REVIEW FOR REIolGIOI.IS (ISSN 0034-639X). published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOLIS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO, © 1982 by REVIEW FOR REI,IGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscfip!ion U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $1"/.00 for two years. Olher countries: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW Eou RELIC.IOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Dululh, MN 55806.

Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Editor Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Associate Editor Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Book Editor Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Questions and Answers Editor Jean Read Assistant Editor

Sept./Oct., 1982 Volume 41 Number 5

Manuscripts, hooks for review and correspondence wilh thc editor should be sent to REVII.:W FOR R~:I.,(;~OUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be senl Io Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuil Community; SI. Joseph’s University; Cily Avenue at 541h SI.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:v~:w ~ou REL~(aOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Letters of Gratitude

Robert F. Morneau

In this article, Bishop Morneau is attempting an experiment, the inspiration of which he explains in his introduction. If his effort responds to a sufficient desire in the audience, he has other letters to other authors already in mind. Bishop Morneau, Auxiliary Bishop of Green Bay, has an office at Ministry to Priests Program; 1016 N. Broadway; De Pere, WI 54115.

How many of us, well-intentioned indeed, have been moved to express gratitude for gifts received but, lacking either sufficient discipline or crowded by pressing demands, have failed to properly recognize our benefactors. I stand self-accused! Though trained in younger years to promptly send thank-you notes, distance from gracious family policies has allowed this excellent habit to diminish ,and finally disappear. This present collection of thank you letters, though long overdue, attempts to make restitution; it seeks to halt my proclivity to take things for granted. Several stimuli have served as prods in this present endeavor. One was Flannery O’Connor’s The Habit of Being. l found in her collected letters a style of discourse that might be labeled "heart .talk": simple, direct and highly personal Listening in to her conversations with a variety of persons proved to be for me enriching and inspiring. A second stimulus came from a reflection of Henri Nouwen in his sensitive autobiographical piece The Genesee Diary: Meanwhile, it remains remarkable how little is said and written about letter writing as an important form of ministry. A good letter can change the day for someone in pain. can chase away feelings of resentment, can create a smile and bring jo.t, to the heart. After all, a good part of the New Testament consists of letters, and some of the most profound insights are written down in letters between people who are attracted to each other by a deep personal affection, l~tter writing is a very important art, especially for those who want to bring the good news (p. 70-71). A third and most important stimulus comes from a personal desire, i.e., a longing that others might meet some of the people who have touched my life. 641 642 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

Their wisdom and gifts are too valuable to remain on shelves, collecting dust while our spirits remain famished. These jottings of mine are means to an end. They attempt to draw the reader to lovingly pursue the .full text of each author addressed. The passages 1 have included are merely hors d’oeuvres; the main course lies in the books themselves. Our libraries contain a wealth of material that boggles the mind How to be selective in such a rich mine; what gems to carry out and which to leave behind? The choice, like all choices, causes us joy in the books withdrawn, sorrow at what must be foregone because of our limitations. But then there are other seasons for further reading and future generations to ponder other authors. Three letters are contained in this series. The first is written to Julian of Norwich (b. 1342 - d. 1416). In her masterpiece of spiritual literature, Showings, Julian articulates how God revealed himself in her life. Her work is marked by clarity and depth, compassion and keen sensitivit.v, theological precision and accu- racy. The work is a deep personal witness of how the human heart is touched b), divine love. The second letter is addressed to Simone Weil. She lived from 1909 to 1943. She was a brilliant mathematician and philosopher and became deeply involved in social and political issues. Though attracted to Catholicism, she never was received into the Church. Her writings show deep sensitivity and keen intelli- gence. Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American essayist and poet, is the recipient of the third letter. He lived from 1803 to 1882. His essays are filled with poetic insight and challenging convictions. He was a gifted man who articulated well the inner journey. Hopefully, these letters will draw us into a deeper appreciation of three who journeyed before us. Hopefully, too, we will be challenged to read the primary sources.

Julian Norwich, England

Dear Julian, I write in gratitude for your spiritual journal which has touched the heart of the human condition in many ~vays. For those who are skeptical of private revelations, and I am one of them, your writings indicate that such workings of God are authentic when received and expressed in grace. I would like to share now some of the themes and reflections that touch my spirit. Your God! Courteous, accessible and familiar! At the heart of such a theology is your intense awareness of a God whose love is personal, a God who waits and longs for us, his people. I noted that you used the adjective "courteous" of God well over fifty .times, driving home the point of his graciousness and intense affectivity. How attractive this is: to be drawn by love to God rather than to be exposed to harsh attributes of anger and wrath. And what a struggle you had to Letters of Gratitude / 645 find the compatibility between wrath in God and his rich courtesy. Yet your sense of sin and the necessity of mercy permeate all your writings. Sin is offensive to God indeed; yet his love comes to our sinfulness in mercy and healing. The God you experienced is indeed the God of Scripture. You are now famous, you know, for calling God "mother." More specifically, you applied this term to Jesus because it is through him that we are reborn and nurtured in our new life. He carries us, as a mother does her child, in fruitful pregnancy. Based on this analogy of birth, nurturing and pregnancy, the only fitting term is "mother." Hopefully, this beautiful image will not be lost because of myopic imagination or airtight theologies. In your life of seclusion, the charge might be made in our age of high social consciousness that you lived a truncated spirituality. However, your reflections constantly call people to virtue, the practical living out in specific ways the love of God experienced in prayer. Moreover, you often use the expression "fellow-Chris- tians" which indicates that you were deeply concerned about all people. Thomas Merton once stated that he never felt so close to God and his fellow pilgrims as when he was in solitude. That paradoxical experience was also part of your life and you shared it with us well.. Speaking of well-ness! A constant refrain is that "all will be well." Time and time again you drive us back to the mystery of providence and the demand for trust in the Lord. The great deed of God will be to bring about total healing of .history and creation. We stand too close to pain to realize this but you had. the faith to believe in the darkness. Indeed, faith is the ability to say "I know that you know." Yet in the darkness of our pain and frailty we want all to be well now, unable and unwilling to accept the woe that comes our way. Again you call us to a central spiritual truth: well-being or woe is not the heart of the matter, rather it is doing the will of the Father. In this lies all holiness and peace. You are a good teacher. Through the analogy of a hazelnut (183), you draw together the mysteries of being created, loved and preserved; the image of a knot (284), points out the tremendous bonding between God and ourselves; at the bottom of the sea (193) you remind us of God’s continual presence; in the magnifi- cent image of the city (337) you point out how God dwells forever in our inner abode; in the analogy of the king-servant (188ff) we are present with the familiar and personal working relationship between the Creator and his creature. Add to these pictures of wounds, a purse, the ground, a gardener, a citadel, and you bring us through images into insight. These delightful mental "buckets" help us to retain a wealth of truth and theology. Romanticism gives way to realism because you lived constantly in the shadow of the cross and the experience of suffering that such discipleship entails. You longed to taste.the sufferings of Jesus, your Beloved. Thus your spiritual life was a mixture of consolation and desolation; you accepted this as your Savior did in his life. Very helpful is your description of the alternating movements of the spirits and the constant challenge to accept either with equal peace of mind. Our natural inclination is to flee pain, poverty and deprivation; grace allows us to endure and 644 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 participate in this dark side of life and thereby make great spiritual progress. Attitude of mind is crucial; grace is necessary to train us in proper disposition. The fact that we have little or no control over the alternating spirits deep within adds its own unique cross. Acceptance of this fact is a key to spiritual maturity. In what lies happiness? What is heaven? You respond to these questions with directness and simplicity. Heaven is Jesus: happiness is found in personal relation- ships with our God and his creation. Having things is replaced by being possessed by Love. Being is more significant than doing, though the latter will follow freely when love is embraced. Further, God’s bliss is in us--we are his delight, his bliss, his crown. What magnificent mutuality here! God’s countenance never changes, his eyes are always filled with love, his smile is graciously upon us. A God who delights in his creatures--you have repeated well the message of the psalmist. Central to our relationship with God is prayer. I really enjoyed your distinction between higher and lower contemplation (339), the former focusing on God’s love and causing spiritual joy and delight, the latter gazing upon sin and keeping us in reverential fear and holy shame. What a beautiful balance, a trait that is discernible throughout your writings. Indeed, without contemplation we begin to distance ourselves from our subjective experience and thus from the Lord. Yet he remains ever close; we must be disposed to hear and respond to his slightest touch. Two last points are of great interest to me: the constant reference to divine indwelling and the seeking/finding theme. God has, in his inscrutable providence, decided to make his home within our being. From this flows an incomprehensible dignity that we are challenged to attend to. With such a guest, how reverently we should live! It is because of our blindness and insensitivity that we fail many times to live within this presence. Then too, Julian, you speak of two movements that are of great importance: seeking the Lord and finding him. For you indicate that in the finding we receive consolation and deep joy; in the seeking, the Lord is pleased and delighted. Both are good, yet what is central is the Lord’s will. Thus if we are to find the Lord, then we should rejoice in such a grace. Come what may, it is recognizing and doing God’s will that determines sanctity. For your lightness of touch, for your sharing of faith vision, for your modeling of prayer, for your gentle humanness, I thank you. With deep affection, RFM

Happiness For until I am substantially united to him, I can never have perfect rest or true happiness, until, that is, 1 am so attached to him that there can be no created thing between my God and me. (183) Contentment For this is the loving yearning of the soul through the touch of the Holy Spirit. from the understanding which I have in this revelation: God, of your goodness give me yourself, for you are enough for me, and I can ask for nothing which is less which can pay you full worship. And if I ask anything which is less, always I am in want; but only in you do I have everything. (184) Letters of Gratitude / 845

God’s Will ¯.. and therefore we may with reverence ask from our lover all that we will, for our natural will is to have God, and God’s good will is to have us, and we can never stop willing or loving until we possess him in the fullness of joy. And there we can will no more, for it is his will that we be occupied in knowing and loving until the time comes that we shall be filled full in heaven¯ (186) Relativity But the reason why it seemed to my eyes so little was because I saw it in the presence of him who is the Creator. To any soul who sees the Creator of all things, all that is created seems very little¯ (190) Pleasing God And this vision taught me to understand that the soul’s constant search pleases God greatly¯ For it cannot do more than seek, suffer and trust. And this is accomplished in every soul, to whom it is given by the Holy Spirit. And illumination by finding is of the Spirit’s special grace, when it is his will. Seeking with faith, hope and love pleases our Lord, and finding pleases the soul and fills it full of joy. And so I was taught to understand that seeking is as good as contemplating, during the time that he wishes to permit the soul to be in labor. It is God’s will that we seek on until we see him, for it is through this that he will show himself to us, of his special grace, when it is his will. And he will teach a soul himself how it should bear itself when it contem- plates him, and that is the greatest honor to him and the greatest profit to the soul, and it receives most humility and other virtues, by the grace and guidance of the Holy Spirit¯ For it seems to me that the greatest honor which a soul can pay to God is simply to surrender itself to him with true confidence, whether it be seeking or contemplating. These are the two activities which can be seen in this vision: one is seeking, the other is contemplating. Seeking is common to all, and every soul can have through grace and ought to have discretion and teaching from Holy Church¯ It is God’s will that we receive three things from him as gifts as we seek¯ The first is that we seek willingly and diligently without sloth, as that may be with his grace, joyfully and happily, without unreasonable depression and useless sorrow. The second is that we wait for him steadfastly, out of love for him, without grumbling and contending against him, to the end of our lives, for that will last only for a time¯ The third is that we have great trust in him, out of complete and true faith, for it is his will that we know that he will appear, suddenly and blessedly, to all his lovers. For he works in secret, and he will be perceived, and his appearing will be very sudden¯ And he wants to be trusted, for he is very accessible, familiar and courte- ous, blessed may he be. (195-196) And in this my understanding was lifted up into heaven, where I saw our Lord God as a lord in his own house, who has called all’his friends to a splendid’ feast. Then I did not see him seated anywhere in his own house; but ! saw him reign in his house as a king and fill it all full of joy and mirth, gladdening and consoling his dear friends with himself, very familiarly and courteo.usly, with wonderful melody in endless love in his own fair blissful countenance, which glorious countenance fills all heaven full of the joy and

Citations are reprinted from Julian of Norwich, Showings. trans, by Edmund Colledge, O.S.A., and James Walsh, S.J., © 1978 by The Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle in the State of New York, used by permission of Paulist Press. 646 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

bliss of the divinity. (203) Dryness of Spirit This vision was shown to teach me to understand that some souls profit by experiencing this. to be comforted at one time, and at another to fail and to be left to themselves. God wishes us to know that he keeps us safe all the time, in sorrow and in joy; and sometimes a man is left to himself for the profit of his soul, although his sin is not always the cause. For in this time I committed no sin for which I ought to have been left to myself, for it was so sudden. Nor did I deserve these feelings of joy, but our Lord gives it freely when he wills, and sometimes he allows us to be in sorrow, and both are one love. For it is God’s will that we do all in our power to preserve our consolation, for bliss lasts forevermore, and pain is passing, and will be reduced to nothing for those who will be saved. Therefore it is not God’s will that when we feel pain we should pursue it in sorrow and mourning for it, but that suddenly we should pass it over, and preserve ourselves in the endless delight which is God. (205) And when we fall back into ourselves, through depression and spiritual blindness and our experience of spiritual and bodily pains, because of our frailty, it is God’s will that we know that he has not forgotten us. (307) For our courteous Lord does not want his servants to despair because they fall often and grievously: for our falling does not hinder him in loving us. (245) Our Lord wants us to have true understanding, and especially in three things which belong to our prayer. The first is with whom and how our prayer originates. He reveals with whom when he says: I am the ground: and he reveals how by his goodness, because he says: First it is my will. As to the second, in what manner and how we should perform our prayers, that is that our will should be tuned, rejoicing, into the will of our Lord. And he means this when he says: I make you to wish it. As to the third; it is that we know the fruit and the end of our prayer, which is to be united and like to our Lord in all things. (250-251)

II

Simone Weil France

Dear Simone, l write in gratitude for your essays touching on a wide range of experience: God’s presence in our human condition, the plight of the worker, the meaning of affliction, the purpose of s~tudy, the struggle for justice, the future of political and economic systems. You speak from felt experience, keenly analyzing the causes and effects of human proclivities and aberrations. Provocative, inspiring, challeng- ing all, your reflections have touched many minds and hearts; your sensitive spirit has provided both theoretical and practical implications that continue to have impact on our times. Letters of Gratitude

A trait that strikes me deeply is your candidness in addressing personal and collective issues. In regard to your spiritual life, you were drawn toward Catholi- cism but felt that you could not accept that stirring because in so doing you would remove yourself from large segments of the human family. While failing to see the logic of your conclusion, 1 respect your unwillingness to compromise, your com- mitment to principle. Your courage is impressive. Besides personal honesty in terms of your own life-style, you take on systems that oppress and exploit the fundamental rights of people. A deep sense of responsibility toward the common good and a powerful vision of human solidarity made you cry out wherever the dignity of people was threatened or.injured. Human respect did not paralyze you; you were willing to pay the price in your hunger and thirst for justice. A related but distinct theme is your profound insight into the philosophic patterns of means-end. The ultimate evil is to reverse the order of reality: turning means into ends (138). This principle explains so much of life. Other authors concur with your observation but from slightly different angles: C. $. Lewis warns of getting caught on Christianity (creeds, codes, cults) and’ forgetting about Christ; he notes elsewhere how writers begin to focus more on how they say things rather than the truth which is the end of all discourse. Pope John Paul 11 speaks about techhology enslaving the person whenever humans fail to exercise their proper responsibility over the instruments that they have created. All in all, exploitation and manipulation are the consequences of failing to allow’the goal to govern the process. Such a failure fosters death, not life. By profession you did spend some time teaching. In writing about this most noble vocation you articulated a thesis that all study, by its very nature, is directed toward the love of God and is a preparation for that love. The inner dynamism of the process contains the power of contemplation, that human act of loving atten- tiveness that puts us into intimate contact with reality. All study is an exercisein attention; attention is a form of contemplation: contemplation is essentially a union with reality whose ultimate source is God. In faith we bglieve that all creation in some way manifests the Creator. Thus your thesis has a firm theologi- cal basis. Regardless of the discipline, be it anthropology, sociology or literature, attentiveness to the reality exposed by these studies is indirectly preparing the alert student to love of God. What joy this is for the faith-filled teacher; what a surprise to the atheist who unwittingly leads the searching student into the embrace of God. Shakespeare once wrote: "Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel." You worked in a factory and understood from experience many of the trials of human life. From the inside you struggled with need and pain, small joys and unhappy compensations. Choice, not necessity, drew you into this world. To the extent that you did not need to remain in the w~rld of wretches, possessing the necessary resources both intellectually and materially to exit at will, there was a tinge of unreality in such a choice. Not all the strings were cut. Regardless, you tasted the full range of boredom, anomie and meaninglessness that result from situations in which people are no longer dealt with as persons but are treated as objects or machines. It was from this posture that you prophetically demanded reform in 641~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 systems that impinged negatively on the hearts and dignity of people. Your words continue to challenge our generation, caught by a vast technological network that threatens our freedom and enslaves our spirits. A special influence in your life was a poem by George Herbert entitled "Love." While concentrating with great effort on the inner meaning of this distant, sensitive man’s beautiful verse, you encountered the Lord. Drawn into the dialogue of the poem your heart was captured and held fast. The intimacy and indwelling articu- lated by HerbertAake us to the heart of faith: a deep personal relationship with God that provides a basis for discipleship. The struggle expressed between the invitation to be with God and one’s sense of unworthiness, between resting in the Lord and being busy with one’s duties and responsibilities, between allowing God to be God and trying to control the flow of lives--all these apparently were part of your existential experience. In a single short poem, crucial life issues were raised and given a resolution: to live in his presence. Eternal joy is contingent upon our individual responseto this challenge. The ways in which God touched your life were as many as the ways in which he used you to influence others. Your awareness of this sensitive process is de- scribed by the term "instrumentality." Through various persons, seen precisely as channels of grace, the Lord made his presence felt: Fr. Perrin acting as friend- counselor transmitted a sense of faith; Homer writing in The Iliad shared a scope of reality and human interaction that enriched your sense of meaning; close friends, intervening at key moments in your life, made visible divine love in word and deed. Having known the divine presence, you in turn shared, through your finely honed gifts, your interpretation of that experience. The Creator and creature in dynamic mutuality! St. Francis’ prayer experienced and lived! All of us who have read your works know firsthand the power, meaning and joy of this instrumentality. Sincerely, R.F.M.

Friendship But the greatest blessing you have brought me is of another order. In gaining my friendship by your charity (which 1 have never met anything to equal), you have provided me with a source of the most compelling and pure inspiration that is to be found among human things. For nothing among human things has such power to keep our gaze fixed ever more intensely upon God, than friendship for the friends of God. (19) Everybody knows that really intimate conversation is only possible between two or three. As soon as there are six or seven, collective language begins to dominate. That is why it is a complete misinterpretation to apply to the Church the words "Wheresoever two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." Christ did not say two hundred, or fifty, or ten. He said two or three. He said precisely that he always forms the third in the intimacy of the tete-a-tete: (23) Fear As always happens, mental confusion and passivity leave free scope to the imagination. On all hand~ one is obsessed by a representation of social life Letters of Gratitude

which, while differing considerably from one class to another, is always made up of m~,,steries, occult qualities, myths, idols and monsters; each one thinks that power resides mysteriously in one of the classes to which he has no access, because hardly anybody understands that it resides nowhere, so that the dominant feeling everywhere is that dizzy fear which is always brought about by loss of contact with reality. (37) Prayer The key to a Christian conception of studies is the realization that prayer consists of attention. It is the orientation of all the attention of which the soul is capable toward God. The quality of the attention counts for much in the quality of prayer. Warmth of heart cannot make up for it. (44) Joy The intelligence can only be led by desire. For there to be desire, there must be pleasure and joy in the work. The intelligence only grows and bears fruit in joy. The joy of learning is as indispensable in study as breathing is in running. Where it is lacking there are no real students, but only poor caricatures of apprentices who, at the end of their apprenticeship, will not even have a trade. (48) Presence Not only does the love of God have attention for its substance; the love of neighbor, which we know to be the same love, is made of this same substance. Those who are unhappy have no need for anything in this world but people capable of giving them their attention. The capacity to give one’s attention to a sufferer is a very rare and difficult thing: it is almost a miracle; it is a miracle. Nearly all those who think they have this capacity do not possess it. Warmth of heart, impulsiveness, pity are not enough .... The love of our neighbor in all its fullness simply means being able to say to him: ~What are you going through?"... This way of looking is first of all attentive. The soul empties itself of all its own contents in order to receive into itself the being it is looking at, just as he is, in all his truth. (51) Unhappiness Nothing is more difficult to know than the nature of unhappiness: a residue of mystery will always cling to it. For, following the Greek proverb, it is dumb. To seize its exact shadings and causes presupposes an aptitude for inward analysis which is not characteristic of the unhappy. Even if that aptitude existed in this or that individual, unhappiness itself would balk such an activity of thought. Humiliation always has for its effect the crea- tion of forbidden zones where thought may not venture and which are shrouded by silence and illusion. When the unhappy complain, they almost always complain in superficial terms, without voicing the nature of their true discontent; moreover, in cases of profound and permanent unhappi- ness, a strongly developed sense of shame arrests all lamentation. Thus, every unhappy condition among men creates the silent zone alluded to, in which each is isolated as though on an island. Those who do escape from the island will not look back. The exceptions turn out almost always to be more apparent,than real. (64) Expression No thought attains to its fullest existence unless it is incarnated in a human environment, and by environment I mean something open to the world around, something which is steeped in the surrounding society and is in contact with the whole of it, and not simply a closed circle of disciples

Citations are reprinted with permission from the book The Sirnone Weil Reader. edited by George Panichas, © 1977. Published by David McKay Co., Inc. 650 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

around a master. (84) Silence The whole of space is filled, even though sounds can be heard, with a dense silence which is not an absence of sound but is a positive sound object of sensation; it is the secret world, the world of Love who holds us in his arms from the beginning. (87) Suffering I am convinced that affliction on the one hand, and on the other hand joy, when it is a complete and pure commitment to perfect beauty, are the only two keys which give entry to the realm of purity, where one can breathe: the home of the real. But each of them must be unmixed: the joy without a shadow of incompleteness, the affliction completely unconsoled. You understand me, of course. That divine love which one touches in the depth of affliction, like Christ’s resurrection through crucifixion, that love which is the central core and intangible essence of joy, is not a consola- tion. It leaves pain completely intact .... for anyone in affliction, evil can perhaps be defined as being everything that gives any consolation. (92-93)

Joy We know that joy is the sweetness of contact with the love of God, that affliction is the wound of this same contact when it is painful, and that only the contact matters, not the manner of it. (107) Instrumentality It is more suitable for some thoughts to come by direct inspiration; it is more suitable for others to be transmitted through some creature. God uses either way with his friends. It is well-known that no matter what thing, a donkey for instance, can be used as agent without making any difference. It pleases God perhaps to choose the most worthless objects for this purpose. I am obliged to tell myself these things so as not to be afraid of my own thoughts. (110) Idea Now, everybody knows from his own experience how unusual it is for an abstract idea having a long-term utility to triumph over present pains, needs and desires. It must, however, do so in the matter of social existence, on pain of a regression to a primitive form of life. (150) Suffering ¯ . . for the understanding of human suffering is dependent upon justice, and love is its condition. (181) Failings In private life also, each of us is always tempted to set his own failings to a certain extent, on one side. relegate them to some attic, invent some method of calculation ~hereby they turn out to be of no real consequence. To give way to this temptation is to ruin the soul; it is the one above all, that has to be conquered. (187)

III

Ralph Waldo Emerson New England

Dear Mr. Emerson, I write in gratitude for the brilliant essays that have flown so freely from your generous pen. Few subjects escape your incisive gaze and contemplative spirit. Letters of Gratitude / 65"1

History, personalities, nature, culture, education, politics, religion have all elicited your comments and artistic revelation. Lecture halls in America and Europe still reecho with the sound of your voice; the mind and heart of many a transcendental- ist quiver with awe at your observations. Even the woods and hills of New England have never been the same since your vision of their very essence. The inward journey! If for no other reason than this, your writings challenge our achievement-oriented generation and activistic culture to reexamine its values and life-style. Prime time and energy must be budgeted for personal interior renewal. You model well for us here. Interiority was a way of life which you evidenced by the depth of your writing. Your words come from a source far beyond your own power; one can sense this in the tone of your discourse. Your contemplative stance presents a viable option for many of us desirous of a life-style radically different from the one offered by our culture. Another world that is not primarily concerned with productivity and external achievements is available to anyone who desires it. Your life makes present such a choice and, though fear of the interior life remains, your courageous entrance instills hope. "Self-Reliance" is a most powerful essay. You state that the divine spark resides in all of us and tends to be activated in sporadic moments. All have the potential in varying degress for genius--those with developed artistic skills express that genius in some visible-audible manner. My understanding of your meaning of self-reli- ance is not that we are called to some solitary, stoical, individualistic self-suffi- ciency; but rather, that we are motivated to get in touch with our deepest self, far beyond the superficial narrowness of our surface self and find therein a wealth that is wedded to the life force (what we call in theological terms, God). Such an analysis would imply that not to have self-reliance would be to cut oneself off from the source of existence. Your abhorrence of conformity and false consistency is well taken at this point. A failure to live from internalized values carries the price tag of no personal identity, a price paid by too many. Healthy and authentic self-reliance fosters true identity and its accompanying freedom. Initially, I struggled with your style--philosophic, at times highly abstract and tight. Profundity and clarity are seldom happily married because of the mysterious nature of reality. The closer one is to truth the more difficult becomes its expres- sion. Simplicity gets covered by human discourse. The mental challenge to reach beyond any style is well worth the effort. Your writings contain a spirit of deep tension between the individual and collective whole, between personal freedom and authoritarian structures, between self and institutions. You are clearly committed to the first value in each set, i.e., the individual, freedom and self. This seems so obvious that the advantages and importance of the common good are not given full weight, the necessity of some structures containing an authority is not fully appreciated, the role that a given institution can play in fostering life fails to be properly valued. Your own expe- rience of leaving the institutional ministry may have had much to do with your outlook. Perhaps the delicate balance between complementary sets of values can- not be maintained by a prophetic spirit such as yours. An implicit principle of 652 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 nature indicates that the development in one direction of our giftedness entails the underdeveloping of others. Such is reality. Thus the experience of your own genius would not allow outer pressures to thwart its expression. The negative and re- straining forces within institutional structures, the decisions of authority and the challenges of social concerns--all thirsting for precious time and energy--weighed so heavily in your judgment that their advantages had to be forfeited. Your piercing intellect cut through what is extraneous in human experience into its heart, the essence of things. In succinct, pithy phrases, you captured principles and patterns of universal significance, thus shedding light on complex experiences and bringing joy to the spirit which perceives but lacks words to articulate its insight. In a single essay many such phrases reside, awaiting discovery by the thirsting soul. For example, in "Compensation" we read: Nature hates monopolies and exceptions. There is a crack in every thing God has made. Fear is an instructor of great sagacity and the herald of all revolutions. Commit a crime, and the earth is made of glass. It is the nature of the soul to appreciate all things. How unfortunate that many have not stopped at your well of late. As a beneficiary of your life-giving water, ! express deep gratitude to you. Your legacy is vast and varied: intellectual excellence of the highest quality, challenging us to develop the rich potential of our minds; historical perspective promoting a contextual vision of life; critical analysis of incisive accuracy, drawing us out of naivete into a sense of healthy criticism; personal integrity as a key goal of growth, demanding that we be true to our own giftedness; enthusiastic living of life, abhorring stagnation and the living of others’ scripts; literary expertise ranging from the classic prose to the most lyrical poetry, inviting us to revisit the verbal gems of distant ~pilgrims. These qualities have influenced many: Henry David Thoreau, Emily Dickinson, and countless others. The legacy has not been forgotten. Sincerely, R.F.M.

Revelation We distinguish the announcements of the soul, its manifestations of its own nature, by the term Revelation. These are always attended by the emotion of the sublime. For this communication is an influx of the Divine mind into our mind. It is an ebb of the individual rivulet before the flowing surges of the sea of life. Every distinct apprehension of this central com- mandment agitates men with awe and delight. A thrill passes through all men at the reception of new truth, or at the performance of a great action, which comes out of the heart of nature. In these communications the power to see is not separated from the will to do, but the insight proceeds from obedience, and the obedience proceeds from a joyful perception. (269) Perspective The field cannot be well seen from within the field. The astronomer must Letters of Gratitude / 653

have his diameter of the earth’s orbit as a base to find the parallax of any star. (285) Hope But the man and woman of seventy assume to know a[[, they have outlived their hope, they renounce aspiration, accept the actual for the necessary and talk down to the young, Let them then become organs of the Holy Ghost; let them be lovers; let them behold truth: and their eyes are uplifted. their wrinkles smoothed, they are perfumed again with hope and power. (289) Beauty Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us, or we find it not. (309) Poet Too feeble fall the impressions of nature on us to make us artists. Every touch should tbrill. Every man should be so much an artist that he could report in conversation what had befallen him. Yet, in our experience, the rays or appulses have sufficient force to arrive at the senses, but not enough to reach the quick and compel the reproduction to themselves in speech. The poet is the person in whom these powers are in balance, the man without impediment, who sees and handles that which others dream of, traverses the whole scale of experience, and is representative of man, in virtue of being the largest power to receive and to impart. (321) Words Words and deeds are quite indifferent modes of the divine energy. Words are also actions, and actions are a kind of words. (322) Beauty Wherever snow falls or water flows or birds fly, wherever day and night meet in twilight, wherever the blue heaven is hung by clouds or sown with stars, wherever are forms with transparent boundaries, wherever are outlets into celestial space, wherever is danger, and awe. and love--there is Beauty, plenteous as rain, shed for thee, and though thou shouldst walk the world over, thou shalt not be able to find a condition inopportune or ignoble. (341) Wisdom To finish the moment, to find the journey’s end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom. (350) Expectation I compared notes with one of my friends who expects everything of the universe and is disappointed when anything is less than the best, and I found that ! begin at the other extreme, expecting nothing, and am always full of thanks for moderate goods. (351) Action Therefore all just persons are satisfied with their own praise. They refuse to explain themselves, and are content that new actions should do them that office. They believe that we communicate without speech and above speech, and that no right action of ours is quite unaffecting to our friends, at whatever distance; for the influence of action is not to be measured by miles. (358) Presence Why should 1 fret myself because a circumstance has occurred which hinders my presence where I was expected? If I am not at the meeting, my presence where 1 am should be as useful to the commonwealth of friend- ship and wisdom, as would be my presence in that place. I exert the same quality of power in all places. (358)

Reprinted from The Selected Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson edited by Brooks Atkinson. Pub- lished by Random House, Inc. 654 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

Truth Truth is the summit of being: justice is the application of it to affairs. (368)

Joy On the other part, rectitude is a perpetual victory, celebrated not by cries of joy but by serenity, which is joy fixed or habitual. (370) Life Life goes headlong. We chase some flying scheme, or we are hunted by some fear or command behind us. But if suddenly we encounter a friend, we pause: our heat and hurry look foolish enough: now pause, now posses- sion is required, and the power to swell the moment from the resources of the heart. The moment is all. in all noble relations. (378) Renewal The criticism and attack on institutions, which we have witnessed, has made one thing plain, that society gains nothing whilst a man, not himself renovated, attempts to renovate things around him: he has become tediously good in some particular but negligent or narrow in the rest; and hypocrisy and vanity are often the disgusting result. (455) Faith The disease with which the human mind now labors is want of faith. (458) Avarice A canine appetite for knowledge was generated, which must still be fed but was never satisfied, and this knoffledge, not being directed on action, never took the character of substantial, humane truth, blessing those whom it entered. It gave the scholar certain powers of expression, the power of speech, the power of poetry, of literary art, but it did not bring him to peace or to beneficence. (459)

The Contemporary Spirituality Of the Monastic Lectio

by Matthias Neuman, O.S.B.

Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage.

Address: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Poverty, Time, Solitude: A Context for a Celibate Life-style

Anthony Wieczorek, O.Praem.

Brother Wieczorek’s ~Parables and Paradigms" appeared in the July/August issue. He resides presently at the Holy Spirit House of Studies; 4841 South Woodlawn Ave.; Chicago, IL 60615.

Celibacy is a dimension of a religious way of life. To be understood, therefore, celibacy must be seen in the context of religious life. The meaning of celibacy arises out of its relationship with the complementary vows of poverty and obedience, as well as out of the significance of communal life, prayer, and basic Christian virtue. Seen out of the context of all these elements, celibacy suffers a deprivation and a distortion. From the outset, it is important to be reminded that celibacy is not simply an ethic. Taken out of its context, celibacy is often reduced to being a moral direc- tive--a negative moral directive. Celibacy is much more than a set of specific sexual mores; it is an extension of Christian virtue, a continuation of it. The sexual demeanor proper to celibacy rests upon Christian virtues and values such as respect for human dignity, single-heartedness, the sacredness of human life, a deep appreciation for what friendship and love can be, compassion, selflessness, and service. A discussion of celibacy must begin here. Before a decision can be made about living celibately, the question must be considered: What does it mean to live a Christian way of life? Am I willing to live with the restraints and limitations imposed upon me, not by celibacy, but by basic Christian values? Only after a person is willing to try to understand, accept, and live a Christian way of life can the matter of celibacy be addressed. Without this prior realization and commitment, celibacy has no context, no depth of meaning, and is left to be nothing more than just another "Thou shalt not .... To see at least some part of the richness and potential of celibacy, it must be 655 656 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 viewed as a dedication to poverty, a devotion of time, and a dependence upon solitude. Celibacy as a Dedication to Poverty The vow of celibacy stands nearest to the vow of poverty. Hence, it is an understanding of poverty that sheds the most light upon an understanding of celibacy. If poverty as a way of life cannot be embraced, neither can celibacy. Poverty is precisely a way of living. It is much more than not having the money to buy something .To be poor means to be without many of the everyday options and opportunities that people who are not poor have. To be poor means, among other things, to live in a constant situation of restriction and limitedness. A poor person has not the option of going to a movie or a ball game, of eating apple pie or cherry, of going to one restaurant rather than another, of wearing these shoes or those, this coat or that. Very often poor people do not have these options because they do not have the physical resources that allow for them. Yet despite being deprived of these "necessities" the poor can live happy and holy lives. The fact of poverty, the force of its physical reality, compels people who are poor to live according to needs and not simply wants. Poverty can "cleanse" us of the unnecessary. It can put us into a situation where we are able to more clearly distinguish between a need and a want. Poverty can liberate us from the bondage of wants, leaving us free to pursue our true needs, those things without which we cannot fully live a human life. Poverty can be humbling by forcing us to face our needs but it can also teach us that happiness lies not in having every want satisfied but in having our true needs satisfied. Seen in this light, poverty is the paradigm for celibacy. Celibacy is not simply a deprivation, it is a way of life. Therefore, it must be a way of relating. While we can be impoverished in some ways of expressing love, we can be rich in others. After all, intimacy does not depend upon sexual expression any more than a meaningful gift depends upon price. The very restrictedness of our expression can heighten the value of a poem or letter or a simple touch or smile. Celibacy, like poverty, can teach true gratitude for the beauty and preciousness of relationships. Celibacy has the potential to "cleanse" us of what is not essential and let us see what we truly need to both give and receive from people--the trust, the sharing, the dreaming. Celibacy does not demand that we repress our needs. Rather, it points them out in bolder relief and challenges us to distinguish between the frustration caused by the deprivation of needs and that caused by the depriva- tion of our wants. It sometimes requires just as much creativity to live celibately as it does to live in poverty. Do I have the grace to express myself creatively to others? If the limitedness of deliberate impoverishment can be willfully chosen and reason for gratitude in one’s life still be found, if one can be satisfied to have needs fulfilled even if wants must go unsatisfied and yet remain appreciative and joyous, then perhaps such a person truly has the grace, the call to live celibately. A Context for a Celibate Life-style / 657

Such a call is a gift. It is the nature of gifts to be both given and received. Therefore, it is quite possible to refuse the gift of celibacy. One of the most common ways of refusing celibacy is by being filled with self-pity. It is not uncommon to hear celibates of all ages bemoan their celibacy the way an amputee bemoans the loss of a limb. Like some amputee victims, celibates can easily become lost in the conviction that they are only half human, that they are not whole. The way to overcome such feelings is not by trying to prove manliness or womanliness. Rather, the challenge is to find worth and dignity in who we are, in the deeper and more lasting qualities of humanness like compassion, the ability to listen, to laugh, to be grateful, to stand outside ourselves at the service of others. Our humanness depends upon our ability to love. That we love and are loved is a need. How we love and are loved is a want. Celibates live in the poverty of not having all their wants satisfied. Celibacy means distinguishing between needs and wants, accepting what cannot be. and finding satisfaction, thanksgiving, and peace in what is. Celibacy as a Devotion of Time One thing that poverty does provide in abundance is time. Being bereft of options does free up large amounts of time. Celibacy likewise provides an abundance of time. The challenge is how that time is to be spent, what our time is to be devoted to. Celibacy, for example, frees us from the time it takes to raise a family, but what does it free us for? Ideally, perhaps, we are freed for prayer, reading, study, even the opportunity to take time to see and wonder and dream. Celibacy also frees us to serve, to be available for people. Yet if all we do is remain available for work and devote little or no time to prayer and reading, we are distorting celibacy by removing it from a critical dimension of its context. A big danger for both celibates and non-celibates is that they give themselves more to their jobs than to God and their families or communities. It is this issue, the proper use of time, that causes one of the biggest consternations for celibates. The tendency toward entrenchment in work can be an escape from intimacy, but it is also true that many of the occupations engaged in by celibates are extremely time-consuming and energy draining. Moreover, it is work which simply must be done. The tension between giving time and taking iime is not lessened by the fact that most celibates do recognize the necessity for being present to community and for entering into solitude with God. A celibate life-style that does not allow for time not only to recreate but also to read and reflect cannot give life to the celibate. Such a life-style will consume that person instead. One of the challenges and disciplines of celibacy is the proper use of time. While celibacy ought to provide time, in practice it often does not. Here, too, celibacy shows a connection with poverty. The poor guard and dispense their resources carefully, So too with the celibate’s dispensing of time. Workaholism is as much a threat to celibacy as sexual licentiousness--perhaps 6511 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 even more so. Our consciences are sensiiive to the issue of sexual restraint but not to making mistresses out of our work. Our culture emphasizes efficiency, produc- tivity, and frowns upon anything that hints of wasting time. Therefore, celibates who find even a little free time quickly and perhaps unconsciously fill it in by doing more. Yet celibacy as a life-style requires time to be set aside not for doing but for being. Time is a gift many celibates refuse to accept because in part they are afraid to take it. Time only makes the loneliness echo more loudly. Time takes away excuses. It confronts us, Yet time in a celibate life-style is essential, for it provides the panorama that enables us to see what we are to move toward. It gives us the opportunity to see and address our needs. Time must be part of every celibate’s life, for without that time celibacy loses its context and the solitude that nourishes celibacy cannot be obtained. While celibacy ought to provide time, it is a commod- ity which so few celibates seem to have. Yet time is an essential resource for the celibate for it alone can acquire solitude for us.

Celibacy as a Dependence Upon Solitude Celibacy cannot be endured, let alone lived, without the time to enter into solitude with God. Only by freely and gratefully embracing solitude can a person find life in celibacy. Solitude is not loneliness but aloneness, time apart to be alone with oneself and with one’s God. Solitude for the celibate is essential for several reasons. Solitude teaches surrender. It strips away the illusion of wants. It is a confrontation with what is real. of what is essential, of what is true. Solitude teaches sight. In the stillness of solitude we see what we would ordinarily have overlooked, assumed, or taken for granted. Through solitude, we are taught to appreciate, admire, and wonder. Solitude teaches sensitivity. Compassion comes from seeing with another’s eyes. Solitude makes one hungry to enter into another’s life deeply, personally, respectfully, and ge~atly. But often celibates do not embrace solitude. Instead we try to fill in our time with possessions, work. television, and peripheral friendships. Yet it is essential that celibates in particular spend time in solitude so as to spend time with God. In sqlitude we take time to share in God’s aloneness. It is in solitude that we can more deeply fall in love with God. If a celibate does not put an effort into being at peace with solitude, into making a friend of solitude, not only does God become a stranger, but we become strangers to ourselves, and celibacy becomes an empty taunt and an ache. Solitude is so important for celibacy because solitude is a quiet moment with God in the privacy and intimacy of one’s own heart. Solitude is the backdrop for the silence we need to hear the Word of God. Solitude is the setting for prayer..It directs our life back to God. There is some- thing about solitude that draws us back to center. If we are afraid to spend time with ourselves in the aloneness of our center, we will not come to commune with the silent places of God. The prayer that comes from solitude is the celibate’s life blood. Without prayer, celibacy will not. cannot, endure. Without solitude spent with God we become A Context for a Celibate Life-style / 659

strangers to him and so to prayer. Prayer may lead us out of a celibate life-style, but without prayer the apparent emptiness and futility will drive us out of it. Solitude, far from removing us from relationships, prepares us for them. In solitude we have the setting in which to know ourselves, to see ourselves truly, to hear ourselves honestly. To enter into solitude is to venture into the truth of ourselves--be that what it may. With that knowledge we are free to interact with people as persons. With a sense of our own depths we can move toward the depths of others and together with them enter in faith into the depths of God.

Conclusion For a full understanding of what celibacy is, it is important that a person move beyond the initial frustration and unnaturalness of living a life of Christian virtues and enter into the discovery of the real mystery and beauty of celibacy. Celibacy centers around accepting solitude, welcoming time, and living in gratitude. It is such things as these that make celibacy seem unnatural. It is not acceptable or typical to be poor, to have time for oneself and for prayer, or to enter willingly into the solitude of one’s own soul. To so many, the "unnaturalness" of celibacy is reduced to sexual denial, the deliberate refusal to marry and raise a family. Yet these are only peripheral issues. The seriousness of these issues, however, under- scores the deeper difficulty of celibate life. Celibacy is not only an orientation away from family and spouse (which is hard enough), it must be an orientation toward poverty, time, and solitude. Celibacy itself is neither the sacrifice nor the offering. What we do with celi- bacy is. The beauty and fulfillment in celibacy is found not in what it moves us away from but in what it compels us toward. To find peace and sanctity in celibacy, it is not so important what we purposely and deliberately deny. Rather, it is much more important what we willingly and lovingly embrace. The Celibacy Experience

Stephen Rossetti

In May, Stephen Rossetti, author of "Psychology and Spirituality: Distinction Without Separation" (July/August, 1981), was awarded his M.A. in Theology from Catholic University, where he plans to continue in the graduate program. His mailing address is: 26 Reed Pkwy., Marcellus, NY 1310g.

He who remains in Zion and he that is left in Jerusalem Will be called holy (Is 4:3). Consecrated celibacy is in crisis. The resignation of priests, sisters and brothers, many of them highly respected members of the Church, is no secret. Fear ripples through the ranks of those who have remained, as their closest friends leave to get married. A painful self-analysis naturally follows: Do we really have to be celibate? Why am I the only one left? Will it happen to me? Is celibacy only a vestige of an outmoded spirituality? Why am I still left? Some say the crisis is waning. The Diocese of Buffalo recently reported that its loss of priests and sisters from 1976-81 was only 8.1% and 4.6% respectively, compared to 21.2% and ! 7% from 197 !-76.~ While it seems that fewer are leaving, there are still fewer left in the ranks to do the necessary tasks. It is questionable whether relief is in sight. The continuing decline in priestly vocations in the United States indicates that the crisis is still with us. This past year there has been yet another decline (8.8%) in the number of U.S. theology students studying for the priesthood. These are less than half of the number of the peak years of 1966-67.2 The exodus of priests and sisters is a mult: faceted problem which is more than

~John C. Given, "Buffalo Diocese: Fewer Priests, Nuns Leaving Religious Life," Syracuse Herald- Journal, 30 December 1981, p. A-3. 2"Seminary Enrollment Drops," National Catholic Register, 20 December 1981. 660 The Celibacy Experience / 661

just a crisis in celibacy. However. the internaliTation of celibacy must be seen as a key element in any discussion of the problem. In the first half of this article, i will raise the modern problems with celibacy and look at contemporary attempts to solve this crisis. In this first section, 1 will include such key issues as the essential relationship between mysticism and inter- nalized celibacy, the lack of support for young celibates, a critical look at current discussions about celibacy, and then the important issue of intimacy in a celibate life. In the second half, 1 will attempt to resolve the modern problems with celibacy by returning to the context of mysticism and positing an approach to the subject which is both existential and scriptural.

Celibacy and Mysticism In The Psychology of Loving, Ignace Lepp says that the chastity of those consecrated to Christ must be "counterbalanced by a genuinely mystical life." If it is not, there is the risk of psychic damage: The libido cannot be channeled in a different direction without injury to sexuality unless it finds itself entirely consumed in the service of higher psychic activity? There must be, then, a necessary connection between celibacy and mysticism. In our use of the word here, "mysticism" does not refer to extraordinary phenome- na such as visions or locutions, nor does it refer to the highest states of union with God. Rather mysticism, here, means a "genuine though mediated experience of encounter and communication with the personal God."4 In this sense of mystical, the experience is direct and conscious, and it involves God as person. The experience is also mediated. The word mysticism derives from the Greek word mueo. which means to initiate (as into a "hidden" mystery). The mystery can be hidden under, or mediated by, any aspect of life. However, a preeminent place must be given to the classic Christian mediations--which include Scripture, prayer, tradition, and the sacraments--most of all the Eucharist. Hidden within our ordinary life experiences is the presence of Christ. The "mystical experience" is one in which this personal encounter becomes more and more conscious. This encounter becomes stronger as the years pass and celibacy is internalized. The mystical life allows the channeling of sexual and some emotional needs into "higher psychic activity" which results in a mature celibacy. On the other hand, if the mystical life is permitted to atrophy, then a mature celibacy, if not the entire celibate life, will suffer with it. William McNamara, in his latest work, Christian Mysticism: A Psychotheology, believes that the mystical life is indeed atrophying, despite some evidence to the contrary:

Hgnace Lepp, The Ps.vchology of Loving. trans. Bernard B. Gilligan (New York: A Mentor Omega Book, 1963), p. 213. 4Karl Rahner, ed., Encyclopedia of Theology: 7he Concise Sacramentum Mundi (New York: A Crossroad Book, The Seabury Press, 1975), p. 1009. 662 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

It is obvious that we are presently witnessing a psychical revolution, one. in many respects. that has won the approval of science (biofeedback. body consciousness, metapsychiatry. neuroscience, paraphysics, etc.) and one that could, if properly guided, improve our human condition, and expand our human consciousness immeasurably. There is little evidence. however, that a spiritual-mystical renewal is going on. despite Vatican 11 and the subsequent changes in the Church.5 If McNamara is correct, celibacy will be lost. A truly internalized celibacy, that is, a mature celibacy, requires this mystical life. If celibacy does not become mystical, if it does not grow into a mystical vision, then "God’s grace" alone will not uphold the celibate. Grace builds and makes possible an authentic Christian- mystical life; it is not a supernatural substitute for our humanity. Celibacy without mysticism may degenerate inlo mere asceticism, which would be ultimately self- destructive for lack of love. McNamara goes on to say that "man is naturally contemplative. But his mystical powers, left unexercised for so long, are seriously atrophied."6 This is a serious loss for all believers since it has a direct impact on the vitality of their faith and on the development of their full humanity. However, for the celibate in particular, this situation is fatal. With an atrophied mystical life, he is likely to reject celibacy for the sake of his "sanity": he will slowly die to ministry: or he will sublimate his sexual desires in non-productive ways. ls McNamara correct in saying that we have let our mystical powers atrophy and thus we have lost an internalized celibacy? The exodus of consecrated celibates points in that direction. At any rate, in the light of the past twenty years, we can slarely say that in the present state of crisis the depth of our commitment is being tested. In previous years it might have been possible to survive in celibacy by relying on secondary supports. Today it is just not possible. Within this crisis, celibates must develop a mature, internalized love of celibacy based first and fore’most on their own mystical vision and growing encounter with the risen Christ. The state of the Church and Western society makes this absolutely necessary. Little Support for Remaining in the Celibate State Our Western culture offers little support for celibacy. In fact, it is, in some ways, the most discouraging culture possible for a celibate. It ignores religion. Our culture is essentially a-Christian (without Christianity). It would be easier to main- tain a celibate commitment in a culture that is hostile to Christianity--as in the days of the early Christians. At least one could then take heart amidst persecution and ’join" on~self to a tightly knit community of brothers and sisters totally dedi- cated to Christ while fighting an obvious, common antagonist. But today’s West- ern culture ignores religion and the celibate. Heroism is more difficult in the face of

5William McNamara, Christian Mysticism: A Psychotheology (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1981), p. 20. 61bid.. p. 22. The Celibacy Experience disinterest than of hatred--and celibacy is a heroic life. It receives inspiration from a culture which applauds those who live it. And it flourishes when it is persecuted. But when it is ignored, it is most sorely tried. On a deeper level, however, it is not quite accurate to say that our culture is totally oblivious to Christianity. The words of the Gospel ring true: "He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters" (Lk 1 !:23). In the final analysis, it is not possible to be neutral to the message of Christ. In whatever form it is presented, explicitly or implicitly, the message of salvation will either be accepted or rejected. Our culture is no exception. Underneath its appar- ent unconcern with Christianity is a subtle barrage of counter-invitations. There are constant overt and subliminal innuendos that cannot fail to tug and tug at the Christian’s sexual drives. Our society manifests a sort of cultural passive-aggressive behavior, one that seems tolerant of Christianity but is subtly waging war on its norms. Without Christ, our society loses touch with its deepest need for meaning. According to psychiatrist Viktor Frankl: What is behind the emphasis on sexual achievement and power, what is behind this will to sexual pleasure and happiness is again the frustrated will to meaning. Sexual libido only hypertrophies in an existential vacuum. The result is an inflation of sex .... 7 This "inflation of sex" in our society sorely tests the strongest of celibates. The uncommitted are likely to be entrapped. Not only does our culture attack the value of celibacy, new Western attitudes also undermine previous supports for the celibate. There is a new attitude towards authority and tradition: a child-like obedience is not acceptable to the modern mind. As Victor Frankl says, "in contrast to man in former times, he is no longer told by traditions and values what he should do.’~ Likewise, those in the Church accept less and less the fact of canon law and magisterial teaching as being reason enough for remaining celibate. This changing attitude towards authority and tradi- tion is encouraged by the great upheavals within the post-Vatican II Church. The opportunities within such a freedom are great, yet there is also a concomitant increase of danger. Within such a freedom celibates are required to make their commitment their own, with little support from the culture or Church tradition. Concomitant with this rejection of authority and tradition, there is a shift in our concepts, theologies and spirituality. Words such as obedience, sacrifice, ascet- icism and sin are used less frequently. A new model has been substituted which 1 will call the "human growth" model of spirituality. This modern growth-model uses existential concepts such as freedom, human development, holistic growth, and personal responsibility. It understands development in the spiritual life as growth in love and intimacy. It stresses the importance of psychology, self-knowl-

7Viktor E. Frankl, The Unconscious God: Psychotherapy and Theology (New York: Simon and Schuster. 1975), pp. 85-86. ~ Slbid., p. 91. 6~4 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 edge, wholeness and all that is authentically human. This model is no doubt a positive, legitimate step in the progress toward a twentieth-century spirituality. It reacts strongly against a previous tendency to reject humanity in favor of some angelic spirituality. Nonetheless, the model has serious shortcomings, e.g., a failure to relate a mature, self-sacrificing obedience to human freedom. And with the transition from earlier models of spirituality to the human growth model, a problem has developed in our theology of celibacy. On the basis of this model it is not so easy to provide an understanding of a celibate life. Love, marriage, children are all an integral part of what it means to be fully human. Without the sharing of the deepest levels of intimacy, as between husband and wife, it would seem that the human growth of.a celibate must be stunted. Our former theology had several ways of dealing with this lack of full intimacy for celibates. For example, repeating an oft-cited idea on celibacy, the Council Fathers of Vatican I1 stated that celibate priests thereby evoke that mysterious marriage which was established by God and will be fully manifested in the future, and by which the Church has Christ as her only spouse.9 There is a theological truth in these and similar statements, but to the modern mind they seem to mean little. How can a "mysterious marriage" deepen my intimacy? To some it sounds like "magical grace." Such theological categories do not mesh with the modern mind which thinks in terms of intersubjectivity, inti- macy, personal self-gift, loving response, and the importance of concrete, interper- sonal relationships for spiritual growth and for ushering in the kingdom of love and peace. This change in mentality requires a change in theology as well. Some New Approaches to Celibacy In Sacrarnentum Mundi Leonhard Weber says: In the formation of priests and in their further development, many of the supports of celibacy which were hitherto relied on will fall away, having proved themselves unreal or erroneous. They must no longer be appealed to. In their place theologically valid arguments must be used, and new aids which correspond to present realities.~0 Many modern spiritual men and women have grappled with the absence of such new arguments. They generously tried to rework an outdated theology of celibacy to correspond to the needs of today--with limited success. For example, much energy is going into showing that one’s sexuality is not stunted by celibacy. This is done by making a distinction between the terms genital and sexual. This is a redefinition of categories according to which the word "genital" is applied to what was usually meant by the word "sexual," and then "sexual" in its broadest sense is taken to mean maleness or femaleness. Thus, modern reflection can say that the celibate is still a fully sexual being--but without genital expression. And so a nun could have a close relationship with a priest, and call it a "sexual" relationship--

9Walter M. Abbott, gen. ed., The Documents of Vatican.H (Chicago: Follett Pub. Co., 1966), p. 566. ~°Sacramentum Mundi..p. 183. The Celibacy Experience / 665

but denying to it "genital" expression. This definition rightly admits that the celibate is not a neuter being but always remains truly male or female. And so at least it should help to keep celibates from attempting to become sexless angels. But however true the first step, saying "a celibate is still male or female," may be, the next statement, "a celibate is fully sexual but not genital," conveys mean- ings and values that are not as evidently proper. The latter statement blurs the important distini:tion there must be between male-female friendship and male- female romantic intimacy. Just as a married man may have female friends, a nun and priest may indeed be friends. But they may not have a romantic intimacy-- even if they do not engage in "genital" activity.~ The distinction between genital and sexual may do more harm than good if it becomes a permission to cross the line of prudence in relations between celibate men and women. Using the excuse that "our relationship is not genital" stems from a legalistic approach to celibacy which in turn endangers true friendship. In addition, any short-term benefits of the principle will be overshadowed by the further fact that it will only justify the kind of obsession with sexuality that is already present in the Church and in society. To focus on the sexuality of the celibate, in fact, obscures the true nature of celibate witness--which should be to point to the primacy of God’s kingdom over passing, though good, temporal values. A better approach would distinguish between intimacy and celibacy more strictly. Modern thought in this area is trying to show that the celibate has the same opportunity for intimacy as the married person. This has become especially important in the light of the 1972 NORC study that found that the American priest in general is an "emotionally underdeveloped adult." This has been cause for alarm in the contemporary spiritual milieu which so closely associates spiritual development with human development. What is often forgotten, however, is that the study pointed out that this makes the priest "much like his fellow citizens on the scale of psychological growth" since the average American male also tested out as emotionally underdeveloped.~2 Nevertheless, this new area of reflection, the relationship between intimacy and celibacy, is also having very beneficial results. Celibacy cannot be used as an excuse for refusing to enter into deep human relationships, relationships that are often painful yet necessary for any human growth. Celibacy cannot be seen as representing an excessively other-worldly piety that shuns human affections as unworthy of a spiritual life. The 1971 Synod of Bishops recognized the importance of such human relations in the life of a celibate when it recommended "human balance through well-ordered integration into the fabric of social relationships: fraternal association and companionship with other priests and with the bishop."~3

~See Paul Conner, "Friendship Between Consecrated Men and Women?" Review for Religious. Vol. 40 (Sept-Oct 1981), pp. 645-659. I:Ernest E. Larkin and Gerard T. Broccolo. eds., Spiritual Renewal of the American Priesthood (Wash. D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference. 1973), p. I. 666 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

Pope Paul VI, in his letter, "Sacerdotalis Caelibatus, "likewise stressed the impor- tance of the celibate relations with the laity. In a moving section of his fatherly letter, Paul VI says: By their devoted and warm friendship [the laity] can be of great assistance to the Church’s ministers since it is the laity . . . who are in a position, in many cases, to enlighten and encourage the priest .... In this way the whole People of God will honor Christ... promising an assured reward to whoever in any way shows charity toward those whom he has sent (Mt 10:42).~4 In a similar way, the community of the individual religious must supply this same much-needed human warmth and intimacy. The 1980 Plenaria for the Sacred Congregation for Religious and for Secular Institutes stated that the religious community is itself a theological reality, and object of contemplation.., it is of its nature the place where the experfence of God should be able to, in a special way, come to fullness and be communicated to others?5 There is no excessive supernaturalism here. The celibate is a person firmly planted on the earth and relating with others in a shared community life. Thus, this modern movement in spirituality which ties celibacy to human intimacy can make a positive but limited contribution to a new theology of celibacy, as well as to the humanity of celibates. But, like the distinction between genital and sexual, this attempt to show that the celibate can be as fully intimate as his married counterpart is not totally convincing. The approach may confuse as much as it helps--as, indeed, I think it has done. There is a qualitative difference between the human intimacy possible in a marriage and the :human intimacy permissible for a.celibate. Paul VI commented on this type of love: "And love, when it is genuine, is total, exclusive, stable and lasting."~6 A human marriage, in its final perfection, is such a close bond that "they are no longer two but one flesh" (Mr 19:6). For the celibate this is not permitted. A marriage relationship, if fully realized, has an exclusivity and a totality of self-giv’- ing which is just not available to the celibate. Indeed, if a celibate were to have such an exclusive relationship with another person, regardless of whether it was genital or not, he hardly could be considered celibate. The great witness of centuries of consecrated celibates must lead us to conclude that another kind of ultimate depth of intimacy is possible for a celibate. But our theology has not yet completely uncovered the depths of this celibate intimacy. Communion Is More Than Communication As the pro.blem of celibacy and intimacy and of other celibate issues continues

~31971 Synod of Bishops, The Ministerial Priesthood; Justice in the World (Wash. D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference, 1972), p. 24. ~’~Pope Paul VI, Encyclical Letter on Priestly Celibacy--June 24, 1967 (Wash. D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference), p. 39. ~S"The Contemplative Dimension of Religious Life," L’Osservatore Rornano, 26 January 1981, p. 14. ~6Paul VI, Encyclical Letter, p. 1 I. The Celibacy Experience / 667

to be discussed, the debate on the relevance of celibacy in the modern Church continues. This debate often swings between "lyrical panegyrics and one-sidedly negative criticism."~7 Part of the conservative faction believes that the priest must be celibate. No doubt such a vision of Church and faith would be shaken without a celibate priesthood, despite the tradition of the East. Thus, this position clings to such external forms for security--a need which is especially intense during the post-Vatican II upheavals in the Church. Some of the liberals, on the other hand, blame celibacy for destroying the humanity of priests and sisters--a fact which may have validity in a few cases but which glosses over the dynamic witness of a long history of celibacy within the Church. For example, one priest told me that if he ever started to "die" in the ministry he would get out. This is precisely the image some have of the pre-Vatican II Church. In their eyes, it was a church that so stressed an other-worldly piety that it killed the humanity of its people. This section of the liberal faction traces our celibate theology back to Greek philosophi- cal dualism which is said to dismiss worldly values and exalt spiritual ones: others trace celibacy back to Old Testament law which stated that sexual acts made one ritually impure. There are other ways theologians have accounted for our previous tradition of celibacy. The obvious way out is to maintain one’s humanity through human intimacy. Seeing the emotional deadness and brokenness of some of their predecessors, many stress the importance of human’growth for spiritual development. Thus, the stress today is on celibate intimacy and communication. And there is a significant attempt within our religious houses to develop a community intimacy, often with good results. Certainly this is a good thing and should be continued. However, is community enough? Does it answer the heart of the problem? We communicate with others to achieve intimacy and wholeness. At times there is an almost compulsive need to lay ourselves bare in a search to maintain or recover our humanity. Admittedly, a certain amount of this is healthy and necessary for any human life, especially a celibate life. This mutual sharing, this intermediate level of intimacy will indeed help our humanity and thus our spirituality. But it is not the final answer, and it is becoming apparent that it is not enough for an authentic celibacy. Of itself, it does not lead to a mature celibacy. Psychiatrist Conrad Baars (who died last October) also believed there is too much communication and not enough communion. In his basic work, Feeling and Healing Your Emotions, he says: Interestingly. wherever members of a community--religious, prayer group, covenant--use the term [affirmation] most freely and glibly, there seems to be the least amount of true affirma- tion. Such places depress one with their bustling activity--planned togetherness, meetings. expected modes of behavior and participation, carefully scheduled recreation, etc, There seems little opportunity for just being--even less for being different or for wanting to be alone. Underneath the new freedom of behavior is often a hidden agenda of new co~7l’ormism .... The sign of "new heart living" is communion; yet. there is still too much cornmunication to

~TSacramenturn Mundi. p. 181. 6611 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

permit communion and authentic being.~s This sort of excessive communication places a burden on friendships that such relationships should not, cannot carry. We are sharing more and more to satisfy the deepest Iongings of our heart, but in the final analysis we are in danger of silencing these longings with a mass of words and superficialities. In fact, such an approach is contrary to real humanity. To share everything easily actually reveals a lack of intimacy. The work of psychiatrist Viktor Frankl shows the nature of true intimacy: The quality of intimacy so characteristic of love is no less characteristic of religion. It is intimate in two senses: it is intimum in the sense of innermost, and second, it is, like love. protected by shame. Genuine religiousness, for the sake of its own genuineness, hides from the public .... The mistake is often made of confounding such shame with neurotic inhibition. Shame. however, is a perfectly natural attitude.~’~ It is not normal nor is it healthy to share the deepest intimacies of love, or of faith, in a casual or even friendly way. To keep such things private, except from the most intimate of soul friends, or from one’s spiritual director, is a normal and healthy action. It is a sign of true intimacy. Such an attitude maintains the sanctity of the human person. To violate this sanctity is a grievous affair. This violation would ultimately impair the growth of intimacy by destroying some of the conditions necessary for its growth, such as respect for the human person and the need for individual solitude. During a 1978 lecture to the Unione Internazionale dei Superiori Generali, Henri Nouwen commented on this close link between solitude and intimacy: Solitude leads us to a new intimacy with each other and makes us see our common task precisely because in solitude we discover our true nature, our true self, our true identity. That knowledge of who we really are allows us to live and work in community3o It is precisely this depth of intimacy which is the sign of a mature celibate and it is this depth which should enliven and nourish all the other relations a celibate has, just as the intimacy of marriage should ground and nourish the other relations a spouse has.

Is Optional Celibacy the Answer? Optional celibacy seems to be emerging as the moderate position in the Church. For pastoral reasons, and in order to recognize cultural diversity, its concession may be required. This change would be theologically easy, given our present understanding of celibacy as distinct from, and not essential to, Orders. But this distinction, though affirmed in modern times, does not take fully into

ISConrad Baars. Feeling and Healing Your Emotions (Plainfield, N.J.: Logos International, 1979), p. 221. ~gFrankl, Unconscious God, pp. 47, 46. 2°Henri J. M. Nouwen, "Solitude and Community," lecture presented to the Unione Internazionale dei Superiori Generali, 4 April 1978. p. 20. The Cefibacy Experience

account the reality of the place of celibacy in the Latin Church. With the rise of historical and existential theologies, we are coming to a fuller understanding of the place of the whole human person in our theologizing. Thus, while celibacy is only a canonical duty, it figures as an important element in our "collective memory," or our "story," or again, our western Catholic "identity." Concepts that are appearing in the new theology should make us more hesitant to favor optional celibacy too quickly. Celibacy is more than just a discipline. Rather, it has been woven into our history and thus into our collective memories. In the midst of a Church already suffering a severe identity crisis, the impact of optional celibacy on our "story" should be carefully considered. In addition, a case could be made that in no time of history is celibacy more necessary than today. At first glance the statement seems absurd, but when placed into the total context of the times, when one observes the signs of the times, it gains in its appearance of truth. As stated earlier, our people are under a sexual siege by advertisers, movies, TV and other elements of society. In an age when people are trying harder and harder to become liberated from Christian sexual mores, we are becoming more and more enslaved to sex. Such is precisely the nature of sin and evil. It promises the opposite of what it gives. Our society has promised sexual liberation and has produced just the opposite. The value of celibacy as a sign that shows the relative value (while not negating its intrinsic goodness) of sex is never more needed. Also, given the unity of all in the Mystical Body of Christ, it has likewise been never more important for a few to persevere in the struggle against sexual license in a heroic way for its spiritual aid to all people who are struggling with sexual difficulties within their own vocations. Paul speaks of this union of all in Christ when he says to the Corinthians: "If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members share its joy" (I Co 12:26). Nonetheless, the pressure is on the Vatican for optional celibacy. While such a compromise may be necessary, I doubt that it will truly alleviate the problem. (Perhaps rather than making celibacy optional, it would be more to the point for the Vatican to announce that marriage is mandatory for all priests and religious! Then when a select few would flee to the mountains and the deserts, there to listen more intently to the "still, small voice," and thus refuse to marry, these are the ones who should be ordained.) Compromise, while often necessary, can fall into tepid- ity, failing to see that, for the celibate, the Christian message is nothing if not radical. "I am Come to cast fire on the earth and what will 1 but that it be kindled" (Lk 12:49), or again, "But because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spew you out of my mouth" (Rv 3:16). Without such a radical, total commitment, there is no deep intimacy--for the celibate as well as for the married person.

Deepest Intimacy Is in Mystery This intimacy is completed only in the deepest levels of the person. This depth is beyond the spoken word; it is beyond verbal communication. It can only be 670 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 called mystery--a mystery which marvelously opens itself up in the communion of love. Thus the depths of intimacy are experienced as mystery, and as love, for both the celibate as well as the married person. This is the deepest level of personal growth and the truest level of self-knowledge. Some commentators on this deepest level of the person have cited the efforts of Nietzsche. They say that Nietzsche saw this great depth which he called "nothing- ness" and yet he was a courageous man to continue to face his "nothingness" and carry on bravely. This may be courage but it also may be a disguised fear--a fear to really experience this "nothingness" or depth of mystery. Nietzsche stood at the brink of the ocean of mystery and summoned the courage to remain there and look. The Christian is called to go one step further--to dive in! Viktor Frankl put forth a similar idea using the image of a summit surrounded by fog: On his way to find the ultimate meaning of life, the irreligious man, as it were, has not yet reached the highest peak, but rather has stopped at the next to highest .... And what is the reason the irreligious man does not go further? It is because he does not want to lose the "firm ground under his feet." The true summit is barred from his vision: it is hidden in the fog. and he does not risk venturing into it, into this uncertainty. Only the religious man hazards it.2~ This depth, this "diving into the ocean" or "climbing through the fog to the highest peak" is open to a married couple united in faith. Such an unspoken depth to their relationship allows the mystery of one to be opened and joined to the mystery of the other, the ocean of one to the ocean of the other. This mystery therefore cannot be opened by the effort of one; it requires two to open it. Love requires union, and this deepest mystery is a union of love. At first glance, this would seem to exclude the celibate because the necessary love is, recalling the words of Paul VI, "total, exclusive, stable and lasting." This love seems denied the celibate who has no partner! Within such a quandary, our theology of celibacy is too often opaque, making little sense to the modern person. We could foist the problem onto "grace," and thus expect a solution from some magical power to hold our humanity in abeyance until the end-times. But this would be a denial of the real nature of the Christian message and a misunderstand- ing of the true nature of grace. Christianity is not essentially a negative religion. If it denies, it does so only to affirm in a more profound way. If God asks for any sacrifice, it is only to return the gift a hundred-fold. And, it seems to me, this is the problem with which modern thought on celibacy must deal--a problem that is especially difficult to solve if we use the growth model of spirituality.

Celibacy and Theological Distancing To this point, we have merely opened up several problems in our theologies of celibacy. There seems to be a real difficulty in relating the depths of intimacy and celibacy, despite some modern attempts to do so. The older approaches with their

2~Frankl, Unconscious God. pp. 55-56. The Cefibacy Experience / 671

reliance on grace threaten to skip over our true humanity. What is perhaps lacking in both approaches, what may be largely responsible for the crisis in celibacy today, is a proper starting point. An accumulation of theologizing and reflection has developed an elaborate theological understanding of celibacy, but may have lost contact with its simple yet radical starting point. Paul Ricoeur’s warning of cultural distancing may apply to our case: Cultural distance is not only the altering of the vehicle, but also the forgetting of the radical question conveyed by the language of another time. It is necessary to undertake, therefore, a struggle against the.forgetting of the question, that is. a struggle against our own alienation in relation to what operates in the question?2 We may, indeed, have forgotten the "radical question" which underlies the very existence of celibacy. This question must come as an existential question which demands a radical human response. The existential question involves an expe- rience that gives rise to the unusual phenomenon of celibacy. This experience I call the celibacy experience. Theological reflection can help make this experience understandable. It can explain its fruits and it can even help prepare someone for it. But theological reflection cannot impart the experience itself. Celibacy must spring from an expe- rience which begets a radical and total response. In the experience, a radical question is asked, and a radical answer must be given--though the response will have to grow in actualization with time. What we need is an existential model of celibacy, one that starts with human experience. This model must be able to address the concepts of intimacy and humanity in a convincing way. These concepts, though, can only be understood when viewed in the light of the beginning section of this article, when we wrote of mysticism, the internalization of celibacy, and higher psychic functions.

An,"Existential Scriptural Approach To find such an existential approach, it is necessary to cut through centuries of cultural and theological distancing and return to Scripture. But our approach should not be to use Scripture. in the usual way of the conventional theologies of celibacy. In these approaches, citations are made of such Pauline passages as: The virgin--indeed any unmarried woman--is concerned with things of the Lord. in pursuit of holiness in body and spirit. The married woman, on the other hand, has the cares of this world to absorb her.. , (I Co 7:34). Or again, To those not married and to widows, I have this to say: h would be well if they remain as they are. even as I do myself: but if they cannot exercise self-control, they should marry (I Co 7:8-9). These and other such passages, though, are not the celibacy experience itself,

a-’Paul Ricoeur, "The Language of Faith," in Charles Reagan and David Steward, eds.. The Philosophy of Paul Ricoeur (Boston: Beacon Press, 1978), p. 224. 672 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 but only reflections on the experience. It is the mystical encounter with God in Christ that results in these inspired theological reflections. Paul’s embrace of the life of consecrated celibacy stemmed primarily from his encounter with Christ. He refers to his own celibacy experience: Am I not free? Am I not an apostle? Have I not seen Jesus our Lord? And are you not my work in the Lord? (1 Co 9:1). To the community at Corinth, Paul claims a direct vision of Jesus which grounds his apostolate; it drives him almost compulsively: Yet preaching the gospel is not the subject of a boast; I am under compulsion and have no choice. 1 am ruined if I do not preach it! (I Co 9:16; see 2 Co 5:14). This experience of Paul was not really one experience, but many: "I must go on boasting, however useless it may be, and speak of visions and revelations" (2 Co 12:!). It is only in the light of such experiences that Paul’s celibacy makes any sense. He saw everything else as being of secondary importance compared to his being "grasped by Christ" (Ph 3:i2). Paul says, even more forcefully, "1 have come to rate all as loss in the light of the surpassing knowledge of my Lord Jesus Christ" (Ph 3:8). And it is precisely in this light that Paul recommends celibacy as being a way to devote oneself fully to the things of the Lord--just as it was for him. The authority and very existence of his apostolate depended on these experiences, and they became such a driving force in his life that celibacy was a result of it. Traditional celibacy-literature also quotes a passage from the Gospel of Matthew: Some men are incapable of sexual activity from birth: some have been deliberately made so; and some there are who have freely renounced sex for the sake of God’s reign. Let him accept this teaching who can (19:12). This teaching, which supplies the theory to Paul’s practice, focuses on celibacy "for the sake of God’s reign." Notice again that there is no attempt to show that one should be celibate because Christ was, or that celibacy reflects the marriage of Christ with the Church, or even that celibacy is good because one is more effective for ministry. These are all later theological reflections, no matter how true they may be. They do not ground anyone’s celibacy. The),’ are not the celibacy expe- rience. Rather, as the Matthean Gospel points out, marriage is renounced "for the sake of God’s reign." The passage implies that there is a direct experience of the reign of God. Otherwise, it would be impossible to dedicate oneself to it. In fact, the reign of God became a direct reality in the lives of many of those early Christians, enough of a reality to cause them to renounce a fundamental of human life--marriage. This, then was a powerful experience. This in-breaking of the reign of God is an eschatological experience. It is an in-breaking of the eschaton, or last times, into people’s lives. Paul’s experience was also truly an eschatological one since in his vision he saw the risen Christ who is himself the Reign of God. This is precisely what a mystical experience is, although it can take many different forms. It is an in-breaking of the eschaton, the reign of The Celibacy Experience / 673

God, the risen Christ into people’s lives. There is no mysticism without eschat- ology--an eschatology that proclaims that the kingdom is already present among us, though in a hidden way.

Eschatological Fervor And such an eschatological, mystical experience totally changes one’s life. It creates such a powerful force and conversion that it can make one cry out, as it did with Paul, "I am ruined if 1 do not preach [the Gospel]." With this conversion comes a new vision--a mystical vision. This experience gives rise to an eschatolog- ical fervor which makes it easy to believe that the end is at hand. Such was often the case with the prophets who, upon experiencing the greatness of God, saw the depths to which God’s creation had fallen, and they cried out for repentance, claiming that God’s just punishment was near. In the book of Isaiah, for example, the prophet has a vision of the temple of the Lord. He is overwhelmed with the holiness and power of God while the seraphim cry out, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts... ! All the earth is filled with his glory!" (6:3). Isaiah immediately felt his own sinfulness in the face of such holiness: "Woe is me, I am doomed! For 1 am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips"(6:5), lsaiah’s new vision of the holiness of God and the sinfulness of the people leads to his message of the imminent destruction of Israel by God: "lf there be still a tenth part in it, then this in turn shall be laid waste" (6:13). It was in this same eschatological fervor that Paul believed the kingdom of God to be an imminent reality: I tell you. brothers, the time is short. From now on those with wives should live as though they had none: those who weep should live as though they were not rejoicing: buyers should conduct themselves as though they owned nothing, and those who make use of the world as though they were not using it. for the world as we know it is passing away (I Co 7:29-3 I). This eschatological fervor was the result of Paul’s experience of the risen Christ. This was a mystical experience which resulted in a new vision of life, a mystical vision. However, it is obvious to us, and even Paul came to understand, that the time is not short. Two thousand years have passed and Christ has still not come in his glory. But to take this approach, that is, to discount the fervor of the early Christians because their belief in the imminence of the second coming proved to be wrong, is to miss the significance of their times, and the truth of their experience. The early Christians experienced the reign of God breaking into their lives. They were baptized in the Spirit and such a baptism was at times a mystical experience which produced this eschatological fervor. As it is recorded in the Acts of the Apostles: The Holy Spirit came upon [the Gentiles]. just as it had upon us at the beginning. Then I remembered what the Lord had said: "John baptized with water but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit" II 1:15-16). They may have misinterpreted this mystical vision, this new perception of reality: they may have believed that Christ was coming soon. But this is often the case with intense mystical experiences. St. John of the Cross spoke of these 674 / Review for Religious. Sept.-Oct., 1982 dangers with extraordinary mystical experiences; they are often interpreted on too concrete a level, when they are intended for a higher, more spiritual plane. Perhaps this was the case with the early Christians. They experienced the closeness of Christ and his kingdom. The words of Jesus were passed along to them which pointed to his coming, and they may have interpreted such signs literally. Regardless of the reason for their mistaken view of the second coming, we should not dismiss their eschatological fervor because of it. This fervor is the proper response, just as it was for Amos: The lion roars who will not be afraid: the Lord God speaks who will not prophesy? (Am 3:8).

It was this fervor that contained within it the phenomenon of celibacy. Without this experience, celibacy makes little sense. Later theological reflection can try to explain the celibate state, as Paul tried to do, but it cannot recreate the experience itself. But what happens when the fervor wears off’? Paul began to realize that he, too, might die before Christ comes again. The initial celibacy experience that gave rise to the fervor for the reign of God and caused the early Christians to renounce marriage can fade as the years wear on. What does the modern mistress of novices do with her charges once the initial fervor of vocation begins to wane, as it always does? It is then that moderns begin to wonder about their humanity. Will celibacy kill it? The earlier mystical vision fades, and the reality of celibacy as a loneliness without spouse, sex and family presses on the celibate. The stress on intimacy today makes it even more difficult, and there are plenty of TV shows and adver- tisements to remind the celibate of what he is missing.

Celibate Intimacy With Christ This initial fervor must be followed by a desert experience, an absence of fervor, as mystical theology points out. But it is precisely within this period of dryness that the mystical vision is secretly growing. It is then that youthful fervor must yield to a new experience that reaches deeper into the person. This new experience is reflected best in the Gospel of John, "the disciple whom Jesus loved": A third time Jesus asked him, "Simon. son of John, do you love me?" Peter was hurt because he had asked a third time, "Do you love me?" So he said to him: "Lord, you know everything. You know well that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my sheep" (21:17). In these spiritual reflections of John’s Gospel do we see hinted at a deeper intimacy with Christ. The servant, and friend becomes lover and beloved. Thus we see introduced a new element: the love of Christ. The compulsion to preach is giving way to a deeper relationship with Christ, a relationship of love. The ground of Peter’s ministry is this love of Christ. The early eschatological fervor has to give way to this intimate love of Christ, The Celibacy Experience / 675

and this is only possible because Jesus first offers his love. When he asks Peter if he loves him, iris implied that Jesus is first offering his love, and is asking if Peter will respond. Such is the existential approach of Scripture: God offers through Christ, and we must respond. Peter did respond, to the fullest extent. He had exclaimed to Jesus: "We have put aside everything to follow ~,ou!" To this Jesus replied: I give you my word, there is no one who has given up home, brothers or sisters, mother or father, children or property for me and for the gospel who will not receive in this present age a .,hundred times as many homes, brothers and sisters, mothers, children and property--and persecution besides--and in the age to come, everlasting life (Mk 10:28-30). This earlier response of youthful fervor should grow into a mature love. "Although you have never seen him, you love him" (1 P 1:8). Such an unseen love, then, is directly connected with faith. There can be no love of an unseen object unless faith prepares the way. It is the youthful fervor and the later desert expe- riences which produce a faith strong enough to support such a love. It is a faith offer and response of love. This does not make the offer and response, nor the love, any less real. The reign of God has come among us. Christ is still offering the love of God in a real though hidden way. The radical question which underlies the mature celibate experience is still being asked: "Do you love me?" This is real grace--not magical grace. God, in Christ, offering himself to the world--Person to person. Grace is the theological concept which denotes this real exchange within human history. If, as Paul VI said, there must be "a wise sublimation of the psychological life on a higher plane," it is because our sublimation and needs will be met within human history; God’s kingdom has come!23 Though we cannot see the object of our exchange, this exchange is nonetheless real. Such is the nature of a faith-love. It is only within such a faith-love context that we can understand the true nature of celibate intimacy. In this offer and response with Christ, the celibate should eventually come to experience, either explicitly or implicitly, the deepest level of love and intimacy, recalling, the words of Paul VI: "Love, when it is genuine, is total, exclusive, stable and lasting." The mature celibate, the one who has internalized his call, has come to respond in this total and exclusive way to Christ. Such is the total self-gift in a marriage; such, too, is the total self-gift in the intimacy of the celibate. It is no accident, then, that later mystical theology came to describe such a relationship as a "spiritual marriage." It is a relationship~ which includes the deepest union. Yet this total and exclusive intimacy between the celibate and Christ does not exclude other relationships. In fact, it depends on other human relationships to make it possible. At the same time, celibate intimacy provides the possibility for the full fruition of these other relationships. However, one cannot completely identify one’s intimacy with Christ, with the intimacy one has with others. And without a real intimacy with Christ, these other relationships tend to become

2~Paul VI, Encyclical Letter, p. 22. 676 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 warped, possessive and destructive. Such an intimacy grows out of the celibate experience. It is not something that is once and for all, but a chain of real encounters that renew and strengthen the individual’s original response to the radical question, "Do you love me?" The original, novitiate, eschatological fervor is transformed and strengthened in the desert. Fervor is exchanged for love, and the compulsion to preach is exchanged for peace. The celibate experience is, then, a growing life-experience in and with Christ. It is not necessarily a "Mystical" (big "M") experience, some kind of extraordinary revelation--such as those of Paul who saw the face of Christ. Rather, the celibate experience is a "mystical" (small "m") experience. It is a direct encounter with Christ in which the radical question of love is asked, but it is an encounter that is hidden within the ordinary. McNamara sees that this immediacy of mysticism is nonetheless mediated: It is God whom mystical knowledge perceives immediately and experientially in the historic revelation of Christ~ the sacramental life, and the ecclesiastical organism. It is not contradic- tory to unite indissolubly the immediacy of mystical knowledge to all the Christian mediations.24 Thus the celibate in today’s world must be a mystic but not necessarily a Mystic. This mystical relationship, of course, remains beyond words; it is beyond clear, verbal definitions. In it the mystery of God touches the mystery of the human person, and in this touch, the depths of the human person are opened, and he attains to a vision of reality that is mystical. Do You Love Me? It is this experience and the resulting vision which ground the celibate’s aposto- late. The celibacy experience, which eventually grows into a total response to the radical question, "Do you love me?" provides the charter and gives life to his or her ministry. Without this growing intimacy with Christ, the celibate’s ministry is without an anchor and will drift with every theological and psychological breeze that comes along. Again, McNamara has an excellent insight: People are fed and sustained by a mystical theology; they are amused and confused by any other. Yet they are being led thoughtlessly from one vogue to another. It’s so tempting to be faddish, accommodating; to leave our solitary, silent stance before the source of wisdom and become washed out in the ’sauce~ of endless meetings, parties~ dialogues, lectures, conventions.2~ Without a mystical vision the celibate is unlikely to remain celibate for long. Any ministry without a mystical vision is liable only to "amuse and confuse" the people. The people thirst for Christ. It is the authentic Christ they need, yet the temptation is always to grasp false messiahs, even though with the best of inten-

2’~McNamara, Christian Mysticism, p. 16. ~lbid., p. 24. The Celibacy Experience / 677

tions. Mother Teresa wrote a note that said: "Pray for me that 1 do not loosen my grip on the hand of Jesus, even under the guise of ministering to the poor.’’~6 Even such a great ministry as serving the poor can become a false messiah without an intimate relationship with Christ. The time has come for Catholic celibates to renew their primary identity as Christians. It is only in a life centered on Christ that true celibate intimacy is realized. It is only thus that liberals, conservatives and moderates can become what the Gospel calls for--radical lovers. And without a radical response to the love of Christ there is no mysticism, and thus no internalized celibacy. The way is not easy. Though the kingdom has already come into the world, it remains hidden. The eschaton is not fully realized in human history. A celibate’s relationship with Christ will reflect this incompleteness during this life. Just as "all creation groans and is in agony even until now" (Rm 8:22), the celibate’s life must also have many moments of groaning, and a longing for the final fulfillment of God’s kingdom. The call of Christ is again sweeping the world: "Do you love me?" Fewer are left: fewer are responding. But there are enough. There is enough leaven for the entire lump of dough to rise. And for the remnant that is left: No more shall men call you ~For~ken," or your land "Desolate," But you shall be called "My Delight." and your land "Espoused."... As a young man marries a virgin, your Builder shall marry you: and as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride so shall your God rejoice in you (Is 62:4-5).

-’~’Phyllis Theroux. "’Amazing Grace: Mother Teresa Comes to Calcutta." Washhzgton Post Magazine, 18 October 1981. p. 30. Preparing for the 1983 Synod

Stephen Tutas, S.M.

In explaining his point in writing this article, Fr. Tutas states: "As a member of the 1980 Synod, I am well aware that the success of the General Assembly depends to a great extent on how well participants reflect the mind of the Church throughout the world." This article simply draws attention to the ~’neamenta published by the General Secretariate of the Synod. Father Tutas, Superior General of the Society of Mary (Marianists) 1971-1981, is presently Director of the Marianist Formation Center; P.O. Box AC; Cupertino, CA 95015.

Immediately after the 1980 Synod of Bishops, preparation began for the 1983 Synod. After a lengthy process of consultation, Pope John Paul II designated "Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church" as the theme for the Sixth General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops which will be held in 1983. The General Secretariate of the Synod then prepared an initial presentation of the theme and sent this to the National Conferences of Bishops for their personal study. This first document is a fifty-four page study in the English edition pub- lished by the Vatican Polyglot Press this past January. The purpose of the docu- ment is "to stimulate reflection in the local churches, to receive information, advice and useful suggestions for the future synodal discussion; to provoke, as soon as possible, a movement of spirits and of prayer which disposes souls to the metanoia which is at the root of the synodal theme." For all these reasons it is very important for religious to take an active interest in the coming synod. It is interesting to note that the General Secretariate is encouraging wide consultation by stating that the publication of this first document "is without limits and not reserved." After analyzing the feedback from this first document, the General Secretariate will later issue a more extensive working paper. As religious we cannot afford to be passive as the preparation for the 1983 Synod moves forward. While the members of the synod have the responsibility of reflecting the mind of the Church throughout the world as they participate in the synod, the rest of us have the responsibility to study the theme of the synod as 678 Preparing for the 1983 Synod thoroughly as we can so that we can be well prepared to enter into the movement promoted by its celebration. Accordingly, in the hope of stimulating further reflection in preparation for the 1983 Synod, I would like to offer some thoughts about the theme that are prompt- ed by my personal study of the initial document. The theme of Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church was selected from among many topics suggested for the Sixth General Assembly. Towards the close of the 1980 Synod there was a brief.discussion about possible themes for the 1983 sessions. Among the issues mentioned at that time was the Sacrament of Penance. After further consultation, this particular theme was even- tually developed into the much more comprehensive topic that is outlined in this document issued by the General Secretariate. As presented, the theme touches many other topics that had also been proposed as possible themes, such as youth, the Christian laity, the identity of the Church following the changes effected by Vatican I1, the evaluation of liturgicalrenewal, popular piety, spirituality, Catholic education, the training of priests, the role of bishops in the Church, ecclesiology, the future. The study of Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church can also be viewed in relation to previous synods--especially justice in the world, evangelization in the modern world and catechetics, and of course, it has many implications for the mission of the Christian family in the modern world. The theme echoes many of the concerns expressed in pontifical documents of recent years. Among these, it is significant to recall Pope Paul VI’s statement for the World Day of Peace, 1975: "Reconciliation, the Way to PeAce." The synod study is also related to the encyclical letter of Pope John Paul II, "On the Mercy of God" that was published shortly after the last synod. What I find especially attractive about the coming synod is that it is being ¯ presented as a development of the great themes of the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World. Throughout the synoddocument there are remind- ers that this topic is not to be considered solely in terms of baptized Catholics, but that it is a topic of great importance "for all who seek meaning to existence." This theme is of great importance for the quality of the Christian life; it is also meaning- ful for the world in general. I found the intent of the initial document to speak a message of hope to the modern world very heartening. There is no denial of the injustice in the world today and in the hearts of so many people. The section describing this is particu- larly well expressed. The document speaks of the reality of today’s world in contrast to our understanding of God’s plan for us and our own response to this plan in our efforts to build a better world. Given the wars, violence, terrorism of our time, the conclusion is that the dominant characteristic of our era seems to have become that of tensions and divisions. It would be quite easy to give in to the feelings of helplessness in the face of the complexity of the problems facing us today. But it is quite clear from the document that the great expectation is that the synod itself will speak a message of hope to the Church and to the world. 61~1~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

Much of the theme deals with the basic human need for personal reconciliation with God, with each other, and with ourselves. But what impressed me above all was the emphasis given to the promotion of justice and peace in the world through the call to reconciliation and penance. The document suggests that the synod face the complex reality of tensions and divisions in the world today with confiderlce that there is an answer. We Christians cannot lose hope. In recognizing that the Church is the sacrament of reconciliation, the Church has a new understanding of its pastoral mission in the modern world. 1 am also intrigued by the proposed study of the meaning of change in our lives. The word penance used in the synod document is meant to include the meaning of repentance, understood as conversion. The synod topic offers us an opportunity to focus on the change of mind and heart that Vatican II called for, and on the continual change to which we are called as Christians. The appeal to conversion understood as a change of direction, return, practical change in the way of living, interior change of mentality, metanoia, is clearly and forcefully pre- sented. The Church is seen as "holy and formed of sinners," holy, but always in need of being purified, incessantly pursuing the path of penance and renewal. The message of hope that Christians are called to proclaim in today’s world is God’s love for his people. It is God who forgives and liberates in order to reconcile all men and women to himself, with each other, with all creation. The dream of a new creation is once again proclaimed, a new creation where there is interior unity and true liberty, where there is a new relationship with other men and women, a new human community founded on justice, a new sense of God living and working in history. The General Secretariate of the Synod, in publishing this first document in preparation for the 1983 Synod, insists that the statements made are "provisional in character and limited and thus it would be useless to make a critique of them or to attempt to perfect the text." But it is an invaluable starting point for all of us as we prepare for the 1983 Synod. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions--II

Patricia Spillane, M.S. C

Our last issue carried the first part of this article. In the current issue, Sister Patricia concludes her study of the process of internalization. Sh’e continues to reside at the convent of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart: 428 St. James Place: Chicago; IL 60614.

~n Part I of this article, we considered how to live more authentically the life we proclaim: i.e., how can our constitutions be planted deep within us, written on our hearts (see Jr 3 !:33)? We reflected on our attitudes toward these constitutions, and on ourselves as the source of attitudinal decisions--spiritually, philosophically, psychologically. If nothing else, by now we should have arrived at an appreciation for the complexity of the problem: that arriving at a true internalization of what is written calls indeed for foundations of rock, and that much labor and struggle are required to build over that! Everyone who comes to me and listens to my words and acts on them.., is like the man who, when he built his house, dug, and dug deep, and laid the foundations on rock: when the river was in flood, it bore down on that house but could not shake it, it was so well built (Lk 6:47-49). In the following pages, I will try to indicate some directions which could aid in this foundation-setting for interiorization within religious communities. Of their nature, such foundations are conceptual and theoretical, the underpinnings from which must proceed programs of action once the principles have been clarified. Such foundations need to reflect adequately our reality, a reality that is at one and the same time spiritual, anthropological and psychological. Efforts at internaliza- tion will be hampered without such an integration. Premises already exist in each of these areas since Christianity has been propos- ing such principles for centuries. Respective constitutions incorporate these and give them a unique flavor. 681 61~2 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

But we each have our own concepts of, and attitudes toward theology, philo- sophy and psychology, both conscious and unconscious. We need to examine our own assumptions in these areas to see how they contrast with what we are called to. Furthermore, with clear premises and principles we can better grasp still further implications: where do we go from here? We can move more securely from the theoretical to the concrete, both individually and collectively, without haphazard experimentation and without facile reaching for faddist solutions.

A. Theological Foundations The very word foundation conjures up something solid, firm, lasting, not the ephemeral, fantastic, passing. It is obvious that any theological foundation for the internalization of Christian living must have indeed "Christ Jesus himself for its main cornerstone" (Ep 2:20), the Christ of revelation and of the gospels, as pro- claimed by the Church. What is needed is a theology that integrates both the transcendent and the incarnational, both vertical and horizontal dimensions, both interior life and exterior action. Consequently, we are talking about a Christologi- cal, ecclesial foundation of objective, revealed values that are both normative and attractive, values that can propose objective and inspiring criteria with which we can collectively and individually evaluate and challenge ourselves. Our vision of God must begin with the God of revelation and Scripture, as authentically reflected to us down through the ages by the Church and sacred tradition. Equally essential to this theological vision is its concept of our humanity called to a unique relationship with our Creator as the peak of creation, elevated to unimaginable new possibilities in Christ, yet withal vulnerable and capable of betraying our Creator and Savior. Called to respond, we are still" free to say "no." Therefore, the triplet of grace, sin and concupiscence can never be overlooked (more will be said along this line in the anthropological section below). Such a theology will see the spiritual life as the arena of interaction between nature and grace, the call to personal and enduring transcendence in the name of Christ that begins with baptism and reaches its fulfillment in the Beatific Vision. Such free cooperation with grace is at one and the same time the highest activity to which we are called, that which makes us most truly human and that which ultimately brings us true self-fulfillment as a result of our self-transcendence. However, we do not incarnate such principles in a vacuum. We live in a world of increasing theological pluralism, of the rapid dissemination and impassioned defense of new ideologies--in short, in a world of theological ferment where discernment, critical thinking, and a clear vision of the fundamentals are more essential than ever. As Christians and religious, we must be able to sift and see in what way our, theological thinking may have been infiltrated by certain current trends which can bias and distort the foundation for our attitudinal decision. Discerning Theological ,Trends A group of Christian theologians (including Avery Dulles, S.J.) from nine denominations engaged themselves in precisely this kind of sifting a few years ago From Tablet to Heart in Hartford, Connecticut, resulting in the clarification and designation of thirteen pervasive ideas which they considered to be "false and debilitating."t 1 have grouped some of these into three areas so that it will be apparent how an ade- quately integrated theological foundation implies a counter-cultural stance that is in opposition to each of them. I. Religious language refers to human experience and nothing else, God being humanity’s noblest creation .... Jesus can only be understoo~l in terms of contemporary models of humanity .... An emphasis on God’s transcendence is at least a hindrance to, and perhaps incompatible with, Christian social concern and action. Here is clearly seen the polarization of a theology of the supernatural with the theology of secular humanism. According to the latter, "man and world have in themselves an ultimate value’~--a prime example of Frankl’s objec!ification of persons and subjectification of values mentioned in Part 1, with the result that we must become our own source of meaning, and evaluate ourselves by subjective criteria. This subjectivism, in turn, gives rise to experientialism: lacking objective guidelines, we can only use our emotions to ratify our experience. God’s existence is inferred from subjective religious experience. That which should be effect becomes, instead, the cause of belief and the fountainhead of religion. Von Bal- thazar’s comments are appropriate here: It is not that man has to have an experience of God: it is more that God wants to subject man to an experience, to discover--by means of an experience that puts him to the test--if the person to whom the call is addressed conducts himself in the way indicated by God. While the Bible never speaks of a human experience of God, the theme of the experience that God has with man, that of putting him to the test, is present throughout the history of salvation.3 This is not to say that authentic religious experience will not have an affective component; but it must also be accompanied by cognitive and volitional elements as well, bearing fruit in genuine conversion to objective, revealed values. As we have already seen in Part 1, emotion is an essential but ambivalent force. It can be stirred up by needs, by values, or by needs masquerading as values. Hence, emo- tional feelings of satisfaction or dissatisfaction are not reliable criteria with which to judge our experience. 11. To realize one ’s potential and to be true to onself is the whole meaning of salvation .... Since what is human is good, evil can adequately be understood as failure to realize human potential.... The sole purpose of worship is to promote individual self-realization and human communit.v. This second group of "Hartford Heresies" logically follows the first. If tran-

~’The Hartford Heresies," Time (February 10, 1975). :S. Ogden. The Reality of God (NY: Harpe.r & Row, 1966), p. 44. -~Hans Urs yon Balthasar. translated and quoted by I_. M. Rulla in "Psychology and Priestly Forma- tion: Premises for a Dialogue,~ Seminarium/1978, no. 3), pp. 438-459. 6114 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 scendence and the existence of a God who is "wholly other" is negated, naturally human fulfillment becomes exalted as the core of religion. This is what Paul Vitz calls "the cult of self-worship" which has infiltrated American religious life even though the relentless and single-minded search for and glorification of the self is at direct cross- purposes with the Christian injunction to lose the self. Certainly Jesus Christ neither lived nor advocated a life that would qualify by today’s standards as self-actualized.4 The entire theological foundation of Christian and religious life is posited on self-transcendence as the path to real self-fulfillment, not the other way around. Hence sacrifice, renunciation, asceticism, mortification are not extra frills for the pious. They are necessary means if we are to make consistent attitudinal choices and decisions that lead us to the highest state of maturity of which we are capable. In the pgst, it seemed that in certain instances religious life may have regretfully advocated a forgetting of self to the point of annihilation. Even though the pendu- lum has swung in the opposite direction, religious life cannot exist without indi- vidual dying-to-self that collectively witnesses to the central sacrifice of the Lord who died that we might have more abundant life (.In 10:10). So Vitz remarks: Like all popular heresy, selfism has some positive and appealing properties. That you should look out for yourself is nice (and useful) to hear: that you should love and care for others is a familiar and great mora~ position. What is excluded is the spiritual life of prayer, mediation and worship--the essential vertical dimension of Christianity, the relation to God. Selfism is an example of a horizontal heresy with its emphasis only on the present .... It is Christianity without the first commandment.~ Finally, the "Hartford Heresies,"and the modern thinking behind them, would divorce us non-selectively from the past, and set us adrift on an activist sea without rudder or guide:

Ill. Institutions and historical traditions are oppressive and inimical to our being truly human; liberation from them is required for authentic existence and authentic religion .... The world must set the agenda for the Church. Social, political and economic programs to improve the quality of life are ultimately normative for the Church’s mission in the world. We have already spoken of the impossibility of life without structure, severed from its roots, dependent only on emotion and process. The presence and activity of the Holy Spirit within a religious community will be manifested--among other things--by the structures chosen by the communiiy for its internal life and for its ministries. No com]nunity can have an existence worth the name without some

4Paul C. Vitz. Psychology as Religion: The Cult of Self- Worship IGrand Rapids: Wm. Eerdmans. 1977). p. 91. 5Ibid.. pp. 95-96. From Tablet to Heart / 6115

organizational structures in the lives of each member and of the entire body .... Deprived of such help we are without direction, without grounds upon which to stand when faced with new choices: victims of every wind that blows, of every passing fad and fashion.6

Such "spontaneity" may seem like liberation, but it is not the freedom from which issue wise and free choices.

B. Anthropological Foundations Just as Christ is the cornerstone of our theological foundations, so, too, is he of our anthropological building-blocks since, according to Rahner, Christology is the beginning and end of anthropology, and anthropology, fully realized, is the same as Christology.7 Such a stance affects our model of the person which is implicit or explicit in every theology, philosophy or psychology. Although some secular models of the person are incompatible with Christian thought, there are others which are scientific, and at the same time, can be in harmony with Christian belief--e.g., Kohut, Loevinger, Arnold, Frankl.8 We have already seen, in Part 1, other examples of psychologists whose view of the person (although not always explicated) is thoroughly scientific, but whose conclusions are extremely useful for Christian thought; e.g., Kelman (compliance, identifica- tion, internalization) and Katz (the functions of attitudes). What kind of anthropology will harmonize with both Christian theology and a. realistic psychology? In addition to other characteristics, it must be holistic so as to take into consideration our three human levels, rather than being reductionist to just the psycho-biological level. It must see us as active subjects, not just passive objects responding only to external stimuli in typical conditioned stimulus = response fashion, but also capable of choosing and deciding among both endo- genous and exogeneous stimuli. A Christian anthropology needs a theory of motivation that goes beyond simple tension-reduction (the Freudian model), S-R reactions (the behaviorist model) or self-actualization (the humanist model) to embrace a gamut of motivations from the simplest needs up to and including the highest transcendent values. We need to seek a balance between the pessimistic human model espoused by Freud (no change possible) and the optimistic vision of Rogers, et al. (unlimited change possible), to the realistic model that underlies both the Gospel and value-oriented empirical psychology.9 In the latter, real change is possible, but only at the price of struggle, time, renunciation and labor--beginning

t’Edward Malatesta, S.J., "The Need for Constitutions," Supplement to the Way, no. 37 (Spring. 1980), pp. 13, II. 7Karl Rahner, S.J., "Theology of the Incarnation" in Theoh~gical Investigations. Vol. IV (NY: Seabury Press. 1974). pp. 116-117. sSee specific references in footnotes of Part 1. 9Here I am referring, for example, to the type of depth psychology and insight psychotherapy taught at the Institute of Psychology, Gregorian University, Rome, which is supported by years of research with people in religious life from all over the world. 61~6 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 with the reality of where we are, and moving to our free response to a calling and persuasive God. Having established some parameters for a model compatible with Christian principles, let us consider, out of a spectrum of possibilities, two issues which concern our nature: I) our freedom--its use and abuse; 2) grace as enabling both relationship and freedom.

Our Freedom--Its Use and Abuse There are probably as many popular misconceptions of the concept of freedom as there are of love. For example, freedom is often seen as: - freedom from; the absence of restraints, limits, structure; - spontaneous uninhibited expression; - infinite possibilities of choice and the revision of choice. In all of these, authentic freedom is confused with spontaneity, impulsivity, reactivity, emotional wanting, unlimited autonomy and self-rule. Viewed in that light, freedom is the fruit of childhood (and a spoiled childhood at that!) rather than the fruit and crown of maturity. Such pseudo-freedom manifests a lack of responsibility rather than its increase, impulse rather than decision. As Weigel would have analyzed it, such a view of freedom is more of"an abuse of liberty and not its proper function."j0 But are we all free? Why do some manifest their freedom while others seem imprisoned within their very selves? Here we may return to our earlier concept drawn from Lonergan’s "essential" and "effective" freedom, the first being the silent, inherent base of freedom, and the second, the degree to which that freedom is more or less manifested in our individual lives. Rahner and Weigel also see this two-fold nature of freedom; at one level, there exists a freedom which is original, transcendentally grounded, acting as a metaphysical framework. At another level, paralleling Lonergan’s effective freedom, Rahner sees our freedom as mediated, categorically objectified, concretely incarnated in the world.~j Once we have understood that freedom is both a given and an achievement, botha part of our nature and a capacity we have to exercise properly; we can now askourselves why we are free. Vatican 11 expresses it thusly: Man’s dignity demands that he act’according to a knowing and free choice. Such a choice is personally motivated and prompted from within. It does not result from blind internal impulse nor from mere external pressure. Man achieves such dignity where emancipating himself from all captivity to passion, he pursues his goal in a spontaneous choice of what is good (Gaudiurn et Spes. 17). This is certainly freedom for. It is freedom for choice, for goals, for values, for

~0Gustave Weigel, "Theology and Freedom" in Foundations for a Psychology of Grace (Glen Rock: Paulist Press, 1966), p. 190. ~Karl Rahner, S.J., Foundations of Christian Faith (NY: Seabury Press, 1978), pp. 97, 37. From Tablet to Heart / $87

the pursuit of the good. It is both the purpose of our freedom and its responsibility that we bring ourselves, with the help of God’s grace, to the true exercise of that freedom. This theme of freedom-as-responsibility for our true selves constantly recurs in the thought of Lonergan, Rahner, Weigel, et aL Our subjectivity and freedom consist in our being consigned to ourselves, and not abandoned solely as objects to the manipulation and determination of others, for, in Frankl’s terms, we are always free to decide our attitudes,t2 For Rahner, "even when I have doubts about [my freedom], raise questions about it, and cannot discover it as an individual datum of my categorical experience in time and space,"~3 it is in this very doubting, questioning, searching that I act inevitably as a responsible, free subject. However, all of the above writers are unanimous in testifying to the fragility of this freedom, to the difficulty we experience in translating the essentially given freedom inherent in our nature into effective freedom. History is replete with our failures to accept responsibility for ourselves, with our self-defeating efforts to embrace a pseudo-self that isolates us from the tran- scendent horizon of being and, therefore, from our true nature, Gaudium et Spes speaks of our freedom as having been "damaged by sin" (no. 17). Lonergan speaks of the limitations of our freedom arising from external circumstances, psycho- neural states, cognitive capacities, a lack of willingness or bias.t4 Fransen speaks of the spirit "rooted in this psychosomatic humus of humanity.., dense networks of determinisms, influences foreign to my own will."~s Weigel speaks of a "split in man whereby he can be simultaneously self-realizing and self-defeating."~6 Rulla speaks of inconsistencies and the effect of both affective and effective dispositions on the striving for true self-affirmation and freedom,t7 ,All of this points to the traditional doctrine of concupiscence, of our vulner- ability freshly understood in a more radical way--instead of being facilely dis- missed as "too pessimistic," as happens in many "Christian" circles. Any true self-knowledge points to an experiential affirmation of the ’existence of human weakness. The very fact that some religious movements can be so optimistic concerning our possibilities says something about their own degree of self- awareness, their denial of reality.

Grace as Enabling Both Relationship and Freedom Having seen ourselves as person and subject, free but vulnerable, possessing a transcendent capacity to go beyond immediate data to an infinite horizon, we

~2Victor Frankl, The Unheard of Cry for Meaning (NY: Simon & Shuster, 1978), p. 41. ~3Rahner, ibid., p. 36. ~4Bernard J. l,onergan, S.J., Insight (London: Longmans Green. 1958), pp. 191-203, 218-234. 622, ~Peter Fransen. "Toward a Psychology of Grace" in Foundations. pp. 203-204. ~Weigel, op. cir.. p. 189. ~TLuigi M. Rulla, S.J., Depth Psychology and Vocation (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1971), pp. 56-86. 61111 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 might think that God, in this vision, remains distant and impersonal, Otto’s myster- ium tremendum et fascinans before whom we are properly awed, but not very comfortable. What is there in our essential nature that makes intimacy with a personal God possible and necessary? How can we understand grace as essential in our task of becoming truly human? On the basis of Augustine’s quia amasti me, fecisti me amabilem, Fransen proposes defining grace as love: "Because you loved me first, Lord, you have made me lovable," i.e., both worthy of love and capable of loving.~8 Lonergan is speak- ing in the same vein when he writes of religious conversion (which is an event of grace) as "other-worldly falling in love."19 Rahner places grace right at the center of our dynamic. He sees man as (not just having) "an obediential potency for the reception of a divine revealing word."~0 It is as "hearers of the word"~ that we become most human. However, the communication of grace and the word is clearly God’s initiative, both directly (whenever God decides to communicate with us) and indirectly (since God has already graced us with the supernatural existen- tial, making it possible for us to hear his word when it is spoken). Let us turn to the functions of grace. There are different terminologies, but an underlying conceptual convergence towards the same point that St. Thomas elab- orated some 700 years ago: gratia non tollit naturam sed perficit. According to Fransen, grace urges us internally to a supernatural fundamental option, a loving commitment in faith, hope, and charity. More clearly, Lonergan describes reli- gious conversion, the word of grace, as aiming for "total and permanent self- surrender without conditions, qualifications, reservations.’~2 However, it is Rahner who most clearly considers grace as enabling our a priori drive for the absolute. Meissner, in commenting on Rahner and Weigel, describes grace as "a self- perfecting dynamism that works within and through man’s natural capacities" so that our self-affirmation can find its end in God.23 Grace is not something other- worldly, as commonly imagined, but a dynamism which functions to bring our natural powers to the end for which they were intended by God’s plan--i.e., to make us more human, not less so. Now what are some of the conditions in which this takes place? It seems to me that here we return to our original points of freedom and responsibility. Grace, as the meeting between two subjectivities, is ultimately an encounter between two liberties. On God’s side, grace is gratuitous: he is not forced to love us and he does not force himself upon us, but merely makes it possible for us to say "yes" or "no" to him in freedom. Neither does the surrender of our "yes" mean less freedom.

~SFransen, op cit., p. 206. ~gBernard J. Lonergan, S.J., Method in Theology (NY: Herder & Herder, 1973), p. 240. 20Gerald McCool, S.J., The Theology of Karl Rahner (Hamilton Press). pp. 14, 172. 21Karl Rahner, Horer des Wortes, 1963. ~Lonergan, Ioc. cir. ~3William Meissner, S.J., Foundations for a Psychology of Grace, pp. 181, 194. From Tablet to Heart / 6119

Mother Cabrini was never more free as when she joyfully abandoned herself in "I promise never to say ’no’ to you in anything" (Pensieri e Propositi, p. 75). If grace is given to us as God’s offer to our freedom, all the more are we responsible for the gift. One might say (paraphrasing Lonergan’s concepts of freedom) that we are essentially responsible, but the degree to which we exercise this capacity is our effective responsibility. Ionergan himself makes a similar distinction when he talks about operative and cooperative grace. Similarly, objective sanctity is the total potentiality for responding to God’s offer and revelation of himself; while subjective sanctity concerns itself with the actual response that we have made, the extent to which we have already said "yes" or "no." C. Ps.vchological Foundations With all the attention paid to theological and anthropological building blocks, isn’t that enough? We have clarified the values; we have clarified our possibilities, through nature and grace, to freely apprehend these values. Isn’t that enough? Common sense should tell us that, although clarification removes certain obstacles, it doesn’t remove all. The clearest set of constitutions in the world can be rejected. In fact, in some cases, clarification would actually increase the likelihood of a constitution being rejected. We are dealing here with inner obstacles and personal resistance, with which psychology can help us to cope. It would appear, then, that we ought to have a particular purpose in mind for the psychology that is incorporated into our foundations, and that purpose will, in turn, delineate the kind of psychology that may be useful to us. We need a psychology that will help us increase in an effective knowledge of ourselves and of God. "Oh, that 1 may know myself and know Thee," cries Augustine. We need a psychology that helps us overcome whatever impedes us from reaching those optimum peaks of human development in Christ, however we term them: "conversion," "antecedent willingness," "effective freedom," or "objective holiness." Finally, we need a psychology to help each of us solve that baffling personal mystery with which Paul struggles in Romans (7:14-23): why it is that we cannot do what we would dearly want to do--internalize the objective values of revela- tion. Research shows that the majority of us are simply not initially ready to overcome those obstacles to internalization by ourselves.24 The most well- intentioned among us may have acquired little insight as to why religious life seems at times to be unsatisfying, frustrating, disillusioning; why we may be led to the disheartening conclusion that for us the solution must lie elsewhere. This may not be a case for spiritual direction alone. Neither may it be a case for

24Rulla, Ridick & Imoda. Entering and Leaving Vocation (Chicago: Loyola University Press. 1976). pp. 114-124. 135-140. 690 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 a psychology of pathological disturbances. But a good psychology can help us to understand better the dynamics with which we must deal. Having established why we want psychology’s help, we may now turn to the characteristics such a psychology must have in order to reach the stated goal. Obviously, it must be compatible with all the theological and anthropological foundations we have established before. "Compatible" here, though, does not mean merely tolerant or indifferent. A psychology that is without presuppositions, that is wert-frei (value free) or Gottfrei, does not exist. We need a psychology that is at home with objective, revealed values and can encourage us toward our possibilities for transcendence. However, this does not mean some vague form of "spiritualized" psychology. We need one that is sound in theory and technique; one that has been verified by research and uses the best methodology that modern depth-psychology can offer. Hence we need a psychology of both conscious and unconscious motivation, one that attends to both needs and values in its view of the whole self created by God.

Differing Psychological Approaches What are the implications of such a choice? If we have discerned in broad terms what psycholpg!c.a.l approaches can be useful, which approaches leave some- thing to be desired? Freudian psychology has traditionally been viewed as an enemy in the Catholic camp, but perhaps that needs to be more carefully discerned. As a technique, Freud’s method of helping a person get in touch with his or her needs is extremely valuable--especially when the later insights of ego-psychology are added. It is the reductionist and pessimistic philosophy of Freud that is unacceptable in its denial of objective values and the transcendent dimension. For Freud, theology is a human response to helplessness and insignificance. However, a discerning use of his working principles is not incompatible with growth in Christian life and holi- ness. In the right hands, such techniques may prove an invaluable aid to conversion. At the other end of the spectrum are the optimistic psychologists of the human- istic schools who, because they do speak of God and values, do support love of neighbor and altruism, have often been enthusiastically endorsed by Christians as the antidote to Freud. However, even here, discernment is needed. The religion of the humanists is usually either ethical humanism or an ecstatic naturalism grap- pling with emotional experiences or symbolic meanings. Rarely, if ever, is the reli- gion of the humanists concerned with objective, revealed values that come from beyond man. Rarely, if ever, do they call us to a fulfillment beyond ourselves. Even those who most proclaim values (e.g., Allport and Maslow) ultimately fall back on agnostic positions--that if there are universal, objective truths, they are unknow- able. God is defined and measured by man, and not vice-versa--as in Fromm’s comment: "The specific meaning of God depends on what is the most desirable good for the person.’~5 However, the difficulties with humanistic psychology are not only in the reli- From Tablet to Heart / ~1 gious sphere. In reacting to Freud, humanists have, in some cases, lost the strong points of that approach; by ignoring our unconscious dimension and by.concen- trating on our positive elements, they have at times sacrificed reality. While Freud- ianism may have been overly concerned with pathology, humanists often ignore it; hence the diagnosis of a person’s actual state is often not a major concern. How- ever, without an accurate assessment of conscious and unconscious factors, needs, and values, it is very difficult to ascertain what is best for this particular person in his or her particular situation. The humanists rely on emotional experience (which certainly is an important element) but leave certain questions unanswered. Does having an emotional experience necessarily mean it is a corrective or helpful one for us? Does it signify that we have learned, why we respond emotionally in that way? Does it mean that we now know how to evaluate (reflectively appraise) our experience and make an appropriate choice for action? Without the added factors introduced by our three questions, emotional experience should not be construed as a universal panacea. Here the ego-psychologists’ distinction between "experienc- ing eg9 and reflecting ego" is helpful. Diagnosis may reveal an hysterical character that needs to reflect more; or it may reveal an obsessive character that needs to experience and express more. It is neither good psychology nor Christian charity to expect the same technique to be beneficial to each one of us. Gospel Inconsistencies Vs. Pathology So, as we have seen, the Christian psychologist must be like the faithful householder "who brings out from his storeroom things both new and old" (Mt 13:52), balancing the unconscious of Freud with the conscious, balancing the affect of the humanists with our cognitive and volitional aspects as well. Perhaps one final characteristic of such a useful psychological approach would be one that knows how to distinguish between three instances or dimensions, as used by Rulla, which affeci our living of religious life: - the dimension of freedom for deliberate choice (sanctity or sin); - the dimension of inconsistencies; - the dimension of pathology. The first and third dimensions are us.ually recognizable and clear. There also exists, however, the second dimension where we are less than free to cooperate with grace (e.g., internalize a constitution), despite psychological normalcy and good will. It is a dimension that anyone of us with capacity for self-introspection can recognize, the reason why we fail over and over in the same areas, why we end up confessing the same faults time and time again. The great spiritual writers termed it mediocrity, tepidity: Cabrini writes of "those little things that are so many chains with which the enemy binds us so that we cannot grow" (Letters. no.247). Clearly, here is an issue that is neither sinful nor sick, but does limit the

’SE. Fromm, The Art of l, oving (NY: Harper, 1956), p. 63. 692 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 effectiveness of a conversion. These are inconsistencies, and the tension is between the needs pulling in one direction while the ideals are struggling to make headway in another. The result is neither mental illness, nor great sanctity; nor great sinful- ness, rather that vast in-between zone in which most of us fumble around for years. Research confirms the suspicion that most of us fall into this category when inconsistencies are detected by scientific means, i.e., proji~ctive testing and clinical interviews. What is crippling is not their presence or absence--even the saints struggled with areas of inconsistency--but rather, as Rulla defines it, where they are functional, i.e., where unconscious needs that directly touch the central values of religious life persistently affect our motivation and behavior in an unintegrated fashion, and are not open to change or conversion.

Signs of Consistency and Inconsistency But how, using ordinary means, can we detect significant traces of these func- tional inconsistencies with which we all struggle to a greater or lesser degree? Rulla has delineated ten hallmarks concerning consistency with ourselves, with others, and with our values that may prove useful for an overall picture. Briefly, we are consistent within ourselves when we tend to confront reality (no matter how problematic or unpleasant) rather than escape through projection, or immerse ourselves in a substitute reality. Furthermore, self-consistency entails knowing and accepting all our human needs, while dealing with the creative tension that may be needed for an integrating renunciation. Consistency with others demands that we know, accept and integrate our own conscious and unconscious needs for dependency, aggression, domination of oth- ers, and so forth, so that we can truly be for others as they are, and not use them to fill some need in ourselves. Where inconsistencies are at work, however, we tend to organize [our] security operations around interpersonal power or narcissistic competitiveness ¯ . . depending for [our] self-esteem on demonstrations of weakness in others and strength in [ourselves].2~ Furthermore, it is inconsistency that is often behind the exaggerated expres- sions of independence or dependence in community which prevent us from reach- ing that true interdependence and dependability that should characterize a Christian community. Consistency with our values is manifested first of all by their internalization (rather than compliance and/or identification), the signs of which were all given in Part 1. Internalization is usually accompanied by both realistic flexibility and creative expression in the implementation of the values, avoiding rigid imposition on others, knowing how to distinguish between what is essential and what is accidental . . . when to speak out and when to remain silent (Ioc. cir.).

26Rulla. 1971. pp. 148-149. From Tablet to Heart / 693

Repetitions of the Second Dimension Beyond the ten hallmarks that distinguish between functional and non- functional consistency, it will be useful to examine three other ways in which a delicate difference may be detected between the situation of inconsistency and more pathological situations. Kubie characterizes the keynote of neurosis as its unhealthy repetitiveness: The essence of normality is flexibility, in contrast to the freezing of behavior into patterns of unalterability which characterize every manifestation of the neurotic process, whether in impulses, acts. thoughts or feelings. Whether or not a behavioral event is free to change depends not upon the quality of the act itself but upon the nature of the constellation of forces that has produced it. No moment of behavior can be looked upon as neurotic unless the processes that have set it in motion also predetermine its automatic repetition, irrespective of the situation, the utility, or the consequences of the act.27 Rulla asks whether the "repetitions of the second dimension" can be distin- guished from outright neurosis; for the latter, he hypothesizes that the object of the repetition involves inappropriate and ineffective striving for the satisfaction of human needs and relationships "irrespective of the situation, the utility or the consequences of the act." However, in the repetitions of the second dimension, the object is the repetitive interference with assimilation and living of gospel values "irrespective of situation, utility or consequences," while human needs and rela- tionships are evaluated in the light of these values and not just social adaptability. One is reminded of Jesus’ use of Isaiah in reference to the uncomprehending Jews in Mt 13: You will listen and listen again, but not understand, see and see again, but not perceive... (Is 6:9-10). This type of repetition is inconsistent without being abnormal. Similarly, a religious who persistently seeks out a certain type of relationship may be normal from societal standpoints, but inconsistent from the point of view of the vowed following of Jesus. It could also be pointed out, using these two examples, that the inconsistencies often lead to a satisfying self-fulfillment (which is why they are often so resistant to change) but rarely to self-transcendence. Secondly, these repetitions of the second dimension lead to other consequen- ces. Since the "constellation of forces" are unconscious needs, they seek blindly for satisfaction--often in terms of expectations which we unrealistically hold of our- selves, others, situations, etc., expectations which are doomed to disappointment because they were unrealistic ifi the first place. Hence, an individual may have entered religious life with an unrealistically high expectation of community because of his own dependency needs. When the reality does not meet his expecta- tions, he tends to become frustrated, angry, depressed. He will either learn to become more realistic, or he will start a repetitive and fruitless search for the

-’TLawrence Kubie, "Social Forces and the Neurotic Process~ in Explorations in Social Ps.l’chiatry. A. Leighton, ed. (NY: Basic Books, 1957), pp. 141-142. Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 all-satisfying community. This combination of unwitting repetition and unrealistic expectation is based on and leads to persistently inappropriate appraisals, because of the defensiveness and emotional wantings regarding oneself, others, situations and ideals. Hence, one tendency will be to form relationships within a community that unconsciously reenact over-satisfied or under-satisfied ~eeds of the past (transferences); another will be to regress even in minor crises of values; a third, to express a few visible talents or virtues that serve chiefly to maintain one’s self- esteem, while other necessary qualities are ignored. Thus the habit of being charita- bly solicitous about others may express an individual’s own need to be taken care of or be appreciated because of his charitable stance, what is termed a "defensive consistency." Thirdly, what this state of inconsistency usually means is that persons are not growing and changing by the slow, steady accumulation of experience, or by the habitual use of the ordinary means of spiritual growth: meditation, spiritual read- ing, examen, reflection, retreat. A vicious circle can be created where instead of growing and changing from the reality of the experience, such persons lament that reality is always "the same old thing" (i.e., frustrating, unsatisfying, ungrateful), never realizing that it is often they who are responsible to change, and not the reality. Similarly, if inner inconsistencies result in a subjective state of boredom with spiritual exercises, a possible conclusion is that a new method, style, approach has always to be found, which itself can lead to another circular pattern. In Search of Internalizing Self-Consistency Having clarified the need for attention to the psychological dimension of our religious lives, the kinds of psychology that can be useful and those that may be less useful, and the particular problem of psychological inconsistencies in the internalization and free living of gospel values--where do we go from here? How can we help ourselves to become more consistent in order to reach that degree of conversion that we both long for and fear? The Holy Spirit awaits us, wants us to become docile to his voice. He invites, persuades, urges us. Therefore let us not waste this favorable time .... Let us not continue spending years and maybe our entire lives arguing with grace, but let us resolve once and for all to make a total sacrifice--not keeping for ourselves any more either affections, plans, opinions, desires or secret hopes with which we do not wish to part. in order to live in total dependence on grace and the Holy Spirit who wishes us to grow in holiness. (Cabrini, Letters, no.247.) Certainly in the pursuit of greater consistency for the Gospel, we must begin with the ordinary. Just as in our search for greater internalization of constitutions, we saw the need for theological anthropological and psychological foundations, so here, too, the use of psychology cannot dispense with the means of spiritual growth; rather it should inten,sify and enhance them. We should be abl~ to profit from experience. However, as we saw in the p~:eceding pages, there may be internal obstacles which prevent such means from producing their fruit. An experience of psychological help (characterized by all the factors already mentioned) may help individuals resolve their inconsistencies. Such an experience should be personal, existential, porportionate, and integrating.28 In other words, From Tablet to Heart the experience of psychological help may indeed be very helpful for some individ- ually and gradually to confront the reality of themselves with the help of someone who can guide them towards a greater integration of their needs with their values. This is the formative and preventative use of psychology in religious life, as distinguished from those uses which are selective (screening of candidates), cura- tive (in response to a crisis), or psychotherapeutic (in response to pathology). Such "colloquies of vocational growth" should be professional, confidential, and of optimum intensity and duration, so that the individuals helped can become independent internalizers of the Gospel who can, in turn, help others to do the same. The four moments of such a process are not foreign to what spiritual masters have been counseling through the centuries: first, to know ourselves as we are; second, to accept the reality that is ours; thirdly, to be attracted by the values Jesus proposes, and fourthly, to change effectively in the direction of those values. To know ourselves. What saint has not insisted on the necessity of humility (the truth of our inner reality) and warned against pride? (Pride, in psychological terms, is defensiveness, the need to avoid criticism, failure or humiliations.) For Catherine of Siena, the spiritual journey began and ended in the "house of self-knowledge." To accept ourselves. Usually these first two moments go together. We fear to discover in ourselves something which we have always considered unacceptable or shameful; hence we miss the opportunity to integrate that need into our conscious following of Christ. To be attracted by the values. Often we can find ourselves indifferent to or repulsed by the values proposed by Jesus because, unconsciously, we sense that living according to them will entail renunciation of certain inconsistencies. Becom- ing aware that these are inconsistencies within us gradually clears the way for grace to exert its attracting dynamism within us. To change in that direction. This is the effectiveness of conversion where the tension of frustration has been replaced by tlie creative tension of love, bearing its own fruits of tranquil fulfillment for ourselves and others. These four moments are clearly discernible in. Catherine’s description of the odyssey of the soul: The soul, once on her way, must cross over by way of the teaching of Christ crucified, truly loving virtue and hating vice. If she perseveres to the end, she will come to the house of self-knowledge, where she shuts herself up in watching and continuous prayer .... Why does she shut herself up?.., through her longing to attain a genuine and free love. She sees well that there is no other way to attain it, and so she waits with a lively faith for my coming, so that she may grow in grace (The Dialogue, no. 65). Thus an affective integration will foster internalization, an effective lasting conversion to the gospel and to the constitutions. The "tablet-work" of Habakkuk will truly have passed to Jeremiah’s stage of "heart-work."

2~Rulla. ibid., pp. 324-327. The Role of Secrecy in intimacy With God

M. Kathleen Glavich, S.N.D.

Sister Kathleen’s last article, "The Joy No One Can Take From Us" (July/August, 1981), bore, as author, the name Mary Kirene Glavich. She teaches religion and English, and resides at 13000 Auburn Rd.; Chardon, OH 44024.

During my first year in the convent, 1 announced one day at the dinner table that for Lent I was forcing down a cup of black coffee every morning. "Oh, no," wailed a wise first-year novice, "Why did you tell us? You just lost all your merit!" Although I don’t believe that I drank the vile liquid for nothing, there is a word to be said for keeping aspects of your spiritual life to yourself. In this age when sharing, giving witness talks, and telling your story hold the center stage on the religious scene, it may seem that an article on secrecy is anachronistic. But as the Bible says, there is "a time to be silent and a time to speak" (Qo 3:7), How to recognize both times is a case for discernment. Reflecting on the link between secrecy and intimacy helps clarify when to keep still and when to share. Two people who enjoy an intimate relationship foster it by keeping facets of their shared life a secret. Love means revealing yourself to another as you do to no one else, and in turn receiving knowledge of another that no one else possesses. This mutual self-surrender thrives when both partners cherish such exclusive knowledge and stow it in their hearts. Also, certain moments, joys or sorrows lived through together, are so integral to the relationship, that to speak of them to an outsider would be to betray the relationship and weaken it. Some intimacies shared by two who love are so precious that to reduce them to words would be to spoil their mystery and, in a way, to profane the sacred. Would a young man pass his fiancbe’s letters around to his friends? Would a loving wife reveal her husband’s faults to the neighbors? We sense that to do so would violate a trust and break a covenant. 696 The Role of Secrecy

God draws us into a relationship with himself that Scripture compares to nothing less than marriage, the highest form of human love: He who has become your husband is your Maker; his name is the Lord of Hosts (Is 54:5). As a young man marries a virgin, your Builder shall marry you; And as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride, so shall your God rejoice in you (Is 62:5). This relationship between God and us blossoms when we are alone, rapt in tender communication: I will allure her; 1 will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart (Ho 2:16). To strengthen the bond that unites us to God, we will want to maintain a certain reserve about the experience and expression of our love for him and his love for us. Witnessing does not mean exposing everything to the general public. Mary was closer to God than anyone else. It is not surprising that she was a woman of silence regarding the marvels God worked for her. According to the Gospels, Mary left it to God to inform Joseph, and later Elizabeth, that the child she carried was of divine origin. And after the wondrous events of Jesus’ birth, "’Mary treasured all these things and reflected on them in her heart" (Lk 2:19). Practically speaking, what do we, like Mary, ponder in our hearts and keep hidden from the rest of the world? For one thing, gifts God has bestowed on us; the answer to a prayer, a special sign of his love or a grace or insight. These experiences of being favored by God are highly personal. We find much delight in remembering them, and are inflamed with a greater love for God. But rarely do we parade these gifts before others. Similarly, tokens of our love for God should not be made known. Jesus said, "Keep your deeds of mercy secret.., pray to your Father in private" (Mt 6:4-6). If my love for God impels me to spend an extra hour in prayer every day, let others know it by the quality of my life, my gradual transformation into My Beloved. If I choose to fast or to volunteer for a difficult task, let it be inconspicuously. (That Thomas More wore a hairshirt was known only by his daughter.) If I am enduring some suffering involuntarily, let it be a secret gift to God. Spiritual braggarts are not well-liked by God or humankind. Neither are complainers. Couples have their private jokes and often can be seen exchanging knowing glances. Living in God’s presence, we can share little things with him and no one else. A boring person stops us to talk while we’re on our way to do a million things, and we listen as though we were fascinated. The weather cancels a long- anticipated workshop, and we don’t let our disappointment infect the people we live with. At a get-together someone asks us how we are and, ignoring our throb- bing toothache, we respond, "Fine. How are you?" A guitarist flaws our perfectly planned liturgy, and we smile and say "Thank you for playing." By letting God alone know about the pinpricks in our life, not only do we draw closer to him, but we spare our neighbor the burden of our tales of woe. The first line in an American spiritual, the product of folk wisdom, makes a good motto for someone desiring to practice this asceticism of the tongue: "Nobody knows the trouble l’ve seen. Nobody knows but Jesus"! 6~111 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

Hiding slights, injustices and hurts can cement our relationship with God. When wounded, persons seek sympathy and consolation from their loved ones. The act of singling out our "significant other" for confidences, increases mutual love and trust. The same thing happens when we turn to God in our troubles and sufferings. More and more we look to him for strength and peace, and simultane- ously, out of love, he imparts them. True, the needs of other people may require that we reveal some personal details of our spiritual lives. Through sharing, we may effectively inspire, motivate and support others in our ministry and mission. But we should be sure that the demand is real, and not just fabricated as a cover-up for hearing ourselves talk, or for trying to impress others. It massages our egos to tell how many converts we’ve made, how heroic we are in enduring the idiosyncrasies of our co-workers, and how God has spoken to us in prayer. But we must be careful, or we may only evoke in our audience a negative reaction like dislike, jealousy or discouragement. Before delving into our hearts and baring the treasures there to anyone, we should prudently weigh our motives, the circumstances and the possible effects. When we "let it all hang out," we risk foiling the work of the Spirit in another’s life as well as cheapening what is priceless in our own. If we wish to grow in intimacy with God, then one means not to be overlooked in this world of instant communication is silence. Those who monitor their sharing with others for the sake of protecting and deepening their love relationship can attest to the truth of an old adage: Silence is golden.

Marian Sonnet #12 The song that fire sang. the roar of tongues air-borne above your heads, light-licking, loud. in every language uttered, understood. spoke to you, through you, summoned, hushed and bowed the crowd that gathered in the streets to hear salvific news. And Mary-in-your-midst stood there, transfigured, full of awe and joy for He, the Paraclete, could not resist consoling sorrow such as hers. so pure that all she longed for was God’s Will fulfilled. He penetrated breath and blood and bone and at His coming all her being thrilled-- for once the shadow of God’s power fell across her flesh and left her in his spell! Ann W. Astell 5310 W. Wisconsin Avenue Milwaukee, WI 53208 Religious in Service of the Church

David L. Fleming, S.J.

Father Fleming, Provincial Superior of the Missouri Province, is also editor of the successful "Best of the Review: Notes on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola." He resides at 4511 West Pine Blvd.: St. Louis. MO 63108.

Ever since Pope John Paul 11 appointed his own personal delegate to take over the ordinary government of the Society of J.esus in October 1981, there has been speculation about the wider meaning of the papal action in regard to religious life. Some questioned whether the Jesuits were about to be suppressed by the Papacy for the second time in their history. Some wondered whether the Jesuit interven- tion was meant to be a signal to other religious groups of a Vatican crackdown and an attempt at control. Still others asked whether the issue concerned the religious vow of obedience--not the special Jesuit vow to the Pope about mission, but rather the vow of obedience as interpreted in the 1917 Code of Canon Law and also repeated with special emphasis in the newly proposed Code. This interpreta- tion puts all religious, by their particular vow, in a special relationship to the Pope. Was the Pope making a test case of the Jesuits to put other religious, groups on alert? As a Jesuit and one who participated in the historic meeting of Jesuit provin- cials in Rome from February 23 to March 3, 1982, I suggest that there are some implications to be drawn from the Pope’s address to the Jesuit participants which might be helpful for the wider family of religious men and women. I would emphasize that the Pope spoke directly to the Jesuits, and so there are specifics about his relationship to the Society of Jesus with which other religious need not concern themselves. But 1 believe that there are certain points in the papal address which hold an importance for the direction of religious life in general, and even more particularly for active apostolic congregations.

The Papal Address Let me review the overall content of the Pope’s talk given on February 27, 1982 699 71]0 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 in a special papal audience for the Jesuit leaders. The Pope’s address lasted one hour, and its length would indicate that it was not just an incidental greeting and pious exhortation. After briefly touching upon his own extraordinary intervention in the govern- mental structure of the Society (which he insisted was an act of his concern and love for the well-being of the Order), Pope John Paul reviews in the first major section of his address the purpose and contribution of the newly founded Jesuit Order in its works after the Council of Trent. He continues on with a certain detailing of the current apostolic works of the Society. Then he emphasizes within this apostolic context the need for a thorough and arduous preparation and continuing formation of the members. He closes the address by underscoring his desire that the Society of Jesus play a significant role in the Church of Vatican II after the manner that it did in the Church of Trent. Presuming the continuing efforts of the Society to respond to his desires, the Pope assures the delegates that there would be a general congregation called within a year to elect a new superior general in place of the ailing Father Pedro Arrupe. In brief, these are the main aspects of the Pope’s address.

Specific Apostolic Contributions The Pope clearly delineates four major contributions of the Society of Jesus within the Church efforts at renewal following upon the decrees of the Council of Trent. He calls attention first to the efforts at renewing the Christian people. A key element within these general efforts at renewal is given by means of the directions and various adaptations which Jesuits drew from the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. Another area of Jesuit contribution is in education: the setting up of an international education system through its many colleges established throughout the Europe of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Within this educational area, the Pope pays special tribute to the humanistic and scientific studies which the early Jesuits advanced. Thirdly. the Pope highlights the Jesuit effort in the seminary training and formation of clergy and in the renewal of other religious congregations. The fourth area he names is the Jesuit missionary endeavors which coincided with the discov- ery of the New World and the trade route expansion to India, Japan, and China. In what might seem as an apparent aside, the Pope nuances the specific quality of contribution made by Jesuits through three concrete examples. He draws atten- tioh to the work of two individuals--Francis Xavier in India and Japan and Matteo Ricci in China--and the one-hundred-year work of many Jesuits involved in the Paraguay Reductions (a planned village development for certain South American Indians to further their own human progress and protect them from the exploitation and eventual extinction by the European colonizers). The three examples chosen by the Pope qualify the way in which Jesuits have consistently made their contributions. Xavier represents the always-present quality of evangelization in whatever works Jesuits take on. Ricci represents the necessary Religious in Service of the Church / 701 adaptation of the Christian message to a particular culture and its peoples--what today we call inculturation. The Paraguay Reductions symbolize the necessity of bettering the social order of mankind here and now--what today we so often identify as the necessary interrelationship of faith and justice. The Pope also points out that specific additions are needed in today’s Church, and these new contributions lie in the long-range and careful work in ecumenism, in relations with other religions which we describe as "non-Christian," and finally in dialogue with the ever-increasing group of non-believers and atheists.

Implications for Religious Life Through the call of the Second Vatican Council, the Church has required a specific renewal of religious, most especially in the updating of their own Rules and Constitutions. Over the past dozen years, much energy has been spent in trying to clarify and recapture, and restate the original charism of those who first laid the foundations of a particular congregation. Community formation pro- grams have been far more highly organized, with personnel carefully selected and trained--sometimes so much so thatformatores at times came to outnumber those in the formation process. Community life in all its forms and styles has been questioned, examined, and discussed so that it would seem impossible for any experiment at this point to be left untried. Then there has also been the questioning and evaluating of a religious community’s apostolic works. Remembering that religious took on all these struggles with their own internal renewal at the directive of the Church, we can better appreciate some of the implications of Pope John Paul’s talk.

Context: In Service of the Church Most religious groups, in their own effort at renewal, have discovered that there has been a certain in-turning or inward focusing. Much of it was essential for the process of a true conversion. But just as individuals can become too introspec- tive for their own healthy human functioning, so too the same danger is present for the social group. At times, it seems that religious congregations can be so caught up in their own renewal that the renewal effort becomes an unending end in itself. The source and purpose of the renewal somehow get lost amid other details. One of the strong implications of John Paul’s address is that we all need to look again at the context of our religious life renewal. Granted the necessity of the particular charism influencing a religious group’s own document formulations, we still presuppose that the directions for renewal remain focused far more surely as we return to the necessary foundation of Vatican II documents. Our experience shows us that we religious need to find ourselves imbued and inspired once again by the wider perspectives of the Church documents of Vatican Because religious congregations can be pictured as "little churches" in an analogous way in which St. Paul speaks of the various churches of Corinth, Ephesus, and Colossae, there remains always the danger that a religious group can begin to think and to act independently, as though it were the Church. In actual 702 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

fact, every religious congregation has been founded inservice of the Church. The source of life and ministry particular to a religious group necessarily comes from the Church through its official structures. It has always been true that if the Church does not find the life or ministry of a particular religious group purposeful for the service of the Church, then there has been a suppression or a putting out of existence. John Paul 11 in his address makes it plain that it is particularly appropriate at this time for religious to recall that their whole renewal process is not in terms of themselves, but in service of the Church. Instead of reading and rereading their own newly-formulated constitutions and directives and, even worse, writing more documents of their own making, they need once more to place these important documents in the more important context of Vatican II documents. Quality of Service: Loyal No one is unaware of the turmoil which has been present in the process of change in the Church after Vatican II. Religious congregations, too, have under- gone the same stresses, perhaps even more intensely and violently than the Church membership at large because of their front-line roles as educators and ministers. In addition, our contemporary world of the late 1960’s and 1970’s was one of violence and opposing forces. Since the process of change often begets factions and hardened positions, the Church and religious life had these problems to contend with. Because of the temper of the times, there was a natural influencing of the differing groups within religious congregations to react in the same way as any differing forces within the world culture. And yet opposition is not the problem, since differing positions are a human phenomenon involved in most good decision-making. But there is a Christian principle which needs to be invoked as we work with the phenomenon of opposition. As Teilhard de Chardin is quoted as saying, "you cannot convert (change) what you do not love." Even if there can arise misunderstandings and suspicions between a religious congregation and the official structures of the Church, the service r~quired of the religious group needs always to be characterized as loyal. There can be a loyal opposition by religious to the Church hierarchy, but the emphasis should rather be placed on loyalty than on opposition. The Christian effort to effect change is brought about, sustained, and is given force by love expressed in loyalty rather than by hatred expressed in anger. Because of the cooperation called for by Vatican II for religious groups to work ever more closely with bishops, with other religious, and with laity, there certainly will continue to be areas of conflict and opposition. Aware of the struggle involved, John Paul II makes his appeal for the kind of service which religious need more than ever to observe--a service of loyalty to the Church. Focus: the Mission There is no doubt that John Paul II is a pope who wants to get things done. To Religious in Service of the Church / 703

meet him is to encounter a man who has little time for small talk and pleasantries. Words as well as actions should not be wasted. The whole air surrounding him seems to shout out "there is so much to be done." Concretely for active apostolic religious, John Paul defines renewal in terms of mission. His call clearly structures all other aspects of religious life in view of mission or apostolic service. For him, formation programs are characterized as well-structured, not in themselves, but only when viewed in the perspective of the apostolic mission of the group. So, too, community structures of government and life-style are not well-defined either by applying some abstract principles or by using some one cultural or psychological model. Our life structures will be more adequately formed only if they are basically adapted to the particular mission of the congregation. Without denying the importance of community support structures and com- munity prayer, the Pope’ cuts through all the enervating self-focusing still present in religious life renewal attempts, in order to point more clearly the true way to life. The source of all real life and work within every active religious group comes not from some dependence on psychological models of community or particular forms of structured life-style; rather, as in the original foundations, the source of life is found always most surely in the mission. Mission fires the idealism of the young and the old alike. Mission calls us to pay the price, to bear the burden, to suffer pain, loneliness, and loss. Mission remains at the heart of the active apostolic vocation. If our focus on mission is correct, then our renewal will be moving forward along the right lines--in the direction of true life and life-giving. Any other focus can lead only to deviation and possibly death for the congregation.

The Papal Challenge Some have said that Pope John Paul II knows little about religious life. l have no way of supporting or refuting this charge. I can witness only to his own attempt to familiarize himself with the Jesuit order well enough to speak specifically to areas of renewal. In doing his homework in this one instance, he laid out some basic challenges for religious in their renewal efforts today. He remains true to his consistent message: all ministry is in service of the Church, the Church in service to the world. Active apostolic religious congregations will surely draw new life for their renewal as they come more clearly to pray and to work in service of the Church. "See, I Am Doing Something New!" Transfer: The Experience of Re-creation

Pat Morrison

Sister Pat lives with sisters of the Congregation of S[. Agnes and is currently continuing her ministry, of art and writing as forms of evangelization. Her address is: Sisters of St. Agnes; II 12 Washington St.; Evanston, lh 60202.

]must admit that I was somewhat hesitant about sharing these reflections. 1 am, you see, one of a new, and increasing, "species" in the Church today: The Transfer Sister. Often while thumbing through religious journals I find an article which in some way deals with the phenomenon of transfer. And sometimes ! find myself wondering: Are we "hogging the road"?, ls there possibly too much about us in print? We transfers are, after all, a minority. Does our story really have much to say, to contribute to the thousands of our non-transfer sisters? On an even deeper level, there was another concern. In part it has to do with identity. And in part it has to do with anxiety: am I speaking too soon? Will I really be able to live what I’m now putting on paper? In canonical language I am "in the process of transfer": 1 am still a vowed member of my parent community while sharing in the life of the receiving community. !n practice that means that while 1 no longer feel comfortable putting my former community’s initials after my name, 1 am not yet able to use those of my new community either. I am not "incorporated." 1 am "in process." Process, of course, is an "in" word today. We have food processors and word processors. Process theology and processed cheese. According to Teilhard, the "great becoming’’ is the most fascinating and ineffable of cosmic experiences. Being "in process" is, then, the thing to be! However-- speaking as one "in process"--that feeling of being neither-quite-here-nor-there is an awkward experience, to say the least. Can 1 legitimately speak to others about something 1 can’t quite "own" even to myself? Recently 1 was invited to contribute an article to a publication of my new 704 Transfer: The Experience of Re-creation / 705 community. When 1 had voiced the concerns just mentioned to a friend (as, so I hoped, a legitimate excuse for an "out"), her response moved me to some deep reflecting: "Pat, in transfer the Lord is un-making and re-making you. You are called to be a very obvious re-creation. All of us are called to that, but we don’t always see it .... You, as transfer sisters, are his word, his gift to us to be open to newness. You can be living witnesses for us of the possibility and challenge of radical re-creation." I entered my community in 1963. First profession came in 1968, followed by perpetual vows in 1974. For sixteen years I was involved in a variety of ministries in places as diverse as Hoboken and Rome. 1 was dedicated and "settled" in both my congregation and my apostolate. In fact, 1 was so "settled" that if anyone had told me then that one day God would choose to lead me into another religious congregation, 1 can predict with fair accuracy what my reaction would have been: I would have either questioned the person’s sanity or gone into cardiac arrest. 1 had learned to know God as Creator-Redeemer-Spouse, as Transcendent- Immanent-Provident and on and on. But somewhere in my years of formation and theology I had failed to recognize my God as the Lord of Surprise, the God who exclaims: "See! I am doing something new!" (Is 43:19). Now, precisely through my transfer, God has chosen to "un-make" and to "re-make" me. I have been gifted by him with a unique "re-creation," a making anew. While transfer may be a key moment of that experience for some few of us, the call to be made anew, to be "re-created" is universal. It is part and parcel of the Christian vocation to metanoia, to radical openness to the power of the Spirit in us, to mission itself. "Re-creation" may come through a difficult assignment, a change in ministry. Uprooting, an unfamiliar geographic setting. A new way of being called to prayer .... How each of us either surrenders to or resists re-creation means the difference between life and mere existence. In critical instances, even between life and death. Perhaps because art and creativity are an important part of who I am and what I do, the image of God as potter has always been especially attractive to me. How descriptive, how pregnant with meaning is this passage from Jeremiah: This word came to Jeremiah from the Lord: Rise up, be off to the potter’s house: there I will give you my message. I went down to the potter’s house and there he was, working at the wheel. Whenever the object of clay which he was making turned out badly in his hand. he tried again, making of the clay another object of whatever sort he pleased. Then the word of the Lord came to me: Can 1 not do to you, house of Israel, as this potter has done? says the Lord. Indeed, like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand... (Jr 18:1-6). In a way 1 feel that this analogy limps, when applied to my transfer experience. 1 am not much comforted by the idea that because "the object he was making turned out badly... [God] tried again"! (As though the Lord were saying, "Well, you really blew it as a Sister of N.. Let’s see if you’ll turn out better as a member of Congregation X!’) Nor does Christian faith introduce us to a God who deals with us arbitrarily, on the basis of whim. It would be a cruel God, indeed, who would joke with our lives, pulling randomly at puppet strings to maneuver us. Our God is 70~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

rather a creative, loving God, ever-faithful, ever-new. Life that he is, he cannot be static. Faithful, yes; stagnant, never! He is truly the "Lord of Surprise"! As the word was proclaimed to us in the Liturgy of the Seventh Sunday of Ordinary Time: Thus says the Lord: See! ! am doing something newt Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it: ¯ . . The people whom ! formed for myself that they might announce my praise. It is l, I who for my own sake [do this] (See Is 43). We are, th~n, loved-called-sent primarily for God’s glory, for his pleasure. And paradoxically our greatest personal fulfillment, happiness and peace flow precisely from this. As Paul reminds us, "we are truly his handiwork, created in Christ Jesus" (Ep 2:10). Like the potter’s clay, "I have been grasped by Christ" (Ph 3:12)-~chosen, selected to be formed and molded. I am not my own (I Co 6:19). But Unlike clay, I can freely choose to yield to God’s touch or to resist. And it is this active surrender that makes all the difference. If I resist, God’s "un-making" of me stops there; for then I have decided that this being un-made is destruction, sclerotic death. (And indeed, if | choose to stop at the un-making and allow the Lord to go no further, I have chosen death.) If instead I surrender, "un-making" is but a step to being fashioned anew, "re-created." A few summers ago I had the opportunity to take a class in pottery. In one of the earliest sessions I stood mesmerized as the instructor demonstrated throwing a pot on the wheel. She placed the kneaded, gooey lump on the wheel and set it in motion. With gentle pressure and expert dexterity a formless mass became a plate, a bowl, and magically a tall thin-necked pitcher. The most subtle and swift of touches smoothed it again into a bowl, and then a cup, a vase. On and on. New forms emerged, one drawn from within the other. As I watched, Jeremiah’s image became very vivid. The changes I witnessed were not because the earlier object had turned out badly. Rather, this potter knew her clay well. She had "known" it beforehand: she had chosen it, kneaded it. And it was not dissatisfaction that prompted her to change a bowl into a vase. It was knowing the nature of her clay. It was the joy and pleasure of the very making. And it was good. It was not necessarily easy. The process, the metamorphosis was not a facile gliding from one identity into the other. There was some loss involved, some dying. The bowl had to "let go," had to surrender--gradually, yet nonetheless, totally--its "bowl-ness" in order to become the vase. I understood, too, that the changes, the transformations, the small but power- ful "re-creations" I had admired would have been impossible had the clay been hardened. As long as the clay was moist and yielded to the potter’s touch, a new creation was possible. Recreation for me almost always involves re-creation: seeing things in a new way, with joy and wonder. Having--or better, taking--the leisure to discover the small surprises hidden in the present moment. Breathing fresh air, entering into Transfer." The Experience of Re-creation / 707 and enjoying the unplanned, the unexpected. Surprise, wonder, spontaneity-- aren’t these the ingredients of play? And are they not also the key elements of creativity? Theologians may well accuse me of anthropomorphism, but I often imagine the Lord recreating as he recreates. I think of him, the Potter, kneading the clay he chose and loves, watching with ever-new excitement as he makes of me something new, "according to his plea- sure." His living Spirit within me can keep me pliant and yielding to his touch. His word reminds me, "What we shall later be has not yet come to light" (i 3n 3:2). True. I do not know what ! shall be. But God does know. And he is Master of his art. "Indeed, like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand .... To allow ourselves to be constantly surprised by him, un-made and re-made by him. This is to be "re-created." The Lord of Surprises calls us, challenges us to newness: See! 1 am doing something new! Do you not perceive it? (Is 43:19). Look .... and see, and be utterly amazed! Foi" a work is being done in your days that you would not have believed, were it told (Hab 1:5).

The "Active-Contemplative" Problem in Religious Life

by David M. Knight

Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage.

Add ress: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Oneness of Heart Intent Upon God: Religious Life and the Rule of St. Augustine

Thomas F. Martin, O.S.A.

Father Martin resides at Cascia Hall: P,Oo Box 52247: Tulsa, OK 74152.

St. Augustine has significantly influenced the Church both as a bishop and as a theologian. His many writings set the stage for subsequent ecclesial and theological development in western Christianity. As the author of the Confessions he also established himself as a spiritual writer of depth and insight. It is clear that through all of his writings he has brought to the life of the Church a richness that will continue to nourish it through the ages. Augustine also had a profound impact on religious life. His writings on this subject likewise helped to shape religious life in a unique way. One of the principal writings that has been the source of this influence is his Rule. Variously called the Praeceptum, the Regula adservos Dei, or identified by its opening lines Haec sunt quae ut observetis praecipimus, this Rule has been followed by many religious, played a significant part in the Canon movement of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and was a significant factor in the mendicant renewal of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The Rule of St. Augustine has been a source of controversy throughout the ages. Did Augustine actually write it? Was it first written for men or women? Was it written early in his episcopal career or towards the end of his life? These and other questions are still controverted. It is not the scope of this article to explore these controversies but it will operate on the basi~ of certain conclusions developed from the exhaustive research on the Rule carried out by the Dutch scholar Fr. Luc Verheijen, O.S.A., namely, that Augustine is in fact the author of the Rule attrib- 708 Oneness of Heart Intent Upon God / 71~9 uted to him and that it was initially written for a group of monks.~ The following are the precepts we order you living in the monastcry to observe. The main purpose for your having come together is to live harmoniously in your house, intent upon God in oneness q[" mind and heart (Rule I, I).2 These opening lines offer the foundational elements for Augustine’s Rule. They focus on the ideal that he set forth for religious living, an ideal taken directly from the early Christian community of Jerusalem. "The whole group of believers was united heart and soul" (Ac 4:32a). With the addition of "intent upon God" (in Deum) to give it a dynamic movement, this passage from Acts is set forth as the primary goal and direction of the Rule. Augustine cites Ac 4:32 twelve times in reference to his monastic ideal and fifty times in all his works. It reads like a refrain throughout his writings, echoing his vision of a Christian community based and modeled upon the early Jerusalem community. It is precisely Christian community that is at the heart of Augustine’s Rule. Flowing from his notion of the Trinity as the ideal community, Augustine sees unity and community as the hallmark of Christian life,3 This is captured in the expression "oneness of mind and heart.’" Christian community is not a mere gathering of bodies but a unity based upon the deepest dimensions of the human person. This call to "spiritual intercommunion,TM to "authentic community of life,’~ to a "mysterious unity in Christ,"~ to a "perfect common life,"7 is the founda- tion of the Rule and from it flows the spirit and shape of the community it seeks to gather and guide. Since heart plays such a central role in Augustine’s spirituality--he is pictured holding a flaming heart--this article will focus on the notion of "oneness of heart intent upon God" from his Rule as a concise expression of all that Augustine envisions for a community centered in Christ. First, the meaning of Heart, One- ness, and Intent Upon God will be explored.

~Luc Verheijen, O.S.A.. La Rbgle de Saint Augustin (Paris: Etudes Augustiniennes, 1967). For a substantial analysis and review of the book in English see the article by Rudolph Arbesmann, "The Question of the Regula Sancti Augustini." Augustinian Studies. 1 (1970), p. 237ff. See also "Rule of Saint Augustine." New Catholic Encyclopedia. I, 1059-1060 (New York: McGraw-Hill Company, 1967). -’Quotations from the Rule are taken from" The Rule of Our Holy Father Saint Augustine. Translated by Robert P. Russell. O.S.A. (Villanova, PA, 1976). 3Luc Verheijen. Saint Augustine’s Monasticism in the Light of Ac 4.’32-35. The Saint Augustine Lecture 1975 (Villanova, PA: Villanova University Press, 1979). p. 82ff. 4Andres Manrique, Esffiritu de pobreza y humildad en la regla de S. Agustt’n, Scientia Augustiniana. XXX, p. 105. ST. J. Van Bavel, "The Evangelical Inspiration of the Rule of St. Augustine." The Downside Review. Vol. 93 (April, 1975), p. 87. ~Adolar Zumkeller, Commentary on the Rule of St. Augustine (Paoli, PA: Our Lady of Daylesford Priory), p. 68. 7One Mind. One Heart: Augustinian Spirituality of the Religious L~fe. Translated, compiled and edited by Robert Heslinga (Olympia Fields, Illinois: Tolentine Center, 1978). p. 92. 710 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

When Augustine speaks of the "heart" he is speaking of the very depths of the human person. For him the heart is the center, the innermost core. It designates, in its palpitations, the interior person in its spiritual dynamism, seeking and searching. It represents that interior force within every human being that reaches out in order to seize or be seized.8 The heart is God’s altar (De civitate Dei, X, 3) where, in a most perfect way, the sacrifice of one’s love is carried out. God has made the human heart restless (Confessions I, l), made it in such a way that it is only at home when it is in God. To speak of the heart is thus not to speak of just emotions or feelings, the heart becomes for Augustine the symbol of the human person in all its profundity. When Augustine speaks of a communion of hearts, a life together flowing from hearts united, it is with this understanding of heart that he is speaking. If a person is called to bring his/her heart to community, if hearts are to be united, this is no small or slight undertaking. Nonetheless, it is clear from the very beginning of the Rule that religious life in Augustine’s perspective is very much a matter of the heart. Augustine comments in De sancta virginitate, "if the heart is not rectified, it does virgins no good to live in the midst of l~asting and work."9 Substitute prayer and ministry for "fasting and work" and the meaning is as contemporary as ever. Since the human heart is a battlefield (En. in Ps. 99, I I. PL 37, 1277), for one never knows what it will do next, it is a difficult task to let one’s own heart be rectified, let alone achieve unity among diverse hearts. It is only the medicinal grace of God that can heal brokenness of heart and further, bind diverse hearts together. "You cannot set your own heart straight. Do thou break it, and let Him set it straight" (En. in Ps. 146, 1, 7. PL 37, 1905). Religious life will be authentic to the extent that the heart is engaged. "All our work in this life, my brothers and sisters, is to heal the eye of our heart so that God may be seen" (Sermon 88, 5. PL 38, 542). "How can we worthily praise with our tongue Him whom we cannot see as of yet with our heart?" (Sermon 188, l, l. PL 38, 1003). AIphonsus Orozco, a seventeenth century Augustinian commentator on the Rule captures Augustine’s intent when he says: "Nothing can be considered small that would capture our hearts and turn them from God.’’~0 Religious life cannot be lived on a superficial or surface level. To be true to Augustine’s vision it must come from the very depths of one’s heart. In a commentary on the Rule of St. Augustine, Adolar Zumkeller remarks about the first sentence of the Rule. In this short sentence St. Augustine uses a variation of the Latin word "one" four times: unum, un. animes, una, unum. The purpose of this repetition is not hard to see. He wishes to

8See Romano Guardini. The Conversion of Augustine. Translated by Elinor Briefs. (London: Sands and Co., 1960). Eduardo De La Peza, El significado de "Cor"en San Agustin (Paris: Etudes Augus- tiniennes, 1962,) 9One Mind, One Heart, p. 122. ~°Alphonsus Orozco. Commentary on the Rule of St. Augustine. Translated by Thomas Hand. O.S.A. (Westminster. MD.: The Newman Press. 1956), p. 22. Oneness of Heart Intent Upon God / 711

emphasize the importance of developing unity of heart." Unity, oneness, harmony, concord, agreement--whatever word is chosen to translate unum, the idea is clear. Somehow, many are called to become one. It is oneness that Augustine sees as the very meaning of the word monk, a meaning given by way of a rather unique philological argument. The Greek monos means one, but not one in any sense whatsoever. For even in a crowd a person is one, but one along with many others who also are one. But the word monoscannot be used of the person in the crowd. For monos does not mean "alone" but rather "only one" (unus solus). Those who live together in such a way as to form a single person are correctly called "only one." They fulfill the text "oneness of mind and bean" (Ac 4:32)--n~any bodies but not many minds, many bodies but not many hearts. Of them the word monos can be rightly used--~only one." (En. in Ps. 132. 6. PL 37, 1732-1733) In a Latin that is not easily rendered into English, Augustine makes the point that those living in community come together in such a way that though they are many separate individuals, they become one total and complete unity--"only one." They progress from being a "crowd" to becoming a community. We are on the way towards becoming one in God, one out of multiplicity. Love, then, must join us together so that we may follow the One in unity of heart, and not fall back into multiplicity and be divided among many things. (Sermon 284, 4. PL 38, 1290) What is the source of that oneness? It is love. Love becomes the bond that makes man3, only one. ~2 To dwell "in oneness" means to dwell "in Christ," and those alone dwell "in Christ" in whom the charity of Christ is perfected. This in turn leads to a unity whereby Christ himself enters the community.~3 The oneness of community is a oneness that finds its source in God, the Supreme One, the Trinity.~4 It is not the blind oneness of the mob or the crowd, where oneness happens when people are lost and individuality becomes submerged or even obli- terated. It is the oneness that is ultimately found ih the community that is God himself: a oneness of love and grace, a supernatural oneness of true identity. It is the oneness of concord and fraternity, "... a supernatural friendship where brothers or sisters living together in mutual understanding and help would lift each other to God . . . a community of friends in search of God."~5 Thus Augustine could declare: "Many upright people have only one heart, whereas a single deceit- ful person has a double heart" (Sermon 1 i, 7. PL 46, 851).16

"Zumkeller, p. 68. ~2See Augustine’s Homilies on 1 John for an extended reflection on the unity of love. ~JSee Jos~ Moran. El Equilibrio, Ideal de la Vida Monhstica en San Agusiin (Vallodolid: Archivo Agustiniano. 1964), p. 270. ~4Luc Verheijen, O.S.A., "Ac 4:32a in Augustinian Theology," Second Annual Course on Augustinian Spirituality. (Rome: Curia Generalizia Agostiniana, 1976), p. 62. ~sSr. Marie Aquinas McNamara, O.P., Friends and Friendship for Saint Augustine. (Staten Island: Alba House, 1964), pp. 121-122. ~tA. Sage, "La contemplation dans les communaut~:s de vie fraternelle," Recherches Augustiniennes. VII (1971), p. 248. 71~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

The unity of heart that is sought finds its supreme fulfillment only to the extent that it is a unity "intent upon God" (in Deum). Community is not merely a human endeavor. Nor is it an end in itself. Its value, its thrust, always points beyond itself. The religious community, to the mind of our Legislator. is not founded merely on natural good will, but rather has its roots tirmly planted in God. So it is understandable that he insists that our coming together in the monastery must be a community "in God." God must be the center: Christ must be the soul of the community.~7 "Intent upon God" offers the perspective and context necessary for life in common. It is a community tending toward God, a community actively seeking God, a community restless until it rests in God. Founded upon grace, it finds its purpose and meaning only when God is dwelling in its very midst. All the believers together form a unique dwelling place of God. It is within the heart that God takes up residence, and one heart is made of all the hearts bound together in love (En. in Ps. 131, 4-5. CC 40, 1913-1914).~~ "Intent upon God" is a reminder that the authentic community exists only if God is present in its members individually and collectively. This means that the community individually and collectively is actively seeking God. "God is the com- mon good of the community, and each of its members. He is the force of mutual attraction in the building up of this perfect community."19 The first chapter of the Rule ends with a summary statement that forcefully puts this perspective across. Let all of you then live together in oneness of mind and heart, mutually honoring God in yourselves, whose temples you have become. 0.9) The community is "intent upon God" to such an extent that it can be called the temple of God. It has become God’s own dwelling place. For Augustine, community life is of a theocentric and Christocentric nature. It is always seeking God, searching him out. It is always in a dynamic movement toward God. While it is important and necessary to discover one’s brother or sister, this is not an end in itself. There is no true friendship unless you weld it between souls that cleave together through the charity which is shed in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who is given to us (Confessions IV, 4). Blessed is the person that loves you, O God, and his friend in you, and his enemy for you. That person alone loses no one who is dear, if all are dear in God, for God is never lost (Ibid. IV. 9), Community living that is "intent upon God" results from the action of God himself. It is his grace and gift. Without that giftedness all planning, endeavors and programs to build community fall short. "It is a gift of God that brothers and sisters dwell together in unity"(En, in Ps. 132, 7. PL 38, 1733). "Intent upon God" gives to Augustine’s vision of religious life its principal and foremost direction. It is always on a journey to God.

~TZumkeller. p. 68. ~See Sage. p. 251. ~One Mind, One Heart. p. 93. Oneness of Heart Intent Upon God / 71~1

"Oneness of heart intent upon God," this is Augustine’s blueprint for Christian community. Heart speaks to the depth of the union that is shared. Oneness calls to mind the binding-together that must take place between diverse people. Intent upon God points to the source and end of that community--God himself. The more the community achieves its identity of being one heart intent upon God, the closer it will move to its final culmination, becoming the "one Christ loving himself" (In Ev. Joan. 10, 3. PL 35, 2055), the Christus totus. However, St. Augustine’s Rule does not only point to an eschatological reali- zation of this ideal. The "oneness of heart intent upon God" also points toward a here-and-now experience of this ideal. This lived experience will now be explored under three implications flowing from "oneness of heart intent upon God": a movement from the external to the interior, an emphasis on daily togetherness, and a vision of community as a temple of God. In his commentary on Augustine’s Rule, Alphonsus Orozco saw that Augus- tine placed his emphasis not on the external but on the interior. This emphasis must be enfleshed and realized within the life of the community. ¯.. to be dressed in the same manner, to eat at the same table, to comc together in the same choir, to be in conformity in all exterior things--this is not the end of our religious life, but that we be one in heart and soul. loving one another in the Lord.-’° Throughout the Rule Augustine gives special emphasis to the need to move from the merely exterior and physical, and focus on the interior dimensions of life together. Tarcisius Van Bavel describes this as a "spiritualizing" tendency, a "pro- cess of interiorization" or a "movement towards inwardness.’’-~ The Rule offers numerous examples of this movement: --from external prayer to prayer of the heart: "Think over in your hearts the words that come from your lips" (11, 12). --from physical hunger to hunger for God’s Word: "Let not your mouths alone take nourishment but let your hearts too hunger for the Word of God" (i11, 15). -~.from external dress to one’s interior "... you may judge from this how lacking you are in’that holy and interior garment of the heart when you quarrel over garments for the body" (V, 30). --from an external glance to the desires within one’s heart: "Do not say that your hearts are pure if there is immodesty of the eye, because the unchaste eye carries the message of an impure heart" (IV. 22). --from a concern for physical well being to a concern for the wounded heart: "If your brother or sister, for example, were suffering a bodily wound that he]she wanted to hide for fear of undergoing treatment, would it

-’°Orozco, p. 20. -’*Van Bavel. p. 85. "/14 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

not be cruel of you to remain silent and a mercy on your part to make this known? How much greater then is your obligation to make his/her condition known lest he/she continue to suffer a more deadly wound of the soul" (IV, 26). --from external behavior to interior attitude: "But suppose all this escapes human notice, what will the religious do about God who sees from on high and from whom nothing is hidden" (IV, 23). --from vocally asking forgiveness to forgiving from the heart: "A brother or sister who is never willing to ask pardon, or does not do so from his/her heart, has no reason to be in the monastery, even if they are not expelled" (IV, 42). In each of these instances, there is a movement from an exterior observable behavior to the reality within the heart. With the awareness that God sees the heart, the point is constantly made that if the external behavior is not a sign of the interior state of the heart--it has no value. The Rule calls the religious to focus on the inner depths, for if religious life does not begin there it has not begun at all.

It is not enough to wear a habit and to make a common profession in order to be a true religious. Those that do not bear the love of Christ in their hearts are not truly consecrated. "~They do not dwell as one unless the love of Christ is to be perfected in them~ (En. in Ps. 132. 12). They live together bodily but they do not live community in unum because they do not live in God.2-’ No external symbol is sufficient to indicate a union of hearts. This interioriza- tion is emphasized in one of the earliest commentaries on the Rule, the Expositio of Hugh of St. Victor. It is necessary, if we are gathered together in unum bodily that we likewise dwell together spiritually. It does no good to live together in one house if diverse wills separate us. God looks to unity of spirit more than unity of place)-~ Because Augustine’s Rule is without detailed prescriptions it makes it possible to focus on this "interior" emphasis. "Love does not need complicated rules in order to please God.’’z4 What the Rule of St. Augustine calls the community to be constantly sensitive to is this dimension. Attentiveness to it will be an accurate gauge of whether or not the community is on the right path. While the sharing of deep spiritual union is focused interiorly, it must be incarnated in a "daily togetherness," a unity reflected in the practical and lived aspects of life in community.

-’-’Argimiro Turrado, O.S.A., Espiritualidad Agustiniana y Vida de Perfeccibn (Madrid: Ediciones "Religi6n y Cultura." 1966), pp. 33-34. -’-aHugh of St. Victor, Opera Omnia. Patrologiae latinae Cursus Completus. 176 (Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1880), 882. ~4Turrado. p. 41. Oneness of Heart Intent Upon God / 715

The ideal of "oneness of heart" is to become reality in the community of food, clothing, shelter and possessions and especially in the peaceful living together, in the daily togetherness at table and prayer, as also in the selfless concern and work for the community interest.25 "Daily togetherness" is one way of validating the authenticity of the interior dimensions of a community. "Daily" is understood in thiscontext not necessarily in a chronological sense but as referring to the day-to-day lived experience. The Rule indicates some of the specifics of this day-to-day lived community. Cheerfulness: "Those who owned something in the world should be cheerful in wanting to share it in common" (!, 5). Humility: "Let not the poor hold their headg high because they associate with people whom they did not dare to approach in the world" (11, I I). Thoughtfulness: "If there are some who might wish to pray [in the chapel] during their free time . . . they should not be hindered by those who think something else must be done there" (II, 1 I). Harmony: "When you come to table, listen until you leave to what it is the custom to read, without disturbance or strife" (III, 15). Companionship: "When you go out, walk together, and when you reach your destination stay together" (IV, 20). Common possessions: "Just as you have your food from the one pantry, so too, you are to receive your clothing from a single wardrobe" (V, 29). Concern for the common good." "Whenever you show greater concern for the common good than for your own, you may know that you are growing in charity" (V, 31). Readiness to forgive: "You should avoid quarrels altogether or else put an end to them as quickly as possible" (VI, 40). Service: "The superior, for his/her part, must not consider himself/herself fortunate in his/her exercise of authority but in his/her role as one serving you in love" (VII, 46). This practical oneness is an essential part of the Rule. While the interior union of hearts is the foundation, a "daily togetherness" is an important sign of whether or not Christ is indeed dwelling in the midst of that community. St. Augustine also sees a sign of the union of hearts in a mutual willingness to move beyond what is private to what is communal "That person who wishes to make this a house of the Lord must not rejoice in what is private but rather in what is common"(En, in Ps. 131, 5. PL 37, 1718). The union of hearts in God results in a practical sharing in common of what tends to be clung to privately. "Where do

-~SAdolar Zumkeller, "Religious life in the spirit of the Holy Father Augustine," An unpublished article translated by Sr. Mary Benedicta Viebeck. S.S.N.D., p. 7. 71~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 disharmonies, discontentments, and scandals come from? They come only from what we possess or desire to possess privately and selfishly.’’~6 This practical togetherness indicates how open the heart really is to God and to one’s fellow religious. Mutual, daily support and assistance extended to one another in com- munity and the attention given to the simple realities of everyday life--these also are authentic signs of a Christian community. Augustine himself must have expe- rienced such "daily togetherness" for he could remark: I confess that I give myself entirely to the charity of those who live with me, since I am so tired of the scandals of the world. In that common love, 1 rest without fear because in it I feel God, in whom I conceal myself securely and in whom I rest quietly. When I see someone inflamed by Christian love, 1 feel that he is a faithful friend of mine. I feel that 1 can tell him all my thoughts, not just because he is a man, but because God dwells in him. (Letter 73, 10) "Daily togetherness" creates just such an ambience. The sharing of a deep spiritual union is reflected in the fact that a transforma- tion process takes place within the community. From being a disparate group of people it is gradually transformed into the temple of God, his own dwelling place. Let all of you then live together in oneness of mind and heart, mutually honoring God in yourselves, whose temples you have become (Rule I, 9). The union of hearts in God forms the community into God’s own dwelling ¯ place, his temple, where the sacrifice of hearts is continually offered. Each individual is seen as a temple of God and the community itself forms one temple. "God dwells in each one singly as his temple, and in all of them gathered together as his temple" (Letter 187, 38). This mutual indwelling initiates a new and special relationship, one that calls for care and responsibility for one another. This special care is reflected in the Rule: "By mutual vigilance over one another will God, who dwells in you, grant you protection" (IV, 24). God himself cares for the community by the care that brothers and sisters extend to one another. Thus the Rule puts a great emphasis on the personal and loving care accorded to each person, a loving care which is founded not on earthly or carnal love but rather on a spiritual love (See Rule, VI, 43). Each person is to be treated as a temple of God, seeking out and responding to the uniqueness that each person is in God’s eyes. As Augustine states: "To each according to their need" (Rule 1, 5). There is no room for impersonalism. Everyone must be responded to out of what is best for him. All do not have the same needs, and must be responded to accordingly. In reference to personal correction that same care and respect is to be shown. It is not to be done out of spite but always "out of love for the person and a hatred for sin" (IV, 28). One who has fallen is to be treated as a person "wounded, in need of treatment" (IV, 26). If someone on his own initiative confesses wrongdoing, the superior "ought to show mercy and pray for the wrongdoer" (IV, 29). All is done out of love for the individual.

26One Mind, One Heart, p. 115. Oneness of Heart Intent Upon God / 717

The same respect and care is shown in health matters, in receiving and giving clothing and books, and in the personal relationship between superior and reli- gious. The spirit of the Rule is clear in all of these matters. Everything is done in "a spirit of charity" (VIII, 47). Each individual is treated with the love and respect accorded the fact that he is a temple of God. The harmony within a community does not flow simply from good managerial practices or the latest in group dynam- ics theory. It flows from the respect accorded to the inherent worth and value of each individual as a living temple of God. In his Rule, St. Augustine calls for a life lived together that is both profound and practical. It requires a common bond among diverse people, a bond centered in the union of hearts bound together by God. To achieve this union there must be a common movement towards interiority. Contemplation, in an Augustinian perspective, leads to community! Further, there must be a daily, lived togetherness, a practical union and sharing of hearts. Since God is the basis for this communion, each person being his dwelling place, the community itself becomes the locus of God’s loving and uniting presence. The Rule offers two final perspectives that must be operative in any spirituality based on it. First, there will never be perfect community life. This is to be realized only eschatologically. "Our unity will only be perfect after the present sojourn abroad."27 Augustine himself struggled with community life and found it a difficult and challenging task.28 The fact that he included a chapter on reconciliation and correction in his Rule shows that he knew full well the "not yet" character of life in common. While this may tend to discourage and disillusion some, they must be brought to a realistic vision of a pilgrim Church. The Rule reminds its observers that they are not "slaves living under the law" but "persons living in freedom under grace "(VIII, 47). The grace perspective must never be lost. What is striven for, what is accomplished, is and must be seen in the context of grace. God alone in his grace can bring about true oneness of heart. Augustine often reminded his listeners of the reality of that grace by citing the text from I Co 4:7, "What have you received that is not God’s gift?" This also applies to Christian community. It is ultimately God’s gift and must be both viewed and lived from that perspective.

4:32a in Augustinian Theology." p. 65. Sermon 355 and 356. Empty Convents Plus Aging Sisters: A Practical Solution

Marie Tucker, C.S.J.

Sister Marie writes that the article, "Sisters, What in This World Are We Doing?" (Jan/Feb 1982), in which the problem of this article was raised, "triggered the following response, for I feel keenly the need for more to enter the apostolate I am now so thoroughly enjoying." She states that she would "gladly provide hospitality at our place for anyone interested in learning more about" this solution. Her home is at: Redemptorist Parish Residence: 207 West Linwood; Kansas City, MO 6411 I.

Empty convents? Mid-life (plus!) sisters questioning their ability to continue their present apostolate? These can be seen as just a somber picture or as signs of the times pointing to a new and much needed apostolate that is well within the powers of the "pre~retirement" sister. Down the street from these empty convents are other large, empty houses-- except for the one lonely, aged lady not quite able to cope with her shopping, cooking and housekeeping. Other elderly ladies are living in small apartments with less housework, but with equal hazards to face in the crime-ridden streets. The empty convents plus the sisters in mid-life and older can add up to wonderful living sites with security and care and companionship for that ever- growing segment of society--the elderly. This equation has worked out very beautifully in the convent of Our Lady of Perpetual ’Help Parish in Kansas City, Missouri. The ~:onvent was built for twenty- four sisters in 195 i, when the parish had a flourishing grade and high school, and was staffed by twenty-four sisters and only a.few lay teachers. By 1970, the picture had changed drastically: the high school had barely a hundred students; lay teachers far outnumbered the sisters; the parish was now an "inner-city" parish, and could no longer finance the growing burden that the high school had become. The decision to close it was made almost automatically. Deciding what to do with the empty convent, though, wasn’t quite so automatic. 718 Empty Convents and Aging Sisters / 719

But a pastor with vision, and with a sympathetic knowledge of his elderly parishioners’ needs, proposed converting the convent into a boarding home for elderly ladies. The parish approved his plans. A sister of the Congregation of St. Joseph of Carondelet, the same congregation that had taught in the school, responded to his request for someone to direct the home. And in September of 1971 the Redemptorist Parish Residence for Elderly Ladies opened its doors. Of course, more was involved than obtaining a director to open those doors. Building codes and fire codes had to be complied with, licenses obtained. The "music rooms" on the first floor were fitted with wash basins, and a shower was installed in the first floor restroom to make it possible for those who couldn’t climb stairs to live on the first floor. The spacious lounge (community room), porch, and garden, the private bed- rooms, together with the very adequate bath and toilet areas made the physical facilities ideal. The chapel located in the center of the first floor, where Mass is celebrated daily and Christ is always present in the Blessed Sacrament, makes its spiritual resources ideal. Thus, the "empty convent" part of the equation became an adequate factor in providing a good setting for the elderly. What about the other factors--the elderly lady herself and the sister(s) in charge? For the elderly lady who does not need the extensive care provided in a nursing home--nor the depressing atmosphere so often found there--and yet who is not quite capable of managing her own cooking, housekeeping, and so forth, or who is fearful of living alone, the boarding-home concept is an ideal option. Companion- ship with others of her age bracket provides her with n~eded social stimulation, while her own room gives her privacy to be alone with her memories, or to entertain guests. Relieved of the burden of shopping and cooking, she experiences a freedom from the worry these duties entail, and at the same time she enjoys a balanced diet--and the better health that good diet and freedom from tension bring. Simple activities sponsored by the home can provide refreshing diversion other than that afforded by her relatives 9nd friends outside the home. Such activities are especially necessary for those who have few relatives and have outlived their friends. At our home we have gradually introduced a variety of such activities. Each month has.its "Birthday-of-the-Month" party, and at least one film from the public library. Appropriate geriatric exercises are held three times a week. Short walks or outings to shopping centers or parks are taken when the weather is fine. Winter holidays have their special parties: summer ones are celebrated with a picnic supper on the porch. The parish Golden Age Club meets each Thursday in the school right next door. The public library furnishes 40 books every three months, eagerly read by the bookworms but slowly attracting, too, those who have not developed a love for reading. Old age with its concomitant realization that death cannot be too far away engenders a new and deeper realization of one’s need for and dependence on God. Yet bad weather and distance from church often keep the elderly away from 720 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

Sunday Mass. In the convent-turned-home-for-the-elderly, however, the resident can grow daily more ready for her great encounter with God as daily she grows in appreciation of His Presence in the Blessed Sacrament, and if she chooses, she can share daily in the Eucharist. Our chapel is rarely empty during the day and even our one non-Catholic lady comes for Mass. A priest comes for confession monthly, and the Sacrament of the Sick is administered once or twice a year. In Advent and Lent special para-liturgical services are held and cassette lectures are offered. Spiritual opportunities are abundant, and our residents take advantage of them eagerly. Thus, for the elderly lady the convent-turned-home brings blessed release from the anxieties of providing for herself, healthful diet, stimulating companionship and activities, and a fuller opportunity for spiritual growth. What about the sister(s) who undertake this apostolate? From what has already been said in this article, it can be seen that she must be able to supervise more than just bed and board. She does need the ordinary womanly ability to see to it that all is kept clean and orderly, and to "do it herself" on those days when the help doesn’t show up; to provide appetizing and nutritional meals--her own culinary skill will be put to the test when the cook doesn’t show up. Then she must be inventive in finding suitable activities for the group. Of course, there is the inevitable bookkeeping and record keeping to be attended to. The practicality of sisters rather than sister for this undertaking becomes evident, doesn’t it? One of the sisters might ideally be a semi-retired nurse. When accidents and sickness come, a nurse is better able to make the proper decision regarding the situation. She can also keep a health log on each resident-- required in some states--in any case her presence can be beneficial and comforting to the resident. Such duties and capabilities are all necessary. Geriatric courses can add still more to one’s knowledge of the work and of the needs of the elderly. Still, there are needs to be met for which knowledge and expertise simply do not suffice. The elderly need to feel genuine warmth, love and understanding from those around them. They need smiles and reassuring touches; patient ears to listen to a tale repeatedly told. So the sister(s) must be empathetic. And more--she or they must be the channel(s) that carry Christ’s own love to these ladies. Here in Our Lady’s parish, the combination has worked beautifully. Surely it can work as well elsewhere. Interviews With Directors of Directed Retreats

Clara Stang, O.S.F., and Tom Singer, O.M.L

The authors have been members of the Institute for Spirituality and Worship at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley, CA. Father Singer’s most recent mailing address is: 1709 Shattick Ave., #309: Berkeley, CA 94709.

To witness God’s personal revelation is an indescribable gift! The unique relationship between a director and a retreatant is a very privileged one. You know something "beyond you" that has been enfleshed--indeed a sacred moment, a sacred exchange. The face of God is so manifold--God speaks in diverse ways! These are some of the responses that retreat directors gave when we asked them to share with us how directing retreats had been a gift to them. Invariably the very question would trigger an immediate awed and knowing glance that, though non-verbal, could be translated: "More than words could tell." Such responses were heartwarming and encouraging. We are deeply indebted to the directors we interviewed for their contributions to this project that we have found so personally enriching. Our project began the day that we authors shared with each other that, while each of us had made a vareity of retreats, our experience of directed retreats was definitely more fruitful. Given the fact that there are a variety of styles and lengths of retreats, in launching our project we decided to focus on the directed eight-day retreat. We had posed for ourselves the question others occasionally would ask us: "Would you direct a retreat?" Our hesitant "no" was coupled with a desire on our part to know more about what it meant to guide another on a retreat, and a desire to share what we found with others through the pages of this article. 721 722 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

By way of preparing for our project, we reviewed a good deal of the current and relevant literature, and then, with the questions that we formulated from this reading, we began a series of personal interviews with ten experienced directors: five men and five women, representing a balanced mix of laity, religious and clergy. Of the ten directors we interviewed, two were very experienced, with sixteen years each in the work. Two were relatively new, with one and two years of experience respectively. The average number of years that the members of the group had been involved in directing retreats was eight. A point of wide divergence in the background of the directors concerned how they came to be involved in directing retreats. One man realized how the experience of a directed retreat "clicked" both with people’s experience and also with his own novitiate experience when a fellow-novice (not the master) "listened, heard, and accompanied me through the year." Another person, a woman who had made more than thirty retreats prior to her first experience of a directed retreat, "wondered if I had ever really made a retreat before," and decided to share the experience with others. Another woman responded to the encouragement of Armand Nigro for women to move into the apostolate. Several were asked or encouraged to do so on the occasion of their making a thirty-day retreat. Out of our desire to preserve the anonymity of the directors we interviewed, and our intent to use inclusive language wherever possible, we have simply alter- nated between masculine and feminine forms, irrespective of the original source, in transcribing the substance of these interviews.

Qualities of a Director Our first question related to the qualities of a good director. When asked about these qualities, it was interesting to note how comfortably the directors "objecti- fied" the question. Even though they realized they were in effect talking about themselves, they calmly reflected, and then answered quite simply. Almost all of the responses laid primary emphasis on the ability to listen, and to listen actively. Several prefaced their observation by suggesting that a necessary predisposition to listening ability was to be in touch with oneself and to be prayerful. They saw these as necessary for openness and "quality" listening. One director amplified her concept of prayer by stressing that it should be "personally refined," giving the director "a sensitivity to the Mystery of God and making her aware of the movements of God as distinguished from other influences.’~ A mem- orable response was the requirement that the director have the gift of "listening and a warm heart," which paralleled another response, to be "receptive with mind and heart." Some stressed a further prior condition by referring to the need of creating a climate of trust and love. Being non-judgmental was closely linked with this ability to listen. Perhaps a statement that summed up this best was having "a personal tolerance for ambiguity and being at peace with this." Most of the responses included some reference to sensitivity, but some went Interviews with Directors / 723

further by specifying "a sense of compassion" or even the ability to be positively affirming; e.g., to help directees, who were trained in an older tradition, to see their gifts. The divine element was also interestingly recognized by suggesting, under the personal qualities of a director, the ability to realize that "the Lord is the director." This was further described as "a sense of instrumentality." Others, likewise, men- tioned the ability "to be in close touch with the Spirit." A second dimension to listening was also highlighted: the ability on the part of the director to reflect and articulate what he has heard, the ability to give feedback. In one case this was seen as "the willingness to challenge, the ability to speak that deeper honesty, the willingness to risk by sharing from one’s personal experiences rather than from books or theory."

Remote Preparation How does one go about acquiring all of the above qualities? What preparation can one make? Most of the recommendations centered around knowledge of Scripture and psychology. It was also stressed that lived and learned experiences were required besides formal courses. One director stressed the need to acquire "a personal sense of freedom--an understanding of the Spirit, an experience of the Spirit in your own life and an ability to articulate that.~ Presumed in the remote preparation is the actual experience of a directed retreat along with being in direction oneself. Likewise, ongoing formation and courses in related subjects such as prayer, the spiritual life, discernment, and the spiritual exercises were seen as vital.

Immediate Preparation We posed the situation to the directors of having one or more retreats lined up to begin in two weeks. What would they customarily do to prepare for them? Praying for the retreatants was a priority preparation for most of the directors and this in as personal a manner as possible. One director even puts the names of future retreatants on the refrigerator door. On the other hand, one director prays more for ]ierself"to prepare my soul,"and then she does what needs to be done to be "uncluttered"and open. For her this often means some additional rest. Related to that, "quiet time" was a proximate preparation for some of the directors, alot~g with a rereading of certain articles, past retreat notes, John English’s material on the Spiritual Exercises, and so forth. Several of the directors would research scriptural passages, gathering them under various headings of applicability. These directors explained that they like to provide a variety of texts, and thus they try to have ready alternatives and choices. Others gather together or make photocopies of certain articles that might be helpful. Introspection figured in, several responses: one director keeps a journal of her own feelings as she approaches a retreat. Another checks on his own interior attitude by asking himself, "What’s my disposition? Where am I coming from?" 724 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

Interestingly, several warned that it is not a time to put together a specific "program plan." Or as another put it, "I can’t program the unknown." Regarding the ministry of directing retreats, we asked whether our interviewees thought retreats would be better as a full-time or as a part-time ministry. While it was admitted that full-time involvement could be a special call, most saw it as "a calling within a calling." They concurred, then, that typically a part- time involvement was both better and healthier. Moreover, it was observed, daily life and retreat direction should mutually balance and enrich each other. Where directing retreats was going to be full-time work, certain caveats were expressed. Direction can become burdensome, so full-time people would have to be able to handle it without undue stress. A couple of directors who had previously been involved full-time emphasized that it is important to take time off, e.g., a quarter of the year, either for teaching or for work in Appalachia, and so forth. Another type of danger of full-time direction revolved around "too much God-talk": full-time people "get the idea that they have a private line to God... that they are gurus." The dangers of becoming routinized or too narrow were also expressed, as was the American pitfall "of having to succeed."

The Retreatant "What criteria do you look for in a retreatant?" was our third main question. Readiness might best sum up the general response to this question. Of course, there were nuances regarding the readiness: ready to pray, ready for spiritual direction and not psychological counseling, ready to be open and honest in dealing with issues, ready interiorly to make a retreat, and not "because I have to." One director warned that "ira person is not ready, a directed retreat can be a real drain or even a negative experience." Whereas some directors prefer that the retreatant have previous experience with spiritual direction, or have made prior retreats, one director questioned the need for any criteria besides the request. He said he usually found that a worth- while good results. Another director looks for "an awareness of interior expe- rience, not necessarily prayer, along with the abilities for self-reflection and communication of that experience." We asked if there were any people the directors would refuse to direct. A surprising variety of cases were included: "Someone who is too close to me as a person." Someone who is primarily looking for a "high." "Someone who is work- ing with the same personal problems or issues that I’m working with." However, most directors indicate that scheduling-conflict unavailability is the one reason they would not be with someone. They stated, too, that they would not refuse anyone for an eight-day retreat, though they would for a thirty-day retreat. They would first try to meet with certain directees. And if, after they started, there seemed to be too much pressure on either party, they would try to "renegotiate." Several directors also mentioned that they discourage people from coming to retreat directly from a work situation, without any rest or preparation beforehand. Likewise, they suggest retreatants try to have some time available before returning Interviews with Directors / 725

to their job. Inquiry was then made regarding the ideal number of retreatants, and also the maximum number that the directors would agree to direct at one time. Five was the common ideal and, for the most part, was also the maximum. One director told of directing as many as ten at one time going from 7:00 a.m. to midnight, while another explained why, for her, trying to direct a single retreatant did not seem to work, since she would invariably try to do her regular work at the same time--and the two simply did not mix well.

Introductory Meeting Although the approaches varied, there seemed to be a common thread and common concerns regarding the introductory meeting between the retreatant and the director. Several expressed a preference for a plenary "orientation session," when there are more than one retreatant, where many of the housekeeping tasks could be handled with all at the same time, and in a context separate from the more normal encounter between the director and directee. One director, however, stressed that the first meeting not be task-oriented. Three main objectives came through in the beginning personal’ meetings between the director and the retreatant: I) The director would make an effort to establish an adult relationship where the retreatant would feel both free and responsible concerning the retreat: 2) The director would take the initiative in trying to assess the person’s recent history, e.g., since the last retreat, his or her recent prayer experiences, perhaps a brief review of the retreatant’s general "story" and spiritual journey: 3) The director would check for any particular concerns, needs, purposes the retreatant might have in making the retreat; in other words, any special agenda--if there is one. In general, the first meeting and the first day were seen as a "bridge." Thus several directors tried to be sensitive to the physical state of the retreatant and often recommend relaxation and/or sleep. One of the women interviewed stressed that, besides keeping the first meeting short, she asks the retreatants how they feel about having a woman for a director. We then asked how the directors determined where a person is. One director observed that "even asking a question is directing a retreatant." In this view, a director is attempting to be very non-th~’eatening when he asks, "Can you shari~ with me what happened during your last retreat?" A couple of directors ¯ ask the retreatants to share a favorite scriptural passage and tell what it has meant to them. In sum, the directors told of trying to make the introductory and early meet- ings ¯ to be open and relaxed sessions. One director stressed the necessary openness by using the analogy of a visit to the dentist, where "pain can be exacerbated by ignorance." A few directors might use the Myers-Briggs instrument if it came up somehow, but. none of ttie directors use it in a major way. 726 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

The responses on retreat atmosphere and the role of silence were surprisingly simple and straightforward. Where a large group is involved, most directors expressed a preference that these topics be handled in the orientation session by pointing out the general advantages of silence and focusing on each one’s sensitiv- ity towards those who especially need it. Several directors admitted their own personal need of silence, but recognized that does not have to be normative. Rather they see it as part of the individual’s responsibility, and from their expe- rience did not find it necessary to say much about it. Structure of the Meetings By far, most of the directors schedule an hour a day for each retreatant, and, on an average, actually meet for about forty-five minutes a day. Two directors schedule half-hour meetings. One woman director observed that length-variation depends on extraversion/introversion factors, whereas one male director has found that "men seem to get to the point faster than women.~ Several directors found that the length of the meetings decreases as the retreat proceeds. Another director observed that usually the greatest sharing occurs in the last fifteen minutes of each meeting. It seems that usually retreatants are asked to come at the same time each day. One director tried to make sure that people come at their best time of day, if possible: morning people in the morning, and so forth. Several directors offer additional time, or are open to the possibility if requested, but also warned of the problem of dependency. Likewise, two directors mentioned that they sometimes schedule a second daily meeting with inexperienced retreatants, though these meet- ings are more of an instructive than a reflective nature. There was an interesting variety in the practice of keeping notes on the retreat- ants. The majority either currently do it, or had done it at some time in the past. In fact, half of the directors still do it, not necessarily for the sake of keeping the retreatants straight, but "to catch the movement of the Spirit, and to record the scriptural passages suggested." Most of the note-taking was done after the session. One director told of a custom she previously had’of giving all of the notes she had made to the retreatant at the end of the retreat with her comments. For some undisclosed reason she has discontinued this practice. Content of the Retreat When asked about the use of the lgnatian Exercises in an eight-day retreat, most of the directors saw them as a helpful sequence, pattern, or diagnostic tool, but shied away from any forced following of them. As one director put it, "We can’t program the Spirit." Another director spoke of "the Ignatian method as essentially bathing in God’s love for as long as it can happen without the director’s manipulation." One director stated that he uses the Exercises "inasmuch as they’re a process that unfolds and it’s helpful to be aware of the pattern and to recognize it unfolding." Thus he saw that it was helpful for the director to know the Exercises Interviews with Directors / 727 in his own personal experience as a useful framework. Most of the directors focused on Scripture. They were virtually unanimous in seeing it as the "ordinary" resource. In fact, several expressed themselves as some- what hesitant to use other references, and on occasions when they did, the sources used were Rahner’s or Stanley’s commentaries on the Exercises. Others have used Ira Progoff’s Process Meditations and his Dialogues, or "a few good things on prayer." Likewise, a couple of the directors have simply referred retreatants to "nature" or to their "own memories" to help them get in touch with God and themselves. Content All of the directors were opposed to imposing any special stress, for example on social justice, in recommending the content of the retreatant’s prayer. In fact, some saw this as an intrusion or a projection. As one director stated it, "If the person is open, free, and sensitive, she will hear her own theme." Thus one director saw imposing a special stress as "a temptation of simply trying to pass on to another what has been valuable and helpful to me." Another director saw his role as "helping the individual to hear the whispering and promptings of the Spirit. I know the retreatant will tell me when something is fruitful. My job is to listen." One director told how he simply tries to see what people pick up on, and two directors mentioned that they typically present a number of scriptural passages that refer to covenant and to God’s personal love, leaving any application to the retreatant. Perhaps one of the areas of widest divergence among the directors was that of prayer expectations, i.e., length of prayer times. Individualization and flexibility are the basic guidelines, but there are many insights subsumed under these two. One very experienced director told how, over the years,, he had developed the principle that "a retreat should be fun." Thus, laying on heavy expectations of prayer time can easily obviate that, he thought, and prayer simply becomes bur- densome. Moreover, both the retreatants’ physical and spiritual conditions have to be considered, i.e., the fatigue level, their schedule immediately preceding and following the retreat, their recent familiarity and habit of prayer, and so forth. A couple of the directors seemed to look for an "ideal" of four to five hours, and one included a midnight session in her ideal expectations. Another director was strong on each session lasting a full hour, "as Ignatius suggested"; whereas another director was very flexible on the length of each prayer period, but sti’essed having a definite beginning and a definite end, so that the prayer period was focused time. Darkness/Nothingness This is a question that triggered both great unanimity and deep sensitivity from the directors. First reactions included pensive and knowing looks and then the opening responses reflected the same vein: "this is a delicate and important con- cern," or "this is an ambiguous symptom, which one has to contextualize." 721~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

After mention of importance and ambivalence, the first aspect of the unanim- ity among our sample was the necessity of accurate diagnosis. "The key question is," as one put it, "where is it coming from. If you don’t know that, you don’t know how to treat it." Basically, the directors felt the cause of darkness could be any- thing from physical exhaustion to clinical depression to supernatural desolation. "The difficulty is that the symptoms can all look the same, but the treatments are often the opposite of one another. Take vagueness and obscurity: one is a personal disorder and the other is God’s call to a deeper level. What you do for one is absolutely wrong for the other." One director admitted that it could take a major part of the retreat just to make the diagnosis, which would even then be very tentative. In making the diagnosis, one director would bluntly ask, "When did you have your last physical?", confident that 70% of the cases are physical in nature or at least the results of low metabolism. Another director has employed psychosynthe- sis. Above all, several of the directors stressed: "Do not run away from it or deny it." "Recognize that it’s real, and therefore it’s important to recognize, accept and own" the darkness. Once a tentative diagnosis has been made, or even before that, several directors cautioned against bailing the retreatant out prematurely. Rather what is required is "patience, waiting and non-interference." Another stated, "If it is physical or psy- chological, suggest treatment; if it is spiritual, be with them." One director told of success with Ira Progoff’s stepping-stones as a way for retreatants to help them- selves. She amplified on Progoff’s thesis that "when we don’t have strength, we can get it by remembering our own stories and the times when God has touched us." This same director has also asked retreatants "to write their own Magnificat, in imitation of Mary when she was in touch with her story." Besides generally being with the directee and assuring the person to "hold on; this, too, will pass," another director would consider changing the ordered struc- ture and schedule, and perhaps also encourage some slight penance and/or added prayer.

Journal Regarding the use of a journal, four directors strongly recommend it, while the others are open to it, provided the retreatant finds it helpful. Reasons for recom- mending journal-keeping were for the sake of precision and clarity and also as a general aid to the reflection process, especially during the meetings with the direc- tor. One director recognized how important it is for some people to read their journals verbatim, but another recommends it "only as a reference--it bores me to tears when they come in and read page after page." This same director, however, suggests that the journal include "more than just what happens in prayer. It should record anything of meaning, mystery, or significance." Thus it seems that the directors view the journal as "a good tool" and are open to "anything that helps the retreat." One director includes an article on journal- keeping as one of his standard handouts to retreatants. Interviews with Directors / 729

Early in the interviews, one of the directors mentioned how she asks directees to include their dreams in their journals, which led us to add a question on dreams in subsequent interviews. About half of the directors attach strong importance to the recording and interpretation of dreams, especially, as one put it, "dreams during a retreat." Besides written journals, two of the directors encourage retreatants actually to draw or sketch their retreat experiences. One other director related how she has been impressed with the results of people working with clay.

Men/Women Our next question was stated: "Do you treat men and women retreatants differently? If so, how?" Four of the directors were not consciously aware of any different treatment. Two maintained that the treatment was the same but the "emphasis" or the "dynamic" was different. One woman director observed a reverse twist: some men retreatants treat her differently! They usua!ly seem to expect a man director, she explained, but are assigned a woman. Some, especially priests and male religious, she reported, seem to feel almost cheated and have even questioned the practice. "Why aren’t men assigned to men?" Another woman director seemed to enjoy the challenge of helping men to image God in the feminine. A third woman director commented how she has found men to be more cognitive and somewhat afraid to deal with their feelings. One of the men directors admitted to an earlier reluctance in suggesting to women certain scriptural passages, such as Ezekiel 16, but he has since overcome this reluctance. This same director feels that women are usually more responsive to the salvation poetry of the Old Testament, whereas men seem to appreciate the narrative style of parts of the New Testament. He also reflected that if he were to go into the ministry of directing retreats on a full-time basis, he would definitely delve into the feminist images of God more.

Liturgy An additional question surfaced towards the end of our series of interviews: "What place does liturgy have in the retreat?" Three direct points were suggested in one way or another: I) Liturgy is an important element in bringing a communal dimension to a retreat, the sense that we are all on a journey together. 2) A closed retreat has more of a community orientation, and thus a common liturgy is preferable in that context. 3) The retreatants should not be involved in the planning of the liturgies; this would be an inappropriate distraction.

Closing One director reflected his experience that there is typically a rhythm to an 730 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

eight-day retreat: the first few days consist of "winding down" and getting into the retreat; this is followed by a very fruitful time, around days four, five and six; and " then the retreat "often closes itself." In that pattern, this director tends to use the ’last day as a review of the total retreat, which he thinks should be "a self-contained experience of God." Thus, in the review, he tends to reflect for the retreatant the major movements he has observed and makes a few suggestions for the future. The question, arose, of course, about those retreats that do not follow a rhythm, especially as the time comes for closure. For example, on a retreat that is closing "in desolation," one director mentioned the temptation to give out "pious jelly beans" to help the retreatant feel better. Rather, he said, both the director and the retreatant would do better to remain with the desolation. There is also the opposite danger, another director pointed out, of closing a retreat prematurely, simply because things are coming together for the retreatant. In this case also, it was recommended that the full term of the reti’eat be followed out as originally planned. Implicitly, that discernment of "things coming together--the a-ah’s" is indeed an indicator of approaching closure, but not necessarily the absolute sign that.a retreat should actually close. A preferable approach is to stay in retreat in anticipation of further resolution and/or additional depth. Somewhat related to the question of closure was the approach of one director who suggests to retreatants that they follow the 19th Annotation or enter spiritual direction after the retreat. A more Socratic approach would be to ask the retreat- ant how she was going to carry the retreat home and integrate it into her daily life. Anothe~ director tries to prepare the retreatants for reentry by suggesting they try to introduce others to what they themselves have found.

The Supportive Care of Directors ~An incidental comment by one of the directors suggested yet another question to us: "What do you do for yourself during the retreat?" Relaxation, especially yoga, was one instant response. "Relax with the team" was a similar comment. Another director told us, "l pray more--almost like I’m into retreat myself.~ The woman who triggered the question told us that she "swims, tries to do some exercise, and recreates with the team. Team support is vital." That, in turn, suggested our next question: "When you work with a team, do you have any special expectations of them?" " " For 6~e wo~hh,-h t~i~fi- ~v~s h-6t only a source of support but its coherence is an absolute condition for directing retreats. In fact she maintained, "I’ll never go on a retreat again where the team does not recreate together." She explained how in the past. she..has experienced uneq.ual facilities and opportunities in certain retreat settings, Le., access to community rooms, automobiles, and so forth.

Advice to a New Director Owing to the terse, insightful, almost epigrammatic nature of the responses to the question, "What advice would you give to a new director:?", we have chosen Interviews with Directors / 731

simply to list some of the comments, confident that they speak for themselves. "Take time to sharpen who you are and who God is--at a heart-to-heart level. Then it is easier to know who God is for others." "Better to say too little than too much." "Have a real openness to the retreatant and a positive attitude. Be encouraging. Just to want to make a retreat is good, and shows a willingness to risk." "Rather than help retreatants decide something, encourage them to pray over it." "Carry on, and dread naught." "Listen and don’t talk. It’s not a class. It’s their agenda and not yours." "A director can get in the way, so listen. Reflect on your own experience and stay in touch with the process of your own spiritual growth." "Trust the Lord, yourself, and the retreatant. This keeps you from ’the cult of expertise,’ knowing that God directs--even if the phone book is the day’s sug- gested reading." "Plunge in--under supervision for a while until you develop confidence. Trust that God is the one who is working. Surprises keep proving that. Even in your lowest moments God can do wonders." "Have a director yourself. Listen to the retreatant’and to yourself--how you react. Get familiar with your own experience of God and trust it; that is, become a discerning person. Discernment is a skill learned only with another’s help, so that’s why you need a director." "Keep your own personal journal." "Don’t be fearful of making a mistake." "Be yourself." Soul Friend by Kenneth Leech was recommended by several directors as a tool that they would recommend to new directors because it provides an historical background and incorporates other traditions. One of the more experienced directors suggested Poulain’s The Graces of Interior Prayer, which he called "the Bible of spiritual directors. It was published at the turn of the century, and the English is a trifle stilted, but it is a rich resource, and is well-indexed." Laplace’s Spiritual Direction was another recommended book, as was Thomas Hora’s Existential Metapsychiatry. Power in the Helping Professions by Gfiggen- buhl-Craig was also suggested. Likewise, a concordance, either published or of one’s own creation, of images, and themes in the Bible was mentioned by a couple of directors as a helpful tool.

Do’s and Don’t’s In an effort to be as complete as possible, we then asked the directors: "Are there any Do’s and Don’t ~--concerns and suggestions that we haven’t covered?" Again, here are their own words: "Have a support system to help you continue to learn to be a good director.~ "Consistently desire to expand your own learning in all of life. Keep developing 7~12 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 interests, especially in theology and Scripture." "Believe in yourself and in the work of the Lord." "Enjoy one another; be free, willing to laugh." "Develop a climate of love and attention." "Allow the retreatant to cry; always have Kleenex around." "Be authentic yourself." "It’s very satisfying work, but realize it’s also a paschal work, so it’s very emotional and takes lots of stamina and stability. You need a balance between compassion and distance." "Have a simple, loving awareness, knowing that moment by moment the Spirit is being revealed." "Recognize that it’s a terribly subjective ministry, so it takes some kind of professional monitoring." "Remember, periods of silence are OK." "Don’t take anything for granted in terms of where people are or what they know.., even those you might feel otherwise about, like priests and sisters." "Don’t be too directive. Remember, it’s not you alone; the Holy Spirit is there." "Don’t decide issues or solve problems--weave it into prayer." "As a director, no sermons!" "Don’t project your path or have a road map for the directee." "Don’tbe too prescriptive. And avoid being too literally a director; rather be a sharer and a companion." "Don’t control, and be aware of the subtle ways that control manifests itself." "Don’t be complacent--you have not arrived." "Don’t be afraid of discovering and owning your own dark side."

The Retreat as Gift to the Director The greatest challenge in our report has been to reflect the responses to the final question, "In what way has directing retreats been a gift to you?" To capture the responses adequately, one would have to bring together, along with the words, the soft smiles, the contented expressions, and the knowing looks. Indeed, if we may editorialize even more, this small part of the project made it all worthwhile. Listen to some of the ways directing retreats has been a gift to the five women and the five men we were privileged to interview. "The awesomeness of seeing the Spirit at work--the movement and the pres- ence is so real!" "To see the many different ways that God is perceived.., it has enriched and broadened my horizon." "Giftedness simply flows through the experience." "The privilege of being allowed to see the intimacy of the relationships between God and the individual." "A real energy flow." "I have found that the directee ministers to me, the director.~ "The biggest gift is to share in people’s lives. It helps me to understand my own Interviews with Directors / 733 life and to be more flexible--and not put expectations on others." "People’s experiences are so different and unique. We learn how beautiful people are." "It helps me to clarify my own values, and deepens my own prayer experience." "Experiencing what the Lord has worked with me and through me." "1 stand in awe of how God works in people’s lives." "The deep level of personal sharing--more than in any other profession, for instance, doctors." "What I say to others I then feel drawn to do myself, so as not to be hypocriti- cal-to live in love, in prayer, in faith." "A manifestation of God’s goodness at work." "It’s awesome to see how God uses the director--even at times her mistakes." "I don’t even know how to say it, it is a privilege to witness God’s personal revelation." "Entering the sanctuary of the person and meeting God, this is very special and very sacred." "’Like in the Letter to the Hebrews, God has spoken in diverse ways. The face of God is manifold, and more and more we see the face of God."

The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat

by Herbert F. Smith, S.J.

Price: $.35 per copy, plus postage.

Address: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Fiscal Management and Christian Stewardship

Alan McCoy, O.FM.

Father McCoy is president of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men, the offices of which are located at 8808 Cameron St.: Silver Spring, MD 20910. This article is the text of a keynote address that Father McCoy gave at workshops for major superiors and treasurers on the theme of its title.

First 1 wish to express the sincere gratitude of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious and of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men to the Accounting Manual Committee for the great dedication they have shown in pre- paring the manual.l As pointed out in the Preface to the manual, in recent years religious and other non-profit organizations have been increasingly involved with external financial considerations, necessitating greater awareness and expertise on the .part of religious institutes and their personnel. Legislation of the recent past has been quite significant to all of us. First the Tax Reform Act of 1969 included all religious institutes among those taxable for "unrelated business income." Then the Social Security Amendments of 1972 enabling us to enroll our members for benefits, along with the Medicare laws, have made the Internal Revenue Service a very important agency for many religious groups today. Moreover, the require- ments of several states and local governments have become more demanding. As a consequence both the LCWR and CMSM have become deeply concerned over certain aspects of fiscal management. Also, the responsibility to the works of our qn 1977, LCWR and CMSM joined the Accounting Practices Committee (APC) of the Diocesan Fiscal Managers Association to become a tri-conference committee corresponding to the Financial Accounting Standards Board and the American Institute of Certified Public Accountants. In 1981, the APC issued the statement "Accounting Principles and Practices for Churches and Church-related Organizations" which was integrated into a system of accounting practices published as the LCWR/CMSM Accounting Manual. For further information about this manual, address the central office of either sponsoring agency. 734 Fiscal Management and Stewardship various apostolates and to our own memberships have required an ever more enlightened approach on our part to the whole field of management, while some of the mistakes of the past years have brought serious questioning of the various groups engaged in fund raising for the needs of the Church. Our concern is heightened by a change both in the mission thrust of many communities and also by internal realities in terms of aging and retirement. As clearly brought out in the guidelinrs given by the Conference of Bishops and the LCWR and CMSM, the major superior has great responsibility in all of the areas of fund raising, conservation and distribution of funds. And this respon- sibility cannot be completely relinquished in favor of other members of the com- munity or of lay help. Stewardship is a hallowed term in the history of Western Christianity and we are aware of the place given this gift in St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, where he places it between the gift of prophecy and that of teacher. But sometimes a rather simplistic approach to the concept has concentrated on the material things to be guarded and managed, rather than on the service of our sisters and brothers to be helped thereby. Thus, in the Gospel according to St. Luke (12:42), the emphasis is clearly on the human beings, rather than on money and material assets. The care that we call for is necessary because of the human persons being served: the people served by a religious community, and the members of the community itself. Losing sight of this brings the risk of entering into big business and gradually letting the concern for fiscal matters override the whole thrust of a religious community. Even as we seriously consider ways to be more responsible in our handling of fiscal matters, we also need to be very clear that we, and all the Church, must divest ourselves of unneeded wealth. Once we become managers of unneeded wealth, we identify with those at the center who manage the system that oppresses our brothers and sisters here and around the world. We must continually test our concept of stewardship (possibly inherited from our culture and our economic system) against the gospel message of poverty and trust in divine providence. A truly Christian stewardship can bring us to identify with Christ’s poor, to stand in solidarity with them in their struggle for the basic necessities of life. Religious are called, not to be successful in any enterprise resembling business, but to serve the Church and the world in a genuine prophetic role, calling all to the values of the kingdom of God, human dignity, freedom, peace, racial and social justice. And it is only through genuine freedom, through detachment from mate- rial things that one can accomplish this. Such detachment will enable both the major superior and the treasurer to properly fulfill their roles in a truly Christian religious community. In a community that would accept its gift of calling the entire Church to a proper regard for God’s gifts, not being enslaved by them but using them for his purposes, we will accept only our fair share, never amassing or misusing them so as to deprive others. The freedom required of us by the values of the kingdom will never be fully integrated into our lives until we attain a genuine accountability of our management of fiscal matters. The Manual is meant to be a help towards that. 736 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

Major Superior as Management Steward It is becoming increasingly clear that the charism of each community will play a great part in the development of religious life in the years ahead as we meet new challenges due to the changing needs of the Church itself. And the major superior is particularly entrusted with the task of bringing to the consciousness of the entire community the reality of the charism out of which we live and work. Whatever course we take in ministry and community living has to be tested against this central reality. And to do this requires that the resources at hand be seen in terms of that charism. Our younger members will appreciate the link to the past more and more as we all try to be honestly open to them and to their insights as to the needs and opportunities of this present day. Fully embued with this charism of the community, the major superior is able to move into the role of enabler of corporate responsibility and involvement. This will mean an enlisting of the entire community in the changing vision of Church and the needs of God’s people in today’s society. Here we see the need for a sharing of the complete financial picture with the community. Planning in a Prophetic Way During the days of the immigrant Church the work of religious entailed a great expertise in financial management in order to meet the basic needs of the commu- nity and of the people it served. And let us remember the tremendous work done by the religious, especially religious women, in building the Church of the United States through the voluntary institution, the school, hospital, orphanage, the home for the aged, and so forth. Now that the role of the voluntary institution is undergoing change, there will be need for the same concern and expertise as we enter new ministries and as religious personnel dwindles. For the first time in the history of our country we are experiencing a constant dwindling in numbers of religious and priests available for ministry. It is estimated by some that the number of priests and religious that will be available, and able, for pastoral work in 1990 will be about half the number of 1980. The shape of our work must necessarily change with this reality. Again, the question of aging and retired religious is making Church authorities deeply concerned. According to a recent survey, 25% of the religious in the United States are over seventy years of age. Other studies indicate that the "half-life" of the communities in the United States is between ten and fifteen years. This will presumably call for a bonding among religious communities and a kind of pastoral planning which has not yet been seen. And all of this demands a clear picture of our material resources. Moreover, in the midst of all this, we are determined not to back away from our need to take a prophetic stance. Even though we are not completely secure, we have to reach out to others in much worse condition, and our concern must be not only expressed as direct aid to others, but as a willingness to enter into planning for greater opportunities for our oppressed poor, and even supporting the neces- sary structural changes within our society that will make survival-with-dignity Fiscal Management and Stewardship / 737 possible for all God’s family. Within our communities we are increasingly aware that a strong stand must be taken against the consumerism rampant about us, our middle class life-style which cannot possibly be sustained without plunging others into misery. In the midst of our concerns about our own future and our apostolic work there has to be always a reaching out to others in need. This requires an ongoing conversion, a metanoia that is never completed. Careful planning and initiative will enable the major superior to enter a truly creative future. The planning for change in our commitments asks great freedom of us, freedom to dream of what might be. An adequate knowledge of where we are financially will keep us from an overly great danger of collapsing the commu- nity rather than enabling it to reach out for the work of Jesus today.

The Major Superior as Collaborator of Stewards In our relation with the government, we need never be afraid of complete disclosure if we have a knowledge of what is being done and what are our rights and obligations. The freedom that comes from this is life-giving, especially when we are called to stand against the government in a prophetic stance. Our disclosure to the laity and our assurance to them that we are co-stewards of God’s gifts will enable them to have confidence that we do accept the truth that every gift is received in order to be given. Finally, our relations with other religious groups can be helped greatly by our faithful stewardship. They will never be endangered in their work because of our mistakes. The task ahead. Leadership within a community is called to enable a group to own its directions. In a positive way superiors can serve as constant reminders in the entire area of fiscal management. To ask the important questions regarding our investments, our pre.sent direction, is not an easy task. A willingness to make final decisions, along with a confident delegation which manages never to relin- quish proper responsibility--all of this requires close collaboration between the major superior and the treasurer and others involved in fiscal management. While respecting the expertise of the manager, the superior today must have an intimate knowledge of the financial pictur.e of the community at all times. I know it is the confident hope of those who worked on the Manual that it will be a good tool for both superiors and treasurers in the work of today’s religious community. The changes called for by diminishing numbers and the aging of our religious can be very positive ones, promoting the growth and vitality of the Church in our United States. The challenges are great, but the great capacity of our religious for imaginative response as evidenced throughout the entire story of the Church in our country gives us confidence that the present situation will call forth a very positive response, a life-giving effort. Conversion Expressed in Dialogue and Story

John Navone, S.J.

Father Navone, many of whose articles have appeared in these pages, continues to teach at the Gregorian University; Piazza della Pilotta, 4:00187 Roma, Italy.

Christian conversion is expressed in the dialogue and story of the New Testa- ment. The meaning of the event and process of Christian conversion seeks and finds its appropriate outward expression in both the oral an’d written tradition of the Church. The inner transformation of human consciousness at every level (imagining, understanding, reasoning, judging, desiring, deciding, acting) that God effects through the gift of his love in Jesus Christ and his Holy Spirit groun~ts the life of the Christian community which takes the form of ~poken utterance before it is set down in writing. Even when the New Testament authors did come to write, we can overhear the living voices, speaking and praising.

Di,*logue The dialoguei of the New Testament expresses the interpersonal communica- tion that God effects through the gift of his love that transforms human conscious- ness in the event and process of Christian conversion. Dialogue, address and response, question and answer, certainly represent the fundamental relationship between the God who speaks his word of love and all who are transformed by accepting it. God’s word implies a hearer; his speech means speech to an "other." His address anticipates a reply; his self-expression calls for an interpersonal encounter. Dialogue expresses conversion.as the personal transformation that is effected by a God who speaks, calls, initiates agreements or covenants, invites to

*A study of dialogue in the theology of St. John appears in Dominic Crossan’s book, The Gospel of Eternal Life, (Milwaukee: Bruce, 1967). 738 Conversion Expressed in Dialogue and Story mutual converse and understanding. It is he who says: "Come now, let us reason together" (Is 1:18), or "Son of man, stand upon your feet, and I will speak with you" (Ez 2:1). The Bible is full of searching dialogue between God and human persons, between his messengers and human listeners. Dialogue, the form of prayer itself, expresses the interpersonal communications that the conversion- event inaugurates and that the conversion-process develops. It implies the convic- tion of faith that the God who speaks his word of love to us for dialogue has created us not merely to be, but to be loved. The voice from heaven, which addresses Jesus as "the beloved" (e.g., M k I:1), expresses the radical conviction of Christian conversion that God’s unfailing word is that of his love for his Beloved Son, the Incarnate Word, and of his love for all human persons. The heavenly Lover identifies the beloved, affirming and constituting the meaning and goodness of his life for all who are willing to hear that same voice in their own lives. The word of God’s love initiates, grounds and brings to an eternal fulfillment the dialogue that isreligious conversion. When this same word is heard in Jesus Christ and his Church, the dialogue is that of Christian conversion. ’In the gospels we hear Jesus questioning or questioned. Vivid colloquy in direct discourse often occurs in the parables of Jesus. In the parable of the talents (Mr 25), for example, each of the three servants reports in direct discourse to the master as to his disposition of the entrusted funds, and to each~the master replies. Implicit dialogue also occurs where a fateful naming or calling goes forth from God himself or from Christ, as when Jesus is identified as the Beloved Son at .his baptism, or when Jesus himself addresses Peter as .the Rock, or when he addresses Jerusalem in lament for its refusal to respond. The recurrent pattern of conversation between Jesus and his antagonists or his disciples pervades the gospels. The word of God creates and sustains the saving tension of challenge and reply in the life story of Jesus Christ. The challenge and reply of the faithful when brought to trial is reflected in passages where the confession of Christ by the Spirit is set against the summons to deny him. Each represents the dialogue of the Christian and the world, with the implication that Christian conversion is precarious and requires the unfailing courage of a steadfast love that is the gift of the Father of Jesus Christ in the Holy Spirit. As Jesus confessed his Father by his life (as in .In 5:41; 8:50), so the disciples will have to give witness to the Lord (Mk 13:9; .In 15:27). As long as Jesus was living with them, they,feared nothing. He was their Paraclete, always there to defend them and to get them out of difficulties (Jn 17:12). After he departs the Spirit will take his place as their Paraclete (.In 14:i6; 16:7). Distinct from Jesus, the Spirit will not speak in his own name, but always of Jesus from whom he is inseparable and whom he will "glorify" (.In 16:13-14). The gift of the Spirit g~:ounds the dialogue of interpersonal love among divine and human persons in the event and process of Christian conversion. The Spirit will recall to the disciples the works and words of the Lord and will give them an understanding of them (,In 14:26). He will give them the courage to confront the world in the name of Jesus, to discover the meaning of Jesus’ death, and to give 740 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

testimony to the divine love which has been revealed and communicated in this event (Jn 16:8-11). Christian interiority is expressed in the divine and human dialogue of recipro- cal love that is consequent upon the acceptance of the Spirit given to us. This interior dialogue finds its outward expression in the evangelists’ presentation of Jesus’ conversation scenes. The risen Christ is presented as the revealer of divine wisdom and love to certain favored men and women; his disclosures are often made in the form of dialogue or conversation. All the conversation and dialogue of Jesus represent for Christians the ever-present grace and challenge of their Risen Lord who speaks his word of love for the transformation of all who will hear it, uniting them with himself and with each other by drawing them into his filial relationship under the lordship of his Father’s love. Dialogue (conversation) in the gospels is transformational more than informa- tional; it is directed to the heart no less than to the mind. It is profoundly a matter of personal involvement with the Triune God’s word of love for all, for "anyone who loves God must also love his brother" (1 Jn 4:21). Authentic communication with others: "We can be sure that we love God’s children if we love God himself and do what he has commanded us"(I Jn 5:2). The quality of our dialogue or conversation with the brother that we can see discloses our relationship to the God whom we cannot see: "a man who does not love the brother that he can see cannot love God, whom he has never seen" (1 Jn 4:20). God speaks his word of love to us in human persons. We reject that word in their lives when we reject it in our own. Only they who recognize that word of love as the origin and ground and destiny of their own lives will recognize and welcome it in others. The quality of our interpersonal relations with divine and human persons is all of a piece. The pure of heart see God in relation to all others and’all others in relation to God; they love God in his creatures and his creatures in God. God speaks his word of love to them in all that he creates and sustains and destines for his Beloved Son. As the Word of God, Jesus Christ gives birth to Christian faith, hope, and love: the transforming dynamic of the dialogue among divine and ¯ human persons at the heart of Christian conversion. Dialogue in the gospels leads us to encounter the Good News that Jesus Christ is for all humankind (Mk 1:1). Through and in him, God himself invites all human persons to colloquy in the living encounter of heart and heart, voice and voice. Dialogue, as a dramatic form of the Gospel itself, is an outward expression of Christian sharing in the interpersonal life of Jesus Christ with his Father and Spirit. In our interpersonal life with Jesus we hear the Word of God’s love for us and for all who partake with us in the universal story. Our mutual love in Jesus Christ and his Spirit expresses our reception and acceptance of the interpersonal love and life of Jesus Christ with his Father and their Spirit. Christian conversion means our sharing in Jesus Christ’s dialogue of love with all divine and human persons. Being-in-Love, the Blessed Trinity, is Being-in-Dialogue; it is the Supreme Goodness of interpersonal life that Christians affirm to be revealed in Jesus Christ, Conversion Expressed in Dialogue and Story / 7’11

the Word of God, as the meaning and purpose of the universal story. The "I" that is Jesus Christ is the Being-In-Love whose interpersonal existence is that of addressing every "You," both divine and human, with the love that is the Supreme Goodness at the heart of the universal story.

Story o God is revealed through human stories.2 God is a particular agent that is known and revealed in his story. Inasmuch as God is the giver of all human life stories, they are manifestations of his grace and are measured by the demands of his intention. Human life stories are implicitly co-authored with God and neigh- bor. The transcendent Spirit of God is, and is known, where it acts in the self- transcending faith and hope and love through which it transforms our lives. The gift of God’s love through the Spirit of Jesus grounds the story ,.of Christian conversion. The telling and the hearing of the gospel story are the work of the same Spirit working in both the teller and the hearer. Christian conversion is the gift of God which enables us to hear the story of Jesus and his Church; it enables us to recognize that story as our story and to tell it. In appropriating that story we appropriate our own life story. Our distinctive ways of telling the story of Jesus correspond to the divers ways in which God can tell us that we are loved and trusted. The names of Jesus connote the ways that God’s gift of his love transform our lives and constitute the life story of the Church. The story of Jesus being in agony in the garden discloses the inescapable tension in the life of Christian conversion. His suffering is disclosed to us not as the sign that something is wrong but as the sign that he is on the right path. The Gospel presents the Way of the Cross as Good News, as the growing pains which attend the process of self- transcendence, as the birth-pangs which herald the new creation. We must not attempt to tell anyone of the meaning of suffering, as illuminated by the cross of Jesus Christ, until we have, for ourselves, appropriated the meaning by experienc- ing what it is to live out the self-transcending and costly love of the Way of Cross. That every person who has ever lived has lived out a story of storytelling and storylistening posits a comprehensible universe with a permanent meaning at the heart of things. The life story of Jesus Christ discloses that meaning to faith; it is the primordial sacrament of God’s gift of his love, experienced by the Christian as underlying and informing all human life stories. The life story of the crucified and risen Jesus is recognized in Christian conversion as the icon and parable of God, the key to the Christian interpretation of every human story’s ultimate meaning and value. An understanding of Jesus Christ’s life story as a story growing out of the web of interpersonal relations which made up his community is essential for an understanding of our own life stories as Christians and for an understanding of the way in which our own life stories are incorporated into his universal life story.

-’The ideas of this section are developed in the book that 1 have co-authored with Thomas Cooper, Tellers o.f the Word." Nine Moments in the Theology of Stor.v (New York: l,e Jacq Publishing Co., Inc.. 1981). 7~12 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

Since the personal is .interpersonal, we cannot grasp the significance of Jesus Christ apart from his relationships with the persons--both divine and human-- who enter his life,from whom he receives his life and for whom he gives his life. The life of Jesus Christ, like all interpersonal existence, is rooted in the giving and receiving of love, in knowing and being known, in reciprocal intercommunication between persons. The interpersonal life of Jesus Christ--his relationships to God and to his fellow humans, to divine and to human persons--is the prime analogate for the Christian community’s experience and understanding and judgment of its own interpersonal relationships with divine and human persons, and of the rela- tionship between the universal story and the Triune God. We express our interper- sonal life in the form of story. The gospel writers express God’s transformation of our interpersonal life in Jesus Christ--Christian conversion as event and process-- in narrative form. They tell the Jesus story, the story of the Christian community’s participation in his interpersonal life and love, the story of God’s loving us so much that he sent his only Son to die and rise for us and breathe upon us his Holy Spirit. Ultimate reality is disclosed in the life story of Jesus as the interpersonal life of Being-in-Love without limits. To be or not to be, for persons, is to be-in-love or not to be-in-love, to be interpersonally related or not to be related. For Christians that boundless, limitless Being-in-Love is incarnate in the life and story of Jesus Christ, an existing person whose interpersonal love-life embraces and integrates all persons, human and divine. Human persons are free to accept or to reject the interpersonal love-life that he reveals and communicates as the integration of all persons, human and divine, in one life of interpersonal love and friendship, the eschatological fulfillment of which is the communion of saints in the kingdom of God, the locus of our true selves, the culmination of the event and process of Christian conversion. Christian conversion expresses the Good News that we belong to his life story. Christian conversion is to be in love as Jesus Christ is in love; to accept Being-in-Love, God himself who is love, and the interpersonal life that is being given us in the. universal story. Being-in-Love, the Triune God, is the Supreme Goodness of interpersonal life that Christians.affirm to be revealed in Jesus Christ as the meaning and purpose of the universal story. The Cross represents the total self-investment of Being-in-Love for the achievement of this purpose. God is Love, investing his interpersonal life in the universal story. The "I" that is Jesus Christ is the Beiiag-in-Love whose interpersonal existence is that of addressing every "You," both human and divine, with the love that is the Supreme Goodness at the heart of the universal story. Jesus tells his disciples that belonging to the interpersonal love-life of God (Lk 10:20) is a deeper motive for their rejoicing than whatever power they possess over evil: "... rather rejoice that your names are written in heaven." Luke envisions Jesus as the person whose interpersonal love-life embraces both the world of his Father in heaven and that of his disciples on earth. This is the ultimate basis of all Christian rejoicing in the event and process of conversion. This foundational Conversion Expressed in Dialogue and Story / 743 experience communicates our assurance of our ultimate interpersonal fulfillment. In our interpersonal life with Jesus we hear the Word of God’s love for us and for all who partake with us in the universal story. The dialogue and story of the New Testament express the gift and demand of this life. The very meaning of Christian conversion comes to expression in dialogue and story, the primal modes of inter- personal communication and life. It is through the life story of Jesus and his Church that Christians hear God speaking his saving and purposeful word of love for all human persons. And through this hearing Christians are enabled to return that word of love to God and to all others in the saving dialogue of Christian conversion; for no one speaks it who has not heard it at the depth of his own life story. Nemo dat quod non habet.

Reflections on Mark (4:35-41) and Luke (24.’25) It was night, like the dark night of a soul, when a squall came up, and strong winds blew. The winds and waves grew high and rolled, instilling new fright in the men of God, but Jesus slept. I, too, am afraid when he does not speak; I feel alone, and the world comes crashing around my head, like white waves towering over me. until: "Peace! Be still," the Master says, and the sea grows calm, and the strong winds die. Yet, like the apostles. I wonder why, I, who have known about his love, could forget him so many times. yet each time ask, "Could this be and hear him answer patiently, "Oh, foolish and slow of heart!" Sister Anna Patricia Hanlon, S.S.J. 825 Mahantongo Street. Pottsville, PA 17901 Revision of the Proposed Canons on the Consecrated Life: II

Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.

Father Gallen is editor of the Questions and Answers department. He resides in the Jesuit community of St. Joseph’s University: City Ave. & 54th St.: Philadelphia, PA 19131.

The first part of this matter was published in RfR, 40 (1981), pp. 604-18. The original present section was published in Communicationes, 13 (1981), pp. 151- 21 I, and all references in this article are to that volume of Communicationes. The subject matter is the revision by the Roman study group of the proposed canons relative to the consecrated life, after receiving the comments of the consul- tative organs. This Roman revision is not yet completed and ends at can. 66. The boldface number at the beginning is the canon number. In Communica- tiones the canons are in Latin, the minutes in ltalian. The canon number in parentheses at the end of a part or of a canon is that found in the English translation of the proposed canons published by the Publications Office, United States Catholic Conference. In this article, the canons are found in the order given in Communicationes. In a few cases I was uncertain of the final text because the total number of consultors, the number present and the required majority vote were not given. "Canon five, paragraph one, number one" used to read Can. 5, § 1, 1°. It now reads Can. 5, § 1, 1). We can all continue to pray that "can." will not be repeated before each canon, and for the omission of the paragraph sign--that is, "5, 1, l)."

Religious Institutes: Title III. The Admission of C~indidates and the Formation of Members Art. 1. Requisites for the Admission of Candidates 27, § 1. One is invalidly admitted to noviceship: I) who has not completed the seventeenth year of age: 744 Revision of Proposed Canons / 745

2) who is married and during the time of the marriage; 3) who is presently obligated by a sacred bond in an institute of consecrated life, or is incorporated into. a society of apostolic life, safeguarding the prescrip- tions of can. __ [on a transfer from another institute]; 4) who enters religion induced by force, grave fear, or .fraud, or whom the superior receives under the pressure of the same influences; 5) who concealed his admission into an institute of consecrated life, or is incorporated into a society of apostolic life. § 2. The constitutions can enact other impediments also for the validity of admission or establish conditions. (Can. 47-48) 21~, § 1. Before candidates are admitted to the noviceship, they must present a certificate of baptism and confirmation and also an attestation of their freedom of state. § 2. For the admission of clerics or those who had been admitted into another institute of consecrated life, or is incorporated into a ~ociety of apostolic life, or a seminary, testimonials are further required respectively of the diocesan bishop, major superior of the institute, or rector of the seminary. § 3. Proper law may demand other testimonials concerning the required suita- bility of candidates and their freedom from impediments. § 4. Superiors may also seek other information, even under secrecy, if they believe this necessary. (Can. 49) Art. 2. The Formation of Novices 29. The purpose of the noviceship, the beginning of life in the institute, is that the novices may more deeply consider the divine vocation, especially as proper to the institute, experience the manner of life of the institute, be imbued in mind and heart with its spirit, and that their own resolve and fitness may be proved. (Can. 50). 30, § 1. The erection, transfer and suppression of a novitiate are to be effected by a written decree of the general superior of the institute with the consent of his council. § 2. For its validity the noviceship must be made in a house legitimately designated for this purpose. In particular cases and by way of exception, in virtue of the concession of the general superior with the consent of his council, a candi- date may make the noviceship in another house of the institute under the direction of someone acting as novice master. § 3. A major superior may permit the novitiate community to reside during certain periods in another house of the institute designated by him. (Can. 51) 31, § 1. For its validity the noviceship must comprise twelve months spent in the novitiate community itself. § 2. The constitutions, to complement the formation of the novices, in addi- tion to the time established in § !, may enact one or many periods of exercise of the apostolate outside the novitiate community. § 3. The noviceship is not to extend beyond two years, the prescription of can. 74~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

36, § 2, remaining unaffected. (Can. 52, 56) 31 his, § 1. The provisions of can. 30, § 3 and 31, § 2, remaining intact, an absence from the novitiate house that exceeds three continuous or interrupted mor~ths renders the noviceship invalid. An absence over fifteen days is to be supplied. § 2. First profession may be anticipated but not beyond fifteen days, with the permission of the competent major superior. (Can. 52) 32, § 1. The scope of the noviceship demands that the novices be formed under the guidance of the master according to the program of formation defined by proper law. § 2. The.govern,ment of the novices is reserved to the master alone, under the authority of higher superiqrs. (Can. 52-3) 33, § 1. The master of novices must be a member of the institute professed of perpetua.! vows and legitimately designated. § 2. If necessary the master may be given assistants who are subject to him in the government of the novitiate and the formation pro.gram. § 3. The formation of novices shall be entrusted to members who have been carefully prepared. They are not to be hindered by other duties so that they can carry out their work fruitfully and in a stable manner. (Can. 53-4) 34, § 1. It appertains to the master and his assistants to discern and prove the vocation of the novices and to form them gradually to live the life of perfection proper to the institute. § 2. The novices shall be led to the cultivation of the human and Christian virtues, introduced into the fuller path of perfection through prayer and abnega- tion of self; instructed to contemplate the mystery of salvation and to read and meditate on Sacred Scripture; educated in the program of life consecrated through the evangelical counsels; and taught the character and spirit, the purpose and discipline, history and life of the institute and imbued with love for the Church and its sacred pastors. (can. 54) § 3. The novices, conscious of their own responsibility, shall cooperate actively with the master in such a way that they faithfully correspond to the divine grace of their x~ocation. § 4. The members of the institute shall on their part cooperate in the work of formation of novices by the example of their own life and prayer. § 5. The time specified in can. 31, § i, is to be spent in the formation of the novices. Therefore, they are not to be occupied with studies or duties which do not directly serve this formation. 35. The text according to the published schema is: Unless.the proper law provides otherwise, in institutes which have several classes of members, the period of the noviceship made for one class is valid for another. After considering the observations of the consultative organs, the study group voted unanimously to suppress this canon. (Can. 55) 36, § 1. A novice may freely leave an institute; the competent authority of an institute can dismiss him. Revision of Proposed Canons / 747

§ 2. When the noviceship is completed the novice shall be admitted to tempo- rary profession, if he is judged suitable; otherwise he must be dismissed. If his suitability is doubtful, the time of the noviceship may be prolonged according to the norm of proper law~ but not beyond six months. (Can. 56) Art. 3. Religious Profession 37. By religious profession the members by public vow assume the observance of the three evangelical counsels, are consecrated to God through the ministry of the Church and incorporated into the institute with the rights and duties defined in law. (Can. 57, § 2) 38. On the completion of the noviceship, temporary profession shall be made for the time defined in proper law, which is to be not less than three nor more than six years. (Can. 58, § 1) 39. The following are required for the validity of temporary profession: 1) at least the completed eighteenth year of age; 2) the noviceship validly made according to the norm of law; 3) admission freely made by the competent superior with the vote of his council according to the norm of law; 4) that it be made expressly and freely; 5) that it be received by the legitimate superior personally or through another. (Can. 59) 40, § 1. On the expiration of the time for which a profession had been made, a religious who.voluntarily requests it and is judged suitable, shall be admitted to the renewal of the profession or to perpetual profession; otherwise he is to leave. § 2. ILit seems appropriate, the period of the temporary profession may be prolonged by the competent superior according to proper law, but the total time that a member is bound by temporary vows may not exceed nine years~ § 3. Perpetual profession may be anticipated for a just reason but not beyond three months. (Can. 60) 41. No can. 41 is given in Communicationes. 42. In addition to the conditions enacted in can. 39, 3, 4, and ’5, as well as others of proper law, the following are required for the validity of,perpetual profes.sion: !) at least the completed twenty-first year of age; 2) a previous temporary profession of at least three years, the provision of can. 40, § 3 being maintained. Art. 4. Formation of Religious 43, § 1. In the individual institutes, the formation of all members after first profession is to be perfected that they may live the distinctive life of the institute more fully and carry out its mission more appropriately. § 2. Therefore, the proper law should define the individual program and duration of this formation, with attention to the necessities of the Church and the conditions of men and times, in accord with the end and character of the institute. 7411 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

§ 3. The formation of members preparing for the reception of sacred orders is governed by the individual program of studies of the institute and universal law. (Can; 64-5) 44, § 1. The formation is to be systematic, adapted to the capacity of the members, spiritual and apostolic, doctrinal and likewise practical. Appropriate ecclesiastical and civil degrees are to be obtained in proportion to their advantages. § 2. During this time the members are not to be assigned to duties and works that would hinder their formation. (Can. 65) 45. Throughout the whole of their lives, religious shall assiduously continue their spiritual, doctrinal and practical formation, and superiors should provide them with the means and time for this purpose. (Can. 65-6) Title IV. The Rights and Obligations of Institutes and Their Members 46. Religious shall hold as the supreme rule of their lives the following of Christ as proposed in. the Gospel and expressed in their constitutions. (Can. 69) 47. The study group voted to suppress this canon, which was can. 68 of the published schema. 411, § 1. The first and principal duty of all religious must be contemplation of divine things and assiduous union with God in prayer. § 2. As far as possible the members shall daily participate in the Eucharistic Sacrifice and receive the Most Holy Body of Christ, and adore the Lord present himself in the sacrament. § 3. They shall attend to the practice of the reading of Sacred Scripture and of mental prayer. According to the prescriptions of proper law, they shall becomingly celebrate the Liturgy of the Hours and perform other spiritual exercises. § 4. They shall faithfully observe the annual periods of sacred retreat. (Can. 72-3) 49, § 1. Religious shall persevere in the conversion of mind to God, examine their consciences also daily, and frequently approach the sacrament of penance. (Can. 73, § 2) § 2. This paragraph was suppressed by the study group. § 3. (to be § 3 of can. 87). They shall practice a special devotion to the Virgin Mother of God, the exemplar and protection of all consecrated life, also by the marian rosary. $0, § 1. Religious, observing common life, shall reside in their own house, nor depart from it without the permission of their superior. If it is a question of a prolonged absence from the house, a major superior with the consent of his council may permit a member to reside outside a house of the institute for a just reason, not, however, for more than a year, except for the cure of an infirmity, studies, or an apostolate to be exercised in the name of the institute. (Can. 77, 97) § 2. This paragraph on cloister was transferred to a distinct canon that will treat the entire matter of cloister. § 3. The necessary discretion shall be observed in the use of the means of communication. Anything harmful to one’s vocation and dangerous .to the chastity of a consecrated person shall be avoided. Revision of Proposed Canons / 749

§ 4. This canon on avoiding relationships that can cause astonishment, scan- dal or be an occasion of a fall was voted on for retention and suppression. Three consultors favored its retention but four its suppression. I am guessing that these four votes were sufficient for its suppression. (Canon without number on cloister) § I. In all houses cloister adapted to the character and mission of the institute shall be observed according to the determi- nations of proper law. A part of the religious house shall always be reserved to the religious alone. § 2. A stricter cloister is to be observed in monasteries directed to the contem- plative life. § 3. Monasteries of nuns completely ordered to the contemplative life must observe a cloister according to the norms enacted by the apostolic see. Other monasteries of nuns observe a cloister adapted to their character and defined in the constitutions. (Can. 107) 51, § 1. Guided by the evangelical spirit, before first profession the members shall cede the administration of their property to whomever they prefer and, unless the constitutions enact the contrary, freely dispose of their use and usufruct. They shall make a will valid also in civil law at least before perpetual profession. § 2. To change these dispositions for a just reason and to place any act in the matter of temporal goods, they need the permission of the superior competent according to the norm of proper law. § 3. Whatever a religious acquires by his activity or with respect to the insti- tute, he acquires for the institute. Whatever comes to him in any way as a pension, assistance or insurance is acquired for the institute, unless the contrary is estab- lished in proper law. § 4. Anyone who from the nature of his institute must fully renounce his goods by perpetual profession shall make this renunciation in a form valid as far as possible also in civil law before perpetual profession, effective from the day of the emission of profession. With the permission of the general superior, the same shall be done by a professed of perpetual vows who, according to the norm of proper law, wishes to renounce his goods partially or wholly. § 5. A professed who has renounced all his goods loses the right of acquisition and possession. Therefore, acts placed by him contrary to the vow of poverty are not only illicit but also invalid, if they can be invalidated. Whatever comes to him after the renunciation belongs to the institute accord- ing to the norm of proper law. 52, § 1. Religious shall wear the habit of their institute according to the norms of proper law as a sign of their consecration and testimony of their poverty. § 2. Religious clerics of a clerical institute that does not have a distinctive habit assume clerical dress according to the norm of can. __ (The People of God, can. 144). (Can. 93) 53. The institute must supply to the members all things necessary according to the norm of the constitutions for attaining the purpose of their vocation. (Can. 57) 54. This canon on vacations due to the members was suppressed by the stud.v 750 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 group, because such matter cannot be considered as a true right of religious. 55. This matter on compensation due to religious institutes or religious for their work and on social assistance in sickness, disability and old age was also suppressed by the study group as inappropriate and understood as appertaining to the suitable provisions of superiors. 56i Religious are obliged by the prescriptions of cann. __ (The People of God, cann. 136 and 145-9). 57. Religious are obliged by the prescriptions of cann. __ (The People of God, cann. 136 and 145-9). Title V. The Apostolate of Institutes and the Exercise of Apostolic Works 58. The apostolate of all religious consists first in the testimony of their conse- crated life, which they are to foster by prayer and penance. (Can. 70) 59. Institutes completely dedicated to contemplation always remain an out- standing part in the Mystical Body of Christ. They offer to God a lofty sacrifice of praise, illumine the people of God with the richest fruits of sanctity, influence them by their example, and increase them by their hidden apostolic fecundity. There- fore, however urgent may be the necessity of the active apostolate, the members of these institutes may not be called upon to assist in the work of the various pastoral ministries. (Can. 70) 60,§ 1. Apostolic action appertains to the very nature of institutes devoted to works of the apostolate. Therefore, the whole ’life of the members .is to be imbued with an apostolic spirit and the total apostolic action animated by the religious spirit. § 2. Apostolic.action should always proceed from an intimate union with God and strengthen and deepen this union. § 3. Apostolic action is to be exercised in the name and by the mandate of the Church and to be carried out in ecclesial communion. (Can. 108) 61. The study group suppressed the first sentence of this canon and made the second sentence can. 66, § 2. Canons Regarding Nuns and Diocesan Institutes According to Communicationes, p. 197, "For the erection of monasteries and their association the relative texts have already been approved (see cann. 35, § 4 and 38 bis)," but these texts were not published in Communicationes. 38 ter. An autonomous monastery, that, above its own superior, does not have another higher superior and is not so associated with an institute of religious men that the latter’s superior possesses true power, determined by the constitu- tions, over such a monastery, is entrusted according to the norm of special law to the vigilance of the diocesan bishop. 39, § 4. The suppression of an autonomous monastery of nuns appertains to the apostolic see. The prescriptions of the constitutions are to be observed with regard to its property. 51, § 2. It is the right and duty of the diocesan bishop to visit, also regarding religiou~ discipline, the autonomous monasteries designated in can. 38 ter and all Revision of Proposed Canons / 751

houses of a diocesan institute located in his territory. 48, 9 2. The diocesan bishop of the principal house presides at the elections of the superior of an autonomous monastery mentioned in can. 38 ter and of the general superior of a diocesan institute. 60. (on alienation) The consent of the local ordinary given in writing must also be had for autonomous monasteries mentioned in c. Ill and diocesan institutes. 59 his. The autonomous monasteries mentioned in can. 38 ter must render an account of administration once a year to the local ordinary, who has the fight also of knowing the financial accounts of a diocesan religious house.

Canons on Relations of Religious Institutes with Bishops 1, § 1. In the exercise of the external apostolate, religious are subject to their own superiors and must remain faithful to the discipline of the institute. The bishops themselves shall not fail to urge this obligation, if the case calls for it. ’° 9 2. Religious are also subject to the power of bishops, to whom they are to manifest faithful deference and reverence in matters that appertain to the care of souls, the public exercise of divine worship and other works of the aposto.late. 9 3; Diocesan bishops and religious superiors should proceed through mutual consultation in ordering the works of the apostolate of religious. 2. Between the various institutes and also between them and the secular clergy, an orderly cooperation shall be fostered, as also, under the direction of the dioce- san bishop, a coordination of all apostolic works and actions, preserving the character, purpose of each institute, and the laws of foundations. 3, 9 1. Works committed by a diocesan bishop to religious are subject to the authority and direction of this bishop, the right of religious superiors according to the norm of can. I, 99 ! and 3 remaining intact. ¯ ’° § 2. In these cases a written agreement shall be made between the local ordi- nary and the competent superior of the institute, in which, among other provi- sions, the matters relating to the fulfillment of the work, the assigning of members, and finances shall be defined expressly and accurately. 4, 9 1. If an ecclesiastical office is to be conferred in a diocese on a religious, he is appointed by the diocesan bishop on the presentation or at least with the assent of the competent superior. 9 2. The religious may be removed’ from the duty (munus) at the will of the appointing authority, having informed the religious superior, or by the latter, having informed the one appointing, without the necessity of the consent of the other. 5, 9 1. The churches and oratories that the faithful habitually attend, schools and other religious, charitable, spiritual and temporal works of religious may be visited by the diocesan bishop, personally or through another, at the time of the pastoral visitation and also in a case of necessity, but not schools exclusively for the students of the institute. § 2. If he has detected abuses and so advised the superior in vain, he may make provision on his own authority. 752 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

6. Religious may be punished by the local ordinary even with penalties in all matters in which they are subject to him. 7. Through an indult legitimately granted by the local ordinary, the obligation of common law ceases for all religious staying in the diocese, the proper law of the institute remaining untouched. 62-63. These canons were stated in Communicationes, p. .209, "to have been already treated in canons previously approved." 64. This was can. 117 of the published schema. Can. 64 was suppressed by the study group. 65. L~ay insti~tutes of men and women fulfill a pastoral office of the Church through their spiritual and corporal works of mercy and provide a great diversity of serqices for mankind. Let them consequently continue faithful to the grace of their vocation. (Can. 118) 66, § 1. Superiors and members should faithfully retain the mission and works proper to the institute. They shall also prudently adapt these according to the necessities of times and places, employing also new and opportune means. (Can. 109) § 2. (To be placed here according to p. 197 of Communicationes) Institutes shall help with special care societies of the faithful associated with them, if such exist, to become imbued with the genuine spirit of their family. (can. 115) However, according to p. 154 of Communicationes, the following, whose matter ~would be clearly out of place, was to have been can. 66: Superiors shall not admit secular clerics to the noviceship without consulting the local ordinary nor those burdened with debts which they are unable to pay. (can. 47-8)

Comments Can. 27, § I, 3). This impediment will most rarely be verified because both definitive separation and dismissal free from the vows and all consequent obliga- tions and rights. 4) "admits" would be the more consistent and usual term than "receives." 5) "an institute" is apparently understood here and inferentially also in 3) by the study group as "another institute." This is not completely clear in the original text ("aliquod institutum" and "aliquo instituto") and could and should have been made explicit, as suggested by one consultor and as found in can. 28, § 2 ("aliud institutum"). 33, § 1. Omit "legitimately designated," which is something that is evidently understood. 36, § 2. Change "be dismissed" to "leave." 43, § 3. Universal law should be placed before the individual program of an institute. 49, § 1. The relator responded to a question by stating that the sense of "frequerltly" is twice a month according to the definition given by the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes. 50, § 1. The secretary and the eighth consultor stated that the apostolate was Revision of Proposed Canons not intended here as any personal apostolate at all freely chosen by the religious himself. 51, 9 2. The necessity of permission for any act in the disposition of temporal goods is evidently the obligation of the religious vow of poverty. It appears to be stated here as an obligation of universal law. 9 4. What religious institutes "from their nature" exclude the right of acquisi- tion and possession of temporal property by the individual professed of perpetual vows? There is also something of a contradiction between the privation of this right by proper law at perpetual profession and the interval after perpetual profes- sion now required for a voluntary renunciation by the practice of the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes. 9 5. The sense here is obscure. The canon seems to say that one who has renounced all his actually owned present property by that very fact becomes incapable of acquisition and possession of property in the future. These two acts are certainly in themselves separable. Whether the renunciation of all of one’s property includes only the case in which the voluntary intention of the member extends also to property to be acquired in the future is not clear. If such an intention is not required, the renunciation of all of one’s actual present property alon~ would impose a stricter poverty by universal law on the one making such a renunciation than is imposed on the other members by universal law (see can. 5 I, 99 1-3). As noted under can. 24, there is nothing also in the present canon on the possession of money by individual religious, obt_aining of necessitids from the community, the legitimate limit in material things, and the consequent moral uniformity among members in this matter (see the present can. 594). 52, 9 1. The relator stated that it would not. be legitimate to abolish the habit and that the phrase, "according to proper law," permitted to proper law only the concrete determination of the type of habit (Communicationes, p. 190). However, these words of the relator will by no means be in themselves an obligatory norm. The present wording of the canon should be certainly changed to, for example, "Religious shall wear the habit of their institute, whose concrete form only is left to the determinations of proper law, as a sign of their consecration and testimony of their poverty." 56-7. Apparently it was not noticed that the canons referred to are the same in can. 56-7. The statement on pp. 193-4 of Communicationes that when these canons (136, 145-9) require the "permission of the proper ordinary," the under- standing is that of the permission of the competent [higher] religious superior in the case of religious women. Evidently the same understanding extends to lay institutes of men. 4, 9 2. The study group changed "duty" to "office" in the first paragraph. Obviously the same change should have been made in the second paragraph. Primitive Monasticism and Modern Religious Life

Roman Ginn, O.C.S.O.

Father Ginn, a monk of Gethsemani Monastery (KY), has been residing as:a hermit in Mexico for many years. His last article for these pages appeared in the issue of May, 198 I. His address continues to be: Apartado 44: Huajuapan de Leon: Oaxaca, Mexico.

Today there is increasing interest in the beginning of religious life in the Church. New translations of the classics of primitive monasticism, such as Cassian, are coming out and other pieces of desert spirituality are finding their way into English for.~.he first time. In spite of the obscurity that still surrounds the origin of the immense fourth-century monastic movement that marks the beginning of religious life in Christianity, our knowledge of this event is much greater today than a few decades ago. Consequently the sayings and doings of the Egyptian Desert Fathers and other early monks deserve much the same new look from religious that ’the Bible, the liturgy and other sources of Christian life have been favored. Those who made their first and perhaps only contact with these monks through stories about them in Rodriguez’ Christian Perfection or some similar source are not to be blamed if they came away with the impression that the Apophthegmata Patrum is an early Christian joke-book, that the apatheia prac, ticed and taught by the monks was really apathy, and that th6 whole movement would fit better into a history of stoicism than of Christianity. And if the Imitation of Christ devotes an entire chapter to the monks as models for other religious, it is only another proof of the tyranny of authority from which we are trying to escape today. No claim will be made here that everything in primitive monasticism is relevant today or that the monks made no mistakes. The spiritual combat in the desert left many casualties. Some words of the Fathers could be misleading if they were not interpreted and even at times corrected by the tradition that preserved them. But, 754 Primitive Monasticism [ 755 in general, modern religious should regard the documents of the early monastic movement as a precious heritage--one that needs to be purified here and there, but one to which there should be constant return as to a source of light and inspiration. After removing some popular misunderstanding about monks, a few areas in which contact with them may be of particular benefit for today’s religious will be pointed out. The first false notion that needs to be corrected is that monasticism began in Egypt and spread from there to other parts of the Empire. It is true that one form of monasticism developed in this way--the classical or Coptic type described by Cassian and by the rule of St. Pachomius--but this is probably not the earliest. Even before Cassian’s hermits and Pachomius’ cenobites took to the desert, another kind of monasticism was very likely in existence in Syria, Asia Minor and other parts of ihe Empire, including Egypt. It caught quite a variety of fish in its net. These primitive ascetics of monks are often mentioned in fourth-century texts and sermons under various names, the best known of which is "sarabites." They lived sometimes alone and sometimes in small groups within or without cities. In spite of the rough treatment Cassian gives them, they were a respectable body of Christians, and some of them initiated the young St. Anthony into the life of perfection. The doctrine taught by the monks and covered by the stoic term apatheia has been a source of misunderstanding about monasticism from the beginning. A definition that would cover all uses of the word apatheia in early monastic texts would be difficult to compose because of the various shades of meaning given to it by different Fathers. Thus St. Gregory of Nyssa, who uses the term frequently, regards it as a participation of the soul in divine life. It is something eminently positive. The only passions it eliminates are evil ones. For St. Gregory, apatheia means the life of Christ in the Christian. For brevity’s sake, however, we will confine our attention to its meaning in the work of Evagrius of Pontus, who introduced the concept into monastic literature and made it the central notion of his ascetical doctrine. For Evagrius apatheia could be defined as "spiritual health." It is only present when the three parts of the soul are cured of spiritual diseases so that each can perform its proper function. These diseases are the passions which are in the two lower parts of the soul, the irascible and concupiscible, and which cause thoughts that "obscure" the contemplation of God by the superior part of the soul, nous. The purpose of the spiritual method employed by Evagrius is not to stun or kill the passions but to purify and rectify them. The nous can then pursue its contempla- tion unhindered, the irascible part can expend its energy in combat with the demons, and the concupiscible will desire only virtue. The cure is effected by the growth of virtue in all three parts: the nous is filled with prudence, intelligence and wisdom; the irascible part is filled with courage and perseverance; and the concup- iscible with continence, abstinence and charity. The signs that the cure has taken place are the capacity to pray without distractions, a general pacification that 756 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

reaches even the subconscious regions of the soul so that dreams leave it undis- turbed, and finally the ability to judge oneself objectively. Thus the apatheia taught by Evagrius is intimately connected with charity, its "daughter," and is the gateway to contemplation. It is closely akin to St. Ignatius of Loyola’s "indifference." Both men chose terms that could be and often were misunderstood. But the apatheia of the desert dwellers is no more apathy than lgnatian indifference is a "don’t-give-a-damn" attitude. And if the doctrine is still too philosophical in Evagrius to suit our taste, a fifth-century disciple of the early monastic masters, Abbot Isaiah, gives it a Christological meaning that makes it more attractive. "My brethren, let us force ourselves to be attentive and to get rid of shameful passions; let us acquire those of which our Lord Jesus Christ has given us an example in his sacred body; for he is holy and he dwells in the holy." In last analysis Jesus is the perfect exemplar of desert apatheia and his imitation is the best way to attain it. If the first monks made use of a stoic term, they infused a completely Christian meaning into it. It must be admitted however that the word was never popular in the West; Cassian found substitutes for it, such as "purity of heart." But that doesn’t mean we have no use for it today. In fact the designation of the terminal state of the ascetical life with a negative expression, may have a providen- tial role to play in the dialogue now beginning with the non-Christian Oriental religions, where emphasis on negative states or attitudes such as nirvana, non- violence and the Neti-Neti way, is so strong. Aside from this, Evagrian apatheia, with the combat against the eight leading vices and the demons that operate through them that it implies, may well offer just the defensiv( spirituality many are looking for in a society ever more filled with aggression and violence. It can help us to remember that ultimately our only real enemies are our own uncontrolled passions and the "principalities and powers" behind them. Another frequent misconception in regard to primitive monasticism concerns its attitude toward the body. Sometimes it is accused of leaving the body out of its spirituality altogether, as if we were pure spirits. Thus Abbot Arsenius is recorded as saying that one hour’s sleep nightly should beenough for a monk. At other times it is claimed that the early monks concentrated on the corporeal aspect of asceticism to the neglect of its spiritual aspect, that they were more interested in how much bread went into the monk’s stomach than in how much humility and charity filled his heart. A saying of Abbot Agathon is frequently quoted as an expression of the true desert conviction that body and spirit must always work hand in hand in the effort for perfection. On being asked which was better, bodily toil or interior attention, the answer came: "Man is like a tree. Bodily labor is the leaf and interior attention is the fruit. According to Sacred Scripture, ’Every tree that does not bear fruit must be cast into the fire.’ It is obvious then that our whole care should be bestowed on the fruit, i.e. on interior attention. But we also need the protection and adornment furnished by the leaves, i.e. by physical toil." But even granted that the "leaves" were necessary, they could be despised. Did Primitive Monasticism / 757

the monks teach contempt for the body? In a movement as vast as that of primitive monasticism in which thousands of individuals were caught up, it would be sur- prising if some alien philosophical influences did not seep in. Some of the ’regions in which monasticism first appeared were infected by gnosticism, Platonism, Manichaeism and other doctrines which exaggerated the distance between the body and the spirit. Many in these regions did despise the body as an enemy or at best a slave of the spirit. By osmosis with this environment, some monks were led astray. But to determine how many, the same exacting and meticulous care that has been expended on every line of the Bible ought to be applied to the documents of early monasticism. The complete circumstances and context of every remark about the body must be examined. The literary form of the text, the author’s intention, the audience, the exact meaning of every term, all have their influence on the meaning. The same statement will mean one thing in a baptismal creed and something else in an exhortation to imitate the passion of Christ. If some monastic authors speak of the body with contempt, and if some monks treated their bodies like beasts of burden, this is usually balanced by their love for the "dear enemy" (St. Gregory of Nazianzus) and the motivation behind it is Christian and not pagan. In general the first monks had an ardent desire for bodily suffering because they wanted to share in the cross of Christ. The time of the first monks is past. But they carried out a psychoanalysis and a psychosynthesis of the human heart that has permanent value for all who come after them. This would not have been possible without their willingness to experi- ment even at the risk of some exaggeration. Without the fierce asceticism that accompanied their therapeutic task, we might well wonder if they hadn’t left something out. By tearing themselves to pieces bodily and spiritually, they have made it possible for us to know ourselves much better and live the spiritual life with greater realism. But our asceticism today will take a different direction, not only because we are not as hardy as those Coptic farmers or Syrian shepherds, but also because, thanks to their achievement, we can see the nature of the combat better. Today’s religious will seek forms of asceticism that better free him or her for prayer and fraternal charity. Rather than make a habit of inflicting pain on our bodies, ours may better be the association of liberating them from dependence on drugs of any kind--not only the obvious ones, but the less obvious, such as noise, restlessness, speed, TV, and a need for a list of extreme experiences. We must discipline them to listen for the Spirit and to respond spontaneously to its every call, whether this leads to an hour of prayer or to a task done for our neighbor. But granted that the early monks did not practice literal apathy, nor despise their bodies, what positive contribution can they make to modern religious life? Religious life today, like the West in genera.l, is faced with a generalized authority crisis. This means that documents born of spiritual experience and composed to introduce others into this are rated above those written from books or theoretical a prioris. But primitive monastic literature is precisely of this type. It is mystagogical: an initiation into Christian experience. The Apophthegmata Patrum, for example, consists, in its complete form, of about sixteen hundred particular spiritual expe- 7511 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 riences recorded to guide newcomers to the desert in their combat against their passions so that they could find God in peace and be prepared for the solitary life. This kind of literature should be easy for the modern religious to appreciate, for it sometimes appears at the foundation of later religious orders. The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola, for example, falls into this genre; it is a mystagogical work. It was composed in stages based on the saint’s spiritual expe- rience, and was designed to help others "to feel and taste [spiritual] things inte- riorly. ~ Many of its themes are an echo of pure desert spirituality, for example, its vision of sin and of the devil and the importance it attaches to discerning interior motions. An outstanding specialist in primitive monasticism, Jesuit Father Hein- rich Bacht, does not hesitate to call Ignatius’ little book a Konzentrat, a condensa- tion of primitive Oriental monastic spirituality. And Hugo Rahner has called attention to a hidden metahistorical nexus between the founder of the Jesuits and the early Oriental Church Fathers. The same is no doubt true of other founders of modern religious congregations. Charles de Foucauld could be an example. All founders, no matter, what period of history they live in, seem to be soul-brothers and sisters. This means that by reading early monastic literature, today’s religious are studying their own beginnings in more than one way. It also means that such literature remains a source of insight for the solution of problems in modern religious life. Sacred Scripture is another field in which desert spirituality may be helpful today. There can be no doubt that the scientific study of the Bible has brought God’s Word more immediately into the spiritual lives of countless modern reli- gious. The necessity and utility of this cannot be questioned. But if scholars have provided excellent tools for a rational understanding of the sacred text, they have so far offered little for an intuitive understanding. They haven’t succeeded in integrating a symbolic reading of the Bible into their discipline~ This study should not replace the historical-philological kind, but it should accompany and supple- ment it, as it did, for example, with St. Jerome. And until a solid technique comparable to the four-sense scheme of the Middle Ages has been developed to guide us in a symbolic reading, we can help ourselves a little by going to the first monks. A symbolic reading of the Bible was second-nature for them as for all the Fathers. When they read the sacred text, their prob!em was to restrain an already exuberant imagination. Our problem in too many cases is to stimulate a half- starved one that has been living too long on a diet of technological culture and positivistic philosophy. A first step toward this symbolic reading would be taken by forming a habit of reading patristic works on the Bible in order to limber up our imagination and set it moving in the right direction. Origen, St. Augustine or St. Jerome could go a long way in restoring this languid mental faculty of our day. A seco’nd step toward our goal would be the practice of "direct-contact" biblical reading, i.e. read and reread the text without notes or commentaries. The point here is to allow the symbols in the sacred text to work on both our congcious and unconscious minds without being distracted by remarksfrom the outside. The Primitive Monasticism / 759

Bible°is full of symbols and archetypes that, even if only registered in our subcon- scious as we read, can be of greater spiritual value to us than the information offered in footnotes or commentaries. For example, the story of Abraham’s sacri- fice of Isaac in Genesis 22 is one of the spiritual high-points of the Bible. Anyone who is called upon to make some great sacrifice will discover in reading it a tremendous source of courage and consolation if he or she can identify with the historical Abraham and Isaac, who are symbols of Christ, and ultimately with Christ himself. But for such symbolization to function, the reader’s attention must not be drawn away from the action of the story by trivialities such as the location of Moriah. And for those who have the time, this type of reading can be backed up by memorizing passages of greater importance. Cassian remarks that such memor- ization is often rewarded by sudden insights into the text during our hours of rest that were refused while we were wide-awake. The new symbolic reading method might well integrate modern studies on symbolism in philosophy, psychology and literary criticism into a theological hermeneutic that will both prevent subjectivism and provide us with positive norms. Until such a new technique comes along, we can practice symbolic reading ourselves, being guided by the liturgy, tradition and good taste. Primitive monasti- cism offers an excellent model for such practice in St. Jerome, who was not only the best scientific biblical scholar of his day but also an indefatigable symbol- searcher who knew Origen even better than Hebrew. He and the other early monks are also a constant reminder to us today that there are things in the sacred text that no reading method will discover but only purity of heart and that the Bible is not only God’s Word in general, but contains a particular word addressed to each of ,us, teachihg us how to please our heavenly Father and respond to his loving ~mt~atlves. A final field in which ~rimitive monasticism may be especially helpful today is prayer. The early monk was a professional man of prayer. For the most part he was not content with what is called ,’implicit" prayer. He took St. Paul’s admoni- tion to "pray always" in its most literal sense and looked around for some means of obeying it..Many of these means, such as ejaculatory prayer and the practice of the presence of God, are now part of the Church’s common teaching on prayer and are consequently well-known. A less known means is hesychasm, a system of spirituality based on the practice of hesychia, a word that can be translated "rest," "tranquillity," or "silence." It is the third word spoken by the angel to St. Arsenius when that great hesychast was seeking the road to perfection: "Flee, keep silent, and rest (hesychaze). ’" It designates a tranquil state of soul necessary for contem- plative prayer, but it also becomes a technical term for the life-style devoted completely to this form of prayer, i.e. the eremitical life. The hesychast regards physical hesychia, a life in solitude, as a means necessary for the attainment of spiritual hesychia, interior contemplative prayer. Although the monks were con- vinced that only the hermit could reach the perfection of hesychia, they granted that those living in community could aspire to some degree of it. Full-time hesychia is of course out of the question for most modern religious. 760 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

A few days of it every year, however, could give ~ contemplative orientation to a whole life. And there are two categories of religious for whom hesychasm should have great appeal: the sick and the elderly. How could a prolonged illness be better spent than in learning to find and serve God as the first religious did, in the words of St. Jerome, non Ioquendo et discursando, sed tacendo et sedendo (not in discussions and travel, but in silence and sitting still). And what better conclusion could be found for a life dedicated to teaching or nursing than a few years given completely to the practice of contemplative prayer in the solitude and silence of a community infirmary.

An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry Of Social Justice

by Max Oliva, S.J.

Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage.

Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St, Louis, Missouri 63108 An Open Letter to Fearful, Fleeing Fighters

Gilmary Beagle, I.H.M.

Sister Gilmary resides in St. Matthew Convent: 78 Ridgeway St.; East Stroudsburg, PA 18301.

There are many of us, you know, a whole generation. "Born" into religious life between the late fifties and early seventies, we have now spent just about half-- more or less--of our lives in vows. We are products of various novitiates; pre- Vatican It traditional types, the "experimental" types of the early sixties, and the relatively more stable types that developed during the past decade. We are usually highly educated, competent women. Many of us have risen to positions of author- ity and responsibility in our congregations. We are superiors, principals, adminis- trators. We write for professional publications; we address professional organiza- tions. We are, by and large, successful. We are the "Sister Lucy Generation," products of Sister Formation programs in whom our congregations invested much. And we are, many of us, not so sure of things anymore. In the past we found a great deal of security in our professional competence. We realized our potentials as teachers, nurses, social workers, and found satisfac- tion working for the Church. We had, many of us, what I have come to call "corporation spirituality." You know what that is. It is the attitude that holds that working for the Church--for God--is much like working for IBM or AT & T. As employees of a corporation, we can believe in the company we are working for, in the work we are doing, and we can be a highly successful and very valuable member of the corporation without ever going to dinner at the home of the president of the firm. The success of IBM or AT & T is in no way limited by that fact. It is the way things are in the professional world. Thousands of employees work for secular corporations and provide excellent products, without feeling the need to establish a personal relationship with the Board of Directors. 761 762 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

Translated into religious terms, however, that means that we could spend many happy and productive years in our religious communities without ever establishing a personal love relationship with the "President Of the Firm." We can do the work of the Church, we can be effective and influential--but our relation- ship with the Lord remains very business-like, very impersonal. For many of us, I suspect, this is the way we have spent our time. We have believed strongly in our "product"--the mandate to baptize all nations. To that end we have become professionally superior. We have given ourselves tirelessly to establishing high quality educational institutions, to building and staffing impressive medical facili- ties, to attaining a level of performance that is at least equal to that of our "competit6rsr’ in the secular world. And we have met with remarkable success and recognition. We are, after all, fighters, doers and movers, and as such have expe- rienced a great deal of satisfaction, and a great deal of dissatisfaction; for we are also fearful, also fleeing. Somehow, in spite of the accolades we have become accustomed to, we feel a sense of emptiness. For many of us there is a growing, undeniable need for a transformation. For each .of us, the call to transformation comes differently. For me it came in the form of a thirty-day directed retreat. Three years ago ! began the process of transferring from one religious congregation to another. During the March prior to the actual move, the community to which I sought admission suggested I make such a retreat the following July. With no small number of misgivings, I tentatively agreed to the plan. I had been a miserable failure at directed retreats earlier in my life and was not at all sure this was the way to begin life in a new religious community. Thirty-day retreats were, I felt, for those people who needed to get their lives in order.0And mine was, I assured myself, neat and tidy already. The night prior to the opening of the retreat I sat in the room of the sister who would be the director and explained why this would not work for me. I was not a directed-retreat type of person; I was perfectly content with the relationship I had with the Lord; I didn’t need thirty full days to think and pray. As a concession, however, and because’l had not yet made an annual retreat, 1 agreed to go to the retreat house for five days. The canonical minimum was, I was sure, all I could endure. At my core, I knew what I feared, fought, and was fleeing. I feared such a retreat for many reasons. The silence and reflection would give me too much time to rethink the transfer, and indeed, all the rest of my life, without the relatively soothing distraction of tests, term papers, and other such pleasantries usually associated with the life of an English teacher, with the professional life I lived. The presence of a director’would force me to forego the safe anonymity of a preached retreat. The smug complacence that marked certain areas of my life in the past few years would have to be confronted. The awesome reality of a life that was profes- sionally superior and spiritually mediocre could not be glossed’over in a directed retreat. During a retreat of this type the corporate professional was going to confront the spiritual amateur, and the result would be soul-shattering. For the first few days of the retreat then, I continued to flee and fight. Repeat- An Open Letter edly I said I was terminating the experience on the sixth day. Repeatedly I heard something inside me respond that I would stay. By the fourth day I knew I was going to complete the thirty days; by the seventh day I wanted to. This is not to say I didn’t fight during the remaining three weeks. Most, if not all, of my preconceived notions had to go. The glib satisfaction I had in my professional successes, the pet theory of a "corporation spirituality," my preference for a remote, easily-satisfied God were on the firing line. The choice I had was not to transfer or not, as I had feared, but whether or not to take up life in the new community as I had lived until now or to radically redirect the deepest and most important part of myself. This was a much more fundamental and hence, more frightening~decision. Because of the standard of excellence and the atmosphere of competency that marked the new community, it would have been altogether too easy for me to remain only a superior teacher after the transfer was complete. One of the dangers our generation faces is that we are, like Eliot’s Thomas Becket, too easily led to do "the right deed for the wrong reason." We use the need to maintain the professional excellence that makes us effective as an excuse for not developing the other, less external aspects of our lives. The question of how 1 wished to live the rest of my life, of how deeply and personally involved I wanted to get with the Lord, raised its head again and again once I gave myself over to the sprit?it of the retreat. The question of The Two Standards, the meditation that comes during the second week of the Ignatian Exercises, became especially meaningful. At first it seemed to me too strong to say the choice was between Christ and Satan. After all, I told myself, l’d been a professed religious for fifteen years, I was actively working for the Church--that was a sign I’d chosen Christ, wasn’t it? The answer I gave myself was not comfort- ing: not really. What I came to see during the time I prayed the Two Standards meditation was that "corporation spirituality" was a trick, a clever ploy that could very well leave me, and a whole generation like me, empty-handed before the Lord. "Corpo- ration spirituality" is a way of remaining on the surface, of substituting significant temporal achievement for less visible but more real spiritual development. It even- tually leaves us, in the words of St. Ignatius, "seeking and accepting the honor and esteem of the world. From such honor arises the false sense of identity and value in which pride has its roots.~ To make such an admission did not come easily. I found myself justifying the headlong pursuit of professional excellence--to the exclusion or neglect of spirit- ual development--over and over. Eventually, however, the force of overwhelming grace was more than even my well-wrought defenses could withstand. At length I had to admit defeat in the face of Ignatius’ insights into the way of the Lord in dealing with souls. Much of the literature I had heretofore taught with aplomb took on a new meaning as, for instance, "Batter My Heart, Three-Personed God" became a known experience as well as a poem to be taught during the first quarter of each academic year. Repeatedly my superficial security was challenged by the Ignatian retreat. In 7~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 the meditation on the Three Kinds of Humility I was confronted with the choice between following Jesus and "following Jesus Christ in the most intimate union possible." On the Seventh Day of the third week the Exercises urged me to "let the effect of Christ’s death permeate my being." This repeated, constant emphasis on not merely serving the Lord but living my entire life in union with him eventually forced me to capitulate. Over the thirty days the Lord slowly improved my vision, drew me to see that "corporation spirituality" could no longer sustain me and that a personal love relationship with the Lord was essential to survival. To transform, to even begin to transform a life to that degree, is frightening. 1 understood why I had fled such a move for so long. I understood that what I had been fighting was the gnawing, growing awareness that the professional success of my generation was not suffi- cient to carry me through life. Even as we grade the papers, record the pulses, administrate various programs and institutions, we are, I believe, confronted with the question that haunted Ignatius: "What does it profit a person to gain the whole world . . . ?" We are a generation, a successful generation, called now, I believe, to trans- formation, to a restructuring of our priorities. For some of us it has already happened, for others it is yet to come. Not everyone is called to the Lord in the same way, and certainly not all of us are called to make a directed thirty-day retreat. But 1 suggest that for many of us, it may be the most effective way to answer the continuing call to transformation. Perhaps because Ignatius was him- self a doer and a fighter, because he met with no small degree of success and recognition in his own secular, professional life, he knew how to address those whose spiritual life may be somewhat anemic. I know that for me at least--and 1 consider myself typical of our generation--the Ignatian retreat did what years of workshops, preached retreats, and days of ren(wal did not achieve. It raised the one question I could not easily dimiss: if you don’t have a personal love relation- ship with the "President of the Firm"--with the Lord--why not? Can you really think of anything else that is more important? That was the one question for which 1 did not have an answer. I don’t think many of us do. In spite of all this, perhaps because of it, 1 believe we are a very fortunate generation. We will always be fearful, fleeing fighters. The difference in us will, I pray, be this; as the Lord transforms us we shall only be fearful of not heeding his voice. We shall flee only to his care, we shall fight, shall struggle, only to remain close to him. Our professional excellence will not diminish, but our spiritual growth will at last be in balance with our secular competence, and love will be our hallmark in the end. Elijah: A Model for Religious Today

Macrina Scott, O.S.F.

Sister Macrina resides at Mary,crest: 2851 West 52nd Ave.: Denver, CO 80221.

More and more clearly, today we religious hear a call to active involvement in this world. But just as urgently we hear the call to the desert, to an ever deeper contemplative prayer. The danger is that we experience these as two contradictory calls, pulling us in opposite directions, with every step in one direction causing feelings of guilt leading to a step back toward its opposite. As 1 have struggled with this tension, the nineteenth c.hapter of the First Book of Kings has come alive to me in a new way. There the Lord deals with our dilemma, not with a recipe for successful coping or with moral guidelines, but in the way in which he so often speaks to us in the Scripture: by a story. 1 Kings contains the story of a highly colorful activist, the prophet Elijah. In the days of King Ahab and Queen Jezebel, when the nation of Israel was affluent, but halfhearted in its service to the Lord, this strange figure arrived from the desert, wearing a hairy cloak, wit~ a leather thong around his waist. Without introduction, he walked into the presence of King Ahab and proclaimed, "As the Lord, the God of Israel, lives, whom I serve, during these years there shall be no dew or rain except at °my word."* In the shocked silence that fell on the court, Elijah slipped away, and, fled to a hiding place in the woods. The war had begun. God was represented by his prophet Elijah, and Baal by his devoted servant Jezebel. King Ahab did not start out as a bad man, but he made a bad mistake in marrying Jezebel. His reasons were political. Phoenicia was a country near Israel, a more commercially important and culturally advanced nation he badly wanted as a friend. So he married the Phoenician princess Jezebel. She brought with her hundreds of prophets of her god Baal, persuaded Ahab

*All quotations from I Kings are from the New American Bible. 765 766 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 to build a temple to Baal for her, and began an active campaign to lead the people of Israel away from Yahweh. Many followed the fashion set by the queen. Elijah was sent by God to wage war against her powerful influence. His first weapon was the terrible drought of three years, which dramatized God’s anger against his people’s unfaithfulness. When tension had risen to fever pitch because of three years of drought, Elijah appeared again before the king. This time he laid down a challenge. "Now sum- mon all Israel to me on Mount Carmel, as well as the four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal... who eat at Jezebel’s table." So all the people came to Mount Carmel, and the famous confrontation took place between Elijah and the prophets of Baal. When they were unable to bring fire down from heaven to consume their sacrifices, and Elijah called down a spectacular show of fireworks, the people all fell flat on their faces calling out "The Lord is God! The Lord is God!" In the enthusiasm of his victory, Elijah had the people capture all the priests of Baal and he personally cut all four hundred and fifty throats! Feeling that the war was won, he also prayed that rain return, and it did, a heavy rain such as had not been seen for three years. But Jezebel was not converted. When she heard what Elijah had done to her prophets she sent a message to him. "May the gods do the same to me and more unless by this time tomorrow I have taken your life as you took theirs." Jezebel had already killed hundreds of prophets, so her message did not have the sound of an idle threat. Elijah had just won a tremendous victory, but he was in a state of utter exhaustion. This very temperamental~ servant of God was suddenly over- whelmed by the letdown, that follows the exhilaration of the’ battle. Elijah was afraid and fled for his life. When heoreached Beersheba in Jtidah, he left his servant there and himself wen[ a day’s journey into the desert. He came upon a broom-bush, and sat down under itand prayed for death: ~It is enough," he said; "now, Lord, take my life, for I am no better than my fathers before The young Elijah had known that past generations of Israel had always tried to compromise between Yahweh" and Baal, but in his fiery zeal he had imagined that he could change all that. Now, in the disillusionment of mid-life, he runs away, a~nd under the broom-bush he does what many a depressed: servant of the Lord has done. He falls asleep. But God has not given up, so th~ story continues. While he slept under the broom-bush, an angel touched him and said, "Rise and eat." He looked, and thereat his head was a cake baked on hot sto.nes, and~ a pitcher of water. He ate and drank. Theffhe lay down again: But God has still not giver~ up. The angel of the Lord came again and touched him a second time, saying, "Rise and eat; the journey is too much for you." He rose and ate and drank, and, sustained, by his food, he went on for forty days and forty nights to Horeb, ihe mountain of God. How often this story is relived in the experience of religious today! Like Elijah, we put our whole energy into the Lord’s cause. And the discouragement that came to Elijah comes to us; the sense of failure, weariness, loneliness, burnout. Then Elijah: A Model for Religious comes the desire to escape to the desert and sleep under any available broom-bush. And, if we are fortunate, in those times of weariness the Lord sends a messenger to rouse us, to nourish us, to’give us energy for the further journey. ° All.the nourishment Elijah got was water and a small chunk of dough baked on a stone, but it gave him strength for the great journey, it was a journey we often have to make, especially in times of transition and disillusionment. The journey to Horeb, which is another name for Mount Sinai, was a journey back to the spiritual roots of his people. On Mount Sinai God had shown himself to Moses and the people in the way in which people of those times expected God to show himself: in a mighty storm, with powerful winds, thunder, lightning, and earthquake. In fact, it seemed to the people standing at the foot of Mount Sinai that the whole mountain was on fire. They shook with fear, and they sen~ Moses up to speak to God, to receive his commands. At Sinai they entered into the covenant relation- ship with God which shaped them, slaves just escaped from Egypt, into a free people. That was four hundred years before Elijah’s time, but he had to make a pilgrimage to the place where it had happened, as we sometimes have to return to some sacred place or some sacred memory to draw fresh courage. It may be a personal memory: a profession day, a deep spiritual experience. It may be one of the memories that are handed down to us in the Church: the death of Jesus, some event of his life, some happening from the Bibli~ or the history of our religious congregations. It may take time and effort to bring the memory back to life~ to find the light it has to offer for the present. Elijah had to backpack forty days and forty nights through the desert. Then he climbed "the mountaifi and entered into the cave where Moses had prayed on that same mountain. Again he slept. The story cohtinues. Suddenly the word of the Lord came to him: "Why are you here, Elijah?" JAil of his anger and ¢ self-pity tumble out in response:] ~Because of my great zeal for the Lord the God of Hosts," he said. "The people of lsrael have forsaken your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword, i alone am left, and they seek to take my life: The answer came, "Go and stand on the mountain before the Lord: the Lord will be passing by." A great and strong wind came rending the mountains and shattering rocks before him, but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake: and after the earthquake fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. After the fire came a sound of gentle silence. Elijah tried the traditional forms of prayer. He expected God to reveal himself in the traditional ways: in storm and earthquake and fire. lnstbad, the prophet met his Lord in that dark and quiet place within, where there are neither words nor images. When the profound mystical experience had passed, Elijah began to move out of the darkness of the cave. Standing at the entrance of the cave, he was finally ready to hear God’s word. God tries his question again, helping his prophet to bring into the open the state of his soul, to see his need for conversion. ~Why are you here, Elijah?" "Because of my great zeal for the Lord the God of Hosts," he said. "The people of Israel have forsaken your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I alone am left, and they seek to take my life." 761~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

The reply of the Lord is clear and firm. "Go back," back to work. And he gives very specific instructions about the political causes in which Elijah is to be involved again on his return. (With the benefit of historical hindsight, we know that they were goals Elijah would not be able to accomplish; one of them would be accom- plished after his death by his disciple Elisha, the other by a disciple of Elisha.) The Lord gave no assurance of protection from Jezebel’s threats. But Elijah is not to go back alone, nor is he allowed to continue to imagine that the entire cause of God depends on him alone. In spite of his complaints, Elijah had rather enjoyed his role as the Lone Ranger. Now, he is going to have to become part of a team. He is told to anoint Elisha to share his prophetic responsi- bility, and eventually to-replace him. But there is more. Not only is he not irreplaceable, God lets him know, he never has been, as his conceit made him imagine, the only person in Israel faithful to God. God casually mentions the seven thousand others in Israel who had been as faithful as Elijah, though Elijah had not noticed their existence! I have found the experience of Elijah repeated time and again in my own life, and in the liyes of those who have sh.ar’ed their prayer experience with me. If we really give ourselves wholeheartedly to the work the Lord gives us, not trying to protect ourselves from its cost, not trying to manipulate his work into our selfish projects, sooner or later we hit the point of failure, of disillusionment, of exhaus- tion, when all we feel like doing is running away and going to sleep under the broom-bush. It can be when we hit a point of despair over our community, or must face the disintegration of our team, or failure in our ministry. It can be a time of sudden sickness or loss, or just that point in mid-life when the accumulated loneliness and frustration of life creep up on us and overwhelm us. Overwork, or spiritual malnutrition can bring us to the broom-bush, too. For some people it is an experience that comes dramatically, once or twice in a lifetime. For others, it comes every year, or every Friday afternoon, though with less dramatic intensity. Somehow, from the depths of that experience the Spirit moves us into the desert, into a time of disengagement, a time for rest and prayer, of allowing the Lord to pull us back together again. It may be our annual retreat or a day at a house of prayer. Or it may be a longer period of dropping out of most of the activities that have filled our lives. It may be a situation that is forced on us, such as sickness or unemployment or retirement. In that case it is how we use it that will determine whether the angel will bring new nourishment for the further journey. Whatever our desert time may be, somehow God sends a messenger to give us the sustenance we need and to point us to the journey we must make to whatever our own holy mountain may be. The journey may be long or short, but when it is made, God himself gently touches our wounded spirit in that dark place beyond words or images, perhaps beyond our awareness. Then, if he finds us open at last to his purifying word, he strips us of whatever illusions he feels we will be able to do without.. Perhaps, like Elijah, we insisted on working alone, ignoring others who shared our concerns, and exaggerating our heroism. Perhaps we were victims of self-pity; perhaps we were using one kind of service of the Lord as a way of Elijah: A Model for Religious ] 769 avoiding a more important and more difficult kind. There are many ways in which we deceive ourselves, and it is only when we are deeply united to the Lord in prayer that he can point them out to us. Then he sends us back, as he sent Elijah, back to the involvements we left and to new ones. But he sends us back chastened and renewed by our time in the desert. This movement back and forth between disengagement and involvement is the normal rhythm of Christian life. We see it in the life of Jesus, who went so frequently to the mountain or the desert to pray. We see it in the life of St. Ignatius of Loyola and St. Francis of Assisi and many others. If we ever become for a long period so involved in our work that we feel no call to prayer, or so involved in our prayer that we feel no call to serve, we should be suspicious as to whether our work is truly Christian service or our prayer truly contact with God. We can learn from Elijah that the call to deeper prayer and the call to deeper involvement are not contradictory calls. They are complementary aspects of Chris- tian life, and whichever we follow, if we follow it deeply enough, will lead us also to the other.

Prayer for Priests The Eucharist is first and foremost a gift made to the Church. A~n inexpressible gift. The priesthood too is a gift to the Church. for the sake of the Eucharist. Today. when it it said that the community has a right to the Eucharist. it must be remembered in particular that you urged your disciples to "pray... the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest." If people do not "pray" with fervor, if the3’ do not strive with all their strength to ensure that the Lord sends to communities good ministers of the Eucharist. can they say with inner conviction that "the community has a right ...?" If it has a right, then it has a right to the gift! And a gift cannot be treated as if it were not a gift. Unceasing prayers must be offered to obtain that gift. We must ask for it on our knees. And so. since the Eucharist is the Lord’s greatest gift to the Church, we must ask for priests, because the priesthood, too, is a gift to the Church (John Paul I1: L ’Osservatore Romano. 12 April 1982. p. 3). Mortification

George Thottungai, S.J.

Father Thottungal, an Indian Jesuit, resides and teaches at St. Thomas Aquinas Seminary, and may be addressed there: Box 30517; Nairobi, Kenya.

A year ago, The National Catholic Reporter (6 March 1981) had an article, "Fasting Makes a Comeback." The motivation is spiritual, sometimes material, often a mixture of both. One fasts to express solidarity with the world’s hunger, or to share a surplus with have-nots, or to open up to the divine. Young men in university campuses commemorate Hiroshima with an annual fast; others identify themselves with the suffering of the Third World, or seek self-purification by sensitizing themselves to the insecurity and desperation of those who have nothing to eat. In all this there is a powerful sense of relationship with the suffering world, or going beyond self. Is this a fad? Or is the genuine penitential thrust of these trends an attempt to recapturevalues we discounted in the recent past? Why does the Hare Krishna movement which imposes on its followers an austere life-style, strict vegetarian diet, early rising and chanting of hymns and not very comfortable costume fascinate even a small number.of American youth? There were in 1966 already a thousand men and women inspired by the Krishna consciousness living a dedicated life in thirty temples of the U.S. At Carfax, looking down High Street at the center.of Oxford, "whispering from her towers the last enchantments of the Middle Ages," I saw in the spring of 1970 a small group of English youth, with shaven heads and saffron robes--as though they had strayed out of the Green Room of Oxfdrd Playhouse--vigorously thumping drums and chanting in frenzy. The NCR article reminded me of two studies on Mortification: one in the French periodical Christus in 1956,I and the other in Concilium, written ten years later in the euphoric aftermath of Vatican Two? The study in Christus was based on a questionnaire sent out to practicing Catholics on what they thought about mortification. The answers were revealing. The gist was the following: mortifica- 770 Mortif, t~ation ] 771 tion has no place in the modern world. It belongs to a bygone age, the age of monks and of a monastic spirituality of flight from the world. Now we are concerned with service of our neighbor and fight for justice. Self-imposed penan- ces do not make any sense. The older respondents to the questionnaire, who had seen the horrors of two World Wars, protested that they wanted to spare the young all avoidable pain until a new world crisis imposed it. The idea of sacrifice need not get into the mental and spiritual make-up of the young! No wonder, from rich families with one or two children brought up like princes, religious and priestly vocations are very rare. These answers reflect the attitudes of a new humanism, which stresses the flowering of personality, (Epanouir is the key-word), uninhibited by venerable traditions, avoiding all repression and all curbing of instincts and faculties. The pressure of modern life--note the heavy incidence of heart disease--is such as to justify complete relaxation when one can afford it, leaving no room for self-denial. Ernest Larkin, in a brilliantly argued thesis in ConctTium, contrasts "cross- oriented spirituality" with "resurrection-oriented spirituality" of today, and opts unequivocally for the latter: -cross-oriented spirituality is marked by prayer, solitude, withdrawal; resur- rection-oriented spirituality is positive and outgoing; -the former emphasizes dying with Christ on the cross; the latter, living with Christ risen; -the former lays stress on purification from sin, and from all that dissipates the mind and entangles the heart; the latter on commitment, grace and charity; -the former is preoccupied with total abnegation of self-centeredness; the latter with total commitment to Christ; -the former aims at contemplative union with God; the latter’s concern is the redemption of the world. This is fair enough. But if either of these descriptions is taken exclusively as a complete spirituality, it would be a parody of it. The author is well aware of it; it is a question of theright emphasis in our life-situation, and the proper blending of the two elements of the Paschal Mystery. Easter comes after Good Friday. The great contemplatives were passionately devoted to the redemption of the world; and even in those ages when the accent fell heavily on asceticism, Nirvana was never the goal of Christian spirituality. Gaudium et Spes is appealed to as a charter of this new spirituality, and Teilhard de Chardin hailed as its High Priest. Let us get down to basics. Mortification in the final analysis is participation in the redemptive work of Christ. No age may hold itself free of this sharing in the cross of Christ, whatever errors have been made in the past in accent and emphasis.

~B. Armington, S.J.: "La Mortification dans nrtre vie chretienne," Christus (January 1956), pp. 106-132. 2Ernest Larkin, O.Carm.: "Asceticism in Modern Life," Concilium, Vol. 19 (1966), pp. 100-108. 772 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

The call of Christ demands radical degrees of renunciation: renunciation of property (Lk 14:33), of self (Lk 9:2.3). St. Paul gives us in detail a paradigm of various levels of mortification: first, curbing of one’s inordinate appetites (Col 3:5; Rm 8:13); secondly, crucifixion of the flesh (Ga 5:24); leading to death and burial with Christ (Col 3:3; Rm 6:4). All this is a prelude to rise with Christ and live the life of the risen Lord. To reach the climax of "co-risen with Christ," we have first to be "co-grafted .... co-buried" and "co-crucified"---those untranslatable compounds which Paul coined to express the truth of the Paschal Mystery. No one denies the need to take the strain of life, in meeting the heavy demands of duty and facing the inevitable failures and frustrations. It is voluntary mortifica- tion (or "fabricated" mortification, as Larkin calls it) that is the target of atiacks today. Those who reject outright all voluntary mortification, for self-discipline, for penance, for union with Christ and the suffering members of the Mystical Body, on the plea that there is enough suffering in life without seeking after it, may have to ask themselves whether their lives are more strenuous or their commitment deeper than that of Paul who said: "1 chastise my body and subdue it, lest after preaching to others 1 myself should be disqualified" (I Co 9:27). The article in NCR quotes an "authority" who asserts that the Bible has no place for fasting as such divorced from almsgiving. How does this square with the example of Christ in the desert and the radical voluntary surrenders he demands of his followers, not to speak of the long tradition of desert experience in the Old Testament? In the lives of the Saints at a certain stage there is complete identification with Christ crucified, and the whole world is virtually blotted out for them. St. Francis of Assisi after the mystery of Mount Alverno was symbolically struck blind. St. Peter Claver, about whom a learned Pope, Leo X-111 said: "No life, with the exception of the life of Christ, moved me so much as that of Claver." Peter Claver rejoiced wher~ after forty years of serving the negro slaves, he was ill-treated by one of them in his last days. St. John of the Cross pra~,ed before his crucifix: "To suffer, O Lord, and to be treated with contempt for thy sake." Robert de Nobili and his confreres who donned the saffron robe and lived the austere life of the Hindu hermits were treated as fools by officialdom. The litany of the lovers of the cross can be prolonged indefinitely. Has the folly of the cross--sometimes called the Third Degree of Humility-- any place in the modern world and in the resurrection-oriented spirituality? There are, to be sure, modern heroes and saints who suffer for justice, suffer humilations, derision, torture and what not. Teilhard de Chardin in The Divine Milieu, speaking of "The Meaning of the. Cross,"has the following beautiful, albeit slightly intriguing, passage: Towards the peaks, shrouded in mist from our human eyes, whither the cross beckons us, we rise by a path ~hich is the way of universal progress. The royal road of the cross is no more nor less than the road of human endeavor supernaturally righted and prolonged.a

JTeilhard de Chardin: The Divine Milieu (New York: Harpdr & Row, 1960), p 78. Mortification [ 773

Written for the widest sector of readers, and intended mainly for "the waverers both inside and outside," this book tries to justify and explain suffering and sacrifice as the necessary means of human progress. But can we rationalize the folly of the cross as a prolonging of the road of human endeavor towards universal progress? The words "supernaturally righted" would imply that it is no mere progress in the ordinary sense. The way of the cross doubles back on the path of progress, and whirls its victim to self-destruction in the highest affirmation of his personality. Besides, suffering, like that of the mentally handicapped children, is too great a mystery to admit of a universal explanation in terms of any progress conceivable to human reason. My motive for wanting the cross is to follow Christ and to be united to him. Christianity requires this: whether it be the heroic folly of the Saints, or a more ordinary share of the cross. But why was it necessary for Christ to enter into glory by way of the cross, and why can he hold this out as a value for human life? Teilhard gives the answer. True human development requires that the grain of wheat die in order to bear fruit. In wanting to be united with Christ crucified we are not gtiided by cold reason alone. The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of. Mahatma Gandhi was traveling in the South Indian town of Salem. He saw the Untouchable women working in the fields topless, not for fashion’s sake, but for lack of rags to cover their nakedness. Gandhi threw away his long flowing shirt and turban, and there- after dressed in the loincloth, made familiar to the world through all his pictures and status--"a half-naked fakir," as Winston Churchill called him with imperial obtuseness. The foregoing reflections are no more than an inquiry into an ancient problem. What have we gained or lost by playing down penance and mortification during the last twenty years? Can we say that the impact of the new spirituality is significantly felt in religious life, and that we need not cry over the loss of an old value which has had a blighting influence? Shall we take comfort at the thought that there have been in the past men of primitive observance and ascetic living who were not noted for their tolerance and love? Or has the consumerism of affluent societies made dangerous inroads into religious life? To balance loss and gain and make a just evaluation is not easy in this age of flux and ferment, as this problem is linked with even more basic issues like faith, the growing naturalism and the consequent exodus from religious families. Yet an evaluation is urgent and imperative. How Is Meditation Prayer?.

Daniel A. Helminiak

Doctor Helminiak is a priest of the Diocese of Pittsburgh who teaches systematic theology and spirituality at the Oblate School of Theology; 285 Oblate Drive; San Antonio, TX 78216.

Meditation practice has become commonplace--not only in secular culture at large but also among Christians. Use of the term itself "meditation" is testimony to the influence of Eastern gurus. For the Christian tradition called "contemplation" what today is generally called "meditation." But the practice, whatever it is called, is new to most Christians. They learn the techniques and practice them faithfully. Yet for many the lingering question remains: Is this really prayer? That question is an important one. It is important because of the uneasiness of many who want to advance in prayer but who recognize in meditative practice nothing of what they knew as prayer: words and thoughts of petition, praise, penitence, and good will;feelings of concern, love, exaltation, abandon, and need. It is important also because a complete answer is not so obvious. There is, indeed, theological complexity in understanding exactly how these practices, common to non-Christians and even non-theists, can be Christian prayer. It is hoped that this essay will explain those theological complexities and so reassure those whose primary concern is prayer. For the conclusion will be that in Christianity, more than in any other religious or philosophical position, the very activity of meditative practice is prayer.

Preliminary Definitions: "Prayer" and "Meditation" Consider what prayer and meditation are. The Baltimore catechism defined prayer as lifting one’s heart and mind to God. A complementary understanding, emphasizing God’s initiating role in all prayer, sees prayer as our response to God’s action in us. Yet both these understandings seem to conceive our relationship with God much in terms of "over-and-against": we here, God there, and a relationship 774 How is Meditation Prayer? / 775

between these two separate poles. So a further understanding sees prayer as communion and emphasizes the union between God and us: we in God and God in us. According to this last understanding, to rest in oneself would effectively be to rest in God, and vice versa. Obviously this notion of prayer is the most relevant to meditative practice--yet its presuppositions are uniquely Christian. "Meditation" refers to certain techniques through which one moves beyond all thought and feeling and attains a state of simple presence. A convenient example is the "Centering Prayer" developed by the monks of St. Joseph Abbey in Spencer, Massachusetts.~ Centering Prayer has its basis in the fourteenth-century mystical work, The Cloud of Unknowing. In this form of prayer one repeats to oneself a religious word, always restoring one’s attention to the word whenever attention drifts. Even pious thought about that word is treated as just another wandering of the mind. Through this practice one moves away from the concerns of everyday life. According to The Cloud one sets between them and oneself a "cloud of forgetting." Beneath this cloud of forgettingall thoughts and feelings, of whatever source and kind, are left. Then using the word as a dagger, one continues to penetrate the cloud of unknowing above, which separates one from God. Other forms of meditation do not use a repeated word. Instead, they use the breath, the heartbeat, some constant or repetitive sound, the sight of some chosen image, or a similar stimulus as a point of concentration or anchorage for meditative practice. Characteristic of this type of meditation is that one develops a non-conceptual awareness of just "being there." Accordingly, this type of meditation differs from those which use imagery, imagination, feelings, and thoughts to facilitate personal integration and spiritual growth.

The Psychology of Meditation Psychological studies show that--apart from all possible religious considera- tions-consistent meditative practice produces certain predictable effects3 Medita- tion enduces deep states of relaxation. It gradually alleviates anxiety. It releases psycho-dynamic material into conscious life, It facilitates self-adjustment of the body to a healthful configuration. It dissolves habitual patterns of perception and cognition, freeing and changing the way one experiences and thinks about reality. And it eventually sets up an abiding state of altered consciousness, which is referred to differently in different traditions: mysticism, cosmic consciousness, enlightenment. All those effects can be accounted for on the basis of natural processes in the human individual. Physiological, and. psychological--imageful, feeling--processes are involved here. But the key to understanding the most subtle effects of medita- tion is acknowledgement of human spirit. Human beings, apart from all religious

~See Thomas Keating, M. Basil Pennington, Thomas E. Clarke. Finding Grace at the Center (Still River. MA: St. Bede Publ.. 1978). -’See Daniel A. Helminiak, "Meditation--Psychologically and Theologically Considered,~ Pastoral Psychology. 30. 1981, pp. 6-20. 776 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 considerations, are spiritual beings; they have a spirit and are capable of spiritual acts.3 What is spirit? Material reality is defined by its extension in space and time. Anything material can only be in one particular place at any one particular time. Spirit, in contrast, is defined by its freedom from limitations of space and time. For example, at this very moment 1 can be in my mind in New York City or San Francisco while 1 am still sitting at my desk. Or again, when I grasp the meaning of the expression, C=2rrr, I know something about every circle at every place and every time. In understanding circle, 1 transcend all space and time. I perform a strictly spiritual act. Or again, in general, all acts of understanding, knowledge, or love are spiritual; they are not essentially spacial ortemporal acts. Humans, as such, are spiritual. Spirit is open to, and tends toward, all there is to know and to love. Our curiosity is never ending; our desire for love is unsatiable. And as spirit itself is not limited to space and time, so that toward which it tends is not merely the spatial and temporal. Our human spirit wants to know and love all that is. Included in this "all," of course, is God. But human spirit as such cannot grasp God. Being itself an embodied spirit, human spirit is limited to understanding only that which is also in some way embodied. God, pure and unembodied spirit, is beyond our grasp, though we would want to grasp God, too.4 Another of the things that human spirit wants to know and love is itself, spirit. This it can know. Thus, human spirit is unbounded by time and space and capable of knowing itself, the unbounded. The human being, who possesses spirit, is in him- or herself open to grasping what is timeless and spaceless and unlimited in its outreach: spirit. The human, simply as human and apart from all consideration of relationship with God, is open in some way to the infinite. It is important to stress that something other than God can be correctly acknowledged as infinite. It is important to stress that humans as such can grasp something infinite without grasping God. To neglect this point is to blur the distinction between created human spirit and uncreated Divine Spirit. To neglect this point is to blur the distinction between God and humans. Of course, neglect of this point also allowg the easy explanation of meditation as prayer, for in this case any experience of spirit is ipsofacto deemed an experience of God. But such an explanation courts idolatry by uncritically calling divine what may be merely human. Unfortunately, too, contemporary theological emphasis on development and process readily glosses over this point. Then, for example, christologists hedge at the outright acceptance of the Nicean declaration that the Son is true God, not a

3For an understanding of "’spirit," I rely on Bernard J. F. l,onergan. Insight: A Stud), of Human Understanding (New York: Philosophical Library, 1957)and Method in Theolog), (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972). See also Daniel A. Helminiak, "Consciousness as a Subject Matter," (unpublished paper). 4See Bernard J. F. Lonergan, "The Natural Desire to See God," Collection (Montreal: Palm Pub., 1967), pp. 84-95. How is Meditation Prayer? / 777 creature, but one in being with the Father,5 and attempt to explain the New Testament by suggesting that somehow Jesus "grew up" to become God.6 Or again, it is suggested that to be fully human is itself to be divine. Thus, talk of the difference between the infinity of the human spirit and the Infinite God may ring hollow and foreign or be dismissed as excessively erudite. Yet the distinction is real, and it must be maintained. It is important to stress that the self-experience of the infinite human spirit is not ipsofacto the experience of God. Human spirit can experience itself, and in experiencing itself it can experience something unbounded by space and time. In experiencing itself it experiences the infinite and the eternal. Here is a viable understanding of cosmic consciousness or mysticism or enlightenment. The key to this understanding is the spiritual nature of the human, as such. No appeal to faith in God is needed here. In fact, secular forms of meditation (like TM) and non-theist traditions (like Tibetan Buddhism)7 acknowledge subtle forms of altered consciousness even while they explicitly pre- scind from all questions about God. Evidently successful meditation practice need not include theist presuppositions, and an account of all the effects of meditation need not include God.

The Theology of Meditation in General Now the question "How is meditation prayer?" stands out more sharply. For it is possible to experience and account for all the effects of meditation without reference to God. By the same token, however, the ground is now cleared to answer that question more precisely. And the answer will be different for the mere theist and for the Christian. In both cases meditation is prayer, but not in the same way. What is the difference between meditative practice for the secular person and the believer? In general, only the context is different. The believer views meditation not just as an exercise in mental hygiene and not just as a development of human potential or even of human virtue but also as an act with reference to God. Believers understand that in meditation they are not only relating to themselves and to the human spirit within them but also to God as Creator of that spirit or to God living within them. The only difference is the context of faith. The compari- son between Centering Prayer and TM is helpful here. Centering Prayer places the meditative practice within a faith context: it calls for an act of faith before the practice and the Our Father at the end of the practice, and its sees the practice as prayer. But all the rest in the practice itself is identical with TM. The difference is faith. Faith lblaces the meditation--as it does every human action--in a broader

sSee .lames P. Mackey. Jesus. the Man and the Myth: A Contemporary Christology (New York: Paulist Press, 1979), esp. pp. 238, 242-245. ~’See John Macquarrie. "The Humanity of Christ,~ Theology. 74, 1971, p. 246: Bruce Vawter. 7his Man Jesus: An Essay Toward a New Testament Christology (New York: Doubleday, Image Books. 1975). pp. 186-90. 7See Chogyam Trungpa, Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism [Berkeley: Shambhala, 1973). 7711 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 context; it relates all to God. That is the general answer. The more specific answer requires a differentiation between a theist context and a Christian context.8

Defining the Theist and the Christian Contexts Theism believes in God. Over and above this, Christianity believes in our participation in God: God has "called us to share his own glory and goodness" and to "share the divine nature" (2 Pt 1:3-4). Theism acknowledges that only God, as Creator, can account for the human spirit we have and, indeed, for all that is; according to theism, we have a created human spirit. Over and above this, Chris- tianity believes that we also possess the uncreated Holy Spirit, which is poured into our hearts (cf. Rm 5:5, 8:11, 14-17, 26-27; Ga 4:6). Theism acknowledges that we are made in God’s "image and likeness," that we are somehow like God; and this is understood to mean, among other things, that we are spiritual according to our created nature. Over and above this, Christianity believes that in Christ we also live God’s very own life. By using images and metaphors, the New Testament explicitly points out this same contrast, which is the contrast between the Old and New Testaments. Now we are no longer servants; we are friends (in 15:15). We are called not to slavery but to adoption as God’s own children (Rm 8:15). Whereas Israel could not see God’s face and live, we are to see God "face to face"and come to understand even as we are understood (1 Co 13:12). The brunt of these comparisons is this. According to Christian belief we are not only created by God and loved by God; we are also living God’s own life, destined to be one in and with God even as the Father and the Son are one (see .In 17:21). Traditional Catholic theology speaks here of sanctifying grace in contrast to healing grace. For it is one thing to be healed of sin, to have fallen humanity restored to its full human potential. And it is quite another thing for this restored humanity to be raised also to divine glory, to share in the divine nature. It is precisely the latter that is at the heart of Christian belief about human salvation, even as belief in the unique divinity of Jesus Christ is the hallmark of Christianity. Christians acknowledge Jesus Christ as the source and paradigmatic instance of human salvation.9 He is the Eternal Son of the Father become human. He is uniquely divine, God in a way that no human ever was or will be. Son of the Father, he lived his earthly life ever faithful to who he was and so faithful to his Father. Thus, as a human being, he merited to be raised from the dead. Then his humanity shared the glory which was his as God before time began (see .In 17:24)

SFor a detailed and technical account of what I here call "contexts," see Daniel A. Helminiak, ~Four Viewpoints on the Human: A Conceptual Schema for Interdisciplinary Studies," (unpublished paper) or "One in Christ: An Exercise in Systematic Theology." Diss., Boston College and Andover Newton Theological School, 1979, pp. 363-88, 393-405. 9See Helminiak, "One in Christ," pp. 392-438. How is Meditation Prayer? / 779 but which, according to divine wisdom, he had surrendered, emptying himself and taking on the form of a slave (see Ph 2:6-7). When, because of his free human fidelity, his humanity was transformed to share in divine glory, he became the first instance of human divinization and thus introduced into history a new possibility for human becoming. And the spirit he sent to dwell in us allows us, too, to attain the divinized state that he first attained. Our life in this world, transformed in Christ, is thus our initial and growing participation in the divine life of the Trinity. These beliefs are distinctive to Christianity, and in them Christianity significantly transcends even the most authentic theism. Thus, when asking questions about God and our relationship to God, it is necessary to distinguish the theist context and the Christian context and to propose the answers appropriate in each case. The Theology of Meditation: The Theist Context The hallmark of the theist context is the acknowledgment of God as creator of all that is and, conversely, the recognition of all creation as somehow an expres- sion of God. According to theism the created world gives some indication of what God is like. Indeed, the human intellect as such may know that God is, but it does not know what God is; it cannot grasp God. An understanding of what God is must rely on created things, which suggest something about God. More specifi- cally, the theist believer recognizes the human .spirit as the most subtle of God’s creations. It is the analogue par excellence for God, who is also spirit. Theism acknowledges God as creator and acknowledges human spirit as the most adequate analogue for God. However, these acknowledgements do not add another factor to any experience in this world. The one who believes in God does not experience something different in this life from ,the one who does not believe in God. Belief in God adds a further dimension of understanding to human expe- rience, but it does not add to the intrinsic factors that constitute the experience. Questions about God are of a whole other order in comparison with questions about the things of this world. God accounts for the fact that there are,things at all in this world; God accounts for the fact that things exist. But given that things do exist, any further explanation of them can prescind from God. Thus, the non- theist and the theist can in principle both deal with life equally well. In dealing with life, they, both have the same data at hand: life as it is given to us. The theist acknowledgement of God does not add to the data; rather, it provides a further explanation of the data. It provides the answer to a whole other order of question- ing, namely, questioning about existence itself. ThUS, in the specific instance of meditative experience, what is available for the experience of the theist believer and the non-believer is exactly the same. With continued practice,,both can experience the ever further subtleties of human spirit. The theist, of course, relates this experience to God, recognizing God as the creative source of the human spirit and so somehow inevitably implicated ,in the experience of that spirit. But the authentic theist will not claim to be experiencing God during meditation., The theist would only claim to have a heightened~ experience of human spirit, as, indeed, the non-theist could likewise claim. 7110 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

That conclusion is implied in the technique of meditation itself. During medita- tion practice all thoughts and feelings are to be treated with equal indifference and be dismissed. Even thoughts about God are given this same treatment. They are irrelevant to the practice. They are a disruption of the meditative process. Before and after the practice itself, the theist meditator may dedicate the practice as a devotion to God. Likewise, before and after the practice itself, he or she might consider thatwhat is being experienced during the practice--namely, the mystery of the created, spiritual self--is something from God. But all such thoughts are irrelevant to the practice itself. And though the explicit, God-oriented intention that initiated the practice may carry over implicitly in the ensuing behavior, explicit reference to God is clearly extraneous to meditative practice. During meditation the theist and the non-theist dedicate their efforts to exactly the same thing--fidelity to a practice that heightens the human spirit’s awareness of itself. Those are the legitimate theological conclusions about meditation considered within a strictly theist context. Within this same limited context, how can medita- tion be legitimately called prayer? There are a number of ways. First, through meditation I dedicate myself to knowing and enjoying God’s gift to me, namely, myself as a created spiritual being. The joy of this experience is an indirect pra’ise of God. Second, during meditation 1 make a concerted effort to become my fullest possible self. 1 work to integrate my spirit into my psychic and physical constitu- tion. In this 1 acknowledge myself as worthwhile, and I strive to be all that 1 can be. Thus, I implicitly praise God, who made me. Third, during meditation 1 surrender all my thoughts and feelings about God. 1 strive to transcend my thoughts and my feelings, even though they are about God, for 1 recognize them precisely as my own and not God. Thus, my meditation is a form of self-surrender: I continue to strive ever beyond myself toward God, though, of course, I realize I will never attain God. In this I express a self- sacrificing desire and love for God. In this I worship God. Fourth, during meditation 1 let go of my thoughts and feelings. 1 still the incessant activity of my own mind. Thus, i adopt a stance of humility and receptiv- ity before God. 1 put myself in a position where I am more likely to "listen to the Lord," that is, to be more receptive to the signs around me that might indicate what is right and good for me before God. Thus 1 reverence God. Fifth~ knowing that human spirit is the closest thing to God that I have in this world, during meditation I allow myself to experience and marvel in my own spirit, which is’something like God. Thus, 1 try to come as close to the experience of Godvas is possible in this world. Thus, I acknowledge God’s glory. Sixth, during meditation I still the wanderings of my heart and mind and allow myself to be present to the present moment. In this I am present to what is--not to whati~was or what might be--and so I am more present to God, who makes all be. In all those ways the practice of meditation can be understood as prayer even Within the limited presuppositions of a strictly theist context. Note that meditation within the theist context is prayer only in the first two senses noted above: prayer How is Meditation Prayer? 7111

as lifting mind and heart to God and prayer as responding to God’s action in us. However, the strictly theist context does not allow one legitimately to suppose that during meditation one actually experiences God or comes to be one with God. Through meditation one may indeed momentarily leave the world of everyday living. But this is not to say that one has experienced God. Strict theism allows rather that one can only experience the created things of this world. Among them, of course, is one’s own human spirit, which by its very nature does transcend the everyday world of space and time. The Theology of Meditation: The Christian Context With the introduction of the Christian context, the possibility for understand- ing meditation as prayer expands. Christianity is, of course, a theist religion, so all that was said above about meditation as prayer remains valid within the Christian context. But in comparison with theist presuppositions, Christianity shows a strik- ing difference. According to Christian belief we have not only a created human spirit but also the uncreated Holy Spirit within us. The Holy Spirit transforms our human spirit and opens it to the possibility of embracing divinity. It does this by becoming one with our own spirit. Then when we are present to our own spirit, we are also present to God. In Christ we already are somehow one with and in God even as Father. Son, and Holy Spirit are one (see Jn 17:21). Accordingly. the life we now live is no longer merely human. Rather, we are living and growing in the very life of God. Our life and God’s life have become one. That realization justifies one further explanation of meditation as prayer. When during meditation I become present to myself, 1 am also becoming present to God. Here. for the first time, prayer is communion: the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and I are growing in unity; during meditation, I further this process. Thus, meditative practice is "Christian Life Concentrate." It is a form of intense dedica- tion to growth in God’s own life. Understood in this way, meditation as a.passive form of prayer finds more justification in Christianity than in any other theist religion. Despite the anomaly of our recent prayer tradition, Christians more than any others can legitimately and coherently speak of meditation as union with God and its consistent practice as a process of divinization. Indeed, without the presuppositions of Christianity-- the unique divinity of Jesus Christ, his transformation of humanity through the resurrection, and the sending of the Holy Spirit into our hearts--without these presuppositions or equivalent ones, talk of divinization is sheer fantasy. The irony is that many Christians, understandably fascinated by talk of divinization in East- ern religions, are abandoning Christianity and especiall3~ belief in,the unique divin- ity of Jesus when only a doctrine such as the Incarnation provides sound basis for such talk. Christians, more than any others, should feel comfortable with the intense practice of meditation. Within the Christian context, more than in any other theist context, however profound, meditation itself is prayer--the prayer of communing with God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The above analysis is of theological importance. That is, it is important for a 71~2 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

proper understanding of how meditation can relate to God and so be prayer. But it is hardly very important for the practice of meditation. Granted that the beliefs of Christianity are true, they are an adequate account of the reality that all humans live. Thus, whether or not someone acknowledges God, the world in which he or she lives is still a world created by God--even as Jesus said: the Father’s "sun rises on the bad and the good, he rains on the just arid the unjust" (Mr 5:45). And whether or not someone knows and acknowledges Jesus Christ, he or she lives a life graced because of Jesus Christ. Thus, the first letter to Timothy insists: "God is one. One also is the mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all" (2:5-6). Likewise in Gaudium et Spes (article 22), the Second Vatican Council teaches that in a way known only to God even those who do not know Christ are able to share in his paschal mystery. This means that through meditation even those who do not believe in God nonetheless experience God’s creation, especially the human spirit. And it means that even those who do not believe in Jesus Christ nonetheless commune witti God through Christ’s Holy Spirit within them. As they meditate, they are, indeed, growing in God’s own life. They are being divinized. They do, indeed, experience not only themselves but also God. For the reality which we li~,e is the same for all, though not all recognize it for what it is. In the living of everyday life, even in the practice of meditation, Christians have no cause to think themselves superior to the others. All can experience God; all~ can share in sanctifying grace. But that can be legitimately said only given the presuppositions of Christianity. That can be said only given Christian revelation and faith: For who would suspect that the life we live is actually a growing participation in divine life, were this not known through Christian faith? Who would suspect that during fneditation one experiences not only the created human spirit but also the uncreated Holy Spirit, were this not known through Christian faith? For apart from Christian faith there is no basis on which to conclude legitimately that meditation is actually commun- ion with God. Apart from Christian faith meditation can be prayer only in the more limited ways listed above. The issue at stake here is a theological one; it pertains to correct understanding and not to correct practice. It is, nonetheless, an important issue. In today’s world of religious pluralism, we must be able to note the similarities and differences among the various religions. Face to face with other religions, we can no longer get by with only partially accurate explanations of what we believe and do as Chris- tians. All may be meditating, but meditation does not mean the same thing if considered within the limitations of different religious contexts. It is far too easily said that God is within us, that we are growing in divine life, that we are divine. It is far too easily said that in meditation we commune with God. For what can so easily be said cannot so ’easily be explained apart from Christian beliefs. Medita- tion is prayer. It is preeminently prayer understood as communion with God. But this is so only because of the redemption effected for us in Jesus Christ. Questions and Answers

The following answers are given by Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph’s University; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, PA 19131.

Are there are other proposed canons of general interest to religious? 1. Faculty to Hear Confessions Can. 137, § 2: By the law itself the faculty of hearing confessions is also possessed everywhere and for all the faithful by priests who by reason of an office conferred upon them have the same faculty to hear confessions in their own territory or who have been granted the faculty of hearing confessions by special commission [delegation] of the ordinary of the place of their incardination or domicile or, failing this, quasi-domicile, the prescriptions of can. 147, §§2, 3 remaining in effect, unless the ordinary of the place refused in a particular case. § 3. A bishop and a priest, for the lawful exercise of the faculty of §§ I and 2, must observe the norms on this matter given out by a diocesan bishop or conference of bishops. o 4. By the law itself this same faculty is possessed everywhere, for the members of their institute and others living day and night in a house of an institute, by the superiors of pontifical clerical institutes of consecrated life who by reason of their office possess the same faculty towards their subjects, as also by any priest granted the faculty for his subjects by a superior of the same institute competent according to the constitutions. They may lawfully use this faculty unless a major superior refused with regard to his subjects in a particular case (Communications I0 [ 1978], 57-60).

2. Holydays of Obligaiion Can. 45, § I. Sunday, in which t~h,e paschal mystery is celebrated, from apostolic tradition, is to be celebrated ifi the universal Church as the primordial holyday of obligation. Likewise the Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ and at least one of the solemnities of the Blessed Virgin Mary designated by the conference of bishops should be observed. § 2. Conferences of bishops are also competent to determine what other feasts are to be observed in their territory as holidays of obligation. Can. 47. The precept of participating in Mass is satisfied by one who assists at Mass wherever celebrated in a Catholic rite either on the feast day itself or in the evening of the preceding day. 783 7B4 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

Days of Penance Can. 48 ter. Abstinence from the eating of meat, or of other food according to the prescrip- tions of the conference of bishops, is to be observed on all Fridays of the year unless a Friday coincides with a solemnity. Fast and abstinence are to be observed on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. ¯ Can. 48 quater. The law of abstinence obliges all who have completed their fourteenth year; that of fast who have attained majority [18 years] until the beginning of the sixtieth year. Pastors of souls and parents are to take care that those also not held to the law of fast and abstinence, because of their younger age, are formed to a genuine sense of penance (Comrnu- nicationes 12 [1980], 359-367).

4. Juridical Effects. In virtue of can. 288 of the matrimonial law, a public perpet- ual vow. of chastity in an institute of consecrated life is a diriment impediment to marriage and thus, unless dispensed, invalidates marriage. However, unless dispensed, any other vow, private or public, or other bond, whether the vow or bond is temporary or perpetual, that directly forbids the celebration of marriage, which is true only of celibacy, or indirectly forbids the celebration of marriage: (!) because this would place one in the proximate occa- sion of violating the vow or bond, as is true of one of virginity or perfect chastity; (2) or makes the fulfillment of the vow or bond regularly impossible, as one of virginity, "perfect chastity, of receiving sacred orders, or of entering an institute of consecrated life would forbid marriage by the natural law. Are temporal goods of religious institutes governed also by the proposed universal law of the Church on this matter or only by the canons under the same heading in the section on religious? The former is what is enacted in the corrected can. 20, § 1, of the proposed canons on religiousl which reads: "The temporal goods of religious institutes, since they are ecclesiastical, are governed by the patrimonial law of the universal Church, unless the contrary is expressly established." In correcting the canons on the proposed universal law of the Church, the suggestion was made that these norms apply also to institutes of perfection or that special norms be added for religious. The secretary replied: "... it is the mind of our commission that these goods [of religious] be treated in the section on institutes of perfection" (Comrnunicationes, 12 [1980], p. 392.) We are thus faced with a clear contradiction that must be solved by the various concerned Roman officials and groups.

Under the heading of "Affairs to Be Considered in the General Chapter," we have the following article in our constitutions: "Any business, the transaction of which requires the permission or confirmation of the Holy See." Should we retain this article? If so, how should it be expressed? The article should be omitted. It is evidently a poorly considered article. It is impractical because the only decision apt to occur in a chapter of affairs and that demands recourse of a pontifical congregation to the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes is a request for a change in the constitutions. A Questions and Answers / 7115 postulation also requires the confirmation of the Holy See but it appertains to the general chapter as a chapter of elections, not of affairs. It is obvious that practically all matters demanding recourse to the Holy See appertain to the ordinary govern- ment of the superior general assisted by his or her council, for example, dispensa- tions from common law, alienation of property and contracting of debts, indults of secularization for professed of perpetual vows, and a transfer from another reli- gious institute when at least one of the two institutes is pontifical.

You stated in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS that the distinctive effects of a solemn vow of poverty as opposed to the simple vow are (1) that acts contrary to the solemn vow are also invalid, if they are capable of invalidation, and (2) that the solemnly professed are incapable of retaining or acquiring for themselves the ownership of temporal things of monetary value. Has a dispensation from these effects ever been given, with the vow remaining solemn, as I have heard? Yes. The present canon law contains the distinction between religious institutes of solemn and of simple vows, which are called respectively orders and congrega- tions. It also distinguishes solemn and simple vows and their effects. In the pro- posed new canon law, any explicit or implicit mention of solemn vows has been omitted. The definition of the simple vow of poverty has remained constant in the practice of the Roman Congregations in approving constitutions. The Sacred Congregation of Bishops and Regulars defined the simple vow in the Normae of 1901 (n. !!3): "By the simple vow of poverty, the sisters renounce the right of disposing licitly of any temporal thing without the permission of legitimate superi- ors." In its definition of 193 I, the Sacred Congregation of Religious, in the statutes for Extern Sisters (n. 64), merely explicitly added "of monetary value" to "tem- poral things." In 1940 the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith, in its Norms for Diocesan Congregations (n. 57), which were typical constitutions for such institutes, retained the same definition as in the Statutes. Roman Congre- gations have made no subsequent change in this definition. The definition of the solemn vow of poverty is exactly the same, as can be seen from the definition in the General Constitutions of the Order of St. Clare (art. 25), approved by the Holy See on March 25, 1973: By the vow of poverty the sisters renounce the right of disposing legitimately of any temporal thing which has value without the permission of the !egitimate superior. By the solemn vow of poverty they also become incapable of ownership or proprietorship of temporal things. The difference therefore between the two vows is that to the vow it designates as solemn the Church by its general law adds two. effects: acts contrary to the solemn vow are also invalid, if they are capable of being invalidated, which is true also of the solemn vow of chastity, and the solemnly professed are made incapable of retaining or acquiring the proprietorship of temporal things of monetary value for themselves (can. 579; 58 I-2). Canon law permits the same effects to be added to the simple vow of poverty by the particular law of the institute (can. 580, § I), as has been done for the final simple vow of poverty in the Society of Jesus. The 7116 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982 invalidating effect in chastity with regard to marriage may be added to the simple vow only with the authorization of the Holy See (can. 1058, § 2), which also has been done in the Society of Jesus. I know of no other institute that has followed the practice of the Society of Jesus. There is no distinctive effect in the solemn vow of obedience. When it is realized that both of the effects mentioned above are extrinsic to the solemn vow of poverty and have their source in a law of the Church added to the vow, it is clear that the Church can dispense from its own law of invalidity and incaparity and that the vow will remain solemn. A legislator may dispense from his own law (can. 80)’and in doing so in this case he did not touch the vow but only the effects of his own law that had been added to the vow. The actual commonly known dispensations are the following. The first dispen- sation was granted by the Holy See in 1820 and confirmed in 1878 to the s.olemnly professed of both sexes of Belgium and Holland: "that they may be able to acquire, retain and administer and to dispose of those goods in pious and licit purposes, notwithstanding the vow of poverty, provided they do this with due dependence on legitimate superiors" (Goyeneche, Commentarium pro religiosiso 8 [1927], 120-1). The two following dispensations were given by the Holy See on November 9, 1940 and July 8, 1974 respectively. They are reported by the Commentarium pro religiosis, 56 (1975), 187, and O’Connor, Canon Law Digest, Supplement through 1975, can. 579, !-2): All solemnly professed members of both sexes of the Order of Cistercians in the monasteries existing under the German government [are] able validly and licitly, notwithstanding their solemn vow of poverty, to acquire:possess, administer and dispose of properly, provided that they do this with due permission of their superiors, and that they may be able also to assert under oath and with a clear conscience that they have, in accordance with the norm of civil law, acquired true ow~nership of the property they possess together with the right to dispose of the same. [A] dispensation [is granted] from the prescriptions of canons 579 and 581 of the Code of Canon Law so that, as regards the juridical ~ffects of the solemn vow of poverly, their members may be equated with the condition of religious in simple, perpetual vows in accord with the norms of canon law, especially canon 580, par. I and 2. The members referred to are the men and women of the respective orders in Austria, both at present and in the future, who have either already pronounced or will pronounce solemn vows. Should a two-thirds vote of the general chapter be required for a change in the statutes or directory? No. The canonical requisite is an absolute majority (can. 101, § 1, 1°). In itself the demanding of a higher number of votes is permissible, as is done now quite° frequently for a change in the constitutions. The contents of the statutes or direc- tory, however, are to be legal norms of lesser importance, details, matters that do not touch the usual life, and formalities. These, as matters of less importance, should not require a higher vote than usual of the chapter. Furthermore, a reason of.separating them from the constitutions is to facilitate their change, as in details of formation or apostolate. Book Reviews

Materials for this department should be sent to Book Review Editor; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428, 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Reviews published in REVIEW EOR RELIGIOUS are indexed in BookReview Index. Neither REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS nor its reviewers can fill orders for any titles. Interested par- ties should inquire at their local booksellers or directly from the publishers.

Mantras for the Morning: An Introduction ’to Holistic Prayer. By Bishop Robert F. Morneau. Collegeville. MN." Liturgical Press. Pp. 120. Paper. $4.25.

Prayer. Can there be a new, a different pursuit of prayer? One that touches not only the mind or the heart but that involves seeing and listening, that takes prayer beyond the written or spoken word and integrates it with song, with nature, with a contemplation of other people? Can such an ambitious conception be enclosed between the covers of a book? It can. In Mantras for the Morning. Bishop Robert F. Morneau’s fourth book published by Liturgical Press, the reader is led to total involvement in each of twenty five reflective themes. Each theme is presented as a mantra (a seven-syllable phrase to be rhythmically repeated), which is then followed by allied references from Scripture and further expanded threefold: by a photograph, a musical setting of the mantra, and a short poem. Each meditative theme is then enriched through quotations from poets, mystics, philosophers, theologians and novelists. While many prayer experiences involve only a portion of the person--an idea touching the mind, or a song touching the heart--mantra meditations attempt to involve the whole person through all senses. "Prayer is essentially an encounter with God," states Bishop Morneau’s introduction. "When our encounter embraces the cognitive, affective and behavioral aspects of our lives, we will enjoy an integrated spirituality." The mantras chosen are universal themes such as simplicity, indwelling, intimacy and presence. They are depicted by mantras, as "Dearest freshness deep down things" (from Gerard Manley Hop- kins’s poem God’s Grandeur) reflects the theme of "Newness," or the mantra. "I am standing at the door," from Rv 3:14-22 reflects on "Waiting." "Repeated reverently and thoughtfully, the mantra becomes part of our internal timing," states Bishop Morneau. "Synchronized with breathing, the mantra resonates to the depth of our being and helps us to slow down, to journey deep within ourselves." 787 71111 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

Instructions are simple: to allow the pondering of the mantra’s insight, to "feel its movement, to. begin to perceive and respond to its truth." The quotations which are pulled together at the end of each mantra once again reveal Bishop Morneau’s wide knowledge of secular literature as well as that written by theologians, and include such diverse and interesting quotes as those from Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl. Emily Dickin- son’s poems and King Lear among the more expected writers of religious works. Photography by Rev. Robert Laliberte and Rev. John Blaha, and musical phrases written for each mantra by Sister Miriam Cecile Ross, S.S.N.D., enhance the unusual meditations in this attractive paperback. Mantras for the Morning is a book of meditations for anyone who wants to deepen spiritual awareness. As with his previous books, Our Father Revisited (19783, Trinity Sunday Revisited (1980) and Discovering God[v Presence (1980), once again this thoughtful author has brought to life a new way of understanding ourselves and our potential to be one with God.--Nano’ Sweetland; 215 Oak Hill Dr.; Green Bay. WI 54301.

1 and 2 Corinthians (New Century Bible Commentary). B.v F. F. Bruce. Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1981. Pp, 262. Paper. $6.95. This volume reprints a work that was first published in England ten years ago. Given the rapidity with which New Testament studies progress, such an interval ordinarily would prove fatal, lacking revisions, updating, and so forth. That is not the case in this instance. Bruce. who retired from the faculty of the University of Manchester. is widely recognized as the foremost representative of conservative biblical scholarship for English-speaking Protestant Christian- ity. The careful learning influenced by the broad experiencc and prudence which he brings to the interpretive task guarantees a dependability and a usefulness to the results which endure beyond most. Consistent with his conservative posture, he draws heavily on the Lukan portrait in Acts for his understanding of Paul’s missionary methodology and for his reconstruction of the history of the relationship between Paul and the Christian community in Corinth. Surprisingly he draws his descrip- tion of the situation of the Church at Corinth not from the information in Acts but rather from statements and implications in the Corinthian correspondence. Bruce is not persuaded by the various theories which have been offered concerning the composite nature of the Corinthian Epistles. He accounts for abrupt shifts in the style and content of I Corinthians by suggesting that Paul composed the document in three stages. Chapters 1-4 were written in response to a communication received from Chloe’s people: 5-6 replied to an oral report from the three mentioned in 16:17: while 7-16 answered issues raised in a letter from Corinth which these latter three delivered. 2 Co 10:13 is not to be identified with "the letter of tears" (2 Co 2:4), but was either added by Paul when he received fresh and disturbing news, or, more likely, is a later letler Paul wrote to Corinth which has become attached to 2 Co I-9. Some minor blemishes mar the work. Bruce ignores the challenge H. Conzelmann raised in 1967 to the assumption of an extensive installation for temple prostitution at the Corinthian Temple of Aphro- dite. On page 48 cryptic reference is made to three scholars for whom I was unable to find any further bibliographic information anywhere in the book. The volume is to be welcomed for making available a rich collection of interpretive insights in a format which is modest both in scope and in price.--Keith Nickle: Bt’blical Area: Columbia Theological Seminary; Decatur. GA 30031.

Old Testament Wisdom. By James L. Crenshaw. Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1981. Pp. 284. Paper. $9.95. Professor James Crenshaw of Vanderbilt University has made a valuable contribution to deeper understanding of the Old Testament in his new work, OM Testament Wisdom. For scholar and interested reader alike, Crenshaw has combined a thorough grounding in Wisdom research with a Book Reviews / 789

gifted insight into the fundamental questions of lifeX meaning that have provoked ancient sages as well as the most modern minds. The result is a very readable work that freshens archaic sayings by making them available in their vivid context and history. Crenshaw discusses the purpose and origin of wise sayings, parables, stories and witticisms that have been passed on to us in such biblical books as Proverbs, Job and Ecclesiastes. Precisely because this accumulated Israelite wisdom is the product of long and considered experience on basic life questions and their answers, readers will be provoked into a kind of dialogue with the unseen authors: "Does this still hold true? Can we rely on this advice anymore?" and questions of this kind. Based on his complete knowledge of the Bible as well as extra-biblical sources, Crenshaw can usually make one understand the point of sometimes obscure passages in order to clarify their point. This is surely biblical scholarship at its modern best--like Eden Seminary’s Walter Brueggemann, Crenshaw’s work has the twin effect of deepening our understanding of the past while sharpening our own attempts to cope with the present. Since Israelite Wisdom was a reasoned and practical attempt to find truth in life and thus approached the task holistically, a work such as this can have the added value for the religious reader of alerting us to the very mundane needs of people in society: how to behave in a group, the place of friendship, how to succeed and so forth. In an age when moral theology is often caught up in the argument between those emphasizing sexuality as the ultimate issue and those emphasizing justice, this approach is not only refreshing but liberating. It is entirely conceivable as well that readers may want to read this material in the Bible itself once more--Z’with feeling.--Patriek M. Arnold, S.J.: 1300 North Ave., NE," Atlanta. GA 30307.

The Right of a Community to a Priest. Concilium Series (No. 133). Edited by Edward Schillebeeckx and Johann-Baptist Metz. New York: Seabury Press, 1980. Pp. ix, 138: Paper. $5.95. This volume of the well-known Concilium series is a timely one. It is part of the theological effort to raise the level of consciousness of the entire Church to the pressing problem of the right of every community to a priest. Though the question of the ordination of women is not the focus of this book, the final essay by Schillebeeckx includes that possibility as a solution. The final part (IV) should be read first. In this section, (pp. 95-127) Schillebeeckx reflects critically through an historical and theological perspective on the shortage of priests in the light of the communi- ty’s right to office-bearers and to the Eucharist. This part will help you to situate yourself within the problem and enable you to discover your own theological position. The rest of the book is composed of articles by eleven theologians. (They are identified on pp. 135-137.) Part 1 (pp. 3-14) demonstrates the crisis (a shortage of priests) through a statistical survey. The number of priests is disproportionate to the number of communities worldwide. This number is in dramatic contrast to the normal ratio of one priest to every 50-500 faithful in early Christianity. Part II (pp. 15-56) is an eye-opener in which accounts of lived experiences ranging from under- ground churches to radically open and confrontative Christian communities which solve their own needs over against the traditional insitutional approach. This section presents examples from Italy, Spain, France. Holland and Africa. One of the authors. Joseph A. Komonchak. offers a helpful outline of ideas and approaches for ~non-ordained" and "’ordained~ ministries within the local church (pp. 44-50), Part I11 (pp. 59-92), Theological Refelections. helps the reader to learn the proper terminology for reflection on the problem. It explores the topic "The Right to a Priest?"(pp. 66-74), and also discusses the question of obligatory celibacy which is the decisive obstacle to the granting of the local church community’s right to its own priest (see pp, 81-91). This book is meant for those with a good theological background. The issues are sensitive ones and the material is tightly bound up in theological language. However, the final essay (Schillebeeckx’s) says it all in a masterful way. This Concilium issue is recommended for all pastors, catechists and Church 7~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

ministers who have kept up with theological renewal in the Chureh.--Bertrand Buby, S.M.: Religious Study Department of the University of Dayton, OH 45469.

Contemporary Catholic Theology: An Introduction. By John Tully Carmody and Denise Lardner Carmody. New York: Harper & Row, 1980. Pp. 252. Paper. $8.95. The authors of this comprehensive introduction specialize in Christian Theology and Comparative Religious Studies at Wichita State University and their professional experience makes this book an exciting contribution to contemporary theological literature. Those of us .engaged in college teaching and continuing education programs are always on the lookout for a substantial and readable book to offer those who desire to reflect on the theological development of their faith, and this book is one of the best to come to the attention of this reviewer. The Carmodys’ aim is to, "organize the traditional themes of Catholic doctrine into a unified contemporary statement." The themes are: the source of contemporary theology, incarnation, trinity, grace, Church, morality, spiritual life and theological method. Rahner’s vision supposedly provides the framework for the development of the themes. However to relate Rahner’s thought to thee"practical issues of today is a difficult task for such a limited enterprise, and unfor~tunate!y the project falls by the wayside as the reader is introduced to a plurality of theologies which are presently replacing traditional theological formulations. The treatment of Christology in an evolutionary perspective, theologies of the Church, concepts of sin and grace, social justice and liberation are among the highlights in this creative and lucid approach to the basic insights of the Catholic tradition. Each chapter contains an up-to-date bibliography offering scholarly and popular material easily accessible to the reader. Appendices provide a brisk but ample tour of the history of theology and an assessment of the theology of John Paul I 1 as reflected in the encyclical, Redemptor Hominis, and his major address in Puebla. This book is ideal for those interested in developing a new view of the whole Christian story.--Rev. John M. Ballweg; Religious Studies Department; Seton Hall University; South Orange. NJ 07079.

Ethics on a Catholic University Campus. Edited by James D. Barry. Chicago." Loyola University Press, 1980. Pp. xii, 128. Paper. $5.95.

This volume is an edited transcript of a two-day symposium held by Loyola University, Chicago in March, 1980. The symposium was directed to articulating a statement of "the ethical’ stature of Loyola University as an urban university that is Christian, Catholic, and Jesuit.~ The University is seen as struggling to come to grips with the relationships between knowledge and virtue, morality and religion, learning and the climate of learning, the university and the city. The format of a brief paper, followed by brief commentaries and a general question and answer session, does not lend itself to an in-depth book covering these relationships. In general, the problems involved in these relationships are treated in a superficial manner. A paper by David Ozar. a member of Loyola’s Philosophy Department, makes a helpful contribu- tion to the knowledge-virtue issue. Recognizing that an ethics course cannot teach prudence, he suggests the following four aims for the course: I I) broaden awareness and sensitivity to values and moral principles, (2) strengthen the ability to reason about moral issues, (3) increase awareness of the social and institutional context and impact of individual choices, and (4) provide personal example of how to engage in moral reflection. Another paper by Professor John Rastovac of the Department of Natural Sciences provides a good introductor3~ statement of Kohlberg’s theory of moral development. These two papers have a significance reaching beyond the theme of ethics on a Catholic campus~ As regards the theme itself, the volume may be of interest to anyone making a sociological study of how an urban, Christian, Catholic, and Jesuit university goes about trying to understand the nature and scope ~of its responsibility in the teaching of ethics.-- Vincent C. Punzo; Philosophy Department; Saint Louis University; St. Louis, MO 63103. Book Reviews ] 791

The Sacraments: Reading in Contemporary Sacramental Theology. Ed. Michael J. Taylor, S.J. New York: Alba House, 1981. Pp. xiv, 274. Paper. $7.95. Taylor has collected twenty-two articles previously published on sacraments as such and on individual sacraments. The articles seem to be intended to stimulate or initiate reflection on sacraments by those coming to such reflection for the first time. No one sacrament is pursued at any great depth; even though some standard sacramental theologians appear throughout the book, they are dealing with this or that detail of their theology rather than with the whole picture. The book might be helpful in a parish adult education discussion group.--George McCauley. S.J.; Graduate School of Religion and Reli- gious Education; Fordham University; NY 10458.

Reconciliation and Liberation: Challenging a One-Dimensional View of Salva- tion. By Jan Millic Lochman. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1980. Pp. 160. Paper. $6.95. The title of this work provides a succinct definition of its theme. In his introduction Jan Lochman clearly states the task of his volume: to challenge both those who see salvation as only reconciling (vertical dimension) and those who see salvation as only liberating (horizontal dimension). However, he goes beyond an explication of the need to see both sides of salvation to a presentation of their intrinsic unity, l_ochman draws on Aulen’s presentation of three theories of atonement and shows that the classical theory of salvation as stemming from the victory of Christ in overcoming the power of evil is especially helpful to modern theology in that it enunciates the universalist Character of salvation,~is faithful to the biblical theme of salvation, and provides a solid basis for understanding the essential connection between reconciliation and liberation. What is at stake in the saving action of Christ is both man’s temporal and his eternal life, the redemption and liberation of all of creation. What is provided is a theological basis for an ethical imperative to fight against evil in the present as an extension of the battle with the demonic forces in which Christ emerged as victor. What is assured is that the pursuit of salvation cannot be viewed as a private matter. Although clearly supportive of modern liberation theology. Lochman issues a caution against theologizing in liberation terms as a cultural fad. A safeguard against this tendency to hop on the latest bandwagon is to always get one’s bearings from the Bible. The salvific events of the Exodus of the Old Testament and of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus in the New Testament offer solid guidance to a sound understanding of salvation as liberation. l,ochman’~integrates in a short volume key ideas of modern biblical and systematic theology with the contemporary theology of liberation. He offers a development to this current of theology that is clear and solid. His work will be appreciated most by those who have at least a rudimentary knowledge of the areas he is integrating.--Noel rHackmann Barrett; Department of Religious Studies; Villa Duchesne Academy; St. Louis. MO 63131.

Cries but Silent. By Andrew Costello. Chicago, Thomas More Press, 1981. Pp 179. $8.95. In his preface to this book of prayer-poems. Father Costello declares that "there are no secular moments. All moments are grace-filled" (p. I I). So he challenges his readers to ~hear the sounds all around you" and in doing so to listen to their own story by first becoming aware of the sounds of other people. What follows is more than one hundred fifty very short, free verse poems that provide insightful descriptions of Everyman’s experience. Topics range from simple analogies with nature to more philosophic searchings on the meaning of growing old. of failing in human relationships. The breakup of marriage and death are two of the major themes of the book. Only a few of the poems have a specifically religious character and these seem to this reviewer some of the least successful. The observations ring true to everyday experience, as when a poem titled "Obviously" points out that "The meeting--never takes--place at--the meeting" (p. 52) and "Reassurance" suggests that "1 792 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

know you love me--that’s not what I need. It’s the reassurance" (p. 138). Fresh figures of speech succeed, for the most part, in transforming shredded prose into poetry. In "Subway" the riders are described as "cans of people" waiting to get home and be opened for supper (p. 54) and a terminal cancer patient comes to know that my "Judas body had betrayed me" (p. 41). Titles are intriguing and need a second reading for full savoring of the imagery. In "Frozen Meat"a woman is described as keeping her feelings "in the freezer--a solid lump--wrapped in aluminum foil. And yet--she wonders--if she opens up--and lets them thaw out--will she be burnt?" (p. 92) "Simplic- ity Pattern" ends with a prayer for "more and more of you, God, in the fabric of my life" (p. 89). There are even poems with such unpoetic titles as "Lid" "Ceramic" "But" and one entitled just "O." A few poems use type to convey effects’, one of the most successful of these is entitled "Roots" and like its subject matter, needs to be read and appreciated from top to bottom and from bottom to top. Even a non-lover of poetry will find something in this particular volume. And probably most readers will discover a few to treasure and share with others. This may not be great classic poetry, but it reveals something of the true meaning that hides underneath the prose of common human experience. Worth the inflationary price of $8.95 for 179 pages with lots of white space!--Sister Marie Beha, OSC; 1916 N. Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, SC 29609.

Solitude in the Thought of Thomas Merton. By Richard Anthony Cashen. Kala- mazoo, Michigan: Cistercian Publications, 1981. Pp. vii, 210. $15.50. This book, originally prepared as a doctoral dissertation, concentrates on one very important theme in Thomas Merton’s thought, the theme of solitude. The author correctly recognizes the importance of solitude in Merton’s life and writings and in a careful and penetrating way develops, the rich theme, while at the same time unifying many of Merton’s other insights around it. The investigation is divided into five chapters. The first, ~Merton the Solitary," shows the important place that solitude played in Merton’s personal life along with the maturing development of his understanding of it. His desire for solitude brought him to the monastery, and his desire for greater solitude was a persistent theme during his years as a monk. The second chapter, "Man the Solitary," develops the relationship between Merton’s vision of the human person and interior solitude. For Merton, who is convinced that each person is called to discover his or her own unique identity, interior solitude is essential. To be a person is to have a secret and solitude which is one’s very own, which is incommunicable. The discovery of this inner solitude is thus a discovery that one is really a person. Two chapters investigate Merton’s views on monasticism as seen from the perspective of solitude. "The Monk as Solitary" shows how Merton relates all aspects of monasticism to solitu~,’! and solitude to contemplation. The chapter entitled "The Hermit" explores Merton’s extensive writings on the eremitic monastic life. Merton had long valued and championed the legitimacy of the hermit’s vocation within cenobitic communities and looked upon it as a normal fulfillment of the monastic vocation in certain cases. The final chapter briefly evaluates "the place of solitude in Merton’s own life and thought. and the contributions of his thought on solitude to modern Christians and contemporary monks." This book provides good, solid reading. The author manifests a thorough knowledge of Merton’s writings and he himself writes in a clear and readable way. This study makes a valuable contribution to Merton studies and can be highly recommended to a general reading audience.--Charles J. Healey. S.J.; Boston College; Chestnut Hill. MA 02167.

Silence. By Shusako Endo. Translated by William Johnston. New York." Taplinger Publishing Company, 1979. pp. 294. $15.00. In this novel based upon the persecution of Catholic missionaries and converts in seventeenth century Japan, a foremost contemporary Japanese writer unfolds a multi-layered parable for the Christian missionary enterprise, for the Church in our own world of secular atheism, for the Christian’s personal faith and commitment and ultimately for the problem of theodicy--God’s relation through Christ to human existence in an inhuman world. Reports reach Rome that Christavao Ferreira, S.J., a mission- Book ReViews / 793

ary of high repute and many years’ labors, has apostatized after being tortured in the infamous "pit" in Nagasaki. Three of his former students secure reluctant permission to make the arduous journey to Japan, whose ports are now closed to Portuguese shipping, to learn what they can about the fate of their admired teacher. En route, one of the three dies. The other two pick up as guide a slovenly, untrustworthy.Japanese, Kichijiro, who professes to be a Christian, but is to prove to be their Judas. He assists them to land under the cover of night on Japanese soil, and takes them to Christian peasants, who hide them in a hut in the woods above their village. From this point, the story unfolds inexorably to disaster. The two young priests separate, having witnessed the martyrdom of two villagers who had helped in hiding them. Sebastian, eventually the one survivor, learns the cruel truth spoken to him by an interrogator: "You came to this country to lay down your life for them. But in fact, they are laying down their lives for you." (p. 208.). As this theme develops, with great vividness and economy of incident, two motifs emerge: (I) Sebastian begins to understand his own sufferings as his immediate participation in the sufferings of Christ--his thirst, his abuse by crowds, his repeated betrayals by Kichijiro, his thick-tongued inability to pray. These are not incidents in the life of Christ which he appropriates by meditation. They are his identification with Christ in his immediate sufferings. (2) Why is God silent? "The black soil of Japan has been filled with the lament of so many Christians; the red blood of priests has flowed profusely; the walls of the churches have fallen down; and in the face of this terrible and merciless sacrifice offered up to Him, God has remained silent" (p. 85). As each episode reaches its climax, that question echoes like the dark sound of a gong dooming the death of fresh victims. No simple answers are given to this question, nor to other corollaries raised in the novel. Sebastian does find Ferreira, who has apostatized and now is used by his persecutors to bring Sebastian himself to deny Christ by putting his foot on the worn brass medallion of Christ’s face, in order to save poor peasant wretches from their torture in the pit. No triumphant martyrdom is granted him. He is confronted with the alternative of their martyrdom or his apostasy. The only answer he finds to the silence of God is his belief, at the end, that "Our Lord was not silent. Even if he had been silent, my life until this day would have spoken of him." The novel will raise for the reader other important questions, in addition to this one of the right or wrong of Sebastian’s choice: questions having to do with the assumptions underlying the Christian missionary enterprise: of the encuhuration of the faith in a strange land and among new peoples; of whether and how the religious vocation should or should not protect one from the sufferings and fates of common believers; and for all, the timeless question of whether God cares and if so, how is his love manifest in a time of martyrdom--or of nuclear annihilation? The stark tragedy is counterpointed throughout by the author’s sensitive use of the natural scene as background and his evocation of the oppression of the poor peasants, degraded to an almost bestial life, but one from which they rise in heroic power and grandeur in their sufferings and martyrdom for the faith. The translation has the clarity and felicity that we would expect, from Father William Johnston’s other translations from the Japanese and from his own writings.--John L. Casteel; 5601 Bethel P~’ke; Muncie, IN 47302.

Following the Way: The Setting of John’s Gospel. By Bruce E. Schein. Minneapo- lis: Augsburg, 1980. Pp. 223. $12.50. Yale graduate, Dr. Bruce Schein, has lived in Jerusalem for fifteen years, since 1974, as Director of the Lutheran Church in America Holy l,and Seminars. As such he has become one of the most knowl- edgeable and experienced American guides to the I,and of the Bible. Taking the geographical indica- tions of John’s gospel more seriously than many armchair exegetes, Schein rewrites the public life of Jesus in a meditative, present tense style, drawing upon historical, geographical, and rabbinic studies. He constantly evokes the wealth of Old Testament references associated with the places visited and the routes followed by Jesus and his disciples during their months of wandering through Galilee, Perea, and Judaea in an attempt to convey tO the reader something of the meaning of the experience of "being 794 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

there.~ Black and white photographs are by Avraham Hay. A few positions taken by Schein will surprise many readers. He explains his use of the term "Judaean" instead of "Jew" as due to his understanding of the opposition to Jesus being more from geographical snobbery than religion. His location of Pilate’s praetorium and the trial of Jesus in Herod’s palace on the western side of Jerusalem instead of in the Antonia fortress on the present-day "Via Dolorosa" agrees with the evaluation of most major archaeologists today. On the other hand, his occasional references to Galileans as rebels or revolutionaries is not in accord with the findings of Se~in Freyne’s recent major work, Galilee from Alexander the Great to Hadrian 323 B.C.E. to 135 C.E.: A Stud), of Second Temple Judaism. A series of twelve appendices deals with several disputed locations. The book may be recommended to the general reader, even for spiritual reading,--Charles H, Miller. S.M.; Department of Graduate Theolog),; St. Mar),’s University; San Antonio, TX 78284.

Amos Among the Prophets: Composition and Theology. By Robert B. Coote. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1981. Pp. 144. Paper. $5.50. This small book’s major purpose is to enrich a person’s "understanding of prophecy by reading longer sections." Coote fears too frequently that prophecy has been used "as though it were shampoo--a little is supposed to go a long way." Amos is used as an example to demonstrate how prophetic literature "is the end result of a series of recompositions of the original words of a named prophet." Our contempor- ary interpretation is yet another recomposition or "actualization" which "allows us to see ourselves in direct continuity with the persons and communities of faith that read Amos so actively that they rewrote him as they read.~ While Coote’s work is self-defined as an essay in redaction ~:riticism, it is intended for pastors and "intermediate seminary students." There arc reflective remarks within the description of the three stages of composition where one finds the implications or "actuali~’ations" of the contemporary interpreter. He uses twentieth century authors such as William Sloan Coffin. Eric Berne and Carl Sagan. as he attempts to draw out the meanings of Amos. In the discussion of the seventh century rewriting of Amos (Coote’s Stage B) where one sees a focus on the cult of Bethel and the pilgrimage festival of succoth, Coote turns to the reader and asks "What role.., does worship play in our churches, and in our society?" The work consists of four chapters. The first, "Three Stages of Composition," sets briefly the purpose and literary-historical context of the study. The next three chapters deal with each stage of the Amos tradition: "The Prophet Amos: Stage A," "Justice and the Scribe: Stage B," and "Exile and Beyond: Stage C.~ The reader can grasp the distinctive features of each stage, the socio-historical situation out of which each arose and the interrelationship between the stages. The book concludes with comments ~For Further Reading" which describe a selected number of both general Old Testament books and articles, along with some of the recent works on Amos. The book should serve the purpose of an introduction to Amos at a very reasonable price. This reviewer is less optimistic about the ability of the average reader to appropriate the method used to other prophetic books even though the process of recomposition found in Amos certainly exists in other prophetic literature. The Amos schotar will find points of debate regarding the reconstruction of stages although there is considerable agreement with H. W. Wolff’s commentary. Finally, there are some new proposals which deserve further discussion, such as the observation that "Jonah is essentially a inidrash on Amos C" (Coote’s late sixth century stage). Biblically literate persons shoidd find this "book about a book" interesting and provocative--Kent HaroM Richards: The lliff School of Theol- ogy.; Denver. Co 80210.

War or Peace? The Search for New Answers. Edited by Thomas A. Shannon. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1980. Pp. xiv, 255. Paper. Thisfestschrift dedicated to the Catholic pacifist, Gordon Zahn, consists of thirteen essays by authors representing both just war and pacifist positions within the Protestant and Roman Catholic traditions. Book Reviews / 795

Zahn’s "Afterword" accurately characterizes the collection as "a major contribution to Christian moral teachings on war and peace.~ The various essays provide historical, philosophical, and theological perspectives that are helpful to the "Search for New Answers" which was stimulated by the openness to the pacifist tradition that began to manifest itself at the highest levels of the Roman Catholic commun- ity during the 1960"s. The essays not only bring into focus key pronouncements and writings of the Roman Catholic hierarchy beginning in the 1960’s manifesting an openness to pacifism, but they also provide a sketch of the historical context within which this openness developed. J. Bryan Hehir’s sketch of four stages of development in Catholic just war theory, beginning with Augustine and moving to the present, is particularly valuable in this regard. Also helpful are Joseph Fahey’s account of the founding and development of Pax Christi, David O’Brien’s sketch of the background to the American Catholic opposition to the Vietnam war, and Tom Cornell’s sketch of the Catholic pacifist movement which focuses on the development of the Catholic Worker movement. The essays by just war theorists James Finn and James Childress are directed to spelling out areas of agreement between the just war and pacifist traditions as a way of contributing to more fruitful dialogue between them and of stimulating cooperative ventures on behalf of international peace. The essays by Paul Deats and Stephen Lammers are helpful in distinguishing among different meanings of pacifism and in pointing to resources within the tradition that enable it to respond to the charge that pacifism is politically irresponsible and lacks resources to combat the evils of humanity’s worldly existence. Both the political scholar and the intelligent lay person will find this volume helpful in his or her reflections on the just war-pacifist tension within the Christian community.--Vincent C. Punzo; Philo- sophy Department: Saint Louis University; Saint Louis, MO 63103.

Moses and the Deuteronomist. By Robert Polzin. New York: Seabury, 1980. Pp. xiio 226. Paper. $8.95. The subtitle, "A Literary Study of the Deuteronomic History." helps to clarify the purpose of this interesting study. Polzin’s work has specialized in literary criticism, as his published works demonstrate, though he was trained in the prevailing methodologies of historical criticism. He has brought both traditions to bear on the body of literature known as the Deuteronomic (or Deuteronomistic) History: from Deuteronomy through 2 Kings (except for Ruth). The present volume, Part One, studies Deute- ronomy. Joshua and Judges from these two points of view. He admits the need for historical critical analysis, but asserts that literary analysis is necessary and even operatively prior to it. For this reason, his book is not a biblical commentary in the old style, concerned about studying the smallest units of the text (the process called "atomizing"). Instead, he sets out to study entire biblical books as units, asking such questions as how the work is constr~cted, what the purpose for its story line is. and what role the characters play. This is a new approach in biblical study. There are new principles of analysis at work, and scholars mentioned whose names will not generally be familiar to readers outside the field. Despite that, Polzin’s presentation of the leading ideas is clear and contemporary. What is even more rewarding is his insight into the composition of the three books of Israel’s history. There is much to be learned here that is not found in other works. His study will be a good companion to the verse-by-verse commentaries on these books.--John E. Rybolt. C M.; De Andreis Seminary; Lemont, IL 60439.

Isaiah 1-39 (New Century Bible Commentary). By Ronald E. Clements. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1981. Pp. xvi, 301. Paper. $7.95.

The New CentuO, Bible Commentao’ continues to be one of the best, if not the very best, commentary series in English. Each of these volumes is clear, well-arranged, and up-to-date. Even though the series is based on the text of the Revised Standard Version, it is not necessary to have the RSV to’be able to use any of the volumes in the series. The series, in addition, has the advantage of not being so technical 796 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

that it is out of range for all except the professional scholar. These commentaries would make a very thorough companion to any course or studies in Old or New Testament for which a volume is available. Clements, the author of the present commentary, is a prolific writer, whose work exhibits the highest qualities of excellence. He serves as the general editor for Old Testament in this series, in addition to many other duties. His commentary on the first part of Isaiah demonstrates his mastery of the literature in English as well as other European languages. This volume follows the general format of the rest of the series: general introduction to the writer and his time, outlines of the material in each section, and comments on every phrase of the biblical book. Of interest to many readers will be his analysis of the materials later associated with Jesus. The Ipamanuel figure and his mother are interpreted as the child and wife of Isaiah himself. The child, furthermore, is not to be connected with the royal birth of 9:2-7. The names given here are understood as royal titles, derived from the Egyptian practice of giving throne-names to the Pharoah. This is an excellent commentary, one which will become a standard for years to come.--John E. Rybolt, C.M.; De Andreis Seminar),; Lemont. IL 60439.

Principles of Catholic Theology. A Synthesis of Dogma and Morals. By Edward J. Gratsch, ed. New York: Alba House, 1981. Pp. xiio 410. $10.95.

This book was written by four priests of the archdiocese of Cincinnati, three of whom, John Civille, Ralph Lawrence and Donald McCarthy. currently teach at the archdiocesan seminary in Norwood, Ohio. The book is divided into two parts. In the first part, devoted to dogmatic theology, Fathers Lawrence and Gratsch divide up among themselves the fourteen chapters dealing with the following themes: revelation, theology as an academic discipline, language about God. the Trinity, Creation, Jesus Christ. Mary. the Mother of God, grace, the Church, sacraments and eschatology. In the second part. Fathers Gratsch, Civille and McCarthy handle the following points in moral theology: human act. law. conscience, sin, the moral virtues, responsibility to God. responsibility for truth, fidelity, honor and justice to other human beings, responsibility for human life (including the issues of abortion, euthanasia and suicide), responsibility for human health (involving questions like the morality of organic transplants and medical experimentation on human beings), and finally responsibility for sexual activity (with discussion of premarital sex, homosexuality, masturbation, birth control and artificial insemination). As is evident, the book is intended as a compendium of current Roman Catholic doctrine in faith and morals. Each chapter begins with a brief bibliography, gives some sort of historical survey of the issue in question, cites a certain amount of the contemporary literature on the subject, and ends with a reasoned defense of the present position of the Church’s magisterium on the matter. Within. its own limits, accordingly, it is a worthwhile book, both for reference and possibly for use in the classroom. On the other hand, its limitations are likewise obvious. It is not intended for an ecumenical audience, since it is basically an apologetic for Roman Catholic belief and therefore makes appeal to the decrees of councils or popes as the ultimate criterion of truth. Similarly, current theological reflection is cited mainly to highlight the present position of the Roman Catholic magisterium, not to explore ways in which the magisterium itself could move in terms of development of doctrine.--Joseph A. Bracken, S.J.: Marquette Universio,: Milwaukee; WI 53233.

Conscience: Development and Self-Transcendence. By Walter E. Conn. Bir- mingham, AL: Religious Education Press, 1981. Pp. xi, 230. Paper. $11.95. This well-written book on the conscience may come at a particularly appropriate time for many readers. The developmental theories of~Piaget, Erikson, and Kohlberg are widely known among religious and there is often expressed a desire on the part of many to become more familiar with the writings of Bernard Lonergan. What Conn has tried to do here--in explaining conscience--is to show Book Reviews ] 797

thal implicitly operative in the works of Piaget. Erickson. and Kohlberg as a central criterion of maturity is the same self-transcendence which is the key to authenticity in Lonergan. Thus, Corm takes the reader through an introductory chapter on conscience in theological ethics and then in chapter two zeroes in on self-transcendence in developmental psychology. The third chapter is devoted to Loner- gan’s understanding of conscience as self-transcending subjectivity with a final chapter summing up the fruits of this study of what -conscience is all about. Once the reader has grasped the overall scheme, things fall quickly into place. Given the dynamism of the human spirit operative within Lonergan’s four levels of human consciousness, the issue is deceptively simple. One is advised to obey the transcendental precepts: be attentive, be intelligent, be reasonable, be responsible, be loving. Or put negatively: don’t be inattentive, stupid, unreasonable, irresponsible, unloving. What then is conscience? It is what everyone has in the sense that every normal person has some degree of moral sense, some awareness of moral demands, some depth of moral consciousness. Con- science is the thrust or drive of the conscious subject toward authentic self-transcendence. This trans- cendence is realized to a degree every time one i.~ successful in creative understanding, critical judging, responsible deci~[ing, and true loving. But what is the normative meaning of conscience--from which all others are derived? It is the consciousness of a person who has undergone moral conversion, namely a monumental horizon change in criteria from what satisfies to what.is really worthwhile. Optimally it includes a religious conversion along with a critically appropriated consciousness. It is from this normative view of conscience that Corm can then explain why it is not enough to insist that we follow our conscience. For what must be asked is not simply how faithfully we followed our conscience but more importantly how authentically we formed it... according to what norm. One does not have to be morally converted to realize self-transcendence in particular choices. But without moral conversion there is no base for the development of the sustained moral self-transcendence of human authenticity. Corm knows his topic well. My only regret is that he did not spend more time dealing with the increasing criticism of these developmental theories. Despite this, the book (growing out of a collection of previously published monographs) is a good one, just the kind thal makes the efforts to master it worth the trouble. It is highly recommended.--Valentine J. Peter: Theology Department: Creighton University: Omaha. NE 68178.

The Meaning and the Mission of Religious Life in the Local Church. Donum Dei Series 26. By the Canadian Religious Conference. Ottawa, Ontario: Canada: Pub- lications of the Canadian Religious Conference, (1980). Pp. 207. Paper. (No price given.) This book is a summary and a report on the Conference of Canadian Religious--both men and women held in 1980. All the working sessions of the various meetings are described and orderly arranged under three group headings. The first is: ~’The Religious Life In the Local Church": number two is: "The Mission of Religious Life In the Local Church": and the third is: "The Formation and Vocations in the Local Church." The above three headings are divided into three phases: their blessed history, their sin history and their hopes for the future. The volume gives a very informative report of the discussions and a summary of each work session. It does acquaint us with all the concerns, ministries, dearth of vocations, the need of prayer in our lives and what the future holds in store for all religious life. The discussions are substantiated with excerpts from the Roman Document On Bishops and Religious in the Church. The second part of this publication on the Conference consists of talks delivered at this Conference by the President of the Conference For Canadian Religious. members of Religious Com- munities, one by His Excellency the Most Reverend Robert I,obcl, bishop of Valleyfield, and one by Miss Rolande Parrot, assistant editor of the diocesan magazine. These worthwhile talks again highlight- ed what the essence of Religious Life should be and what is expected of Religious by the local and universal Church. The concluding thrusts were ones of encouragement stating that there is a wellspring 791~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

of hope for religious life. Sister Catherine Oq’oole, S.C. said: "At the outset, let me state my belief that religious life, the content of our dreams, will continue to exist in the future as a form of institutional Christian life in the Church .... The lives of religious will reflect a deeper knowledge of the person of’ Christ, the radical thinking of the Beatitudes, the meaning of the Cross and of universal love .... The unique charisms of founders will continue to be important to religious, not as revered traditions but as interiorized dynamic realities." The other speakers at the Conference convince the reader that prayer, community life, service and formation will be strengthened in the future. The book concluded with the message of Pope John Paul II to (he Sisters and Male Religious of Brazil, in which he stressed our need to bear witness to God’s love by immersing ourselves in his grace. He entrusted religious to the Blessed Virgin, who is the model of our consecrated lives. Reading about the work sessions was not interesting, but I do think this book gives a practical picture of religious life and its problems in the world--not only in Canada--but in the whole world. The book is easy reading and would be an asset to all religious--male and female--perhaps at the time of general chapter, conference meetings, or an overall report, so as to discuss and improve our concerns and the future of religious life.--Sister Mary Columba Offerman, P.B. V.M.; Library Coordinator for the Sisters of the Presentation; 2360 Carter Road; Dubuque, IA .$2001.

Freedom of Simplicity. By Richard J. Foster. New York:Harper and Row, 1981. Pp. 200. Cloth. $9.95. In his latest book, Freedom of Simplicity, Richard Foster incisively yet compassionately lays bare the obsessive compulsion of our affluent society to acquire and accumulate more and moreopossessions. His translucent style eloquently exemplifies his subject, as he forthrightly presents what is probably the one option left to us for the remedy of today’s ills: inward simplicity of heart as well as external simplicity of life-style. In his opening chapter, the author deals perceptively with the underlying paradox of his subject-- the Complexity of Simplicity. He explains that often truth maintains the tension of two apparent opposites. It is found in not emphasizing one side over the other. Simplicity is a grace from God and a discipline of human persons; it is both easy and difficult. It is not merely a matter of externals; rather an inward reality in an outward life-style. It rejects both legalism and license. Foster affirms both the goodness and the limitation of material things. He warns against giving simplistic answers without living simplicity. Oversimplification must be especially guarded against because, in this case, it could so easily be taken for a virtue. He further holds that simplicity cannot function independently of the rest of the Christian virtues or disciplines; it must be seen in the light of the whole, integrated with prayer, silence and solitude, and other aspects of the Christian life. He sees inward simplicity--living in the Divine Center, in the presence of God--as a wonderfully freeing experience, liberating us from anxious worries of what others will think of us, of frantic ambitions, selfishness and self-love, status seeking, trying to get ahead in this world and the like. He writes: "Enslavement to the opinion of others is the source of a great deal of duplicity in modern society." In subsequent chapters, Foster traces the biblical roots of simplicity in the old and new covenants, as well as in the lives of the early Christians and saints, and presents models of simplicity such as St. Anthony of the Desert and St. Francis of Assisi. In thelast chapterg, he treats of corporate simplicity both in the Church and the world, and affirms that "our task is to discover specific and appropriate ways to care for the poor and defenseless today." It is a pleasure to recommend this book. Readers will find its perusal a challenging and freeing spiritual experience.--Sister Miriam Louise Gramlich, I.H.M.; St. Mary Convent; 610 W. Elm Avenue, Monroe, M! 48161.

On the Wing: The Story of the Pittsburgh Sisters of Mercy 1843-1968. By Sister M. Jerome McHale, R.S.M. New York: The Seabury Press, 1980. Pp. 406. $15.00.

Sister M. Jerome McHale,R.S.M. has given a very lucid, detailed, extensively researched story of the Book Reviews / 799

Pittsburgh Sisters of Mercy from 1843-1968 in her book On the Wing. It is an outstanding contribution to American Church History, describing the largest group of religious women in the English-speaking world during their first one hundred twenty five years of service to the Church. Their origin commences with a small company of women, founded in 1831 in Dublin by Mother Catherine McAuley. She spent her novitiate with an approved religious community, the cloistered Presentation Sisters 6f George’s Hill in Dublin. Catherine realized that this new community had to be centered in God and should be based on simplicity. In 1834 the constitutions for Catherine McAuley’s institute were ready, and approved by Rome in 1835. Depicted here is the totalpicture and completecoverage of the achievements and the failures of this band of dedicated women, who in collaboration with the hierarchy, lived the gospel of love, the gospel of mercy as spread from the time of the Civil War and now has expanded and responded to the changes of our twentieth century, and implements the decrees and the spirit of Vatican Council I1. The work of the Sisters of Mercy included mission living and working in poor circumstan- ces, founding homes, hospitals, orphanages, convents, elementary schools, high schools and colleges. This volume does justice in portraying the staunch character of the gifted, brave and witty Catherine McAuley, foundress of the Sisters of Mercy, who completely trusted in God. This book should appeal to all readers of Church history and those who are interested in the contemporary work of the Church. Several pages of excellent notes are given in the back of this volume. An all-inclusive bibliography should add to its value. Index is provided.--Sister Mar), Columba Offerman. P.B.V.M.; Library Coordinator for the Sisters of the Presentation; 2360 Carter Road; Dubuque. 1,4 52001.

BOOKS RECEIVED ABINGDON PRESS: The New Religious Political Right in America, by Samuel Hill and Dennis Owen, pp. 160, cloth, $9.95: CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF AMERICA PRESS: The Fathers of the Church, Vol. 70: St. Augustine: Eighty- three Different Questions, translated by David L. Mosher, pp. 257, cloth, no price. CISTERCIAN PUBLICATIONS: Sermons on the Final Verses of the Song of Songs, Vols. 2 and 3, by John of Ford, translated by Wendy Mary Beckett, pp. 195 and 201, cloth, no price. CROSSROAD: A Church to Believe In: Discipleship and the Dynamics of Freedom, by Avery Dulles, pp. xii, 200, cloth, $14.95. Afire with Love: Medilations on Peace and Unity, by Brother Roger of Taizi~, pp. 192, $6.95 Bible History Atlas: Popular Study Edition, by F. F. Bruce, pp. 93, cloth, $14.95. God, Christ, Church: A Practical Guide to Process Theology, by Marjorie Hewitt Suchocki. pp. xii, 227, paper, $9.95. Letters from the Heart: Christian Monasticism and the Renewal of Community, by John Main, pp. 136, paper, $5.95. Luther: A Life, by John M. Todd, pp. xix, 396, cloth, $17.50. Mended Speech: The Crisis of Religious Studies and Theology, by P. Joseph Cahill, pp. 199, cloth, $12.95. The Feminist Mystic and Other Essays on Women and Spirituality, edited by Mary E. Giles, pp. 159, paper, $8.95. The Open Heaven: A Study of Apocalyptic in Judaism and Early Christianity, by Christopher Rowland, pp. 562, cloth, $27.50. The Ordinary Way: A Family Spirituality, by Dolores R. Leckey, pp. x, 156, paper, $7.95. The Tao: The Sacred Way of Lao Tzu, edited by Tolbert McCarroll, pp. viii, 167, cloth, $9.95. FORTRESS PRESS: Born Againism: Perspectives on a Movement, by Eric W. Gritsch, pp. I I I, paper. $5.95. Mark As Story: An Introduction to the Narrative of a Gospel, by David Rhoads and Donald Michie, pp. xvi, 159, paper, $8.95. Our Search for Identity: Humanity in the Image of God, by Marianne H. Hicks, pp. viii, 167, paper, $8.95. The Triune Identity, by Robert W. Jenson, pp. xiv, 191, cloth. $6.95. I~00 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1982

HARPER Arid ROW: A letter of Consolation, by Henri J. M. Nouwen, pp. 96, cloth. $6.95. Spirituality for Ministry, by Urban T. Holmes, pp. x, 198. cloth, $12.95. The Love of Christ: Spiritual Counsels, by Mother Teresa of Calcutta. pp. viii, 115, cloth, $7.95. Varieties of Civil Religion, by Robert N. Bellah and Phillip E. Hammond, pp. xv, 208, paper, $7.95. KEA’rS PUBLISHING INC.: Daily Strength for Daily Needs, by Mary W. Tileston, pp. 379, cloth, $14.95. In His Steps, by Charles M. Sheldon, pp. 342, cloth, $14.95. Kept for the Master’s Use, by Frances Ridley Havergal, pp. 155, cloth, $11.95. KrAV PUat.~SHING HOUSE. I~;C.: Elie Wiesel: Witness for Life, by Ellen Norman Stern, pp. xiii, 199. paper, $6.95. Prophetic Faith and the Secular Age, by Levi A. Olan. pp. xiv, 162, cloth, $15.00. LE JACO Pt~m.~sr~l,XG. Ir~c.: Inside Christian Community, by Rosine Hammett. C.S.C. and Loughlan Sofield, S.T., pp. xxiv. 149. no price. Teachers, Catholic Schools, and Faith Community: A Program of Spirituality, by Fr. Ted Woj- cicki and Br. Kevin Convey, F.S.C., pp. 135, paper, no price. Tellers of the Word, by John Navone. S.J. and Fr. Thomas Cooper, pp. xxv, 341, no price. M~CHAEI. GI.AZlER. lye: !-2 Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, by Celine Mangan. O.P., pp. viii, 219, paper, $7.95: cloth, $10.95. Jeremiah 1-25, by Lawrence Boadt, C.S.P., pp. xxviii, 213, paper. $7.95: cloth, $10.95. Whal Are Saints? by C. C. Martindale, S.J.. pp. 143, paper, $4.95. MOTI" MEDIA: HOW to Make the Right Decisions, by John D. Arnold and Bert Tomkins, pp. xi, 181, paper, $5.95. The God They Never Knew: The Tragedy of Religion without Relationships, by George Otis, Jr., pp. 244, paper, $5.95. What Would Jesus Do Now? A Serious Look at How to Become Christ-like, by Wes Neal. pp. viii, 205, paper, $5.95. OXFORD Ur~lvEasrrv PRESS: The Bible in America: Essays in Cultural History, edited by Nathan O. Hatch and Mark A. Null, pp. x, 191. paper, $6.95: cloth, $19.95. PU,GR~M PRESS: Government Intervention in Religious Affairs, edited by Dean M. Kelley, pp. 216, paper, $9.95. ST. MAR1"IN,’S PRESS: An Accidental Grace, by Irene Mahoney, pp. 337, cloth, $14.95. $1. PAUl. EDrr~or~s: Teaching the Catholic Faith Today: Twentieth Century Catechetical Documents of the Holy See, pp. 349, paper. $10.00. cloth. $12.00. SEAaURV PRESS: Exploring Spiritual Direction: An Essay on Christian Friendship, by Alan Jones, pp. 135, cloth, $12.95. The Practice of Spiritual Direction, by William A. Barry and William J. Connolly. pp. xii, 209, paper, $11.95. THOMAS MORE PRESS: Tomorrow’s Church: What’s Ahead for American Catholics, edited by Edward C. Herr, pp. 226, cloth, $12.95. UNIVERSITY OF GEORGIA PRESS: Flannery O’Connor: The Imagination of Extremity, by Frederick Asals, pp. 268, cloth, $17.50. Ur~VERS~TY Or" MISSOt;R~ PRESS: Protestant versus Catholic in Mid-Victorian England: Mr. Newde- gate and the Nuns, by Walter L. Arnstein, pp. 271. cloth, $20.00. INFORMATION FOR SUBSCRIBERS

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