To Any Regions Whatsoever

… we have judged that it is of the greatest profit to us to … [vow that]wherever [the Pope] may be pleased to send us to any regions whatsoever, we will obey at once, without subterfuge or excuse, as far as in us lies.(1540 Formula of the Institute of the Society of Jesus, 3)

As common works of the Jesuit Conference of South Asia (JCSA), De Nobili College (DNC), Jnana-Deepa Vidyapeeth (JDV) and the Papal Seminary come under the direct authority of the President of the JCSA aka the Provincial of South Asia (POSA – we Jesuits have a knack for coining words and abbreviations) - currently Fr. Edward S. Mudavassery SJ (of the Hazaribagh Province). Every year, therefore, the POSA makes a visitation of these three institutions and, as part of his visit, takes the opportunity to talk to scholastics about the Conference-level view of the Society (a Conference is a group of Provinces that are closely linked, by geography and culture, and collaborate extensively). This year's visitation started earlier this week and just concluded yesterday. On Thursday night, the philosophers had the opportunity for a tête-a-tête with the POSA.

One of the key points the POSA took pains to emphasise was the universal nature of the Society's Mission. In his words, “One joins the Society and is missioned to a Province, not the other way around.” Jesuit Provinces are not conceptually autonomous entities, even if they are so administratively. This universality is, for me, exemplified by the Irish Province, whose official title is “The Jesuits in Ireland” rather than “The Jesuits of Ireland”. Right from the foundation of the Society, we were and are a body called to transcend racial, ethnic and cultural differences to form one, unified, world-wide missionary society at the service of Christ and His Church under the direction of the Pope. In doing this we are not, however, called to be mass-produced automatons; we are expected to lose nothing of the richness and giftedness that the same racial, ethnic and cultural differences bring.

The universal mission of the Society is driven by our vow of obedience which, in our case, carries the specific sense of mobility and availability for mission (as expressed in the quote from our Formula above). I like to say that, while Benedictines take a vow of stability, Jesuits take a vow of instability. This availability (disponibilité as Gabriel Marcel would put it) calls for a comparatively long formation process, which I'll be describing in a subsequent post.

Back to the POSA's chat: the talk was certainly effective in raising awareness of the role played by the JCSA in the Society today (nearly one in four Jesuits worldwide comes from South Asia – the vast majority from India) and in the future (over one in three for Jesuits in formation). Combined with the rapidly growing provinces of Africa and South-east Asia, this means that the Society of Jesus (like the Church) is moving “southward” (see Catholic-journalism stalwart John Allen's penetrating analysis of “mega-trends” in the Church). Thus, the POSA exhorted us scholastics to maintain such a universal perspective and yet be rooted in our Indian culture so as to present a distinctive giftedness to the Society, the Church and the world. We must take responsibility for our own formation and always look to develop skills that are useful at Province, Conference and worldwide levels.

Formed to Live in Community

(I'm back after a brief hiatus submitting essays and assignments.)

In an earlier post, I referred to common prayer in small groups every other day. There are two kinds of small groups that a person (formally) belongs to here at De Nobili College. The first is the Province group which, as the name suggests, is the group comprising all members of a Province (philosophers, theologians, priests and brothers) residing in the community. Province groups meet on Wednesdays for common prayer before supper and common recreation after. Each Province has its own dedicated room where one can find newspapers, periodicals, books etc. in one's native language and Province group meetings are occasions for members of the Province to get to know better the people they will be living and working with for the rest of their lives. It is also an occasion for sharing news from and views about the Province. Often, a scholastic refers to going to the Province room or one of these gatherings as simply "going to the Province" - an indicator of the sense of home and belonging that comes from this group. As the only member of the British Province at DNC, I am attached instead to the Kerala Province, which is the Jesuit Province in my home state.

The other kind of small group a person belongs to is the Living Group. This is a group consisting of 8-10 scholastics at the same stage of formation (philosophers and theologians have separate living groups). The purpose of the living group is to create a sense of community at the micro level. A living group has four main functions:

1. Common prayer that is more intimate and personal than the whole-community prayer (there are nearly 90 philosophers alone at DNC)
2. Household chores (scullery, cleaning, gardening) are allocated to living groups.
3. Liturgical duties (sacristan, community prayer) are also allocated to living groups.
4. When a scholastic falls ill, the living group takes care of him in the infirmary.

What is the living group experience like? The first thing I noticed was the sense of diversity. A recent Tablet article used the expression, "Jesuits are as distinct as snow-flakes". I belong to a living group that has North Indians and South Indians; scholastics from working class, middle class, upper class and tribal backgrounds. There is a deliberate attempt to make living groups as diverse as possible when they are set up at the beginning of the year; living groups usually go away for a day of 'faith sharing' (i.e. sharing one's life story from a faith perspective). The living group is a microcosm of the Society of Jesus in India and offers a balanced experience when combined with that of the Province groups.

Second was the sense of giftedness. The diversity of members is not merely in where we are from, what languages we speak, our backgrounds etc. but also in the gifts we offer to the group (and, by extension, to the community and the Society). Living groups enable the sharing of gifts in the diversity of activities engaged in and the more intimate space of developing relationships.

Third was an observation of the similarities and differences with my prior experience of community in the noviceship. The novices' community was about the same size and at least equally diverse – at an international level. Like the noviceship one is 'thrown into' (an expression from my Phenomenology class) Jesuit life in a diverse group that one "didn't know from Adam" (an expression – this time – from my novice-master). Like the noviceship, intimacy is facilitated through a variety of activities (in my experience, men bond better through activity – sport, projects etc. - than simply conversation). There are a few significant differences, though. The novices' community lived and worked in relative isolation from other similar communities (we met with the Lyon and Nuremberg novices once a year for a week-long symposium) and Jesuits; this isn't the case here – in addition to Province groups, there are both formal and informal study groups and other activity groups and teams. As novices, we had a clear superior (the novice master); living groups have a leader who play a coordinating role with other house officers and liturgy and party coordinators but no superior.

Finally, unlike the noviceship, the emphasis here is on formation rather than discernment [of one's vocation]. This is not to say that the element of formation was insignificant in the noviceship or that one does not continue to discern as a scholastic; but the emphasis has definitively shifted from "Should I take Jesuit vows?" to "How do I live the vows I have taken?". This is, of course, the question that animates scholastic life (and beyond) as a whole; living groups offer another input through the experiences of diversity, giftedness, previous apostolic / community experiences and future apostolic / community expectations.

Échale un vistazo a esta página

"Take a look at this page."

Just a brief plug for the blog of a brother philosophy scholastic. Short excerpt:

Suffering is like the chisel that brings out the hidden art in a statue. A Rabbi once said, “When bad things happen we should not attend to it with theology but with sympathy. When suffering strikes all theories collapse.Acceptance of suffering as a passing moment is a better way though it weakens and embitters us as persons. Suffering never leaves anything as before. No one remains the same after an encounter. A new chapter is written in one’s life.

The "Slum Dwellers"

We've had monsoon-like rains on campus the last two days because of Cyclone Phyan (thankfully, it looks like it's going to die out). I always hope that loss of life and property will be minimal when a phenomenon like this strikes, but that is rarely the case. For many poor families along India's west coast, Phyan was, at best, a frightening event accompanied by a few sleepless nights and loss of income. At worst, it was a faceless grim reaper that took away loved ones. For us here on the JDV campus, it meant clothes that wouldn't dry, regular black-outs, no outdoor games and carefully-tended gardens ruined (the marigolds, in particular, falling victim to un-aesthetically-minded winds).

But not all JDV students (even Jesuit ones) live on campus. Every year, a few groups of Jesuit scholastics move out of their relatively comfortable (if Spartan) rooms at DNC between July and December to live among the poor and homeless people of Pune in the slums. Each 'slum community' consists of 3-5 scholastics; they commute in for classes and are expected to be self-sufficient. Thus, most such communities supplement their scholastic allowance with income from odd jobs, tutoring kids etc. My 'living group' (more about these in a subsequent post) has a member living in such a slum community. We went out to visit them on Tuesday (with Phyan's van – pardon the rhyme – doing its best to keep us from moving outside) in the pouring rain. There are three scholastics in this particular group; they live in a small single-room house about 4km from campus in the midst of a crowded settlement. I was certainly glad to be inside, dry and with a warm cup of tea in my hand by the time we got there – even if about a dozen of us were crammed into the room! I was very impressed by their hospitality, edified by their witness and reminded again that the Jesuit is called to live in solidarity with the poor, the dispossessed, the voiceless, the weak, and the helpless.

Because of the swine flu pandemic, this year’s groups are being recalled a month early. It was a real privilege to be able to visit the group we did before they came back (they’re back at DNC now).

Pretty Woman

Image: Mid-day

They belong to “the oldest profession in the world”. They exist, and have existed, in every culture and civilisation. They are glorified in art, fiction and films from around the world (including the Hollywood film that gives this post its title). They are vilified in social convention, ignored in polite conversation, talked about passionately at social justice conventions. They were once called ‘prostitutes’ (or, less politely, ‘whores’), also ‘courtesans’, ‘call girls’ and even ‘ladies of the night’; now they’re referred to (by the government, press and NGOs) as ‘commercial sex workers’. But what and who are they? Are they so much prostitutes as being-prostituteds? Are they more than conduits for erotic energy and frustration?

As part of our formation, we are asked to commit some time (usually around 3 hours a week, including commute, for DNC scholastics) to apostolic work. Some scholastics go to nearby parishes to help out with catechetics or parish home visiting; some others organise events for children of construction works; yet others work with young adults in Pune as part of a group called Searching and Service in Unity (SSU), founded by our (philosophers’) superior, Fr. Cyril Debruslais SJ. A few weeks back one of my fellow-philosophers asked me to consider teaching English and communication skills to the volunteers and social workers at Saheli (Hindi: “friend”), a CBO (community-based organisation) that works with commercial sex workers at Budhwar Peth, a residential locality of Pune that houses a famous Ganesha temple, a bustling shopping district and one of the largest organised brothels in India (if not the world). Saheli offers these women (and men – or more precisely, trans-genders) emotional support, HIV/AIDS prevention information, condoms, emergency food and medicines, crèche services for their children etc.

Yesterday afternoon, four DNC scholastics (the above-mentioned scholastic, the coordinator of JDV’s social action group, another fellow-philosopher and I) took the bus from Ramwadi to Manapā, from which Budhwar Peth is a short walk. Through the ride in the Indian afternoon sun I wondered what I could (or would) say if I were to enter into conversation with a prostituted woman. That didn’t happen yesterday; it will have to wait for another day. We visited the offices of Saheli and spoke to some of the workers there. This November’s a busy month as they’ve just received some funding and need to prepare the necessary reports etc. But yes, they would very much like some English classes. Although most of them have a Master’s in Social Work (MSW), they are not confident enough when speaking, especially, to foreign donors and agencies.

Having fixed a mutually convenient time for these classes (mine is on Saturday afternoons), we visited the crèche. Most of the children (1-5 years) were asleep; a few were having a late lunch. I was told later that most of these children will be moved to orphanages around and just outside Pune once they’re older – Budhwar Peth is not a safe or suitable place for them to grow up in.

The four of us then took the opportunity to walk around the main brothel area. Since it was mid-afternoon, the streets were relatively quiet and we were able to move without much difficulty (apparently the streets get so busy in the evenings it’s difficult for even small groups to stay together). We did, however, run the risk of being hustled for quick “business” during the quiet hour; so we had to stay together. The first thing we saw as we arrived were the women themselves, sitting on plastic chairs on the pavement or standing in the shade just inside the houses on either side, heavily made up and (usually) in colourful sleeveless tops or blouses. We walked up one of the numerous blocks of flats that constitute the brothel. Almost all the flats were open, the wares inside hidden only (and only sometimes) by a curtain half-drawn. Elderly woman (usually ex-prostitutes themselves) sat outside most flats, beckoning the numerous men who walked by to come in and see. Inside each single-bedroom flat were about 8-12 women, awaiting customers, sitting around, or chatting. Perhaps another day I might have the courage to go in and have a chat, yesterday I didn’t. Indeed, I could see that many of them were having late lunches, so I felt embarrassed at being an intrusion. I am told over 5,000 sex workers (not including the men / trans-genders) live and work in the area.

We only visited one floor yesterday. One floor is education, any more voyeurism, I felt. At the end of the street was the main police station of the area. A few police constables milled around in the late afternoon sun. Apparently, prostitution was “legalised” in Budhwar Peth some years back. I think this means the police made an unofficial policy decision to look the other way, allowing social organisations like Saheli to come in and work more effectively with the sex workers. I was reminded of Season 2 of the hit US series, The Wire, where drug trade is unofficially “legalised” in a fictional street of Baltimore, nicknamed “Amsterdam”. If it cannot be stopped, it can at least be controlled and overseen.

On our way back to the bus station, we also visited one of the side-streets where the male (trans-gender) prostituteds work. They have a reputation for being more aggressive (a few stood guard at the top of the street impolitely dissuading casual gawkers from going any further). We moved on and got the bus back to DNC.

Ordo

Having slowly settled into a rhythm of phenomenology and Indian philosophy, community prayer and table-tennis here at DNC, I thought it was time to describe a typical DNC day.

The Beadle (a scholastic appointed by the rector to carry out certain official tasks, organise events and people etc.) rings the morning bell at 5:30am. We have time for about 45 minutes of personal prayer before the bell for Holy Mass is rung at 6:35 (at DNC, you never have to worry about the time since the bell always reminds you!) Mass itself is at 6:40, followed by breakfast. Some scholastics may have early classes at JDV (the academic institute proper) at 8:20; otherwise the first lecture is normally at 9:10. Lectures are 45 minutes long, with a 5-minute break between classes. Coffee break's at 10:45 and lectures resume at 11:10. Then it's the lunch examen at 12:45pm and lunch proper at 1:00. We have an hour of silence / study-time between 2:00 and 3:00 before the afternoon lecture (depending on the optional course chosen). Tea and games from 4:00 to 5:30 and then silence / study-time again from 6:00 to 7:45. Then it's evening community or small-group prayer, followed by supper at 8:00 and recreation. By 9:30pm we're expected to be back in our rooms studying, reading, praying etc.

Variations on the ordo will have to wait for another post!

Explaining Consecrated Life

Preliminary Note: In common parlance, members of Christian orders like the Jesuits (or Benedictines, Dominicans, Franciscans, Salesians etc.) are called ‘religious’; such orders are called ‘religious orders’ and this mode of life is called the ‘religious life’. In the reflection which follows, I have chosen to use the terms ‘consecrated’, ‘institutes of consecrated life’ (shortened to ‘consecrated institutes’ or ‘institutes’) and ‘consecrated life’ respectively instead. I do not wish to imply that we consecrated are holier or more religious than other Christians (every baptised Christian has a universal vocation to holiness, as Vatican II taught). What defines consecrated is the concrete self-dedication or consecration to the praise and service of Christ in the Church.

When I first announced my intention a few years back to enter consecrated life, I received a lot of confused looks and earnest questions from family, friends and well-wishers (some Catholic themselves!) who wanted to understand this way of life better. On and off since then, I’ve been thinking about ways or models of explaining consecrated life to people (perhaps not Christian) for whom such a way of life is outside their range of direct experience. Even lay Catholics whose vocation lies in the married life often have difficulty relating to the internal motivation and external mode of living that consecrated experience and could benefit from an explanation.

A clarification: there are significant differences between the vocation of a Catholic priest in an institute of consecrated life and that of a ‘secular’ or diocesan priest. We take vows of poverty, celibacy/chastity and obedience; diocesan clergy do not take a vow of poverty (and in some eastern Catholic disciplines, celibacy as well). While we are both motivated by the desire to give our lives in Christ’s service, members of consecrated institutes make that commitment in the context of a specific spirituality and spiritual charism (a way of living that spirituality as a gift to the Church) and also in the context of a concrete consecrated family of people who have taken similar vows. A diocesan serves the Church in a particular geographic area under the local bishop; the consecrated’s area of service can be as small as within a monastery (e.g. with a monastic institute like the Benedictines) or the whole world (e.g. with a missionary institute like the Jesuits or a contemplative institute like the Carmelites). In some ways, the consecrated called to be a priest has two distinct but related vocations – to the priesthood and to that specific consecrated institute.

I have a special liking for analogy (or models) as a pedagogic tool; after all, even Christ taught in parables! I will present three models (plus one sub-model) of consecrated life – two of them are (in my opinion) flawed and uninspiring; one I have found helpful. This is not a definitive or academic account of consecrated life – it is simply the personal reflection of one member of an apostolic institute of consecrated life. As a person of Indian origin writing in an Indian context, naturally, these models will draw largely from the Indian experience. Nevertheless, I hope you will find them helpful whether you are lay or consecrated, non-Catholic or Catholic.

The first model is that of the sanyāsi or hermit. In classical Indian thought, human life was described as the passage through four stages (or āshrama) – brahmacharya (youth), grihasthya (adult family life), vanāshrama (retired life) and sanyās (renouncing the world in search of enlightenment or perfection). One person asked me why I was entering sanyās this early in life before enjoying the other stages. This is a natural question, and completely understandable in the Indian context (the questioner was not a Christian). The origins of Christian consecrated life lie in the desert hermits of the first few centuries AD – people like St. Antony of the Desert and other Desert Fathers (and mothers!) Undoubtedly, the idea of renunciation towards perfection was an important factor in their thinking. For much of the history of consecrated life in the Church, this thinking persisted and consecrated life was seen as a higher mode of perfection than ordinary [lay] Christian life. Further, the idea of renunciation towards perfection and enlightenment is manifest in non-Christian traditions as well: Buddhist monastic life and Hindu ashrams, for instance.

Nevertheless, this model does not correspond to my experience of the call to religious life. We do not seek to renounce the world, but to embrace it. In September, whilst on holiday with my (then) fellow-novices in Wales, we had the opportunity to meet the (enclosed) Carmel nuns at Dolgellau. What surprised us was that, not only were the nuns not uninformed of world events, instead they seemed to know more of what happened in the far reaches of the globe than even we apostolic Jesuits did! St. Therése of Liseux (the Little Flower) chose the Carmelite life because she saw prayer itself as an apostolate for and in the world (the famous incident where she prays for a condemned prisoner’s conversion being a case in point). If this is true of contemplative consecrated, how far renunciation must be from the mind of those engaged in apostolic work for the Kingdom!

The second model is that of the social worker or reformer. Bl. Teresa of Calcutta (Mother Teresa) and the congregation she founded, the Missionaries of Charity, have come to epitomise the conjunction of consecrated life and social work. "But why join a consecrated institute if one desires to serve the poor, the marginalised, and the oppressed? Surely one can do the same as a [married] layperson," I was asked several times. Certainly, before Vatican II, consecrated were seen as the front line of the Church’s social action – as teachers, nurses, development workers etc. But the last half-century or so has brought the realisation that the laity have no less responsibility and capability (more, according to many) in this area. A well-paid and highly trained professional can do more good for the world (financially, politically, and intellectually) in his/her position than a lone missionary in a shanty town somewhere in Central America.

This argument has much to commend it; but it is simply not why I entered consecrated life. Of course, the desire to serve people and combat social evils is an integral part of my calling as a Jesuit, but it is not my prime motivation.

The third, and most helpful model, is (paradoxically) that of a married person. Traditionally, many women’s institutes (aka congregations) celebrated their final profession of vows (i.e. when the consecrated makes a final, definitive commitment to life under the vows in that institute – usually 5-9 years after entering) analogically to a wedding. The sisters would be dressed as brides and the profession was seen as a nuptial union with Christ. Post Vatican II, almost all institutes I’ve seen have retained the practice of profession rings even if some of the bridal imagery has been toned down.

Marriage is characterised by an exclusive, mutual self-giving of two persons made explicit by the exchange of vows and gifts. Analogically, the consecrated person gives herself/himself completely to Jesus Christ who has already made a complete self-gift of himself to us in the Paschal Sacrifice; this consecration is marked by the making of vows. Different institutes, then, represent different ways of living out this union with Christ: contemplative orders represent union with Christ praying on the mountain; monastic orders represent union with Christ living with his disciples; apostolic orders represent union with Christ working and preaching among the people.

In the Indian context, the daughter-in-law (bahu in Hindi, mařumakaļ in my native Malayāļam) is expected to part from her own family and enter the household of her husband. She does not thereby completely sever her ties with her own family, but it is understood that the family of her husband is her primary kinship circle now. She becomes a daughter to her parents-in-law. In fact, I have noticed that many of my married friends refer to their parents-in-law with the same terms as their husbands ("Papa", "Mummy" etc.) Whatever one might think of the gender/power relations inherent in such a conception of marriage, I have found it helpful to draw comparisons with the commitment of the consecrated to his/her own institute, its rules and ways of life, superiors etc. Being a member of a new family transforms the prior relationships of the bride; so too does being a member of a consecrated institute for the consecrated.

In the Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius has an exercise where the exercitant mediates on three ways of humble service of Christ. The third way is to "desire and choose poverty with Christ poor rather than wealth; contempt with Christ laden with it rather than honours." Ultimately, I think that the commitment of the consecrated is not to a way of perfection or service or an ideal, but a person – Christ.

Our Brother Francis

(As promised, my reflection on the Goa trip follows.)

Goa: land of sun, beaches, verdant woods, parties. And, as one brother scholastic pointed out, the second most-active hotspot for child prostitution in the world (after Thailand). For Jesuits, Goa is also the birthplace of the Indian mission (now, with nearly one in four Jesuits worldwide, the Jesuit Conference of South Asia) and the resting place of one of the founders of the Society of Jesus – St. Francis Xavier SJ. Or, as our rector calls him, “our [elder] brother Francis”.

Every year, the second-year Jesuit philosophers at De Nobili College, Pune make a pilgrimage to Goa during the Deepavali (Diwali) term break in October. I was kindly invited to join this year’s expedition by our rector. This was my first time in Goa but, after a rough 12-hour overnight bus journey, I would rather have been at home in bed!

The first day, we visited the relics of our brother Francis at the Bom Jesus church in Old Goa. As a trans-continental Jesuit, I have drawn much inspiration from Francis. We were especially privileged to have a mass in the enclosure with the relics, presided over by the rector of the Jesuit community there. Many years ago, I blogged in defence of Francis’s legacy in India. Now, in the presence of the great missionary himself, I prayed for myself, the Society of Jesus and especially for the Church in Europe, birthplace of Francis and the Jesuits. Walking around Old Goa and seeing the remains of churches and monasteries built there by the Jesuits and Augustinians was a moving experience. It’s also interesting to note, from a European perspective, how orders transposed and adapted European architectural conventions in a very different land: the ruins of the magnificent St. Augustine’s monastery being the case in point.

After visiting a few more places in Panjim (capital of Goa), we retired to our base for the trip – the guest house of the Jesuit retreat house on Baga beach. It was wonderfully relaxing to be in a house right on the beach. And, of course, I was ready for bed!

The second day was a designated “rest day”; I had the chance to dip in the Indian Ocean (since it’s not as cold as the Irish Sea, I didn’t have to get out within 15 minutes!) and visit the local shops. The third day we visited the Jesuit tertianship at Raia and also the oldest church in Goa, built by the Jesuits. This is also where the Goan Jesuit martyrs were first buried. In my noviceship, I had made a presentation on the Jesuit mission to the Mughal court; Bl. Rudolf Acquaviva and the other Goan martyrs were an important part of the story.

Then another 12-hour bus ride (this time, thankfully, less bumpy!) back to Pune and rest!