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Celebrating Dependence

July 11, 2010 By: Lisa Category: Ignatian Spirituality, Lisa's Posts 1 Comment →

Last week as usual I began my daily examen with gratitude when, somewhere in the flurry of traditions that is the 4th of July, I thought I should take time to be grateful for our independence. (Be wary of the “shoulds” I can hear my spiritual director saying.) Truly there is much to be grateful for in the freedoms guaranteed in the US Constitution; so many people on this Earth suffer horrendously for lack of such freedoms. But, true to form, my Ignatian prayer turned my world upside down, allowing me to see our celebrations completely differently than through the patriotic lens I had always known.

As I sat in prayer, seemingly alone with God in my mind, fully at peace, thankful for the bounty that independence has yielded, the zinger hits me: Independence from what? You were not created to be independent. The tone is almost incredulous.

Thus the repartee begins:

Me: Uh, maybe I should rephrase that (oh there’s that darn “should” again).

No need to rephrase, just name for what you are truly grateful, what is it that is truly satisfying to your heart, what makes you whole.

Me: Well, I am grateful for those I love, those who share with me the struggles of this life, those who see the beauty in this world with me, even those for whom I have to struggle now. What was truly satisfying to my heart today? This week? Those moments I was with my mom who just had surgery. To finally after all these years be in a place to truly give to her and she actually accepted my help. It is the closest I have felt to her in years.

Those are not moments of independence, are they?

No, they are moments of dependence, at times total dependence, on another. (My heart is beginning to feel the consolation of understanding.)

That’s where God is, isn’t it? Not in our independence from each other, not in our strength to live alone or pull ourselves up by our boot straps, but in our connections to each other, in our strength to live together.

Imagine a culture in which instead of celebrating our independence we celebrated our dependence, or maybe our inter-dependence, with the rest of the world. Imagine taking to prayer gratitude for the other nations who share our Earth. Thank you dear Lord for England, for Botswana, for Uganda, for Brazil, even for Iran and Iraq. In all the years of praying, I don’t think I have ever said that prayer.

And thus, my Ignatian imagination of what could be helps to imagine such celebrations; Celebrating and honoring the Other and our connection to them, rather than celebrating ourselves and our independence from them. How such celebrations would change me and make me whole; a part of something truly bigger than myself, bigger than the United States. A part of Oneness.

And I smile inside. For there within a split second, perhaps I have grasped just a glimpse of the Kingdom of God. (now that would be the grand finale of all fireworks!)


Photo: “NYC Fourth of July 2009” by Ed Yourdon from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

Finding God in All Things

June 07, 2010 By: Lisa Category: Lisa's Posts Comments Off

As Ignatian Associates we share the spirituality of the Jesuits and desire to “Find God in All Things.” At the very least, we hope to “Find God” at the end of every day by looking back over our day in our Examen and honestly recognizing where we were consoled and joy filled and where we were in angst and desolation. In those places, God was “speaking” to us in some way, offering love for us, even love within the things that didn’t work out as planned. Hind sight is truly 20/20. At our best, we “Find God” when we are fully present within the moment itself—be it at children’s soccer games, on the job, on a plane trip, anywhere, and we are fully engaged with how we are being called to recognize love in that moment. Ignatius stresses that we don’t need to be sitting still for prayer (although we all need times of stillness for ourselves.) Instead, it is in the act of loving another that we are truly united, one, with God.

And how do you “know” if you have “found God” in something, in a moment of your day? For me it is like hitting a hard reset on my computer; It is reconnecting to my mission, to that which makes me tick and makes me seek goodness. It is the self-awareness of seeing what is truly important and needed in a situation rather than just what I “want.” It is the moment of gratitude for what is, and the release of the angst for what isn’t. And in those moments, there is a sense of wholeness, of Oneness with Something greater than myself, with another person, or with the world around me. When I step outside of myself enough, at the end of my day or throughout the day, to momentarily name and celebrate that experience of Oneness, that is when I can say I find God in all things.

Lay on the ground under a tree on a summer day—you’ll feel the Oneness. Look another person dead in the eye and listen to only them, or better yet tell them you care about them—you’ll feel the Oneness. Do what you have been gifted to do and do it not for the paycheck or the accolades, but to make the world and lives of others better and you’ll feel the Oneness. Do the right thing, the ethical thing, hard as it may be, and you’ll feel the Oneness. Find God, seek to be One with Him, in all things, all experiences, all opportunities, all moments. Jesus lived this Oneness in every moment of His life, showing us it is possible to do the same.
So do you feel Oneness? Right now? Can you find God in all the things of your life?

Photo: “A Moment to Share” by Wazari from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

Workers in this Moment

May 02, 2010 By: Lisa Category: Lisa's Posts 1 Comment →

Arch Bishop Oscar Romero was assassinated in 1980 in El Salvador. He inspired many with his prophetic life and solidarity with the poor and marginalized. In his prayer, known as “Prophets of a Future Not Our Own,” Romero offered liberation from being overwhelmed by the enormity of whatever task lies before us, trusting that we are not the Master builders, that a Spirit greater than us is ultimately responsible. The flip side of that liberation, though, is a sense of laziness, of procrastination, of thinking what we do now does not really matter, it’s all up to God, not us. Ignatius reminds us that we are free, yet we are called.

So in that sense of calling, I re-wrote the Romero prayer, to remind myself that while I am not the Master Builder, I am the worker, present in this moment, to do the will of God.

“Workers in this Moment to Do the Will of God”

It helps, now and then, to step up and take the short view.
The Kingdom is not only at hand,
It is even within us.
We accomplish in our lifetime a crucial piece of
The magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Everything we do is an opportunity, which is a way of saying
That the kingdom always lies within us.
Every statement can say a piece of what needs to be said
Every prayer is a partial expression of our faith
Every confession brings a step toward wholeness
Every pastoral visit brings a bit of life
Every program is an a effort to accomplish the church’s mission
Every set of goals and objectives is at least a place to begin
This is what we are about
We plant the seeds that today begin to grow
We water seeds that might otherwise wither
Knowing that what we do now may indeed make all the difference
We build upon foundations that God, through others, has gifted to us
We provide the energy that manifests God where there once was nothing
We can do something, and in realizing that there is a sense of calling.
This enables us to be a part of Something greater than ourselves
And to do it as God has gifted us. It may be challenging
But it is our calling, our way to know God in this moment
An opportunity for the Lord’s grace to move us and be stronger than we thought possible
We may never have this moment again, but this moment is the most glorious gift
the Masterbuilder can give the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not Messiahs
We are present in this moment to do the will of God.
Amen.

Photo: “International Workers Day March in Minneapolis” by Fibonacci Blue from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

My Prayer for Holy Week

March 29, 2010 By: Lisa Category: Ignatian Spirituality, Lisa's Posts Comments Off


Breathe deep. The hour has come.

Breathe deep again.

Imagine the deep breath Jesus must have taken as he climbed on a donkey’s back for the ride into Jerusalem, knowing the pit of vipers he was riding into.

Be aware of your own, tired, fearful deep breath. Where will your holy week pilgrimage take you? Where don’t you want to go, but somehow know you must? This isn’t about giving up chocolate for lent or meat on Fridays. There is a calling in each of us to be…something more, to face that which we deeply fear in ourselves, or to challenge the injustice before our eyes, knowing full well, in so doing, we will be inviting in pain, heartbreak, perhaps even crucifixion.

Breathe deep. I’m scared too. It helps that you are here with me. I don’t even know you or where you are right now, but just knowing you are reading, seeking as I am something more to this life, tells me I am not alone.

This week is the pinnacle of our faith. How seriously do we take it? Will we just go through the rituals this week, reenacting a last supper, genuflecting before a cross, and happily finding eggs on Sunday or will we truly seek to be resurrected people by next Monday? I’m not sure I trust that grace can take hold of me that fast. Were you to answer the first, that empty ritual is good enough for most folks, just go to mass and check the box, I must admit, my deep breath would turn into a sigh of relief. Whew. That I can do. But I would have to admit to some desolation in my heart—really? Honestly? That’s it? That’s all there is to be done to experience Oneness with God in this life?

But were you to take my hand and tell me from your heart “The hour has come,” my deep breath would quickly become restricted, short, gasping a bit. We seek to be a resurrected people and you can’t get there without going through the crucifixion. Your own crucifixion. My eyes would well with tears. I’m so not ready to be or do this calling. And I pray God help me.

And I find a bit of an answer:

When we have let ourselves go and no longer belong to ourselves, when we have denied ourselves and no longer have the disposing of ourselves…we begin to live in the world of God himself, the world of grace and eternal life. (Karl Rahner, Reflections on the Experience of Grace)

And in that, in letting go of my fears, in accepting whatever is to come from mounting this donkey into holy week, denying my common sense to stay where it is safe and just do what everyone else does, I find consolation. I don’t want to go there, but somehow I know it is where I have to go. Each of us has a “there”, a Jerusalem, where we don’t want to go, but we know we must. It will not be easy, but it will bring our hearts the Oneness we seek. This is our faith. Do we really buy it?

I find consolation as well, in going with you, in knowing that I have companions on this road who are about to face their own hour, whatever that may be for you. I will be with you as you are with me.

Breathe deep. Here we go.

Photo: “Via Delorsa Plaque” by betta design from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

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