Monday, 9 April 2012

Precious Blood Devotion and Spirituality

PRECIOUS BLOOD DEVOTION AND SPIRITUALITY
FROM SAINT GASPAR TO THE PRESENT DAY

Robert Schreiter, C.PP.S.

Introduction

The theme of the Precious Blood of Jesus Christ has been central to the identity and self-understanding of our Congregation from the very beginning.  It was under this title that St. Gaspar del Bufalo created our Institute in 1815, and it was this very title he defended before Pope Leo XII when the Institute came under attack in 1825 from his opponents.  The diffusion of devotion to the Precious Blood was seen as central to the work of the Missionaries in their popular mission preaching, and was even enshrined for a time as the principal purpose of the Missionaries in the 1946 Constitutions.  One cannot, therefore, think of preparing candidates for our Congregation without considering an immersion in this mystery of Christian faith a necessity.

The purpose of these presentations is directed to those who are responsible for the formation of candidates for the C.PP.S.  As such, it does not attempt to give a full account of the various themes which make up our understanding of the blood of Christ.  Nor does it give a complete history of the various turns which this reality has taken for us in the course of nearly two centuries.  Rather, it is an attempt to step back from the immediate details of our understanding of the blood of Christ to raise questions which are important for the work of formation in communicating the meaning of the blood of Christ. 

The first question has to do with the concrete form of our understanding of the meaning of the blood of Christ in the history of redemption and what that means for our response to what God has done for us in Jesus Christ.  We live, after all, not with a general, abstract or purely theological understanding of the blood of Christ.  We live out that meaning in very concrete forms of prayer and action.  To that end, we will examine our experience of the meaning of the blood of Christ for us under two separate, but deeply interrelated forms, namely, as devotion and as spirituality.  These represent two distinctive approaches to the meaning of the blood of Christ for us, approaches which exist alongside, and interrelated with, one another.

In order to do that, we will need to examine something of the structure of devotion as a response to the mystery of blood of Christ, and also the structure of spirituality.  These two approaches—devotion and spirituality—have the same purpose or end : namely, a deeper union with the great mystery of God’s interaction with our world, and the meaning and destiny of our very being.  But their internal structure is somewhat different, as is also their mode of interacting with the larger world. 

To that end, we will need to look at a second question as we scan the history of the Precious Blood from the time of our Founder, St. Gaspar, to the present day : namely, how the concrete situation in which we have found ourselves has shaped our presentation of the heritage of this great mystery, as well as how we live it out in our ministries and in our daily lives.

Bringing these two questions together—namely, of our how we understand the mystery of the blood of Christ in concrete form as devotion or spirituality, and of how that understanding shapes our response to the world in which we live—is essential for the work of formation of candidates and lay associates in our Congregation.  To live as Missionaries is to do more than know certain things about the blood of Christ, and then to present them directly in our ministries.  We must know also how to engage the people with whom and among whom we minister.  There have been, for example, periods of time in some parts of our Congregation where our members have wondered whether we could continue to speak of the Precious Blood as central to our identity at all.  That is not a major question today, but the concerns raised at those times provide us with important questions which can help us respond to the questions arising from our candidates today.  Such questions I found when I worked in formation included :  Why focus on the blood of Christ ?  What does this mean for my ministry ?  How does it shape the Christian life and a Christian response to the world in which I work and live ?

I will structure this presentation in two parts.  The first part will focus on Precious Blood devotion as it has been understood from the time of St. Gaspar to the present day.  The second part will look at Precious Blood spirituality as it has developed in certain parts of our Congregation in the last two decades or so.  As I said at the beginning, both of these forms are alive and among us today.  Both are concerned about the same things, but take distinctive perspectives on how to communicate the mystery of Christ in our world today.

In each of these parts, on devotion and on spirituality, I will talk about three things.  First of all, the distinctive structure of devotional practices and the practice of spirituality.  This is necessary in order to understand the second area we need to examine, namely, how the major themes of the blood of Christ are taken up in each of these forms.  Third and finally, I will look at the contexts which make devotional practices or the practice of spirituality the more appropriate response to a situation or part of the world where the C.PP.S. finds itself today.  By looking at contexts, or reading the “signs of the times”, we can see more clearly how devotion and spirituality both provide appropriate forms of communicating what God has done for us in Jesus Christ.

By approaching the meaning of the blood of Christ for us, both in history and today, I hope to set the stage for examining more closely what is role and what are the responsibilities and challenges for formation today and in the near future.  In effect, then, I am giving you a reading—one person’s reading—of the place and history of the Precious Blood in our lives and ministries as the C.PP.S.  Thinking about this not only contributes to the “three pillars” of our identity (i.e., mission, community, spirituality), but also will help in your construction of the over-all sense of  “mission” in the fourth week of this course.

Part I

DEVOTION TO THE BLOOD OF CHRIST FROM ST. GASPAR TO OUR DAY

Through most of history of the C.PP.S., we have spoken of our manner of responding to and living out the meaning of the Precious Blood in terms of devotion.  In order to understand why our founding figures used this term, and why it continues to be used, we must begin by examining what we mean by devotion.

Devotion as Personal Commitment and as Practices

The term “devotion” encompasses two distinctive meanings.  Devotion is first of all a posture, an approach, or an attitude toward an aspect of the divine mystery.  Michele Colagiovanni, in one his reflections on the meaning of devotion, aptly traces the meaning of devotion back to its eytmology in the word “dedication.”  To engage in devotion to someone or something is have a special commitment to that reality, a commitment that is marked by a focusing or dedicating of one’s life to that reality.[1] To engage is devotion is, therefore, to “be devoted.”  Everything encompassed in that field of focus and dedication constitutes “devotion.”

Devotion has also a second meaning.  It refers to the set of spiritual practices one engages in to give expression to that object of dedication.  These practices are the concrete embodiment, if you will, of that devotedness.  Sometimes this second meaning of devotion is expressed in the use of the term “devotion” in the plural, as “devotions.”[2]

When we speak of devotion to the blood of Christ, we generally include both of these meanings.  In the first meaning, of devotion as an object of focus and dedication, we can enumerate certain themes included in our understanding of the meaning of the blood of Christ.  I would enumerate four principal themes regarding the blood of Christ which recur in our understanding of its meaning, from St. Gaspar down to the present time :

·     The first is God’s great love for humankind, manifest in God’s sending of the Son into our world to become one of us, and his taking our sins upon himself as a sign of that love.  The Son’s total dedication to us and to our humanity is expressed in his willingness to shed his blood for us to the point of death.  The blood of Christ, therefore, is a sign of God’s unbounded love for all of us.

·     The second is our devotion to this great mystery in the passion and death of Jesus Christ for the sake of our sins.  The meaning of God’s great devotion to us is given in the story of Jesus’ willingness to undergo suffering and death on our behalf.  In this story of the suffering and death of Jesus, we give special attention to the bloodsheddings noted in the Gospel accounts (the agony in the garden, the scourging, the crowning with thorns, the carrying of the cross, the crucifixion, and the piercing of Jesus’ side after his death).  These moments in the story when blood is shed give us a special entry into the suffering of Jesus on our behalf.  Moreover, the story of the suffering and death of Jesus opens us for us the larger narrative of God’s intentions regarding human destiny : that we are deeply loved by God, and God wishes reconciliation and a renewed communion with us, despite our sinfulness.

·     These meanings of God’s love, our sinfulness, and the suffering and death of Jesus for our sakes finds profound symbolic presentation for us in the Eucharist.  Participation in the Eucharist recalls for us all the dimensions of this great story.  In the Eucharist we are invited to enter into these holy mysteries and into deeper communion with God.  In the Eucharist we offer once again to God the blood of Jesus, source of inifinite merit for the taking away of our sins, and the pledge of eternal communion with God.

·     The fourth theme is that God’s great love for us in the story of Jesus reminds us of our sinfulness and the need to respond to this great love by reparation for our sins.  Reparation involves both acknowledgement of our having sinned through engaging in penitential practices to show the depth of our sorrow.  Those practices of penitence both acknowledge our wrongdoing and represent an effort to participate in sufferings of Christ so as to enter more deeply into communion with him.  The blood of Jesus can also give meaning to our own suffering, as a means of participation in the suffering of Christ.  A corollary dimension of this theme is the importance of martyrdom as the ultimate expression of our commitment to Christ.

If we look across the authors who have tried to articulate the focus of our dedication to the meaning of Christ for us, these are the four themes which are returned to again and again, from St. Gaspar’s mentor, Francesco Albertini, through Gaspar himself and down to the present time.[3]  There are, to be sure, many additional themes derived from these four, but it is to these four—God’s love, the suffering of Jesus in his passion and death, the Eucharist, and penitential reparation for sin—that they all, in one way or another, return.

Devotion, then, represents entering into the divine mystery with a special focus.  Devotion also entails engaging in spiritual practices which give expression to these commitments.  There are a number of such spiritual practices clearly identified with the devotion to the blood of Christ.  Let me remind us of them.

·     Certainly participation in the sacraments of Eucharist and Penance (or as it is now called, Reconciliation) are principal practices marking a devotee of the blood of Christ.  As already noted, it is in the Eucharist that all the themes of the blood of Christ converge.  Frequent participation in and reception of the Eucharist show one’s devotion to the blood of Christ.  For Missionaries of the Precious Blood, these practices of participating in Penance and Eucharist are enjoined upon us in the Normative Texts (C13, 14).

·     A second practice flowing from the participation in the sacrament of the Eucharist is eucharistic adoration.  Although not enjoined upon us in the current Normative Texts, it has a long history in our Congregation, dating back to the Founder himself.  It is a practice which has gained renewed interest in certain parts of the C.PP.S. in recent years.

·     A third practice distinctive to the Precious Blood family is the chaplet of the Precious Blood (coroncina).  Similar to the rosary, it is a means of meditating on the seven bloodsheddings of Christ.  It originates from Francesco Albertini, and was propagated enthusiastically by St. Gaspar and his Missionaries.  In recent years a variety of forms of praying the chaplet has been suggested, but all of these go back in one way or another to Albertini’s original form.[4]

·     A fourth set of practices includes a variety of prayers and hymns.  Among the former the best known are the “Seven Offerings of the Precious Blood” and the short ejaculatory prayer “Eternal Father”.  Also, the Litany of the Precious Blood, approved for use in the universal Church by Pope John XXIII, and a variety of other prayers to be found in manuals of prayers issued by the different provinces of the C.PP.S.  Likewise, observance of special prayers during the month of July, the month devoted to the Precious Blood can be mentioned.[5]

·     A fifth set of practices are more generalized forms of Catholic piety, such as Stations of the Cross, pilgrimage, participation in popular missions, retreats, days of recollection, and the like.  These are widely shared with other Christians but often carry specific themes of the blood of Christ.

Distinctive Features of Devotion

Devotion to the blood of Christ has been, and continues to be, part of the identifying feature of the Missionaries of the Precious Blood.  Having said something about the themes and practices of the devotion, can something also be noted of this approach to the blood of Christ as devotion ?  I would like to suggest a number of features.

First of all, the practices of the devotion are intended help us enter more deeply into the great themes of the Precious Blood.  The practices do this by engaging our intellect, but also especially our emotions and bodies in reflecting on the blood of Christ.  They are intended not simply to provide knowledge, but to stir up our feelings, deepen our commitments, and strengthen our motivation to seek communion with God under these forms.  An important of devotional practice in general, therefore, and of Precious Blood devotion in particular, is to engage us more closely with the divine mysteries.

Second, devotional practices, to a large extent, can be either individual or communal.  One can recite the chaplet of the Precious Blood or the prayers alone or communally.  When done alone, they provide scope for linking one’s own life and experience to the story of salvation.  When done communally they can create profound bonds of solidarity among those who are participating.  For members of the Congregation, praying these prayers alone can remind us of the links we have to those present who are praying with us, but also fellow members and devotees who do the same elsewhere.

Third, many of devotional practices do not require the presence of clergy. Reception of the sacraments require clergy, but eucharistic adoration, prayers, and penitential practices do not.  Even though that has changed since the Second Vatican Council, the persistence of these devotional practices reminds us that so many of these practices are rooted deeply in the popular religiosity (religiosidad popular) of Christians.  The value of popular religiosity is more appreciated today as an authentic form of faith, thanks especially to the efforts of theologians in Latin America.  They are not just deracinated or incomplete forms of Christian piety which will pass away if there is greater liturgical participation.[6] 
Fourth, one cannot but notice the instrumental or motivational dimension of devotion.  That is, devotion is not an end in itself.  It is intended to lead to a deeper commitment in Christian faith and can be seen in at least some measure as an instrument for achieving that.  To realize this we need but think back on why St. Gaspar was so keen on propagating this devotion.  Colagiovanni collects and notes some of those motivations of St. Gaspar and his followers in a now-familiar list : the reform of morals, the salvation of souls, the reform of the clergy, and the rescue of the faithful from lack of faith or indifference toward religion.  Engaging in Precious Blood devotion was for the purpose of achieving these ends.[7]  The fact that elements of the story of redemption are just referred to, rather than explicated, assumes that people already know the story and only need to be reminded of that story so as to renew their ardor.
Devotion represents, therefore, a special way of configuring the themes and practices of Christian faith.  They confer a certain identity on those who practice the devotion, and in so doing serve a way of entering into the mysteries of faith.
Contexts for Devotion to the Precious Blood
Devotion to the blood of Christ has at times been presented as somewhat timeless and universal, that is, at home in every time and every place : we can engage in the devotions of St. Gaspar and his first followers, even though we are separated from them in time, place, and culture.  There is a certain truth to this, and this gives us a solidarity with the time and very origins of our Congregation.  However, the fact that devotion to the blood of Christ as it has been outlined here has flourished more in some times and places than others makes us raise questions about context : Are there certain conditions that make Precious Blood devotion more lively and fruitful for people ?  Why has Precious Blood devotion flourished more at some times than others ? 
The second half of the twentieth century brought a greater awareness of understanding context and culture, and how these influence are capacity to understand and appreciate certain things.  Learning to read the “signs of the times” at the Second Vatican Council,  the appearance of the language of  “inculturation” in the 1970s, and  the language of the “refounding” of religious communities in the 1980s and 1990s have heightened our awareness of the importance of context.  Indeed it would now be considered irresponsible to form candidates without some awareness of the specific features of the situation in which they find themselves, and how that affects what people are able to hear and to experience.  Culture, and the capacity to live and work with people of different cultures, are clearly challenges before us today.
Can something be said about the contexts which make devotion to the Precious Blood flourish in a special way ?  I would like to respond to this by looking first at the place of the Devotion’s origins, in Italy in the nineteenth century, and then our current situation in the first decade of the twenty-first century.
Precious Blood Devotion in 19th Century Italy
I begin by looking at the origins of devotion to the Precious Blood in nineteenth century Italy.  I do this not only because that is where the origins of the C.PP.S. can be found, but also because it is widely acknowledged that devotion to the Precious Blood as it has come to be practiced worldwide in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries had its roots in Italy.  Devotion in Italy can be traced as the source of all the some fifteen religious congregations in the Catholic Church in the nineteenth century which have “Precious Blood” in their title.  The largest Confraternity of the Precious Blood in the world today is traced back to ane Anglican convert to Catholicism, Fr. William Faber.  He learned of this devotion when he studied in Rome shortly after his conversion.  When he returned to England, he published in 1860 The Precious Blood ; or, the Price of Our Redemption.  This book has never gone out of print since.  It set up a worldwide Confraternity of the Precious Blood much larger than the Archconfraternity set up by Albertini, or its subsequent Union of the Blood of Christ.
There is widespread agreement that the modern devotion to the Precious Blood began with Francesco Albertini in 1808, as Don Beniamino Conti has already noted.  Albertini founded the Archconfraternity of the Precious Blood at the Church of S. Nicola in Carcere in Rome in 1808, devloped the chaplet of the Precious Blood as a principal devotional practice, and mentored Gaspar del Bufalo in the founding of a Missionary Institute under the title of this mystery.  He is the single source for these developments, not only among the Missionaries and the Adorers of the Blood of Christ founded by St. Maria De Mattias in 1834, but also, at least indirectly, of all the other congregations dedicated to the blood of Christ founded in Italy in the 19th century.[8]
What was the context that made Italy such fertile ground for Precious Blood devotion, and how were those conditions replicated elsewhere to spread that devotion ?  In her research, Sister Nicla Spezzati, A,S.C., has identified the two most important features of 19th century Italy that made this possible : the Restoration and Romanticism.[9] 
The Restoration
The foundation of the Missionaries of the Precious Blood in 1815 was a direct outcome of a project by Pope Pius VII to restore the spiritual and social life of the Papal States after the depredations of Napoleon’s occupation.  This program, inaugurated by Pius VII and continued up to the beginning of the reign of Pius IX in 1846, is usually called by historians “the Restoration.” What it was trying to restore was the faith and morals of Catholics in the Papal States, as well bring about the reform of the clergy.  There was an awareness on the part of Pius VII and others that reform was also needed in many aspects of the State and of Church life, but there was never clear agreement on how far the reforms should go.  What was in any case clear was that the Pope was to be the sole sovereign in the Papal States.
The winds of political reform, first apparent in the French revolution and fed by the ideology of the Enlightenment, continued to grow in strength throughout Europe after Napoleon, culminating in the 1848 revolution in France and parts of Germany.  Nationalist forces began coming together in the Italian peninsula, leading to the rise of the Risorgimento in the 1840s, which temporarily unseated Pius IX in 1848, and eventually led to the dissolution of the Papal States altogether in 1870. 
St. Gaspar died in 1837, before the Risorgimento began to gather force.  He was clearly a person of  Pius VII’s Restoration, and his polemics against the evils of the time cannot be understood apart from the policies of the Restoration.  “Restoration” did not mean for him so much political reform as the reform of personal morals.  One finds this already in his confrontation with the Carbonari, the Freemasons, and other free-thinking sects in his missions north of Rome.[10]  It is evident also in how he approached the problem of the banditti south of Rome in the 1820s.  His concern was personal moral reform, be that of the brigands, the Papal governors, or the police.  He did not raise larger questions about the nature of government itself as we might today.
Devotion to the Precious Blood, as an “armament against the times,” was intended to make strong the souls of those struggling within the shifting social and political currents of that era.  By living an upright life, in the union with the Church, one would be found righteous before God.
Romanticism
It would be wrong, however, to see Gaspar and his Missionaries from a point of view of a century and a half later as political reactionaries.  The Restoration was a reactionary movement against the French Enlightenment and its attendant ideas, to be sure.  But there was also a more positive image or vision which guided this critique of the Enlightenment.  It can be found in the movement which began to move through Europe in those years, known as Romanticism.
Romanticism began in Germany in the eighteenth century as a reaction to the universalizing character of the Enlightenment as it had come to Germany from France.[11]  Romanticism, as it spread from Germany to England, France, and Italy, countered the universalizing political perspective of the Enlightenment and insisted upon the importance of the particular and the local.  In Romanticism we find the roots of nationalism, that is, the belief that each people has a unique character and temperament, which needs to be expressed in a distinctive language and culture as an organic whole.  Likewise, the individual is not simply an instance of universal principles, but a uniquely constituted person within a distinctive culture.
This sense of being part of an organic whole expressed itself politically in the revolutionary and nationalist movements of 19th century Europe, of which the Italian Risorgimento is a prime example.  It swept through Latin America at the same time, leading to the emancipation of the colonies from Spain and Portugal.
The Church in all of these places was decidedly ambivalent toward nationalism, since the place of the Church in post-nationalist settings would likely be less privileged than it had been in the monarchical states (this was especially clear for Pius IX and for the Papal States).  But the Church had its own Romantic ideal.  This was the Catholicism of the European Middle Ages, before the trauma of the 16th century Reformation.
The medieval Church was seen to be an organic and ideal society, where everyone knew their place.  Undivided Christendom, under the tutelage of the papacy, was seen as the ideal form of society.  Consequently, one sees in the 19th century a renewed interest in the Church and the culture of the Middle Ages.  Neo-gothic became the preferred architecture for church buildings.  The medieval guilds represented the best form of commercial life.  In England, for example, this developed into the Tractarian movement in the 1830s, which in turn in the 1840s led Anglicans such as John Henry Newman and Frederick William Faber away from the Church of England and back to the Church of Rome.
The revival and power of Precious Blood devotion in the 19th century cannot be understood without these medieval antecedents.  St. Albert the Great and St. Bonaventure had been great advocates of devotion to the bloodsheddings of Jesus.  Many of the great medieval mystics—one thinks of St. Bernard of Clairvaux. Julian of Norwich, B. Angela di Foligno, and St. Catherine of Siena—spoke of being inebriated in the blood of Christ, or seeking entry into his wounds.  There was a lively devotion to the Passion of Christ in those centuries, which received expression in the penitential fraternities founded in Spain, in the Passion Plays developed throughout the southern German-speaking territories, and in the development of the Stations of the Cross. 
And one can also not discount the proliferation of shrines to the Precious Blood throughout Europe, especially between the 12th and 16th centuries.  These shrines were basically of two types.  Some claimed to have relics of the passion, such as earth or clothing stained by the blood of Christ as he died on the cross.  Major shrines of this type could be found in Mantua, in Bruges, and in Weingarten.  More numerous were shrines to miracles of hosts which bled when priests doubted the Real Presence of Christ in the eucharistic elements, or to hosts which bled when profaned.[12]  In their research into these shrines, Frs. Charles Banet and William Volk noted that at least 221 such shrines have existed or continue to exist in Europe today.[13]  The shrine at S. Maria in Vado in Ferarra, entrusted to the C.PP.S. in 1930, is a site of a eucharistic miracle dating from 1171.[14]
This medieval backdrop helps clarify the development of the devotion to the Precious Blood in Italy in the 19th century.  Francesco Albertini’s devotion to the blood of Jesus was centered upon a relic of the Passion, which the Savelli family at donated to S. Nicola in Carcere in 1708.  Albertini celebrated Mass regularly at the altar where the relic was enshrined, while the faithful recited the chaplet of the Precious Blood. 
The emphasis on miracle and other forms of divine intervention permeate the 19th century devotion.  It was the prediction of the ecstatic Sister Agnes of the Incarnate Word which convinced Albertini—and the Gaspar—of the divine will that an Institute of Missionaries of the Precious Blood be founded.  Pious biographies of St. Gaspar recount a number of miracles attributed to him.[15]  This atmosphere of miracles is certainly reminiscent of medieval piety.
Finally, if one looks to the texts on devotion to the Precious Blood from this period, their sighs, exclamations and ejaculations recall those of the medieval mystics.  All in all, it seems to me, one cannot understand the rise and the persistence of Precious Blood devotion in the 19th century without reference to the Romanticism which formed its context and gave it many of its forms.  This was not simply a rejection of the modern world which was developing, but has to be seen also as a desire for a more integrated, organic way of living in the midst of the political, social, and economic upheavals of the time.
Neo-Romanticism Today
Placing the rise of Precious Blood devotion at the intersection of the Restoration and Romanticism might lead some to think that this devotion has no relevance for the beginning of the 21st century, or that it can only find acceptance among those who live in utter reaction to the developments of modernity.  To think in such terms would be short-sighted.
What has become evident since the interaction of the Enlightenment and Romanticism over the past two hundred years is that this was not a dialectic that played itself out only in the first part of the 19th century.  It represents a larger interplay between the universal and the particular, the global and the local, which continues into our own time.
For example, the interest in inculturation of faith in the Church since the 1970s is unthinkable outside this dialectic.  The Second Vatican Council, especially in documents such as Gaudium et spes, attempted a broad new vision for the Church of the 20th century.  It left room for interpretation of cultural difference, but this challenge was only really taken up more than a decade after the Council.  Insisting on the particularity of culture as integral to the human being and to human development is part of the heritage of Romanticism very much alive with us today.  Our language of multiculturality and interculturality has romanticist roots.
The experience of what is now called “postmodernity,” the experience of the loss of an overarching worldview that would hold the Western world together, has been fruitful ground for the resurgence of Romantic sensibility.  The quest for wholeness in the midst of what is perceived as fragmentation, unmanageable pluralism, and cultural relativism makes the organic view of life particularly attractive for many people today.
One form of Precious Blood devotion very much alive in parts of the C.PP.S. today that reflects this Romantic heritage, but in a postmodern way, is the interest in Charismatic forms of piety.  Such interest in charismatic forms of prayer represent a reappropriation of the Romantic heritage.  They must also be read in terms of the wider Pentecostal/Charismatic forms of Christianity widespread in the world today.  By all accounts, Pentecostal and Charismatic movements represent the fastest growing form of Christianity in the world today.  An estimated 350 million of the 2 billion Christians in the world today profess a Pentecostal or Charismatic form of faith.  It is especially fast growing in West Africa, Latin America, Southern Asia, and the Philippines.  One finds it in the C.PP.S. in Central Europe, but also to some extent in Chile and elsewhere.
Why the sudden upsurge of interest in Pentecostal faith in our time ?  Scholars are not of one mind on this.[16]  The first stirrings of Pentecostalism occurred at the beginning of the 20th century in the United States, Chile, and India.  Since the 1970s, the numbers have increased exponentially, not only among Protestant Evangelicals, but also among mainline Protestants, Roman Catholics, and even Orthodox.
I see three reasons for the growth of Pentecostal forms of faith today.  First of all, among the poor, it is a way of gaining self-respect and dignity.  The poor may be despised by the powerful, but their access to divine favor in Pentecostal faith (prophesying, healing, speaking in tongues) shows that the Holy Spirit does not despise them.  It gives them a sense of self-worth and autonomy which the rich cannot take away from them.
Second, among middle class people who embrace Pentecostal and Charismatic forms of faith, it can be a reaction against the fragmentation and confusion of modern and postmodern life.  Much as the Romantics protested against the abstract and universalizing character of life under the Enlightenment, so too middle-class Charismatics today seek a more organic way of life amid the confusion and the pluralism they experience.
Third, although participation in Pentecostal and Charismatic faith can be positive for the reasons just given, it also—as does any movement—have negative sides.  Among the poor, it can turn energy away from improving their situation to finding a way to simply survive within it.  For middle-class people, it can be an avoidance of engaging the difficult process of living in a pluralistic, multicultural context.  For both groups, such forms of faith have also sometimes become tied to what is known as the “prosperity Gospel” : love Jesus and get rich.
Thus, phenomena as different as a commitment to interculturation and multicultural living, and the widespread Pentecostal and Charismatic forms of Christianity show part of the heritage of Romanticism.  One sees how devotion to the blood of Christ flourishes today especially in those contexts.  These do not exhaust the reasons why Precious Blood devotion continues to be a vital form of faith for people.  In Italy, for example, I would hazard the guess that sheer cultural continuity between the forces which shaped modern Italy in the 19th and early 20th centuries, and what sustains modern and postmodern Italians today, accounts for the continued vigor of the devotion.  In Poland, where the Church was the sole guarantor of Polish national identity for more than two centuries of occupation and oppression, devotion is ideally suited to connecting present exprience to that cultural and religious heritage denied under totalitarian and atheistic regimes.  For others, devotional practices give an emotional and spiritual intensity to connect with the transcendent in a way that gives them geniune sustenance in their lives.
Conclusion
In this first part, I have tried to show something about the structure and content of devotion to the Precious Blood as it developed from the time of St. Gaspar, and continues to show itself as lively and vigorous at the beginning of the 20th century.  I hope that this helps us explain the origins of the devotion in the modern period, and also to some extent why it continues to be a lively option for so many people today.  I would like to turn now to the second part of this presentation, the development of the spirituality of the Precious Blood.

Part II
SPIRITUALITY OF THE BLOOD OF THE CHRIST
Introduction
Today we speak both of  Precious Blood devotion, and of spirituality of the blood of Christ.  Why make this distinction ? Where does it come from ?  And is it of any significance ?  In this second part, I wish to explore the emergence of the spirituality of the blood of Christ.  It is important to trace just where this development comes from, how it differs from Precious Blood devotion, and where it seems to be pointing for the future.  As a final point, some attention will have to be given to how devotion and spirituality relate to one another in the larger world of the C.PP .S. of the 21st century.
In this part, I will begin with emergence of the language of spirituality, and try to trace some of the reasons why it began to appear in the Catholic Church in the 1980s.  Then, I will trace its emergence within the C.PP.S. over the past two decades.  In a third moment, I will trace what have become the principal themes in a spirituality of the blood of Christ.  Fourth and finally, I will explore how patterns of devotion and spirituality might relate in the C.PP.S. in the immediate future of the first part of the 21st century.
The Rise of the Discourse of Spirituality in the 20th Century
In the lengthy article on “blood” in the Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, published in the mid-1980s, the author, Réginald Grégoire, declared that today the devotion to the Precious Blood “is in a time of stand-still.”[17]  Why did he make such a bold assertion ?
That same feeling could be found in the C.PP.S. in the period of the 1970s and early 1980s as well.  Devotion to the Precious Blood, which seemed still be to be so alive only a decade or two earlier, appeared in some sectors to be in decline or even to have become hopelessly irrelevant.  Part of the problem rose from the crisis which devotions in general found themselves after the Second Vatican Council.  Within the C.PP.S. and in other Congregations under this title, the question was raised about changing the title of their Institutes altogether during this time.  Devotion to the Precious Blood seemed for some to connote a different, now distant era, and a sensibility which no longer engaged the heart or the imagination.[18]  Blood-drenched images, so favored in the Middle Ages and again in the 19th century, now seemed almost alienating to many.[19]
Such shifts in sentiment usually say less about the practices of the past and more about questions of  how contexts have shifted and certain ways of thinking, speaking, and acting no longer have the same resonance they once had.  What had so dramatically changed as to make a devotion once so vigorous suddenly seem moribund ?  The change was, of course, not sudden.  Three important developments which had begun earlier in the Church in the 20th century contributed to this new situation : the biblical renewal, the liturgical renewal, and a new relation between the Church and the world.
The Biblical Renewal
The renewal of biblical studies which received official sanction in the Papal Encyclical Divino afflante Spiritu in 1943 was an important development for changing how Catholics read the Bible. By introducing modern hermeneutical interpretation, contemporary readers of the Bible could experience both the cultural distance they had from the biblical text, but also its enduring message for them in their own time.  The newer forms of interpretation emphasized looking at a biblical passage as a whole, rather than simply going to single verses of the Bible to legimitate a doctrinal position.  It allowed for a more integral entering into the biblical world, alien as that might be for modern readers.
Many exegetes within the C.PP.S. took up these new methods and started a wider exposition of texts which had been important for devotion to the Precious Blood.  This opened up new ways of thinking about the biblical foundations of devotion to the Precious Blood.[20]
Such research created some dissonance with devotional uses of the biblical texts.  Up to that time, biblical texts were often used as points of departure for meditations.  However, closer scrutiny of the biblical text showed that the references to the bloodsheddings of Jesus were indeed present, but scarcely developed in the New Testament.  Moreover, attending to the integrity of the biblical documents prompted some shifts in emphasis in Precious Blood devotion.  Thus, blood gets its principal significance in the Scriptures from the covenant, not from Christ’s bloodsheddings on the cross.  Indeed the latter is intelligible as salvific only within the larger context of the covenant.  The significance of Christ's blood at the Last Supper is less centered on the medieval disputes about the Real Presence, and more on a new Covenant in memory and hope.  References to blood in the Letter to the Hebrews and in Revelation had less to do with the triumph and pomp of the liturgy than with the collective suffering of Christ and the saints.  Even the reference to the “precious” blood of Christ is based on a single reference (I Peter 1 :19).  So a renewed reading of the Bible would necessarily lead to a rereading of how the blood of Christ was presented in Precious Blood Devotion.
The Liturgical Renewal
The renewal of the liturgy in the 20th century, culminating in the Sacred Constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium at the Vatican Council in 1963, and in subsequent reforms after the Council, also created challenges for devotion to the Precious Blood.  Let me note but three.
First of all, the reform of the liturgy, and the introduction of the use of local languages, led to a greater level of participation of the faithful, rather than it being a religious ritual performed by clergy while the faithful looked on.  This new level of participation made such practices as saying the chaplet of the Precious Blood during Mass unnecessary or even obtrusive. 
Second, the restoration of the eucharistic cup for all the faithful has had the potential—not yet entirely realized—for changing the relationship to the celebration of the Eucharist.  Drinking from the cup places the recipient of the Eucharist before greater challenges of sharing in Jesus’ cup of suffering (cf. Matt 20 :22), as well as pondering what it means to drink of the cup unworthily (cf. I cor 11:27). 
A greater level of participation and the reintroduction of the eucharistic cup had immediate effects on devotion to the Precious Blood.  First of all, the new relationship to the Eucharist and to the eucharistic cup narrowed the difference between what devotion to the Precious Blood meant for priests and what it meant for laity.  Rather than two different spiritual worlds, it meant two perspectives in the same celebration of the Eucharist.  Secondly, this shift in perspective meant that eucharistic adoration, such a beloved and central devotional practice before the liturgical reform, now needed to be resituated and rethought.  The Eucharist was no longer some distant divine reality to be adored or seen beyond the confines of the communion railing, but was now an event in which all believers, clerical and lay, participated.
Third, the renewed understanding of the Eucharist as an act of thanksgiving of the whole people of God meant that the Eucharist needed to find its connection with the wider world.  The dismissal rite at the end of the Eucharist was not just an admonition that the Mass had ended (“Ite, missa est” – “Go, the Mass is over”) but it was also now a challenge to carry the Eucharist into the world (“Go, to love and to serve the Lord”).  The Eucharist affects not only our interior lives, but how we see and move in the world.
A New Relation between the Church and the World
The thinking about what was called the “theology of worldly realities,” and the rise of social action movements from the 1930s onward (think of Msgr. Cardijn’s methodology of “see-judge-act”) called for a new relationship between the Church and the world.  The effects of social and political shifts in the 19th century had led the Church to withdraw into itself, and see itself as a bastion of righteousness against a hostile modern world. Pius IX’s Syllabus of Errors and the campaign against Modernism by Pius X were indicative of such a fortress mentality.
The renewal movements of the 1930s and 1940s created a new climate that found official acceptance and expression at the Second Vatican Council.  In Lumen gentium the Church was proclaimed to be a sacramentum mundi, a moment of grace within the world.  The profound change of position represented by acceptance of religious freedom in Dignitatis humanae, and a new relation to other religions proposed in Nostra Aetate extended this vision of a new relationship between the Church and the world.  It culminated in the sweeping and ambitious vision of the relation between the Church and the modern world presented in Gaudium et spes.
The result of all of this after the Council was a newly envigorated (we might say today perhaps over-optimistic) evaluation of engagement with the world.  A devotion to the Precious Blood which only aimed at the human heart did not seem to take into account sufficiently the need to change social structures in the world.  Pope Paul VI’s encyclical Populorum progressio embodied much of that optimism.
All three of these developments—the renewal of biblical studies, the liturgical renewal, and the new social action—led to a collapse of the devotional piety which had sustained Catholics through the previous two centuries.  This was by no means uniformly the case, but it was certainly strongly felt in Western Europe and in the Americas.  In many ways, devotion to the Precious Blood was swept into this same eclipse along with other devotions.  Although the Vatican Council had made no sanction against devotions, devotional practices went into steep decline.
What began to take the place of devotional piety was a language of spirituality.  Spirituality was understood as including many of the interests of devotional piety, but placing them in a broader scope.  There was a greater concern for how a wider and more integral understanding of the Scriptures and the place of the Church in the modern world created a need to interpret the world in which Christians found themselves in biblical, theological, and even liturgical terms.  Rather than seeking responses to the world in which we lived, spirituality was seen as an array of resources with which to interpret that world.  Spirituality created a horizon out of which tried to live out the message of Jesus.  It was, in this sense, more interpretive of the world itself than had been devotion, which had seen itself as a set of commitments and a set of established practices.
The Response to the Crisis of Devotion in the C.PP.S.
Members of the C.PP.S. were not unaware of all these renewal developments in the middle of the 20th century.  One of the first concerted efforts to begin rethinking the meaning of the blood of Christ in light of these emerging realities occurred in the American Province as early as 1957.  In that year, and on two subsequent occasions in 1960 and 1968, a series of what were called “Precious Blood Study Weeks” were held at St. Joseph’s College in Indiana to survey the changing landscape.[21]
It was the 1980s, however, which were to see the greatest amount of work which laid the foundations for a renewed spirituality of the blood of Christ.  Research and reflection took place in three different places of the Congregation that contributed to this.
Perhaps most significant was a monumental historical research project undertaken by the Italian Province through the 1980s and beyond.  Under the auspices of the Centro Studi Sanguis Christi, led by Don Beniamino Conti, scholars within the C.PP.S. and other scholars from throughout Italy were invited to a series of scholarly meetings at the Collegio Preziosissimo Sangue in Rome, where papers were read on different aspects of the Precious Blood in the Scriptures, the Church Fathers, and the history of theology.  The proceedings of those meetings, held between 1980 and 1991, were published in a series of twenty-two volumes under the title Sangue e antropologia - Sangue e vita.  Alongside these volumes, publication of proceedings of scholarly meetings on the Precious Blood in the liturgy, in the history of religious congregations, and on a wide variety of other topics appeared in a series entitled Collana Sangue e vita, which began in 1986 and continue to appear. As of 2003, 16 volumes had appeared.[22]  The historical and theological work collected here will be an enduring resource for spirituality of the blood of Christ for years to come.
In Latin America, a new commitment to the Church of the poor which had begun among the bishops at Medellín in 1968, led to the emergence of a new way of doing theology, known as the theology of liberation.  In that same period, there was a dramatic increase in military dictatorships in countries across Latin America.  This led to considerable ferment within the Latin American Church.
In response to this dramatic situation, the Missionaries of the Precious Blood in Chile, working with the C.PP.S. Sisters of Dayton, and the Religiosas de la Preciosa Sangre, initiated a series of biennial study weeks on the Precious Blood in 1982.  Four volumes of proceedings appeared by 1988.  These were attempts to interpret the meaning of the blood of Christ for Latin America.[23]
In the United States, beginning with a conference in 1983 to honor the ninetieth birthday of Fr. Edwin Kaiser, C.PP.S., a tireless writer on Precious Blood spirituality, the Cincinnati Province of the C.PP.S. engaged in a number of study days to examine what a Precious Blood spirituality might mean in North America today.[24]  The publication of a study on the biblical spirituality of the blood of Christ in 1988, inspired by the encounter with Latin American realities, and later expanded to cover wider areas, represented an important attempt to articulate a spirituality of the blood of Christ which met the challenges to renewal which have been explored in this section.  For many, it marked the arrival of a spirituality of the Precious Blood for the new situation.[25]
The impulses of the 1980s toward a new spirituality of the blood of Christ laid the groundwork for continuing work through the 1990s.  The Brasilian Vicariate (in 1994) and the Iberian Province (in 1995) initiated annual study weeks on the spirituality of the blood of Christ.[26]  The Kansas City Province began a periodical entitled The Wine Cellar, edited by Joseph Nassal, C.PP.S., at about the same time.  The Italian Province continued to publish studies aimed at a renewed understanding of the blood of Christ, as well as a series on Patristic texts relating to the blood of Christ.[27]  At the meeting of the C.PP.S. major superiors in 1995, the Moderator General and General Council were mandated to issue an anthology of writings on this new spirituality.  This appeared first in English as A Precious Blood Reader, and has appeared in German, Italian, and Spanish translations.[28]  Since 1996, the General Curia has published a semiannual periodical in five languages devoted to developments in Precious Blood spirituality.[29]
A series of international symposia were also held in the 1990s to look at specific areas of Precious Blood spirituality.  The Teutonic and Iberian Provinces, and the Chilean Vicariate, sponsored two symposia on Precious Blood Spirituality and education ministry, held in Santiago de Chile and Neuenheerse, respectively.  The Cincinnati Province sponsored an international symposium on Precious Blood spirituality and parish ministry in Dayton, Ohio in 2002.[30]  Two international symposia on Precious Blood Spirituality and the Ministry of Reconciliation were held in Cáceres (1998) and Lima (1999).[31]
Finally, the work of Fr. Barry Fischer, C.PP.S., has been played a key role in developing this new spirituality.  Along with numerous articles, his book Along the Road Marked by Blood related themes of Precious Blood spirituality to his experiences in Chile and Guatemala.  His most recent work, Il Grito del Sangue, extends his horizon to the entire C.PP.S. community, and to how this renewed spirituality can lead to a genuine “refounding.”[32]  An important distinction he has developed has now become commonplace in the spirituality of the blood of Christ, namely, “the cry of the blood,” and “call of the blood.”  The “cry of the blood” refers to the situations of suffering and injustice we discover in our world today, crying out as it were for a response.  The “call of the blood” refers to the resources of our heritage of Precious Blood spirituality which we can bring to bear upon those situations crying out for healing and liberation.
I provide this long catalogue of work in Precious Blood spirituality over the past two decades to show that we have arrived at a new moment in reflection on our spirituality.  It is safe to say that never in the history of our Congregation has there been such an amount of reflection going on regarding all aspects of our spirituality.  It is upon these wonderful developments that we build our future.[33]
Principal Themes in a Spirituality of the Blood of Christ
Just as there were discernible themes in Precious Blood devotion, so too are there recurring themes in a spirituality of the blood of Christ.  In order to understand those themes, we must begin with the larger significance of “blood” in the Scriptures.  Blood is a symbol both of life and of death.  Blood is a symbol of life because it was believed that the very breath of God was in the blood, and it was this that made humans and animals alive.  To spill blood was therefore a sign of death.  The spilling of blood in the case of murder was a profanation of God’s creation. (In this regard, it is interesting that the first reference to blood in the Old Testament is to the blood of the murdered Abel [Gen 4 :10].)  Blood shed in sacrifice became a unique medium of communion between humanity and God.  This forms the backdrop for understanding the more than 400 references to blood in the Bible.
At this point in its development, the spirituality of the blood of Christ finds expression in four principal themes. I would like to explore each of them briefly here.
The Blood of the Covenant
The symbol most connected with blood in the Bible is the covenant, that bonding of God with humanity in a series of promises to remain faithful.  The Old Testament recounts a series of covenants, from that made with Noe, through that with Abraham, and most especially with Moses and the people of Israel.  The death and resurrection of Christ marks a new and everlasting covenant for Christians in the New Testament.  All of these covenants are sealed in blood.  What gives Christ’s blood such preeminence is his being at once human and divine, and therefore able to bring humanity and God closer than ever before.  All the language of redemption and salvation hinges on this idea of covenant.
In the spirituality of the blood of Christ, the blood of the covenant finds its meaning today in acts of solidarity with those who have been excluded or oppressed.  It is an invitation to belonging, for those who are excluded for whatever reason in society (race, class, gender, ethnic origin, or whatever).  It also speaks to the loneliness, lack of self-esteem, and anxiety of individuals in society.  Under the impulse of the teaching of Pope John Paul II in his encyclical Evangelium vitae, it speaks to the dignity of each human person, and the protection of life in all its stages—from conception to death—and to the creation of what he calls a “culture of life.”
The parallel to the language of the covenant in Precious Blood devotion is that the Precious Blood is a sign of God’s unbounded love for humanity.  In the language of spirituality, it is more biblically based and better positioned to address different social circumstances in which people find themselves.
The Blood of the Cross
The blood of the cross speaks in a special way to the suffering experienced in the world today.  The cross stands a sign, first of all, of the unjust suffering of so many in our world who are hungry, poor, ill, abandoned, oppressed, and excluded for no reason of their own actions.  This reflects the state of perhaps the majority of people living on our planet today.  The suffering of Christ on the cross, as the one who knew no sin, stands in solidarity with those who suffer today.
The blood of the cross reminds us also of the suffering we inflict on one another through war, violence, hatred, discrimination, and oppression.  The blood of the cross reminds us of how sin stalks our world, and how much the world is in need of suffering.
The cross stands too as a sign of contradiction.  It reminds us of the limitation of human power and all that counts for human success.  It reminds us that we, of ourselves, cannot bring ourselves to completion or perfection.
The cross, in summary, becomes the place where we take the suffering of our world and unite it with the suffering of Jesus.  Suffering in itself is not ennobling of the human being ; by itself, it is destructive.  Only when we can place our sufferings in the suffering of Christ—conform our sufferings to the suffering of Christ (cf. Phil 3 :10)—do we have hope in sharing in Christ’s triumph over suffering in his resurrection.
The spirituality of the blood of the cross reminds us of all these paradoxes and contradictions.  The world is not what it seems or how it wants to present itself to be.  The blood of Christ shed on the cross reminds us how much wrong there is with our world, and how we need to stand critically over against it.  At the same time, it invites us into solidarity with those who suffer.
An important passage for the spirituality of the blood of cross today is Hebrews 13 :10-13.  In that passage we are reminded that we will not find God in the sanctuary, safe inside the camp.  Rather, we must go out to Christ, crucified outside the gates, and take upon ourselves the ignominy he has borne.  What this means is that the presence of God can be found today most acutely today outside the gates of safety, in the garbage dump, among those considered the refuse of humanity.
Precious Blood devotion stressed the bloodsheddings of Christ in his Passion and death.  These remain legitimate sites of meditation.  What the spirituality of the blood of the cross does is expand that vision to contemplate suffering.  Why is there so much suffering in the world ?  How does the blood of Christ give us perspective and lead us to a new place in dealing with suffering ?
The Blood of the Cup
The spirituality of the eucharistic cup has opened up for us the full meaning of the symbol of the cup in the Bible.  The cup is first of all a measure of destiny.  Can we drink of the cup which is being offered to us ?
It also encompasses two other meanings.  The first of these is the cup of suffering.  The Book of Revelation presents the cup of God’s wrath being filled with the suffering of God’s faithful people (15 :7 ; 16 :1).  At the appointed time, the cup of suffering will overflow in God’s judgment against evildoers.
But the cup is also the cup of hope, the cup Jesus offered to his disciples at the Last Supper as the “new and everlasting covenant” (Luke 22 :20).
The reintroduction of the cup for receiving communion among the laity underscores an important dimension of a spirituality of the blood of Christ.  If the eucharistic cup which is offered us, we are accepting what God has prepared for us.  In drinking of that cup, we take upon ourselves in solidarity the sufferings of others.  We also place in that cup our hope for a redeemed humanity.  The giving and the sharing of the eucharistic cup is more than a reception of the sacrament.  It is an act of commitment to live a life in solidarity with those who suffer, and to watch and wait with those who hope.
The eucharistic chalice in Precious Blood devotion was often depicted as the vessel which caught Jesus’ blood being shed on the cross, and as then offered to God in reparation for sin.  These elements are still very much part of the understanding of the eucharistic sacrifice, but as we have seen, the liturgical reform expanded our view of the eucharistic action.  Those elements of a spirituality of the cup which I have just presented now become part of our celebration of the Eucharist.
Precious Blood devotion placed great premium on eucharistic adoration.  As was noted above, liturgical reform has caused us to refocus our practices of eucharistic adoration.  Perhaps in this renewed understanding, our attention is less focused on the distance between God and ourselves, and now more how the Eucharist, as a memorial of suffering and hope, illumines and heals a world broken by suffering and sin.
The Blood of Reconciliation
A fourth theme has come forward strongly in a spirituality of the blood of Christ since 1990 : reconciliation in the blood of Christ.  The 1990s saw an intense growth of interest in reconciliation in a world overcoming war, totalitarian oppression (Soviet Europe, South Africa, Latin America), discrimination and exclusion, abuse in families and in the Church, and the depradations of globalization.  The great themes of reconciliation in Christian faith have been called forward in a distinctive way at this time.[34]
God is reconciling the world in Christ through Christ’s blood.  He has brought those who once were far off near through the blood of Christ, making of enemies a single household of God (Eph 2 :12-22).  In the midst of conflict, God is making peace through the blood of the cross (Col 1 :20), and is reconciling all things to himself (Eph 1 :18-23).  That reconciliation is possible is a message for which so much of the world yearns today.
Reconciliation was certainly part of the message of Precious Blood devotion.  There it was expressed especially in the forgiveness of sins, especially with the Sacrament of Penance.  What is new about the current interest in reconciliation is how God reaches out to the victim, and can heal the victim even when the wrongdoer refuses to repent.  This perspective on reconciliation brings new approaches to understanding forgiveness, memory, and how healing works in people’s lives.
Conclusion
Developments in a spirituality of the blood of Christ continue to unfold.  This is especially so as Missionaries of the Blood of Christ have expanded into a worldwide Congregation in the past two decades.  I hope that these two presentations have shown not only the roots of our understanding of the Precious Blood in the history of devotion and in recent developments in spirituality.  I hope it is also clear that one does not preclude the other ; indeed, they can enrich each other.
What is happening around us as we come of age often becomes determinative of our view of the world through much of our adulthood.  It is my hope that these reflections will help us identify how our contexts—matched to our heritage—creates expressions of the importance of the blood of Christ in our lives.  In our work of formation, we need to prepare candidates to engage in these kinds of reflections, even as they grow in their love for the blood of Christ.  At the same time, none of us need be limited by our own specific experience.  Indeed it is incumbent upon us to learn from the experiences of others—both in the past and in the present—so that we can be a source of enrichment for those whose lives we touch.  We have a great heritage.  And we have a great hope.  In these opening years of the 21st century, let us hope that we can achieve something of that vision of the blood of Christ given to us by St. Gaspar, and so marvellously expanded through the years in his Congregation of the Missionaries of the Precious Blood.


[1] Michele Colagiovanni, “Il sangue di Cristo in San Gaspare del Bufalo Fondatore dei Missionari del Preziosissimo Sangue,” in Achille M.Triacca, Il mistero del Sangue di Cristo e l’esperienza cristiana (Roma : Ed. Pia Unione Preziosissimo Sangue, 1987), 575f.  See also Robert Schreiter, “Introduction,” In Water and in Blood : A Spirituality of Solidarity and Hope (New York : Continuum, 1988 ; Carthagena : Messenger Press, 1994).
[2] The use of the term “culto” in the Romance languages denotates more or less the same thing.
[3] For example, Beniamino Conti, S, Gaspare del Bufalo Apostolo del Sangue di Cristo (Roma : Missionari del Prez.mo Sangue, 1970), 15-27 ; Colagiovanni, op.cit. ; Alberto Santonato, “Il Sanbgue di Cristo negli scritti di Mons. Francesco Albertini,” in Triacca, op.cit., 555-573.
[4] For both a history and some useful suggestions on how to pray the chaplet, see Romano Altobelli, “La meditazione delle sette effusioni del Sangue di Cristo nella Coroncina,” in Achille M. Triacca (ed.), Il mistero del Sangue di Cristo nella liturgia e nella pieta populare (Roma : Ed. Pia Unione Preziosissimo Sangue, 1989), 15-46.
[5] Santina Dio, “Preghiere al Sangue di Cristo,” in ibid., 93-138 ; Tullio Veglianti, “I canti al Sangue di Cristo,” in ibid., 139-287 ; Beniamino Conti, “Il mese del Preziosissimo Sangue,” in ibid., 289-312 ; Matias Augé, “Le litanie del Sangue di Cristo nelle formulazioni precedenti all’attuale,” 47-92..
[6] It would be worth exploring at another time whether the capacity of the Missionaries to work so closely with and be identified with the people is not at least partly the product of the fact that their identification with the Precious Blood was marked by such practices of popular piety.
[7] Colagiovanni, op.cit.
[8] For a presentation on these congregations, see John M. Behen, Religious of the Precious Blood (Carthagena : Messenger Press, 1957).  For studies on the founding figures of some of these congregations, see the articles collected in volume II of Achille M. Triacca (ed.), Il mistero del Sangue di  Cristo e l’esperienza cristiana (Roma : Ed. Pia Unione Preziosissimo Sangue, 1987).  It should be noted that Fr. Faber’s work was the principal resource for the naming of the Anglican Congregation “The Society of the Precious Blood”, a contemplative congregation of nuns founded in 1905.
[9] Nicla Spezzati, “San Gaspare : I suoi tempi,” in San Gsspare del Bufalo. Tempi - Vita - Personalita - Carisma (Roma : Ed. Pia Unione del Preziosissimo Sangue, 1980), 21-72.
[10] For a nuanced reading of Gaspar’s place in the Restoration, and how to read that in light of subsequent political developments in Italy, see Mario Spinelli, Vita di Gaspare del Bufalo : Senza voltarsi indietro (Roma : c.m.pp.s., 1996), ch. 14.
[11] It should be noted that the Enlightenment of the 17th and 18th centuries was not a uniform movement.  The French version was particularly anti-clerical and against the preponderant power of the Church.  The Scottish Enlightenment (with figures like David Hume and Adam Smith) represented a form of Enlightenment more favorably attuned to religion.  It was this form of Enlightenment which had the greatest influence on the founding of the American Republic in the 1780s.
[12] The bleeding hosts were common during the time of the eucharistic controversies regarding the real presence.  The profaned hosts were often connected to anti-Semitic accounts of Jews profaning the eucharistic elements.
[13] William A. Volk, “Le reliquie del Sangue di Cristo,”  in Triacca, op.cit., II, 325-334.
[14] For an historical study, see Dante Balboni, “Il miracolo eucaristico di Ferrara (28 marxo 1171) in Triacca, II, op.cit., 415-452.
[15] For a late-twentieth century interpretation of this see Spinelli, op. cit., ch. 17.
[16] Perhaps the single best book on worldwide Pentecostal faith is David Martin, Pentecostalism : The Worl,d Their Parish (Oxford : Blackwell, 2002).
[17] “Aujourd’hui, la dévotion au Précieux Sang marque un temps d’arret.” DS XIV, 319-333. The citation is at 333.
[18] Interestingly, this happened not only among Catholics, but the Anglican Society of the Precious Blood went through the same crisis. (Personal communication from Mother Elizabeth Mary, S.P.B., September 10, 2002)
[19] An exploration of this malaise from that period can be found in Robert Schreiter, “Communicating Precious Blood Spirituality Today,” Summary of the Precious Blood Congress , August 1-4, 1986, St. Louis, Missouri (mimeographed), 25-35.
[20] In the United States, Edward Siegmann, C.PP.S. and Robert Siebeneck, C.PP.S. led this work.  Siegmann was one of the pioneers of biblical renewal in the United States.  The first edition of the Jerome Biblical Commentary, the fruits of the biblical renewal published in 1967, carries a special dedication to him. Siebeneck published meditations on the biblical passages in The Precious Blood Messenger in the 1950s and 1960s, which have been collected in mimeographed form.  Patrick Sena, C.PP.S., continued and synthesized this research in the early 1980s.  See his contributions in Nel Sangue di Cristo (Roma : Ed. Pia Unione Preziosissimo Sangue, 1981), 7-50.
[21] The proceedings of the three study weeks were published by the Precious Blood Institute at St. Joseph’s College in Rensselaer, Indiana, USA.  A guiding figure behind this effort was Fr. Edwin Kaiser, C.PP.S. (1893-1984) who also wrote numerous books and articles on this topic.
[22] D. Beniamino Conti has published an index of these volumes up to 2002, Sangue di Cristo, Sangue dell’uomo. Indice degli atti “Sangue e antropologia” e “Sangue e vita” (Roma : Centro Studi Sanguis Christi, 2002).
[23] Cuadernos de la Espiritualidad de la Sangre de Cristo (Santiago : SUSC, 1982-1988). 4 vols.
[24] Papers from these encounters can be found in the C.PP.S. Newsletter of those years, especially a seminar held in July, 1984, which mapped out directions for the development of a renewed spirituality. 
[25] Robert Schreiter, In Water and in Blood : A Spirituality of Solidarity and Hope, op.cit.  This work has also appeared in Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, and German editions.
[26] A number of those from Spain have been published as Quartos de Jornadas de la Espiritualidad de la Sangre de Cristo (Cáceres, 1995--).
[27] Here the pioneering work of D. Luigi Contegiacomo, C.PP.S. (1914-2001) must be noted.  D. Tuglio Veglianti, C.PP.S., edits the Testi Patristici sul Sangue di Cristo (Roma : Centro Studi Sanguis Cristi, 1992--).  As of 2003, 7 volumes.
[28] Edited by Barry Fischer and Robert Schreiter.
[29] The Cup of the New Covenant  appears in April and October each year.  Each issue is devoted to a specific theme, and draws upon authors from around the world.
[30] The proceedings of this symposium are being published in the C.PP.S. Resources series in 2003.
[31] The results of the Lima symposium was published as Reconciliación (Lima : CEP, 1999).
[32] Published by the Italian Province.  An English version is in the process of publication.
[33] This overview does not include the extensive publications on the Precious Blood which have appeared in Poland, especially from the hand of Fr. Winfried Wermter, C.PP.S.  I do not read Polish, and so am not in a position to evaluate them.  From what has appeared in translation, it would appear that they focus (rightly so !) on Polish situation, and reflect a stance closer to that of Precious Blood devotion than to what has been described here under the rubric of spirituality.  But again, I cannot judge this..
[34] I have developed this in Reconciliation : Mission and Ministry in a Changing Social Order (Maryknoll, NY : Orbis Books, 1992—also in Croatian, German, Indonesian, Korean, Portuguese, and Spanish translations) ; and in The Ministry of Reconciliation : Spirituality and Strategies (Maryknoll, NY : 1998—also in Indonesian, Portuguese, and Spanish translations).

Precious Blood Spiritality and Symbols

The Importance of Symbol
            Theology is often formulated in concepts. For sustaining our spiritual lives, however, it is symbols which really nourish us. Concepts can be a way of our identifying a whole body of information, but symbols stimulate our imagination. They create entire worlds for us, weaving memory, thought, and feeling together. Concepts have a role to play in spirituality, to help us define the limits of our thinking and to relate our spirituality as a body of ideas to other spiritualities. Thus, concepts are useful in relating Precious Blood spirituality to a spirituality of the heart of Jesus, for example, or to liberation theology. But we find ourselves returning to symbols, since they create the space not only for our imagination and feelings, but also the space for relating to the rest of our experience as members of a congregation devoted to the blood of Christ, and in the apostolates we undertake.
            This presentation will explore four basic symbols of Precious Blood spirituality. They are: covenant, cross, cup, and the Lamb. All of these are rooted in the Scriptures, and evoke a wide range of meanings and memories. Each symbol will be presented as to its basic meanings as presented in the Scriptures, and then some of the meanings it has for us today, both in our personal and communal lives in community, and also these connect with the work we do for the sake of the Church and the Reign of God.
Covenant, Connections, Community
            Covenant is the fundamental symbol of Precious Blood spirituality. The special relationship between God and God’s people — sealed first in the blood of lambs and bulls, and later with Christ’s own blood is the foundation upon which other symbols are built. The blood of the cross takes is meaning from covenant, for the blood of the cross is the means by which God reconciles the world (Col 1:20), bringing near those who once were far off (Eph 2:13). The eucharistic cup is a new covenant in Christ’s blood (Luke 22:20) that prefigures the eucharistic banquet in heaven. Those who have suffered are reunited to God in heaven, washed clean by the blood of the Lamb (Rev 5:9). All of the symbols associated with Precious Blood spirituality that we are examining here -- cross, cup, the Lamb -- go back to that fundamental symbol, the covenant.
            Covenant is one of the richest of the biblical symbols, and can be viewed from a number of angles. Seen from one side, covenant is about how God touches the world. That touch is a call into intimacy with an intimacy that transforms those who are so called. In the covenant with Noah and his children (Gen 9), God draws near to the survivors of the flood and promises them a new life. (Abraham called out of his own country and is promised that he will be a blessing on the earth, and that he and Sarah will be blessed with many descendants (Gen 12). But perhaps the most dramatic transformation is that of the Hebrew slaves in the Sinai desert, who through a covenant become God’s special people (Exodus 24). In all of these instances, those who come into covenant with God experience new things. They are given new identities by God’s coming close to them. With that new identity they receive a new destiny as well.  As God’s special people, Israel receives not only a privileged relation but special responsibilities: their lives together must mirror the compassion, the justice, and the mercy of God.
            Seen from another angle, covenant is much more than merely a contract or agreement. Covenant is a belonging to God, a kind of belonging that opens up our deepest capacities for being human for being in the image and likeness of God. Those capacities for being human – our ability to trust, to love, to struggle for justice, to show compassion and care — are opened up by the call into covenant by God. It is a call to become part of something (and of someone) greater than ourselves, a call to understand what it means truly to belong. It is that belonging to God that reaffirms our destiny, to become daughters and sons of God.
            Covenants do not simply define our past by reminding us of how God has worked in our history. Covenants carry with them a vision for the future. Like the rainbow that marked the sky in the story of Noah and his family, covenants promise a different kind of future. They promise safety in an uncertain and dangerous world. They promise in the story of Abraham and Sarah that they will live on in the descendants they thought they would never have. To the Hebrew slaves, the covenant promised a land of their own where they might live justly and freely. But more than any other covenant, the one offered us by Jesus in his own blood holds up the vision of the coming Reign of God, where there will be no hunger or thirst, and every tear will be wiped away. Covenants have a vision, then, of what the world really looks like when God draws near.
            Covenants were sealed by the blood of sacrifices. The blood was the seat of life and carried in it the breath of God, who breathed life into the first human being (Gen 2:7). In Exodus 24, we read how the sacrificial blood was sprinkled on the people to show their unity with God. At the Last Supper, Jesus offers a new covenant, sealed with his own blood, and invites us into communion with him.
            In the previous presentation, we looked at sacrifice in some detail, especially at recent objections for including it in theological symbolism. But we should not let these objections, legitimate as they are, block us from other meanings. Sacrifice is about coming into communion with God. The blood signifies the seriousness of that communication, and reminds us that communion with God touches the very life that courses through us. The blood also keeps before us all those situations in our world where life is not respected, crying out with the blood of Abel (Gen 4:10). The blood of the covenant reminds us that God is the source of all life, and that we dare not spill the blood of God’s children, for all of them are our sisters and brothers.
            There are three aspects of covenant that I wish to highlight here: covenant as commitment, covenant as connections, and covenant as community.
            As was just noted, covenant is more than a contract or agreement. Because of the very nature of the relationship between God and ourselves which is covenant, it entails commitment. Commitment has to do with decisions and choices that see beyond the present moment. By so seeing beyond the immediate moment, we affirm more fundamental things that are lasting over the fleeting character of the present.
            Some of you come from wealthy societies in Europe and the United States where life can be very fast-paced and therefore temporary and provisional. These consumer societies have built-in obsolescence, so that things do not last. Those same societies create comfort by allowing much to be wasted and thrown away because it is not convenient to continue to hold on to some things. The very temporary nature of just about everything not only makes commitment difficult; it also makes it look senseless.
            It is not surprising that in such fast-paced, throw-away societies that many young people in their twenties find themselves postponing life decisions as long as possible. They are no less capable of commitment than previous generations, but they are being presented with a world that is so uncertain that it becomes harder and harder to see the consequences of commitment and to trust the values of long-term commitment.
            Covenant is about long-term commitment, through thick and thin. It is about a God who stays in the desert with former slaves for forty years, seeing something in them that they cannot see in themselves. It is about an aged couple, Sarah and Abraham, who can still dream about new possibilities. And it is about Jesus, who thought that the New Covenant was worth dying for. A covenant spirituality promotes what Pope John Paul II in the encyclical Evangelium vitae called “a prevailing “culture of death.” Accepting everything in life as merely short-term and therefore unworthy of commitment goes against a culture of life. By deeming everything short-term we end up living a life that says nothing (and no one) is all that important. We create an environment or culture in which little or nothing is taken seriously, an attitude that undermines trust, care, and finally human dignity itself
            The blood of Christ is a constant reminder that there are people and values worth dying for. If we do not dare reach down into the depths of our beings to touch and care for those values, if we do not reach out in commitment to other people around us, we have broken the covenant and the blood of those people we would not touch will cry out.
            Second covenant is about connection, the bonds of belonging. To be connected is to be acknowledged and recognized, to be accorded our dignity as humans. In Africa, theologians have come up with an alternative to Descartes’ famous “I think, therefore I am” (cogito ergo sum). They say instead, “I am because we are.” That captures the essence of covenant as connections: the recognition of those bonds that those of you who come from societies where the bonds of collectivity are still strong have much to teach those who come from societies that prize the individual above all else. Individuals sometimes make up for the lack of bonds by accumulating a lot of things to fill up the void. Consumerism is based on that principle. But a spirituality of the covenant speaks of something different.
            Societies can also create false connections that turn people into objects. Unfortunately, human societies are rife with such false connections: addictions, abuse, prejudice, oppression, racism. False connections may abound in a society, but a covenant spirituality strives to overcome them. The first mention of blood in the Scriptures is about a broken connection: the death of Abel at the hands of his brother, Cain. The cross, as we shall see, stands as a constant reminder of the broken character of so many of our relations and the insidious false character of still others. We have been bought at a great price (I Peter 1:18). People who have become unconnected with others through age or accident, or who suffer under the burden of false connections, should be our special concern. It is the power of Christ’s blood that gives us the assurances that our efforts to make connections are worthwhile, even when the society we live in says otherwise.
            Third, the word “community” often comes too easily to our lips. True community, however, is based on commitment and connections. It is marked by a commitment that does not evaporate at the fist sign of difficulty. It is also marked by a sense of connection that can encompass difference and find a commonality in a shared humanity, a humanity created in the image and likeness of a God who is one yet triune. As a community of covenant, it holds up a vision of what a redeemed community can become despite all its brokenness in the present. Community is not easily achieved, and a covenant spirituality reminds us that for a community to succeed as a community, it must be rooted in God’s call to covenant.
            Certainly the blood of the covenant, celebrated in the Eucharist, is both a potent symbol of the community we share and the communion for which we hope. The cup of blessing which we share draws us deeper into that communion, and recalls for us how much we depend upon God to create that community. Bonded together in God’s great love for us, we dare to imagine community in situations that may now seem so distant from it.

The Cross: Outside the Gates
            Up until now, the cross has been the predominant symbol of Precious Blood spirituality. This is not surprising, because it is Jesus’ shedding of his blood on the cross that stands at the very center of the Paschal mystery. That symbol draws so many things together. It speaks first and foremost, as Blessed Maria and Saint Gaspar were ever wont to say, of God’s unbounded love for us, that Jesus would give his very life-blood so that we might be reconciled to our Creator. The cross speaks therefore of that restored relationship to God, caught in the many terms that theologians call soteriology: redemption, liberation, justification, reconciliation. For Paul it stands as the great sign contradiction a “stumbling block” to the Jews and foolishness to the Greeks,” but to those who have been called, “the power of God and the wisdom of God.” (I Cor 1:24). And for countless generations of Christians, the cross has been the key to the riddle of their own sufferings. By uniting their sufferings to those of Jesus, their suffering can become redemptive -- that is to say, rather than having the pain destroy them, it gets placed in the larger context of the Jesus story in order to participate in the saving power of Jesus’ own suffering. Such redemptive suffering allows the one suffering to open her- or himself as Jesus opened his own life. Because the symbol of the cross is so rich, I want to concentrate on just one meaning of it for our spirituality, one that has become very important for me. It is based on the thirteenth chapter of the Letter to the Hebrews. It reads:
The bodies of the animals whose blood the high priest brings into the sanctuary as a sin offering are burned outside the camp. Therefore, Jesus also suffered outside the gate to consecrate the people by his own blood. Let us then go to him outside the camp, bearing the reproach that he bore. For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the one that is to come. (13: 11-14)

This passage sets up a strong tension between being inside and being outside, being in the very center of things and being discarded or thrown away. It begins by looking at the sanctuary that stands at the center of the camp. The camp of the Israelites in the desert (and later, the city of Jerusalem) represented a place of safety in a hostile desert environment. To be inside the camp was to belong to God, to have value in the eyes of God and in the eyes of others gathered there into community.
            Outside the camp was the wilderness, a place of danger. If one lived outside the camp, there was no guarantee of safety. Moreover, outside the camp, as today outside the city, was the garbage dump where the refuse of the community was pitched and burned. In the passage from Hebrews here, the remains of the sacrifices were burned in the dump. The garbage dump, then as now, stands for the very opposite of the organized and civilized life within the camp: inside the camp was order, security, belonging, intimacy; outside the camp was chaos, danger, alienation, and loss.
            The image of the garbage dump would have had a further, and terrifying, meaning for the Letter to the Hebrews’ first-century readers. The Romans frequently carried out crucifixions in the garbage dump. Crucifixion was not only a painful way to die, it was meant to be a shameful one as well. Victims were typically crucified naked, to shame their bodies. Such exposure was meant to deprive them further of their dignity. Typically, after the victim had died, the body was taken down from the cross and unceremoniously thrown into the garbage. This was meant as the final humiliation. It was the first century equivalent of the horrors of our own century, where people have been herded into pits and ditches to be shot, or the bodies of the “disappeared” in Latin America are dropped alongside roads.
            It is against this stark background that we read the startling words in verses 12 and 13: “Therefore Jesus suffered outside the gate, to consecrate the people by his own blood. Let us then go to him outside the camp, bearing the reproach he bore.” The atonement for sin is no longer being done in the sanctuary but in the windswept, foul-smelling expanse of the garbage dump.
            The significance of this passage was made transparent for me a number of years ago. A promising young theologian whom I had advised on his doctoral dissertation abandoned his teaching career to become a voice for the people in the Philippines who lived on Smoky Mountain. Smoky Mountain is the garbage dump of Metro Manila. It is indeed a mountain of waste, garbage and human refuse. Like garbage dumps everywhere, the rotting of organic waste creates a methane gas that periodically combusts, creating fires and a thick, acrid smoke that hangs over the site. Hence this garbage dump’s name, “Smoky Mountain.”
            Smoky Mountain was home to more than twenty thousand people who built their homes from the scraps of wood, tin, and cardboard that had been dumped there. They scavenged for thrown-away food and any items that could be resold. So they lived, the people of Smoky Mountain.
            This young priest had committed himself to work among the inhabitants of Smoky Mountain and served also as their advocate to the outside world. When I asked him what kept him going n such a demanding ministry, he said simply, “Christ was crucified outside the gates. Here is where we must come to meet him.”
            His words brought alive for me the meaning of this passage from Hebrews like nothing else ever could. What Hebrews is telling us here is that god has chosen to dwell most intimately in the very place where there seems to be no possibility of belonging, of safety, or of community. In the place of the carefully arranged sanctuary as god’s dwelling place we now see a cross in a garbage dump. To see the cross as the place where God dwells reverses many of our ways of thinking. The all-powerful God now says that true power can only be found in the helplessness and the same of that victim on the cross. In a space of degradation God can be most intensely experienced. Among the cast-offs of society, God is gathering a new chosen people. At the foot of the cross, those new chosen people are consecrated in Christ’s blood.
            And, as Hebrews reminds us, we cannot peer out toward the cross from the safe confines of the camp. To experience the living God, we must go out of the gate, to meet Christ in the very reproach he suffers on the cross.
            It is hard not to be moved by this powerful image from the Letter to Hebrews. It is overwhelming. And it also gives us an insight into the meaning of the cross for Precious Blood spirituality. It is about the very essence of our lives, stripped of any decoration and well-crafted disguise. It is about a vulnerability that gnaws away at the most carefully defined postures we may assume. It reminds us that all the human power we can accumulate will end up falling between our fingers like so much dust. It reminds us that what allows us to exist at all is not our own: it is a gift — the gift of life.
            Throughout the Scriptures, the message of the blood is the message of the fragile boundary between life and death. God’s own life is in the blood that animates every living being. Yet we are always but a step away from our own dissolution.
            The cross stands on that boundary between life and death. The blood shed there reminds us of the fragility of all we undertake and hope to achieve. The cross calls us to go outside the gates, and live on that tenuous boundary. It reminds us that we cannot stay forever within our zone of comfort but must come to face the contradictions and the pain of the world. It is in the vulnerability that the cross so starkly signifies that we come to understand how God sees us and our world: a world so precious to God yet wounded deeply in so many ways. Nonetheless, it is called repeatedly to new life. The shattered fragments of lives — the losses, the regrets, the disappointments, the failures, the tragedies — are lifted up and drawn into the wounds of Christ, who brings all things together in himself. To be consecrated in Christ’s blood means that those who had been consigned to the rubbish heap of society have been redeemed. They are given new life. They are given a chance to be restored to their full dignity.
            An important aspect of the spirituality of the cross for us, then, is to go outside the gates to those whom Jesus is consecrating in his own blood. For our own spirituality, this was made real two years ago when I met some of the Missionary Sisters of the Precious Blood from Korea who lived in the garbage dump of Seoul to be with those who made that dump their home and livelihood. An important question to ask of ourselves is: where is “outside the gates” for each of us?

The Cup: Suffering and Blessing, Memory and Hope
            We had an opportunity to consider the cup in the previous presentation. It was noted there the biblical significance of the cup as the measure of one’s destiny. The cup offered to Jesus was a cup of suffering — his destiny was to suffer on behalf of all of humankind. We saw too the significance of the cup in Jewish ritual, at the center of the worship of God in praise and thanksgiving.
            For Christians, the cup has a deep Eucharistic significance. This is even more so the case since the receiving of Holy Communion under both species has been restored to the whole Church. No longer is the chalice something glimpsed from afar, but is now placed in the hands of each person who approaches the Eucharistic table. As communities devoted to the Blood of Christ, we have not yet reflected adequately on what this means for our spirituality. To be sure, nothing has changed in doctrine, but the symbolic difference is considerable. We have yet to plumb the significance of this important symbolic change.
            One difference I suggested in the previous presentation has to do with is of the meaning of the cup as a measure destiny and the cup as a sign of communion.  When we offer the cup as a Eucharistic minister to others, or when we take the cup in our hands as a communicant, are we willing to accept the responsibilities that this act entails? Are we willing to accept what God is asking us to do? In the words of Father Winfried Wermter, are we willing to be “living chalices” into which God pours our destiny and vocation? In giving and receiving the chalice from one another, are we willing to share one another’s burdens? All of this gives new meaning to Paul’s admonition to the Corinthians: “Whoever, therefore, eat the break or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord.” (I Cor 11:27)
            The cup is the place in our spirituality where suffering and blessing come together, where memory and hope meet. The cup offered to many is a cup of suffering: the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized. Part of our vocation as communities in the blood of Christ has been to share their cup in our apostolates. Blessed Maria’s commitment to the education of poor girls was precisely an attempt to relieve them of some of their suffering. Today that sharing in the cup of suffering takes on many forms in the varieties of work that we do. Just as Jesus asked the disciples who wanted to share in his glory whether they could first share in his sufferings, so too we need to ask ourselves about our ability to share in the cup of suffering that others have been given.
            The cup is s cup of blessing. In Jewish ritual, the blessing cup was raised as God was praised and thanked for all the goodness of the world. Today we raise the cup to remember what the blood of Christ means for us As the salvation of the world it holds up a vision of a world redeemed from the powers of sin and evil, a world liberated from oppression and poverty, a world free of all the things that human being inflict upon one another. The blessing cup also is held up in the name of God’s creation, that what humankind has done to the earth might not be irreparable damage, but rather that the earth’s healing might come about. The blessing cup helps us imagine a reconciled world, reconciliation between men and women, between factions within countries, between countries themselves, between religions. The blessing cup blesses us, it blesses our world. Steeped in the blood of Christ, the life-giving power of the blood makes of us a new creation.
            The previous presentation had already taken up the themes of celebrating memory and hope. Let me tie those reflections to the symbol of the cup a bit more closely. The cup is the place where memories are gathered. The bowl of the cup brings them together, allows them to flavor one another and create together the identity of a community. So what memories do we pour into the cup? How might one memory temper the other or bring out its distinctive flavor? The cup is passed around, and the brew of memories is shared.
            Partaking of the blood of Christ is partaking of his memory so that the form of his life might become our form as well. As his memory blends with our own memories we become more and more conformed to him.
            As was noted in the previous presentation, Jesus’ offering of the blessing cup at the Last Supper was given with the pledge that he would not drink of the cup again until they all drank it together in the Reign of God. The blood of Christ is a sign of hope to us. The blood that was shed was not shed in vain. It led, not to dissolution, but to new life, and continues to do so for those who partake of it. We often fail to see how important hope is, especially if we lead relatively comfortable lives. Yet it is hope that sustains so many of the poor of the world. With hope comes the ability celebrate the small victories in the face of often overwhelming odds of hopelessness. Hope allows us to discover the beauty of little things, to appreciate the small gesture of kindness, the smile. It urges us into celebration that the gift of life is still being given, and that joy and laughter can still be experienced.
            The spirituality of the cup is, therefore, a spirituality of mingling, of sharing. It is a spirituality of remembering and of looking forward. The blood of Christ makes that possible inasmuch as blood is the seat of life, and the mystery and meaning of life continue to draw us onward. The spirituality of the cup is a spirituality of celebration, a spirituality with an eye for the fullness of God to be found in all things.

The Lamb: Symbol of Reconciliation
            This brings us to the fourth and final symbol under examination here: the symbol of the Lamb. The Lamb figures in the Gospel of John and the Book of Revelation in the New Testament, with a single reference each in the Acts of the Apostles and the First Letter of Peter. Paul, for example, never mentions it.
            The Lamb of the New Testament, who is Christ, is prefigured in the lamb sacrificed in the Passover. It is an important part of the linkage that New Testament writers made between the great saving events of Israel and God’s saving work in Christ. The Lamb in the Book of Revelation carries within it a paradoxical meaning: it is standing, as if alive, but bears the marks of having been slaughtered (Rev. 5:6). The slaughter referred to here is not ritual slaughter, but death by violence. Although still bearing those marks of death, it has clearly overcome death, and now makes it possible to rescue the others who have suffered persecution.
            I would like to suggest that the Lamb -- who has always figured prominently in the iconography of the Precious Blood — is a symbol for a part of our spirituality and our apostolates that has taken on increasing importance in recent years, namely, that of reconciliation. The Lamb of the Book of Revelation redeems those who have come through the great tribulation; he redeems them with his blood. The fact that he has made the passage from death to life allows him to lead us along the same path. He restores to the victims of violence their dignity and their humanity and leads them to a safe place (cf. Rev. 6:9-10). Eventually they come to live in peace:
They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. (Rev. 7:16-17)

The Lamb, having reconciled death and life in his own body, now through his blood, extends that reconciliation to victims everywhere
            Because reconciliation has become such an important theme for our spirituality, I would like to conclude this presentation with some thoughts about the shape of a ministry of reconciliation. As was noted in the previous presentation, it is God who brings about reconciliation, not us. Our task is to create the environment in which reconciliation might take place. To that end, it behooves us to create communities of reconciliation to engage in those disciplines and practices that will form us into such communities. I would like to suggest that there are four parts to a ministry of reconciliation.
            The first is an intense accompaniment of victims. It is marked by a listening patience that allows the victim first to trust, then to struggle to unburden the painful past. This takes a lot of time, since the nature of the burden is such that it cannot be gotten rid of quickly. Often, in the case of abuse or torture, the lies perpetrated on the victim are become so interwoven with the truth that to tear out the lie would bring down the truth as well. This first stage of a ministry of reconciliation is one of patience and learning the discipline of knowing how to wait. Waiting is not simply an empty space that precedes an event. It is a cultivation of a mindfulness and a watchfulness that gives a focus to what has been a shattering experience.
            The second stage in the ministry of reconciliation is hospitality. A hospitable environment exudes trust and kindness. It also creates an atmosphere of safety. For victims of violence trust, kindness, and safety are precisely the things that are sorely lacking in their lives. An atmosphere of trust makes human communication possible again. Kindness reaffirms that violence is now past and that the vulnerability that healing requires can count on a place in which to operate. Safety is the other side of trust. For those who have been threatened and have experienced danger, the restoration of safety allows the bonds of trust to be rebuilt.
            Hospitality carries with it also a sense of gratuity, a graciousness that is not measured in a quid pro quo, but in an abundance that allows thinking about new possibilities. One of the most difficult aspects of reconciliation is coming to terms with the violence that has been done to the victim. In assessing the damage that has been done — be it the loss of loved ones, the destruction of one’s home, the experience of torture, or a long imprisonment — victims try to imagine for themselves what it will take to redress the wrong. That is what many people mean by “justice.” But reconciliation does not take us back to redress the wrong along a route that we have traced out. Reconciliation always comes by a different path that surprises us. That is why hospitality, which sets up an environment of trust, kindness, and safety, is the prelude to reconciliation. It helps prepare the victim for the welling up of God’s healing grace in their lives, in the restoration of their humanity — not as a restoration to an earlier, unviolated condition, but by bringing them to a new place.
            The third stage of a ministry of reconciliation is reconnecting. Victims are often disconnected or even isolated from the community. The ultimate example of such victimhood is the plight of the refugee separated from home, often from family, completed dislocated and lost. Reconnecting is about ending the isolation that severs trust and presses the victim to believe the lies the wrongdoer tells about them — that they are not worthy of human treatment, that no one can rescue them, that they are despicable. Violence strives to inculcate that lie, that hatred of self in the victim, since that self-hatred will keep them in the bondage of victimhood. Reconnecting is the establishment of truth about the victim, that the victim is made in the image and likeness of God and is therefore of inestimable value. Reconnection recreates the bonds of trust and belonging that make us human. It is during this stage that reconciliation actually takes place.
            The fourth stage of a ministry of reconciliation is commissioning. At this stage, the reconciled victim feels reconnected, and then called by God and by the experience of reconciliation to follow a particular path. That the commission grows out of the experience of reconciliation means that the call may be related to the original experience of violence: the restored victim may feel called to work with other survivors of torture, or to create understanding to avoid future conflicts. Again the reconciling community does not give the commission. It comes via the experience of reconciliation from God. But if a community is skilled in listening and waiting it can help the restored victim the call and its meaning. The going out to serve in this fashion is characteristic of the reconciled victim: the victim is now able to show the same self-giving love that is a sign of God’s form in the world.
            The blood of the cross makes peace. Those who have come through the great tribulation have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb. The Lamb signifies that end-point of reconciliation. The reconciling blood of Christ is revealing to us, I believe, what might be the crucial ministry for our time.

Conclusion
            This all too quick survey of some of the riches of Precious Blood symbolism opens up for you, I hope, some avenues in your own ministries in renewing your own communities and the communities you serve. The symbols of covenant, cross, cup and the Lamb open up so many possibilities for us. I would like to close echoing again the words of Blessed Maria quoted in the first presentation: it is my hope that the time we have spent together here might help bring about “that beautiful order of things that the great Son of God came to establish upon earth through his divine blood.”

Reflection on Prayer


Introductory Reflection
   “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.”
(Mk 6:31)

To Rest and to Pray

We’ve come here to rest and to pray.  Two things all of us yearn for so much.  We spend a good part of our time speaking, conversing, and in wagging our tongues.  In silence we become able to hear the voice of God, ever calling us to go deeper, follow God more closely, stretching us, calling us always to be better, always to do more.
We live in a noisy world.  It is hard to find a quiet spot these days.  Yet it is the noise WITHIN which is even a greater threat to our spiritual life.  Our desires, our worries often consume us, as the Gospel of the Sower and the Seed remind us.   We will try to put some of that aside these days.  To calm our often agitated lives and to make space for God’s Word to penetrate our hearts.
Retreat time takes us out of our daily routine and everyday spiritual practices.  It affords us a time for sitting back and looking back, in order to take stock of our lives.  It is an important time for us, so that we can chart a course for the present and the future.   We look, first of all, at what we set out to be in the first place.  We then look what we are now doing to get there.
Joan Chittister in her latest book, The Monastery of the Heart, writes that retreat is a time:
“To deepen our understanding of the great treasure we seek,
To remind us of who we are and what we are meant to be,
To bring to new life in us again the sight of the road
On which we have put our feet.” (p. 60)

Retreat time gives us the space to set aside our doing, so that we can really be about being.

Rest in order to Bless and to Be Thankful
I am sure that just as the disciples of Jesus, when they returned from their first mission, we have much to talk about and to be thankful for (Lk 9:10-11; 10:17-24). We’ve alleviated the suffering of the sick, we’ve been agents of reconciliation, we’ve served our sisters and brothers in a myriad of ways, both seen and unnoticed.  We’ve had to bind the wounds of people along the roadside: those who have lost their jobs or their fortunes, those who have serious problems at home with spouse or children, those who have lost direction in their lives, consoled those who mourn a loved one.  We’ve enjoyed moments of great satisfaction and we have also known disappointments, failures, misunderstanding, even among our sisters and brothers from whom we have a right to expect welcoming and understanding.
How wonderful it is then to encounter the Lord always welcoming and understanding who invites us to pray and to rest!
“Come away by yourselves
to a deserted place and rest a while.
People were coming and going in great numbers,
and they had no opportunity even to eat.
So they went off in a boat by themselves
to a deserted place.”  (Mk. 6:30-32)



Finding God Where We Are!         

Ignatian spirituality has as one of its basic principles that we are to find God’s presence in all things.  God meets us WHERE WE ARE!  Like Peter who met Jesus while mending his fishing nets; or Matthew (Levi) who was sitting at his tax collector’s table;   WHERE YOU ARE is a place to meet God.  For me, one important encounter with God was when I was in bed in Rio Negro in Southern Chile with hepatitis…I discovered God calling me to a different way of doing mission. 

How often does God come to us in a word spoken or in another person or in a gesture, as we were so full of ourselves, that we never heard God or saw God’s presence in our lives?!

Retreat time is about creating that sacred space where it is possible to more readily hear God’s voice.
It’s about calming ourselves so as to find that rose that God has placed at our door, just waiting to be discovered.

In the house at Bethany
Jesus needed his own get-away places.  He often went to the Garden at night to pray.  And he had his friends in Bethany, where he could go and kick off his sandals and enjoy the friendship of Lazarus, Martha and Mary, in order to spend a few days with them.  Like Mary, let’s sit at Jesus feet and just enjoy his company, listening to his Words, and sharing our lives together.  God wishes to share with us and to break open the Word in our busy and cluttered lives. Let’s make a special effort to listen to God’s voice whispering gently in our hearts.  God has a special WORD for each one of us!
Tonight, let’s calm our souls, slow down, let go of so much that clutters our mind and hearts, to make room for the Lord who “stands at the door and knocks.  If we hear his voice and open the door, then He will enter our house and dine with us and we with Him” (Revelations 3:20)
We pray:
Lord, teach us to live life at a human pace – not a snail’s pace and not a frantic pace, but a pace that gives us space and allows us to attend to what is really going on.
Lord, give us the gift of quiet at those times when our hearts are at their most restless and our lives at their most disjointed and our work at its most chaotic.  May pressure never tempt us to postpone your quiet coming.
Lord, bless us with the peace of heart that is able to resist the grip of tasks and goals and projects and help to be available to our sisters and brothers and responsive to the needs and pain of others.

Lord, help us to listen well to your call within and about us.
God of the listening heart,
God of quiet, ever attentive to the cries of your people,
ever compassionate in our pain,
bless us with the peace of your divine heart.
We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

(Joyce Rupp)
*************




Precious Blood Tradition

Preaching in the Precious Blood Tradition
Dennis Chriszt, C.PP.S.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had some of texts of the actual homilies, sermons, preaching or teaching of St. Gaspar del Bufalo and St. Maria de Mattias?  Then we would know how they preached and could be inspired as their listeners were by their words.  But we don’t have such texts, and even if we did, they would be in a different language, and even their translations would need to be translated for a new time and place – both in the world and in the Church.
During the third North American Precious Blood Congress: One Name – A Thousand Voices, August 1-4, 2005 at the University of Dayton, a small group of Precious Blood preachers met for an hour and a half to talk about how we could share our spirituality with the people of God through our preaching.  We came up with a preliminary list of seven characteristics of preaching in the Precious Blood Tradition.  The rest of this article is a reflection on that list.
Seven Characteristics of Preaching in the Precious Blood Tradition
1.      Precious Blood Preaching includes personal witness and storytelling.
2.      Precious Blood Preaching is overwhelmingly positive – focused on Good News.
3.      Precious Blood Preaching proclaims that reconciliation starts with God’s mercy.
4.      Precious Blood Preaching is for sinners.
5.      Precious Blood Preaching is always hopeful.
6.      Precious Blood Preaching is rooted in the circumstances of life – it’s concrete.
7.      Precious Blood Preaching is Scriptural.
The order in which these seven characteristics appear is based simply on the order in which they were articulated during our meeting.  If I were a scholar, I’d do some major research on them, refine the wording, come up with a list in order of importance.  I do not, however, claim to be a scholar, just a fellow preacher in the Precious Blood Tradition.
1.      Precious Blood Preaching includes personal witness and storytelling.
Jesus’ preaching, especially as witnessed to in the Synoptic Gospels, is full of stories.  Many are parables.  Some use agricultural images – images with which the people would have been familiar.
Many of us, as people who have heard a good number of homilies, sermons or other preachings, have been moved most often by a good story – especially by the witness of what God has done in the preacher’s life.  Personal witness touches the listener’s heart.  It has a way of engaging people in the preaching event.  A really good story has a way of drawing the listener into it.  A good story does not need a lot of commentary.  It speaks for itself.  It allows the listener to make connections to his or her own life, his or her own experiences.  It helps the listener recognize the presence of God in his or her own life story.
When telling a story it is important that it be true.  That does not mean that it really happened.  A good work of fiction is true.  It just never happened that way.  The parables of Jesus are true – even if there never was a good shepherd, a prodigal son, a good Samaritan, a king who held a wedding feast, etc.  A good story contains a truth that speaks of God’s action in our lives.  It reveals something about life that moves people to think about their lives in new ways.
If a good story is always true, the preacher should never deceive the listeners.  It should be clear whether the story is a story or a personal witness.  The two should never be confused.  If it didn’t happen or it didn’t happen to the preacher, one shouldn’t leave the listeners with the impression that it did.  If people discover that they have been lied to, then the whole story, the whole message of the story might be forgotten or abandoned in the minds of the listeners, no matter how good the story is.  That doesn’t mean one cannot be creative in the telling of the story – only that everything must be focused on communicating the truth of God’s action.
In storytelling and witness preaching, the focus is always on God.  God is the one who has done great things and holy is God’s name – to borrow a phrase from Mary of Nazareth as recounted in the gospel of Luke.  I am never the hero in my own faith story, nor is some other person.  No matter how great the person, how holy his or her life, the focus of our stories is always what God has done.  Recall that in Mary’s canticle, she says, “All generations to come will call me blessed because of what God has done for me.”  She does not point toward herself.  She takes no credit for what she has done.  We should model our preaching on this simple witness of faith.
2.      Precious Blood Preaching is overwhelmingly positive – focused on Good News.
There is enough bad news in the world.  Our preaching does not need to add to it.  Precious Blood preaching is not meant to make us feel guilty, but is meant to help us to recognize who we are.  We are the beloved sons and daughters of God.  We are God’s chosen ones.  We people of the covenant, the cross, and the cup.  We are people reconciled in the blood of Christ.  We are already saved.  We are on the way to heaven.  These are all statements of good news.
There was a time when most preaching – especially most mission preaching – was focused on our sinfulness and our need for redemption.  That time has passed.  Precious Blood preaching needs to be focused on what God has done in Jesus Christ.  The central message of the gospel – Donald Senior, C.P. reminded those who attended the Precious Blood Congress 2005 – can be found in John 3: 16-17 – “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.  For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.”  That’s good news.
Good news leads us to giving praise and thanks to God.  It changes lives.  It leads to conversion.  It does not beat people up.  It does not use guilt to change people’s behaviors.  It does not paint a picture of a god who needs to be feared, but of One who has redeemed us in his own blood.
3.      Precious Blood Preaching proclaims that reconciliation starts with God’s mercy.
Many of us learned that in order to be reconciled with God we needed to be sorry, confess our sins, make a firm purpose of amendment, do penance, and then we would be forgiven.  This understanding of reconciliation has little or no foundation in scripture.  All of the stories of reconciliation in the gospels begin with God’s mercy.  Jesus forgives first.  Then he waits to see what will happen.
Jesus does not ask the woman caught it adultery if she is sorry.  He simply says, “Neither do I condemn you and from now on do not sin anymore.”  (John 8:14)  Jesus does not ask Zacchaeus if his is sorry or if he is willing to change.  He simply invites himself into Zacchaeus’ home.  That simple act of recognition is the foundation for Zacchaeus’ conversion.  He repents after his experiences mercy, not before.  The same is true in almost every story of forgiveness or reconciliation in the Christian Scriptures.
Precious Blood preachers do not demand contrition first.  They proclaim God’s mercy first, and then they watch what happens.  They tell stories of how God’s mercy has been their salvation.  They do not talk about what they did or what anyone did or can do to deserve that mercy.  The scriptures make it eminently clear – mercy is a gift.  It cannot be earned or deserved.  Nothing we do makes us worthy of salvation.  In fact, St. Paul reminds us in the letter to the Romans, “God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8, my italics)
When preaching at a penance service, the focus is on God’s mercy.  If we focus on our sins, there is no reason to celebrate.  But if we focus on God’s overwhelming mercy – in spite of our sins – then there is every reason to rejoice.
4.      Precious Blood Preaching is for sinners.
Like Jesus, we have not come to preach to the self-righteous, but to sinners. (Mark )  We have come, not with bad news for sinner, but with Good News.  We have not come to condemn, but to proclaim abundant love.
The Good News for sinners is not that the reign of God is off in the distance.  It is not that one day we will be saved.  It is that the reign of God is at hand, that we are already saved through the blood of the Lamb.
This does not mean that we ignore sin or say that everything we do is good.  We can preach about sin.  We can call people to change of heart.  We can ask people to look at their behavior and challenge them to live gospel values.  Sin is real and is a part of our lives – but it does not “separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:39)  Condemning sinners is not central to our preaching.  This is good news – not hell fire and damnation.
Fear of God is not being afraid of God.  It is being in awe of the One who shows mercy – especially when mercy is neither earned nor deserved.  When the early Christian community first began to sing Kyrie eleison, it was not because they were pleading for mercy.  It was because they were aware that the One who shows mercy was in their midst.
Sinners are not saved because they have a personal relationship with their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, but because the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ has a personal relationship with them!  Salvation does not depend on me.  It depends on Christ.  It doesn’t start with me and my conversion or contrition.  It starts with God’s love and mercy as shown to us in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
5.      Precious Blood Preaching is always hopeful.
Preaching in the Precious Blood tradition is inherently hopeful.  It is hope that enables people to change.  Without hope, there is no reason to move forward in one’s relationships with God or with others. 
St. Paul reminds us that “in hope we were saved…” (Romans 8:24)  and that “whatever was written previously was written for our instruction, that by endurance and by the encouragement of the scriptures we might have hope.” (Romans 15:4)  It is precisely our redemption in the Blood of Christ that gives us this hope, and it is out of this hope that we preach.
6.      Precious Blood Preaching is rooted in the circumstances of life – it’s concrete.
Our preaching, like that of Moses to the people of Israel, “is not too mysterious and remote for you.  It is not up in the sky, that you should say, ‘Who will go up in the sky to get it for us and tell us of it, that we may carry it out?’  Nor is it across the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will cross the sea to get it for us and tell us of it, that we may carry it out?’   No, it is something very near to you…” (Deuteronomy 30: 11-14)  Thus, our preaching must be down to earth – concrete – rooted in the circumstances of our lives.
We are not teachers, proclaiming some theory.  We are preachers, proclaiming our salvation, here and now.  We are not dreamers pointing to some distant reality.  We are men and women of faith, who see and help others to see the reality of God’s grace at work in the world.  We do not believe that “God is watching us from a distance,” but that “the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory….”  (John 1: 14)
Our stories need to be down to earth – something our listeners can relate to.  We need to speak to the specific, concrete realities we and our listeners encounter.  In this way we can help one another recognize God at work in our lives and in the world.
7.      Precious Blood Preaching is Scriptural.
Precious Blood preaching is rooted in the scriptures, especially in the scriptures proclaimed in the celebrations at which we preach.  Some preachers make direct connections to the readings – others are more subtle.  But the connections need to be there.  Our words are not the Word.  Only the scriptures are the Word of God.  So we, as Precious Blood preachers, need to be rooted in the Word of God.
We need to begin our preparations for preaching by prayerful reflection on the Word that will be proclaimed – not on the message we want to proclaim.  In addition to the readings proclaimed during the celebration, we may want to bring in some other Scriptural images as we preach.  We need, however, not to use the Scriptures as proof texts.  We are not fundamentalists and should avoid appearing to be so.
We preach a living Word – the Word who became flesh.  We preach God’s Word.

This article was first published at the website of Precious Blood Parish Missions are part of the Preachers Guide in May 2009 (see http://www.pbparishmissions.org/downloads/Preachers%20Guide%202009.pdf).