The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything (36 page)

Jesus appeared in the place where I had felt the freest in my life. It was a surprising, personal, and intimate way to experience a resurrection. For, in a flash, it dawned on me that only by accepting the loneliness and tiredness was I able to experience what I had found in Kenya. God seemed to be saying, “
Yes, you must accept the loneliness and the tiredness, but here is what awaits you when you do. Here is what happens when you say
yes.
And you know this from experience. Here is the new life
.”

This experience was a reminder of how helpful Ignatian prayer can be, offering a moment that is at once personal, meaningful, transformative, and even difficult to communicate to others. It was also a reminder of why spiritual direction is helpful—without Paul’s guidance I would have simply avoided entering into this passage.

Since that time I’ve not feared the loneliness or overwork as much. It is part of what I’m asked to accept about my life. But I also know that acceptance means that I can often see signs of new life. The cross leads to resurrection.

All this leads back to obedience. God sometimes asks each of us to accept certain things that seem at the time unacceptable. Unbearable. Even impossible. For me it was loneliness and tiredness. For another it might be terrible illness. For another, the loss of a job. For another, the death of a spouse. For another, a stressful family situation.

This doesn’t mean you court those things or that some things should not be changed. “Don’t work even
longer
hours because of your retreat!” said my friend Chris after the retreat. Rather, some struggles in life are unavoidable. And, at least in my own life, embracing them may sometimes lead to new ways of finding God.

This small insight may pale in the face of whatever suffering you are experiencing. But it has helped me in my life, and I wanted to share it with you, and I hope it might help you during tough times.

The insight goes by many names: accepting the “reality of the situation,” as Walter Ciszek would say; surrendering to “the future that God has in store,” as Sister Janice would say; taking up “your cross daily,” as Jesus would say. Acceptance. Abandonment. Humility. Poverty of spirit. Finding God in all things.

All of them are talking about the same thing, and all these words and phrases point to one word, a word that may have seemed so strange at the beginning of the chapter and yet which lies at the heart of this life-giving path: obedience.

P
ROBABLY THE HARDEST DECISION
I’ve ever had to make as a Jesuit was the decision to stay or leave after being delayed for theology studies. I had made a lifelong vow to God, but life somehow seemed to be pulling me away from that original commitment. (The decision seems an easy one now, but like many such choices, it didn’t seem so at the time.) And I knew it would be a life-altering choice. Fortunately, my spiritual director was adept at what we Jesuits call “discernment.”

Discernment is the overall term for the decision-making practices outlined by Ignatius in the Spiritual Exercises. A Jesuit superior is considered good at discernment not only when he takes seriously the need to pray over each decision, but also when he understands the specific Ignatian techniques of coming to a good decision.

As I mentioned in the last chapter, Jesuits believe that when decisions are to be made, especially concerning assignments, a good process is essential. We also believe that if the superior and subject are both seeking to hear God’s voice, then we can rely on God’s help in the process itself. Thus, even when Jesuits are sent where they would rather not go, their disappointment is tempered if the discernment has been careful. Likewise, when they find themselves going where they
want
to go, if the discernment seemed shallow, there may remain a nagging doubt over whether the decision was made properly.

Our techniques for making decisions come mainly from the practices outlined in the Spiritual Exercises. Ignatius, assuming that those experiencing the Exercises were reaching a turning point in their lives, includes some superb techniques for making good choices, which we will look at in this chapter. The way of Ignatius will help you answer the question, “What should I do?”

Ignatius’s practical ways of making a choice have proven of great use to millions who have walked along his way. They can seem abstract, so I’ll use some real-life examples to illustrate what Ignatius was talking about.

I
NDIFFERENCE

Before entering the decision-making process, Ignatius asks us to try to be “indifferent.” In other words, try to approach the decision-making process as freely as possible. “I beg of you, my Lord, to remove anything that separates me from you, and you from me,” as Peter Favre wrote.

“Indifference” is easily misunderstood. When most people hear that word, they think not of being free, but of being bored or uninterested. Several years ago an anguished young man, just engaged, came to me with a problem: he wasn’t sure if he should continue with the wedding as planned; he was torn over whether he was ready to make a lifelong commitment. Obviously a painful dilemma. During our first conversation I said, “Well, first you have to start with indifference.”

“Indifference!” he said. “This is my
life
we’re talking about!”

What Ignatius meant by indifference was freedom. The freedom to approach each decision afresh. The ability to be detached from one’s initial biases and to step back, the willingness to carefully balance the alternatives. An openness to the working of God in one’s life. George E. Ganss, S.J., one of the modern translators of the
Spiritual Exercises,
wrote that indifference means

Ganss concludes with what I conveyed, less eloquently, to the young man thinking about postponing his wedding. “In no way does it mean unconcerned or unimportant. It implies interior freedom.”

Every major decision carries some baggage. The question, “Should I marry this person?” or “Should I go on with my wedding plans?” may have in the background your fiancé(e) or your parents or your best friend pressuring you to get married. Or not to change your plans.

But while advice from friends and family can help us arrive at a good decision, Ignatius asks us to begin the decision-making process as impartially as possible. That bit of common sense is often forgotten.

To use a famous Ignatian image, one should try to be like the “pointer of a balance.” If you’ve ever seen an old metal scale, like the ones used in old-time butcher shops for weighing meats, you’ll remember a metal arrow that points straight up—to zero—when the scale is empty and perfectly at rest. There’s nothing weighing on either side.

This is what Ignatius means. When we begin to make a decision, we should emulate that metal pointer—not leaning in one way or another. You don’t want to imitate the unscrupulous butcher who sticks his thumb on the scale to fudge the weight. That’s cheating. Starting off by assuming that you should decide one way or the other is cheating yourself out of a good choice.

Indifference in decision making is hard to achieve. The fellow planning his marriage found himself in the midst of a serious emotional crisis where indifference seemed nearly impossible. But it is an important goal. Like all things in the spiritual life, while you try to move toward it and strive to be as free as possible, indifference is a result of God’s grace.

I
GNATIUS
G
ETS A
H
AIRCUT

Many of Ignatius’s famous practices for making good decisions came from his own life. The earliest example, as I mentioned, was the insight he received when he was reading the life of Christ and the lives of the saints. After Ignatius thought about emulating the saints, he was filled with peace. When he thought about doing more worldly things (impressing “a certain lady”), he felt dry. Slowly he came to see that this was one way that God was leading him.

Ignatius realized that if you act in accord with God’s desires for you, you will naturally feel a sense of peace. That insight—that following God’s invitation leads to peace—is a central part of Ignatian discernment. If you are in accord with God’s presence within you, you will feel a sense of rightness, of peace, what Ignatius called “consolation.” It is an indication that you’re on the right path.

Conversely, feelings of spiritual “desolation,” which Ignatius describes as movements to “disquiet from various agitations and temptations,” signal that you’re on the
wrong
path. The thoughts and feelings that spring from consolation and from desolation are contrary to one another. One leads you to the right path, the right action, right relationship with God; the other in the opposite direction.

This basic element of Ignatian discernment is rooted in the experiences of Ignatius, as well as his observations about how God worked in the lives of others. David Lonsdale, who teaches spirituality at Heythrop College in London, addresses discernment in his book
Eyes to See, Ears to Hear
. Discernment, says Lonsdale, is about the “spiritual interpretation and evaluation of feelings, and particularly with the direction in which we are moved by them.” Michael Ivens, S.J., in
Understanding the Spiritual Exercises,
points out that this is “recognizing the action in human consciousness of the Holy Spirit.” David Fleming calls it “decision-making by a loving heart.”

Discernment has a practical end. It is not simply a way to try to find God’s will; nor is it a way just to move closer to God in prayer. Discernment helps to decide what is the best way to act. It isn’t simply about relationship with God alone; it is about living out your faith in the real world. Ignatius was a results-oriented mystic.

And, as a practical man, he was not averse to changing his mind in the face of new data.

Not long after his conversion, as I mentioned, he retired to a dank cave outside a town called Manresa. With characteristic enthusiasm, Ignatius decided that in order to throw off his former vanity, he would take the opposite tack. The formerly vain person would no longer care for his appearance, letting his hair grow wild and refusing to cut the nails on his fingers and toes. The former elegant courtier must have presented a fearsome sight.

A few months later he reverses his decision. What happened? He concluded that his austerity was doing little to help him with his ultimate goal of “helping souls.” Even though he had adopted this penance for a good reason, he abandoned it to accomplish his goals. The reasons are hard to discern: he may have felt his bizarre appearance would repel others. But whatever the motivation, he wrote, “He gave up those extremes that he had formerly practiced.”

Thereafter he would follow a path of moderation, toning down the severe religious penances popular in his day. Years later, he counseled Jesuits against undertaking similarly austere practices if they prevented working efficiently. In the
Constitutions
he advised Jesuits to be moderate in all things and maintain their health: eat healthy food, get good exercise, and have the proper rest in order to carry out their work. “A proper concern with the preservation of one’s health and bodily strength for the divine service is praiseworthy and should be exercised by all,” he said, quite sensibly.

A seemingly minor decision about cutting his hair was among the first of many times when Ignatius would weigh the pros and cons of a course of action and also realize the need for constant evaluation and reevaluation.

Years after his conversion, while celebrating Mass, he frequently felt overcome with emotion, often to the point of tears. But this became so physically taxing, with tears affecting his vision, that he resolved for a time to give up his Masses to regain his health, in order that he might work better. Discernment for Ignatius frequently meant changing course.

Ignatius was “indifferent” enough to learn from his experiences. The ascetic pilgrim who neglected his health could, with great freedom, change course and later counsel Jesuits to care for their own health. And one of the greatest mystics in Christian history could curtail his own time in prayer and counsel Jesuits against excessive prayer lest it take them away from their work. Reaching your goal, Ignatius realized, sometimes means changing paths. Sometimes it even means turning around.

One of his earliest companions, Jerónimo Nadal, wrote that even when it came to planning the direction of the Society of Jesus, “He was gently led where he did not know.”

A final aside before we look at his decision-making practices: for Ignatius all mature choices are between “goods.” In other words, you don’t consider something manifestly evil. So the question, “Should I punch my boss in the face because he’s a jerk?” is not worth considering. Nor is: “Should I chop down my neighbor’s maple tree if it keeps dropping those stupid leaves on my lawn that I have to rake up every Saturday?” Both are obviously bad choices, and justified though you may feel in wanting to make them, they are not the choices that Ignatius feels should be under consideration. (Then again, Ignatius was his own boss, and he never lived in the suburbs.)

Some matters aren’t up for grabs. If you’ve already made an “unchangeable” decision, according to Ignatius, you should stick with it. Commitments are honored. And if you’ve made a “changeable” decision for good reasons and you’re comfortable with it and there’s no reason to change things, don’t bother making a new decision.

So I don’t come to my annual retreats with the question, “Should I stay a Jesuit priest?” Now and then I may seek more clarity, and I may even be tempted to think about leaving once in a while. (Or, as my friend Chris jokes, you might be tempted to “think about thinking about leaving.”) But it’s not something that requires a decision. Ignatius would say: Don’t waste your time. You’ve already made a commitment.

Also, if you’ve made a good decision and suddenly feel downcast, it’s not a sign to reconsider. Let’s say you have decided to be a more generous person and will forgive someone against whom you’ve had a grudge for many months. So you speak with your friend. If your forgiveness doesn’t seem to heal the relationship immediately, it does not mean you should stop being a forgiving person. “When you have made a good decision to serve God better and after a while go into desolation, you should not change the decision; it’s hardly a good spirit moving you,” writes Joseph Tetlow in
Making Choices in Christ
. “When you are feeling down, you would do well to pray a little more and increase the help you give to others.”

On the other hand, if you’ve made a changeable decision in a
bad
way, you can revisit it. You might want to “make it anew in a properly ordered way,” says Ignatius. If you’ve made a poor decision that can still be changed, why not take a fresh look at things?

In the Exercises, Ignatius lists three “times” of making a decision, which could also be described as three situations in which we find ourselves facing a choice. Now the following discussion may seem tricky at times, and you even might find yourself initially a little baffled by some of the terminology and the various steps. That was my first reaction when I was introduced to these practices as a novice.

But don’t worry. Perhaps because he came from a military class, or needed to manage a large religious order, Ignatius liked things marshaled in an orderly fashion. As a result, the Spiritual Exercises are full of lists, most of which come in twos and threes. The Two Standards. The Three Degrees of Humility. The Three Times of Making a Decision. Sometimes it feels less like prayer and more like algebra.