Tags
Ad majorem Dei gloriam, conversion, find God in all things, inner fire, intervention, jesuits, saints, Society of Jesus, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Ignatius of Loyola, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, The Spiritual Exercises
As a child in Catholic school, I offered my work, as did all my classmates, to Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Especially on tests, our papers were signed at the top with a small cross and the letters JMJ. As a high school student studying Latin there often appeared a more sophisticated reminder at the top of our papers: AMDG under the cross reminded us that all our work was dedicated “for the greater glory of God.” (Ad majorem Dei gloriam) I doubt that I knew at that time the origin of that phrase as a motto although I was aware of the esteemed men’s religious community that claimed it: the Jesuits, formally named the Society of Jesus, founded by St. Ignatius of Loyola in the 16th century. Today is the feast of St. Ignatius.
Jesuits are famous for their scholarship, marked especially by the many colleges and universities in the United States and around the world. It is also interesting that the founding of this extraordinary company of dedicated men was quite similar to that of the Franciscans three centuries earlier. Both men, Francis and Ignatius, were soldiers who because of illness – Francis as a prisoner of war and Ignatius as a result of a shattered leg in battle – spent a year in convalescence during which each had a deep conversion experience. As a result, each dedicated himself totally to the work of God in differing but all-consuming ways.
The life of Ignatius and his “Company” is fascinating and it seems that much of his success – as in the life of Francis – in drawing others to his cause was his own inner fire and dedication. The basis of his teaching, his living, was finding God in all things and his legacy is seen most clearly today in his major written work, The Spiritual Exercises. Christians from every denomination and walk of life are now participating in the rigorous spiritual journey of a 30 or 40-day retreat based on the Exercises. For those unable to participate in such a concentrated time away, an adaptation called The Nineteenth Annotation of the Exercises is available. In this format, each “day” of reflection becomes a week, thus the process is spread out over 30 weeks and becomes for many a method of Scriptural reflection for a lifetime.
My interest this morning in reflection on Ignatius, however, is focused on that cannonball that so maimed his leg that he was blocked from pursuing what seemed to be a call to military greatness. Sometimes we are on a path that seems our true calling when something or someone intervenes and everything turns around. Sometimes the intervention is less stunning but still requires a response. I smile when I think of Ignatius because his conversion began in a rather ironic way. As he was lying in bed, the story goes that there were no books (romances) to interest him in reading. All he could find or the only things that were offered to him were books concerning the life of Christ and the saints. And the rest, as they say, is history.
Whether we are shocked into our destiny or see it unfold incrementally day to day, God speaks to us and it behooves us to listen because, as Ignatius taught, we can “find God in all things.” The time to wake up is always.
There has been lots of speculation over the history of this world of what heaven is like. The difficult thing about any definition is that nobody is really sure. People have talked about “moving toward the light” and other sensations as part of near death experiences but it seems there is no absolute definition, primarily because we live in this realm for now and can only speculate about the next. The gospel for today (MT 13:44-52) gives a few good similes, however, that can help us begin to consider what heaven might feel like at least. They’re very familiar: the joy of finding a treasure in a field, the willingness of selling everything to buy a pearl of great price…but then Jesus talks a bit more seriously about our responsibility not to be swayed by externals. At the end of this morning’s text he says that every scribe who has been instructed in the kingdom of heaven is like the head of a household who brings from his storeroom both the new and the old. 
In the “good old days” when I was young and eager – especially in the novitiate, but also in the convent at my first teaching assignment where I lived in a group of 21 Sisters – life was very structured and predictable. The “horarium” (schedule) of the days was built around times of prayer, teaching school, meals and community sharing time – known in the novitiate at least as “recreation,” a.k.a. the hour after supper when we relaxed and talked to one another while knitting or listening to music or some such simple activity before preparing schoolwork for the next day. Saturdays were set aside for cleaning and other charges (read: household tasks) or meetings and the occasional planning time for community celebration days.
In keeping with what I said yesterday about Chardin’s vision of evolution in the universe, today we have Psalm 19 in the lectionary readings. One commentator sees this psalm as containing “a grand cosmological vision of a vast universe, alive and full of the divine Presence.” In this psalm we hear the message that God’s word is heard through the natural world as well as in church sermons and our life experiences. I am always happy to read and hear others speak of the importance of the natural world as a conduit of God’s presence and teaching since I learn a lot from observing the depth and function of nature. Here is a suggestion for all of us, the busy people of the world, that might be something to try with the goal of opening us more fully to a deeper way of seeing.
Yesterday I was in a wide-ranging conversation about elements of a future world that would not only include acceptable behavior of all citizens but also be compassionate toward all creatures and to the universe itself. It seemed that we have a long way to go toward consciousness if we are, in fact, to even approach the possibility of such a world. One element that we saw as necessary was the responsibility of each one of us to move the world toward that goal.
Yesterday my co-facilitator, Cheryl, and I were speaking about today’s book-club meeting. We’ll be considering chapter 4 of the book No Ordinary Time, by Jan Phillips. Both of us commented on our hesitation when considering the chapter title: “The Mystery of Evil.” We admitted we’d rather skirt that one in favor of the uplifting discussions we’ve encountered thus far. No worries. Jan has a way of stirring up readers and motivating to action so that anything (like saving the world) seems possible. Here are some thoughts from the introduction to the chapter that will most likely form the basis for our conversation today.
Today’s lectionary readings seem to point out two basic attitudes to life. I often smile when I read the text from 2 Corinthians (4:7-15) where Paul reminds me of the play when the “Unsinkable Molly Brown” sings (as the Titanic is sinking), “I ain’t down yet!” Paul says, “We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted but not abandoned, struck down, but not destroyed…” He is so full of zeal for the mission of Jesus that nothing can stop him. I am always amazed when I read of his travels in The Acts of the Apostles, knowing that a trip in his day has absolutely no comparison to mine. What took Paul months on the sea or overland might cost me a few hours on a plane. Paul’s attitude was that of a consummate optimist; he was willing to suffer anything for what he knew of Christ and wanted to share.
Although I know that Sunday is considered the first day of the week, it is Monday that usually calls me to take stock and ready myself for the work that this week will see done or undone when next Sunday rolls around. Today, after two weeks of many full and fruitful days, I am grateful for the opportunity to have this day not only to make a measured plan but also to begin to plod mindfully along, hoping for some level of achievement by the end of the week. I am not naïve enough to think that all will go as planned – that is not the nature of “real life” in my “neck of the woods” – but just making the plan is a good enough start for me right now. Thomas Merton gives me impetus to put my mind and heart into that task this morning with the following reflection.
In our conversations this weekend about Mary Magdalene and Conscious Love, we have often spoken of the need to surrender to life, letting go of our “small-self” desires in service to the greater good. In our meditation sessions, we let go of any thoughts that arise in order to allow us to be present to the Divine. I found a resonance in Alan Cohen’s reflection for today in his book, A Deep Breath of Life, that seems appropriate to share as we depart from this very valuable group experience. Cohen writes:
The Sophia Center for Spirituality 