Kitabı oku: «The Priestly Vocation», sayfa 11

CONFERENCE XIII
THE PERIODICAL RETREAT

IN view of the fact that our own synodal law prescribes a Retreat for every priest only every second year, ⁷⁸ and the new Codex of Canon Law only insists on one every third year, ⁷⁹ it might appear that either one or the other is the limit at which we should aim. Such, however, is surely not the case. It is true that even though our Synodal law still holds—as has been recently decided by the Holy See—no more frequent Retreat is required as of obligation than once in two years, and in some countries where there is no special local law, the longer interval—once in three years—may be lawful. Yet, without asserting any obligation, the present writer deliberately urges a yearly Retreat as the ideal. Wherever circumstances permit it—as in Ireland or Belgium or elsewhere—this has always been the practice. Moreover, the wording both of the synodal law and of the new Codex by no means excludes this as the ideal; in each case the word saltem, or "at least," is joined to the specification of the obligatory period.

But it would surely appear that an earnest priest would himself desire it. The idea that a Retreat is an irksome duty, to be discharged as best it can, is surely a very inadequate one. It should be a time to which a priest looks forward with longing, when he can put away his work for a few days, and attend to matters which are in the strictest sense personal, and if we may say so, selfish; and in which he may commune with Almighty God in a manner which the hard work of his daily life renders difficult or at times impossible. True the Retreat involves a serious work and an important Confession, and the renewal of many resolutions which have fallen into abeyance. Such a work will not be accomplished without serious effort, and often involves facing trouble and discouragement during its course. A Retreat is by no means the recreation which its name almost implies. But its interest is supreme. It touches all that aspect of life which should be vital to us, and it tests our progress in that aspect of our lives which alone matters.

If the Retreat is to be for us the event which ought to be the centre and crown of our year's work, certain conditions must be complied with which often are not. Let us consider these in detail.

The first question is when and where to make the Retreat. The Synod seems to assume that it will be made by all the diocesan clergy in common at the time and place provided for by the Bishop. Whether this is to be taken strictly or not, has been much discussed; our tradition has been that a priest making a solitary Retreat at a religious house satisfies the obligation, though making a Retreat at one's own house does not. The new Codex, however, seems in this respect stricter than our Synodal Law, and provides definitely for the common clergy Retreat unless special exception be made for a just cause by the Bishop himself. Hence it would appear that ordinarily at least every three years the common Retreat is obligatory.

But apart from strict obligation, there is every reason that, except in special circumstances, the priests should join in the common diocesan Retreat. There are indeed some persons who find it a difficulty, and who can make a better Retreat in private; but they are the exception. At any rate, it is necessary for the Bishop to give leave in any particular case. In making application, at least let the priest bear in mind that at best he will lose the graces attached to the corporate act, and will not be helping his fellow clergy as he might be, so that only a strong reason should induce him to apply; for very naturally a Bishop would be slow to give a negative answer. On the other hand, a priest who willingly conforms brings consolation to his Bishop and helps in the sanctification of the diocesan clergy as a whole.

In order to bring about the possibility of a general Retreat, it is sometimes necessary that the parish services should be curtailed or omitted during that week. Let there be no hesitation in, if necessary, reducing the week-day masses or omitting them altogether or omitting evening services. The people will fully enter into the reason, provided it is explained to them, and will willingly join in prayer for the blessing of God on the Retreat.

In the next place, if we properly esteem the Retreat, and wish to draw down God's blessing on it, we should show our esteem by making up our minds in good time beforehand that we will make it. The experience of a curate returning from his holiday on a Saturday, discussing his plans on Sunday, and making up his mind not till Monday morning that he will join the diocesan Retreat would seem to indicate his view of it as a disagreeable duty to be performed because it is ordered. No one would treat an important or attractive work in this way. What wonder that he arrives on the scene without thought or preparation, spends most of the Tuesday resting himself, and finds he is slack on the remaining two and a half days? And can he wonder that the special graces to be looked for come to him only sparingly? Even those who have made up their minds to join the Retreat, often spend the whole of Monday at their ordinary work, till the very last minute before starting; or even arrive late and thus emphasise a bad beginning. "Before prayer, prepare thy soul," says the holy writer, "and be not as a man that tempteth God." ⁸⁰ One who is in earnest about what is before him will break off his ordinary occupation, except such as is absolutely necessary, all Monday, so as to be ready to begin the work of the Retreat in the evening.

Similar conditions hold as to the ending of the Retreat. Formerly this was not till the Saturday morning after the general Communion. In recent years, however, it has been customary to finish early in the afternoon of Friday. But a considerable number do not stop for the end, and we often see a priest who thinks nothing of returning from his holiday at a late hour, sometimes not far from midnight, at the end of a Retreat wishing to be back "in good time" and cutting short the Retreat accordingly. Or sometimes a priest will return early on the plea of doing his Friday evening service. This ought not to be so, and a rule against doing any pastoral work whatever on the Friday would remove the temptation.

With respect to the body of the Retreat, let each one determine what is necessary for himself to go through it with real profit. Certainly a mere attendance at the discourses is not enough. The work to be done is a real and active one. The Jesuits realise this, and they do not usually use the word Retreat, which connotes its negative side, but prefer to use the expression "spiritual exercises," which connotes its positive side. In truth, the ennui of the Retreat, from which so many suffer, comes from looking exclusively on the negative side. If we are properly active and at work, the time will pass rapidly and will appear all too short. This is for the modern priest undoubtedly far the most important aspect of the Retreat. It is indeed a help to keep silence and to be away from one's work and distractions, but that will not benefit us unless we have other work to replace that which we have put away. And this will save us from the temptation to use our time in preparing sermons or instructions for the next Sunday or two. Let it be remembered that even for the following one we shall have the Saturday at our disposal for such preparation.

The keeping of silence indeed, helpful though it may be, is not of the essence of the Retreat. Considering how seldom we meet our fellow clergy, some intercourse will be in many ways desirable. It is well, if possible, to regulate this, and the modern custom of having an hour's recreation at the dinner has much to recommend it.

A word may be added on the importance of regularity at all the exercises. It may be that some of them appeal to our personal taste less than others. Some persons prefer saying their Office in private in place of the public recitation usual in clergy retreats. Others are inclined to avoid the Stations of the Cross; and so on. But surely a Retreat is of all times one in which to sink our personal tastes, so as to join in the corporate act. The same applies to taking our share in the community duties, such as reading in Refectory, or serving at the altar, or taking special part such as e.g. a Lesson in the Office, or other duties. To avoid them is a sign of selfishness. To be willing to sacrifice oneself in small ways is a powerful means to bring a blessing on the Retreat and the example to others will not be thrown away.

The old habit of refraining from saying mass during the Retreat has now almost gone out, and Benediction is commonly given not only at the conclusion as formerly but every evening of the Retreat. It would seem hardly too much to ask that at least one mass be set aside for the intentions of the Retreat for ourselves and others; for considering how much of the success of the year's work depends on the Retreat being made well, every effort should be made to secure God's blessing on it. In the Society of Jesus, it is part of the rule after the first years of priesthood to devote a whole year to a second novitiate: those doing so are known as tertians, as they are going through a third year as novices. It is easy to see what special value such additional novitiate may have, after the priest has been sufficiently long time in active work to realise and appreciate its value. We may well envy them in having this opportunity of entering into themselves so thoroughly. The only thing that we seculars have to compare with it is the periodical Retreat. It is little enough, lasting only a few days compared with a whole year of the tertianship. Let us learn to esteem that little more, and to make it the opportunity of overhauling our whole life, and making good resolutions for the future. Let us always remember that some day we shall make a Retreat which will prove to be our last serious preparation for death. We have been frequent witnesses of this in others: one day it will happen to ourselves. Yet when we are making the Retreat, we probably shall not know such to be the case. We may be well and strong, and with a good prospect of life before us: yet God may know that this is our last great opportunity. Surely this thought, if no other, should stimulate us to make the Retreat well, so as not to have it ever said against us that we had the power given us of making a full preparation for our last passage, but omitted to use it.

CONFERENCE XIV
THE PRIEST IN SICKNESS—AND IN DEATH

IT is a well-known fact that St. Bernard preferred to found a monastery in a not too healthy locality, as he considered it better for a religious life that the monks should not be in too robust health. This is often given as a reason why the Cistercian monasteries are frequently built in specially relaxing climates. Since those days, however, the world has greatly changed. Human nature is not so tough as it then was; mortifications which then were common would now be impossible. Even during the last century things have changed in this respect. It is only a century and a quarter ago that Bishop Talbot was blamed by many for a Lenten Indult which included meat three times a week for the first four weeks, and limited the consecutive abstinence to Passiontide, or the last fortnight. The last of those who used to observe a "black Lent" (as it was called) died almost within living memory. Yet amidst modern conditions nothing approaching a "black Lent" could possibly be enacted, and even the very modified fast of the modern Indults finds very few observers. It is probably the case to-day that valetudinarianism and small ailments are a greater hindrance to spirituality than robustness, and that the highest aim of mortification should be that amount which keeps the body most fit for work—to do which consistently requires a considerable degree of mortification.

Nevertheless, we may well regret the decay of the old spirit of hardiness since even a generation ago. The feeling which gave rise to the phrase "grin and bear it" was very excellent, and seems now almost extinct. The modern tendency is all to the magnification of small ailments, to constant remedies, and scientific self-indulgence which people justify to themselves under the name of hygiene. It is no exaggeration to say that the degree to which it is carried is out of keeping with the hardiness of the Christian vocation, and that many persons lose much of the sanctifying effect of their small ills by continually seeking alleviation. The sale of patent medicines is immense, as we can see from the extent to which they are advertised.

It may well be doubted if this spirit does not defeat its own end. The state of mind engendered by continually taking one's temperature, and seeking a cure—probably drinking medicines—whenever it is a degree too high or a degree too low is bad for both mind and body: the malade imaginaire often ends by becoming positively ill, and picking up every infection of which he is so much afraid. After all, the best cure for many small ailments is to leave them alone and not bother about them.

In the case of a priest, however, we should put it on a higher ground. He has to be at the service of his people. An indisposition will not dispense him from saying mass on Sunday unless it is sufficiently severe to incapacitate him. Nor will it exempt him from attending a sick call even in rough weather. A soldier would be ashamed of giving in to a small ailment and of injuring his fighting power. He would despise one who did so for his softness. Much more should a priest be above such effeminacy. Often he is so: many a modern priest fights consistently against general weak health, with such success that his weakness is not known or suspected. In such an effort God will give us very special help. But, alas! one can call to mind also instances of those who systematically nurse their ailments, and seriously injure their constitution by continually taking drugs and applying remedies.

Before we can learn how to consecrate our real illnesses let us learn to despise and fight against small ailments. It is by no means always easy, and there will no doubt be times when one is on the verge of actual breakdown; but so long as we have the real power, we should fight strenuously against them. To lie in bed in the morning, still more to spend a day in bed, should be the last resort, only when imperiously necessary. Once we give way, we shall find reasons increasingly often to induce us to repeat the act. On the other hand, any work we do under the handicap of headache or indigestion or rheumatic pains or other troublesome weakness will, we may be sure, be specially blessed by Almighty God.

Turning now to the time of severe illness, it is easy to say, but it is none the less true, that it may be a great grace; and like other graces, if neglected, it becomes the reverse. We are speaking of course of a grave and serious illness, whether or not there be danger to life. One of the most remarkable phenomena in our strangely complex nature is the sudden and complete way in which our most acute anxieties disappear at the touch of sickness. This at once leaves the ground free for our own thoughts, and if we have been leading a really busy life, we can find many things which we have never had time to think out. Nevertheless, we cannot do much thinking at the beginning, through sheer mental debility, even apart from the pain which often accompanies the illness. The tendency is strong simply to give our thoughts to our illness and its remedies, and the small incidents which surround a sick-bed. Those who have looked forward to reviewing their lives and setting their consciences in order during their last illness should be warned that experience shows such thoughts to be uncongenial at that time. Notwithstanding the way in which time hangs, especially at night, one is least of all inclined to fill it by serious examination of conscience, or for the matter of that by any form of prayer. Our obligations to Meditation, or the like, or even to reciting the Divine Office, have suddenly ceased, and the danger is that we may take an absolutely material view of our condition, and cease all relations with Almighty God, looking forward only vaguely to resuming them when we are convalescent. A few considerations on illness as a time of grace may be useful at such a season.

In the first place, it has often been pointed out that a time of sickness is the one period of life when we know for certain that we are doing God's will; for we have no alternative. Nor is it any answer to say that this illness may be the punishment of sin, either by the law of nature or the providence of God. For even if this were so, the sin is over and has passed out of our control; it can never be recalled. Whatever our past failings, or whatever God's providence in our regard, hic et nunc He wills this illness, and we have no power of contravening His will. It therefore follows that we have the opportunity for a supreme act of virtue in accepting it willingly and even thanking God for sending it to us, which is an act which requires little effort, and to one who habitually listens to the voice of God, is of no great difficulty. Nor is it incompatible with hope or prayer for speedy recovery, should it be God's will, provided that we willingly embrace the illness so long as God sends it to us. This simple act of conformity will go far to sanctify the whole illness.

Next, as to the use of our time. This often settles itself, at least in the graver stages of the illness. But we sometimes allow it to settle itself too easily. Certainly we cannot meditate or say Office, or do spiritual reading. But we can and should do something. The rosary, for example, is a prayer which does not need much exertion, and if the five mysteries are too much, we can do one mystery at a time. We can also get others to help us by saying occasional simple prayers which we can follow. And occasional mental ejaculatory prayer is always possible. Of course any such exercise must be only occasional: during a great part of the day we shall not be thinking directly of Almighty God; but as in health our ordinary exercises sanctify the whole day, so in sickness very much shorter ones have a similar far-reaching effect.

Here it may be permitted to put in a strong plea, if a nurse is wanted, to have a Catholic one. Many priests would prefer a nun, even though her medical qualifications were less than those of a professional nurse—which is far from being always the case. If, however, we yield so far as to have a lay woman, at least let her be one of our faith. It is astonishing how frequently even good Catholics impose a non-Catholic nurse on a priest on the plea that nursing has nothing to do with religion. There is really no reason to do so. Plenty of Catholic nurses are to be had. It means some little additional trouble, but that is all. Yet the gain in comfort to the sick man is immense; in the case of a mental illness it is supreme. There are scores of little ways of daily occurrence in which the Catholic nurse may help the devotion of the priest, and minister to his spiritual as well as his bodily wants. There is indeed something unseemly in the question of whether the patient is fit to say mass or not being regulated by a person to whom the mass means nothing, and who cannot possibly estimate the reasons in favour of that consolation being granted. In the meantime, the poor patient is helpless. He has to accept what others provide for him, and has no power to make his own wish felt, for in such matters an invalid is often treated with strange want of consideration. In many cases the hired nurse thinks little or nothing of the patient's feelings, so long as she keeps the sick room neat from a professional point of view, and so pleases the doctor. "I must not let you get bed-sores," a nurse once said, "or what will the doctor say?" The question "What will the patient say?" did not seem to enter her head; yet he was the chief person concerned.

Every serious illness has a crisis—sometimes of considerable duration—which is followed either by a recovery more or less gradual, or by a gradual sinking. Let us follow the former alternative first.

One of the predominant thoughts in time of serious illness is looking back on the days of one's health and strength with a feeling of regret for the poor use we made of them, and a longing to have the same advantage again, if but for a short time, to make some small amends for past shortcomings, or at least to show our goodwill. Canon Keatinge tells a touching story of a dying priest, one of whose arms had been amputated, who assured him that he would willingly part with the other arm also, if only he could have the privilege of saying mass once more. ⁸¹ Yet he had spent forty years of his life as a missionary, during which time he had said mass almost every day. A feeling somewhat akin to this is probably within the memory of most priests who have passed through serious illness. The recollection of their past priestly life passes through their mind, and they long to have once again the opportunities which formerly were so plentiful. When real convalescence has set in, they know that God in His mercy has heard their prayer, and they are to have another chance. This thought cannot but fill them with joy.

Yet convalescence is a time which requires in some sense greater patience than the crisis of an illness. It is essential for its completion that work shall not be resumed too soon. In grave illness nature asserts itself irresistibly in this matter, the very suffering and weakness overshadowing some of the tedium and ennui. But in the case of convalescence, it devolves on us to put voluntarily restraint on ourselves, and to omit doing many things which singly might not be beyond our actual physical power, but which would retard or even prevent proper recovery. It devolves on us to "kill time" in a manner that in health would be almost sinful. Literature of the lightest is indulged in, and wisely so, and any pastime such as a game of cards comes as a relief, when one longs to be once more up and doing. Day after day—week after week—we have to occupy ourselves as best we can, while our nature slowly recuperates itself. It is real wisdom to wait patiently for the day of our emancipation from the control of doctor and nurse. We may have the consolation of saying mass, if not every day, at least frequently; and the time may come when we may resume our Office, though until we are sure that we are able to say it all, we are not bound to say any. Then perhaps we may be well enough to be taken to the seaside or other health resort to complete the cure, and this forms a little excitement: but soon that dies down, in the heavy atmosphere of doing nothing, and we require all the stimulus we can get for our patience.

At length, however, the day dawns when we go forth, pronounced well enough for work, and we resume that life which we once thought had finally passed from us. Then is the time to gather up the fruits of our illness, and to show by the spirit with which we now approach our duties that the lesson of illness has not been lost on us. No feeling of high spirits at the events of life such as starting for a holiday or the prospect of enjoyment will compare with the feeling of elation at finding oneself once more leading the life of a priest in the midst of his people.

But not all illness leads to convalescence, and if the malady is taking a serious turn, the priest of all men has a right to be told. He has been so long familiar with death-beds that even the feeling of shock, so often put forward as a plea for concealing an invalid's state, is not to be apprehended in his case; and he knows as no one else does how to prepare himself to face this last passage. Alas! very often he has to do it for himself; he has frequently been the support and consolation of others, but he may live in a lonely mission and find no one to minister to him in his own time of need. He may have to go without Confession or Extreme Unction, and only secure Viaticum by getting a layman to open the Tabernacle, and bring up the Ciborium so that the patient can communicate himself. Or he may live in a populous city and have the same assistance as others. But in either case he has no reason for discouragement. If he has given his whole life to the service of his Divine Master, he need have no fear but that in return he will have the grace of dying as a priest should.

Once a priest always a priest, and there is no time in life when a man's priesthood is more prominent than when he lies on his bed of death, while his parishioners going about their daily duties remember him continually in their prayers. Thus truly they are grouped around him in spirit, as the sheep around their shepherd. "I know mine and mine know Me." He has been intimate with them, has shown how he knows and sympathises with their difficulties and trials and dangers; now it is their turn to show that they also know him, perhaps better than he knows himself, which they show by the very certainty they entertain as to his final lot. It may be that the priest himself, knowing his own frailty, is tempted to despondency as he lies so helpless on his bed of suffering. He may be as the man who "revolved these things within himself, saying: 'If I did but know that I should still persevere'; and presently he heard an answer from God; 'And if thou didst know this, what wouldst thou do? Do now what thou wouldst then do, and thou shalt be very secure.' And immediately being comforted and strengthened, he committed himself to the divine will and his anxious wavering ceased." ⁸² What more can the sick man do, but "commit himself to the divine will"? Then in union with that divine will, surrounded by those praying around him, he goes forth from the world as a priest of God, this being the concluding act of his priestly vocation.