© Anglican Religious Communities 1999
More and more people are responding to a vocation to be an Oblate or Tertiary of a Religious community. Many
more are Companions and Associates. Dr Marion Fry, herself a Companion of the Community of the Resurrection
since 1963, here reflects on that vocation, how it comes about and what it means. Dr Fry lives for three months
each year as an ‘alongsider’ with the Society of the Sacred Cross at Tymawr Convent in Wales, with the remainder
of the year spent in her own home in Ontario, Canada.
Those of us who are oblates, tertiaries, companions or associates of Anglican Religious communities live ordinary,
secular lives of Christian faith and service. We may be ordained or lay, married or unmarried, young or old, male
or female, working, out-of-work, or retired. We live in a restless, fast-moving world which continually challenges
us to adapt to change, to show how competitive and productive we can be, and to be ready consumers of all the latest
in material goods. Our world is restless, and so too are we. We are restless to the extent, firstly, that we are
carried along by its strong currents, and, secondly, that human compassion and love of God bid us swim against
these currents. In this latter restlessness, we are companions of all who value peace and justice above material
possessions, and also of all who are searching, consciously or unconsciously, for God.
For many of us, it was an awakening of spiritual restlessness which led us to become oblates, tertiaries, companions
or associates of our particular Religious communities. At first, there may only have been a rather vague longing
for something ‘more’ than we were able to find in regular parish life, perhaps a ‘deeper’ approach to prayer or
to Word and Sacrament. At some point, whether through a parish priest or someone else, each of us discovered that
a certain convent or monastery had guest accommodation and also offered Quiet Days or Retreats. Then, there was
a first visit. As we listened to an address, explored the book stall, let go of tensions in a silence which was
surprisingly welcome, joined the community in worship, or talked for the first time with a member of the community,
we were stirred by a sense of new possibilities to be explored. For each of us, it was by some such process that
our vague spiritual longing for something ‘more’ began to find actual nourishment, through an as yet very informal
association with a Religious community. Eventually, the possibility of formalizing that association emerged, like
a vocation, summoning each of us to greater wholeness and depth of faith and life.
Coming to the point of making a formal commitment can be far from easy. We all live in a world which is increasingly
unable to understand why anyone would make a long-term commitment. In a world changing as rapidly as ours, even
the most loving human relationship is bound at times to experience strain, when, for example, work opportunities
or career patterns change unexpectedly. In such a world, we are constantly reminded, flexibility is of paramount,
practical importance. It is accordingly better to avoid ‘tying yourself down’ by making any long-term commitment;
it is always preferable, we are told, to ‘keep your options open’. No wonder then that making any long-term commitment
can seem like swimming against the tide. In such a climate, formalizing a link with a Religious community on a
long-term - or even lifetime - basis requires particularly strong and clear-eyed motivation. Many of us can testify
that that kind of motivation emerges with a persistent sense of vocation, a sense of being called by name to undertake
such a commitment. Formed in response to the initiative of God, it comes as a gift of grace. Our spiritual restlessness
has actually been given a sense of direction which it proposes to follow.
The commitment is not, however, one-sided, nor is the process leading up to it one-sided. The formal commitment
must seem right to the community concerned as well as to the individual. Once the question of formal affiliation
has been raised, there needs to be time and opportunity for this discernment. When this process results in the
formal admission of an oblate, tertiary, companion or associate at the end of the probationary period, then both
parties are committed to supporting one another through prayer, whilst sharing the same governing intention. Most
fundamentally, it is that sharing of intention between members of the community and those formally linked with
it which shapes the extended family of any community. Shared intention is its raison d’être, mutual
prayer its bonding.
We all know that the shared intention is lived according to a Rule. While most people in our society will be
aware that members of Religious communities observe Rules, they would find it very difficult to understand why
anyone living an ordinary, secular life would formally undertake to do so. No one thinks that it is necessary to
be ‘tied down’ to a Rule in order to live a Christian life, and most would think it is undesirable, given the need
we all have to be able to move with the times. As contemporary oblates, tertiaries, companions and associates,
we are all aware of this line of thought. Indeed, most of us can find echoes of it in our own minds, and for that
reason we need to address it.
Have we tied ourselves up in a way that is undesirable? There is a catch in the question, assuming as it seems
to do that by undertaking our Rules we are sacrificing freedom and flexibility. Yet consider our Rules. They do
not prescribe uniform practice for us all, regardless of our personal circumstances or regardless of where we are
on our spiritual journeys. Even a seeming ‘invariable’ in a Rule, such as weekly or more frequent attendance at
the Eucharist, usually carries the proviso, ‘whenever possible’. Most Rules, moreover, include ‘variables’, for
example, prescriptions for spiritual reading, prayer and service, which expressly require to be adapted to the
individuals concerned and not only initially, when the rule is first undertaken, but over the years. Normally such
adaptations are made in consultation with the Religious community concerned. In short, our Rules are not in themselves
inflexible. We have tied ourselves down to following Rules-as-interpreted-in-consultation.
Still, the question may be pressed. Why do we tie ourselves down to a Rule? Our answer can only come from reflection
on our experience of actually observing our Rules over the years. Most of us want to say that the rhythm and regularity
of observance is genuinely supportive and helpful; in that it is like a good friend, and it is also like a good
habit. Over the years, the rhythm and pattern is moreover spiritually nourishing, as our spiritual restlessness
is steadied by being focussed on the love of God. Faithful observance of our Rules right through desolate or troubled
times really does mature our faith. Every so often we realize that we have moved into a different place in relation
to God, in short, that we have grown spiritually. And very occasionally, we are sure that faithful observance of
our Rules has by God’s grace brought us to the threshold of some far-reaching change in our spiritual lives. It
may be that we are at last ready to let go of some personal ‘idol’, having painfully acknowledged that it is an
‘idol’; or it may be that we are ready for some new form of prayer or of service. At such moments, we know that
we are free to change, indeed ready for it. We are very keenly aware that the grace of God has been partner with
us in bringing the observance of our Rules and by it our spiritual journey to a landmark point.
In conclusion, three observations seem to be in order. The first is that the longer we have lived faithfully
according to our Rules, the better able we are to testify to the nourishing and liberating effect it has over all.
That is partly because spiritual growth takes time, and partly because we can be wiser by hindsight. The second
observation is that it is very important to review, at least annually, the ‘spirit’ of our Rules, that statement
of the intention which we share with all others who are formally linked with our respective communities, and also
with the members of those communities. It is there that we are reminded that we have committed ourselves for a
purpose which motivates our lives. The third and final observation is that, geographical separation notwithstanding,
we do not observe our Rules as isolated individuals, but as members of extended community families in the context
of that mutual support and very real companionship of prayer. For that, we all have very good reason to be thankful.