This Ignatian Life

Ignatian Spirituality in real time
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Luke 10:38-42

March 14, 2010 By: mbensley Category: Ignatian Spirituality, Megan's Posts, Uncategorized Comments Off

Parties have been on my mind lately. Last weekend I helped to throw a birthday party for my niece, this week there were two birthday celebrations at work and tonight I’m having a few friends over for a dinner party. That being said, I cannot get Luke’s words out of my head:

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “You are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38-42)

I am much more of a Martha than a Mary. Dinner parties, lesson planning for my classes, birthdays, vacations…. I busy myself with little distractions, oftentimes to the detriment of my enjoyment of the “event” itself. When I think about the kind of party I would like to throw if Jesus was in my neighborhood for the evening, I immediately begin making lists:

1) Homemade snacks of all kinds
2) Cake fit for a King
3) Extravagantly long guest list
4) Party games? Which ones? (Is Jesus more of a Taboo buff or Scattergories nut?)
5) Clever music (I’m thinking of a catchy i-tunes mix with the first song being Chicago’s
“You’re the Inspiration.” Would He get it?)

In the midst of my planning for this fictional, overly ambitious dinner party I am reminded of Jesus’ reminder to Martha, “Stop being worried about so many things and just enjoy the moment!” This week I am going to take a cue from Mary: worry less, busy myself less and live more in the moment. I suspect this just might make the presence of Christ all the more clear to me in the classroom, in my conversations with friends, and during the dinner party that is happening in t-minus one hour. I’ll keep you posted on my “less is more efforts!”

…in all things but sin.

March 06, 2010 By: plickteig Category: Ignatian Spirituality, Paul's Posts 4 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)

Hear I AM

February 03, 2010 By: plickteig Category: Ignatian Spirituality, Paul's Posts Comments Off

What am I looking for? Is it love? Acceptance? Understanding? Purpose? What words do I put on the thing or experience that I think will help me feel like I am doing my part in this world? Is there a word? I am not sure that I have any answers that have not been covered at least 10,000 times by minds more nimble than mine. Words…words…words…

I have felt inarticulate as of late. I have been traveling for the last six weeks, never staying in one place for more than ten days, occasionally waking up and forgetting where I am. To be sure, I have had beautiful experiences with family and friends. I have seen the sun set over mountains, on plains (in planes), and rise over pine trees and frozen hills. I am grateful for the experience. I have experienced conversations in cultures (both in the US and outside) that have opened my eyes in new ways. The thing is, I cannot really say much about them. I do not know what to say. They have not had time to settle. I have not had time to process. I do not have the words available. Further, looking at the news of the world and seeing murder, mayhem and madness floating alongside stories of beauty and grace, I do not know how to feel.

Culture shock, mixing with the mental and emotional saturation of the holidays, the glut of food, family, friends and foreigners, leaves me just feeling worn. I feel like hibernating. I feel like sinking into the sluggishness of the season. I know I think things and that I feel something. I am just not sure it matters if I say what. I mean really, is it necessary to say anything? Is it necessary to try to muddle through the mental slog and describe the sediment of some sentiment? Is there any articulation that will actually help matters?

I am not so sure. In fact, maybe articulation is what I want to avoid.

My real desire, see, is to let myself drift into a quiet place away from the noise and hullabaloo of the next big entertainment event (Grammy’s Superbowl, Olympics, Oscars) and listen.

Thank God Lent is coming.

These are the desert days for me. These are the days when I want to go out into the barren land and learn to listen again to the voices of my soul. I do not want to avoid the World so much as I want to remember how to listen to it. I want to remember how to hold the events of my day along side the events of the world and let them coexist. I need to remember how to let go of the desire to do and give into the awareness of “I AM.” I want to remember the voice of the one crying out in the desert. I want to remember how to let myself be moved again and respond once more as a child of God.

My Best Year Yet

January 17, 2010 By: Lisa Category: Ignatian Spirituality, Lisa's Posts Comments Off

A friend of mine is a consultant helping businesses develop their annual strategic plans. She uses the same process of 10 reflective questions to help individuals create their own personal strategic plan asking what must I do to make this my Best Year Yet? Last year she helped me create my own plan—but of course, being me, well let’s just say it wasn’t exactly my best year yet. I didn’t keep up with the monthly online goal tracker, my 10 goals were far from being met, and I felt more like a failure for once again not achieving what I pledged to do last January. I rationalized a few of the goals away: It wasn’t my fault I didn’t become fluent in Spanish because the language school was lame; I could cheat and say I really had become a more attentive spouse (just don’t ask my husband!). But regardless of the reason, the truth was I hadn’t done what I had said I needed to do to have my Best Year Yet. So when she enthusiastically wanted to get together to develop my plan for this year it felt more like my tax attorney excitedly wanting to get going on that audit!

As I reflected in prayer on both the questions she had asked of me and my awkwardness with trying to project my path forward this year, I recognized her business planning tool was practically “Ignatian Spirituality Lite.” Right from the start, the coach states her job is to hold you accountable to what you say you are going to do, that honest accountability being one of the most powerful indicators of plan success. If only my spiritual director realized how much her “accountability services” were worth in the secular business world! Like Ignatius’ directive in the Spiritual Exercises, my personal strategic plan is to begin with gratitude and finding the good in what has been and what IS rather than our tendency to focus on our trouble spots (hmmm… now what Spirit might those be coming from?) In creating a plan one must answer questions (phrased in more secular terms) about consolations and desolations and discern the message of them. I am encouraged to articulate “my limiting paradigm” which ironically sounds a lot like the ‘three types of persons’ discussion I had with my spiritual director. Do I say I believe but really don’t? Do I give all but that one thing which I hold in reserve for myself? In place of that constricting thought churning in my head, I name a new paradigm. Following Ignatian Spirituality, that for me would be the directive of the First Principle and Foundation: I want and choose what better leads to God’s deepening life within me. But am I really prepared to live by that? Do I really want that?

While many people would frame such reflection tools as “self-help”, doing so in the context of prayer clarifies easily that my “self” tends to be more the problem and the “help” is definitely from One greater than I. If what propels my growth this year is anything other than the God my heart seeks, be it money, vanity, or personal ambition, I will be less than I was created to be.

Ultimately, I must identify my roles and goals for each role. These are winnowed down to my top 10 goals for the year, and each month I define my tactics for advancing that goal. Implicitly, if I achieve my top 10 goals I will have my Best Year Yet. Here is where I made my crucial mistake last year. I listed the typical roles: wife, mother, employee, community member, best friend, and …believer. I noted my monthly mini-goals for growth in each role. And, thinking I was following Ignatius’ directive, planned all the proper tactics right down to the daily prayer time. But to segment my faith life from those other roles is precisely what Ignatian Spirituality fights against. If being faithful or growing in my relationship to Christ is one of many other goals I am trying to achieve, right up there with learning Spanish and reading novels, it too easily gets lost in the daily to do list and denies the greatest resource I have—the grace of God—to be actively engaged in achieving those other goals. What if instead, I saw that daily prayer time as a tactic to achieving the other goals on my list, every goal on my list? What if my service projects or learning Spanish were not an end in themselves, but a means to my life’s calling to praise, honor, and serve God?

Perhaps this year I will have just one goal in my personal strategic plan: Live love in each moment.

If I could do that, it would be my best year yet for sure.

Photo: “Letterpress 2010” by Sarah Parrott from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)