to changes in the Ogden business district since World War II. From the 1870s to World War II, Ogden was a major railroad town, with nine rail systems. With both east-west and north-south rail lines, business and commercial houses flourished as Ogden became a shipping and commerce hub. ; The following is an oral history interview with Jayeson Vance. The interview was conducted on October 10, 2013, by Lorrie Rands. Jayeson discusses memories of Ogden and 25th Street. ; 35p.; 29cm.; 2 bound transcripts; 4 file folders. 1 videodisc: digital; 4 3/4 in. ; Oral History Program Jayeson P. Vance Interviewed by Lorrie Rands 10 October 2013 Oral History Program Weber State University Stewart Library Ogden, Utah Jayeson P. Vance Interviewed by Lorrie Rands 10 October 2013 Copyright © 2014 by Weber State University, Stewart Library Mission Statement The Oral History Program of the Stewart Library was created to preserve the institutional history of Weber State University and the Davis, Ogden and Weber County communities. By conducting carefully researched, recorded, and transcribed interviews, the Oral History Program creates archival oral histories intended for the widest possible use. Interviews are conducted with the goal of eliciting from each participant a full and accurate account of events. The interviews are transcribed, edited for accuracy and clarity, and reviewed by the interviewees (as available), who are encouraged to augment or correct their spoken words. The reviewed and corrected transcripts are indexed, printed, and bound with photographs and illustrative materials as available. Archival copies are placed in Special Collections. The Stewart Library also houses the original recording so researchers can gain a sense of the interviewee's voice and intonations. Project Description Business at the Crossroads - Ogden City is a project to collect oral histories related to changes in the Ogden business district since World War II. From the 1870s to World War II, Ogden was a major railroad town, with nine rail systems. With both east-west and north-south rail lines, business and commercial houses flourished as Ogden became a shipping and commerce hub. After World War II, the railroad business declined. Some government agencies and businesses related to the defense industry continued to gravitate to Ogden after the war—including the Internal Revenue Regional Center, the Marquardt Corporation, Boeing Corporation, Volvo-White Truck Corporation, Morton-Thiokol, and several other smaller operations. However, the economy became more service oriented, with small businesses developing that appealed to changing demographics, including the growing Hispanic population. ____________________________________ Oral history is a method of collecting historical information through recorded interviews between a narrator with firsthand knowledge of historically significant events and a well-informed interviewer, with the goal of preserving substantive additions to the historical record. Because it is primary material, oral history is not intended to present the final, verified, or complete narrative of events. It is a spoken account. It reflects personal opinion offered by the interviewee in response to questioning, and as such it is partisan, deeply involved, and irreplaceable. ____________________________________ Rights Management Special Collections All literary rights in the manuscript, including the right to publish, are reserved to the Stewart Library of Weber State University. No part of the manuscript may be published without the written permission of the University Librarian. Requests for permission to publish should be addressed to the Administration Office, Stewart Library, Weber State University, Ogden, Utah, 84408. The request should include identification of the specific item and identification of the user. It is recommended that this oral history be cited as follows: Vance, Jayeson, an oral history by Lorrie Rands, 10 October 2013 , WSU Stewart Library Oral History Program, Special Collections, Stewart Library, Weber State University, Ogden, UT. iii Jayeson Vance Leading Tour at Alcatraz 2012 Abstract: The following is an oral history interview with Jayeson Vance. The interview was conducted on October 10, 2013, by Lorrie Rands. Jayeson discusses memories of Ogden and 25th Street. LR: Today is October 10, 2013 doing a phone interview with Mr. Jayeson Vance who is currently residing in San Francisco, about 25th street and Ogden. My name is Lorrie Rands and I will be conducting the interview. Jayeson, I, again, appreciate your time and your willingness to help us out with this. Let's begin with the simple basics of when and where were you born? JV: I was born at the old St. Benedict's hospital on 29th and Polk in Ogden, on June 26, 1947. LR: Where did you reside, where was your home in Ogden? JV: Our home was, when I was a boy, we were, first we lived in a post war housing, emergency housing for the GI's. My dad was at Hill Field as an Air Force Sergeant, an Army Air Corp Sergeant. That was at the old Bonneville Park, as they used to call it. It was an old cinder block, post war or emergency housing that, I don't know who paid for, probably the federal government. Then they, at some point around 1950 or 51, they destroyed those homes and we, my dad was able to get a home on 1362 Hudson, between 5th and 6th on, at just above Harrison, and we were just a quarter block below Polk. That's where I spent my early years and then we later moved to 108 Harrison, at first and Harrison. LR: So was Harrison at that time, was it paved all the way through? 1 JV: Yes, Harrison was paved, Hudson was primitive, it was unpaved, thank you for asking. We actually did not even have a phone in the house and my mother had to walk to Hudson and Polk, to a little phone booth as did all the neighbors in order to place a phone call. Actually, it seems funny now, and the street was dirt and it had a curb and gutter but it didn't have the sidewalks and it didn't have, you know, it was very primitive. It was like living out on the frontier in a way, and my grandfather used to say, "You can hear the coyotes at night up there where you live." He lived on 256 Harrisville Road which is still there, that structure is still standing. LR: You grew up then in that part of Ogden? JV: Yea, on that northeast bench, I went to Ben Lomond High and then my dad had gone to Weber and my mother, actually my mother was a USU graduate. I just said, "Well," I couldn't decide what to do after I graduated from Ben Lomond, so I decided on Weber, which was a great choice. I was pleased with, I always thought it had the best—a lot of people say about Weber that we had better professors than bigger schools because you didn't have teaching assistants teaching classes, you had Ph.D.'s teaching classes quite often and so I think in some ways we got a much better education at Weber than people maybe at the University of Utah had in some ways, so anyway, it was a good time to go to Weber. I briefly was the sophomore class president for a brief while, filled in for Mike Howe I believe was his name, cause he couldn't finish his term. My name at that time, I changed my name in 1982, and my born name was Clark Walker. So that's always strange, and I have to explain that, that I 2 changed my name. I was one of those kids that had kind of an identity crisis and so my legal name is Jayson P. Vance. I don't know how much you want to know about my personal life, but just to explain, if you look me up, you'll find me under Clark Walker. Weber State records, well, except I changed my diploma reads Jayeson Vance now, so I had that changed. LR: So, I'm just curious, why did you choose Jayeson Vance? JV: It was just one of those things that I had a friend who was a counselor, which said, "It's time for a change." I had just left a federal job and I wanted a new start in life and she said, "This would be a good time to change." She had done this to, she had changed her name and she said, "I don't know, it's great," and she was able to persuade me that I should do it. Then once you do that, and we'd had a house so we had to change the mortgage records so then and I had to go to court, to district court and officially change my name by law. I can't ever use the old name again and legally, so anyway, I have, for better or worse, that's my name. So I just have to accept that. In some ways I felt shouldn't be changing that because it's my family history, but then as I researched my family history, I found out that my father's father, who was an English immigrant during World War I, which is kind of odd, how do you get to where my father was born in California? It's a long story, but his father deserted the family, his name was reputedly, Sylvester Hodgson Walker. He deserted this mother and this infant boy, who was my father and said, "I'm a British subject, I don't want to have a kid." And he ran off to Canada, and he said, "You can't touch me, I'm a British subject." I don't even really know the man's name, I never saw a picture of him 3 and it's one of these great mysteries of life that I would love to see at least what he looked like and how did he end up in California during World War One. The British would have wanted any young man to be in the Army or something and so it's a—was his name really Walker, you know, all these mysteries like that. I didn't feel troubled about dropping the name Walker, so that's, anyway, we got off on a tangent. LR: No, that's great, I asked so, let's go ahead and go back then. You said that your dad worked at Hill Field as a sergeant in the Army Air Corps, what did your mom do? JV: My mother was a teacher in her later years, well, when they were first married she was a school teacher, then she dropped her job as a teacher to be a house wife and about 1959 she went back to Ogden public schools, worked at Edison school teaching second grade. Her name was Bonnie Ruth Murphy Walker and she passed away this month, just earlier this month, ten years ago the start of this month, she's been dead 10 years now. The family is all gone, my brother, my father and my mother are all gone and my wife and I live here. LR: You're kind of cutting out on me. JV: Oh, maybe if I hold the microphone up closer here. LR: I'm not sure if it's you or if it's me. That seems to be better, okay. I hate it when I get off on my flow. As you were growing up, what were some of the things you liked to do for fun? JV: I used to draw maps of the city actually. I loved history form early on. I read Land Mark Books, I was a boy scout. I got an Eagle Scout Award, I was an Eagle 4 Scout. I was very interested in police and crime, the FBI. I wanted to be an FBI agent at one time and I studied the history of, I was reading adult literature written for adults about the FBI, you know like the FBI story by Glen Whitehead I think it is, when I was twelve. I was trying to—it was not easy to read—but I was trying and I was just obsessed with that stuff and I saw the world very black and white, in a very black and white way. I remember giving—I had some really conservative, very, very conservative opinions about law and order and I wanted to—we had some milk stolen and I wanted my mother so badly to call the police department because I wanted to look at a real policeman in the face and we hardly had any crime in that area. I was so excited that was my amusement, anything to do with law and order or police, any TV show, Texas Rangers or Broderick Crawford, who starred in California Highway Patrol or anything like that. The Lone Ranger and all that stuff, I just loved all that. We played Army, it was post World War Two so we had, almost everybody I knew was the son or the daughter of a GI or a sailor from World War Two or a Marine. We had tons of Army Men and toys about World War Two and I had a whole Army and Navy set of toys that I just spent hours with. Then we would—the little kids in the neighborhood—we'd organize into tiny army, little army training things. Then I would build little model cities in the back yard with rocks and build a highway. I had a lot of fun doing that. I made a model of Ben Lomond peak at one time in my back yard out of clay and rocks and so I had a lot of fun as for Mount Ben Lomond and all that. I tried to make of Ogden out of rocks but it was a little over whelming. 5 LR: I'll bet. So did you ever have the chance to meet any Ogden Police officers when you were younger? JV: Yea, one of my friends, Gary Greenwood, became a police officer in Ogden and he and I were golfing buddies for quite a while, and I met him, just before I moved out of Ogden—I got married and moved away, I remember seeing him in his uniform with his shoes all polished. I was so proud of him and I so wished that I could be like him, be a policeman, but I never became a policeman, I became a park ranger. Not quite the same, but he was just kind of an inspiration when I saw him standing there with his highly polished shoes and his nice neat uniform and he was very proud of it, rightly so. I lost track of him, I would like to talk to him again but I tried to locate him on the internet and he was a probation officer for a while and I couldn't find any more about him. I haven't, if you know him or anybody knows him, I would love to talk to him. He was a great guy. I'm just joining the auxiliary law enforcement team here for the San Francisco police, I just applied to join that. It's a volunteer position, but my fantasy, my interest in crime and law and order has been lifelong. I guess it's no wonder I ended up on Alcatraz. LR: Did you ever hang out downtown? JV: Yea, we did, one of my stronger memories, my father would take me, well my father was a—after he left the Army Air Corps, he became a postman at the main post office and then later Gorder's station as they used to call the post office over there on the bench. He was, his route was the businesses along 25th and along Washington. He was the downtown postman, and he would drive all the 6 packages, they didn't have a UPS, and he would do all the package deliveries all over downtown. He was a gun lover, he loved guns and there was a gun shop on 25th that he loved to go to. He knew 25th very well, he knew the Porters and Waiters Club, he took me into the Depot Drug and there was some girly magazines one time. Oh, it was a little embarrassing, I was going through puberty. Oh we looked at those girly magazines a little bit, but that was among little things like that that I remember. Depot Drug was a hive of activity. It was scary, it was frightening, but it was exciting also. They had these barrels of toys. I loved anything with a plastic army man, or army soldiers like that, and they had just piles of that stuff. Even in the front window, or I think it could even have been on the sidewalk, I could remember my heart just pounding about it, and I only got to go in there a couple of times, but it was a just a hive of excitement. There was also a fear about 25th of course, the legend of all the possibility of heroin and prostitution and all those things that were going on around there. I could even I guess sense it in my father that he was a little bit on edge, but he never had anyone bother him or threaten him in any way while he was delivering mail. He had some rude business people that were pretty rude to him, you know, kind of abusive, but he didn't ever have any threats. He was very close with the black community in Ogden, he knew a lot of the black folks and he was very pro civil rights and he felt that they had gotten the bad end of the deal. The Porters and Waiters Club was famous, of course, for the railroad porters that worked on the Union Pacific that brought Jazz to Ogden. 7 It was also a street of sin certainly. Later in life, my best man at my wedding was Arnie Jacobson and his father was chief Jacobson of the Ogden police. Arnie told me some stories, but these are now second hand stories that he got from his father, so I don't have direct access to that information but it came through Arnie. His father put on black face because they didn't have any black police officers and went down onto 25th to purchase heroine, because the dealers on 25th were black. They did make some arrests and the Ogden police were known as the toughest police in Utah because of the street, because of patrolling 25th street they had to be tougher than the Salt Lake police, according to Arnie anyway. They would have this annual football, I believe football game between the Ogden Police and the Salt Lake police and the Ogden police would always win because they had to be tougher, even though it was a smaller department by far than the Salt Lake department. It really had quite a story there, I mean you could write a lot of, I could easily see someone writing a novel or a historical novel about it. Maybe that's what I should do, I don't know. Then my mother told me about working at the Union Laundry but she did all that Union Pacific linen as a young woman. She was a pretty young brunette and her father, Clarence Murphy, would warn her, he was a Union Pacific engineer. "Now Bonnie, you get down to Washington Boulevard and get on that street car and you run to Washington Boulevard," or somebody told her, or she told me that she was so scared on 25th that she ran all the way from Wall Avenue to Washington Boulevard as fast as she could run to get to Washington Boulevard to where she felt safe, and then get on the street car to go north to 8 Harrisville Road where they lived. She had a palpable fear of that street but she again never had anything happen to her so it just, there's a lot of stuff about that street. I've seen that, I don't know you've probably seen that DVD that that fellow put out about the history of Ogden I imagine. Are you aware of that one? LR: Yes, The one that was in 2007 or 11, not too long ago? Yes. JV: They explained that, I guess they alleged that Al Capone may have been on 25th, which I've never found any—I tried because I studied Al Capone quite a bit having been on Alcatraz where he was locked up for about five years, and I've never found any evidence, have you? To support that he was ever there. LR: I haven't, the only thing I have heard about are the rumors. JV: Yea, it's just legendary. When I worked on Alcatraz we'd have people from Canada and Saskatchewan Province was a place where he was reputed to have been. Oh, Al Capone, you hear this all the time, in Wisconsin he went to honey lodges and it is conceivable that he may have been in Ogden that he was really on, and it was called Little Chicago at one point. It was one of the nick names of Ogden, of that area of Ogden as you may know already. Of course, today, it's a very different street than it was and I'm looking at a picture of it right now, a modern picture. I guess there were some movies made there with that famous noddle parlor sign? LR: Yea, the Star Noodle, the one with the dragon? JV: There was a little China town there too of course, from the Chinese workers on the railroad. My grandfather, as a boy, his mother died when he was a youngster and his father was of course a railroad worker too, an engineer, and he was 9 basically raised himself on the streets. This would have been about 1900 or 1905 around in that era, used to run opium on a bicycle around China, the little Ogden, and helped these opium dealers. It was legal at that time to sell opium, and he would, as reprehensible as it sounds now, would sell opium to the Chinese, and make a little money that way, because they didn't have much money. He and his sister and his father, no mother, were kind of, you know, they had some kind of rough edges in his early years, and he remembered being pretty mean to some of the Chinese as a teenage boy, pulling there queue's. They used to wear their hair in queue's on the back of their head, doing some mean things like that and of course the Chinese were abused everywhere. Out here in San Francisco they were abused even more. The word Chink was frequently passed around. It was a racist time it was not fun to be black or Chinese in those days. It was rough for a lot of people. LR: So did you ever witness any of that discrimination in that part of Ogden? JV: No, that was way before my time. I think it went underground, I'm sure there was a feeling that Asians were odd or you know, they were kind of a curiosity. I don't remember. We used to eat at the Utah Noodle Parlor a lot and have the other—I forget the other noodle parlor name on Grant there. We used to, and we enjoyed all the food, the chop suey and all those things. So you'd hear little remarks like that, that were racists but it was, and of course it was. My grandfather had actually been a member of the Klan when he was a youngster. He had no education, he was brought up on the streets and he picked up whatever he picked up, and he picked up a lot of racists attitudes. I remember he, as a young 10 man—he wasn't that in his older years—but as a young man, there was a Klu Klux Klan Chapter there in Ogden. The Klan was all over the United States if you study the history of the Klan and it was very powerful in the early twenties and that's about the time he was starting his family. My grandfather was out there on Harrisville Road, but he I guess they had some Klan meetings up on the foothills in the early twenties where they burned crosses and stuff up on the foothills above. You can imagine how it must have felt to be a black person and see that going on, especially a tiny minority, there in that part of the world. A feeling, you must have been pretty much an emotional, a very unpleasant emotional experience anyway for a black or an Asian too. I think they were pretty mean to Asians, the Klan was, as well. He never said much about that, he did express racist attitudes which were part of that generation, occasionally. I had that wonderful contrast in my father who just really loved the black folks in Ogden. Marshall White, the police officer who was killed there, who was a hero of the police department. After they finally got a black officer, and then he got killed, but it was a rough town. There was somewhat open prostitution, if I remember, right along parts of Grant Avenue and Lincoln Avenue. Even in my early years, even as late as maybe 19, probably about 1970 even, there was still open prostitution going on, it was very limited, but it was there. As I've studied the street I know there was a back alley that ran heroin and a tunnel that ran heroin from the depot all along, I think on the north side of the street. Maybe that tunnel is still there, I've seen 11 some references that indicate that the tunnel went all the way to the Ben Lomond Hotel apparently. Are you aware of that? LR: I'm aware more of the rumors. JV: I saw something online about historic tunnel tours of Ogden and they, if I remember correctly were going into the basement of the Ben Lomond Hotel and somebody was leading a ghost tour or something like that. They were able to go under Washington Boulevard possibly and they said, "Well, who knows." Of course they want to enlarge everything and make it more exciting so they bring in Al Capone and all that. The danger of history is always that somebody tries to enlarge things or exaggerate things. I was never able to see that myself and I didn't even know, I'd heard rumors about it but I've never been in it. LR: Well I know that most of the businesses now have closed up there tunnels, so most of the people we have talked to, yea, it's possible, but now they're all closed up so. But yea, we've had a lot of references to them, a lot of people that remember being down in them, but none actually going form Ben Lomond to the depot. We can't actually verify that, so. It's fun to hear about though. JV: Well that was the big fancy hotel, I guess the Ben Lomond was built about 1927, and being a big, the highest building in town and anybody who wanted a prostitute probably would have wanted to bring them in underground into the hotel or something like that, or wanted maybe drugs and happened to be at the hotel. It does kind of make sense if you were in the, in the world of vice and you had money enough to stay in a nice room there and you wanted something, knowing the hotel business as I do, because I worked with it for a while here, 12 there are people in the hotels are bribable a lot of times, and if you want—they want some cash and if you have the cash, they'll find a way to get you what you want. Who knows, I wouldn't be surprised, I don't have any evidence of it, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was something like that going on. LR: I wouldn't be surprised either. Do you remember any of the people that used to live or work on 25th street? JV: Yes. Well, my mother worked at the Union Laundry I guess it was called as a— this would have been—she was born in 1919, so it would have been roughly around the time she graduated from Ogden High in 1938. So she was working at the Union Laundry, and that's where that tale about running down the street as fast as she could run, her heart pounding came from, that era. And then my grandfather, Clarence Patrick Murphy, a real Irish name, half Danish, but in fact his mother was Danish. He was working there from about age 16 and he was born about 1885 I believe, so he would have been there about 1901 and he was already working as a fireman as a teenage boy. He couldn't finish school, at Sacred Heart School on upper 25th where he went. He would bend over all the way to Wyoming shoveling coal. He told a tale later that even as a 16 year old boy of working with his back bent to shovel coal all the way from Ogden to Evanston and back just almost constantly shoveling coal to get up that grade to that high plateau in Wyoming. It was not the life that any of us would want to live I am sure, to spend back breaking hours to make a living. He was a devoted member of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineman and Firemen throughout his life and was a lifelong democrat of course, because of the 13 Democrats alliance with the labor unions. He was also one of the shop stewards of the Union Pacific in his later years. He also worked on the old Oregon Shortline Railroad, which was, he fondly would say, "Oregon Shortline," and his eyes would drift off as he thought about it. I guess the Oregon Shortline was, ran from Ogden to Pocatello, if I'm not mistaken, and didn't obviously it didn't go all the way to Oregon. He was the switching engineer which would be, he would build trains by bringing cars from one train and hauling them to join another train and then back and forth all day in the yards of Ogden. He'd go over those yards, and of course today, there's even I guess some activity there, but back in those days the yards were just a hive of energy and the sound of the rails and the squeaking of the iron against iron and you would hear all the noises associated with all that. The station where I went as, this would have been approximately 1955. My grandmother, my California grandmother, my father's mother, would come up from across the Lucin Cutoff across the Great Salt Lake on the Union Pacific from Promontory Point to West Weber and she would, we'd meet her at the Union Station whenever she'd come to visit us. That's where I got to see the Union Station quite a bit as a boy. There would be three or four taxi cabs, several cars coming and going and people were dressed—in those days the women wore gloves and hats and high heels all the time and the men wore business suits and big fedora hats. The railway express, REA railway express agency had a large outlet in the foyer of the station. 14 Just going in to the foyer of the Union Depot was to me, one of the most exciting things of my childhood because I would go in there and look around and seeing people coming and going, people making orders and carrying tickets, porters carrying baggage and porters with red caps on and white uniforms and white jackets. All black men, the only black people I had ever seen at that time in my life were down in the depot. Sorry, I get a little emotional sometimes when I'm talking about these things. I have to take a breath here for a moment. There was a very busy barbershop with an old fashioned striped aprons that, or whatever they called those things that they, smocks, that they would put around people being, having their hair cut. They had the talcum powder brushes and the barber clipping away furiously, and people in a hurry to get on, "I don't want to miss my train," and all those things. The station itself, getting inside was just, it seemed like the biggest building I had ever seen in my life at that time, probably was, and it, the big chandeliers and it was just, in its heyday was just packed with passengers and train schedules and the public address system announcing what was going on. I didn't even know what the people were doing as a boy, I had no concept of what riding a train was because we didn't actually get on the trains, so we never went out on the platforms and so all I saw was just the results of all that. What I observed was a little confusing because I didn't put it together that these people are coming from California or Chicago or wherever it may be. This really was the junction city of the Mountain West and it really was a big deal. It was so sad to see the old down town, as I'm sure you've heard from a 15 lot of people, to see what happened to that wonderful downtown on Washington Boulevard. Again, that's another subject for a book you could write about, Washington Boulevard in its heyday. Beuhler Bingham and B and B Clothiers, the Blue Door and all those fabulous clothing stores and Fred M. Nye that were able, because the economy was so powerful then with Hill Field and the Army Depot and the Naval Supply Depot and all those things, and then the railroad. Everybody was making money and it was sort of the golden age of Ogden. I guess from about the end of World War Two till roughly the time I graduated from Ben Lomond, about 1965, for about those twenty years that downtown district was just thriving. There was Watson and Tanner and 24th street was almost equal to Washington and its level of commercial activity and it was a really nice feeling to the town. There wasn't a lot of crime for the most part, you didn't hear about a lot of—we had, my mother had a friend, Officer Keith Burkdahl, who was a policeman. I remember she got—I guess one of the early beat nicks, there were a handful of beatniks I guess, in Ogden, that maybe were smoking marijuana and this guy hit her at 25th and Monroe. It was at night and he had dark glasses on, and he had sideburns and this would have been 1955 or 56 around the time Elvis was big. We just thought that was so bizarre that this fellow was dressed in this leather jacket and he had sideburns and he had dark glasses on and it's nighttime, you know, why are you wearing—it is kind of odd even now. Keith Burkdahl investigated this because my mother happen to. His wife was a good friend of my mothers and he was a patrolman and so he said, "Yea, we caught 16 this guy and arrested this guy." They finger printed him and everything. I was excited by that. It was, there were some rough characters in Ogden and who knows maybe he was using heroin or something too, or maybe he was associated with 25th street, but we never found out. Whenever I would encounter the Ogden police, I can remember in 1956, the Ogden Police had four brand new blue Fords that they got and they all, they had no markings, anywhere on the car. They were painted, I think, if I remember correctly they were a dark royal blue and they had just about the size of a coffee cup, maybe a large coffee cup, on top was a red, just a red light, and that's all, and a radio antenna, and not anywhere on the car did it say police, anywhere. It just is so funny to look back at that, we'd walk through City Hall Park and of course that was the police station back then. It was in the back of the city hall building, and you'd walk through city hall park and I'd see maybe eight or nine Fords with that bubble light on top, and maybe a couple of unmarked cars. That was the, such as it was, the Ogden police at that time. There's another story, you could do the history of the Ogden Police because they must have some tales to tell if you come across one of the retiree's from the Ogden police or somebody, the son of a police officer, I'd bet you'd get some great stories. Arnie Jacobson might be a good source because his dad. I don't know what became of him, I haven't been in touch with him in years, but his dad, I know was the chief about 1970, they had the police radio in their house because his dad was the chief, so he would hear all the radio calls in Ogden as a 17 boy. You get into some personal information sometimes, but he got run out of the house. LR: Well speaking of growing up, did you ever attend any of the theaters downtown? JV: Yes, the movies? LR: Yes. JV: Yea, we loved the Orpheum, thank you for reminding me. The Orpheum and the Egyptian, but the Orpheum even more so, it was sadly destroyed. The most exciting, fun thing we ever did I think was about 1959 and Ogden was just in its glory days at that time. We, there was a girl next door, Susanne Sylvester, who I had a crush on, and I forget who else. Anyway, we were all about 12 or 13 years old and our parents escorted us, and we got all dressed up and went to, I put on a tie and a sports coat and the girls were dressed up and we just, we just thought that was the most fun we had ever had. We went to the Orpheum and saw a movie, I can't remember what the movie was now. It was just going to the theater down, either the Egyptian or the Orpheum was just one of the special things about that time in life when you are coming of age. I think for almost anyone who was there at that time would remember it well. LR: So is that the theater that had the Popeye Club? JV: I don't know. You know, I don't know about the Popeye Club. Actually when you said that it was the first time I've heard that term. LR: Oh really, okay. JV: I must have missed out. LR: It might have been Paramount. I get my theaters mixed up, I apologize. 18 JV: The Popeye Club, maybe the Paramount was, Popeye Copper Club, Ogden, or Popeye—it says here, I am doing a little web search. I remember the Paramount was where the Paramount Bowl was, is that right? LR: I'm not sure. JV: Where the river, by the river bridge? Where the Ogden sign, is that right? LR: I'm honestly not sure, I thought it was downtown myself. I know the Orpheum and the Egyptian were. I thought the Paramount was too, so. JV: Let's see here, we had a friend who lived right by the Ogden bridge, the Ogden sign, where the Ogden sign in on the east side of Washington. There was this very interesting neighborhood there that reminds, as I got older and look back at it, I thought, "Oh my gosh, that's a lot like big city's back east." It reminded me of, in some ways. I remember the Paramount Bowling alley. When you said Paramount I thought more of a bowling alley then I did of a theater. Then there was a drive in too, and there may have been called the Paramount, there was the Riverdale Drive-in, and there was a drive-in on the south end of town was the Riverdale and going up towards North Ogden was, that Harrisville area there was a drive-in out that way, the North Point Drive- In. The drive-ins, of course, when you're a teenager in those days, it was where all the necking and all that went on. Exciting dates or all the wishful thinking for boys mostly was going on. I know there was a Paramount theater, maybe if I put movie theater, Ogden Utah, my search engine isn't generating a lot right now on that. Let's see, as it opened on the, oh, here it says, "The Paramount theater opened as the 19 Alhambra theater, March 17, 1915 with a concert by the Ogden Tabernacle Choir." There's one reference there, its Cinema treasure. Oh, here we go, 2429 Keisel Avenue. LR: Ah, that's right. JV: Oh, the Alhambra. So here is a, I vaguely remember this photo, I mean this store front. It's located on Keisel, just off of, I think just off 24th, because that looks like the Fred J. Keisel building. LR: Yes, it would have been on the opposite, it would have been closer to 25th. It's actually not there anymore, they tore it down. JV: Yea, I bet it's gone. That's my granddad's era for sure, those old street lights and globe street lights and the old early automobiles. LR: What are some of your favorite memories of downtown Ogden then? JV: Well, to be honest, it was the pretty girls you would see. You would see very, very pretty girls, you'd see dozens of girls that would just you know, traffic stop kind of thing where you'd go, "wow." It was also just the feeling that it was exciting, it was a pleasant city. There was a lunch counter near 25th and Washington, Keeley's Café. You'd go in, it was a bustling café, downtown café—going in and having lunch there. There was also a toy shop near there, and my grandfather doted on me, I was his favorite, out of the five grandchildren I was the oldest one and he liked, I don't know, he and I just bonded and he would take me in as a boy and bought me a pistol set, a cowboy pistol set from this store and I don't know the name. It was a toy store near the Broom hotel and it had just all kinds of cowboy toys all 20 over the walls, and this was a pretty big, pretty large, you know, reasonably large toy store and he bought me this holster and toy gun and toy bullets and I think it was probably one of my happiest moments in childhood. Then going on that date to the Orpheum was another one. The Utah Noodle Parlor was always fun to go to and having the big butterfly shrimp that they still make I think, I think they're still there somewhere. LR: No, they actually closed down. JV: Oh, they closed down? LR: Yea, it hasn't been that long, but Utah Noodle is no more. JV: Oh, that's too bad. That was a great tradition, but I guess Jimmies Flower shop is still there probably. That was a great flower shop. I didn't know the Glassman's, I guess you've come across A L Glassman, the name A L Glassman, but he was the operator of the Orpheum it says. Have you come across the Name Ira Huggins? He was the great attorney, probably the most famous attorney in Ogden. LR: I'm not sure. JV: Ira Huggins was—my mother would speak of him very fondly. I found a URL here, its Cinema Treasures, and it has a lot about the Paramount Theater, 2429 Keisel. This might be a page you want to look at it. It's Cinematreasures.org/theaters/26282, [some of the information that follows come directly from this website.] This is a lot of information I wasn't aware of here about the publisher . Glassman, of course, owned the Standard Examiner and apparently owned this theater also at some point and one of its premier 21 attractions was Cecil B. De Mill, The Ten Commandments. In 1925 it was leased by Public Theaters and renamed Paramount Theater so it started as the Alhambra, I guess. Glassman also owned the Orpheum but he bought the Alhambra in 1923 and then, according to this web site, during the summer months, Orpheum Vaudeville moved to the Alhambra, so they had Vaudeville, wow, now that's very interesting. In 1925 the Alhambra was leased by the Publix Theaters and renamed Paramount Theater, so that's where they got the Paramount. It underwent a complete renovation and seating was reduced to 1900 one of its premier attractions was Ten Commandments. Not the one in the 1950s but the original. By 1927 the theater was under the direction of Brooklyn-born Louis Marcus, who also owned major theaters in Salt Lake, including the Capital and other theaters in Idaho. Fanchon & Marco "Ideas" supplemented the screen attractions at the Paramount. With the demise of the American Theatre in Salt Lake in 1929, the Paramount boasted being Utah's largest theatre. Wow, I didn't know any of this. In 1929 Marcus said he was selling his interest to Publix Theaters and retiring. He was elected mayor of Salt Lake from 32 and served four years and died in 1939. 1934 it came under the ownership of Paramor Theatres who also operated the Orpheum Theatre, Lyceum Theatre and Colonial Theatre. The local Ogden Theatre was an independent. So there is quite a story there of just the theater industry in Ogden. In July of 1954, Paramor Theatres completed renovations which gave it all new seating and a 42' by 21' screen. In time for Christmas 1954, a new marquee and Paramount vertical sign in addition to the Formica snack bar 22 was added to the interior. And that's when "White Christmas" came out with Bing Crosby. So, you'll probably want to look at that website for sure. LR: Yea, I wrote it down so I'll be able to. JV: It's not that much information but it has this one wonderful old photo of the Alhambra. LR: Hmm, that's cool. JV: Yea, also, I would recommend to you to see UCR.edu. LR: Right, I wrote that down too. JV: Yea, and if you can't—that website is a little obtuse—it's something like digital newspaper survey and it's California papers, but remarkably, like I say, especially the San Francisco papers, have lots and lots of Ogden's lore and stories, especially around the time of 1890 to 1930, which would be of great value to anyone doing research at the university there. Then you can form a partnership with the UC Riverside, maybe the two schools could maybe get together on helping each other, because I know that educators always need support and they have to help each other and there is always the threats of budget cuts and things like that. I know he was, that fellow at UC Riverside was saying, "Oh we've got to prove to the regents of the university that we are doing something of value to the community so that they won't shut us down." I wrote, personally when I was a park ranger, wrote a couple of paragraphs saying how much value I've gotten out of it. You're able to, or course with your printer on your computer, you're able to print stories up if you want, or photos. They also have photos too, because you're looking at the actual paper and you can see the old historic ads. 23 LR: Right, that's fun. JV: Yea, it's really fun. You sound like you're a history lover too, so you'd have a field day with that probably. LR: I have two more questions if that's alright JV: It's been a lifelong love for me. ___________ being a park ranger, it was one of the great joys of being a park ranger was being able to give history tours, you know how it's just limited to Alcatraz history, which has quite a colorful history of course. LR: I know it's kind of getting, this has kind of gone long, but I have two more questions if that is ok. JV: Yeah, sure. LR: My first one is, you talked about your grandfather being involved in the Klan in Ogden, do you know much about that? JV: No, he was, I think he was a little ashamed of it. He, I know, it's really unfortunate I can't ask any of these folks any questions or maybe my aunt, who is still alive might know something about it. She lives in Portland, Oregon. I could ask her but she would have been embarrassed about it too. I know that he talked in racial terms about when he would watch the prize fights, Gillette Prize fights on television and he would, there was definitely a palpable racism present when he would—see a black man fighting a white man or something in a Prize fight. The only reason I know about the Klan was that my mother told me that, he didn't tell me himself he was a member of the Klan. I think he was embarrassed. He was certainly not proud of it. 24 I heard, now, I'm trying to place where I heard the recollection by some, probably from my mother, that they had put some burning crosses up on, I think the north east bench, up around, somewhere around where Ben Lomond High stands today. Up on 7th or 7th street, upper 7th street probably or somewhere where it would be seen for miles around or hoped anyway. Just to terrorize the poor black folks a little more, and probably it would have been, I'm sure they didn't like Asians either, or Jews of course. There were a handful of Jewish people too in Ogden so those groups would have been not too thrilled, I'm sure, to see that. I could try and ask Aunt Patty, she's Jennings Olsen's sister by the way, my aunt. He was the professor there at Weber for many years. She may know something about it also, and if you want, I could call you back if I'm able to find out more. The KKK was organized in all 48 states in the 1920s per public television documentary. LR: It's just a curiosity. I will leave that entirely up to you. It was just a—really, someone who was involved, so I wouldn't complain but I don't want you to feel like you have to do that or anything. JV: Well, I'm always willing to help, it's fascinating. What I have found with history and the more you dig, the more interesting it is. LR: Well this is true, I agree. JV: You reminded me of that little neighborhood around the Ogden sign there on the east side of Washington that, I wish I could relive that. Also there was something— I went to visit a friend who lived right there. There was a little alley that shot off of Washington and I think it said Paramount Bowl and it was across 25 from Bigler's Desert Inn, which was an old structure that is no longer there either. We fished in the Ogden river briefly, just once, it only happened once, I went to see him and we fished in the river. It was kind of odd, it seemed like, because here it is almost like in downtown but also almost like out in the country at the same time. It was a really nice little district there that I haven't seen any photos of, but I can picture it in my head as I close my eyes I can see it. There were store fronts right the river and I think a concrete fence or something against the river bank itself, but I'm sure it's all gone now. All that's left is the historic sign there now, but it's fun to reminisce anyway. LR: Well, my last question is this, how has Ogden changed since you were growing up here, do you think? JC: It had that timing, you know, 24th and Washington was the heart of the city and it was the heart of Ogden, it really was like the heart. It was just like a human body has a heart, it was the heart of the city and it was a thriving heartbeat. I remember a young boy yelling, "Standard," and he used to actually hold up the newspaper in his arm and wave it and people would run up and buy a newspaper. It was from the Bon Marché store which was at 22nd to about 26th or 27th along Washington, was just bustling with traffic, excitement. The ladies were dressed in their finest clothes and men were dressed in business suits, and not everyone dressed that way, but it was certainly a thriving place and then along 24th, almost the same scene. It's just sad to see that, well it's happened to many cities; it's not just Ogden, that the core of the city got gutted and changed irreparably. It's too bad 26 that it couldn't have been like what was done with Trolley Square in Salt Lake where they at least maybe changed the buildings, but don't gut every, just don't tear everything completely. The W. T. Grant store was a big deal on 24th and Washington and there was the Kiesel building and the Eccles building and the First Security Bank building and it had this little sky line and it was just, I don't know, it just seemed like a really, really positive. Overall, 25th kind of gave you the vice and a little excitement and drama, which was also kind of fun, and it just kind of was a really nice place to grow up. It sort of represented America, to me. I wrote a little article when I was a boy about it and I took a world book and I followed the outline they used to write about Chicago or New York and I just took every element, and Ogden had it all, in miniscule amounts. It had a little Asian neighborhood, it had a black neighborhood, it had everything in America and it was a, in a microcosm, it was the country. It's sad to a, I'm sorry, LR: It's okay. JV: Makes me feel bad to see that all that is lost. I know there is some of it there still. The Egyptian Theater is still there, but, LR: You're right, most of it is gone. JV: We would get, to go down to Washington Boulevard was a big deal and we would put on our best clothes and we would, yea, it was just a big deal. Even when I started working at the highway department on 17th and Wall or near, just off Wall, at the Utah Highway, Utah Road Commission, we looked forward to driving along Washington Boulevard just for the fun of seeing people on the street and seeing 27 all the excitement that it used to represent. I don't know, it's just, thank you for letting me share all that, and if I can come up with some more goodies I'll certainly call you. Also you're always welcome to call me if you need any more that I can provide, and thanks again for what you are doing. LR: Well, thank you for being so willing to help us out, I appreciate that, and for your stories, they've been wonderful and I appreciate you're willingness to work with us and to do this. We've been on the phone now for almost an hour and 20 minutes so I appreciate your time and your willingness, it means a lot. JV: Well great, Okay Lorrie, keep in touch, and any time I can be of assistance, who knows, maybe your or I or both of us may write books about it, who knows. LR: That would be fun. JV: It's worthy of some good books, I can think of three right now that would be worthy books about that era. But anyway, have a great day. 28

Issue 52.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1993. ; . Contempora~ Living ¯ VOLUME 52 ~ NUMBER5 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, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ 5001 Eastern Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 V~Tashington, D.C. 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. SUBSCRIPTION Ra\TES Single copy $5 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $15 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28 plusmailing costs. See inside back cover for more subscription information and mailing costs. ©1993 Review for Religious review fr°e[ ig oi us Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Michael G. Harter SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Joann Wolski Conn PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Sefin Sammon FMS Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1993' * VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER 5 contents 646 feature Charisms and Religious Life Elizabeth McDonough OP underscores the importance of understanding charism and living it out in religious life. 66O living heritages Vincent de Paul's Charism in Today's Church Gerard H. Luttenberger CM presents Vincent de Paul's vision of the service of the poor and the search for God in a gospel context. 684 A Franciscan Discernment Experience--Part Two Joan Mueller OSF relates how one Franciscan woman witnessed to the discernment of God's will. 691 Ritual Leave-Taking Edward Foley OFMCap proposes the need and a way of response for a ritual reincorporation of retiring religious leaders. living with challenge 702 Christians and Their Passions James D. Whitehead and Eyelyn Eaton Whitehead encourage a befriending of our passions in order to live a full Christian life. 712 The Reality, Fact, and Fantasy of Incest Suzanne Zuercher OSB encourages spiritual directors to deal with the reality of incest issues even when a large measure of fantasy could be involved. 71.9 Dying--and See, We Are Alive Michael FitzPatrick OFM enters us into his experience of living with advanced prostate cancer. 642 Review for Religious 731 735 741 living sacramentally If Grain Could Talk Virginia Marie OCD presents an imaginative approach to our being grains of wheat. At the Heart of the Eucharist Joseph Allen Tetlow SJ suggests in parable form some focuses for Eucharist which receive less liturgical attention. Beyond Seven Sacraments Elizabeth Normanly SDSH reflects on the sacred reality that lies just under the surface of everyday experience. living consecrated life 745 Religious Vocations: New Signs of the Times Albert DiIanni SM focuses on the values important to young peo-ple as they consider a religious-life vocation. 764 Multiculturalism in Religious Life TodaY Catherine M. Harmer MMS explores how cultural and social minorities might be better integrated in religious congregations. 773 Religious Life---Mystery or Mistake? Annette M. Pelletier IHM draws attention to a link between the mystery of the human fascination with th~ Holy and the embodi-ment of that attraction in consecrated life. departments 644 Prisms 780 Canonical Counsel: Conciliar and Postconciliar Documents on Consecrated Life 787 Book Reviews S~pteraber-October 199~ 643 prisms Deadlines are a part of human living. There are deadlines for renewing driver's licenses. There are deadlines for research reports and for term papers in school. There are deadlines in the printing schedules of journals like this one. November 1, 1993, is the deadline for responses to the exploratory questions raised in the "lineamenta" called "Consecrated Life in the Church and the World"--the document intended to encourage reflec-tion and to solicit information and suggestions for use in the ninth ordinary general session of the Synod of Bishops. Although the Vatican Synod Secretariat has set a clear deadline for the responses it has invited, men and women religious have no deadline on the responsibility to con-tinue the study, reflection, and dialogue among themselves and with their local church people, clergy, and bishop so that we take advantage of this specially graced time for the whole t].ody of Christ. Of major importance in this ongoing discussion is the appreciation for the mystery of the church in its complexity of laity, clergy, and religious and in its hierarchical and charismatic elements. One hopes that a number of the bishops participating in the synod are conversant with the three-volume Council Daybook of Vatican II, which shows that the 1960s church included widely varying theologies of consecrated life. Where religious life fits within the church, God's people, was not a quickly or easily resolved question for the bishops as they formulated the council documents. Neither were there easily-agreed-upon theological understandings of the evangelical counsels and the elements of the life called reli-gious through the ages. Since few bishops who were in the debates and discussions leading to the Vatican II decrees 644 Review for Religious. remain active, there is no easy way to make use of those debates and discussions in efforts to move beyond the limitations and com-promises of the then-new Vatican II thinking. But we should not simply lament that the bishops who will participate in the synod have limited experience and acquaintance with these specialized topics; we should become aware that our own continuing familiarity with the documents and decrees of Vatican II and subsequent documents may be, at best, spotty or even nonexistent. We need to take to heart the sentiment expressed by T. S. Eliot in "Burnt Norton": What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present. How can we make present to ourselves and for our times the richness of the Spirit's gift of consecrated life--to us religious and to the church? As I announced in the January-February issue of this year, Review for Religious for its own contribution to our synod preparation features an article in each issue which suggests a significant theological approach for this age of ours. We hope that all these articles provide material for further personal reflec-tion and community discussion. In addition, Elizabeth McDonough OP in our regular Canonical Counsel department recalls for us a number of the recent ecclesial documents that are relevant to informed dialogue on the topic of consecrated life. We may need to face the question, for example, whether charisms, even corporate ohes, can be timebound. Might whole religious groups, because their charism is incarnated, have a tem-porary lifetime? Should we spell out chastity, poverty, and obe-dience as vows essential to religious life when as vows they have not specifically marked the consecration of a number of religious groups? We might ponder whether evangelical counsels in their nonspecificity say more about what marks religious life. Since both lay persons and the clergy share in religious life, is the lev-eling quality of this identity in the church vital for internal reli-gious- life administration? Any number of questions can and should be raised and seen in the light of tradition and new theological understanding. Whatever the results of the October 1994 synod, our own ongoing preparations as religious and as church promise, beyond any wintery deadline, a springtime of redeeming grace. D~ivid L. Fleming sJ September-October 1993 645 feature ELIZABETH MCDONOUGH Charisms and Religious Life Before Vatican Cou_ncil II, charism was certainly not a fre-quent topic of conversation in Catholic circles, and dis-cussion of the charisma of religious life was relatively nonexistent. Nor does any conciliar document actually employ the word charism in reference to religious life as such, even though various discussions of council partici-pant~ specifically included charism as central to conse-crated life in the church. To be sure, Vatican II documents clearly recognize the charismatic nature of the diversity of gifts of religious life, just as they clearly affirm the pat-rimony or heritage of institutes--that is, their own proper character and functions--as important for the good of the whole church (Perfectae Caritatis, §1 and §8). The council also stressed the need for faithful retention of the spirit and aims of each founder and foundress, as well as for fidelity to each institute's sound traditions (Perfectae Caritatis, §2b). Charisms: Postconciliar Development Pope Paul VI was the first to use the word charisms officially in relation to religious life--in his 1971 apostolic exhortation on the renewal and adaptation of religious institutes after the council (Evange/ica Testificatio, §11). This and other documents during Paul VI's papacy referred Elizabeth McDonough OPis well known to our readers since she serves as the canon law editor. Her address can be found on the inside front cover. 646 Review for Religious to charism as providing a constancy of orientation while allowing for internal growth and change (Evangelica Testificatio, §12). Charism was also presented as the experience of the Spirit by founders and foundresses which was then transmitted to their fol-lowers for continual development in harmony with their role in the ¯ church (Mutuae Relationes, §1 i). In addition, during this time a direct connection was affirmed between the obligation of superi-ors to protect their institute's specific charism and the right of the institute, to maintain an appropriate autonomy'of life and gov-ernment (Mutuae Relationes, § 13). Subsequentl~ the word charism appeared among the norms concerning consecrated life during various stages of the revision process of the Code of Canon Law. In the final version of the Code promulgated in 1983, however, these references were replaced by conciliar terms and phrases mentioning the spiritual patrimony or nature or character or sound traditions of an insti-tute (see, for example, cc. 577, 578, and 631). Some writers sug-gest that the nub of difficulties for religious in the church today is the distifiction, or even the supposed contradiction, between the hierarchical and the charismatic.1 Nevertheless, Pope John Paul II, in a letter directed to the bishops of the United States in 1983, exhorted them to encourage and assist: religious in living faith-fully according to their charism. Shortly thereafter he issued an apostolic exhortation addressed to religious in which he viewed charisms as gifts approved by the church for the good of the church and of the world and as fortifying and fostering religious com-munities in both their life and their apostolic service (Redemption# Donum, §15). More recently the 1990 Vatican Directives on Formation in Religious Institutes reemphasized the importance of their particular charisms to the life and development of the vari-ous religious communities (Potissimum Institutioni, § 16). While it is quite clear that the Second Vatican Council treated consecrated lifeforms more as dynamic, living i'ealities than as static entities defined by legislation, it is also clear that Vatican II attempted to articulate certain theological understandings and practical boundaries within which the various gifts of consecrated life should continue to exist and function. These conciliar positions treated consecrated life as an integral part of the life and holiness of the church itself and saw certain evangelical counsels as peren-nially significant in all historical manifestations of consecrated lifeforms (Lumen Gentium, §44). More than a quarter century of September-October 1993 647 McDonougb ¯ Charisms and Religious Life discussion on the charism or charisms of religious life, however, has still left the notion theoretically elusive and practically debated. The question still arises: What, if anything, can be reasonably articulated and plausibly understood with regard to a charism of religious life? Charisms: Meaning and Expression Any genuine charism of religious life is a pure gift of God for the good of the church. Accordingly, a religious-life charism can generally be described as a window on the gospel, a framed vision of people following Jesus that attracts others to do so in a similar way. They encounter in the charism of great religious founders and foundresses--the Benedictine charism, the Dominican charism, the Franciscan charism, the Mercy charism, the Daughters of Charity charism, and so forth--a phenomenon both intellec-tually and affectively compelling. Indeed, both history and our own background witness to the fact that people often respond to genuine religious charisms at great personal cost and by over-coming a variety of formidable obstacles. Moreover, charisms attract people to engage in an overall task together rather than only or primarily as free agents in independent endeavors. A charism of religious life can be recognized as a lived and living reality. It is a ~eed planted in fertile ground that takes root and grows and multiplies abundantly. It becomes a strong plant that can be transplanted to other climates, other cultures, and other eras. A genuine charism of religious life can also transcend ethnic differences, social and economic classes, and the several generations alive at a giyen time. It enables people .to say, "Yes, we who have such diverse origins and experiences can live together constructively in a consciously Christian manner." A genuine charism of religious life can transcend economic theories, politi-cal preferences, and personal prejudices. Indeed, a genuine charism of religious life has the potential to transform people's lives no matter who or where they are. Charisms are expressed in an entire way of life, a compre-hensive culture, not merely in various norms and particular prac-tices. They are deeply rooted in healthy spirituality. They exhibit sound and supple structures. Genuine charisms have customary practices that are formative of the chosen lifestyle. They also make valuable, constructive ecclesial contributions; for charisms of reli- 648 Review for Religious. gious life do not exist--indeed, cannot exist--merely for their own sake or merely for the sake of those who embrace them. As an indication of this, note that, according to a recent three-year soci-ological study in the United States, membership in a particular community primarily for affiliative belonging rather than for "the mis-sion of the church and the extension of the charism" needs to be addressed by religious institutes if they hope to survive.2 Another significant element of genuine religious charisms is that they live only in people, not in documents. The charisms are gifts to people, and they captivate and transform the recipients. However enamored many religious may be with popular refounding, reweaving, and re-creat-ing trends, there is actually no future for any institute that did not begin with--or has not been successfully grafted onto--a genuine religious-life charism. No amount of well-disposed and concerted effort can create a charism of reli-gious life. Whatever sociological or anthropological sleight of hand well-intentioned people might employ, it simply cannot be done. Historically speaking, in the United States a good number of religious communities (especially of women) seem to have been founded to perform a particular spiritual or corporal work of mercy at times when there were tremendous practical needs and when American bishops actively sought a willing and capable, if not always large, work force. Some groups that were eventually rec-ognized as religious institutes responded to these needs with valiant efforts and heroic virtue. Some others, however, may have begun and responded somewhat superficially, without the deep rooting of a genuine religious-life charism. For a number of them, the Vatican II mandate to return to the gospel and to the spirit of the founder or foundress resulted in their being confronted with salvaging an historically borrowed and circumstantially time-bound way of life that was not founded in a genuine charism and, consequently, was not well sustained by a deep and relevant spirituality. For others, A religious-life charism can generally be described as a window on the gospel, a framed vision of people, following Jesus that attracts others to do so in a similar way. September-October 1993 649 McDonougb * Cbarisms and Religious Lift the conciliar mandate resulted in their being confronted with prac-tices that seemed to have little or no connection with the original charism of their founder or foundress. For still others, the conciliar mandate to return to the original charism seems to have resulted more in selective borrowing of rhetoric to justify desired alter-ations than in a clearer awareness of the original heritage with a view to embracing its authentic beauty and, often, its concomi-tant demands. In regard to the latter, for example, after the council a num-ber of institutes of women claiming Dominican roots readily opted for contemporary participation in the order's preaching heritage, but just as readily deemphasized the order's original heritage of common life, liturgical prayer, and assiduous study of sacred truth. Similarly, after the council, followers of the Mercy charism quickly and rightly reemphasized Catherine McAuley's concern for women, but simultaneously transformed her notion of Mercy communi-ties as separate institutes in the various dioceses into one of uni-fied national organizations espousing global causes--a quantum leap from the "amalgamation" that produced the Mercy Union in the United States in the early 20th century. Or again, at least some postconciliar followers of Francis promptly translated his incar-national theology into a diffuse ecospirituality while managing not to do anything very concrete and practical for Francis's Lady Poverty. Thus, at least in some instances, the Vatican II mandate that religious return to the roots of their charism seems to have stirred up speculation about what a founder or foundress would do if he or she were now alive, with actions sometimes resulting that were contrary to, or at best not very inclusive of, what the founder or foundress consciously espoused and actually did. Charisms: Basic Presumptions Regarding charism, there are certain rather obvious theoret-ical presumptions--and certain practical assessments directly related to them--which might strike some readers as simplistic, but which warrant articulation. The presumptions are threefold. First, either a religious community has a charism or it does not. If a community does not have a charism, it is not going to survive. Second, if a community has a charism, the members understand it or they do not. If a community has a charism but the members do not understand it, the community is not going to survive. Third, 650 Review for Religious ¯ . if a community has a charism and understands it, the members can either strive to live it or they can decline to do so. If a com-munity has a charism and more or less understands it but the mem-bers decline to live it, then that community is not going to survive. More pointedly: if any community lands on the negative side of any of the above disjunctive assertions, then it probably does not merit survival. But note again: this assessment is not directly concerned with the foibles and failures of human endeavors; it is concerned with the importance of the charisms of consecrated life as such. Precisely because charisms are gifts of the Spirit to and for the church, they are too precio~as to be left indefinitely in the trust of people who are heedless of a charism's inherent value or unmindful of their personal responsibility to embrace and live its practical consequences. If members of a community cannot articulate clearly its fun-damental spirituality, if they are functionally unaware of its sound traditions, if they cannot realistically recall or do not meaning-fully practice its formative customs, if they cannot understand its internal workings in keeping with who they are as religious, then the community probably does not have a charism. Although the full meaning of a charism can never be completely specified, any charism has at least some identifiable characteristics and some external lineaments for practical recognition. If members of a com- .munity 'have not a clue what these might be, then--more likely than not--the community simply does not have a charism. And, as disconcerting as the statement may be for the adherents of some contemporary trends, it bears noting again that no one can actu-ally refound or reweave or re-create a charism of religious life. In fact, in contrast to the pelagianism of prevailing literature in this regard, I would suggest that---rather than refounding or reweav-ing or re-creating a charism--if anything, people receive it and respond to it. All that having been said, what then does a charism actually do to the receiver, to you and me and the many other plain human beings who receive it? Expressed in the subjective way that each religious probably has experienced it at some time or another, a vocation to live within a certain religious charism is an over-whelming sense that something quite beyond clear description has dropped into one's life (or into one's hands or into one's heart or into one's head) and evoked a spontaneous personal response such as "Oh, my God, if I take this seriously, it could transform me September-October 1993 651 McDonougb ¯ Cbarisms and Religious Life drastically for the rest of my life." However differently one who has experienced the call to live a religious-life charism might express it, or in whatever circumstances one might have experienced it, this dropped-into-your-lif~ gift--stirs awareness and promises transformation both drastic and continuous. In fact, if received and responded to, radical transformation is precisely what a charism has the potential of accomplishing as a person becomes publicly, consciously, perpetually committed to following Jesus more closely in this fashion and with these people and for this pur-pose- whether after the manner of Benedict or Francis or Dominic or Angela Merici or Ignatius Loyola or Louise de Marillac or Catherine McAuley or other such leaders. Although charisms live only in people, not in writings, nev-ertheless rules, constitutions, and other fundamental documents of a religious institute are important because they schematically and historiographically suggest a lifeform and purpose about which the church confidently says to individuals, "If you follow this form of gospel life, you will not be led astray from your true end." That is the assurance given to religious in recognized lifeforms through the ecclesial approval of specific charisms. The documents of any religious institute, however, are at most merely the best possible articulation of the lived understanding of the institute's charism through its generations of existence. Documents can do no more than suggest the cumulative richness of the lived experience and self-understanding of a community with a charism, for only peo-ple actually embody it. In fact, it can be hypothesized that, if all the documents of a community with a genuine charism were destroyed but its members were to survive, others would still be able to grasp the full import of the charism through the living members. In contrast, if all the members of a religious institute that has a gen-uine charism were to cease to exist but the documents were to survive, others would not be able to grasp the import of the charism or would be able to understand it only superficially. More point-edly: charisms exist, not in dead letters, but in living persons who themselves are formed and informed by the original charism both lived and written down. Charisms: Living Example As an example of a charism being lived, I would suggest' St. Dominic, with his passionate concern for the Truth--not in the 652 Review for Religious abstract, but in the person of Jesus, the Word of God--and with his unmitigated compassion for people, all of whom God loves in his beloved Son. That is to say, perhaps people cannot truly be Dominicans if they claim passionate concern for the truth while disdaining people, especially people who disagree with them--which at times seems a Dominican penchant. Those who embrace the Dominican charism in any age may have no other option--if they wish to continue in existence--but to ardently desire, dili-gently pursue, and freely share the Truth who is Jesus. Moreover, this desire and pursuit and sharing must be accomplished in the manner of Dominic amid the great collective wit-ness of his followers through the cen-turies. This witness includes fearless, respectful encounter with the people in the areas where the gospel needs to be preached. Such evangelization is fun- Radical transformation is precisely what a charism has the potential of accomplishing as a person becomes publicly, consciously, perpetually committed to following Jesus. damental to Dominican apostolic life: compassionately meeting people where they are and being for them channels of God's truth. On one occasion Dominic, on a journey to assist a local bishop in arranging a courtly marriage, met an innkeeper who was "wretchedly deluded" by the then prevalent Albigensian heresy. Dominic was moved to pity--not anger or disdain, but pity--and fervendy began to exhort the innkeeper, zealously discoursing with him through the night with such compelling wisdom that he was moved by God's grace to embrace the faith. There we have, per-haps, a Dominican paradigm for confronting the wretched delu-sion and incredible confusion of any era. As Dominicans we are obliged to be moved to pity, to plead emotionally, and to exhort fervendy--not merely with abstract propositions--so that the grace of God can be operative in others' lives. As Dominicans we must both believe and embody the truths we speak---so that the way we handle the attractiveness of truth is itself attractive. Dominicans must speak, not merely with their own wisdom or their own spirit, but with God's. Note, too, the circumstances of Dominic's encounter with the innkeeper. His sojourn at the inn occurred during his travel for the September-October 1993 653 McDonougb ¯ Cbarisms and Religious Life purpose of helping to arrange a wedding, a wedding that, for rea-sons quite beyond the control of the bishop and himself, did not come to pass. There may be a further message here for Dominicans, namely, that we should be willing to be surprised by, to respond to, and to work hard at tasks God sets for us by sud-denly rearranging the apostolic endeavors we ourselves had planned. Indeed, the specifically Dominican way of evangeliza-tion today might well involve pity, exhortation, and argumentation in the face of delusion, with an eye to people's eventual conversion in graced ways that are not of our doing and are not even the out-come of the kind of apostolic project we have dreamed of crafting. Let us return now to the matter of religious-life charisms as such. In this age in which people are incredibly confused about numerous personal, communal, national, and global problems; in the midst of great diversity of religious belief; after the break-down and fragmentation of many traditions; in the context of eco-nomic upheaval~ and political disagreement--in all this the living witness of any genuine religious-life charism matters. It announces uniquely, with specific and recognizable characteristics, that "fol-lowing Jesus" still has meaning precisely as a commitment to some-thing beyond whatever pragmatic tasks each religious is involved with here and now. This is not to suggest that the charism of a religious institute flourishes wherever any isolated member may be doing with dedication something worthwhile. Rather, the causal-ity is just the reverse: transcendent awareness and inner conviction and commitment manifest themselves to others only through the lived and living reality of the total charism, which is a grace received and, as such, not an energetic project of one's creative imagination. Charisms: Basic Sources What qualifies and practices, then, can religious look for in the experience and response of a founder or foundress to enable them to live their religious charism constructively today? The sugges-tions derived from basic sources include firm spiritual founda-tions; sound intellectual knowledge; tested advancement in virtue (perhaps reflective of the terribly old-fashioned notion that habits of doing good are significant); getting along honestly and chari-tably with others; responding to the graces presented in one's par-ticular calling; and constant reliance on God in all endeavors. The 654 Review for Religious way of life religious embrace is supposed to provide spirituality, customs of prayer, practical living arrangements, and opportuni-ties for ecclesial service. These things, these qualities, these prac-tices are desperately needed today as always for the sake of ecclesial service. God did not dabble with becoming human in Christ Jesus, nor did the recipients of founding charisms dabble with the gifts entrusted to them. Religious today who have embraced any charism of religious life in the likeness of great, sainted founders and foundresses simply cannot allow themselves the luxury of dabbling with the gift. If there is a certain urgency about what religious are about in the church and in the modern or postmodern world, there is also the possibility that religious can betray this urgency and bury their charisms just as, in the gospel parable, some buried the talents given them. If religious do this, the charisms will be given to others, for they are sim-ply too important to the vitality of the church for God to allow them tb be wasted. We religious can betray "and bury our charisms in intellectual arrogance. We can betray and bury our charisms in the comfortable patterns of recent and not so recent complacency. We can betray and bury our charisms in rampant individualism. We can betray and bury our charisms in personal or communal refusal to engage others in honest relationship. We can betray and bury our charisms by perpetuating a politically advantageous or per-sonally comfortable status quo. We can betray and bury our charisms by fashionable tinkering with fundamentals. We can betray and bury our charisms in person.al preferences and unre-flective compromise. We can betray and bury our charisms to the detriment of the transcendent realities to which we have been called and for which these gifts have been entrusted to us. And perhaps we not only can do these things, but actually have done them, for a variety of worthwhile or not so worthwhile reasons. Regarding the charisms of religious life, it is difficult to over- Religious today who have embraced any charism of religious life in the likeness of great, sainted founders and foundresses simply cannot allow themselves the luxury of dabbling with the gift. September-October 1993 655 McDonough * Charisms and Religious Life estimate the importance of initial and ongoing formation. Human beings as they are, religious are always beginners in something, but initial formation is especially crucial. Introducing people to a religious institute's specific charism, it makes or breaks the char-acter of that cqmmunity. Formation provides spiritual founda-tions; it imparts intellectual knowledge; it encourages progress in virtue; it provides opportunity for enhancing relational abilities; it implants or improves specific skills for ministry; it conveys the importance of humble reliance on God; it fosters a willingness to have everything disrupted for the sake of the Truth who is Jesus. Sound initial and ongoing formation is indispensable to the char-acter of the institute as such and, of course, indispensable for each member as well. All members should become increasingly imbued with the founder's or foundress's initial gospel insight. Formation in consecrated life requires a certain comprehensive submission to the heritage of a particular community precisely so that one can grow into it. In other words, it involves a conscious and practical surrender to the community's time-tested and effi-cacious ways of bringing the novice into its specific charism. It involves a lifelong endeavor to live according to this charism, and one's initiation into this life must necessarily include assiduous study of the charism's roots while experiencing its lived reality. And, if anything is clear from the gospel and from the great sainted founders and foundresses of religious institutes, it is that ministry requires prayer, a continuing relationship with the person of Jesus. This cannot be feigned, and it is the source of one's Christian identity within a religious community's own charism. As a matter of course, initial and ongoing formation provide encounters with our countless limitations. Our supposed matu-rity is challenged, as are our all-too-easily-acquired attitudes of superiority and complacency. Initial and continuing formation does this for us within our common life, which is relentlessly con-frontational. To be sure, confrontation is not common life's pri-mary purpose, but--as many religious have noticed--it has that characteristic nevertheless. Formation and confrontation remind us of our responsibility, our response-ability, regarding the charis-matic gift we have received. Common life continually reminds us of the smallness in each of us that has not the ability or the humil-ity- or the willingness to be bothered--to address some particu-lar smallness in oneself or in another. The old-fashion~d term for this is pusillanimity, the opposite of magnanimity, greatheartedness. 656 Review for Religious Charisms: Ongoing Personal Response How we live together and why we live together--indeed, if we live together at all these days--is not insignificant for reli-gious. We can respond to these questions in three basic ways: com-pliance, identification, and internalization. Compliance is an ¯ appropriate response to things with which one agrees, or acquiesces in because they are not worth contesting (daily schedules, maga-zine subscriptions). Identification is an appropriate response to things which connect us in some external way with a province or a congregation (attire, social customs). Internalization is an appro-priate response of making the elements of a particular charism one's own (one's understanding of the vows and one's practical ways of living them). Practical experience tells all of us religious that initial and also later experiences of fervor in religious life readily wane. What happens? Perhaps, at some time during the years, little by little, without our noticing it, we replace various appropriate responses of compliance, identification, and internalization with inappro-priate ones. In short, we get them mixed up. Some religious seem to prefer being identified more by their external attire (conve-niently donned and doffed) than by their interior spirituality (dif-ficult to acquire, but then probably difficult to conceal). Some religious seem to prefer being judged more by compliance to a schedule (objectively measurable) than by unselfish concern for those among whom they minister (difficult to assess). Probably all of us get these responses mixed up sometimes, some more, some less. And, unless I am quite mistaken, with rare exceptions we all learn eventually how to compromise, how to work the system for some personal advantage. Later on we may just forget our ear-lier enthusiasm for the life because we have become quite weary of it. We may find ourselves living our religious life from plateau to comfortable plateau, staying on each one as long as possible. Why? Perhaps--in wretched delusion, if you will--we some-how think we can "arrive" at being a religious in the context of the charism we have embraced. We settle into a place, consciously or unconsciously, and then no longer let the charism bother us in our complacent niche. For some, the "arrival" may have been when they once received the habit. For others, arrival meant first or perpetual profession or acquiring a particular academic degree or community responsibility. For still others, arrival may occur when they are recognized as professionally successful or feel personally September-October 1993 657 McDonougb ¯ Cbarisms and Religious Life renewed. In clerical communities the reception of orders might signify arrival for some. Whatever the point of one's arrival might be, we are inclined then to think, "Aha, now I have arrived. Now I do not have to hold the precious gift of the charism in my heart and say, every day, 'Dear God, if I ~ake this seriously, it can trans-form me drastically for the rest of my life, beginning today.' I do not have to do that anymore because I have arrived." Perhaps most religious at one time or another are tempted to think that they have, indeed, reached some acceptable point of arrival along the way of life they once set off on. The problem with such an "arrival" i~ that now we prefer to see the charism as inadequate ratheF than ourselves, for it asks us to do something that our complacency finds distasteful. Indeed, once we feel we have arrived, we fall prey to the temptation of having recourse to our charism merely as a storehouse of rhetoric to justify our doing what we have already comfortably settled upon doing, not what God might ask of us on the breath of our charism. It is at our own point of "arrival" that we religious need oth-ers to jolt us, jolt us out of our complacency. If we are lucky, they will. This is one of the reasons why we need common life, with its prayer, formative customs, and each other. We need every gener-ational cohort, every race, every national heritage, every ethnic grouping, every province, every viable local community. We espe-cially need ongoing encounter with each and all of those who have genuinely committed themselves to the practical manifestations of the charism and are willing to be captured and recaptured by it while striving faithfully to live it. Together we need to prevent our religious-life charism from being indiscriminately assimilated into the dominant trends of any culture, even as we strive to bring it to bear creatively on the problems of every culture. While we religious must admit that each of us pronounces vows in the first person singular and will one day answer to God for our living of them in the first person singular, any religious should also be able to say that he or she does not have to engage in this lifelong com-mitment alone. While each religious alone can become the person he or she is called to be, no religious is called to do this in rugged isolation. In short and in sum, any religious community either has a charism or does not; the members either understand it or they do not; and they either strive to live it or they do not. The future of religious life belongs neither to those who fondly reminisce about 658 Review for Religious yesteryear nor to those who self-prophetically dream about the next millennium. It belongs, rather, to those who here and now, simply and conscientiously, together live their response to the charism that captured them, to the God who has promised to transform them into the likeness of Christ. Notes ~ David J. Nygren and Miriam D. Ukeritis, "The Religious Life Futures Project: Executive Summary," Review for Religious 52 (1993): 13. 2 Ibid, 48. A Stop on Tour The occupants of the tour bus have all Been boning up on the saints: they circulate Little Lives snippeted for easy reference, easily Codified with the cathedral cities we visit. And here, in another cathedral square, obedient to the drone of tour guide, with pigeons overhead We ring the barrier where another stake Claimed its saint. Not Joan the toast Of the Dauphin in his cups, but like Joan The toast of the fire when it hiccups explosively, Fracturing the elemen.ts of wood, fracturing hers. Did she choose what to wear to be burned? Undressed quick enough by the faggots" fingers, She is scandalously handled in her nakedness By their probing thumbs, raped by fire. The fierce wounds she screams to, destroy The nerve endings, uncover bone. You would Have thought the cry of the burning to be i~tenser; The whine of flames is higher. Not yet char Underfoot, sainted, shrined, a Little Life Snippeted, her smoke ascends. Dizzily, then as now, The pigeons circle the cathedral spires. Picking Our cobbled way, we move onward with the tour. Nancy G. Westerfield September-October 1993 6$9 GERARD H. LUTTENBERGER Vincent de Paul's Charism in Today's Church living heritages St. Vincent de Paul (1581-1660) is well known as "Father of the Poor" and "Light of the Clergy," more by the for-mer title than by the latter. He founded a men's and also a women's community: the Congregation of the Mission and the Daughters of Charity. Both communities are, by constitution, oriented toward ministering to the poor. It is this ministry that, at least in contemporary thinking, ori-ents the spiritualities of their members. Priests of the Mission are "to follow Christ, evangelizing the poor.''1 Daughters of Charity are "given to God for the service of the poor.''2 All members of each community are to live simply, like the poor, and to consider the poor as their "lords and masters.''3 The call to dedicated and active concern for the poor rings clearly in contemporary church teaching and cur-rent spiritual theology. The church at Medellfn under-scored the fact that "action for justice is constitutive of the gospel." It speaks of Jesus' preferential option for the poor. The fourth chapter of Luke clearly speaks of Jesus being anointed in order to proclaim good news to the poor. And the Acts of the Apostles (see, for example, 2:42-47) indicates that the early church continued with like con-cerns. Gerard H. Luttenberger CM teaches at Immaculate Conception Seminary in Huntington, New York. His address is The Vincentian Community; 104 Anstice Street; Oyster Bay, New York 11771. 660 Review for Religious It is clear, however, that neither continued proclamation of the call for justice nor individual concrete effort directed toward the corporal and spiritual betterment of the poor is sufficient to mobilize and sustain the church in this endeavor. Deafness afflicts some; disappointment, discouragement, and burnout debilitate others; the lessening of spiritual energy and vision constitutes a threat to all who labor for justice. In the face of today's challenges for greater justice, the church needs a spirituality that shares the dynamic vision of Christ and promotes with active love the human and Christian betterment of all. The church needs a deepened communion with God in the labor of love, a labor that is ener-getic yet peaceful. This article deals with the service of the poor and the search for God in a Christian and gospel context. More specifically, it deals with the ways Vincent de Paul lived these gospel mandates by drawing on a more original and deeper life, which he had ifi Christ and in God. Christlike vision and life were gifts which God and God's Word, Jesus, gave him in the flow of his prayer, dis-cernment, and active ministry. This vision served to inspire mis-sionaries then and serves to inspire apostles in the church today. This essay, then, presents Vincent de Paul as a model for, and a challenge to, all who aspire to minister to the poor in the con-temporary church. At the same time it provides a critical analysis of the spirituality that motivated and sustained his energetic labor. The method will be rather direct and simple. Vincent's own words (letters, conferences, the Common Rule of the Congregation of the Mission) will be used, along with the record of his interaction with others (his own directors, persons he served, priests he worked with) and an account of the events of his life and decisions he made. Spiritual Adolescence: Vincent's Teachers Vincent de Paul, like us all, was a child 0f his time. He under-stood God and the ways of holiness in the light of the spirituality of "the French School.''4 This spirituality was characterized by a quest for a deepened mysticism, a dedication to searching out and aligning oneself with the will of God, an emphasis upon faith in contrast with reason, and in some circles a renewal in apostolic service.~ Vincent de Paul was touched by these movements, par-ticularly through Benedict of.Canfield, Francis de Sales, Pierre de B~rulle, and Andr~ Duval. September-October 1993 661 Luttenberger * V~ncent de Paul's Cbarism Today Benedict of Canfield (1562-1619), an English Capuchin who took refuge in France after his conversion from Puritanism, had a decided effect upon his God-seeking contemporaries through his much-read work Rbgle de perfection riduite au seul point de la volonti divine.6 Its theme, that Christian perfection is achieved as one becomes, in the words of Henri Bremond, "almost wholly absorbed into God and his absolute will,''7 and its directives regarding the ways of uniting oneself to that will (emptying oneself in active obe-dience to God's law.and in self-denial) provided a starting point for the reflections of many spiritual-minded persons, among whom was Pierre de B~rulle. It was in the company and through the guidance of B~rulle that Vincent himself absorbed Canfield's doctrine. Francis de Sales (1657-1622), the well-known bishop of Geneva, became acquainted with Vincent when the former vis-ited Paris in 1618-1619. De Sales came to respect Vincent so much that he entrusted to him the direction of a group of Visitation nuns, a community he himself had established. Francis de Sales's spiritual way focused on God's will, which he experienced deeply as love, salvific love.8 The will of God is sav-ing love for de Sales. This clear and warm thought affected one's understanding of God and of God's relationship to humankind. Fear of God necessarily gave way to utter confidence in God's saving love. This saving love became the final rubric for Vincent's understanding of the mystery of God, the person of Jesus, and the relationship of both God and Jesus to the world. Pierre de B~rulle (1575-1629), a highly spiritual man as well as a statesman and diplomat, served Vincent as a spiritual counselor during Vincent's early life and ministry.9 For B~rulle, God's will was perfectly expressed in the incarnation of Jesus. Btrulle was struck deeply by the richness of God's life and will as revealed in Jesus. Contemplation of the mysteries of Jesus' life, as well as of the very being and person of the incarnate Son of God, was for him a clear way of losing oneself and of being drawn into communion with God and God's will. Christians, therefore, would achieve holiness by binding themselves to God in and through Jesus, by reliving his "conditions" or mysteries. (B~rulle was powerfully influenced by having made the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius and by the teaching of Teresa of Avila, which had reached France by way of the Spanish Carmelites.) The self-abandonment of searching for and subjecting oneself to the will of God, therefore, became more concrete and more explicitly Christian in Btrulle than it had been 662 Review for Religious in Canfield; but the will of God remained central for understanding the life of Jesus, the way of Christian holiness, and the mystery of God.10 Leaving the contribution of Andrd Duval for later, we might sum up the influences of Vincent's teachers in this fashion: 1. It is God, in God's salvific will, who guides us and all his-tory to God's Self as its end. In adhering to God's will and allowing God to work God's saving love among us, we will attain holiness and happiness. We will know the joy of being perfectly one with God, who is our only master (Canfield). 2. In seeking to align ourselves with God's salvific will, we are invited to perfect ourselves in love (de Sales). (Vincent ulti-mately developed this line of thought into a spirituality of action, stating that this love is not to be merely an affective love; rather, it is to be an effective love.'1) 3. God has sent the Son, who shows us the way to the Father, all the while revealing to us the Father's love. Jesus came "to act and to teach," to be himself one who lives in perfect union with the divine will and one who teaches us how to do the same (B~rulle). These three sets of ideas were important in Vincent's spiri-tual and ministerial development. They contributed to his quest to meet God in an active life of service. A brief sketch of that life and ministry will offer insight into the ways in which Vincent used and also developed these resources; it will illustrate how central and effective these perspectives were in the development of a person united to God in active ministry. Young Adulthood: God's Will and the Discovery of Grace Born in a small village of France in 1581, Vincent de Paul was ordained in 1599 at eighteen years of age.~2 Though the Council of Trent'had stipulated twenty-four ~s the minimum age for ordi-nation, Vincent's early ordination was not singular in late-16th-century France. Priesthood provided a comfortable career for young men of his time, and he was not an exception to such aspi-rations. He hoped for a benefice out of which he would be able to provide for his family's needs. Apparently he had little success until, through the influence of Bdrulle, his spiritual director, he obtained a position at the parish of Clichy in 1611, when he was thirty years old. He found the people poor but docile, alive in faith, and eager for God's word. It September-October 1993 663 Luttenberger ¯ Vincent de Paul's Cbaris~n Today was a significant moment of conversion for him; he realized that his ambition for a "good benefice," for a life of comfort, had been a block to his happiness and his ministry. He came to know that he could be happy laboring for poor and simple people. I was a country vicar [he later recalled]. I had people who were so good and obedient in doing whatever I asked them that, when I told them they ought to go to confession the first Sunday of the month, they never failed. They came and confessed, and I saw from day to day the good they did their souls. This gave me such consolation, and I was so pleased about it, that I used to say to myself: "My God! How happy you are to have such good people! I don't think the pope is as happy as a vicar with people of such good heart." 13 Vincent's stay in Clichy, however, was short-lived; in 1613 Bdrulle advised him to surrender the parish to an administrator and take up the task of being tutor for the family of Philippe de Gondi, a wealthy count. Vincent was obedient to his spiritual director; such obedience had become his way of life. It flowed from the spiritual doctrine that he had been absorbing from B~rulle and several other serious priests who gathered frequently to dis-cuss spirituality and the. plight of France. Vincent's tasks at the Gondi household included, not only teaching the children, but ministering to the poor who lived and worked on the Gondi estates. He learned firsthand the religious plight of these people. One problem concerned confession. Many peasants feared confessing their sins to local priests who knew them well. The problem was compounded by the fact that some priests were so ignorant that they did not even know the words of absolution.'4 Hence, people would allow years to pass without seeking to be unburdened of their sins. Vincent soon began coun-seling a general confession as a remedy. In 1617 Mme. de Gondi, during a sojourn at her ancestral castle at Folleville, visited a sick man at Gannes, a few miles dis-tant. She recommended that he make a general confession to Vincent. The sick man was so relieved after confessing that he told her that he would have been damned had he not had this spir-itual opportunity. Mme. de Gondi was so distressed that she urged Vincent to preach on confession the following day. The result was that his words stirred the entire parish of Folleville to repentance and he had to call in the Jesuits from Amiens to help him hear the people's confessions and to catechize them.'S 664 Review for Religious What does this brief sketch tell us of Vincent's spirituality? It serves to I~ring into relief the major dynamics out of which his more mature spirituality and his effectiveness in ministry devel-oped. Attentiveness and responsiveness to God's will in all its man-ifestations appear to have been paramount for him, and fidelity to his spiritual director helped him develop these dispositions and align himself with God. This spiritual pattern filled him with life, energy, and zeal for the spir-itual growth of others. It enabled him to "move with God" in ministry. And it led him to a deepened sense of the spiritual, a sense of God's presence, power, and graciousness greater than he seems to have expected. For what exhilarated Vincent in Clichy was the effectiveness and power of God's sav-ing love among his parishioners. What uplifted him on the Gondi estates was his perception of God working con-version among persons whom others thought to be too insignifi-cant and too resistant to God's love for their ministerial concern. One could say he was filled with an awareness that God was truly alive in a little country village and among the forgotten people of a vast country estate. A second dynamic, deeply characteristic of Vincent's way, also emerges from this sketch: his spirit was inclined toward action. He moved quickly when he was convinced that God had made known the divine will. He responded without hesitation when he realized people needed the ministry of a confessor; he sought help when the number of penitents was too great for one person. He was a man of action. These two dynamisms emerged in definite circumstances. If we are to understand Vincent, it is of singular importance to note that his early experiences of God in union with his active min-istry took place among the poor, the most neglected. Focused upon everyday needs that drew most of their energy and atten-tion, they stood as a challenge to any priest hoping to bring them God's word and love. Already aware, at least in principle, of the limitlessness and inclusivity of God's love, Vincent became con- He was filled with an awareness that God was truly alive in a little country village and among the forgoften people of a vast country estate. Septentber-October 1993 665 Luttenberger ¯ Vincent de Paul's Charism Today vinced ,that priests must be willing to endure these people's inat-tentiveness and resistance and must rely heavily upon God, and only then should try actively to mediate God's care. Such an approach to ministry proved fruitful, not only for the poor, but also for him. A word needs be said about the unity of these two dynamisms. While fidelity to the divine will remained central for Vincent, he seems to have begun to experience the union of two distinct aspects of that.divine will: (1) The will of God that he wished to be one with and obedient to was at the same time (2) a will alive and active, leading others to accept God's love. In surrendering him-self to ministry foi" the poor, Vincent immediately found himself deeply one with and a mediator of that will. The two dynamisms of his spirituality were in fact truly one. Middle Years: Mysticism in Action In the early days of his ministry, Vincent, under God's inspi-ration, drew the outlines of a way to God and a way of serving others. We will trace three ways in which that outline developed in subsequent years as his spirituality gradually deepened, broad-ened, and became fine tuned. 1. The Founding of the Congregation of the Mission Shortly after the.powerful experience at Folleville, Vincent left the Gondi household at B~rulle's suggestion and obtained a parish in Ch~tillon-les-Dombes, far from Paris in the southeast of France. Very upset, Mme. de Gondi sent Vincent letters from many persons of rank, including her husband's brother Henri de ¯ Gondi, who was bishop of Paris, and B~rulle himself. The latter did not ask Vincent to return; he did, however, describe the lady's dis-tress and asked him to consider returning. In December 1617, after consulting with B~rulle, Vincent came to an agreement with the lady that he would remain as chaplain to her household until her death. He preached missions throughout her lands and at times called upon the assistance of other priests. This did not end Mme. de Gondi's worries, however. What would happen after her death? She persuaded her chaplain to seek the services of a religious community which might commit some members to this work, in perpetuum. No community would agree. So she, together with her husband and Jean Francois de Gondi, ~trchbishop of Paris (who had succeeded his brother Henri), urged 666 Review for Religious Vincent himself to select several priests to labor with him in this task. For their labors they would receive 45,000 francs and a place to live (the Coll~ge des Bons-Enfants, which the archbishop him-self provided). On 17 April 1625 Vincent signed a contract pledg-ing to establish within a year a community of six priests to preach these much needed missions, six priests who, going from village to village at the expense of their common purse, would devote themselves purely and entire.ly to the salvation of poor people, to preach, to instruct, to exhort, and to catechize these poor country folk and to incline them to make a good general confession of their whole past life, and without taking recompense in any manner what-ever, in order to distribute freely the gifts they have so lib-erally received from the hand of God?6 The expansion of Vincent's apostolic labor to include a con-gregation of collaborators reveals the development of the dynamic that had governed his earlier life. Responsiveness to God's will was still his focus as he carefully came to the decision to accede to Mme. de Gondi's request. But of special value at this point are the elements of the discernment process that led him to this deci-sion. First among these elements must stand his awareness of need, the need of the spiritually neglected people of the Gondi estates. Further, the concurrence of the Gondis' own sense of urgency and the negative responses of the other religious orders led Vincent to entertain the possibility that God wished him to respond to this need. But he was also cautious. Although he had strong desires to respond affirmatively, his conviction was that God would not be found in strong, ardent movements. He expressed that conviction sometime later (1642) in ~ letter to Bernard Codoing, a priest of the congregation: The spirit of God proceeds directly and always humbly. Remember that you and I are subject to a thousand outbursts of nature, and recall what I told you about finding myself, in the early stages of the project of the Mission, with it con-stantly on my mind. That made me wonder whether the affair sprang from nature or from the evil spirit, and I purposely made a retreat in Soisson so that God might be pleased to remove from my mind the pleasure and eagerness I was expe-riencing in this matter. God was pleased to answer my prayer in such a manner that, by his mercy, he took them both away September-October 1993 667 Luttenberger ¯ V~ncent de Paul~s Charism Today and allowed me to be in the opposite dispositions. I think that, if God is granting some blessing to the Mission and I am less a subject of scandal to it, I attribute it after God to this fact. I wish to remain in this practice of neither concluding nor undertaking anything while I am caught up in these ardent hopes at the prospect of great benefits?7 One of the criteria, therefore, which Vincent employed to dis-cern the will of God and to arrive at firm decisions in life and minist~ was the experience of a spirit of inner peace in the face of proposed undertakings. And prayer, even periods of lengthy prayer and retreat, became the avenue by which he arrived at (or was given) such dispositions (and, with them, knowledge of God's will). Finally, before making his commitment to the Mission, Vincent sought counsel, this time not from B~rulle (from whom he had separated himself)~ but from another priest and professor at the Sorbonne, Andr~ Duval. The counsel he received is reported sim-ply and directly by Duval's biographer: On hearing him speak of the spiritual necessities, in partic-ular of the need for religious instruction in the rural parishes, of the hunger for the word of God in the people, of the ben-efit produced by these instructions, and of the blessing which they would receive, the venerable Andr~ pronounced these words: "The servant knowing the will of God and doing nothing will be flogged greatly." These words were scarce.ly uttered than Vincent de Paul felt himself interiorly moved and drawn by grace, and con-sidered them as an order from the divine will, which, having made known to him the needs of the poor, called him to go throughout t.he country. It was necessary to announce the Word of God, to preach, to catechize, to hear confessions, to administer the sacrament of penance, to allay discords, and, in a general way, to offer to the people living in the coun-tryside all kinds of spiritual services, without being a burden to anyone, without inconveniencing either the people or the priests, but rather bringing them help, and that with their assent and with the permission and the mandate of the bish-ops. As a result, he decided to give himself effectually to this work . It was only with this last element, the approbation of another person whom he judged objective and wise, that Vincent felt assured that he had attained God's will through prayer and dis-cernment. The way was complex; the outcome was sure. Vincent's fidelity to this process produced two profound effects 668 Review for Religious upon his spirituality. First, his experience of ministry, and partic-ularly his ministry in behalf of the poor, became filled with the experience of God. He knew God's presence in his resolves and in his actions; he found God alive in the persons whom he served. His labor of discernment and his responsiveness in service constituted his way of coming into, and living in, union with the God who was drawing all into communion through Christ. For Vincent, ministry itself became the expression of what might well be called a "mysticism in action." Second, this process drew Vincent close to Christ. Though Vincent left us no explicit record from before 1625 of his move-ments toward and with the Lord, his words written shortly after this time indicate the prominence of the life and example of Christ in his discernment and ministry. It was through Christ that he learned total reliance upon God's will. And it was in Christ that he found himself alive to God and alive for others.19 In this latter vein he wrote to one of his first priest confreres, Antoine Portail, urging him to humility as.he gave a series of missions: Keep in mind that we live in Jesus Christ through the death of Jesus Christ and that we must die in Jesus Christ through the life of Jesus Christ, and that our life must be hidden in Jesus Christ and full of Jesus Christ, and in order to die as Jesus Christ we must live as Jesus Christ. Now, once these foundations have been laid, let us surrender to contempt, to shame, to ignominy, and let us disclaim the honors people pay to us, the good reputation and the applause they give us, and let us do nothing that has not that end in view.2° For Vincent it was in Christ that faithfulness to God and self-less love of others found their unity. Discernment of God's will and responsiveness in service were framed by devotion to Christ and the mysteries of his life. Vincent was drawn, not simply to mysticism in action, but rather to a Christian mysticism in action-- to an experience of God through and in Christ. in an active life of faithfulness and service. 2. Commitment to Ministering to the Clergy Active and programmatic labor for the spiritual well-being of the clergy soon followed as a focal concern of the saint. It had become clear to him that much of the spiritual impoverishment of the people of the country had its roots in the impoverishment of the clergy. He had discussed this much earlier (before going to Clichy) with people who had grouped together out of concern for September-October 1993 669 Luttenberger ¯ Vincent de Paul's Charism Today the spiritual renewal of France, among whom were B~rulle and Fathers Jacques Olier (founder of the Sulpicians) and Adrien Bourdoise (founder of a community, the priests of Saint-Nicolas-du- Chardonnet). Later Mme. de Gondi spoke with him about it. And finally he experienced its effects firsthand at Folleville and Ch~tillon.2t It was through the instrumentality of bishops that Vincent actually began ministering to the clergy. In July 162 8 Augustine Potiers, bishop of Beauvais, got the idea that a retreat for ordinands that would include instruction on the duties of their state in life might be helpful. He asked Vincent to draw up a program for the retreat and to conduct it for his candidates that very September in Beauvais. Vincent responded and the effort met with success. In February 1631, Jean Francois de Gondi, the same arch-bishop of Paris who in 1625 had sponsored Vincent's establishing a small community of priests to conduct missions for the poor people of the Gondi estates, decreed that all his ordinands would have to make a two-week retreat before their ordination. He asked Father Bourdoise to conduct the exercises, but the priest refused. He then asked Vincent to conduct them. He too objected, stat-ing that the goal of his community was to preach country mis-sions. The archbishop finally obtained the services of a doctor from the Sorbonne, but the next year, after uniting the Priory of Saint-Lazare with the congregation, he imposed upon Vincent's community the obligation of conducting these retreats. In 1639 he required all ordinands residing in Paris (not only those belong-ing to his diocese) to make these exercises. Soon, at the recom-mendation of Bishop Potiers, other dioceses adjacent to Paris began sending their candidates to these retreats, the success of which was quite pleasing to Vincent. One can notice some interesting modifications in Vincent's approach at this time to discerning God's will. He saw the needs of the clergy and connected them with the distress of the poor people. He also saw that others who might respond to these needs had refused, a fact that would raise the question whether God wished Vincent himself to meet these needs. Finally, he was being invited by ecclesiastical authority (which he respected in discern-ing God's will) to respond to these needs by a means which, early on in Beauvais, had proven effective. Yet he resisted. Why? It is possible to argue that he himself was not yet free enough from human and even selfish limits to hand himself over to God's 670 Review for Religious will in all things. It is possible that his love for the poor and the missions crowded out other possibilities for responding to God's will. But neither of these possibilities seems to have been the case. What seems to have been holding Vincent back was his fidelity to the contract he had made with Mme. de Gondi in 1625. By it the community was bound to conduct missions for the country people, a time-consuming task. Ministering to the clergy would usurp some of the time that Vincent had already pledged (by contract and therefore in justice) to these mis-sions. That had appeared to him then as God's will and he had bound himself and the community to that for life. The fact that he could care for the spiritual needs of the people even more effectively by securing for them good priests did not seem, at least in the first instance, to stir him. It took the command of the arch-bishop to move him and his community into ministry for the clergy. Only this command offered him suf-ficient certitude that he was standing before God's will in taking up this new endeavor. Later on, however, he viewed this ministry as clearly being given by God. Development in his thought and convictions fol-lowed upon the expansion of the ministry itself. After the success of the retreats, he recognized the need for offering ongoing sup-port to the newly ordained. Thus, in 1633 he developed the pro-gram known as the Tuesday Conferences, a weekly meeting of diocesan clergy with a member of the community for prayer and reflection. And in 1636 he opened the doors of the Coll~ge des Bons-Enfants to young men who felt called to the priesthood. (This first house was for children, a minor seminary; in 1642, however, Vincent focused more on older candidates, supplying a program for major seminarians, an approach to formation which he had come to judge would be in the long run more effective.)22 The change in Vincent's view seems to have come, in part at least, by the reflections he had with his friend Father Bourdoise in the early 1630s. The latter had stated, "To give a mission is like giving a poor starving man a meal, but to set up a seminary is to aim at feeding him all his life.''z3 Vincent himself saw work for 'To give a mission is like giving a poor starving man a meal, but to set up a seminary is to aim at feeding him all his life.' September-October 1993 671 Luttenberger ¯ Vincent de Paul's Charism Today the clergy and the establishment of seminaries as a necessary com-plement of the congregation's work on the missions. Later Vincent regarded work for the clergy as equal to the con-gregation's call to evangelize the poor;24 he counseled his priests never to refuse to minister to the clergy on the pretext of giving missions to the poor;2s and, in the Common Rules of the institute, he listed formation of the clergy as one of the three purposes of the community.26 His retrospective understanding of his and the con-gregation's involvement in this ministry led him to tell his confreres: So, in the beginning, the company focused its energies only on itself and on the poor. At certain times of the year, it with-drew into its own houses, and at others it went forth to instruct the poor country people. God permitted nothing else to happen among us. But in the fullness of time he called us to contribute toward the formation of good priests, to give good pastors to parishes, and to teach them what they should know and doff7 Vincent's taking on the formation of the clergy as a God-given calling to him and the congregation offers a further insight into his spirituality: his way to God and way of ministering, always wed-ded to one another, were marked by a readiness to expand as well as by a fidelity to original intuitions and callings. There always remained possibilities for further invitations from the Lord; there was always the need for ongoing discernment. Having appreci-ated God's saving love as absolutely inclusive, Vincent was also compelled to include all suitable and necessary means of fostering the advance of that love. For him this was the only way of allow-ing the richness of God's wisdom and love to reach deeply into him and to reach others adequately through him. Having earlier experienced God in ministering to the poor, he came to experience that same God in greater depth and in more far-reaching ways as he entered ministry to and formation of the clergy. 3. Collaboration with Women: The Daughters of Charity Vincent was not a foreigner to the gifts of women in ministry. Early on, in 1617, while at Ch~tillon-les-Dombes, he became con-cerned about a family whose children and servants had fallen ill. For some reason the family found itself without even basic needs. In a sermon Vincent recommended the family to his congrega-tion and found his people more than ready to respond. As a mat-ter of fact, he discovered that a number of well-to-do women were eager to extend their charity to the needy. He provided them with 672 Review for Religious some guidelines, and the group became known as the Confraternity of Charity and served as a model for many similar groups that he established in villages where he gave missions. Soon, however, he discovered that peasant girls assisted these needy persons, especially in menial tasks, better than the well-to-do women did. They nursed the sick poor, instructed youngsters, and cared for orphans, refugees, the aged--in a word, the most abandoned. They too needed guidance, however, so that they would persevere in their ministry. The question soon posed itself: Where would he find capable mentors and guides for these devoted women? Toward the end of 1624 or early in 1625, a woman named Louise de Marillac sought spiritual direction from Vincent. She was a woman qf tender conscience, deep faith, and generous spirit. She lived a disciplined life of prayer while providing care for her sickly husband and difficult son. Before her marriage she had entertained thoughts of entering the convent, but had been dis-suaded by her spiritual director, who judged that she could not withstand the rigor of religious life. Vincent's early impressions of Louise were of her as an earnest, but dependent and scrupulous, woman. She often found herself troubled if he were not available to her for guidance. Concerns about the state of her soul, worries about her family, and recurring desires to enter a religious community after her husband's death (21 December 1625) were making her anxious and fretful. In her Vincent saw a person in need of judicious spiritual care, but also one quite gifted by God. Vincent's relationship with Louise and his advice to her are marked with the same spiritual convictions that we have noted in his own approach to God and to ministry: He counseled that she wait for God and not anticipate God's designs. But, more signif-icantly, it is in his letters to her that we read, for the first time, of his manner of relating to Christ and of how he saw the spiritual dynamics he lived by exemplified in Christ's life. He guided her to seek to live in Christ, encouraging her to model her life by the example and attitudes of Christ, in all moments and turns of events. For example, when, on the day after her husband's death, she con-fided to Vincent that she wished to serve God more freely, he told her not to make plans for the future until she had spent much time in prayer and reflection. He held her from what he regarded as premature commitments with the following counsel: September-October 1993 673 Luttenberger ¯ Vincent de Paul's Charism Today Always ho~ior the inactivity and the unknown condition of the Son of God. That is your center and what he asks of you for the present and for the future, forever. If His Divine Majesty does not let you know, in a way that cafinot be mistaken, that he wants something else of you, do not think about or let your mind become engrossed in that other matter. Leave it to me; I shall think about it enough for both of us.28 Given the fact that Louise was persistent, Vincent often found himself reiterating such counsei. On another occasion he wrote: Oh! what great hidden treasures there are in holy providence and how marvelously our Lord is honored bythose who fol-low it and do not try to go ahead of it. I recently heard one of the great men of the kingdom say that he had learned this truth through his own experience. He had never undertaken anything on his own except four things. Instead of their work-ing out well for him, they had turned out to his detriment. Is it not true that you wish, as is quite reasonable, that your servant not undertake anything without you and your order? And if that is reasonable from one man to another, how much more so from the Creator to the creature!29 Nevertheless, Vincent saw the need of helpers, active women helpers, who would visit the Confraternities of Charity in various villages to sustain them spiritually in their efforts. And Louise felt herself strongly moved in prayer toward direct service of the poor. On 6 May 1629 Vincent sent her to the Confraternity of Charity serving in Montmirail, recognizing, among other things, that the contemplative life would be fraught with dangers for her, while a life of active service best responded to the gifts God was giving her. His conviction that this decision was of God shines through his let-ter to her before her departure: I am sending you the letters and the report that you need for your journey. Go, therefore, Mademoiselle, go in the name of our Lord. I pray that his divine goodness may acc9mpany you, be your consolation along the way,., your strength in your toil, and, finally, that he may bring you back in perfect health and filled with good works.3° The journey of Vincent and Louise, however, was still to be made, with remarkable benefit for the church. Vincent had real-ized much earlier that a community of women who would sup-port one another in common faith, common life, and common dedication to the service of the most neglected would have advan- 674 Review for Religious tages like those of a community of priests. Perseverance in full-time Christian ministry suffered many threats without such support. Louise, too, desired community, her initial desires for religious life never having died. But once again Vincent moved with great caution, even slowness, in counseling and pursuing this develop-ment. His delay came partly from his awareness that the only way for women to live community life in his day involved being cloistered. For women to live an active community life in service of the poor would be regarded (particularly by the Holy See) as a radical inno-vation. Vincent necessarily had some fear that cloister would be imposed upon the women who would seek approval for the reli-gious community which he and Louise desired. The greater reason for his delay, however, was his desire to be assured that the plan to live their aspirations in community orig-inated in God. Resisting the urgency which Louise felt, he coun-seled: You belong to our Lord and his holy mother. Cling to them and to the state in which they have placed you until they make it clear that they wish something else of you.3~ And later he wrote to her: I beg you once and for all not to give it a thought until our Lord makes it evident that he wishes it, and at present he is giving indications to the contrary. We want a number of good things with a desire that seems to be of God, and yet it is not always from him . You are trying to become the ser-vant of those poor young women, and God wants you to be his own, and perhaps of more people than you would be in that way. And even if you were only his, is it not enough for God that your heart is honoring the tranquillity of our Lord's? Then it will be fit and ready to serve him. The king-dom of God is peace in the Holy Spirit; he will reign in you if your heart is at peace. So, be at peace, Mademoiselle, and you will honor in a sovereign way the God of peace and love.32 After all the hesitation, the searching and prayer, Vincent finally became assured that the movement toward ~ommunity was of God. He wrote to Louise in August or September around the year 1633: I think your good angel did what you told me . Four or five days ago, he communicated with mine concerning the char-ity of your young women. It is true; he has prompted me to Septentber-October 1993 675 Luttenberger ¯ Vincent de Paul's Charism Today recall it often, and I gave that good work serious thought. We shall talk about it, God willing, on Friday or Saturday, if you do not write to me sooner.33 And shortly thereafter, on 29 November 1633, the company of the Daughters of Charity was established. These developments clearly underscore Vincent's consistency in the way he understood God, understood himself and others, and attempted to respond to God. Resting in, seeking light from, and moving with God's spirit--moving in harmony with the man-ifest will of God--remained the way of Vincent and provided him with the energy he so clearly reveals in his labor for the kingdom of God. And finding inspiration and support in Jesus and in his way of life not only guided Vincent's development, but also was a con-tinued theme in his counseling of others. These developments, moreover, reveal in Vincent a humility and truth by which he recognized that the designs of God are far greater than one person or even one congregation can fathom or implement. Hence, he was unafraid to take up a multiplicity of works and to collaborate with a variety of persons in order to bring his inspiration into reality.34 In his journey with Louise de Marillac, one sees particularly his recognition that the gifts of women are needed for the building of God's kingdom.3s Only by blending his work and that of the congregation with the work and talents of his feminine counterparts would God's overflowing love spread through the world.36 The fostering of God's active, saving will among all persons demands many works, many talents, and many persons of varied gifts. Sharing of the gifts and collaboration in the vision would be the rule. The movements of God and God's will, clearly and prayerfully discerned, would be the energy. And the life of the church, the inclusion of the poor within its company, fully alive in God's Spirit, and the spiritual vitality of the church's ministers and servants would be the fruit. Final Years: Mature Reflections and Legacy Though Vincent's life and ministry' continued for nearly two and a half decades beyond the establishment of the Congregation of the Mission, beyond the first involvements in ministry to the clergy, and beyond the early solidification of the women's com-munity, the Daughters of Charity, the basic lines of his spiritual-ity had, with these events, already been drawn. During his final 676 Review for Religious years, he was able to articulate his vision with precision and clar-ity, providing disciples living then and others yet to come with the lines of a way to God and a life in Jesus that had proven ben-eficial for himself. Prayerful discernment of and fidelity to the will of God remained in first place in Vincent's final years as they had been throughout his life. Speaking to his "little company," he reminded them: The. most perfect man will be the one whose will is most conformed to that of God. Perfection consists in so uniting our will to God's that his and ours are, strictly speaking, but one and the same will and nonwill; and he who most excels on this point will be the most perfect.37 And a short time later he told his congregation: We know that our works are worthless if they are not living and animated by God's will. This is the advice of the gospel, which causes us to do everything for the sake of pleasing him. We must greatly praise his Infinite Majesty for the grace he has given to the company of undertaking this all-holy and ever sanctifying practice [of the will of God]. Yes, from the beginning we have all desired to enter into this way of the perfect, which is to honor our Lord in all our works.3s Given this experience and these convictions, he summed up his mind and counsel for all future generations in the Common Rule of the Congregation of the Mission: A sure way for a Christian to grow rapidly in holiness is a conscientious effort to carry out God's will in all circum-stances and at all times . It is in this way that we can imi-tate Christ, the Lord . He tells us this himself: "I always do what pleases the Father.''39 Harmony with God's will wa~ still, in Vincent's mind, of pri-mary import. Holiness and fruitfulness in ministry depended upon it. Ministry, evangelization, and .service of the needy were of spe-cial significance to him precisely because they fostered that will. The teaching of Benedict of Canfield was, to the end, in evidence in his explicit spiritual understanding. Second, Vincent left all a legacy of action, particularly active and effective concern for the poor. In an oft-quoted counsel to his priests, he exhorted them and us: Love God, my brothers, let us love God, but let it be with the strength of our arms and the sweat of our brow. For very September-October 1993 677 Luttenberger ¯ I~ncent de Paul's Charism Today often such acts of love of God, of complaisance, of kindness, and other similar affections and interior experiences of a lov-ing heart, although very good and very desirable, are never-theless very suspect when a person is not led to the practice of effective love. "In that," says our Lord, "my Father is glo-rified because you give account of much fruit." And this is why we must be very careful, for there are very many who, having a well-composed exterior and an interior filled with great love of God, stop there; and when it comes to action and they find themselves in occasions of doing something, they stop short. They flatter themselves with their inflamed imaginations; they are contented with some pleasant con-ve'rsations which they have with God in prayer; they even speak like angels; but, apart from that, when it is a question of working for God, of suffering, of mortifying oneself, of instructing the poor, of searching out the wandering flock, of loving one who lacks something, of receiving kindly illness or some other misfortune, alas! there is no longer anyone there, courage deserts them. No, no, let us not delude ourselves: Our whole task consists in working.4° In this strong conviction, one sees the long-standing influ-ence of Francis de Sales. Responsiveness to God's will, for Vincent, did not mean abstract contemplation. It meant listening to God in order to serve God's designs for the good of humankind, espe-cially the most deprived. Finally, however, it was the life, words, and example of Jesus that formed the context of Vincent's action as well as his search for God's will. It was the way of Jesus, and living in Jesus' Spirit, that offered Vincent the ideal and the power to unify this responsive-ness to God and this outpouring of ministerial love in a life filled with God. Only toward the end of his life do we find developed reflection on the powerful way living in the Spirit of Jesus had fashioned the spirituality of the saint. In a conference he exhorted his confreres: We must put on the Spirit of Jesus Christ. O Savior! O Gentlemen! There you have a grand undertaking, to put on the spirit of Jesus Christ! This means that in order to become perfect and to assist people effectively, to be of good use to ecclesiastics, we must labor to imitate the perfection of Jesus Christ and strive to attain it. It also means that of ourselves we can do nothing. We must be filled and animated by this spirit of Jesus Christ!41 And that there be no doubt regarding his understanding of this undertaking, he continued: 678 Review for Religious What is this spirit of our Lord? It is a spirit of perfect char-ity, filled with a marvelous esteem for the Divinity and with an infinite desire to honor him worthily. It is a knowledge of the greatness of his Father, which admires and extols it unceasingly. He has so high an esteem of it that he paid him homage with everything that was within his sacred person and which came forth from it; he attributed everything to him; he was unwilling to say that his teaching was his own teaching, but referred it to his Father: "My teaching is not mine, but that of the Father who sent me.". And his love, what was it? . . . Could there be any greater witness of love than by dying out of love in the way that he died? . . . His humiliations were but love, his work but love, his sufferings but love, his prayers but love, and all his interior and exterior operations were but reiterated acts of love . There you have a description of our Lord's spirit, with which we must be clothed; it is, in a word, having always a great esteem and a great love for God.42 Hence, the mature Vincent placed the following of Jesus as the fundamental goal of the congregation and as the basic theme running through the Common Rule of the institute. Sacred Scripture tells us that our Lord Jesus Christ, sent into the world to save mankind, began to do and to teach. He did the first when he perfectly reduced to practice every kind of virtue; and the .second when he preached the gospel to the poor and gave his Apostles and disciples the knowledge nee-essary for guiding people . Therefore, the end of the con-gregations is: (1) to strive for one's own perfection by exerting every effort to practice the virtues which the sovereign Master has been pleased to teach us both by word and example . 43 The counsel of Pierre de BSrulle, the constant call to live one's life immersed in the mysteries, of Christ, was woven throughout Vincent's life and permeated his teachings and counsel. He left no ambiguity for his followers about the basic ways of under-standing God and living in God's presence. Christ was that way of understanding; Christ was the way of life. The rule of Benedict of Canfield, the spiritual insights of Francis de Sales, and the spiritual doctrine of B~rulle had been lived and distilled so as to provide a guide and a source of inspi-ration to Vincent and to all who would make the journey of seek-ing and responding to the divine will that Vincent knew to be actively pursuing and transforming all persons, especially the poor. This he believed was the revelation of God in Jesus, and it was September-October 1993 679 Luttenberger ¯ Vincent de Paul's Charism Today the privilege of the Christian to walk with Jesus in experiencing and mediating that same salvific love. As a res~ult, Vincent described himself and his mission as one with the Lucan Jesus: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me; to proclaim good news to the poor, he has sent me.''44 His life's task, and the charism he has left us, was and is one of discerning that Spirit in prayer and community so as to mediate it effectively as servants of God's kingdom, especially among the poor. His prayer and discernment, his life and min-istry, were deeply characterized by patience and caution, on the one hand, and by selflessness and courage, on the other. Both sets of virtues were necessary to lead Vincent to be confident that he knew God and God's will in his decisions and in his labors. Both were needful for him to experience God--Christ--and God's unfolding salvific initiative in his own day. In being faithful to these gifts, he found himself faithful to God's will, to walking in Christ, and to mediating God's love, particularly to the poor. In being faithful to these gifts Vincent's own way of making the spiritual journey--he became a true mystic, living out what is rightly called a mysticism in action. And in showing us these gifts and this journey, Vincent de Paul also shows us a charism, a gift of the Spirit, which seeks expression in the church of today. Notes ~ Constitutions and Statutes of the Congregation of the Mission, 1984, article I. 2 Constitutions and Statutes of the Daughters of Charity of Saint Vincent de Paul, 1983, article 2:1. 3 Conferences to the Daughters of Charity, 14 June 1643 and 11 November 1657; Extract of a Conference to the Congregation of the Mission, January 1657, St. Vincent de Paul. Correspondance. Entretiens. Documents (hereafter SVDP), ed. Pierre Coste (Paris: J. Gabalda, 1920- 1925), 9:119, 10:332, 11:393. The first three volumes of this compila-tion have been translated into English by a team of sisters and priests, members of the Daughters of Charity and of the Congregation of the Mission. This English translation (hereafter ET) bears the title Saint Vincent de Paul. Correspondence, Conferences, Documents (Brooklyn: New City Press, 1985-). 4 For a recent analysis of this spirituality, see the introduction by William M. Thompson to Bdrulle and the French Schook Selected Writings, ed. William M. Thompson, trans. Lowell M. Glendon SS (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1989), pp. 32-76. See also Michael Buckley, "Seventeenth Century French Spirituality: Three Figures," in Christian Spirituality, III: 680 Review for Religious Post-Reformation and Modern, ed. Louis Dupr~ and Don E. Saliers (New York: Crossroad, 1989), pp. 28-32. s Buckley, pp. 28-32. 6 On this work and its influence, see Bucldey, pp. 29-30, and Luigi Mezzadri CM and Luigi Nuovo CM, "The Directors of St. Vincent," ed. and trans. John W. Carven CM, Vincentian Heritage 6 (1985): 173-175. 7 A Literary History of Religious Thought in France, trans. K.L. Montgomery (New York: Macmillan, 1930), 2:219. s Buckley, pp. 32-41. 9 For the influence of Pierre de Bdrulle upon Vincent de Paul, see Bremond, 3:193-222. ,0 Buckley, pp. 42-53; Mezzadri, pp. 177-178. ~ See below, note 40. ~2 The historical material is taken from Pierre Coste, The Life and Works of Saint Vincent de Paul (hereafter LW), 3 vols., trans. Joseph Leonard CM (Westminster, Maryland: Newman Press, 1952). ,3 Conference on the Practice of Asking Permission, 27 July 1653, SVDP, 9:646. 14 Mme. de Gondi told Vincent (whom she had enlisted as her spirio tual director), that when she was young she herself had had such a painful experience. ~s Conference on the Observance of the Rules, 17 May 1658, SVDP, 12:8; Extract of a Conference on the Mission Preached at Folleville in 1617, ibid, 11:4. _ ~6 Contract of the foundation of the Congregation of the Mission, 17 April 1625, SVDP, 13:198. 17 De Paul to Codoing, 1 April 1642, SVDP, 2:246-247 (ET, 2:278). ~s Cited in Mezzadri, p. 176. ~9 See the letters of Vincent written during the years 1626 to 1633 to Louise de Marillac, cited in section three below. 2o Letter dated 1 May 1635, SVDP, 1:295 (ET, 1:276). In a similar, but less lyrical, manner, he counseled Jean Barreau, a brother of the con-gregation who, for some reason.unknown to u~,.had been imprisoned: "It is with great sorrow that I learned of your present state, which is a sub-ject of affliction for the whole company, but of great merit for you before God, since you suffer even though innocent . Our Lord, having descended from heaven to earth for the redemption of men, was also imprisoned by them. How blessed are you, Monsieur, to be treated the same way! . . . The more our actions and our sufferings resemble those of Jesus in this life, the more they are pleasing to God." Letter to Jean Barreau, 16 September 1650, SVDP, 4:81. 2~ A parishioner of Chfitillon recounted that Vincent's predecessors in that parish had kept women of ill repute and had frequented bars and gambling houses (Report of Charles Demion on the Sojourn of Saint Vincent at Ch~tillon-les-Domb.es, SVDP, 13:50). September-October 1993 681 Luttenberger ¯ Vincent de Paul's Charism Today 22 Letter to Bernard Codoing, in Rome, 13 May 1644, SVDP, 2:459 (ET, 2:505-506). See also SVDP, 2:152-154, 188 (ET, 2:171-173,214). 23 Citation taken from Coste, LVV, 1:259. 24 Letter to Louis Rivet, priest of the congregation, missioned in Saintes, 19 December 1655, SVDP, 5:489. 2s In a letter to a priest of the Mission, Luc Plunket, missioned at Saint-Meen, Vincent cautioned: "Do you not know, Monsieur, that we are equally obliged to form good ecclesiastics as to instruct the country peo-ple? And that a priest of the Mission who will work at one but not the other is only half a missioner, because he is sent to do both?" 21 May 1659, SVDP, 7:561. See also the conference of 6 December 1658, SVDP, 12:85. 26 1:3. Vincent composed these written regulations for the congrega-tion only after some thirty years had passed since the company had been established. 27 Conference gi~)en on 6 December 1658, SVDP, 12:84. 28 SVDP, 1:62 (ET, 1:54). See also LV¢', 1:204. 29 SVDP, 1:68-69 (ET, 1:60). See also LW, 1:204. 3o SVDP, 1:73 (ET, 1:64-65). See also Lgr, 1:207. 31 SVDP 1:79 (ET, 1:71). See also L/4z, 1:227. 32 SVDP 1:113 (ET, 1:111). See also LI.V, 1:227-228. 33 SVDP, 1:218 (ET, 1:216). See also LW, 1:230. 34 Though the works detailed thus far are the most well known of Vincent's endeavors, his energy and docility to the invitations of God led him to undertake and sponsor many others. These included labor in for-eign missions, aid to provinces devastated by war and famine, retreats for the laity, care of orphans and of the aged, participation in the coun-cil charged with the appointment of bishops, and the defense of the church against Jansenism. 3s Toward the end of his life, Vincent continued to affirm the impor-tance of collaboration with women in ministry. In a conference con-cerning the goals of the congreg~ition, he counseled his priests and brothers: "Was not he [the Son of God] pleased that women should be among his companions? Yes. Did he not direct them to perfection and to the assistance of the poor? Yes. If then our Lord has done this, he who did so much for our instruction, are we not persuaded that we are doing well in imitating him in this? . . . You know that even then [in the Apostolic era] there were deaconesses who did wonders in the church of God, . . . and thus God was served equally by both sexes; and shall we think that it does not belong to the Congregation of the Mission to procure that our Lord be honored and served by both?" Conference, 6 December 1658, SVDP, 12:86-87. 36 Though Vincent's labor for the establishment of the Daughters of Charity has been the principal focus of this section, he also entered into collaboration with other groups of women in various works of ministry in 682 Review for Religious the church, including the Visitation nuns and the Ladies of Charity of the H6tel Dieu, to mention a few. 37 SVDP, 11:318. 38 Conference on Conformity to the Will of God, 7 March 1659, SVDP, 12:154. 39 Common Rule of the Congregation of the Mission, 2:3. 40 Extract of a conference concerning the love of God, undated, SVDP, 11:40-41. 41 Conference on the Members and the Works of the Congregation, 13 December 1658, SVDP, 12:107-108. 42 Ibid, 108-109. 43 Common Rule, 1:1. ~ Luke 4:18. See SV'DP, 12:3-5, 79-81, 84-87, which are among many places where St. Vincent cited this gospel text. The Next Day The next day he sought her out. How to comfort a criminal's mother? He sensed her pain. Why did the temple priests want him killed? Had he really raised that man to life? She saw him scratching at the splinters in his hands, took them tenderly in hers and worked them free. The silences between their words grew longer. Here was home, yet time to leave. She touched a budding leaf. Thank you, Simon--her voice a whisper in his ear. Please come again. You've questions in your eyes that need to know. Yes, come tomorrow. Louise Finn CND September-October 1993 683 JOAN MUELLER A Franciscan Discernment ExperiencemPart Two MdY assignment was to teach graduate courses in spiritual irection during the coming school year and also in the following summer. In these courses I wanted to offer students an opportunity to explore discernment within the context of various charisms. Hoping to find reading material that might guide the study of discernment in the Franciscan tradition, I searched through various periodicals.~ In the 1984 volume of Review for Religious, I found "A Model of Discernment: The Experience of a Franciscan.''2 In the article Margaret Halaska OSF describes the process of discernment she used in making the transition out of community leadership and into a new form of ministry. The process involved personal prayer along with discussion and pondering with thirty people who knew her well. From these thirty, ten came to an evening of reflection that helped her refine her understanding of call. The result was not an outline of future ministry goals, but rather the next step, a year's renewal that would give her space to reflect on the path the Lord was choosing for her. The haunting leitmotif in her article is "personal poverty": "One of the elements of Franciscan discernment is the recognition of one's personal poverty and the' awareness that individuals are Part One of this article, by Margaret Halaska OSF, appeared in Review for Religious in 1984. Joan Mueller OSF teaches in the Christian Spirituality Program at Creighton University and is assistant professor of systematic theology at St. Francis Seminary; 3257 South Lake Drive; St. Francis, Wisconsin 53235. 684 Review for Religious inserted into a total world--one that is larger than oneself.''3 And again, "Recognition of personal poverty is one Franciscan princi-ple necessary for discernment. For me, this was very acute''4 (empha-sis mine). I cannot remember reading anything previous to this that res-onated so deeply within me that I needed to meet the author. While reading the articles, I felt as though I were listening to my own heart. When I looked at the author's profile, I found that Margaret belonged to the community whose motherhouse was across the street from where I worked. It was a strange and won-derful coincidence. One of my friends belonging to this community came the fol-lowing Saturday for supper. I told her of my excitement at read-ing the work of one of her sisters and begged her to provide me with an introduction. My friend started to cry. She told me that Margaret had been in administration with her, that they had been best friends, and that not long after her year of discernment she was found to have a brain tumor. It was evident that my friend was still grieving deeply. I assumed Margaret was dead and felt terrible disappointment. I asked when she had died, only to learn that she was still alive. She was in a nursing home in the city. I found her on the psy-chiatric floor of the nursing home sitting on the side of her bed. Her neck seemed paralyzed, so I sat on the floor to enable her to see me. I immediately told her my excitement about her article. We had a wonderful conversation. I promised to come back---and kept going to see her three, four, five times a week for the next year. Our visits were in some sense mundane. I would come from work and help her eat supper. Then I would help her wash up, brush her teeth, and go to bed. The mundane took a lot of time. Meals were usually a two-hour project. Helping her to brush her own teeth could take over a half hour. After Margaret was in bed, we would pray together. She would struggle to formulate a few words of prayer and then would be content to rest in God. One evening as she was preparing for bed, a eucharistic minister came in with Communion for both Margaret and me. Margaret wanted some time to pray, so we postponed getting her into bed. After receiving Communion we sat next to each other for a half hour in silence. I then opened my eyes and said, "Margaret, are you sleeping?" She said, "No, are you?" I said, "No." After another half hour of silence, we had the same September-October 1993 685 Mueller ¯ A Franciscan Discernment Experience conversation. After another half hour I said, "Margaret, you need to go to bed." Margaret's prayer was so simple. She tried to pray for every-one by name, but found that the world was too big. God gave her a solution to this dilemma: Mary. Margaret understood that it was Mary's role to stand before Jesus and tell him everything that Margaret needed--for the world and for herself. Prayer for Margaret was simply watching Mary and Jesus in this exchange. As her illness progressed, her voice became weaker. We communi-cated more and more through our eyes and through everyday tasks. I learned that feeding and washing hands were ways of listening to her heart. Her heart became more and more transparent. Once, when coming home after an evening with friends, I was reflecting upon my day. In contemplating the evening's interac-tion, I recognized that my contribution to the conversation was pri-marily about Margaret. I saw myself mirrored in the newly converted Francis, who went about the town of Assisi claiming that he had fallen in love with a most beautiful lady, Lady Poverty.s I also realized that, as with Francis, my excitement about this strange Lady was a mystery to my friends. This did not daunt my enthusiasm. I began to contemplate what was drawing me to Margaret's bedside day after day. It Was her poverty. The next day I simply told her, "I feel as though I have found Lady Poverty." She smiled. My experience was confirmed. Margaret's brain did not measure time very well. At first I thought this was a deficiency. As I listened, however, and got more in touch with her world, I realized that this sense of eternity was part of her beauty. With Margaret there was no past, present, or future. Rather, everything was a relationship. If we parted with a disagreement, what needed to be pondered and prayed about after-wards was the still-present feeling that all was not well between us, not who said what yesterday. What was important was the sister-hood between us. St. Clare would have agreed with this way of using time.6 Margaret talked to her food. The doctor gave her psychiatric medication for this habit. As she let me listen more and more to her heart, however, I too learned how to talk to my food. Margaret had been interested in the relationship between Native American spirituality and Franciscan spirituality. She learned from Native Americans how to listen to the movement of the Spirit in all of cre-ation. She saw all creation as enspirited. I invited a sympathetic 686 Review for Religious . nurse to see the mystery. Eventually Margaret was taken off the medication. As her sickness progressed and I helped feed her, we both understood the Spirit of the food. Margaret taught me how to see. For her, colors portrayed the deepest mysteries of life. She often expressed her heart simply in terms of color. Most of her last days were either purple (symbol-izing sorrow tinged with joy) or orange (joy tinged with sorrow). There were also four black days. The black days started on Christmas day. Margaret did not respond. Her eyes were a blank stare. I thought she was dying. Four days later one of the nurses pulled me aside to tell me that Margaret's condition was probably caused by depression, not by something directly physical. The nurse wanted me to try something. I went back into the room, closed the door, took Margaret's arm--the only extremity that was still working--and started to exercise it. I started growling and talking about how unfair life was. Her eyes made immediate contact. Life did seem unfair. She was only sixty years old. She was talented and bril-liant. She was so full of energy for the mis-sion. She was dying. The next day Margaret was radiant. She told me that she understood what the black days were about. She whispered, "They were about the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit." She said this over and over as if she was contemplating the mystery. I understood that she had been purified in the darkness for Trinitarian communion. I rejoiced and I wept. During the last days Margaret loved to be with those of us who loved her. She did not want to go back to the hospital. God asked of her even this wish. She died in the emergency room. I remembered the story of how Clare and her sisters wept at the death of Francis. Now I understand their tears.7 After Margaret's death a sister in her community gave me a copy of the manuscripts of her poems and essays. In one she recounts that during her year of renewal she had a dream in which she came upon a farmhouse. At the door was Lady Poverty. She Most of her last days were either purple (symbolizing sorrow tinged with joy) or orange (joy tinged with sorrow). September-October 1993 687 Mueller ¯ A Franciscan Discernment Experience realized in her dream that she truly loved and desired this Lady. At the same time another image, a beggar woman with crippled feet, hounded her prayer. She knew that God was inviting her to become this beggar woman; she resisted, hoping the beggar woman would go away. Finally in faith she said yes to the mystery. 688 Margaret's Story and Franciscan Discernment The discernment process that Margaret recounted in her arti-cle began in dialogue with others, in prayer, and in truthful assess-ment of her own gifts and the call of her heart. The discernment ended with an invitation to "live in a wigwam." This meant that Margaret was to spend her sabbatical time as a pilgrim exploring her call to personal poverty, to Native American spirituality, and to her love of the Franciscan charism. Practically, this translated into "a month's experience in a Franciscan Life Institute; extended time in Assisi; and ~xtended time on an Indian reservation.''8 This year of renewal was only the first fruit of Margaret's dis-cernment process. Her call was to personal poverty. None of those she discerned with were to take her into the depths of this mystery. Rather, she was introduced to the beggar woman with crooked feet. During her sickness Margaret became this beggar woman, dependent upon the thoughtfulness or thoughtlessness of others. As her illness progressed, she became crippled like the beggar woman of her prayer. Her legs and feet contracted so badly that they could not be straightened even after she died. Margaret's yes, her responsive determination to continually discern the will of God in her life, did not lead as she expected to a new form of ministry. Though this was a deep disappointment for her, heryes led her to surrenderat deeper and deeper levels every-thing of her heart that was not purely love. As I write, I expect to return to Creighton University for the summer and to teach discernment again. My students and I will explore the richness.gf discernment in the Catholic spiritual tra-dition and then concentrate on St. Ignatius of Loyola's Rules for Discernment. Without these I would not have been able to enter into Margaret's mystery. I have, however, learned from her that, after following the rules and the processes, one must simply sur-render to the Mystery. And so the Franciscan will not be surprised to find poverty the guide here. As Ignatius suggests in his third way of humility, surrendering Review for Religious to the mystery of the will of God invites one to choose poverty.9 This choice implies powerlessness, disrespect, abuse, joy, and free-dom. I took Ignatius on faith before I met Margaret. Now I have seen with my own eyes. As Margaret embraced the mystery of becoming the beggar woman, she became more and more grate-ful. She saw everything as an undeserved gift of God. Two squirrels playing outside gave her great delight. For her, all creation was a means by which she could praise God with gratitude and simple joy. It was Lady Poverty who brought her this grace.~° The mystery of discernment, the mystery of surrendering to the will of God, is both frightening and awesome. It is indeed "a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God" (Heb 10:31). Yet, as I watched Margaret suffer day after day, I saw that the glory of her spirit far surpassed her suffering. I learned through her that God cannot be.outdone in generosity. Margaret radically said yes to the will of God in her life. She understood discernment. After her careful searching for the will of God both in prayer and in dialogue with others, God invited her to become the beggar woman. In this invitation into personal poverty, Margaret discovered the will of God. Perhaps our discernment theory has emphasized active dis-cernment and not adequately explored the mystery of passive dis-cernment, something that cannot be easily categorized. One can watch it happening in another with grateful awe--and then be unable to exp!ain it to those who do not have the experience. The Franciscan tradition teaches, not by theologizing the mystery, but by telling stories about people who lived the mystery of saying yes radically to the will of God. In this tradition I offer the witness of Margaret for edification and imitation. One afternoon I asked: "Margaret, what does poverty mean to you?" She replied, "Poverty is a celebration!" I said, "Margaret, get real. For you poverty means this brain tumor. It means that you are living in a psych ward. It means that many of your friends do not understand you and have abandoned you." She looked on me with love and responded, "No, Joan, you are wrong. All that is hurt, but poverty is a celebration." " Margaret became this beggar woman, dependent upon the thoughtfulness or thoughtlessness of others. September-October 1993 689 Mueller ¯ A Franciscan Discernment Experience Notes ~ See, for example, Anthony M. Carrozzo OFM, "Francis of Assisi at the Crossroads: Elements of a Franciscan Process of Discernment," Review for Religious (July-August 1982)~ 551-556, and Evaristo Acosta Maestre OFMCap, "El Discernimiento de Espfritus y su Aplicaci6n segfin San Francisco de Asfs," Laurentianum 25 (1984): 415-448. 2 Margaret Halaska, "A Model of Discernment: The Experience of a Franciscan," Review for Religious (March-April 1984): 259-263. 3 Ibid, 260. 4 Ibid, 261. s "Legend of the Three Companions [3:7]," in St. Francis of Assisi: Omnibus of Sources, ed. Marion Habig (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1973), pp. 869-897. St. Clare, too, speaks of how she and her sisters bound themselves to Lady Poverty. See "The Testament [37]," in Clare of Assisi: Early Documents, ed. Regis Armstrong, OFMCap (New York: Paulist Press, 1988), p. 57. 6 Clare advocated that her sisters understand themselves as exchang-ing the things of time for the things of eternity. See "The First Letter to Blessed Agnes [30]," in Clare of Assisi: Early Documents, p. 37. One's mind will be transformed in the mirror of eternity. See "The Third Letter to Blessed Agnes [12-13]" in Clare ofAssisi, p. 44. 7 See "I Celano [116-17]," in St. Francis of Assisi: Omnibus of Sources, pp. 330-332. 8 Margaret Halaska, "A Model of Discernment," p. 263. 9 Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola, § 167. 10 Gratitude, joy, and praise of God are fruits of poverty chosen or accepted. See "Sacrum Commercium [58]," in Francis of Assisi: Omnibus of Sources, p. 1590. 690 Review for Religious EDWARD FOLEY Ritual Leave-Taking Almost fifteen years ago the liturgical commission of my province developed a very effective--even moving--ritual for installing the new provincial leadership at our triennial assem-bly. With slight modifications this basic ritual is resurrected every three years as we hand over direction of the province to a recently elected provincial, vicar provincial, and three councilors. Like presidential inaugurations, such rituals of beginning often gener-ate a sense of optimism and trust among the participants and pro-vide strong affirmation for those assuming office. Our rituals for taking leave of elected representatives, be they civil or religious, are usually much less effective--if they exist at all.1 Outgoing United States presidents do stage various farewell events which allow the departing commander-in-chief to offer a valedictory address and mark his closing days in the White House. The real departure ceremony for retiring U.S. presidents, however, is the inau-guration of their successor. This poignant ritual requires the retiring president to be seen and not heard--ironically marking his own tran-sition to private citizenship by serving as the most honored of wit-nesses to his successor's elevation to constitutional powers. The understated poignancy of such presidential leave-taking almost appears rich when compared with the dearth of rituals to mark the transition of leadership in so many of our religious com-munities. In few other arenas of ecclesiastical life do we ritually cel-ebrate transitions in leadership so rarely as in religious life. Retiring pastors and bishops are usually feted with multiple cele- Edward Foley OFMCap is agsociate professor of liturgy and music at the Catholic Theological Union. His address is 5401 South Cornell Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60615 o5698. S~ptember-October 1993 691 Foley ¯ Ritual Leave-Taking brations marking their contributions to a local church and artic-ulating the gratitude of at least some of the people of God. Those who die in office are afforded the even more elaborate ritual leave-taking provided by the Order of Christian Funerals. Religious lead-ers who leave office at the commencement of a chapter or with the election of their successors, however, are often simply suc-ceeded or replaced. Seldom are they ritually honored or, more importantly, reincorporated into the community. The absence of such ritual leave-taking is more than a lapse in ritual etiquette. It is a lamentable, even detrimental, omission. The discernment of new leadership is often a moment of hope and goodwill within a religious community. This is especially true if, as in my own province, this process occurs within a gathering of all the members, all of them direct constituents. The psycho-logical lift of a fresh beginning, the affirmation by a large portion of the electorate, and the guiding promise of the Holy Spirit all contribute to a sense of optimism or relief which ordinarily allows the newly elected to be installed with an authentic sense of festivity. Given the very real, sometimes devastating problems facing major superiors today, however, such goodwill is often difficult to maintain. The financial (rises, all-consuming personnel problems, and special pressures arising from the incidents of public scandal that increasingly plague many religious communities contribute to an almost inevitable estrangement between religious leaders and the communities that called them to office. The strain that arises from the realignment of ministry priorities, fulfilling per-sonnel requests, and addressing issues of personal discipline takes an enormous toll on our leaders. Ironically, leadership that can begin with an affirming elec-tion often devolves into a position of devaluation. Those who pre-viously epitomized the center of the community are often marginalized or even shunned. Affirmation is increasingly replaced by criticism. An ordinary consequence of this process is burnout and alienation. Thus, our leaders are frequently absolved of their office with extended sabbaticals or with attenuated processes of return that sometimes take years. It is lamentable that communities like my own do not possess an adequate ritual vocabulary for marking the transition from lead-ership. This ritual lacuna prevents us from corporately acknowl-edging both the joy and the pain, the gratitude and the regret, associated with the ministry of leadership in contemporary reli- 692 Review for Religious gious life. Furthermore, our inability to ritualize such moments might even be viewed as a corporate sin of omission: rather than seizing a critical moment to welcome retiring leaders back into the heart of the community, our lack of action may actually allow or even encourage them to assume a life at the margins. The stress here on corporate ritual rather than individual ges-ture is quite intentional. While the kindness and support of vari-ous individuals in a religious community is essential if retiring religious leaders are to be effectively reincorporated into their communities, personal gestures of support from even a large number of individuals are insufficient. A religious community is more than an aggregate of individuals, and the call to leadership, while voiced by individuals, is ultimately from the whole body. Our leaders are responsible to and for all the members. Just as the beginning of leadership requires corporate affirma-tion, so should leave-taking be marked with a corporate response. The power of ritual should not be underestimated in these transitions. It is an ancient teaching of the church--and a recent maxim in some social sciences-- that rituals both express and create reality, or belief. It is not simply the election but especially the inauguration that creates a president; and it is not so much the electoral defeat as much as the inauguration of a suc-cessor that creates an ex-president. Similarly, it is not only the discernment but also the installation, consecration, or other order-ing ritual that in a real sense establishes one as a leader in our religious communities. Our current lack of rituals de facto cre-ates ex-leaders. The development of appropriate rituals of transi-tion could instead reincorporate these retiring ministers and, in the process, affirm, forgive, and welcome them. Ritually choreographing such an event is difficult. Varieties of personalities, corporate fatigue or even hostility toward the retiring leadership, and a minefield of unexpressed feelings on both sides complicate matters. No two leaders and no two transi-tions in leadership, even within the same community, are identi-cal. Consequently, it is necessary to develop a ritual pattern that is Just as the beginning of leadership requires corporate affirmation, so should leave-taking be marked with a corporate response. Septe~nber-October 199~ 693 Foley ¯ Ritual Leave-Taking open to adaptation as the occasion demands. On the other hand, developing a ritual pattern is important. Such a pattern, evoked year after year, discernment after discernment, announces that rit-uals of reincorporation are not simply designed for leaders that we happen to like or feel sorry for. Rather, they are. designed for the welfare of the community and the health of the church. The following is proposed as a model for ritualizing the rein-corporation of retiring religious leaders into the community that called them to office. It presumes significant adaptation in the light of concrete circumstances and needs. The context for the outline and commentary that follow is the opening liturgy at the triennial gathering of my own province, during which a new provincial, vicar provincial, and council are to be elected. The Ritual Context The ritual context for this model is Vespers. While other prayer patterns of the church might also provide an appropriate context for the reincorporation of retiring superiors, Vespers is particularly suited to this end for many reasons. First of all, unlike Eucharist, Vespers does not require any ordained clergy. Consequently, it is one of the official liturgies of the church that can be enacted by any group of women or men, lay or ordained, without recourse to presbyters, who may or may not be present within thee community. Second, while Vespers has certain minis-terial requirements and presumptions, the leadership can easily be cast in a more communitarian and less hierarchical fashion--as befits the worship 6f a religious community. In my own province, for example, instead of relying upon a former provincial, senior friar, or ordained brother to preside, it could be possible to call upon the youngest professed member of the province to assume this ministry. Thus the ministry models the moment: recalling that leadership is not a presumption of power, but an act of service and minority. Apart from the ministerial structure of Vespers, the traditional images and themes of evening prayer recommend its usage for this ritual reincorporation. For example, Vespers traditionally occurs at dusk, with the setting of the sun. Thus it is an ending rit-ual and provides an appropriate context for acknowledging the end of one's service in leadership. On the other hand, Vespers does more than announce the end of the day; it also anticipates the 694 Review for Religious presence of Christ through the night, a presence ultimately revealed at dawn. The images of hope and expectation, as well as the metaphoric parallel of the dawning of new leadership in a community, are obvious. Evening Prayer has a strong sense of thanksgiving, well epit-omized in the opening thanksgiving for the light and in the Magnificat. This thematic could easily be exploited to give thanks to God for calling people to leadership and for expressing grati-t- ude to those who have heard the call and answered with a willing heart. Yet, while there is a natural inclination toward thanksgiving at Vespers, the thematic elas-ticity provided by the various psalms, prayers, and readings allows for more than unabashed gratitude. The call to forgive-ness, the promise of eternal life, sacrifi-cial images, words of rededication--these and many other prayer instincts have a natural resonance in Eve.ning Prayer. Finally, Vespers lends itself to the rit-ual reincorporation of the retiring lead-ers of our communities because--at least in the West--it has a relatively simple yet flexible structure. Thus Evening Player can ritually tolerate the inclusion of a modest amount of other ritual activity--like gestures of reincor-poration-- without overwhelming or being overwhelmed by them. More specifically, Vespers is capable of allowing the inclusion of rituals like the renewal of vows, the sign of peace, and other acts of reconciliation and blessing and yet still clearly be Vespers. The central adaptation that I would propose for this ritual in my own province would be the additio

M. Diane Krantz, April 4, 2014 ; The Weber State University Oral History Project began conducting interviews with key Weber State University faculty, administrators, staff and students, in Fall 2007. The program focuses primarily on obtaining a historical record of the school along with important developments since the school gained university status in 1990. The interviews explore the process of achieving university status, as well as major issues including accreditation, diversity, faculty governance, changes in leadership, curricular developments, etc. ; The following is an interview with Dr. Diane Krantz conducted on April 4, 2014 by Ruby Licona. Dr. Krantz discusses her early life and her career at Weber State University from 1995 to 2011. ; 39p.; 29cm.; 2 bound transcripts; 4 file folders. 1 video disc: digital; 4 3/4 in. ; Oral History Program M. Diane Krantz Interviewed by Ruby Licona 4 April 2014 i Oral History Program Weber State University Stewart Library Ogden, Utah M. Diane Krantz Interviewed by Ruby Licona 4 April 2014 Copyright © 2014 by Weber State University, Stewart Library ii Mission Statement The Oral History Program of the Stewart Library was created to preserve the institutional history of Weber State University and the Davis, Ogden and Weber County communities. By conducting carefully researched, recorded, and transcribed interviews, the Oral History Program creates archival oral histories intended for the widest possible use. Interviews are conducted with the goal of eliciting from each participant a full and accurate account of events. The interviews are transcribed, edited for accuracy and clarity, and reviewed by the interviewees (as available), who are encouraged to augment or correct their spoken words. The reviewed and corrected transcripts are indexed, printed, and bound with photographs and illustrative materials as available. Archival copies are placed in University Archives. The Stewart Library also houses the original recording so researchers can gain a sense of the interviewee's voice and intonations. Project Description The Weber State University Oral History Project began conducting interviews with key Weber State University faculty, administrators, staff and students, in Fall 2007. The program focuses primarily on obtaining a historical record of the school along with important developments since the school gained university status in 1990. The interviews explore the process of achieving university status, as well as major issues including accreditation, diversity, faculty governance, changes in leadership, curricular developments, etc. ____________________________________ Oral history is a method of collecting historical information through recorded interviews between a narrator with firsthand knowledge of historically significant events and a well-informed interviewer, with the goal of preserving substantive additions to the historical record. Because it is primary material, oral history is not intended to present the final, verified, or complete narrative of events. It is a spoken account. It reflects personal opinion offered by the interviewee in response to questioning, and as such it is partisan, deeply involved, and irreplaceable. ____________________________________ Rights Management All literary rights in the manuscript, including the right to publish, are reserved to the Stewart Library of Weber State University. No part of the manuscript may be published without the written permission of the University Librarian. Requests for permission to publish should be addressed to the Administration Office, Stewart Library, Weber State University, Ogden, Utah, 84408. The request should include identification of the specific item and identification of the user. It is recommended that this oral history be cited as follows: Krantz, Diane., an oral history by Ruby Licona, 4 April 2014, WSU Stewart Library Oral History Program, University Archives, Stewart Library, Weber State University, Ogden, UT. iii M. Diane Krantz April 4, 2014 Abstract: The following is an interview with Dr. Diane Krantz conducted on April 4, 2014 by Ruby Licona. Dr. Krantz discusses her early life and her career at Weber State University from 1995 to 2011. RL: Today is April 4, 2014. I'm Ruby Licona from the Stewart Library at Weber State University. Also present is Stacie Gallagher, our video technician. We are speaking with Dr. Diane Krantz, who came to Weber State in 1995, retired just a couple of years ago and is never still for a moment. Every time I encounter her she's got plans for one activity or another, so she's not a shy retiring kind of person, she is living her life to the fullest. Good morning, Diane, and thank you for coming in to talk with us. DK: Good morning, Ruby, thank you for the privilege of donating my thoughts to the library. RL: Well, we are anxious to learn about you. To that effort, why don't you start out telling us a little bit about your origins and some of the things with which you were involved prior to coming to Weber State? You did not come here straight out of—well, you came straight out of your Ph.D., but that was a few years following your bachelor's degree. So, why don't you talk to us a little bit about that? DK: Okay. Well, I was born in a small coal town in Pennsylvania called Carbondale. I was a very devout Catholic and always wanted to be a religious woman, so when I graduated from high school, I entered a convent that was in the town where I 1 was living. I got a bachelor's degree in mathematics from St. Louis University, ultimately, and was credentialed to teach math. I taught elementary school math for three years and then went on to high school math and got my master's in teaching mathematics from Fairfield University. I taught high school mathematics for 17 years. RL: That was at Fairfield University in Connecticut? DK: Yes. RL: So, how did you get from St. Louis to Connecticut? DK: Well, actually, I started in Pennsylvania. We moved to Connecticut and then after I had taken my vows, I was transferred from the convent in Connecticut to St. Louis. Actually, my first foray there in higher education was a sister's college called Mirallac College. It was for religious women. I was there for a year, but there program was so convoluted; it would have taken me five more years after my Associate of Arts degree to get my bachelor's. So, the Provincial and I decided I would go to St. Louis University. Then I taught for three years in the elementary school in St. Louis and was transferred back to the high school in Connecticut to teach there. Math teachers, even in the convent, are at a premium especially because a lot of sisters did not go directly on for their degrees. They got them part-time. Getting a math degree that way could take 12 or 13 years. I was going full-time, so I managed to get mine in a reasonable amount of time. I got a National Science Foundation grant, so most of my master's degree was free for me and the convent. So, that was nice. I taught many years, as I said, in the high school and religious life somewhat changed and I began to—a lot of 2 women left religious life during those following years as the church became—as their thinking became more modern. I always thought I was in it for the long haul, but I began to realize at one point that I had become somewhat like my mother in the sense of not knowing my own mind after a while. I was following superiors and I wasn't thinking for myself anymore. I didn't know, actually, what I wanted. At that point, I decided that I would at least try life outside the convent. So, when I was in my early 40's, I had permission to live outside the convent for two years and at that point I had been transferred to California and taught part-time in an elementary school while I looked into attending the University of California at Davis. I had requested to get a Ph.D., but that wasn't common at that time among the sisters, so I was refused for that. I went on—I was enrolled in the master's program. I spent two years and I think most people that knew me from the convent assumed that I was enough of a flake that I would never manage in the outside world. But, it turned out that I had my father's sense of economics, so I did very well, actually. By that time, I had decided that it was time for me to try a new direction in life. So, I was enrolled in the English program at U.C. Davis and I made a formal request for dispensation from my vows and received it. I then went on to get a Ph.D. at the University of California at Davis. RL: So, you got relieved of your vows in, what, the late 80's? DK: Yeah, it would have been about 1985 or 1986. A Ph.D. would take seven years at U.C. Davis if you didn't have—well, I didn't even have a bachelor's degree in English, so that was a little bit more of a challenge. At any rate, I got a Regents Fellowship my first year there and then forgot to apply for it the second year. I 3 ended up with fellowships in teaching, but the University of California system was very generous at that time and it had a lot of money, so they actually paid me what I considered a full salary, although, my colleagues in the English Ph.D. program were not doing quite as well because they were more used to being on their own and spending money as they wished. RL: They hadn't been in the religious life. DK: They had not been living a vow of poverty, right. After a year, while I was still debating, I said, "What would be the one thing I would be sorry for if I went back in the convent? What would I be sorry not to have done?" So, I took a trip to Europe—a bus trip to Europe. It was one of those bus trips where, "It's Tuesday, this must be Belgium." And it was literally like that. You got up in the morning and it was Belgium and you were going to go back on the bus and over to Holland all that day and then you'd spend a couple of days in Holland and then go on to the Rhine. That was very exciting. I had thought if I had a chance to go back to Europe, it would be nice to have an overview of it, so that's why I went on that particular trip. I was still a little bit behind for my doctorate. My father died in the meantime. My mother died three weeks before I left the convent, so that was a little traumatic because, a) I wasn't expecting it and, b) that her timing was impeccable to make me feel guilty. I failed the exams I took right after my father's death, so they gave me another chance. So, I did get through my exams and my defense of my dissertation. Then I realized I couldn't finish the dissertation on time and they would cut off my teaching pay, but there was an opportunity to go 4 to Germany on an exchange and that would be fully funded—by the Germans, actually. Because I was, shall we say, older, and also had several master's degrees they paid me through the nose in Germany. So, I was very well off in Germany. RL: Did you go to Germany to teach? DK: I went to Germany on an exchange of doctoral students to teach at the University of Mainz. So I lived in Mainz and traveled again through parts of Europe. I enjoyed my time there and taught six classes the first semester and seven the next, but German classes are much different than American classes as I learned. Students basically don't hand in anything until the end or they take three Claysure tests if they're not on that type of a schedule. It was probably less work with the six classes there than with my high school teaching, so it worked out very well for touring. After I came back from Germany, about a month before I had to hand in my dissertation, I had some work on graphics to do because I hadn't had a Mac computer there. I got my three signatures and the Ph.D. and then had a post doc at U.C. Davis for a year and applied for jobs. I got four responses. I was much more careful the second time I applied than the first time I applied. The first time, in Germany, I sent out a hundred applications and I wasn't specific at all. The second time when I was back in the United States, I said, "I'm going to research these universities." I think I applied to four and I got responses from two. One was Weber State and the other was the University of Puerto Rico at Mayaguez. The only thing that really attracted me there was that they had one of the large 5 radio telescopes at Arecibo, I think it is. At any rate, it wasn't too far from Arecibo. But, I don't speak Spanish. I was worried that the cultural differences, not for me, but the differences between the rich and the poor there would be a source of constant pain to me. The other thing, of course, was that by this time with both parents dead, my siblings were living across the country. One was in Connecticut, one in Iowa and one in Portland, Oregon. So, I would never get any visits if I stayed in Puerto Rico because it would have been quite a long trip for them. I decided that I would be happier all around accepting the job at Weber. When I came to Weber, I was really impressed with the English people who met me. Tom Burton was my predecessor in the English Department and he met me at the airport, shepherded me into Ogden and was very sweet, very kind, and very helpful. Then, I went through the interview process and was very impressed with the committee, with their friendliness, their warmth and their welcoming—also by the efficiency of the process, because I had been waiting for months to hear from Puerto Rico whether I was being offered the job or not. At this point, I was sort of disappointed that they had taken so long, but also it just seemed like a better fit to come to Weber State. So, I mean, it was largely the charm of the English Department people that I met that drew me here. RL: Can you remember who was on your search committee? DK: Well, there was Tom Burton. Levi Peterson was Chair at the time. Sally Shigley was on the search committee. John Schwiebert may have been on the search committee and Michael Wutz might have been, but I'm not sure. These later became close friends. That's as much as I remember. I remember Sally because 6 I was going to teach one of her classes—her Renaissance class—as part of my interview process. She had sent me information and I had prepared to teach something about George Herbert, a 17th Century poet. So, I remembered her of course and I met her on the committee. After that it becomes a little bit of a blur in the nervous tension one feels when one's life is basically hanging in the balance. RL: Yeah, you get a lot of really big butterflies, don't you? DK: Right. Actually, the teaching went well because part of it was that I—having taught so much in the years previously and when students were not always being very cooperative. I had also taught at U.C. Davis as well as at Mainz, so I had a lot of teaching experience behind me. So, I had kind of a dynamic in the classroom that I wanted to set up, and Sally had prepared her students very well to be kind to me, I think. So, the class went just very well, and that made it a much more positive experience than if I'd kind of lost it in the classroom, so I enjoyed that. RL: So, your first impressions, of course, were formed by the search committee and by the department. When you got here, having taught in—I'm not certain the size of U.C. Davis, but I know U.C. Berkeley was tremendous. Did you notice a difference in the students when you finally got here? DK: I think I noticed a larger range in the students. I had bright students. I had students who were very capable and well-prepared at Weber State, but I also seemed to have a number of students who were struggling from the time that they got into my classroom. So, that was a difference because the students at 7 U.C. Davis tended to be more homogeneous. They weren't all happy to be there. They weren't all happy with their majors, etc.—I had several encounters with students who were telling me how they had been forced to major in science rather than in English, which was their love. The parents, I think, put a lot more pressure on the students at U.C. Davis also, which you could say, "It's the cost," except, it wasn't the cost. At that point, the price of U.C. Davis was very low, but— RL: Well, I think there's probably a difference in all of the U.C. campuses. They have very high admissions standards as far as GPA's and background and SAT scores and so forth. Here at Weber, with open enrollment— DK: Right. It wasn't quite open at the time. Some of my English colleagues were very miffed at that because I think Bob Smith had put some limitations on admissions, which didn't seem high to me, but there were a few things in place. That changed as I stayed here, but it's also possible that some of the students as U.C. Davis would not have been as motivated as students at Weber State in the sense that their parents may have been paying for their education. Whereas here—and that was I think the biggest shock—to find so many of the students were working full-time. That was my biggest surprise at Weber State. RL: The nontraditional aspect of it. So many of them come back from a mission and get married and are supporting at least a spouse if not children. That makes a big difference. DK: Yes, it did. One had to be conscious of that in terms of how much time students were able to put into their studies. I always kept my standards fairly high, but 8 then that had been my problem since I was teaching first grade. I was always like one year beyond what the students were capable of until I got to the master's program here, and at that point we all came together as to where I expected them to be and where they were. That was a very happy experience. I was very impressed here with a lot of the women students who were very very bright and very well read and just seemed capable of handling a ton of things at the same time. That was impressive. At U.C. Davis, it would probably be just the student and her books. RL: Well, and also, I think the difference in having the commuter campus as opposed to students living on campus or right close by, does make a difference too. Now, you'd been teaching in earlier years, probably in Catholic schools, and having been in a religious background, what was your reaction to coming to Utah to a totally different religious environment or approach to religion? What were your impressions? DK: Well, of course, the first thing I did was draw kind of a parallel between my own times in Catholic school as a very devout young person with the students here. The one annoying part of it was that the students, oftentimes, are much narrower in their approach. Not more narrow than conservative Catholics, certainly, at all, but much more narrow in their thinking than, for instance, the students at U.C. Davis. I was teaching a class in persuasion and I drew up a list of topics that I wanted the students to argue and the students invariably chose positions diametrically opposite to what I would argue. Of course, if they argued well they got an 'A' on the papers, but it began to dawn on me that this was, politically, the 9 state was very much the opposite of what I had left in California, in the north of California. Because as someone once pointed out to me, Southern California is so conservative that they've had mostly Republican governors, so, but that wasn't true the year I was in in Davis. So, it was the political rather than the religious element that I found challenging when I taught my students. RL: And yet that's surprising because Ogden is fairly different from the rest of the state. DK: Well, some people have called Weber "little BYU," so there was, at least historically, a group of very conservative men who were leading the university. Now, that's actually changed as I've been here. It's been wonderful to see women assume leading roles at the university, so at one point I had a—and this was exciting for me—a woman president, a woman Dean, and a woman Department Chair. It spoke well for Weber's openness to women and to their advancement. I think that colored life to a certain extent on the campus. One incident that occurred in English was that a student was complaining—I guess to a teacher, it wasn't to me. The teacher told him he should talk to the Chair because that would be his right, so he went to the Chair and I guess he was very disgruntled to find out that there was a woman Chair. She said, "Well, you can go on up, but the Provost, the Dean, and the President are all women also." It sort of gave him a little more perspective on what women's roles were, at least at this university. Not necessarily what he thought women's roles would be. This was a person from one of the Middle Eastern 10 countries, so, of course, the culture that he was from would have suggested that women didn't belong in such roles. He got his eyes opened very quickly. RL: But I think one of the things that we've been very lucky about is that women who have served in these capacities are so capable and have been so successful in carrying out their assignments and their missions. DK: Absolutely. RL: That's become more and more common in Arts and Humanities and other areas at the University too. Of course, President Milner, who just stepped down not that long ago, had that love and respect of everyone in the legislature and all of the people in higher education and so forth. I think she has set a really high standard that other women will be striving to reach. DK: And men. I mean, basically, because her political acuity was so great she constantly kept the legislators on our side despite the economic problems of the times, and Weber has continued to grow from this enormously. So, of course, it says a lot for Weber. RL: She gained a lot of respect for the institution. Weber had always been a little brother kind of place. I think it's risen in people's viewpoints. DK: Well, in fact, I've been very impressed at times reading just a little bit in the past five years about some nationally known figures from Weber and people certainly making their mark in our culture and in the American culture as a whole. Of course, I have to say that when I told my mentors at U.C. Davis that I was coming to Weber State, their first reaction was, "Oh, the winners of the Big Sky 11 conference." I said, "Well, I had never heard of Weber State, but the men at U.C. Davis certainly were very respectful." RL: That was right after the time that I think they had beat out both North Carolina and Michigan in the NCAA. First round they knocked them flat on their backsides. DK: Great. Yes. RL: I mean, with me, people would say, "Weber State? You came here from Weber State? Never heard of it." Then, all of sudden, they got the reports and it was, "Ruby, is that your Weber State?" It made quite an impression. As you say, it was not necessarily women, but the men that—well at least they didn't say, "Why?" or "Where in the world is that?" It gave a little bit of information to hang things on. It sounds like you were happy with the choice of coming here. DK: I was very happy. One of the things I've always appreciated about Weber is its people, I think of my department—and my department is very, very large and very diverse and tends to be like herding cats to a certain extent. People could have sticking points about things that you thought, "Well, this will be just a little conversation," and all of a sudden there's a big uproar. Yet, I always felt a kind of warmth, a kind of encouragement from my colleagues all through my career. I never felt, as I think often happens at large research schools, like I was competing in order to get tenure, in order to get promotion and in order to get various and sundry privileges that went with my job. The students also are very warm and very accepting of a lot of different things. Not necessarily different ideas, depending on which students you're talking about. It's quite possible that, of course, the composition classes are where I would hit this type of negative 12 response and that's because I would have students from across the campus, and I think some other departments may be a little bit more rigid in their thinking than the arts and humanities and even—well, not even, but the social sciences also would be in how they think about issues and how they think about people. I always felt like this—I always felt very comfortable around and accepted by both the faculty and the students. RL: You mentioned Tom Burton and Levi Peterson who were highly respected and very accomplished in their areas. Did they or any others—I realize you came here as an older person, but did anyone work in the capacity of a mentor for you? DK: I was thinking about that question because we didn't have a formal mentorship at the time in English or, as far as I know, across campus. But, Sally, Judy Elsley, and Priti Kumar included me in their lunch sessions together and I think that was a kind of mentoring. That was in my first maybe five years where we met all the time. We met on a regular basis, and they were very helpful about different things. Levi, of course, kept an eye on people. He would give you hints about things. Then, when I became Women's Studies Coordinator, which was in, I believe, my third year, that's its own little story, but Gloria Wurst had been coordinator the year before, and she very much took me under her wing in terms of how to go about taking care of the program. RL: The program was fairly new when you got here. DK: Well, yes. 13 RL: In 1990 or 1991, and I think Gloria was probably the second director. She was very invested in it and remains so even now. DK: Yes. Literally invested. RL: The three women that you mentioned that included you in their lunches, they were highly involved with the women's program in the early days. So, again, that's an example of the strong women that have been coming to Weber in the last 20 or 25 years. So, you became involved with the Women's Studies Program through them or just through seeing things about it on campus? DK: I'm not sure how I got word of the annual meeting—the Women's Studies annual meeting. I think it must have been my second year of being at Weber State that I either learned of it from something that was sent out or it's possible that Sally or Judy mentioned it to me. Anyway, I went to the meeting and we were concluding the business and they said, "Well, we need a coordinator for next year. Diane, what about you?" "Okay, let me think what skills I have." I had been Department Chair, of course, at both high schools that I had taught at, so I had some administrative experience under my belt—certainly not the amount that I could have used, but again, Women's Studies Coordinator is for three years and it's basically the secretary that runs the program. Really the point of that is that people promised to be supportive and mentoring in that position. The only drawback was I didn't have tenure yet, but I guess they decided they would take a chance. I think they thought that maybe having been a nun, I had some sense of how women should organize things and run them and be good to other women. So, I did in fact take on the job and Gloria 14 gave a lot of help. We had Norma, who was secretary, who had been secretary for Gloria but she wanted to retire at Christmas time, so we went on search for another secretary and we found Linda Shoemake. She was spectacular. She came from—she had been in an office for, I think the public schools for a long time and she came and she was fully invested in the program and extremely good at communicating with the other secretaries. Of course, Women's Studies is an interdepartmental program. RL: It's all volunteer. DK: Right. It's all volunteer and inter-departmental, so you have to be able to communicate with secretaries across campus in order to know what's going on and how you should be operating. Linda actually mastered the budget, which no one before or since, I think, has done. We actually did quite well with that, except that at one point I actually went hat in hand to five deans to beg for some money for Women's Studies. So, that was a really interesting experience for me to meet the deans in other colleges. So, Linda just really helped and I had set up—Gloria had actually done all the paperwork to get us through semester conversion, but I drew up sheets for the students coming in so that we could make their converting of the courses they had already taken from the quarter to semester credits easier. So, that was my accomplishment in that timeframe. Also, the University went into program evaluation and I set something of that up for Women's Studies—a sheet of criteria for whether the program was a success or not. Kathleen Lukken was the temporary Provost. I think at the time she was also in 15 charge of that evaluation program where we were looking across the University at different— RL: Accreditation and five year reviews. DK: Right. She had a website and I plugged all sorts of data in there. RL: Now, at about the time you came was when they were pushing Teaching and Learning Forum and strategic planning in different areas of the University and so forth. Were you involved in any of those activities or did you pretty much keep your nose to the grindstone with English and Women's Studies? DK: Only in terms of just setting up that evaluation criteria for Women's Studies. Of course, I participated at the Teaching and Learning Forum, but I also was trying to get—by this time Sesh was Chair and he was pushing me to get my book published so that I would be able to get Associate Professor or tenure out of that. RL: They were still doing both at that time. DK: Right, we would do this both at the same time. So, he directed me to a press where we'd probably be able to get the book published and I got an RS&PG grant—again, with the help of Sally—to change my dissertation into a book. So, that was very helpful, but— RL: What was the nature of the book? DK: It was on a medieval mystic called Julian of Norwich and—The Politics of Enclosure was what I wanted to call it, so that's what I eventually called the book itself. It was on the nature of her texts and how they focused on Jesus as mother. So, she was a medieval mystic and her visions—which she only had once, and 16 she turned out to live, we think, quite a long time—but she was a very grounded person, so she wasn't the type of mystic that's some place off in the clouds. She only had the visions once and she wrote a book from that and then after meditating for maybe 20 years on that, she wrote a longer book. So, I looked at the structure of the book in terms of enclosure and how this reflected her emphasis on Jesus as being a mother. Of course, the cognitive dissonance with that type of gender disparity that might exist for moderns was not prevalent in the medieval mind where gender was as gender did—that is to say, your actions determined your gender. Of course, your actions were highly circumscribed so they could determine you gender, but she listed qualities of Jesus that are mothering qualities. She also lived a life of enclosure, and she talks about being in Jesus, almost as in a womb, and there are different images in the Middle Ages that look at Jesus as a mother with a womb. But, that, again, would be the subject of another discussion. RL: You mentioned Bob Smith earlier as Vice President for Academic Affairs, and I think toward the end of his time here they made the change and that position was called Provost. Were you able, in your capacity as Coordinator of Women's Studies and on other committees as well, did you have much experience working with him? DK: I didn't actually. I knew his wife, Adele, much better because she was the one who was closest to Women's Studies. They gave us their cabin to use, for instance, for our annual meetings, so we did that for a couple of years. I knew and admired Bob, but I never actually worked alongside him. Probably the Dean I 17 would have worked most with would be Richard Sadler because he was the Dean for Women's Studies. June Phillips, I worked on various general education committees within the college, and we worked with her on those and also another thing on evaluation with her. There were large movements in terms of the student evaluation and program evaluation. The program evaluation was the most dynamic development change that I was witnessing as I taught here—after semester conversion which was its own little nightmare, but we managed to get through that. I worked with Levi Peterson on that when he was Chair to do semester conversion and then with Dean Phillips on those types of committees, the types of committees that looked at program review and general education development. So, those were the Deans I best knew. RL: Was Sherwood gone by the time you got here? DK: Yeah, he was no longer around. He had been replaced as Dean of Arts and Humanities by June. RL: You were here under two different presidents, Paul Thompson and Ann Milner. DK: Right. Two different Provosts—well, there was Bob Smith, there was Kathleen Lukken and Mike Vaughn while I was here. Who was the Richard that was head of diversity—well it wasn't called diversity— RL: Richard Ulaberry. DK: I did work with him because I was on the diversity committee again because, well, partly because I wanted to be there to represent Women's Studies and he wanted me to be there. He was very very supportive of Women's Studies, so I 18 tried to make sure that I worked well on that committee with him and we worked on the Diversity Conference, I don't know if the first one was one of the ones I worked on, but we worked to make the Diversity Conference a good one and handled all sorts of different issues. I, of course, was there, but first mostly to encourage looking at women's issues. RL: Then there was Mike Vaughn. Did you have occasions working with him? DK: No. I didn't work with people in their capacity as Provost at all, nor the Presidents in their capacity as presidents. As I said, Richard Ulaberry, who was Vice President for Diversity I guess at the time— RL: Assistant to the Vice President for Diversity. DK: Okay. He was the one I would have worked with and then Dean Sadler and Dean Phillips, so none of the other higher administrators. I was mostly intent of getting through my tenure and promotion process and running Women's Studies and teaching classes of which I've taught quite a few different ones. This is another appeal, I might say, of Weber State, to me—despite a Ph. D. in Medieval Literature, I am basically a generalist at heart. I love to dabble in a lot of different things, and Weber was a wonderful resource for being able to teach all sorts of different classes, and my Department Chairs encouraged and enabled that. It was easier, of course, when we were on quarters because there were simply more electives. Even when we had semester conversion and we were working in semesters I had opportunities to teach science fiction, fantasy, Perspectives in Women's Literature, some women's studies courses, the Women's Studies Critical Theory course for both women's studies and for English, and The Bible 19 as Literature. This was another happy dovetailing of my interest with what Weber State enabled. RL: So, the Weber State that you came to and the Weber State from which you retired, were different? It developed over the years and what are your impressions with the directions in which Weber has changed? DK: I've had to come to grips with having attended Jesuit universities and having been formed in a philosophy of education that came out of a Catholic background, I had a much more classical view of how a university should operate than I encountered even when I first came to Weber State and certainly throughout the decade and a half that I was here afterward. I think it's a necessary direction. I don't think it's—I mean, it would be very nice to say, "Well, this is what the University should look like." But I don't even know that's true even what is best for our country. Weber State has joined the computer revolution and the technological revolution in general. I taught all sorts of online courses and enjoyed putting courses on the internet even before it was popular. So, I had lots of material that my students were accessing through computers even before it became almost mandated that we do that. I don't like the business model of education, but I don't know if there's a way around it economically today. So, I think Weber has done what it needed to do to survive and to flourish in this particular culture—culture meaning the whole of the economic reality of the United States and its educational needs. It still needs a populous that is educated in order to keep a vibrant democracy going and even the philosophy of the Jesuits has changed with respect to that. They 20 see the need for a more democratic approach to education. So, universities may have offered scholarships to some poor but talented students in the past, but I think it's become increasingly necessary to draw in middle class and working class students because that's the only way they're going to survive economically and even politically today. People have to be savvy about those things. RL: Certainly, the level of wisdom that went into the idea of preparing Weber students for the economy and society here in Utah. I know it has paid off. There was an article recently about Weber having the highest return of investment for the schools in Utah. A greater percentage of our students are working. We do a lot more with a lot less money. Of course, when you first came, this was strictly, well, pretty much an undergraduate school. I think at that time we would have had three master's programs. DK: I don't even know if there was that many. RL: When I came there was accounting, education, and— DK: Nursing? Did nursing have one? RL: No, it was something in the social sciences area. It's grown to where we have quite a few master's program and I know when I first arrived people were saying, "There will never be doctorates at Weber." Now I'm hearing conversations in that direction. Yet, I think we're successful because we can still keep that approach to education where our faculty actually teach. They're doing research, they're publishing, they're doing all kinds of travel and gaining a lot of respect for the institution, but they still teach and they really love it. 21 DK: In fact, this is what impressed me about my replacement from Yale. She comes from a very high-powered university, obviously. She was tired of maybe the type of students who felt the world owed them a living at Yale. RL: Who was your replacement? DK: It was Samantha, and her name was changed because she was married, but I don't remember her last name right now. She turned out to be a spectacular teacher. She was so impressive in the classroom when she came for her interview that it put her at the top of the list for who we would hire. Before I left U.C. Davis, again, the economic situation changed. I heard other doctoral students at conferences like the Modern Language Association Conference, which is a big hiring place, mumbling that why would they want to go to a teaching university. I thought, "Well, maybe if you wanted a job you'd go to a teaching university because those are where the jobs are these days." So, the job market has changed. That's been a major change, but I do have to say that as I got older, it just flabbergasts me that people are so capable. These younger, incoming professors are so capable to be able to basically do everything. I'm not sure if it's the best use of their energy because it certainly must be draining on a certain number of them, but I think Weber is flourishing at this point with the type of people we've hired and the type of loyalty that both previous faculty and alumni have toward the school. I think it's on the right track for what has to be done. 22 RL: Now, you spoke about the students and how they were when you first came here and certainly the faculty and the staff have changed over the years. What are your impressions of the students? Did the face of the students also change? DK: I think, as far as the majors in English, I didn't find a big difference. I was finding in the composition students a sort of less preparedness in terms of attitude as I went on. Of course, I couldn't tell if it was because I was getting old and therefore, less patient about the type of things that they didn't want to do, like assignments. I did find that, it seemed at one point to me, and this was just a momentary dawning of an idea that the number of students—I was still getting good quality work out of most of my students and I was getting outstanding work out of some, but it seemed that there were a growing number of students who simply didn't bother with the final project. I heard other teachers complaining about the same thing. The students would be in class all semester and just not bother with the project that they needed to do in order to pass the class. That was one thing that I found to be unsettling. I don't know if it's partly because some of these students are younger in terms of they may have taken college courses while they were still in high school. RL: Advanced placement courses. DK: Yeah, advanced placement or the early college courses while they were in high school and they just weren't mature enough once they got to the university to buckle down and do the work. Or they had reached the point where they had exhausted themselves from high school and they weren't ready to take on college responsibilities, but that was a little bit of a challenge. On the other hand, 23 I was teaching master's students. I actually got to teach—and again, Merlin Cheney, who shepherded the master's program for English into its existence, was very willing to have me in that program and I found it very gratifying. I found students there who were very exceptional in terms of the quality of work they produced and their preparedness across the board for the courses that they were taking. That was a good deal of fun for me, intellectually. I also enjoyed my upper division courses quite a bit. RL: Were there students with whom you've kept in touch? DK: Actually, I do have a Facebook friend who was one of my students and then other people will say to me, "Oh, Dr. Krantz, I was one of your students." I'll see them in the grocery store or someplace else and we'll greet like that. I don't tend to be very personal in the classroom, so I didn't tend to keep a lot of students friendly, but I had, for instance, not too long before I retired, probably about five years before I retired, a student came back with—two students came back actually—they were both alumni and they had both taken a class from me and they had married and I had been at their wedding, I think. But, the sad part of that return was he was in a wheelchair. He was actually a quadriplegic because the summer after he graduated, they went to Idaho to do swimming and he dived off a cliff onto a pile of rocks. There had been storms—he had done it before in that particular spot on the river, but there had been bad storms that winter, so there was a pile of rocks where they didn't expect them. So, what was a blessing for him is he had already been hired by—it might have been BYU Idaho, I'm not sure, but he was working for the LDS church and so he had insurance that 24 summer even though he had just graduated from college. It looked like his young wife was going to be called upon to do quite a bit of work, but I was honored that they returned to talk to me, to see me as part of their return to Ogden. Then, Melissa Halverson, who was one of my students, and I used to share stories because at the time I had a pet rat and she kept pet rats, so we had something in common there, so she's one of my Facebook friends at this point. Several other students just, you know, dropped into my office when I was still on campus, but I don't correspond with anyone from here. I actually do correspond with a couple of my high school students, but that was a little bit exceptional also. I tended not to—I never believed in a classroom where you were kind of close friends with students, although people would often say, "Well, you really like so and so because she's so bright." I'd say, "Well, I also like other people that are not really doing that well in my class," so it's not fair to just say because this person is so bright is why I give her attention. I say "her" because at that time I was teaching all girls. I had a few friends among the high school students and a few friends among the students here. I attended several weddings. One of the reasons I got my second car—after which "totaling," I got my third car, which I totaled and then quit driving—at any rate, one of the reasons I got my second car was because I missed the wedding of one of the students I was friends with and I was very disappointed at that. She was just married in a place I couldn't get to by bus. So, a number of the students—a number of the men students also have come back 25 and talked to me when I was still in my office. I felt very gratified to see them and excited. RL: Do you feel like any students stand out in your mind as successes? Sometimes you take someone on and help them just a little bit and it makes a big difference. DK: I can no longer recall names. I have a terrible time with names to begin with and then I don't recall them very well afterward. I just remember some of my—the men students were very sharp, I'm not trying to downplay those at all, but just some of the women students who had such spectacular insights. I was trying to get one—I wrote a glowing letter for one student to try to get her into the University of Utah, but her ACT scores weren't good, so I actually called the head of the English department to see why they hadn't accepted her and basically, what I was accused of doing was lying for the student. The student was brilliant. She had insights into literature that I rarely encountered even in the master's level and I very much thought she belonged in a graduate program and at the time we didn't have a graduate program. He basically said he wouldn't trust any of the professors at Weber State to write letters of recommendation for their students. He said one of the letters he got for her seemed like a template. I said, "You know, I found her outstanding." I guess this is one of the signs that, in fact, my students and I did have a good relationship. I did have, over the years, a good number of requests for recommendations. There was only once when I told the student that I though perhaps she should try another professor because she hadn't done that well in my class. She hadn't done that well in anybody's class, which was why she was asking me for a recommendation, but I felt I couldn't 26 write her a good recommendation. Other students, both male and female, I could write glowing recommendations for and did. They were just very insightful. RL: Your standpoint was your different involvements of teaching that you would consider your biggest successes? Or is there something that you see as a— DK: Culminating experience? RL: Your greatest accomplishment. DK: I think having the Women's Studies program survive me is an accomplishment. I've enjoyed the teaching and I think my students have been—at least they were successful in terms of getting into higher education if they wanted to go there and that makes me very happy. For high school teaching too, over two and a half decades, I also realize that oftentimes—well, I got a letter from a students whom I had taught in high school some 15 years after I had taught the student saying how happy he was that he had me because he had encountered a situation where my advice in the classroom had gone a long way to helping him out in that situation. RL: That's always a good feeling. We'll never get rich, but it's the little gems that make it worthwhile. DK: I mean, basically, with teaching you cast your bread on the waters. It's planting ideas and I often thought—and I tried to do this with my Comp students—that I would make composition not only a course where I would teach them how to write for all of their courses in the future, but that I would also try to give them a little homely advice or advice from my own experiences as a student that I hoped 27 would one day stand them in good stead. So, I told them that sometimes it's just hanging in there that gets you a degree. It's not being the most brilliant one in the class or even necessarily the most productive one in the class, but keep persevering and it takes you a long way toward being educated. So, I think, you know, hopefully some of the students in their darker moments in college remembered that advice and kept on. RL: It sounds as though you've been rather happy with most of your accomplishments here at Weber. Any regrets about anything? DK: You'll see that at this point, I was looking to see what I had written as a regret—if I looked at anything with a regret. If I could go back, I guess what I would do is try to meet more colleagues from more of the colleges at Weber. I think I had a wonderful opportunity in terms of being on the Diversity Committee and being chair of Women's Studies to get a little bit across campus, but I think I could have got more out of some of those situations and I would have liked to have known more of my colleagues across campus that way. I did belong to—I was on the board of the employee association, the Faculty Staff association. I was on the board of that for several years and that was also a nice opportunity to meet people across campus. RL: And not just faculty members. DK: Right. Well, I've often—I have a very good rapport with the secretaries in English and the office manager in English, so I'm very pleased with that and I also got to take my dog to campus the last year I taught. I would leave him in my office. The first semester—the spring semester I took him first was because I was teaching a 28 night class and it's kind of eerie around here at night especially at nine at night. So, I said, "Well, I'm taking Benji and if somebody objects, then that will be the end of it," so I took him over and he stayed in my office while I taught and then I went back upstairs and I'd say, "Okay, we're going to take a walk home," and he was just as happy as a little lark and we walked home. By this time, of course, I had given up driving. The next semester was fall semester, I said, "Well, we got away with it in the spring, let's see what happens now." So, actually, the dean told me there were no restrictions on campus about bringing an animal. Of course, you're not supposed to bring them into the classroom, so I did not do that, but I had him in my office and the secretaries made a big fuss over him and I just thought he kind of enlivened the floor when he was out of my office on a leash. I think that would be the one thing I would try to meet more people and maybe socialize with more people because my socializing was mostly with the English department. RL: Which is not necessarily a bad thing. That's not much of a regret to have. It's good to be able to speak about your years here in such a positive tone. DK: It's good to be—I mean, I think even with my leaving, again, there was this support, this kind of quiet support. It wasn't people making a big fuss over it, but quiet support in a number of ways, so I was thinking that I should retire, not necessarily that I wanted to or needed to, but I should retire by the time I was in my later sixties, so I had gone to inquire at personnel and they said, "Well, wait until the end of the year before you put in a formal declaration." Well, that was before the voluntary separation plan was public and then a couple of months 29 later they made it public. I thought, "You know, those people, without saying anything directly, made sure that I would be eligible for that." RL: Directing you in the way to go. DK: So, again, it was just very quiet, but very helpful because, of course, I only worked for pay for the 17 years I was at Weber—I was teaching actively at Weber the 18 years I was here and then for graduate student fellowships for six or seven years while I was at U.C. Davis, but it wasn't much to build social security on, or even a pension, but you know, I'm doing well. I have no regrets that Weber State has done me a great deal of good and it's a fine place. It's got wonderful people in it and wonderful students and faculty and staff and I'm just glad I was here and got to know everyone. RL: Sounds like you built a good life here and have fond memories. DK: I do indeed. RL: What more can you ask for than that? DK: Exactly. RL: Diane, is there anything else you would like you tell us about or any information you would like to share? DK: I'm just glad that I also had the opportunity to give a last lecture because I had originally thought that it was supposed to be one's last lecture. Then, it turns out, no, you're supposed to be delivering it as if it were a last lecture. But, for me, it was a last lecture and it was my one opportunity to take my two areas of expertise and kind of reflect on them as a whole instead of in pieces. 30 RL: I was there and you managed to come in there and shine. DK: Thank you, Ruby. RL: You sounded as though you were happy with both of the pieces of your life and were able to combine them in a very intriguing manner. I really like that approach. DK: I think it's special to Weber State that I was able to do that. I don't know if there are other universities where that would have been possible. I think at other universities, things are very compartmentalized. It's part of the ambiance of Weber State that it allows for that. RL: And you brought together a rather eclectic audience just because of the nature of the lecture. DK: I did. I was hoping the scientists wouldn't get up and shoot me, but everybody seemed pleased, so I was happy. RL: Well, I want to thank you for spending time with us today. We try to get people's perspectives on different aspects of Weber State and this will really help us do that. DK: Thank you, Ruby. I enjoyed doing this. This was much more fun than I envisioned. RL: People get a little nervous about it, but just sit back, relax, and enjoy it. It's better than going to the dentist. DK: That's true. Almost anything is. 31 RL: Thank you so much, Diane. DK: Thank you, Ruby. 32

Ivan's Self-deception and Hypocrisy in Leo Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Ilych Ayu Widyaningrum English Literature Faculty of Languages and Arts State University of Surabaya Ayu_widya75@yahoo.com Drs. Much. Khoiri, M.Si. English Department Faculty of Languages and Arts State University of Surabaya Much_choiri@yahoo.com Abstrak Penelitian ini focus pada penggambaran penipuan diri yang dilakukan oleh tokoh utama dalam novel The Death of Ivan Ilych oleh Leo Tolstoy dan bagaimana penipuan diri tersebut memunculkan kemunafikan. Penipuan diri terjadi sebagai hasil dari ketidaksiapannya dalam menerima kenyataan bahwa dia sedang menghadapi kematian. Untuk menjawab permasalahan pertama, penelitian ini menggunakan teori penipuan diri oleh Annette Barnes yang didukung oleh beberapa filsuf dan dengan tanda-tanda orang yang menipu dirinya sendiri oleh James Peterman. Permasalahan kedua dijawab dengan menggunakan konsep kemunafikan. Data dalam penelitian ini menyajikan tentang penipuan diri yang dilakukan oleh Ivan dan bagaimana penipuan diri tersebut memunculkan kemunafikan dalam dirinya. Analisis dalam penelitian ini mengungkapkan penipuan diri yang dilakukan oleh Ivan dan tanda-tanda bagaimana dia menjadi seseorang yang menipu dirinya sendiri. Penipuan diri ini digunakan untuk mengurangi kecemasannya terhadap ketidaksiapannya dalam menghadapi kematian. Selain itu, penipuan diri ini muncul sebagai hasil dari kecemasannya tentang keinginan hidup yang tidak terpenuhi karena sakit yang dialami. Selanjutnya, penipuan diri yang dialami memunculkan kemunafikan dalam dirinya. Ivan mengalami tiga macam kemunafikan, kemunafikan kepura-puraan , kemunafikan menyalahkan , kemunafikan inkonsistensi. Perilaku kemunafikan tersebut bersumber dari sikap penipuan diri. Kata Kunci : Penipuan Diri, kemunafikan, kecemasan, kematian Abstract This study focuses on depicting self-deception performed by the main character and how his self-deception gives raise to his hypocrisy. The self-deception is used as the result of his unreadiness in accepting the truth that he faces death. To answer the first problem, this study uses the theory of self-deception by Annette Barnes and supported by several philosophers and the symptoms of Self-Deception offered by James Peterman. The second problem is answered by using the concept of hypocrisy. The data presents Ivan Ilych's self-deception and how his self-deception gives raise to his hypocrisy. The analysis reveals Ivan's self-deception and the symptoms how he becomes a self-deceiver. The self-deception is used to reduce his anxiety toward his unreadiness in facing his death. Besides, his self-deception emerges as the result of his anxiety about the desire of life which is unfulfilled because of the illness. Furthermore, his self-deception gives raise to his hypocrisy. Ivan experiences three kinds of hypocrisy, they are hypocrisy of pretense, hypocrisy of blame, hypocrisy of inconsistency. Those hypocritical behaviors are rooted by his self-deception. Keywords: self-deception, hypocrisy, anxiety, death INTRODUCTION Novel is literary work which presents more detail and complicated problems. The readers will get more experience, fantasy and imagination by reading it. A great novel is born from a great writer. With a lot of great novels in the world, automatically there are also many great writers whether they are from west or east part of the world. There are many problems and phenomenon that is existed by the writers in their literary works, such as culture and tradition, sociological and psychological problem, and so on. There are many writers exist the psychological problems which is related to the personality of the characters in their literary works. It can be seen in Russian writers. There are so many literary works from Russia and their several novels state about psychological problem that is related with the personality of the characters. One of the great famous Russian writer is Leo Tolstoy. Leo Tolstoy, the author who was born in Yasnaya Polyana, Russian Empire in 1916. There were many literary works which were made by this Russian writer, such as short stories, poems, plays, essays. Some of his works are war and peace and Anna Karenina are acknowledge as two of the greatest novels of all time and pinnacle of realist fiction. His novels are so well planned, written, and executed that Tolstoy's finished story is a perfectly formed narrative. And, critics agree that his work alone defines the true nature of an epic novel that eerily depicts the joys and sorrows of real life. Tolstoy is equally known for his complicated and paradoxical persona and for his extreme moralistic and ascetic views, which he adopted after a moral crisis and spiritual awakening in the 1870s, after which he also became noted as a moral thinker and social reformer. During the 1860s, and encouraged by his publisher, Tolstoy wrote War and Peace. During this time, he also endeavored to write a novel about Peter I the Great and about educational pedagogy, but thereafter finished what would become the greatest book of his time. Following, Tolstoy released Ana Karenina, which was considered as important as War and Peace, but with a slightly different focus – ethics and virtues can evolve and change over time. Unhappy with the Russian Orthodox Church and its teachings, which he found blasphemous, Tolstoy started his own church based on five tenets. For this, he was excommunicated, but gained his own followers, who were more like cult members than clergymen. These five tenets inspired Gandhi in his passive approach to violence – evil cannot be combated with evil. His novella, entitled The Death of Ivan Ilyich is often regarded as one of the best short novels ever written. The Death of Ivan Ilych, first published in 1886, is considered as one of the masterpieces of his late fiction, written shortly after his religious conversation of late 1870s. The Death of Ivan Ilych is deeply religious work, but religious of its own terms. The protagonist is a somewhat clueless, spiritually empty hero whose long illness forces him to confront the meanings of both death and life. Ivan Ilych represents a small but important class of urban bureaucrats, prominent in the day-to-day running of Russian affairs in Tolstoy's days, whose live became increasingly detached from nature, the land, and spiritual values. By exposing the horrible vacuity of Ivan Ilych's life, Tolstoy explores the self-deception, immorality and alienation of a whole class of individuals. Although Ivan is nowhere near as intelligent as his creator, like Tolstoy he comes to accept death and gain deep, if painful understanding of what his life has meant. The novel embodies the kinds of values and purpose Tolstoy thought literature should have. The Death of Ivan Ilych conveys the existential horror of sickness and morality while describing civilization as a web of lies designed to distract people from an awareness of death and also it is perfectly demonstrates this introspection as it magnifies a man's struggle with how to live his life. There are considerations of taking the novella as the main source of analysis. The first is novella performs the characteristics of self-deception and hypocrisy which experiences by the main character of the novel. The second reason is that in Leo Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Ilych, he set out merely to describe a single segment of society or to present a single example of humanity and also his writing is very honest. Besides, the story uses words which are easier to understand. The last consideration can be the best reason why this novella is analyzed by using theory of self-deception. In The Death of Ivan Ilych also has conflict and problem, both external conflict and internal conflict. Ivan is everyman an average nineteenth century bureaucratic functionary, a bourgeois, a middle class citizen (Sklare, 1965 : 3). The Death of Ivan Ilych is about an ordinary man, has a bright childhood and good life. His pleasure of life changed, since his marriage brings him unpleasantness and incurable illness that tortures him biological and psychologically until he dies. The illness makes him to stay in bed day and night with a great pain, worse than biological pain, psychologically it tortures him by the horror of death. Not believing that he will die, he struggle to avoid death by deceives his own self that he is not dying and hides his real condition by being hypocrite to his environment, but his efforts are useless. Having fought against death, ultimately he realizes that he is mortal. At the end, he accepts it and dies in piece. Death is such a taboo subject to discuss in our society, but actually it is human nature. What Woody Allen writes may be able to explain how allergic people are to death. "I am not afraid of dying, but I just don't want to be there when it happens" (Coon, 1992 : 436-437). Psychology finds that people do not like to talk about death because they are afraid of it. The pool to 1500 adults shows that there are no fears of death ; yet. They find another possibility. It may be more exact to say that the people hide and intense denial to death (Coon, 1992 : 436). The fact that all men must die is hardly news, and as an abstract statement it dulls our fears at least as much as it aroused them. The Death of Ivan Ilych is one of interest novella by Leo Tolstoy that can be analyzed because it tells about psychological sides of human's life that lead to the main point self-deception and hypocrisy of the main character named Ivan Ilych. Having the feeling of anxious in facing death makes people tend to do something which can reduce his anxiety. People tend to deceive himself by believing that he is not facing death and forces to think that his condition is better while he knows well that he suffers illness which leads him to the death. The topic in this thesis is about self-deception and hypocrisy, because it is the most important one and it is suffered by the main character, Ivan. Self-deception is a mental defense mechanism by which some people cope with intensely painful emotions. They avoid becoming aware of, or accepting the truth about, a current life circumstance or person simply because it is too painful or scary to do so (from http://nirmukta.com/2010/06/21/self-deception-as-a-coping-mechanism-among-victims-of-the-sai-baba-cult/). Meanwhile, there is also another term that almost has the same meaning as self-deception which is hypocrisy. Based on the online dictionary, hypocrisy is "the condition of a person pretending to be something he is not, especially in the area of morals or religion; a false presentation of belief or feeling. The study of self-deception and hypocrisy are related to the main character in Leo Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Ilych. In this novella Ivan as the main character of the story experiences self-deception. He forces himself to believe something which he knows that it is false. It happens when he faces illness that leads him to the death. He knows well that the illness will leads him to the death, but he keeps forcing himself to think that everything will fine even his life will not be disturbed by the illness. Ivan is someone who has ambitious in life. He desires that his life should be easy, pleasant and decorous. When he gets the illness, he feels fear that it will give big impact in his life. He feels anxiety that his desires about life will not fulfill because of that illness. That is why he uses self-deception to reduce his anxiety. Meanwhile there is also another term that almost has the same meaning as self-deception is hypocrisy. Self-deception is so related to hypocrisy. It is because self-deception is the root of hypocrisy. If someone experiences hypocrisy in his life, it can be analyzed that he also experiences self-deception as the root of his hypocritical behavior. Furthermore, if someone experiences self-deception in his life, it might also lead him to have hypocritical behavior. The main character Ivan experiences self-deception in his life, and his self-deception give raise to his hypocritical behavior. He pretends that he is fine, hides his real condition even though in the depth of his heart he knows that his illness is getting worse and will lead him to the death. In addition, this novel ever discussed about the anxiety by Anita Christina HR from English Literature 2004 entitled Ivan's Enxiety in Leo Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Ilych. It tells about the anxiety experienced by the main character Ivan in this novel. This study will not same with that previous study, because this study will discuss about self-deception in the main character Ivan, and how Ivan's self-deception give raise to his hypocrisy. The idea to unearth the self-deception and hypocrisy of the main character probably is not the main message of the novel, but the freedom of reader's interpretation lets unguessed ideas be out of the author's purpose, even exceed the consciousness of the author. These all ground the creating this thesis with potential title "Ivan's Self-deception and Hypocrisy in Leo Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Ilych". RESEARCH METHOD The used method is descriptive quality; it means the quality of the data becomes the reference to work rather than the quantity of the data. Besides, a technique is needed to understand the data. Technique of interpretation must be used to interpret and analyze the data. Through interpretation the analysis can be worked. Interpretation is a crucial step that has to do before analyzing the data. Then, extrinsic approach is used as an approach toward the analysis in which environment belongs to it. According to method above, the first thing that has to do is collecting data. In collecting data this research focuses on reading and documentation. Reading novel. In this step, novel becomes the object of the research. The novel is entitled The Death of Ivan Ilych, written by Leo Tolstoy. To collect the correctly data, it needs reading more than once, because to get interpretation, it needs understanding all contents completely with all possibilities both intrinsically and extrinsically. Inventorying data. This step is collecting data through noting the quotations related to the statement of the problems and objectives of the study, it is including in words, sentences, and discourse that can represent self-deception and hypocrisy in Leo Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Ilych. Thus, all data that will be analyzed are started and sourced through the novel's contents. Classification data. It is appropriate to the statements of the problems about self-deception and hypocrisy in Leo Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Ilych. Tabling the data. It is to simplify reading the data and classify data that is used in the analysis for the readers. Continuously, the selected data or the collected data, which are related to the statements of the problems and the objectives, are analyzed through self-deception and hypocrisy to the main characters in Leo Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Ilych. SELF-DECEPTION Barnes argues that in self-deception, self-deceivers must intentionally get themselves to believe something they know or truly believe is false (Barnes, 1997 : 4). It means that self-deception only involves one person, she/he is not only as deceiver but also deceived. It is the difference between interpersonal deception and self-deception, that in interpersonal deception, one intentionally gets the other one to believe something, but in self-deception, deceivers intentionally get themselves to believe something. The same thing is also confirmed by Mele in his book Irrationality. The conception of self-deception as lying to oneself is fueled by the idea that interpersonal deception necessarily involves lying to another. If deceiving someone else is getting him to believe something that one knows (or correctly believes) is false, it is natural to understand self-deception as getting oneself to believe something that one knows (or correctly believes) is false. (Mele, 1987 : 122). Deceiving someone else is to make the other person believe something that the deceiver knows it is false. While in self-deception, deceivers make themselves to believe something which they know it is false. Self-deception involves just one person, where she or he is not only become deceiver but also deceived. In self-deception, deceivers must intentionally get themselves to believe something which they know or truly believe is false. I deceived myself, then (Barnes, 1997 : 18) : (a) As deceiver, I must believe of some proposition that it is false, and at the same time, as deceived, believe that it is true, and (b) As deceived, I must be taken in by a deceitful strategy that, as deceiver, I know to be deceitful As quoted by Mele, according to Demos self-deception exists when a person lies to himself, that is to say, persuades himself to believe what he knows is not so. In short, self-deception entails that B believes both p and not-p at the same time. (Mele, 1987 : 122). It means that in self-deception, deceivers know what they believe is actually false, but they keep believing something false in themselves. . That is called as self-deceivers believes both p and not-p. they know the truth, but still keep believing the false. Self-deceptive belief functions to reduce anxiety. The self-deceptive belief that p may function to reduce anxiety that not-p, it can sometimes function instead to reduce anxiety about some other proposition (Barnes, 1997 : 36). This suggests that when self-deceivers deceive themselves into believing that some future event will occurs, their self-deceptive beliefs function to reduce their anxiety about the non-occurrence of that event. Self-deceptive belief always functions to reduce a self-deceiver's anxiety, whether the self-deceptive belief is about what will occur, what has occurred, or what is occurring. A belief that p functions to reduce anxiety that not-q when (Barnes, 1997 : 59) : (1) the belief that p is caused by the anxious desire that q and (2) the purpose of the occurrence of the belief that p is to reduce anxiety that not-q According to requirement 1, the anxious desire plays a casual role in the person's coming to have that belief. According requirement 2, the having of the belief that p is purposive. Its purpose is to reduce anxiety that not-q. Barnes argues that self-deceiver's anxious desires cause them to be biased in favor of beliefs that reduce their anxiety (Barnes, 1997: 59). People have self-deceptive beliefs because having self-deceptive beliefs reduces their anxiety. Something (having a self-deceptive belief) which has a certain effect (reducing anxiety) is explained by the fact that it has that effect (Barnes, 1997 : 60). HYPOCRISY People do something because they have a motive. Everything which is done by them is a sign of their motive or the aim they have. When they want to get attention from others, they tend to do something which can make the other people give them attention. It can be done by the people who did not intend to deceive. They do something which is consistent with their motive. Deceit is done by the signs of outward deeds. Such as when a person pretends to have a good purpose or intent through their actions, but in reality it was a bad goal. The purpose is actually bad and not in accordance with the action they did. It can be said as a lie. The lie can be regarded as hypocrisy. A deed is a sign of the person's intention. But it is not so for the hypocrite, who by outward signs of deeds or things signifies that which he is not (Spiegel, 1999 : 20) As quoted by Spiegel, philosopher Gilbert Ryle suggests that to be hypocritical is to try to appear actuated by a motive other than one's real motive (Spiegel, 1999 : 23). A hypocrite takes an action to deliver a purpose that is not the real goal. They tend to hide the real goal with actions which they are doing. So it conveys through his actions, others will accept that the goal is not their real goal. They made their actions as a mask to hide the true purpose. Hypocrisy is an act to make a 'belief', in which he pretended to believe what he actually knows that's not the real problem/case. These actions will continue to do so leads to a different motive other than the actual motive. The hypocrite engages in action which, as it were, contradict or "negate" one another morally. One is morally good, while the other is bad. Thus, the hypocrite is irrational, because inconsistent, in the moral sense (Spiegel, 1999 : 30). Hypocrisy hates the truth. Because a hypocrite's self-worth is based on maintaining an illusion of righteousness and godliness to himself and the others, he must continually deceive himself and others that his righteousness is genuine. However, since his righteousness is not genuine, he must be on constant guard against fact, circumstances, or people that might expose him. Instead of the truth being the foundation of his life, values, and hope, it becomes an enemy against which he must always be on guard (Matthew 6:23 ; Luke 11:34-36 ; john 3:19-21) ( http://questions.org/attq/whats-so-dangerous-about-hypocrisy/ ) Others will be difficult to understand what he was hiding. It is because the hypocrite will continue to provide the signs, through actions to cover up the truth. Not only through actions, hypocrites with their self-consciously deceive others through his language, the words they said to others. Those are why the lie will be difficult to be understood. KINDS OF HYPOCRISY Roger Crisp and Christopher Cowton offers a fourfold distinction of the vice, which are (Spiegel, 1999 : 30) : Hypocrisy of Pretense The hypocrisy of pretense occurs when a person puts up a front of being morality or physically better than he is. Pretentious hypocrites are motivated by desire for selfish gain. But as Crisp and Cowton note, pretenses may be motivated by malice, shame, and even interest in others (Spiegel, 1999 : 30). Nor must the pretense aim to sham genuine virtue. People experiences hypocrisy of pretense when they hide their real motive which is better rather that the real motive. For instance, a person is feeling in bad condition but when the other people ask about his condition he tends to hide by telling that his condition is good. This example can indicate that this person is experiencing hypocrisy of pretense. Hypocrisy of Blame Hypocrisy of blame, defined as moral criticism of others by someone with moral fault of their own. The vice often appears to lie particularly in the fact that the fault of the critic is worse than criticized (Spiegel, 1999 : 31). Hypocrisy of the blame Occurs when the perpetrator has an error then he tends to put the blame on to someone else. it is done with the purpose to cover up his own mistakes. By blaming others actually he does not realize that his sin was far worse than the mistake he accuses. It was because he had an error and then add the mistake of accusing others with the intent to cover up his mistake which ended up being worse. Hypocrisy of Inconsistency The third category of hypocrisy is that inconsistency, which is defined as the uttering of some (overriding) moral requirement that does apply to oneself and then failing to live up to it. Hypocrisy of inconsistency occurs when a person's action is not in accordance to his words. For instance, a person told to his friend that he would read a novel but then the other friend of this person sees that he is not reading a novel but he is playing piano. The other example which can be indication of hypocrisy of inconsistency is when a person promised to himself or another person about something, but in fact he does not do what has been said by his own self. Judith Sklar regards it as "the distance between assertion and performance" (Spiegel, 1999 : 31). Hypocrite are generally regarded as insincere the faults of the other two characters are quite different. The hypocrite engages in action which, as it were, contradict or "negate" one another morally. One is morally good, while the other is bad. Thus, the hypocrite is irrational, because inconsistent, in the moral sense. Hypocrisy of complacency Lastly, complacency in certain conditions can be said a form of hypocrisy. To be guilty of this is to ignore the demands of morality when they become costly, to be content with one's moral status, refusing to improve or even to reflect upon it, while carrying on a pretense of virtue blaming others for they vices, or failing to practice what one preaches. Thus, as Crisp and Cowton note, complacent hypocrites protect "their complacency from criticism on the grounds of the first three kinds of hypocrisy" (Crisp and Cowton, 1994: 343-345). The hypocrisy of complacency could also fall into any of these categories, as suggested by Crisp and Cowton's own assertion that such hypocrites may sustain their complacency through any of the other forms of hypocrisy ; pretense, blame or inconsistency (Spiegel, 1999 : 32). RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN SELF-DECEPTION AND HYPOCRISY Some writers maintain that at least in some form, hypocrisy is rooted in self-deceit. The self-deceived which can be called as 'internal' hypocrite is characterized by psyche fractured by refusal to fully own up to some moral truth she knows in her heart to heart (Spiegel, 1999: 33) . The self-deceived person tends to act that way because of she/he wants to refuse some moral truth she/he knows. It can be caused by her/his unreadiness of accepting the truth. The self-deceived person tends to 'make believe' in which he/she pretends to believe what she/he knows that it is not the case. The delusional person experiences no conflict in her belief of a lie, for she is completely convinced. On the other hand, the self-deceived does experiences conflict because of her belief contradicts her knowledge. Self-deceived actually knows that what she/he has done contradicts to her knowledge. Hypocrisy involves self-deception when it results from either: (1) A false belief resulting from a motivated bias of some sort, (2) A disavowal of some continuing engagement in which one is involved, or (3) Some combination of 1 and 2. Some writers prefer to see hypocrisy as a "second order" or "meta" vice. It means that self-deception occurs as the result of self-deception that happened before. In the words of Crisp and Cowton, it is symptomatic of "a failure to take morality seriously" (Spiegel, 1999 : 35). It can be said that it is metavirtuous to acknowledge the domain of morality, that is, to be moralist. But the hypocrite is metavicious, for someone tacitly refuses to do so, and is therefore an amoralist such a person considers herself somehow exempt from moral constraints. And yet, being aware of how the moral community operates and when and why rewards are doled out to the virtuous, the hypocrite plays a part for personal gain. As quoted by Spiegel, Christine McKinnon notes that hypocrite "wishes a certain status and she recognizes that this can be achieved if she can manage the elicit positive moral assessments" (Spiegel, 1999 : 35). So like the self-deceived hypocrite, the amoralist hypocrite gains praise and respect for qualities she does not really possess. But unlike the self-deceived hypocrite, she experiences no psychological dissonance, because she is genuinely convinced that she is not the subject to the relevant moral rules. As quoted by Szabados and Solfer, Shklar argues that allowing self-deception to count would result in a regrettable proliferation of accusations of hypocrisy (Solfer, 2004 : 256). It is possible that such hypocrisy involves, not only deception to others, but rather than self-deception, which may not similarly involve knowledge that one is engaged in deception. In short, self-deception and hypocrisy are two terms which cannot be separated because they have relationship each other. Self-deception can also be called as internal hypocrisy, a hypocrisy which is done to his/her own self. A deceived and a deceiver are the same person. Meanwhile hypocrisy can also be called as interpersonal deception, a deception which is done to the other people. Hypocrisy involves more than two people, there is a deceiver and also involves the other people which become deceived. Besides, self-deception can give raise to hypocrisy when a person becomes self-deceiver, there is a possibility that makes him/her becomes hypocrite. It is because self-deception is the cause of hypocritical behavior. One and the same hypocrite's actions are as resulting from self-deceit or lack of moral seriousness. Self-deceit and amoralism as dual causes of hypocritical behavior (Spiegel, 1999 : 36). If self-deception is deceiving their own selves to believe something they know that it is false. If the self-deceptive belief results action, behaviour, language or something else which lead them to deceive others rather than their own selves, it can be said that their self-deception give raise to their hypocrisy. Thus we can see how self-deception and hypocrisy have relationship each other and cannot be separated. DEPICTION OF IVAN'S SELF-DECEPTION Self-deception is a mental defense mechanism by which some people cope with intensely painful emotions. The self-deceivers are becoming aware of, or accepting the truth about, a current life circumstance or person simply because it is too painful or scary to do so. In this novel, the central drama of the story is Ivan's struggle with illness and death, and Tolstoy gives us quite the setup. He tells us Ivan's whole life story up to the point when he becomes sick. We get to know Ivan, his habits and desires, his family and friends, and his circumstances. The main character Ivan is someone who experiences self-deception because he is not ready in accepting the truth that he is facing illness which leads him to the death Ivan forces himself thinking that he is getting better. He keeps forcing himself to believe that the illness is getting better and the medicine begins to take the effect. But then the usual pain is coming back to him, he becomes more painful because the illness feels more serious. As he grows sicker, Ivan's mood and attitude toward life begin to change dramatically. He starts having to struggle with fear, discomfort, and isolation. The illness begins after he slipped when he was preparing his new house. Ivan feels everything is well after his move to his new house, but sometimes Ivan complains of a strange taste in his mouth and something wrong with his left side, but this could hardly be called as an illness. The something wrong grows worse, and although it is not real pain, it is a feeling of pressure in his side which throws him into a constant state of depression. The state of depression depends and begins to spoil the pleasure of the easy and decorous life that the Golovin family had recaptured. As his ill humor begins to mar the easy and agreeable lifestyle he has worked so hard to construct, volatile disputes with his wife occur more and more often. Ivan goes to see the doctor. To him, the only important question is whether his case is serious or not. But ignoring Ivan's concern, the doctor focuses on the strictly medical question of whether Ivan's problem is a floating kidney or appendicitis. This question the doctor answers brilliantly, and as Ivan thought, in favor of the appendix. Ivan gets the feeling that his case is very serious and he is struck by the doctor's indifference and utter lack of sympathy to a matter of such importance. After think about his illness, he becomes more realize that he is going closer to the death. It shows that Ivan reviews from the beginning when the first time he gets the pain from his illness. It begins when he slipped in his new house, then he get a bruise which hurts a little. But then it becomes more painful, so he visit to the doctor to consul about the pain he feels. He is not sure to the doctor's diagnosis then he intents to see another doctor to get more accurate diagnosis. But from the other doctors, he gets the same diagnoses which resume that his illness is chronic. Then from doctor's resume, he gets the thought that it is not the case of what disease he is suffering, but it is about life and death. Demos argues that self-deception exists when a person lies to himself, that is to say, persuades himself to believe what he knows is not so, self-deception entails that someone believes both p and not-p at the same time (Mele, 1987 : 122). This argument also confirms what is being experienced by Ivan, because based on quotations in the novel it is clear that he believes something contradictory at the same time. On the one hand he fully understands that there is something bad in him as a result of his illness, he knew it was the explanation from the doctors he visited. On the other hand, he forced himself to think that there would be no bad thing in him, and believe that it is not a chronic disease, unlike what has been described by doctors. Then it can clearly be seen that in this case Ivan lies to himself. Barnes argues that a belief that p functions to reduce anxiety that not-q when (1) the belief that p is caused by the anxious desire that q (Barnes, 1997 : 59). In Ivan's case, a belief about his illness that it is just a small thing functions to reduce his anxiety that it is a chronic illness not a small thing as he believes. It occurs because his belief is caused by his anxious desire that it is a chronic disease. Ivan has anxious feeling about his illness, he will not it becomes chronic because it will make him die. In the depth of his heart, he feels so anxious with what has been said by the doctor, he knows well that the doctor diagnoses there are something bad in himself because of his illness. He also feels that his condition becomes worse gradually, and becomes more understand about the illness from medical book he read. All these things make his anxious feeling becomes worse. That is why he always forces himself to think that he is getting better and his illness is just small thing, it functions to reduce his anxious feeling. It occurs when the purpose of the occurrence of the belief that p is to reduce anxiety that not-q (2) (Barnes, 1997 : 59). Barnes explain that the belief about p does not only function to reduce anxious feeling but also has the purpose to reduce it. Ivan's belief about his illness does not only function to reduce his anxious feeling, it also has a purpose. His purpose to have a belief that his illness is just a small thing is to reduce his anxious feeling that it is a chronic disease. Ivan feels anxious that his illness will mar his pleasure of life. Ivan is someone who has desire in life that his life ought to be easy, pleasant, and decorous. He has bright childhood, good life, and good physic, mental and social background. . He is someone who has big ambitious in life, especially in his job. He will do everything to fulfill his pleasure of life. In his mind, the happy frame of life comes from his success in job and the harmonious relation with his wife, the one augmenting the other. Everything goes in accordance with what he desires in his life. But since he married with Praskovya Fredorovna, his easy, pleasant and decorous of life changes gradually. He feels that his marriage cannot bring him the pleasant of life. He realizes that being married at least to this wife, does not necessarily augment the pleasures and proprieties of life, but on the contrary, threatened them and that therefore he must guard himself against these threats. Something worse happens and then begins to mar his easy, pleasant and decorous life. He suffers the chronic illness which makes his condition became worse gradually. Since he got an incurable illness that has tortured him biologically and psychologically, Ivan feels anxious. He feels anxious because he seems that he is not ready in facing death and also he feels anxious that his illness will mar his easy, pleasant and decorous life. As the time goes by, and the illness becomes worse more than before, automatically Ivan cannot live his life like he used to live, easy, pleasant and decorous. Peterman describes in the symptoms of self-deceiver that A part of the explanation for A's believing that P is that A desires that P (Spiegel, 1999 : 56). If it is used to analyze Ivan's case, the A stands for Ivan as the self-deceiver and P is Ivan's belief that his illness is just a small thing. Ivan believes it because he desires it to be. Ivan believes that his illness is just a small thing that it is actually not a chronic diseases because he indeed desires everything is well. Then his desires lead him to keep believing that his illness is just nothing, just a small thing. he does not want his illness will destroy what he has believed about his life that it should be run in accordance with what he believed : easy, pleasant and decorous. REVEALATION OF IVAN'S SELF-DECEPTION GIVES RAISE TO HIS HIS HYPOCRISY There is also another term that almost has the same meaning as self-deception which is hypocrisy. Based on the online dictionary, hypocrisy is "the condition of a person pretending to be something he is not, especially in the area of morals or religion; a false presentation of belief or feeling" (http://www.thefreedictionary.com/hypocrisy). Indeed, hypocrisy is very close to self-deception but it may affect one else rather that just between his/ her own self. Self-deception and hypocrisy are two terms which are cannot be separated. It is because at least in some forms, hypocrisy is rooted in self-deceit. Self-deception is also called as internal hypocrisy. Self-deception is deceiving themselves to believe something they know that it is false (Spiegel, 1999 : 33). If the self-deceptive belief results action, behavior, language or something else which lead them to deceive others rather than their own selves, it can be said that their self-deception give raise to their hypocrisy. It has been analyzed that Ivan experiences self-deception in his life, but unfortunately his self-deception give raise to his hypocrisy. Ivan does not only deceive himself in the matter of facing his illness. His self-deceptive belief results action, language and behavior which lead him to deceive others rather than his own self. Ivan's self-deception give raise three kinds of hypocrisy, they are hypocrisy of pretense, hypocrisy of blame, and hypocrisy of inconsistency. HYPOCRISY OF PRETENSE Ivan experiences hypocrisy of pretense in himself. It happened when he had to struggle with the illness. As explained in the previous analysis of self-deception, he has a belief in himself that his illness is just a small thing. Ivan believes that his illness is just a small thing, that it is actually not a chronic disease. It is because he indeed desires everything is well. Then his desires lead him to keep believing that his illness is just nothing, just a small thing. he does not want his illness will destroy what he has believed about his life that it should be run in accordance with what he believed : easy, pleasant and decorous. He realizes that his illness will destroy his faith about life. Then he forces himself to think that he is getting better. But then it appears the internal conflict in his heart, because his belief contradicts with the fact that his illness is a chronic disease. He knows that he is dying, but he is unable to grasp the full implications of his mortality. He sees that he is dying, and he is in a constant state of despair. In his heart of hearts he knows he is dying, and it is not simply that he could not get used the idea that he could not grasp it, could not possibly grasp it. He hides his real condition by pretending though his words that "the appendix is getting better". But then the painful feeling of his illness follows his words. By doing so, everyone especially his wife in this case, will consider that indeed he is in a good condition because he say to her that "the appendix is getting better". It occurs to a hypocrites, they will act through their action and language by their self-conciously that this action or this utterance is false. It is done to hide the actual case. That occurred in Ivan's case, when his friend and his wife or everyone in his environment considers that Ivan illness is just a small thing, Ivan success becoming hypocrite. A hypocrite takes an action to deliver a purpose that is not the real goal. They tend to hide the real goal with actions which they are doing. So it conveys through his actions, others will accept that the goal is not their real goal. They made their action as a mask to hide the true purpose (Spiegel, 1999 :20). From the quotation above, Ivan uses "cheerfully" action as a mask to hide his condition, so it leads the other goal which is his wife will assume that his condition is good. It is called that Ivan's pretense will raise another perception in his wife's perspective, rather than the actual case that Ivan never forget about the pain which is caused by his illness. He pretends and hides his real condition to everyone, so then it leads the thought of everyone that Ivan is in a good condition. Everyone think that Ivan is just suffers simply disease, not a chronic disease. The only thing that Ivan need is simply following the doctor's treatment and taking his medicine regularly. By doing so, Ivan will get better again as he used to be before he got the illness. Others will be difficult to understand what he was hiding. It is because the hypocrite will continue to provide the signs, through actions to cover up the truth (Spiegel, 1999 : 23). The quotation above shows that how everyone does not know about the real condition of Ivan. It is because Ivan always hides it by acting like he is not suffering the chronic illness. HYPOCRISY OF BLAME Ivan's self-deception give raise to his hypocrisy of pretense because in the matter of hiding his condition, Ivan does not only experience hypocrisy of pretense, but also hypocrisy of blame. When everything goes but it is not in accordance with what he wants, he blames his wife. He also blames his wife's attitude that it seems like his wife does not notice him. Ivan's attitude in hiding his condition causes his wife's attitude towards his illness. Ivan thinks that his wife seems not notice and will not understand about his condition. It is described clearly by the statement above, that his wife's attitude is actually his own fault. But Ivan seems that he is blaming his wife because of her attitude. In this case, his wife's attitude toward him happens as a result of his own deception. As it has been described in the previous analysis about hypocrisy of pretense, that Ivan hides his real condition by pretending through his "cheerful" action, then it leads to his wife's perspective, she assumes that indeed Ivan is in good condition. By thinking that way, automatically she also will not too worry with his condition. So then his attitude in blaming his wife can be called as his hypocrisy of blame, which is rooted by his own deception. Ivan hides the doctor's diagnose about his illness from everyone even his wife. Ivan seems blame everyone's attitude toward him that they seem annoyed and do not want understand about his condition. He does not realize that the environment's attitude toward his illness is a result of his hypocritical behavior which he pretends as he is not suffering chronic disease. Then it automatically leads the thought that he is indeed in a good condition, so then everyone will notice him like a person who is in good condition and will not give more attention like the attention to person who is suffering chronic disease. Ivan hates his wife who is actually always giving him attention but he himself always rejects it. The only one to blame is actually Ivan himself, it was because he pretends and hides the actual condition. The second is because he always refused any attention that is given by his wife. When someone is always giving attention, but the attention she gives was rejected then she will feel bored to continue giving attention to the same person. Likewise with Ivan's wife, who wants to give him more attention even by every simple way, but Ivan always refused and thought that his wife would not understand his real condition. Actually it is Ivan's mistake because he does not want show the doctor's diagnosis to everyone, including his wife. When his wife tries to ask about the doctor's diagnosis he lies and hides it by telling that everything is fine. With all his mistakes, he blames his wife. He does not realize that actually the only one to blame is his own self which is cause by his own behavior, not the mistakes of other people even his wife. Finding Ivan's condition even worse, however, his wife chooses to tell Ivan to take his medicine rather than make the announcement. Ivan looks at his wife with extreme animosity and tells her to let him die in peace. Ivan greets the doctor with the same hostility, declaring that the doctor can do nothing for him. The doctor admits to his wife that Ivan's case is very serious, and that he can only administer drugs to ease the pain. Yet more than his physical sufferings, Ivan's mental sufferings cause him the greatest torture. One night Ivan begins to doubt whether he has lived his life correctly. It occurs to him that his official life, the arrangement of his family, and all his social interests are actually false. He wants to defend his life path, but finds that there is nothing to defend. Realizing that the only truth in his life was when he attempted to struggle against the expectations and values of high society, Ivan realizes that his life "was not real at all, but a terrible and huge deception which had hidden both life and death." Seeing the footman, his wife, his daughter, and all the other people he comes across in his daily routine confirms to Ivan the truth of his realization. This consciousness increases his suffering "tenfold." For the first time, Ivan recognizes the hypocrisy and artificiality of his life. He calls into question the values that he has lived by, and he honestly entertains the conclusion that the way he lived has obscured both life and death. A proper view of life, Ivan now understands, entails an acknowledgment of the inevitability of death, as well as an appreciation of the true joys of life. The two go hand in hand. By accepting unpleasantness as a fact of life, one can derive full benefit from life's joys. Ivan's realization has affected a shift in the focal point and intensity of his spiritual suffering. Ivan no longer feels obliged to take part in the pretense around him. He confronts both his wife and the doctor with the truth of his condition. Now, however, Ivan's spiritual pain is caused by the possibility that his whole life has been in error. Yet despite Ivan's new knowledge, Ivan still does not wholly relinquish the hope that his life was lived rightly. Even though he is now keenly aware of the spiritual component of life, he is not yet ready to fully admit the error of his life. In a sense, he knows it, but does not acknowledge it. In this manner, Tolstoy paves the way for the resolution of the life and death of Ivan Ilych. HYPOCRISY OF INCONSISTENCY Ivan's attempts to deal with the disruption caused by his illness are also revealing. By following the doctor's orders in a scrupulous and exact fashion, he not only takes up the position that his illness is purely physiological, but he also demonstrates his belief that life is well regulated and predictable. With his wife's pregnancy, Ivan managed to adopt a perspective that ignored the disagreeable aspects of her behavior. And when the proper channels of complaint failed to gain Ivan notice when he was passed over for promotion, a sudden and miraculous reorganization of the government landed him a better position. Yet unlike the previous incursions of unseemliness and unpredictability into his life, Ivan's illness resists such decorum restoring measures. When meticulous attention to the doctor's instructions fails to help, Ivan tries to force himself to think that he is better. But even self-deception is unsuccessful when problems with his wife, difficulty at work, or bad cards at bridge make him conscious of his disease. The fact that life's unpleasantness causes the pain that Ivan experiences is a key to Ivan's condition. If Ivan's condition is not physiological, but is truly caused by a misperception of the nature of life, i.e., if Ivan's illness stems from his belief that life is always proper, formal, decorous, and neat, then any signs to the contrary would serve to aggravate his symptoms. A close look at Ivan's night of bridge seems to point to the same conclusion. Ivan enjoys bridge because it mirrors his perception of reality. Bridge, in a sense, is a metaphor for Ivan's ideal of a proper life. Thus, when Ivan realizes that his excitement at making a grand slam (the best possible bridge hand) is ridiculous in light of his present condition, bridge seems to lose all its appeal. Ivan's illness makes him conscious of the fact that bridge does not reflect the true nature of life. Missing a grand slam, as Ivan does when he misplays his hand, is really a trivial occurrence. Ivan simply does not care. And the reason that "it is dreadful to realize" why he does not care is because that realization implies the destruction of his worldview. Although Ivan has not yet completely relinquished his view of life as neat and predictable, his illness is gradually making him aware that a world and a reality exist outside of the one he occupies. He begins to deal with himself that he should stop being too aware of his condition as the impact of his illness, the only thing he should do is just going to one doctor and follow the instruction in order to get better. Ivan believes and hopes when he follows the instruction and takes the medicine regularly, his condition will get better. But then his wife tells to the doctor how Ivan does not follow the doctor's instruction by not taking his medicine. Then it clearly described that Ivan becomes inconsistence, because his action is not accordance with what has been said by him. Two more weeks pass by, and Ivan's physiological condition degenerates further. One morning Praskovya enters Ivan's room to tell him that their daughter's suitor has formally proposed. Finding Ivan's condition even worse, however, she chooses to tell Ivan to take his medicine rather than make the announcement. Ivan looks at his wife with extreme animosity and tells her to let him die in peace.Ivan does not want follow his wife's demand, he did not take the medicine even his condition has become more serious and worse. Ivan greets the doctor with the same hostility, declaring that the doctor can do nothing for him. The doctor admits to Praskovya that Ivan's case is very serious, and that he can only administer drugs to ease the pain. His wife tells that Ivan does not take the medicine and does not follow the doctor's instruction. The only thing he does is just lying in his bed while his legs up, because he feels better by doing so. Ivan does not consistence with what he has been told and promised that in the previous he said that he will follow the doctor's instruction and take his medicine regularly, but in fact he does not do it. It indicates that what Ivan is not in accordance with what he has told that it can be said as hypocrisy of inconsistency. As Judith Sklar regards about hypocrisy of inconsistency is that "the distance between assertion and performance" (Spiegel, 1999 : 31). Where it can be described that what happen to Ivan is hypocrisy of inconsistency, does as Ivan said, not as Ivan does. CONCLUSION Based on the whole analysis of the study in chapter 3, there are several conclusions in line with the statement of the problem. Based on the definition of self-deception which has been explained by Barnes that self-deception involves just one person, that person does not only become deceiver but also deceived. The deceivers are getting themselves to believe something that they know or truly believe is false. It occurs to the main character Ivan in The Death of Ivan Ilych. The central drama of the story is Ivan's struggle with illness and death, and Tolstoy gives us quite the setup. He tells us Ivan's whole life story up to the point when he becomes sick. The writer gets to know Ivan, his habits and desires, his family and friends, and his circumstances. Ivan experiences self-deception in his life as a result of his unreadiness in accepting the truth that he is facing death. Barnes argues that the self-deceptive belief functions to reduce anxiety. It also occurs to Ivan that he feels afraid in facing his illness. He seems aware even anxious that the illness will disturb his pleasure of life. That is why he uses self-deception to reduce his anxiety about not fulfilling of his pleasure of life and the anxious because of his unreadiness in facing death. Furthermore, Ivan's self-deception gives rise to his hypocrisy. Self-deception is deceiving themselves to believe something they know it is false, if this self-deceptive believe result action, language, behaviour or something else which lead them to deceive others rather than their own selves, it can be said that his self-deception give raise to his hypocrisy. In Ivan's case, his self-deception results action, language, behaviour and something else which lead him to deceive others rather than his own self. So it can be analyzed that Ivan's self-deception gives rise to his hypocrisy. Ivan's self-deception gives rise to three kinds of his hypocritical behaviours those are hypocrisy of pretense, hypocrisy of blame and hypocrisy of inconsistency. His hypocrisy of pretense appears to hide his real condition from people around him. Besides hypocrisy of pretense, Ivan's self-deception also gives raise to his hypocrisy of blame. Ivan blames his environment's attitude toward his condition that they tend does not pay more attention to his condition. Actually it is his own mistake that he hides his real condition which leads the attitude of everyone that they will not give him more attention. Ivan blames the other person which actually the only person to blame is his own self. Lastly, Ivan also experiences hypocrisy of inconsistency. It occurs because he does not take his medicine regularly. Whereas he has promised that he will allow the doctor's instruction by taking his medicine and does not eat food which is forbidden by the doctor. It indicates that what Ivan does is not in accordance with what he has said. All hypocritical behaviours performed by Ivan are rooted by his self-deception. Basically self-deception is root of hypocrisy. When someone experiences self-deception, she/he has possibility to be hypocrite. But in the end story of Ivan, Ivan realizes that he has actually been traveling opposite his intended direction. Moving up in social esteem has not led to joy, fulfillment and life, but to misery, emptiness and death. Blinded by the values of high society, he has been traveling in the wrong direction on the road of life. After Ivan's climactic realization, his waking life is defined by one thing, suffering, and lots of it. But he has at least finally stumbled on the thing he needs to recognize: his life was wrong. when Ivan realizes his error and comes to a fuller understanding of the nature of life, he is reborn spiritually and experiences extreme joy. REFERENCES Barnes, Annette. 1997. Seeing Through Self-Deception. Cambridge : Cambridge University Press. Coon, Dennis. 1992. Introduction to Psychology : Exploration and application (6th Edition). St Paul : West Publishing Company. Jabrohim. 2001. Metodologi Penelitian Sastra. Yogyakarta : PT hanindita Graha Widia. Mele, Alfred R. 1987. Irrationality. Oxford : Oxford University Press. Sklare, Arnold B. 1965. The Art of the Novella. New York : The Macmillan Company. Solfer, Bela Szabados & Edon. 2004. Hypocrisy : Ethical Investigation. Canada : Broadview press, Ltd. Spiegel, James S. 1999. Hypocrisy : Moral Fraud and Other Vices. United States of America : Baker Books. Tolstoy, leo. 1960. The Death of Ivan Ilych and Other Stories. London : The New American library of World Literature, Inc. Waluyo, Herman. 2002. Apresiasi dan Pengajaran Sastra. Surakarta : Sebelas Maret University Press. Wellek, Rene & Austin Warren. 1949. Theory of Literature. New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company.

Issue 71.1 of the Review for Religious, 2012. This was the final issue. ; Volume 71 2012 Editor Michael G. Harter sj Associate Editor Garth L. Hallett sj Book Review Editor Rosemary Jermann Scripture Scope Eugene Hensell osb Editorial Staff Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp e v i e w f o r r e l i g i o u s A Journal of Catholic Spirituality contents prisms 4 Prisms Ignatian spirituality 8 Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? We Are Sent Kathleen Hughes rscj explores the provocative parallels between the Four Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises and the four-part rhythm of the Eucharist as two ways we are caught up in the work of God in Christ, and two invitations to replicate the whole life, death, and rising of Jesus. This article was one of the keynote presentations at Ignatian Spirituality Conference V held in St. Louis, Missouri, July 21-24, 2011. 29 Without the Drama: The Transition from Third to Fourth Week Ronald Mercier sj explores how those who make the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius are invited to enter into a grand silence where they contemplate the empty space without answers that follows the crucifixion—the space that remains the context of our lives, the place of our ministries, and the space within which joy dawns for those who know the Risen Lord. Questions for Reflection 58 Finding or Seeking God in All Things: A Few Cautionary Notes Peter J. Schineller sj researches the phrase "finding God in all things," common in writings about Ignatian spirituality, and discovers that it is rare in the writings of Ignatius. He finds that phrases such as "searching for and seeking God in all things" more accurately describe the Ignatian approach. 2 Review for Religious sharing experience 69 The Warmth, the Will, and the Way Ben Harrison mc is discovering that it helps him be more consistent in his spiritual journey if he is attentive to the warmth of the Spirit's presence in his heart and to the vows as an expression of the will to move deeper in his relationship with God. 78 Getting with the Program A young man writes of his experience of coming to terms during the novitiate with his addiction to pornography. This article could be used profitably as a case study during a novitiate class or read as background for a community discussion. Questions for Personal Reflection and Group Study discernment models 86 Dialogue with the Radically Other: Models of Discernment in the Old Testament Ligita Ryliskyte md phd sje explores the rich imagery of the Old Testament and offers valuable paradigms to understand spiritual discernment as a dialogue with God. In this essay she describes four models of discernment that might be distinguished in Old Testament imagery. departments 100 Scripture Scope: Vocation and the Call to Discipleship: A Reflection on Mark 1:16-20 105 Book Reviews 71.1 2012 3 Review for Religious prisms 4 A wise man once said: "It's a shame to waste a good crisis." If that is true, Review for Religious is facing a moment of great opportunity. In recent years the number of subscribers has steadily fallen off, and the cost of publication has risen to the point that our future as a print journal is in jeop-ardy. The recent deaths of Fathers Fischer and Fleming have taken their toll. We have reached a critical point in our history. When my provincial assigned me to succeed David Fleming as editor, he gave me a specific mission: Assess the viability of the publication. So for the past year, the staff and our advisory board have taken that mission seriously even as we worked to meet our ordinary production schedule. While we all hoped to be able to keep this good work alive, the real goal of our discernment was not to save or to close the journal, but to explore ways to more effectively serve the church. In the past months we have consulted widely. We looked at the shifting demographics of reli-gious life and understood that younger reli-gious are getting more of their information on 71.1 2012 5 the Internet than through printed periodicals. We sorted through spreadsheets of detailed financial information. We looked hard at our available resources and realized that we could sustain publication of the journal in its present format for a maximum of three to five years. The hand-writing on the wall could not be clearer: Simply maintain-ing operations as they are will inevitably lead to closure. Maintenance, without change, is not an option. Part of our analysis took us back to look at our history. Our journal came into being in 1941 at a Jesuit theolo-gate in St. Marys, Kansas, where three enterprising faculty members—Augustine Ellard, Adam Ellis, and Gerald Kelly (later joined by Henry Willmering)—invited their students to edit and publish the papers they wrote as class assignments in what became the early incarnation of this journal which has served the church and religious life proudly for the past 70 years. Richard Smith, Daniel F. X. Meenan, Philip Fischer and David Fleming edited the publi-cation over the subsequent decades. Since Review for Religious was founded at a small theology school, we began exploring the idea that a theology center, rather than the confines of our office, would be a more logical site for the publication of this journal. As we realized that a network of theology centers around the world linked through the Internet could have great potential for producing articles and generating lively discussion, we began exploring that path. We contacted the moderators of Jesuit Conferences that have significant centers of religious formation in Africa, India, and the Asia-Pacific region—in parts of the world Augustine Ellard, Adam Ellis, Gerald Kelly, Henry Willmering Review for Religious Author • Title 6 where religious life is growing—to see if any of them would have an interest in assuming responsibility for the journal. As a result of our inquiries, we are engaged in a conversa-tion with just such a center about continuing the mission of Review for Religious. We are not looking to replicate the journal as it cur-rently exists, but are talking about re-envisioning and re-designing it with current and future generations of religious in mind. As a result of our discussions and discernment, we have determined that this copy of Review for Religious is the final issue that will be produced by our St. Louis office. Whether the journal remains as a print publication, or is redesigned for delivery on the Internet, or ceases publication altogether is yet to be determined. In the meantime, we are suspending publication and putting a moratorium on renewals or new subscriptions until our discernment is completed. To say that we have reached the end is premature. A hiatus or pause is a more accurate description. As Ron Mercier points out in his article in this issue, a rest is as important a part of a musical score as is a chord or a whole string of arpeggios. And such a time of waiting can be a rich moment. We are not sitting idly while the discussion goes on but are in the process of digitizing our entire collection. We plan to make every article, poem, and book review we have published available on the Internet. It should be an invalu- Richard Smith, Daniel Meenan, Philip Fischer, and David Fleming. 71.1 2012 7 able archive for anyone wishing to research the shifts in religious life during the past 70 years. I am grateful to our current staff: Mary Ann Foppe, who has been the office manager for the past 25 years; Judy Sharp, our receptionist, who has handled subscriptions; Rosemary Jermann, who has written the Bookshelf column; Garth Hallett sj, who has served as Associate Editor; Tracy Gramm, who has done layout and graphic design. I have appreciated Ed Hensell osb, Elizabeth McDonough op, Richard Hill sj, and Joseph Gallen sj, who have provided regular columns over the years, and Jean Read, Iris Ann Ledden ssnd, Regina Siegfried asc, Claire Boehmer asc, Joe Meek, and many oth-ers who have made major behind-the-scenes contri-butions. They have been an excellent staff. We are grateful to the countless number of con-tributors who have sent us manuscripts and poetry for our consideration. They helped us keep our finger on the pulse of religious life. And finally, we thank you, our faithful subscribers. We are grateful for your support, and we trust that we have been an important resource for you over the years. Please read the inside of the back cover of this issue. It contains details about how to keep informed about the progress of our discernment. We will notify each subscriber about the outcome of that discernment. Please pray that the Spirit will lead us to a good conclusion. Michael Harter SJ Rosemary Jermann, Mary Ann Foppe, Tracy Gramm, Judy Sharp and Michael Harter Review for Religious Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? We Are Sent I need to begin with a confession. I was given an assignment to speak about the Eucharist, particularly as it describes a way of life flowing from Weeks Three and Four of the Exercises. I am not an expert on the Spiritual Exercises, but I have been a student of the Eucharist for many decades, so I was happy to think about this topic. And, though the talk was still non-existent, a description had to be prepared for the program booklet. Many of you have prob-ably had the same experience. You make up a description of a talk right out of thin air, hop-ing to be sufficiently generic so you can talk about almost anything at all. kathleen hughes ignatian spirituality 8 Kathleen Hughes rscj, former professor of Word and Worship at the Catholic Theological Union in Chicago and former provincial of her order's United States prov-ince, is currently a mission consultant in the Network of Sacred Heart Schools. Her address is 541 S. Mason Road; St. Louis, Missouri 63141. 71.1 2012 9 But a funny thing happened to me on the way to the topic assigned. I took a detour. I stumbled onto what I regard as an amazing new insight about how the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises mirror each other. At first I thought I was the last to arrive. Then I checked with those who have far greater familiarity with the literature on the Spiritual Exercises, and no one had heard any reflection on such a topic. That, too, gave me pause and left me wondering how far out on a limb I was climbing. Nevertheless, here's the insight I want to develop in the first part of this talk: there seems to be a quite provocative parallel between the Four Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises and the four-part rhythm of the Eucharist. The gathering rites of the Eucharist include elements of praise and penitence, as are typical of movements in Week One of the Spiritual Exercises; the Liturgy of the Word is the gradual unfolding of the person and work of Jesus Christ, as occurs in Week Two; the Liturgy of the Eucharist, the celebration of Jesus' death for the life of the world, is the heart of Week Three; and the concluding rites of the Eucharist have an affinity with the rhythms of Week Four. In these pages I intend to develop this thesis in more detail, hoping in the process to give fresh insight into God's activity in these two parallel celebrations of the paschal mystery—these two ways we are being caught up in the work of God in Christ. Then I will move to a focus on the Eucharist itself, as it flows from Week Three, incarnates the intimacy of Week Four, and remains the abiding experience of consolation, chal-lenge, and invitation to faithful living, parallel to leav-ing retreat and picking up everyday life. Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 10 Part I: Parallels Overview First, then, before we look at the Four Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises and the four parts of the Eucharist in more detail, let me offer an overview of the resonances I've discovered between them. Both the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises are a series of movements or stages that, negotiated with grace, realize the Christian ideal of identification with Christ. Both are invitations to conversion; both, at their heart, are offers of holi-ness and transformation. Both the Exercises and the Eucharist have a basic psychological rhythm that facili-tates growth in the spiritual life. The Exercises and the Eucharist as we know them only gradually evolved to their present form. The Exercises began as jottings in Ignatius's personal notebook—conso-lations, desolations, graces received—and this collec-tion of insights developed into a practical manual as Ignatius gave them to oth-ers and learned from their experience. They remain a core series of spiritual exercises that are endlessly flexible as enfleshed in the lives of individuals. The Eucharist, too, is the result of a gradual evolution over time around the core of readings and the breaking of bread, making every age and every human commu-nity a fresh inculturation of a basic pattern. Happily, in our day the basic four-part structure of gathering, listening, responding, and sending has been recovered in the liturgical reforms of the Second Vatican Council. Both the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises interrupt our ordinary time with extraordinary grace. 71.1 2012 11 Interestingly, both the Exercises and the Eucharist are filled with words, indeed with dialogue, and with spaces of silence. Both also make appeal to all of our senses and stir up mystagogical insights in those who are attentive. Both the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises interrupt our ordinary time with extraordinary grace; they help us to make sense of our life as it is unfolding before the living God. And both the Eucharist and the Exercises send us to live, in deed, what we have just experienced in this time of encounter with the divine. Finally, both these patterns of prayer follow, for most of us, familiar and predictable dynamics and so, for each, we need the grace to pay attention, to move beyond the familiar in order to get inside the mysteries. The First Week and the Gathering Rites of the Eucharist We come to retreat or to Eucharist just as we are, and we bring our history and our particular world with us into this sacred time and place. We come, sometimes breathlessly, from the work we have just left behind and the preoccupations that fill our minds and hearts. We come always with unfinished business and with distrac-tions, even burdens, of body and spirit. We come with our crosses and our inexhaustible needs. We come because we are drawn to a time and space of intimacy and prayer, of encounter with the Lord who will tutor our hearts, of transformation to new and deeper life. We come to be nourished. We come remembering God's goodness and God's fidelity to us, no matter our own response. We come hoping to touch our finger to the flame once again, placing ourselves, for this span of time, on holy ground. God's unconditional and ever-faithful love perme-ates our awareness in Week One. Each one of us has Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 12 been blessed with divine life; God's creative activity has showered each of us in unique ways and has supported and sustained us throughout our lives. In face of the immense goodness of God, we acknowledge our inade-quate response; we know that sin has hindered our rela-tionships with self and others and, above all, with God. Week One provides the opportunity to recognize sin as our failure to respond with love to God always present, to express our own sorrow and repentance, and then to know God's ever-greater love, mercy, and forgiveness. We reflect on our lives in light of God's boundless love for us, knowing that God wants to free us of everything that gets in the way of a loving response. The focus is less on particular sins than on our relationship with God that has been damaged, perhaps even shattered. Yet it is a relationship always available, for God longs for intimacy with us far more than we could ask or even imagine. Our personal history gives us hope: God is filled with mercy and compassion, slow to anger, full of kindness. God's response to our repentance is mercy and forgiveness. By the end of the First Week, we know ourselves as sinners, loved and rescued by a God who is so much greater than our hearts. These same heart movements are present in the gathering rites of the Eucharist. We generally begin the celebration with a hymn of praise and thanksgiving. We are then invited into a time of silence before the liv-ing God, and we cannot but realize our unworthiness and our experience of sin. In the language of the new Missal we own our complicity in sin "through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault," and we join with one another in begging for mercy and for-giveness: "Lord, have mercy." Then the Gloria is our hymn of praise after the words of absolution: "May 71.1 2012 13 almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you your sins, and bring you to life everlasting. Amen." We begin the Eucharist knowing ourselves as loved sinners, disposed to open our hearts to the word proclaimed in our midst. There are two additional striking parallels between the First Week of the Exercises and the gathering rites of Eucharist. The first has to do with the cross of Christ, for the cross is prominent at the beginning of both experiences. The retreatant is invited to make a first meditation before the cross; similarly, when we gather for the Eucharist, the entrance procession places the cross at the very beginning of the celebration. There is nothing like the cross of Christ to sharpen our focus, to bring us to the sober reality that relationships have consequences, that the paschal mystery of Jesus' life, death, and rising is what has made it possible to draw near to the throne of grace. And here's a second intriguing possibility with the Eucharist. There is a presidential prayer at the conclu-sion of the entrance rites, another at the preparation of the table and the gifts, and a third after Communion. These are all, essentially, prayers of petition; they each ask for a specific grace that is dependent for its focus on the place of the prayer in the rite. We really could think of these prayers as "preludes" that name and ask for a specific grace as we move from one week to the next, from one part of the Eucharist to the next. For example, the opening prayer for today's liturgy, the Seventeenth Sunday, Year A, from icel's Missal of 1998, reads: God of eternal wisdom, You alone impart the gift of right judgment. Grant us an understanding heart that we may value wisely the treasure of your kingdom Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 14 and gladly forego all lesser gifts to possess that kingdom's incomparable joy. We make our prayer through Our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son Who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit God for ever and ever. Amen.1 What a perfect presidential prayer to open our hearts to the Word of God; what a perfect prelude to move to Week Two of the Exercises. The Second Week and the Liturgy of the Word The parallels between the Second Week of the Exercises and the Liturgy of the Word are easily dis-cernible. Both focus on the scriptures, and both invite decision; both are grounded in the Gospels and in the Mystery who is Christ; both the Spiritual Exercises and the Liturgy of the Word, over time, offer an intimate encounter with Jesus of Nazareth—healing, teaching, sharing meals, welcoming sinners, going about doing good, spending the night in union with his Abba, gath-ering disciples and forming their hearts. We reflect on scripture passages, in retreat as at Mass, one after another, not in order to know the scriptures better but to discover ever more fully the One whom they disclose to us. During the Second Week of the Exercises, like Martha's sister, Mary, the retreatant sits at the feet of Jesus, the teacher, drawn to his person, absorbing his attitudes and values, his choices, his preaching of the dream of God for the world, for humankind, for each of us. The Second Week, of course, is not full only of the consolation of spending time with a dear friend. That 71.1 2012 15 dear friend of ours also reveals to us the cost of dis-cipleship, the misunderstandings, the disappointments, the gathering storm of criticism and anger. We take in the whole of the life of Jesus Christ and are drawn to know him more intimately, to love him more ardently, and to follow him more faithfully. We choose to be dis-ciples of the perfect disciple. Empowered by the love of God experienced in Week One and by Jesus' friendship, which deepens for us in Week Two, we choose an ever closer relationship with him, no matter what. Loved sin-ners become loving servants, embracing and following Jesus, setting our faces, with him, to Jerusalem. It has been written that during the Second Week "We find ourselves drinking in the experiences of Jesus, so that we begin to assimilate his values, his loves, his freedom. This style of praying provides the necessary content of decision-making or discernment, which forms an essential part of the Second Week and is meant to be an abiding part of a Christian's life that is shaped by the Exercises."2 Of course, those statements also describe a regu-lar pattern of solitary prayer in daily life that reaches its summit in the Eucharist. God speaks to our hearts, opening up for us the mystery of redemption and salva-tion and offering us spiritual nourishment; Christ him-self is present in the midst of the community through the Word proclaimed.3 The cycle of readings, highlighting first one evange-list's portrait of Christ and then another's in the three-year cycle, invites our reflection on the life and ministry of Jesus, his proclamation of the Good News, his say-ings and parables, his teachings and miracles, and, espe-cially during Lent and the triduum, how his face was set to Jerusalem during his last days on earth. The Gospel is the highpoint of the Liturgy of the Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 16 Word, and we mark it with various signs of reverence for the book and with the tracing of the cross on our forehead, lips, and breast, praying that our mind be opened, that our words be true, and that our whole being be exposed to the consolation and the challenge of a Gospel way of life. The homily follows. The General Instruction of the Roman Missal describes the homily as a necessary source of nourishment of the Christian life.4 In fact, for a majority of Christians it is often the only source of spir-itual nourishment in a busy week. The Second Week of the Exercises illuminates the challenge to those who give the homily in the Eucharist. The point of the hom-ily is identical to the grace sought in Week Two of the Exercises, namely, to enable the assembly to know Jesus more intimately, to love him more ardently and to follow him more faithfully. Nothing less! Not entertainment. Not exegesis. Not personal self-disclosure. Nothing less than knowing, loving, and following Christ, choosing his choices, becoming gradually and almost imperceptibly more like him, putting on his mind and heart. Just as one chooses discipleship at the end of Week Two, so too there is a choice at the end of the Liturgy of the Word. As we prepare to move from the Table of God's Word to the Table of the Lord's Supper, we join ourselves to Christ and ask that we too be transformed every bit as much as the bread and the wine, that we and they may become for us and for our world the Body and Blood of Christ. The Third Week and the Liturgy of the Eucharist The focus of Week Three is both the Last Supper and the Passion. So, too, these two themes are conflated in the Liturgy of the Eucharist: "the Sacrifice of the 71.1 2012 17 Cross and its sacramental renewal in the Mass, which Christ the Lord instituted at the Last Supper and com-manded the apostles to do in his memory, are one and the same, differing only in the manner of offering, and . . . consequently the Mass is at once a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, of propitiation and satisfaction."5 The first meditation of the Exercises in Week Three is on the Last Supper in its entirety—including the preparations, the choice of place, the arrangements for the meal, the assembling in the upper room, Christ's washing of the apostles' feet, the supper itself, Christ's giving of his body and blood in Eucharist as the ultimate expression of his love for them, and his final words, his last will and testament, that they continue this same action in his memory. Much of this finds a resonance in the Liturgy of the Eucharist. There is, of course, first the preparation of the table and the gifts, the preparation of the altar itself and then of the offerings of bread and wine. There is the washing of the hands of the presider, a ritual of cleansing and interior purification in readiness for all that will follow. There is the prayer over the gifts, a simple and focused petition—a second "prelude," if you will, asking in a variety of ways that the gifts we have placed on the table will become holy and that we our-selves will be caught up in this action and be made holy to the praise and glory of God. Then the great prayer of praise and thanksgiving, the Eucharistic Prayer, begins. We tell the story of Jesus' life, death, and rising. We enter into Christ's liturgy, the endless self-giving of Christ into the hands of the One he called Abba, from whom he receives back his life. Our worship is an offering of our whole selves with and in Christ to God. That is our participation in the paschal Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 18 mystery of Christ's obedience unto death, our identifica-tion with Christ in his radical obedience to God. Have you ever used one of the Eucharistic Prayers for your meditation during Week Three? The Eucharistic Prayer is addressed to God the Father. Could we not think of it as a colloquy with the One Jesus called Abba, our own intimate conversation with God, as we ponder the mystery of the Passion? By turns, the Eucharistic Prayer "collo-quy" offers thanksgiving to God for the whole work of salvation realized in Christ; it implores the action of God's transforming Spirit; it tells the story again of the night before Jesus died when he offered his body and blood, gave the apostles to eat and drink, and left them a command to perpetuate this mystery; it recalls the events that fol-lowed the supper, especially the blessed Passion of Christ together with his victory over sin and death; it makes an offering to God not only of the spotless victim but of our-selves so that day by day we might be perfected through Christ the mediator and be brought into unity with God and with each other when God may be all in all.6 It is a perfect prayer; it is a perfect condensed statement of what we believe and what we long for; it is a colloquy, if you will, that gathers up and gives expression to the faith of the community in Jesus' salvific death and rising and our par-ticipation in that mystery. There is no better word at the end of the Eucharistic Prayer, or at the end of our Third Week meditation on the Passion as we dwell in the silence of God, than the word "Amen." So be it. Week Four and the Communion and Concluding Rites We are ready for Week Four—Jesus' resurrection and his apparitions to his mother, to the women, to the disciples, to Mary in the garden. Always the message is 71.1 2012 19 the same: do not be afraid; peace be with you; go now and tell the good news; go now to feed my lambs. And as peace is the gift of the Risen One, we beg that same peace for the whole human family, and we ask for mutual love among ourselves. We approach the table of the Lord and receive the one Bread of Life, which is Christ who died and rose for the salva-tion of the world. Our Communion makes us one with the Risen Christ, and the last presidential prayer, the prayer after Communion, is a final "prelude"—a peti-tion that we might go forth and live, in deed, what we have just done in word and ritual action. "Please make this Communion take!" this prayer seems to beg. We become what we eat. Through the Communions of our lifetime we are gradually being transformed into God. We know that we ourselves and our world have been radically changed by Jesus' resurrection, and we embrace his commission to become the Heart of God on earth. In contemplating the love of God in the conclud-ing exercise of Week Four, we pray an intimate prayer of thanksgiving to the One who has shared his life so completely with us that we are filled with gratitude and with a desire to make a generous return of love. "Take, Lord, receive," we say, and in so doing we express our availability before God for whatever we will face, rely-ing simply and completely on God's grace. We know ourselves as blessed and sent. Thus far I have been developing the ways that the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises mirror and some-times illuminate aspects of each other. As a transition to the second part of this reflection, I suggest pausing over the words of the "Anima Christi" using David Fleming's translation. It was David who said that this prayer is a summary of the dynamics of the whole movement Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 20 of the Exercises, and he also described the prayer as a summary of the transformation wrought through the Eucharist. Jesus, may all that is you flow into me. May your body and blood be my food and drink. May your passion and death be my strength and life. Jesus, with you by my side enough has been given. May the shelter I seek be the shadow of your cross. Let me not run from the love which you offer, but hold me safe from the forces of evil. On each of my dyings shed your light and your love. Keep calling to me until that day comes, when, with your saints, I may praise you forever. Amen.7 Part II: Living the Eucharist David Fleming also called the "Anima Christi" a summary of the living of the Fourth Week in the everyday, so it is to that topic we turn, the living of the Eucharist. Many years ago I read a book by Gregory Dix called The Shape of the Liturgy, a very long, very erudite history of the Eucharist by an Anglican clergyman and liturgi-cal scholar. At the conclusion, around page seven hun-dred something, the author shifts from liturgical history, archeology, and philology to spirituality. He quotes the words of Jesus at the Last Supper, "Do this in memory of me," and then poses an intriguing question: Was ever another command so obeyed? Dix paints an extraordinary picture: Century after century, spreading slowly to every continent and country, to every race on earth, this action of Eucharist has been carried out in every conceivable human circumstance and for every conceivable human need, from the heights of 71.1 2012 21 power to places of poverty and need, for royalty at their crowning and for criminals going to the scaffold, for a bride and bridegroom in a little country church, for the wisdom for the Parliament of a mighty nation, for a sick old woman afraid to die, for Columbus setting out to discover the New World, for a barren couple hoping for a child, by an old monk on the fiftieth anniversary of his vows, and on and on. Dix lyrically enumerates these and scores of other instances in which the Christian com-munity has been faithful to Jesus' command, "Do this."8 Over the centuries the Eucharist has been celebrated by innumerable millions of entirely obscure faithful women and men like you and me, people with hopes and fears and joys and sorrows and sins and temptations and prayers every bit as vivid and alive as yours and mine are now. Week by week, on a hundred thousand succes-sive Sundays, faithfully, unfailingly, the followers of Jesus have done just this for the remembrance of him.9 This is an extraordinary picture of the sacrament that constitutes the community, of the event that binds us together, one with another and with Christians of every age, place, race, tongue, and way of life. The Eucharist has been like a wave of grace rolling over the community again and again across the centuries of Christendom, hollowing out spaces for the divine in the midst of the everyday. Was ever another command so obeyed? But after pondering Dix, I realized that when I con-sidered that Last Supper of Jesus and his friends, there was another question on my mind. When Jesus said "do this in remembrance of me," what did he mean by the this? Surely not just the Jewish pattern of the meal, though we know a lot about Jewish rituals, the blessing of bread, the number of cups, the style of blessing said over both. Surely the this is something more. What are Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 22 we being asked to do? to be? to embrace? to celebrate? What commitment do we make when we say "Amen"? Scripture supplies two directions toward an answer: one in the Synoptic accounts of the supper and Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians, and the other in the Gospel of John. Recall the words of Paul describing the Last Supper: I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, "This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me." In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me" (1 Cor 11:23-25). Do this in remembrance of me. But what is the this? Have you ever considered that the Last Supper was precisely that—it was the last. The Last Supper was the last of a whole series of Jesus' meals recorded in the Scriptures. Jesus never played the pious ascetic, keep-ing away from celebrations. He loved a good feast. He used that image of feasting as a metaphor of the reign of God—a great banquet. It was said of him, "This man is a glutton and a drunkard." An even more shocking accusa-tion was whispered behind his back: "This man sits down at table with sinners, with the morally dubious, with the outcasts of society, with those living on the fringes." On nearly every page of the Gospels there is a meal or a reference to food. Jesus calls out to Zacchaeus, "Get down from that tree. I'm coming to your house for What commitment do we make when we say "Amen"? 71.1 2012 23 lunch." There is the story of Simon who threw a din-ner party but was an inattentive host, and of the woman who slipped in to minister to Jesus as he sat at Simon's table. There is the story of Peter's mother-in-law who is cured only to get up and wait on them. There is the Syrophoenician woman who would not take no for an answer, who spoke about crumbs that fell from the table and who expected—and received—more than crumbs from this man. There are the feeding miracles that tell us something of the utter lavishness of the banquet and that everyone will receive enough and there will still be something left over for another day. There are parables of feasts, of great abundance, of jockeying for places at table, of appropriate attire, of filling the room with those drawn from the highways and the byways. Even the risen appearances of Jesus include meals. "Peace be with you," Jesus says. "What's for dinner?" On the shore, in the upper room, on the way to Emmaus, they recognize him in the breaking of the bread. How do you recognize someone? Even at a distance, you rec-ognize the timbre of a voice, or a particular gesture, or the slight tilt of the head so characteristic of an indi-vidual. The disciples recognized Jesus for what was most characteristic of him: the way he broke the bread. What is the this that we are to replicate? It is the whole life and ministry of Jesus at table. Scripture scholars refer to this as Jesus' ministry of table fellow-ship. To share food, in Semitic times, was to share life itself. And Jesus shared life with an astonishing assort-ment of people. Everyone was welcome to sit with him at table, to tell stories and to break the bread. Jesus' ministry of table fellowship is a ministry of universal reconciliation, no exceptions. The Last Supper reca-pitulated the attitudes and values of Jesus, who opened Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 24 his table and his heart to everyone, who offered hospi-tality to all, who was himself at home with all manner of people, who knew the human need for nourishment of body, mind, and spirit and who was always present to the other—welcoming, reconciling, offering life. Do this in memory of me. The Gospel of John offers a second answer to the question "What is the this?" In John there is a very dif-ferent institution narrative. It is the account of the foot washing. We know the story so well. Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, rose from supper, laid aside his garments, and girded himself with a towel. He poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel. Peter resisted this tenderness until Jesus pressed: "If I do not wash you, you have no part with me." Peter relented in typical Peter fashion: "Not my feet only but also my hands and my head!" When Jesus had com-pleted the washing and resumed his place, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you" (Cf. Jn 13:1-15). You should do as I have done. In other words, "Do this in memory of me." I had an experience when I was studying at the University of Notre Dame that colors my understand-ing of the washing of the feet after the manner of Jesus. Notre Dame has a reputation for the excellence of its liturgical studies program and, at least when I was there, for the perfection of its liturgical celebrations: every 71.1 2012 25 minister rehearsed; every detail on a checklist; every liturgy perfect. And, during the sacred triduum, the lit-urgies were even more perfect! It was Holy Thursday and time for the foot washing. Twelve people moved forward, probably having prepared for the foot wash-ing by carefully washing their feet! Then, seemingly from nowhere, a very unkempt man started up the aisle, staggering a bit, perhaps under the weather. It was one of those stunning moments. Time stood still. Then the deacon walked down the aisle to help the man for-ward and assist him in taking off his shoes and socks. What is the this? Tender and loving care for the other; accepting our mutual vulnerabilities; choosing to open our hearts to all, even the one staggering into our life and upsetting its plans and perfections. Foot washing is not just a way of life but an attitude of heart, a kneeling before the other in reverence. Foot washing is embrac-ing a way of service after the manner of Jesus, simply, generously, not counting the cost. Do this: Embrace my attitudes and values as your own. Love those I love, and be my heart to them. Welcome the stranger, the one on the margins, the disenfranchised. Become vulnerable with one another. Kneel in reverence, especially before those whom soci-ety shuns. Nourish one another's bodies and spirits. Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep, both here at home and half a world away— those in Norway who are paralyzed by a massacre they Foot washing is not just a way of life but an attitude of heart, a kneeling before the other in reverence Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 26 could never have imagined, those who are starving from the drought in Africa, those who are terrified of nuclear contamination in Japan, those who are caught up in trafficking around the globe or denied asylum here at home, those who have lost the ones they love and all they owned in fire, flood, tornado, or earthquake. Make a habit of roaming the globe in prayer so that you do not remain distant from the joys and pain of the world. Send those waves of grace once again across continents and cultures to bathe our world in the love and mercy of Eucharist. Do this in memory of me. Conclusion Week Three invites us to experience the Last Supper, to place ourselves there in the upper room, to look around at the faces, to listen to the words, to pon-der them in our hearts as we watch the immense tender-ness of the Lord with those he loved even to the end, whose hearts he was tutoring even on the night before he died. And we have stayed with him, watched and prayed with him, and accompanied him as he gave up his life. Then we have simply dwelt in silence. That same intimacy and presence to one another marks Week Four, a time of tenderness and affection with the risen Jesus who shares his love and his joy with us but does not let us cling to him. He sends us as apostles, empowered by his Spirit, to continue his sav-ing presence, to be his heart on earth. And day by day, week by week, the Eucharist con-tinues to draw us into these mysteries. The heart of the Eucharist is Jesus Christ. The heart of it is the cel-ebration of Jesus' life, death, and rising every time we gather—and the merging of our daily living and dying with his and with one another—for the life of the world. 71.1 2012 27 The heart of it is joining ourselves to Christ, the perfect sacrifice, to the praise and glory of God. The heart of it is begging that the Spirit will transform each one of us just as really as the bread and wine so that we become more and more Christ's Body in truth, not just in name. The heart of it is learning over and over again to say "Amen" to all of these realities and—at least some-times— actually meaning it. Meaning "Amen," meaning yes I will try to live, in deed, in the coming days, what we have just enacted in word and ritual action. I conclude with a favorite reflection of mine on the word "Amen." Be careful of simple words said often. "Amen" makes demands like an unrelenting schoolmaster: fierce attention to all that is said; no apathy, no preoccupation, no prejudice permitted. "Amen": We are present. We are open. We hearken. We understand. Here we are; we are listening to your word. "Amen" makes demands like a signature on a dotted line: sober bond to all that goes before; no hesitation, no half-heartedness, no mental reservation allowed. "Amen": We support. We approve. We are of one mind. We promise. May this come to pass. So be it. Be careful when you say "Amen."10 Notes 1 Cf. Sunday Celebration of the Word and Hours (Ottawa: Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops, 1995). This book contains the Sunday collects prepared by the International Committee on English in the Liturgy for the Missal of 1998, since withdrawn. Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 28 2 David L. Fleming sj, "The Ignatian Spiritual Exercises: Understanding a Dynamic," in Notes on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola (St. Louis: Review for Religious, 1981) 11. 3 General Instruction of the Roman Missal, 2003, §29, paraphrase. 4 GIRM, § 65. 5 GIRM, § 9. 6 GIRM, § 79. 7 David L. Fleming sj, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading. (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978) 3. 8 Gregory Dix, The Shape of the Liturgy (London: Dacre Press, 1945) 744-5, passim. 9 Ibid. paraphrase. 10 Barbara Schmich Searle, "Ritual Dialogue," Assembly 7:3, February, 1981. Obedience You have had my yes for years– and I have had yours since the sun, the seashells, and the storms at sea. But now, ah . . . you and I are more than yes. As time moves with, within, and around, this yes of ours takes on wings, takes on colors I never imagined, challenges that strengthen and soften me, glory that stills me, stirs me, extends and opens me. It becomes a murmur of love that we share. Love that frees me and compels me to choose you again and yet again . . . that I might respond as I wish to respond . . . openly, knowingly, even a little mysteriously . . . as the bush in the desert responded to flame. Kimberly M. King rscj 71.1 2012 ronald mercier 29 Without the Drama: The Transition from Third to Fourth Week of the Spiritual Exercises S travinsky's "Rite of Spring" caused a furor when it was first performed in 1913, but the more I listen to it, the more I think it expresses something important, and not only from a musical point of view. At the tail end of the piece, the "Sacrifice," Stravinsky tries to cap-ture the human spirit in its "pagan"—pure—form. You might want to find a recording of it and play it before you read further. Cacophony—there's no other way to describe it! Bad sound. It assaults the senses. It builds to a crescendo and with the violence of spirit that leads to the sacrifice of a human, a woman who dances herself to death for the Ronald Mercier sj is associate professor of theology at Saint Louis University and rector of the community where Jesuit scholastics pursue the study of philosophy and theology. This article was originally given as a keynote presentation at Ignatian Spirituality Conference V on July 22, 2011, in St. Louis, Missouri. Comments can be addressed to him at Bellarmine House of Studies; 3737 Westminster Place; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 30 sake of the community. It is violence that can kill and wound and send to hell, to use Ignatius's words from the Incarnation meditation. In the ballet that goes with the music, there is a frenetic dance that is almost a form of madness. No wonder people were so challenged by the music; this is not about some nice ethereal enjoyment, but is a revelation of what can shape the human heart and actions. This revelation opens to our fears but not to our hopes. Curiously, the music ends with a bang, a loud discor-dant chord that leaves us waiting for something more. We would like some kind of resolution at this point, but we are left with utter silence after that dramatic end. We wait, but the music just ends. Or does it? For me, this piece leads to a reflection on the transition from the Third to the Fourth Week in the Ignatian Exercises, a movement out of a murderous drama into a disorienting grand silence within which the Fourth Week dawns. I would like to invite you to sit with Ignatius in what we would name "Holy Saturday," a place he sketches as the space for contemplation within which we experience Resurrection. My thesis is simple: Without the grand silence of Holy Saturday, the "seventh day" for Ignatius, we do not experience the joy and freedom of the Fourth Week. Waiting in the transition—a transition into, not out of, emptiness—allows for creation of the space into which the Risen Lord comes, if we let the quiet ripen. The music of Stravinsky captures the movement of the Third Week, a drama of human making. We walk with Jesus as he experiences being sacrificed for "the good of the people." Curiously, Ignatius invites us to experience the Passion, but he does not describe the gore that would have been standard fare in the spiritual-ity of his time. No doubt he assumed that people knew 71.1 2012 31 the specifics of the passion, crucifixion, and death from the religious imagination of his time. I wonder, though, whether that is all. It strikes me that we are invited into two spaces: the fullness of the world upon which the Trinity gazes in the Incarnation mediation, but also the reality of the Trinity's desire effected through what happens in these moments. In this transition, we fulfill the movement of the Incarnation meditation. Ignatius certainly invites us to "consider what Christ our Lord suffers in His human nature . . . [and] to strive to grieve, be sad, and weep" (SpEx §195). We "must be with the Lord in his suffering, [and] follow him unto his death," lest we be "simply spectators at a Passion event which may be very touching, but which in no way dis-turbs the egotism of our lives,"1 as Gilles Cusson so nicely puts it. We experience with Jesus what human egotism can do, the dramatic clash that seeks sacrifice to maintain some order. Ignatius's contemplation of the Passion has little to do with Mel Gibson's hero worship; we con-template one who embraces utter powerlessness, not "muscular humanity." Yet, Cusson also says that we need to attend to Ignatius's Fifth Point, "how the divinity hides itself; . . . it could destroy . . . but does not do so" (SpEx §196). What is God about in Christ? What goes beyond the "work of our hands," the murderous sacrifice, and actu-ally effects the will of the Trinity? Is God violent? Is We contemplate one who embraces utter powerlessness, not "muscular humanity." Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 32 this the "divinity [who] hides"? Or is the violent god our god? What occurs when our dramatic violence ends? For me, personally and as a director, this question is never academic. The temptation to remain specta-tors or to wonder at the horrors of the Passion—and so to remain distant from it and from the Resurrection— always presents itself as a path of light, as "really feeling bad" for Jesus, and perhaps knowing real (even mur-derous) anger toward those who create perverse tor-tures for him. The experi-ence of the Fourth Week then somehow appears too remote, not surprisingly, and not only because by that time we know the exhaustion of having given ourselves so radically to prayer. But if we remain spectators of the Passion, what also becomes remote is the real joy of the Fourth Week, a joy so different from the transient happiness that we may whip up but never suffices for the long-term journey. And the Fourth Week is really for the long haul, not transient at all. What alternative remains? Consider for a moment where Ignatius leads us. As he did in the contemplation on the Incarnation, he places us with the work of the Trinity and with Mary. This gives us our transition point and deserves some pause. Notice how he frames our prayer at the end of the week, the time of transition: One should consider as frequently as possible . . . that the most Sacred Body of Christ our Lord remained If we remain spectators of the Passion, what also becomes remote is the real joy of the Fourth Week. 71.1 2012 33 separated from the soul, and the place and manner of his burial. Let [the exercitant] consider, likewise, the desolation of our Lady, her great sorrow and weariness, and also that of the disciples (SpEx §208, Seventh Day). Two dimensions frame the time after the death of Jesus on the cross, two movements that invite us into a depth within which resurrection happens: the experi-ence of death in Jesus and its impact on those (like us) who love him. Resurrection, Cusson rightly suggests, never becomes a topic for consideration, but encounters us in and through the one whom we love and who has conquered death, a "confirmation from above surpass-ing all human hope."2 Let us stay, though, for a moment with the two aspects Ignatius gives us not so much as a conclusion to the Third Week as the door through which the Third Week becomes, or opens to, the Fourth Week. We have in the Christian tradition a powerful sense that the Paschal Mystery—the death, coming to the dead, and Resurrection of the Lord—never constitutes the past, something complete and over, but, rather, remains the context of our lives, the place of our ministries, the space within which joy dawns for us and for all who know the Risen Lord. Two things, then, shape this contemplation, which really becomes the shape of "the seventh day," a con-templation of the Passion as a whole. First, Ignatius begs us to consider the fullness of the death of Jesus because, without an experience of that fullness, we really cannot complete the journey of the Third Week (and of the Incarnation) or comprehend the fullness of the ways in which Jesus' ministry touches and shapes our lives and our world. We need to ponder, prayerfully, what it Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 34 means for Jesus to "remain separated from his soul," to know death, not just to "be killed." Let me suggest that this consideration never rep-resents some thought exercise or parlor game. In our culture we often trivialize death and, in fact, avoid the topic completely or paper it over with euphemisms. We do not say that people die, but that they "pass away." We make the reality so antiseptic, so unreal, that we actually generate a fear of death that drives us even to try to con-trol it, like some unruly passion. Humans have always feared death, as the social critic Ernst Becker makes clear. In our modern North American culture, though, we have created a kind of nightmare; we rarely encoun-ter the reality of someone's dying. Even worse, people have to die not freely as Jesus did, but alone, caught up in our medicalized model. Alternatively, we can make death into a mere video game: how many can we kill? By contrast, Ignatius invites us to a thoroughgoing realism. In Jesus' death, we contemplate the fullness of his human death, freely embraced for us, the fullness of the trajectory of the Incarnation. We are invited to consider especially his embrace of abandonment. Hans Urs von Balthasar, the great Swiss theologian and pro-foundly Ignatian thinker, asks us to ponder just what this means, as a path toward hope: The Redeemer showed himself therefore as the only one who, going beyond the general experience of death, was able to measure the depths of that abyss.3 Think about that with me for just a moment. For Balthasar (and here he places himself in the whole strand of Christian mystics) we desire to shield our-selves from death. We may have "the general experience of death," but we seek to hold it at bay, often at great cost. No one wants to die, of course, and from time 71.1 2012 35 immemorial we have created lovely myths of "afterlife" as ways of avoiding the fullness of what we would expe-rience in death, so that we do not really die. Instead, Ignatius invites us, in the wake of the cry by which Jesus freely gives up his spirit and accepts death, to consider what it would mean for someone freely and fully to enter into the realm of Hades, of Sheol, in which, as the psalmist says, "no one can praise You." In Jesus, God goes fully to claim the reality of human death and dying as God's very own. Balthasar uses the image of the abyss—a wonderful image—for this. We need to ponder, not morosely but in faith, the full tra-jectory of the Third Week. Ignatius places us there and asks that during the Seventh Day—however long it might be—we continually call that reality to mind and keep it before us. He invites us there in place of repetitions or Applications of the Senses, because in pon-dering the fullness of the death of Jesus, in letting it "ripen to fullness," as it were, we begin to grasp the fullness of what it means that he dies for our sake, that he goes where we would not go. If, as David Fleming, John Futrell, John English and many others suggest, the Last Supper sets the tone for the Third Week, here we know what it means to "be broken and poured out," even to the fullness of death itself. We have been praying for the grace of freedom throughout the Exercises, and in a sense here we encounter freedom in its fullness. Balthasar notes what freedom—in its purest form, free from all stain of sin—would mean: "And precisely in that did his mortal anguish and God-abandonment differ radically from the habitual anxiety of the sinner." 4 Jesus freely—and with-out defense—walks the way ahead of us, embraces our path. Jesus claims the fullness of death as a space within Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 36 which to meet us—thus, the implication of the seventh-day exercise. We can—and do—often hurry by the real-ity, or simply marvel at the wreck of a corpse in the Pietà. Ignatius, according to Balthasar, invites us to let death be full, that we might know freedom with Christ, freedom for our mission ultimately, freedom to love "even to death itself." No masochism or delectatio morosa marks this moment, but only a profound invitation to explore what we fear with the One who has gone the way before us. For Ignatius, that remains key. If Resurrection cannot grasp the fullness of what death means, if it can-not meet us in the anxiety that would hold us bound and create the kind of craziness that marks our death-obsessed culture, it remains but a "nice idea," easily dis-pensed with, perhaps. For Balthasar, Jesus delves into death as abandonment, freely, without losing hope, but relying completely on the God who alone can overcome death. Imagine "separation of soul and body" in its totality, without the experience of Resurrection that often shields us. Jesus embraces that. This descent remains but part of the story for Ignatius, since he invites us to place ourselves with Mary and the disciples in their desolation—an impor-tant context. The imagery of that placement reveals a deliberate quality in two ways: it prepares us to encoun-ter the Risen Lord and accept our mission. In one sense, of course, we explore the same space as previously, explore what it means for Jesus to have died—but now from the perspectives of those left behind. Again, Ignatius invites us to contemplate with Mary—and to some extent with Mary Magdalene—to share space and time with women who also embrace the "empty space" without defense, freely. The sinlessness of Mary parallels Jesus' own condition, and invites us 71.1 2012 37 to imagine how she, whose heart knew only openness, would experience the "separation" of soul from body. In her once again, Ignatius asks us to confront death as death, in its fullness in Jesus, in one whom we pas-sionately love. While I will focus on the encounter with Mary, the mother of Jesus, as a basic form of the Resurrection con-templations, I do not mean to suggest that one must force people to engage that path. Eventually the pattern of the Exercises does lead us there, but as John English suggests in Spiritual Freedom,5 a directee may find it difficult to enter into the purity of Mary's openness to encounter the Risen Lord; a person may find more fruitful prayer with the grief of Mary Magdalene, or the guilt of Simon Peter, or others. Still, the fullness of that openness to the Risen Lord brings us back to the full "yes" of Mary, mother of Jesus, as a paradigm of freedom. We have probably all known a parent who has lost a beloved child. As I write this I cannot help but think of the parents of a young Chinese student who failed at university and chose suicide in the face of despair. I cannot begin to imagine the grief of soul such a moment would entail for those parents; nor can I imagine the added burden of feeling guilt for having laid on a child expectations that he could not fulfill. That empty space of a dead child shocks us; "it should not happen," we say quite rightly. Parents should die before their children do. The empty space becomes almost too much to take in, though with Michelangelo's Pietà we catch a glimpse of how a face might appear when gazing on that emptiness. Yet, for the director at this point in the Exercises, especially in the face of what happens in the transition, an important distinction remains. Monty Williams, in a work in progress that he shared with me, advises that we Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 38 note two different paths as one encounters fear, notably the fear of death. There are two ways of being present to our fears. We could look at them and wonder how we can be so stupid, and then make the plans . . . to ensure those mistakes never happen again. . . . The other way . . . is to experience the amazement. . . . The more we ponder . . . it, the more we are filled with a sense of wonder—which gives no answer. That wonder, that sense of amazement, is our first awareness of the presence of God in the space we have created by looking at our fears. As Williams frames it, two choices remain. We can panic and move into flight or analysis or simply an excess of emotions to make us feel better. Or we can be attentive, in the face of such fears, to an empty space without answers—a much harder place to be. When Ignatius invites us to contemplate, to recall Mary, all of those spaces we have known in the Second Week come to mind. Mary remains for us always the one who attends, who does not withdraw, even in the face of the horror of the slaughter of the innocents, but who pon-ders. The path of our entry into the Seventh Day parallels Mary's path, and a director looks at whether the exerci-tant gets caught up in his or her own pain or can ponder the empty space with Mary—that dreadful emptiness the church hints at in stripped altars and empty tabernacles after the Good Friday service. With Mary, we hear the invitation in freedom to know our beloved Jesus as dead. A terrible space, but not a maudlin one! We hear the call to compassion, to attentiveness, to let an empty space open. In essence, Michelangelo's Pietà invites us not to wild grieving but to face the reality of Mary holding her dead son. Attentiveness is a state of waiting, but for what? 71.1 2012 39 I can't help but remember Mary Oliver's powerful poem "The Uses of Sorrow," which captures so much of what I think Ignatius presents to us in constructing a place for prayer: (In my sleep I dreamed this poem) Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.6 The poem admirably catches the difference between panic/analysis and attentiveness as ways of responding to the human—and here divine—reality of death. For us the path takes time; Ignatius invites us on the seventh day to recall this to mind again and again, but the full process may well be the journey of our lives and our dying. However, contemplating the loss of Jesus is but one dimension. With Mary—and with the disciples—we are invited to ponder the world in which, as Cleopas said, "we had hoped" but which is now a space of desolation. We face the fullness of what Ignatius means when he invites the retreatant to see and consider the Three Divine Persons. . . . They look down upon the whole surface of the earth and behold all nations in great blindness, going down to death and descending into hell (SpEx §106). The reality of human violence is seen in its full-ness in this moment, especially when, with the disciples, we see that violence is also part of their lives—in their abandoning their Master. With Mary and them, the full brutality of violence in the name of God, yet murder-ous of God, comes home to us in all its savagery. No doubt they had seen or heard of crucifixion before. This Roman "tool" helped maintain fear in the populace by destroying its memory of the one killed, lest anyone else Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 40 attempt to do what the crucified one had done. We can all rationalize human cruelty to suit our purposes. Here, though, their Master, Lord, Mentor, the one who healed, raised from the dead, preached Good News—the one they loved—becomes the victim of such cruelty. With him, the hope he had proclaimed also becomes a victim, exactly as the Romans would have desired. Hope is too dangerous a drug to a people fac-ing death. Is the reality of what Cleopas proclaimed— that "we had hoped"—also dead? With Mary and the disciples, we gaze on the empty space in the wake of the cross, and we know the dying of our hopes, of the ways in which all of our plans and expectations go to the cross with Jesus. Our history, our world, hangs in that balance. As director, how often have I sat with people who, in the wake of Jesus' death and burial, have to encounter again their own history of violence—received, experienced in others, commit-ted! The call to attentiveness in this space where our wounded history is made so evident places the past and the future in the balance. If in the first movement with Jesus and Mary we know the fear before death, in this second movement perhaps we face the fear of living in a world mediated by violence, a violence that we can usually hold at bay or ignore by switching the televi-sion channel. Yet, in this transition place, we face the brokenness and "poured-out" quality of our world, and we hear the call not to stronger forms of violence or retribution but to attend in that quiet space and know the fullness of a hope that might have died too. So many people live in this space. It is not theoretical. So, for me, the power of Stravinsky's piece, build-ing to that awful crescendo, that cacophony of death, followed by nothing, silence, lies in wanting some reso- 71.1 2012 41 lution other than the sacrifice. He captures well what those first disciples must have been going through on their "seventh day," after the terrible dramatics of human violence, cruelty, power; now Mary and the others know an empty silence made all the more desolate by what had come before. Building better plans, creating monu-ments, assigning guilt or blame—all of these would have tempered the grief. Instead, we hear the invitation to silence, to attentiveness. It may be that real forgiveness, hope, and resurrection can occur only in such silence. Ignatius places us before those realities that so easily move us away from attentiveness—fear of death and fear of violence or rejection—as a space within which some-thing very different—freedom—can arise. This experience could well represent a kind of "downer" for us, but need it be so? The sense of the deaths we experience—whether the physical death that Jesus freely embraces or the death of our illusions about the world and our patterns of dealing with it—create, as it were, a wasteland, an emptiness before which we stand and pray with Mary and the disciples. Its all-encompassing nature seeks to enlarge our freedom by placing before us our fears. Facing the wasteland yields fruit not in darkness or desolation (though we do indeed pass through these) but, as Antonio Valentino noted in a Directory written in the first generation after the death of Ignatius, aims at perfection in prayer and work, holding always God before one's eyes with gentleness and consistency, and remembering God whenever we think, speak or act.7 If we are moving toward the Contemplatio here as a mode of engaging the world, then this transition that "clears the ground" can yield an abundant harvest. We are left waiting for God's action—not ours. Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 42 I do not use the imagery of "clearing ground" acci-dentally. I find myself touched by the way in which one deals with one sweep of contemplation, which clears, seeds, and bears fruit in ever deeper ways. Think through with me the extraordinary introduction to the Fourth Week that piggybacks on what we have seen. As Cusson mentions, when Ignatius presents the medita-tion on the first resurrection appearance (SpEx §299), he offers a first point, nothing else; the simplicity of the perspective shines through: "He appeared to the Virgin Mary." Ignatius sees no need for second or third points, as are given in all the other meditations. It is a unique tableau.8 Ignatius does complete the sweep from where we have been: His soul, likewise united with the divinity, descended into hell. There he sets free the souls of the just, then comes to the sepulcher, and rising appears in body and soul to His Blessed Mother (SpEx §219). We have before us the same matter as in the con-templations on "the seventh day" of the Third Week; the setting does not change. What happens arises from within where we find ourselves as we attend to the empty space at the end of the Third Week. Our entry into the Fourth Week comes not because we will our-selves to joy. Rather, in the space that death and vio-lence have laid waste, Resurrection dawns like light and, with it, love, joy, and hope as the fruit. We do not change spaces for Resurrection, for the Fourth Week; rather, we extend the Third until it bears fruit. As director, I cannot overemphasize how hard it is to keep people focused at this point; exhaustion has set in. The Fourth Week regularly gets short shrift, as does Resurrection in so much of Christian life; yet, as I pray with the transition from Third to Fourth Week, I 71.1 2012 43 realize how crucial that transition point is to our ability to be in and to serve a broken but risen world. Ignatius leads us to the "hell" which Jesus has entered freely and fully, with all those who have gone before—and with us eventually—and then moves to Mary, in her home and oratory, exactly the order that repeats the end of the Third Week. I would like to move in three points—Jesus' apparition to Mary, Jesus' rising "from the dead," and the gift of joy to a world that killed and can kill still. They are related, but quite distinct too. Think of how redolent Jesus' apparition is for Mary. Ignatius does not describe it much, except for a clear allusion. He asks us to "see the arrangement of . . . the place or house of our Lady. I will note its different parts, and also her room, her ora-tory, etc." (SpEx §220). In §103 we were asked "especially to see the house and room of our Lady." The parallelism is almost exact, and, of course, David Fleming in Like the Lightning alludes to the Annunciation contemplation.9 This is not pious drivel, as some are tempted to say; this really is a new Annunciation, but one that asks Mary—and us—to go on mission for the Trinity with the Risen Lord. After all the Sturm und Drang of the Third Week— the drama of our human violence and blood-lust, even the drama of the Last Supper that begins the Third This really is a new Annunciation, but one that asks Mary—and us— to go on mission for the Trinity with the Risen Lord. Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 44 Week—this dawn of the Fourth Week, of a new world, is so undra-matic. Mel Gibson would have a difficult time with it. We would be tempted to make it dramatic, and certainly the Miraflores altar-piece does so, with Jesus showing his wounds and with Mary por-trayed as quite the medieval lady. Ignatius's description, though, is so different. Certainly, as he notes in the fourth point, the "divinity here manifests itself so miraculously," though in the fifth point the man-ifestation is as the consoler, the one who brings joy in the glory of the Resurrection. What are we to make of the apparition as "con-soler"? By the way, Ignatius gives only this contemplation in the Fourth Week, though we find a number of other texts arranged from §299-312 (in the section on the Mysteries of Christ's Life), with an ever wider circle of people let in on the Resurrection. In the Fourth Week itself, one contemplation alone pre-cedes the Contemplatio, again with Mary. If we take a step back, Mary represents the free per-son who has tasted the fullness of the passage of Jesus, both into death and at the hands of a broken, murderous world. If the darkness that John evokes in the Gospel stands as a hallmark of the Passion, Mary knows that darkness fully. As we wait with her, we hear the invita-tion to know that darkness, to let our own hopes and dreams die, to recognize the fullness of what death, as God-forsakenness, means. Mary roots us in a barren 71.1 2012 45 landscape without familiar landmarks. Stark—not dra-matic. Quiet. As long as we cling to our own artifacts, the land remains cluttered, and we are unable to receive. In essence, Mary descends into a kind of hell as well, the fullness of the First Week's hell, which is not of her doing, but which is the fruit of the world we have created. The more I ponder and pray with these texts, however, the more they strike me as a new "Incarnation," but with a different order and intent. In the Incarnation medita-tion, we move from the work of God, who ponders the broken, murderous world and chooses to enter it, invit-ing Mary—and us—to share in the work of the Trinity here now. With Mary we have been placed in a God-less world, the fullness of hell. We gaze, we ponder with her, in the freedom of those who have elected to follow Jesus. Mary—and we—know what God's heart would have felt in the acute desire to set people free. We now move from the order of "this world" to an encounter with the Trinity as we know the fullness of the desire of the Trinity in the Incarnation prayer, now effected by the Risen Lord. Again, I want to stress the point: Ignatius places us with Mary as the archetype of the person of the Exercises, the free person. While in later contempla-tions we are indeed shown the rest of the Gospel story, here he asks us to share in the fullness of what freedom The Apparition to Mary Reverses the order of the Incarnation meditation From the Trinity To a Broken World To revelation of the Trinity From a Broken World Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 46 means, freedom at the intersection of our engagement with a broken world, and we wonder at the dawning of a world shot through with Resurrection. The transition of this time represents not a movement from Third Week to Fourth Week, as if we could leave the former behind as just a bad memory; rather, the transition is the on-going space of discipleship. We, like Mary, remain in a broken world, but the transition into the Fourth Week recasts the meaning of the world in a dramatic way, so that we can accept the call to serve a world still broken. Contemplation constitutes the basic hallmark of this freedom; the encounter with the Risen Lord that Ignatius sketches out occurs as an offer of new life in the midst of the contemplation of the fullness of death and sinful violence. These two elements of death and life form a diptych, as it were, for our lives and our prayer. We encounter here not merely the Risen Lord but, with Mary, the pattern of what we shall know as we await that ultimate coming of Christ to the world, and we receive a mission to act upon hope. Into that space, the risen Lord comes, not just as resuscitated—"I'm back"—but as a living proclamation of a new world, God's plan for the ultimate healing and completion of the world God so loves. From the broken world, we encounter the divinity made flesh again for us, but now glorified and risen. If Christ performs "the office of the consoler," as Ignatius says, this consolation does not simply cause a "feeling good" or even a happi-ness, but a revelation of a new world and the empower-ing invitation to dwell in that new world and extend it through time and space. That power is "joy." Joy in this case is not an affect, or even a spiri-tual movement, for Ignatius. In fact, he distinguishes between the two realities: 71.1 2012 47 as soon as I awake [I will] place before my mind the contemplation I am to enter upon, and then . . . strive to feel joy and happiness at the great joy and happi-ness of Christ our Lord (SpEx §229). Happiness we know as an affective movement, a passing reality; we feel happy when we experience cer-tain realities. We can know happiness but still be alien to joy, since happiness comes and goes, depending on the experience we feel. Happiness has an object, and in this case Ignatius does want us to evoke within ourselves the experience of happiness; the encounter becomes the cause of our happiness. Joy, however, pertains to a very different reality. Joy—and this is Christ's joy, of course, a gift of the Holy Spirit—intends not a movement of the heart, a feel-ing, but a disposition, a way of being; it is the hallmark of those who have encountered the risen Lord in the midst of surrounding darkness. Joy makes possible the freedom to go on mission into the Fourth Week—our ordinary time. That light dawns in the Resurrection, not apart from but in the midst of the darkness which Mary—and we—have known. G.K. Chesterton's lament about "joyless Christians" captures something very important here: Christianity satisfies suddenly and perfectly man's [sic] ancestral instinct for being the right way up; satisfies it supremely in this; that by its creed joy becomes something gigantic and sadness something special and small. The vault above us is not deaf because the universe is an idiot; the silence is not the heartless silence of an endless and aimless world.10 The joy we experience in the presence of the Risen Lord does not suddenly wipe away the reality of the grief we know at the experience of the brokenness of Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 48 the world and its impact on the vulnerable; rather, such joy places it all in context, allows us to see the world as it is, in the context of God's proclamation of new life and hope in Christ. The way Ignatius ends the Exercises with Mary and this twofold contempla-tion seems to suggest that this joy becomes our "new normal," what God intended in creation and effects through the Incarnation, ministry, and Passover of the Word. We often emphasize the continuity/discontinuity of the Risen Jesus; he is like but different. But is it not really also the world which is continuous/discontinu-ous? In a great line from "Lion in Winter," Eleanor of Aquitaine says, "In a world where carpenters get resur-rected, everything is possible." Exactly—and such is our hope and the cause of our joy. As contemplatives moved to action, we in the Ignatian tradition live in the intersection of the two parts of the diptych, of Holy Saturday and Easter, but with joy as the hinge, something into which we grow. The encounter with the Risen Lord in the midst of a broken world becomes the reality of our lives and a point of conversion into this "new world." In that respect, we are unlike Mary but more like the others who encounter the Lord in a gradual way, but who nevertheless grow into a joyful engagement with the world. However, we can-not separate this encounter from the work which serves life and just peace; we grow in joy and hope only if we place ourselves at the service of justice, as it were, as the thirty-second General Congregation of the Society of Jesus suggested. Yet, we are no longer simply disciples, but apostles, those sent as the Word was sent into the world, but now into a world transformed. This "new normal," a joyful realm, disorients in many ways. Please excuse me as I take a bit of a detour 71.1 2012 49 into a Byzantine theme, that of the "Harrowing of Hell," an ancient icon in the East that depicts a scene sketched by a homily from the second century. I ask you to pon-der it with me for just a few moments. We have here one particu-lar rendition of the icon, but a powerful one with three signifi-cant movements. One of these captures the Contemplation for the Fourth Week as given by Ignatius, namely that the Risen Lord sets free the souls of the just held bound before Christ's Resurrection. For Balthasar and oth-ers, this moment of encounter with the Risen Lord has become the deciding moment for them, the one in which heaven—and the second death—actually open. In that sense, we have a key moment of election again, a confirmation to "fol-low" but now in a different way—to eternal life for them. Yet this Risen Lord calls us to proclaim eternal life and freedom in this world. Second, and this evokes the reality of La Storta, the risen Christ carries the cross, but as a tool through which to break open the gates of Sheol. This Christ on mission invites us to the imagery of the Third Week, but now as a call to freedom, not to death or destruction. The order of the world is profoundly inverted here, and violence gives way to freedom. No wonder the thirty- Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 50 second General Congregation could so freely embrace being "under the banner of the cross" as a mode of identification. This rising Christ changes all the imag-ery of violence, death, and hopelessness we would have taken for granted. One finds joy even in the cross—how odd—but, again, joy is not simply a moment of happi-ness but a consistent mode of being. Again, we cannot separate encounter with the Risen Lord from presence to those who know Holy Saturday and its pain or loss of hope. Last, though, for the East—and for Ignatius, I think—the implications of this little icon and of the work of Christ show free-dom in an even bolder way. A second-century homily proclaims, "I did not create you to be held captive," as does the Office of Readings every Holy Saturday. Do we ponder, though, the implications of that little line, the heart of the link between the Third and Fourth Weeks? The dynamic of the Third Week—from the human point of view—reveals the inevitability of betrayal, duplicity, shame, violence, grief, blood-lust. Not an appetizing menu, to be sure. Ignatius would ask us to contemplate the recreated world in which such patterns have lost their power forever, not just for a moment; we know their power, but as something that has passed away, both from the world and from our lives. If a counterpart to the contemplation on the Incarnation in the Second Week is the Two Standards meditation, perhaps this "diptych" does something Joy is not simply a moment of happiness but a consistent mode of being. 71.1 2012 51 similar. In the Two Standards meditation, Satan calls his demons and "goads them on to lay snares for people and bind them with chains" (SpEx §142). Christ bids, attracts, graces, to a very different world, of poverty, bearing insult and humiliation freely as a means of free-dom (SpEx §146). We have seen that first standard lived to its full-est in the Third Week; now we see Christ who in his revealed divinity, as the fullness of the revelation of the Trinity, continues to serve, to free, to attract, to bid, but now as having conquered all freely and lovingly. Do we not know here the prospect of a whole new world unbound or in the process of unbinding, a process to which Christ missions us? Does Christ not call us in this contemplation with Mary to gather companions in the work of dwelling in this contemplative yet active space? The full import of what has been "the normal" becomes ever clearer to us, even as we enter more fully into com-panionship with Mary in this contemplation. The chal-lenge to us, however, never degenerates into hopeless self-scrutinizing or, even worse, scrupulosity. We do not get forced back into contemplating our sins, as too often happens when people gaze upon the cross, or into the violent guilt or shame of the Third Week. Rather, aware of the Third Week and its full impact on the one whom we love and on the world Christ so loves, we hear the invitation to explore contemplatively a dawning world, one which opens, I think, to the Contemplatio and to our role in extending Christ's joy. James Alison, the British Catholic theologian, has written movingly on this, inviting us to consider how our cultures shape our imaginations through the pat-terns of interaction—rivalistic patterns—which for us constitute "the normal." In Christ, and I think in Mary Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 52 and the disciples, God gives us a dramatically differ-ent pattern of interaction, one that creates relationships touched by joy, not by violence or rivalry or fear. In the complementary contemplations we are given through-out the Fourth Week, we encounter many such persons, wounded in and by the Third Week, even agents of the violence of the Third Week, with whom and in whom we now encounter the pattern of joy and hope. These reflections lead me to ponder the meaning of the "Rules for Thinking with the Church" (SpEx §352-370). They are usually given as a form of Counter- Reformation ecclesiology, a guide on how to engage the debates of the mid-sixteenth century. The text contains all kinds of very context-specific allusions—echoes of debates on predestination, sacraments, authority, and the like that helped tear the church apart. We realize that the inability to attend to what the other was saying represented but one more kind of violence in an already violent age. Ignatius, of course, never had shied away from a fight. One has only to remember how ready he was to dispatch the Moor who had shown insufficient defer-ence to the Blessed Virgin, his Lady. He certainly would not be the first choice as a poster boy for pacifism. Yet, think with me for a moment about the Rules, written at a time when everyone wanted a good fight and looked, all too often, for occasions to pick a fight or score a point. Ignatius's presentation strikes me as curious in that regard, strangely pacific, to use Alison's invitation to a radically different imagination, a con-version of imagination, where our normal expectation is no longer violence or the violent god but rather of a world ordered to and by peaceful relationships. We find here none of the grand drama of the instructions to 71.1 2012 53 the Cardinal Legates to the various Diets and Councils. Instead, we find a man desperate to preserve the unity of the community, to avoid the kinds of clashes that mark his age. Perhaps when we look at the Rules for Thinking with the Church, the metaphor that I have been using— of having had the earth scorched around us and entering a new world—could be helpful. We tend to bring with us the imagery and imagination to which we have grown accustomed. We bring the patterns of guilt or shame or blame or grief or violence that we have learned only too well from the world we have known as normal. Yet, the totality of the presence of the Risen Christ to Mary— and to us—challenges any return to those spaces to which we have grown accustomed. Certainly, if Christ has "harrowed hell" and broken dominant patterns, we are in need of "a way," of his way. Might not the Rules for Thinking with the Church be Ignatius's way of inviting us to turn from the slavish obedience so alien to the freedom of the Fourth Week and to become attentive to the community of people elected in grace, graced by Risen Life, empowered by saints, who could sketch out for us and for our imagi-nation a path with and to Christ? We stand in need of a community of faith, the Church militant in the original Spanish text, which can model for us the new life revealed in and through the Risen Lord. While the Rules invite a kind of docility in seeking a way of peace and renewal of imagination found in the community of the faithful, they do not require checking one's mind at the door. At times we can, like Ignatius, grieve because of a church that shows the marks of the violence and domination of those who killed the Lord. Nevertheless we wait in the hope of encountering Christ in this com- Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 54 munity, in the Holy Saturday-Easter Sunday diptych, still confident that we will contemplatively learn a way forward, not in spite of but in the pain. In a similar way, Ignatius needed the community to foster conversion out of scruples and into Christ. Still, a real encounter as is experienced in the tran-sition opens a path to community. Rooted in a new experience of the world, it is a community of peace, joy, hope, creativity. This, of course, has none of the "grand drama" of the Third Week that would thrill Mel Gibson, but it has the quiet quality of a son meeting a grieving mother who has been wounded by violence but, in joy, is experiencing the possibility of new life, the opening of heart and imagination. Quiet, not dramatic in the ways we are used to, but nonetheless a powerful and creative stance. The difference between the drama at the end of the Third Week and the quiet dawn of the Fourth invites us to know in its fullness what the Two Standards means and what Christ offers: not a crusade of our own, but an allowing of new possibilities to dawn in our age. We have seen such dawns, and their ecclesial power touches deeply. I think of Jean Vanier's L'Arche com-munity embracing the handicapped, those rejected by the world. There is the hospice movement, which rose from Dame Cecily Saunders's refusal to allow cancer patients for whom medical drama could do no more to simply go away and die. Those who serve refugees and bring a moment of tenderness and hope to fragile lives similarly stand at the confluence of this Paschal diptych. Easier, I suppose, would be to follow the temptation to take up arms and fight back or condemn, but we are invited to a very different path, not of moralism but of an embrace like that of Mary by her Son. 71.1 2012 55 We began this talk with Stravinsky's musical image of primal humanity and its lust for sacrifice, a lust that seeks "salvation for the people" in a woman condemned to die by dancing madly. The music crashes to a dra-matic conclusion followed by silence. I would like to end with a different dance, one described by Sydney Carter's words applied to the Shaker hymn "Simple Gifts," here the "Lord of the Dance." Perhaps this could evoke something of the transition to a dance that is joyous, inclusive, expansive. May this be our prayer and our path. I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black— It's hard to dance with the devil on your back. They buried my body, and they thought I'd gone, But I am the Dance, and I still go on. Dance, then, wherever you may be, I am the Lord of the Dance, said he, And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be, And I'll lead you all in the Dance, said he. They cut me down and I leapt up high; I am the life that'll never, never die; I'll live in you if you'll live in me— I am the Lord of the Dance, said he. Dance, then, wherever you may be, I am the Lord of the Dance, said he, And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be, And I'll lead you all in the Dance, said he. Notes 1 Gilles Cusson, Biblical Theology and the Spiritual Exercises (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1988), p. 299. 2 Cusson, p. 303. Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 56 3 Hans Urs von Balthasar, Mysterium Paschale: The Mystery of Easter (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans, 1990), p. 168. 4 von Balthasar, p 169. 5 John English, Spiritual Freedom: From an Expertience of the Ignatian Exercises to the Art of Spiritual Direction (Guelph: Loyola House, 1973), p. 247. 6 Mary Oliver, Thirst (Boston: Beacon Press), p. 52. 7 Martin E. Palmer, S.J., On Giving the Spiritual Exercises: The Early Jesuit Manuscript Directories and the Official Directory of 1599 (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1996), p. 79. 8 Cusson, p. 303. 9 David L. Fleming, Like the Lightning: The Dynamics of the Ignatian Exercises (St Louis, Institute of Jesuit Sources, 2004), p. 77. 10 Gilbert K. Chesterton, Othodoxy (Garden City, NY: Image Books, 1959), p. 160. Questions for Reflection 1. Where have I embraced the emptiness of death and how has it enabled me to experience the joy of the Risen Lord? 2. Do you have any favorite music, artwork, or poetry that helps you enter into the sacred silence discussed in this article—or that helps you understand other moments in the Spiritual Exercises or in the Gospels? 71.1 2012 57 Dolor 5: At the Foot of the Cross Giving birth is contracting to sleep with death. It is an agreement to pass on everything that has been fed, fondled, fiercely treasured, looked forward to as one looks for the first hibiscus every spring. It is a signature and seal in pledge that one will leave someone something. It holds the possibility—tormenting as tarantula's tricks— that the loved child may pass first, cursedly, of illness, mishap, quick step in the wrong place, by fate or by murderous hatred heaped upon the great. The blood and wash of afterbirth foretell that every holding close lets loose. Small fingers, small toes enlarge as mothering bellies pull back to size and shape. Flowerings green up. They will, they must, brown down with wintering. And every footfall tells an end to every earthly good, each breath started with a slap, each name begun so well that slips into what's next. Pamela Smith sscm Review for Religious 58 peter j. schineller Finding or Seeking God in All Things: A Few Cautionary Notes "T o find God in all things" is a commonplace of Ignatian spirituality. Books and essays on Ignatius and Jesuit spirituality have highlighted the phrase as a hallmark of that spirituality. However, in an essay entitled "The Ignatian Charism and Contemporary Theology," the late Cardinal Avery Dulles wrote that "to the best of my knowledge the expression 'finding God in all things,' does not appear verbatim in the writ-ings of St. Ignatius."1 He admits that we do find "similar expressions" in the writings of Ignatius, and adds that "it seems evident that God can be found in all things." Dulles's observation makes me wonder and leads me to the unanswerable question of whether Ignatius deliberately avoided the phrase "find God in all things." Ignatius does write in many places that we should seek Peter J. Schineller sj is the archivist for the New York Province of the Society of Jesus. He resides at America House, 106 West 56th Street, New York, NY 10019. 59 71.1 2012 and serve God in all things; but, as we will see, except for one place, he does not use the phrase "find God in all things." Jerome Nadal, one of the early companions of Ignatius, clearly believed that Ignatius had the gift or charism to "feel the presence of God" and that this experience should likewise characterize Ignatius's fol-lowers. He writes: "I shall not fail to recall that grace which he had in all circumstances, while at work or in conversation, of feeling the presence of God and of tasting spiritual things, of being contemplative even in the midst of action: he used to interpret this as seeking God in all things."2 Note well that Nadal says Ignatius interpreted this experience as seeking God in all things. So too, Pedro Ribadeneira, also an early compan-ion of Ignatius, reports that "we frequently saw him taking the occasion of little things to lift his mind to God, who even in the smallest things is great. From seeing a plant, foliage, a leaf, a flower, any fruit, from the consideration of a little worm or any other animal, he raised himself above the heavens and penetrated the deepest thought."3 And, in the Autobiography of Ignatius, Luis da Camara, who wrote down the words of Ignatius, states: "At whatever time or hour he wanted to find God, he found Him."4 (To be precise, da Camara says that Ignatius could find God at all times, not that he found God in all things.) So we ask: might there be some wis-dom or insight—or caution—in the fact that Ignatius only once uses the phrase "find God in all things"? The Sole Text and Its Context In the long letter to Antonio Brandão subtitled "Instructions given by our father Ignatius, or at his Review for Religious Schineller • Finding or Seeking God in All Things 60 direction . . ." we read the advice given to scholastics: "the scholastics cannot engage in long meditations . . . they can practice seeking the presence of our Lord in all things; in their dealings with other people, their walking, seeing, tasting, hearing, understanding, and all our activities. For his Divine Majesty truly is in every-thing by his presence, power, and essence. This kind of meditation—finding God our Lord in everything—is easier than lifting ourselves up and laboriously making ourselves present to more abstracted divine realities."5 Again, a caution. This letter was not written by Ignatius, but at his direction by Juan de Polanco. Further, before he says "finding God in everything," he says the scholastics must "practice seeking the presence of our Lord in all things." Finding that presence is not auto-matic— and, perhaps, not so easy as we might think! In the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, we read that Jesuit novices "should often be exhorted to seek God our Lord in all things . . . loving him in all crea-tures and all creatures in him" [§288]. Again, we see emphasis on the element of search. So too, in the Contemplation to Attain Love in the Spiritual Exercises, we read: "Here it will be to ask for an intimate knowledge of the many blessings received, that filled with gratitude for all, I may in all things love and serve the Divine Majesty" [SpEx §233]. Ignatius wants the retreatants to love and serve God in all; he does not write that they are to find God in all things. I wonder if the rea-son might be that Ignatius wishes to safeguard the Divine Majesty, the ever-greater God. Might it be that he fears that we will believe that we can capture or contain or iden-tify the ever-greater God in any one thing or in all things? In addition to frequently encouraging that we seek or serve God in all things, Ignatius does say that we 71.1 2012 61 can and must "find the will of God." Thus the Spiritual Exercises are a way of preparing the soul to rid itself of attachments and "of seeking and finding the will of God in the disposition of our life for the salvation of our soul" [SpEx §1]. And Ignatius most frequently ends his letters praying for the grace to "know God's most holy will and per-fectly fulfill it." Or, "may God in his goodness give us his abundant grace to know his most holy will and entirely to fulfill it." Even as Ignatius urges us to seek and find the will of God, he emphasizes the method and the search. He never claims that seeking and finding the will of God is easily done. It demands prayer, reflection, seeking, mortification, time, and effort. Today's Background, Context, Horizon In an obvious oversimplification, we might say that in our age we find two extreme tendencies: 1) the skepti-cal, secular way of underbelief and 2) the less critical way of overbelief. These correspond to two rival "isms" in our globalized world, spoken of by Fr. Adolfo Nicolás, supe-rior general of the Society of Jesus, in a major address on higher education: 1) an aggressive secularism and 2) a resurgence of various fundamentalisms.6 We might look at the cautious and critical way of Ignatius in light of these two tendencies. 1. The skeptical and secular viewpoint. Many today, including Christians, experience the distance, absence, Seeking and finding the will of God demands prayer, reflection, seeking, mortification, time, and effort. Review for Religious Schineller • Finding or Seeking God in All Things 62 or otherness of God. Rather than finding God in all things, they do not find God anywhere in their experi-ence. Or God is edged out by many possibilities, alter-natives, and options, by many "things" that are not God. They live in a world come of age that no longer "needs" God and are skeptical of those who find, describe, and talk of God so easily. They are critical of claims or interpretations that seem to make God into one thing among many. This objectification of God, they find, entails a loss of God's otherness and transcendence. 2. The less critical fundamentalism or overbelief. At the other extreme are the many believers who see God at work in every event. God is close and at hand. Some Christians seem to think they have a lock on God, clearly grasping and knowing the divine intentions and will for the world and for humankind. Statements to that effect indicate a temptation to reduce God to our size, to capture and lay hold of God. In a general way, two of today's thinkers reflect these two tendencies. The first is the critic George Steiner. In My Unwritten Books, a sequel to his book Real Presences, which points us to various signs of the transcendent, Steiner writes that he feels strongly the absence of God—a powerful experience of emptiness. "Awesome is the God who is not. . . . I strive to be with His sovereign absence."7 Steiner finds himself groping for and seeking God more than believing in and finding God. He adds that to be great, literature need not believe in or affirm God, but at least must grapple with the question of God, the search and debate over the reality of God. From an explicit Christian perspective, we might also listen to James Gustafson. In an article entitled "The Denial of God as God,"8 Gustafson writes that "the history of our religion is the history of human 71.1 2012 63 attempts to manage and manipulate the awesome power of God, who is finally beyond our capacities to know fully, to capture in human thoughts and deeds. . . . It is the history of efforts to control the times and places of his presence." Gustafson asserts that we overlook this awesome reality of God: "how we want a God we can manage, a God who comes when we beckon him, a God who permits us to say that he is here, but not there; a God who meets our needs on our terms; a God who supports our moral causes and destroys the forces we think are evil; a household God and a kitchen God." Then, drawing from the thought of Martin Luther, he challenges us not to try to manipulate or reduce God, but to "let God be God." Ignatius's Balance Surely Ignatius is not guilty of this reduction or denial of God. He had a strong sense of the immen-sity and majesty of God (he loved stargazing), as well as the closeness of God (recall his meditation on the Incarnation and birth of Jesus Christ in the Spiritual Exercises [§101-117]). But can this be said of all his followers? Might some be at times guilty of oversimpli-fying, reducing, identifying God with their own prefer-ences and thus not "letting God be God"? To put this more boldly; if we think it easy and pos-sible to find God in all things, might we end up by not finding the true God—the transcendent God—in or above any things? Emphasizing the finding of God in all things could become misleading and wrongheaded because it misses or misinterprets the special presence of God in some particular times, places, events, and things. Might this approach be similar to the positive emphasis on the generous and widespread presence and Review for Religious Schineller • Finding or Seeking God in All Things 64 offering of God's grace to all persons. If that view, good in itself, is pushed to the extreme, if all is grace, then we no longer distinguish between grace and non-grace, between grace and nature. Or, if all ground is seen as holy ground, then we might overlook or undercut the special presence or intervention, the special rev-elation of God. If we hold that everything i s sacred and noth-ing is profane or secular, then we could also hold the reverse, that nothing is sacred. Ultimately, it seems important and necessary that we maintain the distinction (not separation) of sacred and secular, of grace and nature, of the God who is in all things and yet above all things. Ignatius also writes of one other thing that Jesuits should seek in all things—namely, greater abnegation and continual mortification! "The better to arrive at this degree of perfection which is so precious in the spiritual life, [the] chief and most earnest endeavor [of the Jesuit candidate and those in formation] should be to seek in our Lord his greater abnegation and continual mortifica-tion in all things possible; and our endeavor should be to help him in those things to the extent that our Lord gives us his grace, for his greater praise and glory" [General Examen of the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, §103]. While the seeking of mortification does not pre- If we think it easy and possible to find God in all things, might we end up by not finding the true God— the transcendent God— in or above any things? 71.1 2012 65 clude the effort to seek, find, and serve God in all things, surely it derives from a very different, and more sober perspective. It offers a balance to an overly posi-tive, totally one-sided incarnational spirituality. Ignatius is reminding us that the God or Christ that we seek and serve in all things is the Christ of the cross (abnega-tion and mortification) as well as the Christ of glory who comes with power. Thus Ignatius can write regard-ing the qualifications of the rector of a college, that he should "be a man of great example, edification and mortification of all his evil inclinations" [Constitutions, §423]. The ideal superior is one who both practices mortification and seeks to find God in all things! Living with and Maintaining the Tension Deus Semper Major—God Ever Greater—is the title of the monumental work of Erich Pryzwara sj on Ignatius of Loyola.9 The God of Ignatius, the God we seek, find, love, and serve is ever greater, always more. God is in all, but also always above all. Ignatius had the ability to keep seemingly opposing tensions or ten-dencies in view—prayer and action, contemplation and action, the local and the universal, trust in God and trust in our talents and efforts, and obedience and free-dom. In these reflections we are pointing to 1) the ten-sion between the God in all things, and the God above all things and 2) the possible tension between seeking God in all things, and finding God in all things. It seems best and most creative to hold on to both elements of these two tensions and not eliminate one or the other. In one tension we hold that God is in and also above all things: incarnate, indwelling, working in the world, and yet, in keeping with the fourth part of the Contemplation to Attain the Love of God, above Review for Religious Schineller • Finding or Seeking God in All Things 66 and beyond, the source of all. In the second tension, we maintain both the seeking for and the finding of God. St. Augustine writes that we would not seek God unless we had already found (and been found by) God. So I am simply suggesting that rather than conflate the two, or eliminate one or the other, we place a bit more emphasis on the seeking and searching, and less on the finding, in accord with Deut. 4:29: "from there you will seek the Lord your God, and you will find him if you search after him with all your heart and soul." A Caution and a Challenge Does this mean we should not use the phrase "find-ing God in all things"? No. It is in common use and does reflect the way Ignatius was interpreted by his contem-poraries even if Ignatius was normally reticent in using it. At the same time, we should use the words carefully and with awe, recalling that God is always greater and beyond. We dare not think we have captured God. We can preserve and use "finding God in all things" if we emphasize the search, the process, the prayerful effort of trying to find God in places and events around us. Two final cautions: Meister Eckhart said that "Foolish people deem that they should look upon God as though he stood there and they here. It is not thus." God is ever greater, ever here, and ever beyond. We might recall, too, the words of Fr. John Courtney Murray when he saw a poster to be used at a demonstration. Expressing the spirit of the times and a commitment to faith and justice, the poster read: "God Is Other People!" Murray is reported to have said "They forgot the comma after the word 'other.' It should read: 'God is Other, People!' " Probably the strongest challenge now is to seek and find God in the cities, in the world of technology and 71.1 2012 67 computers. We should not seek to find God only in sun-sets and stars and in the least of the sisters and broth-ers, but also amid skyscrapers and elevators, amid steel and concrete buildings, amid asphalt streets, on subways and in airplanes—wherever God seems to be edged out, overlooked, or denied. If the challenge seems daunting, we might be consoled by the words St. Augustine attri-butes to God: "you would not search for me unless you had already found me." And, we might add, we would not search for God "unless God had already found us." Notes 1 Avery Dulles sj, "The Ignatian Charism and Contemporary Theology." America (26 April 1997): 16. 2 Monumenta Historica Societatis Iesu, Mon. Nadal, iv, 651. 3 Monumenta Historica Societatis Iesu, Vita Ignatii Loyolae, in Fontes Narrativi, iv, 742. 4 Ignatius of Loyola, Autobiography, §99. 5 Ignatius of Loyola: Letters and Instructions, (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 2006), p. 342. 6 Adolfo Nicolás sj, "Challenges to Jesuit Higher Education Today." Conversations on Jesuit Higher Education 40 (Fall 2011): 9. 7 George Steiner, My Unwritten Books, (New York: New Directions Books, 2008), p. 209. 8 James Gustafson, "The Denial of God as God." Criterion (Autumn 1977): 6-9. 9 Erich Przywara sj, Deus Semper Major: Theologie der Exercitien (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1940). Review for Religious 68 In Distressing Disguise for Agnes Gonxha Bejaxhiu he's a lonely old man dandruff dusts his faded black shirt some polyester blend shiny, holding odors of sweat and cigarettes and left-overs some of which remains on the front of his trousers the purple around his neck shabby, soiled, worn-out even burned a little in one place careless as he is with his smokes over my head his palsied hand trembles and to my ears come mumbled words of grace while my heart strains to see Him, to see His true face, here before me in distressing disguise. Sean Kinsella Winter Sunset At exactly five-fifteen p.m. the over-ripe sun paused a second on the town's rim, all the horizon's color sealed in its neon pulp. I could hardly stop gazing, sure it would burst and spill red-orange juice, winter's redemptive blood, across the Western sky. Patricia Schnapp rsm The Warmth, the Will, and the Way The dilemma is that I am not making very steady progress on my spiritual journey. This leads me to think that I need more consistency. Since I already live "a stable way of life" as a member of a religious order, my basic direc-tion is set. I see that this way of life is leading me where the deepest currents of my heart want me to go. But despite that general clar-ity of direction, I find myself dawdling along, sometimes going backwards, often wandering off to explore some curiosity, rarely totally focused on the path, much less on the goal, of this particular journey on which the Way is also the End. We often pray that the Holy Spirit will fill our hearts and "enkindle in them the fire" of 71.1 2012 sharing experi-ence 69 ben harrison Ben Harrison mc is a Missionaries of Charity Brother. He has worked in formation and has journeyed, in the U.S. and Europe, alongside homeless people, prisoners, addicts, and other people on the margins of society. His email is . Review for Religious Harrison • The Warmth, the Will, and the Way 70 his love. Once on a retreat I was complaining to the director that I didn't feel any sense of God's presence, and he assured me that I wouldn't be feeling the absence if there weren't a kind of presence; the longing itself was a sign of the Spirit's presence. If I could welcome that longing as a warming presence rather than endure it as a chilling absence, it would help to enkindle the fire of his love. When I speak of this warmth of heart I am not talk-ing about seeking emotional experiences in prayer but rather of finding that sense of inner presence that is so important in the prayer of Eastern Christianity. My mind and the actions it inspires range all over the place, but if I am attentive to that warmth in my heart, the inner pres-ence not only influences my thoughts and feelings but also anchors my actions and desires. This sense of warmth, then, helps me to be more consistent on my spiritual way. I frequently have very good insights, and for a long time I thought that they could keep me centered. I often thought, "Oh, what a brilliant idea! If I can only remember that every day, I will be set for life." And so I would make a note and stick it on the door, or I would write a prayer and say it every morning, until it became so routine that what I was saying didn't even register. Soon I would have another brilliant insight with life-changing potential. Such thoughts are like matches that provide real fire, but only for a few minutes. Then, unless the match is touched to a candle or to a heap of kindling, it is spent. I need something more reliable than insights. I need something more reliable than insights. 71.1 2012 71 Perhaps the secret is to do what would be done in a cottage in the woods: continually add fuel to the fire, a log at a time, to keep it burning. Then, late at night, bank the coals, rake them together in a little pile so that the heat will not dissipate. A few glowing embers will remain in the morning, upon which new kindling can be placed and fresh wood arranged so all is ready to warm the beginnings of the new day. That way the hearth never grows cold. I am discovering that this warmth of heart is a sign of the Spirit's presence with me, abiding in me, direct-ing me toward the goal. But there is something else that seems to be essential in order to deepen that presence and strengthen God's claim on me—what I would call will. The desire is there: the forward impulse, the yearn-ing for the heights, the longing to surrender my being to the One Who Is. What is the difference between this desire and will? To wish for something is to entertain a desire for it; to want it is to own that desire; to will it is to act on that desire, to put it into operation. Will has about it an element of determination. And it is not something I can drum up within myself. It has to be given. St. Paul says, "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for God is at work in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure" (Phil 2:12-13). Will and the Vows As I think about my vocation, I would say that my will is expressed, above all, by the vows. My vows are the way I demonstrate to myself, to God, and to oth-ers this desire to belong totally to him. The Latin verb for will is volo, velle, and the Latin verb voveo, vovere means vow or wish. Though etymologically the roots of volo and voveo do not seem to be related, there is, Review for Religious Harrison • The Warmth, the Will, and the Way 72 to my mind, a consonance of meaning. The vows of religious life are a way of making concrete the double-edged desire that is God's desire for me, expressed in a call—a word spoken silently in the heart—that awakens a reciprocating desire in me. His desire to give himself completely to me sets that very same flame alight in me so that I desire to give myself irrevocably to him. The gentle fire of the Spirit's warmth that God enkindles in my heart is drawing me, slowly but surely, toward the blazing glory at the heart of God, and my vows repre-sent the power of that attraction and my determination by God's grace to reach that goal. I see the vows of religious life as the embodiment and expression of the will to be united with God and to give myself to him totally in a particular context, in response to his gift of himself to us in Christ. This is so whether we are speaking of the monastic vows of obedi-ence, stability, and conversion of life or the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience (or, for that matter, similar sets of vows or promises: those of priest-hood or sacramental marriage, of virginity or service, of oblate-hood or lay association). From primitive times a vow was a solemn promise to make some gift or sacrifice to a divinity as an earnest of a good requested or in thanksgiving for a boon received. Although on a literal level this sounds like a type of bargaining or commerce, I can also see it as a way of demonstrating to myself and my God how important something is to me, how sincerely I desire it, how des-perately I need it, how serious my intentions are. The medieval king might have prayed, "Lord, defend us from the threat of these brutal enemies and I will build a church for your glory." Or a mother may pray, "Lord, if you spare my daughter from this dread disease, 71.1 2012 73 I will do everything I can to support research for its cure." Or a widow may say, as one I know did, "Lord, if I am spared from this condition leading to blindness, I will never use my eyes to take pleasure in what is not good and pure." Thus we see how a vow is an expression of a wish for some good for oneself or others. The Italian word for such a commitment is impegno, which can be translated as "pledge." Literally, some-thing given in pegno is pawned. By the vows I am putting the treasure of my earthly life in pledge for a higher good. I am putting my security, my posterity, and my liberty in pawn for something I need more urgently. What is it, in this case, that I need so urgently? I need the grace to live up to this persistent impulse to give myself—an impulse that God has placed in my heart. I know that the faith, hope, and love in me are too weak and faltering to do the job, to get me where I yearn to go. And so I pledge what I have to him and entrust my poor being to him, not to pay him for what he freely gives, but to show him (and myself) that I am serious about following him and that I trust him with this pre-cious but paltry gift of my life, trust that he will keep it safe and see it redeemed and restored in his own time. Pledging my life to him, I am confident that he will give me the grace I need to live each day. In the world of commerce, one pawns something of value for ready money—something that has value but is not spendable, for something that can be spent. The ready cash makes it possible to buy what is needed today. Another word for this ready cash is currency, also called fluid or liquid assets. All these words—"current," "fluid," "liquid"— suggest an action of flowing and remind us of the Spirit, that spring of living water that flows forth from the heart of Christ. Review for Religious Harrison • The Warmth, the Will, and the Way 74 Thus, when I make my profession of vows, I am proclaiming my faith in God and my desire to belong to him. The vows that I pronounce represent the totality of my gift of self. In the institute to which I belong, we profess the evangelical counsels—the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. These three vows are an apt symbol of the totality of my life. By dedicating to God all that I have, all that I love, and all my choices and decisions now and in the future, I am effectively giv-ing him all I am. This triad of the evangelical counsels reflects a totality of being, as do many similar triads. I have no trouble, for example, in seeing parallels between the vows and St. Ignatius's prayer surrender-ing "my memory, my understanding, my entire will." The traditional baptismal formula asks us to renounce "the world, the flesh, and the devil." Scripture tells us that we are to love God with our whole heart, soul, and mind (Mt 22:37). The magi brought the treasures of the nations—gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Micah tells us that our sole obligation is "to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God" (Mi 6:8). It is easy to see how the three evangelical counsels reflect the three theological gifts of faith, hope, and love. And finally, without putting too fine a point on the comparison, I suggest that the vow of poverty is descriptive of my relationship with the Father, without whom I am nothing and have nothing; chastity reflects my relationship with the Word, the Son, who is friend, Savior, and Bridegroom of souls; and obedience is the domain of the Spirit, who prompts the content of obe-dience and makes possible its practice. The act of making vows is thus a statement of my desire to surrender myself absolutely to the Absolute, to dedicate myself to his way and consecrate myself to his 71.1 2012 75 purpose. The mutuality of giving to which God invites me does not mean a mere absorption in each other. Though I would be content to lose myself in God, he seems to want more for me than that. God wants me to share his love for others and so, by my self-offering, he unites me to his own mission—his out-pouring, in-gathering action of universal love. Thus I am given to the particular apostolates and ministries of the institute in which I live my vocation. Sometimes vows are spoken of as sacred bonds. Bonds are something that we feel gripping us, holding or securing us. If bonds are involuntary we feel them as a constraint, an injustice. If they are desired, we feel them as a comfort, a belong-ing, an embrace. I suppose anyone who makes vows feels them sometimes as a restriction and some-times as a liberation. But part of the radi-cal nature of such a commitment is the protestation that one is willing to pay the price, that one values the liberation of giving oneself more than the security of having oneself. It is a recognition that dying to self is the road to life and that the cross shared is the victory won. Like the fox in Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's The Little Prince, I want nothing more than for the Little Prince to tame me, so that "the wheat, which is golden [like your hair], will remind me of you. And I'll love the sound of the wind in the wheat." The act of making vows is a statement of my desire to surrender myself absolutely to the Absolute. Review for Religious Harrison • The Warmth, the Will, and the Way 76 Consistency in the Way Returning, then, to my original point, I am saying that two things will help me to find a salutary consis-tency in my spiritual journey: the abiding warmth of the Spirit's presence in my heart, and the will—the determination—to yield to the relentless attraction of Jesus drawing me, and all, to himself. God's love for me in Christ arouses a reciprocating love in me. I give my poor self to him in pledge, not because I have to but because I want to, and he gives me, in return, the wherewithal to make the journey: the daily bread, the water from the rock, and the yearning for home—for the harbor—at the heart of God. Perhaps the greatest indication of his love that God has given me, from my point of view, is not his love itself for me (of which I can scarcely conceive) but my love for him, which is a sweet hunger, a soothing need. Nor is my love for him something that I can claim or that I often feel, but rather an occasional glimpse of light; a fitful melting of joy; a momentary, faint intima-tion of promised ecstasy. It is to the memory of those rare moments of tender quickening, of nostalgia for the unknown, that my will clings during the long periods of dryness, confusion, and loss. It is will that keeps me walking on the way when even the cherished memory fades and all I have left to fall back on is the Spirit's quiet presence in my heart. Indeed, it is all up to God. It is he who supports the journey from behind with his warm abiding. It is he who lures me from ahead through that hunger in my heart. And it is he who strengthens me on the way by the will to journey on. Each day's reminder of that will at work in me is the comforting burden of the vows, by which I experience within myself the debt of love, the 71.1 2012 77 yoke of gratitude, the claim of oneness by which I know that I am his. Being as I am, the fact that I do not manage to live my vows wholeheartedly is not surprising. But it is important that I feel the rub and the pinch and the chafe of them against my stubborn self. As my need and desire for God become stronger than all lesser needs and desires, so the bonds of my belonging to him will grow stronger than all my resistances. At the point that I can give myself without reserve, I will be free. And how do I dare to think that I will reach that point? St. Paul tells us that if God has gone so far as to give his Son for us, "will he not also give us all things with him?" (Rom 8:32). And Paul says further, "I am sure that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ" (Phil 1:6). I trust that God would not have put this desire in my heart, and that of my companions on the way, if he didn't intend to give us the grace to see it through. Home Walking the Labyrinth at Chartres Home. Is it where I begin or end or at the middle stillpoint? Am I at home on the way? Here I am, Lord. Never far from the beginning always approaching the end continually circling the center. Eugene Cartier Review for Religious Getting with the Program P robably one of the most important graces of my novitiate was coming to realize that I had an addiction. It was a painful and embarrassing experience, and yet I have no doubt that it was the best thing that has happened to me in a number of years. During my novitiate I started accessing pornogra-phy online. It was a development I was so ashamed of that I was afraid it would herald the end of my journey into religious life. Previously I had bought magazines and sought out sexually stimulating images in films or through image search engines on the Internet. My behavior began to take root at an early age in romantic fantasy. I would fantasize about being with a girl and wooing her in some exotic setting. Even though I was sexually inexperienced and naive and did not know what adults did together between the sheets, I would some-times escape into this fantasy when I went to bed. 78 A young man writes of his experience of coming to terms during the novitiate with his addiction to pornography. He has requested that the article be published anonym

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

Issue 29.2 of the Review for Religious, 1970. ; 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. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 631o3. Questions for answering should be sent to -Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 32~ Willings Alley;,Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~9~o6. 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 Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and cop':'rlgi~t ~) 1970 by R~-:w~-:\v at 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, Mary-land 21202. Printed in U.S,A. Second class postage paid at Baltimore, Maryland and at additional mailing ot~ces. Single copies: $1.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $5.00 a year, $9.00 for two years; other countries: $5.50 a year, $10.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should b~ accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to REVIEW FOR RI~LIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to p~rsons Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions, where a¢com. panied by a remittance, should be sent to R£VlI~W ~on Rtt.tetous; P, O. Box 671; Baltimore, Maryland 21203, Changes of address, busine~ correspondence, and orders not accompanied by a remittance should be sent to R£vl~w R~I~o~s ; 42B East Preslon ~treet; Balfimo~, Mawland 21202. Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and ~oks for review should be sen~ ~o R~v~w roa R~mvs; 612 Hum~ldt Building; 539 North Grand ~ulevard Saint ~ouis, Mi~ouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address the ~u~fioas and ~we~ ~itor. MARCH 1970 VOLUME 29 NUMBER 2 Meditative Description of the Gospel Counsels Introductory Statement" Framed* in words and concepts Iamiliar to the last third o[ the twentieth century, this meditative descrip-tion oI the vows accents the pgetic nature of religious li[e: the "more than" dimension to a faith-existence; the contemplative, "'being" aspect oI religious consecration; the "useless" character o] anything which is an art, any-thing which is beautiIul. RELIGIOUS VOWS We share the richness of the lived experience of vowed commitment, as an institute and as individual members. Because of the radical and rapid changes occurring in society, we are called upon to re-think and re-articulate the meaning and purpose of religious consecration in today's world. It is a fact that we are now living our promises differently; therefore, there is a present need to speak of them differently. Today, more than ever, we need a positive explana-tion of the vows. Renunciation and detachment will always he valid and essential elements of this radical, total commitment. However, we must presently seek greater understanding of the YES aspect--the CHOICE OF LIFE. A spotlight on religious communities should reveal real people who live fully, love deeply, give totally, and enjoy life immensely. The three vows of consecrated celibacy, poverty, and obedience manifest the centrality of commitment to Christ in community. All three vows are facets of this ¯ This-meditative essay on the counsels was written at the request of the special general chapter of the Sisters of Mercy of the Union in the United States. Four sisters o~ the Union cooperated in writing the essay: Sister M. Catherine Daly, R.S.M.; Sister Patricia Smith, R.S.M.; Sister Marjorie Bosse, R.S.M.; and Sister M. Evangeline McSloy, R.S.M. The essay is printed in the R~v~w through the kindness of the superior general o[ the Union, Sister Mary Regina Cunningham, R.S.M.; Sisters of Mercy Generalate; I0000 Kentsdale Drive; P.O. Box 34446, Bethesda Post Office; Washington, D.C. 20034. + + ÷ The Counsels VOLUME 2~ 1970 193 The Coimsei~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 194: same reality. They are means to unity---community-- with God and with one another. Our vows can open us to all reality and, at the same time, help us to transcend, to .go beyond persons--to Person. CONSECRATED CELIBACY Chri~to~entric in inspiration and in direction, con-secrated celibacy, like all Christian values, has many dimensions. It is community-oriented, gift, faith-grounded, directed to the work of Christ, sign of what creation is and is called to be. In today's function-cen-tered, production-conscious society, the "waste" of celibate living signs to the absolute worth of the human person, to the being (as distinct from the doing) of man. Practica~ly and theologically, the celibate should be the universal pilgrim--moving on, challenging, opening up .narrowness, questioning preconceptions and vested interests. The religious, supported in her celibate com-mitment through community, signs beyond herself to the possibility of community. CONSECRATED CELIBACY is a free gift, a charism to be like Jesus Christ-- motivated by love [rom and for God to give undivided attention to the things of the Lord (I Cor 7:35) and to share in realizing God's kingdom. The celibate woman is sustained in faith because of God's promise to be ever faithful (Jr 31:33, 1 Pt 2:10; and so forth), experienced and nurtured in the dying-rising of the Paschal nlystery, trusting that there is a "more than" dimension to human life, to all reality. In her being and doing, the celibate stands as a sign of , God's love and active presence. By her being, she signs a~ a pledge, promise of harvest, hope (Key 14:4-5) to the proclamation of God's primacy in creation, to the reign of God as absolute, creative, fulfilling in her life, to the "already but not yet" tension between Christ'S first and final cosmic victory, to God's power in human weakness. Her consecration of her entire person to God, over and above any functional value she may offer, signs to the absolute worth of the human person in a tech-nological, bureaucratic world as a challenge to the priorities of that world. By her doing, she moves as pilgrim dynamically resdess, challenging preconceptions of ~'normality," the defini-tion of what it is to be human, and what it is to love humanly-- stepping in faith beyond the immediate to the uni-versal, signing to the personal, non-exclusive, non-possessive, and growth-giving love of God ¯ Bound to no one small circle, as Gospel woman ~he lives the Good News of Jesus Christ calling the whole human race, challenging any idol-atry of a particular nation, culture, religion, and so forth, free (and freeing others) for servi~ce, availability, heal-ing. Her use of her body signs that woman's sexuality is to be dedicated to many things; that to be woman is to be sensitive, kind, to speak truth, to share an interpersonal love . The celibate religious woman lives in a community built not on blood ties, ~ ~ but on a mutual drawing of person to person, and persons to Person, on ties of shared faith in divine power (Lk 1:49), shared vision of all that creation, under the Lordship of Christ, can be, shared support in her commitment to celibate lovingm witnessing to the possibilit~ of unity in a cosmos where men are searching to be one. VOWED POVERTY Christian history from its earliest beginning to the present day holds poverty to be a necessary part of the ~u'isdan life. It is a living out of the Gospel message: a genuine pilgrim people, humble and serving. Today more than ever before, however, poverty needs to be un-derstood in this true Christocentered approach. The "poor of Yahweh" must be grasped before visible ways of witnessing to poverty will be found. No longer can legislative interpretations be the guide to sharing in the poverty of Christ. P, eligious are living poverty differ-ently today and need to give expression to it in a whole new style of life---in a whole new manner of being; and of giving and sharing. The following statement is a simple meditative ap-proach to poverty which may hopefully stimulate a con-temporary thrust toward a creative reality of poverty in the lives of religious women vowed to poverty. The Counsels REVIEW FOR,RELIGIOUS 196 POVERTY is a dynamic human attitude toward life uniquely personal in expression seeking less to have than to be, and, in being to give expressing, personally and communally, a deep rever-ence for persons and things. Living in the manner of Jesus Christ, one vowed to. poverty accepts her total condition empties herself (Ph 2:1-I 1) seeks out the neighbors in need, using her gifts to serve them works in the same condition as people work today-- for a living. The woman truly poor, strives through her promise to trust fully in God as provider of all, even of life itself (Mr 6:25-34) to live without the assurance of tomorrow, in the glad-ness of today to accept humbly whatever God calls her to, to free herself of all unfreedoms, that she may share her person to offer all: voice to speak hands to touch~ heart to love openhandedly, to God's people through community In community, one vowed to poverty shares in the work of Christ: building the kingdom in an effort to affect more just distribution of wealth in personal responsibility for being collectively poor in the fruits of ordered minimalness: peace, joy in the present; hope, faith for the future In community of mercy, those vowed stand together corporately committed to simplicity of life possessing only to serve as a public sign before the world of Christ's all-sharing love stewards of the Master's goods held in trust-- feeding thepoor healing the sick teaching the uneducated visiting the needy, and so forth-- conscious that all things are theirs, that they are Christ's that Christ is God's (1 Cor 3:23) RELIGIOUS OBEDIENCE This description of obedience attempts to penetrate the meaning of an attitude much praised in Scripture: attentiveness to" God and readiness to do His will. Such an attitude is characteristic of the person who seeks out the ultimate meanings o[ things and goes beyond limita-tions: the person who lives by faith. This kind of person seems quite welcome in our contemporary world, par-adoxical though this might seem, agonized as this world might be over its own failures to promote human life, despite its marvelous successes in science and technol-ogy., athirst as it might be for those ultimates, those "beyonds" that give real meaning to life. OBEDIENCE is the power to seek out, to listen, and to hear the will of God. and the responsiveness, the readihess, to do it. Christians seek God's will in the leading of the Spirit speaking in the Christian community (Jn 1:29-51) Christ promised that the Father would send. "the Paradete, the Spirit of truth" (Jn 16:7-15) And they try to live as He did, whose very food was "to do the will of the Father" (Jn 4:80-8; 6) Religious vow to look for the Spirit,s promptings, and to do God's will with that community in which they have given them-selves, sure in faith that God will reveal His will among them, through the initiative and submission of all of them. through their personal struggles and mutual efforts to keep open to the truth in each one, accepting, appreciating, rejoicing in the different gifts among them, sure in faith, that He will make His will known ac-cording to role and need. Religious in positions of authority try to discern God's will by actively using all channels. It is a new insight on an old truth that the one governing is most in need. of the power to Obey. to listen., to hear. The call to leadership is a call to unify. Religious today realize anew, as did God's people in the Old Testament, that the Spirit speaks to the whole humart family through other signs, the "signs of the times": conditions, like afttuence and poverty, awareness of human dignity, racial tensions; events, like flights to the moon, assassinations and crime, team-work, celebrations, protests and dis-discoveries; people, like Eichmann and Ghandi, John Kennedy + + ÷ The Counsels VOLUME 2% 1970 and Martin Luther King, Jr., Dag'Hammarskjold, Dorothy Day, Jolm the XXlII, Darwin, Einstein, and Marx. PARADOXICALLY, The person who is growing in genuine obedience ~ 'becomes more and more humanly free (He who loses His life shall find it, Mt 10:39) Such a person becomes more and more attuned to the transcendent, alive to community, available for service, responding always anew ("God, here I aml I am coming to obey your will,'" Hb 10:7) + ÷ + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS GENERAL CONCLUSION The basic affirmation of Christian life: that God is our end, that all else is means, lies at the core of our under-standing of the vows. Ways of channeling our baptismal commitment, they proclaim publicly a choice of avail-ability, service. They point toward possibilities---of hu-man commitment, enduring fidelity, growth in process, becoming. They speak of and call us to live---a mystery. RELIGIOUS VOWS are means, signs of a personal choice: a commitment in faith to the God who is both among and beyond His people; a life orientation toward possibilities fo~ human actualization and for apostolic service; a radical attempt to incarnate the gospel message by living like Jesus Christ. Framed in terms of covenant, the vows intensify the God-man covenant made at baptism; acknowledge God's greatest gift--that He first loved us in Jesus Christ; express a human response to that gift; include the covenant relationship between God and the person, the person and her community. Public in nature, ecclesial in character, religious vows boldly proclaim as a "splendid and striking witness": a stance of constant presence before God, constant openness to the Holy in human life; an attitude of constant striving for more total avail-ability to God and to His people; gratitude for the mercy continually received from God through His people; communal commitment to the kingdom and to its com-ing. In a cosmos and among men viewed in terms of "proc-ess," religious vows attempt to express certain hu-man possibilities: of total self-giving, both in being and be~:oming; of fidelity amid change; of commitment not sterilely binding but creative; of growing in oneness in a fragmented so(Jety; of living mystery, in and through the Spirit, in a prob-lem- solving world. VOLUME 2% 1970 199, SISTER MARY FINN "Live--Do Not Be Overtaken by Death" ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Mary Finn of the Home Visi-tors of Mary lives at 356 Arden Park; Detroit, Michigan 48202. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS I spend my evenings in an abandoned store a few blocks from our home in Detroit. The store is in the black community and is opened as a center for teenage boys. Last Spring we placed in the window a large pic-ture of the Black Christ. Invariabl~ every young man who stops and stands before the picture and looks--even for an instant--straightens up, puts his shoulders back, and stands tall. What loftiness is stirred whenever a man is faced and inspired and called beyond himself by an-otherl Great spirit and dignity and grace rise up when-ever a man stands before life. In looking up to this beau-tiful Black Christ young men are meeting the One who says: "I come that you may have life--more abun-dantly." A word today for someone who has life is "soul." When a black teenage dropout exclaims "Jesus has soul, man," he means very reverently what the Gospel means when Matthew says: "Jesus was led by the Spirit," or "Jesus is the way, the truth, the life," or "Jesus came that we might find life." Is there anything the ghetto searches for more than life? Anything the affluent, the student, the addict is more desperate for--than life? Our entire culture is hungry for life. Death prevails and abounds all around. We are men and women enclosed in a machine-centered world; encapsulated by professionalism and technology and humanitarianism; asphyxiated by accumulation of things and manipulation for power and craving for pleasure. Where does a man turn for life? What are the alternatives? Who are the sources of life in a technolog-ical culture? Religious are a people consecrated--really consecrated --to life in the midst of death. If ever our American culture needed religious people and institutions it is now --to show the individuals and institutions of our society that there really is an alternative to death., specifi-cally death.by-power, and death-by-wealth, and death- .by-pleasure. The alternative to dea.th-by-wealth is my vowed life of poverty. The alternative to death-by-power is my vowed life of obedience. The alternative to death-by- pleasure is my vowed, life of celibacy. This is the glory of religious life--that in ~/day when man is seduced unto death there are men and women and institutions consecrated to life. The glory of religious life is to bring men and institutions to LIFE. There are people in the world with a profound sense of life and people in the world with a deprived sense of life---life lovers and death lovers; people who lift up and people who cast down. I am a strange mixture of both. There is the death lover in me and the life lover in me: Reality is almost always experienced in the form of people, things, events. The death lover in me is fasci-nated by what is lifeless. I am scared and frightened by the wonder and mystery of life; so to protect myself from living I have all sorts of ways of exploiting people. The death lover in me handles people, manipulates them, disposes of people mechanically. I crave my own suc-cess and safety and will suppress a person who threatens me.The "music teacher" in Death at an Early Age is so threatened by the life, the artistry of 6th graders that she finds multiple ways to protect herself from life--to the point of kindly:killing creativity in the chil-dren. She squeezes the life out of one child, then another, and another, and finally brings about their death and the institution's death--all for her own safety. Only when she feels successful and becomes "master" of the child and has the child "under her control"--only then can she "praise" him. She literally kills the child; she desecrates life, snuffs inner life right out of a youngster because she herself is so deathly afraid of life. The death lover can't possibly be celibate with people because death-centeredness is violent and irreverent with life and to be celibate means to revere life--to initiate, foster, sustain life in a wonderful varie, ty 0f ways. This is'how the death-lover in me relates to people. Toward things the death lover in me is possessive. I ollect,~,hoard, and secure every little creature I desire, I'm threatened by what .I'm unable to possess and up-tight and" upset when. my "things" are slightly out of order. The woman in the Old Testament, who falsely claims to be mother of the child, is typical of the pos-sessiveness of the death lover. She prefers a properly divided dead child than to allow, the true mother pos-session of her living child. The,death lover can't possibly be poor because poverty VOLUME 29, 1970 ,REVIEW FOR REL[G[OUS 20~ is freedom from domination by things and liberation from enslavement to things. The death lover in me is possessed and "run by dead things." Toward events the death lover in me is fearful and forceful. I am dominated by a compulsion to control and master; power-hungry. My supreme values are power and order and having the situation under control--so well under control there is no room for variety or growth or spontaneity. The death lover in me runs the world like a great big machine. The death lover can't possibly obey because obedience means to listen and be responsive and available to the voice of life all around me. There is also the life lover in me, and the life loving me has special attitudes toward reality. As life lover I have a profound reverence for life--for people, th!ngs, events. I experience people with great joy and have a sense and belief in their almost unbelievable and won-derful individuality. For the life lover, every person is a special presence to be encouraged and brought more and more deeply to life. The death lover in me makes the individuality and uniqueness of the other a target--to be picked at and shot down. There is a lot of the sniper in the death lover. The life lover has a profound rev-erence for the life and specialness and individuality of the other, and when the other appears as unique the life lover in me becomes even more alive by coming to the support of the other who is being born in a new way. I foster and nourish the individuality of the other to be-come even more herself--more unique and individual. The death lover in me is scared and frightened and threatened by the specialness of the other so I become insecure with my own individuality. The life lover in me admires and promotes the specialness of the other and is at home and responsible for both the extensions and limitations of my own individuality. The attitude of reverence for my own individuality and the specialness of the other person is beautifully ex-perienced and expressed and sustained by vowed celi-bacy. My celibacy is an alternative to death-by-pleasure; a fundamental reverence for people--my own self and the self of other people. To be truly celibate means to be touched by life, to be brought alive by the uniqueness of the other and to bring others alive by my own unique-ness. To be celibate means to be a lively individual. It means I pulsate with vitality and generate an abiding attitude of personal and interpersonal reverence. The celibate in me is the great lover of life--re-creating life all around by my own wholehearted presence to life. Celibacy has a great lifting power. ToXbe celibate means not only to be at home with my cwn individuality and the individuality of the other, but to be creative even in unveiling the individuality of myself and the other. It means providing the truest con-ditions for unfolding life and immediately and ulti-mately manifesting the Lord Jesus. To be celibate has a lot to do with privacy and with being alone. Celibacy means I am able to be alone and to bring Out the individuality of the other who is alone. I feel my aloneness from my friend much more deeply than my aloneness from people less near, but if I really mean it when I say I respect the individuality of the other than I am able to "leave the other alone"--not to tamper or handle or seduce the other. My sense of alone-ness is an awesome sense of life and vibrancy, but in it I have moments of feeling my tendency to "prove" or "test" the closeness of the other to me. As soon as I do this--as soon as I try and touch and overhandle the intimacy of the other or overexpose my own intimacy --then I violate and betray my celibacy, and life disinte-grates- like a bubble. Being celibate and intimate with the other is more like two open hands cradling sand than clutching sand in my closed fist. Christ went about touching people--but what a difference in His touch and mine. Christ never touched anyone for His own sake-- to prove or test anything for Himself. He touched people only for the sake of their growth and life--for the sake of the Lord God. My sense of aloneness is a supreme moment of celibacy because it places me in an awesome experience of being born and coming to life. My celibacy is both a separation from "death" and communion with new life. As a life lover I also have a rather special experience of things. A great and wonderful multitude of things appear in my daily life: the things of technology--water that refreshes, clothes that adorn, vehicles that trans-port, gadgets that facilitate, books that illuminate; and all the wonderful things of nature--the enduring of a mountain, calm of a sunset, strength of water, grace of a flower, splendor of a leaf, gentleness of a meadow, free-dom of a bird. When things become more and more ap-pealing and plentiful and available the death lover in me looks and grabs and clutches. With some things I be-come overinvolved, infatuated, indiscriminate, cluttered. With other things I am cold, passive, uncaring, reckless. The life lover in me has a profound reverence for things and relates to them as a source of life and inspiration and celebration. The attitude of reverence and gratitude and joy for the gift of things is beautifully expressed and sustained by vowed poverty. My poverty is an alternative to death-by-possessiveness. Fundamentally poverty is reverence for things. To be poor in spirit VOLUME 4. 4. 4. $ist~,~ Ma~ Finn REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 204 is to be treed and serene and gra.ceful in the presence or absence of things. This experience of poverty redeems me from death, frees me trom domination by things, liberates me from enslavement to things. Poverty heals the break and rupture between myself and my posses-sions and restdres me and gives me a sense of wholeness and unity and harmony. The life lover in me has vision that penetrates and goes beyond the surface of things and enters into a communion with the inner meaning and life of things. Especially in a technological world this lively, delight-ful, restful relationship with things is not often found. It is fashionable to have and collect useful things, but not so fashionable to enter into the deepest meaning of things. To really commune with the heart of a. thing means I must take a kind of distance from its im-mediate usefulness. I can't rejoice when I look upon things too closely. Closeness in this sense suggests at-tachment and possessiveness. Possessiveness fills me with anxiety. Anxiety confines my spirit and ties me to the outer, superficial layer of the thing. When I stand back and am detached from the thing, then I become un-cluttered, unencumbered, and free to enter into the heart and mystery of the thing. It's when I come to the heart of the thing--to the center and the mystery of what the thing is--that I come to the moment of free and fruitful enjoyment. My poverty releases my spirit and my spirit breaks forth. I enter into and transform and bring to life whatever thing I touch. My poverty draws man toward great and abundant joy in things through detachment and reverence. Besides people and things reality is encountered in the form of events. The lover of life experiences events with a loose, playful, graceful spirit. We are confronted with all sorts of events---everyday. Events of nature: a storm, headache, double chin, expanding waisdine, gray hair. And we are confronted with the wonderful and fearful events of culture: change and growth and decay; and power and militancy and reactionary, traditional-ism; institutions and structures and systems. The death lover in me stands before events of change and growth, for example, with fear and suspicion--somewhat cold and calculating, overcautious and hesitant. When I move I move to control and enforce and restrain and master. For this I have need of power so I invoke "law and order." The death lover stands before events with a sense of fate and despondency. The life ldver is called to newer and greater and more profound life. by events of culture and nature. The profound reverence the life lover experiences for events is beautifully manifested by. vowed obedience and is a very precise alternative to death-by-power. Obedience means, fundamentally, .my reverence for events. Obedience means I am in communion with the deepest and most hidden and secret meaning of events-by listening. To obey means to quietly discover and listen to a secret. When I listen to reality I am born, raised up, and brought to life. Not drugs or inter-personal dynamics--but obedience--expands my con-sciousness, extends my horizons, uncovers my depths, brighten my vision, enables me to stand tall. When I listen to the mystery at the heart of a cultural or natural event I come into touch with myself at a new level, with the secret at the heart of the event itself, and ultimately and finally into touch and consciousness of the Lord Godmpresent and acting somewhere and somehow in the event. Each event then--when I am a lover of life--each event is a sacred event; a salvific event; redemptive. There is no event, no change or in-stitution or structure or sickness that is unholy. An event is not unholy. Unholiness is when I enter into an event in an unwhole or death centered manner. The obedient person is so much in love with life that she consecrates herself, vows to listen to the deepest voice of life all around her. She submits herself to the voice of reality in her culture and in nature in order to foster unity and reverence and serenity in the world. This listening experience of obedience is altogether different ~om the controlling experience. Listening is expecting.Controlling is handlingmtill there isn't any life left.' Neither of these attitudes toward reality comes in a pure form. In other words, the pure form of death lover or life lover is rare. The pure death .lover is insane. The pure life lover is a saint. Most of us average people are a blend. What matters is that I know and am aware and discerning of both movements within myself. Becauge of the profound need in our culture, and for the preservation and enrichment of the truest values of the society itself, and especially by the very real but simply unexplainable mystery of God calling me and touching my life in the way He does--I am one whose way is meant to be an alternative. I am consecrated to life in the midst of death, poverty in the midst of plenty, celibacy in the midst of pleasure, obedience in the midst of power. This is my call. It is a profoundly personal experience of the living God forever calling me to abundant life, forever faithful to me. I cannot ex-plain my call to another. I am able to describe some moments of it--but never explain it. It is mystery. I can only live it. The deepest moments of life are always born and unfold in mystery. But forever, somewhere in VOLUME 29, 1970 ÷ ÷ ÷ RL~VIE'~ FOR RELIGIOUS 2O6 my heart, I know well I am called by One who is faith-ful. His call to me is enduring. I experience His fidcli:.y as well and as really as my own infidelity. I may repress my call, cover it up, run from it, hide--but forever it is my experience to be called to center my life prhnarily and consistently around the living God. In fai,h and quiet readiness and humble awareness I am able to do this. In a predominantly technological and function cen-tered culture my religious life, then, individually and institutionally, is a radical departure from the system and the establishment and superficial values and struc-tures. "Radical" means "deep within" not "way out." Religious life is truly radical. By centering life (in this machine and man centered world) primarily and con-sistently around the Lord I take a radical stand toward reality. A function centered culture has its special at-titude toward reality. It prizes and gives priority to pos-sessing things, pleasing people, controlling events. To live in the midst of things with an attitude of poverty, and in the midst of people with an attitude of celibacy, and in the midst of events with an attitude of listening says in a radical way to the members and institutions of my function centered culture that there is another way, that there is an alternative. The religious is the alternative. She offers love of life as an alternative to death centeredness and ultimate religious meanings as an alternative to superficial and' peripheral meanings, and releases the Spirit as an alter-native to fixation on the material: God centeredness as an alternative to the merely humanitarian. This life may actually appear a bit too radical, too threatening for a culture so permeated and centered around values of possessing things, pleasing people, and controlling situations, and consequently may draw a kind of ridicule. The culture may do to us what we find our-selves doing to whatever we can't cope with. We either don't see it or we ridicule it. When this happens it be-comes quite difficult for certain personalities to remain available and receptive to the mystery of poverty, celi-bacy, obedience. They want to "rename" the experience something else, or explain away the mystery of religious living, or so rationalize their life that they become un-able to remain faithful. I may be tempted to question my call and to shift m~t centeredness to what is super-ficial and peripheral. To go on living, however, and to become the gracious recipient of misunderstanding and ridicule bestowed by a function centered culture--to be chastened and purified and to endure the ambiguity of it all--this is the "price" as Kierkegaard says of "willing one thing." The One Thing---or the One the religious wills is Christ Jesus. I make my willingness explicit by my vowed reverence for reality, and this very reverence is a profound alternative to the death and violence that thread through a culture where values are primarily and consistently functional. Religious community is a beautiful means of fostering and sustaining, religious centered life and discovering and manifesting the most radical and religious mean-ings of life. Religious community is radically different £rom other kinds of community just as religious centered living is radically different from function centered living. Reli-gious community is "where" religious life and centered-ness are born and sustained and enriched. Religious community is where we provide a home for each other and room for each one to be a special individual, where we joyfully engage ourselves in Christ's life and call each other to life and urge each other to go through the Pass-over togethermthe ultimate experience of life. Religious community is where we transform the life and attitudes, where we "expand the consciousness" of each other, where we are purified and healed and transfigured, where we enable each other to live as uniquely and fully as possible. Religious community is where each of us is marvelously engaged in telling one another the good news, inspiring each other to uncover the living God dwelling in her own heart, calling one another to un-cover her religious heart by her own special presence, encouraging one another to be a special individual and to share with each one in a grand variety of ways one's own special religious experience. Being together in religious community is being together in Christ. Christ is the center of our religious life, so together we initiate, form, and sustain a Christ centered life. We speak to each other by our religious living together: "Keep in mind Jesus Christ." In religious community there are all sorts of room for tremendous diversity--diversity of personality, inclina-tions, cultures, races, expectations, ages. Wonderful unity is born out of this diversity. Religious community is a heartfelt experience of Christ initiating and accomplishing redemption in me. I need His touch of redemption in my doublemindedness and indecisive conformity to peripheral values. I am inclined to betray life, to shift from religious to less ul-timate and radical living. But in religious community my sisters urge me out of darkness and death and sus-tain me in light and life. This fills me with a sense of joy and enables me to speak my courageous "yes" to live life religiously, to unfold my attitudes of expectancy and enthusiasm for life, my roominess and fxiendliness, VOLUME 29, 1970 207 ÷ 4- ÷ REVIEW FOR REL;GIOUS 208 my pioneering and prophetic spirit. Religi6us commu-nity gives my spirit direction, inspires me to face God and my sister and fellow man as an individual of great peace and inner unity and decisiveness to life whole-heartedly. My sisters call me toward the Unknown. They name me "sister" and ask me to share with them--not just what is external, but the hidden treasures of my heart. I need their light to quicken my desires and their help to form my consciousness and their inspiration that I may be graced with the ability to leave life alone and not overhandle and extinguish the breath of any living spirit. Religious community is where I make a home for my sisters and communicate to them the radical and ulti-mate meaning of life and my own radical consecration and identity. Religious community is life centered but not the center of life. When the community is actually religious the Lord God is our one Center. Community is a means of initiating, forming, and sustaining our God centered life. The purpose of religious community is to speak "Father, . Son," "Spirit"--to say to each participant: "K, eep in mind Jesus Christ; keep in mind your life center." If the community "says" anythingelse it is not religious community. If the community claims to be religious but in reality says: "I am the center of life," it lies and cheats and creates confusion and becomes more dead than alive. Religious community is reaIly meant to say--very simplyPto all its members: "Pray"; "be holy"; "be alive to the call of God in Christ jesus." Members of our culture who feel the call to live more radically--artists and students and black people-- look all about them for alternatives. When they look toward the establishment they see power, greed, pleasure. What are the alternatives? Where are they? Or rather-- who are the alternatives? The celibate me is a radical alternative to a. passion centered and pleasure centered culture. The poor me is a radical alternative to a pos-session centered culture. The listening, obedient me. is a radical alternative to a power centered culture. I betray the brightest, most creative and sensitive and radical people of my culture when I betray my poverty and replace it with preoccupation and fascina-tion with budgeting, clothing, entertainment, traveling. I betray these same people when I replace my obedience and creative listening with a preoccupation and fascina-tion for management, control, manipulation, domina-tion. And I betray them when-I substitute my celibacy with preoccupation and fascination with personal corn- fort and appearance, with pleasure, popularity, and maneuvering to be "in." A second remark by way of conclusion concerns replacements for the living God. There are all sorts of replacements. We e~ich have our own preferred variety, our own little gods and golden calves and plastic idols. One of the golden calves is humanitarianism. In place of Christ at the center of my life I put myself and humanity. In place of consecration I put commitment; in place of prolonged contemplative prayer, endless drawn out dialogue and interpersonal relationships; the institution and mass identity in place of the individual's uniqueness; majority rule in place of self-determination. In place of self-surrender I put self-consciousness; in place of life, death; in place of spiritual reading, study ~ind learning and the daily paper; in place of liturgy, secular celebrations; in place of intuition, measurement; in place of asceticism, ease; in place of mystery, proof; in place of recollection and withdrawal, overinvolvement; in place of the unknown, the' known; in place of dis-cernment, public opinion; in place of faith, ration-alism; in p/ace of insight, behaviorism; in place of re-sponsibility, conformity; in place of internalizing and personal appropriation, objectification; in place of in-spiration, explanation; in place of decision, discussion; in place of celibate community, personality compatibility; in place of harmony, specialization; in place of spiri-tuality, sociology and psychology; in place of spiritual direction, group dynamics. My fascination with nature may even become a re-placement and substitute for the living God. The touch of nature, the beautiful and artistic may well dispose my heart for the Lord God--or may become a substi-tute. Theology may become a substitution or replacement for spirituality. They are quite unalike., as different as Karl Barth and Thomas Merton, as different as Tan-querey and Teresa of Avila. Another golden calf is the crowd--which becomes a major replacement or substitution for religious com-munity. The crowd is the great killer of life and prayer and wholeness; the great and gigantic intruder upon the ground of the Lord. Crowd is different from reli-gious community. Community which is religious ini-tiates, fosters, sustains religious centeredness. The crowd protects me from the most radical depths of meaning because it deprives me of that authentic aloneness and true individuality necessary to go very deep. Crowd squeezes the life out of me and becomes a divisive and shattering force against my consecration. It is especially the task of the religious in the culture ,,L~,~ ~09 to be radically set aside from the crowd, to become an alternative and to inspire the peaceful individuality of the others. The religious is the one who is able to be profoundly alone and profoundly related to others. She is able to stand, to live outside the crowd around her by uncovering the uniqueness of her own life and re-specting the life of the other. The celibate religious stands in the culture, in the midst of men, as the one so consecrated to life that she refuses to exchange her cen-teredness around the Lord for assimilation and death in the crowd. I betray my call and my religious community and the entire culture whenever I avoid or repress or replace commtinion with the Lord God with any other com-munion. Religious are meant to stir up loftiness and great spirit and dignity and grace so that those who look upon religious life, even for an instant, may straighten up, throw their shoulders back, and stand tall because they have found life abundantly. Religious are meant to say to the culture in which they live: "Receive the touch of the Lord and live. Do not be overtaken by death." ÷ ÷ ÷ ~.~ter Ma~ F~nn REYIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 210 EDOUARD POUSSET, s.J. Human Existence and the Three Vows The Gospel texts* contain a threefold call con-cerning the kingdom: chastity, poverty, and the humble service, of others in obedience to the Father. Every Christian must necessarily reach a point where he real-izes that he is personally involved in this call and that he must, within the limits of his own vocation, conform his life to it. When this call makes itself heard in a man's life it penetrates to the very heart of his existence and invites him to make what can only be described as a staggering conversion. Everything that counts for a human being is, in fact, directly involved: marriage and a family and the possessions which his work and his freedom of action obtain for him. Whoever hears this call is obliged to reorientate his life and it can happen that a man will go so far as to renounce, . through a death and resurrection which transform him, the essential values of his existence: ¯. there are eunuchs who have made themselves that way for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who can (Mt 19:12)¯ . sell all that you own and distribute the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come follow me (Lk 18:22). ¯. anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant, and anyone who wants to be first among you must be slave to all (Mk 10:43--4). It was in this way that all forms of consecration to the Lord which include the vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience were born in the Church. These three vows do not in any way consist in marginal practices and devotions. Chastity renews the heart out of love for God and creatures. Poverty establishes a new re-lationship between man and the riches of this world. ¯ This article was first published in French in Vie consacrde, vol-ume 41 (1989), pp. ~-94. The translation was made by William Russell, S.J.; St. Joseph's Abbey; Spencer, Massachusetts 01562. 4" Edouard Pomset, S.J., is professor philosophy at Lea Fontaines; ~O-Chan-tilly, France. VOLUME 2% 1970 4. 4. 4. Edouard Pou~set, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Obedience converts the desire for power and by so doing initiates man into true [reedom. The wows are man's very existence as it is lived out. in accordance with the death and resurrection o[ Christ.1 That is their greatness. But the renunciation which they entail has so direct, an effect" on the living sources and, the very structures of existence that today many are asking themselve.s if they do not doom those who pronounce them to live a life which is inhuman. And let us be honest about it, thi~ is a risk. What are these living sources, these fundamental structures of man's very existence? What does the gospel call to perfection entail? In what way are the vows a risk? How does someone live the vows? How can the risk involved be overcome by dying and being resur-rected jn Christ here and now in this world? Human Existence Man makes his appearance on the scene of life and advances in existence by a triple dynamism which un-folds in three essential activities. By means of these activities h~ develops a human s6ciety and thereby comes to understand what he is. First, there is the amorous desire which directs a human being towards his counterpart: man towards woman and woman towards man. It is this desire which is at the origin of the conjugal and familial society. Secondly, there is the power to transform and ap-propriate for oneself the natural universe which is the extension of one's body. By his work a man takes possession of this world and establishes' an economic society iri which the relationship between all the mem- XThis definition presents a difficulty, namely .that of being ap-plicable to every Christian life and not restricted to the religious life as such. Nonetheless, inasmuch as we are attempting to situate the religious life in its relationship to human existence in general and not to the life of Christians who are not religious this difficulty is of no consequence in this context. Those who would like a more precise treatment of this point may wish to consult Karl Rahner's article, "La thfiologie de la vie religieuse," in the collec[ive .work, Les religieux au]ourd'hui et deraain, Paris: Cerf, 1964, pp. 53-92. The fullness of Christianity--the perfection of love for God and man-can be attained without the vows. But religious life, because of the renunciation which it entails, "makes apparent in a very evi-dent manner and incarnates in an obje.ctive reality the faith in the supernatural grace of God which transcends this world." It is quite true that a Christian who marries, possesses his goods, and enjoys his independence can integrate the values of this world in a life of faith and thereby reach perfection. But because his existence (mar-riage, wealth, freedom) already has a value discernible by this world, independently of faith, "it does not make the transcendence of grace and faith evident in such an impressive way" (pp. 79 and 8~). And this is exactly what religious life accomplishes. bers strengthens the individuality of each one and each one's individuality strengthens the relationship which exists between the members. Thirdly, there is the desire to be independent, which is man's way of asserting his freedom when confronted by his counterpart, and his ability to conduct himself rationally. This desire is at the origin of the political society where interdependencies take shape which are the conditions of each one's freedom. Man is a being of nature, he is part of nature, but he is not, as is the animal, merely immersed in nature. He is consciousness, which implies that he can stand up to nature, look upon it as the object of his under-standing and his action, and so dominate it. A careful analysis of the relationship which man maintains with the world by sensible and intellectual knowledge would show that he is able to hold his own with everything that exists: the earth and sky and all they contain as well as what they cannot contain. The universe is his property, the object of his consciousness, and it is his vocation to make this universe---even though he is com-pletely exiled from it when he first appears in the world--his own. When he has emerged from nature, all of nature has at one and the same time been gathered together in him and remained entirely ex-terior to him. Both present to and absent from him, the universe is for him the object of a fundamental desire. And this sitiJation renews itself each time a human being is born. An infant is different from an animal in that the latter has particular, selective in-stincts, whereas the child reaches out for everything and puts it in his mouth. Everything is his. Because he is desire, the human being is desire to dominate and possess. But by coming in contact with others and experiencing the things of nature he is forced to adjust this desire both to the resistance he discovers in things and to the comparable desire he finds in others. The master finishes by finding his own master and .at times he even finds him,. in the servant he first sought to enslave. The oppositions and the struggles result in humanizing men by bringing them. little by little, to know themselves~ for what they are, to respect one another, and to get along with each .other. But because, he is desire, the human being, at the same time .as he is desire to dominate and to possess, is also the secret aspiration to find in another a subject simi-lar to himself who recognizes him without being forced 2 To I~ow onesell (se reconaRre): a precise phrase whose meaning is very strong. By mutual recognition each one sees and appreciates in the other what he is and even contributes to the creation of this value within him. 4. 4. the Vows VOLUME 2% 1WO 21~ + ÷ Edotmrd Pousset, S.]. REVIEW FOR REL|G[OUS ~14 to do so and who enables him to exist as subject as well. Without this aspiration no mutual and brotherly recognition would result from the play of forces and violence. It is this aspiration which, coupled more or less with the desire to dominate and to possess, sets man and woman in motion one towards the other: Man and woman are drawn by their very desire to seek in the other the subject, the 'T' which is able to affirm their own subjectivity, so that their harmonized reciprocity must converge in union . If man and woman succeed in giving themselves in a gift of mutual and equal assurance they can then embrace and merge in an act which establishes their unity? We have all known engaged couples and we know only too well to what extent the meeting between a young man and woman and the promise which they make one to another can transform them and develop in them potentialities which were hidden up to that time and cause them, as it were, to blossom. An un-questionable sign that they are, one for the other, be-coming more human. The relationship between a man and his wife results in the conjugal and familial society. By the union of the sexes the desire of the human being to possess nature and be recognized as a person by another person is fulfilled in a way that is partial and yet which takes the form of an intense communion. What con-stitutes the attraction of this relationship is not so much the pleasure, in the trivial sense of the term, but rather the intense communion with nature and with men. By his body each spouse recapitulates for the other all of nature, and this body is at the same time a free subject who gives himself to another subject whom he recognizes as being worthy of this gift. All the devia-tions and all the failures which can be blamed on the desire to dominate and to possess which is mixed in with the love drive do not erase the grandeur and the beauty of this mystery. Man and woman come to know one another and out of their union a child is born. By him they become father and mother. Paternity and maternity are not added on to their respective beings much like a particu-lar and accidental function; it is a re-creation of them-selves by themselves, and by their child. By this re-creation man and woman reach the fullness 6f their masculine and feminine beings, and no one who has seen a young mother bending over the crib of her little child or heard a father announcing the birth of his son could ever doubt this. All those who have 3 Gaston Fessard, "Le myst~re de la soci~tfi," Recherches de sciences religieuses, 1948, pp. 168-9, and again in L'actualitd historique, vol-ume I, Descl~e de Brouwer, 1960, p. 164. consecrated themselves to the Lord by the vow of chastity know these things, they think about them-- at times with nostalgia--and they would like to be no less man and woman, within their own vocation, than their married brothers and sisters. Nevertheless, we must not lose sight of the fact that the relationship between man and woman con-ceals an antinomy: that of love (the disinterested de-siring of good for the other and the hope of being recognized by him) and that of selfish desire to domi-nate and to possess for oneself. In marriage this antinomy is resolved but by a fragile balancing which is easily put into question. However successful family life may be it is the success of a particular group. Even harmonious--supposing they are so--family relation-ships retain the stamp and the limits o[ their origin: a biological generation which, of itself, produces only the particular bond of blood. But the human being requires a more universal society so as to become fully himself; this explains why the child once grown up leaves the family circle and enters a larger society, that of work, where he comes in contact with other men. This transition is brought about by a necessary movement: even before he experiences the narrow-ness of the family circle man must work to live and this work gives rise to relationships which are more universal than those of the family. To work is to confront and transform nature so as to take exclusive possession of it by adapting it so that it becomes one's own. Whether it be the first gathering together of things by the cave man or the building of a space capsule it is always man appropriat-ing nature, By his work he procures the goods which satisfy his needs (consumer goods) and which extend his individual body into the world (tools, equipment). This appropriation of the world by man is not only r~ecessary for his sustenance; the strengthening of his individuality depends on it as well. Even supposing that he has what he needs to satisfy his animal need to eat and drink, man, without his house and the objects with which he fills it, without the tools of his work, would scarcely be a man at all. He needs to possess these things so as to reinforce his existence in the world. Without them he is a poor creature indeed. Step by step he must possess the entire universe. The world, t~ansformed and organized by work and tech-niques, is man's body. To make the world and its riches one's own is a human act as spontaneous as it is necessary; it stems from a need, itself as undefined as the desire behind it. It is this need---the limitless ÷ ÷ ÷ VOLUME 29, 1970 ÷ ÷ ÷ Edot~r. , d Pousset, REVIEW. ~FOR ,RELIGIOUS 21,.6 multiplicity of needs and their satisfaction--which gives birth to the economic society. By means of his work man extends his intelligence and his strength .into a produ.ct Which he fashions as he distances himself from nature. This produtt, the re-sult of his work, is at first exterior to him, but in a second time it must return to him in one way ,or an-other so that he might consume it and thereby satisfy his needs. This is the circuit which takes shape: work stemming from a need; the producing of an exterior object; the appropriation and satisfaction of a need by consumption. But as he works within this circuit man comes into contact with other men as well as with nature and these men, in turn, are also at work. Their meeting gives rise to an indefinite and indefi-nitely more complex development of this circuit: in-stead of consuming the product of his work directly he exchanges it for the product of another. Exchange is a factor of progress and by it, so long as one is also a producer, one can obtain things under the best of conditions and at the lowest costs. The more a society develops the more the rate of exchange is intensified within that society and the contrary is equally true. But the desire to dominate and possess which is at the very heart of man enters into this circuit of produc-tion and exchange and throws of[ the mechanisms thereby causing all sorts of disorders and frustrations to the detriment of one and all and even to entire classes of society. This desire is at the root of the social conflicts which periodically disrupt the life of a nation. No economic system has yet found the solution to the contradictions which arise within human activity. When a solution is introduced at a given point, as in the socialist system which deprives private property of the means of production, difficulties spring up at some other point. The economic sodety does not possess the means of resolving the problems it generates. In addition, the economic society' exists only Within another .sphere, the political society, which comes into being as a r~sult of the relationship of one man ~o another. Man, as he emerges 'from animal nature, comes in contact with another "man and a domination of one over the other is the consequence of their encounter. WithOut this dominatiori of a "master" who forces his "slave" to work, the elementary needs which the hu-man being feels would have led him only so far as to~ instinctively gather up things or to hunt and this would not have been enough to draw him out of his animal nature. If the young schoolboy was not~ obliged by his teacher .to make straight strokes beiween the lines of his notebook or to decifer the marks in his school book he would never do much more than scribble, he would never learn to read and write and he would not become intelligent. At the root of all human and humanizing activity there is a discipline, a law, either one which man's reason imposes upon himself once he has become reasonable or one imposed on him by an-other in those areas where his reason has not yet at-tained full competence or efficiency. When a man comes in contact with another, author-ity is made apparent, as is obedience. The one and the other are necessary for the development of ]reedgm which is, in the final analysis, the value with which the political society is chiefly concerned. Whether it is a question of a band of thieves or a group of disciples which a saint gathers about himself, the authority of the leader is asserted and accepted as a fact. It is then legitimized by the feel and concern for the common good of the group which is evident in the person of the leader. This will be the very basis of the obedience of the members of the group. The dialogue between leader and subordinates stems from this mo'tivation" of the common good, and it is this dialogue which defines the obligations and rights of each one. Thus the flee dom of each member keeps pace with political society as it develops, whether it be a gang, a clan, a nation, or an empire. It is in political society that the desire of each one to be free and responsible for his conduc( takes shape. This determination, as in the case of the love drive and the act of making the world one's own, comes from the very depths of man, from what I have referred to above as desire. It is inalienable and s6 powerful that it is capable of setting in motion entire peoples fighting for their independence, for. and against anything and everything. It is good in itself but it can deteriorate both in an individual and in societies into a desire for power and a sense of pride which affect political relationships more or less seriously and at times provoke the most violent of conflicts be-tween individuals or peoples. Such, summarily analysed, is this third sphere of human experience, that of the relationship of man to man as he is taken as a human being independent of the man-woman distinction. It is the political society which attempts to integrate with-out destroying and to unify without confusing the two preceding spheres: the family and the economic so- .ciety. Amorous desire, the power to appropriate the uni-verse for oneself, the determination to be independent, free, and responsible are three "drives" which can giv, e birth to three passions or sins: the inordinate desire of the flesh; the thirst for riches and for self; the desire. t ././././~. l,'otus VOLUME 29,~1970~. ~ '" . Edouagd Pousset, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS for power and pride of spirit. The gospel call is not only addressed to these three capital sins, however, but reaches us at the very heart of our existence, inviting us to live according to the paradox of death and resurrection and thereby to go beyond ourselves towards the Love which is the life of the Holy Trinity. The Gospel Call The gospel call to chastity is one addressed to all. Some live chastity by remaining single while others-- by far the greater number--live it within the ~amework of a monogamous and indissoluble marriage. On this point Christ. preaches more by His silence and His own example than by what He has to say. Yet He also speaks of it in these terms: . there is no one who has left house, wife,¯ brothers, parents or children for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not be given repayment many times over in this present time and, in the world to come, eternal life (Lk 18:29-30). These words were first addressed to a man who had heard Jesus, the messenger of the good news, and who in turn desired to be God's herald. He had to be ready to leave everything at a moment's notice for the sake of the kingdom. "Because of my name" Matthew writes. This phrase from Luke quoted above sums up what is essential: to follow Jesus for the sake of the kingdom which, for some at least, includes the two conditions of detachment and freedom of action. In another pas-sage of St. Luke we find a similar warning but in this instance it is worded in the form of a far more general requirement: "If. anyone comes to me without hating his father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sisters, yes and his own life too, he cannot be my disciple" (Lk 14:26). And our Lord adds: "Everyone who divorces his wife and marries another is guilty of adultery and the man who marries a woman divorced by her husband commits adultery" (Lk 16:18). Finally, at the conclusion of his teaching on the prohibition of divorce which so puzzled his disciples, Our Lord sets the price even higher when he speaks of "eunuchs who have made themselves that way for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who canV' (Mt 19:12). Some have supposed, perhaps rightly so, that Jesus was referring to examples familiar to His listeners, John the Baptist for instance. They ask themselves if, in this comparison, He was thinking of perpetual con-tinence. Are we reading into these texts if we find in ¯ In parallel texts neither Matthew nor Mark make mention of the wife. them what Christ taught about the freedom r.equ, i~ed,, for following Him? Or does this interpretation take the edge off the point of our Lord's statement? J.-P. A,udet, who is not one to exaggerate the meaning of texts, asks himself these very questions and finds it ,preferable "to consider that Jesus was effectively thinking of the free choice of perpetual continence." 5 In the light of the example of our Lord tradition has interpreted this declaration as a. call to religigus chas-tity kept for the sake of the kingdom. Though the call to poverty recurs in numerous tex~ts, it appears at times to be addressed to very few: "If you wish to be perfect, go and sell what you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow reel (Mt 19:21). And yet this call is re-echoed in a warning against riches which is addressed to all: "How hard it is for those who have riches to make their Way into the king-dom of Godl" (Lk 18:24). In their primitive context these calls and warnings are to be understood as con-ditions for greater freedom necessary for one who car-ries the good news to others. They do not imply the condemnation of riches, even if they do underline the possible obstacle riches can be for those who hope for the kingdom. These calls become, in other passages, very general requirements which have to do with every disciple: Sell your possessions and give alms. Get yourselves purses that do not wear out, treasure that will not fail you, in heaven where no thief can reach it and no moth destroy it. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also" (Lk 12:33-4). One must be careful not to hoard: "Watch and be on your guard against avarice of any kind, for a man's life is not made secure by what he owns." (Lk 12:15). Free with regard to the goods of this world the disciple abandons himself to providence: "But you, you must not set your hearts on things to eat and things to drink . Your Father well knows you need them" (Lk 12:29-30). Poverty is not sought out for itself; it is desired for that confident abandonment which prepares us for the intimacy of the kingdom. By poverty man becomes like unto God, a child o[ the king-dom; he follows the lead of the Son who is supremely poor (and thereby rich) in His relationship to His. Father. Because of one's poverty which makes~ him a child of the kingdom the hundredfold is repaid him here and now. As regards obedience, which is not the object of a for- ~ J.-P. Audet, Mariage et cdlibat dans le service pastoral de l'Eglise, Paris: Orante, 1967, p. 58. . ¯ . 4. 4. 4. Existence the Vows VOLUME 29,,1970 . 219 mal call in the gospels, it is, as seen in the Son of Man, the very heart of His mystery: "My aim is to do not my own will, but the will of him who sent me" (Jn 5:30). But the will of the one who sent Him was that the Son give His life for many: "For the Son of Man himself did not come to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mk 10:45). He calls to a service which He Himself has fulfilled in obedience to the Father: to become the slave of all as He did whose "state was divine, yet., he emptied himself to assume the conditions of a slave., even to accepting death, death on a cross" (Ph 2:6-8): You know that among the pagans their so-called rulers lord it over them and their great men make their authority felt. This is not to happen among you. No, anyone who wants to be-come great among you must be your servant, and anyone who wants to be first among you must be slave to al'. (Mk 10:42-4). This is how a man enters into life: "I have come so that they may have life, and have it to the fulF' (Jn 10:10). By religious profession this threefold call becomes the institutional norm of those who are called to this vocation.6 But confronted with what man is ac-cording to the dynamism of his nature, namely desire, the power to dominate and to possess the earth, and the determination to be independent, this gospel call institutionalized by the vows raises a problem felt very keenly in our times. Is it human to renounce the carnal expression of love, to renounce all goods, and to submit one's will to the power of another? Does the renunciation called for by the Gospels succeed in opening man up or does it accomplish just the opposite by imposing frustrations, on him? The Risk Involved in the Vows If the renunciation spoken of in the Gospels leads to a resurrection in this world it will be seen that it e Even if life in a religious institute is not the vocation of all, the renunciation called for in the Gospels does concern everyone in that all are called to perfection, to the kingdom of God, and to love, Man and wife, as they enter into a fruitful union and thereby collaborate by marriage in the creative work of God have to make their way as Christians towards the resurrection. They must be attentive to the grace which will perhaps predispose them and permit them to un-fold by choice, here and now, into the life of the Kingdom "where men and women do not marry" (Mk 12:25). Even those whose voca-tion is to make the earth bear fruit and to organize existence in this world are invited to become poor with Christ who was poor. Finally, in accordance with the diversity of states of life all Christians have to share the mystery of the Son who "'emptied himself., even to accepting death" (Ph 2:7-8) by living in such a manner as to make it apparent to all that they are disciples of the Master who "did not come to be served but to serve" (Mk 10:45). re-creates man and that it will not work against him except insofar as it enables him to be fulfilled over and above what he might have otherwise attained. But does this renunciation spoken of in the Gospels actually lead to a resurrection here in this world? Isn't it, for many who have embraced it, merely putting up with a num-ber of frustrations? Isn't it rather a question of slipping into and getting bogged down in mediocrity? Faced with this question one can first point out that the human being becomes human only to the extent that he exercises a certain interior asceticism over his spontaneous drives and converts their instinctive vio- ¯ lence into reasonable behavior. Without this the love drive, the power to make the universe one's own, and the desire to be independent are neither human nor hu-manizing. Yet it is quite true that the renunciation of the Gospels goes beyond this interior asceticism. Not only does it discipline nature, in a sense it contradicts it: to die so as to be reborn, yes, but to die, and in a very radical sense. If this is lived out in an awkward fashion it can give rise to harmful repressions and frustrations. This is the risk involved in the vows; this is why they are sometimes said to be "inhuman." But this does not tell the whole story behind the vows and the renunciation requested in the Gospels. If such were the case we would be left with the as-surance that they are both bad and harmful. Nor is this, generally speaking, the initial experience of those who embrace the religious life.7 But it is one aspect of the truth; it is a moments in Christian growth and development as the experience of religious life shows us when the daily ordinariness is felt over a period of 7 Most young people who respond to a call to a religious or priestly vocation experience their consecration as a fulfillment rather than as a profound contradiction or frustration of their being. Generally speaking di~culties arise later on in their religious life. s,,Moment,, implies a "stage" or "point" within a development. What is characteristic of a "moment" is that it contains all the re-ality which a development will eventually produce but without as yet making it apparent in an adequate way. Reality at this stage is seen under one or several of its aspects but not as yet in its totality. Therefore at a given moment when the renunciation spoken of in the Gospels and the vows themselves are felt to be "inhuman" we have an example of a partial truth overshadowing a more complete one: that the vows do not contradict man's fundamental dynamism except insofar as they enable him to outdistance this very dynamism and so fulfill him in a higher order of reality. To the extent that the religious will enter into this higher order of reality the more clearly will he recognize that the vows, far from being inhuman, are actually eminently humanizing. In certain periods of crisis or de-pression this more total truth can be entirely obscured. At such a time the partial but very real aspect of the truth--that the vows contradict human nature and can in a sense be said to be "inhuman" --is sometimes felt very acutely. the Vows VOLUME 29, 1970 221 Edouar d : Pousse t, REVIEW. F.O.R RELIGIOUS 222 -:years, when one finds it difficult to accept events, situa- ~tions, others, and even oneself, when disappointments .and deceptions begin to weigh on us. But this reality is. no scandal. For. those 'who have experienced the ups and. downs of their religious existence it is, in a sense, liberating. One can actually profit from such an ~experience by carefully evaluating it and seeing it as it ~eally is: limited, partial, and always there in the background. . This "inhuman" side o[ renunciation and the vows is especially noticeable when one confronts the celibate religious with the essential dynamism which draws man and woman one to the other and which finds its ¯ growth in the unity of a fruitful love. In the marriage .state ,perfectly happy lives are, without doubt, less numerous than those would have us imagine who are :sooyery alert to the failures or half-failures of religious life and who place, the cause of these " failures squarely on celibacy. It is nonetheless true that when we ~consider the physiological and psychic make-up of man .and woman, human love and its carnal expression .oppear as both the means and the goal of their ful-fillment ¯ here on earth. Human beings develop through :relationships;. and the richest, the most fruitful, the most humanizing of relationships seems to be that of a .man and woman united in a love which generates free-dom and responsibility. In marriage even those who are not destined to enjoy "the tomorrows that sing" experi-enc_ e,, at least in the beginnings, the joy of loving and ~being loved, the unfolding of an immense hope and .fll. e certitude of having found it. When their sexual attraction, diffused up to that time, is centered on a chosen being, man and woman, by the exercise of their freedom, reach maturity and enter concretely into a di~alogue which creates an even greater freedom. Their love~ in its carnal expression, because it is pledged ac- .cording to the concrete conditions of this freedom where each one is, for the other, a permanent appeal for a gratuitous love, must of necessity rule out whatever is ambiguous and whatever causes the possessive and domi-nating instinct to weigh heavily upon it. This may or may: not be the case; love can renew itself each day or it can slip into the trite and the ordinary; freedom can either grow or, on the contrary, become an alienato i~i~': force. The precise conditions of this creation and gr.o.wth 'are, however, given' to us: a man and a woman who choose one another accept whatever a life lived t6gether .entails, the grandeur as well as the risks of a frutiful union. /OppOsed to this is the notion that one who remains celibate or who chooses celibacy deprives himself of the very means of reaching maturity. He will, in any case, probably be longer in reaching that maturity. And doesn't the universal availability of the celibate conse-crated to God, an availability which does not link him to any one person in particular, mask an escape? Doesn't it place him outside the real conditions of af-fective life?° Finally, doesn't the ,sexual drive, contra-dicted in celibacy, run the risk of being kept under control by being repressed inasmuch as it does not find, it would seem, an expression which channels it, disciplines it, and makes it fruitful in directing it to the service of a creative love? These questions are by no means merely theoretical. Religious poverty gives rise to problems which are probably not so delicate as those raised by chastity. Poverty has to do with things and reaches the human being less directly. What would create a problem today is not so much religious poverty as the lack of it. We question ourselves more about the way of living poverty than about the means of remedying eventual inconveniences. Among possible inconveniences we should perhaps mention infantilism or the failure to fully realize what is involved in money matters or at least a superficial attitude which produces and sustains ir-responsibility in matters of purchasing and budgeting. He who has vowed poverty expects and in fact receives everything from his community without for the most part having to experience the price of things directly. These are serious lacunae. They indicate that we have neglected to face up to this objective and fundamental problem: that of work and remuneration or, to put it another way, that of the exchange of specified services. A child can expect everything from his parents; but an adult, if he is to avoid falling into infantilism, cannot expect unlimited services without asking himself the question of reciprocity and remuneration, the question of ,paying back. Money, in this sense, is not seen in a sinister light. It is a precise and very respectable in-strument of adult behavior. A poverty which would keep the religious on the outside of financial problems would be quite vain and perhaps even ambiguous, especially if it were based on a contempt for money. Poverty at times gives rise to another inconvenience. It consists in asking one's superior or his or her delegate ~A psychoanalyst asks this question: "How can we speak about the affectivity of someone who has put himself in a position where he will not be affected by anything or anybody?" Even though his question does not correspond exactly to the reality of the situation it does serve to focus our attention on still another aspect, that of the celibate consecrated to God who is not dependent upon a loved one--husband or wife--who might eventually betray him. .4, E~istence and the Vows Edouard pou'sset, . Sd. REVIEW ~FOR REI.IGIO~J~ :224 .fbr; everything and a bond of dependence is thereby created: poverty of dependence. If this dependence is strict and experienced down to every detail and for things insignificant in themselves it can result in a minuteness and a niggardliness entirely opposed to gpiritual freedom. To be able to pay for what one finds pleasing or what answers .a need favors a certain autonomy of the person which is in line with the human order of things. Close dependence on this point with regards to another can conceal a repressed and petty enviousness completely lacking in dignity.1° As regards the vow of obedience it too, as in the case of chastity, reaches the person at the heart of his human 'existence. Some, dreaming of a fraternal society with-out a "father," do not understand that a human being cannot become himself and assert himself without a relationship of authority. Such people look upon the vow of obedience as one of the most inhuman of aber-rations. But even when One admits the necessity of authority and of interior asceticism for converting instinctive drives, the vow of obedience, inasmuch as it pushea this asceticism to the very renunciation of one's own will, will seem to go too far and fall,, by excess, into something inhuman. Such a person will be unable to see that the sacrifice of one's will makes us die so ag 'to be reborn to the will of God, to the will to at-tain the kingdom of love where each one is truly him-self, above and beyond that which he might want very much. But if the secret of this death and resurrection is not clearly seen it is because it is something difficult to live. Because of their deficiencies religious are fre-quently the cause of the objections formulated against 'their way of life. It is so difficult to live freely accord-in~ g to the spirit of the kingdom of God in complete renunciation of one's own willl It is so very difficult to 'die to self so as to be rebornl Quite a few of those whb have made the vow adopt a middle-of-the-road solution~ which lacks both human and religious truth-fulness. Some, in fact, take their obedience lightly and .SO put themselves in a false situation. Others enter ¯ materially into the behavior required by obedience or tolerate a type of guardianship and even at times con-. form themselves to the will of superiors but without being able to renounce in depth their own will and judgment. This is not what is meant by dying so as to rise again. Rather ~hey live in a state of subjection which only frustrates them. It happens that the per-sonality is more or less stifled--only a moulage is left-- 1°This is perhaps more evident in communities of religious women. ~nd if at times iio bitt~tlless is felt ~of6 often thatt not the religious harbors secret resentments. Are the vows for or against mah? On the factual level the reply to this question is not all that evident. And this very situation favors the opinion of those who consider it hazardous or prejudicial to go against the fundamental dynamisms of human existence so completely. Living the Vows As impressive as the obj.ections are which one can raise against the vows, the strength and clarity of the gospel' call do not allow us to put into question the consecration to God by chastity, poverty, and obedience. In addition, the experience of those who are living the vows does not in any way lead them to think-- except perhaps in a moment of crisis or prolonged de-pression- that they are on a dead-end street even if in terms of human or spiritual success they still have much ground to cover. They see only too well the difficulties and even the risks involved in the religious life but they do not experience them as dangers ~rom which there is no escape or as barriers thrown up along their path. Many, by far the majority, are convinced that they were not deceived by the youthful eagerness of their early years in religion and the spontaneous joy of their first gift to God. But let us consider those religious men and women who have not yet attained the heights of perfection and who have not yet penetrated into the mystery of the death and resurrection of Christ. These religious know and feel that their vows have made them men and women with hearts full of love and wills that are free. They are frank and honest in their way of thinking as they go about converting all the relation-ships which constitute their human existence in society. What type of life do they lead? In our communities many attain a fundamental ad-hesion to the will of God, one which frees them from whatever tends to imprison their human intelligence and will. They owe this freedom to their obedience. In their superior they find a presence which helps them to see clearly. On their part they reflect and explain their reasons to him and his agreement confirms them in truth. If it is "no"--and they are ready to hear and accept this "no" without bitterness---they see themselves as being caught up in the search for a truth which is, for the time being, still beyond them, one free of self, of self-affirmation, self-seeking, self-interest. They know that they are no better than anyone else; to some degree their desire for power is still a factor to be reckoned ÷ ÷ ÷ Ethx~i sote Vnocwe s~and .'. " VOLUME 29, 1970. :.:., Edot~rd Pmuwt, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS with and their zeal, as generous as it is, still runs the risk of being warped by an instinct to possess and to take pleasure in things for themselves. This instinct is, in their eyes, a devouring weed even if it does not spread into everything they do. They do not dramatize their situation though they know that the most contra-dictory conceptions of the world and the most ruinous enterprises take root in this very desire for power and in this appetite for enjoyment. By allowing themselves to be converted by obedience they further the canse of peace and unity among men before God. For them to obey is to enter into the action of the all.powerful Master who renounced His power to the point of be-coming a slave and once a slave He did not attach Him-self to existence, as is ordinary in the case of a servile being, but rather accepted death through obedi-ence. This two-fold action is reciprocal as well: the God who becomes human uproots all desire for power of the "master" in us who wants to impose himself, and the man who is God frees the slave (ourselves) from his subservient attachment to life and enjoy-ment. Whether it is a question of moderating their tendency to dominate a discussion and so fall in line with the superior's will or not treating themselves to a cool drink on a hot day these religious are allowing them-selves to be transformed by this double and reciprocal action of God made man which is, in act, the salvation of the world. This is hard and mortifying on certain days, though their sacrifices are not without their hu-morous side, and as they are thereby reborn they are also called to die a little. Christ said that "my food is to do the will of the one who sent me" (Jn 4:34). It is a joy which nourishes us with the feeling that we are participating in a day to day way in the very mystery of the Son of God and in His lifel At times we protest against this obedience of judg-ment and yet it is this very obedience which com-pletely converts the relationship of force and inequality which, in all authority, exists between the leader and his companions. By this obedience they share the joy of serving the same Lord together, in a friendship which draws them close to each other and makes them equal. But as long as the judgments of the superior and his brother religious have not become as one--the su-perior accepting an attentive exchange with the religious and the latter in turn making known his reasons only so that he might better enter into a plan which may not, at the outset, be his own--a relationship of domination and submission persists. The decision reached under these conditions will be one in which the religious who obeys will be changed by the will of the ~superior. but his own judgment will remain outside their re: lationship. If, on the contrary, he is able to share the. judgment of his superior, all trace of submission ,dis-appears, leaving place for the communion of the two in truth as they both see it: a communion in joy and friendship. Obedience does not always lead to this, friendship and joy which are the ultimate truth of all authority, but there are those who experience it in their communities or in their .small apostolic groups. Others are still looking for .and hoping to attain this "friendship which draws close . " It is quite, true that those in authority who are narrow and .who do. not. possess all the necessary qualities continue to create. situations which we would hope never to see agkin in, religious life; but the sufferings of those who put up with these situations in no way cancel out this joy and hope for even there where no solution is apparent the mystery of the Master become a slave who ac-~ cepted death carries on its work of life. To die so as to be reborn: that is the mystery of. obedience. It is also the mystery of poverty. The poverty of the Gospels is a prophetic call inasmuch as it is set down as an absolute requirement for .entrance into the kingdom of God. The statements concerning it are uncompromising, categoric; they, too, are but a part of an incarnation which liberates. At first glance this call does not appear to take into consideration. the building up of this world by man who must con-tinue the work of creation. Immediate, material poverty, the literal conformity to the call of the Gospels: "Go and sell what you own and give the money to the poor., then come, follow me" (Mt 19:21) will quickly knock the supports out from under those who hold to some archaic fantasy or to a form of parasitism in this regard. When he vows poverty man does not thereby escape from the conditions of a creature who has needs. If he did he would become the parasite of those who possess because they work in lucrative enterprises. Perhaps he, too, would work, but in a gratuitous way by devoting himself to an activity which would not assure the satisfaction of his vital needs. Even if the work he is doing is being done out of his concern for the kingdom of God, the. fact remains that he would not be earning his livelihood; he would have to have some-one richer near at hand so as to be able. to live in his poverty. There are those among us today who have eXperi-enced the scandal of rich religious institutes or at least of institutes whose poverty is not meaningful for our times. These religious have heard the call of the Gospels 4, Existence'. Und ,.~ VOLUME !29,, 1970 :,.;~ ' 227 REVIEW POR RELIGIOUS aga~ln but they want neither fantasy nor parasitism. They feel that there is a disinterestedness with regards to the problem of money which can be a misunder-standing of precise human obligations. They have con-formed to "Go and sell what you own" but they are also clearly aware of the content of ". then come, follow me." For them to follow Jesus in poverty is to set out on a road of patience along which one takes into consideration the conditions to which he is sub-jected by his nature as a being who has needs. If they are to follow Jesus they must first submit with dis-cernment to the economic laws of their own historical context, .a context which can and does change. By their personal renunciation--"go and sell what you own"--they are in a way prophets as was the Messiah who had no place to lay His head. By humbly accepting to bear with the machinery of an economic system they are being faithful to Jesus who lived among men. And if this system should oblige them, if not to be owners at least to enjoy social rights and to receive benefits due them because of these rights, they accept--not re-luctantly, as if it were a crack in their wall of poverty, but willingly, recognizing in this the concrete form of their condition as men. Inserted in social structures which do not allow them to be, to the letter, "the beggars of Jesus Christ"--and, in point of fact, the parasites of others--they live poverty according to their own times by submitting to a precise system of economic exchanges where rights and benefits have as their coun-terpart services to be rendered and services actually rendered, all carefully defined. And yet they still feel free to serve over and above what is required of them, gratuitously, without counting the cost. Gratuitouslyl And it is at this point that they feel they are in a way prophets of their times because eco-nomic activity and its apparent and unrelenting law of "nothing for nothing" needs gratuitousness: The practice of gratuitousness is an everyday happening. In order to extend industrial production it is essential that dis-interested activities create a flow of applicable inventions and innovations and that the market be surrounded by a network of hopes and expectations (Father Perroux). Poverty is not a technique for resolving the contra-dictions of the economic society so as to assure its good functioning. Nevertheless, the poor religious does not feel himself to be unimportant in this society. His poverty, which contradicts the spirit of profit-at-all-cost and outdistances the rigidity of "nothing for noth-ing" is, in fact, in step with the society in which he is moving. Finally, the religious discovers that it is society which allows him to have access to the kingdom of God and in addition enables him to make the world his own. Because he does not possess things as does someone who owns an original oil painting by a famous artist and valued at a considerable amount of money his poverty frees him to see, hear, touch, taste, feel, in a word "make his own" the universe of things and beings just as a free and cultured man makes his own the work of art he goes to contemplate as connoisseur in a museum where it is for everyone. Poverty creates a new rela-tionship with things. The detachment it entails creates an availability for disposing of the world according to what it is, according to its beauty rather than its mere immediate utility. In this way the poor man pos-sesses the earthl Obedience and poverty liberate man but it is chastity which allows him to taste supreme freedom. Whoever has converted desire within himself loves God for God. This love satisfies within him the need which every creature feels because of the very way he is consti-tuted, but from this moment on what was carnal desire is now ardent adoration. He loves others as he loves God and this is why his choice can be shared among many without being, divided. The vow of chastity is the vow of friendship and love. There are many men and women among us who are not yet Francis of Assisis or St. Clares who know this to be true. They have known the joy of their initial eagerness and of their first gift. There was someone sleeping deep within them whom the Lord awoke. Springtime of lovel Then they entered religious life and discovered the weight of institutions and the ordinariness of daily life. It was no longer spring, but the love they had for Jesus Christ, rehewed each day, strengthened the delicate fragility of their youth. They grew strong and re-mained young. For them--for each one of us--the first step on the road of love was the break with the world. The love of God does not admit of a sharing and so they began by giving up many things. Some will perhaps speak of frustrated affections and sexual difficulties which can re-sult but these are but mishaps along the road. Men and women anxious to give themselves entirely to God do not look upon them as irremediable. To give up a human love for the Lord implies that one accepts to be momentarily "off balance" but this is part of human nature. They accepted this; this was their first authentic gift of faith. A second step followed this which was the Lord's doing. They were chiefly responsible for the first step ÷ ÷ + VOLUME 2% 1970 229 ÷ ÷ Ed6uard Pousset, " $.1. REVIEW!FOR.RELIGIOUS when they answered His call and actively committed themselves. In this second step it was the Lord who worked ~leep within them and detached them so as to attach them to Himself. They may have met others and discovered human love along the way. This is their secret. At. the point they had reached there was a great danger that the seduction of this human love might win out over their attachment to the Lord which was not yet fully rooted in their being. They alone can appreciate the sacrifice they had to make but one thing is certain: they grew because of it. At this same stage in their ,lives they also knew what fraternal life could offer: emulation in things spiritual, intellectual, and apostolic built strong friendships among them. which the passing years have not wiped away. They still have much to discover, much progress remains to be made, btit these friendships have enabled them to understand that there are not two loves, the love of God and the love of creatures, but only one. No one who has heard a simple word spoken by a friend which opened his heart and brought him in contact with God's love will ever be able to doubt again that this is so. There are not two loves. Love and freedom--that is the resurrection whose price is the renunciation spoken of in the Gospels and as it is practiced by the vows. But many reading these lines will ask themselves: where do I figure in this? Am I the one just described? Yes, you are there along with the others, but in religious life as in life in general there are stages and they are lived one after the other once one has a strong hold on what is essential. It is difficult, certainly, inasmuch as today community life which is the fruit of what is essential as well as the means of living it is something we are still attempt-ing to pin down. But the fact that we are still seeking cannot leave us in doubt as to the essential: to die and to be resurrected. The following experience invites us in a very simple way to self-forgetfulness: Community life is so "up-in-the-air" at this time that one doesn't really know what to say about it. From my own experi-ence I feel that the real benefit of living a vowed life in com-munity has been a difficult but rewarding school of self-forget-fulness. ,When this seed is planted and when it finds the soil healthy and productive (that is, a living, fraternal community) the vows enable us to develop and unfold with no danger of repression. Don't many of the problems we face today stem from the fact that we forget' the essential "virtues" common to any life in society, to any life lived in common? We neglect them because other things said to be more important have been given priority: dialogue, responsibility, "adult" religious life. . And so we set.aside the small favor done with a smile, the concern of making conversation at table interesting for the one next to us, in a word, a good disposition, and an ease, nothing more, which we all need. I may be tklking too down-to-earth here but it does seem to me that we can fool ourselves so easily. The vows are like a delicate flower which will not give forth it.s full bloom unless the sap runs into the stem and the stem is rooted in good soil. From the very first step we take in religious life until such time as we reach the summits it is always a ques-tion of this unique mystery: to die and to be resurrected. But the more we advance the more the question be-comes more precise and insistent: how do we die and how are we resurrected? I will attempt to tie to-gether the ends of everything said so far so as to focus on this one question. What I have to say doubtlessly presulSposes that a certain amount of ground has been covered. Nevertheless the question and the reply can be understood by each one according to the point he has reached. In the spiritual life there isn't a time for "more practical virtues" and a time for "more radical experiences"; those making their way through the former need, at times, the enlightenment provided by the latter--even if they are not exactly their own experi-ences-- and the latter still need the former as well. To Die and to Be Resurrected Religious life, as in the case of marriage though in a different way, enables us to discover litde by little that we must die. Chastity is mortifying as are poverty and obedience. When with the experience gained over the years the religious comes to feel to what extent his state in life dooms him to die the real danger, the only one for him, is not to know how to die or not to be able to die sufficiently. The resurrection comes only through death and no one is resurrected until and un-less he dies. Even though the religious committed him-self freely to this way of renunciation the death he must undergo does not depend on his good will. This impossibility for a man of good will to die to himself in Jesus Christ is at one and the same rime the problem and the key to that problem. It is the problem in that the price of the resurrection is death and if this death is impossible for him he is not resur-rected and his vows place him in the dangers men-cloned above. It is also the key to the problem in that the impossibility experienced in dying to self, namely to change and convert oneself so as to live the perfec-tion of the gospel message, is the basic condition for decisive progress along the road which leads to death and resurrection in Jesus Christ. Christ said this very clearly to His Disciples who, disturbed and confused by His teaching on poverty, asked Him: "In that case. who can be saved?" And he replied: "For men it is + + + fMaence and th~ Edouard Pousset, REVIEW FO, R.R~L~GIOUS impossible., but not for God, because everything is possible to God" (Mk 10:27). The question, then, is not to know if the vows are practicable or not. In all their strictness they are not. Nor is it whether there might not be a risk of "dehumanizing" man. The vows do, in fact, 'admit of this risk. The only question is to know if once one has reached the realization that he is unable .to live the perfection of the gospel message the Christian consecrated to God by vows is going to allow himself to be taken by his Lord, to die in Him so as to be resurrected with Him. Or better still, the question is to know how this can be accomplished. First of all, to reach this realization that "for men it is impossible" indicates that one has follov~ed Ghrist for a long time and sought to imitate Him with all the zeal and generosity which said "yes" without reserva-tion to His call. It is here that the importance of a certain inner asceticism is evident even if this asceticism is not, in itself, decisive. Many do not enter seriously ¯ into the paths of union with the God who is responsi-ble for their death and resurrection because they have not been energetic enough with themselves. This asceticism will mortify the desire to dominate and to possess which troubles the living sources of our nature. But there is more to it than this. Because of the religious state itself, these living sources are contradicted by the very fact that the vows impose a renunciation on vital poir~ts. But by itself this asceticism will not result in ~forgetfulness of self or humility; by itself thi~ renuncia-tion .will, not assure us of a peaceful balance nor will .it bring about the joy of being resurrected with Christ in this world. What the religious seeks actively by asceticism and renunciation can only be received as a gratuitozts gift. For of themselves neither asceticism nor renunciation through the practice of the vows make us die sufficiently. What we can learn from them and .what is their most authentic contribution is the ad- .mission that the perfection of the gospel message is im-possible. But before this precious fruit of the spiritual life has .matured by long experience the religious is exposed to certain serious errors along the road on which he so generously set out. If he remains negligent, not meas-uring sufficiently the importance of asceticism and what his vows require or, more correctly, what the Lord requires of him, it is evident that he will never die to self. Nor will he do so if he goes ahead courageously along a road of voluntary self-denial. At least it will .not be because of his courage. In the first instance he runs the risk of practising an abnegation which is on a merely human level and in addition there is the danger of falling into a voluntariness which is always in-operative when it is a question of killing our own will, our ego, that desire so essential to us of loving and be-ing loved,ix An abnegation which stems too unilaterally from man's good will and courage runs the risk of end-ing up in a violent forcing of the will by a suppression of desire. In addition to all these reasons find to many others weakness or, on the contrary, poorly guided energy can slip quickly into all the complications which accompany a mishandled psyche: The years pass and it happens that a kind of spiritual heaviness settles in and the beginnings which were so full of promise empty out in insignificance. Little by little the feeling of a half-failure or an incurable mediocrity spread through one who so generously gave himself to God. Then he reaches the critical hour of possible discouragement or of "wisdom" which, from then on, will keep him on a "good middle course." Most fatal of temptationsl But it can also be the hour of setting out anew, the hour of a "second conversion," for it is then that he fully realizes from personal experience that he is unable to convert himself, he is unable to die so as to be resurrected. This, then, is the hour of gracel The need to die remains but now we understand that the only way we can die is by God's hand. We must die on the cross and it is .Jesus Christ who carries the cross and who dies upon it. It is in Him and by the same death that we must die. Strictly speaking this is not the result of asceticism or voluntary abnegation. When it is a ques-tion of asceticism and self-imposed abnegation, our capacities are limited; they offer no solution other than the personal determination of going against our-selves. They are necessary, certainly, but we know how difficult it is for us to practice them with faith and good sense without a giving in on the part of some or a voluntariness on the part of others. The death out of which we are reborn implies the passivity of the creature under God's hand, and this is very different from an ascetical effort and quite the opposite of psychological depressions. God takes it upon Himself to have us live this passivity by means of the trials of existence but there are a thousand and ¯ one way~ of taking the trials of hfe poorly~ and there is very little chance that one look upon them and ac-cept them with peace of soul. If one has not [so disposed himself well in advance it is very difficult io keep the n It is important not to forget that in killing our own will and desire we do so for a very precise purpose: so as to be r~surrected and not so as to destroy them. Existence and the Vows VOLUME 29, 1970 $4. REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOUS kingdom and this death which leads to resurrection always in mind. What disposes to this passivity in faith is the realization we experience that the perfection of the gospel message is impossible for men. Coupled with this awareness is prayer.12 The cross which brings about our death is not within the reach of our initiative; prayer is. Prayer is both to take and not to take the initiative. Experience, as painful as it is beneficial, of our radical incapacity to imitate Christ in His chastity, His poverty and His obedience bears fruit in patience and simplicity, In this climate prayer leads us to union with Jesus Christ carrying His cross; it establishes us in Him and makes us die His death. He who prays in the peaceful admission of his weak-heSS is no longer he who lives, it is Christ who lives, dies, and is resurrected in him. First, it is Jesus Christ who lives in him--not yet in the fullness of transforming union which is the full par-ticipation in His resurrection but by a loving adhesion of the creature to his Creator and Lord by whom he is encouraged and sustained as he progresses. This loving adhesion reproduces in each one the experience of those who, in the history of Israel and later those who gathered around Jesus, attached themselves with all their force to the Lord. It is not yet the resurrec-tion; it is the life shared with the Lord made man along a road leading to the cross. At the price of this shared life the disciple, by a direct experience, enters into the mystery of his relationship of creature to Creator. Plung-ing himself in prayer and patience he hears the word of God as if it were being spoken to him: "In these words the Lord spoke to Jacob whom he created and to the Israel whom he himself fashioned: Do not be afraid; I have paid for you, I have called you by your name, you belong to me" (Is 42:1). Prayer not only enables us to realize that we are creatures, it also brings us in contact with the Lord as Beloved. There are those who know the Lord through the intermediary of people or books and there are those who have met him in another way, having been found by Him. They allowed themselves to be taken and from then on they belong to Him. The love of Jesus Christ penetrates into all the zones of personal-ity, intelligence, will, affectivity; and one day or an-other they understand that this love has become the X~Not just any form of prayer but certainly not discursive medi-tation which is still much too "active"; rather a very simple, loving prayer such as I have described elsewhere ("Pri~re perdue, pri~re retrouv~e," Vie consacrde, 1968, pp. 148-64). This form of prayer is possible only to someone who has at least begun to realize that the life of the Gospels is impossible for man. ver,y substance of their .being. They feel sure that the objections raised against their vow of chastity have little by little lost all their force as far as they are cdncerned. This universal availability which some will claim does not bind them to anyone in particular is, in f~ct, a. passionate adhesion to Someone. There is, they realize, no risk of being deceived or betrayed by this Someone and yet in spite of the certainty of their relationship with Him they .do not feel "settled in." The love of God is to .be created every dayl God is someone who has his views and his ways of doing things ~nd this sbmetimes adds a note of the unexpected to life. Those, then, who allowed themselves to be taken by Him do not have the feeling of "having been put i.n a position where nothing and no one will affect them." Having grown used to God a day comes when, in a silence which fulfills them, they sense the first signs of transforming union. This feeling of Presence which is not so much felt as it is experienced as something beyond all doubt is the beginning of this death and resurrection as they are lived conjointly, one within the other. For they know--and 'they live it in very precise encounters--that life with the Lord leads them to His' cross and on to the joy of rising with Him as well. This death of Jesus Christ in which baptism plunged them sadramentally now becomes their very existence. It is at this moment that they die to their immediate desire to love and be loved, to .their fleed to possess, and to their own will. What neither voluntary abnegation' nor interior asceticism--ivhich they prac-tice continually--could do, loving prayer accomplishes within them. They are in the morld, dead to the world, to themselves, and to others, and yet in direct propor-tion to this death they "are renewed, resurrected by an intense presence to the world through service, friendship, and love: I shall give you a new heart, and put a new spirit in you; I shall remove the heart of stond from your bodies and give you a heart of flesh instead. I shall put my spirit in you, and make you keep my laws and,. sincerely respect my observances (Ez 36: 26-7). Resurrection The vocation of those who have embraced chastity, poverty, and Obedience is to anticipate the resurrection here in this world. It is likewise the destiny personally pro-posed to all. Let those accept it who canl Dead and resurrected, the religious--and every Chris-tian as well "to whom it is granted" (Mt 19:11) by God-- receives the outpouring oi universal charity. The Lord first .became for him the Beloved who introduces him ÷ + ÷ Existence and VOLUME Zg, 1970 by faith into the secret of an intimacy which is his joy. He has heard the word of the Psalm: "Listen, daughter, pay careful attention; forget your nation and your an-cestral home" (Ps 45:11). He listened and the Lord spoke to his heart: "I have loved you with an everlasting love and so I am constant in my affection for you. I build you once more; you shall be rebuilt, virgin of Israel" (Jr His joy is not his joy, it is God's joy; and he can in-crease it merely by allowing himself to be loved and filled. From that moment on the promise of God is no longer a promise: "I shall be their God and they shall be my people"; x3 it is a present reality: "I am my Be-loved's and my Beloved is mine" (Sg 6:3). The others, according to the diversities of divine grace, become his beloved as well.x4 The religious loves them dearly. The friendship which he vows them is no longer something in addition to his love for God; it tends, at least, towards total unification with this love. These others are not enveloped as it were in a universal charity which would deny them any particular atten-tion. He loves them all and he loves each one for what he is. He does not love Peter and John in the same way. And it is only fitting that God placed this preference for one or another in our hearts. Because of this exceptional grace he reaches almost without effort the end he hoped for and worked so hard to attain. In one and the same act he loves his unique Savior and the creature who truly becomes for him the sacrament of the presence of God. He was obliged to live his consecration to God in renouncing human affections because, in fact, his heart was divided. From now on he lives only one love and it seems to him that he understands the friendship of Ignatius for Xavier, of Francis of Assisi for Clare, of Bernard for William. He does not need someone to tell him this marvelous story; it has become the story of his own life. He is poor and yet he possesses the earth. He no longer has his own will and yet God Himself does what-ever he requests: "If you ask for anything in my name, + + + Edot~ard Pousset, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~ This phrase is found throughout the Old Testament. u Friendships and human affections can and do exist in those who are consecrated to God by the vows but have not as yet reached that intimate knowledge of Love. Ordinarily these commitments are not very profound and this is for the better for as long as the heart is, in fact, divided between God and creatures. There are other friendships and human affections which are, however, quite differ-ent from those just described. I am speaking of those which have God Himself as their initiative: those where He has made Himself the principle, the bond, and the end. These presuppose the intimate knowledge of Love and they take possession of the whole heart so that there is no division whatsoever between God and creatures. ][ will do it" (Jn 14:14). He seeks only the kingdom of God and yet everything else is given to him over and above this. At this stage joy and the cross are lived as one. He does not talk about it because he knows that he can hardly explain it to himself. Some will see only his suffering; others will not see beyond his surprising free-dom. But his hope knows no limits; he does not see that what he has been given gratuitously should not be given to all. He reveals his secret without telling it: it is to have believed. I do have faith, Lord. Help the little faith I havel 4. 4. 4. £~ten~e and VOLUME 29, 1970 237 cYRIL VOLLERT, S.J. The Interplay of Prayer and Action in Teilhard de Chardin ÷ ÷ ÷ Cyril Vollert, S.J., is a professor of theolob, y at Mar-quette University; Milwaukee,. Wis-consin 53233. REVIEW,FOR RELIGIOUS The theme underlying Teilhard de Chardin's ideas concerning the interplay between prayer and action is well stated in his essay, "The Heart of the Problem." a He wonders why Christianity, with its tremendous power to attract, is not more successful in the modern world. Not only have energetic missionary efforts in Asia, Africa, and elsewhere produced meager results, but the great masses of workers over the earth, as well as most scientists, have found little to interest them in the Church. Teilhard believes that he knows the answer. Any at-tempt at solution must take into account the changes that have marked men's thinking for over a hundred years. We now know that the universe is not static; our cosmos is a cosmogenesis. And man himself is involved in the evolutionary process; mankind is an anthropogenesis. Man is still being shaped, and the human race is heading toward social unification. In the past, religion has sought to perfect man by directing him upward, toward God, and has been little concerned with purely human prog-ress. But men of our time are convinced that they can complete themselves by moving forward. So the vital question is this: is the salvation of man to be achieved by looking above or by looking ahead---or by both to-gether? Failure to face this question squarely results in religious apathy. Teilhard proposes to face it. Why should anyone wish to choose between the Up-ward and the Forward? Teilhard contends that we must not make any such choice. We must combine the two 1 In The Future o] Man (New York: Harper and Row, 1964), pp. 260-69. movements. If Christianity were to ignore the new aspira-tions of mankind, it could not hold its own adherents, much less win over the unconverted. Without human faith and love, Christianity is cold and unattractive to contemporary man. The Christian faith must be intensely interested in the values of the world and of matter, for the simple reason that it is rooted in the Incarnation. In pre-evolutionary ages, Christianity perhaps assigned too subordinate a function to man and the earth. But just as the Incar-nation did not take place until our planet was socially, politically, and psychologically ready for Christ, so now, in the evolutionary perspectives opening up before us, we can see that the kingdom of God will not come until mankind in its anthropogenesis has reached collective maturity. The supernaturalizing Christian Upward must be incorporated into the human Forward. In this way faith in God will recover all its power to attract and convert, for we can believe wholly in God and in the world. We can do this because Christ, Savior and Re-deemer, is carrying evolution both forward and upward to its final goal. Teilhard thoroughly believed in his own program and, while stir a young man, consecrated himself to it: As far as I can, because I am a priest, I would henceforth be the first to become aware of what the world loves, pursues, suffers. I would be the first to seek, to sympathize, to toil; the first in self-fulfilment, the first in self-denial. For the sake of the world I would be more widely human in my sympathies and more nobly terrestrial in my ambitions than any of the world's servants. That is why I have clothed my vows and my priesthood (and it is this that gives me my strength and my happiness) in a determination to accept and to divinize the powers of the earth? Christians have different but complementary voca-tions; they devote themselves in varying degrees of in-tensity to action or to prayer or to both together. God's call, which Teilhard likens to the star of the Magi, "leads each man differently, by a different path, in accord with his vocation. But all the paths which it indicates have this in common: that they lead always upward." a The world, too, has its vocation; it is destined to attain its perfection in the fullness of the incarnate Word, in the cosmic Christ. Teilhard's own vocation was manifested in two truths which God had let him see: the universality of God's magnetism and the intrinsic value of man's undertakings. He was eager to spread far and wide a knowledge of these two truths. And so, on the day after ~Hymn o] the Universe (New York: Harper and Row, 1965), p. 128. 8 The Divine Milieu (New York: Harper, 1960), p. 120. + Prayer and Action VOLUME 29, 1970. 239 ÷ ÷ ÷ Cydl Voll~t, $.]: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 2,4O his final religious profession, in a meditation on his priesthood, he offered his life to God: "And I, Lord God for my (very lowly) part, would wish to be the apostle --and, if I dare say so, the evangelist---of your Christ in the universe." ~ This he regarded as his "special vocation," and he was faithful to it to the day he died. Such a vocation is carried out in action. Teilhard in-sists that all Christians have the duty of building the earth. Even the increase of leisure, fostered by technical. progress, ought to be consecrated to research. Teilhard tried to show that human efforts to promote intellectual, technical, and social advances must bring about the nat-ural conditions of maturity necessary for establishing the kingdom of God. But the urge to action must be directed and sustained by prayer. The Christian must work; but he must Christianize his work. The supernatural con-summation of the world cannot be accomplished by merely natural powers; the world must be sanctified and supernaturalized.5 Therefore a life of prayer and con-templation has a high efficacy, indeed, a "creative power': for the world. Seeing the mystic immobile, crucified or rapt in prayer, some may perhaps think that his activity is in abeyance or has left this earth: they are mistaken. Nothing in the world is more intensely alive and active than purity and prayer, which hang like an unmoving light between the universe and God. Through their serene transparency flow the waves of creadve power, charged with natural virtue and with grace.° The health and integrity of the Church depend on the care exercised by its members in carrying out their functions, which range from worldly occupations to vocations that call for penance or the most sublime contemplation: "All those different roles are necessary." 7 Christians .who devote themselves to prayer have been singled out for the task of carrying the world above its concern for pleasure and enjoyment toward higher goals. They are like miners laboring in the depths of matter; or, to change the figure, they supply the air which their brothers need to breathe. Along with the sick and the suffering, they become "the most active agents in the very process that seems to sacrifice and crush them." s Purity (here understood as the rectitude brought into our lives by the love of God), faith, fidelity, charity, and hope must accompany the most earthly of our actions. But these virtues flower in contemplation ~ Hymn of the Universe, p. 151. s H. de Lubac, S.J., Teilhard de Chardin: The Man and His Mean-~ ing (New York: Hawthorn, 1965), pp. 123 f. O Hymn of the Universe, p. 154. ~ The Divine Milieu, p. 75. ~ L'energie humaine (Paris: Seuil, 1962), p. 64. which, in spite of its apparent immobility, is the highest and most intense form of life.9 In response to God's grace, which is "always on the alert to excite our first look and our first prayer," we are led "to posit intense and continual prayer at the origin of our invasion by the divine milieu, the prayer which begs for the fundamental gift: Lord, that I may see." On saying this, Teilhard at once utters his petition: Lord, we know and feel that You are everywhere around us; but it seems that there is a veil before our eyes. Let the light of Your countenance shine upon us in its universality. May Your deep brilliance light up the innermost parts of the massive obscurities in which we move. And, to that end, send us Your Spirit, whose flaming action alone can operate the birth and achievement of the great metamorphosis which sums up all inward perfection and towards which Your creation yearns: Send forth Your Spirit and they will be created, and You will renew the face of the earth?° Teilhard is quite cognizant of the prayer that is in-herent in the duties of a person's state of life. Such duties, faithfully and well performed, put us in contact with God: Let us ponder over this basic truth till we are steeped in it . God, at his most Vitally active and most incarnate, is not remote from us, wholly apart from the sphere of the tangible; on the contrary, at every moment he awaits us in the activity, the work to be done, which every moment brings. He is, in a sense, at the point of my pen, my pick, my paint-brush, my needle--and my heart and my thought. It is by carrying to its natural completion the stroke, the line, the stitch I am working on that I shall lay hold on that ultimate end towards which my will at its deepest levels tends.'~ However, in addition to the prayer that may be in-volved in our work, explicit prayer is indispensable if our action is to be effective for constructing the kingdom of God. Teilhard is very insistent on this truth. He pgints out that unless we maintain direct contact with God by prayer and the sacraments, "the tide of the di-vine omnipresence, and our perception of it, would weaken until all that was best in our human endeavor, without being entirely lost to the world, would be for us ~niptied of God." But if we safeguard our relation to .God who is encountered in prayer, "there is no need to [ear that the most banal, absorbing, or attractive of oc-cupations should force us to depart from Him." Be-cause of the creation of the universe by God, and par-ticularly in view of the Incarnation, "nothing here below is profane for those who know how to see." Teilhard strongly exhorts us: "Try, with God's help, to perceive ~ H. de Lubac, La pensde religieuse de Pdre Teilhard de Chardin (Paris: Aubier, 1962), p. 318. Io The Divine Milieu, pp. 111 [. v. Hymn oI the Universe, p. 83 f. ÷ ÷ ÷ VOLOME 29; 19~0 241 4- 4- 4- REVIEW, FOR ,RELI~IOU$ the connection-~even physical and natural--which binds your labor with the building of the Kingdom of Heaven." We should never do anything without realizing its constructive value in Christ, and pursuing it with all our might.12 In line with his perception of the harmony between faith and science, Teilhard endeavored to integrate his own prayer and his work. He became increasingly aware that he had to develop in himself and impart to others "the sort of mysticism that makes one seek passionately for God in the heart of every substance and every ac-tion." He saw dearly that "God alone, and no personal effort, can open our eyes to this light and preserve this vision in us." He well understood that the "science of divinizing life calls for the diligent co-operation of every form of activity . It needs the sacraments, and prayer, and the apostolate, and study." 18 If we wish the divine milieu to grow around us, we must steadfastly "guard and nourish all the forces of union, of desire, and of prayer that grace offers us." 1~ Success cannot crown so great an enterprise unless prayer issues in work: "I know that the divine will will only be revealed to me at each moment if I exert my-self to the utmost." 1, The Christian must preserve his union with God by prayer; but he must also respond to all the demands of grace: "To win for himself a little more of the creative energy, he tirelessly develops his thought, dil

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The Literary Journal of Gettysburg College. Vol. XIV. GETTYSBURG, PA., DECEMBER 1906. No. 7 CONTENTS "THE PASSING"—Poem 182 FRANK W. MOSER, '07. " ECONOMIC EFFECTS OF PENSIONS FOR TEACHERS " —Essay 183 SAMUEL E. SMITH, '07. "OUR LIBRARIES "—Essay .188 THOMAS E. SHEARER, '07. "A MILLIONAIRE"—Story. . . 191 F. M. HARMON, '08. "POE: POET OR CHARLATAN "—Essay. . 19s W. WISSLEU HACKMAN, '08. I "THE TWENTIETH CENTURY'S DEMANDS UPON WOMAN "—Oration 201 ELSIE A. GERLACH, '07. "A MYSTERY SOLVED "—Story 204 LEVERING TYSON, '09. EDITORIALS, . . . 208 182 THE MERCURY. . THE PASSING. FRANK W. MOSER, '07. kHE pleasant Autumn days are gone, Their joys have passed away ; Girt with the legions of the North Old Boreas has issued forth To dominate the day. The pumpkins all are gathered in, The corn flags all are furled ; The trees have wept to see them go And fling their leaves like falling snow- Across the dying world. Right valiantly did Autumn strive To yield a bounteous store ; Her granaries were opened wide That lavishly from every side The golden fruit might pour. The snapping of the backlog sounds A message old yet new ; Pile up the fire and let it roar To match the winds that downward pour, The blackened fireplace through. The chestnuts crackle with delight To welcome Winter in ; But Autumn goes with face forlorn, Beat by the surly Winter's storm, A.11 pinched and wan and thin. So life will pass from morn to eve, From noontide glow to dark The cheerful voices of the day Will cease their songs and fade away ; Death kills the vital spark. • »i THE MERCURY. 183 ECONOMICAL EFFECTS OF PENSIONS FOR TEACHERS. SAMUEI, E. SMITH, 07. ASUBJECT of this nature is necessarily very broad. Teachers are of many grades. The teacher of the country school, receiving thirty-five dollars per month, or even less, marks the lowest grade. The college professor, whose compensation is five thousand dollars or more per year, may serve to establish the other margin, although only in rare in-stances is such a sum received by a professor. Between these two limits are many different classes of teachers, whose rates of wages are comparatively well defined. In the discussion of this topic our observations shall be confined, for the most part, to the highest class, college professors, since what pertains to them with reference to public pensions, is also applicable to the teachers of lower grades. Public pensions for .teachers would naturally involve a great variety of economical questions, since those instructing the youth form a large and influential element in society. In our opinion the economical effects would be both direct and indirect; direct in that they affect teachers as a class, and indirect seeing that they would undoubtedly in-fluence society in general. Beginning with the direct economical effects of pensioning teachers, it may first of all be affirmed that a better class of men would take up teaching as a profession. The degree of efficiency in the profession of teaching varies just as it does in the business world. In business the marginal factors are the day laborer and the entrepreneur; in teaching the adher-ent and advocate of a parrot-like mastery of book theories, too often antiquated, and the teacher with a personality, a thinker and one capable of stimulating thought, and yet withal severe in his demands for careful study on the part of students. To the instructor of the youth, a compelling personality is just as essential as it is to the entrepreneur. Rarely does one find a successful business man without a decided personality and yet multitudes of men, are attempting to mould young lives, who are lacking in this essential characteristic. ■ 184 THE MERCURY. Why is it that the men of power more frequently choose a business career than the noble calling, that of instructing the young ? Simply beeause the inducements are mostly on the side of the business career. The professor never receives a large salary and after his days of usefulness are over he may, as a rule, look forward to a mere pittance which he has labori-ously saved during his active service. On the other hand the successful business man looks forward to a comfortable old age made possible by the property acquired during a period when his own efforts were the only limits to his acquisition of wealth. This very difference in prospects makes the business career the more desirable as no man is desirous of spending his old age deprived of the comforts of life. In the event of teachers re-ceiving a pension, after years of faithful service, the natural horror of an old age spent in poverty would be removed. Men are ever willing to toil for a livelihood during their years of strength when a future day of comfort is in prospect, but look with fear upon that calling whose active days require a struggle which is unattended by the promise of support in the declining years. When teachers receive pensions more of the choice spirits will take up the noble work. The result will be that teachers of inferior personality and attainment will be forced into other lines of activity, and it is safe to say that the new work will be for the most part of a clerical nature. Having thus seen that the teaching force would be materially changed by the establishment of pensions, it is also worthy to note that a higher standard of living would prevail among teachers. The teacher would have more money to spend dur-ing the time of his active service. As the teachers number a small army, throughout the country, this item would be of no little importance. More books would be purchased, travel would be more extensive, there would be more and better food and clothing. Thus demand would be increased and produc-tion would naturally be increased to meet the demand. Another direct result of public pension would be the in-creasing number of teachers. For example, if a man after forty years of service should be granted a pension, he would usually be glad to retire to follow various pursuits of a literary, THE MERCURY. I85 political or social nature, pursuits which could not be noticed during the period of active service. Provided a man began teaching at the age of twenty-five he would retire at the age of sixty-five. Under the present system, many men teach until long after the age of sixtv-five. Retirement at this age would make the period of service shorter for each teacher and thus more instructors would be required. These are the direct economical results which would be brought about by the pen-sioning of teachers. However, there are yet more important considerations to be regarded, namely, the effect upon society of granting of such •pensions. These we would characterize by the term indirect. Many branches of commercial activity would be affected. The prospect of a pension, as has already been shown, would attract more and a better class of men to the profession of teaching. Consequently, men now engaged in banking and various business pursuits, whose compensation is equal or con-siderably superior to the salary of teachers, would be eager to enter the ranks of teachers as there would be the strong inducement of being provided for in old age. This same proposition would hold good for all the grades of positions in the profession. Besides, the opinion is almost univer-sally held that teaching is more honorable than a business career. The teacher has also more leisure as the summer months are completely his own. With the added advantage of a pension in old age, great numbers would turn from pur-suits essentially commercial to teaching. In order to retain the most efficient individuals in the business world wages would of necessity increase in a great many lines of business. For example certain men leaving college, would find it more to their advantage to accept an instructorship in a college or high school with the prospect of at length receiving $2,000 per year as a professor and a pension in old age, than to enter a bank with the prospect of becoming cashier at $2500 per year and no pension in old age. Again the girls who must earn their own living, would find it better to become teachers at $40, $50 or $60 per month and receive a pension in old age, than to stand behind a counter or in the telephone ex- UMUn 186 THE MERCURV. change for a compensation of $8, $10, or $12 per week, with-out prospect of a pension, and then oft times be exposed to the indecent and insulting propositions of their employers and the men with whom they are compelled to associate. Besides,, in the case of a woman, it is considered much more respect- ■ able to be a teacher than to be a saleslady, stenographer or cloak model. Without a doubt, the granting of pensions to-teachers would attract the choice spirits to that line of work and all wages in the business world would be advanced in order to keep up the required standard of efficiency. Then too, the standard, of the teaching force having been raised, as has been shown, a gradual change would be effected in the habits and ideals of the people who would receive in-struction under the better teachers. As was intimated before, in the event of pensions being granted to teachers, the change in efficiency would be largely marked by the improved person-, ality of those instructing the young. The teacher who is lack-ing in magnetism and tact is bound to present books and en-force discipline in such a way as to alienate the restless young spirit from scholarly pursuits and respect for authority. Too often the youth having experienced the ennui, pro-duced by books and theories, made possible by the bund-derings of a teacher totally lacking in personality, rushes forth into commercial life, turns his back on true knowl-, edge and culture, and strives only for the dollar. To this man gratification of the senses is the only form of pleasure. He lives a selfish life, ever seeking to take advantage of his fellow-men. He amasses great wealth at the expense of his neigh-bors. Better teachers, especially those with high ideals and a compelling personality would in time help materially to correct this selfish spirit. The young would be taught to respect scholarship and finally to love it. The youth, with a virile mind directing his training, would eventually see that mere money is not the goal to be attained, but that the acquisition of wealth in order to help one's fellowmen is the summum bonum. The young, thus having been inspired with higher ideals would gradually change social and economical conditions in a decided manner. THE MERCURY. I87 However, in another way the granting of pensions would affect society in general. A pension having been granted, after a number of years of service, would surely retire many men, comparatively vigorous in body and mind. Men of this class would naturally take an interest in the social and politi-cal life of the community in which they reside. Having both time and money at their disposal and being filled with high ideals, they would undoubtedly be a power in their community. First there would be a moral uplift but eventually material conditions would be changed. The retired educators would be as a leaven in the social mass. For example, reading cir-cles and culture clubs would be more popular than the gather-ings for playing bridge whist. This would soon have its ef-fects on the manner of dress and the nature of amusements, both of which have to do with the wants of the people. Thus a change in economical conditions. In this brief manner we have endeavored to show the direct and indirect economical effects, which would arise from the pensioning of teachers. However, since no extensive experi-ments have been tried along these lines, most of the discussion relative to this subject is theoretical. It is to be hoped that the next few decades will afford practical examples of pensions for teachers so that the truth or falsity of present conjectures may be demonstrated. i88 THE MERCURY. OUR LIBRARIES. THOMAS E. SHEARER, '07. THE time is now ripe, it seems, to set forth the belief that our libraries would fulfiill their purpose with greater effi-ciency and more satisfaction to all parties concerned, if they were united and systematized under a single index. This idea of a unified library is undergoing some agitation at the pres-ent time, and if this article in anyway increases that agitation and helps to bring about the desired result its purpose shall have been accomplished. Libraries have existed from the remotest times of antiquity. Ever since man was first able to put his thoughts into writing of any form, whether on papyrus, stones, tiles, or paper there have been books and consequently libraries. All our great modern libraries—and particularly is it true of college libraries —are established and maintained for the purpose of research in all the branches of knowledge. In order that a library may effectively fulfill this great purpose, it must be exhaustive, i. e., it must contain all the works necessary for research work in any branch of knowledge. Our present system of libraries is not the best possible for us under the present circumstances. There is too much wasted energy in it. In our three libraries we have a total of about thirty thousand volumes. Of the eighteen thousand volumes of the College Library over one-third are government reports and records of one kind or another—works distinctively of a referential character ; and of each of the societies six thou-sand volumes, practically one fourth are magazine vohimes. Now do not misunderstand this. It is not meant that these books could at all be dispensed with. Far from it. No college library would be at all complete without them. But these volumes are not used very much. These divisions are made merely to get an estimate of what we may call our working library. Therefore, estimating about twelve thousand volumes in College Library and four thousand five hundred in each of the Society Libraries, that are of such a character as to be put into regular use, we have at most twenty-one thousand volumes THE MERCURY. 189 in our working library. This number includes all encyclope-dias, hir.tories, gazetteers, etc., and all other works of reference, with the exception of, as has been noted, government reports, records, and bound magazines. Now, if we had this many different books we would be very well off indeed, but we find a very great number of the same books in all three libraries. For example, among the encyclo-pedias in College Library are: Chambers, The Edinburg, Penny's, The New American and The Americana ; all of which are found in one of the Society Libraries also, and some in both. Now this seems to be an altogether unnecessary outlay of money for such works when we have so many other good works of the same kind in College Library. But, it may be said, that these works named are all old and not up-to-date. That is true, and so much the more reason why we should not have two and three sets of them. The fact that we have more than one set of these works brings out the point that there has been little or no system or unison in the selectfon of books by the different library committees. If there had been system there would not be this useless overlapping of Encyclopedias. That this is a fault not only of the past but also of the pres-ent regulations, is shown by the fact that this overlapping is found not only in the older encyclopedias but also in other de-partments. There is in each of the three libraries the set of The British Poets, in one hundred volumes, one set of which would be sufficient for our Library. The same overlapping is seen in Biography, History and in the standard authors such as Ruskin, Carlyle, Dickens, Scott, Thackery, Cooper, Bulwer- Lytton, Irving, Emerson, Hawthorne, Holmes, and all the standard poets. This overlapping, all told, amounts to a good many hundred volumes. It is necessary to have more than one copy of some of these works, but of the vast majority of them, especially of the sets, a single copy or set is sufficient in a college of our size. It is evident from the extent of the overlapping that a change in the system of selecting our books is necessary. But what change shall we make ? Shall it be a general merger of the 190 THE MERCURY. three libraries into one, or simply a joint committee to select the books? At all events there must be cooperation. The merger idea seems to be the one in popular favor, and would, no doubt, 'solve the problem most satisfactorily. To have our libraries under a single index, systematically and logically arranged in one apartment, and in charge of a person who is acquainted with the entire library, and then to have a unified method of procuring new books, would be almost in-calculably better than the present system. But, it might be objected, that under these conditions the Literary Societies would no longer be ambitious to add a goodly number of books each year. This need not be so. Under this merger let each society put its seal in its new books but leave the numbering and shelving directions to come in under the College system. Each society could also keep a record of the books it adds to the library. In this way the societies could keep up their libraries, but merged into and subject to the College Library. Under this plan we see no reason what-ever why the societies should not continue to vie with each other in securing as many good books each year as possible, under this plan, this expensive and futile overlapping would be done away with, and a wider field of Literature, History and Science would be open to the students. But, most of this, it might be said, could be secured by the mere working of a joint committee to select the books. But that would leave the three libraries separate with their in-complete indices and would not unify matters as they should be. Although a joint committee could do good work in this matter, yet we believe that one good, exhaustive Library would be much better than three, each of which is incomplete in itself. THE MERCURY. IQI A MILLIONAIRE. F. M. HARMON, '08. THE deep-toned noon whistle on the -boiler-house called a thousand men and boys away from their work of prepar-ing "anthracite " for commercial use. The huge breaker en-gines quickly ceased their dreary roaring ; the " lokies " were side-tracked and deserted ; and in every direction hurried the tired, begrimed men to secure their dinner-pails and partake of a cold and unsatisfying lunch. Little knots of congenial spirits were soon assembled in every convenient, shad}' spot, for the sun was hot and the air sultry. Topics of local and universal interest were eagerly taken up and hotly debated. It is wonderful with what earnestness and attention these debates are entered into and listened to by these men of toil. The baseball situation in the major leagues .hav-ing been discussed at length; the protracted and intensely hot weather forcibly disapproved ; plans for the approaching na-tional holiday, the Fourth, eagerly arranged—an article on the next inter-national automobile race was read from the city paper by the breaker engineer, who was the only man around the colliery that indulged in having his paper delivered to him while at work. Immediately arose speculations as to the out-come of the race. In the ensuing discussion about automo-biles in general, a little slate picker exclaimed " Gee, it must take a heap of tin to run one of them things:" " You bet, those guys must have money to burn." Up sprang a grey-haired old man, old " Danny," the boss of the chutes, " Yes, and where do they get their money? They steal it from us workin' men, what earn it hard and then never get it! " The old man's eyes flashed and his voice quivered ■with anger—" I have worked for this company for thirty years ; I have given my best days in its service. What have I to show for it ?—a miserable job at the chutes when I might Vbeen engineer at No. 6." " Yes, but Danny, you're way off, we were talking about automobiles," I 192 1HE MERCURY. " So am I," yelled Danny, highly excited, " Look at old P , (president of the company) just last week he went an' bought one of them noisy back-kickin' machines. They say it cost him twenty thousand. Well, I say that the old miser didn't pay for that thing himself, I paid for it! " " You don't say,'' teased one of the chaingang men. " Yes I did ! though not of my own choosing. Old P has cheated me out of that much money and more since I first started to work for him over in ' Orphan's Home' gangway. Why they tell me he's got twenty million hoarded up. How-much of that did he honestly earn ? Not a cent! He stole it, every penny." " But, Danny, he inherited over five million." " Well then, his people before him stole that too. You needn't try to tell me that any man can honestly work hard enough in a life-time to pile up that much money. He's got to be crooked some place. I've worked my whole life, ever since I was a little shaver of twelve—and I did honest work, too—and to-day I'm an old man and haven't a cent stored up for a rainy-day. If I do earn a little money, they get it back again in the company store. What's he going to do with all his money anyway ? Why can't we have a share in it ? There are a few big thieves who steal up a billion dollars, and then store it away some place. If that would be given out to us who earned it and deserve it, none of us would have to work no more and we'd have plenty of grub and clothes and a little left over for the tobacco. Emitting a flow of strong language directed against all rich men in general, Danny, with an air of the sense of the injustice of the whole thing, sat down again A burly young chain-gangman, closing his emptied dinner can with a bang, began : " Danny is right; those rich old duf-fers have no right to hang on to all that money. The money in the first place come from some place in the earth ; we are all on the earth. In the second place, every man is just as-good as the next one, so no man has any call to get something more than any other man can get. You see old P strut THE MERCURY. 193 down the street in his swell clothes, smoking dollar cigars and looking as if he was the only pebble. He's got a string of race horses that bring him in a good many thousands a year. They have those races all fixed, anyhow. That's all right, for one thief to rob another thief, but who earns the money which those big suckers are stealing ? We do ! It's our money ! How could anything be done except for the working man. Suppose these old soaks had to work the way we do i I'd given a week's pay to have gotton old P on one end of that fan we carried up the west slope of the old Hollywood stripping. We'd have either broken his back or his head. There are over a thousand men working here in this colliery and those thousand are under the thumbs of one or two big bugs. Why do we let them tramp on us like this ? We could easily put them out of business and run things to suit ourselves. I know if we just had some fellow to lead us we could soon make old P .duff up." " Well, why don't you lead off, Tippey ?" " No, thanks, I am not anxious for the job ; but just the same I'm ready to follow a good leader." "Same here—So am I" "That's the cheese," and similar expressions were muttered by the listening men. Just then the warning whistle blew and the men hurried to their places of work to be ready when the engines started again. Among those who heard the discussion that noon hour was a young fellow who went to college, but who liked to spend his summers working among the laboring people. This discus-sion occupied his thoughts all afternoon and when quitting time came he was anxious to get home and find the opinion of some other person upon some of the questions brought up by the miners. The man whose opinion he sought was the cashier of one of the largest banks in the city and was noted for his knowl-edge of things in genera! and knowledge of money in particu-lar. The one question which had arisen in the youth's mind was whether the money owned by the millionaire was really hoarded up. 194 THE MERCURY. The cashier answered this question immediately and decis-ively : "No, that money, said to be owned by a single indi-vidual, is in constant circulation throughout the financial uni-verse. What difference does it make whether one man owns the million dollars or whether a hundred or a thousand men own it. A millionaire is generally a shrewd business man or he would never have acquired his possessions. So the money in his hands is made to do the greatest possible work, while in the hands of a number of people it might not be used to such wise advantage. It takes brains as well as energy to become a millionaire. Those men over there at the colliery who were today ignorantly discussing a great subject have not the mental capacity required to control and use rightly a vast fortune. I'll admit that people of great wealth very often waste their money in extravagant affairs. But is that money really lost ? No, it returns into the general circulation and remains a part of the inestimable wealth of the world. The working man does not really desire to live like a mil lionaire and even if he did have the opportunity of indulging in the little follies of the rich, he couldn't endure them long, for generations of the one plane of living have habituated him to his occupation in life and he will be out of place anywhere away from his natural work. I am no defender of the million aire in his follies, but I do believe that his money does as much good and more when manipulated by his keen business ability than if divided among people who in conceit think themselves capable of using wealth, but who in truth are in no way able to use wisely more money than seems to be their just amount. So let us not envy the rich man or be harsh in our judgment of his actions. Our manner of living is different from his and so we cannot be fair in our estimate of his conduct." !' THE MERCURY. 195 POE: POET OR CHARLATAN? W. WISSLER HACKMAN. II. AS POET. IT is not our intention to usurp the office of critic—had we even the ability—the need were lacking. It is not so much a question whether or no Poe wrote good poetry, or bad poetry, or mediocre, for he did, as, is he sincere, is he consistent with his own. declaration of faith ; are the motives and emotions he displays genuine. There is however, a deeper, a subtler, a more intangible phase to be determined which does involve a certain consideration of style. The question that confronts us at the very outset is such as would—to satisfy the hypocritical—-necessitate a del-ving to the very roots and vital bases of poetry—even more a determination of the very nature and essence of poety it-selt. To state clearly, concisely, and convincingly what POETRY is per se, is a proposition before which greater intel-lects than ours have quailed. It is therefore, with a sense of gratefulness that we may assert that for our purposes we" need go no further than the poet's own assertion in the matter— " Poetry in words is therythmical creation of beauty." Yet let us be a little clearer on this matter of poetry before we draw deductions. Just as red light, brass bands, and tri-colored draperies in-spire an exaltation of emotion by no means necessarily iden-tical with patriotism, and as the abnormal stir of passion pro-duced by the snare drums' spirited roll is not, nor should be, confounded with love of fatherland; so let us not confuse me-chanical means and effects, be they ever so admirable, with the true soul exaltation of poesy. To the majority of the public Poe appears in the single role 'of Poet. This is rather significant, for the sum of his poetry, in bulk, is comparatively slight. Yet so completely has he won the title of Poet from the masses as to have it eclipse, in a manner, the other and more extensive phases of his literary activity. I have said this was significant. And this signifi- 190 THE MERCURY. cance will be apparent when we turn to the poet's own words, " With me poetry has been, not a purpose, but a passion." * If anywhere Poe is sincere it must be in his poems. All through his career " Poet" was the one goal of his ambition, the passionate aspiration of his being. Almost all his prose was written in the form of " pot boilers," or to wreak ven-geance or perchance malice on rivals or critics, supposed or real. Eureka alone I think may be set aside as wrought in purity and reverence; and toward poetry he maintains much the same worshipful, sincere attitude. Note his words: " Events not to be controlled have prevented me from making, at any time, any serious efforts in what [poetry,] under happier circumstances, would have been the field of my choice." f Fur-ther down ; "and. the passions [among them that of poetry] should be held in reverence: they must not—they cannot at will be excited, with an eye to paltry compensations, etc." \ That the subject of poetry powerfully appealed to Poe is evident in his own prose work. He has devoted five articles to poetry in one phase or another ; more than to any one other subject. And almost always his treatment is serious ; bitter often, carping frequently, but in the main sincere. The tenets of his poetic faith are set forth in apparent good faith, and lived up to with remarkable fidelity. Only once does his man-ner descend dangerously near to buffoonery, the concluding paragraph of his Rationale of Verse—a nasty fling at Long-fellow, for whom Poe, as a rival perhaps, had scant love. Yet even here it is an injury aimed rather at a school of writers than an evidence of irreverence to poetry. One other instance of a similar attack may be lound in his poetry proper, "The Einigma" a take sonnet which will be again noted in this article. What, then, are the principles of Poe's poetical creed ? 1st principle—"The value of the poem is in the ratio of this elevating excitement [i. e. of soul]." 2nd principle—" Beauty is the sole legitimate province of * Preface to edition of Poems in 1845. t Preface to edition of Poems in 1H45. % Italics are mine. THE MERCURY. 197 the poem."* Postulate—a POEM should not aim to satisfy intel-lect by Truth, or excite the heart by passion, but should aim to give the highest, purest, intensest pleasure. A little farther on in this same essay of his he argues forci-bly against didactic poetry. He continues all effort to teach for the sake of teaching. Truth he boldly asserts may be in-troduced merely to illucidate, to be a foil, as intended discords in music, or low comedy in Shakespeare. All, then, is subser-viant to " beauty "; " The Beautiful " is paramount in the cre-ation of POETRY. Bear in mind, however, he does not utterly banish TRUTH from the realm of poesy; he distinctly concedes that at such times as he has stipulated TRUTH may be profitably introduced. In the mechanism of his verse there are four characteristics worthy of especial attention; the refrain, alliteration, intraand interlinier rhyme, and a daring independence in material ar-rangement. Poe was a keen analyst, and consequently an able mathematician. He was fond of calculus, and both at college and West Point took high rank in mathematics. To the popu-lar mind there presents itself somewhat incongruous, a so close union between two so seemingly diametrically opposed forms of mental activity. The Poet is the very antithesis to the Mathematician, such seems the general sentiment, and to have them brought together thus rudely and unceremoniously is a shock, sudden and unprecedented, to accepted ideals. Yet is there really such incongruity ? Poe's arguments are then re-markably lucid and plausible. He not only preaches but practices. Now for a brief review of his more important poems, they fall naturally into four groups; personal, meditative, melan-cholic, abnormal or supernatural. Throughout all winds the tragic thread of hysteria, all are marked or marred by an ab-normal egotism, a morbid self interest. I have said Poe was Byronic in egotism, this is nowhere so evident as in these poems. Under the first group come his tributes to benefactors and sympathizers, the best of which is probably the one "To * Philosophy of Composition. 198 THE MERCURY. Helen,"* the worst "The Enigma." "To Hellen " was written at the age of fourteen, yet the illusive flow and exalted grandeur of this slight poem caused Lowell to exclaim in wonder, "A standard to which many in their maturity fail to approach !" The poem starts with a line of peculiar beauty, " Helen thy beauty is to me—" The second stanza ends in the magnificent couplet: '' To the glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome." Words crammed with centuries, resonant of the ages! The final stanza is evidently reminiscent of some occasion strongly impressed; the "agate lamp" lends a touch of homely reality that attests to sincerity, although it mars the atmosphere of the elevated, and otherwise classic setting. Compared to this "The Enigma" is rank doggerel, and it is a blessed relief to feel Poe so intended it. It is rather coarsely ironic, yet it is clever. It is a trick poem, an accostic hinted in the last line containing the names Anna and Lewis. Aside from this it is a mere blunt stab at the then existing popularity and abuse of the \ sonnet, in which form this same is written. To the second group belong a larger part of Poe's poems. Foremost: are " A Dream Within a Dream," " The Coliseum," " Silence," " Dreams," " Romance." Of these " The Coliseum " is in my judgment the noblest. The sustained loftiness, the classic stateliness of its measures, is happily free from the blem-ishes of ill-timed commonplaces which so often mar his other poems. The second stanza is an invocation ; sombre and sonorous. Note the slow, stately sweep of the feet like the measured tread of legions. Vastness ! and Age ! and memories of Eld. Then follows a remarkable series of parallels, the final being elimacteric in its somber irony : " Here, where on golden throne the monarch lolled, Glides, specter-like, unto his marble home ; *I refer to the " To Helen " addressed to Mrs. Stanard, the mother of a school-mate, who, by her kindness, wielded a remarkable influence over the sensitive youth. Her death called forth this poem together with " The Sleeper." THE MERCURY. 199 Lit by the wan light of the ronnd moon, The swift and silent lizatd of the stones." Then the query, full of a vast regret : "These stones—alas ! these grey stones—are they all- Left ********** By the corosive Hours to Fate and me ? " And the triumphant reply : " ' Not all '—the Echoes answer me—' not all! , Prophetic sounds and loud, arise forever From us, and from all Ruin unto the wise, Not all * * * * that hang upon And cling around about us as a garment, Clothing us in a robe of more than glory.' " Of the Melancholic there are a host. In fact very few of Poe's poems are free from melancholia. Although Poe in his "Philosophy of Composition" makes melancholia an impera-tive necessity in a poet's equipment—yet I feel that Poe's poems in the main are melancholiy because they are autobiographic. They are of the soul; and that soul warped, distorted and embittered. Of these I can but note, in passing, "Ulalume " and " Tamerlane," the former mystic, the latter lucid ; they stand widely apart and yet they are akin in spirit. Tragedy, deep, vague, flows through them like a turgid, stream, livid and unwholesome. " Al ArafT" together with "Tamerlane" show marked traces of the influences of Byron and Moor, both of whom Poe intensely admired. Peculiarly redolent with Poe's own aspirations, fresh in youth, yet already tainted with the bitter edge of dissappointment, are the lines : " I wrapped myself in grandeur then And donned a visionary crown— Yet it was not that of fantasy Had thrown her mantle over me— But that, among the rabble—men, Lion ambition is chained down— And crouches to a keeper's hand— Not so in deserts where the grand— The wild—the terrible conspire With their own breath to fan his fire."* The final group- * Tamerlane. -the fantastic, the wierd, the grewsome 200 THE MERCURY. this is Poe's special sphere. The somber tragedy of " The Raven," the morbid unhumaness of " Anabell Lee," the quaint fantastic irony of " For Arnnie,"the creeping, slimy, awful still-ness ; the brazen waters, the livid sky—the silence, downpress-ing and palpable ; the noisless stir—the dull horror of " The City of the Sea," in " The Sleeper; " the human common place-ness of its former part, the growing mystery, the freedom from natural grief, the the dull repression of its latter part; the un-seemly cheerfulness grating harshly to stimulate a feeling very like repugnance; to all this the allegory of " The Haunted Palace " insistently seems to offer a clew—it is Poe's INTELLECT ! " The olden time of long ago," is his childhood and early youth—the demon haunted palace is the present;—the demon's —thoughts! How many have crept their slimy selves into dis-torted perpetuity. It is terrible to conceive of a human be-ing cursed with such a horror-breeding brain bordering on de-mentia— it is more terrible to think of a man deliberately manu-facturing in cold blood such twisting, grinny, ghoulish crea-tions. No, this is too profound—in parts, too diabolic—if you please, to pass for mere buffoonery ; it may be charlatanism in dead earnest—but to me it smells of downright magic and fellest black-art. NOTE—"The Raven," " The Bells," "Tamerlane," "Leonore" will receive fuller attention in a later article embracing these together with " Eureka " under the head of Poe's Masterpieces. The next installment will treat of Poe under the phase as Critic and Essayist. —Ed. THE MERCURY. 201 THE TWENTIETH CENTURY'S DEMANDS UPON WOMAN. ELSIE A. GERLACH, '07. BEFORE the present century dawned it was not uncom-mon to hear the mannish woman styled the twentieth century woman. Where the idea originated is not known. But it was possibly due to the fact that woman was becoming more self-reliant, was taking her place in the business world, and was entering with keen appreciation into the sports which were hers for the asking but which only men had indulged in heretofore. The last and perhaps the greatest reason was that woman was coming to the front in education, and standing on an equal plane with the men, both in our own country and Europe. In the early part of the last century the women of the West worked shoulder to shoulder with their husbands on the farm- Willingly they helped to tame the wilderness, following the plow and gathering the harvest, and bravely they faced the danger when death threatened them in the shape of wild beasts or wilder men. But alas! their willing hands often faltered under a burden too heavy for them to bear. And while these women were helping wich strenuous manual labor to build up a new life in the West, our Southern women, with innumerable slaves at their command, were living a life of ease and luxury, basking under a tropical sun. For a Southern woman of gentle birth to work was considered a disgrace. House work was forbidden, and to go out into the world to earn a living was not to be thought of. So it seemed to fall to the lot of the Northern woman to set the pace for a happy medium. Stirred to activity by the cool winds of the North, work seemed the most natural thing in the world for her. Yet it was not all work and no play which she desired. If necessity compelled her to make her living she did it willingly, and was respected for it. But at the same time she entered with zeal into the healthful out-of-door sports and exercises. She also advanced step by step toward the higher education formerly attained only by the men, until 202 THE MERCURY. to-day she stands at the zenith. Can the extent of this for-ward movement be measured? " In man there is nothing great but mind " is the familiar abhorism of Hamilton, and the men-tal endowment is received directly from the mother. Find, if you can, one man who has been truly great whose mother was not a wise woman, and now since higher education has become universal, with such a heritage from his mother the man of the twentieth century ought to achieve things inconcievable to-former generations. The Western and Southern women soon realized and ac-knowledged the superiority of the course which the Northern woman was pursuing, and to-day not only they, but the wo-men all over the world, are following her example of Sana metis in corpore sono. With such privileges granted her, what does the century de mand of woman? One thing is certain, that the present cen-tury demands far more than former centuries. The reason for this may. be that we are living in a more strenuous age and one must live faster to keep abreast of the times. The cen-tury's primal demand is that woman must be educated. No-matter in what sphere of life she may be she must be educated that she may be able to cope with the many perplexing prob-lems which arise daily. If her sphere is the home, she must be familiar with the science of cooking. If she has servants she must know how to bring out the best that is in them. She must be able to answer the questions of her children, who know more at ten than their great-grandfathers did at fifty. She must be able to be a good companion to a husband who-is alert, well balanced in business affairs, and keeping pace with the times. There is an urgent demand for the cheaper labor of woman. Many a foolish girl leaves a good home where she has all the necessities of" life, and a not a few luxuries, to enter a factory. She has, as one says, " All she needs but not all she wants." To earn a few trifling luxuries and to enjoy, a few worthless pleasures, she will forego all the joys of home life, and will go from the guiding hand of a loving mother, out into the world, into the oftimes degrading factories, with their deafening, mad- THE MERCURY. 203 dening roar, their awful monotony of work, and in many cases their dull and coarse workmen. Mrs. Van Vorst writes that a girl working by her in the factory said to her, " I'll bet you can't guess how old I am." The lady records, " I look at her. Her face and throat are wrinkled. Her hands broad and scrawney. She is tall and has short skirts. What shall be my clue ? If I judge by pleasures " Unborn " would be my an-swer. If by effort then " A thousand years." " Twenty " I hazard as a safe medium, " Fourteen " she laughs. " I don't like it at home. The kids bother me so, Mamma's people are. well to do. I'm working for my own pleasure." Is it right for a girl to throw her life away in this manner? The answer is emphatically " No." This demand ought not to be com-plied with. She ought to learn a higher aim than the mere making of money. Still worse is the case of the sweat shop, where the cheap bargain-counter goods are made. Cheap ? Yes, cheap in money value, but dearly bought at the price of the lives of women and children who are not able to demand high wages. This demand for labor ought to be prohibited by law, law closing the sweat shops. At least all good women ought to know the significance of the bargain-counters and shun them. On the other hand, and here is a puzzling question, if the century demands a place for women in the congenial business world with the men, does she find it, after all, her sphere ? When the number of women who enter the business world is increasing year by year, what will be the outcome ? Is it, after all, best ? The " Homeletic Review " gives the following sta-tistics : In 1890 about 4,000,000 women were engaged in gain-ful occupations. Ten years later they had increased 36 per cent. Relatively to men the number of women engaged in domestic and personal service actually fell off in this same time, while in trade and transportation it rose from 6 per cent, to 10. True, hundreds and thousands of women are working on an equal basis with men, equally capable and receiving equal salaries, and we would not say that it is not for woman to earn a living: far from it. It is only when the work she does unfits her for higher spheres or detracts from the gentle- 204 THE MERCURY. ness, modesty and virtue that is the true heritage of every woman. The demands of the century are many, and it would be im-possible to discuss them all. I have treated only those which are most evident. But now let us consider, finally, the demand that woman shall be effective in bringing about a higher stand-ard of living. Many specific examples might be cited, as the Hull House, in Chicago, which has accomplished a wonderful work in the elevation of the people of the slums, mentally, morally, and physically. The work of the Woman's Mission-ary Society, and their Christian Association is well known to all. The Woman's Temperance Union is often scoffed at, but along what line have we made more progress than the lessen-ing of the curse of drunkenness ? Early in the last century liquor flowed freely at the harvesting, the dances, the weddings, and even at the funerals. Although drunkenness prevails today, there has been a great reformation along this line. This im-provement is universally attributed to the influence of woman. Considering the strength of this single argument, we could boldly affirm, that the world is growing better. " God's in His Heaven, all's well with the world." A MYSTERY SOLVED. LEVERING TYSON, '09. SOON after my graduation from Yale University, my thoughts turned to inventive channels. I left my home in New Haven and moved to Kansas. On a wide, barren stretch of prairie land in the outskirts of Topeka, I built a handsome residence and near by an observatory and a laboratory. I de-voted all my spare time to astronomical researches, and the heavens ever proved a source of interest and pleasure. There were two principal inventions which I contemplated ; the first—an exceptionally powerful light, whose rays would be brilliant enough to penetrate many, many miles through any obstacle; the second—an automatic shell, which, when hurled forth into space, would gain in velocity, the greater the oppos- THE MERCURY. 205 ing force. This latter was the result of many years of hard labor and concentrated thought. It was about seventeen feet long and five wide, and was shaped like a projectile. The outer shell was so constructed of scales or plates of steel, that they regulated a motor inside the shell and thus the velocity was increased when it struck an obstruction. This huge piece of mechanism was nearing completion, and was standing on a high scaffold a short distance from my lab-oratory. Not long after this, in the dead of night, I was awak-ened by a loud, fierce, crashing, I dressed immediately and hurried downstairs. My foreman began to pound on the door furiously and, when I answered his urgent summons, said that the scaffolding which supported the automatic shell, had given 'way, and that the shell had struck the ground and begun to bore into the earth. We hurried to the scene of action and found a hole five feet in diameter, reaching down, down, down, nobody knew where. After setting men to work to ascertain the depth of the shaft, I again retired. The men worked on, lowering a cord with a lead on the end. Late in the forenoon of the next day they struck bottom four-teen and one-half miles below the surface of the earth. I then decided to find out all I could about the course of my shell and why it had finally stopped. My first step was to lower a camera with electrical appliances into the shaft. The pictures were developed and those taken at different depths showed very interesting strata formations. Those, however, which were taken at the bottom of the shaft showed nothing but light, light, nothing but light. One pe-culiarity existed in every picture—every one had a dark blur in some part. This I finally decided was my shell. I finally hit upon an idea. My powerful Xray ! The very thing ! It was nearly completed and now everything was laid aside until it should be tested and proved a success. I sent away for the most powerful telescope made to examine the path of my light. This I erected above the mouth of the shaft, and under the balcony on which it rested, were the pow-erful batteries of this wonderful light. 206 THE-MERCURY. It was ready for a trial in a few: weeks' time, and the time had come, as I thought, to solve the mystery of the light. I stationed myself just above the mouth of the shaft and turned the switch. With a tremenduous hiss, the enclosure was brilliantly illuminated with the ray. I finally lowered it and it slowly ate its way downward, seeming to devour layer after layer of rock and bed after bed of coal and other products of nature hidden beneath the earth's surface. . This continued for nearly half an hour, when suddenly my ray did not disclose anything. There was the bright beam seemingly penetrating into the depths of the earth. I ordered my foreman to turn on all power possible. He complied with my requests but all ef-forts were fruitless. That steady, glow still met my gaze at the end of my glass and there was always a small dark corner projecting into view. Again I was baffled by the strange light, at a loss as to its meaning. I returned to spend a sleep-less night, tossing from side to side in my vain efforts to solve the phenomenon. I finally dozed off, I reached a conclusion while I slept, and it seemed that in the few hours I rested, my brain was still active. I would descend the shaft. As soon as I awoke I summoned my foreman, told him my resolution and put him in full charge of constructing a huge hoisting engine and a car the exact shape of my shell. Preparations were completed in a little less than seven months, I named a day when I was to descend into the earth's depths and final arrangements were at length completed. I entered the car and began to descend slowly, down, down, down. The car was so constructed that you could see on all sides while the descent was being made. My car Was comfortably constructed and elaborately fitted out. I had a telephone at my elbow and conversed with my foreman about many matters while I slowly descended. I passed through coal beds, and stratum upon stratum of rock and sandstone. These wonders I reported to my foreman who took notes so that, if any acci-dent occurred, my venture would still be of some use to scien-tists. I finally reached the bottom of the shaft safely after a most interesting journey. THE MERCURY. 207 No sooner had I struck bottom,* than a blinding glare met my eyes. It was several moments before I could see objects distinctly. I then noticed that the light was all about me. My car was suspended in space, and was in a cavern about twenty feet above my shell, lying on its side, not injured in the least by its strenuous journey. I directed my car to be slowly lowered until it was but several inches above the shell. The light still puzzled me. My shell rested upon it, but as far as •eye could see there was that unconquerable light, that light that had baffled me so often. .1 stepped from my car to the shell, but still kept firm hold of the bottom of the car. Low-ering myself gradually I finally stood on the light. Noticing some small pieces of some substance lying at my feet I picked them up and to my astonishment found that these fragments of " light " were pure diamond. I gathered several more speci-mens of " light" and, seized with a sudden fear; again entered my car and was slowly drawn upward. The problem was deeper than before, the mystery was not yet solved. As I slowly ascended to the upper air, the revelation of the whole matter buist upon me. The earth, like most of the other planets was, in the primaeval age, part of the tail of a •comet. Her whole interior was a solid diamond and this was charred and burned by the action of the elements. The upper crust was nothing more than an accumulation of ashes during many, many stages of natural development. At last every-thing seemed plain to me. I finally reached the upper air. Closeting myself for three months I prepared a book containing my views. Naturally this created a sensation in the scientific world. After a com-mittee of college professors and noted scientists visited my works and inspected the shaft I ordered it closed by the use of dynamite. Much to my satisfaction 'my theory was finally verified. The diamonds brought from the earth's depths were bought by a syndicate of kings and remained in their possession for many centuries. THE MERCURY Entered at the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second-class Matter VOL. XIV GETTYSBURG, PA., DECEMBER, 1906 No. 7 Editor-in-chief WARD B. S. RICE, '07 Exchange Editor THOS. E. SHEARER, '07 Business Manager THOMAS A. FAUST, '07 Ass't Bus. Managers. HENRY M. BOWER, '08 H. WATSON DAVISON. 'OS Associate Editors GEO. W. KESSLER, '08 J. K. ROBB, '08 EDMUND L. MANGES, '08 Advisory Board PROF. J. A. HIMES, LITT.D. PROF. G. D. STAHLEY, M.D. PROF. J. W. RICHARD, D.D. 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. One of the Y. M. C. A. COURSE. most ed. uca-tional and cultivating features of the college year is* about to be-gin, that of the Y. M. C. A. Course. Through the manage-ment of this branch of work a course of performances has been arranged which no one who is-interested in the rareties of lite can well afford to miss. It consists of a good variety of lec-tures, musicals and recitals, given by some of the most highly THE MERCURY. 209 skilled artisans of the season. As promoters of the educa-tional and literary spirit, we would urge all, especially students, to attend these intellectual feasts. The committee in charge have gone to no little trouble, and have assumed no little-risk in scheduling these numbers, for which they deserve much credit and loyal support. The cause for which this course is promoted would alone be worthy of our aid ; but when duty is so coupled with an extraordinary privilege, it should martial an unusual support. In taking advantage of this course we not only help a good cause, but adds very* materially to our gen-eral and aesthetic knowledge. DUTY. If you are a a member of this or that activity, what are you doing? Is the activity indebted to you, or are you indebted to it? In other words : Are you doing your duty ? We are all a little inclined to shift a responsibility, if we can, and we believe that it is due to this fact that the proper spirit is lacking in some departments, especially the literary. How many of us, when asked to serve on the society program, have not said: "It doesn't suit me this week, I don't have time?" There are, no doubt, many valid excuses given, but in a num-ber of cases, is it not simply an effort to avoid the task ? How many, when asked to contribute to the monthly journal, have not said : " Oh, I can't write; " or, " I don't have the time ?'' Again there may be legitimate reasons, but many times it is merely a way of putting it off. Other instances may be cited in which we are too ready to shirk our duty. Is this not more of a habit than anything else? We are so accustomed to excusing ourselves that we often give some excuse when we consent with the next breath. Let us break away from this ; when asked to perform a reasonable task, consider it a duty and do it, unless a plausible excuse can be offered. Many ot these departments are of our own institution ; and they will succeed only in so far as they are supported by their constituents. Therefore, when asked to do a service, let us not say we do not have time—others may be as busy as we—but remember it is our duty. 2IO THE MERCURY. It is the consensus of opinion that Gettysburg has played a remarkable game this foot ball season, having lost but one game. Her success was proven not to be the result of force and brute strength, but of good coaching and a team with a capacity for being coached. It is not our intention to discuss the game as played, but to emphasize an-other factor to which we attribute much of the success ; one whose value is sometimes underestimated ; one which is very rare in the case of athletic teams, especially successful ones. It is one which is highly commendable and worthy of example. All are well aware of the fact that at most universities and colleges there are a certain number of players who are contin-ually " cutting " classes, that is not including trips and times when they are obliged to absent themselves. We are glad to say that this was not the case at Gettysburg. The intellectual was not sacrificed to the physical. It can be said with all sin-cerity that the men who represented Gettysburg on the Grid-iron this season were men who were here for an education and of no mean standing in their class work; not one of them were here especially to play foot-ball. We believe then that the success in a large measure lay in the fact that the school was represented not by mere residents, but real students; men who have the true college spirit and a deep sense of interest in their Alma Mater. This is a record to be envied; let us keep it up, the success and honor will be the greater for it. As is customary, on account of the winter vacation, there will be no January issue of the MERCURY. Lack of space prevents the publication of the usual exchange column in this issue. PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISER'S FURNITURE Mattresses, Bed Springs, Iron Beds, Picture Frames, Repair Work done promptly. Under-taking a specialty. * Telephone No. 97. EE_ IB. :i3e:cLd.ez 37 Baltimore St., Gettysburg, Pa. The Windsor Hotel 1217=2 Filbert St., Philadelphia. Headquarters for Students. Thoroughly Renovated, Refurnished and Remodeled FRANK M. SCHEIBLEY, Manager. Graduate of Lafayette College 1898. A. G. Spalding & Bros. 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EMIL ZOTHE COLLEGE EMBLEMS Engraver, Designer and Manufacturing Jeweler, 722 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA Specialties: Masonic Marks, Society Badges, College Buttons, Pins, Scarf Pins, Stick Pins and Athletic Prizes All Goods ordered through F. A. Faust. .s. Dealer in E Picture Frames of All Sorts. Repair work done promptly. i^*I will also buy or exchange any second-hand, furniture 40hamberaburgSt., GETTYSBURG, PA. SEFTON & FLEMMINGS LIVERY Baltimore Street, First Square, Gettysburg, Pa. Competent Guides for all parts of the Battlefield. Arrangements by telegram or letter. Lock Box 257. J. I. MUMPER. 41 Baltimore St., Gettysburg, Pa. The improvements to our Studio have proven a perfect success and we are now better prepared than ever to give you satisfactory work. Under New Management The Peoples Drug Store Invites you to visit tliem and select your needs from a fresh, new, and up-to-date stock. ■ C. WM. BEALES, Ph.G., Prop. 1). J. 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Edward C. Boyle ; The Weber and Davis County Communities Oral History Collection include interviews of citizens from several different walks of life. These interviews were conducted by Stewart Library personnel, WeberState University faculty and students, and other members of the community. The histories cover various topics and chronicle the personal everyday life experiences and other recollections regarding the history of the Weber and Davis County areas. ; 68p.; 29cm.; 2 bound transcripts; 4 file folders. 1 video disc: digital; 4 3/4 in. ; Oral History Program Edward C. Boyle Interviewed by Rebecca Ory Hernandez 9 November 2011 18 November 2011 Oral History Program Weber State University Stewart Library Ogden, Utah Edward C. Boyle Interviewed by Rebecca Ory Hernandez 9 November 2011 18 November 2011 Copyright © 2012 by Weber State University, Stewart Library Mission Statement The Oral History Program of the Stewart Library was created to preserve the institutional history of Weber State University and the Davis, Ogden and Weber County communities. By conducting carefully researched, recorded, and transcribed interviews, the Oral History Program creates archival oral histories intended for the widest possible use. Interviews are conducted with the goal of eliciting from each participant a full and accurate account of events. The interviews are transcribed, edited for accuracy and clarity, and reviewed by the interviewees (as available), who are encouraged to augment or correct their spoken words. The reviewed and corrected transcripts are indexed, printed, and bound with photographs and illustrative materials as available. Archival copies are placed in the University Archives. The Stewart Library also houses the original recording so researchers can gain a sense of the interviewee's voice and intonations. Project Description The Weber and Davis County Communities Oral History Collection includes interviews of citizens from several different walks of life. These interviews were conducted by Stewart Library personnel, Weber State University faculty and students, and other members of the community. The histories date back to the early settlement of North Ogden, and cover various topics including the History of Fort Buenaventura, city government affairs, controversial issues, Latinos in Ogden, personal everyday life experiences and other recollections regarding the history of the Weber and Davis County areas. ____________________________________ Oral history is a method of collecting historical information through recorded interviews between a narrator with firsthand knowledge of historically significant events and a well-informed interviewer, with the goal of preserving substantive additions to the historical record. Because it is primary material, oral history is not intended to present the final, verified, or complete narrative of events. It is a spoken account. It reflects personal opinion offered by the interviewee in response to questioning, and as such it is partisan, deeply involved, and irreplaceable. ____________________________________ Rights Management University Archives All literary rights in the manuscript, including the right to publish, are reserved to the Stewart Library of Weber State University. No part of the manuscript may be published without the written permission of the University Librarian. Requests for permission to publish should be addressed to the Administration Office, Stewart Library, Weber State University, Ogden, Utah, 84408. The request should include identification of the specific item and identification of the user. It is recommended that this oral history be cited as follows: Edward C. Boyle, an oral history by Rebecca Ory Hernandez, 9 November 2011 and 18 November 2011, WSU Stewart Library Oral History Program, University Archives, Stewart Library, Weber State University, Ogden, UT. iii Edward Boyle Roswell, New Mexico 1943 Edward Boyle New York, 1984 1 Abstract: The following is an oral history interview with Edward C. (Ted) Boyle (b. 1922). The interview was conducted by Rebecca Ory Hernandez, on November 9, 2011. In this interview Ted speaks of his early life growing up and attending school in Ogden, Utah and later attending Weber State University. The interview also highlights his life after graduating from Weber State University and going on to graduate school at the Thunderbird School of Management. Ted also talks about his career in international banking with Citibank, traveling the world and working as a bank executive. Ted is retired and now lives in St. George, Utah with his wife Hazel. ROH: I'm going to state the date and where we are. Today is November 8, 2011. We're in the home of Ted and Hazel Boyle in St. George, Utah. We are here conducting an oral history. I'll just start by asking you to repeat your name and where and when you were born. EB: My name is Edward Conrad Boyle, commonly known as Ted Boyle. I was born in Ogden, Utah, August the tenth, 1922 in the Thomas D. Dee Hospital in Ogden, Utah. I picked up the nickname of Ted Boyle when I was a youngster which came from my Uncle Albert. He used to call me Theodore Roosevelt and Ted stuck with me all my life. I was socially known as Ted Boyle. ROH: You were born in Ogden. Where did you grow up? EB: I grew up in Ogden, Utah on the east side of Ogden, which at that time was at the outskirts of the city. It was at 1470 26th Street which was between Taylor and Polk Avenue and was an area which was basically low income people on the 2 north side of the street and people of means on the south side of the street. Our house was very small by today's standards—two bedrooms, one bathroom, a small kitchen, a dining room, a living room, and a small lot. My brother and sister and I and my mother and my father only had two bedrooms. So my brother and I slept in the unheated basement of our home in unfinished bedrooms with my mother's washing machine between us. My sister had one bedroom and my father and mother had the other bedroom. It had no garage in as much as my father never owned a car. He was one of the very few in Ogden who didn't have a car. My original concept of this house was that it was purely acceptable for us during those trying times which would be the Depression era of 1920s and 1930s. We got along as we could and stayed out of each other's way. My father who was a furniture salesman with Boyle Furniture Company in Ogden would actually walk two miles through all kinds of weather to save a five cent bus fare. Without a car we all depended on friends to get around to social activities. My mother had to walk three to four blocks and bring back her groceries. I remember that very distinctly. At the tender age of six, seven, and eight years old, I was unaware of the differences in the economic status of people on the block. As I grew older I learned to understand that we were on the wrong side of the track as far as the economic aspect of it. It didn't really bother me that we grew up near the poverty line. My father was a good provider. My mother was a wonderful cook. We ate the staples, cornmeal and mush in the morning and things of that nature. We had an icebox, a small cubicle to eat in 3 and I got by. I learned to accept what we had. I had one pair of shoes and one suit. I learned early in my life that I was not conventional in the sense that I had no feel for solving mechanical problems. I couldn't do anything but maybe change a light bulb. That carried through my whole life as my wife knows very well. I was just not like that. I was not allowed to have a house pet. All my friends had dogs but my father adamantly said no dogs. So I grew up in the neighborhood by adopting dogs in the area. My earliest recollections of my schooling in elementary school were at Polk School, which was a block away from our house. It was a very modern school of that time. There were eight grades and it was very convenient. However, during the heavy winter storms that we had in Ogden in those days, we had snow days where I couldn't even get to school because the snow was piled up so high. ROH: How did you get school? EB: We would try and get through these snow drifts but we were basically snowed in. We used to build snow igloos in my front yard. In my early days at Polk School I was a very average student. I thought I had a knack for numbers but when it came to social studies, math, and others, I had trouble. The teachers at that time—our principal was named Florence Brown. If we got out of order then, at that time, we were called in the office and she took out a ruler and hit us on the butt. Today, you know what would happen. But we accepted that. Our parents accepted that if Johnny was out of order he would pay the price. My earliest contact with the female species was in the third grade when we had all the boys 4 sitting on one side of the room and the girls on the other with a phonograph record playing dance music. The teachers would pair us off and we'd go out and try to dance with each other. It was a very strange feeling. Among those girls was Rosanne Peery. She was in the same class I was. I had no skills of any sort. We had a shop organization where we went down in the basement of the school and made wooden things. By hook and crook I made a sewing cabinet for my mother and had it shellacked and it was a pride and joy for me. As I walked up to my house I stopped at the neighbors place and his Labrador retriever went over and did his thing on my sewing cabinet. I was devastated. It didn't matter when I took it home to my mother. She said, "Oh, that's fine." I think that really must have been the only thing I ever created. ROH: How old do you think you were? EB: I was probably about ten years old I guess. In the school I was not physically adept towards contact sports which bothered me enormously because we were always rough housing and I was afraid to get in the middle of it. So I became a finesser, trying to find a sport where I didn't have the contact. I developed a very fine arm. I used to throw stones and I developed a very strong pitching arm, so I became successful in softball and things like that. Going back on Polk School— my late brother (who was five years older) at one time, on the third floor, opened a window and got a hold of the ropes on the flag pole and swung out one hundred feet off the ground before hitting the ground. That was the beginning of my brother being an ultimate dare devil. He was afraid of nothing. My dad loved Sundays as it was his only day off. He was not a church man. He would go out 5 and tend his garden which included all kinds of fruit trees. Then in the afternoon he would go down on the bus to the Orpheum Theater and see a movie, then come back home with a bag of popcorn for the family. My mother of course was in church. I was encouraged at that time to go to church on Sunday. ROH: What church did your family go to? EB: It was the LDS church at 26th and Jackson. At that time it was a six block walk for my mother in all kinds of weather. Our bishop was David Romney. I had a group of friends while growing up and among them was Jennings Olson. Jennings was a person whose handicap was a club foot. We all tried to put that out of our minds when we were playing baseball and things. Jennings was always full of vim and vigor. One thing I remember about him was that he did not like carbonated drinks. He always had to have something non-carbonated. I remember that he read voraciously. His father was a very good medical doctor in Ogden. His mother was a dear but rather homespun. We formed cliques. We had what we called the 26th Street Gang which was the street we lived on. We had about six or seven of us that used to play football in the street and then we'd go skating over bumps and things like that. It became the center of activity. We all grew up to bond. Those people in my early ages were the people that stood with me through the ages and today are still my best friends. It was a phenomenon that we all had the same interests and it was a matter of getting along without any money. We created our own fun outside of the theaters. For instance, on Saturday I would go down to my dad's office at Boyle Furniture and I'd say, "Dad, I want to go to the movie." So he'd give me twenty five cents. That twenty five 6 cents covered my bus fare down and back from the Paramount Theater, a bag of popcorn and I would sit in the front row as close as I could get for these cowboy movies because it was thought at that time, the closer you were to the action, the better off. I'd get out of there and I'd be blurry eyed. I couldn't see for five minutes when I got out of the theater. One thing that I do remember very vividly was Christmas. In Ogden, in the thirties, there were several department stores including the Emporium and Lowe's where they had Christmas displays with electric trains and everything like that. I used to spend hours looking at these various things and hoping against hope that we would be able to get something of that note. Christmas night my brother, my sister and I would go to bed early hoping that Santa Claus would get down the chimney. We had a chimney. I never did understand how he was going to get down through there. My mother put out the cookies with milk and we'd go to bed early and get up at four o'clock in the morning to sneak up the stairs and look and see what Santa Claus had brought. Quite often it was a bowl of hard candy and an orange, a piece of clothing and an inexpensive game. We kept hoping for a train set but we made the best we could. We survived. I became aligned with my closest friends that I loved. About the church— my mother was a devout Mormon. She would have been in the bishopric if they had allowed women. My father was a non-believer, a great man but did not actively participate. I was obliged by my mother every Sunday to go to church with my friends. We diligently went in and passed the sacrament and obeyed what we thought were the laws of the church until such time when I think I was 7 about sixteen or seventeen. The bishop came down the aisle and got me by the arm and said, "Ted. I think it's time for you to go on a mission." That shocked me. I think I just said, not negatively, but that I was not really interested at that time. My truest friends—all of them followed the same line of reckoning, so I wondered at this time, what was it? Was it peer pressure? We all had the same idea at that time that we were not going on missions. It was etched in stone. After we graduated from Polk School, I went to Central High School down at 26th Street and Monroe. Believe it or not, those two years are negative. I have nothing really factual that I can remember of any note. In other words they passed by me without any real essence of any happenings at all except the music instructor there said, "Ted, you've got a wonderful voice. You should go out and use that voice." I remembered that. So off we went to High School at dear old Ogden High School on 28th and Harrison. We were the third class and that's when I really grew up. It was a new atmosphere. The ambiance, the people, the teachers, the location all struck me as being something super. I guess you could say I was a jokester all my life and I got by with my wits. In other words, I was always cracking jokes and breaking up people. I became very popular and joined the social clubs there. I knew quite a few people. But I do remember something, this was pre-war, they had ROTC. It was officer's training school. We were obliged to go out on the campus and parade around for an hour and then after that they selected officers from our group to lead. These were the power makers. This bothered me enormously. I was not selected. I was a private. All my friends were colonels, majors, captains, etc. I was obliged to walk through 8 the ranks as a private. I thought, "Well, this may be my life. Maybe I'm not going to make anything out of it." But I did make some very good connections there. I loved the people there. Our actual basketball team were the state champions. We were honored in Salt Lake. We had, what I think Tom Brokaw would call the finest generation. I would consider that our class of 1940 was exceptional as far as the quality of the people and what they did and the environment we were living in. ROH: Can I ask you a question real quick? Tell me the names of some of your friends at Ogden High. Who were your best friends? EB: Jack Luddington, who I'll talk about incessantly. Jack Dalton, Bill Hinds, Jennings Olson, Richard Stine, Parry Thomas. Here's something that you want to wire in. Parry Thomas and I were very close and Parry Thomas probably was the leader of the pack, as far as what happened to the graduates. Parry became president of a prestigious bank in Las Vegas. He became a very big factor in banking in Las Vegas. Bob Bishoff who was president of I think the Commercial Security Bank and Maurice Richards, a prominent attorney. It was a time when Ogden was at its apex as far as producing people of culture with the ability to move on. One thing I noted that in our parking lot there were probably five or six cars of people that owned cars. You go by today and there's hundreds of them out there which is an indication of time and change. I still, at that time, had no real love connections. I think a lot had depended upon that my family had no car so I depended a lot on double dating and taking girls out like that. I had a lot of very close female friends but nothing serious at 9 all. I would go to the prom by myself and my friends would put my name down and I'd dance with their female partners. ROH: Did you call that stag? We always call that stag when you went by yourself. EB: Yeah, I went stag. I enjoyed the dance with other people's partners. I was awe stricken by the campus. It was so beautiful in 1940. It was constructed for less than one million dollars and one of the advisors to building was Meryl McClanahan whose son was Richard, a classmate of mine. After we graduated many people went their different ways and I went home and I said, "Where do I go from here?" I knew we had very limited means. I had no money myself. My dad couldn't afford anything. So Dad scratched up enough money for tuition for Weber Junior College. Quite a few of the students there were on short hook as far as money. The money class went to Utah or BYU. We arrived down on the campus of Weber College and it was very, very small in relationship to what I had pictured. The student body and my class were something like 180 people. We were in a war by that time so that meant that there were very few people around. I thought while I was there that I still wanted to be a forest ranger because of my likes of being outside, hunting and fishing at the cost of the government, and so that was my theory. I wanted to graduate from Weber College and then go on to Utah State where they had a forestry school. I became involved with the Excelsior Club, which was the premier social club. I made lots of friends. I think my personality lent itself to making friends. I was like a loose cannon. I always felt like I had to make light of anything and I think that was a big hit down there. 10 I became very close to [Henry] Aldous Dixon who was president of the College. His son, John Dixon, became Director of the University of Utah Medical Center. I made new friends. I found at that time that Ogden had a history of being a Mormon town. In other words, if you were Catholic, you were on the wrong side of the track. I had wanted to date a girl who was a Catholic. My mother found out about it and she had a fit. She was very down to earth and strong in her beliefs of the LDS Church. ROH: Did you have any friends who were African American? EB: Here we go. In the student body there was one black. His name was Willy Thomas and he was a huge, black, muscular athlete from Kansas. He was an outstanding track man and basketball player. He ran the hundred meter dash. I became very close to him out on track. I ran the track there, the mile run. I would joke with him and he would sometimes take it as offensive and then he'd say, "After I thought about you Ted." I was chuckling to myself. I became very close to him. Another example was Wat Misaka who was of Japanese origin and an excellent basketball player. He has been honored nationally. I became very close to him. At that early stage in my life it became apparent that I had no racial problems. I had made my point there at Weber College and found that later on in life, that's what often led on to what I did and where I went. Anyway, I took fond memories from Weber College. I thought that the beauty of that college at that time was the smallest of the class, the informalities, the attention from the seniors as to coming in to classrooms and talking to you. You felt like it was a family operation, totally family. It was a wonderful thing. 11 Aldous Dixon lived on campus in a small house right there. Later on when I went in to the war—my family would tell him what I was doing over there and he would write to my family and say Ted was going to be okay. I also liked the small classes at Weber. We had a lot of help from a very professional teaching staff. As an aside, I purchased an expensive oil painting of Farrell Collett who was once the head of the art department at Weber College. ROH: Nice. EB: Anyway, I always imagined myself as being an athlete. I had a very strong arm and I could throw the football farther than anybody on the football team but I was so fragile that I knew that once I was hit I was down. So I never did participate in football or basketball. But I was on the tennis team at Weber College. By the way, while I was in high school I was city champion in several contests there and I would ride down on my bicycle to Liberty Park, and I would have one racket with maybe a string broken. In one case, a prominent citizen would come up in his convertible in white shorts with a racket and the contrast was startling. I had a tremendous forehand but no backhand so I would always attack from my forehand and try and cover up my backhand. I was fairly successful because when I was younger I used to pound the back of our house constantly with a ball. That's where I developed my forehand and the serve was tremendous. But my backhand did not exist so I lived by playing around that. It was one of those things. As we progress along, the war was coming closer and closer so a group of us, after graduation from Weber College, decided to go to Utah State. Five of us 12 went to Logan and moved into in a house near the campus. We managed to survive. I joined the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity, which was a premier club. I was very comfortable on the campus. Then my dearest friend Jack Luddington, who I mentioned before, had been taking pilot training out at the old Ogden Airport, and he said, "Ted, things are closing in. The Air Force is having a meeting in Ogden for possible applicants to join the Air Force. Do you want to go along with me?" I said, "I don't know." Then he talked me into it. I said, "Yeah, we'll get drafted if we don't." So we went in there for the physical, I think I weighed 138 pounds. The Army Air Force medical guy said, "You don't qualify. You're too thin. But I want you in here. Go home and eat about three pounds of bananas and come back tomorrow. See if we can fudge you in there." Low and behold I gained a pound or two and he said, "You're in." My friend Luddington, who was not a genius either, as far as his ability to score well on tests, was the last one out of the class. He sat down and I said, "Come on Luddington." He finally made it and we both joined the Air Force and left Salt Lake City on the train for Santa Ana, California. We arrived and there were 20,000 cadets at our base. We were separated after we took the tests to find out what our abilities were. He was assigned as a potential pilot and I was assigned as a potential bombardier. So after we graduated from the base in Santa Ana I was assigned to Roswell, New Mexico which was a bombardier school. Jack went in to pilot training on the California coast. I arrived in Roswell and found that we were dealing with the Norden bomb sight which was highly prized by the German Air Force as being something they 13 would like to have in their power. So, while we were in training, we always had to carry a .45 revolver and treat the bomb sight as a most valuable item. We would practice bomb day and night. We were expected to drop the bomb in a five hundred foot circle from five miles high. The blue practice bombs had ninety-eight pounds of sand and two pounds of spotting powder. The Air Force kept washing out cadets. I would call my mother and say, "I'm still in here but the ranks are thinning." When I finished, I got a short leave to go home to Ogden and I showed off my wings. Then I was assigned to Hondo, Texas for navigational training. Hondo wasn't too far from Austin, Texas, where my Aunt Clara lived with her billionaire husband. She invited me to go up there on the weekends. She let me sleep late and she fed me well and I was in seventh heaven. After we were through with Hondo, we got our orders to form our strategic bomb group in Salt Lake City, at Kearns Army Base. I thought it was nice to be back near home for a few days. Our plane crew was made up of crewmen, pilot, copilot, bombardier, navigator, and six gunners. We named our plane 'Lassie and Her Lads' because we had a gorgeous spray painting of Betty Grable wearing a swim suit on the tail. We were a composite group of the Midwest and far West. We trained in Dyersburg, Tennessee. Then we moved on to West Palm Beach Florida for our final training. From there we got orders to go to Trinidad, West Indies. We flew by ourselves. The landing strip was in the jungle and we were in there overnight. The next day we took off for Belem, Brazil. We flew over the Brazilian forest for ten hours and I said to the navigator, "If we go down in 14 there, we're done for. They'll never find us." From an overnight in Belem we flew to Fortaleza, Brazil, which is on the tip of Brazil. The next stage was thirteen hours flying over the Atlantic Ocean. We took off at night. We were flying a thousand feet over the waves in order to save on fuel. I was in the nose, as usual, and we encountered St. Elmo's fire, which was an electrical discharge carried to our guns. I thought we were being fired on. It was phenomenal to see. We arrived in Dakar, Senegal in North Africa. That was an eye-opener. As we landed, a multitude of Senegalese warriors came out with guns and top hats and surrounded our plane in order to protect it. They put us in canvas tents and as we relaxed, the Senegalese came through with their spray guns for malaria and they sang as they went through and sprayed us. Our next stop was Marrakech, Morocco situated high in the Atlas Mountains of North Africa. We went into town to visit the markets and old French restaurants. Towards the evening we decided to visit the French Foreign Legion outpost in Marrakech. We asked the commander if we could watch their parade in the evening and he said we would be their guests of honor. That night we froze to death and slept in our plane. The next morning we got orders to go to Tunis, North Africa. We flew across the Sahara and landed at a deserted German Luftwafee air base that was used during the Montgomery and Rommel desert war. We visited the ancient aqueducts there and marveled at how they had been built. We also visited the ruins of various German Luftwafee planes and we were warned not to take anything because everything was booby trapped. 15 We received our combat orders and flew from Tunis to Foggia, Italy and landed at a deserted air field that had been occupied by the German Luftwafee. We went to our canvas tent and proceeded to locate the mess hall. We thought the food was not very tasteful, so we bartered our provisions for local products such as fresh eggs. Our group was the 463rd bombardment group commanded by Colonel Frank Kurtz, who went back in history to the invasion of the Philippines by the Japanese. His airfield was attacked by Japanese bombers and several of the American B-17 bombers were split in half. They put one piece of a bomber into another and called it the Swoose—half swan, half goose. Colonel Kurtz was the chief pilot of that plane, which is presently being restored in the United States. We got settled into our base and our first mission was what we called a 'milk run.' That was to indoctrinate one without fear of major casualties. As the bombing missions progressed, they became more deadly and losses mounted. Then it became one of marking down. You had to make fifty missions as related to a loss of three to four percent of the planes each time we went out. As the missions increased in intensity, we finally came to a mission where the target was Ploesti, Romania. For the Germans, the Ploesti oil fields were a source of oil for their entire military operation. It was heavily guarded by flak guns and F-190s and ME-109s. They were the elites of the German Air Force. When we found out we were going to Ploesti, everyone sighed, had their breakfast, went out to put in their bomb load, and proceeded to taxi out to the runway. 16 By the way, the air fields were metal strips, not cement, and the B-17 loaded with 6,000 pounds of bombs, 2700 gallons of high-octane gasoline, does not get off the ground very quickly. At the end of the runway there was a fence. I was in the nose of the plane and remarked to the navigator, "This plane's not going fast enough to get off the ground." Finally we cleared it by about a hundred yards and went up into our formation at 15,000 feet. Over the Adriatic Sea, everyone discharged their machine guns to make sure they were firing. Then we went over the Yugoslavian Alps. The Yugoslavians were not allies at that time and they had flak guns mounted on top of the mountains. They shot at us, but weren't very effective as they didn't have advanced radar. We flew into our target area and our escort fighters, which were P-38s and P-47s peeled off because they were short of fuel and headed back to their base. They left us unescorted as we approached the target area. There were three or four hundred planes forming a line at what was called, the 'initial point.' This enabled German aircraft guns to zero in on our direction and altitude. I took command of the plane, flying it as we approached the target area. As we neared the target area we saw a huge black cloud box where all the German flak guns were concentrated. I saw planes going through that box and going down on fire and we knew we were next. It was very trying and tested ones fortitutde to the maximum. As we approached closer to the target, I cranked in the airspeed, the velocity, the wind, and other data into the bomb sight. The two indices cross and you know you're on target. I'm watching carefully and finally the indices cross 17 and I say, "Bombs away." The bombs are released and we turn away with planes on fire on both sides of us. As we left the target, if any of the planes in our formation had an engine out and they trailed the pack, they were attacked incessantly. You had to keep a tight diamond formation with seven planes, which also gave you more firing power against the enemy. So as we came away from the target and headed back, we were still alive. Then we started talking about if we had enough fuel to get home. As we neared the Adriatic coast, we started planning whether we were going to make it or whether we were going to ditch. We'd all had training as far as what to do. We finally arrived in the vicinity of the airfield and landed. We were interrogated and had our hot chocolates and donuts and tried to unwind. In another mission, we lost all of our commanding officers and crew in a mid-air collision caused by cloud coverage. In another occasion after takeoff to return to base, we had instructions that the mission was aborted. Our chief pilot, who was later a noted neurologist from Boise, Idaho, turned to our copilot and said, "Why don't you handle this landing." We turned towards the runway and I noted there was a crosswind and the copilot wasn't factoring that in. As we approached the runway, I said, "We're in trouble." We hit on the left landing gear and bounced about fifty feet up in the air and came down with the engines chopping up the runway—with 6,000 pounds of bombs and 2,700 gallons of fuel. I said, "I'm dead." We slid for about five hundred yards and the minute we stopped I yelled for everyone to get out and I ran for about a half a mile and dropped down and covered my head. For some time the rescue crew wouldn't 18 get near the plane to deactivate the bomb load. I don't know why that plane didn't explode. [photo included] ROH: Let's pick up where we left off with World War II. You had survived a crash landing. You said it took a long time before anyone would go near it. EB: Gas was pouring out over the engines and the bombs were banging against each other. We stayed away for a long time and then the emergency crew hosed it down to cool it off. ROH: Did they send you on vacation after that? EB: No, the policy was that you could fly twenty-five missions and then you could take a week off and go to the Isle of Capri near Naples to unwind. My theory was that I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible so I didn't take the vacations. I flew my missions because I wanted to get back to the States. The B-17s flew between twenty and twenty-seven thousand feet. It was thirty degrees below zero—freezing. Non-pressurized cabins. Ice formed down the face of your gear. No relief tubes. We had flak suits on and our parachutes hooked on one side, then we had a helmet. It made it very hard for us to move around. On another mission, we had a misfire in the bomb bay as two bombs had banged together and did not detach. The pilot said, "Boyle, get back there and release those bombs before they blow up." In the B-17, between the front part of the plane, the bomb bay, and the back, was a rail and two supports. As I walked over it, I was looking down at the Mediterranean from 25,000 feet and holding on to a rail with one hand. I was trying to release the catch for the bomb that was 19 swinging against the plane. I managed to unhook the bomb and made a silent prayer as I returned to the nose of the plane. It was a terrible thing to fly eight hours on total oxygen at very low temperatures. It was bitterly cold. After a mission, the Red Cross would be there waiting for us with donuts and hot chocolate, then we'd be interviewed about the mission immediately. As the missions went on, I would write letters. I have over a hundred letters that I wrote to my mother that she kept. I began to wonder if I was going to make it or not. On my fiftieth mission I was flying with another Utahn, Clyde Hart, and he knew it was my fiftieth mission. When we landed, I got out of the plane and kissed the ground. Before that, on a raid over northern Italy, we had some terrible problems from damage to the plane. I managed to get the bombs on target and two weeks later I was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross. After my fiftieth mission, I said, "I've done it!" We got ready to depart and the fifteenth Air Force came out with a memorandum saying, "Unfortunately, we have a shortage of flight crews, so you can have thirty days' leave in the United States, then come back and serve another fifty missions." I wrote to my mother and said that was a death sentence, I would never come back. Fortunately, they reversed that. I left Naples on a troop ship on July 26. We were in the upper part of the boat and on the decks they had thousands of people who were fleeing France and Italy. They had no place to sleep, so they slept on the deck. We were in a convoy surrounded by destroyers, but we had reports of submarines in the 20 area, so we were dropping death charges. That was scary. We arrived in New York. I took a train from New York to my home in Ogden. My first few nights in my family home, I would wake up screaming. I hadn't unwound yet. I would try to find ways and means of winding down. After resting at home, we were sent to a camp in Santa Monica to continue to decompress. My combat days were over, thank the Lord. I was assigned to San Antonio Air Base, and then I spent a series of time moving from one air base to another. I kept in mind that I might be called to duty again. I applied for pilot training in the Air Force and I was accepted. I was assigned to Thunderbird Field in Phoenix, Arizona. The field was also occupied by Chinese cadets who thought nothing of flying into you or on top of you because they had no reason for flying etiquette. In that area of Arizona, there are always hot air drafts. After I had gotten to the point where I was flying solo, I was landing the plane and unbeknownst to me, the pocket of hot air was pushing the plane up and I didn't compensate for that factor. I pancaked and spun around on the landing strip. Thankfully, I wasn't hurt. Immediately I went on a flight check. The instructor, a pilot named Carl Thigpen said, "Ted, you're a good pilot, it's unfortunate you've painted yourself into a corner." They washed me out of the program. I eventually ended up in Denver, Colorado where I was released from the Army-Air Force. ROH: Did your older brother serve as well? EB: No, he had a medical problem. He was a dare-devil—totally different than I am. He parachuted out of a plane in Ogden in 1934 at the age of seventeen. It was a 21 high school bet with his friends. The owner of the airport told him he had to have his father's permission, so Billy called our dad and said, "Dad, I'm going to jump out of a plane, you have to give permission." We sat on the front porch and watched this biplane circling up and then a parachute drop. He became a champion ski jumper in the 1930s. He became an expert on Ecker Hill which was adjacent to Park City. It was a humungous, steep hill, and it attracted a bevy of Norwegian ski jumpers. They formed a cartel and would have jumping contests. My dad and I would go to watch my brother jump. He did exceptionally well at that. After that, he went to California and raced cars. He had no fear at all. That was his life. Later, he became a dreamer. He got into real estate and everything was going to be a million dollars. He was an alcoholic. He became an advisor in Santa Monica for a bevy of movie stars and famous people who would call him at two o'clock in the morning, "Billy, I got a problem." He never quite made it financially. He was always engrossed and saying, "I just got to get this guy to sign this and then I've got it made." It was always touch-and-go with Billy. We were very different. ROH: Did he write to you while you were gone? EB: I've got a ton of letters. Hazel and I are always wondering about who's going to give a hoot about these letters after we're gone. Billy was a great personality. He could walk into a place and immediately have people around him. He eventually ended up in a nursing home in Santa Monica and Hazel and I would go diligently and take him milkshakes and candy bars. The next day he would say that people 22 had stolen them from him. I said to Hazel, "Now that I've seen this in my brother, when it comes time for me, I'm heading for the hills with a Pepsi." It taught me a lesson in assisted living. He was my protector when I was young. My sister was a beauty queen from the get go. She did modeling in Salt Lake City and she was a prom queen. She married well—Ed Haas who was one of the producers of "The Munsters." She traveled in high style in Santa Monica with him. We had the same experience with her in assisted living that we had with my brother. ROH: So none of you worked in the Boyle furniture store? EB: This is fun. I thought from day one that I was going to be selling furniture for the rest of my life. I worked in Boyles as a delivery boy and not withstanding my frail structure, they put me on a delivery truck to haul stoves to second floor premises. Then I handled the store elevator covering three stories which didn't have an automatic stop. During the Christmas season we'd have a pile of customers on the third floor and I'd try to judge where the first floor was and end up sliding clear to the bottom and have to go back up again. HB: You'd better start telling her what happened to change your life. EB: I haven't got that far yet. Anyways, after I got out of the war, I was twenty-three and I was looking for companionship. I had bought a car during the war for my family, who had never had one. I met a girl and we had a relationship. Her name was Gloria and her dad was the music instructor at Weber College. Things were progressing. I was an avid skier and we were in Snow Basin and I told her she 23 needed to learn to ski faster and she went down and fell and broke her leg. Things went from bad to worse after that. Another day, I was at Snow Basin skiing by myself. I was the last man on the hill. The ski patrol had gone and I wanted to do one more run. On the way down, I fell and spun around and stopped near where the gate was. I got up and decided I was okay, so I was going to do another run. Remember, there was nobody on the hill. I got on the ski lift and about half way up, my left knee started to hurt so bad I couldn't stand it. I rolled off the lift at the top. It was dark. I zigzagged my way down the hill, sitting down all the way. It took me an hour to get down. I went to the doctor and found out I'd blown all the tendons in my knee. I had my knee in a cast and I was the house boy at the Pi Phi house in Salt Lake. I was living in the basement with about thirty Pi Phi's as residents; one of them being my sister. I got all the dirt about what had happened on dates—the girls would sit at the kitchen table talking about their dates as if I didn't exist. One day a group of young men in the lounge were talking about the Thunderbird school in Glendale, Arizona. I thought, "Wow. That sounds good." So I made an application to enroll. I was accepted—I still had my leg in a cast. I set out for Phoenix by myself in the winter with my left leg in a cast. I got near Cedar City and it was black ice and I skidded off the road and tipped over in a ditch. This was 6:00 in the morning. I got out and hobbled down the road to an all-night café. There were several patrons in the bar who offered me a drink before they went out to put my car back on the road. I arrived to Thunderbird school and decided I wanted to live abroad and work for an international company. 24 I decided I needed to work on my command of the Spanish language. My friend and I traveled to a small university in Morelia, Mexico. We lived rather sparingly with a Mexican family. After studies in Spanish, it came time to go home. We had practically nothing in our pockets, so we boarded a bus to Guadalajara. There were more chickens than people on the bus. In Guadalajara, we had no money for a hotel, so we went to a flop house that had a hundred beds or so. Bill and I went in and paid and we agreed that one would sleep and the other would stay awake because someone might assault us if we were both asleep. We had to go third class on the train to Nogales, Mexico. That was a laugh because it was full of immigrants heading to the United States and they were all pretty liquored up. We had no money for food, so when the train would stop, we'd get a stock of bananas. We were on the train three days and all we ate was bananas. Close to the border, we got off the train. Bill left his U.S. passport on the seat and had it stolen. Going through customs in Nogales, Bill went to jail because he didn't have a passport. Then they put me in jail because my passport, when we'd gone into Mexico with friends, had been stamped that I had brought a car into the country. So I was put in jail until they called the owner of the car and verified that the car was in Mexico City. I don't remember how Bill got out of jail. That was a journey never to be forgotten. After we graduated from Thunderbird—the beauty of the school, is that the people who hire, came to campus. I was prepping to get a job with Sears Roebuck. A friend of mine had scheduled a meeting with a Citibank officer from New York. When Citibank found out my friend was married, they said no. My 25 friend said to me, "Ted, why don't you interview in my place?" I asked for an interview and the first question their man from New York—Gordon Bullock— asked was, "Why do you want to go to Latin America?" I said, "I have an uncle who runs the largest sugar cane factory in Puerto Rico and if you hire me, I think I can get the account." I made it up off the top of my head on the spot. [Laughter] I walked off to get ready for Sears Roebuck and a week later I got a telegram saying Citibank had accepted me. They had to write for references. Not far from me lived two very powerful lawyers, George Lowe and Roy Thatcher. They wrote letters to Citibank. Then I asked my dad, "Dad, I'm at a crossroads here. I don't know anything about Citibank." My dad said, "Ted, the only people who are important in Ogden are doctors, lawyers, and bankers. Go for it." I accepted Citibank and said goodbye to Ogden. I got on a train to New York and went to the YMCA with the other trainees. I stayed seven days in New York and they shipped me off to San Juan, Puerto Rico. San Juan was our training base for South America. The people there were very friendly, we practiced our Spanish, and we learned about banking—that including carrying the golf bag for the managers when they went golfing. My family came to see me. They had never been out of Ogden, Utah. My mother has a diary of everything that happened. She even wrote about my dad listening to the motors on the plane. We had a lovely time. I think that was the biggest thing to ever happen to them in their lives. As it came time to depart from San Juan, they told us, "You trainees have three choices, you can go to Havana, Cuba," which was pre-Castro, which was a 26 great place, "or you can go to Mexico City," which was number one, or Bogota, Colombia. I'd never heard of Bogota, Colombia. For some unknown reason, I chose Bogota. I arrived in Bogota at 8,600 feet in altitude. It rains about every other day. It's in the top of the Andes with ancient Indian culture all around it. I settled into an apartment with another trainee and we lived the buena vida—the good life. He was a football player from Ohio State named John Mack—a very joyful guy who would fit in any crowd. We played fifty-four holes of golf in one day. We had a great time. We dropped golf balls out of the windows to watch them bounce on cars and roll down the street. A friend who liked to drink went out and got locked up and couldn't find a way home. The police called the wife of the other man with him and asked if she wanted to come down and bail him out. She said, "Hell no. Leave him in there." She was furious. Anyway, we had a wonderful time. Our chief officers at the bank were Boice Nourse and Juan Sanchez, a Castilian from Spain. It was just idyllic. We would play Liars Dice at the Anglo- American club and whoever lost would pay for lunch. We'd play against the manager and he wasn't very good at concealing his thoughts, so we got a lot of free lunches. We used to have vacations—we would get three months off after every two years and they'd put us on the Grace Lines ships to go up to New York. I'd go back to home in Ogden and I'd bought a car—my original car was a 1942 Chrysler Sedan that I'd bought during the war, then I bought another that I think was a Ford. Back in Ogden, I reunited with my old friends but I felt like I was out of place with them. In the interim period, I was doing well in the bank and 27 learning about the theory of banking. Citibank was the world leader in international banking. We worked with governments and with major organzations and their subsidiaries. We were not oriented towards individual banking. We worked with big-ticket items. In one of my trips North, I met a young lady from New York City, who was on the cruise with her mother. We became involved and were engaged when I went back to Bogota. One day I was working on the bank platform in Bogota and this young woman walked in and stopped the music. She walked down that platform with her gorgeous black hair and I thought this was the girl of my life. I hadn't even met her. When she walked in, I just thought, "Where have you been all my life?" ROH: What year was that? EB: That was about 1951. We dated about eight months. The bank had a policy that you could not date employees and I was engaged. I had a dilemma. I talked to my general manager, Boice Nourse and he said, "Ted, we'll make an exception as long as you play the rules of the game." Hazel loved peach melbas, so I asked her out to get one with me. I kind of dallied around. Finally I went out to meet her parents and find out if they were willing to let her date me. To the very strict in Latin America, this is how you go about dating. When her father saw that we were getting serious, he wrote the State Department to find out if I was married. He was worried about the Mormon religion and if a polygamist might be after his daughter. 28 Hazel and I started dating and I was in seventh heaven. I couldn't believe it because of the age difference. But we dated and then I got really sick. We had an idiot bank doctor and I went to him and said I didn't feel good. He said, "Do you chew gum?" I said yes. He said, "Then stop chewing gum." Well, I got worse and I started turning yellow. Hazel got worried and I went to another doctor. He said I had Hepatitis and he wanted me in bed resting immediately. I was in bed for three months. All I can remember of the treatment was that I ate a lot of hard candy because the doctor wanted to build up the sugar in my body. I had written to my fiancé in New York and told her that things had changed. She showed up in Colombia. The bank was having a big party and I ended up with Hazel and my fiancé in the same room. I just about died. I said to myself, "What have I done to deserve this?" I managed to make it through the night. I made the break with my fiancé and she went back to New York. Hazel's dad came over all the time while I was sick. He taught me to play bridge and he spent a lot of time with me. I think he was trying to make sure that this thing was real. His name was Edward Pierce Roskruge. Let me interrupt here to say that Hazel's biological father was German who I think was connected with the Colombian Air Force. When the world war came, he was called to duty back in Germany. Then Edward Pierce Roskruge married Hazel's mother. He was a wonderful Englishman and always very correct. I fell in love with him right away. He was there when I needed him. Anyways, so I managed to get out of bed to get married. We had the wedding in her house with a Catholic priest. It went well but Hazel had an affinity 29 for dolls. She had a huge doll she loved that she wanted to take with her as we were packing for the airport. I said, "No way, you're not taking that doll on that plane." ROH: How old were you two when you got married? EB: That was 1952. I was thirty years old and Hazel was seventeen. Anyways, we got to Barranquilla, which is a seaport at the head of the Magdalena River. Hazel took to married life with vim and vigor. She learned how to cook. She was a wonderful hostess. People there loved her. She became very active in the American Woman's Society. At that time, we made a lot of friends in Barranquilla. They had an international golf tournament one year and one of the players was a young man named Arnold Palmer. We were privileged to meet him and have drinks with him. That was the beginning of his career. My mother and father came to Barranquilla to visit over Christmas and that was a real treat for them. At those times, I rode the city bus. We didn't have enough money to buy a car. At one point, we were in dire circumstances financially. Hazel's father had given her a very expensive bracelet with gold in it and unbeknownst to me, she went to a pawn shop and sold it. When I found out, we went back to get it but it was gone. It was tough in the early days, but it was a learning process. My supervisor was from Brooklyn and from the old school. He was very gruff. He and I had several personality clashes. He would say, "This is the way we're going to do it." But I had a feeling that my ideas were better. When we got to the point where we didn't get along, I would go take a walk around the block 30 and then come back and sit down. He knew what he was doing but he did it with the old style. He hadn't arrived into the twentieth century. Among the American counselors was a gentleman named Harry Shlaudeman, who was a vice council and a super golfer from Pasadena, California. Harry, through his career, became the right-hand man for Henry Kissinger in Washington. The head American council was an elderly Scotsman who loved golf. One morning we were alerted that he was missing. We looked for him for three days and eventually he showed up and said, "I just fell asleep." We really enjoyed life there. When it came time to start a family, I witnessed the birth of our first daughter, Sharon Elizabeth. Everyone said she was beautiful just like her mother. Our second daughter, Linda Kay, was born in Cali. We almost lost her but she survived. When it came time for us to move to Cali, Columbia, I had the title of Pro-Manager. It sounds better than it was. I had been a sub-accountant. ROH: Why did they call you a sub-accountant? EB: It was something to show that one was just starting a banking career. We got our orders to go to Cali, Colombia. Cali was a wonderful place and we settled into a very nice house and I became the second in command there. I eventually became manager of that branch, which was a big success. We were very prominent there. I was president of the American Men's Society and Hazel was president of the American Women's Society. ROH: Tell me a little about these societies. 31 EB: It was a consortium of Americans who were working abroad and assigned to Cali. It was similar to a Kiwanis Club. The Americans and some prominent Colombians worked together to promote service activities to the community. Cali was the a center for the production of sugar cane, which is a major source of income for the Colombian government. We also had many pharmaceuticals plants, Quaker Oats and other multi national companies. Political unrest and local violence were causes of concern. In one instance, we had gone to a cocktail party at the American councilor's home and when Hazel and I got back in the car, I said, "Oh, it's drafty." Then I realized someone had removed the entire front windshield of the car. After that we would go down to an automotive spare parts store and see our windshield and buy it back. It was petty thievery. Another thing was if you were driving in thick traffic and had your arm out the window thieves would take your watch off your wrist. Cali was in an earthquake fault zone. One night I heard this thunder like a train approaching the house. It was a tremendous noise and the house was shaking badly and shook for about two or three minutes. It was a major earthquake and there was a lot of property damage in Cali. The next day we had big cracks in the masonry of the house. We were very fortunate in the banking industry to deal with high class business houses and individuals. We also had banking relationships with the Colombian government. There were very little dealings with individuals. Kim, our third daughter was born in Cali. I never questioned the superb quality of medical facilities in Colombia. So, our third daughter arrived and I'd 32 send telegraphs to my mother and father, "I've got another queen in the family." The girls went to the American schools in Cali. All of my daughters had dual nationalities, Colombian-United States of American, until they were twenty one. They were brought up strictly by their mother in the Catholic Church. From Cali we were transferred to Medellin. People associate Medellin as the center of the narcotic industry in Colombia. At that time there were no problems with narcotic trade. The only political parties were liberals and conservatives. There was a fierce political battle which was a concern. We had problems with rioters in the street in Cali. We had to close the branch because people were being shot in the street. Castro arrived with Che Guevara in Bogota and from that sprung out these problems with peasants up in the mountains who were ill-prepared to make a decision. They entered the Colombian political system of 1949 in addition to the conservatives and the liberals. It was a problem if you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. There were instances when it was rather dicey to go certain places. An uprising would happen overnight and you would get caught unawares. But I do want to add that in Colombia, bull fighting was famous as it was in Spain. Bogota was very much connected to Spain. We still have films of bull fighting. My career was blossoming. I had been named manager of the branch, which was a major move. ROH: Can you give me an idea of the size of the branch? EB: I had over a hundred employees. The currency was pesos. When I arrived, the peso was at par with the dollar—if you had a peso, you had a dollar. When I left, 33 the peso was something like two cents to the dollar. It completely devalued. Much like what is happening in the United States right now, the government's economic policies were off-key. By the way, coffee represented a major portion of their exports and they lived off that, but they had almost every major natural resource but they lacked the funds to develop. They were passed by other world countries that didn't want to put money into Colombia at that time. So, the economics at times got out of balance at times. The Brazilian coffee was a lesser quality. The Colombian coffee was called "mam"; which meant "Medellin, Armenia, Manizales." That's the high grown coffee; the higher the area it grows the more valuable it is because it matures slower. Medellin was my next step. It was a larger area and more responsibility. It was the center of textiles for most of South America. Again, we were very favorably invited to join the community there. It was group of outstanding people we were associating with—both the Americans and Colombians. The manager of Citibank was on par with the American consul, as far as prominence, in any city we were in. So we were always on the top of the list as far as invitees for whatever might be going on. In Medellin, we had the fourth addition to our family. Sarah was born premature and it was almost a tragedy. The hospital there took such great care of her. There wasn't a minute when there wasn't a nurse there looking after her. That was our family. After our fourth daughter, I said, "That's it. I'm surrounded by women." But anyway, I think being in the international banking circle, you're dealing with people who are intelligent and sociable, usually the moneyed class. It was a 34 wonderful world. It encouraged you to step up and be a part of it. We dearly loved that. The one major incident when I took my life in hands was when I bought a car in Bogota. The individual had a late-model car for sale and I had to fly to Bogota to get it. My boss said, "What are you doing?" I said I was going to drive it back to Medellin. He said, "You're crazy." The road from Bogota to Medellin was undeveloped and had very few facilities. At that time, there were uprisings with the natives attacking buses, dragging people out and cutting their heads off. They called it "Corte de Franela." There were several massacres in that area. That was in the back of my mind, but I said I'd travel at night while they were asleep. So I left Bogota all by myself. I drove maybe seven or eight hours through areas where I saw nothing except a paved road. It was eerie and I kept thinking, "What am I doing?" I arrived in Medellin at about 5:00 in the morning. Hazel was thrilled that I made it. It was an idiotic thing for me to do. EB: Eventually, we sold that car and got a good price for it. Hazel was driving it about three days before we sold it and there was a truck parked with a piece of lumber sticking out of it. She went too close and the lumber went right through the front windshield and all the way back. She was okay. I went to the guy I sold it to and I was really upset. He said, "Don't worry. I can get a new one from Miami." We got a lot of letters from corporations saying thank you for the attention and help I'd given them as they got started in their business. I was on the board of directors of companies where we were involved in Medellin and Cali. They 35 wanted a local director with banking experience on their boards. They'd send the Chairman of the Board down to Colombia and I'd take him golfing. In Medellin, we were honored as a well-managed branch. I got letters saying that and that helped my career. I was a stickler for details and communication. ROH: Did you travel back to the states as part of your work? EB: No, we very seldom would go back to New York when we were in a foreign branch. Except when we were on furlough, I would normally spend a week or so in New York on my way to vacation. Hazel would take the children while I was in New York. I don't know how she did it—traveling with four young kids. She was a marvel. There was a group of expatriates in Medellin who ended up in Fort Lauderdale, Florida after their careers in Colombia ended. There seemed to be an exodus of American workers in Colombia going to Florida after. It had a Latin complex in Florida, and the weather was similar. After Medellin, I got a promotion and orders to go to San Salvador, Central America to be the manager of a huge branch there. They didn't have a house for us when we arrived, so we had the privilege of staying in a very high class hotel for about three months. That was a good life for Hazel. She didn't have to cook or anything like that. In El Salvador we had a problem with earthquakes. El Salvador lies right on a fault line. We had several earthquakes while we were there. Anyway, I was second in command at the branch in El Salvador. Our major clients there were coffee exporters, almost entirely. Then we also dealt with the Salvadorian government directly. We were on intimate terms with the president of El 36 Salvador. The ambassador to El Salvador was a gentleman from Phoenix, Arizona and his last name was Castro. He looked like a Mexican bandolero— black hair, moustache, had a gorgeous blond wife. He would call the American business leaders to a meeting on Wednesday and he wanted all the information he could get about what was happening so that he could report back to Washington. I was president of the American school there. We had Joe Borgatti, who was an innovative vice president. He did a lot of things of which nobody had ever heard. Nobody at CitiBank, at that time, had the privilege of having an airplane available to the chief officers. Joe said to them, "I'm in charge of Central America—Honduras, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Panama, and so forth. I want to get a plane." So we got a push-pull. It's a plane that has a propeller in the front and one in the back. One of the things I organized down there was a league of soccer teams. Citibank was the champion of the tournament. Two things while we were there. One was when President Lyndon B. Johnson was trying to form better relations with Latin America. They decided they were going to have a big meeting in San Salvador and invite the heads of state from Central American countries. Citibank was encouraged to be a part of this meeting. The Mexican embassy said that Johnson liked cuff links with coins from the country he was visiting, so I was assigned to get to the local jewelry store and get some coins that were delivered to him. We were part of the big entourage. We met the President and his wife and the two daughters. 37 The other thing that happened in San Salvador was the Chairman of our Board, George Moore, who was a genius in my estimation. He decided to come down with his wife, who was from a very prominent Mexican family. She was not very sociable. We decked out his room with flowers and when he walked in, he said, "Is this for my funeral?" He had all of the young, gung-ho businessmen in San Salvador come to the swimming pool at 6:00 in the morning and swim with him. Then he would have breakfast with them and talk about business. Hazel was in charge of a party for his wife. Hazel carried it off perfectly. The two big events were that we were going to take them around in our plane and show them Honduras. The plane was small and Mrs. Moore was rather large, so when we went to get on the plane, she said, "George, you think I'm going to get on that plane? Never." She walked off. We had to run around and get a commercial plane to take them. The crowning event was a party on an island resort owned by the coffee barons. I happened to be walking along the path and Mrs. Moore crossed in front of me and she wanted to sit down. I suggested she sit in a hammock. Well, she got in the hammock and it broke. She's on the ground and said, "Don't touch me." I said, "I'm going to get fired whatever I do." I didn't dare touch her. She rolled off and dusted herself off. One of our prominent clients was elderly but liked to fly. He flew his own plane over there, but the weather worsened. He insisted he was going to fly back to the air base. His son told him not to so he took off unbeknownst to them. He took off into the clouds and got lost. The Salvadorian air force had to find him and guide him down. 38 There was a war of sorts between Colombian and Honduras. They called it the "soccer war." They got very serious about soccer. I think the end result was a Honduran plane dropped a bomb in the ocean near a port city. There was no actual exchange, but there were a lot of words. The president of the country would ride around on a motorcycle; he was very flamboyant. He would come to our office like that. But the people we dealt with were delightful. Most had made their money exporting coffee. We carried a lot of memories out of that. A lot of our clients were from the moneyed class and they didn't want to deal with Salvadorians or Hondurans or Colombians for tax reasons, so they wanted to confide in us. We were an intermediary. ROH: How long were you in El Salvador? EB: Three years. I was the manager and we had about twelve officers reporting to me. ROH: Did you have the young rookie kids like you coming up through the ranks? EB: We had people who were doing what I was—coming up through the ranks just two steps behind me. We always had trainees or American staff. Then they decided that I needed to go back to the domestic side, so we packed up and ended up in Wilton, Connecticut. The agent who sold us the house was married to a man who was a Citibank manager. We had minimal funds to invest; I still was not making any money. But we let her take us around to see houses. This was 1965 or 1966. She asked how much money I had and I said I had about $46,000. So she started showing block houses to Hazel. Hazel didn't like them. Nora said she had another that might be available. It was a two-story colonial 39 home with two acres of woodland with an immaculate four bedrooms. It was everything you'd ever want. Hazel wanted it. Nora said it was out of our price range. Hazel said, "That's my house." We managed to get that house in the low-forties. It was idyllic. In Wilton, I commuted on the New Haven railroad for five years. I think it was from 1968 to 1973. I was working in our head office in what we called the Overseas Unit for Individual Banking. People from all over the world would come in and want to talk about their money in Liberia and Japan, and so on. I worked in that area during those years. Wilton was a wonderful area. The highlights there were two intercontinental trips from Wilton, Connecticut to Long Beach, California in a station wagon. Those trips were classic. I told the girls that they'd seen the United States from thirty-thousand feet but that they hadn't really seen it. Well, we got into the station wagon, loaded to the gills, with the four girls in the back trying to get comfortable. We'd go from one stop to another and see things along the way. We always stopped at the Holiday Inns and the girls went straight to the pool. We traversed the country and saw everything. The girls saw America and it was a great growing-up experience. My parents lived near Long Beach and whenever we went there, we went to Disneyland. The cross-country trips were invaluable. I kept them on their toes with games like, "First one to see a white horse or a yellow Volkswagen gets five cents." It was something that created memories. All of them talk about it. One memorable trip, our youngest, Sarah, was about five or six years old. We 40 stopped for gas and drove off and we were a mile away when we realized we'd left her. Nobody had counted noses. We got back and she was crying. It was one of those things. Hazel and I fell in love with Disneyland, too. On our fiftieth anniversary, we all went to Disneyland and they bought two blocks with our names on them in the area where they sell your name and it's there for eternity. ROH: When did your parents move to Long Beach? EB: After I left home. My dad had several close friends who had moved to Long Beach. Dad became an avid golfer at sixty-five and played almost until his death. My brother had lived there most of his life. My sister did very well there. Those trips across country were something else. The girls graduated from Wilton High School. Then they got ahold of me in New York and said, "Ted, how would you like to go to Monrovia, Liberia? We've got a branch there that is the central bank for Liberia and we also do international banking from there; it's an important link for us in West Africa." I went home and told Hazel. If I had been married to an American, I think I would never have had the opportunity to go because an American woman probably would not have adjusted. Hazel said, "Let's go." We got out library books and I got a post report. The first thing that caught my eye was that we had a house in a fifteen-acre strip with six other houses. That area around Liberia contained six of the most deadly snakes in the world. That influenced Hazel to buy riding boots for all the girls so that when they walked through the grass, there would be less of a chance they'd be bitten. There was also a lot of malaria. Our doctor gave us pills, which I think affected us all later in terms of our eyesight. We arrived there with a 41 dog and a cat. Our house had a river behind it that contained crocodiles. There were other animals, like apes and things. We were in the middle of an animal kingdom. When I got into the branch I got a shock. I didn't have a problem with blacks, but it was a cultural shock to walk in and see everyone in the branch was black except the manager and me. There was an adjustment there. We settled in and found out that we were the kingpins as far as the American banks there. The president of Liberia thought nothing of coming in at whatever hour of the day or night and saying to the manager of the bank, "I'm going to New York. I need some traveler's checks." We'd have to open the branch and get that for him. We had a problem with labor relations. The employees decided to strike because their white managers did not understand them—that was I and the other manager. We were in the hot seat there for a while. Hazel developed a friendship with the wife of the President through the American Club. They had a graduation ceremony and Hazel loaned Mrs. Tubman one of her chairs to sit on. During the ceremony, the lights went out and it was raining cats and dogs. They brought out some lanterns. It was a comic graduation. We were invited to a wedding of one of our employees. We were the only white couple there. When we saw the cake, there was a colony of ants crawling over the cake. The cultural shock—you learn to adjust to it and get involved with it. They had golf there but the greens were tarred, they weren't grass. The caddies didn't wear shoes so they'd go out into the rough and pick up 42 your ball—which is illegal in golf, but they wanted a tip—and there were snakes all along the fairway. From time to time, we would transfer money that was depreciated to the central bank. We had a cash officer and two guards when we took that money over to the central bank. On one day, we had branches up-country and he went to the cash officer said he wanted to take money over; I asked how he was going to do it. He said, "Our two Monrovia trucks are busy, so I'll get my chauffeur and my car and get a guard from the bank." I said, "So be it." So they drove over and parked in front of the Monrovia Central Bank. The guard got out and the driver stayed in his seat. Before the guard could get the money out of the car, the driver took off with the money in the trunk. We found the abandoned car. It was a national catastrophe—it was all over the news and all the borders were closed so they couldn't get out. For two days I was waiting. New York told me I'd better get the money back or I was in trouble. So, the guy who stole the money went to his brother's house and they buried it. The one who stole the money took enough to get to the Ivory Coast for vacation. There are two episodes. The guy with the money waiting for a taxi to take him to the Ivory Coast that's fifty miles away. The taxi driver said, "You haven't got enough money to get to the Ivory Coast." And the guy said, "Here." He put the money on the seat and the taxi driver drove off with the money. This is comic. Well, they got a hold of the guy and shook him down and he admitted to where the money was. It was wet and they were digging it up and all the bills were sticking together. So the Treasury Department said, "You've got to be down there 43 while we count this money." I spent three hours there while they were peeling dollar bills to be sure we got all the money back. Another thing—and this one was scary—Hazel and I, and our daughter, went to a show down in the center of Monrovia at night. Coming back, the car stopped. Hazel and our daughter pushed me over the bridge down to the bottom where there was a house. I knocked on the door and a guy came out. I said, "Here's ten dollars, if that car is still there in the morning, I'll give you another ten dollars." We took a taxi home. The funny thing was that our daughters were dating and they wanted me to take them into town. The roads were very narrow and had big drops. This was tribal country. So I'm going along the road at night and I see this car coming towards me on my side of the road. There was no shoulder and I dropped down about ten feet into a ravine—still upright with two of the girls in the back seat. Within five minutes, there was a tribe of indigenous people swarming the car. I thought we were going to be cannibal soup. Well, it took about twelve of these guys, but they helped get the car back up on the road. The compound had a guard at night. One of our junior officers was coming in at night and he went over to him and shook him. Well the native went over to his tribe headquarters and said he had been assaulted by an American. The tribal chief ordered that this man be arrested and go into a tribal court. The bank immediately said, "That's a problem." The only way we saved him was to transfer him out of the country. Then we had an incident of inside robbery. Hazel and I were sleeping in bed with our golden retriever next to me. My wallet was two feet from me. The 44 next morning I woke up and saw my wallet was gone. What had happened was we'd had a thief who had come in with a screw driver and broke through one of the windows. He got into our room and the dog growled but we didn't pay attention. The thief stole my wallet, then went down to the St. Paul River, took everything out and dumped the wallet. At that time, Liberia was ruled by elitists, the people who came by boat from the United States. They had the money and they ran the country. About ninety percent of the people had no money and had been kept under control by the people in power. Just after we left, they had an uprising where they took the president and his cabinet down to the beach, stripped them to their skivvies, and shot them. They gunned down the President of Liberia and eight counselors. That was when this John Doe became famous and was running the country and now things have calmed down. But it was a very serious uprising of the have-nots. Mind you, when they had a parade, they wore top hats and they wore canes—they didn't have any guns. It looked like Laurel and Hardy. We were there about three years and we were packing up to go back to the States—we'd about had it at that point. ROH: Were you doing better financially by this point? EB: No, we were barely hanging on. Anyway, we were scheduled to go back to New York after that tour and one of our senior officers from Athens, Greece was in Liberia visiting. I was talking to him and said I didn't want to go back to New York. He said, "Okay." And the next thing I know, my superior at the branch said, "How 45 would you like to go to Beirut, Lebanon." Well, there was a war going on there. But again, Hazel said, "Okay, let's go." It was eerily quiet when we landed at the Beirut airport. The taxi driver took us to the Bristol Hotel, which was one of the best in the city. We registered and Hazel and Sarah were the only females in that hotel for about three months. They were treated royally by the staff. It was an indication that it was a very dangerous situation. One day Hazel and I decided to go visit the ruins in Syria. Word got around that Boyle and his wife were going to visit the ruins. We got in a taxi with a reporter from New York. We rode up into the area occupied by the Syrian army. We got into Baalbek and we were stopped by Syrian police. They took our passports and wouldn't give them back until we left. The ruins were spectacular. We were the only tourists in any form in that area. We had so many near-misses in Lebanon. They burned the American Embassy. We were located on the Mediterranean in a high rise. We were on the seventh floor and there was a Saudi prince on the eighth floor. Unbeknownst to us, we were in a PLO area—the western side of Beirut was headquarters for Yasser Arafat. We had a bank there called the Bank of Lebanon and Kuwait. It was fifty-fifty with the Kuwait royal family. Our principle objective was to recover investments for our clients because of the war. We were in a tenuous situation. One of the most dangerous things I've ever done—I was obliged to do it. We had branches on the east and west sides of the city. The west was the Muslim side and the east was the Christian. There was a dividing line between them. At one point, the leaders of the Lebanese government decreed that they 46 were going to get some insurance money from the bankers in the area for protection purposes. They approached our offices on the east side and said, "We're going to keep people around here to protect your branch, but it's going to cost you this much." It was not a threat, but in order to continue to bank without being hustled or having people break into the bank, we sent the proposal to New York. They said, "Absolutely not. We cannot be taken to court on that type of issue. Just send down an ultimatum: we do not accept these terms." Well, someone had to take that message to the people in authority. We drew straws and I got the short straw. They said, "Ted, you are going to be an emissary. You're going to drive through an area that's highly contested on both sides and you're going to carry this message personally." I had to go down this road with enemies and firepower on both sides. We stopped near the headquarters of the Lebanese presidency. We were searched and they sat me in the hall to wait. One of the men that was ruling the country had been educated in the United States, so he had an English background. I was brief about it. I told him, "This is what has happened and we've been advised by our headquarters that we cannot do this." He said, "I understand." He shook my hand and I walked out. That was scary. With all this going on, it was very dangerous. Quite frequently, Hazel and our daughter would be flown down to Athens and I'd stay behind. When I'd get to go to Athens, I'd stay over the weekend and come back. The pilot would say, "I've got to find out which runway is open. There's firing on the north side, so I'm 47 coming on the south side so we won't be hit." While we were flying in, there were missiles flying around the airport. ROH: What did you think of Athens? EB: Athens was a dream come true. I had seen a little of the ancient history when I was in the Air Force in Tunisia—the aqueducts and all that. But when I walked around there, I just felt eerie, like it was unreal. It was hard to imagine the history that you were walking around. When we left Beirut, we didn't find out until we were ready to go that our body guards and the people who were hanging around in the lobby all the time were PLO—they were protecting us, unbeknownst to us. The golf course in Lebanon was laid out on the edge of the PLO firing range. The ambassador, I was told, carried a machine gun in his golf bag when he played. We had shrapnel coming down on us while we played. ROH: Did you have friends there? EB: Thanks to Hazel, we have had friends everywhere we've gone. We were involved with the government because of the banking industry. They had the American school there and this is where Hazel and our daughter were baptized. I got the idea, having bombed Europe and seen the desolation and the destruction, Beirut reminded me very much of a destroyed city. They had destroyed the business sector. Buildings were derelict. It was a mini world war for me. ROH: Did that cause problems in business for you? EB: Oh yes. This was an extreme case of merchants who took advantage of the situation and refused to pay us back. Recovery of assets was very difficult. They 48 knew what the situation was and we had very little clout. You never knew who would be the governing body. We were going to the airport, leaving Beirut, and our driver, innocently, drove through a road block of Syrian soldiers. They were ready to shoot us with machine guns. Another car drove into the line of fire and stopped—in other words, they couldn't see us anymore. He overtook us down the road and said, "I saved your life, what the hell were you thinking?" Our driver thought they were telling us to go on. That was our departure from Beirut. We went from there to Karachi, Pakistan. That was in turmoil too. The president had been convicted of crimes and they were going to execute him. They had killed several marines in our embassy in Islamabad. We got word from New York to get out of there. Hazel and our daughter were flown down to Athens again. I went underground with our people. It was a very tenuous situation when we first got there. There was a lot of demonstrating in front of the bank. Again, our bank worked closely with the government. Pakistan is famous for its textiles. They had an industry down on the coast that broke up old ships that were battle-worn. There was a big industry there for that. They had oil deposits, too, but textiles were their strongest industry. The entertainment there was centered around the American school, which was a premier school. In fact, the Pakistanis who had money would be on waiting lists for years to get their children in the American schools. I was on the board there. In fact, the head of that school was here recently in a tennis tournament for seniors—Tony Horton. He had traveled all over the world as the head of 49 American schools. We had, again, a very closely knit community. We were there for about three years. ROH: Was it better than when you were in Beirut? EB: Oh yes. There was an underlying community of the have-nots. The countries we were in at this time had a high rate of poverty. As a result, there were riots in the cities. It was a learning experience again. ROH: At this point were you thinking about retiring? EB: No, I was still active. I had become a resident vice president. My duties were managing our portfolio—the quality of our loans and making sure people were paying and all that. We took several tours up into the area where the book Three Cups of Tea was written. We were in that area, not quite as high as he was. It's very rural. It was kind of scary in a sense that there wasn't a real feeling that you didn't belong, but you had a feeling that you might be better off if you weren't there. The populous in Karachi was horrific in terms of slums—water and sanitation was a horrible mess. I understood why the have-nots had uprisings. Of course, spinning off from India, there was always a feeling that India was their big rival and there was a fear that India would come after them, and then they had the nuclear problem down there. Pakistan was a tinder box. After Pakistan, we moved over to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. That was an eye-opener. The bank there was called Saudi-American Bank. It was fifty percent owned by Citibank and fifty percent owned by the royal family. We also had a subdivision for females only. There wasn't a male teller in that division. We had 50 lots of meetings and instances—one where we had a Saudi princess with a lot of money who had a farm development out in the desert. They desired to have their own wheat, which cost ten times as much as it would have to import it from Canada. They have pivot wheels out in the desert with the wheat growing out there, and then the Saudis would have their estates out there. I was invited by a Saudi and the princess arranged for a luncheon. She had about sixty pieces of chicken for three of us for lunch. Our dealings there were really something. If you invited a Saudi of any importance, the wife never came. You never saw their wives in a social engagement. And there was enormous segregation. One of the things they told me was, "If you're driving down the street and a Saudi runs into you, you're liable. They say it wouldn't have happened if you weren't there." The philosophy is that you caused the accident because you were residing in their country. I had a terrible incident there with my health. The Saudi hospitals are staffed by Americans and have our equipment; it's just like an American institution, but only Saudis can utilize those services. My condition worsened and it was decided that I would leave the Kingdom. Our driver took us to the airport and I found that I had a missing document. They said I had to go six blocks to another location to get the document, but the plane was on the runway taxing without me. We raced over and they actually held the plane for thirty minutes for us. I was on that plane for thirty hours in terrible straights. But what I'm going to say is that if anyone in the royal family has hay fever, they head to Walter Reed hospital and take up a whole wing. 51 We dealt with Osama bin Laden's father. He was one of our biggest clients and continues to be one of the biggest powers in industrial equipment in Saudi Arabia. I can't document it, but I think Bin Laden was employed there in Saudi Arabia while I was there. It's funny. You don't have any poverty in Saudi Arabia. It's set up so that if you get in line and go tell the king you need a washer or whatever, he gives you the royal handshake and gives an order. You don't see poverty because the people with oil money keep the populace happy with that type of thing. They say, "Hey, I've got money." But religion—if they think that you are even getting together for religious purposes, they kick you out of the country. They consider that a deterrent to the kingdom. So Hazel and her friends would have secret meetings. They were told not to park close to the house, they would walk so that no one would see the cars together and think, "We got one." Our Air Force guarding the kingdom is a deterrent to the kingdom being overthrown. I think, militarily, our presence has been a big thing in saving the kingdom. Another thing that's interesting is once the Saudis get into the Saudi planes, they'll exchange their royal robes and put on their jeans. ROH: While you were there, was your daughter still with you? EB: Our youngest daughter was a threat—in other words there were restrictions that a young female could not enter the kingdom. They didn't want any western women walking around with the Saudi boys looking at her. So she couldn't get a visa to get in. I don't remember, but I think their laws prohibit interest on loans, making it extremely difficult to bank at a profit. You had to protect yourself with 52 collateral outside of the kingdom because the laws there would make it so difficult to foreclose on a property. You have to play their rules. It's an extremely difficult area to bank in. After Saudi Arabia, we came back to Wilton, Connecticut. At that time, I was approaching retirement and I took an early retirement there. I was sixty-two. ROH: What position did you hold at the bank? EB: I was Vice President for Citibank. ROH: Were you finally doing okay financially? EB: I've always thought in terms of the investments and stocks. Over a period of forty years or so, I've been fortunate. But you have to be patient. The average investor today with this market and all this growling about Wall Street and what's wrong. But what do we produce now? We've lost our keys—we were the kings of electronics and technology. We've lost everything where we could say we dominated. I think most of it is a labor factor of the cost value. You cannot compete with China and India where the person is making a dollar or two dollars an hour but Detroit wants fifty or sixty dollars for the same product. But I want to talk about several vacations. We went to Cairo and went down the Nile on a houseboat from the Aswan Dam clear to Cairo. Doing everything that tourists do with all the royal burial grounds. We got off at Luxor, which is kind of a tourist trap, and Hazel wanted to get a cartouche for each girl. While Hazel was dealing in the jewelry store, the owner of the shop came over and said, "Mister, I give you a hundred racing camels for your wife!" [Laughter] 53 Racing camels were thousands of dollars; it was millions he was talking about. I told him, "Give me a few minutes to think about it." That was hilarious. Our trip to Nairobi, Kenya was fantastic. I've always thought about big game. We got down there with three of our girls and we decided not to go with a guided tour. We got out to the base of Mount Kilimanjaro and we were right in the middle of all kinds of wild game. The next day I decided to go out in our car, by myself, and find the animals. I was going along the trail and low and behold, I see three lions loping by the side of the car. We've got pictures of them. Anyway, we got in there and saw lions, elephants, and rhinos, you name it. On the way back to Nairobi, I tried to drive through a dry lake bed but it was sandy and we got stuck. I finally got onto what you'd call a road and one of the girls smelled gas. I stopped and found that the gas line had parted. The girls put it together and put some gum around it to patch it. We stopped in a village of Masai natives who were about six feet, ten inches tall. We are the only white people in the village. They all had spears and red paint. We dealt with them and got a couple of spears from them. When we got back to our hotel, we headed out towards Mount Kenya. It was a very sumptuous place which was owned by a famous movie star—William Holden. It was like an Elizabeth Taylor movie—there were all these natives with turbans on and holding rifles. At night, you had a fireplace in each cabin and they'd come in and light the fire. It was, again, something out of a fantasy land. 54 Going back with the same car, the car was stopping and starting. We had to coast into Nairobi. We lucked out. But that trip was worth a million dollars. We really roughed it. ROH: Did you hunt while you were there? EB: No, that's too expensive. We did it on an economy budget. The other tourists would get on a bus and see a lion off in the distance, but we had them running right alongside of us. That was something. We spent several vacations in Switzerland. We had a close friend from San Salvador whose husband was a hotel manager. He had a chalet in the Swiss Alps near the border with France. We spent a Christmas there. Switzerland is very orderly. They have a lot of rules and regulations, and it's hard to get in, but I said to Hazel I would live there. Then we spent a Christmas in the Spanish Alps. We did Spain while we were in Saudi Arabia. We saw bullfights and where they grew the wine and all that. We went into Russia during the Cold War. It was 1976. The big thing there was a train ride from Moscow to Leningrad overnight. There was supposed to be an elite coach, but there were four bunks—no beds. Hazel and I and Sarah got in the train leaving the station and a middle-aged Russian male came in and said, "Mine," and pointed to one of the bunks. Then he stripped down and went to sleep there in our cabin. I thought that was hilarious. We were an oddity in Russia. We were at the Kremlin looking at Lenin's tomb and they were parading some of their Mongolian soldiers all dressed up. Hazel was standing around and a Russian lieutenant came up to her and said, "I take you." He served as our 55 guide and took us up through this church we wanted to see. Then we had our English speaking guide, an attorney. I said I wanted to give him something and asked if I could give him money. He said, "Absolutely not. They'll put me in jail." But he said he liked my jeans. So Hazel and I left a package on the back seat of the bus with my jeans in it and he picked it up. ROH: Where haven't you been that you might want to go sometime? EB: I think Australia. We were in Thailand and Hong Kong. I admire the Australians. I lost one of my best friends in the battle with the Japanese down there. My dad used to sing from South Pacific. I'd like to go there. ROH: You were very successful in the banking industry. What do you attribute your success to? EB: I think it was doing the right thing, first of all. No monkey business and a perseverance in cultivating human contacts—relationships with your staff so you didn't talk down to them. Like when we went to Nellis Field and a general came out in a flight suit like a normal trainee and I thought, "That's success—getting down in the trenches." Assimilating customs of the people and trying to understand what makes them work. In other words, why are we banking here, what do they want from us, and how do we go about it. I think relationships and how you treat people are prime—also, towing the line. We went where we were told. I attribute that to my wife because she was very flexible. Without her, I may have stayed in New York and not done any of this. The minute I said, "Pakistan," she said, "Okay." There was never any discussion or complaining. I attribute my success to my wife. She was with me in the trying moments. You have to have 56 support. Now that I've been talking to you, I've asked myself, "What if I had stayed in Ogden?" I could very well have been a salesman for Boyle Furniture for the rest of my life. It's hard to picture who was pulling the strings. Hazel always said God was looking over us and I think she's right. I think somebody was directing us through all this that we did. That's my problem now, I've run the mill and I think I have no more bridges to cross as far as advance or travel I'm content to just kind of sit back. Here in St. George there is a difficulty of communication because of where we were and what we did and our thoughts and perceptions. A lot of times, people turn you off; they're not interested. You get the idea that they want to talk about the local scene and the lack of water here in St. George. If our leaders would at least look at the world and look at what makes the world go 'round—and I stress religion—and try to understand civilizations that have lived according to the Quran for thousands of years and overnight you want them to change and you said, "We've got something better than what you have." I don't like isolation. I think we've got to understand what makes the world go around. China, Cuba, trade wars, and now they're undercutting us—so what? They've done the right thing; let's learn from them. What are they doing that we're not doing? What happened to our manufacturing abilities from the '50s and '60s when we were king of the hill? I think a lot of it is political, unfortunately. But I just wonder where we are headed and what our children's future will be. ROH: Do you keep in touch with people from Citibank? 57 EB: Oh yes, I have a lot of friends in Florida who I met in Colombia. I have my ex-boss in San Salvador and New York. He owns a bank in Bulgaria. He's been featured in Fortune magazine because it's the best bank in Europe. Joe Borgatti was my favorite. He was down to earth. But you get other people who get ahead of themselves because of their title or they want to isolate themselves from you and make you a lesser factor in running the bank. I've had some wonderful associations with people above me and I've had some I didn't like. ROH: What do you think about the changes that have happened with Citibank since you left? EB: We started out with the Rockefellers. In fact, Citibank is the oldest bank in New York. Through the years, leaders of the bank came from high society and we had people in there who were bankers by trade and by inheritance and they stayed the line; in other words, they held on to tradition and what we were good at. There was no variance. We had enormous control over our assets by our auditing departments. We held on to tradition under George Moore and Walter Wriston, then John Reed who was a genius but had a failing in personal communication. After Reed, you drop off. He was the last of the Mohicans. Next you get Sandy Weil who brought all of his ideas about insurance and things we didn't normally get into. He wanted to build an empire and we lost control of what we did best. Sandy did a tremendous job of building up assets, but he lost control of the inner workings and delegated too much. Then they made a bad mistake in naming Prince the president. He was an attorney by profession and knew very little about banking. We got off track. There was a law earlier that prohibited 58 banking activities outside of a certain area, like the derivatives and things we got into later. The derivatives were the downfall, they were dealing with assets they had no control over. I think Citi Group will survive because of all the help from the government but it back-fired. The major corporations, who used to be the pillar for the banking community, now have their own in-house bank. A depositor asks, "Will my money be safe with Citibank?" This goes right back to the economy. We don't have jobs and there's no money in circulation. ROH: How did you decide to create an endowment at Weber State? EB: "I have accepted this assignment with immense feelings of inadequacy, humility, and privilege, keenly aware that the man we honor and memorialize here today was, and is, a giant whose character, thought and deeds can never receive can never receive justice by the mere force of human utterance. Dr. Jennings G. Olsen is the only person I have ever known who is unqualifiably deserving of the title genius. One who, in fact, came closer than any of my acquaintances, of being a man for all seasons, as was said of Thomas Moore. Indeed, a virtual superman. I was an eighteen year old freshman just out of high school, anything but passionate about the need for an education. Wet enough behind the ears to have narrowly escaped drowning, my friend and new found mentor Jennings G, on the other hand, a man of twenty-five soon to receive his doctorate in philosophy from UCLA, had even read and absorbed more than most academics do in an entire lifetime. Along with the rest of my fellow students, I promptly found myself astounded by his incredible knowledge and memory, prodigious vocabulary, and his uncanny ability to quote chapter and verse from everything 59 and anything he had ever read. Even more importantly, his power to analyze, synthesize, and contain this ever-growing information within a context amendable to the humblest of intellects. Impeccably dressed in starched white shirts, ties and a sport coat, slacks inevitably pressed to a crease that would cut your hand, his cheery countenance well-scrubbed and glowing with vitality. Jennings was also the quintessence of organization. His lessons on Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, and other greats, such as Augustine, were always carefully outlined on the blackboard and completed with articulate and meticulously exact due. One of his oft-expressed mottos read as follows, 'Organization and schedule are the keys to success.' Nevertheless, his presentations were rarely limited to straight lecture and he made ample provision for student response through carefully inter-related and challenging questions that required us to engage in the unique experience of actually thinking." ROH: Who wrote that? EB: Gordon Allred. This is a eulogy he wrote for the funeral. I'll give you a copy. [See Insert]. There's a picture of him at Weber College in his younger days. Let me tell you, Gordon Allred's father was Thatcher Allred, who was in a department at Weber College who was a dominating factor in stage production. His mother was a poet. He came from a very talented family. I have a book that Gordon wrote about the Japanese Kamikaze pilots. He spent some time over there with a pilot who had survived. The book is spellbinding if you're interested. HB: I don't think you told them that he was born with a handicap. 60 EB: He was born with a club foot and he participated in pole-vaulting. Nobody knew about it unless you were an intimate friend of his. He never divulged that. He had a professional singing voice. He performed in operas and sang on television. People that knew him, like I did from day one, admired his ability to surpass all of his difficulties. But he never, ever complained. I think he was a little bit above the crowd and very intellectually powerful. Perhaps it was overabundant to the average student. He delved into the topic of the origin of life in order to show students that there were two sides to the equation, but he never pushed it. He went into Darwinism and just said, "This is something that people think about it. I'm not telling you what to think." He opened their minds and wanted people to be able to think instead of just being told. From my perspective, Hazel and I had nothing to do with Weber State. Then we went into Ogden one day and saw the campus there and I decided to go take a look. Carol Biddle was the catalyst. I walked in to her office and I said, "I'm Ted Boyle and maybe I have some money to donate." She said, "First thing, I want you to read this book by Sadler." So I went home and read that book from front to back looking for indices of Jennings Olsen. There wasn't a single award. I noticed the lesser degree people were getting awards and I said, "What happened to Jennings Olsen? Why isn't he mentioned somewhere?" That triggered my interest. I went back to Carol and said, "I want to do something for Jennings Olsen." That's where it started. I think Jennings was probably not a sociable person. I think he may have isolated himself in his books and his will to increase 61 his knowledge of religion and the world. It was just his background. He came through hell and high water and he was a person who should have been eulogized at the highest level—with his physical problems and coming from kind of a broken home. I really think that Jennings was so worldly that Weber County wasn't ready for him. He got his doctorate from UCLA and I think he would have been president of the university there. I think he was misplaced and in this community he was misunderstood. He didn't get the recognition he deserved. ROH: You've created that recognition. EB: No, I haven't, and I am so displeased that not one dollar from his staff, his friends, his family—there hasn't been one. I say, "What am I missing?" You would have thought someone, in the total time he taught there, would have said, "He taught me something and I'm going to put ten dollars in." I'm being facetious. ROH: You should get credit for stepping up. EB: It's still not recognizable as something that is popular. I think it's something that's there, but it's not an attention-getter. I really think that Dr. Olsen was in the wrong place at the wrong time. His manner of attacking world religion and making people understand where we all came from. All he wanted was for students to open their minds and think. He wouldn't tell him it was right or wrong. I'm disappointed because I think I tried and there's nothing to show for it. I thought maybe it would catch fire but I think it's going to die a natural death. ROH: It's there and people can find it. We appreciate the fact that you did this because I, for one, wouldn't know anything about Dr. Olsen if not for you. But each person 62 who gives to the university does it in a way that they are passionate about. You never know what's going to happen. EB: Maybe someday it'll be like when they resurrect these ancient scholars. Unfortunately, he didn't produce any work of his own. I have personal letters but I don't know if they should be made public or not. We were so different—he was an intellectual and, as I told you, I barely got passing grades. Maybe opposites attract. ROH: Is there anything you would like to add before we finish? EB: I'm infatuated with Ogden still, though I've left, and I want to know what happened to the Ogden I knew in the 1930s and 1940s. I can imagine it was the railroad departure and the entrance of the supply depot and Hillfield. Maybe it attracted a lesser culture. But it was king of the hill—people from Salt Lake traveled to Ogden to shop. It was a place of honor. As Tom Brokaw said, "The greatest generation," I think the class of 1940 from Ogden High was the class of a generation. I'm not being facetious, but that class had more activity and more people who were going places and doing it with little resources. The final shot is the Ogden Standard Examiner. I felt that in the 1930s, and 1940s, and 1950s, the Standard Examiner got inside of what was happening in Ogden—the people and what they were doing and where they were going. It was a very informative paper about doings. It seems to me that they've gotten off track now. You don't feel like you're a part of it anymore. ROH: Thank you very much for your time.

Issue 61.4 of the Review for Religious, 2002. ; Identities Spirituality Community Living \ Profiling JULY AUGUST 2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER 4 Review for Rellgious hdp people respond aria bkfa thful ~ ° ~ to God's ~niversal call to holiness ~ by making available to t~em the ~piH~l legades that flow~om the'charisms of CathoUdeOnsecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone:314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ \Veh site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See iuside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2002 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to COl)}, 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 distrihu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Adv#ory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ JULY AUGUST 2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER 4 contents 342 feature Reciprocal Identities: Apostolic Life and Consecrated Life Patricia Wittberg sc oudines the role apostolic institutions had in shaping the identity of religious congregations in the past and describes the role of a person who would be responsible for catalyzing a congregation's reformulation of its apostolic identity in the absence of these institutions today. 352 364 spirituality Diocesan Priesthood: Discerning the Fire in Our Midst George Aschenbrenner SJ describes four steps that are part of a discerning life and three dimensions of the human stage on which the drama of a personal love-relationship with God is played. Desert Spirituality Ernest E. Larkin OCarm examines the ancient traditions of desert spirituality and contemplative prayer and proposes ways to adapt them to our times. for l~eligious 375 community living Three Forms of Community Living: A Survey Report Barbara Zajac makes a sociological survey of sisters in one religious community to explore how they define and create "community." 395 Expert Practitioners of Union: Forming, Living, and Sustaining Community Joel Giallanza CSC reviews the complexities involved in defining or describing religious community and suggests strategies to form and live and sustain community. 407 profiling Merton and the Enneagram: The Ritual Enactment of His Myth Suzanne Zuercher OSB examines Thomas Merton from his journals, considering him as an enneagram 4, his true self more acknowledged over the years, then anguished over, and ultimately embraced. 419 Liberal or Conservative: Temperaments and Faith Edward Krasevac OP proposes that awareness of temperamental affinities for liberal/conservative positions can give us a greater and sometimes much-needed sensitivity to what others are saying and give us at least a partial understanding of why we b~lieve what we believe. departments 340 Prisms 430 Canonical Counsel: Involuntary Departure 435 Book Reviews j~uly-Aug~tst 2002 prisms ~hen we say "We had an extraordinary time," for example, at a family reunion or at a church conference, we imply that the event was better than usual. The ordinary, by contrast, seems to be of negligible value. Ordinary means normal, hav-ing the implications of the usual routine. Often when we say that our time has been ordinary we signify that it has been just "more of the same." When the church makes use of the phrase ordi-nary time to describe a part of the liturgical year, we tend to .bring our everyday meaning to the phrase. We think of the routine of following one of the synoptic Gospel readings in weekday and in Sunday Eucharists. Church ordinary time seems not to emphasize cele-bration, just "more of the same." The church, how-ever, intends only to identify this part of the liturgical year as those weeks of the year proceeding in a long, numerical order (deriving from the Latin ordo) that are distinct from the holyday or holiday weeks iden-tified as Advent, Christmas, Lent, and Easter. And so there are some thirty weeks, liturgically, of "ordinary time" in every church year. But beyond the fact that ordinary time provides us with weeks in a numbered order, I believe that the church in her liturgy plants the seed that ordinary time is meant to be a time of wisdom. Wisdom might be described as "putting it all together," living an integrated life. For us Christians, wisdom means that we put our life together in the light of our being followers of Christ. The scrip-ture readings that flow through the Sunday and weekday read-ings for Mass and for the Liturgy of the Hours are both an inspiration for and a measurement of our living and acting as children of God. Jesus, as we see him living everyday life in the Gospels of ordinary time, remains the paradigm of what it means to be a human being, one created in the image and likeness of God. Being true God and true man, Jesus shares with us, through the Spirit, how to live our lives wisely in our own every-dayness as sons and daughters of God. We are baptized in Jesus' name; we are fed with his Body and Blood. The Son of God, Jesus, incarnate God--infinitely beyond Adam and Eve's mere creation in the image and like-ness of God--is our Brother. With him, we Christians experi-ence the new creation in his life, death, and resurrection. What our Scriptures in the church's ordinary time impress upon us is that we do not turn to the Gospels just for the high points of suffering or triumph or just for some code of rules. The Gospels are written to enter us into Jesus' wisdom way of living. Like St. Paul, we spend our lives trying to make it ever more true that "I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me." The church presents us ordinary Christians with a chal-lenging paradox. Ordinary time is wisdom time. Because we are being formed daily by the word of God and nourished by daily bread, we dare to say with Jesus: "Our Father." David L. Fleming SJ July-August 2002 feature PATRICIA WITTBERG Reciprocal Identities: Apostolic Life and Consecrated Life This year my congregation is celebrating its 150th anniversary. In special symposia and lectures, in liturgies and panel presentations, we have been encouraged to reflect about who ,we are as a community, who we have been--and who we will be. Since I have been researching relationship between religious congregations and their sponsored ministries, these events have spurred me to reflect on what it has meant--and what it will mean--that we are an apostolic congregation. I have, however, found it unexpectedly difficult to do this. How does our charism differ from that of an active monastic or evangelical order? In what way do our apostolates define who we are as a community, especially since very few of us still minister in the schools and hospitals we traditionally staffed? These are important questions to ask--and to continue asking--as we rearticulate our apostolic identity for the coming century. But I ,have come to believe that we lack an importfint kind of resource person who could facilitate our reflections. To the best Patricia Wittberg SC last wrote for us in September-October 2000. Her address is 2141 Dugan Drive; Indianapolis, Indiana 46260. Review for Religious of my knowledge, no religious congregation makes provision for such a person in its reflection processes. There is not even a name for her, so I will call her--however awkwardly--an Apostolic-Identity Catalyzer, or AIC for short2 In this paper I will first attempt to oudine the role apostolic institutions had in shaping the identity of religious congregations in the past. Next I will describe the kinds of activities an AIC might undertake to catalyze a congregation's reformulation of its apostolic identity in the absence of these institutions. Who We Were: Shaping a Reciprocal Identity Throughout their history, apostolic religious congregations have developed in an intimate dialectic with the institutions they created, staffed, and administered. On the one hand, Catholic hospitals, schools, and social-work agencies derived their religious identity primarily from the presence of religious congregations. Religious nurses, teachers, and social workers, all fully habited, served as living icons of the spiritual character of these institutions. As owners they also made the key decisions and policies. Their presence on the staff and in the administration meant that the culture of the congregation infused the entire institution. Without pointing to the congregation's presence, it would have been hard for a school or hospital to articulate what made it Catholic. Until the mid 1960s, however, the two were so intertwined that the question never even arose. In a similar manner, religious congregations derived their apostolic identity from the institutions they staffed. As Margaret Susan Thompson has pointed out in a previous issue of this journal,2 most U.S. women's apostolic congregations did not have a distinctive initial charism: rather, they have a "deep story" developed through years of lived experience. The distinctive identity of my own congregation was forged as sisters worked and lived together in our hospitals in Dayton and Albuquerque, Religious congregations derived their apostolic identity from the institutions they staffed. Wittber~ ¯ Reci~n'ocal Identities as they made bulletin boards together for our elementary schools in Detroit and Chicago, and as they cared for children in inner-city settlement houses and orphanages in Denver and Cincinnati. Young women got to know us through our ministries, and those attracted by our witness in these apostolates joined us. The congregation filled with new entrants who came expecting to perform institutional service, which further tied our apostolic identity to these works. Without citing the particular places where we served, it would have been difficult for many of us to articulate exactly what being an "apostolic" community meant. A Parallel: Mission-Effectiveness Offices in Catholic Institutions Most religious communities today have loosened, and some have completely severed, their ties with their institutions. Within their hospitals, colleges, and other agencies, this has led to some serious institutional soul-searching. Bereft of the iconic presence of the religious order, these institutions were in danger of losing their distinctive religious character. "Isomorphic" pressures from government regulations, professional associations, and economic competitors threatened to make them indistinguishable from other private schools or hospitals) The leaders of these organizations realized that retaining a distinct religious identity in the face of such pressures would require a deliberate effort. An institutional religious identity could not simply depend on the private spirituality the individual workers might bring to their jobs. Such spirituality was likely to remain private to each individual, since there are strong American cultural norms against sharing one's spirituality in the workplace. A school's, a hospital's, or a social agency's institutional religious identity had to be developed and shared in a way that would be transformative: grounding the daily operations of each department, underlying the administrative decisions, and spurring an ongoing, institution-wide search for new and creative ways to be a Catholic (or Jesuit or Vincentian) organization. Many religious hospitals, colleges, and other institutions, therefore, created special mission-effectiveness positions to address these goals. The person filling this role--often the last remaining member of the sponsoring congregation still in full- Review for Religious time ministry there--has typically been responsible for activities such as the following: ¯ orienting new staff and administrators to the charism or ethos of the sponsoring religious community (Jesuit scholarship, Vincentian caring, the spirit of Mercy); ¯ organizing periodic retreats and seminars for long-standing staff and administrators, in order to keep the spirit of the founding congregation fresh and alive; ¯ conducting various spiritual "leaven" activities: leading daily prayers over the public address system, organizing liturgies, providing short reflective prayers before meetings, disseminating newsletters or daily bulletins, erecting and maintaining religious iconography, and so forth; ¯ creating psychic and physical spaces where staff and administrators feel encouraged to share their spiritual journeys; ¯ estab-lishing awards for staff and administrators who most typify the founding spirit, and publicizing the winners of these awards; ¯ writing, updating, and promulgating the mission statement; ¯ raising ~ssues of mission and ethics at meetings of the board of trustees and other instances when key decisions are made; ¯ acting .as liaison with the sponsoring congregation, to help define what the implications of congregational sponsorship are for the institunon; ¯ serving as the religious-identity spokesperson to the media, overseeing public relations activities connected to the institution's religious identity. This is the ideal, of course. Many mission-effectiveness directors are marginalized, lacking any real input into the organization's decision making. A recent study found that "even in colleges that maintain the vice-presidential rank for the mission-effectiveness officer, there is no guarantee that the position will enjoy institutional prominence . Frequently the position operates on the .periphery of the college, resulting in compartmentalization rather than integration of mission concerns into daily senior-level academic or administrative decision making.''4 Mission statements may be mere words, Many mission-effectiveness directors are marginalized, lacking any real input into the organization's decision making. July-August 2002 PVi~tberg * Reciprocal Identities uncoupled from and alongside the day-to-day running of the institution. But at least the concept of mission effectiveness exists in our institutions, and we can readily articulate the kinds of activities such a position would involve. Apostolic-Identity Catalyzer: An Unknown (but Necessary) Role The same is not true for the position which I have termed the Apostolic-Identity Catalyzer. In fact, the apostolic congregations I know of do not have such a person. But, if mission-effectiveness offices are important for maintaining the religious identity of a school or hospital in the absence of its founding religious congregation, an apostolic-identity office should be equally important in helping maintain the apostolic identity of a religious congregation that is uncoupled from its institutions. In this section I will try to explain why I believe this to be so. When apostolic religious congregations withdrew from their institutions, they lost a key component of their former identity. Monastic and evangelical congregations, which had been inappropriately conformed to the apostolic model in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, could--and often did--simply revert to their original identities. But, to the extent that apostolic congregations had drawn their identity from their specific institutional works, they have had to devise a new articulation of who they are as a group and why they exist. "Isomorphic" pressures have also influenced this process. These pressures do not come from government regulations, professional standards, or economic pressures dictating what kind of identity an apostolic congregation should assume. Rather, they come from the ideals or "templates" current in the church and in society, which presume a primarily spiritual basis for the identity of religious groups. These spiritual foci commonly fill the void left by the loss of a congregation's institutional apostolate. Some apostolic communities have thus become more like small Christian communities, faith-sharing groups, or even parishes. The members minister in various locations and professions, pray privately every day, and meet regularly as a group for shared prayer and/or socializing: Other congregations Review for Religious have formed intentional communities that more closely approximate the monastic model: the members live and pray communally, but leave for separate ministries during the day. In either case, the conKregation begins to draw its identity more and more from the common spiritual activities of its members, and less and less from any common apostolic character. New entrants are attracted by the spirituality of the congregation, not by its distinctive common apostolates --which no longer exist. The metamorphosis continues. If apostolic religious life is to retain its distinctive identity, apostolic congregations must take deliberate steps to foster it. As with the religious identity of our former institutions, this will not happen automatically. Nor can we assume that our congregation is apostolic simply because we, as individual religious, give witness to God's love in our individual apostolates. (Surely all Christians are called to do that!) A congregation's apostolic identity must be transformative of the entire congregation, grounding the daily operations within the motherhouse, provincialates, and local houses, und.erlying the decisions of the council or leadership team, and spurring the community on its search for new and creative ways to be an apostolic congregation. This is where an apostolic-identity office would be useful. Since I know of no congregation that provides for such a role, the following list of suggested tasks is deliberately modeled on the activities which mission-effectiveness offices perform in our sponsored institutions. Within a given congregation, therefore, the AIC might be responsible for some or all of the following tasks: ¯ Orienting new members to the apostolic tradition of the congregation, as part of the formation program. This might include workshops or presentations, along with arranging visits to the former institutions and interviews with retired sisters who used to work there. ¯ Organizing periodic retreats and seminars for the professed and associate members of the congregation on the way(s) the congregation currently expresses its apostolic identity. This might include facilitating volunteer opportunities (whether single days throughout the year or six-week summer experiences) at some sites. Or theologians might be invited to community gatherings to discuss the various theologies of the interaction July-Augt*st 2002 Wittberg * Reciprocal Identities between spirituality and the apostolate. Or the clients served may be invited to give input on how they see the apostolic witness of the congregation and how it can be improved. ¯ Conducting various apostolic "leaven" activities within the congregation: circulating specially written prayers for specific apostolates and/or designating specific days of prayer for them; writing feature articles on the apostolates in the congregation's newsletter and/or disseminating a special newsletter on the apostolates; organizing the collection of money and goods; erecting and maintaining displays of apostolic artifacts at the motherhouse and elsewhere; initiating letter-writing campaigns to elected officials on apostolic issues; and so forth. ¯ Creating psychic and physical spaces where members are encouraged to share the insights, joys, and sorrows they have derived from their apostolates. The Daughters of Charity, with whom I currendy live, have a special monthly apostolic reflection wherein each member of the local house shares some incident from her ministry through which God has spoken to her that day. In a local house of another congregation where I once lived, we spent an afternoon and evening visiting each sister's work-place so that we could have a mental picture of the setting in which she spent a good part of her day. ¯ Establishing awards or other forms of recognition for individual members whose apostolic works witness to the character of the congregation, and publicizing these awards in the congregation and in the surrounding neighborhood or town or city. ¯ Leading reflections and other activities on the apostolic aspects of the congregation's mission statement (or facilitating the composition of such a statement if one does not currently exist). ¯ Raising issues of the congregation's apostolic identity at council meetings (which implies that the AIC is a member of the council). ¯ Initiating a congregational reflection to define exactly what the "sponsor" relationship requires of the congregation. As at least one critic has pointed out, the duties and obligations of sponsorship are often specified for the sponsored institution, but rarely are similar duties and obligations spelled out for the sponsoring congregation,s The MC might encourage meetings of both the leadership and the membership to outline the responsibilities the congregation has toward its institutions. Once these are determined, the AIC might be the one to see that they are met. Review for Religious ¯ Serving as a liaison with the various sponsored ministries. If the congregation has a separate board of sponsored ministries, then the AIC should be a member of it (and perhaps chair it). ¯ Serving as the apostolic-identity spokespdrson for the congregation to the media, overseeing public-relations activities connected with the congregation's apostolic identity. Again, this is an idealized picture. As with the mission-effectiveness offices in our former institutions, the activities of the apostolic-identity office may be marginalized in a given religious community. Many religious are so heavily involved in their ministries that they may resist invitations to set aside time to do this kind of communal apostolic sharing. Others may wish to forget about their jobs--especially if they find them draining and exhausting--and focus on more spiritual and recreational matters during the congregation's brief time together. Still others, formed in the days of common ministry within large institutions, may not - feel the need to discuss how apostolate is related to religious life today. And, since an apostolic-identity office is such a novel concept, many may not see why one is needed at all. Surely our congregation is already top-heavy with leadership? Why do we need to release another member from active ministry to do this? Perhaps the demise of the apostolic form of religious life is inevitable. Large hospitals, colleges, and other institutions may have become so bureaucratized and professionalized that they can no longer credibly represent a corporate Catholic vision of education, healthcare, or social service (although, of course, individual teachers or nurses--lay and religious--may still bring their private spiritualities to their jobs in these institutions). Fast-paced American culture, steeped in workaholism, may make it difficult to stop and be reflective about the work we do. There Many religious are so heavily involved in their ministries that they may resist invitations to set aside time to do this kind of communal apostolic sharing. Ju~-dugu¢ 2002 Wittberg * Reciprocal Identities may be a greater need for religious life forms focused on community and spirituality than on work--especially work in large institutions. Certainly monastic and contemplative religious communities are showing stronger growth than most apostolic ones.6 Religious life may thrive in monastic, evangelical, or future undreamed-of forms, even if its apostolic version becomes extinct. Perhaps an AIC would be a useless relic of a time already past. Or perhaps not. Perhaps what the world most needs is the witness of a group whose common vision for a transformative spiritual identity permeates the offices, factories, and marketplaces where its members work. Perhaps the reciprocal dialectic of religious community and sponsored ministry, each forming and transforming the other, is a longed-for alternative to the prevailing, "Enronized" corporate culture. Perhaps apostolic religious congregations possess the seed of a new corporate ministerial presence in the world, over and above the scattered individual ministries of their members. If so, then this vision, this dialectic, this presence, must be fostered and nurtured to growth. An AIC would have her job cut out for her. Notes i This is a terribly unattractive name, of course, but I am unable to think of any other. If this article persuades any congregation to establish the office of apostolic-identity catalyzer, they might consider naming it after a founding member who exemplified the apostolic dedication the congregation wishes to foster. 2 Margaret Susan Thompson, "Charism or Deep Story? Towards Understanding Better the 19th-Century Origins of American Women's Congregations," Review for Religious 58, no. 3 (May-June, 1999): 230-250. 3 According to sociologists studying organizations, "isomorphism" refers to the many pressures, both external and internal, which lead them to adopt similar practices. External pressures would include government regulations, professional accreditation standards, and the demands of customers/clients. Internal pressures would include ways of thinking that administrators develop from all of them being trained in the same schools, clinging to established practices in times of uncertainty, and needing to project an image of competence. See Walter W. Powell and Paul J. DiMaggio, eds., The New Institutionalfim in Organizational Analysis (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991). 4 Dennis H. Holtschneider CM and Melanie M. Morey, "Relationship Review for Religious Revisited: Changing Relations between U.S. Catholic Colleges and Universities and Founding Religious Congregations," Occasional Paper No. 47, Association of Governing Boards of Universities and Colleges. s Melanie M. Morey, Leadership and Legacy: ls There a Future for the Past? A Study of Eight Colleges Founded by Catholic VVomen's Religious Congregations, dissertation, School of Education, Harvard University, 1995, p. 203. 6 "Monasteries Enjoy Boom, with Some Help from Marketing," Religion Watch 17, no. 6 (April 2002): 2-3. Promissory In early March buds begin to swell on my peach tree. It is too soon. This uncertain month delivers snow and fro~t with its warm, sweet winds. But there they are, small, swelling promises of succulent fruit, nature's resurrective fiat silently shouting down my wintery worry with summer's certainty. Bonnie Thurston July-Aug~tst 2002 GEORGE ASCHENBRENNER Diocesan Priesthood: Discerning the Fire in Our Midst spirituality These are not easy days for the diocesan priesthood. Sexually inappropriate behavior has been making rousing--and saddening--copy in newspapers and magazines. This behavior can be, must be, viewed from a number of different perspectives. I mention just a few: the horrendous injustice and injury done to the victims; the sickness, often, of the perpetrator himself; the lack of honest dealing with sexual urges; the unjust accusation of some priests; the betrayal and undermining of the trust of many members of the church; and the faithful, generous service of many unheralded diocesan priests. I do not deny the seriousness of the present situation, nor am I insensitive to the many serious repercussions of the publicity. We all have much to learn from this difficult time for the diocesan priesthood. Seminary formation programs--indeed each individual priest--must honestly and carefully look at both sexual orientation and the swirling interior cauldron of sexual impulse, fantasy, and urge. Sexuality George Aschenbrenner SJ was cofounder of the Institute for Priestly Fbrmation at Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska, and.is director of the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth; P.O. Box 223; Wernersville, Pennsylvania 19565. Review for Religious is only one aspect, but always an important one, of the discerning presence 6f the diocesan priest in the midst of a local people. This article is not about the sexual aspect of discernment, but implications for that area of human experience will be easily recognized. I focus on a central constituent of diocesan priesthood, namely, the priest's discerning presence in the midst of a local people. (In a recent book I develop this and other charisms that are needed in diocesan priesthood.)! The desires and needs of his people seek, from the diocesan priest, discernment, the art of holiness, but these desires and needs may not be easily detected. Holiness, in itself, does not seem something most people are daily concerned with. But reflection may suggest otherwise. Though often thought of or spoken of in other words and with a deceptive indirectness, the longing of the human heart for more--for something beyond what we have and appreciate, beyond our present knowing--stirs in all of us from time to time, especially in quiet moments. If we sometimes find this longing in ourselves, we must assume it in others as well. And, when the glow has faded from life and still we cannot say or put into words what we are missing, we and others may recognize that this longing for more is really a desire for an ever greater goodness, for holiness, in fact a desire for God. The ordinary people of a parish feel this in many ways, but may seldom try to express it. They desire holiness, a relationship that gets them out of the narrow confines of their own self. They seek greater meaning, more happiness, and greater love in the humdrum of ordinary living. Other people in the parish are more explicit and direct. They want to pray better; they want to know God's love more; they want their faith to be more alive. Though some may have a counselor or friend with whom they speak of these concerns, the principal person to whom people bring such stirrings and longings is their diocesan priest. They look to him for help, for answers, for the solution to their dissatisfaction. But what can the priest do? What answers does he have? He is presumed to have the graced art of daily growth in holiness. This is precisely what we mean by discernment of spirits. It is a very human process, God's subtle inspiration enlightening us to interpret, make sense of, the fire of God's awesome love present in the ordinary daily experience of us all. In various ways the human psyche is always encountering our Ascbenlrrenner * Diocesan Priestbood loving God. And these experiences are indeed profoundly human, and yet so much more. In faith they are experiences of a love promising a joy that alone can satisfy our longings, to some real extent here and now, but fully only on the other side of death. This discerning art of holiness is not a catalogue of answers to be learned and then distributed on request. Rather, it is a life to be lived in the uniquely personal part of our hearts, and yet with extroverting implication for all our human brothers and sisters and for our union with them in the transformation of our whole expanding universe. This article, then, is not a minicourse on discernment, nor is it a review of the answers a priest will need for all the people's questions. Rather, I want to present something of what is involved in a priest's discerning understanding, in his radiating the fire of the Holy Spirit for the people of his parish. I will describe four steps that are part of a discerning life and then three dimensions of the human stage on which the drama of a personal love-relationship with God is played. As a spiritual leader in the midst of the parish, the priest must have a reflective understanding of the art of discernment, seen as the dynamics of any mature faith life. This charism prepares the priest to play two important roles of service among the people: as a guide into the mystery of God's fire of love and as a soul doctor for those being healed and purified in that same fire. Discernment: God's Story of Mature Faith Growth Holiness and growth in union with God always involve the full human person alive in his or her concrete circumstances. A person's spiritual maturity, then, involves good actions, but also much more. It involves feeling and emotion, but also much more. Together with concern for actions and feelings, spiritual maturity must go down into a person's inner core. It is from this core that God's love should radiate into holy action and feeling so that people can readily become aware of God's love in the world. This radiation is an invitation to notice and welcome God's love in every situation. Discernment of spirits means achieving such recognition. Sometimes discernment is mistakenly seen as one of any number of approaches to mature spiritual development. Indeed, Review for Religious some schools of faith growth have their own terminology. Under these different articulations, however, is one fundamental process of growth toward mature faith, a sorting of inner experiences. For this reason, discernment of spirits is the story of personal faith growth, God's story of it. This process has two roots: our human reality within God's creation and God's revelation in Jesus. Discernment of spirits is God's story of us, narrated both in our makeup as human creatures and in God's love for us all in Jesus. If only this love shone clearly, brilliantly, beautifully in every situation! At times it does, of course, but at other times the radiance of this love is stained by smog or hidden by a heavy cloud of evil. If all were goodness, grace, and beauty, how wonderful--and surely no need for any careful sorting in such a good world. Or, if all were evil, darkness, and wickedness, we would live on the brink of despair--but, again, no need for any sorting or sifting. But, when the world of human beings is ambiguous and mixed, and still we are c~lled to find the goodness in it and to display it in ourselves in our daily lives, then a discernment of spirits within ourselves assumes an essential importance. We must learn to distinguish our selfish impulses from the radiant inspirations of the Holy Spirit of God. Most people have not developed the skills for expert discerning of spirits, but, if they do no discerning at all, mature faith eludes them. The priest, then, the spiritual leader and soul doctor in the parochial community, must do the hard work of learning the theory and practice of soul doctoring, of discerning holiness. In the midst of such careful inner sorting, we must never forget this: God desires and is committed to each of us in Jesus more than we can fully realize--and the Holy Spirit is constandy active in our hearts and our world. Christian holiness always has its initiative in the fire of God's loving desires for us. It is never a figment of our imagination or a product of our willpower. It is the mystery of God's precious gift for us all. But each of us must The priest must have a reflective understanding of the art of discernment, seen as the dynamics of any mature faith life. 3~uly-du~lst 2002 Aschenbrenn~ * Diocesan Priesthood learn to recognize, receive, and nurture the gift. And we need a guide to lead us, in some special ways, into the fire, into the radiant glow of that mystery: God's love burning bright in Jesus. The Material of Discernment God wants each of us to imitate.Jesus uniquely. The great challenge and invitation that haunts us all is to discover our true self in Christ. For each of us God intends a unique revelation of Christ. Though the enterprise has very complex aspects, the point is as simple as it is startling: God wants each of us to imitate Jesus uniquely. The very self that God intends each of us to be is a unique, living imitation of Jesus. And that life of ours is meant to shine for all the world. This true self, this unique revelation, this treasure is camouflaged in the spontaneous interiority of our daily consciousness. This pearl of great price, this treasure beyond all value, must be searched for and recognized when stumbled upon. Into the daily spontaneous consciousness of the priest and of his people come many images, feelings, thoughts, impulses, and moods, sometimes quietly, some-times shockingly. This inner world has a variety of seasons, bright hopeful springs and dark threatening winters. We might wish we could glimpse our true self in Christ conveniently and directly, avoiding tentative efforts to interpret these various elements in ourselves like the weather. But we do not even have anything like a satellite picture of our ow~ inner world. God takes the complexity of our human condition seriously, and so Jesus usually comes to us at the place where our own consciousness tangles with today's large or small historical realities. To try to avoid this encounter would be to deprive ourselves--and other people, too--of our unique opportunity to reveal Jesus Christ as God intends, that is, in daily circumstances that without our presence may lack the glow and radiance of fire. Whenever one person avoids these opportunities, the radiance of us all is somehow dimmed. The diocesan priest, doctor of souls that he is called to be, must not fail to uncover the treasure in these moments; others, seeing it, will carry the glow far beyond him. Revie~ for Religiou~ This discerning search for the treasure of our true self can be described in four steps, steps easier to describe than to apply to real circumstances. My intention is to describe the steps so that the priest can learn to recognize them in his own experience and then make them his own. This discerning process can then help the priest, the soul doctor, to guide people in discovering and welcoming the mystery of God's love in their own hearts and lives. Turned toward God This first step is most important and profound: an identity in Jesus Christ. Until this identity has been cultivated enough, serious discernment is not possible. A serious turning to God readies the heart for discernment and so initiates any trustworthy searching for the treasure of God's personal, uniquely specific love. This turning is a real change that grades the ground of our heart to a new incline: away from ourselves and toward God. It is more than a passing fancy or a momentary quirk. The realization that we are conceived, marked, and shaped from the dawn of our existence by a God who always and only loves, this realization takes root and changes the landscape of our daily lives. This realization of a Love greater than the love we have for ourselves stops us in our tracks. It invites an about-face. It gets us out of ourselves. A whole new vista opens up. We have discovered and been turned toward Someone more beloved than we are to ourselves. Is this Love for real? Can this Beloved be trusted? What are we to make of all this, of these subtle perceptions. As we pay closer attention to them, the realization can come that receiving and responding to such Love assumes an importance beyond all else. The ground under our feet shakes and radically shifts. At this juncture, there is a clarity; something has clearly changed. A central question has been posing itself in our heart for a long time: Am I the ultimate meaning of my own life? As we heard that question, the winds of our contemporary culture kept howling their answer: "Yes, of course! Of course I am the ultimate meaning 'of my own life! If not I, who else could be?" But now that yes is radically shaken and splinters into a clear no. The tree of my life is changed. I am no longer the ultimate July-Augwst 2002 Ascbenlrrenner ¯ Diocesan Priesthood meaning of my own life. Now my life's meaning is God's Love-- as promised and present in the risen Jesus. A new sun has risen, and it will never set. Now life becomes, more and more, fascination with this mysterious Beloved and radical openness and readiness for whatever that Love draws me to. Something has deepened and developed. An early seedling of religious intuition has become the fragile sprouting of a realization that by being tested becomes stronger and more deeply rooted. An early surmise and semiconscious intuition becomes a resolute desire of will. No tall grass shivering in the wind, but a tree, deeply rooted and still growing. This resolute desire shapes and casts our lives in love: first, God's ever faithful love in the risen Jesus and then our own love, our carefully discerned response of love. From now on, life is about love, at times tough love, but love nonetheless, and always. Make no mistake about that! In some important way, we are no longer in charge of our own lives. God is! Life is not yes to self, but yes to God, as shown in Jesus ("with him it was always yes," 2 Co 1:19). Facing Our Spontaneous Life Insofar as the countercultural movement to God's love has begun to take serious rooting in our heart, a second step beckons. Only honest facing of our inner spontaneous life makes it possible for us to find, in faith, trustworthy understandings about God. This statement is true, but it prescinds from the ingenuity of human consciousness for dishonest avoidance and selfish projection. We must learn, as best we can, to stand clear of these deceits and deceptions, whether conscious or unconscious, if we are to discern God's loving desire in our hearts. This is no easy matter, and invites the priest to an asceticism leading to truth and love. Sometimes this asceticism, always motivated by a growing desire to live in God's consoling love, will involve unlearning some previous training. An overly rationalistic view of Christian spirituality downplays, even scorns, the role of spontaneity and feeling, while on the other hand a supersensitivity to feeling and sentiment can smuggle into Christian spirituality a presumption that proclaims, sometimes quite unwittingly, that whatever we feel is God's will for us. In both of these instances, a previous Review for Religious learning must be honestly acknowledged, judged as incorrect, and gradually changed. As difficult as this change may seem, especially when the previously learned viewpoint has taken deep root, such a conversion is always possible for two reasons: first and foremost, the mystery of God's steadfast desire to get through to us and, second, our own soul's desire for ever greater radiance. If the priest stays in close touch with these two desires, he will be capable of whatever transformation is necessary because it will really be the work of the radiant Holy Spirit of God beckoning him beyond his own depth and into the realm of greater mystery in faith. A Wisdom of Interpretation in Faith In the process of the discernment I am describing here, for someone clearly turned toward God and honestly sensitive to the flow of inner spontaneity, the issue becomes a matter of meaning: Where is God in all of this? The answer requires a certain wisdom and ability to interpret. But interpretation could spring from any number of different vantage points, for example, from lived common sense, from majority cultural opinion, from professional human development, or from Christian faith. All of these different "wisdoms" might overlap to a small or large extent, but each would produce a different conclusion when used as the central focus of interpretation. In discernment the focus is profoundly one of Christian faith, a faith radiating with the experience of Jesus Christ and revealed in the Holy Spirit. How God is present here, now, offering a love beyond all loves--that is the central concern for a person turned toward and identified in God. As we have seen already, God is always present in all of our present historical world and in all of our spontaneous inner experience, but never simply and completely present to us. That treasure of a love beyond all value, that revelation of our own unique imitation of Jesus, must be sought in the mixture and confusion of our inner lives. An enlightenment of the Holy Spirit springing from our experience of God's faithful love alone--that is the gift needed at this point. Such enlightenment and wisdom differ subtly, though sharply, from enthusiastic generosity and simplistic sincerity. By themselves, without graced wisdom, these two qualities lack a North Star and can be dangerously ~Tuly-Au~st 2002 Aschenbrenner * Diocesan Priesthood misleading. The wisdom referred to here has a profound paschal orientation and is found more and more decisively present and operative in Jesus as he moves into the depths of his Passion all the way to Calvary and into his resurrected glory. This wisdom and enlightenment is hot the result of taking an academic course or reading a book. And it is not some sleight of hand or guesswork either. It is a grace the priest must pray for regularly. It has a firm context, and this helps the priest to be sure about the giftedness of his insight. The insight is tested in relation to the polestar of our identity in God's love. The. presence of the Holy Spirit is revealed in anything that conforms to our resolute desire to keep God's love, not self-love, as our focus. And anything that violates this focus is not an inspiration from God, but a nudge, large or small, toward self-idolatry. A pleasure-pain instinct in all of us tries to tilt us toward self-idolatry. This instinct of liking pleasure and fearing pain is understandable and healthy. But, when we let it assume a priority and centrality, when it becomes the focal light for our interpretation, then we become narcissistic. This pleasure-pain principle, in itself, is never fully identified with the paschal enlightenment of God's love. It was not so identified in the experience of Jesus. The pleasure-pain instinct did not plot his course to his beloved Father. Escaping 'the dominance of this instinct demands an asceticism. We are not to renounce this instinct pure and simple; rather, we renounce it as the polestar of our identity. Developing in faith our interpersonal relationship of love with God in the beauty of Jesus will not completely get rid of this instinct, but will weaken it. God's love ~n Jesus has become the treasure beyond all value, and what a grace it is to know indescribable pain when deprived of that treasure. To learn how to stand with Jesus, sometimes in pleasure and at other times in pain--this is the mature wisdom of a person consciously living in God's love. It is to claim the treasure intended by God before the foundation of the world: a radiant true self uniquely imitating the mystery of Jesus. Tactics for Intimacy with God The final step in this process is decisive tactics in accord with the paschal-faith interpretation of the previous step. For Review for Religious someone whose heart is resolutely set on following the lead of God's love, anything experienced as an incarnation of that love (often called consolation) is to be embraced, claimed, and lived, and anything that deflects us from God's love and toward self-idolatry (usually called desolation) is to be rejected and courageously withstood. In this step the issue is courage and decisive generosity, something possible only when illumined and strengthened by paschal wisdom. The issue is whether we will follow, and how wholeheartedly, the revelation of the Holy Spirit. This is the time for the soul's character to be healed and for faith to be annealed in the fire of the Holy Spirit. This process helps the hidden self grow strong, so that the priest can be a discerning presence in the midst of the people. Discernment, a life of mature spirituality, always acknowledges, distinguishes, and then interrelates three different dimensions of human existence: external behavior, what I call the core of the soul, and inner spontaneity. To develop and live out of the core of our true self is never easy, if possible at all in our post-modern world, but is always crucial for responsible, mature living in faith. Today's culture has great need of doctors of the soul who can facilitate the development of this core sense of true self through the integration of these three dimensions of human existence. Though our external behavior is perceptible and often consumes enormous energy, it is nothing more than a superficial part of our being. The activity on this stage poses a question of meaning, a question that it cannot itself answer even though it may seem to contain adequate answers for others and even ourselves. In our daily activity we touch and influence many people. As the New Testament reminds us, the activity of sincere loving reveals the genuineness of our faith. In the midst of our busy lives, the question often rises in our hearts: Are we simply what we do? Some careful reflection is needed to answer correctly and accurately. The question often rises in our hearts: Are we simply what we do? 2002 .~chenbrenner ¯ Diocesan Prie~thood A Hidden Self Grown Strong The soul's core is the unique and deepest part of every human person. This core plays a crucial role in the discovery of our true self in the beauty of Christ. A deep-hearted personal world, a treasure beyond value, is gradually revealed, acknowledged, and then laid claim to, though this whole process is much more one of receiving than of making. This inner core has a depth and a simplicity that is beyond words. As we grow in our appreciation of this personal center, its presence dawns, alluringly shrouded in mist and mystery. In the shifting mists of this mysterious realm, a noisy world is hushed. God breathes eternal love and life into this core of our soul moment by moment and on into eternity. This same creative love, unique to each of us, is in all of us. Our experience of God and of ourselves becomes ever more profound, personal, and unique. Even as you now read, this profoundly personal inner experience, this quiet steady conversation of love at our deepest core, gives the lie to feelings of suffocating loneliness. It gives the lie to the hateful notion that anybody is rotten to the core. Because of Jesus' love, a buried treasure, a pearl beyond pricing, a hidden self waits to be discovered in each human being, to be embraced, and to grow strong. Spontaneity takes place in the "skin" of our soul, in the rational and affective human experience of us all. As mentioned earlier, this experience of spontaneity conceals the deep treasure of our true self in Christ. These spontaneities of thinking and feeling may skitter across the skin of our souls, but do not touch the core. Spontaneities of impulse, image, and mood can flail and crackle and roar across our lives like an electrical storm. Such skitterings, such storms, coming and going, can bother or frustrate or enrage us. But they do, finally, pass. This level, spontaneous unintended experience, has the unpredictability of shifting sands and is not capable of the rock-like dependability of the core of the soul. This skin of the soul poses its own question: Are we simply and wholly identified by what we spontaneously think or feel? Though "what I feel" is never equal to "who I am," in the midst of a temporary storm we can all too easily judge otherwise. These spontaneities, though, really are on a different level. They are part of a process of integration, of coming to spiritual Review for Religious maturity, but they have their meaning only in relation to the soul's core. The presen.ce of these three dimensions of our persons and the four-step discernment process for integrating them should be familiar to the priest. Such integration is the way to mature faith and to appropriate activity that mature faith leads to. This integration is sometimes easy and obvious, sometimes confusing and excruciating. But doing it in love, doing it in our own unique imitation of Jesus' way of loving us, makes it possible, encouraging and strengthening us. This is the realm of service for a doctor of the soul. If the seminary communicates this and if it continues long after ordination, the result of this integration, this purification, will be like gold, bright and not sadly tarnished. To his service of their souls, the priest will bring a radiance that can illumine and develop the bright potential of their own lives. This radiance will be God's love shining from the face of the risen Jesus, still serving in our midst. Notes I George Aschenbrenner SJ, Quickening the Fire in Our Midst: The Challenge of Diocesan Priestly Spirituality (Chicago: Loyola Press, 2002). 2 See George Aschenbrenner SJ, "A Hidden Self Grown Strong," in Handbook of Spirituality for Ministers, ed. Robert J. Wicks (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1995), pp. 228-248. "Hidden Self," pp. 236-240. In the Words of Meister Eckhart The soul loves the body tenderly, even when, like a child on edge, it runs rambunctious through desire collapsing at last and won&ring why. Maryanne Hannan ~Tuly-dugv~st 2002 ERNEST E. LARKIN Desert Spirituality Booth Christian Meditation and centering prayer come out f early monasticism, which itself is a development of desert spirituality? Christian Meditation is the prayer of the heart described by John Cassian, the historian of desert spiri-tuality, who brought the wisdom of the desert fathers and moth-ers of Egypt and the Middle East to the West. Centering prayer comes out of the Cloud of Unknowing, a 14th-century English text that enshrines the contemplative traditions of the desert. It is no accident that both these contemplative prayer forms came to us by way of Benedictine and Trappist monasteries. Desert spirituality was the beginning of Christian monasti-cism and the matrix out of which Western monks developed their lifestyle. Contemplative prayer was at the heart of their life, and desert spirituality was the context. This article proposes to examine those ancient traditions and adapt them to our times. Desert spirituality is a technical term that has biblical and early Christian roots. The desert experience is a staple of both the Old and the New Testaments, for example, in the Exodus story, in the life of Elijah and the prophecy of Hosea, in John the Baptist, the forty-day fast of Jesus, and the three-year novitiate of Paul in Arabia (Ga 1:17). This desert experience was devel-oped into a coherent spirituality by the desert fathers and moth- Ernest E. Larkin OCarm wrote for us twice in 2001. His address remains Kino Institute; 1224 East Northern; Phoenix, Arizona 85020. Review for Religious ers in the 3rd and 4th centuries of the Christian era. These fer-vent Christians fled to Egypt and the Middle East to escape the decadence of an effete Roman empire. The wastelands offered a stark and untrammeled setting for a life of penance and prayer. Its rugged emptiness and its silence and solitude invited the flight from the world OCuga mundi). A special appeal to heroic souls was the belief that the demons infested the wastelands and could be met there in open combat. It did not take long for the desert dweller to discover that the demons were within and to be engaged on the battleground of the soul. Life in the desert was simple. Manual labor broke the monotony of the silence and solitude of the cell and provided .its own asceticism as well as sustenance and something for almsgiving. Desert dwellers spent their days in soul searching and the pursuit of the living God. Community life, especially when the solitary life prevailed, and outreach in ministry were clearly sec-ondary and not really part of the inte-rior struggle. Continuous prayer was the focus, and the abbas and the ammas spent their time in lectio div-ina, reading the psalms and the breviary, celebrating liturgy, and cultivating the prayer of the heart. These are the main fea-tures of desert spirituality. In this setting Christian holiness was a kind of white mar-tyrdom, a total giving over of one's life to God, the shedding of all self-indulgence in favor of a single-minded search for God. The desert was a graphic symbol of the emptiness of life and the otherness of God. The emptiness translated into purity of heart, a heart freed from sinful affections and centered on God. Thus the beatitude that best sums up desert spirituality is "Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God." Contemplation is the goal, and letting go of all lesser aims and surrender to the living God the condition. This general principle is abstract and can be lived out in an imaginary as well as a real desert. The desert as symbol universalizes desert spirituality as a possibility for everyone. There is, however, still place for the physical desert in ordinary Christian life. We examine this role The desert as symbol universalizes desert spirituality as a possibility for everyone. ]My-August 2002 Larkin ¯ Desert Spirituality in the next two sections of this paper, and we will return to the symbolic desert in the third section. Our first question is this: What can the desert do for me? In other words, why should I go out into the desert? The second question is a prophetic one: What can I do for a desert that is now under attack by the forces of neglect or consumerism? How do my efforts to protect the environment or my failure to participate affect my personal life? After these two reflections we will return to the overall princi-ple of desert spiritfiality, the call to emptiness and encounter with God. What Can the Desert Do for Me? In Scripture the desert is primarily the wasteland, and it leads to the garden of the promised land, the desert come to life, as in Isaiah 35:1-2: "The desert shall rejoice and blossom . The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon." Both the bleak image and the flowering one apply to the physical desert as we use the term today. The desert means the wilderness, the great outdoors. This includes barren wastelands like sand dunes or the scrubby flatlands of Texas or Arizona, but also verdant gardens, scenic forests, majestic moun-tains, and rolling plains. The desert is all the places on this beautiful earth that are still largely untouched by city sprawl and offer themselves as a refuge for weary people. These lands can be gift for our spirits. They refresh us and challenge us. They beckon us to "come aside and rest awhile," away from the noise and congestion of the city with its polluted air and harried traffic. The desert is the place to hike a trail, fish a stream, pic-nic with friends, or just smell the sage and be with one's long thoughts. " Except for some few families that have declared their inde-pendence and homesteaded in the wild and some rare hermits who have also settled there, people today only visit this desert; they do not dwell there. They go out for physical exercise and emotional refreshment, for meditation and for fun. They enter desert places hostile to human habitation very gingerly, armed with water jugs, proper sun gear, and ideally with companions. Some visit these "fierce landscapes" (Belden Lane) for excite-ment, others to deal with a crisis, a limit experience, a sorrow Review for Religious that overwhelms them. Perhaps unconsciously they are looking for an environment that mirrors their troubled soul. A good example of this kind of match between soul and terrain is a retreat for middle-aged men described in a recent publication.2 It was conducted by Richard Rohr and designed to help men from many walks of life through their midlife crisis. The retreat took place at Ghost Ranch in northern New Mexico in the sum-mer of A.D. 2000. The men were challenged to let down their defenses and face themselves squarely. The retreat turned out to be a harrowing rite of passage. The torrid summer heat and the bleak lonely emptiness of the desert combined with soul-search-ing introspection and dramatic rituals to test the most stout-hearted. More often retreats or "a day in the desert" are spent in more friendly spaces. An attractive pastoral setting calms the soul and provides the quiet that people need for facing the real issues of their life. God seems closer in pristine settings. One popular formula for such outings is the poustinia, a concept pop-ularized by Catherine de Hueck Doherty. Poustinia means her-mitage, and folks become poustiniaks for a day, bringing along only a Bible and a bit of bread and cheese. The poustinia can actually be a back room or the attic of one's home, but there are advantages in going out to the woods or the seashore. Getting out in the country, breathing in the fresh air and fragrances of the meadows, walking around the lake or trudging along paths in hilly terrain, can be healthy physical exercise and spiritual refreshment. These are ways of slowing down, of refus-ing to be a couch potato and insuring the balance of mens sana in corpore sano (a sound mind in a sound body). Grace builds on nature, so a healthy body and soul are a good basis for the life of God in us. A good health regime works directly against anx-ious, workaholic tendencies or the equally bad habit of inertia and laziness. Recreational activities also develop the playful side of our lives. This is our contemplative side. Visitors to the desert know that God is everywhere and that they do not have. to go up to the heavens or across the sea to find the word of God. "No," Deuteronomy says, "the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe" (Dt 30:11-14). But the desert facilitates the search. The wide open spaces, the silence and solitude, reveal God. July-August 2002 Larkin ¯ Desert Spirituality Silence is the best conta.ct point with God, since God is always present, though beyond speech, images, and concepts. The desert fosters this silence, this emptiness, the letting go of every-thing that is not of God. The desert is built for kenosis, the self-emptying of Jesus, who was perfectly open to God and was therefore exalted with the pleroma, the fullness of the resurrec-tion (Ph 2:5-11). The desert way is the way of emptiness and fullness. These reflections belong to the first step on the spiritual journey, the appreciation of creation. Original blessing pre-ceded original sin, and immersion in creation and appreciation and love for this gift ought to precede the work of redemption. This is the thinking of Teilhard de Chardin, Matthew Fox, Francis Kelly Nemeck, and Marie Theresa Coombs. More recently Dorothee Soelle sees "being amazed" as the first of the three ways or stages of the spiritual life? Instead of the classi-cal ways of purification, illumination, and union, she proposes "being amazed, letting go, and resisting" as the three steps. Amazement and appreciation help us take an objective stance before the earth, and this makes it easier to let go, the second of the three ways for Soelle. This leads us to involvement, to compassion and commitment, regarding the world. She calls this resistance, because it involves working against the threats to the environment and society. That is to say, we resist and work for justice in all areas of life, such as the economic and the eco-logical orders. The unitive way calls to action as well as divine union. What Can I Do for the Desert? The work of saving the earth is a challenge and responsi-bility for people everywhere today. The call resonates among informed spiritual persons. They have listened to the new cos-mology presented by scientists like Brian Swimme and the "geologian" Thomas Berry, and they have heard the plaintive warnings of the environmentalists that the earth is wounded and in danger of collapsing. The universe has become part of today's spiritual journey. The whole universe and its crown, homo sapiens, are seen as one vast living organism in which they depend on each other and rise and fall together. In the past the Revieva for Religious earth was looked upon as an appendage of humanity. Humanity alone counted, and the rest of creation was expendable. Human beings pursued their own desires recklessly, without thought about the effects in the environment. They could trash the earth, abuse it or destroy it, without worry because there were always other virgin territories to exploit in the same way. This was an affront to creation; we see it now as an affront to human life as well, because, in the words of Edward Abbey, "the wilderness is not a luxury but a neces-sity of the human spirit just as vital to our lives as water and good bread.''4 The uni-verse is an integral part of our human life. We are partners, and we participate in growth or decline together. In the abuse or destruction of the universe, we are diminished and dehumanized. The commission in Genesis 1:26 to have "dominion" over the earth did not give humans the right to abuse it. We are only caretakers, not absolute owners; we cannot take the myopic view of looking for an immediate return in pleasure or profit with no thought about the long-term loss to creation and the short-changing of future human beings. One reviewer of Thomas Berry's latest book, The Great Work: Our Way into the Future, quotes Berry and then adds some strong words of his own: "'What happens to the outer world happens to the inner world,' Berry avers. 'If the outer world is diminished in its grandeur, then the emotional, imaginative, intellectual, and spiritual life of the human is diminished or extinguished.' Our inner being will die if we continue to transform natural beauty into the soul-deadening, concrete-laden, box-store landscapes of a consumer society." s The obligation to safeguard the environment has three aspects: personal, societal, and spiritual. Each person needs to treat the desert with love and respect. Some of that concern is cosmetic, like cleaning up after using the land and properly dis-posing of the debris, especially nonbiodegradable material. Respect and moderation mean that we do not harm the plant life by careless trampling, that we obey rules about camp fires and camping, that we leave the natural beauty intact without pil-fering plants or otherwise harming the vegetation, that we Each person needs to treat the desert with love and respect. July-Aug;ust 2002 Larkin ¯ Dese~t Spirituality carefully control toxic substances like pesticides or poisonous chemicals. These are cominonsense suggestions. The societal obligation may take the form of joining groups like the Sierra Club that are dedicated to the environment, or of lending one's name to, say, Robert Redford's campaign to save the National Arctic Wildlife Refuge. Systemic problems can be addressed only by group action that can effect structural changes. We need to support these causes. There is no other way to stop the pollution of our waterways and atmosphere, to keep indugtrial wastes out of our rivers and lakes, to find ade-quate ways of dealing with nuclear waste, to stop the destruction of the ozone layer, to save the rain forests and wetlands, and to halt the woefully unbalanced overconsumption by the few. Elizabeth Johnson writes: "Every year, the twenty percent of Earth's people in the rich nations use seventy-five percent of the world's resources and produce eighty percent of the world's waste." 6 There is a special spiritual component today because of the crisis in saving the earth. Time is running out, and experts say that there are only twenty-five or thirty years left to turn the destructive spiral around. The problems are over-whelming, and the laborers are few. We can organize and we can work, but the odds are against us. At such times we need overt divine help. Specifically the challenge is to pray con-templatively, to face the societal impasse which Constance FitzGerald, in a famous article several years ago, connected with the dark night of St. John of the Cross: The dark night occurs as impasse in all sectors of human life, whether prayer, human relationships, or societal renewal. One response to impasse is trusting acceptance, silence before God, and lov-ing surrender, which bring wisdom and strength and which are qualities of contemplative prayer. We take our insoluble problems to God. We wait with faith and trust, ready to spring into action in changing what we can deal with and accepting what we cannot change. Contemplative prayer is an admission that our problems may be beyond human resources. But our prayer is full of hope, because contem-plation may stretch our imagination and inspire new creative ways of dealing with the problem. Solid prayer will certainly strengthen our resolve to continue the struggle. The popu- Review for Religious larity of contemplative prayer in our time may well be con-nected with the magnitude of the problems of this age. Desert Spirituality in Its Purest Form We return now to the traditional meaning of desert in the spiritual life, namely, desert as physical place and as symbol. The desert of the first abbas and aromas was the real wasteland. Anthony and Pachormus spurned the fleshpots of the Roman cities and went to the bleak deserts of Egypt to be alone with God and to keep careful watch over the movements of their hearts. The purity of heart they sought meant that they tried to choose only the good, to do everything right, in perfect measure, for the right reasons. They prayed and fasted to put to death the old man within themselves, so that the new man could come alive. They underwent this discipline for one reason: They wanted to see God. This goal was not face-to-face vision, as heaven will be (1 Jn 3:1-3); nor was it seeing God as an object, the way I see a person in front of me. Neither was it simply a new understanding, a new image of God, or a new perception. It was a seeing that meant presence, companionship, walking with God. It was contemplative union with God. Contemplation follows purity of heart as night follows day. We have a window into the thinking of the desert fathers and mothers in the first conference of John Cassian.s The imme-diate objective of life in the desert was purity of heart; this he called the skopos (English "scope"). The skopos is oriented to a further good, which he calls the telos, the end or final purpose. An example of these two aspects of human endeavor is the life of the farmer. The farmer prepares the soil, plants the seed, hoes and manures the field. All this is his immediate task, his sko-pos. But he does it all with a view to the harvest, which is the telos, the real purpose of his work. If the skopos of life in the desert is purity of heart, the telos is the fullness of the kingdom of God, the resurrected life. This program of seeking perfect purity of heart in order to find God can be applied to every Christian life. Purity of heart-- as freedom from every actual sin and as right relationships with self, others, the world, and God--is the immediate task of the daily struggle. Purity of heart is more than chastity; it is all the Larkin ¯ Desert Spirituality Purity of heart is all the virtues in perfect integration. virtues in perfect integration. This marvelous condition is often set in negative terminology. It is called detachment, or indif-ference, or freedom from sinful habits. But it is a very positive condition identified with biblical faith. This faith is the response to the word of God wherever it is recognized. It is the faith of the Virgin Mary in St. Luke's Gospel. At the annunciation, for example, she is perturbed at the angel Gabriel's message. How can she, a committed virgin, be the mother of the Messiah? When the angel assures her that God will provide, she gives her full assent to that word. She lets go of her own project in favor of God's word. A high degree of purity of heart means a heart full of faith. It means a heart full of love. The pure of heart are loving per-sons. They will see God, that is, they will know and love God, as described in the First Letter of John: "Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love . No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us" (1 Jn 4:7-8, 12). For the desert fathers and mothers and espe-cially for theologians like Evagrius and Gregory of Nyssa, see-ing God meant contemplation. This gift was the reward for the purification, and it consisted in experiencing union with God. This contemplation was not one particular experience, nor an altered state of consciousness. It came out of transformation. By allowing one's life to be brought under the movement of the Holy Spirit, one was born a new person, a "new creation" (2 Co 5:17). This new creature lived in the world of God and expe-rienced God in the whole gamut of his or her worldly occupa-tions. Contemplation was thus a way of life, not a particular experience. The Carmelite Application The evolution of desert spirituality suggested in this paper has special reference to Carmelite history. Carmel came out of Review for Religious the desert, born on Mount Carmel, home to the Old Testament prophet Elijah and to hundreds of hermits at the time of the Crusades. The Carmelites were one group of such hermits; they sought a rule of life from the Latin patriarch of Jerusalem, Albert of Avogadro, who held the office between 1206 and 1214. The result was the Rule of St. Albert, a contemplative and eremitical document that was simple, practical, and eminently scriptural. The tides of politics and war, however, forced the Carmelites to leave their sacred mountain and go back to Europe as early as 1238. The eremitic style of life underwent change in the direction of community and ministry, eventually making the order a mendicant one like the Dominicans and Franciscans. One of the early general superiors, Nicholas the Frenchman, tried to stem the move to the city. In 1270 he wrote a strong let-ter, called "The Fiery Arrow," calling the men to return to the desert. But the mendicant form of life had struck a chord in their hearts. They continued to foster their contemplative long-ing, but now they carried the desert in their hearts. The desert was a symbol now rather than the physical reality. A second charter of the order, called the Institution of the First Monks, dated 1370 and written by a Catalonian Carmelite, Philip Ribot, presented a symbolic life of Elijah and the example of the Blessed Mother as both a description and a defense of the new lifestyle. The book incorporated the thinking of John Cassian, especially on the structure of the religious life as the search for purity of heart and contemplation. The desert spirituality of Mount Carmel was adapted now to an active apostolic life. Henceforth Carmelite spirituality was at home in communities of active religious and lay people as well as cloistered contem-platives. The reform of Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross two centuries later built on this document and renewed and perfected the eremitical-contemplative ideal of Carmel. They did so, not only by promoting desert houses of total contem-plative life, but by organizing a way in which every Carmelite house could be, in the words of a great Carmelite of the next century, John of St. Samson, another Mount Carmel. The desert spirituality of Carmel's beginnings had become democratized and available to all who espouse the ideals of the Carmelite tradition. 3 73- --- July-August 2002 Larkin ¯ Desert Spirituality Notes t Christian Meditation and centering prayer are two popular forms of contemplative prayer, designed by John Main OSB and the Trappists at Spencer, Massachusetts, respectively, the former promoted by the World Community of Christian Meditation under Laurence Freeman OSB and the latter by Contemplative Outreach, whose leader is Thomas Keating OCSO. 2 Donal O'Leary, "High Noon at Ghost Ranch," Furrow 52 (January 2001): 27-35. 3 Silent Cry: Mysticism and Resistance (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001), pp. 88-93. 4 Cited from his Desert Solitaire by Thomas J. McCarthy, "The Ultimate Sanctum," America (9 April 2001): 6. s Stephen Bede Sharper, "A New Heaven and a New Earth," Christian Spirituality Bulletin 8 (Fall-Winter 2000): 15. 6 "God's Beloved Creation," America (16 April 2001): 9. 7 "Dark Night as Impasse," in Living with Apocalypse, ed. Tilden Edwards (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1984). s Conferences, of John Cassian, trans. Colm Luibheid (New York: Paulist Press, 1985), pp. 37-43. Devotion I am twelve, have read of the child Virgin martyrs, and decide it is High time I practice such virtue. At My next confession, after the usual Childhood sins, I say I want to Vow myself to God like a saint. The Assistant pastor, thinking fast, replies That at present I don't know The vocation God has chosen For me, but I may promise him My chastity until I take that vow, Or those of marriage. Satisfied, I rejoice in God's favor, and Make my promise. Mary Hanson Review for Religious BARBARA ZAJAC Three Forms of Community Living: A Survey Report For much of the 20th century, sisters who performed charitable service works lived in convents near the institutions they served. As missions and roles changed after the Sister Formation Conference (1950s) and Vatican Council II (1960s), so did the living arrange-ments, often necessitated by travel considerations. Congregations such as these had called themselves "communities" when they held common missions and residences, and they continue to use this term today even though--wearing few or no common ~ymbols, ministering in widely diverse occupations, and residing in locales favorable to their mission assign-ments- many are barely identifiable as members of a group of sisters. Puzzled that this topic received little attention in sociological literature aside from Wittberg's analyses (see Bibliography), I found myself raising several research questions about the meaning of "community." Does it mean a location-based entity? A process? A set of relationships? A task force? A par-ticular goal or ideal toward which people strive? As part of a larger study (Zajac, 1999b), I studied Barbara Zajac first contributed to our pages in 1999. Her current address is Department of Sociology; Indiana State University; Terre Haute, Indiana 47809. July-Aug£ust 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living one religious order of apostolic sisters. Though from their founding the group provided chiefly educational and medical services, individual sisters now select their own mission assign-ments, which include traditional teaching and parish pastoral work, professional careers such as psychologist and speech pathologist, and social activism and feeding the homeless and hungry. Throughout California over a two-year period (1995 and 1996), fifty members of this congregation were interviewed indi-vidually and in-depth. Although the sample was volunteer and purposive, it is considered fairly ~:epresentative of the order in general (see Zajac, 1999a). Additional information was obtained from the group's monthly magazinE, religious periodicals, and selected participant observation. The group is given the pseudonym Sisters of Reconciliation of JesusI (SRJ). Similarly, individual names and identifying factors have been disguised or altered. What Community Means It is evident that there is no widespread consensus about the word community. Putting feelings into words was difficult for the sisters, and they responded in words they were comfortable using. Some began with what I would call generalized notions of community, and others described what community involves or how it can be formed and lived. Still others spol~e of mani-festations of community and of how community is maintained. Nearly everyone cited some of the qualities I will describe under manifestations of community. Anything approaching near agreement on most of the gen-eralized notions of community was absent. Some sisters attached the term to a specific location, while others denied the impor-tance of a spatial component. Some described community as an ongoing process that is never completed, or as an ability, agree-ment, or commitment. Others mentioned the people involved and the human connections among them. A number of the sis-ters spoke of community as a bond or tie among people, a togetherness, while others used such phrases as "a living-out of the vows," "a unanimity of vision and purpose," and "the charism [of the Sisters of Reconciliation] lived out." Regarding Review for Religious the often mentioned familial nature of community, there was much disagreement. Some denied that it is a family, some described it as "like" a family, and others claimed that it is "more than" a family. Certain sisters told me they think community involves notions of struggle, being invested in the group or having a sense of ownership about it. Some explained the factors by which they create for themselves a sense of "community," ger-mane to the can-be-done category. While at least one sister cited similar ministry as the key to community, others thought the key is personal characteristics such as being open to others, try-ing to understand them, and being thoughtful, prayerful, and considerate. Many said that much communication is needed, and a great deal of give-and-take, exemplified in being open to others, trying to understand them, and allowing for the flow of communication, with its misunderstandings, disagreements, and concurrences. Others talked of the mechanisms by which community can be sustained, such as living or working together, "making it happen," or constantly articulating the meanings. The latter suggestions are rather nonspecific, but the next item is quite different. Certain sisters told me they think community involves notions of struggle. Manifestations of Community Nearly everyone listed one or two qualities in the category called manifestations ofcommunity. A good many used a small number of emotionally laden terms, heartfelt terms: empathy, interconnectedness, sharing. Others used different words, but their intent seemed similar enough that I could not justify putting their statements elsewhere. Examples of this are "living together, not singly" and "working on things together." In this "manifestations" category many talked of the people they encountered, or of the work as being a continual process; some continued an articulation of "what community means to me." Human behaviors and interactions, with their sentiments July-August 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living and attitudes, make up the heart of community. Empathy is expressed especially through concern and caring, through notic-ing and having interest in others. One person termed this a "feeling for" others, and many called it "support." Such senti-ments are displayed in such particular behaviors and actions as showing respect and appreciation or at least acceptance; if not, the reality of the sentiments is questionable. If empathy is pre-sent and expressed, the members of a group develop and main-tain an interconnectedness, an interdependence, a mutual sense of belonging. They develop a social solidarity. Empathy, empathic behavior, and interdependence work together in what is called sharing, which seems to be central. Nearly all the sisters interviewed mentioned the sharing of something, whether faith or prayer, tasks, worldly goods, help-ful services, or expressions of caring support. Sharing faith and the spiritual life was mentioned most frequently, and, along with it, the emotional support this sharing provided. Things like housework, goods, and ministry are shared differently, depending on the specific living arrangements (to be described shortly). The sharing of spirituality and various works rein-forces caring sentiments and behaviors and the sense of being interdependent. It is through sharing even ordinary things that crucial personal connections are created and sustained. Representative Community Groupings Three types of community living groups will be described: a self-named "intentional" community, what I term a residen-tial community, and a community of one. These are composite portraits. They do not describe every type of living situation, but seem representative of the arrangements of active Sisters of Reconciliation. Intentional Community "House of Peace" is the sign next to the doorbell of a large house in a run-down neighborhood of the central city where poverty is endemic and violence is the norm. The home of five SRJs, this intentional:community was formed with express pur-poses in mind. The sisters deliberately chose its location amid Review for Religious widespread desolation in order to identify with and serve the poorest people of the city. The members were selected for their personal and professional qualities, namely, a desire for an intense spiritual life and an unwavering dedication to the mis-sion of the Sisters of Reconciliation in serving the city's need-iest people. There are five regular residents. Sister Elaine Sherman runs a transitional housing program for homeless families. Sister Mary Anne coordinates the sisters' social-justice efforts. Sister Ruth Patrick, retired from a full career of teaching, daily trav-els twenty miles each way to where she cooks and serves meals to transients. Sister Bertina Marie, who is bilingual, is a com-munity activist and pastoral minister in the Spanish-speaking community. Sister Jane Th~r~se, who has not yet taken her final vows in religious life, teaches religion in a local Catholic high school and hopes to study divinity in the future. The house is also the home base of a sister working in a residential house for adolescents and of sisters visiting temporarily from mission lands or elsewhere. Sister Ruth Patrick, the oldest sister and the one longest in the SRJs, was the driving force for starting this new house. She had been aware of the brewing turbulence in religious life since the 1950s and thought then that the sisters ought to be living more adult lives than was possible while rigidly observing detailed rules and daily schedules in sequestered convents. She wanted to live out her own values explicitly, holding prayer in common, sharing with the poor, living very simply, and being concerned about others and accountable to them. And so she looked for sisters that she felt had a strong sense of the SRJ mis-sion and were dedicating their lives to living it. She looked for sisters who knew themselves well and.knew what would equip them well for their ministries. She looked for sisters who were aware of what would personally empower them and what might drain them of apostolic energy. She looked for sisters who were willing to give support to others and to receive it as well. Such sisters she approached with her proposal. Perhaps most important, these women must be open to new forms of prayer such as sharing of the heart rather than recit-ing formulaic prayers at specified hours. This prayer involves common reading of a passage from the Bible' and then individ- July-August 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living ual reflection and comment on what the reading means to each one, how it applies to her own life. It demands a willingness to be open and vulnerable to other people. This sharing of faith and spirituality is not for everyone. Some older sisters, in par-ticular, have been reluctant to engage in it. Now, when a new member wishes to join the house, she comes and talks with the existing group about her hopes and ex.pectations for common life. She learns that, in addition to sharing faith and emotional support, the group divides up the house chores, such as bookkeeping and paying the bills, shopping for food and preparing meals, cleaning and yard work. She learns that she is to live on the allotted personal budget and to reserve some of that money to support foreign missionaries. She learns that "one person's guest is every person's guest" here. Although a sister may dislike or resent such an interview before being admitted to a new house, she needs to remind herself that the present residents consider it crucial that new residents know and agree to support these values and their explicit expression. Sister Elaine, who came to religious life through her vol-unteer work and not directly from her Catholic schooling, explains more about this group's dynamics~ Although they min-ister in diverse fields with varied schedules, they reserve one night a week as their community night, when all will be present for prayer, eating, and sharing. Her social-work background leads her to describe the difficulty of working with people "who are blocked up" by past traumas or interpersonal issues. This form of life, this "microcosm of society," is a difficult life to live. It must enable sisters to go out and minister to the world. They must learn to be communicative and must get to know each other's histories. Since there are various workable arrangements for getting through days cooperatively and smoothly, the sisters must con-tinually strive to accommodate themselves to the others in the group. Sister Elaine thinks that an all-female group can be "really beautiful and powerful or really terrible," depending on how they handle interpersonal relations. The key thing, in her experience, is to keep talking to each other and "not whine." She admits that she had to learn some of these things herself in community living and that it is still sometimes difficult to keep her own "space." She is one of those who prefer not to talk to Review for Religious anyone for a few minutes after arising in the morning, so she now showers at this time to maintain her internal quietude. Pastoral ministry to the poor and immigrant Spanish-speak-ing community is Sister Bertina Marie's specialty. While her day is occupied with teaching English as a second language and running a community center with various offices and activities (Head Start, legal clinic, medical outreach services, and chil-dren's programs), she is an integral member of the House of Peace. Seeking more ways to live out the SRJ vision, charism, and values, its members extend love and hospitality to sur-rounding neighbors. The sisters offer their house as a site for Neighborhood Watch and other meetings. They make sure that flowers are always growing in their yard to symbolize nonvio-lence in a locale where drugs, gangs, and hostilities abound. Sister Bertina Marie stresses the integration of the house goals with individual ministries: all identify with and serve the poor, value deep prayer life in common, and support others with goods and hospitality. Sister Mary Anne, the government-affairs coordinator for the congregation, spends her.time researching, writing, lobby-ing, and educating people about political issues that affect the poor. Working for such structural change where results come slowly if at all is for many an enervating and thankless task. She talks of recognizing one's own needs as well as those of others, and of balancing community life with ministry. She speaks from experience. At one time she held a position that "totally consumed" her. She thought she was in a vocation crisis and should perhaps leave the community. She was so burned out that she" had nothing to give to anyone and did not even want to "bring Jesus" to the people she worked with. An extended retreat, however, provided her with reflection time to realize it was her ministerial position that needed to be changed, not her SRJ affiliation. Now she highly values living with oth-ers who think as she does, all of them giying and getting real emotional and spiritual support. "Community has been a gift to me," she recalls, mention-ing the friends she has made and how they "move together in growth." She says she was one of the first to propose and pio-neer small-group living and that her experience with eight oth-ers proved its value for her. Being honest with each other and .~tuly-August 2002 Zajac * Three Forms of Community Living "I'm not accepted just because I'm capable. I can be a failure and I'm still loved." sharing their deepest values were what she had been seeking. When all members had the "same thirst for God and the desire to live out a faith life in mission," they found they did not fight over little things, but rather worked them out, a quality that is sometimes missing in residential communities. The youngest member of the House of Peace commun!ty is Sister Jane Th4r~se, thirty-something, planning to take her final vows within a year. She was attracted to this house for sev-eral reasons besides its location near where she teaches religion to inner-city children. She was pleased that there were a vari-ety of ages together there and liked their outreach to the neigh-borhood. As a newer SRJ, she appreciated this group's willingness to work with younger members and pass on wisdom and insight from their experience. Sister Jane Th4r~se cites a sentence to describe the com-munity's value to her, a line from the SRJ constitution: "With the strength that comes from our life together, we turn to serve the world in need." "This was not only memorized," she says, "it was lived." She remarks that the constitution holds that SRJs share "all that we have and are," including personal uncertainties, frailties, and inabilities, all of which she knows firsthand. Before her current ministry she was locked into a miserable sit-uation where she had no power or auth.ority. She says that, although her sisters in this local community were in no position to give her help or even offer constructive criticism, speaking about her difficulties and receiving support in return were cru-cial to her fulfilling that assignment. Such unconditional accep-tance comes from being a member of the community. She says, "I'm not accepted just because I'm capable. I carl be a failure and I'm still loved." The ability to be vulnerable and to share one another's gifts helps her "to find God active in the world." In addition to these regular residents, House of Peace is also the local community for Sister Mary Kimball, a member of the SRJs of the East Coast. In Califoi'nia to gain experience in a new ministry, she runs a home for truant and delinquent high Review for Religious school girls who show academic or other creative potential. Because this ministerial unit requires her live-in presence, she affiliates with the House of Peace local community. Ordinarily she will be there every Monday evening to share dinner, prayer, and occasional social activities. Being a member of this group keeps her from feeling isolated and abandoned and allows her to give and get support within the context of her commitment to the mission of the SRJs. Residential Community The convent of St. Junipero Serra sits amid a pleasant res-idential neighborhood in the west side of the city. Next to the Catholic church and school, it once housed sisters of the con-gregation responsible for running the school. Now no sisters teach there. Not needed for parish activities, the building is rented to the SRJs for a reasonable fee. The residential com-munity is home to seven SRJs engaged in various ministries; the youngest is in her forties, and two are semiretired. This convent is run by group government, explains Sister William Joseph, who teaches math at Sacred Heart College for Women, established by the SRJs. Group government, originally an experimental form of living, applies now to almost all resi-dential groups and means participatory decision making in mat-ters that involve all members. The group collectively determines the extent of common prayer life, shared meals, other domes-tic activities, and group celebrations. "Respect" and "acceptance" are two words frequently heard in this group because, as one explains, "not all things can be shared well." This group has decided to share morning prayers Mondays through Fridays, and to gather one evening a week to share experiences and discuss the business of the larger con-gregation. They support the large community of sisters at events and serve as a "presence" in the parish. The group evening may be for holiday celebrations or indi-vidual birthdays or religious feast days. At the time of Sister William Joseph's interview in early January, there was a tall dec-orated Christmas tree in the common living room where we talked. She told me that this community would be celebrating its Christmas that evening, exchanging gifts. During the previ- July-August 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living ous week, all were out visiting their families, so a common celebration was postponed. Sister William Joseph was one of those who did not want to break up the convent into smaller residential groups in the 1970s. She has always appreciated the exposure to many other sisters and did not wish to lose contact with those she might not encounter in her ministry or in small-group living. She says she has always had to "stretch herself" for others, but adds that this is part of the commitment they make to each other. Similar is her opinion of all the congregational events this house supports; she really does not care for so many meetings and events, but attends as part of the duty she upholds. Sister Adia Marie Buckley, too, is involved in academics. An administrator at the same college, she speaks about reli-gious- life community a little differently. "Although there must be people with whom one lives and with whom one must main-tain friendly relations," she says, "community extends to much more than this." She explains the kinship sense she feels with the broad congregation of other SRJs in the United States and else-where in the world, and with affiliate members, former mem-bers, and sisters in other orders. Sister Catherine Tivnan, who runs an office at the congre-gational headquarters, explains why she chose this house: "They're kind of middle-of-the-roaders, and I thought I'd fit in with them. I thought this was what I was looking for in peo-ple, for not heavy-duty intensive living, but just a nice, com-fortable place where I would fit in and would be accepted." By "not intensive" she explains that in some places there are peo-ple who "dissect everything and practically have a magnifying glass on everything you say and do." She says she does not mind such psychological probing on occasion, but cannot take a steady diet of it. She gives an example. A sister with whom she used to live would read every article in the Sunday newspaper and then want to discuss it with anyone in the room at the time. Eventually Sister Catherine would explicitly refuse to talk with her. She preferred to look at the paper rather quickly and then move on to other activities like walking by the beach or going to a movie. Sister Elizabeth Conan is a registered nurse and medical instructor who teaches away from home two or three evenings Review for Religious a week. Dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a plaid shirt, she tells me that she does less of the cooking for the house than some oth-ers because of her split work schedule. Her family also occupies her attention for about one day a month because of some difficult illness. She loves spending time with her sisters in com-munity, however, including their times of play. She likes to barbecue in good weather, and she says that at times she will just put out a sign-up sheet shortly beforehand, rather than planning everything well in advance. "Dressed to the teeth" was the impression Sister Margaret de Lorca made when I met her in her office at the parish hall. She explains that, coming from an artistic family, she had always enjoyed the use of color in her surroundings, although she did not wear it during many years of teaching in the traditional habit. Working part-time now, Sister Margaret works in religious edu-cation, organizing prayer groups, directing occasional retreats, and providing individual spiritual direction. She tells me that the sisters have common prayer in the house at 6:10 a.m. Monday through Friday. They initially prayed together in the evenings, but found it too difficult because of their divergent schedules. She contrasts living here in a small group with living in the congregational center, which is home to about a hundred sisters and was her home for two years. Even though residents here have to work to find time to be together, it takes a lot less energy to relate to this group than it would to everyone in the large community. Life was stressful for her there because, in walk-ing down a hallway, she would commonly encounter ten or twelve different people. By the time the tenth person said "How are you, Sister Margaret?" she would be exhausted. She is "not an extrovert," but also "not a strong introvert," so daily relations with six other people are plenty for her. Another member of this group is Sister Margot Monroe, an educational psychologist who does counseling for individ-ual schools and has a private practice for handicapped children. The sisters have common prayer in the house at 6:10 a.m. Monday through Friday. July-dugv~st 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living Though she loved the children she encountered in her teaching career, she became frustrated by the time required for extracur-ricular events like sports and cheerleading. She wonders if the congregation made a mistake leaving teaching en masse, and thinks the sisters should have taken more risks in starting new schools and programs.' She also expressed her frustration about the church, where "the hierarchy has not accepted our SRJ growth" and women religious are "only tolerated in the church and not really accepted." This leaves her in the painful posi-tion of being more removed from general church affairs than she would like to be. She feels similarly frustrated in her residential community, where not all have grown theologically and personally to the extent she has. Some of the sisters are not accustomed or very open to sharing, which she finds particularly "life-giving." "People can fulfill all their responsibilities," she explains, "and still not share who they really are." Although she tries to encourage certain ones to be more open, she does it in a gen-tle manner. Still, she finds this group to be a little shallow: "I feel I have community with the people I live with, but it's rather superficial. We're nice to each other. Our horarium for the day is not problematic at all, but I wish we had a depth of sharing that would bring us all to a different place." She believes, however, that living in this house is a trade-off. These people are not her best friends, of which she hag a num-ber outside this convent. While she gains depth and stimula-tion from her outside friendships, here she has the freedom and flexibility to come and go as she pleases without making com-mitments for large blocks of personal time and energy. The final resident of this group is also semiretired. Sister Patricia Louise, in her nineties, likes to cook and works in the parish food pantry. She says that "the diversity of ministry now militates against close community life," which they had when all worked together. This way is "harder but healthier"; it keeps people in contact with diverse fields and offers stimulating con-versation. She says: "It used to be that, if you all taught in the same elementary school, your conversation was always about families in the school, problem kids, what was going on in the parish. But this way we also know what is going on at the col-lege, at the high school, and at the hospitals." Review for Religious Despite their interdependence in the common life, how-ever, they are independent about their use of free time. She says that everyone is very "embedded" in what she is doing on her own and that not living with one's best friends is really an advantage. She adds that she never wanted a residence that was "like a hotel" and prefers the interdependence she finds here. Even though these women do not have "a lot of involvement with each other, what they do has value." A Community of One Sister Zo~ Warnercalls herself "a community of one" because no other sisters live or work with her and she does not have weekly contact with members of her congregation. Fifteen years ago she went out on her own with the blessing of the com-munity (but no funding) to create St. Martin's Children's Center, a temporary residential and resource center for children in fam-ilies undergoing major upheavals in their lives. Like an available set of grandparents, this center can care for up to fifteen chil-dren for a maximum of thirty days each, although the staff tries to restrict it to fewer children and shorter periods of time. Sister Zo~ lived in this large residence with a dog as her sole com-panion while the structure underwent remodeling and opera-tions eventually got underway, and she still lives there. Her purpose in inhabiting the building before its operation was to become a "presence" in the town and to begin to get a "community focus" on the center. She is referring not to the SRJ community now, but to the neighborhoods, businesses, and voluntary groups which support the center's activities. Her strat-egy evidently worked, because, as people came to know her and her plans, they wanted to participate and give support in vari-ous ways. One measure of that support is financial. Sister Zo~ "lives on faith" to provide the center's operating expenses of almost a half million dollars a year, because it has no regular income. Contributions tend to be sporadic yet somehow ade-quate for their needs. She says: "The Lord provides when we need it. from the little things to the big things . We just watch the mailbox and say our prayers. We have never run out of money or closed our doors due to lack of funds." Although she hopes to obtain the services of a part-time grant writer later July-Auffust 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living "Community is the same as its core. I am a sister from the core of my being." this year, she has done this and all other duties herself, includ-ing caring for the children and teaching life skills to the parents. Although a few Sisters of Reconciliation have come to work with her for brief periods over the years, Sister Zo~ now sees none of them frequently. Yet her connection to the SRJs is strong, and "our sisters., very much know I'm a community member." She explains that her SRJ area superior holds general gatherings three or four times a year and maybe a day of prayer once in a while. By participating in these activities and attend-ing the funerals of older sisters, Sister Zo~ carries the SRJ charism with her and uses it to create a sense of community with whomever she is working: "There's something I have learned., that, no matter where you go, you bring the sisters with you or you bring your experience of community." In addition to SRJ gatherings and ministry associates, Sister Zo~ has a couple of good friends she sees regularly. One of these is a nun from another congregation; the other is a priest friend. This little group frequently celebrates Sunday Mass in the residence of the non-SRJ, and they sometimes follow it with a potluck dinner, occasionally bringing in other friends or neigh-bors. She had to create this new sense of community herself, however, and she attributes this ability to her long-standing experiences with the SRJs: "By coming out here, community wasn't provided for me. I had to create it, and I used the skills, the tools, the experiences that I had had for all those years. to create a life that was community-oriented. But I had to take the reins and take the initiative and have it happen." Would she like more contact with other SRJs? She says that, although she does not require it, she would welcome another sis-ter if one were to want to live and work with her, and perhaps this new person would help care for her when she gets "old." She emphasizes, "Community is not based on the number of times you see people, but on the feelings and interests to see, hear, and share with others." She also takes he~" identity as an SRJ seriously, having followed the advice of her novice mistress never to abbre-viate the word sister, but always to write it out as part of her name Review for Religious and identity. Sister ZoE puts this together with her feelings about community: "Community is the same as its core. I am a sister from the core of my being, and I am a Sister of Reconciliation." "Good" and "Bad" Community Some sisters gave examples of either "good" or "bad" com-munity experiences, which sometimes held more feeling than the brief descriptive words suggest. One sister said that real community spirit was truly shown when her very good friend died suddenly. She received about a hundred sympathy cards, which told her that the loss of this friend was about more than "my private grief." Another sister described spending some time at a residential therapeutic community for religious congrega-tions. The therapy included the sharing of their life stories, a "first" for this particular sister, where the sharing of those "sad and joyful feelings" created a strong bond within the group. Still another told of the difficult period when she lost her job because of organizational restructuring, but still had had the full support of the community: "I was very glad I was a com-munity woman because otherwise I would have had to get a lawyer. In community I just shared what happened, and they journeyed with me through it." Sister MaryJoyce described her experiences in one of the first experimental communities of group government in 1969. In this new group for which everyone had volunteered, there were between ten and fifteen sisters at various times over several years, and they were trying out new approaches to teaching as well as living. This situation was "life-giving": the participants were all "high energy" types and risk takers as well. They all cared for each other and the outside world, and were concerned about where people were with God, faith, and prayer. Sister Kathryn Ann described something similar. When her ministry took her away from others in her own order, she lived in an apartment house that people came to call The Nunnery because in addition to herself there were six sisters from another con-gregation, a priest, and a brother, all in individual apartments. Although they "lived singly" and ministered in different places, they got together frequently for prayer, meals, and Mass, often signaled by a knock on the wall. July-Angvtst 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Living 3.90 Sister Mary Magdalene has had her share of feeling less than appreciated by other SRJs, yet had a wonderful experience when she lived in a rural area with three other sisters, all teachers, who endured together the crisis of the school's closing. Although one of them was the principal of the school and also the supe-rior of the convent, they interacted as equals and "were just peo-ple together," frequently cooking and sharing meals on the weekends in an era when most convents still had cooks. Although they were together in the school, they also spent outside time together, but "it wasn't mandated. It was a choice we were mak-ing." This relaxed atmosphere where everyone's talents were recognized was contributed to by a pastor who was supportive and friendly and occasionally took them all out to dinner. Another sister, Sister Peg, described an aspect of her first job as a hospital chaplain. Living in an apartment across the street from the hospital, she provided hospitality for visiting sisters and especially those recuperating from surgery or illness. The informality and spontaneous "ease with which the sisters moved in and out of my life" was an exciting and fulfilling period. These positive experiences of community do not necessar-ily require other sisters or vowed people. Sister Benita Rogers shared one such experience when she was leaving an ethnically mixed parish that she had brought together over a number of years. Addressing a large parish group, Sister Benita, who does not speak Spanish, expressed her desire that perhaps now the diocese would assign a bilingual person as her replacement. A Hispanic man stood and spoke for the group: "It doesn't mat-ter whether or not you can speak Spanish. You have the corazon, the heart. That's how you've communicated. You've read us with your heart." It is the major congregational gatherings, however, that sev-eral sisters cited as the "best expression" of community spirit. One of these celebrations is the Congregational Days, when all sisters from the West come together with former sisters as well as affiliate members to celebrate the SRJs as a whole. The other is the jubilee celebration, held anr~ually on the feast day of their patron. Families and friends are invited to participate in the joyful celebration of the anniversaries of their vows as Sisters of Reconciliation. Among these hundreds of people there is a won- Review for Religious derful "spirit that you can almost touch." Everyone feels a part of this group energy and spirituality. It leads people to say that "the most profound experience of community is to experience us praying together." Although Sister Rafaela says she "has never had a bad com-munity experience," this is not the case for many sisters. Sisters described instances where they felt alienated, isolated, or at least not fully appreci-ated in the community, both in their local group and in the larger group. Often the difficulty stemmed from some-one's personality or behavior. When people are too busy to notice others or care about what they are undergoing, those others can feel "deadened" and not supported, making them withdraw from the group. On the other hand, those who "demand too much" from others in terms of time or resources make community living difficult. These people are usually those who have "not done their home-work" regarding their own interpersonal issues. Sometimes, carrying unresolved emotional traumas from their early life, they attempt to hide with the aid of alcohol, a too busy sched-ule, or emotional distancing of others. When people are "afraid of their own spirituality" or are "not willing to be honest" with each other, communal sharing and support are undermined from the start. Sometimes there is a plain lack of openness to others. Sister Joan Claire Mendoza described such a case. She lives in a large convent with eight or nine other sisters, four of whom work in the attached school, while the rest work in various other min-istries. They are together for morning Mass and one evening dinner per week. Although these sisters are "polite" to Sister Joan Claire, it is clear to her that they really do not want her there. Three of them maintain very close relations and actually "make up their own community." Fortunately, Sister Joan Claire has developed a personal and professional network of friends and colleagues from whom she receives most of her emotional Those who "demand too much" from others in terms of time or resources make community living difficult. -201 --- . J~dy-dugust 2002 Zajac " Three Forms of Community Living sustenance. Another sister described a similar case. She felt so rejected that she was "not even sure she was still an SRJ." Others expressed their isolation when they felt that their talents, gifts, or ministry were not appreciated. If community members remain or act unaware or. uninformed about them and their work, those living in common as well as those minister-ing on their own can be affected. Sometimes the personalities of the people living together are too divergent or their schedules too diverse to allow for harmonious living. Highly divergent worldviews in people can also make daily life uncom-fortable. In other instances a quiet person is misconstrued to be someone quite alien to her real self. One sister said she had been surprised to learn that her housemates had thought she was very self-confident and did not need any help or support. In another convent she had been perceived as a threat to others because she had more education than most of the others. The biggest obstacle to community, however, one sister said, occurs when people do not maintain confidences. This causes a shat-tering of trust and pushes people back to isolation. A few sisters expressed frustration or anger with the com-munity at large. One told of an instance when her mother was dying. Although everyone knew about this, there was little inter-est, caring, or support shown. Another sister said that several years ago she was angry with the general community for giving financial support to a foreign political group that she thought was wrong. Another sister said that sometimes lack of equality really bothered her. Because of her age she had been denied permission to study for an advanced degree, yet in that very year three sisters older than herself were approved and funded for graduate education. When this woman protested this as unjust, she received an apology from the president of the con-gregation, but still no approval for further study. In this article we have examined how sisters in one reli-gious community define and create "community." There is lit-tle general consensus about the term, although some common values are evident. In general, all agree that something must be shared and that there is a feeling of interdependence or inter-connectedness. How and what things are shared, however, varies according to the type of living group that is chosen. Individual Review for Religious sisters' stories were interwoven here into three composite pic-tures of community living: intentional community, residential community, and a community of one. Also, some examples of what creates "good" and "bad" community were given. The various types of community exist in various circum-stances and are experienced in various ways by individual sisters. There seems to be no one right way. There is a considerable diversity of views, activities, roles, and living arrangements. This diversity contrasts strongly with the pre-Vatican II con-vents, with their physical proximity to the apostolic work the sis-ters did, their thorough discipline, and their homogeneity of life conditions. Note ~ I later discovered that this was the original European name of a congregation now in the United States with a different name. Bibliography Beane, Marjorie Noterman. 1993. From framework to freedom: A history of the Sister Formation Conference. New York: University Press of America. Eby, Judy, RSM. 2000. "A little squabble among nuns"? The Sister Formation crisis and the patterns of authority and obedience among American women religious, 1954-1971. Unpublished doc-toral dissertation, Saint Louis University. Emerson, Robert M., ed. 1983. Contemporary field research: A collec-tion of readings. Prospect Heights, Illinois: Waveland Press. Merton, Robert K., Marjorie Fiske, and Patricia L. Kendall. 1990. The focused interview: A manual of problems and procedures. New York: Free Press. Powdermaker, Hortense. 1960. Stranger and friend: The way of an anthropologist. New York: W.W. Norton. Quifionez, Lora Ann, CDP, and Mary Daniel Turner SNDdeN. 1992. The transformation of American Catholic sisters. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Vatican Council H: The conciliar and postconciliar documents and More postconciliar documents. 1975, 1982. Edited by Austin Flannery OP. Northport, New York: Costello Publishing Co. Wittberg, Patricia, SC. 1990. Dyads and triads: The sociological impli-cations of small-group living arrangements. Review for Religious 43, no. 1 (January-February): 43-51. July-August 2002 Zajac ¯ Three Forms of Community Li~ing ¯ 1993. Residence stability and decline in Roman Catholic reli-gious orders of women: A preliminary investigation. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 32: 76-82. Zajac, Barbara. 1999a. Becoming a nun: A general model of entering religious life. Review for Religious 58 (July-August): 403-423. --. 1999b. Community suicide: Secularization in Catholic nuns with the manipulation of ritual and symbol. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of California, Riverside. Wounded The unseen spider ripped my flesh, and drew blood, nourishment, afresh, and left a black-red crater there: pink, puffy, filled with pus - not fair. A round wound one inch wide oozing fluid down the side. I've been a meal for a foreign beast, stamped with a bump, a spider's feast. This tiny spider sucked sustenance from me, drew life, left a mark, for all to see - how dare he! Am I any different? Don't I do the same? Feed on the Christ, wound him, without shame? Michael J. Lydon Reviev; for Religious JOEL GIALLANZA Expert Practitioners of Union in Community Once upon a time community was uncomplicated, ever a delight in which to witness and work, a constant joy to be and build. Beg your pardon! Are we talking about reality here? Yes, but only by flashback to the language and imagery of a different era. Let me explain. In researching various writings on religious community--most of them published from the 1930s to the early 1960s--I wondered if the lived experience of community during those decades matched the somewhat romantic and idealistic rhetoric about it. I decided that it prob-ably did not; rather, the rhetoric offered encouragement and hope as supports for the lived experience. Religious knew then and continue to experience now the complexity of community life. The word community itself has a complex meaning. It means more than religious living in the same residence. We know that community members may be scattered across cities and even across continents. Another facet includes the personalities and perspectives of the members. Similarity and unanimity are no guarantee that a community is healthy and thriving or even that the members know one another more than superficially. Community encompasses the members' cultures and customs and their ages and attitudes. And so we can ask: How do we recognize one another as members of the Joel Giallanza CSC last wrote for us in May-June 2000. His address is Province Center; 1101 St. Edward's Drive; Austin, Texas 78704. July-August 2002 Giallanza ¯ Expert Practitioners of Union community? Community also encompasses the unique heritage and history of each religious institute and the cast of charac-ters who have lived that heritage and been a part of that history. And there are our own experiences in life and ministry. The complexity of religious community does not diminish its potential for living up to the rhetoric of earlier eras. In truth, it has all the potential with which humanity was invested by God at creation. And yet, when we discuss the many factors currently influencing religious life, the task of formulating an all-encompassing definition or description of community is quite daunting and sometimes discouraging. This perception, this temptation to invest less time and energy in such discus-sions, can have a detrimental effect on the quality of community we hope to build for the future. These present reflections are intended to resist that temptation and to encourage continu-ing efforts to form and live and sustain community. Forming Community In the apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata (hereafter VC), Pope John Paul II writes: "Consecrated persons are asked to be true experts of communion and to practice the spirituality of communion as 'witnesses and architects of the plan for unity which is the crowning point of human history in God's design'" (§46). This is a significant challenge; to be "true experts" at almost anything in our world is a considerable achievement. Being expert practitioners in the spirituality of communion calls for more. John Paul's understanding of communion is incarna-tional: communion does not exist apart from those who strive to live it daily. The etymology of the word "expert" provides an important insight. Often the term is used in a static way, indicating an acquired ability needing little if any further development. The root meaning, however, is quite dynamic: an expert is one who tries and who learns by trying. As a person's ability matures, there are always new approaches to try and new things to learn. The words experiment and experience have the same root. One way, then, of becoming experts in communion is through our experiments and experiences in community. We must keep try-ing and keep learning. Community is never finished. Review f

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