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Trawling through contemporary writing about the religious life frequently nets the term charism. And yet the term's precise meaning is seldom clarified - even though it appears to be a fundamental idea. It might be expected that the Decree of the Up-to-date Renewal of the Religious Life issued by the Vatican in 1965 would have defined it. After all, nine out of ten members of Christian religious communities are Roman Catholic and the document has been a template for many attempts to renew the religious life for some forty years. As it turns out, even the Decree is less-than-precise, though it is possible to filter out some main points. First, charism seems to be"… the fruit of the Holy Spirit, who is always at work within the Church". Second, a community's charism is best displayed by its founder. There is an obligation "… to be faithful to the spirit of their founders, to their evangelical intentions and to the example of their sanctity". Third, the key to the notion of charism involves "… a constant return to the sources of the whole of the Christian life …" In summary, charism seems to mean something like "that which motivates and enlivens the religious life". However, if anyone were to try to explain charism in this way to an ordinary person today, they might be wise to avoid the Decree's treacle-thick theological jargon. Perhaps a phrase such as "a God-given noble purpose" might work better. The phrase preserves the idea that God is somehow involved in the process of originating and maintaining every example of the religious life. And it suggests that nobility - that is, something larger and more demanding than the ordinary - is intrinsic to the choice of this unusual lifestyle. Religious communities have generally taken to heart the admonition to retain the noble purpose of their founders. The old purpose is taken out, brushed off and given a new shine. Invigorated by a refurbished charism, members old and young stir up their imaginations and eagerly inspect what comes to the top. After things have been put right and new works begun, the expectation is usually that a community will once more attract new, younger members. In fact, more often than not nothing really changes except some of the inconsequentials such as dress and daily rule. But those already committed nevertheless look on anxiously for evidence that their new surge of life will bear fruit. Their expectations have seldom, if ever, been met in the round of renewal since 1965. Almost universally, there has been a scattering of new faces among those which have been around for so many years. But most newcomers stay around for a while and then drift back into secular life or to some other form of Christian work. A pitifully low number remains for a significant number of years, perhaps even long enough to make some form of permanent commitment. But more often than not, even they leave the fold for the embrace of the world - more often than not disillusioned and bitter. They tend to be living warnings to anyone else who might want to try the dedicated life. But what if a founder's noble purpose is no longer viable? What if the Church and society in general have over the years changed so greatly that the original charism has been replaced or made redundant. What if the work has been taken over and developed by others who do it in the cool of the day, while those who have stood the heat of the sun now stand idle in the marketplace? Some groups of religious, often to their dismay, face change more radical than mere renewal. For example, does a teaching order stick rigidly to its founding charism regardless of the existence of a State school system? Or does it move lock, stock and barrel to a part of the world where education is still primitive or non-existent? Does a missionary order seek new savages, albeit urban ones? Former Marist leader Gerald Arbuckle suggests that a redundant noble purpose requires the radical re-formation of a community. He calls this a "re-founding", a process in which even the original noble purpose may be discarded and replaced by a new or significantly modified one. Adjustment of a founding purpose, or discovery of a new purpose isn't everything, however. Pedro Arrupe led the Society of Jesus after Vatican II. During the re-founding process he insisted that the Jesuit virtues of mobility, creativity and flexibility nevertheless be retained. That is, the same old personal sacrifices were still to serve even though much else changed. Every new member was still required to recognise that a noble purpose demands that certain otherwise basic needs be denied for the sake of devoting more resources to the work. Herbert Kelly, founder of the Society of the Sacred Mission, would have agreed with this. He stressed the centrality of purpose for the Society. But at the same time, the idea of personal sacrifice was frequently stated and never far from the surface of everything he said and wrote. For example, he thought that "really fine chap" and a "rotter" differ in that
But Kelly also said, over and over again in many ways, that "The measure of our effectiveness is, and always will be, the measure of our sacrifice". That is, like Arrupe, he was clear that whatever noble purpose a community serves, sacrifice remains at the heart of its health. It's difficult enough to see and formulate an inspiring charism. But the response to it is dramatically more whole-hearted and effective if marked by the personal commitment to give up important things for the sake of the noble purpose. So why should anyone join any of the manifestations of the religious life today? Each community could test this by exploring what answer a potential member would get to the question, "For what noble purpose am I being asked to sacrifice?" I wonder how many religious communities could answer this either clearly or convincingly - especially if their founding charism is more-or-less redundant and a new one hasn't yet been worked out. As it turns out, few religious communities and societies have succeeded in either renewal or re-foundation. This is perhaps an indication that few have been either courageous or perceptive enough to do more than massage the inessentials. There has been many a temporary flare-up of energy, followed by continued decline. Genuine effort has seldom yielded the fruits intended. Quite often, more than one fresh start has been made and more than one failure recorded. This outcome is debilitating, for nothing saps energy like repeated well-meaning attempts to change which turn out badly. The question then arises, "Why so many false starts?" Kelly offers a response. It should be recalled that his community was rent in its early days by a struggle between those who wanted a monastic-type community and those who desired a looser but no less dedicated set-up. The former won and the noble purpose of providing theological education to the disadvantaged was continued in monastic rather than worldly style. Kelly ceased to be leader and spent the rest of his life on the margins of the Society's life and endeavours. During those many years, Kelly kept writing and talking in his inimitable elliptical style. One of his expressions concerned "theological football". It was much remarked on. The phrase refers to his insistence that faith be grounded in the whole of life, not just in religion. He highlighted this by asking what football has to do with faith, creeds, theology and God - even in a theological college. Surely, he said,
That Kelly would have looked outwards rather than inward for a new noble purpose seems entirely consistent with his founding paradigm. In other words, faithfulness to a noble purpose in his view is not a mechanistic, inward-looking clinging to the past. Rather, it asks, "What noble purpose serves the needs of God's people?" If this is the correct question, then effective re-founding derives not from navel-gazing, or tweaking constitutions, or modifying rule and dress, but from the identification of human need in our global community. Lest that seem presumptuous, it must be recalled that every founder has originally seen a need and been irresistibly drawn to it in a special way. There is surely no intrinsic reason why any community should not re-envision their corporate life anew. For those who seek a new charism there is one peculiar pitfall. It may sometimes be forgotten that for a Christian, true sacrifice of self is by definition for another. There is neither merit nor efficacy in giving up sex, money and power just for the supposed merits of giving them up. Sacrifice for its own sake is not sacrifice. It is the needs of others which matter. And the greater the need, the more noble the sacrificial purpose and the more likely a person is to hold his or her life cheap in what Kelly rightly called "the divine service". ___________________________ |
