THE « GETTYSBURG JBERGUHY The Literary Journal of Gettysburg College Vol. XII. GETTYSBURG, PA., NOVEMBER, 1903 No. 6 CONTENTS THE EVOLUTION OF OUR NATION'S PRINCIPLES . 174 JOSEPH E. ROWK, '04. ROOSEVELT AND MALTHUS 180 W. W. BARKLEY, '04. "THE RAVIN' " SCHOOLMASTER 1S4 B. A. STROHMEIER, '06. POLITICAL INDIFFERENCE 185 THE ANALYSIS OF A NURSERY RHYME . 188 JAMES G. DILLER, '04. A VISIT TO McKINLEY'S TOMB 191 BRUCE COBAUGH, '05. THE HOUSE WE BUILD i93 EDITORIALS . 196 EXCHANGES 199 174 'J'HE GETTYSBURG MEKCURV. THE EVOLUTION OF OUR NATION'S PRINCI-PLES. JOSEPH E. ROWE, '04. TIME continues to roll on in its eternal course. Nations are only born under the doom of decay. Men rise to heights of greatness, are cut off in the twinkling of an eye, and pass forever from this earthly habitation. But there is one principle whose evolution the vicissitudes of fortune have failed to arrest. It is the development and growth of government. From time immemorial men have lived under some sort o f government; its genesis antedates all history. As far back as the great Aryan migrations there existed established laws, but even these were not the first in the history of the world. Many centuries had passed away since the mighty Nimrod or the queenly Semiramis held sway in Babylon; the Israelites had al-ready grown into a great nation, and the valley of the Nile had become both the "cradle and the tomb" of kings. Even the most primitive and most degraded peoples recog-nize some sort of leadership or control. From the Bushman of Australia, and the Hottentot, down to the American Indian, there is the same idea, though vastly different in degree, of rul-ing and of being ruled. Slowly has the evolution of government progressed, but, as surely as there is a God from whom it flows, no obstacle has impeded its steady advance. It has grown under the law of "the survival of the fittest," and its triumphs are but the re-sults of natural law. The civil ideas which have been evolved from a less complete to a more perfect and more practical sys-tem were as irresistible in their course as decrees of fate. There seems to have been that same great but awful force at work for the development of the ideal nation which, to a great extent, "shapes our ends, rough hew them as we will." When con-ditions favored the established principles, epochs of peace and prosperity ensued; when circumstances were adverse, wars and revolutions necessarily arose to restore the equilibrium. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 175 The path of their triumphal march down through the ages reeks with blood; where they have been opposed desolation reigns. The once glorious empires of the East are only dis-covered in their buried ruins; the pyramids are monuments of the dynasties which built them ; the crumbled statuary and art of Greece are but symbolic of her decay; and the ruins of Pompeii are the only vestiges of glorious Rome. Every at-tempt and apparent success to crush out the idea of further de-velopment in the governmental realm has virtually been a throwing of oil upon the fire glowing in the hearts of patriotic people. The pious Aeneas, exiled by fate, founded a nation greater than the victor of his fatherland. Carthage tried to crush aspiring Rome and only brought about her development. Pilgrims, deprived of liberty and exiled from the Old World, founded a mightier and freer commonwealth in the New. In this governmental evolution there have been two distinctly opposite principles warring against each other—Liberty and Unity. The spirit which has animated the heroes of liberty is active in its plans, uncontrollable in its measures and irresistible in reaching its goal; its doctrine is Radicalism. On the other hand, unity has been developed under the stern but careful plan of deliberation and statesmanship; its doctrine is Conservatism. Liberty is the harder to repress and was first evolved ; unity is the more difficult to maintain and its completion was last. The Goddess of Justice, determining the destiny of nations, holds in her hands a huge balance; on the one side is liberty, on the other unity. An uneven amount of either disturbs the equilibrium in the affairs of a nation; only a complete balanc-ing and blending of both can assure stability. The struggle which has shaken the world for so many centuries arose, first, from an excess of one and, then, of the other; the great beam rose and fell, and in turn the glory of nations grew resplendent or faded away. Every nation has been founded upon the plan of remedying one defect or the other. The people, furious at the remembrance of former injustice, drove Tarquin from the streets of Rome simply because he had been called king, but their freedom soon led to anarchy. Rulers of the Middle 1' 176 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. Ages, fearing such outbreaks, kept the people in virtual servi-tude, and the French Revolution was the inevitable reaction. The momentum of hatred for tyranny had so accumulated that no earthly force could withstand it. The equilibrium of the French nation was disturbed and it did not regain itself until Napoleon arose, who tried to force the great beam to the oppo-site extreme of one-man power. But France was not the only country in the world to groan beneath the horrors of revolution. In England there had been an almost continual contest between the King and Commons. The Magna Charta and the Declaration of Rights were both proclamations of liberty. James I brought about the "blood-less revolution of 1688," and later, George III forced the American Colonies into rebellion. But our forefathers felt the great importance of freedom. They fought with an invincible determination for liberty. For-mer examples of oppressed liberties made them desperate, and they sallied forth to meet the foe with the battle cry, "Give me liberty or give me death !" Thus, the seed, implanted in the heart of man from the be-ginning of the world, blossomed forth into newness of life. It had at last fallen upon good ground, taken deep root, and brought forth the blessings of liberty to all succeeding genera-tions. The United Colonies of America became free and inde-pendent states—the goal of liberty's evolution was reached. But unity was lacking. So long as there was a common foe, the States were as impenetrable as a Macedonian phalanx. But now there was no longer a common cause, and it looked as if there would be many little nations, each trying to main-tain its own place in the great struggle for existence. The States were jealous of one another, and bitter quarrels soon arose. Under the Articles of Confederation, the nation had no head. Congress could indeed pass laws, but could in no way enforce them. Conventions were called, but the States even refused to send representatives. Conditions grew worse and worse; so much so that the historian declares, "Instead of be-ing a united and friendly people, the States were fast growing THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 177 to be thirteen hostile nations, each ready to draw the sword upon its neighbor." Finally, in 1787 a convention was held in Philadelphia, the object of which was to form "a more perfect union." But the difficulties to be surmounted were indeed perplexing. The populous States insisted that representation in Congress should be apportioned according to population; the smaller States were equally emphatic in maintaining that each State, large or small, should have equal power. They finally compromised. There were to be two houses embodied in Congress: the one, whose representatives were to be apportioned according to pop-ulation ; the other, whose delegates were to be two from each State, vested with equal power. Thus, it is a blending of prin-ciples which lies at the foundation of our government. Accordingly, under the new Constitution, our nation entered upon a career of great success and national development. Dur-ing this period the Louisiana Purchase more than doubled our area. The pirates of Tripoli were disposed of with impunity. The war of 1812 proved beyond doubt the great power of American arms, whilst not one battle was lost by us in the war with Mexico. There had come into the heart of every true American a common national pride and devotion to country. So long as the foe was external the States fought together like brothers. But, in the near future, there were times to come when the foe would not be common. From the very foundation of our republic an awful tempest had been gathering its threatening clouds. Eminent men no longer .feared destruction or dismem-berment by any European power, but looked forward with great anxiety at the inevitable causes of internal disorder. Even in Jefferson's time the storm was already so menacing that he said: "In contemplating the future welfare of my country, there are troubles which startle me as a fire-bell in the night." It broke forth in its fury in the year 1861. The South claimed the right to secede. She looked upon the election of Abraham Lincoln as-a great step toward the abolition of slav-ery which, as she thought, meant her ruination. Eleven States f 178 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. seceded and set up a government of their own under the title of "The Confederate States of America." But the integrity of the country had to be maintained. War was declared; not to abolish slavery, but to prevent the disasters of permanent sepa-ration. The first gun was fired from Fort Sumter on April 12th. It is said to have been heard around the world, for it heralded a conflict which concerned not only our nation but the world. Men on both sides were inspired, not only by the prestige of the principles which they upheld, but by the love of home, country and family. The one represented freedom in the ex-treme, the other unity or common welfare. Both realized the vast importance of victory; each knew that defeat meant utter failure. They fought with the desperate valor of a wounded wild hart, which turns once more to make a final and supreme effort against its foe. Four long years of war left the country in desolation and ruin, which before had been the peaceful habitation of ttscbild-ren. For a long time the destiny of our beloved republic hung in the balance. Bull Run raised the fervor of the combatants to a white heat. Antietam favored the non Unionists. But, led on under the heat of passion and by the glory of victory, their "vaulting ambition o'erleaped itself." The Mason and Dixon line was crossed and the cause of secession was fighting against fate. But the valor of her constituents was mighty, and their spirit invincible. The crisis came. Something had to be immediately done or all would be lost. Fifteen thousand men rushed forth on open ground to dislodge the Unionists. Cannon after cannon ploughed through their gallant ranks, but on they came unfaltering. Even the cannon's mouth—the High Water Mark was reached, but their ranks had been mowed down and the cause of secession forever lost. The evolution of the ideal governmental principles was com-pleted, and the stability of our nation proven by test. She had long since shown her shores impregnable to a foreign foe, but now it was proven to the world that America, unlike the na-tions of the past, was not to be rent or overthrown by internal THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 179 disorder. The civil world was at last given a breathing spell, for the combating forces seemed glad to discontinue the con-flict and forget their quarrels. And now there is no longer a North, South, East or West, but all are blended into one in-separable compact—the United States of America. Her principles have spread throughout the world. They have leaped across the Atlantic and modified, if not completely changed, the spirit of the mother country; they have given new life to the sturdy mountaineer of 'Switzerland ; they have brought peace into Italy's sunny climes, and have made Greece long for a second "Golden Age." And it is only a matter of time, of progress, and of civilization until the world will recog-nize the efficiency of America's governmental principles, which are, in the words of her greatest statesman: "Liberty and Union now and forever, one and inseparable!" • Ever judge of men by their professions. For though the bright moment of promising is but a moment, and cannot be prolonged, yet if sincere in its moment's extravagant good-ness, why, trust it, and know the man by it, I say,—-not by his performance; which is half the world's work, interfere as • the world needs must with its accidents and circumstances: the profession was purely the man's own. 1 judge people by what they might be,-—not are, nor will be.—BROWNING. "Sow a thought and you reap an act, Sow an act and you reap a habit, Sow a habit and you reap a character, Sow a character and you reap a destiny." 180 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. ROOSEVELT AND MALTHUS. \V. W. BARKLEY, '04. The attitude which President Roosevelt has recently taken toward 'the increase of population in the United States, apparently challenging the theories of certain political econo-mists, particularly Mr. T. R. Malthus and his followers in Eng-land and America, puts before us a question worthy of our earnest consideration. Is it wise or unwise to advocate a con-tinuous increase in the population of our country ? In order to determine the wisdom of Mr. Roosevelt's position regarding this matter, we must go to our authorities, viz: Mr. Malthus and certain other political economists—to obtain a basis for our decision. The object of Mr. Malthus' investigations (1798-1803) were to find means for the improvement of society and to deliver it from its wretchedness and .poverty. He inquired into "the causes that had impeded the progress of mankind toward hap-piness," and offered a corrective for the same. Mr. Malthus advanced a theory (which is popularly known as the Malthusian Doctrine) in which he tried to prove that society could not hope to provide enough food to sustain all its members and that poverty, therefore, must be the inevitable outcome of a persistenee in increasing population, and that no blame could reasonably be attributed to society for its poverty. The Malthusians hold that population has a tendency to in-crease faster than subsistence, and that under such conditions some people, in the course of time, will not have sufficient food to maintain themselves, and poverty must be the inevitable re-sult, irremediable, unless the race in question adopts some means to prevent the possible increase of population. If the race fails to provide the necessary restriction, nature will step in and provide it for the race. Vice, disease, war, pestilence and famine—all these and more means may be adopted by na-ture to do her work of reducing numbers. In such a sifting process as this nature will make her selection and the fittest must ultimately survive. The above is a brief statement of the Malthusian Doctrine ^ THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. l8l It has been substantially adopted and supported by many mod-ern political economists whose opinions we have consulted. The Malthusians show that the birth-rate among any people, when procreation is allowed to run free and unrestricted, will always be in advance of the death-rate, hence, there will be a continual rise in population. The possibilities of this increase are very large, according to the law of geometrical progression. The probabilities are considerable. The facts of history indi-cate that the birth-rate is almost always in the advance, in a higher or lower degree, in an undisturbed state of society. Population then increases steadily. We said that it increases or has a tendency to increase faster than subsistence. This conclusion is based upon the great law of Diminishing Returns in Agriculture. This law needs no proof or explanation. Walker proves it conclusively in his Economy. Briefly it is this: "There is a limit to the amount of labor and capital which can be advantageously employed or expended upon a given area of land." Subsistence increases according to the law of arithmetical progression in contradistinction to the law of geo-metrical progression, according to which population increases. It is easily seen, therefore, that, as population increases, subsist-ence pet capita decreases. If population be carried beyond the limit of sufficient production lor the maintenance of the whole bod)' of society, poverty will ensue among a people. In a crowded community, such as the above continued in-crease in population will lead to, the pressure will come first upon the man with the large family and will force him to struggle hard against the scarcity of food and comforts; dis-ease and starvation must finally come. We have illustrations of this among barbarians and some modern Oriental nations, such as India and China, where they experience frequent fam-ines. Improvements in the arts of agriculture, domestic man-agement and government may withstand this pressure for a time, but, no matter in what direction, or how great the im-provement may be, population will ultimately, under the above circumstances, reach the point where the products of the soil will not support it adequately. So, the only sure and reason-able remedy for such a condition of scarcity, according to Mai- 182 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. thus, is prevention of reproduction to an extent sufficient to insureamplesubsistence/ifrcapita forall. Malthus wouldemploy rnan's reason and prudence and make it a moral restraint in-stead of reducing numbers by means of vice and misery, which, as we have seen, become inevitable results unless the former method is adopted. Evidently, France has adopted this Mal-thusian theory and practices it. The population of France is decreasing, and there is a growing sufficiency of subsistence and comfort for the whole nation. However, it is a question among many whether France is not doing this at the expense of her moral and physical well-being. It seems to be leading her into gradual degeneration. After all, France is hardly a good illustration of the practicability and good common sense of what Malthus taught regarding prudence and moral restraint as a means of checking the too rapid increase of population. Now returning to the question asked at the start, we may inquire again whether President Roosevelt is right in encour-aging the enlargement of families and the consequent growth of the total population of our country. What reasons can he produce? Has America yet reached the point in her econ-omic development where the Malthusian precaution is needed to check population ? If she has, how can we account for President Roosevelt's attitude ? There are reasons, perhaps, outside of the field of political economy that prompt Mr. Roosevelt to take the position he holds, but, assuming that he accepts the doctrine of the Malthusians, there is, nevertheless, sufficient ground to justify his attitude. He certainly would not advocate recklessness and imprudence in a matter of so great importance to the welfare of his country. In the first place, I do not believe that the United States has yet reached the point of Diminishing Returns in Agricul-ture, taking the country as a whole. That it is rapidly ap-proaching that point is not to be doubted. As it is, however, the prevention under consideration is uncalled for. With our present population, we have hardly reached the limit of our highest economic usefulness and the greatest returns per capita, with our vast areas of farm land under cultivation and still capable of much greater returns by the addition of more la- THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 183 borers. I refer particularly to the broad expanse of arable land in our Great West. Undoubtedly, we have not yet reached the limit where we cannot advantageously add more laborers in agriculture. Surely there is no room for apprehension and fear. What poverty there is now in our country is largely due to shiftlessness, ignorance, laziness and vice. There is still a splendid chance for all who will take advantage of our educa-tional system and then go to work. Mr. Roosevelt is right from a moral standpoint also. The increase of population ought to be encouraged in our country. There are those among the wealthy and educated classes in the United States, holding erroneous ideas about "Social Standing," who deprecate large families and who consciously avoid them. This ought not to be true. It would be a blessing for our country if more children were born to the wealthy and cul-tured and fewer to the poorer classes, the ignorant and vicious. We need more citizens reared in the upper strata of society among our best people and fewer in the lower strata. Mr. Roosevelt is right and has given his country a splendid ex-ample in the honest pride he takes in his own large family. France is wrong. Without doubt she is carrying the Malthu-sian Doctrine to wicked extremes. We need to rid ourselves of the sinful tendencies abroad in France which are wasting her morals and reducing her national strength. We need to exercise prudence and reasonable restraint at all times and shun conscious and wicked checks to the increase of our population. The honor, hope and pride of a mother are her children. This is Mr. Roosevelt's opinion and he would have no father and mother consider them a disgrace, a dishonor or a burden. f» 184 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. "THE RAVIN'" SCHOOLMASTER. B. A. STROHMKIKR, '06. ONCE upon a school-day dreary, As I waited weak and "skeary," 'Waited nervously the verdict from the teacher's judgment seat; While my eyes were nearly sapping, Suddenly there came a tapping As of something loudly rapping, Rapping on my breeches' seat. 'Twas the music of the raw-hide as it mercilessly beat Tunes upon my breeches' seat. How the dust flew out those patches, As I felt the raw-hide's scratches ! Yet I didn't necessarily have to skirmish or to dance. Strange the sound those whacks were making As the Prof, great paiiis was taking To appear to have me aching ; But he didn't have a chance, For the force of all the muscle he could use could not advance Past my armor-plated pants. Suddenly there came a silence, And I stood in grim defiance, While the goggle-eyed Professor squinted at me long and hard. He was tired out and panting. And I thought I heard him chanting Words that told that he was granting I his record sad had marred. Then he started, paused, and said these words which cut me like a sword, "Hand me out that weather-board !" Robbed of all my former po.wer, Like a nation's final hour— Like a Sampson with his hair off—I grew weak and weaker still. Then a bright thought struck me : "Mister, I know that you court my sister, And I'll tell Pa that you kissed her, Hit me even with a quill!" Fire flashed his eyes ; but that was all—he dared not do his will. Glory hallelujah Bill! W THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. I85 POLITICAL INDIFFERENCE. SECOND only to the claims of religion are the claims of country. This does not mean that the Christian should desecrate holy places with political harangue, or that he should become the willing servant of a political boss, but that he should discharge his political duties to free government in a manner befitting a noble, religious life and consistent with the patriotic ideals of our forefathers. The government that maintains liberty of thought, word and deed as a fundamental principle, and recognizes education and Christianity as the only safeguards of public liberty, has a just claim upon every citizen for patriotic vigilance of all political rights. If it is true, as has been said, that "the standard of personal morality in America is higher than in England, that of com-mercial morality probably a little lower, and that of political morality quite distinctly lower," let it not be said that it is a defect in our system of government, or that it is wholly a fault of those who are faithless and incompetent in office, for, here, every citizen, no difference what his race or creed, has equal power with his voice and vote, and can claim no exemption from the just responsibilities for the evils of the body politic. Ours is, in fact as well as in theory, a government of the peo-ple, and its administration is neither better nor worse than the people themselves. It was devised by patriotic men who faith-fully gave it their wisest thought, and so perfectly is its frame-work fashioned that an accidental mistake of the people, or the perfidy of an official, or the enactment of profligate laws are all held in such wholesome check by coordinate powers as to enable the chief executive to restrain or suppress almost every conceivable evil for the welfare of the nation. To achieve the highest results in our system of government, it is necessary that the citizens throw aside the theories and idealities of the philosophers for the practical guidance of the ship of state. But alas! he who is best fitted for governing f» 186 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. men too often loves it least, and he who is least fitted for teach-ing men moral and political truths too often turns his back upon his duty for the sake of more pleasurable occupations of litera-ture, art or science. If the reputable citizen refrains from bearing a just responsi-bility in our political conflicts, and thereby voluntarily surren-ders the safety of his person and things, as well as the good order and well-being-of society, into the hands of those who are least fitted for governing men, turn and place the responsi-bility where it belongs and do not blame the thief and adven-turer, for they are but plying their trade, and rob public rather than private treasure because men guard the one and do not guard the other. How often have we not seen good men swiftly invoking the avenging arm of Justice for an injury done to private property, but who are criminally indifferent to the public wrongs done by those who, in the enactment and exe-cution of the laws, directly affect their happiness and pros-perity? Do not excuse the indifference of the good citizen by saying that politics have become polluted. Such a declaration would be a confession of guilt, and he who utters it becomes his own accuser. If it be true that the politics of a state or municipality bave become degraded, who is to blame for it ? Surely not the country or ward politician, for they are a small minority in every community and in every party. If they have gained control of the political organizations, and thereby have secured their election to offices of high trust, it must have been with either the passive or the active assent of the good citizens who hold the actual control of the government in their own hands. Does not the official, who shames his constituents with disgraceful acts, owe his election to the silent assent or positive support of those who claim to be patriotic and intelli-gent citizens, but who lay aside their political duties because of some private interest ? If incompetent appointments have been made through the influence of some political boss, it is due to the fact that honest and good citizens have not protested with a manliness that would point to a sure and swift retribution for such wrongs and, at the same time, have not demanded a per- THE GETTVSBURG MERCURY. 187 manent and practical civil service whereby all dishonor, dis-honesty and incompetency in office would end. Can our presi-dents and governors be wholly responsible for the low standard of our officials? No; for if good men concede primary polit-ical control to those who wield it for sdftsh ends, and thereby make the appointing powers depend tit i-ir both counsel and support upon the worst political eU iiient, u ho is to blame when public sentiment is outraged by the selection of unworthy men to important offices ? The fruits are but the natural, logical results of good citizens refusing to accept their political re-sponsibilities. There is not a blot in our body politic to-day that the better element of the people cannot remove whenever they resolve to do so. There is not a defect nor a deformity in our political administration that they cannot correct in the legitimate way pointed out by our free institutions. If our country is to reach the ideal pictured for it by the framers of the Constitution, it must have the active support of those upon whom the burden of government should rest. It must have behind it more men like Nathan Hale, who was sorry that he had only one life to give his country. It must have the influence and best thought of every American scholar and not the scheme of the demagogue or the trickery of the partisan politician. Three millions of men lie buried beneath American battle-fields to give us that which we seem to prize so lightly : Politi-cal Freedom. But "that these dead shall not have died in vain," that the Utopia of Thomas More's imagination may become a realization, and "that this Republic, under the guidance of A1T mighty God, will live and prosper through the ages," we must bear our burdens patiently, accept our responsibilities courage-ously, and discharge our duties intelligently and with fidelity. "NASHY." 188 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. H THE ANALYSIS OF A NURSERY RHYME. JAMES G. DIJ.LER, '04. OVV often, in the care-free hours of childhood, have we repeated that alliterative verse of linen-book poetry,. with its halting meter and quaint simplicity of language: "Hickory, dickerv, dock. The mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one, The mouse ran clown. Hickory, rlickery. dock.'' And yet, how many of us have ever discovered in this bit of seemingly senseless doggerel the hidden story of an appar-ently triffling incident, with all its philosophical suggestiveness and condensed moralizing upon the great truths of life? Lest the casual reader should condemn this writing as non-sensical at the very outset, let us begin at once to interpret the jingling and apparently meaningless and disconnected lines. Have you not always considered the first line, "hickory, dick-ery, dock," as merely a mechanical contrivance of words to-rhyme with the word "clock" in the line immediately follow-ing? Doubtless you have, and have regarded it as a useless corruption of our language made to subserve a trivial end. Hut stop to think, and to your surprise you realize that that very mechanical meter, with its abrupt ending, is a most accurate adaptation of words to imitate the ticking of a clock. This ticking of the tireless time-piece attracted the attention of a diminutive rodent, and gives us material for a bit of mor-alizing upon the next line, "the mouse ran up the clock."' Frightened, no doubt, at first, he overcomes his trepidation and hesitatingly approaches in the direction of the monotonous sound. Alas ! how many of us yield, as did the little mouse, to misdirected curiosity and flee, as he did, affrighted from that which was not meant for us to know! Incidentally, we call at-tention here to another concealed bit of information. The clock must have been one of the old-fashioned variety, with long, pendant weights exposed to the open air, else our little THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 189 friend could not have reached it in the course of his investiga-tions. The next line is of special value in our analysis, inasmuch as it gives us the time of this historic occurrence, the narration of which has doubtless entertained the younger generation since the days of the horn-book A, B, C. It may have been either broad-daylight in the early afternoon when, we are told, "the clock struck one;" or it may have been the hour immediately succeeding that— "—very witching time of night. When churchyards yawn." Hut our insight has already become sufficiently keen by our experience of the first two lines, so that we readily conclude it must have been one o'clock at night when his mouseship pur-sued his nocturnal meanderings. Had it been one o'clock in the afternoon, the bustle of the kitchen in clearing away the remnants of the mid-day meal, together with the presence and wide-awake activity of the dog or cat, would have entirely pre-cluded the possibility of the mouse performing his perpendicu-lar tight-rope-walk on the rope or chain of the hanging clock weights. And, now, the last line of pure English in this classic bit of nursery lore gives, perhaps,a larger scope of meaning than any of those preceding. Having accomplished his perilous ascent, and explored the intricate labyrinth of wheels, pinions and oscillating pendulum, he hesitates whether to retrace his steps or to delve still far-ther into the unexplored mysteries of this queer contrivance. But suddenly, close to his velvety ear, there breaks upon the silence of the night a loud, jarring sound, half stunning him by its proximity, and throwing him into a state, of quivering terror as he crouches behind the farthest clock wheel and lis-tens to the ebbing, throbbing waves of sound vibrating with the detonation of the stroke through the metallic fabric of the works. Then, the innate instinct of self-preservation asserting itself, he makes a dash for safety, half sliding, half tumbling down 190 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. the clock-weights' chain and scurries away to his dark abode. Does he not typify all too well that over-ambitious spirit which strives to attain impossible ends, and to climb to heights where the atmosphere is too rare when the summit is finally reached, and the baffled, disappointed and heart-sick seeker is glad to return to his allotted place in the universe, just as the frightened mouse besought his subterranean retreat ? The last line, a repetition of the first, is intended to show how the clock went on ticking, in its accustomed manner, after the mouse had fled. Even so the great world goes on. Man is born—a diminutive mouse in the vast mansion of creation— he explores for a brief time, as the mouse did, mysteries too great for his feeble comprehension, and then returns to that place whence he came. And now, dear reader, have you not formed a better opinion of this doggerel rhyme which haunted your childish memory; and have you not conceived for it that appreciation which it so richly deserves ? 1 "A soul to fear its maker and to feel The finer things of life in their full measure ; A soul to hear God in the twilight calm And see him in the varied hues of dawn. A heart to hold some loves that closer lie Than aught of earth comparable ; a heart That spells its charity in words of deeds, A mind to commonsense, and those high acts That, welded, shape great Labor in its glory ; An arm to wield and mould all that these three Design, contrive—this constitutes a man.-' - ** # THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 191 ■*• A VISIT TO McKINLEYS TOMB. BRUCE COBAUGH, '05. AT the end of a short avenue which leads from the main wes-tern street of Canton, Ohio, lies the beautiful West-lawn Cemetery. To the many visitors it is of special interest as being the burial place of our late President McKinley, and it is for the purpose of visiting his tomb that we pass through the large gate at the entrance on a Sunday afternoon in July. On entering we are greeted by a pleasant surprise as we note the natural beauty of the place, for it is a veritable park. We cannot help but contrast it with other burial grounds we have known, many of whose chief characteristics are the long rows of cold marble and granite with their intermittent spaces laid out with mathematical precision, as if old Mother Earth were jealous of giving one man more than an alotted resting place in her spacious bosom. Nor do we experience that cold un-comfortable feeling that often passes over one on entering a cemetery. On the contrary, as we stroll along the winding avenue which leads through the cemetery, we pause as our attention is attracted to some new beauty of the place. To our left rises a ridge covered with trees. Here the stately oaks are sighing softly in the summer breeze. From their branches comes the songs of their feathered tenants in joyful melody as if inviting all to rejoice. We pause in the shade of a large oak and listen while nature speaks with an eloquence that can never be surpassed. Descending below, to the right, is a slope whose gently un-dulating surface is covered with green. It is bounded below by a brook whose clear waters sparkle in the sunlight The bank is covered with willows which dip their overshadowing branches into the stream. Here and there along its course are ponds in which swim the little sunfish among the floating lilies. We follow a short path from the main avenue and this brings us to the object of our visit. On the eastern slope of the wooded ridge is the exterior of the ** 192 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. large vault. In the .stone front with its solid arch and massive pillars, hangs the heavy iron gate that guards the entrance. It gives one an impression of stability and its general appearance is plain. We can approach no nearer than a distance of about fifty feet for it is guarded day and night by armed sentries who are pacing to and fro about the tomb. As we gaze on the walls which enclose his mortal remains, our thoughts turn back on McKinley's life. Thoughts of his public career come to our mind. We think of how he rose step by step from one position to a higher by proving himself worthy of promotion. His ability as a statesman, his election to the office of chief ruler of our nation and the integrity with which he served his country are among our thoughts. He seems to us a true American in the highest sense of the word. No less than these, however, is his great example of charac-ter. Again, we think of his death, his patience in suffering and the spirit of forgiveness which he showed for the man who gave him a mortal wound. And his calm resignation in the dying hour along with his trust in God make him a worthy example of a true Christian spirit. The sun is sinking behind the treetops and we have time to stay no longer. We return with thoughts of our visit that will ever be pleasant in our memory. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 193 THE HOUSE WE BUILD. IN the land of the East there once lived a king who gave to twelve of his subjects a sum of money with the command that each should build him a house. Each man took the allot-ted sum and set out to obey the command. Eleven bought the cheapest materials in the market and constructed their buildings on the simplest plan, so that they might save some money for their own use and complete their tasks; but the twelfth secured the most durable materials he could find and with painstaking care built his house as nearly perfect as pos-sible. When the buildings were finished, the king issued a de-cree that each subject, for the rest of his life, should live in the house which he himself had constructed. Imagine the chagrin of the eleven when they found that they must dwell in such unstable structures. Repairs soon became necessary as part after part gave way, and in a short time the buildings, too weak to stand the wear of time, collapsed. But the twelfth subject dwelt in his substantial home until the end of his days. Although this is only a legend, there is hidden vVithin it a truth which is applicable to mankind. Each individual must rear a building for himself—that unseen and uncomprehensible being or spirit—to dwell in. Perhaps we are carrying this on unconsciously, nevertheless, each day has its effect upon these structures. Either we are fashioning pillars and supports which will make our house a strong and beautiful one—fit to contain the noblest aims and purposes—or we are, by living lives of in-difference and ease, rearing such a structure as one finds on a neglected farm, which can contain nothing securely and which every adverse wind threatens to destroy. And there is no ex-change of property, no rental, sale or giving away. Each man must keep his own building and live in it as he himself has built it. Our acts, our thoughts, our feelings, our resolves, our aims and the influences which we receive from associates, books and surroundings are as really the material for our buildings as the t 194 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. lumber and nails for the carpenter. And just as essential for us is a plan. Each one should have a definite ideal as he takes up his work of art. For such an ideal, observe nature in her perfection as she manifests herself in the snowflake with its per-fect arrangement and whiteness, the globe of dew in its round-edness and purity, the new blown rose in its fresh beauty, the magnificent forests in their strength and grandeur,and the lofty mountains in their towering might. And the human body in itself, in its harmonious structure and workings, is a model for perfect symmetry and order. One of our writers speaks of it thus:— Not in the world of light alone, Where God hath built his blazing throne, Nor yet alone in earth below, With belted seas that come and go And endless isles of sunlit green, Is all thy maker's glory seen. Look in upon thy wondrous frame, Eternal wisdom still the same. One should carefully consider both the exterior and interior of the building which he erects. The exterior, while not most important, should receive some care. Have a good strong frame secured by temperate living and proper exercise, an erect form. A clear interior structure, with its furnishings, is import-ant, not only because it is the character, or at least what makes the character of the individual, but because it affects the exterior and makes it what it is to a very great extent. Our houses are more or less transparent, and one without can tell the nature of the man who lives within. On the outside we post the signs which describe the resident. Ruskin says on this subject: "There is no virtue, the exercise of which, even momentarily, will not impress a new fairness upon the features, neither on them only, but on the whole body." In the furnishings let a good strong individuality form the centre piece and let it secure for itself an appropriate setting; let it secure those qualities which make us noble and images of the divine. Let earnestness, enthusiasm, tenderness, a love for THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 195 beauty and harmony, observation, unselfishness and determina-tion be essentials in the equipments. If a man wished to build a perfect house, he would give his attention to every detail and try to make it complete. So in rearing our house, let us not polish and adorn one part to the neglect of another. The young girl who strives only for grace in a ball room and popularity in the social world, and the young man who develops only his muscles in athletics, are building very deficient houses. Symmetry and proportion are two qualities necessary to a beautiful building. In this work of building, we may often improve our own structures by helping our companions as they toil. While we are supporting a pillar or repairing a broken part for them, what is our surprise to find a new beauty in our own, while rough edges have become beautifully rounded curves. How delightful it is to live in a country that is adorned with beautiful and well constructed buildings ! In us lies the ability to adorn or mar the world by the structures which we rear in it. In addition to their improving our surroundings, they serve as incentives to others in perfecting their own buildings. The poet Holmes gives us an inspiration in the words: "Build ye more stately mansions, O my Soul, While the swift seasons roll. Leave thy low vaulted past, Let each new temple nobler than the last Shut thee from Heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown shell, By life's unresting sea." "ORLANDO." THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY Entered at the Postoffi.ee at Gettysburg as second-class matter VOL. XII GETTYSBURG, PA., OCTOBER, 1903 No. 5 Editor-in-chief LYMAN A. GUSS, '04 Exchange Editor M. ROY HAMSHER, '04 Business Manager F. GARMAN MASTERS, '04 Asst. Business Manager A. TY. DTT.LENBECK, '05 Associate Editors M. ADA MCLINN, '04 BRUCE P. COBADGH, '05 C. EDWIN BUTLER, '05 Advisory Board PROF. J. A. HIMES, L-ITT. D. PROF. G. D. STAHI.EY, 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 GETTYSBURG MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORIALS. What a great thing it is ! What a commendable TRUTH trait of character! What a power in everything! And yet how often debased, how often contaminated, how often distorted! It is our purpose to briefly set forth herein a few facts bear-ing directly on the welfare of this college; to reconstruct cer-tain distortions of the truth, which have been circulated by yel-low journalism to our detriment; and to assure our friends and supporters that Gettysburg is a college of gentlemen and not of "hoodlooms," as certain press manipulators, with clouded vision, would make us. During the past two months, there have been evil and ma-licious reports scattered broadcast, within no small radius of THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. I97 our college community, in which the boys of Gettysburg have been deprecated as a gang of rowdies, rogues and general roustabouts ; have been designated in all sorts of terms, border-ing on the villiainous; have had epithets, becoming anything but gentlemen heaped upon them in profusion; and have been characterized as an aggregation of degenerates. If these things were true, ours it would be to "grin and bear," but no individual, without a word of protest, much less a body of loyal college students, can see such maledictions afloat and such slander indulged in with impunity. We labor with righteous indignation under the knowledge that the good name of our college, undefiled for decades, is being vitiated without provocation. Therefore, we refute with vigor these monstrous prevarications. To the friends of Gettysburg we would say that the reports referred to above are not true, are utter falsehoods, and are not warranted. Instead of all kinds of devilment, which these vile, disgraceful recitals portray, such a state of affairs is non-exist-ent almost in totality. Class spirit, college spirit—all kinds of spirit, we are loath to confess, is at a lower ebb than it has been for a number of years, and, consequently, the real and only ex-cess, conducted by the student body, is thereby removed; for, be it known, that there by no means exists an organized quota of students in the college whose aim and object is the destruc-tion of property, and the debasement of their fellow-students. Such personalities Gettysburg does not support. To be sure, occasionally, a sudden outburst of college en-thusiasm does impel prudence a little beyond the limit, but never, within the time during which we have been flailed with the confounded misstatements of a debauched press, has it been carried to an end approaching that which these enlarged, in-flated, falsified and perverse specimens of a journal of the "yellow" type would have you believe. To the source of this polluted literature we consider it be-neath our dignity to directly refer. It suffices to state the facts connected with its origin and promulgation. These we offer to you as explanatory of these disseminated articles so liberally 198 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. savored with prevarication. We trust they may serve to right your estimate of our college; to reinstate you in your former attitude of good will toward us, if you have fallen therefrom by the great injustice done, and being done, us without cause, real or sham; to lead you "to believe that we are not "hood-looms," but men, such as Gettysburg has merited and owned in the past, and yet finds perpetuated in our persons. We ask you to discount these reports, which appear at our expense, with a reduction of one-half or three-fourths, which they will readily bear, and then the residue may, perhaps, be taken at par. These remarks may seem somewhat eulogistic, but we are given to self-laudation only in case of stringent necessity. This is one such case. What we want you to believe, alumni and friends, is that Gettysburg is a college, not composed of men of ideal character,but equally on a level basis with our contemporary institutions. We are not tainted and debased in character, in a class of our own, but whole and sound as any. The Pennypacker press muzzle was met with derision and denunciation when it became law. It was fairly paralyzed with a storm of opposition. And yet there is quality in that piece of legislation. While its operation, for the most part, is out of harmony with American principle, it could be made to operate with admirable results in specific cases. It is not our intention to justify the "muzzier," but would it not justify itself in our instance ? It would purge e\^il from the local press, perchance. Shall we try it? DIALECT 1'ne fed °f writing stories in various dialects, STORIES. particularly that of the Negro, the Irishman, the Westerner or Backwoodsman, is becoming very contagious. These stories, while they are comical and interesting and serve the purpose intended perhaps well enough, may become very detrimental to our language and especially so if they continue to multiply. The colloquial form of the English language is now ungram- THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. 199 matical enough, as every one will acknowledge, but what it might become if these corruptions are acquired, I should fear to state. For example the colloquy of the Westerner put into the speech of our fairly educated men of today would be unbecom-ing and distasteful, to say nothing of its effect. While this illustration may be an absurd one, yet it is not far in advance of the result of dialect writing. If we are given this species of literature we are going to acquire more and more of this kind of language. Another example only too realistic is that of the college student whose corrupt terms and phrases are understood only by himself and those associated with him. How often when speaking to an outside man does he find himself uttering these corruptions, which are, it may be, Hebrew to his hearer. This is an example of how easily we may acquire the lore of the different dialects if they are thrust upon us for our constant amusement or edification. Our tongues would be confused far more than the tongues of historic Babel. To the student of English, dialect stories, when they exceed the limit in number and quality, should be especially repulsive and, by heeding them with little or no regard, the student will be justified, the'offender punished, and the dignity of our English preserved. EXCHANGES. The most delightful bit of optimism, for it does seem to savor of the optimist, that we have noticed in our last month's reading, has been penned with regard to the college publica-tions. Hear some of the soul-cheering words of the Georgetown College Journal's ex-man, who has been so highly esteemed as to be re-elected to office: "They bring to us a message of the thousands of college men and women of this country who are giving their time to the study of letters and are becoming writ-ers of good English. We do most emphatically believe in col-lege journalism; and it is our firm conviction that out of the 200 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY. humble efforts that the college editor is to-day making will come the great American novel, and the great American epic, and the great American essay; in short, will come the great American literature, a golden age, that will outshine all that have gone before it." May college journalism result in a de-velopment of our literature equal to the expectations of our sanguine friend. There is much in the college magazine that does not warrant such expectations. But there are some col-lege men who, although their literary efforts are now making but a feeble light, are, nevertheless, blazing a pathway for grander and nobler things in literature. The Carthage Collegia?i has this interesting preface to its last number, which is intended, no doubt, for critics who become cynical in their observations:— "Kind reader, ere you turn away From viewing this small booklet's pages, And judge, perchance, correctly too, That they who wrote it are not sages, Think well, before you place it on the shelf, You might have written it yourself. Forget the weak, the poor, and of the rest, Though it be poor, remember thou the best." If there were made a classification of the college magazines into those seemingly making a special effort to present college news, with one or more literary articles to fill up the space, and those devoted principally to literary work, we would, no doubt, place such magazines as Tlie Monthly Maroon and University of Virginia Magazine in the second class. They belong to the part of college journalism that will result in the "Great Ameri-can Literature." The Ursinus Weekly has just come out with its first Literary Supplement of the year. The essay on "Seventeenth Century Lyric Poetry" shows a knowledge of the spirit of that time. The writer compares the songs of the "light-hearted" Robert Herrick with the "deep, sonorous" notes of Tennyson in an in-teresting manner. The exchange editor seems to have a good word for every one.
THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY The Literary Journal of Pennsylvania College Entered at the Postofice at Gettysburg as second-class matter VOL. X GETTYSBURG, PA., OCTOBER, 1901 No. 5 TABLE OF CONTENTS Nature's Chain, . 137 The Survival of the Fittest, . . . .138 Man Was Not Made to Mourn, . . . 143 Some Important Deductions from a Comparative Study of My-thologies, . . . . . . 147 The Thunder Storm, . 1SS Editorial, . . 157 Resolutions of Respect, . . . . 158 Oration: The Character of Our Early American Forefathers, . 159 James Russell Eowell, . 165 Exchanges, . . . . . 170 NATURE'S CHAIN [From the "Essay on Man"] Look 'round our world; behold the chain of love Combining- all below and all above, See plastic nature working- to this end, The single atoms each to other tend, Attract, attracted to, the next in place, Formed and impelled its neighbor to embrace. See matter next, with various life endued, Press to one center still, the general good. See dying vegetables life sustain, See life dissolving, vegetate again; All forms that perish other forms supply (By turns we catch the vital breath, and die); Eike bubbles on the sea of matter borne, They rise, they break, and to that sea return. Nothing is foreign; parts relate to whole; One all-extending, all-preserving Soul Connects each being, greatest with the least; Made beast in aid of man, and man of beast; All served, all serving; nothing stands alone ; The chain holds on, and where it ends, unknown. —POPE. ^•jataut HHOMIHIHHBBHHHmBIBH 138 77/^ GETTYSBURG MERCURY THE SURVIVAL OF TME FITTEST D. C. BURNITE, '01 [dies Prize Essay—First Prize] "Ivives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime." —Longfellow. TV/fANKIND is like the face of a mountainous country. As we -*■'*■ view the human landscape, here and there, like peaks which rise above the plain and rear their snow-crowned heads among the clouds, appear, in bold contrast to the ordinary level of their fel-lows, the mighty men whose lives are the pages of history. And as we contemplate these epoch makers, there wells up in us, and quite naturally, too, a strong spirit of emulation. We admire them and would be like them. Of course, not every one of us can be a Napoleon, or a Wash-ington, or a Franklin, or a Grant; but each has abundant chances of becoming a less conspicuous, but yet quite prominent, feature in the plane of humanity. And it is the existence of such chances that prompts the youth of today to ask himself and others how best to pursue success. Geologists tell us that peaks owe their existence to their dur-able qualities. The surrounding material, by the action of aqueous erosion, has been carried away, leaving these tall projections which have been able to resist for ages the frictional action of water. Upon this same principle rests the success of the "makers of his-tory." Certain things in their make-up have enabled them to stand firm against the attrition of such circumstances as have swept their less sturdy fellows into the "realm of innocuous des-uetude." Their success is the result of the operation of the prin-ciple of the survival of the fittest. Ever since the world began, the principles and causes which have resulted in such changes as have been mentioned have al-ways been the same, and are the same, as those in operation to-day. And this is true of human affairs; so that the young man must realize that the same principles and causes which determined the success of great men, still operate. Ere he can resist the downward pressure of the busy, indifferent world about him, and, as Greely says, "bulge out over the top, where he is sure to be seen," it is necessary that he follows the same plan to secure suc-cess as that which has enabled others before him to become emi- THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 139 nent. Just as they have survived innumerable discouragements and scaled the heights of fame because they have made themselves the fittest, so must the youth, in order to reach a high place, develop in himself those things which will render him, too, fit to combat opposing forces. And what are the elements of that fitness which has led to the success of men? Rvery person expects to be or do something, some day; that is, all have purposes. Yet most of these are more or less vague. But what we who would get on in the world must have, are defi-nite purposes. A race without a fixed goal is nothing. Without a definite end to strive for, life is a mere "struggle for existence," and existence is all we get. But life is more than this. The fu-ture holds out many prizes to each of us, to be won only by those who decide definitely for what prize they shall strive. The trav-eller must know, if not to what distance he desires to go, at least what is the bearing of the course he wants to pursue, or he may travel in a circle. If we want to move from our present positions, we must have purposes which, though they are not necessarily limited in extent, yet in direction must be definite. Napoleon, at the very outstart of his brilliant career, aimed at the rulership of the French nation. Lincoln had a definite intention, formed early in life, to do good to others. And how signally he suc-ceeded when he liberated those millions of sufferers! And to rise as these men did, we too must adopt this important element of their fitness,—a definiteness of purpose. Besides the fact that great men have had definite intentions, we observe that they all show elements of fitness in the characters they possessed. All the truly great—and we mean by truly great, not a Nero or Lord Byron, but those whom the good admire,— have been men of high morality. And the more elevated their moral traits, the more we admire them. High moral qualities are a part of the equipment which has bsought them, and will bring us, success. As a possessor of such characteristics, "Old Abe" stands pre-eminent,— a veritable personification of honesty; an honesty which did not allow him to support the unjust, though legal, side of a question; an honesty which made him lose in purse, but gain in esteem, till as a result of this quality he attained a world-wide re-spect, which will last as long as man and memory exist. Lincoln's is real fame, and the young man can do nothing better than adopt 140 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY \ I in his character the prime element which brought renown to "Honest Old Abe." True courtesy is a moral quality, based upon thoughtfulness and consideration for others. Men must be gentlemen, if they want to make progress. Great men are not always polished models ot etiquette, but courtesy has always been a mark of their fitness to occupy the positions at which they have aimed. ' 'Jeffersonian simplicity" did not hinder the third President from reaching the place to which he was helped by Jeffersonian courtesy. Eet us avoid error, and imitate in ourselves this essential quality of fit-ness to advance. Impure and intemperate habits invariably destroy all chances of complete success. Neither Burns nor Poe have secured all the glory which steadier lives would have brought. Irregular habits undermine and weaken all the qualities of body, mind, and spirit, and under their influence complete triumph is impossible. Better adopt the kind of habits which rendered long and useful the lives of Greely, Bismarck, and Gladstone. Their temperate lives are models from which men may safely mould their conduct and there-by place themselves among the fittest to survive. Morality is admirable, but when heightened by the influence of Christian principles, it becomes sublime. Men like Luther and Washington, who have worked under the rule of Christianity, stand at the very summit of human esteem. Elijah Morse once said: "Young man, a good character; yes, and a clean, religious life, are the foundation stones for success." But the moral and religious traits we have spoken of are not all that bring success. It is true that they are the "foundation stones," but upon these there has always been built a structure of other materials, which have made their possessors able to sur-vive opposing forces. The extremely pious are not always re-membered, but those whomwe admire most and shall never for-get have linked their piety, as we should do, with other things essential to render them fittest to endure. L,et us speak also of these. Josh Billings says- "Energy is what wins. Many men fail to reach the mark because the powder in them is not proportional to the bullet." Men must have "vim," or they fail to remove what to them seem insurmountable obstacles. The Alps were no barrier to the vigor of Bonaparte. Neither must the young man THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 141 of to-day lack this same sort of energy. It will enable him to sur-vive in the conflict with whatever comes between him and victory. The life of the man who would "fight it out on this line, if it takes all summer," testifies that the aspirant must try to imitate that in Grant which, in vulgar parlance, we call' 'sticktoitiveness.'' He must have a spirit of assiduity. Pluck cannot get along with-out Plod. Those who have become eminent have done so because they have hung to their purpose till triumph has crowned their persistence. Sir Isaac Newton, although met by what would seem to most men an impassable barrier, worked on for thirteen years before he was able to give the world the correct theory of gravity. The pursuit of success is up-hill work and a halt on the slope is fatal. Not one of the world's great men would have been able to survive the friction of ever-appearing hindrances, without this quality of persistency. Neither can any others who lack it hope to appear among the fittest. "Eternal vigilance is the price of success." It was on this principle that Mark Twain worked while becoming famous as a Mississippi River pilot, and later, while rising to his present lit-erary status. He himself testifies to the importance of this trait, when he gives this advice: "I say, young man, put all your eggs in one basket, and then watch that basket \" We must "Stop, look and listen !" for the multifarious dangers we are liable to en-counter. It was the "Father of the New York Tribune" who turned failure into success by following the principle he himself puts forth in these words: "Do the very best you can where you are!" Concentration and thoroughness have marked the lives of those we desire to emulate. We have all made a practice of doing one thing at a time, and doing that well. It was John Wanamaker who once wheeled the delivery barrow of a dry-goods firm through the streets of Philadelphia; and he did it well, too. Concentrated effort in one direction led him finally to make for us an excellent Post-Master-General. And we also can follow his plan and rise. Close attention to little things enabled Watt to notice and use the principle he saw in the movement of his mother's tea-kettle as the means whereby his steam-engine could be impelled. It is of little things the big are made. Nothing we see or experience is too small to receive attention. Andrew Carnegie knows all the details of his immense business,—none too small to be important \ i ■ I i 142 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY to him. Nor must the youth who would succeed act differently from those whose fitness to rise included attention to little things. The best recommendation for the importance of a good educa-tion comes from those who have never had this advantage. Lin-coln's life-long regret was that he had not had a college education, and it limited his powers in many directions. However, self-taught men like he was have managed to climb the steep and reach the level of greatness without it. But just as one member of the body becomes stronger when its mate is injured, so such men, in the absence of higher education, have developed a substitute in the shape of great common sense. This we must have, or our fit-ness to survive the impositions of more shrewd men is impaired All these principles, and many, many others under which great men have worked, we must adopt if we want to aim at true great-ness. However, all cannot reach the topmost places. But an honest attempt to make the conditions in our lives conform to those manifested in the lives of successful men, will, at least, en-able us to rise far above mediocrity. Just as mountain peaks are formed of material most suitable to stand the wear and tear of ages, so must we young men be made of such stuff as will help us to throw off, without injury, those things which would keep us down, and rise till we attract the no-tice and elicit the worthy commendation of our fellows. Yet, let us not forget that the principle of the survival of the fittest extends farther than we have mentioned. For, away back, twenty centuries ago, there appeared a Great Man, a Model such as we find nowhere among the thousands of earthly great. He is the fittest and His survival is everlasting. Would we survive all the ills of this life, would we be classed among the truly fit, would we attain to higher praise than men can give,—heavenly praise ? Ifso, let us emulate him, the Model of all models, the Ideal! Then can we be like Him and join Him in the eternal survival of the fittest. "How void of reason are our hopes and fears 1 What in the conduct of our life appears So well designed, so luckily begun, But when we have our wish, we wish undone." DRYDHN. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 143 MAN WAS NOT MADE TO MOURN J. B. BAKER, '01 [Gies Prize Essay—Second Prize] OOBERT BURNS is the author of a varied and numerous array A * of beautiful poems. As a song writer he is the world's greatest. As rusticity's artist he ranks well with Shakespeare. His heart was great and his genius commensurate, winging its way to loftiest heights and recognizing the meanest things. He has been called the most directly inspired of all the poets. While the fame of other immortals rests upon the matured product of a life study, his finds its basis in the product of an hour. He goes out into the couutr)', disturbs a field mouse and ad-dresses it on the spot in quaint poetic style. A limping hare, a bank of flowers, a winding brook, a chilly blast, a neighbor's weal, a neighbor's woe, all appealed to his sensitive nature and won immediate response in verse. Such an one, however great he be, is in danger. Second thoughts, even in a Shakespeare, are preferable and it is neither a reflection upon the author nor a mark of conceit upon anyone to deferentially differ from him in a passing thought or hastily written verse. Burns said, "Man was made to Mourn.'.' The poem is sub-lime in its pathos but false, we believe, in sentiment. It shows the leaden sky but not the bow of promise. To study the end to which man was made we must ask time to turn backward in her flight for a moment or two and bring up the past. Oliver Wendell Holmes said we ought to begin a man's biog-raphy one hundred years before he is born. We would begin with generic man already when the idea of his creation was first formulated in the Divine Mind, for the idea of creation and the object of existence must have been coeval. They are concomitant notions and of a twin birth. What then was the mood of that pregnant mind at the event-ful date ? That question answered and our query is practically solved, for created things invariably bear the marks of their Creator. The readers of the world know the character and object of a literary production of a known author, before they open the book. They would not expect the sweet placid flow of an Irving from I I 144 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY the rough and rugged Cooper. Nor would they hope to hear the strains of Whittier coming from Virgil's lyre. Neither could have produced the works of the other. Their gems, in prose and song, were merely the externalization of their own minds and they could not have written otherwise because they could not have externalized that which had not already had an anterior internal existence. Precisely so, in our crude, fragmentary, symbolic fashion must we conceive of the Alpha of all reality. We are wooed to believe that everything in this central universe bears marks of kinship with Him, and particularly do we believe it to be true of man. We are like Him. Is He glad or is He sad? Does He mourn? That is the question upon the solution of which depends the pur-posed end of man's existence. To attempt an answer to a question like that, however, involv-ing as it does, eons of time and a Being unfathomable, might ap-pear a bit presumptuous, but a little reflection will prove the con-trary. We cannot escape it. The question abides with us through every period of our rational life. It presses upon us as atmos-pheric air upon our frames. It fills the human mind as star dust fills the sky. We must think of God, but without attributes that is impossible. What then are the qualities discoverable in his na-ture to give us an antecedent probability that man was made to mourn? Those qualities discoverable by us and those recognized by ages before us are wisdom, power and goodness and these in an unlimited degree. The gradual unfolding of orderly arrangement, hitherto unknown, reveals the wisdom. The spangled robe of night reveals the power. While the goodness, as for it, it shines from His very nature as light from the noon-day sun. How One possessed at once of Omniscience, Omnipotence and Infinite Benevolence could ever be sad and in mourning is beyond the grasp of human reason. Mourning implies regret at something that has happened and surely nothing could grieve Him who had the ability and fore-sight to avert the offending cause. Mourning is incompatible with the idea of Divinity as held by the majority of men to-day. But some are disposed to call these qualities into question. Not a few thinkers of eminent ability and indubitable integrity find themselves unable to predicate them of Him. I | El l SOME IMPORTANT DEDUCTIONS FROM A COMPARATIVE STUDY OF MYTHOLOGIES C M. A. STINE, '01 [Gies Prize Essay—Third Prize] THE meaning of the word mythology is, literally, a treatise of *■ myths, or a writing composed of a number of fables. The term is applicable to the writings descriptive of ancient systems of religious beliefs, their various deities, and the attributes and the relations of these deities. Just as the child peoples the world about it with fairies both good and evil in their intentions toward human beings, so in a somewhat similar manner, the early races personified the phenom-ena of nature and sought to render intelligible the workings of nature thrust upon them for explanation, and which were to them otherwise inexplicable. Out of these explanations arose the vast bodies of legends descriptive of the various deities, their origin, adventures, attributes and relations. These personifications of nature with their body of attendant prerogatives arose from two principal causes: the necessity of pro-viding a cause for an observed effect, and the necessity of supply-ing a want felt in every human soul. Every human soul feels the need of a deity upon which to rest its faith and to whom it may look for aid. Whether the production is evolved by the human soul without a divine revelation does not concern us at present. To arrive at some explanation of the nature of the world, and the operation of those natural laws otherwise unintelligible, as well as of his own genesis, man invented the host of gods and demi-gods. The higher attributes ascribed to the divinities—their more purely spiritual qualities, arose out of man's need. Man is con- 148 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY scious of those forces which we call good and evil. He realizes the constant antagonism between the two, and the ethical super-iority of the former. He feels that according to his sense of jus-tice good should be rewarded and evil punished; yet his experience teaches him that such is not always the case. Hence there arises a feeling of the need of some force which may be supernatural, and which will reconcile the apparent contradictions, and fill the hiatus which is felt to exist. Thus there is the necessity of a god and a future existence. The study of ancient mythology with a comparison of the dif-ferent systems, serves a number of purposes. We gain a knowl-edge of the varying degrees of complexity of the different systems of belief, the height of their spiritual conceptions, and their degree of knowledge of the true God—that is their relation to Monothe-ism, the resemblance of the different creeds in the attributes as-cribed to the different divinities, and the similarity in their names. First. We may judge of the character and location of the people—whether agricultural, pastoral, commercial, peaceful or warlike, inland or maritime; and as to the climatic conditions, and natural features of the territory occupied. Secondly. We may judge as to the degree of civilization at-tained. An enumeration of what is included in the term civil-ization may be in place. By civilization we mean the knowledge of the arts and sciences, mechanical and political; also the degree of purity of religious conception. Upon the true or erroneous ideas of God depends man's treatment of his fellow-man, his real-ization of the principles of universal brotherhood, and divine fatherhood, and all the altruistic impulses. There is certainly but little civilization where these latter are lacking, and upon the extent of the realization and adoption of these principles depends the greater or less degree of excellence to which a civilization may lay claim. Thirdly. A comparison of these systems affords a means whereby the knowledge of the common origin of various branches of the human family may be gained. In our consideration of ancient mythology, the chief form of belief to which we wish to devote our attention is that held by the Indo-Germanic family. The systems of mythology which we shall briefly study, are those of the Greeks, latins, Norse and THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 149 Old Germans, Hindoos and Egyptians, as affording the best illus-tration of the principles enumerated. The system of mythology held and constructed by the Greeks is the one of which the most complete knowledge is attainable, excepting perhaps that of the Latins. But the resemblance be-tween these two is close, and the Greek may be taken as typical. Upon these, therefore, we shall base our conclusions. A study of Greek mythology reveals the following as to the character of the people, their location, and the climatic conditions of the territory occupied. The Greeks were an imaginative people, judging from the vast collection of myths relating to their deities, their doings among men. Every tree, blade of grass, fountain, streamlet and river; every breeze that blew and every raging storm, had its own particular presiding spirit. Gods, demigods, nymphs, satyrs, dryads and hamadryads are multiplied without number. The stories of the gods based upon nature, are given a vast body of detail, and an amount of local coloring which displays the workings of a national imagination of great activity and scope. The race seems also to have been somewhat mercurial in tem-perament. All of the earlier races are susceptible to changes in the seasons, and to the alternations of day and night, but the Greeks were particularly so. The approach of spring was heralded with the most extravagant rejoicings and sacrifices to various gods, especially to Dionysos. From the character of the deities worshiped they must have been a people engaged in pastoral, agricultural and commercial pursuits. We arrive at this conclusion because the people wor-shiped deities who were presumed to have the care of shepherds and their flocks, of farmers and their harvests, and of sailors. Some of the gods are themselves shepherds. Apollo is so repre-sented, although his flock is made up of the clouds in the fields of ether. Demeter is the goddess of the harvests. Hermes is the guardian of the sailor. The Greeks were extremely careful to preserve the favor of their gods, and maintained their sanctity to the last of their na-tional existence. They are extremely afraid of offending their deities, and must have been an exceedingly pious people. But all their piety did little for their morals. In all their business trans-actions we have evidence that they were a lying and a tricky I ; 'f. 150 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY i people. Hermes, the god of liars, the protector of the knave, was greatly venerated. From what we have already said we would infer that the land of the Greeks was suitable for the pasturing of flocks and for the cultivation of the vine. Wewouldalso infer thatit was contiguous to the ocean. It must also have been alandsubject to the change of the seasons, for we have already seen that the festivals com-memorating the change of times and seasons, formed a part of his worship. That he made much of physical excellence is evident from the fact that he prayed often to a god whose chiefprerogativewasthe care of the athlete. Mythology and history are heartily agreed upon this point. He was evidently highly intellectual and capable of abstract thought; for he worshiped a goddess who was the personification of mind and intellectuality. Her attributes are those of mind and she is above the physical desires and passions that enslave. From this recounting of the physical enviroment and the in-tellectual attainment of the Greek we can readily determine the degree of civilization attained. We admit right here that myth-ology is not our only source of information, but we do maintain that we can determine the degree of civilization from the mythol-ogy of the people. Because the Greek engaged in commerce he came in contact with other nations, and thus acquired a knowledge of their arts and sciences. The Greek had his organized household, and was far in ad-vance of the wandering tribe; but not one of his deities is repre-sented as presiding over domestic life. The L,atins with their Lares and Penates, seem to come much nearer to the conception of our modern home. The number of muses presiding over the various forms of lit-erary composition, and the completeness of attributes, together with the veneration in which they were held, indicate literature to have been one of the chief pursuits of the people. The high degree of excellence attained in this respect confirms our position. The degree of his intellectuality is evinced in his conception of the goddess Athene. Then, too, if there had been no artists and sculptors there would have been no deities to inspire that class of men. The same may be said of government and the deities that preside over magistrates. ta THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 151 The worship of a deity supposed to aid in the right government of a state, and to have the oversight of the fulfillment of the ends of justice presupposes a well organized system of government. All this is indicative of the degree of civilization of a people. But all these things are the mere externalities, the polish of civilization rather than the vital principle. Civilization of the heart, that is purity of life and worship, are the fundamental prin-ciples of civilization, and these are attained or not attained accord-ing to the character of the conception of the one true God. It is uncertain in how far the Greek attained to the idea of one God. Very high attributes and lofty conceptions were had by the Greeks, of divinity. This is plainly shown by attributes assigned to their different divinites. In a few cases Zeus is represented as exercis-ing a sort of supreme power over the other gods, which somewhat approaches the conception of the Bible of God and the angels as ministering spirits. As already stated, the Greek was pious in the extreme. His life was one of constant anxiety lest he offend, voluntary or involuntary, some one ofhis numerous deities. The names he applies to his deities are not those which would be ap-plied by a loving creature to a gracious Creator. In Aeschylus we find the words: "Zeus, wherever thou art, by whatever name it please thee to be named, I call on thee and pray." The Greeks made a constant effort to flatter and propitiate the gods, who were regarded as enemies of human happiness. Prob-ably the only god whom the Greeks truly loved was Dionysos. He was thought to rejoice in the happiness of men, and to his worship, in the festivals, the Greek surrendered himself with de-light. He was probably the only deity whom they worshipped from motives of affection rather than fear. Whilst many of the stories related of the various deities are incompatible with our conception of God; it must nevertheless be remembered that many of these stories are mere allegories created to typify and explain analogous happenings in nature. Thus they lose their revolting character. For a long time this was remem-bered by the worshipper himself, but it is feared that in later national history the Greek often gave himself up to excesses under the impression of divine sanction. Whilst many of the stories of the deities are revolting, many are very beautiful, and come close to the Christian conception of right conduct. Therefore there must i 152 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 1 i have existed a high ethical conception in the souls of many. But these conceptions are, after all, the exception and not the rule. The Greek's conception of life was largely fatalistic. Ananka, Necessity, loomed as a vast incontrovertible force from whose decrees there could be no escape. When a crime of any sort was committed the Erynys dogged the unhappy perpetrator with an awful insistence, and at some time, sooner or later, the crime was avenged. The conception of the hereafter as imagined by the Greek was gloom}' in the extreme. The spirit of the ordinary mortal passed at death to a domain of dimmest twilight, to the land of Hades. Here the shadow of the body lived an existence surrounded by in-tangible spectres, in the gloom of the mighty underworld. Only the souls of heroes and those semi-divine beings who were espe-cially, favored of the gods attained the happiness of the sunlit Elysian fields. The soul of the criminal passed to a region beneath Hades, to Tartaros, a place of torment and woe. The immortality of the soul held no joy to the mind of the Greek. His mythology gives us no reason to believe that he had the slightest conception of a hereafter portrayed in the bible. This affords us a complete understanding of the Greek mind. Polished in intellect, beautiful in body, in many ways possessing a refined nature, yet in this one essential the civilization of the Greek fell short. Self-sacrifice and unselfish devotion, whilst here and there in his mythology dimly hinted at, yet to the mass of the nation unknown, never animated the every-day life of the Greek. Thus in this cursory glance at the Greek nature we have pointed out the application of the first two principles enunciated at the beginning of this paper; but these same principles are equally well illustrated in the mythology of other peoples. Whilst our knowledge of the Norse and old German Mythol-ogies is much less complete, since the people were not literary, and preserved their traditions largely in memory and not in books, yet this mythology upon examination, is found to yield the same results as the Grecian. The conception of the god Odin for in-stance, shows the same conformity and coloring which that of the Greek Zeus exhibits. We cannot in this article enter into a de-tailed description of the mythology of the Latins, the Norse and old German, the Hindoo and the Egyptian, yet they all equally THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 153 well serve to show the condition of the peoples who originated them. Let us now pass to the third fact, namely, that by a considera-tion of the mythologies of the peoples a knowledge of their common origin is obtained. No student of mythology will deny that in all the religious beliefs of the different nations there is a certain similarity. The Aztec system with the great god at the head and with its crowd of lesser deities, the North American Indians' conception of the Great Spirit with the host of lesser deities, in common with the nations of the Indo-Germanic family, had a degree of resemblance in the wider facts of their mythologies. The consideration of the conceptions of belief and worship of all the peoples and nations we have studied drives us to the conclusion that these peoples had a common origin. Let us glance at a few of the more marked resemblances which appear. Odin of the Norse, Zeus of the Greeks, Jupiter of the Latins, and Atmer of the Hin-doo- Brahmin systems are all alike personifications of the life-giv-ing properties of the air of heaven. The Egyptian system seems to be much farther advanced at the period with which our record begins, than the other systems enumerated. In fact it had reached a more metaphysical development. Consequently there is greater difficulty in the comparison of the Egyptian conception with the others, but in this system we notice the same overlapping of the attributes of one deity with those of another, and in some degree, an identity of attributes. Zeus is the father of the muses and Odin is the father of Saga, the goddess of poetry. Thor or Donar, another Norse divinity, is the god of thunder. As the god of thunder he resembles Zeus, and as the thunder bolts of Zeus were forged by the smith-god Hephaestus, who dwelt below ground, so the hammer of Thor was forged by the dwarves (Zwerge), or black elves who dwelt within the earth. Thor and Odin are identified with one another much the same as Vishnu and Indra in the Hindoo system. Thor and Vishnu go on foot to the councils of the gods. Vishnu is represented as traversing heaven in three strides. The Norse god, Tyr, is a personification of the brightness of the heavens. He is also named Zui and Saxuot. Here there appears a striking resemblance in names. Zui is iden-tical with the root meaning to shine. Sanscrit, Dyaus, the Greek Zeus, the Latin, Deus. Among the Vedic gods, Dyaus is the god of the shining heavens in the same way as Zeus of the Greeks. 154 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY Dyaus-pater is the same as Jupiter, the dy being displaced by the J in the L,atin. Indra, of the Hindoos, who hurls the thunder-bolts, and is "the cloud compeller," corresponds in these func-tions with Zeus and Thor. His beard of lightning is the red beard of Thor. The goddess Ushas is the goddess of dawn among the Vedic deities. She corresponds to the Greek Eos. We notice the striking similarity between the two words, indicating deriva-tion from a common root. Thus we might go on multiplying in-stances and giving examples of this similarity. The attributes of the Egyptian deities are to a large extent interchangeable with those of the Greeks and the Norse. The Egyptian conceptions are arrived at by the same personifications of the powers of nature, and in their attributes represent the same mingling of the mater-ial with the spiritual, as do the Grecian, I,atin, Norse and Hindoo. They all represent the occurrences of nature under similar anal-ogies of deeds performed by the divinities. Their names have similar physical meanings. For in the resemblance thus illus-trated and existing to a much greater degree than we can stop to point out, we derived unquestionable proof of identity in the origin of these peoples. It is probable from the very close simil-arity of the I^atin and the Greek systems, that these two nations were less widely separated after the first division than were the other nations, or else that the separation of these two branches took place at some time after the original body had divided and migrated to different points of the compass. From this hasty glance at a few of the ancient systems ot mythology and a review of a number of their points ofresemblance, we obtain an idea of the vast importance which this study may assume. In conclusion we must remark what is palpable to every stu-dent of mythology, that the Christian religion could never have been evolved out of these systems. In its sweet simplicity, its purity and truth, it over-reaches all others in their utmost stretch. Of a truth there is no god but God, and no revelation but the bible. There is a majesty in simplicity which is far above the quaint-ness of wit.—Pope. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 155 THE THUNDER STORM C. W. WEISER, '01 [Gies Prize Essay—Honorable Mention] Upon a sultry August noon The scorching sun came beating down, And all was wrapt in smoky haze Swelt'ring 'neath the withering rays. Above the rugged mountain brink Arose a cloud as black as ink; Dark and motionless it loomed, As if the peak itself were doomed To bear the threat'ning, murky mass, Towering o'er the narrow pass. Then arose a sullen roar, A sudden rush and down it bore Along its path, As tho' in wrath It meant to take, To bend, or break; Destruction carry, Doom, or harry. Now on its course, In mutterings hoarse, It came with rumble Loud, and grumble. A peal, a mutter, A flash and flutter, And on it swept with dire confusion, And in its wake in swift profusion Came other clouds as swift, now dark, Then livid with old Vulcan's spark. Thro' the whirling and the roar Now the rain began to pour In torrents loud upon the roof, And the pine-tree tops aloof, Dashing 'gainst the shanty walls In a way that most appalls, Beating loudly oh the pane Were the dashing drops of rain. Flash of lightning Heavens bright'ning, Peals of thunder Fill with wonder. Crash ! we hear the loud report, Crash ! returns the dread retort. Heavens lighten, splinters flying 156 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY From the mighty trees outlying ! Crash ! Flash ! Flash ! Crash I Rumble ! Roar! Crash ! Flash ! Hurling death and doom, destruction— Crash ! Flash ! in loud convulsion— Upon the forest, peaks disheveled, Rain-tossed, sighing, lowly leveled; Filling all with consternation At this freak of old creation. Flash !—growing dimmer its existence. Crash !—a pealing now in distance. Rumble, rumble, roar and rumble, Mutterings dull and muffled grumble; Rumble, rumble, rumble, roar, Down the dell, the mountains o'er. Gently now the rain is pattering, On the roof and windows clattering, While below the brook is gushing, Muddy wild and roaring, rushing. Clouds are flying, sky is clearing, The storm has passed, and sun appearing Smiles upon the world again Thro' the crystal drops of rain. i A populous solitude of bees and birds, And fairy-form'd and many colored things, Who worship him with notes more sweet than words, And innocently open their glad wings. Fearless and full of life, the gushing springs And fall of lofty fountains, and the bend Of stirring branches, and the bud which brings The swiftest thought of beauty, here extend, Mingling and made by love unto one mighty end. —BYRON. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY Entered at the Postoffice at Gettysburg as second-class matter Voi,. X GETTYSBURG, PA., OCTOBER, 1901 No. 5 E. C. RUBY, '02, Editor-in- Chief R. ST. CLAIR POFFENBARGER,' 02, Business Manager J. F. NEWMAN, '02, Exchange Editor Assistant Editors Miss ANNIE M. SWARTZ, '02 A. B. RICHARD, '02 Advisory Board PROF. J. A. HIMES, A. M., LIT. D. PROF. G. D. STAHLEY, M. D. PROF. J. W. RICHARD, D. D. Assistant Business Manager CURTIS E. COOK, '03 Published eacli 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 Fifteen 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 Business Manager. Articles for publication should be addressed to the Editor. Address THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY, GETTYSBURG, PA. EDITORIAL '"pHIS issue of the MERCURY is made up largely of essaj's which *■ were in the Gies Prize Contest last year. Had it not been for this supply the editor might have had considerable difficulty in finding enough material for this number. We are looking for-ward to the future of our literary publication with a great deal of hope and firmly believe that our hope can be realized. We cer-tainly have among our fellow-students many who possess consid-erable literary talent, and others who desire the opportunity for development in the literary field. To such we would suggest that they should not neglect the opportunity which the MERCURY ex-tends to them. We shall be glad to have all who are interested in literary work place into our hands any manuscripts for publi-cation. We shall carefully examine them and always exercise 158 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY I i our best judgment in the selections we make for presentation to the public. Fellow-students, it will depend largely upon the in-terest which you take in this work whether our hopes for the suc-cess of the MERCURY shall be realized or not. Let us not forget that this is a matter which pertains to the institution and not to any particular individual. By doing our duty towards this pub-lication we are making it a true index of the work that is being done in the literary departments ot our Alma Mater. RESOLUTIONS OP RESPECT CLASS VV7HEREAS, God in his divine wisdom has seen fit to sum- " mon from our midst to his eternal home one whom we most highly esteemed as a classmate and companion, Theodore Frank McAllister, Therefore, at a meeting of the class of '03, Pennsylvania Col-lege, September 7th, 1901, be it unanimously Resolved, That by this untimely visitation of Divine Providence we have lost one of the most worthy members of the class, one whose Christian character was such as to call forth universal ad-miration, whose amiable disposition gained the friendship of all whom he met, whose abilities as a student pointed to a most use-ful career; and also Resolved, That though we be saddened by this bereavement in the midst of our collegiate course, we humbly submit to the will of Him, who knoweth and doeth better than we, believing that our loss is his gain; and also Resolved, That by his death, by its great effect upon us, we have been led to a greater seriousness in the work of life; and also Resolved, That we extend to the family in its bereavement our sincere sympathy, and pray that God and Saviour, who has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows, to comfort them in their afflic-tion, and also Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be sent to the sorrow-ing family, and to the college journals and town papers. DAVID S. WEIMER, ROSE E. PLANK, EDWARD B. HAY. THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY Y. M. C. A. 159 WHEREAS, it has pleased Almighty God in his all-wise provi-dence to remove from our association our friend and faithful co-worker, T. Frank McAllister, be it Resolved, That in his death the association has lost a member whose manly virtue and consistent Christian life were a help and inspiration to all, and be it Resolved, That the college has lost a faithful student and an en-thusiastic man in all college affairs, one who lived for the better-ment of his fellows and was happiest when promoting their wel-fare, and be it Resolved, That these resolutions be published in the town and college papers. WILBUR H. FLECK, FRANK DAYMAN, F. GARMAN MASTERS, Committee. nMHMWMHIWiill^HflUllil IHl|i|IMBillililll|H|IH 1v t jj 1 111 J GQgj ORATION: THE CHARACTER OP OUR EARLY AMERICAN FOREFATHERS P. H. R. MULLEN, '01 "PAR from me and my friends be such frigid philosophy as may ■*• conduct us indifferent, and unmoved, over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery or virtue. That man is little to be admired whose patriotism would not gain force on the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Ionia." These noble words from the pen of Dr. Johnson express a sen-timent that ought to find a response in the heart of every Ameri-can citizen. We cannot visit the spots forever hallowed by the valorous deeds of enduring worth, wrought by the makers of our early history, without a sense of gratitude and profound reverence. To dwell upon such a theme without a thrill of emotion, would augur a spirit undeserving of the great legacy bequeathed to us by those venerable personages of the past. If the Greek could boast of an illustrious ancestry we can boast more; if the Roman could linger at the forum to hear the orators lavish their loftiest flights of eloquence upon the rising glory of the "eternal city," we may declare with great emphasis that its ■ 160 THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY splendor grows dim before the rising sun of our national glory, as the moon pales with the advancing day. No other nation has had such a beginning. The early history of every other great nation has a vague outline that marks its transition from lawlessness and barbarism to civilization, but America, comparatively speaking, sprung into being full grown, as "Athena from the brow of Zeus." We are alone among the nations of the earth in having such colossal founders. We need only mention the Pilgrim Fathers, and there is suggested a host of associations. At what a critical period in the world's history did they appear! They shattered the power of a dominant ecclesiasticism and gave to the world re-ligious freedom. We see them committing themselves in a frail bark to a "cruel, crawling sea," uncertain whether they should not all begin their long sleep, and fill a "wandering grave" beneath its restless bil-lows, before they should set foot on American soil. But, guided by their adored Jehovah, through the trackless waters, they at length disembark upon a rock on a desolate shore, and we hear their com-mingled prayers of gratitude break the monotonous voice of the sea. From this rock they go forth to sow the seeds of a mighty nation. We hear the blows of their axes against the primeval forest, ringing out on the frosty air like the pealing of liberty bells. In the light of their burning villages we see a band of savages danc-ing in taunting glee. With unabated zeal they resurrect another village from the ashes. From a miserly soil is forced, by untiring energy, a comfortable livelihood, and the "wilderness blossoms as the rose." A noted statesman has fittingly said: "We shall not stand unmoved on the shore of Plymouth while the sea con-tinues to wash it, nor will our brethren in future time forget the place of the nation's establishment till their river shall cease to flow by it. No vigor of youth, no maturity of age will lead the nation to forget the spots where its infancy was cradled and de-fended." The years of our nation's infancy were truly the most "sad and sublime'' in history. We have dwelt at some length upon the achievements of the Pilgrim Fathers because their deeds are the best interpreters of their character. It is a noteworthy fact, much to the credit of the Pilgrims, that they were the first colonists with sufficient "staying power" THE GETTYSBURG MERCURY 161 to establish a permanent colony in North America. Repeated efforts had been made in Mexico and in Florida, by the Spaniards, but those colonists had as often retreated in the face of unexpected difficulties, without accomplishing anything except the squander-ing of the resources of the borne government. France, likewise, had been unsuccessful for several reasons, chiefly because of the temper of her colonists. Several companies of English colonists also had attempted to take up land in the New World, but had repeatedly failed. It remained for the Pilgrims to be the honored founders of our great Republic, and their final success is fraught with great significance. They were constituted of ' 'sterner stuff'' than their predecessors and had an unchangeable purpose to prod their spirits in the presence of discouragement. To them physical pain was decidedly preferable to spiritual bondage, and they suffered on, unflinchingly, uncomplainingly, to the bitter end. "Religious Liberty" were the two words emblazoned upon the banner of the Pilgrims, and many times were those words des-tined to be written in blood before that banner was to be free from assault. They had, however, one harbor to which they repaired in every time of storm, one fortress in time of danger, one harbinger of hope in time of gloom, one source of truth amid the duplicity of oppressive and corrupt governors—the Bible, from which they received iron into their blood. This book was the Pilgrim's hope, his song, his prayer, his guide. The Old Testament, with its honor roll of immortal heroes, furnished the Pilgrims an ideal for their conduct in persecution and trial. The New Testament was the eternal pledge of final victory, an unfailing reward, an un-fading crown. The Puritans were characterized by a total lack of effeminacy. Their character was sturdy and masculine. No amusements were tolerated that had a tendency to destroy the severity and intensity of life. 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Issue 50.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1991. ; Review fOl~ Religious Volume 50 Number 4 July/August 1991 P()STMAS'I'I'.'ll: Send mhh'c.~.~ chang~'s Io Rl.:Vll.:W 1.~ nt ll,.:i.i~ ;i, ~i,s; P.(). Box 6071); l)llhli h, M N 55806. .~lll~scriplioll raics: .~illglc c.py $3.51) plus lll~lililig 1991 RI.:VIEW I)avid L. Fleming, ~.l. Philip C. Fischen S.I. Michad G. I-hzrter, ~.l. Elizabeth Mcl)omm~h, 0.1: Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Edilor Asxocial~" Cammical Co.nsc/Edilor Assistant Editors David J. Hassel, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Advisory Board Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. July/August 1991 Volume 50 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor should be sent to R~vl~w rot R~lous; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Elizabeth McDonougb, O.P.; 5001 Eastern Avenue; P.O. 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This order is for [] a new subscription [] a renewal [] a restart of a lapsed subscription MAIL TO: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ¯ 3601 LINDELL BOULEVARD ° ST.LOu1S, MO 63108 1-91" PRISMS. The word ordinary seems to imply the bland, the unexciting, the run-of-the- mill, the everyday. In fact, for many of us even the liturgical year of the Church suffers from being divided into two parts: the Seasons and Ordinary Time. Although liturgy properly speaks of our celebrations, we tend to find it hard to celebrate what is called ordinary. Perhaps the very distinction which the Church highlights in so dividing the liturgical year calls us to a deeper reflection upon our understanding of the ordinary. God creates the ordinary., and calls it good. It is true: the ordinary is the very substance of our world. While being itself God's cre-ation, the ordinary is also the substance with which God works. We, by being ordinary, can be touched and molded and transfigured by God. Often we try to escape from being ordinary, and in the process we shut ourselves off from being available to God's action in our lives. In the bibli-cal accounts of creation, we find the lure of an escape from the ordinary the root crisis of properly using our God-given freedom. The story of Lucifer and the fallen angels is a story of beings discontent with being ordinary. As they try to move beyond the ordinary by shutting out God, this becomes their hell. So, too, the story of Adam and Eve is a story of two people, in the freshness of human life, already desirous of escaping the ordinary--to be like gods. Sacramentally we are reminded that God continues to take the ordi-nary- water, bread and wine, oil--to make extraordinary contact with us. Even when our prayer or the spirituality we live is--try as we may---ordi-nary, we thus have the very quality which allows it to become the vehicle of God's action. The difficulty for us in accepting the ordinary is not just from an inherent human tendency to want to be noticed and praised, but also from the graced impetus to strive, to struggle, to desire to grow beyond where we are. How are we to distinguish these spirits within us, distinguish move-ments that would lead us to close ourselves off to God by our self-focus from movements whereby God is drawing us ever closer in our surrender? Our writers in this issue provide us with various approaches to a lived answer. John Wickham goes right to the heart of our reflections in the lead article by focusing on our choice of being "just ordinary." McMurray and Conroy and Kroeger turn our gaze to the whole complexus of activities 481 482 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 which make up our spirituality--how do we work at making a spirituality our "ordinary" life-source? A different question is posed by Samy and Fichtner when they ask whether the ordinary practices which we find in a spirituality which is not Christian can be an aid in our openness to God. Vest and Schwarz and Gottemoeller draw our attention to various aspects of the ordinary Christian lay life as influenced by a spirituality which is described as monastic, by a new kind of membership relation to a traditional religious congregation, or by a new responsibility within the institutions formerly identified with a particular religious order. In the midst of some of the liturgical renewal stimulated by Vatican II, the practice of a daily Eucharistic celebration has sometimes been a point of dispute, especially among those priests and religious whose congregational rule or custom clearly called for such observance. The confusion often turned on what was celebratory and what was ordinary or daily. John Huels weaves his way through various schools of thought in order to provide a group with a whole cloth of ordinary spiritual practice. Although contemplative life in its dedicated form is recognized as truly a special calling in the Church, Clifford Stevens would have us all draw some nourishment today from its age-old sources. And finally, four different writers--Navone, Monteleone, Seethaler, and Billy--lead us further along in the most common activity of human interaction with God, our attempt at praying. As portrayed in the gospels, Jesus had to spend a lot of his efforts both in his ordinary apostolic life and then again in his resurrected life to prove his ordinariness. He gets tired, he eats and drinks, he needs friends, and he takes time to pray--all ordinary activities for us humans. And yet it was in these very ordinary dealings that God is fully present to us in Jesus Christ. Perhaps the part of the Church year we call "ordinary time" is a necessary reminder to us of how God wants to work with us. David L. Fleming, S.J. Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" John Wickham, S.J Father John Wickham, S.J., is a member of the Upper Canada Province of the Society of Jesus. He is the author of The Common Faith and The Communal Exercises (Ignatian Centre in Montreal): His address is Ignatian Centre; 4567 West Broadway; Montreal, Quebec; Canada H4B 2A7. There is something new, I believe, about the feeling often experienced today of being "just an ordinary person." Many recurrently feel that way despite their natural gifts, highly developed skills, or honored positions. Nor do they need to deny those advantages. In contrast to what others may tend to think, or what the world expects of them, their subjective experience of themselves--what it feels like from within their own skins--is that of a worthwhile even if unfinished, rather unique and yet uncertainly striving, interesting enough but still "just ordinary" life. It is midway between what is heroic and what is base. It is not very glamorous, but neither is it paltry. Its special taste, which is quite different from these alternatives, makes it a rather new kind of experience. If at times we do recognize that experience in ourselves, then we may face a range of questions. Should I accept the feeling as a true and good one? Or would I be better off without it? Should I choose it so often and persis-tently that it becomes habitual for me? Or would that turn into an inauthentic pose? Should I try to find some part of my real identity there? And what exactly would that imply? For example, would it mean I am choosing to be mediocre? The fact that a feeling arises, St. Ignatius tells us, does not prove it to be from God. The latter point needs to be discerned. And kinds of feeling that become widespread in a given society need to be discerned just as much as do feelings that arise only in a particular individual. In fact, our faith com-munities must often set themselves against cultural trends in the world around them. 483 484 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 In order to get at underlying issues, I wish to consider this topic in two stages. The first will be restricted to the phenomenon itself of a "just ordi-nary" feeling as a secular event in our world. Only then will I turn to the sec-ond stage, namely, to take up the kinds of faith response which we might wish to give it today. The first part, then, attempts an analysis of the "feel-ing." The second considers when, or in what circumstances, we might "choose" in faith to make it our own. Our New Cultural Situation To rephrase my opening statement, I believe that a "just ordinary" feel-ing about oneself is somewhat new as a more widespread and recurrent experience in Western culture. In recent years nearly everyone I have spoken to about this has nodded at once and said, "Yes, that's exactly how I often feel." While I possess no statistical data on its prevalence, my impression is that quite a few people have come to recognize its presence in themselves. Let me try to locate this experience more precisely. I am referring to something secular in origin and not necessarily Christian or religious in itself. Like God's rain and sunshine, it may affect everyone, just :and unjust, believer and unbeliever alike. Perhaps it was triggered off by the countercultural movement of the nineteen-sixties, since during the seventies commentators often pointed out the exaggerated attention then being given to inner feel-ings- to the personal self of each one apart from their external involvements. At that time many were being thrown back upon their subjective states of awareness to a degree that had rarely happened before. The seventies were called the "Me Decade," one that belonged to the "Me Generation" whose subjective responses (often referred to then as "getting in touch with your feelings") were given unprecedented emphasis and publicity. What had previously been mostly private now became blatantly public. But perhaps during the eighties not only the novelty but some of the disturbing quality, too, of that rather messy explosion of "subjectivity" in our midst has worn off and subsided to a degree--enough to allow "just ordinary" feelings to rise to the surface and gain attention today. What had occurred, then, was an intensification of self-awareness, a heightening of subjective consciousness among much larger segments of our population than before, and even a thematization of this event in our culture. "Souls" had been transformed into "subjects." Individuals became persons. This had happened much earlier, of course, for some exceptional people and even for smallish groups here and there, but it had never before become such a widespread phenomenon. And it involves matters of considerable importance, not easily dis- Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 41~5 missed. Bernard Lonergan has written of "the shift to interiority" in the twentieth century as the emergence of a new "realm" of human reality, i At the opposite end of the scale, the usual wild and foolish misuse of a new gift by the more excitable members of society should not blind us to its underly-ing significance. That is the larger context. More in particular I wish to stress, first of all, the quieter reverberations which those noisy events have left with many per-sons today. The gift itself of interiority is multifaceted, of course, but a first approach would notice that in part it may belong with the newly "expressive self' which has emerged alongside, and often independently of, the older "utilitarian self.''2 While the latter continues to exert a dominant influence in our midst, it must now share the public table with a more mystical parmer. From a slightly different viewpoint the "just ordinary" feeling should be seen mainly as a response to the puritan "strong self' of modern culture. After the nineteenth century in the West we gained the capacity-- appropri-ate to a technocratic society---of developing our ego-strengths. That is, a cer-tain knack, at least for special purposes, of withholding or excluding deeper levels of feeling can free an individual to concentrate on impersonal obser-vations, accurate calculations, and carefully directed efforts of the will. Further development of this inner self-control is required for any kind of efficiency and productivity in the working world. It is clear that the requisite skills are not given by nature but must be culturally developed. Not only our workplaces but our schools and colleges, too, call insistently for the formation of habits (especially of technical reason and will) which enable entry into the competitive society with all the bureau-cratic ladders and graduated salary scales of a successful career---or not-so-successful, as the case may (more often) be. In contrast to this still urgent public arena of "strong selves," individual members also return to private worlds of rest, relaxation, and entertainment, to times of weakness when they may face their own ignorance about the questions posed to them in life and recogn!ze their lack of energy for the continual efforts required. Human beings, it should be stressed, when separated from their social roles and active commitments and thrown back upon their private resources, usually do not find a great deal of their own to sustain them. Modern urban ways have cut people off from the deeply penetrating and densely inter-twined supports of rural societies. As a result, the rootless city dweller becomes conscious of boredom, of empty times to be filled up, of personal neediness and spiritual hungers not easily satisfied. An individual person, after all, is usually endangered by too much isolation from others, and mod- 4~16 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 em technologies often weaken or destroy traditional communities (families, neighborhoods, parishes). Besides, whenever institutions let us down or defeat our aims, or when hurtful clashes disturb our feelings for others, we are left alone to deal with a diminishing present and a more uncertain future. That is when a loving spouse and intimate friends (if available)become essential to our very sur-vival; without them, depressed feelings all too easily turn to thoughts of nonexistence. It was the countercultural movement which reacted against the giant bureaucratic institutions of our world and forced into the broader stream of public life the previously underground resource of subjective feelings. It transformed leisure moments of the kind just mentioned into recurrent times of self-expression which are portrayed and celebrated in our electronic media. This revealed to large numbers of fairly well-off persons in Western societies that their interior selves need to be cultivated in ways that differ enormously from the older patterns of successful selfhood modeled for them in corporate institutions. The counterculture managed to give sustained pub-licity to a host of "alternative lifestyles"---that is, a diverse range of subjec-tive modes in self-identity and interpersonal relating. This vastly expanded "realm of interiority" provides a cultural context for, and is itself fostered by, many recent movements: affirmations of per-sonal rights, the reawakening of charismata, the turn to the East, the renewal of contemplative prayer traditions, and the broadly secular interest in spiritu-alities of all kinds. It is surpi'ising to notice how the word "spiritual" and its cognates have gained such widespread use not only in the arts but in sports, politics, business enterprises, salesmanship, the military--almost every-where today. In our faith tradition, on the other hand, the interior life had a much more restricted meaning. Medieval interiority was exclusively religious--the very opposite of anything secular or worldly. In order to develop one's union with God, according to the late-medieval Imitation of Christ, believers were expected to withdraw from external involvements--at least, from all the habits and attitudes belonging to them--and to cultivate an inner commu-nion with the Lord deep within their hearts. The Imitation, we should remember, is the most popular spiritual classic of all time.3 A crucial aspect of its teaching has to do with the personal self so poignantly revealed by means of a prolonged withdrawal of the kind rec-ommended. But when thrown back upon oneself in this way, what does one find? The oft-repeated answer to this question shows how bare the cup-boards of subjectivity can be: Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 487 This is the greatest and most useful lesson we can learn: to know our-selves for what we truly are, to admit freely our own weaknesses and failings.4 I am nothing, and I did not even know it. If left to myself, I am noth-ing; I am all weakness. But if you turn your face to me, [Lord,] I am at once made strong and am filled with new happiness.5 Oh, how humbly and lowly I ought to feel about myself, and even if I seem to have goodness, I ought to think nothing of it . I find myself to be nothing but nothing, absolutely nothing . I peer deep within myself and I find nothing but total nothingness.6 No doubt, older Christians today will recall teachings of this kind as familiar features of their early training. And some of its emphases tend to give us pause. What about the inherent goodness of each human self?. This was occasionally noticed in the Imitation, but should it not have received much more attention? On this question two historical points should perhaps be made. First, the Imitation itself arose from the Devotio Moderna's care for many ordinary members of society who desired to cultivate a devout life amid late-medieval disruptions of Christian Europe (the Black Death and subsequent plagues, persistent warfare, economic hardship, the Great Western Schism).7 Out of their prolonged experience of public calamities came this first popular expression of the personal subject in the West--at least, among the little seg-ments of the population influenced by the "new devotion." The point for us here is that a faith response to those troubled times made possible an interior life for many more persons than before (including lay members living in the world). An inner self could then be cultivated by means of the careful religious teachings extended to them by The Imitation of Christ and similar writings of the movement. Thus, interiority was initial-ly a sacred realm, not a secular one. In order to develop at all, it had to define itself against the secular world. This meant, of course, that the self had precisely "nothing" of its own to fall back upon--no widely accepted norms of individual worth had as yet been formulated. The themes of individualism which we take for granted today as "natural" were simply not available in the Middle Ages. The Devotio Moderna may, in fact, have contributed notably to the first social expression of our individual sense of self. It follows that to blame it for not supplying what it was in the very process of begetting seems misguided. That would be reading history backward--a frequent modern failing. Secondly, it seems that the difference between selfhood (a good sense of self) and selfishness (a bad sense) had not as yet been separately felt. In that 488 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 sacred milieu the differentiation of a secular goodness of creation apart from the fallen condition so frequently stressed in spiritual teachings remained for the future to bring about. In other words, the self-in-its-own-being could not possibly then have been "tasted" distinctly from the self-as-sinful or the self-as- saved-by-grace (or both together). True enough, humility was sometimes considered apart from habits of sinfulness--namely in Mary and in the saints--but even there what received emphasis was the divine grace of their redemption (in Mary's case extending to her prior preservation) from sin's more normal dominion. These excep-tions only proved the rule that humility--as we hear its accents in the Imitation--arises from the sharpened interior taste of one's sinful self that usually follows upon forgiveness. In view of this cultural moment of The Imitation of Christ in the early fifteenth century, its lack of any emphasis on natural goodness for the indi-vidual self is understandabl~. It is true that, by the later sixteenth century, Montaigne's Essays and Shakespeare's Hamlet and Richard II had begun to anticipate modem feelings of individual selfhood, but this was still an excep-tional happening within the sacred medieval precincts, it may be said. So many developments have taken place in the centuries since that time--the Cartesian ego, theKantian turn to the subject, the Romantic movement, nineteenth-century liberalism, as well as the already mentioned "shift to interiority" ~ind countercultural movement in our own century, that we cannot have recourse solely to a retrieval of medieval gifts. In short, the new interiority of our day differs a great deal from the "interior life" handed down to us in our spiritual tradition. The old interiority was (a) fully sacred in meaning, (b) defined in opposition to the "world," (c) low in self-esteem while high in reliance on God alone, and (d) rarely to be shared with others socially. By contrast, the new interiority is (a) mainly sec-ular in meaning, (b) defined against the mainline institutions of society (including those of the Church), (c) self-affirming and self-accepting, even if admitting one's need of friends and of the divine Other, and (d) eagerly shared with others in public lifestyles. Like many others, in my Jesuit formation I was often counseled to ignore, set aside, or "offer up" my individual feelings as distracting or, more likely, harmful to my fuller appropriation of the uniform spiritual teachings provided. These latter consisted in learning the general answers true for everyone alike and in keeping the rules set down for all without exception. That way of forming members, as we know, has been in great part aban-doned in recent decades. In any case, it had introduced painful distortions into our medieval heritage. Choosing to be 'Just Ordinary" / 489 The main "warp" in question was directly related, I believe, to the nine-teent~ h-century rise of the "strong self" already mentioned. Let me briefly review that development. As I have noted, humility had traditionally been ~'ocused on the sinful condition of those converted to the Lord. It did not dwell merely on mortal sins committed prior to their deeper conversion, but much more on the venial sins which they came to recognize in present self-awareness. This medieval tradition may be gathered in detail from Alphonsus Rodriguez's Practice of Perfection and Christian Virtues.8 Against that backdrop the modem ideal of a "strong sell" to be fash-ioned in youth by anyone hoping to succeed in the secular world, or even to survive in it, presented a considerable contrast. Prior to 1965, our Catholic parishes and schools managed to combine this modem requirement (a strong selfhood formed in the conscious mind through repression of deeper feel-ings) With traditional teachings on humility (reliance on God alone because of personal sinfulness and the "nothingness" of self). This was made easier by means of the invisible wall erected around the distinctly Catholic world. By the later nineteenth century, of course, Christian faith had already become to a large extent privatized, separated from public life and domesticated in family and parish activities. For Catholics in North America, the immigrant Church had developed its own "garrison" mentality so effective!y that one could cultivate a traditionally humble self in the narrowly religious realm and at the same time a secularly aggressive self in the business, professional, political, or broadly social realm. That was the religious situation in which I was raised, and I did not then advert to its inconsistencies. Perhaps many others today can recall this com-bination of strivings. However opposite they were in character, we tried to attain them both and to some extent we succeeded--by the grace of God. In recent decades that whole effort has disappeared and as a result (among many other quandaries) a whole spectrum of possible selves has become available today. It is a somewhat unsettling set of choices. But amidst all our struggles to find or fashion personal identities (or perhaps to fortify older ways in the very teeth of these developments), the curious new event has made its presence felt--the "just ordinary" feeling. Contemporary Faith Responses At this point I wish to bring into our discussion a distinction rather dif-ferent from any mentioned so far. In a recent book, Hopkins, the Self and God, Walter Ong, S.J., has emphasized the "taste of self" which figured so prominently in Gerard Hopkins's poetry, letters, and notebooks.9 As a chap- 490 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 ter on the Victorian context makes clear, the theme was not unusual even then. But Hopkins, because of his unique attention to it and extraordinary gifts of language and feeling, managed to anticipate many of our present concerns. The distinction employed by Fr. Ong in his discussion is between the self as "I" or "me" in the densely concrete, subjective stance underlying all one's experiences and, on the other hand, the self as objectified in various characteristics, habitual attitudes, and acquired abilities. Ong names the first of these "the subject-self' and the second "the self-concept"--a terminology already in use. More is meant than merely a difference between subjective and objec-tive qualities of the self. The so-called "objective" side points to an individu-al's attempts to gain a sense of developing identity--at first through the reactions :of other people, and then through one's own continued striving. Often a variety of contrasting possibilities are "tried on for size" and lived out for a time, but later modified or rejected. But underneath every such effort lurks a richer source of seifhood that unifies the ongoing and often interrupted sequence. Moreover, the subject-self also feels--at least indirectly--the inadequa-cy of whatever aspects of self-conception are presently entertained. The lat-ter are never quite right. There is always a certain sense of"more to come": Why do I doubt my capacity to keep this up any longer? Maybe I should change my mind about the whole business? Or am I trapped in a "fate" of being the way I am?l° And as soon as some new aspect of the self gains initial clarity, there is often a tendency to react in a different direction. Even if I should rejoice in a rather flattering or at least affirmative symbol of myself, my subconscious feelings may tend to exert a counterinfluence. Or if snubbed by others or blamed in any way, I might resent it at several levels at once (despite a ten-dency to self-doubt), but I will also search for memories of my better qualities. A great variety of varying patterns of such "identity searches" may be noted in spiritual direction. But what I wish to stress here is the unifying "I" in every pattern or in every sequence of changing patterns over years of per-sonal growth. "I" am the enduring (somehow even unchanging?) recipient, resource, and agent of all such reflexive feelings, perceptions, visions, and (as Eliot has taught us) endless revisions. For I am always the one who is unfinished. I exist amid processes that are ever moving me into uncertain futures. This mysterious "I" may be used, of course, in a way that includes the self-concept of my current identity. Most often the two blend together in my Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 49'1 experience of them. Wider, more inclusive self-affirmations are normal and even important. For the self-concept can never really be independent of the subject-self--the two functions are inherently connected and interactive. My various self-conceptions (especially at their least vague, most fully articulat-ed stages) need to be tested repeatedly in the subject-self. Do I feel at home in them? In fact, their authenticity becomes known only insofar as they truly actualize my subjectively felt potentials. On the other side, the subject-self cannot long endure without some kind of self-concept. Even when denied previous realizations in the social world, the subject-self may have recourse to fantasy roles in the theatre of imagina-tion. For I cannot avoid notions of selfhood altogether--my neediness finds relief only in the movement to some form of self-realization, however indi-rect, implied, or even self-sacrificial it may become for a time. But what is new today for many persons is that 'T' may recurrently refer quite exclusively to the subject-self alone. In such cases the needful relation to identities is not denied but somehow "bracketed out" or "put on hold." This distinction appears to be called for by what I have named the "just ordi- ¯nary" feeling. More precisely, the "just ordinary" feeling belongs especially to the subject-self. Now, this distinction may unlock several, of the puzzling questions which arise .from our cultural situation today. It might resolve the problem for all who try to decide whether or not--even precisely as a Christian-- they should choose to be "just ordinary." Not Mediocrity, but Limitation A first question to be faced concerns mediocrity. If one settles into a "just ordinary" feeling of oneself, would this not bring an end to growth, to any serious striving for improvement? Would it not ring the death knell of idealism (in a good sense)? Would it banish from the competitive society believers who chose to accept it--as though our economic system as such is inherently alien? Even more traditional spiritualities sought to refute the accusation that Christian faith necessarily inclined believers to accept the established pow-ers and to resign themselves to exploitation by cle4er elites (Marx's "opium of the people" view about the role of religion in society). But that false use of Christian faith is not in question here. If a devout life means acceptance of manipulation and coercion by others, then it has simply lost its roots in the prophetic teachings of Christ. Instead, what is relevant here is the insight that only the subject-self can feel "just ordinary." Such a feeling cannot rightly belong to the self-concept. 499 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 My position is that only insofar as one becomes aware of one's "purely" sub-jective selfhood in contrast to current or possible fulfillments of one's poten-tials (the self-concept always means that) does the "just ordinary" feeling arise in the first place. It would follow, then, that for persons who do not experience this newish feeling (and no one is required to do so!) a decision to be "just ordinary" might mean choosing to be mediocre. That is not the case, however, for those who do recognize the new feel-ing in themselves; what they experience, I would say, is a new sense of per-sonal limits. No doubt, our knowledge of limitations is pluriform. Each person would tend to stress different aspects of the overall human "contin-gency" (its more technical name) as this comes home to individual lives. Limits are reached in our work, our relationships, our different life-stages, our suffering of reverses, rejections, sickness, injuries, or close encounters with death and dying: Our knowledge and abilities have a great variety of limitations, but so do our energies and our capacity for making creative responses. There are traditional ways of coming to know and accept our littleness, but what I have in mind here gives a different resonance to these more familiar events. In Western cultures it may seem natural to invest one's whole identity in a career role, with its achievements, or with honors already received (here the "strong self" makes its presence felt). But against this tendency I find it possible, like Hopkins, to identify mainly with my subject-self--even though my developed talents, skills, and other acquisitions (whatever their true worth) may be kept in view. I do not deny the crucial importance of these factors in my life as a whole. But I know I could lose all use of them if I suffered a grave stroke or a debilitating heart attack, for example. And throughout that illness, whose effects could be long-lasting, I would contin-ue to experience myself as "me"--a limited person, unique in my special taste of self, the same as I was as a child and teenager, and surely to remain so until death. If I am unable to make this sort of self-identification, but insist on claiming my developed self-concept as the only true "me," the danger is that a debilitating illness may tend to destroy me altogether. And those who live into old age, even if they never suffer a health crisis of the dramatic sort mentioned, may eventually experience their subject-self as "just ordinary"-- stripped of any actual use of their various gifts. In traditional Christian teaching our need for reliance on God will nor-mally be heightened and dramatized by major experiences of suffering (',limit" situations). This will surely continue to exert a central influence on personal realizations of Christ's paschal mystery. The unusual note to be Choosing to be "Just Ordinary '" / 493 sounded here, however, concerns the dimension of selfhood which our cul-tural moment may be bringing alive. The 'T' whom Jesus calls and unites to himself, the "I" who undergoes spiritual deaths and who may then receive new life in the risen Lord--this 'T' may now choose to identify with "just ordinary" feelings rather than either "nothing" or "something good denied." It is a form of limited selfhood available today to a much larger number of persons than ever before. Humility in a New Key As cultural events bring forward different ways of experiencing not only the humanized world but also the human subject in and by whom the world is humanized, individuals growing aware of their own gifts are always exposed to new dangers from pride. In his "Two Standards," we remember, St. Ignatius highlights the time-honored medieval teaching that pride is the source and origin of every other vice, and that humility, as St. Bernard puts it, is "the foundation and safeguard of all virtues." It follows that the emer-gence of a "just ordinary" feeling raises another question: precisely what effect might this have on our traditional sense of what the virtue of humility requires? No doubt, the rise of modern democracies brought a stronger emphasis on equality into social relations in the West (in contrast to earlier ideals of "subordination," of submission to those in higher orders). Every member, rich or poor, is supposed to stand on the same ground, in a civil sense as well as "before God," as every other member. But this opened the way to compe-tition in the public "free marketplace," where the many levels of social clas-sification become even more clearly marked than in the premodern world. Personal evaluations and interpersonal judgments are so much more intense than previously that the "neurotic" society of our day has become familiar to US.11 In this context modern teachings on humility tended to stress the differ-ence between the office and the office holder. And this traditional distinction was often combined with a focus on teamwork or group contributions. In sports, the heroes who score the highest number of points, even the winning goals, humbly acknowledge the help of their teammates and the glory of the whole team, rather than their individual merits. In short, modern humility consists mainly in putting oneself down. Self-abasement, especially after some signs of achievement appear in the struggle for success over others, is felt to be essential. This means that humility and humiliation are closely approximated in modern competitive societies. But in the postmodern world (if that is where we are today) many are 494 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 beginning to sense their subjective distance from the very structures of suc-cess and achievement themselves. Perhaps this is why human vulnerability and powerlessness have received so much attention in recent years. If I am right in this--to some extent and for some members only, of course--then the "just ordinary" feeling would denote an ability to experience self-worth independently of competition for successful contributions in the established institutions of the world. When the feeling does mean that, I would argue in favor of seeking to realize it in one's life. This would not necessarily signify nonparticipation in the large struc-tures of society--whether in business, politics, sports, communications, or whatever. But it could qualify the style of our participation because our main sense of self would no longer consist in whatever we might be able to achieve. To gain this rather sophisticated balance, of course, might not always be easy. It would mean learning how to give one's whole energies to highly skilled performances without pinning one's sense of self to success in performing well. Whatever the-degree of success or failure realized over time, those who contribute would continue to experience themselves to be "just ordinary" members of a community which regularly affirms their worth on a basis other than that of competition, success, or failure. This would bring a newish tone, a new chord, I think, to the age-old music of humility. Sacred and Secular Community The "just ordinary" feeling may also raise a question because of its very secularity. Normally the Church lives in a certa{n state of tension with the secular society in which its witness to Christ's message is to be given. But the quality of that "creative tension" can vary a great deal. In our day the tension may disappear whenever a new secular discovery affecting human growth is announced in a book or magazine, or its virtues are proclaimed in the media. It may then be taken up by skilled practitioners and made available in local programs. In recent decades we have received many such gifts. An example might be the interpretation of dreams by means of Jung's psychological theories. This can become quite an interesting activity, valu-able in itself. But there is a danger that believers who are attracted to it may then transfer most of their religious energies to essentially secular programs of this kind (think, too, of the many self-help groups claiming attehtion today) and thereafter give little attention to more central Christian practices. In particular, our own question concerns the "just ordinary" feeling. Is it another "brand-new discovery" of the type just mentioned? Does it not sug-gest a secular facet of human life which may all too easily replace more Choosing to be 'Just Ordinary" / 495 authentic 'teachings? Are we simply "shaking holy water" on secular objects and calling them Christian? I would reply that, while its potential misuses are undeniable, its right use may also be safeguarded if the underlying issue is kept clearly in sight-- the issue of the human call to transcendence. I will conclude this essay by exploring that deeper concem. At one level we remember that any new discovery may be claimed by Christian faith because all that is human belongs to God the Creator. Thus, we may recognize and welcome every fresh gift of human expertise, inte-grate it within the larger faith (making it subordinate, not dominant), and in this manner sanctify all things in Christ. No doubt this should be so. But at a deeper level of analysis the question arises in a new form because secularity (secular realities taken in a good sense, as differing from secularism) is always related to the sacred as its opposite. In this way Judaism and Christianity themselves initiated a radical process of secularization. For us the world is no longer "full of gods" since we believe in the one Creator who is beyond all created things (transcen-dent). Our faith has secularized the cosmos. Later on in history the civilized world, too, took further giant steps on the same journey. In great part today our political, economic, social, and cultural institutions are experienced not as immediately God-given but as humanly devised. In this more radical sense, then, whenever ongoing secularization enables a new gift of human life to be realized, the sacred powers of tradi-tional faith need to be adapted to the new situation. What had formerly been handled indirectly by religious beliefs has now come directly (even if incom-pletely) under human management. In faith we may welcome such events as fulfillments of God's intentions in creating humans "in his own image and likeness" (that is, cocreative with him). But we also note an important clue: there should be no change in secularity without a corresponding change in sacrality. The frequent failure here is a simple transfer of energies from the sacred into the secular realm while reducing religious operations to empty words alone. More specifically, if the emergence of "just ordinary" feelings can bring new aspects of human existence within the range of human competency, then we may rejoice in this prospect on condition that a corresponding, positive change occurs in our sense of specifically sacred gifts. But if the change should be merely negative, a loss of religious energies, then something has gone wrong. For example, the work of Carl Rogers and others on self-actualization and self-realization has an obvious bearing on our topic, but even here the 496 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 "just ordinary" feeling takes the process a step further, I think. All of these factors, we should remember, are secularizations of human powers which previously had been contained or implied within sacred gifts. 12 In Gerard Hopkins's poetry the sacred envelope remained untorn: Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves--goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying What I do is me: for that I came. I say more: the just man justices; Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces; Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is-- Christ--for Christ plays in ten thousand places, Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his . 13 Even more to the point are his famous closing lines in another poem: In a flash, at a trumpet clash, I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, Is immortal diamond. 14 The eternal worth to be realized at last in Christ is anticipated by a believer who knows his subject-self as "poor potsherd" and "matchwood." Surely this comes close to our "just ordinary" feeling even if its validation depends on faith in the resurrection. If we look back to Hopkins, we can per-ceive its secular potentials lurking within his very religious lines. In any case, now that it has emerged to stand on its own feet in our midst, we are challenged to respond afresh in faith to a new aspect of human self-realization. We may rejoice inthis event, but without a positive religious response of some kind the 16ss of transcendence becomes palpable. We may happily accept the growth of a human value, but its simultaneous excision from religious meanings calls for new initiatives, for real adaptations which do not downgrade the relevance of our transcendent faith but rather give it fresh impetus, redirecting its energies in new ways. Two principles may be l~ormulated in this regard. I have already been exploring the first of these, which might be put as follows: The Principle of Adaptation: Every new growth of secular competence should stimulate a corresponding renewal of sacred powers. The second may'be named: The Principle of Intensity: In our creative response to a given process of secularization, one important criterion would be a specific heighten-ing, rather than any lessening, in the experience of transcendence. Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 497 Whenever the Christian component is subtly reduced to a comfortable repetition of now irrelevant phrases, this second principle has been ignored. The urgency of transcendent faith for human affairs can easily be diminished without any advertence to its loss. Our "just ordinary" feeling, for example, simply cries out for creative faith responses. But what are these to be? That is the real issue. Will our sense of Christian humility be intensifie~l instead of being replaced? What fresh meaning can we now give to the crucial "poverty of spirit" which indicates membership in the Lord's kingdom? The heightened subjectivity that often seems to afflict us may also serve to awaken creative potentials previously unknown. Even though it makes us experience our human limits as never before, our acceptance of "just ordi-nary" feelings could, in fact, lead to new dimensions of liberation. But this will not be automatic. Our spiritual behavior will need to adjust itself cre-atively to the new gift. Possible responses are always at hand. Whenever in faith the members of our new communities reflect upon the significance of feeling "just ordinary" togetherl I believe the Real Presence of the risen Christ may receive a fresh emphasis. This heightened communal awareness may correspond in a unique way to our traditional poverty of spir-it. Precisely here a new intensity of faith may be gathering force. During the nineteen-twenties T.S. Eliot insistently employed the symbol of the Angelus bell, a traditional reminder of the moment of Incarnation. In that extraordinary instant, and whenever it is made present to us today, tran-scendent powers cut through the secular time dimension to disturb our mod-em preoccupations. In similar fashion a few decades earlier, wher~ striving to resist new inroads of modernity Pope Pius X led Catholic parishes to give renewed attention to the Real Presence in the Eucharist (mainly as reserved in the tabernacle or received during Holy Communion). Whatever judgments we may wish to pass upon those earlier modes of resis-tance, it seems clear that a creative response for today will need to focus on the Eucharist as an action performed by the whole community. We may be able to enter the eucharistic action as full participants because we surrender in faith to the Lord who makes his Real Presence felt in our ways of relating to one another. The "just ordinary" feeling may be chosen as a means to that effective recognition. When in a small faith community the members have learned how to act and speak out of their newfound sense of ordinary selfhood, all their gifts may be appreciated warmly and without exaggeration. They can be put into action zestfully since the members are set free from the anxieties of personal competition. Each one's acceptance by all the others may become intensified through the distinctly felt presence of the risen Lord in their community today--not merely by anticipat.ing the Second Coming. 498 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 In short, we are being graced, membered in a new life, invigorated, and turned in hope to the future by this much more active presence of Christ. That intensification of God's "reigning" in us may correspond accurately and be found to dovetail beautifully with the newly released "just ordinary" feelings of the members about themselves. NOTES l Method in Theology, New York: Herder & Herder, 1972, pp. 257-262. 2 On this distinction see Robert Bellah and others, Habits of the Heart, Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: Univ. of California Press, 1985, pp. 32-35 and passim. 3 SeeThomas ~ Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, trans. Wm. Creasy, Notre Dame, Ind.: Ave Maria Press, 1989; "Introduction," pp. 11-13. Also Devotio Moderna: Basic Writings, trans. J. van Engen, New York: Paulist Press, 1988; "Introduction," p. 8: "The Imitation of Christ has undoubtedly proved the most influential devotional book in Western Christian history." It has also been translated into all the great lan-guages of the world. 4 Book I, chap. 28; trans. Creasy, p. 32. 5 Book III, chap. 8; trans. Creasy, p. 95. 6 Book III, chap. 14; trans. Creasy, p. 102. 7 Details are given in J. Leclercq, E Vandenbrouke, L. Bouyer, The Spirituality of the Middle Ages (vol. 11 of The History of Christian Spirituality), London: Bums & Oates, 1968, pp. 481-486 (text by F. Vandenbrouke). 8 Trans. Joseph Rickaby, S.J., Chicago: Loyola Univ. Press, 1929; vol. II, pp. 165- 352: "The Eleventh Treatise: On Humility." See chap. IIl: "Of Another Main Motive for a Man to. gain Humility, which is the Consideration of His Sins." (The first main motive, given in chap. II, is "To know oneself to be full of miseries and weak-nesses.") 9 Walter J. Ong, S.J., Hopkins, the Self, and God, Toronto, Buffalo, London: Univ. of Toronto Press, 1986; see especially pp. 22-28. For a recent philosophical discus-sion see Frederick Copleston, S.J., The Tablet, 11 Nov. 1989 (vol. 243, no. 7791), pp. 1302-1303. l0 Cited by Alphonsus Rodriguez, Practice of Perfection and Christian Virtues, p. 168, see n. 8, above. Chap. II, "That Humility is the Foundation of All Virtues," pp. 168-170; chap. III, "In Which It Is Shown More in Detail How Humility Is the Foundation of All Virtues, by Going Through the Chief of Them." ~l On this, see Bellah and others, Habits of the Heart (n. 2, above), pp. 117-121, for its development in the U.S.A. But similar versions of "modem nervousness" and "therapeutic culture" could be gathered from the other Western traditions (Continental, English, Canadian.). ~2 Confer Paul C. Vitz, Psychology As Religion, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1977, pp. 20-27, for a discussion of Carl Rogers, Abraham Maslow, and Rollo May as moving from religious into secular concerns. Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 499 ~3 The Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins, ed. W.H. Gardiner and N.H. MacKenzie, 4th ed., London: Oxford Univ. Press, 1967; poem no. 57, p. 90. 14 Ibid, poem no. 72, p. 106. The Hunter Yahweh's manifest love has all the proud and fierce majesty of a turkey buzzard flying with outstretched wings upon hot afternoon breezes, which are thrust upward unconstrained from ocher grabens below. This carnivorous bird is the other side of the symbolic dove. It is the Master of the Universe when he is not content waiting for hesitant or indifferent souls who fail to seek him. Rather, he becomes the strident hunter pursuing those who choose hiding in dark shadows caused by lichen-covered trees, or along cow-trodden riverbanks, where brown mud oozes into slowly flowing, opaque waters. Yahweh spreads his wings, searches for the goats and lambs, such as you and me, when we forget how to look for him circling over us in the translucent sky. Brother Richard Heatley, F. S. C. De La Salle, "Oaklands" 131 Farnham Avenue Toronto, Ontario Canada M4A 1H7 At the Threshold of a Christian Spirituality: Ira Progoff's Intensive Journal Method John McMurry, S. S Father John McMurry, S.S., cun'ently serves at the St. Mary's Spiritual Center and as a spiritual director for St. Mary's Seminary and University in Baltimore, Maryland. He has taken part in thirty workshops led by Dr. Ira Progoff since 1976, and he has led some sixty Intensive Journal workshops since 1978. His address is All Saints Church; 4408 Liberty Heights Avenue; Baltimore, Maryland 21207. Since 1978 1 have been teaching Ira Progoff's Intensive Journal method occasionally at weekend workshops. Dialogue House, the umbrella organiza-tion covering all of Progoff's works, describes his method as a program of "professional and personal growth with a spiritual point of view." It is a non-analytic means for individuals to attain two goals. First, it enables individu-als to recognize and accept the wholeness of their life without denying the reality of any of its contents, no matter how unpleasant or embarrassing. Secondly, it enables individuals to get a feel for the consistency in the direc-tion that their life is taking as they discover potentials for the future hidden within their personal past. The goals of the program are attained by means of a variety of written exercises which are done in a group setting under the direction of an experi-enced leader who is committed to follow authorized guidelines. Individuals in the group work in private with the contents of their own life. The only prereq-uisites are an atmosphere of quiet and mutual respect, and an attitude of open-ness and acceptance on the part of each exercitant toward his or her own life. The program is not only nonanalytic; it is also nonjudgmental and is structured to help people experientially discover answers to questions such as the following: Where am I in the course of my life right now? How did I get to the place where I am in the course of life? Where is my life trying to go from here? What is the next step? 500 Progoffs Intensive Journal Method / 501 The Intensive Journal method itself has no content. The method is a dynamic structure to which each person supplies the content from one's own life. The structure aims at enabling individuals to establish deeper contact with the flow of creative energy in their own life. It is especially useful for people engaged in decision-making, for people who feel confused about the next step in life, for those who have lost contact with the direction their life wants to take, for those who feel alienated, isolated, or meaningless, and for those who simply want to expand their personal horizons of creativity. In creating the Intensive Journal program, Progoff had in mind people in a secular culture who are unfamiliar with or alienated by traditional religious language. However, the awarenesses stimulated by the exercises of his method serve to help Christians experience meaning in traditional doctrines which might otherwise remain merely propositional. In the case of people who approach it from the perspective of faith, the Intensive Journal program is a form of prayer. The Intensive Journal Method as Prayer In a chapter entitled "Prayer as Dialogue," Karl Rahner discusses prayer in terms apropos of the Intensive Journal method. He is addressing a com-mon problem of people who are earnest in their efforts to enter into dialogue with God. They often state the problem something like this: "When I pray, I cannot tell whether I am talking to myself or to God." Rahner challenges the presupposition that God says "something" to us in prayer. He raises some "what-ifs": What if we were to say that in prayer we experience ourselves as the utterance of God, ourselves as arising from and decreed by God's freedom in the concreteness of our existence? What if what God primarily says to us is ourselves in the facticity of our past and present and in the freedom of our future? Rahner concludes that when, by grace, we experience ourselves as the utterance of God to himself and understand this as our true essence, which includes the free grace of God's self-communication, and when in prayer we freely accept our existence as the word of God in which God promises him-self to us with his word, then our prayer is already dialogic, an exchange with God. Then we hear ourself as God's address. We do not hear "some-thing" in addition to ourself as the one already presupposed in our dead fac-ticity, but we hear ourself as the self-promised word in which God sets up a listener and to which God speaks himself as an answer. 1 Rahner is suggesting that God's word to me in prayer is not an idea; rather, God's word to me in prayer'is myself, that is, my personal, individual life story--past, present, and future. The implication is that my life story is 502 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 important in my relationship with God because it is the way God speaks to me and I to God. A further implication of Rahner's proposal is that I enter into dialogue with God ipsofacto under three conditions: 1) when I experience my life story as God's word addressed to himself; 2) when at the same time I understand that God is really present in my actual life story--past, present, and future-- as a free and undeserved gift of himself to me; 3) and when I freely accept my life story as the word of God in which God promises his Word to me. The Intensive Journal program is an instrument which lends itself to the discovery of the real presence of God in one's own personal life story. The content of the program is the content of the life of the Journal-writer; hence it is through the life of the Journal-writer that Christian faith may enter into the individual's use of the Intensive Journal exercises. Progoff has described the prayer dimension of his method as follows: The Intensive Journal work is indeed a species of prayer and meditation, but not in isolation from life and not in contrast to active life involve-ment. Rather, it is meditation in the midst of the actuality of our life experiences. It draws upon the actualities of life for new awarenesses, and it feeds these back into the movement of each life as a whole.2 The Intensive Journal Method and Spirituality In his "handbook of contemporary spirituality," Rahner raises the ques-tion whether the term "spirituality" is good, understandable, useful, or even has any meaning. Then he makes the observation that the crucial point for personal and pastoral life today is not so much a matter of getting the "spiri-tual" dimension of existence into our heads or other people's by means of abstract and conceptual indoctrination (which he says is ineffective anyway) as it is a matter of discovering the Spirit as that which we really experience in ourselves.3 Perhaps Rahner slightly understates the case. It may be that the crucial point for us personally and in our pastoral work today is simply to discover "the Spirit" as a fact of our own personal experience and to help others do the same. Furthermore, in order to be able to use the word "spirituality," we might let it refer simply to the individual's .relationship with God or, in other words, to what goes on in the creative process between God and each of us. This article presents Ira Progoff's Intensive Journal program as an aid to the process which is going on between an individual and God. The program adds no content to the life of the individual; it mirrors the movement which is already going on and stimulates that movement by feeding new aware- Progoffs Intensive Journal Method / 503 nesses back into the movement of life. ("Journal feedback" is one of the main features which distinguish this method from an ordinary diary.) This program, then, is a dynamic structure for evoking self-transcendence from the factual contents of a life story. For a person of faith it is a way of discov-ering the Spirit "as what we really experience in ourselves." Genesis of the Intensive Journal Method Following Progoff's discharge from the U.S. Army, he earned a doctor-ate in the area of'the history of ideas from the New School of Social Research in New York City. On the basis of his dissertation, Jung's Psychology and Its Social Meaning, published in 1953 and still in print, Progoff was awarded grants for postdoctoral studies with Carl Jung for two years. By virtue of those studies Progoff was licensed as a therapist by the state of New York, where he went into private practice after returning from Switzerland. In 1959 Progoff founded the Institute for Research in Depth Psychology at Drew University in New Jersey and served as its director until 1971. During those twelve years-he and his graduate students searched out the dynamics of creativity in published biographies of creative people whose life stories had ended. From his research Progoff concluded that creativity occurs through the interplay among various dimensions of life which may at first seem disparate. On the surface it may appear that the process in one dimension is unrelated to the process in another dimension, whereas in fact something new comes into being when the individual makes correlations among the dimensions of life. It is as though the individual is a complexus of certain processes which occur throughout life on different planes. Progoff has developed, the Intensive Journal method over more than a quarter-century of helping his clients apply the fruits of his research by dis-covering hidden sources of creativity within their own lives. He began teach-ing his method to groups in the late 1950s. In 1975 he published At a Journal Workshop, a thorough description of his haethod up to that time. In 1980 he published a companion volume, The Practice of Process Meditation, which added another dimension to the program. Dimensions of Human Existence In Progoff's view, the artist is paradigmatic. Each individual is both the artist and the ultimate artwork of life, and yet individuals execute the art-work which is themselves by engaging in outer activity which has inner meaning for the one doing it and beneficial consequences for society. In other words, in order for each of us to be fulfilled as an individual, we must 504 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 do some work (opus as distinguished from labor) which is both personally and socially meaningful. At the same time as we are creating our lifework, the doing of the work is creative of us. The basic dialogue of life is the dynamic actual (as distinguished from logical) dialogue between human cre-ators and their works. In Progoff's words, "Outward activity propelled from within is the essence of creative existence.''4 From his research on the lives of creative people Progoff learned to dis-tinguish certain dimensions of life as loci of the components of creativity. The Intensive Journal method recognizes those dimensions as sources of the raw material of creativity in anybody's life, They are the dimensions of time, ¯ of relationships, and of personal symbols. The Intensive Journal workbook uses color-coded dividers to mark off various sections in each of which the Journal-writer deals with the move-ment in one particular dimension of life. Within each of the main sections are tabbed subdividers of the same color as the main divider. Each tab bears the name of the specific exercise to be entered there. For example, the "Life/Time Dimension" is indicated by a red divider and contains four tabbed red subdividers; each of the four tabs bears the title of the written exercise to be entered there by the Journal writer. Similarly, the dimension of personal relationships in life, called the "Dialogue Dimension," is indicated by an orange divider and comprises five tabbed subdividers for each of the five "dialogue exercises." The part of the Intensive Journal workbook for making entries which deal with dreams and personal imagery is called the "Depth Dimension." It is indicated by a blue divider and five tabbed blue subdividers. In summary, the workbook comprises sections which reflect and stimu-late the movement of an individual life in each of its dimensions. Each of the main sections of the workbook represents a dimension of life and comprises several subsections for various written exercises which deal with the con- "tents of that life in styles appropriate to that particular dimension. The Dimension of Life/Time We do not get the chance to start life over, but the Intensive Journal pro-gram does offer us a tested means of restructuring our life from the perspec-tive of the present. At the same time it provides a means of discovering unactualized potentials which we may have overlooked the first time around, or which were not ripe then and may at some point in time be able to take a form they could not have taken originally. In studying the biography of a deceased person generally recognized as creative, the end or goal of that career may be clear and unmistakable, even Progof['s Intensive Journal Method / 505 though the lif'e story includes setbacks, stalls, reversals, and obstacles. It may be easy to see how everything in that life was leading up to some great scientific or philosophical work because we are viewing it from the perspec-tive of the end. But what if I am the life story I am working with? In that case the life process is still in progress. I am not looking at a still photograph but a mov-ing picture, and I am looking at it from the inside. In that case I start with the present epoch of my personal life and get a feel for this period of life from the inside. That is, I allow myself to feel the quality or tone of my life during this present period and record it objectively. The record I make of the pre-sent period will be an objective statement of my subjective experience of life at present. Then I am in a position to allow the course of my life to present itself to me from the perspective of the present in the form of about a dozen significant events. Each of those significant events serves to characterize a whole period of life. Of course, many other things also happened during that period. There are other exercises for dealing with them. The idea in this exercise is to get a feel for the wholeness and continuity of my life as I allow it to present itself to me in an articulated form so that I can use other Journal exercises to deal with it one period at a time. All the Intensive Journal exercises presuppose the attitude of openness and receptivity mentioned above, a nonjudgmental attitude toward life. It is not so much the objective contents of a life that affect its degree of creativi-ty, as the subjective attitude toward that life. In the creative restructuring of a life, a relaxed, friendly approach which allows surprises is important. Dimension of Relationships In the life/time dimension treated above, there is a principle of whole-ness, continuity, and direction,toward-a-goal at work. In the dimension of relationships, the dynamic is that of dialogue, that is, the give-and-take of equals listening and responding to each other in a spirit of mutual trust and acceptance. The principle of "dialogue relationship" applies first of all to significant people during various epochs of life. The. same dynamic applies analogously to meaningful work-projects (opera), which, like persons, seem to have a life of their own. In his research on creative lives, Progoff discovered that creativity occurs when people approach several kinds of meaningful contents of their life not as inert matter to be manipulated but as personal entities. That is, he discovered that creativity occurs when people acknowledge that each of sev-eral meaningful contents of their life has a life story of its own analogous to 506 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 that of a person. Each of these contents of life has a life story with blockages to growth toward a goal, with hopes, disappointments, successes, and so forth. He found that for the sake of movement toward acceptance of life and all it holds, it is of paramount importance to establish a "dialogue rel~ition-ship" not only with persons and works but witl~ the physical and societal dimensions of life, and with events, situations, and circumstances of life which "just happen." Progoff's research into de facto creative lives yielded two important corollaries. First, the movement which the dialogue relationship fosters is intrinsic to the "creative spirit. Secondly, in the dimension of relationships as well as in other dimensions of life, the factual contents of life are less impor-tant in the creative process than the way people relate to whatever the con-tents of their life are. The "Dialogue Dimension" of the Intensive Journal workbook offers a format for a variety of exercises which enable the Journal writer to engage in written dialogue with people who have played meaningful roles in their life, with work projects, their own body, sources of values in their life (v.g., fami-ly, ethnicity, religious commitment), and things over which they had no con-trol. The purpose of these dialogue scripts is to give a voice to the meaningful contents of life, that is, to provide them a forum in which mutu-ality can flourish in the form of a "dialogue relationship" rather than a mere-ly utilitarian relationship. This leaves the Journal writer open to the possibility of something new emerging from an old relationship from the past. That new something may contribute an insight or an awareness which is of benefit to another relationship or which creatively affects the movement in another dimension of life. The Dimension of Inner Symbols This dimension of life refers to dreams, "twilight imagery" and personal wisdom-figures as the vehicles which come forward spontaneously to carry the movement of life further. The aim of the exercises in this part of the Journal, called the "Depth Dimension," is to facilitate spontaneous correla-tions between inner imagery and outer life so that new insights, awarenesses, and possibilities for action and decision-making might come to the surface of consciousness. Then, by means of appropriate Journal exercises, they can be fed back into the ongoing movement of life and thus stimulate growth by creating new configurations in the way things fit together in life. Progoff tends to shy away from the use of dreams in his method because many people seem unable to deal with them except analytically. The Intensive Journal method of working with dreams is basically to allow the movement Progoffs Intensive Journal Method / 507 in a recurring dream or in a cluster of dreams to suggest some correlation with movement in one of the other dimensions of life. Then the exercitant may use appropriate Journal exercises to work in that dimension of life. The Fourth Dimension: The Spiritual As mentioned above, Progoff sees the Intensive Journal work in geoeral as "a species of prayer and meditation., in the midst of the actuality of our life experiences." However, he came to appreciate the role of the spiritual dimension in creativity only after he had developed Journal exercises in the three dimensions of life treated briefly above. The specifically spiritual dimension is reflected in his program as the dimension of meaning. The procedures for working in that dimension are called "Process Meditation." In the Intensive Journal program, formal work in this dimension is reserved for those who have already taken part in the "Life Context Workshop," which deals with the three dimensions of life treated above. As Rahner has said, "A basic and original transcendental experience is really rooted [in] a finite spirit's subjective and free experience of itself.''5 The "process" of "Process Meditation" refers to "the principle of conti-nuity in the universe" which is found on three levels: the cosmic, the s6ci-etal, and the personally interior.6 The Intensive Journal method helps the individual relate to "process" on the interior level. The movement of life in the three dimensions treated above is character-istically movement toward personal wholeness and the integration of the individual with oneself. Progoff calls that movement "core creativity." "In terms of individual lives," he writes, "the essence of process in human expe-rience lies in the continuity of its movement toward new integrations, the formation of new holistic units [of life/time].''7 In the spiritual dimension of life the movement is characterized by rela-tionships which transcend the core creativity of the individual. The roots of such relationships--even the personal relationship of the individual to God--are to be found in the stuff of everyday life, but at a deeper than ordi-nary level. Rahner speaks of the knowledge of God as "concrete, original, histori-cally constituted, and transcendental." He further says that such knowledge of God "is inevitably present in the depths of existence in the most ordinary human life.''8 Progoff interprets "meditation" broadly. In his usage it refers to whatev-er methods or practices one uses in the effort to reach out toward meaning. "The essence of meditation," he says, "lies in its intention, in its commit- 508 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 ment to work inwardly to reach into the depths beyond the doctrines of our beliefs.''9 Hence, "Process Meditation" refers to a set of exercises which draw on the individual exercitant's intimations or experiences of connected-ness to the principle of continuity in the universe. Progoff describes his method of Process Meditation as follows: Our basic procedure is to reenter the process by which our individual spiritual history has been moving toward meaning . We reenter that pro-cess so as to reconnect ourselves with the inner principle of its move-ment, and especially so that we can take a further step toward the artwork that is our personal sense of meaning,l° Conclusion In a review of The Practice of Process Meditation, William V. Dych, S.J., translator of Rahner into English, compares what Rahner calls "the uni-versal presence of grace and the Spirit" with Progoff's thesis that "there is in every human being an inner source of new light and life that expresses itself whenever the circumstances are right." Dych views Progoff's thesis as so supportive of Rahner's position that it would be hard to imagine a more pos-itive affirmation of it. ~ NOTES i Karl Rahner, The Practice of Faith: A Handbook of Contemporary Spirituality, ed. Karl Lehmann'and Albert Raffelt (New York: Crossroad, 1984), pp. 94-95. 1 Ira Progoff, The Practice of Process Meditation: The Intensive Journal Way to Spiritual Experience (New York: Dialogue House Library, 1980), p. 18. 3 Rahner, op cit, p. ! 86. 4 Ira Progoff, At a Journal Workshop: The Basic Text and Guide for Using the Intensive Journal (New York: Dialogue House Library, 1975), p. 35. 5 Karl Rahner, Foundations of Christian Faith: An Introduction to the Idea of Christianity, trans. William V. Dych (New York: The Seabury Press, 1978), p. 75. 6 Progoff, The Practice of Process Meditation, p. 40. 7 Ibid, p. 58. 8 Rahner, Foundations of Christian Faith, p. 57. 9 Progoff, The Practice of Process Meditation, p. 34. l0 Ibid, p. 82. II William V. Dych, "The Stream that Feeds the Well Within," Commonweal, 25 September 1981 Our Journey Inward: A Spirituality of Addiction and Recovery Maureen Conroy, R.S.M. Sister Maureen Conroy is co-director of the Upper Room Spiritual Center; EO. Box 1104; Neptune, New Jersey 07753. [~qany of us travel a great deal throughout our lives. With advanced means of transportation, traveling around the state, country, or world has become second nature to us. However, no matter how much or how far we travel, as we journey through life we discover that there is no journey more challeng-ing and scary than the journey inward, the journey to find true happiness and our most authentic self. We search for what is fulfilling and life-giving, but at times our searching takes us down the dark road of addictive behavior. We search for happiness in compulsive ways that deaden us rather than give us life--until we experience a desperate need for help. In this article I reflect on the darkness pervading the addictive process and some ways to journey through the darkness to our truer self. I discuss three aspects of our journey from addiction to recovery--woundedness and wholeness, powerlessness and surrender, and pain and compassion--and describe some dimensions of a spirituality of addiction and recovery related to these three aspects. A Spirituality of Woundedness and Wholeness As human beings God has given us the gifts of strength and freedom; we are called to live in the light. It is also true, however, that we are wounded, weak, vulnerable, broken people. We come from an environment of dark-ness. The brokenness in our ancestry and the dysfunction in our families has influenced our growth as free human beings. We are broken and we are in deep need of healing and redemption. We cannot save ourselves. In our addictive stance we want to avoid our woundedness, ignore our 509 510 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 weakness, and run from our vulnerability. We seek fulfillment through an object, a substance, or a process; that is, we form a pathological relationship with a mood-altering reality in order to find wholeness and happiness. We find it difficult to be honest about the dysfunction in our families and the brokenness in ourselves, so we look for something outside ourselves to keep us from facing our darkness. Spiritual growth and recovery, however, are just the opposite of this avoidance. To grow humanly and spiritually we must journey in and through our woundedness; we must face it head on. We need to feel the messiness of our brokenness and to discover God there. As Psalm 50 says, "a broken and humbled heart, O God, you will not spurn." We must discover that God's heart of love encompasses and holds as precious our wounded hearts, bodies, and spirits. It is through dwelling in our woundedness and vulnerability that we experience our authentic self and that we enable our addictive self to grow less powerful. We come to experience the child within and integrate our dark side with our light side. How do we make this journey in and through our woundedness? We do it by uncovering our addiction layer by layer. By this I mean we allow the walls of denial and layers of dishonesty to reveal themselves; we honestly appraise our unhealthy behaviorL Denial blocks our inner journey. It is a buffer against any reality thatis not acceptable to us, a way to protect our-selves from awareness of realities that are too difficult to face. Spiritual growth happens when we remove layer upon layer of denial that covers over our woundedness and our truer selves. Rather than avoiding our wounds, we need to expose them to the fresh air, to expose our broken hearts to the heal-ing .heart of God, to bring our darkness out into the light of day, to bring hid-den realities out to the light of God's love and the care of others. As Meister Eckhart says, "God is not found in the soul by adding anything, but by a pro-cess of subtraction." So it is through peeling off layer upon layer of denial and dishonesty that we discover God in our brokenness. We discover the original blessing that we are, our deeper and truer selves. We see and feel the aspects of ourselves--minds, hearts, and bodies--that mirror God's pres-ence. We experience the truth of the Genesis story where God says, "Let us make people in our image and likeness." We discover the authentic self that God desires to be fully human and fully alive. Growth in wholeness, therefore, takes place through integrating our dark side with our light side, through accepting our brokenness as we journey through it, by seeing the original blessing that we are. We discover that "darkness and light are the same" (Ps 139:12), that God is present in every dimension of our being. Thus, our woundedness becomes a gift, so rather Our Journey Inward / S'l'l than covering it over with layers of denial, we come to feel at home there because God is there. We discover our truer self underneath the layers of an addictive self. We integrate our wounded and blessed self, our darkness and our light, and we become more and more a whole person. We experience the truth proclaimed by St. Irenaeus: "God's greatest glory is a person fully alive." A Spirituality of Powerlessness and Surrender The journey through addiction to recovery is also one of powerlessness and surrender. God sent Jesus in the flesh to free us from our enslavement to sin and to show us the way t6 live in freedom. It was through Jesus' total surrender to his death on the cross that he experienced new life and showed us the way to true freedom, the freedom of letting go and surrender. In our addictive stance, we are trying to control everyone and everything around us. We grow hardheaded and hardhearted, and we attempt to control the sub-stance or process that we are abusing--alcohol, food, money, sex, work, or an obsessive relationship. We are out of control, and the more we try to con-trol everyone and everything around us, even the substance we are abusing, the more out of control we become. Our addiction is enslaving us to our own self-centered needs and desires. We are "number one" when we are addicted; our addictive needs come bei'ore everyone else. Our addiction enslaves us to an object or process that we think is going to bring us lasting happiness when it is really bringing us misery and isolation. It enslaves us emotionally, spiritually, physically, and socially. The more we try to control the use of our addictive reality, the more we lose con-trol. We deny the basic reality that Paul~ expresses: "The desire to do right is within me, but not the power. What happens is that I do, not the good I will, but the evil I do not intend. But if I do what is against my will, it is not I who do it but sin which dwells in me" (Rm 7~18-20). In our denial we keep think-ing we can choose to keep this substance in right order; however, the rbality is that our will is not working, it is diseased. We are powerless. So how does spiritual growth and recovery happen in relation to our being out of control? It begins when we admit our powerlessness, realize the insanity of thinking that we can control all aspects of our lives and our des-tiny. Spiritual growth happens through the journey of surrender, not control; it begins at the moment of surrender. We need to admit that our ability to choose has become greatly impaired through the disease of our addiction. Our trying to choose not to drink, not to overeat, not to overwork, not to engage in compulsive sexual activity, is just not working. Our willpower simply does not work. As we begin to admit our powerlessness and surrender to God, we find 512 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 new life. When we surrender rather than control, we are choosing life: "I have set before you life and death, a blessing and a curse. Choose life, then, that you may live, by loving the Lord your God, heeding God's voice and holding fast to God. For that will mean life for you" (Dt 30:19-20). As we admit our powerlessness and surrender to God, true power grows within us--the power to love others, the power to experience God's love, and the power to love ourselves. Through our surrender we come more deeply in touch with our authentic self--the self that is alive and not dead, free and not enslaved, joyful and not depressed. True freedom grows--a freedom that heals rather than hurts, that brings about growth rather than destruction, that results in life rather than death. In our surrender we begin to make positive choices for recovery, attend-ing twelve-step meetings and living the twelve-step program. We choose to take responsibility for our lives and our recovery, like the paralyzed man who had lain at the pool of Bethsaida for thirty-eight years until Jesus asked: "Do you want to be healed?" We need to respond to that same question in our addiction because recovery is hard work; it involves a gre.at deal of sacri-fice and responsibility. Also, through our daily admission of powerlessness and constant atti-tude of surrender, we discover God in a new way--a God who supports us in our weakness and strengthens us in time of need, a God who will not leave us even in our most out-of-control moments. We discover in Jesus a God " who has experienced weakness and powerlessness, a God who has stood totally stripped and poor, a God who invites us to have the attitude of a vul-nerable child rather than a controlling adult: "Unless you become like a little child, you shall not enter the kingdom of God." We experience a God whose power takes over in our weakness, as St. Paul discovered through his strug-gle: "Three times [which means numerous times] I begged the Lord that this might leave me. God said to me, 'My grace is enough for you, for in weak-ness power reaches perfection.' " It was through constantly admitting his powerlessness that Paul's spiritual growth and recovery took place. So he says: "I willingly boast of my weaknesses instead, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I am content with weakness., for when I am powerless it is then that I am strong" (2 Co 12:8-10). Thus, through admit-ting our powerlessness over an object of addiction and surrend.ering to God our weakness, we experience the power of God, the love of God, new life, renewed freedom. We move forward on the journey ,of recovery. A Spirituality of Pain and Compassion Finally, the journey through addiction to recovery is one of pain and Our Journey Inward / ~313 compassion. One of the hard facts of life is that suffering is an integral part of it. Jesus himself had to suffer great pain in order to bring new life. Our God is not a distant God but a compassionate God who experienced great pain, the pain of loving us. In our addictive stance, we deal with pain in an unhealthy way. We want to run from it, cover it over, deny it. We are caught in a "Catch 22" situation because, in using a substance to avoid our pain, we are really in great pain-- the pain of loneliness, isolation, and alienation from our true self and from healthy relationships with others. As our addiction progresses, it becomes increasingly painful to maintain our denial. We are overcome by the pain of shame and self-disgust. Spiritual growth and recovery take place when we face that pain, feeling it, looking at it square in the face, rather than avoiding it by abusing a sub-stance. As our walls of denial break down, we begin to feel the pain we have been covering up--the pain of living, the pain of loss, the pain of being human, the pain of developing intimate relationships, the pain of childhood neglect and abuse. We find out that healing involves pain, as in the case of lepers. Leprosy causes numbness. When Jesus healed the leper, he invited him to feel pain in the areas of previous nrmbness. The same is true of the leprosy of our addiction: as we begin to let down the walls of denial, we begin to feel pain. We realize that recovery and healing are not easy. As we journey through deeper levels of pain in our recovery, we discover a God who knows what it is to suffer. As Meister Eckhart says: "Jesus becam~ a human being because God, the Compassionate One, lacked a back to be beaten. God needed a back like our backs on which to receive blows and therefore to perform compassion as well as to preach it." Our compassionate God became a suffering God. Our God feels with us, suffers with us. Again, Eckhart says, "However great one's suffering is, if it comes through God, God suffers from it first." What a gift we have in a God who suffers with us! As we experience this tremendous love of a compassionate God, we become people of compassion, persons who can feel with others in their bro-kenness. We become more vulnerable and grow toward greater wholeness because love is the greatest healer. As our walls of denial are penetrated with God's compassionate love and we become more vulnerable, we can be with people in their brokenness. That is one of the beautiful realities of the twelve-step program: it is a group of people who are in touch with their bro-kenness and therefore have great compassion for those who are struggling. They live out these words of McNeill, Morrison, and Nouwen: "Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into places of pain, to share in broken-ness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with 514 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears. Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and powerless with the powerless. Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human" (Compassion, p. 4). As we feel the pain that our addiction has tried to cover, we become wounded healers--people who minister out of our woundedness as well as our strength. "What you have received as a gift. give as a gift" (Mt 10:8). Our pain becomes a gift that we can give to other addicted people as we compas-sionately help them to face the devastation of their addictive behaviors. In sum, our inward journey involves walking down the dark paths of our brokenness into the light of God's presence and our authentic self. A spiritu-ality of addiction and recovery must include two sides of reality: awareness of our woundedness, powerlessness, and pain as well as growth in wholeness, surrender, and compassion. Without a vivid sense of the depths of our bro-kenness in our addicted self, we cannot move toward the wholeness of our authentic self. Without a keen awareness of our darkness, we are blind to the light of God's healing presence. Without an acute sense of our vulnerability, we cannot become compassionate healers who stand with others in their pain. Though scary and challenging, our journey through our own darkness will lead us to the light of true happiness, deeper fulfillment, and new life. Awareness Examen for Recovering People In God's presence, take ten to fifteen minutes to prayerfully reflect on your day. Contemplate your day together--you and God. Prayer of Thanksgiving I thank God for the gift of this day, the gift of my sobriety, the gift of my recovery. I thank God for specific git~s of life that come to mind, such as my health, my family, my community, my friends, my job, my twelve-step program. I thank God for gifts of my inner life, such as the ability to feel and think, energizing feelings I had during the day (name them), specific values and beliefs that guided my actions, ways I used my thinking and imagination for growth, positive choices for recovery which I made today, God's life within me. I thank God for two or three concrete life gifts and inner gifts that I am particularly aware of and grateful for today. Prayer for Light I humbly ask God to help me see myself and my life today as God sees Our Journey Inward them. I ask God to remove blindness and denial from my mind and heart. I ask God for the gift of honesty with myself and God. I ask God for a dis-ceming heart and a truthful mind. Prayer of Awareness God and I contemplate my life, my heart, and my thinking this day from the moment I woke up until now. What specific feelings did I feel today? When did I feel most alive today? most my true self?, most joyful? most peaceful? most in tune with my deeper self?. How did I feel God's presence today? What was that feeling like? What was God like? At what moment did I feel God's presence the strongest? When did I feel powerless today? out of control? enslaved? unfree? What was I powerless over? Did I surrender that reality to God? When did I feel vulnerable today? When did I feel pain today? What was the pain about? Did I share that painful feeling with God or another? With whom have I been most honest today? myself?, another? God? What was I honest about? How did I struggle with honesty today? With what issue or feeling? ' What were my feelings underneath the struggle? fear? anger? guilt? Which of the twelve steps was my strength today? How did I live it, carry it out, in a practical way? In what concrete ways did I strive to improve my conscious contact with God? What choices did I make for my recovery today? How do I feel about those choices? When did I feel compassion for another person today? How did I reach out to others today? show concem and care? make amends? Prayer of Amends I ask God to forgive any specific wrongdoings of today. I ask God to have mercy on any negative attitudes or feelings that I got stuck in today. Prayer of Surrender I surrender all to God: my life, my will, my brokenness, my addictions, my imagination, my thoughts, my feelings. I surrender to God specific attitudes, feelings, thoughts, actions over which I felt powerless today. I ask God's strength to take over in my specific weaknesses. I ask God's power to be present in the specific areas in which I feel helpless and powerless. 516 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 O God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Take, O Lord, and receive my liberty, my memory, my understanding, my entire will, all that I have and possess. You have given all to me. To you, O God, I return it. All is yours, dispose of it wholly according to your will. Give me your love and your grace, for this is sufficient for me. (Prayer from the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius) RECOMMENDED READING Larsen, Eamie. Stage H Recovery: Life Beyond Addiction. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1985. May, Gerald. Addiction and Grace. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988. McNeill, Donald; Morrison, Douglas; and Nouwen, Henri. Compassion. New York: Doubleday & Co., 1966. Nakken, Craig. The Addictive Personality: Roots, Rituals, Recovery. Center City, Minn.: Hazelden, 1988. Whitfield, Charles L. Healing the Child Within. Pompano Beach, Florida: Health Communications, 1987. A Gift to Share The Jesuit Heritage Today "Ignatian prayer puts the history of salvation into the present tense." --Walter Burghardt, S.J. A Spirituality for Contemporary Life ¯ presents six stimulating reflections on the Jesuit heritage today. Theologians Walter IBurghardt, David Fleming, Monika Hellwig, Jon Sobrino, ElizabethJohnson, andJohn Padberg speak about living with God in ordinary life. ISBN 0-924768-02-9 112 pages List Price $5.95 A Resource to Keep See Order Form Inside Back Cover for Special Offer for Readers of Review for Religious Apostolic Spirituality: Aware We Are Sent James H. Kroeger, M.M. Father James Kroeger last appeared in our pages in May/June 1988. He has a doctor-ate in missiology from the Gregorian University and has published five books. His address: Maryknoll Fathers; EO. Box 285; Greenhills Post Office; 1502 Metro Manila; Philippines. Adequately capturing realities in the spiritual life always demands the use of dynamic, expansive language. For this reason, spirituality is frequently described in relational categories--between a Christian and a personal God, between the servant-herald and the crucified and risen Lord. Such a relation-ship of intimacy is at the heart of biblical spirituality: "I will be your God and you shall be my people"; Christians are Jesus' friends and call their heavenly Father "Abba." Spirituality may also variously be described as growth, an evolution toward maturity, a pilgrimage. Each category presents an authentic, albeit partial, grasp of the human-divine dynamic operative in our lives. In this article, "consciousness" or "awareness" is the category for our insight into spirituality, and it naturally overflows with an apostolic or missionary dynamism. Consciousness: A Window into Spirituality Consciousness may seem to be an elusive concept, yet no one would deny the reality. An individual is in a conscious state when perceptual and cognitive faculties function normally. One continuously synthesizes various stimuli from within and from without; ideally, the result is a healthy personal integration. Notice that many constitutive elements are included in consciousness: seeing, hearing, feeling, thinking, desiring, experiencing. Consciousness incorporates perceptions, emotions, observations, thoughts, aspirations, 517 5"11~ / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 choices. It also includes an introspective awareness of the personal impact of all events and experience. In light of this brief and rudimentary description of the phenomenon of human consciousness, one may begin to elaborate the relationship between consciousness and a spirituality of the apostolate. Our service--all focused on raising our God-consciousness and expanding the horizons of our spiritu-al awareness. We want to use our eyes to see perceptively and our ears to hear attentively; we hope to gain deepened insight into our lives through faith's mirror (Jm 1:22-25). In another vein, a look at the venerable Eastern traditions of many Asian nations reveals that the man of God or the God-conscious, God-focused per-son is essentially a seer, sage, or mystic. Such a person "sees" and experi-ences God; God is not an object of knowledge, but a subject of experience. To grow in holistic spirituality is concomitant with an experiential awareness and consciousness of God's presence and activity in all dimensions of one's life (Arguelles, 50-51). The beautiful prayer in the Upanishads, one of the Hindu sacred books, expresses the aspiration and spiritual desire to come to this deeper conscious union with the divine. In Sanskrit and English it is: Asato ma satgamaya Tamaso ma jyotir gamaya Mrutyu ma amrutam gamaya. God, lead me from untruth to truth Lead me from darkness to light Lead me from death to immortality. Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk and spiritual writer (1915-1968), has enabled countless people to gain insights into their spirituality. Merton inti-mately links spirituality and prayer with the transformation of conscious-ness. He sees that a renewed conscious awareness underlies all spiritual growth; Christians must cease to assert themselves as the center of con-sciousness and discover God's presence as the deepest center of conscious-ness within them. Thus, as their self-consciousness changes, they are transformed; their self is no longer its own center, it is now centered on God. It is important to note that for Merton no one will ever be capable of communion with God and others without ttiis deep awakening, this transfor-mation of consciousness. Such transformative growth "consists in a double movement, man's entering into the deepest center of himself, and then, after passing through that center, going out of himself to God" (Higgins, 49). Merton asserts that, unless our spirituality or prayer "does something to awaken in us a consciousness of our union with God, of our complete depen- Apostolic Spirituality / 5'19 dence upon him for all our vital acts in the spiritual life, and of his constant loving presence in the depths of our soul, it has not achieved the full effect for which it is intended" (Merton-A, 67). In today's world, "What is required of Christians is that they develop a completely modern and contemporary consciousness in which their experience as men of our century is integrated with their experiences as children of God redeemed by Christ" (Merton-B, 279). The renowned Indian theologian D.S. Amalorpavadass has written elo-quently on the role of consciousness or awareness in attaining spiritual inte-gration and interiorization: "If wholeness is a state of being at which one should finally arrive in stages, awareness is the running thread and unifying force. Awareness needs to flow like a river, like a blood-stream . Awareness is also the core of spirituality and God-experience." He repeats: "Awareness or consciousness should flow through the various actions of our life. One should maintain awareness in all that one does. It should serve as a running thread and connecting bond., through the various activities of our day, and the different periods and stages of our life, in an uninterrupted and continuous flow. This flow will make our whole life a continuous prayer and a state of contemplation" (Amalorpavadass, 4, 24). Brief glimpses of Scripture, Eastern traditions, a Trappist monk, and a contemporary theologian have shown that "consciousness" helps one grasp the human-divine dynamic operative in the Christian life. Within this catego-ry- which is foundational--a vibrant spirituality and a concomitant mis-sionary dynamism can flourish. And, in a Marian spirit, Christians who are missionary will grow ever more conscious of the marvelous deeds that God is accomplishing in us, our neighbors, our society, our Church, and the entire world. The Consciousness of Paul the Missionary The New Testament describes Paul's radical awareness of God's active presence in his life. Though not naturally prone to humility, Paul admits that he was knocked to the/~round; in Damascus "something like scales fell from his eyes," By grace h~ perceived that he was the chosen instrument to bring Good News to the Gentiles and that he would accomplish his mission only with hardship and suffering (Ac 9). Paul's consciousness of his apostolic calling was certainly at the basis of his extraordinary missionary journeys. Without a vivid perception and faith commitment, no one would willingly endure the challenges Paul faced. Such endurance would be foolishness. Yet Paul is never willing, even momentari-ly, to minimize his authority and commitment as an apostle; the introductory 520 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 verses of many of his letters are clear evidence of this. Paul's conversion was no superficial or passing phenomenon. It penetrated the core of his person and totally transformed his way of thinking and acting--his consciousness. Further investigation into Pauline theology and spirituality reveals the depth of his convictions. Paul is absolutely certain that God has a wonderful, marvelous, loving plan of salvation for the entire world (note his frequent use of the words mysterion and oikonomia). His letter to the Ephesians con-vincingly, almost mystically, explains how "God has given us the wisdom to understand fully the mystery,'~ "the mysterious design which for ages was hidden in God." Pauline reflection on God's loving plan of salvation (mysterion) synthe-sizes his belief that this design has been fully revealed in Christ and will be recapitulated in Christ at the end of time. This manifestation is focused on salvation, not condemnation or judgment, and is open to all peoples. It unfolds in stages: God, Jesus, Spirit, Church, world. Humanity's response is faith or personal appropriation of the mysterion (Fitzmyer, 807-808). A recent scholarly investigation (Plevnik, 477-478) has concluded that "Any center of Pauline theology must therefore include all these components of the apostle's gospel, his understanding of Christ, involving the Easter event and its implications, the present lordship, the future coming of Christ, and the appropriation of salvation. The center is thus not any single aspect of Christ, or of God's action through Christ, but rather the whole and undivided richness and mystery of Christ and of the Father's saving purpose through his Son" (mysterion). Mystery, in one word, captures the Christian message. Paul is the missionary par excellence because he believed, lived, prayed, served, reflected, witnessed, preached, and suffered so that God's mysterion would be known, extended, loved, and freely received. Obviously, Paul's missionary consciousness had the "mysterion encounter" as its central focus and driving force. Paul's self-awareness as an apostle was rooted in being chosen as a ser-vant and minister of God's loving plan of salvation. It might be asserted that the mysterion engulfed and consumed Paul; his consciousness was so trans-formed that he could assert that Christ lived in him, that fellow Christians could imitate him, that life or death no longer mattered, and that he gloried in giving his life for Christ. In a word, the mysterion is foundational to Paul's missionary identity and consciousness. Mission and Mysterion Consciousness The Second Vatican Council in its decree on the missionary activity of the Church places mission and evangelization at the center of the Church-- Apostolic Spirituality / 52'1 not allowing this task to float somewhere on the periphery: "The pilgrim Church is missionary by her very nature" (AG, 2). Pope Paul VI continues in the same vein: "We wish to confirm once more that the task of evangelizing all peoples constitutes the essential mission of the Church . Evangelizing is in fact the grace and vocation proper to the Church, her deepest identity. She exists in order to evangelize." (EN, 14). To evangelize--what meaning does this imperative have for the Church? It is to be no less than the living proclamation of the mysterion, God's loving design of universal salvation. As the community of Jesus' disciples, the Church realizes her "deepest identity" and "her very nature" when she ful-fills her mission of evangelization. She is to be always and everywhere "the universal sacrament of salvation" (LG, 48; AG, 1). For her, to live is to evangelize. In contemporary terms, the Church accomplishes her "self-realization" or "self-actualization" through mission and evangelization. She is only authentic and true to herself when she is announcing and witnessing the mys-terion. A nonmissionary Church is impossible; it is self-contradictory. The great missionary pope Paul VI writes that the Church "is linked to evange-lization in her most intimate being" (EN, 15); mission is not "an optional contribution for the Church" (EN, 5). In addition, the Church's missionary identity is not a late afterthought of the risen Jesus--though this outlook may seem true today of some Christians and local churches. Animation and rededication are necessary because Christians "are faithful to the nature of the Church to the degree that we love and sincerely promote her missionary activity" (EE, 2). These few paragraphs may invite the comment "I have heard it all before." True, yet all of us often hear without hearing, see without seeing, and listen without comprehending. It is precisely at this juncture that conscious-ness is poignantly relevant. Many Christians do not deny the missionary nature of the Church, but their level of conscious awareness is weak or mini-mal. This fact is unfortunately true even of many full-time Church personnel. The intention here is not to berate or castigate individuals. Rather, it is a stark statement of the need for "consciousness-raising"; it is a call for Christians to expand and deepen their awareness; all urgently need "conscientization-into-mission." In short, the entire Church herself must experience a profound reevangelization in order to become a truly evangelizing community. Recall the themes presented earlier on the centrality of consciousness in Christian life and spirituality. They seem particularly relevant as the Church struggles with her fundamental missionary identity. Is not this a central burn-ing question in the Church today: What has happened to her mission con- 522 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 sciousness--where is its urgency and dynamism--where are the contempo-rary St. Pauls? A rephrasing in mission terms of earlier quotes on consciousness from Amalorpavadass may prove enlightening. Church-as-mission is "the running thread and unifying force"; it "needs to flow like a river, like a blood-stream"; it is at "the core of spirituality and God-experience"; ira"will make our whole life a continuous prayer and state of contemplation." Trinitarian Basis of Mission Consciousness and Spirituality In the same breath that the Vatican Council spoke of the Church's mis-sionary identity, it presented the foundational rationale of mission. In a word, the why of Church-as-mission is Trinitarian, "for it is from the mission of the Son and the mission of the Holy Spirit that she takes her origin, in accordance with the decree of God the Father" (AG, 2). This mission vision, expressed in Trinitarian language, must not frighten or intimidate readers. Do not say, "I do not understand Trinitarian theology, so I cannot grasp this." While a bit difficult and challenging, this insight is also beautiful and rewarding. It transports us to the heart of mission; it flows from the core of our faith in the Trinity; it greatly enhances our mission con-sciousness and spirituality. The most inviting manner to appreciate mission--via the Trinity--is to remember that it is an eminently personal approach. The Father is a person, his son Jesus is a person, their girl of the Spirit is also a person. This is only a statement of a basic dogma of the faith. Grasping the immanence and closeness of the three Persons appears far more fruitful than grappling with the incomprehensibility of the transcendent Trinity (Billy, 602-611). Growth in conscious awareness, experience, and encounter with each of the three Persons richly broadens our vision of mission. It also manifests that mission theology and spirituality draw from the same wellspring. An appre-ciation of the roles of the Father, the Son, and the Spirit in mission produces an integrated missiology, incorporating "Abba" theology, Christology, and pneumatology. The result will certainly be a more holistic theology and spir-ituality of mission. Finally, it is the conviction of this author that such an approach relieves some current tensions and answers some questions in mission. For example, debates centered on interreligious dialogue with the living faith traditions of the world can probably be better resolved more from a pneumatological approach than from only a Christological one. Therefore, if mission theology and spirituality are an integrated endeavor, the deepened consciousness will provide insights for both theoretical and practical questions. Apostolic Spirituality / 523 Our attention now tums to the roles of Father, Son, and Spirit in mis-sion. How does each person of the Trinity send and accompany us into mis-sion? Recall the title of this presentation, which links mission and spirituality with a consciousness of being sent. The Role of the Father The Father is presented in Scripture as the harvest master and vineyard owner. Mission, therefore, originates with the Father; mission is God's pro-ject. The Father determines its parameters. Already this awareness places the Church and her evangelizers in an auxiliary, servant role. Vatican II clearly set aside triumphalistic ecclesiology as well as any simplistic identification of the Church and the Kingdom of God. As servant of the kingdom or laborer in the vineyard, the Church is to be "the kingdom of Christ now present in mystery" and the "the initial budding forth of that kingdom" (LG, 3, 5). In addition, the Council, situating the Church within the larger framework of God's design of salvation (mysterion), entitled its first chapter of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church "The Mystery of the Church." The Church and all missioners must radically see themselves serving the mysterion "according to the will of God the Father" (AG, 2). The Father desires generous cooperators and humble workers for the harvest. He freely chooses them and they are to belong to him (Lk 6:13; Mk 3:13-16; Jn 15:15-16). These passages remind evangelizers that all mission is a sending (missio/mittere), originating in the Father; their vocation is God's gratuitous gift. Missioners do not send themselves; mission cannot be defined in legal terms; all must be according to the Father's gracious design. Affirming mission, therefore, as a gratuitous gift in the Father's gracious vision, emphasizes the centrality of grace. Thus, missioners understand, as the country priest in Bernanos' novel says on his deathbed, in all vocations "Grace is everywhere" (Bernanos, 233). Trinitarian mission is always soteriological; its purpose is liberation and salvation. The Father has no other goal, as Paul clearly reminded Timothy: He "wants all to be saved and come to know the truth." Condemnation or rejection are inconsistent with the Father's design (Jn 3:16-17; Mt 18:14). The Father, overwhelmingly "rich in mercy" (Ep 2:4), extends his great love to everyone, as the universalism of both Luke and Paul make clear. All evangelizers have experienced "the kindness and love of God" (Tt 3:4); it is out of their deep consciousness of the Father's personal graciousness that they journey to all places, peoples, and cultures. They are aware that they have received all as girl, and they desire to give all with the same generosity (Mt 10:8). Any missioner would relish being described as "rich in mercy." 594 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 The Father cannot be surpassed in his kindness and generosity (Jm 1:5, 17); his mercy is made concrete and visible when he sends Jesus, his Son. This is definitely a new mode of God's presence with his people; it is love in personal form. This unfolding of the mysterion far surpasses previous mani-festations of Yahweh's presence to his people Israel (Heb 1:1-2). Missioners strive to be continuations of the love of God manifested personally in Jesus, and this approach brings transformation and deepened consciousness. Our discussion of the Father's role in mission carries us back to the heart of the Trinity: God is love (1 Jn 4:8), and all manifestations flow from this identity. No less than the inner life of the Trinity is founded on the dynamism of divine love. Thus, the mysterion necessarily is a loving design since it arises "from that 'fountain of love' or charity (fontalis amor) within God the Father" (AG, 2). It is imperative that missioners and evangelizers become mystics like John the Evangelist (see 1 Jn 4:7-21); nothing less can explain the love of God for a fallen world and rebellious humanity. No other motivation is ade-quate to the missionary calling--of the entire Church. Mother Teresa of Calcutta has named her congregation the Missionaries of Charity, and she never tires, of reminding her audiences that this is the fundamental vocation of all Christians. It sounds fantastic, but it is true: The love of the Trinity is personally poured into our hearts and it transforms all evangelizers into mis-sionary messengers of God's limitless love. Knowing our personal God as the font of love is the highest level of consciousness possible. Mission spiri-tuality becomes a conscious centering on Trinitarian love. This is the solid missiology-become-spirituality promoted by Vatican II. The Mission of the Son Jesus declares openly that he has been sent by his loving Father; the phrase "the Father who sent me" occurs forty-six times in the Gospel of John. And a salvific thrust is evident in the missioning of Jesus by his Father. Vatican II expresses Jesus' missioning as a reconciling presence "to establish peace or communion between sinful human beings and himself . Jesus Christ was sent into the world as a real mediator between God and men" (AG, 3). In Paul's theology, mediation and reconciliation are vital ele-ments of the mysterion (2 Co 5:19; Col 1:13; Rm 5:1)~ Jesus' continuing "Abba experience" (Kavunkal, 9-15), enabling him to faithfully accomplish his mission, has several dimensions: his coming or proceeding from the Father (noted above), his remaining with the Father (Jn 10:38; 16:32), and his eventual return to the Father (Jn 16:5; 7:33; 13:36). This means that Jesus fulfills his mission in light of a particular conscious- Apostolic Spirituality / 525 ness: continual intimacy with his Father. Luke tells us that, before making such a decisive move in his ministry as the choice of the Twelve, Jesus "went out to the mountains to pray, spending the night in communion with God" (Lk 6:12). Mission in the Jesus mode has its source, continuation, and fulfill-ment in the Abba experience. This dimension of Jesus' living of his mission provides evangelizers an inviting model for their own mission consciousness. In its holistic vision of God's design for salvation, the Council sees the Church as continuing, developing, and unfolding "the mission of Christ him-self" (AG, 5). The apostolic exhortation Evangelii Nuntiandi (13-16, 59-60) and the pastoral statement on world mission of the United States Bishops To the Ends of the Earth (25-27) also confirm mission as an ecclesial act in fidelity to Jesus. Contemporary evangelizers, cognizant of the Jesus-Church continuity, seek to live and witness as the community of Jesus' followers. They recall his promises (Mt 16:18; 28:20), but readily admit they are fragile "earthen vessels." They faithfully accept that "Christ in his mission from the Father is the fountain and source of the whole apostolate of the Church" (AA, 4). A missioner's model is "sentire cum ecclesia'" (feel and think with the Church), frankly admitting that one is "simuljustus et peccator" (concomi-tantly both upright and sinful). Who among Jesus' followers does not need a deeper consciousness of these realities? Central to the mission of Jesus is the mystery of the Incarnation: "The Son of God walked the ways of a true incarnation that he might make men sharers in the divine nature" (AG, 3). This radical identification of our broth-er Jesus with us mortals (Heb 4:15) makes us rich out of his poverty (2 Co 8:9). He became a servant (Mk 10:45) and gave his life "as a ransom for the many--that is, for all" (AG, 3). Consistently, Church Fathers .of both East and West have held that "what was not taken up [assumed] by Christ was not healed" (Abbott, 587, note 9). Thus, when Jesus took to himself our entire humanity, he healed, renewed, and saved us. In brief, incarnation is the fundamental pattern of all mission. Today evangelizers are deeply conscious of the ramifications of mission as incarnation. No missioner worthy of the name underestimates the impor-tance of indigenization and inculturation; they develop a spirituality of "depth identification," becoming as vulnerable as Jesus was in his humanity. This same pattern is the model of growth and development of all local churches (AG, 22). While it is certain that the mission of Jesus is initiated at the Incarnation, his baptism by John in the Jordan is an act of public commitment and conse-cration to mission. Jesus pursues his ministry; though it will encounter grow- 526 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 ing opposition and lead to the human disaster of Calvary, he will not betray his commitment. Note that Matthew, Mark, and Luke all juxtapose Jesus' baptism and the triple temptation in the wilderness. The tactic of Satan is to subvert Jesus with possessions, pride, and power; at the core, all Satan's promises tempt Jesus to renege on his dedication to mission. The more conscious an evange-lizer becomes of the struggle involved in mission faithfulness, the closer he will be drawn to Jesus. "who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin." The missioner will constantly and with confidence "approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and favor and to find help in time of need" (Heb 4:15-16). Instructive for the Church and her evangelizers is an appreciation of the continual action of the Spirit in the life of Jesus. The creed affirms that he was conceived "by the power of the Holy Spirit." The same Spirit descends on Jesus at the moment of his baptism (Mt 3:17); he is led by the Spirit to the desert (Mt 4:1); he returns to Galilee in the power of the Spirit (Lk 4:14); he begins his preaching mission at Nazareth asserting that "the Spirit of the Lord is upon me" (Lk 4:18). As Jesus was empowered by the Spirit, he sends forth his own disciples saying: "Receive the Holy Spirit" (Jn 20:22). Peter (Ac 4:8), Paul (Ac 9:17), Stephen (Ac 6:5; 7:55), and those who listened to their preaching (Ac 10:44) were all filled with the Spirit. In fact, the entire nascent Church brims with the Spirit's presence (Ac 2:4), and thus the community increases while it enjoys the consolation of the befriending Spirit (Ac 9:31). Jesus, his disci-ples, and likew.ise today's evangelizers all are in mission through the mar-velous action of the Spirit (Kroeger-A, 3- 12). Concretely in the practical order, Jesus carries out his mission through evangelization--proclaimiog the GoodNews of the Kingdom. The first words that Mark places on Jesus' lips are centered on this very theme (Mk 1"15). Luke also portrays Jesus' mission as focused on glad tidings to the "little ones of this world" (Lk 4:18-19). As Paul VI has noted, this theme "sums up the whole mission of Jesus" (EN, 6). Jesus could not be impeded in his ministry: "I must announce the good news of the reign of God, because that is why I was sent" (Lk 4:43). Contemporary evangelizers, reflecting on the urgency and scope of Jesus' kingdom proclamation, will find themselves imitating Jesus' ministry as he lived it in silence, in action, in dialogue, in teaching, and in prayer. Yes, the Good News of the Kingdom for Jesus means an integral, holistic approach to evangelization--because all dimensions of the total gospel are expressions of his enduring love (Jn 13:1). Apostolic Spirituality / 527 Jesus' entire life, from the Incarnation to the Ascension, was a procla-mation. All he said and did were a testimony to the Father's loving design (Jn 3:31-35; 7:16; 8:38; 14:24). Jesus existed on nothing else; his "suste-nance/ food/meat" was to do the will and work of the one who sent him (Jn 4:34). In everything Jesus was faithful to the Father. Reflective, insightful evangelizers interiorize the fidelity mind-set of Jesus (Ph 2:5); they also imitate St. Paul in his concern for faithful transmis-sion of the message of Jesus preserved by the Church (1 Co 15:3, 11). In prayer and meditation missioners refocus themselves on Jesus and his king-dom, and often this demands setting aside personal opinions and ambitions. Mother Teresa of Calcutta notes that Jesus does not always call us to be suc-cessful, but he always invites us to be faithful. This fidelity to Jesus and his message should not be interpreted in too narrow a sense. As announcers of Good News, we consciously interiorize Jesus' gospel values; however, we seek to transmit them to humanity in all its cultural, social, religious, and politico-economic diversity. Certainly, this is a fantastic challenge; it is central to contemporary evangelization. Paul VI expressed it wisely and poignantly: "This fidelity both to a message whose servants we are and to the people to whom we must transmit it living and intact is central axis of evangelization" (EN, 4). Lifestyle is key in any vision of evangelization. For our contemporaries, who willingly listen only to witnesses (not theoreticians), the missioner's authenticity and transparency are generally the first elements in evangeliza-tion; wordless witness is already a silent, powerful, and effective proclama-tion. It is an initial act of evangelization (EN, 21, 41). Jesus himself adopted a particular, concrete lifestyle. His mind-set was fidelity and obedience to his Father; his outward manner manifested the lived values of poverty, total dedication, persecution, apparent failure. The Church and her evangelizers "must walk the same road which Christ walked, a road of poverty and obedience, of service and self-sacrifice to the death" (AG, 5). Bluntly, there is no authentic Christian mission without the cross and all its surprises, foolishness, and scandal (1 Co 1:18-25). True mission is always signed by the cross, and without it we cannot be Jesus' disciples. The evan-gelizer is always generous in bearing a personal share of the hardships which the gospel entails (2 Tm 1:8). Constantly the Christian disciple is measuring his life and apostolate against the lifestyle of Jesus and the patterns of the gospel. Sustained prayerful reflection and an ever deepening consciousness of one's personal relationship with the Trinity are the unique way of interior-izing the paradox of the cross and the power of the resurrection. 528 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 An anonymous poet, speaking of the centrality of the Incarnation and Redemption in Christianity, noted that there are no definitions in God's dic-tionary for these terms. One must search for the meaning of Bethlehem and Calvary under another category. Their significance is to be found only when one reads how God defines love. Indeed, God's loving plan of salvation is a message of hope for all peo-ples. It is universal and should be preached and witnessed "to the ends of the earth." To spread this universal message demands great dedication and faith, as seen in the practical advice that Paul gave to Timothy (2 Tm 4:1-5). The evangelizer, conscious of his role in the actualization of the mysteri-on, will surrender enthusiastically to the invitation of Jesus: Come and fol-low me in my mission. This conscious surrender will open his eyes to perceive, not so much what his efforts are accomplishing, but how Father, Son, and Spirit are working fruitfully in and through his life. With this vision, contemplation and actibn harmoniously blend and sustain one anoth-er; the evangelizer experiences living the mysterion. Eventually, all will be recapitulated in Christ and God will be
