This Ignatian Life

Ignatian Spirituality in real time
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…in all things but sin.

March 06, 2010 By: plickteig Category: Ignatian Spirituality, Paul's Posts 3 Comments →

How human do we dare to make him? Did he smell funny when he was a kid? Did he get cranky when he was hungry? Did he ever get preoccupied by play and forget to come home for dinner? Did he ever stand in awe of a sunset or wonder why God made ants? What about at 15 when he was awash in hormones and his frontal lobe was not fully developed? Did he ever forget what he was supposed to do? Did he break things because he was too excited to think about what he was doing? How did he feel about girls? How did he feel about boys? Did he ever hurt people by accident? Did he ever forget what he was trying to say, only to remember after he had said something that might have been better left unsaid?

What did he see when he read the temple scrolls? Did he wonder why the people begged for a king to rule their nation when God had told them that judges were all that they needed? Did he feel his own heart stir as God sent the people prophet after prophet, calling them back to the covenant and to intimacy with Him? Did he immediately and explicitly know how to respond to the questions of Job? Did he wonder at the Beauty of Bathsheba, or contemplate the splendor of Solomon? Were the strange, sometimes conflicting elements of the books of Wisdom a mystery to him? Did he recognize people in his own village in the accounts he read? Could he see his neighbors wandering in their own deserts, with hardening hearts, growing weak in spirit?

Was he drawn into deeper awareness that he was the Messiah? Was he living a conscious articulation of something he already and always knew, or was it a surprise? Did he struggle with that articulation? Was it hard for him to admit because he did not want to presume too much? Did he know it and try to hide it even as a child? Did he have to learn he needed to hide it? Was he born knowing how to do miracles? Did he make mistakes sometimes (how many tries before he healed the blind man who saw people like walking trees?)? Did he know the little girl would rise? Why did he weep at the tomb of Lazarus? Did know how to handle mobs, or did he have to think on his feet? When he met the woman about to be stoned, was he buying time by writing in the sand?

Did he have foreknowledge of all that was to come or was he an intuitive of unsurpassed ability? Did he know who would betray him from the start or did he learn it as time wore on? Did he feel sadness for his betrayer? Was his knowledge of Peter’s denial a hunch? Did he know how he was going to die? Did he think that there was a chance it could be avoided? Was he hoping for the end to come as he was being flogged? What did he think about as he carried his cross up the hill? Was he sad that his mother had to see him in that state? Did he pass out at any point? Was it hope that led him up that hill? Was it love?

If Jesus is like us in all things but sin, what did this mean for us? Did Christ think like you? Did he pray like you? Would he see the same things as you, if he were in your place now, staring out from behind your eyes? Was his awareness like yours when you feel the presence of God, when you are aware and certain? When he talked about being one with the Father, even if his awareness was complete and total, was awareness of God sufficient for him to not feel pain? Can anyone avoid suffering? Loss of love? Weeping? Joy? How human was he? How much a part of God are we? Where does God consciousness begin and regular consciousness end? Are we unrolling the scroll as we go just like he had to? Are we coming into awareness of God in our lives like a son, or daughter, of God?

Photo: “Andy at Sunset” by “Gary Simmons” from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

The Prodigal Daughter

March 01, 2010 By: mcovey Category: Guest Bloggers, Ignatian Spirituality No Comments →

My life is simple.  I wake up everyone morning.  I eat breakfast.  I hug my family goodbye and then I go to work.  After what feels like an eternity, I finish my work day and head on to some other familial responsibility.  Eventually, I end up in my bed, tired beyond measure, and fall into the abyss of sleep.
God is in there somewhere I just know it.  One of the blessings of the spiritual exercises is that they cultivate an awareness of God in real time, even in the mundane.  I found myself in the presence of God in such a mundane moment just the other day.  Without the blessing of my Ignatian spiritual practice I might have missed it.  After a day’s work, and some much needed exercise, I went to pick my daughter up from the gym daycare.  I found myself a silent bystander, watching her interact with one of the caregivers and the other children.  This is a normal routine in our lives, but this time there was something different.  My daughter caught sight of me.  In a flash, she recognized me and a smile came across her face.  She sprinted across the play area to me while saying “Daddy!!!!”  Of course, this is every parent dream right?
I cherish those moments.  They fill my heart.  In some ways, this moment alone would be enough.  However, this time, I heard a voice inside my head.  It was the voice of the spirit “no doubt.”  The voice said, “This is what Jesus does when you are separated from him.”  This is obvious right?  The story of the prodigal son is famous for this theme, but what I felt turned that story on its head.  I saw myself as the father in the story.  Jesus runs to me just like the prodigal son, just like my daughter does.  His arms outstretched, calling my name.  He does it with joy and with longing.
It can be so tempting for me as a Catholic to put myself in the place of the shamed son in the story, but Jesus put himself there so I wouldn’t have to.  Suddenly my humdrum life was enlarged by my Ignatian practice, but most of all from by my “prodigal daughter.”

My life is simple.  I wake up everyone morning.  I eat breakfast.  I hug my family goodbye and then I go to work.  After what feels like an eternity, I finish my work day and head on to some other familial responsibility.  Eventually, I end up in my bed, tired beyond measure, and fall into the abyss of sleep.

God is in there somewhere I just know it.  One of the blessings of the spiritual exercises is that they cultivate an awareness of God in real time, even in the mundane.  I found myself in the presence of God in such a mundane moment just the other day.  Without the blessing of my Ignatian spiritual practice I might have missed it.  After a day’s work, and some much needed exercise, I went to pick my daughter up from the gym daycare.  I found myself a silent bystander, watching her interact with one of the caregivers and the other children.  This is a normal routine in our lives, but this time there was something different.  My daughter caught sight of me.  In a flash, she recognized me and a smile came across her face.  She sprinted across the play area to me while saying “Daddy!!!!”  Of course, this is every parent dream right?

I cherish those moments.  They fill my heart.  In some ways, this moment alone would be enough.  However, this time, I heard a voice inside my head.  It was the voice of the spirit “no doubt.”  The voice said, “This is what Jesus does when you are separated from him.”  This is obvious right?  The story of the prodigal son is famous for this theme, but what I felt turned that story on its head.  I saw myself as the father in the story.  Jesus runs to me just like the prodigal son, just like my daughter does.  His arms outstretched, calling my name.  He does it with joy and with longing.

It can be so tempting for me as a Catholic to put myself in the place of the shamed son in the story, but Jesus put himself there so I wouldn’t have to.  Suddenly my humdrum life was enlarged by my Ignatian practice, but most of all from by my “prodigal daughter.”


Photo: “enjoying waterdrops” by “mrcharly” from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

What Wasn’t Said

February 22, 2010 By: Lisa Category: Ignatian Spirituality, Lisa's Posts 2 Comments →

As a writer, I find lovely little consolations in grasping just the right words to convey an experience. So when one of the most articulate teachers I’ve ever had told me I needed to listen for what wasn’t said, I was very perplexed. How could I possibly know what wasn’t said?  Any of 10,000 things could have NOT been said.  What’s important to me is what WAS said, the words, the tone, the intention.  But alas, today, I came to understand the ways in which my teacher was exactly in line with Ignatius in the need to listen for and be aware of what wasn’t said.

In contemplation with the senses, Ignatius encourages prayer that puts oneself into the passage from scripture.  You may find yourself an invisible observer in the room of the last supper, hearing the clink of the cups, or you may find yourself one of the characters in the scene, the one being healed, one of the apostles, or even seeing the situation from the perspective of Jesus himself.  But when I utilize that prayer, I am instructed to use all my senses, hearing, sight, smell, touch, even taste, and imagine all that would be evoked within me. I am also instructed to contemplate what wasn’t said, that is, what  wasn’t written in the Gospels. What would I have said?  What side conversations may be going on? What would Jesus have said to me had I been there?  Ignatius asks that I allow the Spirit to speak to me more clearly through what wasn’t said.  Listen for what wasn’t said then, but is being said to you now.  In this is the message you need to hear.

In my relationships with others as well, my Examen is making me painfully aware of what wasn’t said, for good and for bad.  I notice the efforts my teenager makes NOT to argue (I try to reinforce those!)  I notice as well when invitations are not extended my way.  Most importantly, though, I am aware of myself and what I won’t say. What do I really want to say, but just can’t? Where do we hold ourselves back from saying what we truly believe? What could one of us have said, but didn’t?  When I take time to recognize what wasn’t said, I often find the places I most need to grow.

But in both my prayer and my relationships, there is a definite, glorious consolation that comes in recognizing what wasn’t said within those times when nothing can be said, when words defy us, when we are in the space of the ineffable, when the sentiment between the pray-er and the Praised are One and known by each, when we are in total solidarity with another.    To recognize those moments when our verbal capacities fail us, is to recognize that there is One greater than us.

As Jesus stood before Pilate, waiting to be sentenced, Pilate challenged him verbally: “What is truth?” and “Where are you from?”  And the Gospel of John says, “Jesus chose not to answer.”  Perhaps the greatest teacher in history knew, like my teacher knew, like Ignatius knew, that what wasn’t said can be the most powerful message of all.

Photo: "I will whisper hidden secrets in your ear" by HAMED MASOUMI from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

The Enneagram

February 14, 2010 By: mbensley Category: Megan's Posts 3 Comments →

Every month I gather with fifteen other young adults from the New York City area as part of the Jesuit Collaborative’s Contemplative Leaders in Action Program (CLIA).   The purpose of the group is to lead by reflection.  That is, through prayer, literature, discussion and community involvement, we seek to first better understand ourselves so that we might then better understand the world in which we live.  All of us who gather with the program lead incredibly active, diverse and devoted lives professionally, academically and spiritually.  We are engineers, investment bankers, educators, hotel managers, lawyers and marketing specialists who have been formed in Jesuit education and want to continue to lead, pray and live lives of service and faith.  If you are reading this blog, chances are a group like this is right up your alley and you might want to read more about the program and the Collaborative at: http://www.jesuit-collaborative.org/CLIA-Opens-in-Two-New-Cities .

A couple of months ago I looked through the CLIA syllabus and noticed the phrase “personality indicator tool” alongside the next two upcoming meeting dates.  Clearly our beloved group leader suspected that the clever phrasing might sound a little less harsh than PERSONALITY TEST.  A bit begrudgingly, our group of engineers, bankers, lawyers, teachers and wall street gurus sat down to take the personality indicator, the Enneagram.  Little did we know the results would bring welcomed and accurate “labels” for who we are, how we lead and where we might grow as leaders.  While the Enneagram itself is not explicitly rooted in Christianity, it is based on the premise that through self-awareness, we can use our strengths to better serve and live lives of leadership.  Therefore, it is easy to see how the tool can be situated in a Christian framework.  In fact, the process of taking the personality indicator and answering focused Enneagram questions reminded me very much of the daily practice of the Ignatian Examen.  In the Enneagram, focused questions, lead you to a number (one through nine) that is your “type.”  The premise is that people of the same type have the same basic motivations and communication patterns, and view the world in fundamentally similar ways.  The Enneagram groups its questions under the following five categories: 1) What is your driving force? 2) What behaviors do you rely on to get what you long for? 3) What role do you usually take in relationships? 4) How do you react under stress? And, 5) What will make you truly satisfied?  Just as the Examen asks you to look back at the day, at your actions and choices, the Enneagram helps to pinpoint where your personality shines, where you are at peace, and in what ways you bring peace to others.  Yet, the learning aspect of the Enneagram comes with the discussion of where your personality needs to grow and be stretched in order to fully embrace and live a fulfilled life as a scholar, friend, worker, lover, caregiver or confidant. If you’re interested in learning more about the Enneagram, look into Richard Rohr’s book The Enneagram: A Christian Perspective. This rich, extensive book prods you as you figure out your type, situating the tool within a Christian framework and offering anecdotal remarks along the way of Saints who embodied each of the nine types.  Alternatively, two websites that offer comprehensive Enneagram material are: http://www.9types.com/ and
http://www.enneagraminstitute.com/.

Once we fifteen engineers, investment bankers, educators, hotel managers, lawyers and marketing specialists had our defined Enneagram numbers in hand, perceptions of the “personality indicator tool” slowly began to change.  Unlike any personality test I, or others, had taken, something seemed very Christ-like about the brutally honest and reflective conversation that followed.  The gist of it was: “let me explain who I am and how I am so that we can better work, live and serve together.” Since the first CLIA-Enneagram meeting, I have used the “personality indicator tool” to have reflection-based discussions with roommates, coworkers and friends.  Going throughout my days now with people who I now know to be “threes” or “nines” has helped me to better understand our relationship and how to effectively work, live and pray together with those around me.  Consider my “personality indicator tool” skepticism erased.  And, in case you are wondering, I’m a “two.”

Photo: “ Enneagram ” by “Calinago” from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

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