So what does dreaming and imagination have to do with the spiritual life? I remember during my vocational discernment when I kept asking myself “What’s God’s will for my life?” my spiritual director suggested I instead ask “What are my dreams?” At first, the question was hard to take to a weekend retreat. I hadn’t really considered such a question to enter my prayer. But eventually I came to realise what my dreams were and how God was calling me to follow them.

Dreams
Ignatian spirituality holds desires in high regard. We can think of them as dreams. Not the kind of dreams of large beachside homes or becoming famous. The kind of dreams Ignatius talks about goes deeper. Deep within our hearts are desires that ultimately lead us to God. They answer questions like, What kind of life am I going to live? What vocation is best for me?

When you dream about your future, what do you see?

Walt Disney World has a parade called the Celebrate A Dream Come True Parade. It’s one of my favourites. A lyric from the music says, “Look inside your heart, and find the dream that’s waiting there for you. Can you see it? When you close your eyes. It’s the magic of a dream inside of you.” See it in the context of discernment: You won’t know what your dreams are unless you look inside where God’s voice lies. God uses your desires and dreams to guide you. The hope is that your dreams and God’s dreams for you align. And in regards to discernment, our life is an ongoing discernment. Spiritual directors might talk about the “call within the call”. The parade song says, “Celebrate a dream come true, with another waiting just for you…” Though we find one calling we soon discover there is another, another dream within a dream, ever calling us to go deeper as we become more who we are made to be.

Imagination
Disney’s other cornerstone is imagination. The movies and the theme parks are built on story, which begins in the imagination of a creator. If we zoom out really big picture we can see our world, all creation, originating in the imagination of God. And we help in writing the story, hopefully going along with what God has in mind, though often we stray from God’s plan and choose to begin writing a story that God never imagined or hoped for. So how do we know something of God’s story? We can start with scripture. The Bible is filled with stories we can not only read but place ourselves in.

Walt Disney imagined his theme park to be like a movie set, a place where you could literally step into the movies and watch them come to life before your eyes. Walk down Main Street and you’re transported to the turn of the 20th century. Enter Tomorrowland and you’ve been transported into the future. The characters around you come to life and even interact with you. You become part of the action. Walt saw stories not as words on a page or flat frames in a movie, but as something our own imaginations can add to and personally touch our lives.

Ignatian spirituality sees the same with the stories in the Bible. Our imagination can place ourselves in the boat with Jesus and his friends on the stormy sea. Or at the table at the Last Supper, listening in on the conversation, even participating. Ignatius says if we let our imagination free, not forcing it or “scripting” it, God can use it to show us something. I recall, in my own prayer, the vivid scene with Mary and Martha. I was one of their friends waiting for Jesus to arrive to raise from the dead our brother Lazarus. We spoke about Lazarus’ life and how much we missed him. But then our friend Jesus came along and brought him back to life. You should have seen the tears and embraces as the four of us rejoiced.

Dreams and imagination are important parts of the spiritual life, guiding us and putting us more in touch with God. It’s important to recognise that God also has an imagination and dreams for the world. We do our part as actors and writers. But we’re not alone. Sometimes our fellow writers can take the story in an unexpected direction. Our stories are constantly being written with the help of God and our fellow human beings. We cannot ensure perfect endings or plot lines, but paying attention to the story and using the tools of our dreams and imagination we can do our best to guide our lives in the direction God desires. And we can celebrate it.

>> Learn more about dreams and imaginative prayer

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The Heart
When discussing feelings or the depth of a person we say things like, “Do it with all your heart” or “Speak from the heart.” The word heart is related to the Latin word cor. The heart is the centre, the core (“Let’s get to the heart of the matter.”). Oftentimes the heart and the soul are interchangeable. When I look into my heart or see into yours I am looking into the depths of the soul. This is no surprise given that blood is life-giving and the heart is what sends it throughout the body. Many religious traditions see blood in special ways. In the Jewish tradition blood is seen as the substance that contains the life of an animal, which is why Jews cannot consume animal blood. In the Catholic/Christian tradition it is believed that the wine at Mass becomes the Blood of Jesus Christ. The Sacred Heart of Jesus is a popular devotion as Christians see the physical heart of Jesus as a sacred life-giving centre from which his love comes. Among some German tribes blood was used in ritual and sprinkled on objects. The Old English word for this sprinkling, blóedsian, was adopted by the Catholic Church and became bless or blessing.

So the heart is the life-centre of us. We see it as the source of our love (“I love you with all my heart.” “I ♥ you.”). When we feel emotions it can sometimes feel like it comes from the heart. The heart is seen as our true selves (“He’s kind at heart.”). We pour our hearts out when we allow that inner true self to be revealed. We do something with all our heart when we do it fully, with our whole selves, intentionally. When we take something to heart we take it very seriously; one could imagine storing it in our depths into our core. What about your heart of hearts? That’s like speaking about the soul of your soul, deep deep within.

The Gut
It literally means your intestines: bowels, entrails. When one asks you what your gut says, they’re asking you for your instinctive reaction. This is quite different from the heart which seems more discerning and less bodily. The gut is the raw innards. There’s no holding back the truth that comes from the gut, almost as if we’re not in control of what it has to say. The reasoning mind doesn’t get in the way and the discerning heart doesn’t either. Saint Ignatius might tell you to pay attention to your gut feelings and those immediate reactions that come from there. It might reveal some truth that reasoning could never get you to.

The ancients saw the bowel as the seat of human emotion:

“Greek poets, from Aeschylus down, regarded the bowels as the seat of the more violent passions such as anger and love, but by the Hebrews they were seen as the seat of tender affections, especially kindness, benevolence, and compassion.”

(From etymonline.com)

Some early English bibles used the word bowels to mean pity or compassion. Later it was retranslated as heart. So the heart and gut have some relation. They’re both internal organs associated with feelings and human depth.

Feelings are physical. When we are “moved” by something those physical feelings manifest in our organs such as our heart or gut. We really feel them. Those organs might actually experience some sort of physical movement. In a sense, we have a bowel movement. (!) Well, that’s probably what the ancients would say.

God has given us not just the gift of our souls but also our physical bodies to be used for God’s glory. And we must be attuned to our body’s feelings and what each organ represents if we want to pay attention to yet another way God communicates with us. After a loved one dies when our heart is in our throat we recognise our love for them and the grieving that must be had. When my gut tenses up and tingles I may be nervous and excited about a love interest. It’s almost as if our heart and our gut have their own personalities. How often do you look down at your heart and gut and ask them what they have to say? It might be important.

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Distractions
Jesus’ ascension is hard to grasp intellectually. How can it happen that a human being can physically ascend into the heavens? But that’s not the point, is it? Many times Jesus says things like, “You’re missing the point.” It’s not just that we must have faith and ignore what our eyes tell us, it’s that we can be distracted by things like miracles, timelines, and even Jesus’ ascension.

The first reading (Acts 1:1-11) opens the Book of Acts with a continuation of Jesus and the disciples’ stories after the Resurrection. “He presented himself alive to them…” the scriptures say. It’s important to acknowledge Jesus’ full human aliveness here. No doubt the disciples are still probably distracted by the fact that Jesus came back from the dead, despite any ministry they may have been doing. They were able to touch him, even see his wounds and watch him eat. But Jesus here begins foreshadowing Pentecost and beyond. “… For John baptized with water, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.” Indeed, in a few days we will be celebrating Pentecost – so perhaps we can relate a bit.

But the disciples still don’t seem to know what he means. “When they had gathered together they asked him, ‘Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?’” They want to know God’s timelines. This reminds me of the recent end of the world prophecies. Evangelical pastor Harold Camping claimed that using the Bible he calculated the end of the world to be 21 May 2011. It didn’t happen. Nor did it the following October which he recalculated it to be. This year we find a study saying that 1 in 10 people in the world believes the world will end this year, in 2012. Do we believe the Mayans?

Smartly, Jesus responds to the disciples saying, “It is not for you to know the times or seasons that the Father has established by his own authority.” He refocuses them. “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Basically: You’re missing the point! Stop focusing on timelines and instead focus on being a witness for me and ministering to all people!

Letting Go
And then he left. Jesus rose up into heaven leaving the disciples to continue the ministry Jesus had begun. The Ascension meant Jesus let go of the disciples’ hands. Their Lord was still with them, just not on the earth directing their every move. In a sense, their training wheels were taken off. The Ascension indicates Jesus’ desire to entrust the disciples with the independence to continue his project. And the fact that Jesus’ project is still going strong 2,000 years later is a beautiful testament to the Holy Spirit and what Jesus had hoped for.

The gospel reaffirms the story in Acts. Jesus told the disciples to go into the world and proclaim the gospel to every creature. Every creature. That’s an interesting phrase. The Greek word used is πᾶς (pas) which means all or all things. Most translations say “all people” but the New American Bible (as quoted in this post) translates it as “every creature”. I like this because it means the gospel is more than something to proclaim solely to other people; it’s something to be proclaimed to all creation – through the ways we live and interact with all things: other people, animals, the environment, and all the material things. The gospel message should inform all of that.

So, even after Jesus ascended into heaven the gospel says, “They went forth and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them and confirmed the word through accompanying signs.” I love this. Jesus does not just abandon the disciples, he “worked with them” and confirmed the word, all the things Jesus taught, all he stood for. And signs are given through the love and work of the disciples – they heal, they comfort, they befriend, all in the name of Jesus.

Question: Sometimes Jesus lets go of our hand but that doesn’t mean he isn’t still there working with us. He trusts us enough to give us the independence to work on his great project. How am I doing this? Are there things (like seeking for timelines or proofs) that are distracting me? What signs do I give to others that show I’m a disciple of Christ?

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For a good relationship to develop … a mutual respect is very necessary. … Every good Christian adopts a more positive acceptance of someone’s statement rather than a rejection of it out of hand. And so a favorable interpretation … should always be given to the other’s statement, and confusions should be cleared up with Christian understanding.

(David Fleming, SJ, Draw Me Into Your Friendship)

Basically it says: Give others the benefit of the doubt. This can be very difficult, especially for me. When someone says something that rubs me the wrong way I can be quick to judge and quick to spin their statement into one that had intent to hurt. Look at all the spin that occurs in politics and media. Spin is always around us and we, too, can tend toward spinning others’ words, twisting or misinterpreting the person’s intention.

Given the complexity of our bodies and minds and past experiences, all of us interpret the world and one another’s statements and actions differently. Relationships are complex. We are fragile sinners, humans who make mistakes. We must understand this if we are going to make an effort to “plus-sign” what others say to us. See, I think people are generally good and have positive intentions. Sadly, there is a lot of mistrust in the world because we tend to see on the news those with malicious intent: the murderers, the thieves, the abusers, the frauds.

I think the truth is, most people have good intentions. How often have you said something with good intentions to realise that the other person feels hurt by it? “But I didn’t mean it that way!” you might say. Saint Ignatius encourages the receiver of such a statement to make the most favourable interpretation, to assume you meant the best. And, if they are still confused and unable to “plus-sign” they should ask you what you meant by it.

Others may not be so quick to plus-sign, but as Christians we want to be sure to plus-sign others. Next time you are hurt by what someone says, assume they had good intentions, give them the benefit of the doubt. Hopefully the chances are that they did have good intentions. If you just can’t seem to find a favourable interpretation, let them know that you felt hurt by their statement and ask them how they meant it when they said it. Plus-signing is a first step to positive communication in all your relationships. Assume the best and reconcile if needed.

Listen to an audio version of this post… 

The truth is, when the angel Gabriel came to her to announce that she will bear in her womb the author of life, she was a simple teenager and was when she married Joseph. There’s no doubt about it: She was a teen mom (or as I would say, a teen mum). And certainly motherhood and marriage in one’s teenage years was not uncommon then. She lived in the unknown town of Bethlehem in simple conditions. There was no palace. There were no jewels or fancy garments.

In the Regis University chapel in Denver, CO there is a simple yet beautiful painting of the annunciation scene. Mary has the typical colours, but over her simple pink top is a simple blue dress with a red cloth tied around her waist. She looks like a peasant girl, holding a large urn of water which she just retrieved from the well behind her. But not more than a few steps from the well she encounters a glowing winged angel. Hand to her chest, Mary looks breathless and caught off-guard. Her expression seems to say, “Who me?” The angel points toward her affirmingly.

Mother and Daughter
Images like this hint at the true Mary, the one who became a teenage mother whether she was ready or not. Mary probably turned to her own mother, Anne, for mothering counsel. In the chapel of St Ignatius High School in Cleveland, OH there is another depiction of Mary but this time she’s shown as a small child. The stained glass image shows her at the foot of her seated mother. Mary’s standing but leaned toward her mother’s knees, one of her feet on tiptoes, hands on her chin, arms resting on Anne’s lap. Anne looks down lovingly to her daughter with a smile. Perhaps Mary imagined a scene like this as she pondered her own motherhood.

Mother’s Day is a unique opportunity for mothers to reflect on their own experience being a daughter. There is only so much a parent can learn from books. Often the past gives more insight into the now—what to do, what not to do. Our own mothers (or mother figures) have a lot to tell. The stained glass image of Anne and Mary does too, even in their still silent embrace.

Mother and Son
We know from scripture the kind of mother Mary was to Jesus. She was with him from beginning to end. She was with him escaping to Egypt by night to save his life from Herod’s henchmen. She taught him about the faith and watched him grow up through boyhood. There was no break in Mary’s love and compassion for Jesus. There was no doubt she was a strong woman. And as Jesus was physically pierced on the cross, his mother’s heart was pierced with sorrow.

Saint Ignatius says that when Jesus rose from the dead the first person he most likely visited was his mother. Wouldn’t you? In fact, Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises contain a meditation on this very meeting. Imagine the scene and the kind of embrace that was had. Another one of the St Ignatius High School chapel windows depicts this very scene. Jesus and Mary both have smiles on their faces—all you can really see are their faces. The rest of the scene is a whirl of colour, pinks and purples, wrapping them up in an embrace with each other. Tremendous joy. The kind after mother and son are reunited after eons.

Mother’s Day should capture the spirit of Mary’s story with the narrative of our own. We all have different stories about our mothers, perhaps not as romanticised as Jesus, Mary, and Anne’s, but they’re real. Our stories inform our present and how we live it out, how we relate now to our own mothers and to our children. Mary gives us a beautiful example of a teenage girl thrown into a frightening and unknown situation, but who, by the grace of God, learns to love, to mother, and to give of herself fully to her God.

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“In an age when the Catholic Church is struggling to keep her voice relevant and prominent within society, the Catholic world sees the Church hierarchy at the fore of the effort. It is the bishops and priests on the news, writing the letters, and speaking out against complacency and the rise of secularism. Sure, they have the duty to shepherd the flock, but non-laypersons — including bishops, priests, religious, and seminarians — make up only 0.1% of the world Catholic population. The remaining 99.9% — laity — also have a vital responsibility to their role, as the Catechism says, “in the front line of the Church.” I was bothered that we seem to hear little about the lay vocation.”

… Read the full article at BustedHalo.com

The most exciting change is the new God In All Things podcast, available on iTunes. You’ll find some of my segments heard on The Catholic Program on WBZ NewsRadio 1030 and more. Most posts will have an audio version, but not all. My hope is to bring a small dose of Ignatian spirituality to more channels.

Take a moment and subscribe through one of the social media channels below or scroll down to the bottom of the page to subscribe by email.

A thanks to Joshua Peters, SJ for letting me share this.

I’m Not Boasting
A psalm from the First Week of the Spiritual Exercises

Beloved,
you may not be aware that I
created the entire world with just
my fingertip.
So imagine my surprise and delight,
when you asked me, just now,
to kiss you.
My dear one, that is like asking
the oceans to be salt free
by Tuesday,
or like having all of Africa
over for dinner.

I’m not boasting.

Darling,
if I kissed you, your mouth would over-flow
with flowers.
When you opened your lips to speak, nothing but
precious gems would
pour out.
You couldn’t eat because your
fork would be obstructed by
a rainforest.

And if I were just to hug you-
your heart would beat so loud and so fast
that buildings all over the world would collapse…
from sheer excitement.

My sweet,
even if I took you dancing-
the floor beneath our feet would turn to quicksand
and we’d spend the entire evening rescuing people
from its depths.

Or if we said “Ok, just a nightcap.”
The second my liqueur touched your glass you’d
be drowning.

Beloved,
I promised that I’d always be with you, and I never intend to leave
your side.
So turn to me now so that I can see your face.
Ah! You are radiant! You are irrevocably beautiful!
Let’s just enjoy this moment
right here, right now,
together,
in
Christ.

Walks and runs and relays for causes are interesting. Interesting—because I believe people would still donate money whether or not there was a walk—but not redundant. It’s one thing to raise cash for breast cancer research, but it’s another thing to put your physical energy into the cause. It’s pure sacramentality: the idea that grace can be revealed in the physical “stuff” of this world. It means that we’re not just spirit, we’re body. It’s not just words, it’s action. I can say “I love you” but pairing it with a kiss deepens it. I can say “I’m sorry” but doing a penance calcifies it.

Sore Feet = Sacramental Involvement
A few years ago I did the Walk for Hunger which happens every May in Boston. I decided to walk the full 20 miles for all the money I raised. By the end of the day my feet were more sore than they ever had been. Sure, I could have just raised money and donated it with a click of a mouse, but something about that walk put me in solidarity with those suffering from hunger. A friend ran the Boston Marathon this year to raise money for cancer research. Her running put her in solidarity with those she was raising money for, not because her suffering was the same—because it wasn’t—but because her physical action was a sign that her cause called for more than a “first world” response. It called for full, sacramental, physical, involvement.

There’s something moving about seeing groups of people “do” for a cause. It’s a sign of the incarnate God who makes himself present in our world. As we mirror God’s image, our walking or running for a cause mirrors the solidarity God has with us. God suffers with us and feels what we feel. God feels the suffering of the hungry or the sick. And God does not just “feel” from a distance. God came to earth as Jesus Christ to endure the hardships of humanity, to be in solidarity with us. We also manifest God’s being with the suffering by our being in solidarity with the suffering, even through a walk for hunger.

This idea of sacramentality, of grace being channeled through the physical is why church exists. We could pray at home by ourselves, but by going to church and participating we allow our faith to deepen along side others who have similar and different needs. Sacramentality means taking our words and our hopes and our thoughts and changing them into actions that lovingly touch and transform the world which touches us back and transforms us.

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“Therefore, as we celebrate the memorial of his Death and Resurrection, we offer you, Lord, the Bread of life and the Chalice of salvation, giving thanks that you have held us worthy to be in your presence and minister to you.” (Bolding my own)

God is reaching out to us in collaboration

Woah – We’re talking about ministering to God? I thought God ministers to us! Jesus came not to be served but to serve, right? The previous translation said, “We thank you for counting us worthy to stand in your presence and serve you.” I was fine with serving God but the word minister has such a deeper meaning. It can seem a bit backward. When we talk about ministry the direction would tend to be from God through me to the person I’m serving. Ministry is serving others in the name of and with the help of God. If we have a ministry to God, as the prayer says, it would seem that the arrow is pointing the other direction, from me to God.

There are a few things to note in this. The word comes from the Old French ministre or servant. Ministering is simply about service. In countries other than the United States government agencies are named ministries (e.g. The Ministry of Education, the Ministry of Defence). I like that nomenclature because it gives a sense of care. The Ministry of Health sounds a lot nicer than the Department of Health. The prayer says that God has held us worthy to minister to (or serve) him. Being able to serve is a gift because it’s what we were ordained to do out of love. And why should we care for God? Saint Ignatius would say that because it’s a loving response for the care God has given to us. It’s our purpose to praise, reverence, and serve God (see “Is God selfish?” and “What’s my purpose?”); it’s the Principle and Foundation.

After Jesus spent 40 days in the desert the Gospel of Matthew says, “Then the devil left him and, behold, angels came and ministered to him.” (Matthew 4:11, NAB) Other translations say the angels “helped him” or “took care of Jesus’ needs”. Jesus was human and endured great hardship in the desert. The angels’ purpose was to care for him. I think we need to ask ourselves, In what way do I need to minister to God? It may not be in the way Jesus needed care in the desert, but it can mean service to God by service to others.

Jesus told the parable of the King separating the sheep from the goats. (See Matthew 25) The King said, “I was hungry and you fed me, thirsty and you gave me a drink; I was a stranger and you received me in your homes, naked and you clothed me; I was sick and you took care of me, in prison and you visited me.” When, they asked, did they do all those things for him? “The King will reply, ‘I tell you, whenever you did this for one of the least important of these followers of mine, you did it for me!’” By ministering to others’ needs, we literally minister to God.

But service can also mean prayer. It can mean intentional discernment about our life’s vocation and purpose. How are we going to help God in his project for the world?

Here’s a fresh paraphrase of the prayer at the beginning of this post. Make it your own.

Lord, we thank you for being with us, for loving us, and for giving to us, for you find us worthy of your love. Help us to respond to this love by working with you in your project for the world. Let us have the same desires you have for creation.

Listen to an audio version of this post… 

I was standing in line the other day with a friend waiting to get into a concert. In front of us was a family with two kids, a boy around 7 years old and a girl about 12. Next to them on the sidewalk was a public pay telephone (yes, they still exist). The boy went over to the phone and picked up the receiver and put it to his ear. “What are you doing?” the father asked. “I wanted to hear what it sounded like,” the son replied. The girl went over and had a listen for herself.

I realised that these kids may have never heard a dial tone before.

It wouldn’t be odd if the parents didn’t have a landline at home. Most people I know these days, along with me, don’t have a landline; they use their mobiles. In fact, 29% of children live in homes without landlines. So kids may grow up possibly never hearing a dial tone until they encounter one at their first job. It goes to show the progression of technology and the change in the way we communicate.

For me the dial tone brings some comfort. When I pick up a landline phone and hear no dial tone I know something’s awry. It’s not normal. I get a kind of empty feeling because I know I can’t call out. Is the power out? The telephone line? With mobile phones there’s no immediate indicator until after I place the call – then I may get a tone of some sort if the call failed.

Yes, I’m bringing prayer into it
Paradoxically, God operates without a dial tone. There is no audible indicator letting you know that God is listening to you. And that can be disconcerting to some. The best part is, God never steps away from the switchboard or takes off his headset. So while human communication standards change and we lose that safe constancy of the dial tone, God’s communication standards do not change. It may seem a bit cliché to talk about prayer as a “direct line” to God, but my point here is that with God there is constancy. No dial tone required. Silence is something constant and dependable. Even between the waves of sound or music lie tiny moments of silence. Silence even makes up sound.

This is not to say we can’t pray with music or sound, but there’s a reason liturgical services call for silence in certain parts. Silence is space where there is nothing else but God. Think of the vacuum of space: there is absolutely nothing there, no matter, no gas for sound to travel through. But as people of faith we can trust that the constancy and presence and mystery of God is there.

So the dial tone is kind of a “waiting silence” for landline phones: It tells you that the telephone system is functioning and ready to receive your input. As for prayer, the waiting silence is, well, the silence of God’s waiting for your input. And it’s never out of service. We can be uncomfortable with silence which is why it feels awkward to hear no dial tone on a landline. Perhaps we can accept silence as not something uncomfortable but space we leave for God’s constant, dependable, and patient waiting for us.

Listen to an audio version of this post…

Forgot what a dial tone sounds like? Here:

…

“Don knows how important it is to tap into human feelings. When he’s pitching a campaign to a client he chooses his words with great care. He speaks to the feelings their product creates in the lives of consumers…”

Read the full article at BustedHalo.com

So I present today, a video post. Finding God in Bryant Park (watch in HD):

Music: Christ Be With Me by The Brilliance

And time is all we have. We can’t escape it, yet we speak in a way that makes it seem time is snatched away from us. We might as well ask how much time we’ll waste. It’s as if we’re saying, “Well, that’s an hour I’ll never get back…”

Perhaps we can instead use the verb take in its first definition (in the New Oxford American Dictionary): to reach for and hold. Time is something cherished that ought to be embraced and held.

Beholding Time
Saint Ignatius doesn’t say a whole lot about time but it’s clear that he sees it as a sanctified time with God. In the Spiritual Exercises he encourages retreatants not to let the evil spirit get the best of them and to spend a full hour in prayer, not give up early. Why? Because that allotted prayer time is for spending with God. It’s holy.

Indeed any time we have is holy and special and God-given. We ought to reach out and behold it. It’s what we live in and where our memories live. When we reflect on our day (like in the Examen prayer) we are reflecting on time that is spent with God. Ignatius understood well that it is within time we operate and serve God and our fellow creature. “Be generous with your time, that is, do today, if you can, what you have promised to do tomorrow,” he once said. Ignatius instructed Jesuits to use their time according to their situation and mission. Jesuit novices are to devote much of their time to prayer. Jesuit scholastics are to allocate more time for studies.

Advice from Ignatius
Back in 1556 a brand new Jesuit named Fulvio Androzzi wrote to Ignatius from his apostolate in Italy. He was having trouble finding time to prepare his sermons. Ignatius responds by encouraging him to spend time first with the people he’s serving.

“…if little time is left for you to prepare your sermons, Christ our Lord will supply that defect. But throughout the day things might be so arranged as to give you more time, if more time is necessary, for one thing rather than for another. The good disposition and devotion of your patrons will be a great help to you in setting to order what should be better arranged….”

Yes, this Jesuit might want to adjust his schedule, but by devoting himself to the most important things (like focusing on the people he’s serving) the “order” of how his time is arranged will fall into place, and not without the grace of God. Ignatius might have a good insight here. We tend to cram our schedules so full that indeed our time is snatched away from us. Perhaps an adjustment of focus is needed.

Earlier I used the phrase “spend time”. If we think about time in this fashion, as a valuable currency—and time with God is no doubt valuable—we may want to ask ourselves how we are spending this currency. Are we spending it frivolously? I think Ignatius would say, spend it on relationships and the things that we cherish and value. Then, just maybe, time won’t be taken from us and we can instead reach out and take it, hold it, and then spend it wisely.

Readings: Acts 3:13-15, 17-19; 1 Jn 2:1-5a; Lk 24:35-48

Our God is a god of action. God breathes life into Adam’s lungs and puts his spirit into the universe. Saint Ignatius said that God labours for us continually. The scriptures talk about a farmer planting seed: “He sleeps at night, is up and about during the day, and all the while the seeds are sprouting and growing. Yet he does not know how it happens.” (Mark 4:27) Stuff happens on the molecular level, things we cannot even see; it is God continuing the action of creation.

In the first reading from Acts we encounter the both beautiful and terrible line, “The author of life you put to death…” Beautiful because it acknowledges that Jesus, as a human manifestation of God, authored, penned, created life—indeed invented life itself. Terrible because we squashed the life from Life itself by putting Jesus to death. Ultimately, the sin of humanity did not succeed and Jesus rose from the dead never to die again. It’s a jarring reality: The God of life and action, we killed.

But when Jesus came back from death his love-filled action, just like before, continued. In Emmaus the disciples did not recognise him when he told them about the scriptures or even by face. No, they recognised him only once he broke the bread. Jesus “was made known to them” through a concrete action. They say actions speak louder than words, right?

More than ghostliness
In the Gospel of Luke we witness Jesus appear to his friends. At first they’re terrified and startled. They think he’s a ghost. Again, Jesus had told them (pre-resurrection) how the scriptures foretold his death and resurrection, but they did not seem to listen. So instead of giving them a slap to knock some sense into them and show that he’s real, he says, “Touch me and see.” Action. At this point it’s what it’s going to take for the disciples to realise Jesus is not a ghost but true flesh and bones. And, perhaps in a slight tongue-in-cheek move he says, “Have you anything here to eat?” Again, action.

See, our God is more than just spirit or “ghostliness”. Faith sometimes must come through believing in the invisible, but quite often it comes through touch. God let’s us touch him through his creation and the palpable things of our life. The disciples, twenty centuries ago, got to touch Jesus’ wounds. For us, it’s the idea of “finding God in all things” that gives palpability to God: the sunset, a newborn baby, a kiss. It’s the palpability found in the sacraments or in the bread and the wine at Mass.

The action continues today
The best part is Jesus’ action continues today. John, in the second reading (1 John 2), says that we should avoid sin, “But if anyone does sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous one.” The living human Jesus Christ is in heaven advocating on our behalf. His action for us in our age, in our present, is hearing our prayers and advocating for us—he’s got our back, like a good friend.

So, God, in many ways, continues his action in your life and in my life in 2012. We can touch the fruit of God’s action. We can feel it.

How do you experience the action of God? How do you touch God?

In 2010 I spent five weeks in Cochabamba, Bolivia studying Spanish at the Maryknoll Language Institute. Over half of Bolvia’s population identifies as indigenous which includes Quechua and Aymara people. How can Christianity find a place in a country with strong roots in the indigenous traditions that focus heavily on the Pachamama (Mother Earth/cosmos) and various gods? Inculturation finds a way.

Rich Symbols
During my time in at the Maryknoll school an Aymara priest came to perform an Aymara ritual meant to harmonize the Pachamama, the cosmos. Interestingly, the man was also a Roman Catholic deacon. The ritual was filled with imagery: coca leaves, coloured llama fur, sugar sweets, silver and gold, and other elements representing the Pachamama as well as our petitions and prayers. He made clear that the ritual was not about worshipping another God but directed us to the one God through symbol and imagery. In fact, Christian prayer was incorporated into the rite. I couldn’t help but consider all the sacramentality in my own Catholic tradition: oil, ashes, palms, bread, wine, water, gestures, fire. Two students felt the ritual was idolatrous, but I wondered what was so wrong with incorporating Aymara symbols into Christian worship as channels of God’s grace. The ritual included beautiful symbols that do not exist in my Catholic tradition.

Cultural Traditions
For the indigenous, many want to practice Christianity but find it important to hold onto their Aymara roots. In the late 1960s the Church established an indigenous deaconate in Bolvia. Aymara deacons could now be a presence of the Catholic Church in Catholic indigenous communities. This made evangelization possible for the locals in their own language and culture, producing a kind of authentic Aymara Christianity. These people continued to keep various customs and practices of their indigenous religion, which were so engrained in the culture. Some locals told me that it is less about Aymara “religion” and more about the tradition.

I reckon these efforts by the Church may be similar to those of Robert de Nobili in South India. So long as superstition was not attached the newly baptized natives could keep the traditional sandalwood paste on their foreheads and tuft of hair with cord. They could even keep their caste’s dress. These, de Nobili said, had no religious meaning to the locals and were simply cultural custom. De Nobili brought Christianity to these people, which perhaps could not have been done without inculturation. While de Nobili was a foreigner and the Aymara deaconate comprises natives, the spirit of the accommodation method is what is at work.

As a Christian, I have the responsibility to share the Gospel message with anyone I encounter. I could not do so if I simply imposed my own customs that are a product of my Western-Anglo culture and personal upbringing. God reveals God’s self in many ways to the people around the globe. Cultural contexts and traditions must be used to find God. If Jesuits confess to finding God in all things surely they (and all Christians) can do so in non-Christian cultures. If we, like St Paul says, want to be all things to all people surely we can remove ourselves from the confines of our own culture in order to bring salvation to souls in another part of the world. Can we go too far? Yes. The danger is producing Christianity or Catholicism as a “product” that looks nothing like Catholicism. But what of a culture can we use for the greater glory of God?

In Acts 17:22-24 St Paul tells the people of Athens that they are indeed religious and even have an altar that says “To an Unknown God”. “That which you worship, then, even though you do not know it, is what I now proclaim to you.” He states that the god they worship he is making known to them. He continues in verse 24 to say that God made everything in the world. It seems that Paul has a strong grasp of finding God in all things and through the religious practices that exist among the Athenians he points them toward God and Jesus Christ.

Adapting
As disciples of Christ, we must enter our apostolate not with the desire to make drastic changes to satisfy our own ways, but we must learn the way of the men and women we meet there.

During my pilgrimage to Kingston, Jamaica as a Jesuit novice I encountered a culture very different than my own. Despite my desires for organized catechism and scheduling I quickly had to adapt to a culture where plans changed from moment to moment. Lesson plans for Sunday school often had to be altered last minute. I learned that Jamaicans learn through acting, singing, and passionate teaching and preaching. My experience of the Catholic Church growing up in New England just wouldn’t fit for the people of Kingston.

Christians must adapt and inculturate themselves so to make accessible the Good News. Do we need to hold firm to our Catholic beliefs and tradition? Absolutely. But God did not create everyone exactly the same. We have been born into such different circumstances. We have been formed in many ways. There is no “one size fits all” Catholicism. Inculturation is the hope that brings the one faith to God’s diverse groups of children around the world.

We first meet Maria Rainer, a postulant at an abbey in Salzburg, Austria. In the opening scene we find her singing The Sound of Music. Maria clearly finds God in all things. She escapes the confines of her cloistered life in the abbey showing that God is not just confined within the walls of a religious edifice. “The hills are alive with the sound of music, with songs they have sung for a thousand years.” Through the ages, God makes the mountains sing, singing to her heart. “My heart wants to beat like the wings of the bird that rise from the lake to the tree.” She goes to the hills to find God, to find companionship with God.

I go to the hills when my heart is lonely.
I know I will hear what I’ve heard before.
My heart will be blessed with the sound of music,
And I’ll sing once more.

This is her prayer. But she does not just sing. The lyrics say she listens and she’s blessed by what she hears. No doubt it’s a two-way conversation between her and God. And she seems to come back to this kind of prayer whenever she feels sad or lonely: “When the dog bites. When the bee stings.” She brings to mind all her favourite things, all those things in which she can easily find God like raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. It’s a nice reminder that God’s not so far away.

But it seems Maria is a bit of a troublemaker in the abbey and not much liked by her sisters. She sings too much, she’s late, she’s a clown! Yet she makes them laugh. A tension exists: “She is gentle! She is wild! She’s a riddle! She’s a child! She’s a headache! She’s an angel!” They don’t know what to make of her. How do you solve a problem like Maria? Sounds like it’s time for some discernment!

To ensure Maria is ready for monastic life Mother Abbess sends her to be the governess of the seven children of Captain von Trapp. On the way there Maria is worried about what’s to come. Her heart is filled with fear and excitement, doubts and worries. But, in a very Ignatian move, she asks for the grace she is seeking: Courage. “I must dream of the things I am seeking. I am seeking the courage I lack. The courage to serve them with reliance. Face my mistakes without defiance.” It’s something she really needs to serve in the assignment given by her superior. Again we find a song that could very well be her prayer.

Much time goes by and Captain von Trapp’s lady friend, Baroness Schrader, becomes jealous of Maria’s presence so she tells Maria that the Captain is falling in love with her. Maria, as one who had hoped to enter the celibate life of the monastery, freaks out and rushes back to the abbey. She tells Mother Abbess what happened and that, maybe, she had feelings for him, too. The following exchange ensues:

Mother Abbess: Maria, the love of a man and a woman is holy. You have a great capacity to love. You must find out how God wants you to spend your love.
Maria: But I pledged my life to God. I pledged my life to his service.
Mother Abbess: My daughter, if you love this man, it doesn’t mean you love God less.

And then she sends Maria back to the von Trapp house to test her feelings and see if the love between them is something real (it ends up being so). The discernment is not over. “These walls were not built to shut out problems,” says Mother Abbess. “You have to face them. You have to live the life you were born to live.” This is a very Ignatian way of discernment. In the Spiritual Exercises, Ignatius says that someone making a major decision (like between religious life and lay life) should “try on” and test each option. In Maria’s case she has the opportunity to try out both lives fully. But if you can’t really begin to live one way of life fully you can pretend. Live as if you’ve already made one decision or the other. Then pay attention to your feelings.

Mother Abbess captures this search for God’s will in song:

Climb every mountain
Search high and low
Follow every byway
Every path you know
Climb every mountain
Ford every stream
Follow every rainbow
Till you find your dream
A dream that will need
All the love you can give
Every day of your life
For as long as you live

Whatever the dream is, whatever God’s will, it will need all the love you can give. So in the words of Mother Abbess, How does God want you to spend your love?

Now for Grover’s interpretation of The Sound of Music:

This reminds me of 1 Kings 19 when Elijah was on the mountain waiting for the Lord. And the Lord was not in the wind, the earthquake, nor the fire; he was in a soft whisper.

Sometimes we, like Grover, sit waiting a very long time to hear God’s voice. For Grover it’s not in the sound of the sirens or the clucking of a chicken. The waiting is worthwhile and Grover finally hears the beautiful music of God’s voice, causing the hills to truly come alive! The music literally moves Grover. So I think the message for us is, Shhh, listen. If we listen patiently we give God the chance to move us, even to make us come alive with the sound of God’s music.

Auf Wiedersehen.

Listen to an audio version of this post… 

Idols
Nonetheless, Friday the 13th becomes a kind of idol that, for a day, rules our lives. Fewer people tend to drive their cars on that day. And God forbid you plan your wedding on Friday the 13th. We all may have certain unconscious superstitions that kind of become part of our normal ritual. Don’t walk under a ladder. Knock on wood. Don’t open an umbrella inside the house, my mother still tells me; It’ll bring you bad luck. (I got over that one). I tend to say “bless you” each time someone sneezes (even if I say it in my head) for fear if I don’t the person may catch ill—or a demon or something.

Harmless, right? Maybe. But I think it’s little idols like this that can give us the excuse to say “harmless” to even bigger things. And the thing is, these little idols can unconsciously draw our gaze away from God. Remember, God’s in relationship with us. God’s gaze never leaves us even though time after time we look elsewhere for meaning. I find it fascinating how many women get their relationship advice from Cosmo. Or how many people look to a celebrity like Jenny McCarthy or Jennifer Hudson for health or diet advice. Or do you remember the obsession with the book The Secret? It contained the secret to living a happy life! People saw a book that had an answer to all their problems so they snatched it up. It’s not to say others can’t guide us, but we tend to look everywhere but God. We shouldn’t let a magazine or celebrity or self-help book or calendar date have so much control over our life.

“Do not bow down to any idol or worship it, because I am the Lord your God and I tolerate no rivals.”

(Exodus 20:5, GNT)

What little things rule your life on a day to day basis? Today is a great chance to see if there are things rivalling for your attention on God?

Oh, and be ready. There’s another Friday the 13th coming up… 13 weeks from now.

It can be put into practice for more than avoiding sin. Below are bolded headings showing various uses for agere contra.

In Prayer
Part of the spiritual life includes desolation. Those are times when we feel darkness or emptiness, distance from God, lack of faith or hope, and feelings of restlessness or despair. If we’re ardent pray-ers we might find a certain dryness in our prayer or lack of motivation for it. In the Spiritual Exercises, Ignatius asks the retreatant to spend a full hour in prayer. If we experience consolation in prayer it might be easy to sit for the full hour but when we experience dryness and desolation in prayer we may be tempted to shorten the time.

“For this reason, the person who is exercising himself, in order to act against the desolation and conquer the temptations, ought always to stay somewhat more than the full hour; so as to accustom himself not only to resist the adversary, but even to overthrow him.”

(Spiritual Exercises, 13) 

In Occasions of Sin
This need not be just for prayer. Agere contra is a spiritual practice for all kinds of situations. If I find myself quick to judge someone I may “act against” the way I would normally react, making an attempt to give the person the benefit of the doubt. If a certain movie or television programme causes me to obsess over something potentially sinful, I may act against the tendency to watch it. Acting against sinful tendencies can help keep me in check and on the path of bettering myself.

In Personal Will
Agere contra’s use can be expanded far beyond prayer or fighting against sin. Going against a tendency can give me personal strength and will power. At my favourite restaurant I might have the tendency to order the chili burger with cheese fries. And it’s so tempting! But I note a good looking salad. It sounds good, but boy, that burger and fries seem to be calling my name. But I always order that. Agere contra steps in… I know I haven’t had veggies in a while. So even though the salad might be less enjoyable than the burger and fries I choose the salad not just for the health factors but also as an exercise of my will power. And why shouldn’t spiritual strength come from it? Why couldn’t agere contra help me focus on God’s gifts to me? This could come into play easily with the amount of food I eat or snack or whether I order dessert.

Just Because
Sometimes agere contra can simply mean taking a different path. I choose not to take the quickest route home from work to enjoy more solitary time (maybe some alone time with God). I choose to give up my tendency to plan the date night and let my significant other decide this time. Instead of travelling abroad this summer I choose somewhere domestic. I choose tea instead of coffee. It’s not about practicality or occasion of sin. It’s about doing something different because when I act against my “normal” there’s a chance I’ll learn something new, about God, about relationships, about myself.

Remember, this is about going against what you would normally tend to do. We recognise that sometimes our human tendencies can be flawed (Oops, I’m Human) and that we’re also creatures of habit. Habit can be a good thing, but not if it prevents us from growing as persons loved by God. Ignatius warns against a “disordered” life. Having order does not mean acting as a robot and never straying from your schedule or plan. Having an ordered life means you can let go of certain attachments or unhealthy relationships, you can adapt to new situations, and you remove blockades that prevent you from growing more into your true self. Agere contra is one way to help jar us out of the safe path we’ve always been taking.

Barney: Ted, you keep going to the same bar. You’re in a rut.
Ted: It’s not a rut. It’s a routine, and I like it.
Barney: Ted, what’s the first syllable in rut-tine?

But we are an Easter people! That means that we’re constantly called to new life. For some that means life changes. For others it means small changes, positive additions to our lives, or purging. The Church gives us opportunities for continuous conversion and newness through the sacraments like confession or the Eucharist. We have times like Lent for purging things out of our lives that are weighing us down. In our secular lives we can join a gym for regular exercise, we can catch up on letter writing, or take a holiday. We can be active—we can activate ourselves to bring some refreshed energy to our lives. And it feels good, too.

See, after Jesus died on Good Friday, the disciples spent the weekend sad, feeling lost, possibly tired and languid. They locked themselves inside and became quite inactive. But on Easter morning Mary Magdalene went to the tomb where an angel told her, “Go quickly now, and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from death…’” (Matt 28:7, GNT). Activate! Go quickly, and activate the others with the wonderful news! At the end of Mass Catholics are told to go and share the Good News, just like Mary Magdalene. Imagine the change in the disciples’ faces and spirits when they realised what had happen. At first “they were mourning and crying,” scripture says. (Mark 16:10b, GNT) They didn’t believe her until they saw the empty tomb for themselves. No doubt they were activated into a newness that moved them to continue Jesus’ mission.

What will it take to activate you this Easter? Like the disciples who were set into action by the Spirit, we too must take action and not be stagnant in our faith and life. Is it a life change? Is it committing to a cause or a relationship? Is it purging?

“He is not here; for he has been raised.”

Today is the day hope came into the world through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Billions around the world celebrate this day. No one in the history of humanity has affected human life and the human story the way Jesus has. Here is one of my favourite poems, capturing the awesomeness of his life:

He was born in an obscure village,
The child of a peasant woman.
He grew up in still another village,
Where he worked in a carpenter shop
Until he was thirty.

Then for three years
He was an itinerant preacher.
He never wrote a book.
He never held an office.
He never had a family or owned a house.
He didn’t go to college.
He never visited a big city.
He never traveled two hundred miles
From the place where he was born.
He did none of the things
One usually associates with greatness.
He had no credentials but himself.

He was only thirty-three
When the tide of public opinion turned against him.
His friends ran away.
He was turned over to his enemies.
And went through the mockery of a trial.

He was nailed to a cross
Between two thieves.
While he was dying,
His executioners gambled for his clothing,
The only property he had on Earth.
When he was dead,
He was laid in a borrowed grave
Through the pity of a friend.

Twenty centuries have come and gone,
And today he is the central figure
Of the human race,
And the leader of mankind’s progress.

All the armies that ever marched,
All the navies that ever sailed,
All the parliament that ever sat,
All the kings that ever reigned,
Put together have not affected
The life of man on Earth
As much as that
One Solitary Life.

(By Dr James Allen Francis)

1 My God, my God, why have you abandoned me? I have cried desperately for help, but still it does not come. 2 During the day I call to you, my God, but you do not answer; I call at night, but get no rest. 3 But you are enthroned as the Holy One, the one whom Israel praises. 4 Our ancestors put their trust in you; they trusted you, and you saved them. 5 They called to you and escaped from danger; they trusted you and were not disappointed. 6 But I am no longer a human being; I am a worm, despised and scorned by everyone! 7 All who see me make fun of me; they stick out their tongues and shake their heads. 8 “You relied on the Lord,” they say. “Why doesn’t he save you? If the Lord likes you, why doesn’t he help you?” 9 It was you who brought me safely through birth, and when I was a baby, you kept me safe. 10 I have relied on you since the day I was born, and you have always been my God. 11 Do not stay away from me! Trouble is near, and there is no one to help. 12 Many enemies surround me like bulls; they are all around me, like fierce bulls from the land of Bashan. 13 They open their mouths like lions, roaring and tearing at me. 14 My strength is gone, gone like water spilled on the ground. All my bones are out of joint; my heart is like melted wax. 15 My throat is as dry as dust, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. You have left me for dead in the dust. 16 An evil gang is around me; like a pack of dogs they close in on me; they tear at my hands and feet. 17 All my bones can be seen. My enemies look at me and stare. 18 They gamble for my clothes and divide them among themselves. 19 O Lord, don’t stay away from me! Come quickly to my rescue! 20 Save me from the sword; save my life from these dogs. 21 Rescue me from these lions; I am helpless before these wild bulls. 22 I will tell my people what you have done; I will praise you in their assembly: 23 “Praise him, you servants of the Lord! Honor him, you descendants of Jacob! Worship him, you people of Israel! 24 He does not neglect the poor or ignore their suffering; he does not turn away from them, but answers when they call for help.” 25 In the full assembly I will praise you for what you have done; in the presence of those who worship you I will offer the sacrifices I promised. 26 The poor will eat as much as they want; those who come to the Lord will praise him. May they prosper forever! 27 All nations will remember the Lord. From every part of the world they will turn to him; all races will worship him. 28 The Lord is king, and he rules the nations. 29 All proud people will bow down to him; all mortals will bow down before him. 30 Future generations will serve him; they will speak of the Lord to the coming generation. 31 People not yet born will be told: “The Lord saved his people.”

(Psalm 22, GNT)

The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a sharing in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a sharing in the body of Christ?

(1 Corinthians 10:16, NRSV)

This got me reflecting on brokeness and being poured out. Here’s the Loyola Press’ reflection:

“Participation in the Eucharist is not passive, it is active. The cup we bless and the bread we break are actions that enable us to be a part of the Body of Christ. As the Body of Christ, we are Christ’s presence in the world, and as such we continue his mission of service and love. In this we too are poured out and broken open, just as Jesus’ blood was poured out and his body broken during crucifixion, in service to others and to the world.”

Aha! That’s the point of it all—we are Christ’s presence in the world continuing his mission. But what was the significance of Jesus being “broken and poured out” on the cross? He literally allowed himself to be publicly broken and to bleed out of love for all. Such an act shows tremendous vulnerability. The word vulnerable is from the Latin vulnerare, meaning “to wound”. Allowing ourselves to be vulnerable involves some wounding, some breaking, some bleeding. When we become more at ease in a relationship we become more vulnerable to the other. We open our hearts and risk it being broken. Jesus opened his heart because he, as God, was (and is) in deep relationship with us. It’s no mistake that we say we “pour” our hearts out to someone we’re close with.

What if everyone allowed themselves to be broken and poured out? I imagine many broken eggs, broken with yokes oozing out. Messiness. Imagine every person you encounter to have everything exposed. You would know it all: their weaknesses, their compulsions, their secrets, their loves, their wounds, their joys, their fears. And they, too, could see you in all your depth. It would be… messy. But maybe if everyone let themselves be so exposed we might be more loving, compassionate, and understanding of one another. We’d quickly learn that others shared in our fears or addictions, our joys and our sorrows. Can we do it out of love?

Jesus, in his public display of loving brokenness, I think asks us to follow that example. If we are Christ’s presence in the world, can we let ourselves love so deeply that we can be vulnerable and risk brokenness, risk pouring out our hearts onto others? This is not about pouring our problems onto others. It’s about breaking through our rigid shells, letting people see a bit of the beautiful humanness that lies within, that little bit of love and soul God has placed within us to share.

A year ago I was working as a chaplain at Georgetown University Hospital. It forced me to grapple with hard questions around suffering and the mystery of life. I recently wrote a reflection on how we can find grace in the midst of suffering for the 2 April issue of 

As Easter Triduum and Good Friday arrive this is a good time to look to the cross and beyond for hope.

When I worked as a chaplain at Georgetown University Hospital, I witnessed among my patients horrific losses, feelings of emptiness and the suffocating aftermath of lost jobs, lack of insurance and enormous medical bills. Most of us know someone who has suffered from cancer or some chronic medical condition. Suffering can also be financial, relational and spiritual. From a Christian perspective, we must attempt to find God’s fingerprints in suffering: where is the grace?

The grace of suffering is often found in vulnerability. Some of my patients, for example, held positions of power at their jobs, but now they donned the same kind of hospital gown everyone else wore. Brought down to a level plane, to where humanity meets its fragility, we often pause and consider powers greater than our own. We seek God in unexpected ways, hoping to find answers. In these times of struggle, we yearn to depend on a God who seems to have betrayed us.

>> Continue reading here.

Here I’d like to share with you my own prayer with the Palm Sunday story in Matthew and Luke, as I wrote in my journal on retreat. Saint Ignatius asks the pray-er to watch the scene unfold and then, in an “application of senses”, actually place yourself in the scene as a character. What I learned was that, as Sunday’s second reading says (Phil 2:6-11), Jesus’ kingly procession—indeed all of his actions—was not for himself but for his Father’s glory.

Matthew 21:1-11
Clearly things have happened that have increased the number of believers. Maybe it was the raising of Lazarus that was it for the people and now on his way back home they would honour him. There’s much mystery here, in a way, and though Jesus is riding in on an ass, the crowds chanting and worshipping show something of the kingly Messiah people imagined—but for Jesus it seemed like almost a death walk or mocking as many of these same people would turn against him. His disciples must have been proud in this moment. Yet there was this feeling again that Jesus was more aware of his fate than anyone else was and this was in his heart as he rode in. The ride/an entrance like this was for his Father’s glory, not his own.

I enjoyed contemplating this scene as a sunny day in Jerusalem, people excited hearing that Christ the King is coming, people making a path with cloaks and green palms, cheering for the king, praising God, the Resurrection and the Life. Just a majestic entrance! Jesus quietly praying, “Look at all the people I’ve gained for you, Father.” The people weren’t just praising Jesus the person but God! And it was the first time people could celebrate Jesus in a very public way. It was a very public acknowledgement of Jesus as the Son of God. The scene reminded me of the Two Standards meditation and the beautiful celebratory majestic image of Christ the King. This is the type of king I’d like to follow. The scene almost seemed like a gift from Jesus to his Father.

Luke 19:28-48
I imagined the same joyful scene but now the Pharisees were powerless. They couldn’t get the crowds quiet. (“Then some of the Pharisees in the crowd spoke to Jesus. ‘Teacher,’ they said, ‘command your disciples to be quiet!’ Jesus answered, ‘I tell you that if they keep quiet, the stones themselves will start shouting.’) Then when Jesus taught these same crowds in the temple the Pharisees again were powerless to stop that. Evil had lost its power in a way. Jesus’ statement about Jerusalem’s destruction seemed more eschatological but I heard in his words a metaphor for him. If only people knew what would bring peace! His destruction… And the enemy will go after believers, too, who betray God. Clearly plotting to kill Jesus, the Pharisees can’t find a way just now, but Jesus continues teaching and working. Now, it seems, after the Palm Sunday procession, there is a greater public acceptance of Jesus as Messiah and now his followers don’t seem too afraid of the Pharisees.

Application of the Senses
The apex and important part of my prayer was when we reached the temple with Jesus and the crowds (I was a disciple). Jesus began to explain what he meant when he spoke about the destruction of the Jerusalem and the people. He explained the importance of repenting for their sins and how they can help change the world. Jesus said that riding in like a king was an image that helped solidify his Messiahship for the people and that since he had little time left he wanted to bring in new disciples and followers. In the temple Jesus asked me to testify and share my story. I told them of my background and how ever since Jesus called me to follow him it’s been an amazing journey of loving people, helping them, and bridging gaps. God made us to love him through one another, not to fight and hate. I urged people to join in. Jesus extended his call and invitation to these people. He said the joy they showed outside and their celebration should not have been motivated by the miracles they’ve seen or heard he performed, but for a desire for a change in their lives. They see how their world is. Now is the time to act. Put their celebration for the King and God into action!

Hugo: He’s got real… purpose.
Isabelle: What do you mean?
Hugo: Everything has a purpose. Even machines. Clocks tell the time. Trains take you places. They do what they’re meant to do. Like Monsieur Labisse. Maybe that’s why broken machines make me so sad. They can’t do what they’re meant to do… Maybe it’s the same with people! If you lose your purpose it’s like you’re broken.
Isabelle: Like Papa George?
Hugo: Maybe we can fix him.
Isabelle: Is that your purpose? Fixing things?
Hugo: I don’t know. It’s what my father did.
Isabelle: I wonder what my purpose is.
Hugo: I don’t know.

Hugo then takes Isabelle to the clock tower looking down over Paris at nighttime:

Hugo: Right after my father died I would come up here a lot. I’d imagine the whole world was one big machine. Machines never come with any extra parts, you know. They always come with the exact amount they need. So I figured, if the entire world was one big machine, I couldn’t be an extra part. I had to be here for some reason. And that means you have to be here for some reason, too.

Hugo’s analogy of us being parts that have specific purposes in the machine of the world is a good one. Saint Ignatius truly saw each person created by God to be a part of God’s plan for the world. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ might have called this plan the “God Project”. He would say that each of us are co-creators with God in the unfolding creation of the world and universe. St Ignatius’ Principle and Foundation is paraphrased well by author Louis M. Savary in the Chardin spirit:

“You were created to make a unique contribution to the great evolutionary project initiated and continually supported by God, namely, bringing all creation together into one magnificent conscious loving union. [...] And God is with you as you undergo whatever diminishments may befall you as you cooperate with others in your efforts and actions in pursuing this divine project—the purpose for which we, individually and collectively, were created.”

(from The New Spiritual Exercises)

So what’s your purpose? We’re more than a cog in a machine. You and I have been made with talents and capacities that allow us to play an important role in on-going Creation. I have no desire to be a lawyer, but thank God that there are people who have been made for that purpose. I have no desire or ability to build buildings and homes, but good thing God made people who can do that! And all these people contribute to the world. Others have talents that help me live and I have talents that add something to the lives of others.

Hugo realised that the world doesn’t come with “extra” parts. That means you and I are part of that “right amount” of parts the world needs. At times it’s hard to accept this truth. At times we can feel broken or unneeded, as if we’ve lost our purpose. The thing is, it’s because we’ve not found our purpose yet, or we’ve lost track of it. Here are some questions to reflect on:

• What ability or skill do I have that no one else knows?
• What do others always seem to tell me I’m good at?
• How can I love the world like God does?
• What do I have a knack at?
• Which role that I have am I especially good at? (Mother, son, bartender, friend, counsellor, boss, sister, doctor, lover, writer, etc.)

Everyone has a purpose. Chardin and Ignatius would tell you that you are crucial to God’s plan for the world. God can’t do it without you, at least not in quite the same way. Daniel Lord, SJ, soon after he was diagnosed with cancer, prayed, “For some strange reason, Lord, you depend upon me…. It is a challenge and a trust, an inspiration and a call to character.”

Your challenge: God depends on you. God trusts in you. God needs you. What is your purpose?

When the new Roman Missal was announced I admit I wasn’t a fan of some of the changes. And “chalice” just didn’t seem right to me. Let’s face it, Jesus didn’t use a chalice at the Last Supper. A “cup” of some sort would make more sense. Chalice comes from the Latin calix, meaning cup. But the word chalice suggests reverence and ritual. And that’s just what Stella is going for. Their website they says, “Bring the ritual home.” I’ve spoken about ritual before, but it’s worth mentioning again: Human beings long for ritual. It’s why we have engagement rings and morning coffee and birthday cakes and Super Bowl parties.

Stella knows this well. This is not the kind of beer you chug from a mug. No, it’s a ritualistic experience you deliciate in from a chalice with a gilded rim and contours that improve the flavour and maintain the temperature. I was impressed by their Chalice Factory site which, using your voice, guides you through a mystical tour of how their chalices come to be: first crafted from a crystalline stones, then heated, shaped, and cooled by pretty women blowing on it. The rim is painted gold while it spins on a phonograph, the Stella Artois name placed, and the chalice is ready for a pour. They even make the production process mystically ritualistic.

What’s the point I’m trying to make? Language can have an effect and ritual’s important. Maybe the word “chalice” is appropriate for the cup that holds the Blood of Christ. You don’t have to be Catholic to see Stella’s intent in their advert: Rituals are important to us, whether we’re drinking beer or going to Church. Rituals in all their forms give meaning in our lives.

>> I comment briefly on ritual in Portlandia (the Cool Wedding couple). Read here.

• “Someone was using my favorite treadmill at the gym this morning so I had to angle my head ten degrees to watch the TV.” :’(
• “I’m so full from this all-you-can-eat buffet that I can’t even eat this fortune cookie.” :’(
• “Every time I use my $400 smart phone as an actual phone the touchscreen gets all oily.” :’(
• “I asked for a Coke and all they had was Pepsi.” :’(
• “The shower gets cold after 30 minutes.” :’(

We find these funny because they’re things we can all relate to and because we realise how trivial they are as complaints. The United Nations World Food Programme states that there are 925 million who do not have enough food to eat. Five million children under five die each year because of malnutrition. According to the World Bank, half the world population lives on less than $2.50 per day. What is wrong with us?

Our real first world problem is that as a privileged nation we are complacent and smug. Nothing can touch us. We see this frequently with wealthy politicians who show little concern for the poor. And why should they? They live comfortably and securely with little worries about where their next meal is coming from. But it’s not just the wealthy public figures who have this real first world problem. It’s us too, the 99%, the upper-middle class, the middle class, even the unemployed. All of us who live in wealthy countries find ourselves making first world problem complaints. Once when I worked at a food pantry and charity centre a homeless man was complaining about the colour of a hat and gloves I gave him (they weren’t pink either). Have you ever seen the clothing of people in true poverty in developing countries? If they even have clothes to wear they don’t care what the pattern or design is. They’re likely grateful to God for having clothing.

I was hungry and you fed me, thirsty and you gave me a drink; I was a stranger and you received me in your homes, naked and you clothed me; I was sick and you took care of me, in prison and you visited me. (Matthew 25:35-36)

A Vow of Poverty
We need to put things in perspective. Those in religious life (like the Jesuits) take a vow of poverty. They also fall into the trap of trivial frustrations. (“There’s no more Coke Zero and now I have to drink Diet Coke.”) But what the vow of poverty is, is a kind of living that removes the focus from ourselves and maintains an awareness of how I use the things while being mindful of true poverty.

In a religious community things are shared in common. Money is pooled and shared according to need. Cars are shared and sometimes all the cars are signed out! They cook for one another and share cleaning duties. This reminds us that it’s not all about us. Our lives should be directed toward the good of those around us, working together to build a better world. And any little spending money a religious does have should be spent prudently. When I was a Jesuit I thought not just twice but thrice about how I was spending my money. Do I really need a third Starbucks coffee? Must I purchase the more expensive shoes? Could I spare a bit extra for charity?

One does not have to be a religious with a vow of poverty to live this way. All of this can be done by a single person living on one’s own. The way one person lives can affect thousands of others. Living “first world poverty” means that every action taken—each dollar spent, mile driven, thing purchased, decision made—should be made keeping in mind the kind of poverty found in developing countries. The truth is, as westerners in an industrialised nation, it’s nearly impossible to live the kind of poverty found in Jamaica or Africa. But, it can affect the way we live, what we complain about, and how we spend our money. Those in true deprivation have a keen awareness of the gifts they have from God. In the first world, we have such an abundance of gifts that we fail to see our basic necessities (food, water, shelter, relationships) as gifts from God.

Perspective
To close, I give you some perspective from my time in Jamaica in 2010, where I found a real hunger for God amidst poverty. This is an excerpt from my writings:

I was glad to finally be able to see poverty up close, as I had prayed for during the long retreat: makeshift houses with corrugated scrap metal as walls, open sewers, barefoot children, emaciated stray dogs. The unemployment rate is about 85% and those who do work are only just barely working. I asked Peter, the superior, where they find means to get food and clothing. “Good question,” he said. Many may have to steal or sell drugs. There’s no social safety net here so the Church has an important role. Women run things here and they are ones who take the initiative to open roadside stalls or shops in hopes to make some money selling things.

We tagged along with Sr Beverly (who’s been at there a dozen years) on her weekly work of mercy giving fish, rice, and bread to poor old men and women in downtown Kingston. 12 of us piled into a small van (children included). I crouched on my haunches in the very back next to boxes of food and clothes with a couple little girls who asked me where I was from, what my name was, and told me which school they go to. We turned onto a main street and before I knew it Sr Beverly drove up onto a sidewalk and we were being followed by about 50 men and women who soon began to crowd the van. We had to be careful in giving out food one by one otherwise people would be grabbing for whatever they could get. I had the experience of giving out food and clothes at the food pantry in Syracuse, but this was very different. The poverty, desperation, and need is such that the homeless are more aggressive in their acquiring food and clothing. Not everyone got something either. The physical condition of the women and men was much worse as well: missing eyes, skin problems, scars, burns, misshapen feet, complete lack of teeth. Some shoving broke out between two men so Sr Beverly tried to stand between them, which ended the altercation. We piled back into the van and went back to St Anne’s.

It’s something we do, yet don’t do. Confession can mean many things. We can confess our sins. We can confess our love for another. Confess our belief in God. Or confess that we have such a weakness for chocolate. Ultimately, any kind of confession involves healing. Yet in our world people find it hard to admit their guilt and become vulnerable. We’re afraid to show weakness whether it’s in judgement of others or chocolate. Really, we’re afraid to admit we’re human. And being human means we’re vulnerable to mistakes, selfishness, and sinfulness.

How can we become better confessors? The first step is a confession of faith: It’s an acknowledgement that there is something greater than “me”, something bigger and that life has a deeper meaning that we want to tap into. I am not all there is. Rather, I am a part of an entire world of people working together for this “something greater”.

The second step is a confession of humanity: I must embrace my humanness and all the joys and crappiness and strengths and weaknesses that come with it. When a public figure gets caught up in a scandal or affair, we often see them make a confession of the error of their ways or their selfish actions. That is something we appreciate and expect. Why? Because they acknowledge their human weakness. And I think that when they do, we can relate a bit more to them as fellow human beings.

The third step is confession of our sins: This is less about guilt than about restoration. If we can become so vulnerable as to admit to our faults and failings there’s a chance for forgiveness and healing. And as I said, confession is ultimately about healing. This healing comes in two ways.

First, once we can forgive ourselves, stepping away from self-condemnation and instead become more aware of our weak points, we can grow and better ourselves for next time. St Ignatius says that the evil spirit—those forces that can lead us to sin—works like an army commander who seeks out and exploits our weak defence points. That comes in the weakness of unpreparedness and pride. If we are simply aware of these things (prepared), work to strengthen them, and forgive ourselves when we fall, we can find self-restoration. This self-healing must be done before we can attain the second kind of healing which comes in our relationship with others. There is nothing harder than confessing your mistakes to another person. But it opens the door for repairing broken relationships.

Confession is frightening because it makes us vulnerable. But being vulnerable doesn’t mean being weak. It means being more self-aware and taking the daily risk of saying, “I am human, I am not perfect, but I want to try my best loving myself and others.” Can we allow ourselves to be healed as many times as it takes?

>> Read Friday’s post on the humanness in making mistakes. D’oh!
>> Also, NPR recently interviewed Paul Wilkes about “The Art of Confession” – The Jesuits get a shout-out on the Examen prayer.

“You’re vulnerable, you’re vulnerable. You are not a robot.”

Diversity and Meaning
One thing I love about the characters in Portlandia is their diversity. You’ve got the dorky married couple who goes overboard with things from picnics to boating. There are the feminist bookstore owners who don’t always live up to the values they preach. There’s the couple who wants the best for their child and tries to send him to the top preschool. Then there’s the couple who are so particular about everything from where their food comes from to creating a sign for a Portland Timbers game, yet they clearly love each other despite their quirks. Finally, you’ve got the regular friends of Fred and Carrie who seem to spend most of their time doing things for the mayor.

In some way, all these people encompass the breadth of God’s creation, each with their own purpose and goals. Each person is striving for greater meaning. And in a highly progressive and activist culture, that reaching is very visible. The mayor wants to make his city better for his people and goes about it in a silly yet genuine way. As Jesus said of Nathaniel, “there is no duplicity in him.” (see John 1:47) The same goes for the particular couple who, at a restaurant, ask for the details about the chicken they’re about to eat. They even go to the farm to ensure the chicken was raised ethically. Along the way they make mistakes, but their hearts are genuine. What about the parents who want to send their child to the best preschool? They even map out a chart of their son’s future, desiring the best for him.

Love
There’s something about all the Portlandia couples that stands out: love for each other. In the “Is it local?” video above we see the couple (Peter and Nance) asking about their potential dinner, but you can’t help but notice their affection. See them across the restaurant and you’d say, “They’re in love!” At the close of season 2 we see Peter and Nance waiting in a long line for a new brunch place, The Fisherman’s Porch. Peter’s hemming and hawing over what to order. Nance says it’s such a turn-off that he’s so indecisive. “I’m not indecisive! I just can’t decide!” he says. Despite this tiff, toward the end of the episode, Peter goes into a dangerous situation to save his love. They make it to brunch, their Sunday goal, and we see their mushy lovey-dovey exchange. And if, as St John says, God is love (see 1 John 4:8), then God is part of their relationship, whether they actively acknowledge it or not, whether they practise a religion or not. “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.” (1 John 4:7, NRSV)

One of my favourite sketches is “Cool Wedding” (below). Here we see another example of how God cannot escape a true love relationship. This couple opposes “traditional” weddings. In fact, they say they don’t believe in marriage. Yet they are at a wedding planner’s making plans for their wedding day. Something prompted them to take this step. They resist ritual, yet embrace it at the same time. When the planner asks if she’ll be wearing a dress he says no. “I’d like to have a dress,” she says looking at him. “Okay, maybe a dress,” he says back. Their love has drawn them to take the step of marriage. And though they may resist the rituals (“We’re not marionettes…”), they desire it, too.

Relationship and Faultiness
God’s presence in Portlandia can all be wrapped up in relationship. Isn’t that true of our world as well? Our world has a diverse cast of characters and if any progress is going to be made we have to be in relationship with one another, despite all our quirks. All of the Portlandia characters have clear flaws. The feminist women (sketch here) are rude and brash and impose strongly their ways onto others. In fact, they seem to have little respect for anyone who doesn’t quite share exactly their way of seeing the world. Peter and Nance are particular and indecisive. The parents scheme up ways to get their child into a private school. Yet they accept and love each other for who they are. They stick by each other even with their faultiness. All of them are seeking meaning, desiring something greater whether it’s peace, justice, or a deeper relationship.

Portlandia gives a view of a peculiar place in the world through the lenses of different kinds of people with different life goals and different understandings of the world. And God can be found through and in each of them.

Love is essential because we will fall short, sometimes in spectacular ways, usually in embarrassingly mundane ones. We are not saints. And actually, by that standard, neither are the saints. Read about saints’ lives and you’ll find plenty of character defects at play. The point is: you aren’t God. So give yourself a break.

- Phil Fox Rose, Busted Halo

But what about when we fall into temptation? It doesn’t make us evil. It makes us human. As Jesus did not condemn the adulterous woman, we need not condemn ourselves. As Jesus showed compassion to sinners, we must show compassion for ourselves! Mistakes can lead to amazing grace. St Paul said, “Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more.” (Romans 5:20b) I quote Phil Fox Rose’s beautiful insights again:

…to the individual sinner, [Jesus] said: Welcome, join me; change your ways but for right now, just have a seat. Jesus was radically welcoming and radically accepting. I’m not saying he didn’t find fault with behaviors, but he didn’t deem a person unacceptable when their behavior was. They were still welcome at his table.

I encourage you to read his full post. The point: Mistakes are human. Have Christ-like compassion for yourself, ask for forgiveness, learn from your fall, and move on. That is a beautiful way to live Lent (and life).

>> Read more about being human: Confession, Vulnerability, and Healing

For Catholics the Eucharist substantially makes present Jesus Christ. We believe that the bread and the wine, through the power of the Holy Spirit, become the Body and Blood of Christ. (For an explanation on transubstantiation and real presence this is a good video). It’s not just a representational symbol. The Jesus who lived, died on the cross, and was resurrected becomes physically present to the congregation. It is the same Jesus who has been present with Christians in person and at Masses through the ages.

Jesus gave the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist (also called Communion) [...] so that people throughout the generations can literally and physically be present with him during his Last Supper, and join with him in giving sacrifice to God. When a person attends a Catholic Mass, he is literally taken back in time to be with Jesus during the Last Supper.

- From the MaryMajor blog

The Eucharist transcends time and space; it connects us not only with Jesus at the Last Supper or at the cross but with fellow Christians from the past in different parts of the world and even from the future who will be celebrating Mass just like we are. And if Christ is present to all the saints in heaven, by being present with the Eucharist we also find a connection to them—in the eternal realm. It’s a lot to wrap one’s head around but that’s where we can embrace the mystery of what the Mass brings us each week.

If you consider the reality of the Sacrament of the Eucharist and its time travel elements, you’ll never see a Catholic Mass the same way again.

But she began reading the following passage from Mark and then led a guided imaginative meditation.

Jesus then left the neighborhood of Tyre and went on through Sidon to Lake Galilee, going by way of the territory of the Ten Towns. Some people brought him a man who was deaf and could hardly speak, and they begged Jesus to place his hands on him. So Jesus took him off alone, away from the crowd, put his fingers in the man’s ears, spat, and touched the man’s tongue. Then Jesus looked up to heaven, gave a deep groan, and said to the man, ["Ephphatha,"] which means, “Open up!” At once the man was able to hear, his speech impediment was removed, and he began to talk without any trouble. Then Jesus ordered the people not to speak of it to anyone; but the more he ordered them not to, the more they told it. And all who heard were completely amazed. “How well he does everything!” they exclaimed. “He even causes the deaf to hear and the dumb to speak!”

(Mark 7:31-37, GNT)

A Private Moment
In this passage Jesus not only healed a deaf and mute man, indeed freeing him from any social stigma of his condition, but look at the care Jesus took with him. Jesus took him off alone, away from the crowd. And the crowd let him! This kind of more private ministry is rare for Jesus, where he is truly alone with someone without crowds pressing all around. One can imagine Jesus’ look of love and concern toward the deaf man. And then, we find a sacramental action: using touch, spittle, and words, he lets the man hear and speak. I can’t help but think about the Sacrament of the Sick (seen as a sacrament in the Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, and Anglican churches) which can involve the touching of the afflicted body parts, anointing them with holy oil, and using certain words of prayer.

Friends
But part of this passage moved me even more and it’s a part that one can easily miss. The man was brought to Jesus by others. In my imaginative contemplation I saw them as the deaf man’s friends. But, I wondered, who are these people who consider themselves the friends of a person who would have been seen as an outcast at that time? I was moved by this thought. Wow… there were people who cared so much about this man that they brought him to Jesus in the hope of him being healed! They were his friends despite him not being able to hear or speak. How did they communicate? They must have been thrilled that they could now speak to their friend, that he could hear their voice and they could hear his. Jesus’ word, “Ephphatha” truly did “open up” a new aspect of the man’s relationship with his friends and it reintegrated him with society.

In the Gospels we encounter many times when someone is brought by others to Jesus for healing. Earlier in the Gospel of Mark we see a paralytic who was lowered to Jesus through a roof by his friends. (Mark 2) Then there was the man who brought his epileptic son to Jesus in a crowd. (Matthew 17) ”The news about him spread through the whole country of Syria, so that people brought to him all those who were sick.” (Matthew 4:24a) Our relationship with others is crucial to our relationship with God.

I considered the friends in my life who “brought me” to Jesus in one way or another. These people were so important in the growth of my faith life. And sometimes we are sick and may even need to be carried to Jesus. Imagine how the deaf man’s faith was affected when his friends brought him to Jesus. Imagine how he felt when Jesus pulled him aside, gave him personal attention, looked into his eyes, and touched him. His world was opened anew.

Liturgy as Incarnational
In the meditation on the Incarnation the Trinity decides to send down the Second Person to the earth to save the human race from destruction and evil. As such, God entered time and fully into our human experience. All sacraments—and certainly part of the liturgy’s function—are incarnational. God enters our experience through the Eucharist, the prayers of the Church, and the communal elements of liturgy (the community present). He enters because of and amidst sin and evil. In this way the liturgy helps bring that saving power of Jesus Christ to us in a real and affective way. And thus the liturgy was born—not out of God’s need, but rather our own. One can image the Godhead looking down upon a people gathered at liturgy saying, “Let us work the redemption of the human race.”[2]

Our Response
Liturgy also needs to evoke response. It’s not enough for a call to mission on its own. No Mass ends without a sending forth and a “thanks be to God” in reply. Indeed the Call of the King meditation in the Second Week of the Exercises asks for the grace not to be deaf to Christ’s call and ready to fulfil His will. The Lord’s Kingdom is already at hand but it is waiting for workers to advance it and continue building upon it. Liturgical reality brings forth God’s Kingdom through the liturgy and sacrament’s incarnational nature. The building up of the Kingdom happens through the Christian actions of participating in the sacraments and bringing the received graces out to the world. “The gifts and tasks of the Kingdom and humanity are revealed at their deepest in the sacraments.”[3] The act of receiving Holy Communion literally allows us to “put on” Christ, to be more fully a part of Christ’s Body so we can better join Him on mission. Ignatius tells us that Christ our King asks us to share in His glory and win over the whole world with goodness and love[4], hopeful fruits of the sacraments.

“Christian liturgy and sacraments require and confer faith-hope-love.”[5] These are virtues required for Jesus’ mission. A Christian cannot receive this gift without proper orientation toward God and Christ which the liturgy hopes to achieve. Through Word, Sacrament, and community we are called to respond and go out into the world to share our new gifts, that of faith, hope, and love; we make Jesus Christ incarnate to the people we touch. At the end of each meditation in the Exercises we are asked to respond. In the Call of the King we are moved to say yes to the Lord and to His work for God’s greater glory. In the Two Standards we pray for the grace to imitate Christ. In the Contemplatio we are moved out of love to offer wholly ourselves to God our Creator ultimately for the good of the Kingdom.

But how often are Mass-goers fully and consciously involved in this mission? How many are responding? The faithful come to Church and receive the sacraments but do they do it inflamed by the Spirit? Sacrosanctum Concilium calls the faithful to a “full and active participation” in the liturgy. Indeed it calls Christians to make an investment in learning about the Sacred Liturgy, especially though the instruction of clergy.[6] Liturgy if not executed well can become the thing of reluctant obligation and mechanical response, one evoking little movement of the heart. A participant needs to be open to the graces of sacramental liturgy. “The perfect church service would be one we were almost unaware of,” says C.S. Lewis, “our attention would have been on God. But every novelty prevents this. It fixes our attention on the service itself …”[7] As liturgy evolves it becomes in danger of becoming novelty. Lewis has a point: liturgical worship must be natural and focused on God. And God is the one who invites us to respond. An exercitant during prayer is likely to encounter distractions. His or her consolation might become his or her own novelty in prayer, causing movement away from an authentic Spirit-moved response—seeking consolation only for its affect. Many non-denominational churches draw congregants with emotionally affective music. While this can lead to authentic connection with God and communion with fellow worshippers, it can be at risk of becoming a simple gimmick to attract members: fabricating consolation for consolation’s sake. Even services that are too “dry” and lacking in good music, quality preaching, or passion on the part of the presider risk the congregant “noticing” too much the deficiency of the service. This kind of tension lives in communal worship (liturgy) and in private prayer (Exercises).

Engaging the Senses
Here is another parallel between liturgy and the Spiritual Exercises. The New Dictionary of Sacramental Worship says, “As signs of the Kingdom, sacraments are liturgical dramas in which the cast is the Christian community but the director and leading actor is Jesus Christ.”[8] In the Exercises Ignatius asks the exercitant to engage all his or her senses and play out the scene of a Gospel in the imagination. We literally imagine the drama unfold between us, Jesus, and the other characters of the Gospel. As an exercitant must be fully engaged in the sensory prayer of the retreat in order to receive its graces, so too a Christian must be sensually engaged in the liturgy—itself full of dialogue, drama, imagery, sound, movement, and other things. We are not just play-actors pretending in a fictional sense. Instead we participate with Jesus in playing out the scenes of unfolding truth and revelation of Christ in our life-world.

During my experience of the Exercises my daily prayer enhanced my experience of the Mass and the Mass enriched my prayer. Private meditation and the liturgy worked hand in hand. This kind of intentional pairing of communal liturgical worship and personal prayer fulfils our very duty as baptised Christians to be “a holy nation”[9], a redeemed people. It ties the personal with the communal. It allows us to invite God into our lives in a deeper and richer way so we can be moved to labour for God’s Kingdom.

Until Christ comes again we must continue our liturgical practices. Our very faith demands it. “… the tragic dimension of life continues to assert itself and to demand liturgical response.”[10] What pervades liturgy in intercession, forgiveness, and grace must permeate our lives outside of liturgy. Our liturgical response to pray for the sick, the dead, and the oppressed must mirror our everyday response. Both liturgy and personal prayer must be held in a balance, informing and feeding one another. Fr Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, SJ says, “The liturgy is an encounter with the Divine Majesty who missions us to the world …”[11] The Spiritual Exercises manifests Christ’s personal invitation as liturgy manifests the invitation in a communal sense. Both liturgy and the Exercises “incarnate” Jesus Christ who invites, seeks our response, and then missions us to serve and love the world.

She cultivates a taste for small pleasures: dipping her hand into sacks of grain… cracking créme brulée with a teaspoon… and skipping stones at St Martin’s Canal.

She looks back at the people in a cinema to see their faces. I wish sometimes to pay attention to these tiny parts of life a bit more; finding joy and appreciation in the almost invisible or unnoticeable parts of our life.

A couple years ago I worked as a tech at Calvary, a palliative care cancer hospital in the Bronx. In my examen one night I thought about the little things I did for the patients at Calvary or for the comfort of their families. Like combing a patient’s hair, rubbing lotion on their feet or legs, taking care in shampooing their hair, replenishing their pitcher with cold water, or even folding their blanket neatly at the foot of their bed. These were little touches that they appreciated. I realise that God worked through that and I found God in those little touches, those tiny things. The grace I asked for had been given in a way I didn’t expect: the little things in which I found God were the little things I was doing!

Filed under: God In All Things, Paying Attention, The Lighter Side ]]> http://godinallthings.com/2012/03/07/little-things/feed/ 0 Andy Amelie's small pleasures Amelie with spoon http://godinallthings.com/2012/03/05/the-power-of-political-catchphrases/ http://godinallthings.com/2012/03/05/the-power-of-political-catchphrases/#comments Mon, 05 Mar 2012 12:00:17 +0000 andyotto http://andyotto.com/?p=1435 ]]> Do you ever notice politicians repeating certain phrases or concepts like:

• “Small business owners…”
• “We need to get this country back on track.”
• “For me it’s not business as usual.”
• “The middle class…”
• “Teachers are the foundation of this country.”

Words have a certain power and in the political sphere they carry an even greater weight. Politicians use certain phrases and speak highly of certain groups, like teachers or small business owners, because they’re expected to. They would lose points if they didn’t. They speak about family values and American values. They go on about America being the greatest country in the world and the hard work of its citizens. It’s the same things we hear over and over.

Last year Psychology Today wrote about the effect certain political phrases have on us. Words like “capitalism” received a majority positive reaction in their study, while most saw “militia” as a negative word. And it’s no surprise that Republicans react more negatively to the word “socialism” than Democrats do. That’s why certain parties will use and overuse particular words and phrases for the negative effect they have on their opposition. Or for the positive effect they have on the general population. Who doesn’t want to support someone who cares about values or children or small business owners?

Jesus Christ never said things to win points or to try to make himself look good. On the contrary, Jesus spoke the truth and wasn’t much liked for it. The scribes and pharisees tested him on the issues like divorce or taxes. When Jesus forgave sins they said things like, “Who is this man who speaks such blasphemy!” (see Luke 5:21) He refused to perform miracles for the sake of “proving himself”. Though the law required the stoning of an adulterous woman, Jesus did not condemn her. He ate with “unclean” outcasts. He “broke” the sabbath law. He told the rich to give their things to the poor. For all this, Jesus was not popular with those in power. Not once did he say things that submitted to the status quo or popular expectations. And he was killed for it.

There’s a Jesuit principle called eloquentia perfecta. It’s a rhetorical tradition that calls for reason, the right crafting of words to express an idea, and graceful communication so that others will want to listen. It’s about serving the common good rather than puffing oneself up. Jesus knew his audience and he knew how to craft his message for them without giving in to their expectations or falling back on “feel-good” catchphrases. Unfortunately, there is no political candidate today who avoids effort to say the “right” thing to win points from voters. He or she wouldn’t win otherwise.

Sadly, a Jesus-figure in today’s political world would not be accepted. But that’s okay, because in the eternal realm (which is current and present for us even right now—eternal includes now, doesn’t it?), Jesus is the figure worth following. He points us to God the Father—not himself—and also reminds us of the radical counter-cultural way that, despite current earthly politics, we can live out now.

>> An aside: Freakonomics produced a fascinating podcast on political media bias and some commonly-used liberal and conservative phrases.

Our hands, like our whole bodies, are amazing gifts from God and they have many uses. Think about how your hands have been used: to work, to give, to receive, to hurt, to love, to high-five, to give the finger, to communicate and express, to pray, to heal, to hit, to caress, to eat, to brush your teeth. There is no visible body part that does quite as much as our hands. It’s worth reflecting on how we use the gift of our hands as we interact with our world.

I’m reminded of when Jesus said, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?” (see Mark 3:4) In a similar way, how often do our hands give life versus cause harm? What do we put in our hands? How do we allow our hands to be used by God to bring good to our lives and the lives of others? How often do we lease out our hands to the work of the evil spirit?

The next time you’re eating your cereal or shaking someone’s hand thank God for your hands and consider how you use them to bring Christ into the world.

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

-Teresa of Avila

Thanks for nothing, Siri.

I’m no theologian, but who hasn’t heard that God created human beings to love and praise him? We do nothing but praise him. We sing praise and worship music. We go to church to worship. We have worship leaders. The psalms say over and over, “O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise.” (Psalm 51:15, NRSV) St Augustine speaks of the goodness God gives and then says, “You therefore command me to praise you for that and to ‘confess to you and to sing your name, Most High…’” (Confessions). “If you will not listen, if you will not lay it to heart to give glory to my name, says the Lord of hosts, then I will send the curse on you and I will curse your blessings.” (Malachi 2:2a, NRSV) We were made for God’s glory and God demands it!

But what does that mean? Is God… selfish? (Gasp!) There are two points we should make. First, “selfish” is an adjective we attribute to humans. We would be horrified at the thought of a parent having a child for the sole purpose of having the child serve or worship them. God has existed before time and has always existed. God is Creator and therefore there is no greater being than God. God cannot search outside of Godself to find someone with more power or more glory. So there is no purpose in God being selfish because all Creation belongs to God! As human beings it is so easy to project human attributes onto God, such as when some might say that God created us because he was “lonely”. Loneliness is a human attribute. So unfortunately we cannot think in human terms. When a human glorifies him or herself it only causes hurt to others, not joy. Even the human Jesus was not selfish. He did all he did not to draw attention to himself, but to glorify his Father in Heaven.

The second point is that “selfish” is defined as lacking consideration for others. When you picture God, do you see a god saying, “Me me me me me!!”? Unlikely. God continuously gives and pours out blessings on his creation and onto us. Ignatius says God gives in these ways:

• God gives me all sorts of gifts (friends, things, talents, graces)
• God self-gives (God becomes human in the person of Jesus and dwells with us)
• God labours for me (sustains life, moulds me, dies on the cross for me)
• God’s giving never ceases

And before you call God a power-wielding megalomaniac think a minute of the gift of free will given to human beings. It’s right there in Genesis 1 when man was given dominion over the animals and plants, even given the freedom to eat from any tree, including the forbidden one. God’s giving lives throughout all of salvation history: freeing the Egyptians from slavery, saving Israel and installing just kings and rulers. Eucharistic Prayer IV from the Catholic Mass captures beautifully the good God has done for humankind:

We give you praise, Father most holy, for you are great, and you have fashioned all your works in wisdom and in love. You formed man in your own image and entrusted the whole world to his care, so that in serving you alone, the Creator, he might have dominion over all creatures.

And when through disobedience he had lost your friendship, you did not abandon him to the domain of death. For you came in mercy to the aid of all, so that those who seek might find you. Time and again you offered them covenants and through the prophets taught them to look forward to salvation.

And then God chose to enter the struggle of human life in the person of Jesus. Need more be said about God’s giving? Seems rather selfless. So why must we glorify God?

Our glorifying God serves two purposes. First, it acts as a love-response to all the good God has done for us. Since there is no way to repay God for what he has given to us (and God doesn’t expect that) all we can do is praise him in gratitude. Second, the kind of glory God has is a sharing of his divine goodness with all creation. In fact, it might be “selfish” if God did not exhibit his glory and pour out his love and blessing. When we glorify God we not only show God our gratitude for all he has given us, but we actually act as an instrument for God’s glory and help bring it into the world. Is there part of the plan we can’t see? Of course, but what we do know is that God created human beings to live and work in the created world to use all created things, including our individual gifts, to bring peace, justice, and love to the earth.

“Here’s what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace. The world is full of so-called prayer warriors who are prayer-ignorant. They’re full of formulas and programs and advice, peddling techniques for getting what you want from God. Don’t fall for that nonsense. This is your Father you are dealing with, and he knows better than you what you need. With a God like this loving you, you can pray very simply. Like this: Our Father in heaven, Reveal who you are.”

(Matthew 6:6-9, The Message)

I bolded a few parts that jumped out to me as Ignatian. This translation emphasises the vulnerability, feelings, and relationship of prayer.

“Just be there”
In the Spiritual Exercises, Saint Ignatius suggests that before praying the retreatant make some “act of reverence or humility” so that he or she can acknowledge the specialness of this prayer time with God. “Just being there” is a humble way of centring yourself and honestly opening yourself to God. This means vulnerability before God.

“You will begin to sense his grace”
In the Exercises there is a meditation on the Incarnation during which the retreatant imagines the Trinity looking down on the world and all that is going on. This works its way into Ignatian prayer in that one begins prayer simply by “considering how God our Lord is looking at me”. After centring yourself, imagine how God gazes upon you and beholds you. This is a great way to sense God’s presence in your prayer time.

“Reveal who you are”
And then there’s the rest of your prayer! However you pray, whether it’s just acknowledging and feeling God’s presence or meditating on scripture, the purpose of prayer is allowing God to reveal God’s self to you. This takes time, as does any relationship take time to form as you reveal more and more to each other. As verse 9 says, “With a God like this loving you, you can pray very simply.”