Wilkie Au, S.J. 

CHAPTER TWO

"The silence of prayer orders all the lesser things to go through a door
opening to the one thing, the primary voice of God.'"

ANN AND BARRY ULANOV, Primary Speech

Describing love as an art, Erich Fromm asserts that proficiency in loving comes only through practice. (2) The same can be said of the habits of the heart that enable people to imitate the love of Jesus. Christian life can be seen as a practicum or internship for developing those loving habits. Based on gospel loves, holistic spirituality provides a framework that can help all Christians better assess how their love-life is going. They can, for example, ask themselves: "Do I love myself enough so that I can be a person-for-others without betraying my own self out of guilt?" "What is the balance of ministry and leisure in my life?" "In my commitment to community, am I careful to integrate needed solitude to keep my continued involvement fresh and free?" "What is the quality of my life of prayer?" "Does my prayer help me to remain in Jesus and thus increase my fruitfulness in ministry and community?" By posing sue h questions, a holistic spirituality seeks a path that will integrate our lives sufficiently to give us a sense of increasing wholeness and peace.

There is hope for those who strive for unity in their lives. Martin Buber discusses this hope in a story about a man struggling to move from being a "divided, complicated, contradictory soul" to being "all of a piece." (3)

A hasid of the Rabbi of Lublin once fasted from one Sabbath to the next. On Friday afternoon he began to suffer such cruel thirst that he thought he would die. He saw a well, went up to it, and prepared to drink. But instantly he realized that because of one brief hour he had still to endure, he was about to destroy the work of the entire week. He did not drink and went away from the well. Then he was touched by a feeling of pride for having passed this difficult test. When he became aware of it, he said to himself, "Better I go and drink than let my heart fall prey to pride." He went back to the well, but just as he was going to bend down to draw water, he noticed that his thirst had disappeared. When the Sabbath had begun, he entered his teacher's house. "Patchwork!" the rabbi called to him, as he crossed the threshold. (4)

When Buber first heard this story as a youth, he was struck by the harsh manner in which the master treated his earnest, though faltering, disciple. Years later, he carne to realize the insight embedded in this tale from tradition. "The object of the reproof is the advance and subsequent retreat; it is the wavering, shilly-shallying character of the man's doing that makes it questionable." (5) Opposed to "patchwork" is work "all of a piece," which Buber suggests can be attained only by "being a united soul." In this, Buber echoes Kierkegaard's advice to his disciple to strive for "purity of heart," which is "to will one thing." (6) Here also the words of Deuteronomy resound: "What does Yahweh your God ask of you? Only this: . . . to love . . . Yahweh your God with all your heart and all your soul" (Deut 10:12). To become "a united soul" and to acquire "purity of heart," one must learn to love all things in God and God in all things.

For Buber, the teaching implied in the rabbi's criticism is hopeful: divine help is available to help persons to unify their souls. The person with the divided, complicated, contradictory soul is not helpless; the core of one's soul, "the divine force in its depths, is capable of acting upon it, changing it, binding the conflicting forces together, amalgamating the diverging elements-is capable of unifying it." (7) Thus, the God who calls us to be whole is also the one who will bring it about. "Deep within them I will plant my Law, writing it on their hearts.

Then I will be their God and they shall be my people. There will be no further need for neighbor to try to teach neighbor, or brother to say to brother, 'Learn to know Yahweh!' No, they will all know me" (Jer 31:33-34). While our own efforts are important and can bring about a certain fee1ing of wholeness at times they, like the hasid's asceticism, will ultimate1y not achieve the permanent unity we desire. That unity will arrive gratuitously from the hand of God only after a lifetime of effort on our part. While we wait to enjoy the unity that will finally harmonize the loves of our lives, we are called to work always for that unification. The following discussion of some common issues and difficulties involved in unifying the love of se1f, neighbor and God is intended to illumine our practice of love.

In discussing gospe1loves within a holistic framework, self-love must be looked at first. Some people may quickly take this to reinforce their prejudice that anything labeled "holistic" is simply a clever way of disguising a bourgeois phenomenon narrowly centered on the self. However, self-esteem demands prior consideration because all other loves limp without a footing in self-Iove. The psychological prerequisite for all other loves, healthy self-regard makes the leap from narcissism to altruism possible. Self-hatred blocks people from loving others and se1f-rejection often leads to a rejection of God. According to theologian Johannes Metz, a person's self-acceptance is the basis of the Christian creed because assent to God begins with one's sincere assent to oneself, just as sinful flight from God starts in one's flight from oneself. (8) Thus, the serious absence of self-esteem renders people impotent to love and incapable of fulfilling the twofold commandment of Jesus. We have generally overlooked the ethical and religious scope of self-esteem or love of self. Understood correctly, one's "yes" to self "may be regarded as the 'categorical imperative' of the Christian faith: You shall lovingly accept the humanity entrusted to you! . . . You shall embrace yourself!" (9)

Far from achieving self-love with a kind of narcissistic ease, we often find se1f-acceptance a difficult struggle. We are constantly tempted with se1f-rejection. Inner voices disturb our peace and tell us that we are not good-looking enough, not smart enough, not rich enough, not talented enough. Advertisements displaying societally acclaimed examples of successful and beautiful people either create or reinforce our inner doubts. On college campuses, the incidences of depression and suicide are growing indications that poor self-worth is a serious problem. Given these conditions, it is not difficult to concur with Metz's insight into why self-Iove was commanded by God. "Knowing the temptation which humanity itself is," knowing how readily we try to flee the "harsh distress of the human situation," and "knowing how difficult it is to bear with ourselves, we can then understand why God had to prescribe 'self-love' as a virtue and one of the great commandments. " (10)

The struggle with self-acceptance is complicated by the fact that it cannot be selective. It is futile to conduct an inventory of ourselves, claiming some parts as good and discarding others as undesirable. Psychologically speaking, healthy self-acceptance cannot be based on denial and projection. Maturity will elude us as long as we try to disown unattractive parts of ourselves and project them onto others. As a popular retreat master used to put it, "Maturity comes when we stop blaming God for making us the way we are!" Only by embracing the totality of who we are as people uniquely fashioned by the Lord can we progress spiritually. Paradoxically, this acceptance, instead of leading to self-complacency, can be the beginning of growthful change. Acceptance allows the walls of self-defensiveness to crumble and permits the pentecostal winds of conversion to blow freely throughout the self. Energies formerly wasted on battling the truth of who we are can be converted to peaceful reconstruction of the self under the guidance of God's spirit. Factored into the reality of Christian self-acceptance is the humble acknowledgment that at every point in our lives we are called to conversion. The Lord's creative power is continually at work in us, who as creatures, are radically unfinished in ourselves, and yet filled with stunning grace. Our personhood is oriented to completions that are received rather than achieved. Capturing the spirit of this truth, a popular poster states, "Please be patient. The Lord is not finished with me yet!"

A Zen master in San Francisco is said to have assigned this mantra to his enlightenment-seeking disciples: "What you are is enough! What you have is enough!" Through repetition and internalization, the mantra was meant to calm the inner storm of self-dissatisfaction. The wisdom of the Zen master's guidance is clear. Because it is easier to say "no" instead of "yes" to ourselves, all asceticism must first be designed to serve this great "yes." But for Christians, no asceticism alone can achieve self-love. Only the Lord's grace can. Unlike Zen Buddhists, Christians must achieve love of self not by any ascetic al repetition of spiritual mantras, but by receiving it as a gift from God. At the start of his Spiritual Exercises, a set of prayer experiences designed by St. Ignatius of Loyola to share his mystical graces with others, the retreatant is asked to pray for the grace to know in a deeply felt way that "I am limited, yet loved; sinful, yet good."

Ultimately, self-acceptance must be based on an act of faith in the Lord who created us and deemed us to be good. In our self-denigrating way, we too often refuse to believe that "God does not make junk!" Thus we need to experience a conversion in regards to ourselves-a fundamental shift from being self-depreciative to being self-appreciative. Based on the unconditional acceptance of God who delights in us, we are challenged to affirm our radical goodness. Such a conversion will manifest itself psychologically as a growing realization that "I am an important, lovable, useful human being, that people like me, show their affection, and enjoy my presence." Such a conversion would also help me realize that I am an individual with my own needs as well as my own special gifts and talents-a unique identity in the world.

Paul Tillich links this kind of self-acceptance with faith, which he defines as the courage to accept our acceptance despite feelings of unacceptability. (11) This self-affirming faith comes only when a person is struck by God's grace. He described this identity conversion beautifully in a sermon, entitled "You Are Accepted." (12)

Do you know what it means to be struck by grace? . . . We cannot transform our lives, unless we allow them to be transformed by the stroke of grace. It happens or it does not happen. And certainly it does not happen if we try to force it upon ourselves, just as it shall not happen so long as we think, in our self-complacency, that we have no need of it. Grace strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness. It strikes us when, year after year, the longed-for perfection of life does not appear, when the old compulsions reign within us as they have for decades, when despair destroys all joy and courage. Sometimes at that moment a shaft of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying: "You are accepted. You are accepted," accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know. Do not ask for the name now, perhaps you will find it later. Do not try to do anything now; perhaps later you will do much. Do not seek for anything; do not perform anything; do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted. If that happens to us, we experience grace. . . .

Thus, fulfillment of the gospel commandment to love ourselves is made possible when grace convinces us of our acceptability through our experience of being accepted by one who is greater than ourselves. This identity conversion is a pure gift. We cannot compel ourselves to accept ourselves. We cannot force others to accept themselves. "But sometimes it happens that we receive the power to say 'yes' to ourselves, that peace enters into us and makes us whole, that self-hatred and self-contempt disappear, and that our self is reunited with itself. Then we can say that grace has come upon us." (13) Shug, in Alice Walker's The Color Purple, describes the feeling of wholeness that comes with the amazing grace of self-acceptance based on God's love:

One day when I was feeling like a motherless child, which I was, it come to me: that feeling of being part of everything, not separated at all. I knew that if I cut a tree, my arm would bleed. And I laughed and I cried and I run all round the house. I knew just what it was. In fact, when it happen, you can't miss it. (14)

This conversion that brings about a fundamental shift in attitude can be quite dramatic at times, but generally it is not a once-and-for-all experience. Normally, it is a prolonged process, though its explicit acknowledgment may be concentrated in a few momentous judgments and decisions. (15) Moments of deep consolation in prayer that assure us of God's unshakable love and our absolute lovableness, for example, are important religious experiences, but their impact often diminishes with the passage of time. Thus, Ignatius of Loyola advises people to record these precious moments of graced insight as a support for times when forgetfulness plunges them once again into the chasm of self-doubt. (16) At these moments of desolation, he reminds them to wait in hope for the return of the Lord's affirming visitations. (17)

When people were healed by Jesus, they often found themselves doubly blessed. The grateful leper, for example, was not only cleansed of his unsightly wounds, but was also given back the uniquely human capacity to appreciate and give thanks (Lk 17:11-1g). In healing people, Jesus empowered them to reach out to others and to proclaim the Good News. The Gerasene demoniac, screeching out his identity as "legion," was not only healed of his fragmentation and self-destructiveness, but was also given a share in the ministry of Jesus. The cured man "went off and proceeded to spread [kerussein] throughout the Decapolis all that Jesus had done for him (Mk 5:20). The verb kerussein is used in a technical way in Mark to imply official preaching by a disciple.

As in the case of the demoniac, our unhealed wounds are like binding chains that prevent us from reaching out to others in ministry and community. Pain often imprisons us in caves of isolation and renders us impotent to love others as Jesus did. Thus, a holistic spirituality is misunderstood if it seems in any way to smack of narcissism when encouraging self-esteem among Christians. Ironically, narcissistic behavior often stems from a severe deficit, not an abundance, of self-love. Egotistical preoccupation with keeping the body beautiful or staying in the limelight often derives from a shaky sense of self. Sometimes poor self-worth masquerades itself in seemingly loving behavior, as in the case of a co-dependent spouse who cannot say "no" to his or her addicted partner. This kind of false altruism is deadly for it abets the addiction which should instead be confronted by "tough love," a term used in Alcoholics Anonymous. To deal with an addict with tough love, however, requires a strong sense of self-regard; poor self-worth easily leads a co-dependent into a conspiracy of denial. Another example of poor self-esteem disguising itself as altruism is the compulsive helper (often the adult child of an alcoholic) who is plagued with an excessive sense of responsibility. So, when a holistic spirituality promotes self-love, it is paradoxically encouraging authentic altruism, not narcissism.

Self-love establishes the necessary condition that makes going beyond one's self (self-transcendence) possible. The grace that enables us to accept ourselves, simultaneously stirs up within us an urge to break down the walls that separate us from others. In Tillich's words, "we experience the grace of being able to accept the life of another, even if it be hostile and harmful to us, for, through grace, we know that it belongs to the same God to which we belong, and by which we have been accepted." (18)

The love of self prescribed by Jesus is fully understood only when juxtaposed with the gospel value of self-denial. Unfortunately, the notion of self-denial has suffered so many aberrations throughout the history of Christian spirituality that it frequently triggers off a knee-jerk rejection among some Christians. Brutal scourgings, severe fasts, and other harsh ascetical practices that harm the body have been justified in the name of self-denial. Even such saints as Ignatius of Loyola and Francis of Assisi damaged their health through excessive bodily mortifications which they later regretted. Having been mistakenly accustomed to rationalizing such unchristian views as repression of the body, denigration of sexuality, and devaluation of the earth, self-denial understandably evokes negative feelings among many people. However, no spirituality can be biblically-based and authentically Christian without giving self-denial its proper place. A holistic spirituality must, therefore, reaffirm the value of self-denial while divesting it of distorted meanings.

Since self-denial as the condition of following Christ finds its source in the gospels (Mk 8:34-38; Mt 10:38-39; 16:24-28; Lk 9:23-27; 24:2627; Jn 12:25), it is best understood in its New Testament context. (19) Here we find that the purpose of Christian self-denial is entirely positive: it is "for my [Jesus'] sake and for the sake of the gospel" (Mk 8:36), that is, for the promotion of the kingdom of God that has come in Christ. Literally, the Greek term for "deny" means to say "no," to negate. The sweeping "no" to one's self which the gospels encourage finds its meaning in the "yes" which one says to Christ by following him and working for the kingdom. The synoptic context does not support any interpretation of self-denial that would direct it primarily against the earthy or sensual, or any particular class of passions. Rather, self-denial is primarily directed against "one's self," in a precise sense: not I as such, but only insofar as ''I'' stands in the way of witness for Christ and the gospel, insofar as 1 resist surrendering myself to the concrete demands of the Kingdom of God. Understood in this way, self-denial refers to my selfishness in the here and now, insofar as my choice in this concrete situation wants to say "no" to the will of God. It is not meant to refer "to some abstract condition which is always present within me and against which 1 must strive in season and out of season. (20) As W.K. Grossouw puts it, "Self-denial must not be associated with hatred of self or even a lust for destroying, subduing, or humiliating self, such as has frequently occurred in the history of religion." (21)

Thus, the object of self-denial is undefined and cannot be known outside of a particular situation. What is to be denied can only be determined in each particular circumstance by a discernment of what in me, in the here and now, is standing in the way of witnessing to Christ and the gospel. These inner obstacles can be anything that I stubbornly want to dispose of by myself, without any regard for how it will impact on proclaiming the gospel. It can involve matters of finances, diet, or relationships. However, it does not apply to any specific material good in and of itself, but only insofar as it is concretely recognized to be an obstacle to giving oneself for Jesus' sake and for the sake of the gospel. From its scriptural context, then, self-denial is most accurately understood as being directed against any form of selfishness that would make a person unavailable for the service of Christ.

To safeguard the radical goodness of the human person, some women spiritual writers prefer to speak of "transcending" rather than "denying" the self. Acknowledging their debt to Karl Rahner, they attempt to evoke the image of the person as a being open to, and capable of communion with, ultimate Mystery. As such, the self to be transcended is good, not evil. (22) In the same vein, theologian Joseph Powers argues that the principal function of religion is to invite each believer to open himself or herself to the basic mystery of our very selves. Far from settling us in security, religion "should be the principal stimulus to a continual transcendence of any or all of the achievements which define a personal or corporate ego." (23) By reassuring us of the enabling presence of God in human life, religion encourages us to reach out to the mystery of being, indeed, to the mystery of being more than our present self.

However, the movement beyond one's self to others in self-transcending love, first requires a healthy sense of self. Once I was asked for advice by a friend struggling with a decision. Anguishing over the plight of Nicaraguans who feared an imminent invasion by American Marines in 1983, she felt moved to join a group of Americans planning to thwart this suspected invasion by laying their bodies down as a human blockade on the border between Honduras and Nicaragua. Aware of her history of low self-worth, I said to her, "My concern is that you don't seem to love your life enough to justify giving it up."

Because we cannot give what we do not have, self-donation presupposes self-possession. This issue is especially problematic for women, who have been socialized to place the needs of others before their own and thus repress awareness of their own rightful needs, or feel guilty and selfish for having them. (24) But the temptation to swallow the self is not limited to women. Men are also susceptible to this trap. The task of spiritual self-transcendence for Christians thus requires that women and men first grow into and claim their conscious and responsible selfhood.

Psychological and spiritual health does not consist in forfeiting a self, but in keeping the process of self-formation flowing, of continually enlarging the images by which we understand ourselves. A holistic spirituality challenges both professed religious and lay Christians not to cling to the "well-being" of the present, but to strive always for the "more-being" contained in future possibilities. In the words of Jesus, "For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it" (Mk 8:35-36).

Self-transcendence for the sake of Christ and the gospel moves us into the heart of Christian ministry. As the expression of love of neighbor, ministry must be a part of every Christian's life. Yet, even after the 1987 Synod on the Laity in Rome, controversy still stalks the question of lay ministry and arguments still abound. Should the term "ministry" be restricted to those with public and stable roles in the church's liturgical and governmental life? Or should it also refer to the wide variety of Christian action that continues Christ's presence in the world today? Some say an exclusive use of the term is divisive and perpetuates the split between the clergy and the lay. Others contend that loosely labeling every good deed a Christian does as "ministry" robs the term of precision and usefulness. What follows here is yet another strong voice chiming in on this heated debate.

Ministry has always been acknowledged to be an essential part of priesthood and religious life. But, until recent years, its important pIace in the life of lay Christians has not been sufficiently stressed. Two misconceptions have long caused confusion and thereby crippled ministry in the church. The first is that ministry is the exclusive right of ordained priests, professed religious, or other official church ministers.

The second is that Iay Christians do not have a direct right to share in the ministry of Jesus, but can enjoy peripheral participation to the extent that they are invited by the hierarchy.

Vatican II has corrected these erroneous notions. According to the council, Christians receive the gift of ministry directly through baptism and confirmation and are directly commissioned by the Lord. (25) Thus, ministry is an essential aspect of being a Christian and not something reserved for a few. Ordination is but one way by which the Christian community officially recognizes the various charisms and ministries needed for the accomplishment of its mission. While reaffirming the special significance of the ordained priesthood as a sacrament, it is important to remember that it is but one ministry among others in the church. Thus, while ordination presupposes ministry, ministry does not necessarily require ordination. By reminding us that the call to serve comes directly from the risen Christ, the council challenges us to acknowledge each person's rightful ministry in the church.

Before Leaving them, Jesus commissioned the apostles and the community formed by him to continue his ministry. Just as he was sent by the Father, so he sent his followers to proclaim the good news of God's benevolent reign over a kingdom already begun but not yet flourishing. Participation in the ministry of Jesus means sharing his single-minded commitment to announcing God's saving intervention in human Iife. Ministry, in its broadest scriptural sense, is any human activity that is seen as a continuation of Jesus' own work for the sake of the kingdom.

The ministry of Iay Christians must be understood in a broad and inclusive way. Recently Iay involvement in parish ministry has contributed greatly to the grassroots renewal of the Iocal church. But a narrow vision of the Iaity's role creeps in when excessive emphasis is placed on the work of Iay persons within the church, in church-related activities. Lay ministry should not be reduced to "official" or "parish" ministry. The recent preoccupation in some places with engaging Iay people in parochial and diocesan ministries can Iead to a devaluation of the apostolic significance of the ordinary work of Christians in the marketplace and in the home. Many Christians are already acting in ways that embody the risen Jesus' ministry to people today. When they make explicit the connection between what they are doing and the continuation of Christ's actions on behalf of others in the present, their activities can clearly be recognized as ministry.

As the apostle (literally, "the sent one") of God par excellence, J esus explained his ministry as doing "the works which the Father has granted me to accomplish" On 5:36). His ministry-that is, everything he engaged in to accomplish his mission-can be viewed in three aspects: the kerygmatic, the koinoniac, and the diaconal. In short, Jesus ministered:

(1) by announcing God's forgiveness and acceptance of all (the kerygmatic aspect);

(2) by forming a community that would embody this gracious love of God for all in concrete relationships (the koinoniac aspect);

(3) by performing acts of service and justice that would demonstrate that the kingdom of God has indeed arrived (the diaconal aspect).

These three aspects of Jesus' ministry provide a useful framework for understanding how all Christians can carry on the ministry of Jesus in their daily lives. Like Jesus, Christians in all walks of life can minister by proclaiming the good news (1) through the language of words, (2) through the language of relationships, and (3) through the language of works.

The kerygmatic dimension of lay ministry does not re qui re lay persons to preach in any formal way. Rather, it is a call to all Christians "to share the light of faith." (26) Simply to share one's faith in the ordinary context of one's life is to minister. Thus, sharing the light of faith is not the sole responsibility of catechists, whether professionals or voIunteers. Nor should it be restricted to formal teaching in a classroom. Proclaiming the gospel is the proper work of the whole Christian community.

Parents minister to their children kerygmatically when they teach them how to pray or when they hand on their creedal faith. Spouses minister to each other through their words of mutuaI reassurance during difficult times, and their encouragement to trust in a God who makes all things possible. Friends minister mutually when they share their experiences of the presence of God in their lives. And adult children minister to aging and sick parents when they speak a tender word of trust in a God who always brings good out of everything. In such ways, Christians continue Jesus' joyful proclamation that the Lord of history is a gracious God intimately involved in our lives: to save us, to make us whole, and to bring us to the fullness of life.

Our relationships can al so take on the nature of ministry. They can embody God's love in ways that jolt people into realizing that God's earthly reign has already started and is observable in the way Christians treat each other. Parents minister relationally when their unconditional acceptance makes it possible for their children to believe in a God of unconditional love. They also minister when their generous forgiveness enables their children to believe in a God who is freely forgiving of wayward followers. The sexual union of husbands and wives is ministerial when it sparks off intimate insights into the nature of a God who is Love. And the enduring faithfulness of old friends is ministerial when it provides the empirical grounds for believing in the abiding faithfulness of a God who is the Faithful One (Is 49:15-16).

These various embodiments of love among parents, children, and friends enhance our ability to experience God in the community of the church. As Shug puts it in her simple yet wise way in The Color Purple, God is most tangibly felt in church when people bring with them the Lord whom they have already experienced in daily life.

She say, Celie, tell the truth, have you ever found God in church? I never did. I just found a bunch of folks hoping for him to show. Any God I ever felt in church I brought in with me. And I think all the other folks did too. They come to church to share God, not find God.

Some folks didn't have him to share, I said. They the ones didn't speak to me while I was there struggling with my big belly and Mr. - children!(27)

Shug's words make down-to-earth sense about what ministering through relationships entails. Mark's gospel provides a further illustration in the story of the cure of a leper (1:40-45). Crying out for healing, a leper approaches Jesus. Jesus attends carefully to the afflicted suppliant, to his words and actions. Then, moved with compassion, he reaches out to touch the diseased person. Jesus' touch is therapeutic. The leper is healed. In this episode, we notice a three-fold dynamic that characterizes many of Jesus' ministerial encounters: (1) he is keenly aware of his interpersonal environment, sensitive to the needs of the people around him; (2) he lets what he perceives stir him to compassion; and (3) moved by compassion, he reaches out to help.

Our relationships become ministry when they contain Jesus' compassionate concern and remind others that the risen J esus is still at work. When we view ministry in this light, the opportunities to minister through our various relationships are unlimited. Through our actions the risen Lord continues today his ministry of freeing and healing people.

The ministry of J esus today must al so take the form of a faith that does justice and is expressed in service, especially on behalf of the poor, the alienated, and the oppressed. This service can occur on three different levels. First, it can take the form of direct aid, as in serving on a food line at a soup kitchen or assisting in a day-care center for children of poor working mothers. Second, it can involve working in union with the poor, as in community organizing, to bring about changes that improve their plight; or it can take the form, for instance, of accompanying displaced Salvadorean peasants who risk physical retaliation by returning to their village. Third, service for the poor and dispossessed such as the work done by the Center of Concern and Network in Washington, D.C., can embrace educational and political action aimed at reforming unjust social structures.

Ministry, the active hands and arms of love, must be directed to alI who make up the mystical body, that is, the whole Christ. To love the whole Christ means that no one (be he or she a jobless factory worker or a skid-row dropout, a repentant television evangelist or a bashed-up homosexual) can fall outside the Christian's perimeter of concern. In the parable of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10:25-37), Jesus challenged his folIowers to expand their understanding of neighbor to include those who do not share the same race, religion, culture or class. Moreover, Christian love of neighbor cannot stop with words; it must be shown in concrete acts of caring. FolIowing the three-fold dynamic of Jesus' own ministerial encounters, the Good Samaritan (truly a lay minister, as opposed to the priest and the Levite) saw the victim, "had compassion, and went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; then he set him on his beast and brought him to an inn, and took care of him." The Samaritan is a minister in the mode of Jesus. Awareness, compassion, and caring response characterize his service on behalf of a needy neighbor. In short, service takes on the nature of ministry when it is seen as a continuation of the ministry of Jesus for those in need. Such service becomes the observable evidence of Christ's present action and constitutes a nonverbal proclamation of the kingdom in our midst. As with Christ, who identified himself with "the least of these my brethren" (Mt 25:40), our self-identity must continue to grow so that more and more people can find a pIace within the boundaries of our hearts. More will be said about this important aspect of Christian growth in Chapter VII, which delineates how gospel poverty advances developmental growth by calling for the ongoing expansion of the ways we define ourselves.

To stay vibrant, ministry must be balanced by leisure. How to achieve the kind of leisure that nurtures fruitful ministry confounds many today. Leisure is a difficult thing for some people to legitimize in a society like ours that is so oriented towards work and productivity. At the same time, we are paradoxically a society that works at and spends large amounts of time and money for leisure, more than many other societies. In any case, any spirituality that leaves out leisure will lack depth and balance because leisure lies at the heart of prayer, solitude, community, and friendship. Our relationship with ourselves, others, and God requires that quality time be devoted to such "non-productive" activities as prayer and play, solitude and interpersonal sharing. Without leisure we not only jeopardize our humanity, but also endanger the Spirit's work in our lives. Thus leisure must always temper ministry to prevent our spirituality from being lopsided.

Many ministers, both religious and lay, struggle with taking time off for prayer, rest, and recreation. Time off is either such a low priority that it is not regularly scheduled or is taken reluctantly. Often it is spoiled by feelings of guilt and anxiety. Such people make themselves very vulnerable to overwork and the state of joyless exhaustion popularly known as "burnout. " (28)

The absence of leisure, especially when it results in burnout and demoralization, can have serious degenerative effects in one's life and ministry. While workers in any field are susceptible to overwork, ministers and others in the helping professions are prime candidates for burnout. Being zealous in the Lord's work and in the service of others is certainly to be praised. Nevertheless, zealous service can often subtly become self-serving, if not monitored by ongoing reflection. A need to be needed, for example, can cause a counselor to spend excessive amounts of time with his clients, thus cultivating immature dependency. Or the need to vent his suppressed anger toward his parents may keep a community organizer always on the fÌring line against the people at City Hall. Leisure allows for the kind of criticaI self-awareness that can expose such self-serving behaviors.

Ministers who do not appropriate leisure into their lives can be subtly deluded. Sto Ignatius of Loyola, in his famous "Rules for the Discernment of Spirits," talks about how good people are tempted. Unlike those whose orientation is to evil and who are enticed in crude ways, people trying to better their lives are lured in a subtle fashion, under the guise of a good. (29) Working long and grueling hours for others, for example, may initially glitter as gold, appearing as a good. But when it leads to exhaustion and the exclusion of prayer, solitude and in-depth relationships with others, it in fact turns out to be fool's gold. What began as a seeming good, ends as an evil because of the degeneration it causes.

Overwork can be seductive because it often presents itself as a solution to many of the problems that plague uso It offers a respectable rationale to justify escape from facing anguishing personal issues and avoidance of interpersonal difficulties. In reality, it is a pseudo-solution. When left unchecked, excessive work destroys the holistic balance in one's life and leads ultimately to the deterioration of one's inner life and relationships.

Often leading to spiritual dissolution, overwork can be combated best when some of its underlying causes are brought to light. Some people are addicted to their work, know the underlying dynamics of their addiction, and choose to continue in their ways. Other people, however, want to break out of the prison of "workaholism." For these persons, simple awareness of the factors contributing to burnout can help them rearrange unhealthy work patterns. Two categories of causes contribute to workaholism among ministers and helpers. The first relates to obstacles to leisure stemming from unconscious motives. The second deals with obstacles attached to the nature of ministry itself.

Unconscious motivation can destroy the capacity of ministers to keep work in proper balance. For instance, a minister driven by hidden ambition to be promoted to high office or to build up a reputation may be compulsive about work. His or her driven ness is energized more by the spirit of careerism than by the spirit of generous service. Careerism of any kind saps the spirit of ministry from apostolic labor. It causes self-striving to replace service to others. Careerists ask, "What's in this for me?" Christ-like ministers ask, "How can I be of help?"

The unconscious need to compensate for a poor sense of self-worth may also result in workaholic ministers. In such cases, there is an unconscious identification of one's worth with one's performance or an urge to prove one's worth through work. Achievement and success become indispensable props to secure a shaky identity. Dependent on constant affirmation for survival, such fragile egos are easily shaken by the fear of performing poorly or failing. This kind of insecurity, like the dry rot of a forest fire, fuels the consuming flames of exhaustion.

The workaholism of some ministers originates in the need to fill up voids in their affective life. Frustrated celibates, as well as those entangled in unhappy marriages or relationships, are sometimes susceptible to this trap. Sublimating sexual energies into creative oudets in ministry is legitimate and useful. But an excessive investment in work as a way of dealing with the tensions of celibate or married life is ultimately dysfunctional. Rather than alleviating loneliness, overwork exacerbates it. A vicious cycle operates in the lives of many contemporary ministerso They rationalize their workaholism by complaining that community or family living is dead. Then they justify their lack of investment in rectory or family life by protesting that their ministeriallabors have drained them of the needed energy and time. The unavoidable truth is this: the building of intimate relationships that could alleviate the loneliness of ministers requires freedom from other kinds of building, that is, work and productivity. It requires leisure and just "wasting time" with others.

W orkaholics make dreadful companions. Their drivenness often produces neurotic attitudes and negative emotions. Blind to their unconscious need to compensate for some inner lack, they may be quick to condemn others who do not imitate their compulsive work pattern. Self-righteously, they disdain others for their laziness: "Why don't they do a decent day's work? AlI they do is sit around and share!" It is common for these same workaholic ministers to complain that: "No one appreciates what I do." This self-pitying attitude quickly leads to bitterness, anger, and alienation.

A second set of obstacles to leisure arises from the nature of ministry itself. John Sanford, an Episcopal priest and Jungian analyst, summarizes succinctly some of the factors that lead to burnout among ministers: (30)

l. The job of the ministering person is never finished. Unlike people in other occupations where there is definite termination to tasks, ministers often feel their work is never finished because they face a seemingly unending onslaught of parish functions and persons to counsel. The objective in so many forms of ministry is so open-ended that it leads to the problem of limitless tasks. And the result is that many ministers fai l to assess realistically when they have completed an honest day's work so they can dose shop for the day and go home. When ministers, like priests and religious, live where they work, the matter is further complicated and the danger of overwork even greater.

2. The ministering person cannot always tell if his or her work is having any results. Because the results of a minister's toil are often intangible, a sense of uncertainty can plague ministers, leaving them questioning whether they are actually accomplishing anything. On bad days, selfdoubt can be demoralizing and crippling.

3. The work of the ministering person is repetitive. The liturgical season or the school calendar contains inevitable annual events. And pastoral care of individuals and families is ongoing; one troubled person terminates counseling only to be replaced by another. And so it goes in many ministries in what can seem like an interminably repetitive cyde. Sometimes, burnout is due more to boredom than physical exhaustion.

4. The ministering person is dealing constantly with people's expectations. Not only are ministers burdened by the diverse expectations of a broad constituency, these expectations are often conflicting. Interest groups in parishes and schools, for instance, may make contradictory demands on ministers. Striving to reconcile these expectations will inevitably cause emotional strain. If ministers possess an excessive need to please or rely on the approvaI of parishioners for retaining their posts, then they will be even more in danger of burnout. Chapter V will deal with the problem ofburdensome "shoulds" and suggest ways of dealing with them.

To counteract burnout, two attitudes can restore the proper harmony between work and leisure: first, stronger faith in ourselves as persons made worthwhile by God's love and not by our achievements; second, greater trust in God's power at work in the world today. To awaken to the insight that God has already established our goodness is to diminish the need to prove ourselves. Those who do not feel securely established by God's love struggle to establish themselves in others' minds. Ironically, more prayer and less work would be more productive. Prayer can help them find their identity before God and discover anew that they are the apple of God's eyes. In prayer, we allow our theological identity as individuals utterly loved by God to infuse our often shaky psychological identity.

Sto Ignatius' "Contemplation for Attaining Divine Love" offers a theological basis for trust in God's power. For Ignatius, we live in a divine milieu because God pervades all creation. But divinity not only dwells in all things, divine power continues to labor in all creation for our sake. Ignatius asks us "to consider how God works and labors for me in all creatures upon the face of the earth . . . in the heavens, the elements, the plants, the fruits, the cattle . . . [God] gives being, conserves them, confers life and sensation. " (31) Because the mighty power of God is always preserving creation in being, ministers can afford to take ti me off for leisure!

Ministry, for Ignatius, is primarily the action of God. Human beings are given a share in God's action through their call to ministry. At La Storta, about ten kilometers from Rome, Ignatius had a vision of himself being placed by the Father next to Jesus carrying the cross. This vision gave shape to his image of ministry: to minister is to be intimately juxtaposed with Jesus carrying the cross. It is to be invited by God to be closely associated with Jesus, who even now continues to work for the redemption of the world. In ministry, then, God is the principal worker and we are co-workers. As such, we are not indispensable. God's sustaining action will not cease when ministers exercise prudent self-care by taking ti me off for leisure and solitude. In fact, workaholic ministers who are careless with their health should be told what a religious superior once told a member of his staff: "If you don't stop to ad mire the daisies, you'll be pushing them up soon."

Friendship, like leisure, is often sacrificed on the altar of pragmatic concerns. Because keeping in touch with cherished friends is not as pressing as getting the shopping or the office report done, it is usually put off until another time. Unfortunately, convenient times for fostering friendships become less and less as the pace of our lives quickens. Friendship for Christians cannot be viewed as a frill that gets eliminated when time and resources shrink. The spiritual journey requires dose friends-whether they be one's spouse, a spiritual companion, or a life-Iong comrade. God created Eve so that Adam would not have to struggle through life alone. And ]esus sent the disciples out on their missionary journey in pairs so that their eompanionship would be a support, especialIy in those inhospitable towns from which they were advised to leave after shaking the dust from their sandals.

While philosophers throughout the ages have written eloquently of friendship's importance, ]esus affirmed it as a gospel value. In his dose ties with Mary and Martha, and especialIy in his love of Lazarus, ] esus left no room for doubt that Christians who are eommanded to love as he did must cherish human friendship. Unfortunately, some Christians still need to be convinced of the value of friendship in Christian living. For example, a spirituality that privatizes one's relationship with God, expressed in a "]esus-and-me" mentality, easily slips into viewing friendship as superfluous. "With ]esus as my friend, I don't need anyone else" reflects such an outlook. Directly or indireetly, this way of thinking was for years instilled in priests and religious, who were warned that deep human friendship could weaken the intensity of their relationship with Christ and al so endanger their vow of ehastity. They were cautioned against the dangers of "particular friendships." Because human intimacy is vitalIy needed for living chastely, the topie of particular friendships will be treated separately in Chapter VI. Here the diseussion explores the importance of friendship in Christian living.

]esus emphasized the value of friendship by having dose friends of his own. But more importantly, he used the love of friendship to describe the very meaning of his death on the cross. In the intimate setting of the Last Supper, ]esus explained the signifieanee of the death he was about to face: "[One] can have no greater love than to lay down [one's] life for [one's] friends. You are my friends" On 15:13-14). ]esus dearly saw the meaning of his death as an act of love on behalf of friends.

The raising of Lazarus illustrates this profound truth. When notified ofhis friend's condition,]esus was notieeably moved by love for Lazarus. At the sight of Mary's tears and those of the Jews, "Jesus said in great distress, with a sigh that carne straight from the heart, 'Where have you put him?' . . . Jesus wept; and the Jews said, 'See how much he loved him!' " (Jn 11:33-35). The raising up of Lazarus, seen in the dramatic unfolding of John's passion narrative, was a highly symbolic act. In committing himself to save his friend, J esus set in motion his own death. The charged political atmosphere in Jerusalem pressured the chief priests and Pharisees to caucus quickly and decide how to react to the growing excitement Jesus was arousing by "working alI these signs." They feared that the swelling popular support for Jesus would threaten the Romans and compel them to "come and destroy the Holy PIace and our nation." Thus, the high priest spoke for the group: "You don't seem to have grasped the situation at alI; you fail to see that it is better for one man to die for the people, than for the whole nation to be destroyed" (Jn 11:49-50). Johannine irony is operative here, because in a way deeper than the high priest understood, Jesus embraced death himself rather than have alI the people destroyed. Jesus' act of love for a friend ended up costing him his life. "From that day they were determined to kill him" (Jn 11:54). Consequently, to love as Jesus did requires a serious commitment to the love of friendship.

Friendship is al so an important source of divine revelation, because intimate knowledge of a friend can reveal the face of God. To the apostle Philip's request to "see the Father," Jesus responded, "To have seen me is to have seen the Father, so how can you say, 'Let us see the Father?'" (Jn 14:9-10). Enigmatic as it may sound, Jesus' response comes down to this: He can show us what God is only by the way he reflects God in his own humanity. He can reveal the face of the Father only by showing us his own face. (32) Theologian Monika Hellwig summarizes clearly the truth of how the Father is revealed in our intimate knowledge of a friend: "As Christians, we see Jesus as the unique image of God in humanity. But we also see Jesus as prototypical and inclusive of us all, drawing us into his witness and his ministry of reconciliation and reconstruction, making us in union with himself a kind of tempIe where God is to be encountered, experienced and brought to others." (33) Therefore, intimate friendships, which embody the love of Christ, can be for us a kind of tempIe where we can see the face of God.

Hellwig's insight is beautifully illustrated by a story about how two brothers' love for each other transformed their friendship into a tempIe, where God was made known.

Time before time, when the world was young, two brothers shared a field and a mill, each night dividing evenly the grain they had ground together during the day. One brother lived alone; the other had a wife and a large family. Now the single brother thought to himself one day, "It isn't really fair that we divide the grain evenly. 1 have only myself to care for, but my brother has children to feed." So each night he secretly took some of his grain to his brother's granary to see that he was never without.

But the married brother said to himself one day, "It isn't really fair that we divide the grain evenly, because 1 have children to provide for me in my old age, but my brother has no one. What will he do when he's old?" So every night he secretly took some of his grain to his brother's granary. As a result, both of them always found their supply of grain mysteriously replenished each morning.

Then one night they met each other halfway between their two houses, suddenly realized what had been happening, and embraced each other in love. The story is that God witnessed their meeting and proclaimed, "This is a holy place-a pIace of love-and here it is that my tempIe shall be built." And so it was. The holy pIace, where God is made known to . . . people, is the pIace where human beings discover each other in love. (34)

Friendship is a locus of divine revelation because, as this story points out, the Absolute is known in the personal.

Friends reveal God to each other because faith sharing is an important element of Christian friendship. Addressing his disciples in the intimate context of the Last Supper,] esus tells them, "I call you friends because 1 have made known to you everything 1 have learned from my Father" (Jn IS:ISb). Here we see that what constitutes a friendship is the intimacy of sharing that takes pIace in the relationship. As ]esus put it, "I shall not call you servants any more, because a servant does not know his master's business" (v. IS). ]esus honors his disciples as friends precisely by sharing the contents of his communication with God. Sharing one's religious experience and faith is centraI to Christian friendship.

Thus, all Christians, especially those who tend to devalue human friendship, are challenged to integrate the love of friendship into their spirituality. The exhortation that Jesuits received from their 32nd GeneraI Congregation about the importance of friendship is equally signifìcant for other religious and lay ministers. Challenging Jesuits to go beyond colleagueship to friendship, the Congregation directed these words to its members: ". . . it is our community ideai that we should be companions not only in the sense of fellow workers in the apostolate, but truly brothers and friends in the Lord." (35) Being "friends in the Lord" is especially important these days when effective ministry relies increasingly on collaboration among equals.

Friendship among Christians must also bear fruit. In other words, generativity must complement the love of friendship. Psychologist Erik Erikson defìned generativity as "the concern for establishing and guiding the next generation. " (36) In a less technical sense, generativity simply means being fruitful. It is in this sense that the Talmud states, "Three things one should do in the course of one's life: have a child, plant a tree, and write a book. " (37) The intimacy that we share with J esus and with others must be generative in the sense that it benefìts others. The image of the vi ne and branches makes this point very clear. The metaphor richly captures a dynamic tension that must characterize all relationships of intimacy among Christians. On the one hand, there is the invitation, even exhortation, to "remain in my love" On 15:9). On the other, friendship withJesus requires that one is open "to go out and to bear fruit" (v. 16). Herein lies the paradoxical nature of Christian friendship: we are called simultaneously to remain with the beloved and to go forth to share that love with others. Christian friendship, in other words, must always be open to the possibility of new life springing forth from it for the sake of the total community and the world.

The love between husband and wife, for example, even while intensely centered on each other, must enrich the lives of others besides. Healthy marriages are those in which the spouses become increasingly good friends and at the same ti me make themselves a tangible blessing to others. Happy conjugal love has the tendency of transcending the two mates and spilling over into caring actions for their children and those outside the family. Satirist Kurt Vonnegut, in Cat's Cradle, termed this kind of love relationship a "karass. " (38) A karass is a closeknit unit of love, yet its boundaries are permeable so that others can freely enter in to share its love. In contrast, a "duprass," refers to a relationship in which the partners are so tightly turned in on themselves that no one, not even the children, can break in to share its closeness. Friendships that are generative will resemble a karass, not a duprass.

As a gospel value, generativity pertains to both lay and religious life. One way in which married Christians are generative is when their mutuaI love issues forth in offspring whom they devotedly nurture. Parenting is often a purifying experience for many. The inevitable struggles that are part of raising children stretch the capacity of parents to love in a sacrificial and gratuitous manner-as Jesus did. In this way, the commitment of parents to generative love is very much part of the process by which parents are made holy and more like Jesus.

Celibates must be equally committed to generative love. While voluntary sexual abstinence precludes producing physical progeny, it should not stifle generativity in celibate lives. Relinquishing the right to bear children ne ed not cripple their ability to love in ways that nurture life. Although Erikson sees generativity being fulfilled directly in parenthood, he also speaks of a sublimated parenthood in which persons willingly direct their caring to those other than their own children. This sublimated parenthood applies to lay people without children of their own, as well as to celibates. Celibates who care for orphans, teach students, and guide others in spiritual direction are in a real way "spiritual fathers and mothers." It is this kind of spiritual progeny that celibate love must generate if it is to remain vitai. In their celibate loving, priests and religious must have a sense that they are participating in life and contributing concretely to others' lives. The life-giving quality of their love, not the physical act of procreation, makes for true generativity among those who are celibate for the sake of the kingdom. As with marriage, celibacy can be either sterile or productive. The ideaI of celibacy is best seen in a self-forgetful giving that increasingly allows one to love like Jesus-to love in a way that bears fruit for the world.

Prayer, as the human heart reaching out to God, is an essential element of holistic spirituality. Capturing the spirit of prayer, the psalmist says, "Yahweh, hear my voice as I cry! Pity me! Answer me! My heart has said of you, 'Seek [Yahweh's] face.' Yahweh, I do seek your face; do not hide your face from me" (Ps 27:7-8). Prayer reveals a hunger and yearning for God and springs from the felt-realization that human fulfillment can only be found in God. After years of futilely pursuing happiness in worldly pleasures, Augustine carne late to realize that "Y ou have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts will remain restless, until they rest in you." The saint's prayer poignantly expresses a centraI insight into the nature of human happiness: only possessing and being possessed by God can satisfy that deep longing for love implanted in every human heart. Reaching out to God in prayer, therefore, is centraI to the life of love that Christians are called to live.

In prayer, we are called to let the heart have its sway. The "heart" is that part of us which is drawn toward the Lord by the weight of its own gravity. It is a dormant and undeveloped faculty in many people, and thus needs to be cultivated. Because of the centraI importance of prayer in the spiritual life of alI Christians, Chapter IV will be devoted to holistic approaches to prayer. It is enough for now to assert that prayer is an indispensable part of any spirituality that calIs itself Christian.

The conviction in faith that our desire for God in prayer is more than matched by God's desire for us, suggests why prayer should always be accompanied by humor and light-heartedness. The pIace of humor in the quest for God is welI depicted in the amusing story of Zacchaeus, the wealthy tax collector who had to climb a sycamore tree in order to see Jesus pass by because he was too short to see over the crowd. Zacchaeus' encounter with Jesus captures the kind of humor that must complement prayer in a holistic spirituality. It is amusing to imagine an official establishment-figure risking the indignity of clinging to a branch just to glance at an upstart itinerant preacher. The humor of the situation al so lies in the incongruity between the awkwardness of Zacchaeus' tree-limb peek at Jesus and the disarming ease of Jesus' presentation of himself to the eager tax collector. Walking straight up to him, Jesus said, with surprising familiarity, "Zacchaeus, come down. Hurry, because I must stay at your house today" (Lk 19:5-6). Jumping off the branch, the diminutive official welcomed J esus with joy. From being anxious and anonymous, he became joyful and known. And also greatly blessed: "Today salvation has come to this house, because this man too is a son of Abraham; for the Son of Man has come to seek out and save what was lost" (vv. 9-10).

If prayer is the human heart searching for God, humor balances prayer by helping us realize that God, in Jesus, has already "come to seek out and save what was lost." The story of Zacchaeus shows that the human heart's longing for the Lord is matched by a mutuality in the divine heart. Therefore, our search for God can be light-hearted. Our craving for God is to be fulfilled, not frustrated, by the creator who planted it deep within us alI. Faith assures us that God searches for us even as we anxiously try to surmount the obstacles that impede our view of the Lord passing by. Humor, then, should alleviate anxiety and foster inner peace. Even in the midst of suffering and trials, we can laugh because we believe that the reign of God is already upon us, that God is present in the world seeking to gift us with salvation.

Humor is holistic because it fosters harmony by preventing us from being too serious about our lives. "Holiness is the capacity to laugh and to play, as well as to pray . . . Only humor allows us to live in this world as though it were not the whole world. Only humor allows us to live in this world from the perspective of that other world which we are building and for which we wait."39 Humor is linked to our perception of incongruity, flowing from and into prayer. By placing us in the presence of God, prayer provides us the vantage point from which we can see the world from another perspective-the perspective of the coming reign of God-and allows us to relax and to laugh.

Another constituent part of holistic spirituality is the love of community. This communal love must begin with the family. A home is meant to provide more than nocturnal storage units for isolated individuals who spend most of the day going their own ways. Rather, it must house a deep affective network of people who choose to gift each other with their caring presence. To build a family into a community where life and love are joyfully shared requires hard work and commitment. Yet, fostering familiallife is vitally important for a holistic spirituality because "the love that makes us whole usually begins and ends with our families. " (40)

To say that family life is floundering today is not to state a gratuitous opinion. The divorce rate continues to soar, while the reported incidences of incest and sexual abuse involving family members seem to be increasing. Moreover, the notion of a "dysfunctional family" has gained professional currency in the literature dealing with problems of addiction (alcohol, drugs, sex) and emotional maladjustment. Members of therapeutic and support groups (e.g., Adult Children of Alcoholics, Alanon) often share their childhood experiences of growing up in families that deprived them of the right to have feelings, taught them that maintaining facades is more important than facing problems and convinced them that conflict is better handled through avoidance than confrontation. These individuals disclose their painful memories not merely to vent their anger, but also to find healing for childhood wounds that hurt their adult lives. In light of these circumstances, building up family life must be seen as an important part of Christian spirituality. It is a criticaI aspect of the love of community required by the gospel.

Communal love also identifies the meaning of church membership. To belong to the church is to be part of a community of people who believe in the resurrection of Jesus. It is to experience being gathered into one body bound together by the Lord's love. There is no such thing as a Christian existence that is not a part of an affective network of people who share one faith, one baptism, and one Lord. Recounting the experience of the early church, the Acts oJ the Apostles makes clear that community life is foundational to Christian living. Right at the very beginning of Christianity, the folIowers of J esus "remained faithfuI to the teaching of the apostles, to the brotherhood, to the breaking of bread and to the prayers. . . . The faithful alI lived together and owned everything in common. . . . Day by day the Lord added to their community" (2:42; 44; 47). Thus, catechesis today stresses the fact that baptism is the rite of initiation into a community with a vocation to serve the world at large.

The vocation of the Christian community is to be a city on a mountaintop. By its way of life, its quality of care and love, the church is called to be a tangible witness of a communallife that has been transformed by faith in the resurrection of Jesus. Having only the divine cause at heart, the church seeks to have a transforming impact on the world. Thus, while ever seeking to increase the union among its members, the community of the church must not be self-absorbed, but must look outward to its task in the world.

A holistic spirituality strongly encourages commitment to community. Urging is needed. because the cost of building community, whether in the family or the neighborhood, is high. CulturalIy ingrained obstacles militate against the kind of sharing required for interpersonal closeness. Community calIs for the kind of self-transcendence talked about earlier that is willing to pIace the common good over self-interest. It requires a self-sacrificing love that gives of one's self for the sake of union. In an age of rampant individualism, these requirements are difficult to achieve. Insecure about their individuaI identity and fearful of losing control of their lives through social involvement, many individuals have come to pIace an excessive priority on independence.

Some observers contend that this tendency has resulted in the breakdown of family and community life in the Western world today. Many years ago Teilhard de Chardin wisely warned that individuals can fulfill or preserve themselves only if they "strive to break down every kind of barrier that prevents separate beings from uniting." Theirs is "the exaltation, not of egotistical autonomy, but of communion with alI others!" (41) If community life is to flourish, Christians must drop their hard-shelled isolation and link themselves more closely to others.

Moreover, an over-identification with one's immediate family often hinders the building of community in the church. While the nuclear family is an extremely important social unit, it should not shut us off from investing in the larger extended family and other wider associations. The dream of having a self-contained little household of our own as a protective buffer against the world is inconsistent with the ideaI of Christian community. Healthy family life must strike a balance between fostering intimacy within the home and developing life-giving ties outside the domestic walIs. As one writer nicely puts it, "The house must be open enough to be ventilated, welI enough insulated to retain the warmth of the sun. If the inhabitants have too little connection, they wilI quickly drift apart. If they live on top of one another, they will come out runty and retarded. " (42) Christians must loosen the enclosures that separate them from other families and acknowledge their interdependence for a richer human and Christian existence.

Charismatic households and covenant communities, such as those in South Bend, Indiana, and Kailua, Hawaii, exemplify this kind of community renewal. In a charismatic household, the doors of a nuclear family are opened to non-relatives, who then live as intimate members of the household as if living with their own immediate family. On a larger scale, a charismatic covenant community consists of individuals and families who commit themselves to a regular life of weekly and monthly events including prayer meetings, liturgies, dinners, and social events, as well as common apostolic activities. These charismatic groupings are valuable models. Yet, our imagination must continue to create new forms of interaction that will enable us to integrate concretely the love of community in diverse ways.

As important as community is, it must always make room for solitude. Solitude is time alone for the sake of encountering ourselves. Yahweh's question, "Where art thou?" led Adam to assess his existential state. As such it was an invitation to solitude. That same question is addressed to us today and forms the centerpiece of solitude. By allowing us to get in touch with the currents of our lives, it makes a spiritual life possible. It undergirds a holistic spirituality because it is an essential condition for at-homeness with ourselves and intimacy with God and others. Self-encounter and interpersonal intimacy are impossible if solitude is not a habit in our life. Without a foundation in solitude, a spiritual life is like a house built on sand-shallowly grounded and easilyeroded.

Solitude belongs to the inner fabric of community life because it makes self-donation possible. Any in-depth relationship, whether with God or others, requires a solid sense of self. And it is in the silent matrix of solitude that the unique dimensions of the self are fathomed. It is a time for intimacy with one's self. I once received a graphic description of solitude from a most unlikely source, an ll-year-old adolescent. Breaking in on my conversation with his parents about the importance of solitude in all our lives, he asked, "Is it like when I go into my room and sit in the comer by myself and the outside noises (like the banging of the pots in the kitchen) get smaller and the inside noises get bigger?" Listening sensitively to one's inner voices, acquainting oneself with the various parts that consti tute the self, and befriending the self as good company-all these things are what solitude makes possible. In tum, these are the very elements that make interpersonal intimacy possible.

Solitude is not the only source of self-knowledge; sharing with others can al so increase self-awareness. But sharing without prior solitude runs the risks of being superficial and inconsequential. Groups that encourage faith sharing, like couples in Marriage Encounter and prayer groups, recognize this principle when they structure silent reflection before periods of sharing. Caught off guard, a teenager pressured by his parents to share what was going on in his life retorted in an impertinent, though honest, way: "Let me get back to you when I hear from myselfl" If we do not hear from ourselves before we share, our self-disclosure will have all the genuineness and depth of a talk show hack.

Enjoying solitude easily causes guilt in those who view it only in negative terms, as an unjustifiable taking away of time from those who need them. People with low self-worth are very prone to this fallacy. Mothers who cannot leave their families for a refreshing get-away or ministers who are glued to their desks are others who struggle with solitude. The Christian value of solitude, however, possesses a social dimension, and is neither irresponsible nor isolating. Even the solitude of monks, for example, is defensible because it is vitally linked to the lives of others. Thomas Merton pointed this out when he explained that the contemplative withdraws from the world only to liste n more intently to the most neglected voices that proceed from its inner depth.43 Solitude as a gospel value is best fostered when it is seen as something valuable for communion rather than as something competing with community.1t is truly in service of group life because members can return from it restored and better able to contribute to the commonweal.

Time apart provides the space in which intimacy within community can be fostered. When we pray alone or just spend quiet time away from the places where we interact with each other directly, we participate in the growth of community. Getting away like this is not an escape from involvement, because in solitude we take others with uso And there relationships can deepen. In solitude we experience a bond with each other that is deeper and stronger than our own efforts can create. We can humbly acknowledge the truth that community is ultimately not the result of human effort, but the work of God. We admit that it is the Lord, as the source of our unity, who first gathers us together and then keeps us united in the midst of conflict and strife. Thus, ti me apart teaches us that community is a gift for which gratitude is owed.

Solitude feeds prayer because it allows us to discover "the voice that calIs us beyond the limits of human togetherness to a new communion" with a God "who embraces friends and lovers and offers us the freedom to love each other." (44) It provides the pIace where we can, like Zacchaeus, catch a glimpse of the Lord and alIow Jesus to enter our home with his saving love. Prayerful, too, are the times apart that provide us with a certain contemplative distance from our engagements and occupations. This distance enables us to regain a sense of perspective about our lives, which is so often lost in our daily hurly-burly rush. Solitude gives us time to check the balance of loves in our lives and to examine our motivations and behaviors. It offers the chance, for exampIe, to monitor our ministry and ensure that our service stems from love and compassion rather than from inner compulsions, guilt, compensatory needs, or other defÌcient motives. By sensitizing us to the indwelIing spirit, solitude makes us obedient to the guidance of God as we try to live out the twofold commandment of love in our daily lives. For alI these reasons, a holistic spirituality embraces solitude as an important complement to community.

HOLISTIC PRACTICE FORMS HABITS OF THE HEART

We are called to love the Lord with our whole heart and with our whole being, and our neighbor as ourselves-as welI as we can at each moment of our lives. To be truly holistic, however, our striving to unify the gospelloves discussed in this chapter must be characterized by the folIowing:

l. It should be developmental. A developmental understanding views growth as a graduaI process that should not run counter to either our human readiness to advance to the next stage or the rhythms of God's grace. Running ahead of ourselves or grace is not spiritualIy fruitful. A developmental approach also reminds us that the process of growth is ongoing, with the dimensions of our struggle shifting with age and time. For example, the right balance between solitude and community, ministry and leisure will vary with age and life circumstances. The proper balance must be determined at each point of our lives.

2. It should be experiential. An experiential approach alIows for trial and error and leaves room for mistakes. The concrete balancing of love that Christians are called to possess is a complex matter, unattainable by the abstract intellect alone. It requires learning by doing, and more often than not relies on an intuitive sense of what is right for a particular occasion or time. Thus, a holistic approach asserts the importance of a confluent approach that brings together the head and the heart, the cognitive and the affective in learning and living.

3. It should be integrative. A holistiG spirituality is concerned with unified growth that does not develop the spiri t and the mind while neglecting the body and the emotions, and vice versa. N either does it cultivate autonomy at the expense of communion nor group life to the detriment of individuality. It respects the psychosomatic unity of the person at work, at prayer, and in relationships.

4. It should be transformational. A holistic spirituality aims for ongoing conversion of individuaI and group life. Growth entails continuaI change, not only in our thoughts, but also in our attitudes, feelings, values and behaviors. Holistic prayer, for example, is not effective if it does not make us become more responsibly Christian in our lives of work and love, prayer and politics, sex and social service.

There are no facile methods nor gurus that can tell us ahead of time how to walk in love in all the different situations we encounter.

To a disciple who was always seeking answers from him the Master said, "Y ou have within yourself the answer to every question you propose-if you only knew how to look for it."

And another day he said, "In the land of the spirit, you cannot walk by the light of someone else's lampo You want to borrow mine. l'd rather teach you how to make your own. " (45)

Throughout our lives, tensions will accompany our efforts to love in a balanced and harmonious way. A holistic Christian spirituality calls for individuals to be faithful to the struggle of loving, to be open to change, and to trust that more important than fixed rules and techniques is the guidance of the ever-present spirit of love. True spirituality consists in walking by the light of that spirit.