Review for Religious - Issue 48.6 (November/December 1989)

Issue 48.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1989.

Saved in:

Bibliographic Details
Main Author:	Missouri Province of the Society of Jesus
Format:	Online
Language:	eng
Created:	Saint Louis University Libraries Digitization Center 1989
Online Access:	http://cdm17321.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/rfr/id/303
Tags:	Add Tag No Tags, Be the first to tag this record!

id	sluoai_rfr-303
record_format	ojs
institution	Saint Louis University
collection	OJS
language	eng
format	Online
author	Missouri Province of the Society of Jesus
spellingShingle	Missouri Province of the Society of Jesus Review for Religious - Issue 48.6 (November/December 1989)
author_facet	Missouri Province of the Society of Jesus
author_sort	Missouri Province of the Society of Jesus
title	Review for Religious - Issue 48.6 (November/December 1989)
title_short	Review for Religious - Issue 48.6 (November/December 1989)
title_full	Review for Religious - Issue 48.6 (November/December 1989)
title_fullStr	Review for Religious - Issue 48.6 (November/December 1989)
title_full_unstemmed	Review for Religious - Issue 48.6 (November/December 1989)
title_sort	review for religious - issue 48.6 (november/december 1989)
description	Issue 48.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1989.
publisher	Saint Louis University Libraries Digitization Center
publishDate	1989
url	http://cdm17321.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/rfr/id/303
_version_	1798403573016428544
spelling	sluoai_rfr-303 Review for Religious - Issue 48.6 (November/December 1989) Missouri Province of the Society of Jesus Jesuits -- Periodicals; Monasticism and religious orders -- Periodicals. Barry ; Billy Issue 48.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1989. 1989-11 2012-05 PDF RfR.48.6.1989.pdf rfr-1980 BX2400 .R4 Copyright U.S. Central and Southern Province, Society of Jesus. Permission is hereby granted to copy and distribute individual articles for personal, classroom, or workshop use. Please credit Review for Religious and reference the volume, issue, and page number and cite Saint Louis University Libraries as the host of the digital collection. Saint Louis University Libraries Digitization Center text eng Missouri Province of the Society of Jesus The Misleading Power of Supernatural Phenomena God’s Sorrow: Another Source of Resistance? Monastic Parables Withholding or Withdrawal of Life Supports Volume 48 Number 6 November/December 1989 R~:.vw.w ~:OR R~t.~.OUS (ISSN 0034-639X1 is published bi-monthly at St. l.x)uis University by the Mis-souri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus: Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Blvd.¯ Rm. 428: St. l.a)uis. MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: $12.00 per year: $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail. add U.S. $5.00 per year: for airmail, add U.S. $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: Rt-;v~t~w t:OR REI.IGOUS: P.O. Box 6070: Duluth. MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to R~:v~:w Foa R~:~.t~;,~s; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. ®1989 R~.;v~.:w for RELIGIOUS. David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors November/December 1989 Volume 48 Number 6 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to voa R~:~.,;tot~s; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. ¯ Correspdndence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:v~:w nm R~:t,,:totJs; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS ... Darkness plays an important role in human life. In our most ordi-nary daily living, we experience our rhythms of sleep and wakefulness influenced by darkness and light. Darkness is also an image-word we use when we describe our own lack of understanding, whether it would be in regard to the intellectual, psychological, or spiritual aspects of our hu-man environment. When we feel that we "are in the dark," we often are motivated to new efforts at insight and invention. Darkness provides a favorite image in the scripture readings of the Advent season, especia!ly as contrasted with the light motif of Christ-mas and the Christmas season. The darkness within human living cries out for the light of faith in a God who creates out of nothingness and chaos and even more wonderfully redeems out of darkness and death. A darkness and light symbolism permeates the articles in this issue. Father Victor Brezik, C.S.B., out of the darkness of eye surgery, rep-resents some of the darkness which continuously creeps into community life when charity and faith are spent for others, but not for the community members at home. Father John Hamrogue, C.SS.R., enlarges upon this theme as he focuses upon the particular community itself, and the light or darkness which marks its contribution from its very beginnings as a community in relation to the rest of God’s people. Sister Margaret McDon-nell, R.S.C.J., draws our attention to the darkness which we all experi-ence today about the withholding and withdrawing of life support systems; the problem deepens when the religious community bears its own responsible position in the decision-making process. Dr. Rodger Ac-cardi sheds some light on the issue of religious presence on the corpo-rate governing board, so prevalent in Church institutional life today. Father Dennis Billy, C.SS.R., tries to bring the light of our theology about the Church to a new precision so that other areas of our Christian living are more clearly seen. We also struggle with the darkness of our spiritual experiences and with our relationship with God. Both Dr. Susan Muto and Father Anto-nio Moreno, O.P., reflect from the wisdom of the great Carmelite mys-tics, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, to shed new light on peren-nial difficulties in a life of prayer. Sister Catherine Jenkins, C.S.J., shares her own dark experiences of coming to a new relationship with a God of love. Father William Barry, S.J., proposes that our attempt to 801 802 / Review for Religious, November-December 1989 avoid entering into a darkness even within God--God’s sorrow--may make for a block in spiritual growth. Sister Susan Rakoczy, I.H.M., brings insight into the Christian tradi-tion of discernment from the spiritual writings of St. Alphonsus Liguori. By way of a very different manner of presentation, we may be enlight-ened by the brief poetic lines and humor in the Monastic Parables pre-sented by Sister Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. I hope that all our authors in this issue shed some light upon one area or another of our lives, and thereby image in a small way the Light we celebrate anew each Christmas. All that came to be had life in him and that life was the light of humankind, a light that shines in the dark, a light that darkness could not overpower. Jn 1:3-5 It is the prayer of the staff of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS that the light of Christ illumine your lives this Christmas and throughout the new year. David L. Fleming, S.J. Mary Immaculate Donald Macdonald, S.M.M. Father Donald Macdonald, S.M.M., has contributed a number of ~rticles over the years. His address is St. Joseph’s; Wellington Road; Todmordem Lancashire 0L14 5HP; England. If ever a concept found words to express it, it is the season of Advent. The four weeks before the magical celebration of the Word becoming flesh among us, is one of intense lor~ging and expectation, superbly and often given expression in the Advent readings. "Oh, that you would tear the heavens open and come down--in your presence the mountains would quake" (Is 64: I). What can it mean to long for God like that? It suggests both an aware-ness of an unredeemed world where God’s writ appears not to run, and an individual, conscious of the chasm between God and himself. The in-tensity-- Oh.., tear the heavens open--is from one who so wants the divine presence to reconcile his world and himself to God. In an imper-fect world the need is for God’s real presence. For the Christian, of course, that prayer has been spectacularly an-swered. "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us... we have beheld his glory" (Jn 1: 14). John uses a strong verb to describe seeing the glory, suggesting that Christ’s appeal--"full of grace and truth"-- is such that he cannot take his eyes from him. Held by that vision of Christ, he sees what God is like, and is transfixed and transfigured by what he sees. Unhappily, our vision is not so clea~-. Advent, therefore, offers a chance to deepen faith and sharPen insight. What is at stake here is not primarily ecology, the environment or other people, but the individual self. "The glory of the Lord will shine on you Jerusalem. Like the sun 803 804 / Review for Religious, November-December 1989 he will rise over you," is the Advent response to the word of God heard each day at morning prayer. To be effective a word has to be specific, so this cannot mean something like an awakening spring, a lovely sum-mer or glorious autumri which generally puts people in good form, ready to believe that perhaps God is in heaven and ali’s right with the world. Cor.’ad cor Ioquitur. The word is meant to lodge in the heart and be re-flected in living. The glory of God does shine on us through Christ the Word made flesh, but to be real and not just a poetic image, he must be welcomed into our hearts, where whatever is real to us has taken root. Like the sun, such a presence will warm, enlighten, and enliven who-ever is open to its influence. There would be a root and branch change-- "in your presence the mountains would quake"--and the transfigured individual would help draw his environment to God. Sinless The celebration of the Immaculate Conception of our Lady during the second week of Advent invites us to enjoy the company of a woman in whom this has been done. The poetry and imagery of the Advent read-ings can be used to put us in touch with such a gift--the vocabulary does not exist to do it justice--but they are more than simply the scenery of a Hollywood spectacular. The kingdom of God is meant to be wondered at and transform the individual person by its glory, but when presented through prophetic poetic imagery, it can only be really effective if per-sonally assimilated, since "everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them will be like a sensible man who built his house on rock" (Mt 7:24). The kingdom of God is neither a theatrical nor a theo-retical frame for the universe, but God’s will at home in an individual, and, therefore, transforming reality by linking the person and his envi-ronment. Mary, without sin from the moment of her conception, grew into such a person. Precisely because of this gift--"by a singular grace and privilege granted by almighty God in view of the merits 6f Jesus Christ," or, in biblical terms, "Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" (Jn 15:13)--she is at one with her God, her self, and her environment. God’s will defines basic reality, and free from any suggestion of sin, Mary lived in faith and lives at a level of integrity and maturity beyond anything we could know. Such a gift to such a person at first sight seems to place her beyond our experience. The waters are always muddied for us. We have to pro-ceed by analogy and imagination, aware that so much of someone so graced must ever escape our grasp. This is not to say, presumably, that Mar3, Immaculate / 805 because the very sound of Mary’s voice electrified Elizabeth, bringing the joy of the Holy Spirit to her and the child she was carrying, that she had the finest singing voice in Palestine for example, or that whatever she planted grew, or that she could master the techniques of the carpen-ter’s bench as those of her own fireside. Rather, life is a continuum, para-doxically lived moment to moment. To be immaculately conceived must mean that a Spirit-filled, grace-enlightened person has the insight to give all of herself to God giving himself in the present moment. Mary is truly alive. Reality is here and now, and so she would respond--the new crea-tion in Christ--and translate the prosaic everyday into a realization of the kingdom of God on earth. "The Holy Spirit is the imagination of God let loose in the world ¯ . . (who) imparts to us the gift of imagination which enables us to be totally open and receptive both to what is going on around us, and also to what the sequel to the present situation might be . . . (the) image of God in man appearing in the form of man’s imagination, for imagina-tion as creativity is of the essence of God’s being" (John Mclntyre, Faith, Theology, and Imagination. Edinburgh: Hands~! Press, 1987, p. 75). If there are traces of that in most of us, and much of it in some Of us, our Lady conceived without sin, lives and has always lived in the pre-sent moment and its implications, with a hallowed and hallowing sensi-tivity. To adapt the Isaian Advent reading, the fear of the Lord is her breath (see Is 11:2). She loves God as she draws breath, always dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus her son. Her reflective heart would then translate the fleeting moment into the permanence of the kingdom of God. Fruitful Bathed in such light and breathing such air while living by faith, per-haps the poetry of the Advent readings can help us approach the reality of our Lady. "The glory of Lebanon is bestowed on (her), the splendor of Carmel and Sharon" (see. Is 35:2). If the beauty and awe of snow-capped mountains is highlighted in reflected sunshine, how does the per-son appear reflecting the glory of God? Mary lived each day in faith blessed because she believed; in her trusting, faithful life, Elizabeth, Simeon, the shepherds, and subgequent generations testified to seeing the glory of God in her seemingly unpretentious company. In the unclouded, selfless mind and person of our Lady immaculate, the Word of God first became flesh in and through her, and neither prose nor poetry has yet been written to reflect adequately the glory of God in such a setting. 806 / Review for Religious, November-December 1989 Let the desert and dry lands be glad. Let the wasteland rejoice and bloom; like the asphodel, let it burst into flower, let it rejoice and sing for joy.., they will see the glory of the Lord, the splendor of our God (Is 35:1-3). The seed has been sown in a human heart prepared by God especially to receive it and allow it to blossom. In Mary, woman, virgin, and poor, the wilderness and dry land blossom. Through her the bleak outlook for humanity is transformed. The landscape is changed. Hope does spring eternal. Her receptive faith as the Lord’s slave (see Lk 1:38) personally welcomes the Word of God, so enabling the human race through her to "see the glory of the Lord, the splendor of our God." Poetry and proph-ecy are superb tools in the attempt to reflect the wonder of the glory of God’s kingdom on earth, but through Mary they must give way to some-thing so much richer since, "in these last days he (God) has spoken to us by a Son .... He reflects the glory of God" (Heb 1:2). There has been a seismic change in the universe. The heavens have been torn open and God has come down. Prayer is heard. Promises are kept. The wonder of it all is given by God through Ma~:y. Reassurance, Assimilation, Reality The Christian, therefore, praying in the spirit of Advent has much to gain from time in the company of such a person. Mary immaculate resonates to all that we might want of God in faith, since She (is) the faithful one whose mind is steadfast, who keeps the peace (Is 26:2-3) as her entire being was first given to God in trust. She sees what we seek. Her being and role in life is a call to God. Go up on a high mountain joyful messenger to Zion. shout with a loud voice, joyful messenger to Jerusalem... ’Here is your God’ (Is 40:9). This is descriptive, too, of Mary. She has always been such a messen-ger, not just as a relative of Christ as his mother, but relative to him in all that concerns us. Attractive in her own right reflecting as she does the glory of God, she always says, "Here is your God." This is immensely reassuring in a complex world: that in her com-pany and willingly open to her influence, "whether you turn to right or left, your ears will hear these words behind you, ’This is the way, fol-low it .... (Is 30:21). Mary immaculate could never encourage us to fol-low anything but the way that has been her life. Life has meaning and Mary Immaculate it can be found. There is reassurance, too, in believing that what is true of her can be true of us. We know that God loves her. We may need to be con-vinced that he really loves us. As we perhaps inch towards a realization of this, we can allow the prophetic poetry of the Advent readings to in-struct us. ¯ . . your God is in your midst .... he will exult with joy over you, he will renew you by his love; he will dance with shouts of joy for you as on a day of festival (Zp 3:17-18). The Gospels and the Church’s tradition help us see this reflect our Lady, but do we realize that it is true of us, too? That we may find it hard to absorb the imagery of God exulting and dancing for joy over us perhaps shows how far we are from assimilating the Gospel. It is too good to be true, we may think, but not too good for Mary immaculate. Yet given imaginative, meditative time to the Advent readings reflecting what we know of her, we may at last come to see that she is simply reflecting what we are called to be as well, sharing her wonder that ’Your God is in your midst.’ She helps us absorb the Gospel. Here lies glory. There is no need to rush at it like a bull at a gate, and the four weeks of Advent are not a crash course in evangelism. Take it moment by mo-ment. We enjoy the undivided attention of our Lady who gave and gives "Immanuel, God--with us" in the.present moment. She was born to give the Lord whom we were born to receive. "See, this is our God in whom we hoped" (Is 25:9). All we need in faith is the imaginative em-pathy to feel for what is here, and so invite Mary immaculate to lead us into a "country . . . filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the wa-ters swell the sea" (Is 11:9). She lives there, and invites us to share what she enjoys. Finally, all of this is to be found in our present imperfect world. Mary immaculate, sinless as she was, yet bears the marks and memories of life on our earth. There is a shared humanity as well as a shared faith. Her gift was not an inward-looking, ice-cold, self-possession. It may have been exclusive but was never meant to exclude us. How could it be when the gift was to aid her to take her identity from her Lord, so that he could love and give himself through her to us? Her concerns are those of God, and her field, therefore, is the universe. In responding wholly to God in love, she gives herself to all that God loves. She, above all, therefore, in view of the gift given her, can Strengthen all weary hands . . and say to all faint hearts, ’Courage! Review for Religious, November-December 1989 Do not be afraid’ (Is 35:3-4). She can gently put new heart into us as we seek the courage to invite God to give himself to us in the present moment. And though Advent is in large part expectation of a better future, we may be graced to see that in her company, we can enjoy in faith a superlative present. Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, the ears of the deaf unsealed; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongues of the dumb sing for joy (Is 35:5-6). Advent Icon Though the rest of the eucharistic gathering comes to its feet to hear the Visitation pericope, Kristine remains seated. Gently maneuvering in her wooden stall, she searches for the position offering the most comfort for both herself and her unborn. Finding it, she rests still, storing up what energy she can for the swiftly approaching travail. She is herself an icon of Mary greeting Elizabeth and Elizabeth crying for joy, a mirror of our common and glorious vocation. Brother Joseph Molleur, S.S.J.E. Society of St. John the Evangelist 980 Memorial Drive Cambridge, MA 02138 The Misleading Power of Supernatural Phenomena Susan Muto Dr. Susan Muto is executive director of the Epiphany A~sociation, an ecumenical group of lay men and women dedicated to the spiritual formation of life and world. Dr. Muto is also adjunct professor at the Institute of Formative Spirituality, Duquesne University, where she teaches courses on both the master’s and doctoral level. She is also managing editor of two journals, Studies in Formative Spirituality and En-voy. The following article is a reflection on The Ascent of Mount Carmel, Book !1, Chapters 18-22. Dr. Muto can be addressed at: The Epiphany Association; 1145 Beechwood Blvd.; Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15206. ~,/hen it comes to analyzing the harm caused by one’s undiscerning ac-ceptance of supernatural phenomena, St. John of the Cross is like the Sherlock Holmes of the spiritual life. He does not let one deceptive clue go undetected. He sniffs out illusions like a bird dog detects a covey of quail. He pounces on spiritual directors who give inadequate guidance in regard to visions like an arresting officer about to apprehend a thief in the night. His goal in Chapters 18-22 of The Ascent is to explain with the help of many proofs from Scripture how both directors and directees can be misled by visions and locutions whether these are of divine ori-gin or not. When it comes to admonishing the blind leading the blind, St. John spares no words. He cannot abide a lack of discretion in persons who call themselves spiritual guides. What is this dark pit in_to which both direc-tors and penitents fall? It is the pit of pride in which there is no sem-blance of faith or humility. Visions, not God, become the topic of con-versation. One already disposed to seek the extraordinary has only to de-tect the smallest gleam of excitement in a director’s eye to stimulate more ecstatic exchanges. What looks to be shared piety is merely impervious 809 Review for Religious, November-December 1989 attachment. The depths of ’dark faith’ elude persons fascinated by the extraordinary. Little wonder they consider their visions significant, start to feel self-satisfied, and open the door to demonic seduction. To grow in union with God, one must turn from these visions and walk along the way of faith alone. That is why St. John feels obliged to spell out in clear, unambiguous terms why poor instruction on this path is treacherous for progress. If a spiritual guide is unwise, unlearned, and inexperienced, then the person being guided risks being improperly directed. Hence, before giving guidance to others, directors should sub-mit themselves to diligent self-scrutiny. The following questions may be pertinent for this purpose: I. Do I have a bent toward revelations that produce in my soul some effect, pleasure, or satisfaction? 2. Am I aware of how much my enthusiasms affect listeners in a direction relationship? 3. If I detect that the other is more advanced than I, do I strive to bring him or her down to my level because, among other things, I do not want to admit my limits? 4. Do I tend to esteem anything extraordinary that happens to me? 5. Do I fail because of my own enthusiasms to divest disciples of their desire for visions too? Do 1 in fact make the extraordinary a topic of conversation or the main theme of spiritual conferences, dwelling at length on how to discern the true from the false? 6. Do I go so far as to counsel directees to request more of these favors from God as a means of gaining supernatural knowledge? 7. Should such favors be granted for whatever reason, do I accept them as sure signs of God’s pleasure, never stopping to consider that God may be displeased by such petitions and prefer that I abide quietly with him in faith and hope? 8. When I discover that I am on the wrong track, when doubts come to the fore about the quality o.f my direction, do I dismiss them and look for evidence that events have come to pass as I pre-dicted? 9. Do I understand how easy it is for even the finest directors to slip into occasignal delusion because of the fallen nature all humans share? 10. DO I know that God’s revelations are not bound to conform to human expectations? That behind any literal happening is a world of spiritual sense yet to be discerned? That infinite truth escapes fi-nite channels of understanding? Supernatural Phenomena Once these questions are honestly faced, it is possible to understand why we can be and are misled by visions and locutions, to mention only two kinds of supernatural apprehensions. Their misleading power and St. John’s conclusions are treated in Book II, Chapters 19-22 of The Ascent of Mount Carmel. Let us turn to them now. The saint’s cautions pertaining to visions and locutions emerge from two observations: the first has to do with our defective manner of under-standing them; the second with the variability of their causes. It is as if he is suggesting that there is no problem with the original text--what comes from God is of God; the problem comes in the translation, in our feeble attempts to articulate in human language what is profoundly inef-fable. This difficulty is increased by the fact that other "spirits" con-trary to God can play upon human imagination and cause, so to speak, "static" in the communication. Undoubtedly God in his graciousness does communicate himself to us, but other "spirits" can evoke similar sensations. To prove his point St. John turns to a series of examples from the Scriptures which illustrate that God "usually embodies in . . . prophe-cies, locutions, and revelations other ways, concepts, and ideas remark-ably different from the meaning we generally find in them" (AMC, II, 1912]). The paradox is that the surer and more truthful God’s self-communications are, the less true they may seem to human minds receiv-ing them. St. John cites, among others, the Genesis account of God telling Abra-ham that his will is to give him this land (the land of the Canaanites). Abraham--already being old--immediately asks God how he will pos-sess it (see Gn 15:7-8). In other words, God speaks from a divine per-spective, but Abraham wants immediate evidence that what God says will be literally and temporally fulfilled. In fact, only Abraham’s off-spring four hundred years hence would possess the land. Fortunately for Abraham and his descendants the patriarch finally understood what God had in mind. His story provides an interesting illustration of the prob-lem St. John is highlighting, namely, the potential disconnection between what God says and how we interpret it. Being the "master of suspicion" that he is, St. John is relentless in his conclusion that the communica-tion, though of divine origin, has to be submitted to all too human her-meneutics which often despoil its meaning. Several additional examples are cited: God telling Jacob that if he goes down to Egypt, he will go with him, lead him out, be his guide (see Gn 46:1-4), but Jacob dies in Egypt; he never returns from there alive Review for Religious, November-December 1989 (see Gn 49:32). Again the literal prophecy is not fulfilled according to Jacob’s timetable, but it is fulfilled in his offspring, for God does de-liver them from Egypt years later. To take this communication literally would have disillusioned any listener, for, in fact, God did not fulfill his promise and bring Jacob out of the land alive. Hence the point has to be made .again by St. John: "Although God’s promise in itself was true, there would have been utter delusion in its interpretation" (AMC, II, 1913]). Other stories reveal the same pattern. God promises or foretells some-thing; humans interpret what he is saying; their interpretation is wrong, but God’s promise is still fulfilled in a way they did not anticipate or ex-pect. In the Book of Judges, Chapter 20: I 1-48, God humbles the tribe of Benjamin and only then allows victory to be won. While God’s words in themselves are not deceptive, the literal interpretation humans tend to give to locutions and revelations only provide what St. John calls the "outer rind" of the meaning, whereas God wants to express and’impart the "elusive, spiritual meaning contained in the words." He adds: "This spiritual meaning is richer and more plentiful than the literal mean-ing and transcends those limits" (AMC, Book II, 1915]). The issue here is one of interpretation. To remain bound to the letter of the vision or locution is to expose oneself and others to serious error. In the face of any such divine communication, one has to wait upon the word in the darkness of faith and allow its spiritual meaning to emerge. This meaning, St. John says, is incomprehensible to the senses; hence it will always escape the verbal or written tools of sensate interpretation. Eventually, of course, even the spiritual meaning has to be re-corded--- otherwise there would be no Bible as we know it. But the key resides, it would seem, in the word "eventually." To see the deepest meaning of what is occurring takes time. Only over the millennia can we humans catch a glimpse of the mind and mystery God is unfolding. To live in the meantime in unknowing calls for continual faith; otherwise we risk scarring our spiritual life severely on the barbed wire fence of disillusionment, distrust, discouragement, disregard, and near despair. It is bad enough from our perspective to wait in line for a check to be cashed, but imagine having to wait hundreds of years for a declared prophecy to be fulfilled; imagine clinging to a promise of fulfillment which neither we nor our immediate ancestors may ever see? Yet that kind of waiting is what God demands of his people in faith. It is the same willingness to wait that St. John wishes us to attain. When God speaks in a tongue other than ours, we may not like it; we may feel annoyed. Supernatural Phenomena We may be inclined to mock prophets who tell us that the truth lies in the waiting, as the people mocked Isaiah (see Is 28:9-i 1). But that is the way it is. The spiritual meaning is difficult to understand; it escapes our literal, timebound, instant interpretations. Imagine the frustration of Jere-miah, who, when he mouthed God’s promise of peace, could not have known that it referred to the promised Messiah (see Jr 4:10). When in-stead wars and trials came upon the chosen race, it seemed as if God was a deceiver. And still the prophet had to proclaim that all he said was true when, in fact, everything was turning out contrary to the people’s ex-pectations! If all of this were not frustrating enough, imagine what happens when one turns from the Hebrew to the Christian Scriptures and finds that the One of whom David said he shall reign from sea to sea (Ps 71:8) and he will liberate the poor man from the power of the mighty (Ps 71:12) is the same Christ who is born in a stable, lives in poverty, and dies in misery. Do we not begin to sense anew the depth of the faith St. John challenges i~s to live? Here we are promised a liberator, we follow him, and our reward is persecution and death for his name’s sake! Spiritually speaking, of course, all of these prophecies come true-- for Christ offers us not an earthly kingdom but one that is eternal; he lib-erates us from the captivity of.sin and frees us to enjoy already on earth a foretaste of the freedom that lasts forever. But, blind to the spiritual meaning of his message, even his friends betrayed him. After his resur-rection, the message still remained opaque to dull minds bound to literal proofs (see Acts 1:6). Once again St. John reiterates his critique of the delusive powers of human understanding. He says that, compared to our interpretations, ¯ . . (God’s words and revelations) embody an abyss and depth of spiri-tual significance, and to want to limit them to our interpretation and sen-sory apprehensions is like wanting to grasp a handful of air, which will escape the hand entirely and leave only a particle of dust. (AMC, II, 191101) What does all of this say to spiritual directors? First of all, they should encourage directees in general not to pay heed to supernatural ap-prehensions- to let them come and go as God wills, for they are only small "particles of spirituality." The best advice is to turn away from visions and locutions and reside in the darkness of faith. Only in faith, according to St. John, is spiritual liberty and plenitude to be obtained. And only when these dispositions are found in the graced and trans-formed soul, can one hope to apply the proper wisdom and understand- Review for Religiotts, November-December 1989 ing to God’s pronouncements. Deep interior purification must precede the art of spiritual interpretation and the practice of spiritual direction. One who is unspiritual simply cannot hope to judge or understand the things of God correctly. Moreover, one always misses the mark if one judges them literally with the tools of sensory apprehension alone. Let us quote in full one of St. John’s most telling examples of what kind of interpretation a spiritual director ought to offer a sincere seeker who experiences a locution, ¯ . . A soul has intense desires to be a martyr¯ God answers, "you shall be a martyr"; and he bestows deep interior consolation and confidence in the truth of this promise. Regardless of the promise, this person in the end does not die a martyr; yet the promise will have been true. Why, then, was there no literal fulfillment? Because the promise will be ful-filled in its chief, essential meaning: the bestowal of the essential love and reward of a martyr. God truly grants the soul the essence of both its desire and his promise, because the formal desire of the soul was not a manner of death, but the service of God through martyrdom and the exercise of a m.artyr’s love for him. The manner of death in itself is of no value without this love, and God bestows rnartyrdom’s love and re-ward perfectly by other means. Even though the individual does not die a martyr, he is profoundly satisfied, since God has fulfilled his desire (AMC, I1, 19113]). The second issue St. John raises has to do with what happens when we take God’s affirmations too literally. Examples from the Scriptures (see I K 21:27-29) reveal that the self-communications of God are not static but dynamic and in dialogue with the listener. A fact may be af-firmed; a direction revealed; a parable told, but the outcome of what is affirmed, revealed, or told depends on the person’s readiness, on his or her willingness to cooperate with the Holy Spirit, on the opportune time to apply the spiritual meaning. As St. John says: We should not think, therefore, that because revelations and locutions have a divine origin--and especially if.they are dependent on human, changeable causes--they will infallibly eventuate according to their lit-eral meaning (AMC, II, 2014]). We are often misled because words that connote familiar meanings may not conform to divine intentions. For instance, what "year" means to us effects our appraisal of any locution or revelation granted to us. Often consultation with a spiritual director is necessary because we can-not rest assured that our appraisal of a supernatural apprehension is the correct or final one. Even the best spiritual guides know they are inca- Supernatural Phenomena pable of comprehending the secret truths, the diverse meanings, of di-vine pronouncements. Error is always possible. The amazing reality is that God knows our weaknesses and still speaks. So great is his love for us that God cannot not communicate himself to us. This truth alone is reason for sheer awe and abiding faith. No wonder the prophets consid-ered being entrusted to proclaim the word of God a severe trial. Who would not feel unclean of lips and utterly unworthy (see Jr 20:7-9)? Even Jonah reached the point of such anger and frustration that he begged God to take away his life (see Jon 4:!, 3). Why, then, should we be surprised if God’s locutions and revelations do not materialize as expected? Suppose God affirms or represents to an individual some promise (good or bad, pertaining to the person himself or to another); if this promise is based on certain causes (devotion or serv-ice rendered to God, or offense committed against him, now or in the future) and these causes remain, the promise will be accomplished. But since the duration of these causes is uncertain, the fulfillment of the prom-ise is too. One should seek assurance, therefore, not in understanding but in faith (AMC, II, 2018], Italics mine). St. John carries his analysis of supernatural apprehension a step fur-ther by trying to explain why God experiences displeasure in our contin-ual quest for sensory signs of his love. This is not to say that God ig-nores our urgent requests and refuses to reply. It is only to say that this urgency, this inability to rely on faith alone, may displease, offend, and even anger God, for he so loved us that he gave his Son for our salva-tion. Frequently the Scriptures address the danger of our "tempting" God (see Is 7:12), of our desiring that he communicate with us in ex-traordinary ways. So why does God answer such petitions? The truth is that sometimes the devil answers instead. If the answer is of God, St. John suggests that it is because God has mercy on our weak-ness. He knows that without some sign we may sadden and turn back. So gracious is our Divine Lover that "he is like a fountain from which everyone draws as much water as the jug he carries will hold" (AMC, II, 2112]). Such actions have nothing to do with our demands but with what God judges to be right for us at this stage of our journey. He may condescend to respond to a simple petition, but this does not mean he wants us to persist in this practice or that there is not a better way. St. John provides a vivid example of what he is saying: A father of a family provides at table many different kinds of food, some better than the other. One of his children will ask for a dish, not of the better food, but of the first that meets the eye, and the child will do so because it I~16 / Review for Religious, November-December 1989 knows how to eat this kind of food better than the other. Now when the father observes that his child refuses to eat the food offered to it and wants and likes only that first dish, he gives it to his child sadly so that it will not become unhappy and go without its meal .... God accordingly condescends to some souls by granting what is not the best for them, because they are ignorant of how to journey by any other way. Some souls obtain sensible or spiritual sweetness from God because they are incapable of eating the stronger and more solid food of the trials of the cross of his Son. He would desire them to take the cross more than any other thing (AMC, II, 2113], Italics mine). The fact that St. John lingers on this matter leads us to believe that he sees in it a major obstacle to spiritual progress. He considers the de-sire for knowledge of things through supernatural means extremely dan-gerous-- far more so than seeking gratifications in the sensitive part of the soul. He is hard pressed to see how a person who tries to derive knowl-edge in this way can fail to s.in, at least venially. Think for a moment how many are attempting to claim access to this realm of knowledge in our time: through seances, palm reading, theories of reincarnation, mis-directed charismatic experiences, new age and transpersonal psycholo-gies. We agree with St. John that such attempts overlook the common ways .of natural reason and the law and doctrine contained in the Gos-pel. When and if a supernatural truth seems to be imparted to us, we should receive it with caution. We should brush aside all subjective feel-ings pertinent to the revelation and examine it objectively, remembering that the devil, in order to delude souls, can use empty promises to se-duce us from reliance on prayer and hope in God, The wise thing to do, especially in times of trial and difficulty, is to follow the Gospel, place ourselves in God’s hands, and trust that he will lead us in a way that is pleasing to him. Focusing further on the reality of demonic seduction in relation to the desire for extraordinary revelations, St. John indicates that the devil can impart "facsimiles of God’s communications so that, disguised among the flock like the wolf in sheep’s clothing, his meddling may be hardly discernible" (AMC, II, 2117]; see Mt 7:15). The demonic uses conjecture, reasonable manifestations, revelations that "must be from God," and natural knowledge of past or future events to carry on this seduction. Hence one must exercise extreme caution in regard to any and all supernatural communications. Because.the devil can craftily insert lies in the midst of revelations Supernatural Phenomena / [117 and visions, the only way to be liberated from his power is to flee these phenomena as such and surrender in poverty of spirit to God’s Holy Provi-dence. Not to do so is to risk seduction via our own vanities and fanta-sies, for the devil plays upon presumption, curiosity, and vainglory. In the name of pursuing the things of God, one ends up only showing con-tempt for them. The evils of delusion, spiritual darkness, designation, and confusion breed a spirit of misconstruing everything (see Is 19: ! 2). Stubborn, eas-ily seduced people may make their faith dependent on knowing what is ultimately unknowable. Their meddling darkens the light of faith in which God really wants them to live. As a result, they necessarily fall into error. They will not listen to anyone who tries to persuade them that what they "see and hear" may be of diabolical origin. The downward spiral into delusion spe.eds up because deception is inevitable when one is out of touch with God. According to St. John, "The devil then inter-venes, answering in harmony with that person’s desire and pleasure; and since the devil’s replies and communications are pleasing and satisfac-tory, the individual will let himself become seriously deluded" (AMC, II, 211131). Having responded to many questions concerning our understanding of and response to supernatural communications, St. John returns in Chap-ter 22 to the way of faith established through Christ, to the era of redeem-ing grace, the new creation in which we are privileged to live as believ-ers. The saint reminds us that in giving us his Son, his only Word, the Father "spoke everything to us at once in this sole Word--and he has no more to say" (AMC, II, 2213]). Here we recall John’s beautiful maxim: "The Father spoke one Word, which was his Son, and this Word he always speaks in eternal silence, and in silence must it be heard by the soul" (Maxims on Love, No. 21 in The Collected Words of St. John of the Cross). The conclusion to be drawn from Christ’s gift of self-emptying love is clear: "Any person questioning God or desiring some vision or reve-lation would be guilty not only of foolish behavior but also of offending him, by not fixing his eyes entirely upon Christ and by living with the desire for some other novelty" (AMC, II, 2215]). The essential question is: After giving us his only begotten Son, what more can God say? What more can we possibly want? What other answer or revelation could God make that would surpass such a communication? Thus the saint counsels: Fasten your eyes on him alone, because in him I have spoken and re-vealed all, and in him you shall discover even more than you ask for and ~111~ / Review for Religious, November-December 1989 desire. You are making an appeal for locutions and revelations that are incomplete, but if you turn your eyes to him you will find them com-plete. For he is my entire locution and response, vision and revelation, which I have already spoken, answered, manifested, and revealed to you, by giving him to you as a brother, companion, master, ransom, and reward... Hear him because I have no more faith to reveal nor truths to manifest... You shall not find anything to ask or desire through reve-lations and visions; behold him well, for in him you will uncover all these revelations already made, and many more (AMC, II, 2215]). " . . . behold my Son . . ." That is St. John’s response to anyone who desires a word of comfort, an insight into the secrets of salvation, a glimpse of the wisdom and wonder of God. As St. Paul said, to know Christ and him crucified is all the wisdom one could hope for or seek (see 1 Co 2:2). No corporal vision or revelation could surpass that of the Word made flesh who dwells among us. When curiosity gets the best of us or when we are tempted by "new age spiritualities," we must turn again to the law of Christ the man and that of his Church. Indeed this "is the method of remedying our spiritual ignorances and weaknesses; here we shall find abundant medicine for them all" (AMC, II, 2217]). So convinced is St. John of this "narrow way" that he declares that we should disbelieve, at least initially, anything communicated in a super-natural manner; we should believe more firmly in the teaching of Christ (see Ga 1:8) communicated through the Church and its lawful authority and the reasoning powers God bestows on the community of the faith-ful. In summary, St. John offers the following points of counsel: I. If you receive any communication of any sort through supernatu-ral means, immediately recount it clearly, integrally, and simply to your spiritual director. This does not violate the general rule to be undesirous of these communications, and in fact to reject and pay no attention to them. When such a communication occurs, it is still necessary to seek consultation for three reasons: A. The effect, light, strength, and security of many divine commu-nications are not completely confirmed in your soul until you dis-cuss them with another whom God sets before you as a spiritual judge with the power to bind, loose, approve, and reprove. B. You ordinarily need instruction pertinent to these experiences in order to be guided through the dark night of spiritual deprivation and poverty. C. For the sake of humility, submission, and mortification, you Supernatural Phenomena should give a complete account to your director, even if he or she disregards or disesteems these communications. Central to growth in humility, according to St. John, is a willing submission on the part of a directee to this ordeal. True, one may feel ashamed, as if one were a self-declared saint; one may wish more than anything to pay no attention to what has happened and dismiss as unnecessary sharing the moment with a director. But ac-tually what one suffers in doing so can only serve to increase hu-mility. II. To directors, St. John has this reminder: Just because he has stressed the importance of rejecting these communications and their duty to forbid souls to make them a topic of conversation, does not mean that they are to show severity, displeasure, or scorn in deal-ing with them. They could make earnest souls cower and shrink from manifesting them and close the door to their progress. (Such is what happened, as we know from The Book of Her Life, to St. Teresa of Avila.) Directors must remember that God may, in fact, be leading souls by these means. There is thus no reason at the on-set of the telling to oppose them or to become frightened or scan-dalized by what they are recounting. Instead, one should be kind and peaceful, encouraging and supportive so the recipient will tell what has occurred in as clear and honest a way as possible. III. The result will be that good spiritual directors will guide souls on the way of faith; they will offer them excellent instructions on how to turn from these communications as such to meet more inti-mately the God of love toward whom they point. There is no doubt in St. John’s mind that "one act done in charity is more precious in God’s sight than all the visions and communications possible--since they imply neither merit nor demerit--and . . . many who have not received these experiences are incomparably more ad-vanced than others who have had many" (AMC, II, 22[19]). Whatever else transpires in a person’s life, the intellect must be liberated from these apprehensions and directed in the night of faith to that secret light which enkindles the heart with love. Thus: "In all things, both high and low, let God be your goal, for in no other way will you grow in merit and perfection" (Degrees of Perfection, No. 8 in The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross). Contemplation: Similarities Between St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross Antonio Moreno, O.P. Father Antonio Moreno, O.P., has written several articles on the Spanish mystics for our journal in past years. His address is 2401 Ridge Road; Berkeley, California 94709. The popular devotion tends to associate St. Teresa of Jesus and St. John of the Cross. This is natural, for both were Castilian and contemplative; both were mystical writers and d6ctors of the Church, and what is most important, both were actively involved in the sixteenth-century reforma-tion of the Carmelite order in Spain. Teresa initiated the reformation with the Discalced nuns, then helped that of the religious men; John of the Cross was one of the first and most important persons to participate in that reformation. Teresa praised the Lord at the time ~he first met the ascetic friar, who never disappointed her.~ For he "is considered by everybody as a saint, and I do not think they are rating him too highly. In my opinion he is a tower of strength."z She writes King Philip these words: "He is so great a servant of the Lord that they have all been edified by him .... So people look upon him as a saint, which, in my opinion, he is and has been all his life.’’3 In spite of all these laudatory words and many others that can be ad-duced, the friendship between Teresa and John of the Cross--although genuine--did not go beyond certain limits. It was not as close as many may believe. They were both strong personalities, which may have made an intimate friendship difficult. Teresa was extroverted and social, John of the Cross introverted and intuitive. In Jungian language, it may be said that they wei’e two different "types." Mother Teresa’s best friend was Father Gracian, to whom the saint made a vow of obedience. John of the 820 Contemplation / 82"1 Cross’s close friend was Anne of Jesus, a gifted and holy sister who founded the Discaiced nuns in France and Belgium. At Anne of Jesus’s request, John of the Cross compiled the complete commentary of the beau-tiful poetry of the Spiritual Canticle. The mystical views of Teresa and John of the Cross, however, show remarkable similarities, I intend to ex-plore the similarities of their doctrines regarding contemplation in this article. Contemplation and Detachment Contemplation cannot exist without detachment, and the higher the contemplation the greater the detachment. Teresa recommends us to re-nounce our attachments to earthly things, to be dead to the world. A con-templative spirit does not find rest in creatures.4 When the soul is in a state of contemplation, "He would have you keep back nothing, whether it be a little or much."5 Even more, a single attachment is enough to dis-turb the soul and to hinder the road to perfect union: We cannot properly understand this until we have given up every thing; for if there is a single thing to which a man clings, it is a sign that he sets some value upon it, and.., it will naturally distress him to give it up, so everything will be imperfection and loss.6 John of the Cross is even more radical than Teresa in demanding detach-ment from everything created. One expects to obtain everything from the Lord when one possesses nothing. This is pivotal to the doctrine of the famous "nadas": "To come to possess all, desire the possession of noth-ing. To come to the knowledge of all, desire the knowledge of nothing ¯ . ."7 and so forth. Absolute detachment is the prerequisite for perfect contemplation. Like Teresa’s doctrine, a single attachment makes impos-sible the progress in perfection, even though the imperfection may be small, as he illustrates in this well known example: It makes little difference whether a bird is tied by a thread or by a cord. For even if tied by thread, the bird will be prevented from taking off just as merely as it were by the cord--that is, it will be impeded from flight as long as it does not break the thread.8 The ascetic saint laments that souls do not become detached from "child-ish things" that often God requests them to conquer out of love, but they turn back because of their small attachments.9 This resembles Teresa’s view when she exclaims: "How happy shall we be if by leaving these few, petty things we can arrive at so high a state." ~0 To possess perfect Review for Religious, November-December 1989 contemplation the spirit must be simple, pure, and "naked" as to all natu-ral affections. A Passive Reception Teresa does not use the word "passive," although her doctrine on this point is identical to St. John of the Cross’s. Instead, she stresses the importance of God’s action upon the contemplative spirit. In The Way of Perfection, she compares mental prayer and contemplation, in which one does nothing: "It is his Majesty who does everything, the work is his alone and far transcends human nature.’’~ In her vivid imagination she finds no better example to explain the special work of God in con-templation than the properties of the wax: "The soul does no more than the wax when a seal is impressed upon it--the wax does not impress it-self.., and it does not even soften itself so as to be prepared; it merely remains quiet and consenting.’’~2 In John of the Cross, God’s action in contemplation is equally im-portant. He explains the dark night as a purgative contemplation which passively causes in the soul the negation of self and of all things: The reason the darkness of this contemplation frees and hides the soul from the wiles of the devil is that the contemplation experienced here is infused passively and secretly without the use of the exterior and in-terior faculties of the sensory part of the soul. ~3 This passivity is a most important sign to distinguish meditation from contemplation. Meditation depends upon one’s free will. Contemplation, however, takes place only when it is God’s wish, when one passively receives his motion. Contemplation and Perfection Teresa, the great mystic and "connoisseur" of human spirits, was well aware that God can enrich souls in many ways, and bring them to the Mansions by a diversity of paths.~4 She had in her Discalced con-vents many sisters who were not gifted with contemplation. For exam-ple, in The Way of Perfection, she refers to a great servant of God who for many years spent hours and hours of her time merely in vocal prayers. ~5 At the time of priorities, however, she considers contempla-tion "the shortcut" which leads quickly to the summit.~6 There is no substitution for the loving illumination due to contemplation. For John of the Cross, too, contemplation--especially dark contem-plation- is the path for reaching the perfect union of love. His Ascent, for example, is atreatise which "explains how to reach divine union Contemplation / 823 quickly." ~v In the beautiful stanzas he composed for the Dark Night, he calls attention to the "secret ladder" which is darkness, and the "nar-row way to eternal life" that only a few take. ~8 Since contemplation’s chief trait is passivity, God’s activity upon which it depends is most important, and he is much wiser and more pow-erful than we are. In contrast, meditation and mental prayer depend on our activity, with power and knowledge merely human, and therefore lim-ited. No doubt why contemplation is the best shortcut to reach the sum-mit of divine union! Woundings of Love True love is always restless, and so is the love of God in a greater degree. Mother Teresa knew this; when writing on the Fifth Mansions, she considers unthinkable that souls which have arrived so far cease to grow, for "love is never idle.’’~9 Hence, these souls fired by the love of God, go forward. Then things happen, namely, they are wounded. The more that love wounds the soul, the more it cures and heals. It produces grief and sweetness at the same time: "The soul is conscious of having been most delectably wounded, but cannot say why and by whom . . . and it would be glad if it were never to be healed of that wound. ,,20 Knowledge and love work together: the more the soul learns about the greatness of God, the more her desire for God increases.2~ John of the Cross holds similar views: love for God is so intense that it is like a fire emitting flames: It is something splendid that since love is never idle, but in continual motion, it is always emitting flames, everywhere like a blazing fire, and since its duty is to wound in order to cause 16ve and delight.., it dis-patches its wounds like most tender flares of delicate love.~-2 The mysterious phenomenon of transverberation is associated with these wounds, and it usually leads to spiritual marriage. Teresa, in her Life, describes the effects of thi~ extraordinary grace. She saw an angel in bod-ily form, very beautiful and all afire with a long golden spear, and at the end of the iron tip a point of fire. With this tip of fire: The angel seemed to pierce my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails. When it drew it out.., he left me completely afire with great love for God. The pain was so sharp that it .made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by the intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, not will one’s soul be content Review for Religious, November-December 1989 wtth anything less than God.~-3 John of the Cross’s opinion is that this phenomenon happens not only to Teresa, but to souls already in the state of spiritual espousal, and as a preparation for the spiritual marriage.24 "It will feel that a seraphim is assaulting it by means of an arrow or dart which is all afire with love .... When the soul is transpierced with the dart, the flame gushes forth, vehemently and with a sudden ascent like a fire in a furnace."25 John of the Cross who, undoubtedly like Teresa, experienced this trans-verberation, says that the entire universe is a sea of love in which the soul is engulfed, and that this experience is given to those whose virtue was to be diffused among their children, like the founders.26 The Purgative Way The dark night of the soul is ordinarily a necessary purification that the souls must endure to attain spiritual marriage. Or, using Teresa’s own words, this distress comes just before the soul’s entrance into the Sev-enth Mansions.27 By means of this purgation the soul becomes clean of sin and imperfection, and is ready for divine union. In her Life, Teresa simply describes the experience of darkness as "intolerable," but in her Interior Castle she is more explicit as she describes the painful darkness: The soul feels as if it has never known God, and never will know him .... The Lord makes her think herself cast off by God . . . I do not know to what it can be compared, save to the torment of those who suffer in hell, for in this spiritual tempest no consolation is possible.28 This awesome experience is part of the narrow way the saints must take to reach perfect union of love with God. And among them, nobody has described it so profoundly as John of the Cross. The second book of the Dark Night is almost unique in mystic spirituality. He explains in detail why this darkness is necessary even in advanced souls, and how it affects the whole personality of the mystic. God leaves the intellect in darkness, the will in aridity, the memory in emptiness, and the affections in supreme affliction and anguish for the purpose of this union. "This privation is one of the conditions required that the spiritual form, which is the union of love, may be introduced in the spirit and united’ with it. The Lord works all of this in the soul by means of a pure and dark contemplation."29 Thus God is infinitely pure and to be united to him the soul must also be pure. It cannot have the smallest stain of sin or imperfection. This is achieved only through dark contemplation. Contemplation / 82[$ Dark Contemplation and Purgatory Teresa and John of the Cross compare the painful purification of the dark night to the purification of the souls in purgatory before entering heaven. Naturally, we cannot know the state of the "poor souls" in pur-gatory unless through revelation from God, since we are ignorant of the conditions of souls after death. "And it was revealed to her (Teresa) that this suffering resembles that of souls in purgatory; despite their being no longer in the body they suffer much more than do those who are still in the body on earth.’’3° As mentioned above, no spirit can be united to God, who is infinitely pure, unless it is also totally pure. Hence, as Teresa says in the Interior Castle, this final distress prepares the soul to enter the spiritual marriage of perfect union of love with God, just as purgatory prepares the soul to enter heaven.3~ It is remarkable that John of the Cross shares the same doctrine as Teresa and for the same reason: "This suffering resembles that of pur-gatory. Just as the spirit suffers purgation so as to be able to see God through clear vision in the next life, souls in their own way suffer pur-gation here on earth as to b~ able to be transformed in him through love in this life.’’32 Once the soul is totally pure, there is no reason for further suffering either in purgatory nor in dark contemplation. The saints accept this pu-rification with gratitude, for as Teresa says: "The soul feels this afflic-tion. to be so precious that it fully realizes it could never deserve it."33 This doctrine of the Spanish saints is also very similar to the well-known revelations of St. Catherine of Genoa on purgatory. Contemplative Attraction The majority of Christians think of contemplation as a waste of time and effort at the expense of an active apostolate. This mistaken view lies in the ignorance of the value of prayer and of a hidden life of sacrifice. Christ spent thirty years before he initiated-his active mission. Teresa, naturally, was well aware of~the value of a hidden contem-plative vocation. She urges her daughters to be faithful to God and avoid occasions of sin: "Because the devil sets much more store by one soul in this state than by a great number of souls to whom the Lord does not grant these favors. For those in this state attract others, and so they can do the devil great harm and may well bring great advantage to the Church of God.’ ,34 Consequently, if the devil wins one of these advanced souls he will win a whole multitude.35 John of the Cross describes the way that spiritual souls are tempted 826 / Review for Religious. November-December 1989 by devils, not directly, but with little baits, since they are strong, and cannot be openly deceived. Devils are envious of all the good they see in these souls and employ all their ability to disturb them. If they are vic-tims to these temptations, the harm done is great for, as Teresa says above, they "accomplish more through a little harm caused in these souls than by great damage affected in many others."36 In the state of spiritual marriage, the devil has lost his power and it is much terrified by them. In the Seventh Mansions, the soul is always in tranquillity, and "it is not afraid that this sublime favor may be coun-terfeited by the devil."37 This is understandable, for the lover is in such close contact with God, and the union takes place so deep, in the essence of the soul, that the devil does not dare to approach, nor can it even un-derstand this mystery.38 John of the Cross, in a whole dense chapter of his Dark Night de-scribes the last attempt of the devil to prevent the soul from attaining spiri-tual marriage. The chapter is dramatic, based both on theology and per-sonal experience, and it poses the mysterious economy of salvation, the fight between good and evil. God permits the devil to deal with the soul in the same measure and mode that he conducts with it himself.39 Agree-ing with Teresa, John of the Cross assures the reader that once the soul has achieved the state of spiritual marriage, the devil has lost all his power. As he explains in the last stanza of the Spiritual Canticle: "In this place where she now dwells, she is so favored, strong, and victori-ous with the virtues, and with God’s embrace, that the devil dare not come, but with immense fear flees and does not venture to appear.’"~° In the end, good prevails over evil, the saint over the devil. The Mystical State of Spiritual Espousal In order to attain perfect union with God, one has to endure first joys, trials, and sufferings beyond words. St. John of the Cross calls this spiritual espousal, because God betrothes himself to souls spiritually. The souls who reach that lofty state are very much loved by God: "It is a union of love with love, and its operations are entirely pure, and so delicate and gentle that there is no way of describing them."4~ When a man and a woman fall in love, they plan to meet for a cer-tain period of time to prepare themselves for marriage. Something simi-lar happens in the spiritual espousal. The lover is in love with the Be-loved, and God with the lover, hence they agree to meet again to ap-preciate each other better and to test if the soul is worthy of him. Teresa spends almost h~alf of her Interior Castle describing the fas-cinating operations of God upon these souls. God prepares them for spiri- Contemplation / 827 tual marriage with joys and trials whose nature is hard to describe: "Oh my God," Teresa exclaims, "how great are these trials, which the soul will suffer, both with and without, before it enters the Seventh Man-sions.’’ 42 At the end of these joys and trials the soul is totally purified and ready to attain perfect union with God in spiritual marriage.. John of the Cross emphasizes the importance of God’s actions upon these saintly persons. They do not know how to please him, and, hence, he takes .the initiative and.shapes them to his likeness; "God communi-cates to the soul great things about himself, beautifies her will with gran-deur and majesty, adorns her will with gifts and virtues, and clothes her with the knowledge and honor of God."43 This seems similar to the work of a sculptor who carves the marble little by little until he produces a mas-terpiece. The divine spirit works on the soul as the artist on the marble, and gradually carves his masterpiece which is a soul pure and simple, full of virtue and ready to be united to God through love. The Spiritual Marriage The spiritual marriage is the goal of Christian life; it consists in a perfect union of love with God. Only a few saints attain this lofty condi-tion, which according to Teresa and John of the Cross is incomparably greater than spiritual espousal.44 Teresa was blessed with a vision of the Trinity, and God told her that he would take her affairs upon himself. The soul shares the life of God, it is sure of its salvation, and free from the risk of backsliding. These lucky saints wish only one thing: the honor and glory of God. According to John of the Cross, the spiritual marriage is a "total transformation in the Beloved in which each surrenders the entire pos-session of self to the other with certain consummation of the union of love."45 The two natures live in one spirit of love and both appear to be God. For both Teresa and John of the Cross, forgetfulness character-izes this state.46 Everything is forgotten save the glory and honor of God. The peace and delight is incomparably more perfect than in spiritual es-pousal; they "live in immense tranquillity, so that it may not even with the slightest mote or noise disturb 6r trouble its heart where the Beloved dwells.’ ,47 God dwells in heaven and also in our souls because we are temples of the Trinity, as St. Paul and St. John say in Sacred Scripture. Saints describe this dwelling as the "center" of the soul. Teresa in the Fifth Mansions recommends that we enter inside ourselves, right into the cen-ter of the soul, as a preparation for the spiritual marriage which later on takes place in the "deepest center of the soul, which must be where God Review for Religious, November-December 1989 himself dwells. ,,48 John of the Cross, in the Living Flame, refers to the center as the inmost recess of ourself in ways similar to Teresa: The soul’s center is God, when it has reached God with all the capacity of its being and strength of its operation and inclination, it will have at-tained to its final and deepest center in God, it will know, love, and en-joy God with all its might.49 Contemplation and the Vision of the Universe Theology teaches that one of the gifts granted to the blessed in heaven is the vision of the univgrse, not in itself but in God, its Creator. Through revelation, Teresa shared with the blessed--although naturally in a modest way--the vision of the created cosmos. She describes in her Life how she once saw with perfect clarit); how all things are seen in God, and how within himself he contains them all .50 Later, just before she reached spiritual marriage, she had "a suspension in which the Lord communicates most sacred things to it, which it seems to see within God himself.., a notably intellectual vision, in which is revealed to the soul how all things are seen in God, and how within himself he contains them all.’ ,51 Teresa received this vision in the Sixth Mansions; John of the Cross, however, ascribes this mysterious and extraordinary intellectual revela-tion to the Seventh Mansions, after the soul is one with God through spiri-tual marriage. He was conscious of how all creatures have their life in God, although naturally these things are distinct from him: That which it understands of God... is such that it knows these things better in God’s being than in themselves. And here lies the remarkable delight of that awakening; the soul knows creatures through God, not God through creatures. This amounts to knowing the effects through their causes and not the cause through its effects.52 It is reassuring to see how mystical knowledge verifies through ex-perience the conclusion of theology. Gift to the Church The lives of the saints are precious in the eyes of God, and their lives are very important in the economy of the Church. Contemplatives, once in the state of perfection, pray unceasingly for the universal needs of the Church, and their prayers, as well as their smallest actions, are endowed with immense value. The merit of an action depends on the degree of charity, of love, not on the mere human activity. Consequently, Teresa urges her daughters to become close to the Lord, for "if they become Contemplation still better, their praises will be more pleasing to the Lord, and their prayers of great value to their neighbors.., the love does not look so much at the magnitude of anything we do as at the love with which we do it.’’53 When the things of God are judged from a purely human viewpoint, one is often unaware of the value of a hidden contemplative life. We ap-preciate religious activities because of their psychological appeal. This is not John of the Cross’s approach. He advises that until the soul reaches the state of union of love, it should practice love in both the active and contemplative life. Yet once the soul reaches that union, then the exte-rior exercises might be a hindrance to the love of God, even though the work may seem to be in great service of God: For a little of this pure love is more precious to God and the soul, and more beneficial to the Church, even though it seems one is doing noth-ing, than all these other works put together.5’~ John of the Cross strongly recommends prayer for those engaged in an active apostolate, for without praYer they may do a great deal of ham-mering but accomplish little or even nothing.55 Anthropomorphism, little faith, and lack of experience all cloud our judgments. Everyone admires Mother Teresa of Calcutta because of her extraordinary work for the destitute. Only a few appreciate the hidden life of Carmelite nuns. According to Teresa, it is impossible to discern spiritual things without being spiritual. Only the spiritual person will see that which is in conformity with the Holy Spirit.56 In the Interior Castle she exclaims: "How great are Thy secrets, and how different are spiri-tual things from any that can be seen or understood here below.’ ,57 John of the Cross, who combines theology and experience, observes that the individual whose spirit is purified can naturally perceive the in-clinations and talents of others and what lies in the heart or interior spirit: "Just as the devil, because he is a spirit is endowed with the skill, so is the spiritual person.’’58 The spiritual, with great facility, perceives and penetrates anything earthly or heavenly presented to it. Hence the Apostle says that the spiri-tual penetrates all things, even the things of God (1 Co 2: 10). John of the Cross explains the text of the Apostle with a profound epistemologi-cal observation: "This is characteristic of the spirit purged and annihi-lated of all particular knowledge and affection.., it embraces all things with great preparedness.’’59 Individual matter is always concrete; the spirit, however, is universal. Review for Religious, November-December 1989 The Prayers of the Saints The Lord promised to angwer our prayers; it is written in the gospel. Nevertheless, it is common experience that many prayers are never an-swered. However, the prayers of the saints are always granted. Why? The reason is simple: The wills of the saints are so united with God’s will, that they only pray for the things that God wants them to pray for. Thus, Teresa is astonished to observe that she cannot pray for favors that the Lord knows are not good for her. Even if she tries, she is unable to beg him to grant her these favors. "However much I try to force my-self to do more, I find that I cannot. Yet when it comes to other things his Majesty means to grant, I find that I can ask for these things often and with great importunity, and though I may not be specially thinking of them they seem to come to my mind." God promised Teresa that she would never ask for anything which he would not grant. We should not be surprised to read that she was granted everything in a better way than she could have planned.6~ The same doctrine and experience is found in John of the Cross: "For God’s spirit makes them know what must be known and ignore what must be ignored, remember what ought to be remembered, and for-get what ought to be forgotten."62 A person will ask for prayers and the soul will not remember to carry out this request. But if these prayers are expedient, then God will move the will, and impart a desire to do so. At times, God will give a desire to pray for others of whom the soul has never known nor heard.63 In other words, if God does not answer our prayers, even after years of them, it is because we are begging for favors which are not expedient for us. As a good Father, he grants us only what is good, and ignores those things not healthy for our spiritual growth. The Death of the Saints The death of the saints, is precious in the sight of God, David says in Psalm I 15. Hence, those who have reached perfect union with God cannot fear death. They are, in a sense, in a state of term; they are not in heaven yet, but their union with God resembles that of the blessed. Teresa speaks from experience: the saints in the Seventh Mansions are no more afraid of death than they would be of a gentle rapture.64 In her poetry she complainsbitterly to God because he does not grant her death: "I live without living in myself, and in such a way I hope, I die because I do not die."65 Teresa earnestly wanted to see God, and death was the way to achieve it. John of the Cross, already on the top of the mountain, is exp?cting Contemplation death as one expects a friend, for he says that the death of those in spiri-tual marriage is far different in its cause and mode than the death of oth-ers. The saints do not die a natural death, but by some encounter of love which, however, does not mean that they are not struck by illness. The death of such souls is very gentle and very sweet, sweeter and more gen-tle than was their whole spiritual life on earth. According to John of the Cross, the saints die with most sublime impetus and delightful encoun-ters of love.66 John of the Cross’s view is a little poetic, since saints die sometimes with great suffering: but their immense love for God transforms these suf-ferings into "delightful encounters of love" as he, poetically, put it above. We die as we live: a holy life is ended with a holy death, a saintly life with a saintly death. Spiritual Directors and Contemplation Ignorance of spiritual life is common even among those who are called to serve souls with their theology and experience. Few understand the ways and properties of spiritual life, especially contemplation. Spiri-tual directors should have a solid basis in doctrine, and if possible, ex-perience. Teresa, for example, suffered much from ignorant directors: I am very ready to give credence to those who have great learning. For even if they have not themselves experienced these things, men of great learning have a certain instinct to prompt them... I have also experi-ence of timid half-learned men whose shortcomings have cost me very dear.67 This is a remarkable observation, for Teresa places confidence in learn-ing over experience, although the ideal is to possess both. She suffered the inadequacy of ignorant directors and she reacted; for her, the more learne~t the director, the better, particularly for a director to understand the path of prayer. The higher the state of spiritual contemplative souls, the greater their need for a solid spiritual director. John of the Cross, if this is possible, is even more severe in his criti-cism of ignorant directors, who "cause great harm to a number of souls, because in not understanding the ways and properties of the spirit, they ordinarily make them lose the unction of these delicate ointments, with which the Holy Spirit prepares them for himself."6s The Spanish poet is severe, for in his estimation the damage made is enormous, inasmuch as spiritual directors are dealing with selected in-dividuals and on account of their ignorance may cause almost infinite harm. In the Prologue of the Ascent, John of the Cross says that some Review for Religious, November-December 1989 spiritual directors are likely to do harm rather than to help these souls because they have neither enlightenment nor experience. God will be se-vere with them: "Those who err will not escape punishment correspond-ing to the harm they caused."69 In his estimation, there is almost an in-finite gain in being right, and almost an infinite loss in being wrong, which is understandable if one considers that he is referring to contem-plative souls called by God to great perfection. John of the Cross lived in sixteenth-century Spain; it would be in-teresting to see how he would react and judge the spiritual directors of our time. The Way of God The common portrait of a saint resembles a person who forces him-self to achieve perfection and must suffer violence, the more quickly he acquires perfection. Yet this is not God’s plan. Generosity with the grace received from God is indeed crucial in reaching holiness. But the nar-row path that leads to the top of the mountain must be smooth and peace-ful. This is the doctrine of the Spanish Carmelite saints. In Teresa’s words, the interior activity of contemplation is "gentle and peaceful, and to do anything painful brings us harm rather than help. By anything painful I mean anything that we try to force to do."7° Ter-esa learned this doctrine by reading, by her own experience, and by ob-serving the experience of her daughters. This is an encouraging view and shows the way God operates in our souls. One of Teresa’s spiritual directors, Gaspar Daza, tried to push her too much and too quickly, as though she was going to become a saint immediately. Consequently, she became discouraged: "For the distress which it caused me to find that I was not doing what he told me, and felt unable to do so, was sufficient to make me lose hope and give up the whole thing."7~ Daza’s intention was good, but his prudential judg-ment wrong, for he did not realize that at that time of her life Teresa was struggling yet in her way and unable to do heroic works. The weaknesses of the saints encourage our lives and teach us precious lessons. John of the Cross, in a famous chapter of the Ascent, recommends these three important principles: the first is taken from St. Paul (Rm 13:1): The works that are done by God are well ordered. The second is found in the Book of Wisdom, and says that God’s wisdom disposes all things gently (Ws 7:30). The third is owed to Aquinas, who says that God moves each according to its mode.72 The way of God is always: (1) orderly, (2) gentle, and (3) according to our own mode. We are often in a hurry, but God is not because he Contemplation / 833 sees the things from eternity and disposes everything for our own go.od, not in the way we expect, but in better ways--though always with joy and peace, which theology teaches are effects of charity. To become con-templatives, detachment, virtues, confidence, prayer, and many years of effort are needed. Even in the case of these extraordinary Spanish saints, it took God many years to transform them in order to attain perfect un-ion of love with him. Conclusion Teresa and John of the Cross are probably the best mystical writers in the field of contemplation, and in this field they share many doctrinal views. They also have certain differences in doctrine--a subject that lies beyond the scope of this article. As huma.n beings they were different although both were very gifted. Perhaps John of the Cross did not possess the sense of humor and charm that made Teresa so attractive and popular. In a famous passage of her writings, Teresa teases her friend John of the Cross in this way: This Father (John of the Cross) in his reply gives some remarkable sound doctrine for those who are thinking of following the Exercises practiced in the Company of Jesus, but it is not to our purpose. It would be bad business for us if we could not seek God until we were dead to the world .... God deliver me from people who are so spiritual that they want to turn everything into perfect contemplation, come what may. At the same time we are grateful for having been given so good an expla-nation of what we had not asked about. For this reason, it is well to speak ever of God; we shall derive benefit from a place where we are least expecting to find it.73 NOTES i Saint Teresa of Jesus, The Complete Works of Saint Teresa of Jesus. Trans., E. Allison Peers, Vol. 3 The Book of the Foundations, ch. 3, p. 15 (New York, 1946). 2 Saint Teresa of Jesus, The Letters of Saint Teresa of Jesus. Trans., E. Allison Peers (Westminster, 1954), Vol. 2, Letter 210, p. 5 ! 5. 3 lbid, Letter 204, Vol. 1, p. 496. 4 Saint Teresa of Jesus, Interior Castle. Trans., E. Allison Peers (Garden City, 1960), Fifth Mansions, Ch. 2, pp. 106-107. 5 Ibid, Fifth Mansions, Ch. !, p. 97. 6 Saint Teresa of Jesus, The Life of Teresa of Jesus. Trans., E. Allison Peers (Gar-den City, 1960), Ch. 34, p. 38. 7 St. John of the Cross, The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross. Trans., Ki-eran Kavanaugh O.C.D. and Otilio Rodriguez O.C.D., (Washington, 1979), The As-cent of Mount Carmel, Book 1, Ch. 13, n. I I, p. 103. 834 / Review for Religious, November-December 1989 8 lbid, Ch. 11, n. 4, p. 97. 9 lbid, Ch. I I, n. 5, p. 97. ~0 Saint Teresa of Jesus, The Way of Perfection. Trans., E. Allison Peers (Garden City, 1964), Ch. 16, p. 121. i~ lbid, Ch. 25, p. 171. ~2 Interior Castle, Fifth Mansions, Ch. 2, ia. 109. 13 St. John of the Cross, The Collected Works, The Dark Night, Book 2, Ch. 23, n. 2, p. 382. ~4 Interior Castle, Fifth Mansions, Ch. 3, p. 113. ~5 The Way of Perfection, Ch. 17, p. 125. 16 Interior Castle, Fifth Mansions, Ch. 3, p. 113. ~7 The Ascent, Theme, p. 68. ~8 Dark Night, Prologue,,pp. 296-297. 19 Interior Castle, Fifth Mansions, Ch. 4, p. 122. 20 lbid, Sixth Mansions, Ch. 2, p. 135. See ibid, p. 126. 2~ lbid, Ch. 11, p. 197. 22 Saint John of the Cross, The Collected Works, The Living Flame of Love, St. I, n. 8, p. 582. 23 Life, Ch. 29, p. 274. 24 Interior Castle, Sixth Mansions, Ch. 2, p. 136. 25 Living Flame, Sixth Mansions, Ch. I, p. 134. 26 lbid, nn. 10 and 12, p. 598. 27 Interior Castle, Sixth Mansions, Ch. I’, p. 134. 28 Ibid, p. 131. 29 Dark Night, Book 2, Ch. 3, n. 3, p. 333. 30 Interior Castle, Sixth Mansions, Ch. I 1, p. 198ff. 31 lbid, p. 199. 32 Living Flame, St. !, n. 24, p. 589. 33 Interior Castle, Sixth Mansions, Ch. I 1, p. 200. 34 Ibid, Fourth Mansions, Ch. 3, p. 92. 35 lbid, Fifth Mansions, Ch. I, p. 120. 36 Living Flame, St. 3, nn 63-68, pp. 634-635. 37 Interior Castle, Seventh Mansions, Ch. 3, p. 222. 38 lbid, Fifth Mansions, Ch. !, p. 89. 39 Dark Night, Book 2, Ch. 23, n. 7, p. 384. 40 St. John of the Cross, St. 40, n. 3, p. 564. 4~ Interior Castle, Fifth Mansions, Ch. 4, p. 119. 42 lbid, Sixth Mansions, Ch. 1, p. 126. 43 The Spiritual Canticle, St. 14 and 15, n. 1, p. 463. 44 Interior Castle, Seventh Mansions, Ch. 3, p. 213. Spiritual Canticle, St. 22, nn. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, pp. 496-498. 45 Spiritual Canticle, St. 22, n. 3, p. 497. 46 Interior Castle, Seventh Mansions, Ch. 2, p. 219. Spiritual Canticle, St. 26, n. 2, p. 511. 47 The Living Flame, St. 4, n. 15, p. 649. See Interior Castle, Seventh Mansions, Ch. 3, p. 224 and p. 219.Z. 48 Interior Castle, Seventh Mansions, Ch. 2, p. 213. 49 The Living Flame, St. 1, n. 12, p. 583. 50 Life, Ch. 40, p. 351. Contemplation 835 5~ Interior Castle, Sixth Mansions, Ch. 10, p. 194. 52 The Living Flame, St. 4, n. 5, p. 644. 53 Interior Castle, Seventh Mansions, Ch. 4, p. 235. 54 Spiritual Canticle, St. 29, n. 3, p. 523. 55 lbid, n. 3, p. 524. 56 Life, Ch. 34, p. 326. 57 Interior Castle, Sixth Mansions, Ch. 2, p. 125. 58 The Ascent, Book 2, Ch. 26, n. 14, pp. 197-198. 59 Dark Night, Book 2, Ch. 8, n. 5, p. 345. 60 Life, Ch. 39. pp. 377-378. 61 lbid, Ch. 375. 62 The Ascent, Book 3, Ch. 2, n. 9, p. 217. 63 lbid, n. 10, p. 217. 6~ Interior Castle, Seventh Mansions, Ch. 3, p. 221. 65 St. Teresa of Jesus, The Collected Works of St. Teresa of Avila, Vol, 3. Trans. Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D., p. 375. Aspirations To-wards Eternal Life, Poetry. Trans. Adrian J. Conney. 66 The Living Flame, St. 1, n. 30, p. 591. 67 Interior Castle, Fifth Mansions, Ch. 1, p. 100. 68 The Living Flame," St. 3, n. 3 I, p. 621. 69 lbid, n. 56, p. 630. 70 Interior Castle, Fourth Mansions, Ch. 3, p. 88. 7~ Life, Ch. 23, p. 223. 72 The Ascent, Book 2, ch. 17, n. 2, p. 155. 73 The Complete Works of Saint Teresa of Jesus, Vol. 3, p. 267. Judgment given by St. Teresa upon various writings on the words "Seek Thyself in me." Reflections on Experiencing God Catherine Jenkins, C.S.J. Sister Catherine Jenkins, a former Poor Clare nun, is currently a member of the Sis-ters of St: Joseph of Carondelet in St. Paul, Minnesota. She has ministered as a chap-lain in a chemical dependency treatment center. She currently exercises a ministry as spiritual director and retreat director for persons in the 12-step programs. Her ad-dress is 1833 Randolph Avenue; St. Paul, Minnesota 55105. A few years ago when I attended a course in spiritual direction, I was asked to respond to the following questions: "How do you experience God in your life? Are the categories of biblical thought any help to you in recognizing these experiences? Are the metaphors of Tillich and Rahner?" (The Art of Christian Listening by Thomas N. Hart, page 35.) That morning I pondered the questions as I walked in a light, misty rain. Walking with me was the young nun I had been forty years before, the young woman who still reminded me of the many times she had stood in the glassed-in porch of a monastery--just stood quietly for minutes at a time and listened to the rain pounding upon the roof and watched it pouring down the panes of glass and experienced an intense presence of God. With me, too, was the little girl who years before climbed out of her bedroom window and sat on the roof in the rain and felt God within her and around her. A certain assurance and a feeling of inner one-ness filled me, and I thought of Bernard Tyrrell’s words in his book, Christotherapy H: "I... hold that it is possible to be actively addicted and yet to be in an ongoing religious and moral conversion." Previously, when I shared my story of addiction and recovery, I em-phasized the negative aspects of my relationship with God and my feel-ing of alienation, both before and during my years of active alcoholism. I said that my god was a harsh god who demanded the hardest thing of me, a god whom I feared (although I would never have admitted this), 836 Experiencing God / 11~17 an all-powerful god with whom I became very angry because this Om-nipotent One would not deliver me from my compulsion to drink in spite of my repeated entreaties. Why is my suffering continual, my wound incurable, refusing to be healed? Do you mean to be for me a deceptive stream with inconstant waters? (Jr 15:18). This passage I had outlined in my Bible on September 12, 1979, two months before I went to treatment. What I shared with others in recovery was true; recovery has given me a God of love, a God who is Love. However, I have come to realize that an unbreakable thread binding me to God extends back to the dawn-ing of my conscious life. Before I knew the name of God, I experienced a caring Presence in nature. As a child of two or three, I was afraid to go upstairs to the bathroom alone; this fear I settled by going to the win-dow and asking the friendly breeze that ruffled the curtains to meet me upstairs at the bathroom window. There the meeting with the same breeze that stirred the curtains below reassured me. God was present, too, in a special way in storms, in thunder and light-ning. ! do not remember having been afraid of storms even as a very small child. I enjoyed having my mother light the blessed candle, but I felt no fear because God was in the power of the storm. Looking back now after an interval of more than sixty years, I see in the storm--the lightning and thunder--a symbol not only of power but of surprise, of "flashes" of God in our lives. Another way I experienced God as a child was in silence and soli-tude. I remember often sitting behind the large chair in our living room or high up on the stair and pondering about life. There was no conscious awareness of God in this until I was about five. Still, I vividly recall sit-ting alone behind the chair and feeling a mixture of sadness and ques-tioning about time shortly after my grandmother’s death which occurred three weeks after my third birthday. A few years later after having been initiated into the mysteries of the Baltimore Catechism, I went round and round with the question---or rather, answer: "Man is a creature com-posed of body and soul and made to the image and likeness of God." For many years, I pondered this, "I have a body, and I have a soul. But who am I?" Along about this time, I also discovered God present in the Eucha-rist, and I used to slip into the basement church (not locked in those days) and kneel before the altar rail where a nearly life-sized crucifix loomed Review for Religious, November-December 1989 up before me. I knelt there--just being with God. Later on in my ado-lescent years and also when I was a young woman religious, 1 became acutely conscious of an "outside" to these aspects of my inner self, a "persona" I wore, an "image" I projected; but when I was very young, it was natural, and it was transparent. After I entered a community of cloistered women religious, living on four acres of wooded land, encircled by a high board fence, I found that the sky~, clouds, and sunsets became increas.ingly important to me. I experienced God in spaciousness above and beyond our walls. I longed for that spaciousness to be within me, and at times it seemed as if it were. As time went on, my being in chapel for adoration, for Divine Office or community prayer sometimes changed from a time of being-with God to a being-seen-with God, or to existing in the space in pain and anguish. In the late nineteen sixties, I transferred to another monastery in the south. There, once again, I was able to sit beside a vast lake and let my-self be drawn into God in the sight and sound of the waters. In a time of inner turbulence, I sat beside the crashing waters of the Gulf and let the waves that hit the shore with force spin me nearly around and work a healing magic in my spirit. In 1974, I was privileged to spend two weeks in the red, rock desert of Sedona, Arizona--literally drinking in God in the desert sun which fascinated me, and which I simply could not get my fill of. Looking back now I recognize also that the words of Scripture were in my blood and bone. As I wrote above, when I cried out to God in my addiction, I cried out in words of Scripture. I can still feel the near de-spair and remorse I felt then as I stood in the choir early in the morning and prayed: "Save me, my God! The water is already up to my neck! I am sinking in the deepest swamp, there is no foothold .... " Ps 69:1, 2. As I recall it, the translation we used had "the miry deep," and I can still feel the quicksand engulfing me. At other times when there seemed to be a glimmer of hope, the words of Psalm 18:!9 rang in my heart, "... God rescued me because God loves me." To this day the nature psalms fill me with delight, and I see that my earliest experiences of God’s presence were the ones the people had cen-turies ago, whether they were Hebrew or "pagan." God is immanent; God is everything that is good. "The heavens declare the glory of God .... " Ps 19. In recovery the scriptural images of God that I relate to profoundly are those in the stories of the woman taken in adultery and in the prodi-gal ~son. When I was caught up in my addiction, I felt hopeless and worth- Experiencing God / 8~9 less. Through the twelve-step program I rediscovered the loving God of Scripture, the God who forgives, who loves unconditionally, who draws us so that we are enabled to look at our broken lives and let them be healed. God comes to me as Mercy, Savior, and above all, Love. For a long time, I could not bear these words in Francis Thompson’s "The Hound of Heaven": "... of all man’s clotted clay the dingiest clot .... " "Who could love unlovely thee save only Me... ?" Now I know that I am lovable solely because my existence is grounded in Love. Apart from God I am nothing, but God has set her/his heart on me. The study of theology is another way in which I have powerfully ex-perienced the presence of God. At times this experience has been so strong it seared me. One instance that stands out above all others hap-pened in July, 1969, in the midst of a class in Christology at Notre Dame Seminary in New Orleans (C.P.I.). All at once I was caught up into Christ. I did not see him, but I was conscious of being held in his em-brace and of being burned through and through with his eyes of fire. I experienced a feeling of intense love, and longing and pain--beyond any-thing I had ever known--and I knew within myself that "this is purga-tory." Afterward I longed to go off alone for awhile and let this experi-ence have its way with me. Recalling this now many years later brings back some of the same feeling but with much less intensity, When I read Rv 1:14, "... his eyes like a burning flame" and Dn 10:6, "... his eyes were like fiery torches," I related to them intimately; and I still re-late to fire as an image of God, the image I probably love most. Process theology fed my soul also and seemed to me to fit the bibli-cal God whom I knew in my heart, the God who truly related to me, al-ways faithful and unchanging in covenant, always Love, yet a God who knew my pain and my struggle even more intimately than I did. The metaphors of both Tillich-and Rahner speak deeply to me. For many years I have recognized God as the "ground" of my being, and from that ground I "live and move and have my being." I love the im-age of God within and feel a need to enter deep into my center where I believe I most truly am in God. Rahner’s "horizon" of all experience again fits into process, the God always ahead, always luring onward, al-ways future as well as always present. As I look back over my life, Isee that I never lost contact with God although at times, especially in the latter part of my addiction, I saw only the "back" of God as Moses did on the mountain. Only in surrender, a radical surrender but one that is in process and Review for Religious, November-December 1989 never perfect, did I come to, a fresh discovery of the God who was with me and in me and was my deepest center all along. In Search of Peace Is peace the contentment of a solitary God? Is it the dreamed-of paradise overgrown by time? Is peace the stillness in the wind, the tree with tender leaves and twisted, broken limbs, the silence in the thunder of a germinating seed, forest litter idle~ beside a rushing stream? Is peace the child asleep beside his mother safe from the screams of his night, the infant at rest in the straw and dung of our lives? Is peace the fugitive from obsessions with security, comfort, status symbols, prize possessions? Is it the word enfleshed in action, "we"=~not "them and us," "ours"--not "yours and mine"? ls it peace who comforts the centaur crying in anguish, head through the sky, hooves caught in the ground’? Is it discipline’s companion, the attentive friend who beckons wanderers in far-off places to cbme dwell in the present moment? Is peace the fertile ground for fruitful conflict, the place of solitude beyond the din of pride, where love bonds me to my soul? Is peace the mother who holds in her arms th~ body of her innocent child, the woman who nurses the cries of others’ "Why?" Is peace the man who looks death in the face and softly speaks to her: "You cannot have my heart"? Is it the confidant who hears: "I want to’ die"? ls peace the moment of surrender in the fire of passion? Is it the cross whose shadow illuminates our world? Is it the hands of peace that release the tensed, tight muscles of my straining mind, ease a tortured body off mind’s rack, guide a pilgrim to her heart? Is peace the sabbath moment in my restless search for peace? Is it naked faith in Jesus Christ that bridges the chasm of doubt before me, firms my feet in life and bears the promise of a lasting peace? Noel Davis 5/60 Arthur Street Surry Hills Australia 2010 God’s Sorrow: Another Source of Resistance? William A. Barry, S.J. Father William Barry, S.J., is well-known for his writings and workshops, especially in the areas of spiritual direction and Ignatian spirituality. His address is Jesuit Com-munity; Boston College; Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts 02167. A few years ago I became curious about a rather strange phenomenon, resistance to the invitation to come closer to God. The strangeness of the resistance, as others and I experienced it, derived from the fact that it followed or was concomitant with rather positive experiences of close-ness to God. In a series of articles, I looked at various possibilities that might explain the resistance.~ A recent session of spiritual direction crys-tallized for me another possible explanation for the resistance, an idea that had been forming slowly over the past two years. I want to present it to readers of the Rv, vmw for what it may be worth. Two years ago, in a class I was teaching, I raised the question of whether we everexperienced our own creation. I was describing experi-ences of being filled with an enormous sense of well-being and a desire for ’I know not what,"2 and I had the idea that such experiences could be understood as experiences of our creation as the apple of God’s eye. I have since begun to refer to these experiences as the affective princi-ple and foundation for the development of our relationship with God.3 Many people in the class attested to having had such experiences. Then a woman who had worked for many years in the ghetto of one of the world’s large cities spoke up. She too had had such experiences, but she also had experiences like the following. One evening after work she was praying and there came over her an enormous sorrow and she sobbed un-controllably for a long time. The silence in the classroom that followed 841 Review for Religious, November-December 1989 her story seemed, in retrospect, reverent, as though we were in the pres-ence of God. I quietly asked her whether she would welcome such ex-periences again. She said she would, but not as a steady diet. I then re-alized that I had had similar experiences, as though the Creator of the universe in a huge sob was saying: "This is not what I intended." I won-dered aloud if such experiences were not also experiences of God. A half-formed idea began to gnaw at the corners of my mind. Could it be that we resist closeness to God because along with the joy of such closeness comes a great sadness? In the meantime other experiences, es-pecially during spiritual direction sessions, kept the idea alive. I also read An Interrupted Life: The Diaries of Etty Hillesum 1941-1943 written by a Dutch Jewess during the last two years of her life, before her death in Auschwitz.4 In fact, I had just finished an article on Etty a few days be-fore the spiritual direction session I spoke of in the first paragraph, the one which crystallized the idea, occurred. Let me now, with the permis-sion of the directee, describe what happened to her. She had had a number of very painful experiences during the past few months. Suffering was no stranger to her before this, but the cumu-lative effe’ct of the past months had taken a heavy toll. Through it all she was sustained by the felt presence of God. Recently God had seemed dis-tant, present but not close, and she had found it difficult to tell God that she wanted a closer presence. During the session she noted angrily that God seemed useless, unable to help, and that such thoughts frightened her. Was she losing her faith? As we explored her experience, it became clear that a new image of God was fighting with an older one. God, in the past at least, had been the one who could make things better; but her experience was telling her that God did not work magical cures very often. I pointed to the crucifix on my wall and said: "Isn’t it strange that for two thousand years Christians have been looking at the crucifix and still think that God is a Big Daddy who will make everything all right?" She recalled that she had had a couple of experiences when God seemed very close, but she pulled away. The reason? The pain was too great. That’s when the idea crystallized. To come close to God is to see the world in all its reality as God sees it, and that is a painful prospect, in-deed. The strange aspect of this woman’s experience, however, was that, though very painful, it was deeply consoling. Once again we see the strange paradox that what we most resist is also what is most consoling to us. There is no such thing as "cheap grace," to use a phrase of Diet-rich Bonhoeffer. God’s Sorrow Thus, one of the reasons for such a deep-seated resistance to what we most want, closeness to God, might be that we will experience the pain of God. A pious anthropomorphism, someone may object. God, as pure spirit, does not have emotions such as we have. True enough. But human beings have always used their own experience to come to know the revelation of God. Think of God’s tender love in the Old Testament or of expressions of God’s wrath. The writers could only know that such sentiments apply to God through their human experience. Perhaps these experiences of.overwhe!ming sorrow at what has happened and is hap-pening in the world do tell us something about God. Let us presume with the late Scottish philosopher, John Macmurray, that the universe is God’s one action informed by one intention and that God’s intention, in creating the universe, is to create a place where hu-man beings can enjoy community with the Trinity and thus with one an-other. 5 In an earlier article I put it this way.’. God’s "intention, it seems, is that all human beings live as brothers and sisters in a community of faith, hope, and love united with Jesus Christ as sons and daughters of God, our Father, and in harmony with the whole created universe. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ .... For he has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will, ac-cording to his purpose which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the full-ness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth (Ep !:3, 9-10).6 If this is what God intends, what is his reaction to what actually hap-pens in our world? Perhaps, indeed, it is the enormous sob, "This is not what I intended!" that many people feel when they let God come close. Etty Hillesum gives us some insight into the paradox we have been contemplating. Through fierce candor with herself and with God she came to a remarkable peace in the midst of the hell created by the Nazis in Europe. Her diaries testify both to what the relationship with God can do and to what it cannot do. About a year after she had begun to address God "without embarrassment," she wrote: "We try to save so much in life with a vague sort of mysticism. Mysticism must rest on crystal-clear honesty, can only come after things have been stripped down to their naked reality."7 What she meant by this crystal-clear honesty be-comes clarified a couple of months later in this entry. Something has crystallized. I have looked our destruction, our miserable end which has already begun in so many small ways in our daily life, straight in the eye and accepted it into my life, and my love of life has 844 / Review for Religious, November-December 1989 not been diminishedl I am not bitter or rebellious, or in any way dis-couraged .... I have come to terms with life .... By ’coming to terms with life’ I mean: the reality of death has become a definite part of my life; my life has, so to speak, been extended by death, by my look-ing death in the eye and accepting it, by accepting destruction as part of life and no longer wasting my energies on fear of death or the refusal to acknowledge its inevitability. It sounds paradoxical: by excluding death from our life we cannot live a full life, and by admitting death into our life we enlarge and enrich it.8 We can paraphrase her paradox this way: by excluding God from our life we cannot live a full life, and by admitting God into our life we enlarge and enrich it. For Etty cam’e to realize that admitting God into her life meant to admit not only death but also all the suffering of the world. She quavered before the consequences of this kind of crystal-clear honesty, but even then she ~ould tell God her fears as well. Take this entry a few days after the last one cited. "Dear God, theseare anxious times. Tonight for the first time I lay in the dark with burning eyes as scene after scene of human suffering passed before me." Could it not be that Etty, in her new-found closeness to God, was seeing the world as God sees it and feeling God’s pathos in the process? She goes on: I shall promise you one thing, God, just one very small thing: I shall never burden my today with cares about my tomorrow, although that takes some practice. Each day is sufficient unto itself. I shall try to help you, God, to stop my strength ebbing away, though I cannot vouch for it in advance. But one thing is becoming increasingly clear to me: that you cannot help us, that we must help you to help ourselves. Here, it seems to me, Etty is experiencing the helplessness of God to change human hearts. The realization of God’s helplessness roused the anger of the directee cited earlier. God seemed useless to her~ Etty, how-ever, goes on: And that is all we can manage these days and also all that really mat- - ters: that we safeguard that little piece of you, God, in ourselves. And perhaps in others as well. Alas, there doesn’t seem to be much you your-self can do about our circumstances, about our lives. Neither do I hold you responsible. You cannot help us but we must help you and defend your dwelling place inside us to the last ....... no one is in their (the Nazis’) clutches who is in your arms. I am beginning to feel a little more peaceful, God, thanks to this conversation.9 Etty has realized that God cannot change the situation of the Jews in Europe. Perhaps at first she reacted with anger; the diaries do ’not tell us God’s Sorrow / 845 this. One thing is clear from the diaries: closeness to God does not di-minish pain; itmay even enhance it because one experiences God’s pain. Etty has not run away from God’s pain and ends up "a little more peace-ful." Lest it seem that closeness to God leads to nothing but pain and suf-fering, let us look a bit further in .this’same prayer. She recalls the jas-mine tree behind her house which has been destroyed by storms and then goes on to say to God: But somewhere inside me the ja.smine continues to blossom undisturbed, just as profusely and delicately as ever it did. And it spreads its scent round the house in which you dwell, oh God. You can see, I look after you, I bring you not only my tears and my forebodings on this stormy, grey Sunday morning, I even bring you scented jasmine. And I shall bring you all the flowe"rs I shall meet on my way, and truly there are many of those. I shall try to make you at home always. Even if I should be locked up in a narrow cell and a cloud should drift past my small barred window, then I shall bring you that cloud, oh God, while there is still the strength in me to do so. I cannot promise you anything for tomorrow, but my intentions are good, you can see. ~0 A measure of her inner happiness in spite of the horrors around her can be seen in the postcard she threw out of the window of the train trans-porting her and many others to certain death in Auschwitz. On it she had written: "We have left the camp singing." Apparently she found it true to the end that life is enlarged and enriched by the paradoxical act of ac-cepting death (and God) into it. Moreover, the more in communion with God she becomes, the more open she is to suffering humanity. In September of 1942 she writes of her desires: With a sharp pang, all of suffering mankind’s nocturnal distress and lone-liness passes now through my small heart. What shall I be taking upon myself this winter? ’One day, I would love to’travel through all the world, oh God; I feel drawn right across all frontiers and feel a bond with all your warring creatures.’ And I would like to proclaim that bond in a small, still voice but also compellingly and without pause. But first I must be present on every battle-front and at the center of all human suffering. ~ Her diaries end with these words, "We should be willing to act as a balm for all wounds." Apparently Etty was willing. Prayer can be understood as conscious relationship. Given that un-derstanding, fidelity to prayer leads to an ever-deepening intimacy and 846 / Review for Religious, November-December 1989 friendship. One of the most difficult challenges in an.y intimate friend-ship is to remain close to one’s friend when the friend is suffering or dy-ing. Because it is so difficult, suffering and dying are very often a very lonely business. What a grace it is, then, if we find friends who are will-ing to be with us in our pain and suffering even when they can do noth-ing to change the situation externally and even when they suffer almost as much as we do because of their empathy for us. God is such a friend to us, we believe. Perhaps we have not adverted enough to the possibil-ity that God wants us to be such friends to him. Perhaps what most en-deared Jesus to God was Jesus’ willingness to let God stay close, even when that closeness brought Jesus’ own heart to the breaking point. Per-haps, too, God is profoundly grateful to all those who, like Etty, defend his "dwelling place inside" them to the last. But it is no picnic, all the same. And so anyone who wants to let God stay close must expect to encounter resistance, not only because such closeness makes it abun-dantly clear that we are not the center of the universe, but also because such closeness brings close God’s immense sorrow at what we human beings have done to try to thwart his intention. NOTES ~ William A. Barry, "Resistance to Union: A Virulent Strain," REVIEW FOR RELIOIOUS, 1985, 44, 592-596; "The Desire to Love as Jesus Loved and Its Vicissi-tudes," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 1985, 44, 747-753; "Surrender: The Key to Whole-ness," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 1987, 46, 49-53. 2 See Sebastian Moore, Let This Mind Be in You: The Quest for Identity Through Oedipus to Christ, San Francisco: Harper & Row (Seabury), 1985. 3 See William A. Barry, ’"What Do You Want?’ The Role of Desires in Prayer," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 1989, 48, 5-13. ’~ Etty Hillesum, An Interrupted Life: The Diaries of Etty Hilles~m 1941-1943. New York: Washington Square Press, 1985. .5 See John Macmurray, Self As Agent and Persons in Relation. London: Faber and Faber, 1957 and 1961, They represent the Gifford Lectures of 1953-54. I have de-veloped Macmurray’s ideas in "What Makes a Group a Community?" Human De-velopment, 1987, 8, 6-11 and in "Toward a Theology of Discernment," The Way Supplement, Spring, 1989. 6 William A. Barry, "The Kingdom of God and Discernment," America, 1987, 157, (Sept. 26), 156-159. 7 Etty Hillesum, up cit, 149. 8 lbid, 162-163. 9 lbid, 186-87. i0 lbid, 188. ~ lbid, 225. The Choices That Love Makes: The Meaning of Discernment in the Writings of St. Alphonsus Liguori Susan Rakoczy, I.H.M. Sister Susan Rakoczy, I.H.M., contributed this article during the time of her sab-batical at Regis College in Toronto, Ontario. She had just previously completed six years of ministry in the West African country of Ghana, mostly spent as a staff mem-ber of a retreat center in Kumasi. This article grew out of her professional theologi-cal interest in the theology and practice of discernment and from her own congrega-tion’s heritage, since they were founded by a Redemptorist priest, Louis Florent Gillet, in 1845. Her address is 21 Buchanan Street; Howick 3290; Natal, South Af-rica. ~l~mong the many items in the household of the Church which have as-sumed renewed importance since Vatican II is the understanding and prac-tice of "discernment of spirits." The emphasis on personal and com-munal religious experience in these years of renewal has led to a height-ened interest in the questions "How do I (we) know that this choice is what God wants? Is this the will of God for me (for us)?" In many cases it has been the historical tradition of the teaching on discernment, especially that of Ignatius Loyola, which has been of great importance for individuals and communities.~ Post-Vatican II ecclesial experience has also moved the tradition into new contexts. Concern with discernment has been significant within the charismatic renewal which demonstrates an intense attention to the movements of the Spirit within the individual and the community.2 The development small Christian communities especially in Latin America but also in Af-rica and North America has placed the practice of discernment in situ-ations linked directly with the work of justice and peace.3 Religious com- 847 Review for Religious, November-December 1989 munities of women and men have learned to develop diverse forms of communal discernment processes in order to make decisions relative to election of community leaders, directions for ministry, and use of com-munity resources. Vatican II urged religious congregations to reexamine their found-ing charism in order to effect a renewal which would most clearly reach to the roots of each community’s identity, transforming its life and mis-sion. 4 Those religious communities which share the Redemptorist charism look to St. Alphonsus Liguori’s teachings as part of their foun-dational heritage, including his understanding of discernment. Alphon-sus links together several key elements in the Christian life--intense love and desire for God, prayer, obedience to God’s will--which when seen as a whole provide us with fresh insights on discernment. To speak of discernment is to speak of a process of faith and prayer in which a person (or each member of a community) pays close atten-tion to one’s affective experience in order to answer the questions, "What is the Spirit of God asking of me? In what direction am I being led?" The sources of this reflection are one’s experience of God in prayer, in the Scriptures, in community life, and in daily events which can range from experiences of love and friendship to actions on behalf of justice. An incarnational understanding of discernment sees the Spirit of God alive within all of life’s situations. But the tradition of discernment further understands that a person is moved not only by the Spirit of God but also by one’s human spirit in the complexity of psychological response and by the power of evil, ap-parent especially in the force of personal and social sin. The leading questions of discernment then become: How am I (we) being moved? Towards God (for example, deeper faithful discipleship and commitment).’? Towards myself (deeper self-absorption and selfish-ness)? Towards evil and the doing of evil? As I reflect on my experience, what does the Spirit of God seem to be asking of me? How am I respond-ing? Why can I say with a certain confidence, "This is what God wants of me"? Using the language of the tradition, the discernment process " leads me to say, "This is the will of God for me." Alphonsus Liguori (1696-1787), pastor, bishop, and theologian, was. able to draw upon rich sources for his understanding of discernment. His spiritual teaching as a whole is based chiefly upon Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, Francis de Sales, and Thomas Aquinas.5 Teresa’s teaching on prayer became the guide for his own, and Francis de Sales’s practical The Choices That Love Makes instructions on love as the heart of Christian life form a deep current in his own thought. His writings speak of some of the constants of the life of prayer, for example, dryness, desolation, consolation, in ways which show the influence not only of Teresa and John of the Cross but also of the Ignatian tradition. However, it is highly significant in studying Alphonsus on discern-ment to’be aware that his teaching is not systematic and is rather repeti-tive of a few basic themes. Alphonsus wrote many of his works with the intention of providing people with practical guidelines for their Chris-tian lives. He did not develop "rules" for discernment in a style simi-lar to Ignatius, nor did he write treatises on the subject. It is in search-ing out and analyzing certain areas of his spirituality that we can begin to trace the outlines of his understanding of discernment. It often happens that the experiences of a person’s life provide the emerging themes of their spirituality. This was very true for Ignatius Loyola whose injury in battle and the time required for recuperation set in process his conversion. Before delineating s~ome of the aspects of the teaching of Alphonsus, it is important to observe the ways in which he came to know the will of God in his own life. Aiphonsus’ life history provides a story of intense attachment to and dependence on his father, Don Joseph de Liguori. His father had his own plans for his son’s life and when Alphonsus crossed them, immense suf-fering resulted for both of them. It was not until Alphonsus was thirty years of age that he was able to make decisions about his own life. This is all the more striking because he received his law degree at the age of sixteen and so embarked on his career at the bar at a very early age. In reflecting on some of the events of Alphonsus’ life two discern-ment processes or movements are evident. The first involves certain ex-periences of sudden illumination of heart in which he came to know with unmistakable clarity what God wanted of him. The other was his vow of obedience to his confessor and the stability and confidence he experi-enced in trusting another’s discernment as truly of God. A cluster of events relating to his conversion present the conflict with his father and several moments of illumination of heart. During a Lenten retreat with the Vincentians in 1722, Alphonsus was deeply moved by a sermon on the torments of hell. Describing his experience later he said that he "felt as though a supernatural light was dissipating the shadows in his soul.’’6 It was during this retreat that he "learned to know God and shun the world.’ ,7 A year later.he resolved to be celibate and to cede the rights of primogeniture to his brother Hercules. Review for Religious, November-December 1989 Later, in 1723, came the event which changed the direction of his life. In arguing an important case in court he overlooked a key clause in a pertinent document and lost the suit. He was so shattered by this fail-ure that he declared, "World, I know you now. Courts’, you shall never see me any more.’.’8 He abandoned his law career and remained at home in his room, spending much time in prayer and trying to understand what God wanted of him. He was tormented by scruples and followed the ad-vice of his director, Fr. Thomas Pagano, completely: "Doubts and in-quietudes often kept me in anguish, but my blind obedience to Fr. Pa-gano helped to calm those interior storms."9 Conflicts with his father continued, especially when Don Joseph in-sisted that Alphonsus accompany him to the royal court of Naples. He found himself torn by loyalty to his father and the desire to do the will of God: If I resist my father’s authority, I am doing wrong .... But if I follow my father: against the will of God, shall I not be doing still worse? Who will show me the road I ought to take?~° This dilemma was still unresolved when he visited the Hospital for Incurables on August 28, 1723. As he served the sick there, he found himself surrounded by a mysterious light and twice heard an interior voice say, "Leave the world and give thy self to Me." In response he said, "Lord, too long have I resisted thy grace; do with me what thou wilt.’’~ He then went to the Church of Our Lady of Ransom where he consecrated himself to the Lord and promised to enter the Congregation of the Oratory as soon as possible. As a sign of his commitment he laid his sword on the altar. In another series of events, connected with the founding of the Re-demptorists, it was Alphonsus’s decision to be absolutely obedient to his director that was the foundation stone of his experience of discernment. On October 3, 1731 Sr. Maria Celeste Crostorosa, a Redempto-ristine, ~2 had a vision of Christ and St. Francis of Assisi with Alphonsus in which Alphonsus was pointed out to her as the head of a new congre-gation of men "who shall work for My glory." ~3 She told this to Thom-as Falcoia, Bishop of Casteilamare, who informed Alphonsus and urged him to begin this work. But Alphonsus’ own director, Fr. Pagano, dis-approved strongly. Alphonsus tried to forget the matter since "accus-tomed as he was to consider his director’s decision as the will of God’’~4 that should have brought him peace. But it did not. When he again con-sulted Pagano he found the director now encouraging him to begin the The Choices That Love Makes Congregation as a work of God. Yet more consultations followed with the superior of the Vincentians and the Jesuit provincial. He spoke to Sr. Maria Celeste who urged him forward. Finally he met with another director, a Dominican named Fr. Fiorillio, who asked for six months of reflection on the matter but after only eight days told him to begin. Fiorillio’s approval increased Pagano’s support: Pagano, when. told of Fiorillio’s decision, gave it his entire approval, and from that moment Alphonsus, relying upon his director’s judgment as upon a divine oracle, resolved to march on boldly in spite of all con-tradictions. He now had the certitude that he was doing the will of God, and opposition no longer disquieted him. ~5 This dependence on obedience to a director as providing the certi-tude of the will of God became a guiding principle of Aiphonsus’s life. He was convinced that a spiritual director presents the will of God to the person and that obedience to the director gives the person real assurance of what God wants. At the same time Alphonsus recognized that obedi-ence to a director is a rational obedience, not excluding one’s own intel-lect and good sense: The function of directors consists solely in ensuring the execution of the will of God in whose place they stand. When, therefore, there are seri-ous reasons for thinking that a spiritual father is crossing God’s design in our regard, it becomes necessary to leave his guidance--always, of course, with the advice of prudent and experienced men. ~6 This type Of discernment through obedience to a director and his su-periors continued to shape Alphonsus’s spirituality to the end of his life. When he was excluded from the Redemptorists through a papal decree of September 22, 1780 which separated the members in the Papal States and those in the kingdom of Naples from each other, he was distraught because he no longer had a superior. He appealed to the Pope to give him permission "to depend on the judgment of my confessor in these doubts (for example, relating to poverty) and so free me from a state of such confusion . . . in which I find myself.’’~7 The motive of this kind of obedience in which he believed he would find the will of God "was that unitive love which conformed his will entirely to that of God." ~8 If we judge the exterior of his obedience as the method of his discernment, we may see primarily a rigidity of per-sonality which depends on another for the certitude of the decisions which he made. However, the interior sense, which is shown through- 859 / Review for Religious, November-December 1989 out his writings, is of an expansive love of God which is the root of this obedience. The .irony of his own spiritual journey is that, except for cer-tain illuminating graces such as at the Hospital for Incurables "he never experienced in himself the same light that his direction brought to other souls." 19 Alphonsus apparently needed exterior guidance in such abso-lute terms because he did not experience within himself the leadings of the Spirit in a way he could trust. In contrast, Alphonsus’ writings on themes relating to discernment focus on that interior experience of the love of God which is th City of Saint Louis (Mo.), http://www.geonames.org/4407084 http://cdm17321.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/rfr/id/303

Review for Religious - Issue 48.6 (November/December 1989)

Similar Items