The Jesuit Guide To (Almost) Everything - James Martin [69]
In Ignatian contemplation we form the habit of losing ourselves . . . in sacred events of great significance. After some initial practice, we learn how to stay with the scene and its actions, to relax in the presence of those who speak and move, and to open ourselves without reserve to what occurs, so that we may receive a deep impression of the event’s mysterious meaning.
Insights, for example, are common in Ignatian contemplation. Whenever an insight would come up in my prayer, something that was clearly new, something that was clearly a fruit of the prayer, David would say, “Pay attention!”
For instance, let’s say you notice how terrified the disciples are—not only by the storm, but by something more surprising: Jesus’ display of power. His miracles could have been frightening to this band of Galileans. Though you may have heard this story dozens of times, perhaps you realize in a new way that watching the sea stilled by your friend would have been astonishing, amazing, exciting—and frightening.
You’ve just received an insight into the life of the disciples: it may have been frightening being around Jesus. Maybe you’ve heard about “fear of God.” It is a natural enough reaction. “Who then is this, that he commands even the wind and the water, and they obey him?” they say afterward. For the first time, you feel not only the excitement behind that statement but also the fear. Then you wonder if they ever talked about their reaction with Jesus. What would Jesus have said in reply?
That might be as far as that insight goes—which is terrific. If you get a deeper insight into Scripture, it will help deepen your faith. But often the insight might lead to an insight about your own life. It might prompt you to ask yourself, Where am I afraid of God? Are there places where you’ve seen signs of God’s presence but have been afraid to admit this—because you’re afraid of God’s power? Sometimes it’s frightening thinking about God’s taking an interest in your life. Is fear preventing you from a deeper relationship with God?
Just as common in contemplative prayer is a more emotional reaction, which can be surprising, revealing, and clarifying. The easiest way to explain this is to take something that happened to me when praying about this passage just a few months ago.
Swamped!
Recently I traveled to California to make the Spiritual Exercises, the first time since the novitiate over twenty years ago. It was part of the very last stage of my formal training as a Jesuit. (Yes, you read that correctly: the complete training of a Jesuit priest, which continues after ordination, may sometimes take over twenty years.)
In any event, during the Second Week that precise passage came up. To be honest, I thought, The storm at sea? Been there, prayed that. I couldn’t imagine any surprises in store. But the God of Surprises had other ideas.
As I prayed about the storm at sea, there were no insights, few desires, little emotion, scant memories, and hardly any feelings. But I knew not to be frustrated. Prayer is often dry, and, at least on the surface, little seems to be going on.
The next day, I returned to the scene in my imagination. As soon as I climbed into the boat, a word popped into my head: swamped. The boat was taking on water during the violent storm, being swamped, and the disciples were terrified.
Swamped was the word I used frequently with friends to describe my daily life. I was forever racing among a variety of projects and often felt overwhelmed. Consequently, I had started to wonder if it was time for a change—time to either ask for a new job or change the way I was working.
You’ve probably felt this way at some point in your life. Many of us—parents of small children, overworked business executives, harried teachers, busy students, stressed-out priests—feel swamped by life, pulled in a million different directions. You think: I have to change the way I work or change how I am living.
The next day my spiritual