When we contemplate in the way of Ignatius, we choose a passage of scripture and allow the Holy Spirit to move us, with our flaws and gifts, into a deeper understanding of God’s grace in the world. Part of the way that Ignatius saw the imagination working during this practice was that, as the individual’s prayer deepens, the images that present themselves as part of the contemplation will often not be a part of the original passage. For instance, during contemplation I once found myself observing two thieves waiting to rob and beat Joseph as he made his way with his wife and child down to Egypt. When the thieves saw Joseph, they decided not to rob him because he looked like “he might be pretty good with that staff.” Of course, there is no mention made in scripture of thieves accosting the holy family on their way down to Egypt. I remembered being surprised and amused by this image because I knew (or thought I did) that Joseph was in fact a peaceful man and that he had never used that staff to beat anything more than the dust from his clothes. Still, the thieves experienced fear. As I sat and pondered, it became apparent to me that these thieves lurking in the shadows were scared not by Joseph (even if they thought they were), but rather by the Holy Spirit. The fear of these men was a response to their dark intent being illuminated by the radiance of the Spirit! As I began to reflect on the prayer experience, I realized that what I thought I knew about Joseph and what the two thieves thought they saw were all coming from the same source. These perceptions, while driven by the Spirit, were all somehow rooted in my perspective, my characteristic way of viewing the world.

As I pondered the situation more, I started making connections to the way that the Spirit worked in my life and the way my contemplations unfolded. Through successive mediations, I realized that each episode allowed me a number of different perspectives depending on the direction that I felt drawn at that particular time.Still today, as I continue the practice of Ignatian contemplation, I am amazed at the images which work their ways into my prayer from time-to-time. So it is, I think, for many of us when we contemplate in the way of Ignatius. We sit to read, we ask God in, and sometimes more subtly than others, the Holy Spirit breathes life into a passage of scripture providing us with images that are filtered through our individual perspectives to give us a unique encounter with God.Now, while I am drawn to contemplation, at the same time there is something sobering about this practice. I sometimes misinterpret what God is doing in me because it can be difficult to understand which images are gifts of the Spirit and which images are emerging from my own fears and self-fulfilling desire.

Again, I think that these statements can be broadened to include many of us. Briefly, I was talking recently with a couple of different people about “The Passion of the Christ.” The conversation we had was much like every other conversation I have had about Gibson’s film. For the most part, the general consensus seems to be that it is a very good movie, that is, it is true to scripture, full of imagination, has great detail, and is well executed. However, there are also two points that come under fire on a regular basis: the first has to do with the treatment of the “Jews,” and the second is that the scourging is far too violent. One person I spoke to pointed out that, since it came from a mind like Mel Gibson’s, it is no surprise that the violence that brought Jesus to his death seemed more important than the resurrection (and indeed, more important than Jesus himself). While this last individual has made mention that she dislikes Gibson because she thinks he is a “misogynistic warmonger” (her words), her insight is still valid.

The thing about Gibson’s movie is that it captures on film his vision of the life of Christ. From interviews we learn that he looked at this movie as a result of his own spiritual journey and made note that it came out of his own spiritual insights. In effect, what he did was enter into a sort of contemplation that is very much of the Ignatian variety and then he put it on film. The point here is that what we are getting when we see “The Passion” is the Holy Spirit being presented through one man’s lens. The movie is an example of both the grace and danger of Ignatian contemplation. When we contemplate, our prejudices and fears are mixed right in with our aptitudes and gifts, and these things shape how we perceive the Spirit working in our prayer.

Returning to my own contemplation, after a time I began to realize that the Holy Spirit works within my prejudices and shortcomings, not in spite of them. In other words, the Holy Spirit does not automatically override my sinfulness, but rather works within the shortcomings that are part of who I am to create a constant conversion of heart. Thus, I have fears and desires that are specific to me, and when I am praying, it is often difficult to separate my fears and desires from what the Spirit is doing in me. As a result, sometimes what the Holy Spirit does in me is misinterpreted, especially if I am the only one doing the interpretation. The Spirit is at work, but since I can only understand the Spirit by viewing its work through the distorted lens of my own psyche, I sometimes go so far as to interpret the movement of the Spirit in ways that might not be good, holy, or true. It occurs to me that this is why Ignatius spends so much time going into the discernment of spirits: so that we can understand that our cognition of the good, of grace moving in our hearts, is a skill that needs to be continuously cultivated and practiced.

Furthermore, we are not asked to do this discernment alone. We are given Spiritual Directors to aid us. Of course, no one can tell me exactly what the Holy Spirit is calling me to! There is not a director in the world that can tell me with certainty what God desires or what a particular bit of prayer means. Spiritual Directors are not oracles. Rather, Directors point the way and help me test the integrity of thoughts and desires. Ultimately, it is a matter that is between God and myself, and the more I come to understand how I perceive the world, and then share that perspective with another, the better able I am to learn how God can move even in my sinfulness.

The age old charge of “know thyself” is not merely some trite pagan trope meant to befuddle and perhaps provide a dramatic smack of wisdom. By knowing who I am and not shying away from my weakness, I am better able to open myself to transformation. As I come to know myself through prayer and reflection, I become intimately familiar with my own “shameful” tendencies. The thing is, there is less of a tendency to feel shame these days. I see how sin continues to exist, but how it also seems to be changing through grace into something else. I see my many flaws, but by recognizing them and naming them, I can also allow myself to be led by them.As I come to know myself, especially in prayer, I am learning to be more careful and thoughtful when seeking insight from the Spirit. Put more broadly, knowing ourselves allows us to better know the truth of who we are so that we might accept our parts as creations of the living God. We are called to recognize our shortcomings that we might learn to love and serve even when our defects are in full swing. We are asked to understand how we fail so that we might be aware of the greatness of grace that is present when we succeed and recognize the person whom God is calling us to be. We are broken individuals, all of us, but when we recognize the weakness of who we are and where we need grace to change, we are also made aware the part of us through which we might see God’s grace work next.

Photo: “a sign!” by hollywalnuts from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

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