This Ignatian Life

Ignatian Spirituality in real time
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Losing Weight in the Dominican Republic

June 13, 2010 By: jjok Category: Ignatian Spirituality, John's Posts Comments Off

I have just returned from ten days in the Dominican Republic. I was there with several colleagues and nine students working on a documentary portraying the work of Pedro Alamonte, a Catholic deacon who works with the poor in the city of Santiago. More specifically, he serves in a slum of that city known as Cien Fuegos. The slum is built right next to the main dump of the city, and the people who live there suffer from all of the aliments, both social and physical, that are typical of urban poverty around the world. For more about the project, please visit the course website at http://backpack.creighton.edu.

The trip offered little down time, but in the free time I did have I reflected a lot on what it is that continues to draw me to places like this. (This was my fourth trip to the DR.) Much of the time I was physically uncomfortable. Daytime temperatures in the DR reach the upper 90s. The humid air at times feels almost liquid. Few buildings are air-conditioned. Mosquitos and other biting insects enjoy feasting on my northern blood. We spent two nights in a rural community — a “campo” in local parlance – and my bed was in a rough-hewn building sandwiched between the grazing cows and a flock of chickens: neither of these worry too much about waking sleeping gringos.

But I knew it would be like this before I went, so the appeal of being there was stronger than the certainty of hardship. I could cite the remarkable beauty of this lush and mountainous country or the allure of the Atlantic ocean and the Caribbean sea that surround the island like a blue blanket. I could also cite the deep generosity of the people, especially those who live in the “campos” and share so willingly what little they have. These things do indeed appeal and attract. Yet, going to this place also does something for my perspective on the world that I need, and, I think, that God wants me to have.

I don’t know why it is so difficult for those of us who live in the midst of plenty to be satisfied with our lives and with what we have. At home, when I am busy and working hard, I slip so easily into a space of ingratitude and worse, rapacious craving. I don’t have this. I don’t have that. I need more money. I need more time. I need more recognition. Whatever. There is something about life among affluence that, paradoxically, produces desolation. Coming face to face with the poor in their need is like being slapped awake from a stupor of forgetfulness. Each time I encounter it I feel challenged anew not to forget.

As I sit writing this in my American palace (my 2200 sq. foot house on 10 acres north of Omaha) I am thinking of the family that took care of me in the campo and welcomed me to their 500 sq. foot house — one of the big ones. I am also thinking that after each trip I seem to weigh a little less than when I left. I did lose five pounds, but that’s not the kind of weight loss I mean.

Photo: “The Campo” by “jjoiv” 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)

I Need You

September 27, 2009 By: Lisa Category: Lisa's Posts 6 Comments →


For the next four months our family is living in San Salvador while my husband is on sabbatical and writing a book on Rutilio Grande, the first Jesuit killed here during the civil war of the 70’s and 80’s. We were eager to expose our kids to not only another culture, but also the realities of the developing world. We are inspired to work and pray on the same hallowed ground as the Jesuit and Church women martyrs. And we are so blessed to have the time as a family away from the busyness of life in the States, to reflect upon how we live this Ignatian life.I was asked yesterday what I missed the most? What’s the hardest part of trying to live and raise a family in a way that doesn’t exactly fit the American norm? My mind shot to the laundry list of items we had sent down from US grocery stores—chocolate chips, candy corns, books in English just to name a few. But living without the comforts of home really isn’t that challenging to the soul. How about facing daily the dangers of life in the developing world like blatantly unsafe conditions, vicious crime, or the constant threat of disease? In all honesty, those really don’t affect me that much. I have the ability with my credit card to be freed of many of the hazards of life that so many around me suffer daily. In truth, living abroad, even in a developing country, is very do-able these days. But in reflecting upon the question, I realized the most difficult part of living this Ignatian Life, of being as they say “ruined” by God, was the same here as in the States, as in Africa, as it would be anywhere on Earth; The hardest part is trying to find or build the community of others who ‘get it.’

Being “ruined” tends to mean we no longer fit in fully anywhere. We don’t fit in with the elite of the country with whom our children attend school, some of whom have an open disdain for the poor. We don’t fully fit in with the campesinos who show us so much hospitality even though we in no way share the daily grind of their lives on dirt floors under tin roofs working for $6 a day. So we long for a community of our own which shares our spirituality, helps us to find the face of God in the suffering, and inspires us to live the faith that does justice. Trying to do that on your own is like constantly swimming upstream against the current of materialism, fear, and self-interest.

While I know Ignatian spirituality is designed to discern individual calling, I also know that Ignatius and his companions relied on each other for the strength to live that unique calling. By far, the greatest gift of our experience in El Salvador has been the open companionship of the Jesuits and others from the Jesuit world with whom we find ourselves traveling this road. To be so far from home and yet instantly have a bond with another person you have never met before, not because they speak your verbal language but your spiritual language, to meet that person is to come home to a place you’ve never been before. Our Jesuit companions both at home and here have welcomed and supported us with open arms. As a lay woman I have such consolation to feel so “included” in this network that spans the Earth. But, at the same time, we are not fully a part of the Jesuit community either. They have their own residences and support systems and do not face the same struggles in raising children or sustaining marriage that we do.

And so what I came to realize in discerning what is the hardest part of living this faith as a lay family here (or anywhere) is ….finding you. You reading this blog. You who seeks with me to understand and live this Ignatian life. You, whom I’ve most likely never met, but know we together are called to live differently in this world. Finding you, knowing you are out there, being connected to and sustained by your faith and acts of justice, that is the greatest challenge of this Ignatian life for me.

So to whomever you are reading this blog, taking the time to once in a while reflect and discern what it means to know Jesus in this way, know this: I need you. I miss you! Life without you on this Earth would be pure desolation. But just knowing you are out there walking the walk too, empowers me to walk it as well. I just need to know there are others who live in this tension with me and that there is “somewhere” that I truly fit in. I know it is not a physical place we share, but in knowing itself.


Photo: “Group Hug” by snarlenarle from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

After the Resurrection

May 02, 2009 By: emiliotravieso Category: Emilio's Posts Comments Off

 

“Peace be with you,” he says. (Lk 24, 36)

 

And I think of the woman who came for domestic violence counseling last week, and the rumor that the next day her husband was sharpening his machete to chop off her head.

 

“Peace be with you,” he repeats.  (Jn 20, 19)

 

What about the refugees arriving here from Sri Lanka, flung halfway around the world like shrapnel from the explosion of war in their country? 

 

“Peace be with you,” again!  (Jn 20, 21)

 

I don’t get it, Jesus!  Drugs, corruption, swine flu!  Hunger!  And that’s all you can say? 

Why don’t you do something?!

 

“Peace be with you,” still… (Jn 20, 26)

 

I reach a point where my mind breaks down. 

And finally my heart can accept what he so insistently offers. 

And I am brought to a cool stream, and I can breathe again.  

And I can love, and I can give.  

 




Photo: “Peace Be With You” by Anna Gay from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)

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