Those of us in our Companions group have been following the Society's General Congregation and the selection of a new Father General with great interest. As former Jesuits with varying time in the Society--some of us with only a few years and others with several decades--and with varying degrees of contact with the Society as it is today, it might be argued that it's really none of our business what decisions are made. This was the case made to me in an email from one of the Companions, who suggested that those who leave an organization no longer have a right to say what those who remain should be doing. We can be interested spectators but that's as far as it goes.
I personally disagree. It was the retiring Father General, Hans Kolvenbach, who made the point to Bob Holstein, the man who brought us together to become the group that we are today, that in his mind there was no such thing as a former Jesuit. All of us who had gone through the Spiritual Exercises and committed ourselves to the ideals of Saint Ignatius still would (or should) carry the sense of a vocation even if we no longer were in vows. Here in the California province, where our Companions' group is now legally incorporated, there is a strong sense of a continuing connection with the Society. As individuals our present religious affiliations may be quite diverse, but we still feel that we are part of what the Jesuit world is all about. Members of our group, along with representatives from other ministries of the province, took part in the last province convocation, and several of us have a very direct involvement with current province operations.
So it is that we are waiting to hear more about the future direction the Society will be taking. The last major change was back in the 1980's when, following the directives of the Second Vatican Council, all religious orders and congregations undertook to revamp their constitutions. It was then that the Society broke down the barriers that I recall so well between those who would prepare for the priesthood and those who as lay brothers would carry on the "temporal" work involved in keeping up our buildings and operations. As a scholastic novice I was expected to study my Latin and look forward to an active ministry, but the few men who had entered to prepare to be lay brothers were not to receive any more formal education and for the most part were segregated from us. Today, as I came to appreciate when I worked with scholastics in Vietnam a few summers back, all Jesuits are expected to study philosophy and theology and to be involved in the ministry.
The next step is lowering still further the barriers between those who are formal members of the Society and those who share their work. Some of us would like to see far more radical changes--the formal inclusion of women, for example--but that seems rather unlikely at the present.
With the selection of another Spanish Jesuit with long experience in Asia, it does seem reasonable to expect the Jesuits to continue and expand their work internationally. I would expect Father Nicola in the spirit of Father Arrupe to continue a tradition of acceptance of other than European cultural traditions along with with an increased emphasis on what has been called a preference for the poor and a concern with social justice.
I think there are going to be some very real surprises ahead. The idea of a shared apostolate, which was very much part of the last province convocation when I attended it, will be developed still further with the idea that there is something specific about a Jesuit identity that will not be limited to those who have gone through the novitiate and taken their vows. What that means in practice, especially its implications for Jesuit educational institutions, has yet to be seen.
For many of us who are older and raised in a milieu in which Jesuits were seen as a cultural elite specializing in education, some of what is happening will possibly be disturbing. Who are these new Jesuits who are more likely to be social workers than Latin teachers? Will they have any of the same feeling for the history and traditions of the Society that we were raised in? They definitely will not be like us, we know. I for one think this is all to the good.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Jesuit prayer and the Jesus Camp kids
Recently PBS presented the 2006 documentary Jesus Camp about young children brought up in an intense charismatic environment. I found myself very much bothered by it, in part by the "in your face" activism that it encouraged and in part by the comment of one young girl about "dead churches"--those in which congregations were essentially passive--"where God would not want to go. " I've been trying to think through my reactions. After all, had I not been raised in the hothouse environment of a Catholic school with as rigid a picture of right and wrong as was shown in the film--and as a young Jesuit had I not been trained in a spirituality intended to be as transforming as the "spiritual exercises" engaged in by these children?
Now, of course, I am looking at things with a far greater sense of moral ambiguity and, I hope, a much better sense of respect for how intelligent and sincere individuals might very well not share the same views I would hold about right and wrong when in fact I am able to decide on such views. The Jesus Camp kids were above all fanatics in the making, and I kept getting an undertone of Christian militancy that provided an unsettling parallel to other bits of film I had seen about young Muslim kids training for jihad.
The more I thought about it the more I began to appreciate just what had been the tone of the Ignatian spirituality presented to me as a novice during the intense month of reflection known as the Long Retreat. One thing that simply would not have happened is that any of us would have been allowed to start speaking in tongues--a staple of the Jesus Camp experience--or otherwise let our emotions run wild. Our chapel would have been the ultimate of the "dead church" disdained by the girl in the film. And this is just what it should have been.
The idea was that through our meditation, above all the intense effort to place oneself at the scene in considerations of the life of Jesus, there would be an appropriate level of response--ideally, a determination to identify with Jesus even to the point of being ready to take up the cross ourselves. However, what this would mean in practice was a readiness to do the ordinary things in what really would be an extraordinary way. It was a spirituality, then, that has a strong parallel with the training of a Zen monk. Our satori would be demonstrated by our actions, not by some emotional display.
Much of the wisdom of Loyola was in the recognition that there could be counterfeits to the action of the Holy Spirit. An important aspect of the Long Retreat was this effort to understand what he called the discernment of spirits. And it was this that was so markedly absent in what I saw in the documentary. Impressionable children were encouraged to trust their own emotional responses in a highly structured group setting. One thing that was not going to be allowed was that they would begin to think for themselves. As Jesuits, despite all the emphasis in Loyola's Spiritual Exercises on "thinking with the church," the very effort at discernment meant that we would be expected to ask questions. With the training that we would then receive as we went through our studies for the priesthood we would find these questions answered. Obviously, since there are so many of us who are no longer Jesuits, this did not always happen, but the importance of the process remains one of the lasting things I took from my years in the Society.
Now, of course, I am looking at things with a far greater sense of moral ambiguity and, I hope, a much better sense of respect for how intelligent and sincere individuals might very well not share the same views I would hold about right and wrong when in fact I am able to decide on such views. The Jesus Camp kids were above all fanatics in the making, and I kept getting an undertone of Christian militancy that provided an unsettling parallel to other bits of film I had seen about young Muslim kids training for jihad.
The more I thought about it the more I began to appreciate just what had been the tone of the Ignatian spirituality presented to me as a novice during the intense month of reflection known as the Long Retreat. One thing that simply would not have happened is that any of us would have been allowed to start speaking in tongues--a staple of the Jesus Camp experience--or otherwise let our emotions run wild. Our chapel would have been the ultimate of the "dead church" disdained by the girl in the film. And this is just what it should have been.
The idea was that through our meditation, above all the intense effort to place oneself at the scene in considerations of the life of Jesus, there would be an appropriate level of response--ideally, a determination to identify with Jesus even to the point of being ready to take up the cross ourselves. However, what this would mean in practice was a readiness to do the ordinary things in what really would be an extraordinary way. It was a spirituality, then, that has a strong parallel with the training of a Zen monk. Our satori would be demonstrated by our actions, not by some emotional display.
Much of the wisdom of Loyola was in the recognition that there could be counterfeits to the action of the Holy Spirit. An important aspect of the Long Retreat was this effort to understand what he called the discernment of spirits. And it was this that was so markedly absent in what I saw in the documentary. Impressionable children were encouraged to trust their own emotional responses in a highly structured group setting. One thing that was not going to be allowed was that they would begin to think for themselves. As Jesuits, despite all the emphasis in Loyola's Spiritual Exercises on "thinking with the church," the very effort at discernment meant that we would be expected to ask questions. With the training that we would then receive as we went through our studies for the priesthood we would find these questions answered. Obviously, since there are so many of us who are no longer Jesuits, this did not always happen, but the importance of the process remains one of the lasting things I took from my years in the Society.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Google and the narcissistic author
Search engines are wonderful things. Not only can you learn more about your own presence in cyberspace but you can learn who else shares your name. I'd like to think mine is somewhat distinctive, but it so happens that I share it with a young British actor and director (we are set apart by the fact that my first name has a double "s") who may, if he Googles us, be somewhat put off by finding that I have written about the IRA. In years past I also have used "David Farren" as my pen name only to find that there is not just one well-known artist with this name but two (not to mention at least one rock musician).
However, one of the really remarkable things is how many listings there can be for a book. I have two in print and a few more out of print, but a search engine comes up with page after page of availability from online book dealers worldwide. Most, I find, are linked one way or another with Amazon.com, but it does create the somewhat misleading impression that copies of my titles are actually sitting on shelves in Europe, Asia, and wherever. As a sufficiently narcissistic author this is a delightful fantasy, bettered only by finding that one or another of my books is actually listed in a university or public library catalog, just waiting for the eager reader.
However, if I am to judge from a recent Frontline episode about teenagers and social networking (http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/kidsonline/), being known in cyberspace as an author is somewhat like being a carnivore sitting in a vegan restaurant: completely out of place in a new and improved society. The program made the point that teenagers do not read books. Hit the Internet and get the SparkNotes for Hamlet and your homework is done, allowing the appropriate amount of time for Facenet schmoozing. Everything is instant communication and instant reward. The Internet allows anyone to publish his or her most random thoughts in a complete democracy of opportunity, so why waste time attempting to savor Shakespeare's feeling for the use of language.
I think back to my life shortly after leaving the Jesuits. This was in 1962, and like many other former priests and scholastics my career options were somewhat limited to continuing as a teacher. A military school in West Los Angeles needed a Latin teacher who also could handle math courses, so I was back in the classroom. Later, since I had my MA in philosophy, I was able to move on to the community college level, just in time to get caught up in the counterculture of the period. A few articles for America and Commonweal in which I commented on the scene allowed the basis for a series of books. All along I had helpful editors whose bottom line depended on having me write as well as I could. Occasionally there would be some indication that I had appreciative readers (although when the War College in Washington asked to reprint one of my Commonweal articles I did have to wonder why), but for the most part I had no idea about how much discussion I ever stirred up.
And what is different now? One thing, obviously, is that I can sit down at a keyboard and commit something to cyberspace and therefore add to my listings on a search engine--not quite the same as counting up my friends on Facebook, but for us true narcissists it may have to do. If I tap into the mother lode of reader interest, potentially more individuals may see this blog than have ever read any of my articles or books, and I too will have my Warholian fifteen minutes of fame.
However, something will be missing. Whatever any of us from an older generation ever hoped to achieve as authors, apart from the thought that we could retire on our royalties, it was that our work would be remembered. The great Roman writer Cicero had suggested that this was the only real immortality he might expect, and the fact that for several centuries Latin students would have to sweat through translating him as part of what a liberal education was all about meant that really he had outlasted his time. However, when not even young Jesuits any longer have to study study Latin, much less wrestle with the artifices of Latin literature, his days are gone. Shakespeare, as I learned from Frontline, is already fading. So there will be the entries coming up on a search engine for whatever can be ordered online, but the irony will be that when a great author's achievement will be, at best, what can be summed up in a SparkNotes summary others of us will have to settle for this much immortality and no more.
However, one of the really remarkable things is how many listings there can be for a book. I have two in print and a few more out of print, but a search engine comes up with page after page of availability from online book dealers worldwide. Most, I find, are linked one way or another with Amazon.com, but it does create the somewhat misleading impression that copies of my titles are actually sitting on shelves in Europe, Asia, and wherever. As a sufficiently narcissistic author this is a delightful fantasy, bettered only by finding that one or another of my books is actually listed in a university or public library catalog, just waiting for the eager reader.
However, if I am to judge from a recent Frontline episode about teenagers and social networking (http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/kidsonline/), being known in cyberspace as an author is somewhat like being a carnivore sitting in a vegan restaurant: completely out of place in a new and improved society. The program made the point that teenagers do not read books. Hit the Internet and get the SparkNotes for Hamlet and your homework is done, allowing the appropriate amount of time for Facenet schmoozing. Everything is instant communication and instant reward. The Internet allows anyone to publish his or her most random thoughts in a complete democracy of opportunity, so why waste time attempting to savor Shakespeare's feeling for the use of language.
I think back to my life shortly after leaving the Jesuits. This was in 1962, and like many other former priests and scholastics my career options were somewhat limited to continuing as a teacher. A military school in West Los Angeles needed a Latin teacher who also could handle math courses, so I was back in the classroom. Later, since I had my MA in philosophy, I was able to move on to the community college level, just in time to get caught up in the counterculture of the period. A few articles for America and Commonweal in which I commented on the scene allowed the basis for a series of books. All along I had helpful editors whose bottom line depended on having me write as well as I could. Occasionally there would be some indication that I had appreciative readers (although when the War College in Washington asked to reprint one of my Commonweal articles I did have to wonder why), but for the most part I had no idea about how much discussion I ever stirred up.
And what is different now? One thing, obviously, is that I can sit down at a keyboard and commit something to cyberspace and therefore add to my listings on a search engine--not quite the same as counting up my friends on Facebook, but for us true narcissists it may have to do. If I tap into the mother lode of reader interest, potentially more individuals may see this blog than have ever read any of my articles or books, and I too will have my Warholian fifteen minutes of fame.
However, something will be missing. Whatever any of us from an older generation ever hoped to achieve as authors, apart from the thought that we could retire on our royalties, it was that our work would be remembered. The great Roman writer Cicero had suggested that this was the only real immortality he might expect, and the fact that for several centuries Latin students would have to sweat through translating him as part of what a liberal education was all about meant that really he had outlasted his time. However, when not even young Jesuits any longer have to study study Latin, much less wrestle with the artifices of Latin literature, his days are gone. Shakespeare, as I learned from Frontline, is already fading. So there will be the entries coming up on a search engine for whatever can be ordered online, but the irony will be that when a great author's achievement will be, at best, what can be summed up in a SparkNotes summary others of us will have to settle for this much immortality and no more.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Former Jesuits Talk About Their Lives
For a number of years men who once were Jesuits in the California province have come together annually to renew old friendships. Today our group is officially incorporated as the Westcoast Companeros, and I have been serving as its webmaster (http://www.westcoastcompanions.org). Its membership now includes former Jesuits from a number of provinces as well as a few other individuals who have a close link to us.
One recently completed project has been to put together some of the recollections of former Jesuits. About three dozen men are represented in a volume now available through Amazon.com as well as other online bookstores. The title is Unexpected Company: Former Jesuits Talk About Their Lives. It is a book that I would like to see promoted in part because of the approximately 6000 former Jesuits in the United States so few have managed to come to grips with their past. Most of us who are from an older generation basically had to hide this part of our lives once we left the Jesuits. It was, I believe, a loss to the Church and the Society as well as to ourselves. Being able to talk openly about who we were and what we have made of ourselves since is something very important.
One reason for this blog is to encourage such communication.
One recently completed project has been to put together some of the recollections of former Jesuits. About three dozen men are represented in a volume now available through Amazon.com as well as other online bookstores. The title is Unexpected Company: Former Jesuits Talk About Their Lives. It is a book that I would like to see promoted in part because of the approximately 6000 former Jesuits in the United States so few have managed to come to grips with their past. Most of us who are from an older generation basically had to hide this part of our lives once we left the Jesuits. It was, I believe, a loss to the Church and the Society as well as to ourselves. Being able to talk openly about who we were and what we have made of ourselves since is something very important.
One reason for this blog is to encourage such communication.
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