lmost
everywhere people speak nowadays of a definite increase
in religious vocations. And sometimes it is said that
the young people who present themselves are quite different.
So, straightaway, those in charge are faced with very
worrying questions, especially after the recent crisis
in vocations. They wonder how communities will react
to these young people, and how these latter should be
trained.
Some
years ago this problem did not arise. I can still hear
the Prior telling me as I was being clothed in the habit:
"During the coming year you will have the chance
to see if the life of the Order suits you, and we in
our turn will see if we find you a suitable candidate.
If both sides agree, you will be received to profession;
otherwise both you and we will regain our liberty."
In
our days however it is a little bit more complicated.
It is true that communities still accept and set about
training novices, but they must also agree to being
themselves questioned by the newcomers. Young people
do indeed agree to accept the yoke of the novitiate,
but from the beginning they ask upsetting questions,
which the community must listen to. From the first day
a sort of dialogue - is opened between the two parties,
and while their points of view are not the same, they
are often complementary. Just like any dialogue, then,
this chapter will question both communities and young
people about some of the problems which arise in the
reception and training of novices.
This
is a vast subject and I intend to concentrate especially
on the way in which young people should be received
and, in respect to training, the way in which they should
be integrated into the community.
I.
Do our communities discourage young people ?
The
first contact with a religious order is not when one
enters it, and the problem is not just one of novitiate
houses, as young people are no longer satisfied with
making contact with just one community. They want to
know what goes on in the various houses of the Province
or Institute, and it will only be after a serious and
far-reaching enquiry that they will make their choice.
Of
course some communities just put people off. In one
of our missions, which for many years had no vocations,
a young man came along wanting to become a Dominican.
He shared the life of the Fathers and started his ecclesiastical
studies at the same time. After two years he left us,
exactly one hour before he was due to take the habit:
"I am leaving," he said to the Novice Master,"
because the community makes no attempt to live the life
in which you instructed me, the life I was looking for".
Just
as there are families who do not want any children,
there are also communities who discourage the young
because they are afraid they will have to change their
own life-style. Others have lost faith in the religious
life, and, giving as their reason, for example, the
absence of proper training, as they see it, in their
congregation, they unfortunately do their best to discourage
possible vocations. This is a new kind of Malthusianism
. . . Is it possible for such communities to give a
real welcome to someone who joins them in spite of their
opposition ? No condemnation is too strong for religious
men and women of his kind who refuse life and are unaware
that the desire to live is the first requisite for good
health.
On
the other hand there are other communities who encourage
people too readily in the sense that their principal
aim is greater numbers. This does not necessarily improve
the quality of life, as the saying goes "quality
is no more than quantity in its building stage".
Or else communities may be too hospitable in the sense
that they welcome anybody and anything provided it is
new, unusual or untried and still developing. Communities
like this are always looking for something else and
change their plans for the most whimsical reasons. Creativity
may be very important in our days, but in their case
it runs the risk of anarchy. They remind me of the wandering
monks of olden times, but these new wanderers stray
along imaginary paths where no structures exist, but
only limitless freedom.
I
suppose we may have a certain amount of sympathy with
these "religious gadabouts" and not so long
ago many young people seem to have been attracted by
a life like that: But I think that today they are looking
for something more stable and less uncertain, being
unwilling to build their lives on moving sands. And
if it happens that for the sake of playing their part
in the world and being up to date they take up this
way of living after some years of life in an Institute,
this is often because they have become dissatisfied
with what was provided or else because they had no adequate
formation. It seems to me that deep down this is not
what they were looking for.
II.
What do young people look for in the religious life ?
What
young people today find most attractive about the religious
life is something which is part of the general Christian
vocation: to live with Jesus Christ according to the
Gospel. In this they are perfectly in line with Vatican
II which stated clearly that all Christians whatever
their state, are called to perfection. It also stated,
when talking of the religious life, that nothing is
of more importance than baptismal consecration.
Young
people today want to find the inspiration of their lives
in this basic truth: Christ as found in the Gospel.
Candidates for the religious life then are under the
impression that they have found in the life-style of
some Institute or other, a way of living based on the
evangelical counsels, which, in the ordinary course
of events, should enable them to reach the highest ideal
of every Christian.
In the past our postulants were much more aware of the
framework of the religious life: life-style, observances,
structures, work, traditions . . . We were inclined
to say to them as if it were a value in itself: "Live
this life, and everything else - even Christ himself
- will be given to you." There is the well known
remark, attributed to Pius XI, "Show me a religious
who follows his rule perfectly and I will canonize him".
In
our days these ideas are not cast aside, but people
deliberately want to live them in the light of Christ
himself, as a way of meeting him, following the demands
of his love. And it is in its relation to its capacity
of serving and announcing the Gospel in an effective
way, that young people nowadays judge between what - is
essential and what is not essential in the religious
life which is offered to them. We could say that yesterday
the call to the religious life was lived in "a
more institutional way", whereas today it is lived
in "a more kerygmatic way".
The
fundamental constitution with which the new Dominican
legislation opens, arranges the whole of our own life
around two axes: communion, and mission, each word taking
on the full meaning given to it in the New Testament.
But then every religious institute will recognize itself
in these two words. However, what I want to stress is
that these two axes are no other than the fundamental
demands of every Christian life: to love one's neighbour
and to proclaim the Saviour.
Now,
what is characteristic of the religious life is that
it is a radical acceptance of these two demands. By
means of the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty
and obedience, it carries them to their logical conclusions.
In the religious life, rather like in the first community
in Jerusalem, love of one's neighbour is built into
the structure of community life. Like the first apostles
setting off with neither stick nor purse, neither bread
nor money, religious want to be free, and have no other
worry apart from announcing the good news of salvation.
Following
Christ, mission and communion: before they join us,
our future religious have already had a certain experience
of each of these three sources of vital energy. The
whole aim of their training then will be to deepen their
grasp of these and develop them in their full human
and spiritual dimension.
I
do not think I am mistaken when I say that among these
three the one of which young people today are most aware
is communion. This is because they belong to their age,
and are all the more aware of the need to get together,
to exchange views, to share, to live in groups, because
the world in which they live is harder and more forgetful
of people whom it steamrolls and in whom it sees no
more than automatons who produce and. consume. Besides,
even if they have discovered Christ and learned how
to live with him, this is usually because they have
belonged to prayer groups or Bible study groups. And
surely it was along with others that they discovered
the transforming power of the Word of God in the world.
In other words their experience of Christ and of the
apostolic life has come to them in a very special way
through their experience of community and group living.
No wonder then that they attach so much importance to
the community aspect of the new life to which they are
introduced.
Many
examples spring to mind. There are those young people
from North America who spent some months with very small
religious communities who divide their day between intense
prayer and working for the poorest sections of the district.
The young people want to give themselves completely
to this sort of life which attracts them so powerfully
. . . and so they join that congregation. Ten years
ago in some countries of Latin America it was chaplains
to universities or to Catholic Action groups who came
across vocations among university students. Nowadays
it is in barrios and favellas that you meet young intellectuals
fired with these ideals. Lastly, in Italy, many young
people find they have a religious vocation while they
are working with the focolarini, a community movement
if ever there was one.
III.
Under what conditions does a community give to young
people an opportunity of discovering what they are looking
for ?
The
community in question used to be the novitiate, which
had very few dealings with the convent or religious
house of which it formed part: an occasional recreation
in common on big feast-days; special permission necessary
to speak to a priest (one did not go to confession every
day); at the beginning and end of the novitiate an interview
with senior fathers for canonical examinations etc.
In
our days however, while the novitiate is still distinct
from the larger community, it is very much part and
parcel of it. The whole community is involved in the
reception and training of the newcomer. Indeed even
the very basis on which Fathers are assigned to houses
of formation is no longer the same. While the old Constitutions,
for example, would only accept in these houses religious
"who lived a perfect community life of strict observance",
the new Constitutions simply speak of a life in common,
in which the young religious should share actively and
progressively, apostolic activities included. Now, though
both speak of life in common, it is clear that it does
not mean the same thing in each case. Formerly the important
thing was "to do the same thing, at the same time,
in the same place"; nowadays what matters is togetherness,
sharing, mutual help, openness to people, etc.
The
fundamental principle therefore which underlies 'formation
today is the desire to help young people to live in
concrete and progressively the very same life which
they will live tomorrow, and to do this by gradually
integrating them into an adult community. Where the
past held for a complete separation we now believe in
a gradual development based on sharing time with people.
This
is a revolutionary idea and however necessary it may
be, it gives rise to more problems than it solves. Could
any reformer be bold enough to claim that he can steer
clear of all reefs, knows precisely where he is going
and can safely work up to cruising speed ?
I
would reduce to three the conditions which make a community,
understood in this way, an opportune place for religious,
in their first years of formation, to find what they
are looking for. It is obvious that there are many different
ways of organising these early years and I shall not
consider details like this and the problems they give
rise to, but rather deal with the question in general.
An
atmosphere of evangelical renewal
Somebody
said recently that "religious life - and indeed
every community - is authentic, inspiring, effective
in the world and worthy of praise only in its early
stages". But what did he mean by "its early
stages"- In reference to institutes he was naturally
thinking of the first years of their existence as these
years for most institutes witnessed extraordinary vitality
and energy and one can speak of the dynamism of new
ideas. You only have to think of Saint Dominic, Saint
Ignatius of Loyola, Saint Teresa of Avila, or Saint
Anthony Mary Claret, to mention only a few founders.
But
according to its author "in its early stages"
means also - indeed especially - that religious life
must always be in its early stages, in other words in
a state of perpetual renewal. Surely this is precisely
what young people are looking for, perhaps in a confused
way. They want to practice in their own lives, in the
modern Church and in the modern world, what the first
brothers or sisters lived in former times as they gathered
around their founder.
Naturally
there is a wide gap between what the young would like
to do and what they succeed in doing. But if we on our
part were aware of the founders' sensitivity to their
own times, more aware also of the, often vaguely expressed,
wish of young people to share the inspiration of their
founding fathers, we would find it much easier to understand
them, though this is going to demand a lot both from
them and from us.
But
what exactly is a community "in its early stages"
or "in a state of perpetual renewal" ? It is
simply a community in a "state of continual conversion".
It is not just because of the danger of gradually running
down or of communities becoming too-heavy, that we have
to keep on taking stock of ourselves and trying to work
at being converted. In a constantly changing world we
must constantly readjust ourselves if our actions, our
words and our lives are to remain in touch with people
in the reality of their lives today. If in some fields
a thirty-five year old engineer is already old, what
are we to say about a preacher or a catechist who has
to speak the word of God to people of every age and
every kind, people whose mentality and problems are
changing as quickly as the world in which they live ?
We shall never succeed in converting people to Christ
and the Gospel unless we learn to look at things in
a new way; indeed a rigid way of looking at things is
usually the quickest means of growing old. Our eyes
grow tired and can no longer adapt to what is new, and
young people are quick to notice this. If we do not
take steps to change this - a pair of spectacles is
not enough - they will begin to have doubts about the
effectiveness of our apostolic work and of our ability
to understand them.
A
true apostle is anxious about the salvation of his contemporaries,
dissatisfied with what he is doing and filled with a
sense of urgency faced with the immense task that has
to be done. Things seem to have gone awry with the Gospel
parable of the sheep, and young people are filled with
astonishment at the way some communities take so much
care of the one well-behaved sheep and do not seem to
bother at all about the ninety-nine who are lost. Have
these been completely forgotten, and are we making any
serious effort to try and reach them ?
An
atmosphere of real prayer
What
the new generation needs above all is a place, an atmosphere
where their search for God will be shared and understood.
Instruction and even example are no longer enough. What,
then, is real prayer ? I think that this longing for
prayer which is both intimate and shared, and which
we hear of almost all over the world today, should be
looked on as a "sign of our times". Young
people are not afraid to talk of prayer, meditation,
or contemplation - words which some of us were very
wary of using in the sixties. This is something new
in the Church, something nobody could have foreseen.
Prayer groups are springing up everywhere, and I am
not thinking especially of charismatic groups. It seems
to me that these latter are only more spectacular and,
at times questionable, manifestations of a more general
spiritual movement, which I think is far more important.
And it is only this movement towards, longing for and
interest in a return to God that can be looked on as
a true sign of our times. We have no difficulty in arguing
all day long about the signs of the times, but it is
not at all easy to see them in practice and to take
them seriously at the proper moment. So we must be open
to new movements like the ones I have mentioned, and
a comparison with the recent past might throw light
on the subject.
The
years 1930-1960 were marked by an extraordinary development
of Catholic Action. This could be seen as a Christian
version of that dedication which in those times inspired
many political, social or trade union groups, and indeed
it is still with us. But another attitude seems to be
developing due in part at least to something more characteristic
of this present age.
Reacting
against a world which takes no account of individual
people, our contemporaries seem to be trying to find
themselves in what is deepest in them. More and more
people from every sort of religious and ideological
background are turning towards Eastern systems of thought:
transcendental meditation, Zen, Yoga etc. Leaving aside
these methods I think that the desire for a more interior
prayer which is felt by the new Christian generation,
is not unaffected by this more general tendency. Within
the Church, and on the spiritual level which is proper
to it, this is the privileged way in which a person
can become himself. As someone has said so beautifully:
"I only begin to be, when God calls me by my name"
(" Je ne suis que si Dieu me tutoie."). Prayer
then is searched out and lived as the means of bringing
about this dialogue. Consequently it allows modern man,
attacked from every side, to open himself in a decisive
way to existence, even to existence without limit.
Contemplation,
meditation, personal prayer are no longer abstractions
for most of the young people who come to us. Some of
them have belonged to prayer groups: one hour, two hours
or more spent listening in silence to the Word of God,
sharing ideas on the sacred text or on the experience
of their daily lives, interior reflection, and a shared
inhaling of the breath of the Holy Spirit.
It
may be that it is carried out in a clumsy fashion, from
mixed motives and that it may last no longer than a
morning mist. Emotion and imagination may play too much
part in it and those who practice it may think they
have "arrived". But it cannot be denied that
it is their experience, that the Holy Spirit himself
has made a path through this undergrowth and that God's
call came to these young people while they were keeping
this sort of vigil. What they expect then from the community
which receives them is to be accepted as they are with
this divine mark on them.
In
what spirit are we going to listen to them ? With a sort
of knowing smile ? In a skeptical and rather distant
way, which runs the risk of hurting them in what they
look on as most precious to them ? In fact, are we tempted
to think: how could young people discover anything of
importance in such a specialized area ? But it is not
priests or experienced professors of spirituality who
are opening up new ways of prayer. It is mostly young
people who are not clerics, and most of whom have no
desire to be. The Spirit breathes where he will.
And
what have we got to offer them ? There is of course the
Office and the Mass. But have we really understood that
the "Liturgy of the Hours" is not just a revised
and corrected version of the old breviary ? Rather is
it strictly a new way of praying with the Church. With
its periods of silence, its sharing of intentions, do
we know how to make use of all the possibilities given
us by the post-conciliar liturgy ? Is it not unfortunately
true that many of us do not get any further than a material
fidelity to a prayer which should be worthy of the presence
of God and stir us up to uniting ourselves with his
glory ?
However
there is another aspect of the question which I would
like to mention. Listening to the Word, shared prayer:
these are new words in our Christian vocabulary. Novices
and postulants look forward to finding in our life something,
a great deal more rather, of what they have already
experienced in the world. And what do we give them ?
Something much less, which disappoints them very much ?
Or perhaps they can practice prayer like this only as
a minority group within the community, with some like-minded
people, in a little oratory or cell, on their own.
I
must make a confession. The first time I took part in
"sharing the Gospel" some twelve years ago,
it was with some diocesan priests. After that I had
the opportunity of repeating the experience a few times,
but it was always with diocesan priests. I am ashamed
to say that it took seven long years before I succeeded
in sharing prayer in this way with my own brethren.
This was during a canonical visitation when I was accompanying
Father Aniceto Fernandez, Master of the Order at that
time, and the Dominicans in question were “priestworkers”.
Was it their common involvement in a situation - and
what a situation it was - that made them more open to
a kind of prayer which I had never before experienced
within the Order ?
To
recapitulate: