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s a preschooler in the 1960s, I vividly remember accompanying my mom to "help" her clean our church during the week. Our footsteps echoed in the cav, ernous building as we moved from the altar to the pews, my mom dusting, polishing and straightening, and I fol–

lowing behind in a poor imitation. We were enveloped in an atmos– phere of profound quiet and my mom reflected a sense of peace that I now recognize as spirituality. Years late~, I watched from the pews as my mom and many of her friends put down their dust rags and took their places at the altar during communion, distributing consecrated hosts and wine. Their spirituality hadn 't changed during that time, but something significant in the church had. With the conclusion of the Second Vatican Council in 1965, radical reforms were implemented in the Catholic Church. Among the changes, a single pronouncement transformed the roles of the laity and the clergy alike: that the people are the church, they don't just belong to the church. With that, priests began sharing the growing responsibilities of runn ing a parish and ministering to parishioners. Lay people stepped out of the pews to embrace new leadership opportunities in the church. Nuns went from mostly leading cloistered lives and having ministries centered around teach– ing or nursing to venturing out into the world - many in street clothes - and exploring new ministries such as counseling or social work. At the same time, the church has been experiencing a diminish– ing number of nuns and priests, a fact that some point to as evidence of a crisis in the church and its religious leadership. Many more, however, view the decline in a positive light since it opens new avenues of participation for lay people. The clergy and the laity are becoming true collaborators and are living out the proclamation that "we are the church." Our cover story, "Blessings in Disguise," explores those chang– ing roles as well as the joy and discomfort that go hand-in-hand with an evolving church. Also in this issue, "A Matter of Trust" examines the public's mistrust of politicians and government, which appeared to be at an all-time high during the last national election. USD alumni who work in politics and professors who study the big picture, however, believe there is a natural ebb and flow to public opinion in matters of politics. Throughout history, patterns have emerged that show politics following a cycle, with periods of conservatism alternating with periods of liberalism. Experts contend that large shifts in the power structure driven by the voters - as the country experienced last November - simply reflect those cycles. Finally, "History and H erstory" takes a look at USD's young gender studies minor, which educates undergraduates about gender issues and inequalities that both women and men face. Through dis– cussions in class and study of research , students are better prepared to recognize gender stereotypes and to handle issues that arise in the work place, at school and at home.

SPRING 1995 Volume 1 D, Number l

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USD MAGAZINE

EDITOR Trisha J. Ratledge CONTRIBUTING EDITORS Kate Callen Michael R. Haskins Jill Wagner '91 ART DIRECTOR Visual Asylum PHOTOGRAPHERS Ken Jacques '78 Pablo Mason Strauss Peyton

Blessings in Disguise By Trisha}. Ratledge

For the past 30 years, the Catholic Church has been undergoing monumental changes. While some worry that the church is in turmoil, others say these changes are part of a divine plan.

A Matter al Trust By Michael R. Haskins

Jonathan Woodward ILLUSTRATION Amy Levine Taxali

The public has never been overly fond of politicians. But in recent years, simple discontent has turned to what seems to be unprecedented anger. Although many believe that the public's trust in politics and gov– ernment is at an all-time low, USD alumni and professors who work in and study politics don't think the so-called "crisis in confidence" is anything new.

THE UNIVERSITY OF SAN DIEGO

PRESIDENT Author E. Hughes VICE PRESIDENT FDR UNIVERSITY RELATIONS

John G- McNamara DIRECTOR OF PUBLIC RELATIONS Jack Cannon DIRECTOR OF ALUMNI RELATIONS John Trifiletti '78

History and Herstary By Jill Wagner '91

Moving beyond the traditional study of women's issues, USD's gender studies program explores the roles of women and men in today's society. Undergraduate students are setting aside stereotypes and working toward a better understanding between the genders.

USD Magazine is published quarterly by the University of San Diego for its alumni, parents and friends. Editorial offices: USD Magazine, Publications Office, University of San Diego, 5998 Alcala Park, San Diego, CA 92110-2492. Third-class postage paid at San Diego, CA 92110. USD phone number: (619) 260-4600; emergency security: (619) 260-2222; disaster: (619) 260-4534. Postmaster: Send address changes to USD Magazine, Publications Office, 5998 Alcala' Park, San Diego, CA 92110-2492.

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When Charlie King '62 motored across USD's campus during his undergraduate days, he often had a coed at his side - his mother. "I was a day student, so my mom and I would drive to school together every day," he remembers. "I would come up the hill, drop her at the women's college and I would go on to the men's college. On my way back from class, I'd pick her up and we'd go home." Contrary to what one might expect, having his mom around didn't cut into his social life. In fact, King's wife, Maureen (Pecht) '64, knew his mother before she began dating him. The two women were friends and classmates at the College for Women, something he discovered on his first date with Maureen. But to King, his years at USD mean more than coeds and cozy memories. They represent the beginning of a life– long relationship with the university, where he has remained actively involved through the alumni association - including at least 20 years total on the board - and countless USD programs and events. For that commitment, and the enthusi– asm that King brings to his work at Alcala Park, he was honored last fall with the fourth annual Mother Rosalie Hill Award. The award, named for the founding president of the San Diego College for Women, is presented at Homecoming each year to an alumna or alumnus who personifies the spirit and philosophy of the university. When King's name was announced at the Homecoming Mass, he was the last person expecting it. "To say the least, I was stunned," he says, his eyes widening and his head shaking slowly at the mem– ory. It was hardly a surprise, however, to the many people on hand who know King. Many know that his relationship

Charlie King '62 is joined by his wile, Maureen (Pecht) King '64, as he accepts the 1994 Mother Rosalie Hill Award.

with the university - and the namesake for his award - reaches back much fur– ther than his undergraduate days. His family moved to San Diego from Omaha, Neb., in 1945, when he was just 5 years old. Soon after, they began visit– ing the Sacred Heart nuns at their con– vent in Old Town, where King first remembers meeting Mother Hill. "She was incredibly gracious," he says. "I always thought she was so frail and yet, disguised behind this frailty was this pil– lar of steel. She was the most amazing person." A few years later, King was part of an army of Catholic schoolchildren who stood on a dusty hill in the blazing sun to witness the ground-breaking of San Diego's long-awaited Catholic university, now known as the University of San Diego. Little did King know that on the very spot where he stood, he would soon be sharing study tips with his mother and sodas with his future wife. After high school, King attended the University of Notre Dame for two years, but was driven back to San Diego by the cold and the snow. And by one other thing - he always had planned to live and work in San Diego, and wanted to attend a school where he could be active as an alumnus. He has been as good as his intentions. In addition to his many years as an active alumni board member, including a term as president, King served as a guest

lecturer at the School of Business Administration and talked about his experiences as a USD student and alum– nus to community groups. He also has supported the development of the uni– versity by participating in various fund– raising efforts. In 1990, King was hon– ored for his years of service to USD with the Outstanding Alumni Award. Such loyalty courses through King's life. Since graduating from USD more than 30 years ago, he has worked for just two firms: First National Bank and Rice Hall James, an investment counsel– ing firm. King spent 11 years at the bank, first as a management trainee and then working his way up to managing client accounts in the trust department. In 1974, King and a group of colleagues at the bank decided to go into business for themselves, so they opened Rice Hall James. Still with the firm today, King is vice president and partner. Charlie and Maureen King have four children: Theresa, Kristin, Paul and Michalyn, a 1994 graduate of USD who represents the third generation of the King family to attend the university. As he ponders the USD legacy in his family, King feels a sense of fulfillment knowing that while many things in this world change, some things remain trea– sured traditions. And today, when he visits USD, he still motors across cam– pus with a coed at his side - but this time, it's his wife.

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USD Names Alice B. Hayes President~elect

F ollowing a careful, year-long search process, Alice B. Hayes was elected to the presidency of the University of San Diego by the USD board of trustees on Dec. 16. Hayes, executive vice president, provost and a professor of biology at Saint Louis University in St. Louis, Mo., will succeed Author E. Hughes, who completes 24 years of service when he retires on June 30. "USD has found in Alice Hayes a gift– ed executive, educator and scholar with the vision and values to lead this univer– sity into the next century," says Daniel W. Derbes, chairman of the board of trustees. "This is a growth experience for me, but a very positive one," Hayes told a large group of faculty, administrators and students at a Dec. 19 news conference in Shiley Theatre. "Everything that I have looked at about this university has been so good." Hayes, 56, joined Saint Louis University in 1989 after 27 years at Loyola University of Chicago, where she served as vice president for academic affairs (1987-89), associate academic vice president (1980-87), dean for the natural sciences (1977-87) and chairper– son of the department of natural science (1969-1977) . From 1960-1962, she conducted mycology research for the Municipal Tuberculosis Sanitarium. Hayes is on the boards of trustees of The Pulitzer Publishing Company, the St. Louis Science Center, The Urban League of Metropolitan St. Louis and Catholic Charities. She has been a mem– ber of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration's Space Biology Program and has served on advisory pan– els of the National Science Foundation.

She has won awards for leadership and service from the National Multiple Sclerosis Society and the Holocaust Memorial Foundation, among others. A biologist with a Ph.D. in biological sci– ences from Northwestern University - where she was a National Science Foundation Fellow - Hayes has pub– lished numerous books and articles on the natural sciences and on Catholic higher education. As part of the People– to-People Citizen Ambassador Program, she participated in botanical delegations to South Africa, the People's Republic of China and the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

USD Board of Trustees Chairman Danial W. Derbes and President Author E. Hughes join President-elect Alice B. Hayes at the Dec. 19 news conference announcing Hayes' election.

The search for Hughes' successor involved representatives from faculty, staff, administrators, students, alumni and trustees. Soon after Hughes announced his retirement in the fall of 1993, the board of trustees established a presidential search committee and a pres– idential selection committee, both chaired by Joanne C. Warren, vice chair of the board of trustees. The search committee directed the search for candidates, reviewing all appli– cations, conducting preliminary inter– views and narrowing the field to the finalists. The finalists then came to cam– pus for intensive two-day visits in which they met with faculty, students, alumni, trustees, administrators and staff in a series of interview sessions. With feed– back from the campus community, the selection committee made the final rec– ommendation to the members of the board of trustees, who then voted their final decision. The board unanimously elected Hayes, who will take the helm July 1 as only the second person to lead the university since the 1972 merger of the College for Men and the College for Women.

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Putting His Hand to the Plow Father Larry Dolan '62 has made the priesthood his life's work, and that voca– tion has taken him to so many places that it would seem saying goodbye would be just another formality. But last sum– mer, when Father Dolan left the Tohono O'odham Indian Reservation in Southern Arizona where he had ministered for several years, he found that saying farewell never gets any easier. "I took a month to go to all the differ– ent villages and say goodbye," he recalls. "It was very difficult to leave, but the Bible tells us we must put our hand to the plow and continue our work." Father Dolan's unswerving dedication to his work is one reason he was selected to receive the 1994 Bishop Charles Francis Buddy Award at the annual Alumni Mass on Dec. 8. This year's cer– emony was one of the very few at which the award - given out annually to an outstanding alumnus or alumna - was presented to the celebrant of the Mass. "They really pulled a fast one on me," laughs Father Dolan, who was asked to take time off from his new role as pastor of St. Simon and Jude Parish in Huntington Beach, Calif., and return to Founders Chapel to celebrate the Mass. "Being the main celebrant brought back a lot of memories," he adds.

Father Larry Dolan '62 (center) is greeted with applause as he is named the recipient of the 1994 Bishop Charles Francis Buddy Award.

Father Dolan has many memories from USO, dating from his years at the College for Men and his tenure as chap– lain and director of campus ministry for the school from 1974 to 1984. Those memories also include the most difficult challenge of his life - recovering from alcoholism. But even that experience was built into a positive force, as Father Dolan used the lessons learned in his own battle with alcohol to help the many Native Americans on the Tohono O'odham Reservation suffering from the same disease. At the Mass, Carol (Burke) Couture '57, last year's recipient of the award, recounted Dolan's experiences in Arizona, as well as his work as pastor of Resurrection Church in Escondido, Calif., from 1984 to 1987 and his deci– sion to join the Franciscan Order in 1987. "Father Dolan is a shining example of the values for which our university stands," Couture said. "His passion for the healing of others, his humility and open expression of his struggles, and his brilliant career in religious life have dis– tinguished him among his peers." Couture noted at the Mass that Father Dolan faces significantly different cha!-

lenges at St. Simon and Jude Parish, the largest in Orange County, than he did on the reservations of Arizona. Father Dolan heartily agrees. "It was a bit of a culture shock coming from dirt floors and villages to swimming pools and walled-in communities," he says. "The pace is much more hurried here, and the people are very involved in the church and with social justice issues." Father Dolan returns once a month to Arizona, where he is on the board of directors of the Franciscan Renewal Center. But he hasn't yet returned to the Tohono O'odham Reservation. "It's too hard to go back just yet," he says, "and I want to give the new priest there some room to start." Although Father Dolan has not yet returned to the reservation, chances are he will not be forgotten there soon. As his selection as the recipient of USD's Bishop Buddy award indicates, even when Father Dolan says goodbye, a part of him stays behind.

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T 17/WW,4 P,iwd ~"Hc4 WM- 11 By the time USD and Notre Dame ath– letes met on the hardwood floors of the San Diego Sports Arena in early December, the much-anticipated basket– ball game had grown to monstrous pro– portions. The so-called "Holy War" pitted the young Toreros against the seasoned Fighting Irish players, and USD quickly proved to be up to the challenge. At the halftime buzzer the crowd of more than 6,500 fans was elated to find its Toreros holding a 31-point lead. Despite a strong Notre Dame comeback in the second half, USD held on to win, 90-76, proving the non-conference match-up with an athletic powerhouse was not just for show. The surprising first-half dominance was not lost on Toreros Coach Brad Holland. "I was very nervous at halftime because we were at a point where now we should win the game, but I knew Notre Dame was going to fight to come back," he said. A few weeks earlier the Toreros had traveled to Kansas to play the Jayhawks in a game that Holland said primed the athletes for the tough game in a large arena. "After Kansas we realized if we're on all cylinders we can be really good," Holland said. Those cylinders were humming well into the second half when, after 13 min– utes of play, the Toreros were still lead– ing. The Irish came storming back but were answered by key shots from sopho– more Brian Bruso and senior Doug Harris that helped secure the win. "I'm really proud of our guys and the character they showed to stop the bleed– ing after the Notre Dame comeback," Holland said. "That's the kind of experi– ence we can draw from in future games." The Dec. 3 game, sponsored by the Greater San Diego Sports Association, was the first Torero Tipoff Classic and helped raise money for the USD athletic department. The 1995 tipoff will be a contest with Kansas, also at the Sports Arena. USD officials are hoping the pre– season games with big name schools will become an annual tradition.

University Launches Transbor

USD this year began developing a Transborder Institute (TBI) that will offer students and faculty unprecedented opportunities to study the political and social issues, economic climate and cul– ture associated with the United States/ Mexico border region. Plans are already under way for a number of educational and experiential programs. "Our mission has several components," says Daniel Wolf, the institute's direc– tor. "The staff will act as facilitators, introducing faculty and students to their counterparts in Mexico and helping to create quality research projects and opportunities in conjunction with Mexican universities. A number of pro– grams are planned, including a mediation center that might handle disputes involv– ing the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and a risk assess– ment program that will give investors updates on economic and legal issues." While the two other major universities in San Diego also have centers that study Mexican/American affairs, USD's Transborder Institute will fill a niche by concentrating almost exclusively on the border region. Wolf, a Harvard law grad– uate who teaches Latin American studies at USD, has scheduled an April 7 con– sortium conference at Alcala Park that seeks to identify border issues on which educational, government and business groups might collaborate. He also plans a follow-up conference for members of the USD community to compare notes on the knowledge gained at the consortium. Other TBI possibilities include collab– oration with community organizations, a television program produced in concert with the communication studies depart– ment, and a frontier issues speakers forum, which would allow USD students to bring public figures to campus to address concerns relating to borders, diversity, and integration in a changing world. "We want students to have more opportunities to interact with Mexicans,

take courses at Mexican universities and benefit from the more cosmopolitan atmosphere TBI would bring to the cam– pus," Wolf says. "Students also would get practical experience through mediat– ing disputes, preparing analyses, learning new educational techniques and taking advantage of new internships." Students already have had the chance to hear experts debate one of the hottest border issues in recent memory. The first activity sponsored by TBI was a roundtable on Proposition 187, a ballot initiative passed last November that seeks to deny certain social services to illegal immigrants. Organized by Veronica Montali, a free-lance journalist working with TBI, the roundtable brought local experts together to perform a "post– mortem and what-next" on Prop 187. "TBI will be defining its role over the next year or so," Wolf says. "But the philosophy reflects the mission of USD: research, learning and community ser– vice." For more information on USD's Transborder Institute, contact Daniel Wolf at (619) 260-4090.

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tor lhe pasl 30 years, ll1e Calhohc Clmrch lias been undergoing monumenlal cl1anges. ~le some worry lhal lhe clmrcl1 is in humoil, olhers say lhese cl1anges are pad of a Jiv:lne plan.

By Trisha J. Ratledge

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A t the midnight hour on Christmas Eve, St. Norbert's Church - a church like many across the nation - was alive with activity. Choir members raised their voices in harmony as the priest, deacon and altar servers waited in the vestibule to enter. Bundled against the cold, parishioners continued to file in, though the church was nearly full. In the pews, which form a tight horseshoe around the altar, friends greeted each other, families settled in, young couples whispered to each other and bleary-eyed children strug– gled to stay awake. As the lights dimmed, the priest entered the church and Christmas Eve Mass began. In many ways, the Mass represent– ed enduring traditions of the Catholic faith as expressed through teachings,

"The idea of Vatican II was to make everybody realize - both clergy and laity - that it's baptism that consti– tutes the church," says Florence Gillman, USD associate professor of theological and religious studies. "That everyone by baptism is equally a mem– ber of the church and that no one is more important than anyone else. That major shift has meant that the lay peo– ple have just as much a sense of owner– ship in the church as the clergy do." At St. Norbert's, that ownership was reflected by the many contributors to midnight Mass. The lectors were lay people, the altar servers included both boys and girls - a position once reserved only for boys - and when the time came for communion, eight parish– ioners rose from the pews to take their place at the altar and distribute conse– crated hosts and wine. In addition, the

deacon, a married man, holds a role that bridges the worlds of the laity and the clergy. Ordained a permanent deacon, he can remain married but is considered clergy by the church and can administer four of the seven sacraments. Changes such as these have been celebrated by most mem– bers of the church and denounced by a few, but they certainly haven't been ignored by any. Dlvlne GulJance Coinciding with the changes of Vatican II was the beginning of a steady - some would say alarming - decline in vocations, or people who are called to a religious life. Some historians attribute this drop to the social upheaval in the United States during the 1960s and 1970s. America's youth were satisfying their need to serve the world through political activism and pro– grams of social change rather than through religious life. Wom– en were breaking with tradition and forging new roles in the

rites and prayers. At the same time, however, the participants exemplified the monumental changes that have taken place in the church since the Second Vatican Council concluded in 1965. Considered a turning point in modem Catholicism, the council - which was held in four annual sessions beginning in 1962 - brought the church into the 20th century and set the charter for the future. Headed by the pope, the council com– prised more than 2,800 bishops who drew up 16 documents designed to inspire renewal and reform in the church. From those documents came a pronouncement that changed the role of every person in the church: the belief that the peo– ple don't just belong to the church, but that they are the church. This single shift in theological emphasis enabled parishioners to claim ownership of their faith and move from being passive observers to participants and even leaders in the church. It also led to a transformation within the church in which the roles of the religious were redefined.

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community and the work force, roles that were not con– fined solely to wife, mother or nun. Americans were going to college in droves, and as they became more educated, they began questioning institutional practices in the United States, including those of their churches. In the Catholic Church, through the theological shift defined by Vatican II, lay peo– ple suddenly had more than

lapse or a failure, because we don't live as long as the church does." The religious and the laity of the post-Vatican II church believe that the Holy Spirit - the divine entity of the Holy Trinity that leads and guides all - is behind the changes that are renewing today's church. To help them fulfill the theology of "we are the church," they explain, the

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Holy Spirit created a need in the church through a shortage of religious and, at the same time, provided the resource to fill that need through expanded roles for lay people. The new theology also enables the church to re-establish some early practices, says Father Ron Pachence, USD professor of theological and religious studies. "In the beginning of the church, there were many different ministries, and people per– formed those ministries because they had a gift," he explains. "Over the centuries, priests started taking over all the min– istries of the church, not just the ministries involved in wor– ship. Eventually, priests did everything in the parish and lay people did virtually nothing. "In a sense, the shortage of priests has been a good thing because it has compelled us to take a more critical look at what ministry is all about," Pachence asserts, "and to go back to our earlier roots where a lot more people participated in the min- eof Ua.ba During the past 30 years, lay people have not been alone in embracing new roles in the Catholic Church. Members of reli– gious communities have been transforming their positions as well. Vatican II ignited the fire of renewal by recognizing that some of the restrictions placed on the religious for hundreds of years were simply unnecessary. Of particular note, most religious communities - or orders - emerged from a cloistered life and nuns were given some lat– itude in how they presented themselves in the community. Many nuns returned to their birth names, for instance, instead istries." Clmn 9

one avenue through which they could live their faith. Devotion didn't automatically mean entering a religious community any- more. "Vatican II taught that being a priest or a religious sister or brother is not superior to being a lay person," Gillman says. "It was recognized that being a dedicated lay person - if that's what you are called to - is just as valid a way of being a fully committed Christian as being a priest or a religious." Regardless of the causes, the decline in the number of nuns and priests has been viewed by many as a crisis in the American Catholic Church. Looking strictly at the numbers, the change can draw concern. According to The Official Catholic Directory, in 1964 the church counted 180,000 nuns and 57,300 priests in the United States. By 1994, those numbers had dropped to 94,400 and 50,300, respectively. The question is inevitable: If young men and women are not becoming priests and nuns, who is going to carry on the work of the church? But the numbers don't tell the true story of what is happen– ing in the church, say many insiders. They call the decline in religious vocations a blessing in disguise, opening avenues for the lay community to participate actively in the church while also giving the religious community a reason to invite parish– ioners to share in the church's work. "The theological view behind this is that the Holy Spirit equips the church to have what it needs for its mission in any one historical period, but the particular shape and challenge of that mission may not be exactly what happened in the previous 100 years or the previous 200 years," says Patricia Plovanich, assistant professor of theological and religious studies at USD. "It changes. That will look to many people as though it's a col-

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of keeping the names their orders had chosen for them. Many also shed their often-cumbersome habits in favor of street clothes. "The habit was simply the widow's outfit at the time our foundress started the community," notes Sister Irene Cullen '61, R.S.C.J., an associate in USD's campus ministry office, about her own order's habit. "Then it became stylized. For most of us in the United States, it didn't make sense to wear the habit anymore." Also during this period, nuns were able to venture more freely into the world to minister outside of convents and Catholic institutions, and to invite friends into the convent as well. "When people looked at the internal structures of the reli– gious community, they found that many of the things they thought were essential to religious life were not," says Plovanich, a former nun. "It was a really big idea to realize that we could have visitors into our dining room; that if parents came to visit, they could stay right in the area where the sisters live. It changed the whole character of religious life." Even more important to the future, nuns began to expand their ministries. While they had historically founded and staffed the network of Catholic schools and hospitals across the United States, nuns started exploring missions outside of the classrooms and hospital wards. For those who pursued this challenge, the new ministries often were better expressions of their individual talents. They began opening community clinics for the indigent and disenfranchised, they got involved in politi– cal issues that concerned justice, they became lawyers and doc– tors, and they embraced counseling, campus ministry and pas– toral outreach work, to name a few. Mirroring changes in the secular world, women in the church - both religious and lay - began to hold positions of increas– ing authority. In fact, some diocese administrations today have women chancellors, the second position of authority. Such examples are still the exception rather than the rule, however, and a stained-glass ceiling looms above. When some nuns began leaving their traditional roles as teachers and nurses, naysayers were convinced that the system of hospitals and schools they established years before - the work upon which their orders were founded - would collapse. But the system is still very much alive because lay people have filled the roles vacated by the religious community. The nuns point out that while the system has indeed changed, what remains is stronger because of those very changes. In these Catholic institutions, the lay people are not merely employees, but they become imbued with the spirit of the community that founded the institution. They, in turn, help spread that spirit. Sister Cullen has seen it happen in her own order's Sacred Heart schools. "We have very few religious in our schools," she explains. "What's happening is that many of the laity in those schools call themselves Sacred Heart educators. They mentor each other and they all claim this spirit. They are truly our collaborators; they are not just helping Sister out. We are absolutely delighted because more people are part of this special expression of Christian education. Maybe it never would have happened if our numbers had continued to grow."

Sisler ( An alumna's journey lo life I 1, I I I 1n a re 1g1ous communny D eenie Clin ton '82 was confirmed at age 12, just like thousands of other Catholic children . For the next six years, however, the only rites she practiced were secu– lar - in particular, watching the Dallas Cowboys on television . The team 's games were televised at the same time that Mass was celebrated and as far as Clinton, an avid football fan, was concerned, there was no contest. Her choice today would be quite different. On June 12, Deenie Clinton professed her vows in Rome, completing nine years of introspection and preparation . She is now Sister Clinton or, as her students sometimes call her, Sister C. Clinton is just as surprised as anyone by the course her life has taken . " I could take the easy way out and say God must have done something about this," she says, laughing, " because it was not my idea." Her idea upon graduating from high school was to attend a college somewhere on the Pacific coast, preferably near a beach. She found that at USD, and more. When Clinton moved into her dorm room and saw that it overlooked the chapel, she thought it was simply ironic. But when fellow freshman Nancy (Pattridge) W aring asked if she would play the guitar for a liturgy, Clinton was adamant. " I looked at her and said, 'I don't do church."' Her unflappable friend gave Clinton the perfect answer: "That's okay, I only want your guitar." So, Clinton began strumming her way back into the Catholic faith, helping coordinate liturgies for the next four years with Father Larry Dolan '62, then the USD chaplain. Though she graduated with a degree in biology, Clinton still didn 't have a career direction in m ind - at least not on e that she tvas adm it– ting to herself. She visited A lcala Park on ce more to ask Sister Pat Shaffer, a professor of chemistry, for a recommendation so she could pur– sue a caree1· in medical technology. "Sister Shaffer looked at me and said, 'Have you ever thought about a vocation ?"' Clinton recalls, her eyes widening. " I think I said yes and then I left her office . It was as if somebody had read right through me. I was in a state of denial. " Wh en she emerged from that denial, Clinton started talking to nuns in the Society of the Sacred Heart. Shortly, her curiosity

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Father Pachence agrees. "We've been working on helping lay people see that when they take on new roles, it's not that they are just help– ing Father because he doesn't have any priest helpers, but that they are doing ministry they are called to do because they are baptized." As priests have updated

Priests, too, have been sorting through the changes in the church and revising their own roles during this pivotal period in modem Catholicism. Before Vatican II, a priest was expected to be the jack-of-all– trades for his parish. "A priest was trained in theology, so in the seminary he would study mainly sacred

their perceptions about parishioners, lay people have revised their outdated expectations of the clergy. There used to be a philosophy that priests were available always. "If your family was having a crisis at 8 o'clock at night, you didn't give it a sec– ond thought to go up to the rectory and ask to see the priest," Father French says. Today, the church recognizes that the clergy have limita– tions. Rectories have introduced office hours, for instance, so parishioners now make an appointment with their priest. Sometimes he isn't available, which is a very new concept. Sometimes priests aren't available simply because there are fewer priests in the church's work force. In some sparsely pop– ulated areas of the United States, "priestless parishes" have developed in which a lay person runs all aspects of the parish during the week and a priest travels to the church on Sunday to celebrate Mass and any other sacraments that are requested. Or, the priest may consecrate bread and wine, which is used later in communion services led by nuns or other parishioners. Metropolitan areas are not immune to the shortage either. Father Barry Vinyard '68 was called to service recently by a fellow priest in San Diego who needed surgery. Father Vinyard and a retired priest filled in for their colleague at the Saturday and Sunday services during what they expected to be a four– week convalescence, and the parishioners covered weekday worship by holding communion services. "The folks at that church didn't mind having communion services for three or four weeks while their priest got back on his feet because they had the promise that another priest would be arriving on Sunday to say Mass," says Father Vinyard, asso– ciate chaplain of campus ministry at USD. "But what happens if there is rarely a priest?"

scripture, moral theology, dogmatic theology and how to give homilies," says Father Michael French, priest and psychologist at The Christian Institute for Psychotherapy and Training in San Diego and a USD visiting assistant professor of psychology. "Then he would be assigned to a parish where that would be the least amount of his work. He would be administrator of the parish, he would run the Boy Scouts and the Girl Scouts, he would run the religious education program and he would be in charge of the maintenance around the parish plant." This contributed to a strict authoritarian structure in the parishes: The priest was in charge of everything and made all of the decisions. After Vatican II, a more egalitarian structure was emphasized, and priests began to share the work with members of the laity. Where priests were once expected to be the finan– cial agents and make investment decisions for their parishes, for example, finance councils are now required. For the majority of the priests, this was welcome assistance. A few of the priests struggled with this new style of running a parish because it was in direct conflict with their many years of training and practice. Most theologians and religious, however, celebrate these changes. Not only do they enable lay people to answer their own calling within the church, but they permit the priests to focus more of their work on pastoral, rather than administra– tive, concerns. Even so, there is still much work to do in educating the laity about how they perceive their expanded roles. "If you ask most people why these changes are taking place, they will say, 'Because there is a terrible shortage of priests and nuns,"' Father French notes. "That's not the real reason. It may be a contributing reason, but it's not the real reason."

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Father Vinyard's temporary parishioners are asking that question themselves these days. Their priest has experienced complications and though Father Vinyard and the retired priest are filling in when possible during his extended recovery, they can't always be there when needed. This puts the parishioners in a quandary that more commu– nities are facing today. The cornerstone of Catholic faith is embedded in seven sacraments - baptism, confirmation, Holy Eucharist, penance, anointing of the sick, matrimony and holy orders. Despite the laity's steadily broadening participation in the church, church law decrees that only ordained clergy can preside at the celebration of sacraments. So, while the laity can carry on the teachings and the traditions of the church, they must have regular access to members of the clergy to perpetuate the soul of the church. As parishioners have increasingly accepted leadership positions in the church, they also have sought more education in theolo– gy and religious studies. At USO, the theological and religious studies department saw this emerging need and in 1976 found– ed a graduate program specifically for lay people who wanted to become more involved in ministry. In those early days, the pro– gram offered one degree, now called a master of arts in practical theology. Eventually, a second degree was added, a master of arts in pastoral counseling. Since 1976, about 120 students have earned a master's degree in pastoral counseling or practical theology. True to the program's original intent, the majority of students are lay peo– ple, though a few nuns and priests have enrolled as well. The graduates work in an array of positions, from deacons, youth ministers and chaplains to teachers, diocesan staff members and directors of religious education. The department also runs the Institute for Christian Ministries, which provides adult education on a number of reli– gious topics for the local community. In addition, the universi– ty's campus ministry department operates a number of adult and religious education programs for the campus community and the general public. This better-educated populace has invigorated and challenged priests and nuns, who traditionally were the sole fonts of reli– gious knowledge in the church. "When I grew up, Father had the answer for anything that had to do with religion," recalls Father Pachence. "If Father didn't have the answer, then we went to Sister. It was pre– sumed that the people in the pews were not educated in these things. When I go out to a parish now, my presumption is that quite a few people out there have studied scripture and spiritu– ality. I'm not the theological know-it-all." Diana Raiche '91 (M.A.), an alumna of USD's graduate the– ological and religious studies program, is one of those educated parishioners. As director of catechetical ministry at St. James/ St. Leo Catholic Community in Solana Beach, Calif., Raiche oversees the numerous religious education programs in the parish and its school, and works with 140 volunteer catechists

S1s!er ( (continued) was piqued and she decided the only way she could truly know if this life was right for her was to live it. She did just that by beginning her year of candidacy, a period in which a woman wishing to enter a religious order lives with the nuns, learns more about the order and may work part-time in one of the order's ministries. After that follows two years as a novice, in which a candidate intensifies her study of the order, her ministry work and her contemplation of spirituality. Those ,vho continue on to the next step - the "young professed" life - profess temporary vows of six years . The final step is to pro– fess final vows, becoming what is called a "professed." During her young professed life, Sister Clinton was given the opportunity to teach biology in Houston. She discovered that she had a gift for teaching and quickly earned a master's degree in education from the University of Houston. She knows now that a higher power has been guiding her life and continues to speak to her today through her work. "It's ironic that I went to a Catholic university and that I entered a congregation with apostolic education as its main source of life, " she muses. "I think, too, that the more I teach biology, the more I believe in God. You can explain how, but can you explain why?" After six years at the Duchesne Academy of the Sacred Heart in suburban Houston, Sister Clinton is now teacliing and devel– oping the science program at ]osephinum High School, a private Catholic girls' school in inner-city Chicago. Though the settings of the two schools are quite different, Sister Clinton's goals as a teacher are still the same . "I want to increase my students' interest and decrease their fear as women in science," she says simply. At the blackboard, and as a coach on the volleyball court, Sister Clinton also has the opportunity to show how spirituality fits into everyday life and, at the same time, clear up some of the mysteries of being a nun. Her students are a bit timid at first, she says, but they warm up quickly. "One student asked me, 'Do all nuns have short hair and play the guitar?"' she laughs. "I told her they don't all play the guitar, but short hair is really convenient when you swim." It's inevitable that life in a religious community draws curios– ity in today's American culture, which values independence and privacy. But that sense of community is one of the elements that intrigued Sister Clinton most about being a nun. "Within the community life, there is an atmosphere of gen– erosity and giving as well as the elements of sharing, of commit– ment together in this life and of understanding," she explains . "Many people are grappling with a sense of 'Where am I going in life?' and 'Where am I to be?' I think I found that in the Society of the Sacred Heart."

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one expert noted, most members of the church consider public debates on such volatile issues to be inevitable, something the Vatican frowns upon and sometimes forbids. Others contend that some of the issues that have been debat– ed in recent years have been counterproductive; that by taking a stand on certain issues, the church is moving its focus away from the essential message of the faith. "Whether we have altar girls or not is not a substantial question that is going to influ– ence who we are as people," Father French explains. "The con– dition of families, poverty and living the gospel message - those are, but not whether or not the people who serve at the altar have bows in their hair or don't have bows in their hair. It's not relevant to the substantial doctrine of the church. That widens the gap between what is being lived and what is being taught." In the midst of such immense change and controversy, an out– side observer would be tempted to think the church is facing imminent disaster. Insiders, however, say you need just two things to see a positive future: faith and a knowledge of the church's history. "The Holy Spirit will take care of the Catholic Church," says Diana Raiche. "I think God is pruning us and when we are pruned it hurts; it's discomforting. God will do what God needs to do with us. Our role is to be more in tune not with what we want, but with what God is doing with us at this time." As Raiche says, there is discomfort in change, and when that change involves religious structures, it can be downright dis– tressing. "Nobody likes a church to change because we want our idea of God to be solid," Plovanich says. "Since the idea of God is mediated through the church, changes in the church make us nervous. You can touch anything but people's religious ideas, even if what they could be moved to is something better. "The church is not supposed to keep people living in the past," she adds. "It is supposed to help them be people who are responsible for the community and the world in which they live. Almost always, that requires changes in the structure because the old structure that supported the previous mission of the church is no longer appropriate to the new world condi– tions in which that mission is to carry on." A person's perception of the Catholic Church, however, is often based on a myopic view of what that person has experi– enced in his or her lifetime. The fact is that since its beginning, the church has been a changing, evolving entity. Many prac– tices and beliefs have come and gone; many have endured. The church has experienced periods of crisis that require a historical perspective to see that they were necessary for growth. As some try to mold the future of the church, others are content that the purpose of today's trials will be revealed in time. "I loved the church that I grew u,p in," Plovanich says. "I had this idea that the true church was like the gothic cathedrals - nothing could ever damage them. So, the church was time– less; it was unchanging. But now we know that the gothic cathedrals erode. And we know that life is about adaptation and change, and therefore, so is the life of faith."

or, as she explains it, instructors who help people make the connection between liturgy and life. She says she is called to her work in religious education, that it's her way of taking the mission of the church out into the world. "I don't think the church is a place where you escape," says Raiche, who has volunteered or worked in the church since she was 15. "I think the church is a place where you find nourish– ment so you can go out into the world and make a difference. I feel that I'm called to help people find that nourishment." Bridget Burke, a USD graduate student of practical theology and an up-and-coming educator, sees teaching as the way she can make changes she considers necessary in the church. Like Raiche, Burke believes she has a calling to her work and plans to teach Christian ethics at the college level. "One of my teachers said to me, 'Being a teacher is the best way to be a revolutionary, because you can change the way peo– ple think about things,"' Burke explains. "Even if you just pre– sent something to a class from a different angle, and even if the students don't necessarily agree with it, they're going to think there's another way of looking at it. That's the way changes are going to happen." As a young woman in the church, Burke is enthusiastic about her faith and yet takes issue with some of the church's traditions and practices. She finds it ironic that, though her parents always told her she could be whatever she wanted to be, only one role is out of her reach - the priesthood. She says she's not called to be a priest, but she doesn't believe the avenue should be closed to women. Though many women have walked away from the church over such issues, Burke chooses to stay. "The only way things are going to change is if we work with– in the church and try to change the way people view things," she says. "I don't think the right thing to do is to turn your back on it." OuesHonl.ng Aull10rH:y As Burke demonstrates, with a laity that is more highly educated than at any other time in church history, questions inevitably follow concerning the stand the church has taken on many issues. A church that used to preach its law to a quiet congrega– tion is now finding individuals and groups standing up and demanding further explanation. "It's not sufficient to say the church teaches," says Gillman. "One must say why the church teaches what it teaches, and one must convince the membership, not merely order them. "It hasn't been successful in some areas," she notes. "Many people are not convinced yet by the arguments against the ordi– nation of women. Statistics also indicate that Catholics have not been convinced that they should not use artificial birth con– trol." In fact, statistics show that the majority of American Catholics favor allowing priests to marry and women to be ordained, as well as the use of artificial birth control. Those who do not strictly follow the church's teachings on such issues are often referred to disparagingly as "cafeteria Catholics," or Catholics who pick and choose among the beliefs of the church. Because in America we "endlessly chew things to death," as

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