Fr. Fernando Millán Romeral, O.Carm.
These words were spoken by the General Prior of our Order, Fr. Fernando, in December of last year in Rome during a meeting of superiors of provinces, general commissariats, and general delegations of our Order, who are newcomers to their roles. Since the exercise of authority is part of the life role of nearly all of us and because Fr. Fernando's thoughts are fresh, we offer them to a wider audience of readers.
The Expected Meeting
First of all, I want to thank you very much for coming to this meeting of "new provincials." This idea has been maturing in our Order for some time. Even at the General Chapter in 2007, there was talk about the possibility of all newly elected provincial councils spending a few days in Rome to learn how the Curia operates and how they can best coordinate their work. This idea was then rejected, not so much for economic reasons, but rather for logistical reasons, as it was very difficult to organize something substantial for all the councils of the Order.
Finally, we have the opportunity here at our International Center of St. Albert, where we are always welcomed with brotherly love, to meet, to reflect together, to get to know each other better, and also for you to closely understand how the central organs of the Order, of which we are all members, function. I am very grateful to Fr. Christian Körner, Fr. Francisc de Sales Alencar Batista, and Fr. John Keating, who have lovingly prepared this meeting.
Authority in the Service of Brotherhood
In my contribution, I would like to share with you just a few thoughts that I consider important from a broader perspective. I want to speak on the topic: authority in the service of brotherhood. Authority means a position, but it also means much more: an attitude, an expression of intentions, a deep conviction. When I was first elected as the General Prior in 2007, Fr. John Malley (who was the General Prior from 1983 to 1995) gave me this advice: “Enjoy the brethren!” Many times I have remembered this phrase, this motto (later): sometimes with enthusiasm, sometimes with difficulties and skepticism, at other times with faith and hope... Because brotherhood is not only the foundation on which authority in the life of a mendicant order stands (the superiors are elected by the chapter), but it is also one of the main goals toward which authority aims. Authority serves true brotherhood.
I am well aware that in practice, in real life, in problematic and complex situations, this is not always simple. We often feel tempted to despair, telling ourselves that it is not worth it, or that the brothers (the community, the province) cannot surprise us with anything (positive). As I said at the provincial chapters (I quote from the letter to the provincial chapters from the second period of my service from 2011 to 2013), this attitude is understandable and human, but it deeply contradicts not only our religious vows but even our faith.
A fondness for what is ours (i.e. shared) is not merely a polite recommendation or a feeling of belonging or sectarianism; it is a theological matter. One of the most surprising sentences in Scripture, at the beginning of the Gospel of John, states: Ho Lógos sarx egéneto, The Word became flesh (John 1:14). Tertullian, in a beautiful play on words, goes even further: if the Word became flesh (Verbum caro factum est), then the body (i.e. history, vulnerability, contradictions, weakness, and human nature) is the focal point, the axis, the way that leads us to salvation (caro cardo salutis).
Those who consider themselves too active, too intellectual, or too rigorous and pious compared to the others in the province will find that they have little faith in the fundamental Christian truth that the body (i.e. the brothers around me, life in its fragility and contradictions, life “with a small ‘l’”) is the focal point of salvation. And they forget that when God is a God of surprises, then my brothers from the community, in the province, etc. can also surprise me because they carry the mystery of God within them.
Pastoral and Spiritual Dimension of Authority
In this time we live in, which is complicated and at the same time wonderful, your service as provincials, delegates, and superiors of commissariats is not easy. I am well aware of this (one does not need to be Einstein to notice it!). Sometimes some of you tell me that you would rather work in a parish or a school, hold spiritual exercises, or work in missions. In these brotherly conversations, I usually tell you that your service as superiors has a deep pastoral dimension. The province is your parish, and within it, encouragement, healing wounds, accompanying, reclaiming people, leading conversations, and correcting... and much more is to be done in various situations of our human life.
We must not overlook this "pastoral dimension" of the service of the superior. And along with it, we must also see the great value of its spiritual side, something absolutely essential and fundamental. We cannot forget why we perform this service, for whom and for Whom we do it, what the ultimate meaning of our work, our worries... is. We must often return to the source of our vocation, to the first love (which Pope Francis talks about so much), to the most profound meaning of what we are and what we do. Otherwise, we run the risk of becoming mere administrators, bureaucrats, a cold and distant “second instance” that has no words of encouragement or of warmth for a brother in distress.
Sometimes it is said: “You’re a superior? That will make you a saint.” When it is put this way, the phrase has a particular undertone. If not directly negative, at least it is decidedly not encouraging. It conveys the impression that being an authority is a cross we must bear – with reluctance or heroically and ascetically. And partly this can be true. But being an authority is also a space for sanctification in another sense: it is a kairos, humble service, an opportunity to share with the brothers what we carry within us and to be enriched by them. Yesterday, we heard from Abbot Edmund Power OSB that this service to the brothers can help us grow in compassion. I fully agree: if we live this service honorably, seriously, generously... we gain the humble wisdom that leads us to look at our neighbor and ourselves with understanding, merciful, wise eyes.
Perhaps it is therefore appropriate to admit at the very outset that we are fragile and limited, that we are brothers who need our brothers. A provincial is no Superman (nor should he be one, much less pretend to be such). He is a brother who takes on the service of his brothers – being as fragile as they are. And even more (especially in our time!): the superior is vulnerable (that is a beautiful word!), as he does not have full control over his life, as the life of the province, the life of the brothers, and other events enter into it. His own projects, personal plans, even dreams, are subordinated to the community he serves. I remember how much Dag Hammarskjöld’s diary (Markings), which was written while he was the Secretary-General of the United Nations from 1953 to 1961, moved me in this regard; amidst all the duties arising from his political functions, he experienced a true mystical experience of following Christ and a genuine faith without excuses, trivialities, and evasions. Let’s look at this small witness:
Success: for God’s honor or your own? For the peace of people, or your own? The outcome of your effort depends on your answers...
Therefore, let us not underestimate the importance of this spiritual dimension of authority. It is something that precedes authority itself; and the success of our authority will largely depend on the spiritual level of our authority.
Not Losing Sight of the Gospel
At the root of what I am speaking about is the sense and style of authority according to the gospel. Jesus often emphasizes that He came to serve. He compares Himself to a servant who prepares a meal, not to a master who sits down and waits to be served (Luke 22:27). To me, this is one of the focal points of Pope Francis's pontificate: to return to what is essential, pure from the gospel, and not to allow ourselves to drown in structures, canons, activities, and theologies...
And it connects very well with our Carmelite charism, which leads us to rid ourselves of everything that is not essential and to allow what is essential to fill our lives and our hearts again.
Yesterday, the abbot from the monastery of St. Paul outside the walls emphasized the importance of this "emptying," that is, kénosis. We must not forget that Christ came into this world by giving everything up, humbling Himself, "not clinging to the equality with God" (Philippians 2:6-11). This spirituality is very profound. It is not marketing or cosmetic adjustment, it is not election propaganda or pastoral strategy. It means to live authority according to the example of the teacher who died on the cross.
All of this must be manifested in our concrete attitudes, which is not always easy. For example, as patience with a difficult brother, sincere conversation, the ability to forgive (this is very important), a certain ability to endure humiliation, infectious determination, constancy and perseverance, generosity, sharing one's own energy and time… and one's own life!
Such a witness of life (and I repeat – with the simplicity of a person who knows his fragility) will undoubtedly bear fruit. Perhaps it will not be immediate or overwhelming, it will not appear in our magazines or on our websites, but it will bring much deeper and lasting effects (I believe we all have that experience). All of this certainly does not mean the loss of the responsibility we have and which belongs to us. It does not mean abandoning the role that we could call “operational” (even though I personally do not like this term), but rather to perform it in a brotherly manner, with love, understanding, in a word, according to the gospel.
In this context, I am deeply touched by the words of Don Tonino Bello (an Italian bishop, in the process of whose beatification steps are being taken), which I heard at the meeting of general superiors of various orders and which we can relate to our service:
“Faith makes us believers, hope gives us credibility, but only love causes people to believe us.”
Mendicant Style
As I have noted, in mendicant orders we experience authority in a typical and specific way. In our case, we do not talk so much about a "superior" (this more general term belongs rather to modern congregations), or about an "abbot" (which is a term typical for monastic orders, emphasizing the idea of the "fatherhood" of the superior). We use the term "prior," which shows and emphasizes another dimension. The superior is a brother elected by the community to carry out this mission for a certain period of time. This temporality of service is typical for us (and it is also very healthy). I remember once that the father of a student from our province, originally from the Ivory Coast, came to visit him at our house in Madrid. The father was an influential politician in his country. We showed him the school. It was summer, and one brother was painting the windows and doors. We introduced him and told him that Fr. X had been a provincial a few years ago. When we were leaving, the father of our student was very surprised, almost scandalized, and said to his son: "Someone who was in charge is now busy painting windows? I do not like such a life for you!”
In November 2013, during a meeting of general religious superiors with Pope Francis, the Pope spoke on various occasions about the role of superiors. He said that a superior should lead the group, the community, the brothers (creatively opening the way and setting an example); but he should also go amidst the group (as a brother who shares their joy and sorrow); and he must also go behind (encouraging the downcast and those who go slower, and also allowing himself to be guided by the group as a “led leader,” as the group can also prudently sense which way to go). Later, the Pope applied this image to the episcopal service – in article 31 of the document Evangelii Gaudium.
At the same meeting (which was a true grace for me), the Pope emphasized the need for tenderness in religious life and also in the exercise of authority (even – these are the Pope's words literally – “in the religious life of men”). This may surprise many. However, tenderness (authentic, not syrupy or intrusive, deep, theological, and at the same time very human) is an essential element of human life. Religious life (perhaps precisely because it is religious) must be deeply human. Authority is not diminished by allowing space for emotion. Time is not wasted when "time is lost" with the brothers. Once I read that a great person is one who is capable of wasting time on small things. A tiny attention, a call, a word of apology or emotion in no way diminishes or reduces the importance or dignity of our service. Let us listen to the Pope when he says not to be afraid of tenderness and to make room for it in our lives.
Another important feature of mendicant life is the so-called "chapter culture," or better yet, "chapter spirituality." In other communities, more emphasis is placed on personal, vertical, direct authority. That undoubtedly has its value. In our case, something different is emphasized: God speaks when the community gathers (in the convent, in the province, or in the order). This chapter structure responds very well to today's era (it seems more democratic, provides space for dialogue and common searching, allowing the brothers to express their opinions), but that is not its true value. Its value rests on the theological conviction that lies behind it: God speaks in community.
However, chapter dynamics are not easy: they require and presume spirituality, respect for others, human maturity to be able to confront our opinions, and, when the time comes, to resolutely and generously accept decisions we might not agree with.
I would dare to say that chapter dynamics require "conversion." A selfish, capricious person who imposes their ideas on others and does not listen to them will find it difficult to understand and accept this dynamic. The integration of the role of the chapter and the role of the prior is one of the mechanisms on which the quality of our cooperation and our religious life depends. Without falling into a model that prioritizes community (this is not a chapter) or into an authoritarian and monarchical model (which is foreign to us), we must seek the common good together: community and prior. Perhaps in the years following the Second Vatican Council, we did not manage to express both elements well. Undoubtedly, this represents an important challenge for our life in the coming years.
Without Drama... We Are Called to Joy
In conclusion, I would like to encourage you to experience the coming years in your service as provincials with joy. There will be no shortage of troubles, conflicts, dejection, and unrest. But let us not exaggerate or dramatize. There will also be many moments when we experience joy, beauty, and brotherhood. We experience situations when we encounter the beauty of our vocation through the brothers. Let us not be so oversensitive to the negative that we are unable to perceive the "beauty of Carmel" and rejoice in it. I (perhaps a bit naively) am very grateful to God for so many situations, so many testimonies, and so many expressions of love that He has given me through the brothers and sisters in Carmel over these years.
We must invest ourselves and be generous, but we must also be grateful. Let us keep in mind our task (what we still need to do, what we are not doing well, what is lacking, what is not functioning...), but also the gift that each brother carries within him. Let us not be swayed by pseudo-spiritual, ostentatious, or defeatist speeches. Let us not allow negative and apocalyptic statistics (even though we take them seriously) to rob us of joy. Let us not make heroes of ourselves, stoically sacrificing, but rather be brothers who humbly and simply serve. While complaining is human and understandably so, let us not support a "culture of complaining," but rather cultivate gratitude.
Let us not forget that as Carmelites we are called to contemplation, which means discovering and contemplating many signs of God's presence in our lives and rejoicing in them. These signs may be weak, fragile (again it is a matter of kénosis!), and even seemingly contradictory. Only great and noble souls will discover God in small things. Do not lose this sensitivity in your service.
May Mary, our Mother and Sister, and all the Carmelite saints help us and give us light in this difficult and beautiful mission.
Translated from Spanish by Jája Vanišová.
