Old Lay Brother Habit

On one of the walls of my bedroom hangs the "old lay brother habit", proudly displayed as a symbol of cooperator brother history. As I prepare the talk I will be giving the Come and See vocation discernment participants, I thought I would just write a little note on this powerful and controversial symbol of the brother vocation.

First of all, which is which? In the picture, the old lay brother habit is on the right. The distinctive features being the black scapular (apron) and capuce (hood). Most depictions of canonized cooperator brothers like St. Martin de Porres, St. Juan Macias, and St. Francis Shoyemon depict them wearing this habit. And when you see depictions of the sea of Dominican saints and blesseds beneath the mantle of the Blessed Mother in heaven, you can spot the brothers only because of this difference in habit.

Most people admire the old lay brother habit, noting the pleasant contrast between the black and white--but this is, officially, a habit not to be worn. After Vatican II, it was decided that all Dominican friars were to wear one common habit to emphasize the unity and equality of the friars. Thus, I have never worn the old lay brother habit as my habit, but merely as a historical costume.

But what do I think about the old habit? Well, I think the only good reason (and it is a good one) to return to the old habit is that it provided visibility to the cooperator brother vocation. Now, because there's no way to tell the difference, people have begun to assume there just aren't any brothers. Having a distinctive habit naturally prompted people to ask questions (i.e. Why is he wearing white, and you're wearing black?) These questions then would allow the message to be spread that there are cooperator brothers and there are cleric brothers--one mission, one order, but different manifestations. The black scapular and capuce could be a vocation promotion tool. If I was going to argue for a return to the brother habit, vocation promotion would be my foundational point.

A lesser point would be just the fact that the old habit gave the brothers something of their own. It was a point of pride and heritage, and this is not such a bad thing either.

Then again, the old habit, for some, is a symbol of all that was wrong with the Order--points I touch upon in my Ottawa reflections. The distinction in habit facilitated a culture of difference and inequality. I respect this argument, but I would counter it by saying the problem wasn't the habit, it was with the brothers (cleric and cooperator) who were building walls of separation where there should have been forums for respecting and celebrating difference.

As I said earlier, I have never worn the old habit as my daily dress, so I cannot speak with any degree of certainty on this topic, but I think the question of reviving the wearing of the brother habit should be discussed (by the cooperator brothers themselves) as the Order seeks ways of reviving the cooperator brother vocation. What once might have been a symbol of inequality could become a symbol of renewal.
Br. Paul, OP

John Donne: The highlight of my day

As I sat dutifully waiting for my turn to be called forth to be a juror for the 22nd Judicial Circuit Court, I came across an excellent sonnet by John Donne, the 17th Century poet considered by many to be a Protestant saint [his feast day is March 31 on the Anglican and Lutheran calendars]. If this poem is any indication of the depth of his communion with God, then I'm not surprised he has a reputation for holiness. The poem was the highlight of this day of waiting and GRE preparation.



Holy Sonnet 14
By John Donne

Batter my heart, three-person'd God; for you
As yet, but knock; breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
but is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

Mrs. Inchbald's Simple Story of Manipulation and Power

A Simple Story is a novel about Catholics, but not Catholicism. Published in 1791, it is of interest today, because it's a rare example of popular English fiction that portrays Catholics in a sympathetic light. Remember, the legal restrictions against practicing Catholicism in England were only just at this time beginning to be repealed through what are known as the Catholic Relief Acts.

Elizabeth Inchbald, contemporary of novelists like Fanny Burney, Maria Edgeworth, and Ann Radcliffe (the generation before the great Jane Austen), belonged to a Catholic family and remained a Catholic her whole life. She was an actress, turned writer, and the influence of her theatre experience is evident in her writing style.

As a Catholic author, Mrs. Inchbald came to the attention of the St. Luke Book Club, and her novel A Simple Story was selected for the November meeting. It was rather difficult to get a hold of a copy through the library, so those who procured copies early read faster, so others could then use them. Thus, I completed rereading this novel on Friday. That's right. I had read this novel before, back in 2005. I can still remember with what delight I read the first portion of the novel, and then with what disdain I completed the reading of the second. What was Mrs. Inchbald thinking? I wondered. Needless to say, the other students in the Denver Publishing Institute program were amused by the vicissitudes of my admiration and disappointment for the novel and its author. Ironically, I found the second half much more interesting this time around.

So what is this "simple story" all about? Well, on one level, this novel certainly fits into the typical genre of novels about morals--that is, exploring/teaching "the right thing to do", making sure that good people are rewarded and bad people are punished--think Richardson's tedious novels Pamela and Clarissa. This second reading, however, let me see more clearly that, on another (related) level, the novel is also about manipulation and the abuse of power.

The two main characters are Mr. (we would say, "Father") Dorriforth, a Catholic priest and his ward, Miss Milner. Mr. Dorriforth was entrusted with Miss Milner's care after her father (Dorriforth's best friend) died. Miss Milner is coming of age, and in that way they had of thinking of things back then, she just had to find a husband. Mr. Dorriforth was eager for that to happen, as well, because, as a priest, he did not relish the idea of having to take care of Miss Milner. Things change, however, when Mr. Dorriforth himself suddenly comes into money and a title. To preserve an English Catholic title and land-holding, he leaves the priesthood, becomes Lord Elmwood and, you guessed it, marries Miss Milner. Theirs was not a happy courtship, and neither is their marriage happy, mainly because of Miss Milner's use of manipulation and Mr. Dorriforth's abuse of power.

Miss Milner is one of those people that thinks it is appropriate to test a person's love. I would paraphrase her reasoning in this way: "If only Lord Elmwood would not forsake me when I do something unseemly, that will prove his love for me." All this goes to show, of course, is that Miss Milner understands what the right thing to do actually is, but chooses not to do it. She does her best to make herself unlovable. She is a beautiful and charming young lady, however, so she's aware of the influence she wields, especially with men. Besides this, she has the idea that it is her right to have power over the man who claims to love her. She must humble him, before she can agree to obey as a wife. This is not to say that she's a completely manipulative character,--but she's conflicted between the desire to have the relationship dynamic with Lord Elmwood that society says she should have, and the one that Elmwood is willing to have with her.

For his part, Lord Elmwood is extremely controlling, conservative, and priggish. He unfairly and unreasonably projects his priggish expectations on his fashionable/worldly young ward without first giving her a viable alternative to her former ideas of how things ought to be. Between Miss Milner and himself, I find Elmwood to be the worst, in the sense that he has no qualms about withholding his love and friendship from people if they disobey him. Nearly every conflict between Elmwood and other characters comes down to his saying something like "if you don't do what I want, then I'll cut you out of my life". Needless to say, the cast of characters that makes up the small circle that surround him (including Mr. Sanford, an older priest, and Miss Woodley, Miss Milner's companion) bow to the pressure. They are, after all, dependent on Elmwood for financial support.

By the end of Part I of the novel, Miss Milner is penitent (for her disobedience and flirting with another man) and Lord Elmwood is moved to forgive her. Just when he was about to abandon her, therefore, he marries her and makes her Lady Elmwood.

In Part II, we learn that where there is no true conversion, there is no lasting change, and Lady Elmwood ends up having an affair with one of her former beaux. Lord Elmwood's absence for three years from his wife and daughter contribute to this sin of Lady Elmwood. The consequences are severe. Lord Elmwood banishes his wife and three year old daughter from the house. Years later, after Lady Elmwood's death (and she dies a penitent), her daughter, Lady Matilda, is permitted to live at one of Elmwood's estates, but under the stipulation that she not be seen by her father. Of course, this bizarre and unjust situation puts everyone on edge. Poor Matilda runs into her father, is exiled from the house (even though it was her father's fault she ran into him), and is eventually kidnapped by Lord Margrave, who wants to use Matilda's precarious social status to take sexual advantage of her. Only when Lord Elmwood learns of his daughter's kidnapping does he come to his senses and rides in to rescue her.

--It's all a bit much, I know, but the second half of the novel is wonderful, if for no other reason than Mrs. Inchbald's ability to create such a polished, pretty, but miserable world for her characters. Lord Elmwood, the dashing, noble young man has warped into a bitter, unsympathetic tyrant. It is wonderful to see how the various characters move under his regime, each wanting to chip away at the walls of his self-righteousness. None does this more boldly than Elmwood's nephew, Henry. Spurred on by his love for cousin Matilda, he risks the displeasure of his uncle and the loss of his fortune to call his uncle out for the cruel way he is treating his daughter. He does this, even though Matilda has not been terribly kind to him (due to her jealousy of her father's attentions to her cousin. She sees him as a rival, he wants to be her savior.)

As I said, however, Elmwood keeps a tight reign on his power, easily dismissing people from his life, and so he does not listen to his nephew. It's only through the mediation of Mr. (Fr.) Sanford that the nephew isn't banished for his boldness. He fairs better than the poor gardener with the large family that is fired for just mentioning the name of the late Lady Elmwood in Lord Elmwood's presence.

In the end, the two generation of characters are contrasted with each other. Henry and Matilda are wholly unlike their counterparts, Dorriforth and Miss Milner, mainly because their primary concern is the welfare of other people. The desire to be worshipped (Milner) and the desire to control (Dorriforth) has been replaced by the desire to love (Henry/Matilda).

Just a note of interest, Inchbald may have influenced Maria Edgeworth's novel Helen, which I am currently reading. Edgeworth includes the same conflict dynamic between a guardian and ward in Helen--this time they're both men. The prudent, well-meaning guardian has to be called out for his tyranny (by the ward), even while it is acknowledge that the ward is flighty and not completely in the right. It's a much quicker resolution, perhaps, because it's a more direct argument about the abuse of power.

For me, I love the depiction of the human struggle against oppression and tyranny. Novels like A Simple Story, The Color Purple, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix preach eloquently the way that authority and power can be used to manipulate, control, and destroy other people. Some people will bow to the pressure out of fear, but, importantly, a few noble people will fight and rage against it--sacrificing all in order to restore freedom for themselves and others, and by doing so, establish a social order that facilitates the flourishing of the self. Freedom can be dangerous, because people can choose to do the wrong thing; but power through moral rigidity (as in the case of this novel) can be wrong too, because it can warp the soul, and be used to stifle the human spirit.

What's Inchbald's conclusion (literally)? People need a proper education.
Br. Paul, OP

Ottawa Reflection Part II: Why I Stay a Dominican

Yesterday's reflection, while a much needed airing of concerns, did not do justice to all the various components to the question about the current status and the future reality of religious brotherhood in the Church and the Dominican Order of Preachers,--indeed, that is beyond my ability. I tried to address one major problem related to religious brotherhood--the problem of clericalism, and I looked at how clericalism has two very powerful modes of manifestation within the Christian community: 1) the power to define and 2) government structure. My major claim was if male religious life is going to see a renewal, it has to begin with all religious--lay and ordained--rediscovering the very nature of religious life, for which priesthood is not the raison d'etre.

Lest I give a false impression, however, I want to clearly state that I do not think that the problems facing religious brotherhood are solely the fault of priests. (And this is not a blame game, but an exploration of context.) The laity, too, has a share in the fault, as they perpetuate this image of second-class status of religious brothers when they say things like "your just a brother" or "only a brother", and when they ask questions like "why aren't you going to be a priest?" and "could you become a priest later?" These statements and questions all reveal that many in the laity do not see the real value of lay religious life for men.

Brothers, too, may share a portion of the blame for allowing clericalism to go unchallenged for so many years, and for allowing others to tell our stories for us. Dominican Cooperator Brothers of today are called to be humble, but not to be humbled by others. We owe it to Brother Oderic of Normandy, the first lay brother of the Order, and to all the rest who have gone before to speak our Dominican Vision and to live it with courage as preachers.

Okay...so that's what I was getting at yesterday. It's an incomplete analysis, yes, but it's rooted in sincerity.

Why do I remain a Dominican and what does being a Dominican friar mean to me?
Given all that has been said yesterday, it should come as no surprise that every year of my Dominican life as a cooperator brother has presented challenges that often made me consider leaving the Order. After all, why should I stay in a supposedly "clerical order" when I could join a community of lay religious only?

The question has two roots: 1) The model of "lay brother" from Dominican history does not fit my understanding of my religious vocation, and 2) The Dominicans don't seem to have an appreciation for religious life as it exists apart from priesthood (which is why cleric brothers don't understand what they have in common with cooperator brothers). This second one is a big claim, and I'm sure it's not completely true--but it's an impression that has been given by some.

In these moments of trial and questioning, I turned to the Holy Spirit for the answer. After all, it was the Holy Spirit that led me to the Dominicans. I figured it ought to be the Holy Spirit who tells me to stay or leave. In prayer, as often as I have asked if I ought to go, I have been told to stay.

The answer, simply put, is that despite all of the baggage that comes with "cooperator brotherhood" or "lay brotherhood", I am a Dominican friar because I am called by God to be a preacher for the salvation of souls. The life of St. Dominic de Guzman speaks to me profoundly, since I see renewed in it the Pentecostal and Apostolic zeal of the great saints Peter and Paul. Dominic's vision seems so in line with what the Messiah intended and what the Church's root mission is, that I can't help but to cast my lot with him, rather than with anyone else. Furthermore, the four pillars of Dominican life--study, prayer, community, and ministry--are fundamental to my understanding of the way religious life ought to be led on the daily practical level.

So what is the vocation of Dominican Cooperator Brother from my point of view? I have written of it before like this:
Cooperator brothers are men whose love for God and desire to serve the Church has led them to seek to live as vowed religious. They are freed by the vow of poverty to give what they have to others; freed by the vow of obedience to do what the Church, through the Order, asks of them; and freed by the vow of chastity to love all those they encounter. With the support of their community of fellow Dominicans, they go about their prayer, study, and ministry with joyful hearts. And though they are not priests, their lives are rooted in the sacramental life of the Church.

In prayer, I have said it this way:
Lord God, you called me as a cooperator brother, to join the Dominican family in its preaching work for the salvation of souls. You gave my heart the desire to leave all behind in order to lead a chaste, poor, and obedient life modeled after the life of your son, Our Lord Jesus Christ. Send the Holy Spirit to help me today to keep more perfectly the evangelical counsels, and teach me how to study, contemplate, and share your saving truth with others. Help me, also, to grow in my love for my neighbor, especially strangers, becoming a true brother to all I meet, preaching the Gospel through my work, my prayer, and my love of you. Amen.

I include these two texts only because I think that, with the discussion of the "power to define" in the last posting and above, it's important for people to read how a brother sees his vocation. I hope what both of these definitions reveal is that cooperator brothers are not "exceptions" to the rule of religious life--their vocation is what religious life is all about: consecrated living, the praise and worship of God, and the ministry to the Church. They are fully religious, and equal in every way as religious to religious who are also called to be priests. In this way, they are not auxiliary, cooperators, coadjutors, etc., they are religious brothers. Accordingly, if it is true that we (friars) are united by profession, and not ordination, our Order's definition and its government structure should reflect that.

Are there two types of friars?
This question is a fair one, and I pose it, because I often hear cleric brothers say that the cooperator brother vocation and the priest brother vocation are two different vocations--as if they were more different than they are alike. To me, however, there seem to be three possibilities of understanding the relationship between lay and ordained friars:

1)They're essentially completely different vocations, which only intersect on the level of community living and profession of vows. This means, wearing two different habits is appropriate, doing very different ministries is appropriate, living in different parts of the house is appropriate, etc. (Emphasis is on difference.)

2) They're mostly the same, grounded in the identity of profession and communal living, and the mission of the Order--therefore, the habit should be the same, formation should be the same, ministry should be the same. (Emphasis is on uniformity.)

3) In so far as their identity is rooted in religious life and the profession of vows, lay and ordained friars share a common vocation. In so far as they feel called to further the Church's mission of preaching the Gospel and bringing people into reconciliation with God through the sacramental and communal life of the Church, they share a common mission. But, as regards the modes of ministry lived, the two vocations may, at times, appear unique. And in so far as the priesthood entails an identify specific to itself, the two have differences. Habit may or may not be different, formation may or may not be different, ministry may or may not be different. (Emphasis is on what is shared.)

Is there more than one kind of "cooperator" brother?
I am aware that all of the above is playing into the problem of defining things. I am only one person, so this is only one friar's perspective. Being sensitive to that, I must note the fact that diversity seems the greater reality and of greater value than the idea of uniformity or the focus on difference. Even within the cooperator brotherhood itself there is not going to be a uniformity of manifestation. After all, the call to religious life does not necessitate uniformity of expression or ministry. It's basis in equality is not rooted in intellectual genius, sacramental faculties, or anything else besides the public giving of oneself through the profession of vows and living of those vows in community.

Therefore, lay religious life, including Dominican religious life, can certainly result in several manifestations. You can have cooperator brothers, for example, doing ministry that resembles that of priests in everything but sacraments. You can have cooperator brothers with PhD degrees and professional jobs as ministry. And you can also have cooperator brothers who do vocational work or domestic ministry.

You can have this diversity precisely because the Holy Spirit calls men of all backgrounds to the religious life. We should have an application process, a formation program, and a community ethos that respects this diversity. I have to say that I do not think that this is true at the present time. It seems to me that the vision of cooperator brotherhood of recent times is the one that emphasizes equality through uniformity. The application process and formation program is so heavily weighted toward the academic, that men called to religious life who are not called to the rigors of academic study are being left out. The classic rationale for this is "cooperator brothers have to get a degree in theology so that when they're at meals with clerics they will be able to keep up." Again, I find this argument scandalous and clericalism at its worse (a form of clericalism that some cooperator brothers buy into, by the way). Again, religious life is not for the educated elite, it is for those called by the spirit to give themselves to God and to serve the Church through prayer and ministry. If the Messiah did not disdain to sit down with people of different backgrounds and levels of education, how dare the Dominicans do so? All that this elitism has accomplished is the emptying of our communities of cooperator brothers.

In an effort to make up for the grievances of the past, we are making new mistakes. In short, there has to be a greater creativity and openness when it comes to the formation of cooperator brothers--one that recognizes the diversity present in the men attracted to the religious life. A key step forward would be to mandate that when there are cooperator brothers in formation, a cooperator brother in solemn vows will be selected to direct the formation process. And formation requirements, like the requirement that the cooperator brother earn a graduate degree in theology, must be abolished, since this discriminates against brothers called to more vocational and domestic ministries. And brothers who feel called to vocational and domestic ministries ought to be allowed to embrace that without having friars not called to that way treat them as inferiors or servants. Again, the Messiah's example must always be before us.

Furthermore, I think it would behoove the Order to have the cooperator brothers from all the provinces gather to talk about what needs to be done to renew and promote the brother vocation. This would be the time for them to discuss the promotion of the vocation, and the application and formation policies of their respective provinces as they relate to the brother vocation. (Maybe even discuss the old habit.) They could then collectively make recommendations to the Master of the Order and curia.

Is this the whole picture?
No. These two reflections, messy as they are in their reasoning and expression, are the result of the unusual occurrence of disappointment in my religious community experience. They reflect my general concerns for the Order as far as the future of the cooperator brotherhood goes, and are not my complete evaluation of the Dominican way of life. For the most part, my experience of Dominican community life has been wonderful, and I think that the Province of St. Albert the Great is doing a fantastic job of trying to facilitate the renewal of the cooperator brotherhood. I am a respected and valued member of the community here in St. Louis, and I hope to live the rest of my life as a Dominican friar.

I have only written so much, because the question of the future of the cooperator brotherhood and the treatment of the cooperator brother in community life is so close to home. The experience of having one's vocation denigrated is a heart-breaking one, and not something I wish upon anyone else. This simply must continue to change, and my hope was simply to ask questions and offer observations that might contribute to that change.

I would also like to note, as I'm sure the brothers I live with know, I have a great appreciation for and admiration for the priesthood. None of my concerns with clericalism are aimed at belittling the priesthood, the sacraments, or priests themselves, or the vocation of religious priests. I hoped to relate everything to the question of creating a more just internal ecclesiology rooted in the understanding of religious life for the sake of the renewal of the religious brotherhood.
Br. Paul, OP

O Canada! How my recent trip to Ottawa has me wondering about the future of religious brotherhood in the Church

On Friday, October 8th, I travelled with four other brothers (two from the Central Province and two from the Southern Province) to the capital city of our great neighbor to the north, that is, to Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. Each fall semester, the student brothers of the four U.S. provinces and the Canadian province get together to talk about a particular topic of interest (preaching, science and religion, etc.). This year's topic was ecclesiology and justice. We only scratched the surface, but it left the twelve or so student brothers in attendance with good food for thought. The main goal of these inter-provincial student gatherings is to facilitate collaboration and fraternity amongst the friars of the different provinces. The Dominican Order of Preachers is a world-wide order, so it is important that its members not grow too provincial in either their habits or their charismatic vision. We student brothers of the Central and Southern Provinces are fortunate to be studying in the same studium, because we already live the four pillars of prayer, study, community, and ministry together.

While we were visiting, we had plenty of time to go into the city to see things like the Cathedral of Our Lady of Ottawa (Notre Dame D'Ottawa) and Parliament. Ottawa has a beautiful mix of architectural styles, influenced (fittingly) by British and French architecture. Speaking of French...Ottawa is a bilingual city, and the friars in the priory of St. Jean-Baptiste pray in French. It was good for us to get a taste of Canada's unique French heritage, as it contradicts the typical American idea that Canada is "just like us". Having experienced the Liturgy of the Hours in French while in Cairo, I recognized many of the songs and words. I can now pray the "Glory be" prayer in French, and am doing so when I pray in private.

As the only cooperator brother student representative in attendance, this topic of ecclesiology and justice may have held a different level of importance for me than it did for the cleric brothers. I say this because within the Dominican Order and in the Church at large, the question of how we describe and understand "Church" greatly influences how people are treated, and what roles they are permitted to play. Forms of injustices can creep into our structures, leaving whole groups feeling marginalized, abused, misunderstood, or underappreciated.

Certainly, if you look at the decline of men entering religious life as brothers and then speak to the men who have remained brothers, or who are brothers newly professed--especially those brothers in orders of mixed makeup (non-ordained and ordained)--one of the reasons given for the decline is that the way the Catholic Church community defines and regards the vocation of religious brother implies that it is a "second-class" vocation. The classic example is when people say, "Oh, you're just a brother" or "only a brother". Furthermore, if you read the lives of brother saints like St. Martin de Porres, St. Juan Macias, and soon-to-be St. Andre Bessette, you find words like simple and humble to describe their vocation in contrast to the priestly ministry of their brothers, which was understood to be all-important. For many these words, humble and simple, translate to mean: too dumb for the priesthood. Is it any wonder, then, that men hesitate to embrace such a way of life?

Furthermore, because the Church defines itself so strongly with Sacramental ministry, those engaged in sacramental ministry take on an exalted role, while all the other roles are classed as auxiliary, and their ministers as "cooperators" or "coadjutors". Again, this is translated to mean: second-class or less important.

It does not help that within mixed religious communities that Canon Law has defined things in such a way that non-ordained religious brothers cannot, generally, be confirmed as superiors, even though they may be the most qualified brothers to serve as such, simply because of the idea that it is unfitting for clerics to have non-clerics as authorities over them. But this policy contradicts the understanding that within religious communities the members relate to one another as brothers of equal standing. Thus, this policy of denying to brothers the office of superiors reinforces the impression that brothers are not, in fact, equal members of the community, and that members of mixed communities, in fact, don't relate to each other as equals. The motto: "We're all brothers, and some of us are priests" is either a lie, or a nice idea that is yet to be realized fully--even if lived, generally, as best it can be.

All of this "drama" can be packed into one simple line from the Constitutions of the Order of Preachers: "Since the ministry of the word and of the sacraments of faith is a priestly function, ours is a clerical Order, in whose mission the cooperator brothers too share in many ways, exercising the common priesthood in a manner specific to them" (Fundamental Constitution, vi). It's not as though I take issue with the connection between the Order's mission to preach for the salvation of souls and the role sacraments play in the fulfillment of that salvation--that would be absurd and un-Catholic--what I take issue with here is the way that we allow the Order's vision to justify a hierarchy of importance.

The system of exalting the priesthood over and against religious brotherhood, sisterhood, laity, etc., is misguided. The priesthood, in so far as we are talking about the priesthood of the Messiah himself, is rightly exalted, for it is the means through which he continues to save his people through his ministers and his Church. But those ordained ought not lose a sense that they have a context. And certainly the context of religious priesthood, one would think, would remind cleric brothers that the fullest meaning of priesthood lies in service--in the pouring out of oneself for the sake of others as a brother. Is that not the example of the Messiah? [Just a note...I resist telling priests who they are or ought to be, just as I resist letting them define what a brother is or ought to be. That said, isn't it the meaning of mixed communities of priests and brothers to have the two vocations in dialogue with each other?] Even more importantly, it is essential for the clerics of the Church to understand that all baptized Christians share in the mission of spreading (preaching) the Gospel and bringing people to the sacraments. This is not, in short, the work of the ordained alone. They are our coworkers as much as we are theirs.

All of this, of course, is theoretical, and I am not saying any of it as an authority. All I can say is that in the four years that I have lived as a religious brother I have experienced for myself the problems facing this vocation. I have experienced (even in Ottawa) my vocation treated as a joke to laugh at, I have heard over and over "why aren't you going to be a priest", and I have been reminded that brothers can't be superiors (as if we are unfit for such a role, because we're not ordained, or we're not intelligent enough). These are serious problems, and until they are addressed by the Catholic community, the brother vocation will continue to decline, and, perhaps, die out completely.

But why would it die out completely if the Holy Spirit calls people to be brothers? Well, simply because a vocation is a beautiful thing, but when it is devalued, and when people are humiliated in the living of it, rather than genuinely challenge in the right way by it, even the brothers with the toughest skins and strongest wills might opt to leave rather than stay and end up sad or bitter.

Tomorrow, Pope Benedict will proclaim Brother Andre Bessette, a Holy Cross brother, a saint of the Church. It is a cause for great joy, of course, but it leaves me wondering if St. Andre's holy life can finally teach the Catholic community the difference between the "humble way" and "second class", and the complementarity of the priestly ministry of sacraments and the sacramental ministry possible for all the faithful.
Br. Paul, OP

In my next blog, I hope to continue this discussion, perhaps on a more positive note, examining the personal question of why I remain a Dominican friar, and whether I believe that there are, really, two types of Dominican friars.

The Red Tent: A Book Club Adventure

"We have been lost to each other for so long. My name means nothing to you. My memory is dust. This is not your fault, or mine. The chain connecting mother to daughter was broken and the word passed to the keeping of men, who had no way of knowing. That is why I became a footnote, my story a brief detour between the well-known history of my father, Jacob, and the celebrated chronicle of Joseph, my brother..."

So begins the prologue to Anita Diamant's bestselling novel The Red Tent, which was published in 1997. Some have compared the novel to midrash--the Jewish tradition of retelling/elaborating on a biblical text in order to tease out some of the hidden wisdom. In this case, it's a retelling of the story of Dinah (pronounced Dee-nah), the only daughter of Jacob (and Leah) mentioned by name in scripture. The novel was chosen to be the first book club adventure for the new school year.

I cannot speak for all the group, but what I say next will probably reflect some of what I heard at the meeting as much as what I myself thought of the book.

I loved the idea behind the novel--who wouldn't? Here you have this one line mystery story embedded in biblical text. Dinah, the daughter of Leah and Jacob, "went out to visit the local girls; and Sh'khem the son of Hamor the Hivi, the local ruler, saw her, grabbed her, raped her and humiliated her. But actually he was strongly attracted to Dinah the daughter of Ya'akov; he fell in love with the girl and tried to win her affection. Sh'khem spoke with his father Hamor and said, 'Get this girl for me; I want her to be my wife.'" (Genesis 34:1b-4)

But that's not where Diamant wants to start her book. As the character/narrator (Dinah) says, "If you want to understand any woman you must first ask about her mother and then listen carefully" (2). And Dinah had four mothers--Leah (biological mother), Rachel, Zilpah, and Bilhah, the four daughters of Laban, and the four nieces of Rebekah, who was the mother of Jacob. Male and female readers alike are invited to ponder the hostile, unfriendly, competetive, abusive, highly sexualized (in Diamant's thinking), world of the matriarchs. The symbol of this world, of course, is The Red Tent--the sanctuary of the women of the tribe during their monthly period of menstruation.

Only after Diamant has taken you into the world of the matriarchs and given you a firm grasp of the atmosphere of their lives, does she then let Dinah come before you. This makes good creative sense, given the fact that she is merely a emphemeral being in the biblical text, here in one chapter and gone in the next. We can't understand her, nor could Diamant, without understanding her mothers.

But here's the rub--and this is what the group could not quite understand--Diamant did so much to create a world, a context for Dinah, a web of female connections in the first two hundred pages of the book, only to have her main character totally overthrow this world, and reject these connections, or at least act as if she did not understand what they meant--all because she "was a girl who was ready for a man" (184) in the presence of a young man she describes as "golden and beautiful as a sunset"(183).

It is worth noting at this point that two other of the book clubers (along with myself) mentioned Jane Austen's literature as a body of work we might compare to Diamant's to illustrate what we found lacking in Diamant's vision--that is, why we were so upset with Dinah's behavior. Austen, after all, would never have allowed one of her heroines to sleep with the first goodlooking boy who came along. That would be like having Lizzy end up with Mr. Wickham, Marianne with Mr. Willoughby, Catherine with John Thorpe, Anne with Mr. Eliot, and Fanny with Henry Crawford. And not just "end up with" as in married, but merely "ruined" in the eyes of society. Austen respected her characters too much for that. That said, had such a disaster happened, Austen would have painted the situation so perfectly that we would have found it believable, if not satisfatory. Diamant, however, does not do that. She moves too quickly, and the credibility of Dinah, in the eyes of her readers, suffers accordingly.

On the other hand...Diamant may be to on to something here, even if I take issue with her writing skill (and, let's be honest, not many writers can stand up to the genius of Jane Austen). What if that biblical introduction to Dinah in Genesis 34:1b is precisely meant to indicate that Dinah's going to visit the women of this foreign city was an act of rebellion, a spurning of the rules of her mothers and the life they wanted her to live? If read in that light, then it may make sense that Dinah would do what she did (if she was rebelling/resisting the world of The Red Tent)...but that only makes some sense in the mystery of the biblical text, which leaves most of the story to one's imagination. Diamant has not created a contumacious character in Dinah,...but perhaps Dinah isn't being rebellious, perhaps she was merely eager to express her sexuality, having been exposed to a world defined by sex? Either way, the readers of the group were not satisfied with her actions--we just did not find it believable.

I respect the fact that Diamant knew she could not really write a "biblical" novel. Perhaps she did not know enough about the world of the matriarchs to recreate it in detail, nor the writing style of the biblical author to mimic it, or maybe she just did not want to do these two things. But she was not just trying to tell Dinah's story, either. Instead, she wrote a feminist midrash on the matriarchs and their world and interaction with the patriarchs. It's a novel about the role of women which highlights their freedom, their skills (self worth is often measured not just by the number of children one has, but by the skills one possesses. For example, Leah's managerial skills and cooking skills, and Rachel's skills as a midwife), their religious faith (or lack thereof, as in the case of Leah), and their sexuality/physicality. In a way, the novel is just a celebration of being a woman, and an attempt to paint a picture of the world from a woman's eyes.

But Jane Austen did that, and with greater success, because she was able to describe the relationship between people (parents and children, siblings to one another, neighbors, best friends, and men and women) realistically and deeply. Austen highlights the freedom of women, their skills, their religious faith, and even their sexuality (if not physicality), but whereas Diamant focused so much on the graphic and superficial details of interpersonal dynamics, Austen focused on the internal, intellectual/psychological/and emotional. Her heroines are creatures who are the products of structured social orders, just like Dinah, but unlike Dinah, they don't act without reference to their belief systems and social orders. Dinah, essentially, lives and behaves as a woman without any real connections. No matter how much Diamant might talk up this web of sisterhood, she has created a character who does not seem to fully understand the duties that go along with such a system of connections. Another way to put this would be: the purification of freedom is a sense of what is owed to others. Dinah's freedom was not tempered, and so she fails to use it in a way that's truly liberating.

Ironically, I wonder if Diamant's retelling of Dinah's story places the blame of the bloodshed connected to it (see Gen. 34:25-29) more glaringly on Dinah herself, rather than on her brothers, Simon and Levi, as I suspect she wanted to. After all, in my reading of the text, Dinah [who is not a victim of rape in the novel, by the way], is very much at fault. Her first real act of personal freedom (if not rebelliousness) is a bad one, and precipitates the clash between her father's tribe and the men of the city. Thus, while in the biblical text she remains a mystery, a victim, and a tool for intertribal politics. In Diamant's text, Dinah is a victim, to a certain extent, of her decision to act without reference to others. If only she had absorbed some of Leah's pragmatism or Rachel's caution. The opening words of the prologue, having finished the novel, now strike me as especially sad, since the brokeness they refer to between the line of mothers and daughters was the narrator's own doing.
Another comparison I will make between Diamant and Austen before shelving The Red Tent, would be to note that while Austen's novels are just as "gender defined" as Diamant's novel was--with spheres for men and spheres for women, Austen was able to show how those two spheres overlapped--how they existed in the same place, in the same families, how they functioned together. The gendered world of The Red Tent is so segregated this reader felt he did not know any of the men, nor understood their true importance to the women.

And needless to say, telling a Bible story with little reference to God in a meaningful way seemed odd to me. Dinah, as Diamant created her, was not truly a daughter of Abraham, in the sense of being a woman of the Faith--neither were her mothers, nor Rebekah, nor, perhaps, Sarah. Did Diamant need to separate these women from the Tradition in order to raise them up in Modern terms? Did she need them to be "Pagan" to incorporate feminine images of God into the story, or was she working out of the presumption that only the patriarchs themselves truly encountered, and so believed, in the God of Abraham? And wouldn't such a presumption feed into the perception that women played a minor role in shaping the Jewish faith tradition?

What's next for the St. Luke Book Club? Mrs. (Elizabeth) Inchbald's novel A Simple Story. A Regency love story between a young heiress and her priest guardian. (Yikes!)

Br. Paul, OP~
*Want to learn more about the story of Dinah? Check out Ita Sheres' book: Dinah's Rebellion: A Biblical Parable for Our Time