The story of Catherine Damen, the foundress of the Sisters of Saint Francis of Penance and Christian Charity, is engraved on my memory. She starts a community known as the Sisters of the Steps. Since during this time in the 1800's, religious congregations have been banned as the prequel and sequel to the French Revolution, the community is, essentially, a group living as the beguines lived during the thirteenth century. They come together, living and working together to meet a social need in their local community -- the education of the children in the town. Fast foward a few years, and the group is now in a different time and place in what is now the Netherlands (national governance of the locale kept switching between Belgium and the Netherlands as the results of war outcomes). The community has a building now, known at the Kreppel. They continue to meet the same social need of the time, the education of children, but now the community of the Kreppel can also accept boarders. In a few years, the community officially becomes a religious order in the Catholic Church. There is a wrinkle in the plan for the future of the school, though. The Catholic bishop of the local diocese and the priest placed in charge of the sisters at the Kreppel think that the foundress, Catherine Damen -- now known in the order as Mother Magdalen, is not capable of running the community running a school. So, they have her replaced by another sister who is better educated and, in their estimation, more capable of successfully running a boarding school.
Now, in the wake of the French Revolution, Mother Magdalen did not know of her evangelical roots in the footprints of Francis of Assisi as we know those roots to be today. (That is, I would like to see some solid research into the life and times of Catherine Damen which would give solid historical evidence that she knew about and followed "Franciscan evangelical life" as we define it to be today.) She did know, in my estimation, that she was meeting a very real social need of her time. A major feature of meeting that need was the way in which they were doing it, as a group of women living in community, that is living together, and working together. So, there may be different views of this beginning and how it fits into the context that we now in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries call Franciscan evangelical life (perhaps re-writing history to make it fit a bit). But, the major feature that sticks in my mind, especially in the stories told about Mother Magdalen and her graciousness, is that this original band of women enjoyed sharing their lives together in community, in work and contemplation. I look at the stories handed down about Mother Magdalen, and it seems to me that shared living included hardship (not enough food the eat as times) but also joy in meeting the social needs of the community together. I would submit that they found something worthwhile in sharing the same work together.
I am saying this because today, now, I enjoy working side by side with members of my community, with my sisters. We do different kinds of work (me the nerdier stuff) but, we all see the worthwhile-ness of doing what we do for the voiceless and vulnerable in our local area -- and we like doing it together. In working together, our community experiences a synergy that ripples through our greater community of volunteers. It is evangelical, but not necessarily post-Modern evangelical. That is, we like working together and being in community together -- and not just "doing my own thing" in a separate silo as Franciscan evangelical is often applied today. Francis' evangelical was not Mother Magdalen's evangelical because, unlike Francis, Magdalen did not have the problem of maintaining community when people were sent out two-by-two. Magdalen did not send people out two-by-two. Different time. Different context. Apples and oranges -- and someone is drenching the apples in orange juice today.
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Friday, December 6, 2013
12/6/2013, St. Nick's Day - Thoughts on "Religious Life at the Crossroads" by Amy Hereford, CSJ
After many weeks (months even), I am ready to write about the Amy Hereford's book entitled Religious Life at the Crossroads: A School for Mystics and Prophets. This is what the publisher, Orbis books, has to say about the book:
" 'Those in and around religious life have known for decades that something new was coming, and we have strained the eyes of our hearts to catch a glimpse of what it might look like. We knew that this new development was beyond our imagination, but when it finally appeared, it would do honor to the heritage of religious life. The day is finally dawning and the new form is beginning to emerge in our spirits, imaginations and conversations. The reinvention of religious life for today involves renewed commitment to the choice of radical Christian community that inspired, attracted and sustained the religious of every age.'
This book explores the movements in religious life today and the currents that are emerging among the smaller cohorts of younger religious in mainstream communities of women religious. Hereford traces the history of religious life, including the impact of Vatican II, and examines some of the theological sources for the reinvention of religious life today. She explores the current situation of women religious, re-imagines the meaning of vows, community, and mission, and examines how the religious life will fit into an emerging church."
(from the Orbis web site)
Like Sandra Schneiders in Buying the Field: Catholic Religious Life in Mission to the World, Hereford says that emerging religious life will be egalitarian and communitarian. She identifies two cohorts, the younger cohort under sixty and the older cohort sixty years and older. The older cohort entered at a time when large numbers of people were joining. The younger cohort experienced being few (or single) in number when they joined. As Hereford says of the younger cohort:
"They often report that they are warmly welcomed by the members of the dominant cohort in their communities. Nevertheless, they find that it is difficult to form deep bonds with these women who have established friendships, little in common with the younger women, and difficulty welcoming them as full members of the community, even after ten or twenty years or more. The minority cohort is generally only 5-10 percent of the community, and members of this cohort often report feeling unheard, or if heard, they remain a lone, dissonant voice whose ideas and energies cannot be incorporated into the life and plans of the dominant cohort. This remains true even when the community is making decisions about the future that the minority cohort will live with for another forty or eighty years . . . Given the place of women's religious life in the United States today, with its median age nearly surpassing the life expectancy of women in this country, communities are coming to see that it is likely that they have one or two more cycles of leadership (usually four-to-six-year terms) before the matter becomes critical and there is no longer time or a critical mass of members able to make decisions, get the affairs of the community in order, and ensure the dignity of the members' final years and their legacy. Many communities are approaching their historical fulfillment as institutes, they are likely writing the last chapter of the life story of their institutes, whether they realize it or not."
Hereford on the novitiate:
In the last sentence on the last page of Hereford's book, she looks forward to what emerging religious life will be:
"In small, local communities we can share life that is undifferentiated, immediate, and egalitarian. These communities can network to share services while affording each community the freedom and versatility to adapt to its local reality. Resisting the drive toward centralization, they can become circles of gospel living, peace, and justice. They can be mystics and prophets in a world desperately in need of them."
These are just a few thoughts from Hereford's work. There is much which I have skipped in her book which is relevant to creating new community in this century. I recommend her book to those interested in religious life.
So, I am interested in living religious life as described in Schneiders' and Hereford's works. This emerging place, on the leading edge, is where I may thrive and be creative. I am interested in living in a community that is egalitarian, communitarian, and prayerful -- where all are heeded and heard, where all have some access to power. This is founded on an assumption that persons dialogue with one another, have conversations with each other, in relationship. I am interested in being heard. I am interested in being treated as a 60 (rather than a 16) year old. I am interested in living in a community that is not fossilized, not a closed system.
(from the Orbis web site)
Like Sandra Schneiders in Buying the Field: Catholic Religious Life in Mission to the World, Hereford says that emerging religious life will be egalitarian and communitarian. She identifies two cohorts, the younger cohort under sixty and the older cohort sixty years and older. The older cohort entered at a time when large numbers of people were joining. The younger cohort experienced being few (or single) in number when they joined. As Hereford says of the younger cohort:
"They often report that they are warmly welcomed by the members of the dominant cohort in their communities. Nevertheless, they find that it is difficult to form deep bonds with these women who have established friendships, little in common with the younger women, and difficulty welcoming them as full members of the community, even after ten or twenty years or more. The minority cohort is generally only 5-10 percent of the community, and members of this cohort often report feeling unheard, or if heard, they remain a lone, dissonant voice whose ideas and energies cannot be incorporated into the life and plans of the dominant cohort. This remains true even when the community is making decisions about the future that the minority cohort will live with for another forty or eighty years . . . Given the place of women's religious life in the United States today, with its median age nearly surpassing the life expectancy of women in this country, communities are coming to see that it is likely that they have one or two more cycles of leadership (usually four-to-six-year terms) before the matter becomes critical and there is no longer time or a critical mass of members able to make decisions, get the affairs of the community in order, and ensure the dignity of the members' final years and their legacy. Many communities are approaching their historical fulfillment as institutes, they are likely writing the last chapter of the life story of their institutes, whether they realize it or not."
Hereford on the novitiate:
"The novitiate provides the candidate with a more formal
systematic time of prayer, study, and experience of religious life and mission.
Often this is carried out in a particular house of the community, sometimes
with other novices, when this is possible. One of the criticisms of the current
system is that it sets novices aside in "hot house" communities where
life is very different from the life of the community at large. When novices
leave the novitiate, there may not be communities where they can integrate
themselves in a life-giving way.
The novitiate in emerging smaller and local communities will
have a different look and feel. The communities are unlikely to have a separate
house to set aside as a novitiate among the houses with which it forms ever
broadening networks. Novitiate will have to be lived in the midst of the local
community. Candidate and community will
engage in mutual discernment, with both having the opportunity for reflection
and discernment about the individual's call or vocation and how it can live and
flourish in the midst of the local community as members pursue their individual
and common vocations. After discernment, the community and the new novice will
celebrate a deliberate moment of transition from the informal long-term visit
or residency phase into the novitiate.
The community and the new novice should also choose a novice
director to companion the new novice as he or she moves through the program. In
addition, the community, novice, and director will take same time to discuss what
will be necessary for this particular novice to enter more deeply into the life
of this particular community."
Hereford on 21st century leadership:
"In the past, relationships were largely provided by
membership in the same congregation. When they were founded, the governance
structures of these communities mirrored the governance structures of church
and state in medieval Europe. Even more recent foundations often kept the hierarchical
structures inherited from that era. The Second Vatican Council spoke to
governance within the church. One of its key insights was the importance of
subsidiarity; the council taught that decisions and authority in the church
should not be concentrated at the top of the chain of hierarchy. Instead,
decisions should be made at the lowest level, closest to the people affected by
the decision. The notion of subsidiarity came out of a hierarchical system, and
it is based on the assumption that the power resides at the top, but that it should
be pushed to the lowest possible level.
Hereford on the future:
Speaking with the women in the minority cohort in religious life, I find a few hints about the dream of God for the future. These are really amazing women; they are confident, articulate leaders, yet they are so few in their communities that their voices and insights can be lost. The unique voice and perspective they bring has not yet gained a significant hearing in the wider reality of religious life. Like any other cultural minority, it is only with difficulty that the dominant culture can actually hear and understand the voices of younger women religious on their own terms. Often newer members find themselves translating and explaining, rather than speaking their own truth in its own native language. Too often, rather than gaining momentum. these voices, when they are heard, echo around a bit, then fade away. While this can be a frustrating experience for the minority cohort, I believe it is as it should be. The dominant cohort has an important task in bringing to completion its work of renewal. The minority cohort has another task, and it is a task that is the work of the few, not the many. All of us in religious life today will have to summon our courage to engage the challenges ahead and set out steadfastly on paths yet untrodden.
Speaking with the women in the minority cohort in religious life, I find a few hints about the dream of God for the future. These are really amazing women; they are confident, articulate leaders, yet they are so few in their communities that their voices and insights can be lost. The unique voice and perspective they bring has not yet gained a significant hearing in the wider reality of religious life. Like any other cultural minority, it is only with difficulty that the dominant culture can actually hear and understand the voices of younger women religious on their own terms. Often newer members find themselves translating and explaining, rather than speaking their own truth in its own native language. Too often, rather than gaining momentum. these voices, when they are heard, echo around a bit, then fade away. While this can be a frustrating experience for the minority cohort, I believe it is as it should be. The dominant cohort has an important task in bringing to completion its work of renewal. The minority cohort has another task, and it is a task that is the work of the few, not the many. All of us in religious life today will have to summon our courage to engage the challenges ahead and set out steadfastly on paths yet untrodden.
Some sociologists have said that between 75 percent and 90
percent of religious communities in existence in the United States today are
currently in their last generation .
. . What is, is passing away. The
dominant cohort in religious life today can hold its head high, knowing its
members have done amazing things in their ministries and institutions, as well
as in building up the people of God.. They have taught and healed generations
of the weakest and most vulnerable. They are in the process of writing their
last chapters, both individually and corporately. As in any good book, the last
chapter is the culmination of all that has come before, and is often the best
and most satisfying to read. No one wants a good book to come to an end. But
end it must, and blessed are those whose privilege it is to write that chapter.
Some newer members from the midst of these communities are eager
to be set free to begin writing the sequel with their lives. The minority
cohort is also distinct in its strong intercommunity relationships, supports,
and sensibilities."
In the last sentence on the last page of Hereford's book, she looks forward to what emerging religious life will be:
"In small, local communities we can share life that is undifferentiated, immediate, and egalitarian. These communities can network to share services while affording each community the freedom and versatility to adapt to its local reality. Resisting the drive toward centralization, they can become circles of gospel living, peace, and justice. They can be mystics and prophets in a world desperately in need of them."
These are just a few thoughts from Hereford's work. There is much which I have skipped in her book which is relevant to creating new community in this century. I recommend her book to those interested in religious life.
So, I am interested in living religious life as described in Schneiders' and Hereford's works. This emerging place, on the leading edge, is where I may thrive and be creative. I am interested in living in a community that is egalitarian, communitarian, and prayerful -- where all are heeded and heard, where all have some access to power. This is founded on an assumption that persons dialogue with one another, have conversations with each other, in relationship. I am interested in being heard. I am interested in being treated as a 60 (rather than a 16) year old. I am interested in living in a community that is not fossilized, not a closed system.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
10/27/2013 - Home from Redwoods Monastery
I have spent the last week at the Cistercian abbey in Whitethorne, Redwoods Monastery (or Abbey as they name it sometimes now). The sisters there used to make hosts for communion when I first started going there in the 1980's. Now they spin creamed honey in different gourmet flavors. If you are interested, the link to their web site is here: http://www.redwoodsabbey.org/.
It was a week of silence -- no talking, meals in silence, prayer throughout the day starting at 5:00 AM, no phones or Internet. It was an envelopment in a warm, nurturing cloak of stillness. I could hear the leaves falling from the trees in a rustling of wind. I could watch the ungainly flight of the wild turkeys wobbling down into the clearing in front of the chapel and main building, and creep almost next to the unafraid, grazing deer. I could see the highlights of brilliant yellows tinging the growth of rushes along the headwaters of the Mattole river, a frequent sight as I trekked the path between the guest housing and the chapel several times a day. I could feel the coastal fog sneak-in "on little cat feet," over the hills as evening settled after vespers, and move away with the warmth of daylight sun. The fragrance of redwood trees, the gurgling of the river over the "rapids" of the Mattole, the crispness of the dew at dawn against my cheeks, the cadences of chant (notated in Gregorian punctus, clivis, bistropha, et al) filled my senses, filled my fountain -- overflowing. It was an experience of the goodness of the Holy One, truly -- punctuated by my memories of faces I brought with me, of Ron (not his real name) -- a homeless veteran, roaring drunk the last time I saw him on MD 20/20 (in raspberry blue through a clear pint bottle where MD is the acronym for Mad Dog), trying to get admitted to detox so he could be off the Sacramento streets for three days in a warm bed and with "three squares" in a different kind of retreat, a retreat from from rigors beyond my capacity to bear, and who decided when he was eight that he would live for the good when presented with horrors of evil (we call that the fundamental option in theological lingo) in perhaps the beginning of his mental illness. Justappositions flitting across the inner sense of my vision, seeing truly. The stillness like a warm cloak, a luxurious old friend I could don for a time in that sacred space of Redwoods. It is a week for which I am very, very grateful -- my little silence wrapped in Silence.
Just in time for that experience of silence, a book became available on October 14th, just the week before. By, Amy Hereford, CSJ, it is entitled: Religious Life at the Crossroads: A School for Prophets and Mystics. I spent the time praying lectio divina with that book, in reflection. More about those reflections next blog entry. It is an assessment of the current state of religious life in the United States with a tracing of what is emerging in the future.
So, I've come home bringing some of the stillness with me, still wrapped in the friendship of that cloak to greet the Fall morning chill in the Sacramento Valley. With senses inner and outer overflowing, I have a sense now of how to proceed. The week affirmed for me that I need to live religious life in community, Franciscan, with the contemplative fueling the activity. The rest, the context, is still unfolding.
It was a week of silence -- no talking, meals in silence, prayer throughout the day starting at 5:00 AM, no phones or Internet. It was an envelopment in a warm, nurturing cloak of stillness. I could hear the leaves falling from the trees in a rustling of wind. I could watch the ungainly flight of the wild turkeys wobbling down into the clearing in front of the chapel and main building, and creep almost next to the unafraid, grazing deer. I could see the highlights of brilliant yellows tinging the growth of rushes along the headwaters of the Mattole river, a frequent sight as I trekked the path between the guest housing and the chapel several times a day. I could feel the coastal fog sneak-in "on little cat feet," over the hills as evening settled after vespers, and move away with the warmth of daylight sun. The fragrance of redwood trees, the gurgling of the river over the "rapids" of the Mattole, the crispness of the dew at dawn against my cheeks, the cadences of chant (notated in Gregorian punctus, clivis, bistropha, et al) filled my senses, filled my fountain -- overflowing. It was an experience of the goodness of the Holy One, truly -- punctuated by my memories of faces I brought with me, of Ron (not his real name) -- a homeless veteran, roaring drunk the last time I saw him on MD 20/20 (in raspberry blue through a clear pint bottle where MD is the acronym for Mad Dog), trying to get admitted to detox so he could be off the Sacramento streets for three days in a warm bed and with "three squares" in a different kind of retreat, a retreat from from rigors beyond my capacity to bear, and who decided when he was eight that he would live for the good when presented with horrors of evil (we call that the fundamental option in theological lingo) in perhaps the beginning of his mental illness. Justappositions flitting across the inner sense of my vision, seeing truly. The stillness like a warm cloak, a luxurious old friend I could don for a time in that sacred space of Redwoods. It is a week for which I am very, very grateful -- my little silence wrapped in Silence.
Just in time for that experience of silence, a book became available on October 14th, just the week before. By, Amy Hereford, CSJ, it is entitled: Religious Life at the Crossroads: A School for Prophets and Mystics. I spent the time praying lectio divina with that book, in reflection. More about those reflections next blog entry. It is an assessment of the current state of religious life in the United States with a tracing of what is emerging in the future.
So, I've come home bringing some of the stillness with me, still wrapped in the friendship of that cloak to greet the Fall morning chill in the Sacramento Valley. With senses inner and outer overflowing, I have a sense now of how to proceed. The week affirmed for me that I need to live religious life in community, Franciscan, with the contemplative fueling the activity. The rest, the context, is still unfolding.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
9/28/2013 - Obedience
I have been reflecting on the evangelical counsel of obedience these last few weeks, and trying to discern whether I am being a horse's ass about it. So, I have been reading Sandra Schneider's 800 page book released this year, Buying the Field: Catholic Religious Life in Mission to the World. Because I am interested in concepts surrounding obedience, I started with the last half of the book where she discusses the topic.
Here's a quick synopsis. Schneiders details how the idea of obedience developed between the 12th and 16th centuries, and became the de facto standard for centuries, until Vatican II changed it. She identifies three models of obedience that became rolled into the single idea: familial, military, and monarchical. With the parental model, since most who entered the convent in the 12th century were teenagers, life in the monastery was a continuation in many respects of life in the family. The types of respect and filial relationships continued in the convent with the superior as the parental figure, defining the relationship as mother-child. The second model comes from the motif of the Church, the good, fighting a war against the evil personified as Satan. The military model depends upon a construction off an enemy or opponent against which the Church militant must fight. Since the Church wages war, hierarchical military structures are needed. The superior is the commander. The third model is monarchical. By the 16th century, it was understood that monarchs ruled by divine right. So, the superior who is already parent and commander also acquires the divine right to be such. The result for the religious in this pre-Vatican II view is that one's way to God is through one's superior who has responsibility for the person's soul. The pre-Vatican II picture Schneiders paints is captured in this quote:
The most important kind of authority is relational authority. This is the kind of authority that characterizes people and is exercised among themselves. It is the primary type of authority exercised in Religious Congregations . . . In summary, we have placed relational authority in the category of persuasive power or influence that consists in the right to be heard and heeded. This right arises from relationships that may be natural, dialogical, or constructed by the conferral of authority on an officeholder. In other words, every member of a community has a right to be heard and heeded, and also to have access to power.
So, here's my final quote from Schneiders:
Here's a quick synopsis. Schneiders details how the idea of obedience developed between the 12th and 16th centuries, and became the de facto standard for centuries, until Vatican II changed it. She identifies three models of obedience that became rolled into the single idea: familial, military, and monarchical. With the parental model, since most who entered the convent in the 12th century were teenagers, life in the monastery was a continuation in many respects of life in the family. The types of respect and filial relationships continued in the convent with the superior as the parental figure, defining the relationship as mother-child. The second model comes from the motif of the Church, the good, fighting a war against the evil personified as Satan. The military model depends upon a construction off an enemy or opponent against which the Church militant must fight. Since the Church wages war, hierarchical military structures are needed. The superior is the commander. The third model is monarchical. By the 16th century, it was understood that monarchs ruled by divine right. So, the superior who is already parent and commander also acquires the divine right to be such. The result for the religious in this pre-Vatican II view is that one's way to God is through one's superior who has responsibility for the person's soul. The pre-Vatican II picture Schneiders paints is captured in this quote:
Coercion, possible or actual, was
intrinsic to the relation of obedience to authority. Thus, obedience in the
enchanted universe of preconciliar convent life, no matter how free and
willing, was not a relationship between equal adults seeking God’s will
together but an intrinsically hierarchical relation of domination (ideally
benevolent) and subordination (ideally willing) between “superior” and
“subject.” The superior commanded in God’s name; the subject responded to God
by submission to the superior. As long as one was not “doing one’s
own will” one could be sure that one was “doing God’s will.” From the novitiate
on Religious, were taught, “Even if the superior errs in commanding, the
subject never errs in obeying unless the action commanded is certainly sinful.”
The Religious who “keeps the Rule” could be sure that "Rule would keep
her."
Schneiders contrasts this with the post-Vatican II living of obedience. She identifies three differences quoted below:
- One is a certain necessary individualization in the way common obligations are discerned and fulfilled.
- A second difference is that many Religious Congregations, recognizing the fundamental equality and mutuality of all members, whether they are in office or not, have transformed monarchical structures of domination and submission into genuinely communitarian and collegial ones, and authority is no longer normally exercised by sanctioned commands.
- A third difference is the contemporary realization that different privileged mediations of God’s will in the community have differing weight and importance.
The most important kind of authority is relational authority. This is the kind of authority that characterizes people and is exercised among themselves. It is the primary type of authority exercised in Religious Congregations . . . In summary, we have placed relational authority in the category of persuasive power or influence that consists in the right to be heard and heeded. This right arises from relationships that may be natural, dialogical, or constructed by the conferral of authority on an officeholder. In other words, every member of a community has a right to be heard and heeded, and also to have access to power.
So, here's my final quote from Schneiders:
Religious Life, if is to be true to
itself, must be a communitarian lifeform that is fundamentally egalitarian and
interdependent rather than hierarchical and individualistic. It is not egalitarian in the
political sense of modern one-person-one-vote democracy but in the trinitarian
sense of interpersonal mutuality. Power, in such a lifeform, is a resource to
be shared within the community and with others through ministry. It is not the
possession of some, unavailable to others. Dialogue, the mutuality of authority
and obedience exercised in and for freedom, is the mode in which power is
exercised in such a community. All in the community speak with authority, that
is, with the right to be heard and heeded; and all in the community are called
to obey, that is, to respond appropriately to what the Spirit is saying through
the community’s discourse. By the vow of obedience one assumes one’s place as
an equal adult at the circular table of community discernment and dialogue and
commits oneself to stay at the table, no matter what, as the community works
out anew, from day to day, how to be together in community and in ministry.
I have thought about this long and hard, and reflected upon it for hours on end. I have described some of my experiences with the province to non-office holder members of the province as well as to spiritual directors and counselors who are religious but not members of our congregation. I have consulted with the psychologist who journeyed with me through the grieving process when my husband, Jim, died over five years ago. I have tried to make sure that it is not my ego being a horse's ass. And as I would describe some of the occurrences, I would notice heads start to shake in disbelief. Before I could ask the question, some would volunteer the comment, "You are not being heard." So, my three questions remain: (1) Can I be heard? (2) Can I be treated like a mature, 60 year old adult? (3) Is this province fossilized, an open (and open to change) or a closed system (and therefore dying)?