The Jesuit Guide To (Almost) Everything - James Martin [63]
One of my favorite images can be found in the Book of Jeremiah, which is especially useful for those who fear God may be the evil trickster inviting them to change, only to trap them into a miserable life. Jeremiah’s God says otherwise: “ ‘Surely I know the plans I have for you,’ says the LORD, ‘plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope’ ” (Jer. 29:11). God wants only the best for you, says Jeremiah.
You may also find some newer, more modern, images like the God of Surprises, who astonishes you with new and unexpected invitations to grow. Or perhaps you’ll come up with images of your own. One Jesuit friend was once on a long cross-country trip and ended up stranded in an unfamiliar airport, with all his flights canceled. A cheery travel agent patiently helped him sort everything out so he could book a new flight. It was a striking image of God, he said: someone who helps you find your way home.
Change may also be part of your growing relationship with organized religion. Some of us were born into strongly religious families. Some remain rooted in their original religious traditions and develop a mature faith that nourishes them. (You’ll remember those as traveling on the “path of belief,” which we discussed in the first chapter.) Others discard old religious beliefs, since they no longer work for them as adults, and begin the search for new religious traditions (the “path of exploration”). Also common are those who separate themselves from religion for a time and then find their way back to the same tradition, on their own terms, reappropriating a more adult faith that works for them (the “path of return”).
In each case the relationship with God will change as well. As the Spanish Jesuit Carlos Vallés wrote in his book Sketches of God, “If you always imagine God in the same way, no matter how true and how beautiful it may be, you will not be able to receive the gift of the new ways he has ready for you.”
BEING SILENT
Are you open to silence in your spiritual life? Sometimes God seems distant, and sometimes nothing at all seems to be happening in your daily life or in your prayer.
The revelations in Mother Teresa’s letters and journals, collected by Brian Kolodiejchuk, M.C., in Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light, talked about her painful “dark night”—a long period of prayer when it felt as if God were absent—and reminded people that silence is common, even in the lives of the saints. Many believers were astonished, even scandalized, that she spoke frequently of not feeling God’s presence in her prayer. Some secular critics even pointed to her descriptions of silence as proof that her faith was weak. Or that God does not exist.
But silence is part of any relationship. Think about times when spouses or lovers are separated from each other by physical distance. Or, more positively, think about taking a long car trip with a friend. Does your friend have to talk every minute? Think about two lovers walking side by side down the beach, without saying a word. Sometimes silence can be painful and confusing between friends, but sometimes a companionable silence is consoling.
Sister Maddy, my friend at the retreat house in Gloucester, noted another similarity between silence in prayer and silence in friendship. “Sometimes I don’t hear from friends for a time,” she said. “But whether I hear from them or not, I know they’re still my friends. It’s the same in prayer. Whether or not I feel God’s presence, I know God’s there.”
When I was a novice, silence in my prayer drove me crazy. One day I told David Donovan, “This is ridiculous! Nothing’s happening in my prayer. It’s a waste of time.”
David said, “What do you mean?”
“Well,” I said. “I sit down to pray, and not a thing happens. I just sit with God for an hour. It’s a waste of time.”
David laughed. “Being with God is a waste of time?”
Despite myself, I had to laugh. It’s never a waste of time to be in the presence of