Not to work for, but to be with, Jesus

One of the things I remember from when I was going through the 9-months’ spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius, the “19th Annotation,”* was the first time I learned, at a particular place in the exercises, that Jesus wanted to be my friend.

Now, where I grew up, among many Protestants, this would have been a very familiar sentiment. Kind of cheesy and overstated, even. I think that’s why I didn’t think much about it, or take the time to believe it, and it never struck me as true. God is too far away, anyway.

The moment in the Exercises that brought this to life occurred during a period of meditation on Jesus’s passion. The language that day prompted me to “just be” with Jesus in his suffering. When I saw my spiritual director I asked him, what good does that do?

Well, he very patiently explained, if one of your close friends was suffering, do you think they would enjoy your company, to stay with them in their time of need?

And so the light bulb went off - OH! We mean quite literally that it is imperative to know Jesus intimately, with us, among us, one of us, a real person. A friend. It’s not symbolic.

I was reminded of that today in Bishop Barron’s daily Gospel reflection email. The Gospel today is Mark 2:13-17, wherein Matthew the tax collector is called to be a disciple. From Bishop Barron’s reflection:

“Matthew immediately got up and followed the Lord. But where did he follow him? To a banquet! ‘While he was at table in his house . . .’ is the first thing we read after the declaration that Matthew followed him. Before he calls Matthew to do anything, Jesus invites him to recline in easy fellowship around a festive table. As Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis comments, ‘The deepest meaning of Christian discipleship is not to work for Jesus but to be with Jesus.’””

The deepest meaning of Christian discipleship is not to work for Jesus, but to be with Jesus.

The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius teach you to do this (if you are open to accepting the grace to do it). Through conversation with Jesus, through telling him what is on your heart, for trusting that what you desire is not too slight for Jesus to care about, too. And especially, for asking Jesus what his desire is for you. I have to remind myself of this often, and sometimes it is a matter of stepping back from “doing” - like turning down a volunteer commitment - and remembering that without prayer, without that time to just be with God, the active work is not quite as - strong. Like stained glass that could be brighter.

For those of us who are do-ers, the be-ing takes intention. Be-ing is a gift, too.

There’s a prayer for your weekend: Jesus, help me to just be with you. The image of St. John the Evangelist with his head over Jesus’s heart at the Last Supper is helpful.

*Named that for the note in his Spiritual Exercises book - the 19th annotated note - which said the prayer retreat could be completed, by lay people, in daily life, over several months, as opposed to over the course of a month in silence. Over the course of a month in silence is the usual course for priests and those in religious life completing the exercises.

Works, Prayer, Fellowship

Readers, my latest article for Catholic Stand is up now, called “How the Legion of Mary Taught me to be Catholic.”

I joined the Legion as a new Catholic in 2014 and have spent time both as an active member (even as President!) and an auxiliary, which is as a praying member, who does not participate in the weekly meeting or works. Both are fruitful, both are worthwhile, both are necessary.

What I realized are the enduring spiritual and life lessons I learned from being a part of this group, and having the privilege to witness the wonderful hope and tenacity of my fellow members, serving the body of Christ in Mary’s spirit. The way the Legion works is how the Catholic life, holistically, should work: in fellowship with others, serving God through works of mercy, sustained by prayer. Further, one of the fundamental beliefs of Legion of Mary founder Frank Duff is that we are called to be saints. The Legion is an ordinary thing, with ordinary members. It is a sign of how the ordinary life is itself a path to holiness, and how we are all called there.

So, I hope you will read.

One other thing, though. There is another lesson that I did not write about, but which in this I reflect, nonetheless. And that is that no one is called to be a martyr (not in the emotional sense). Legion of Mary work exposes you to a lot of people in need - people whose entire bodies are paralyzed, existing day by day in a nursing home; men and women in prison, trapped in unbelievable grief at the consequences of their actions; and so on. One may feel a tendency to want to solve all these problems - to minister to everybody, to bring every person encountered back to church, to feel that these people’s fates rely on your own ability to pray. Of course, that is not the case, and to believe so - to serve because of this temptation - is not healthy. There is need all over the world, as there always will be. And it is okay - it is imperative - to place hope in God that He will take care of His children, and to to be mindful of the pride that might say, “This is my result! How needed I am.” The greater thing would be to give freely of one’s time and gifts, and not because one feels obligated. It’s a very Ignatian thing to arrive at. [One might say: an act of self-awareness!]

For now, I am an auxiliary member - praying the catena every day, and being filled with love for the Legion and its members. It has been life-giving, and will continue to be. I am grateful for the grounding this active work has given me in a life lived with the aim of always seeking God.

Why self-awareness?

With my workshop on self-awareness approaching, a friend asked me, why self-awareness, and what have you done to learn about this?

I think that self-knowledge is at the last frontier. On this planet, anyway. Well, and not including the bottom of the ocean. But you know what I mean.

We often are quite happy living alongside our own lives. I also think we are often quite happy concerning ourselves with other peoples’ lives, because it gives us an excuse not to have to look too deeply into our own.

The three tools I am teaching in this workshop - journaling, living one’s values, and prayer - are things I have spent years with.

I remember my first journal. I was in fifth grade, it was not much bigger than my hands, and had a lock I simultaneously loved and feared because I was pretty sure I would lose the key, and therefore access to the record of my inmost thoughts. I suspect I wrote a lot about my family and my pet gerbils.

Now, many years later, I have stacks of worn-out journals, and I know the distinct craving of needing to open my journal to work through something on my mind. Or, to return to something to understand where I was then. I have a lot of empathy for all the stages of my life.

As for values, several years ago a very wise person made me list those out and even put them in order of importance. And now I know when I am straying from them and acting out of accord with the person I am, and who I want to be.

As for prayer, that changed for me when I learned about Ignatian contemplative prayer. The act of self-questioning, of identifying my own attachments, and desiring to be rid of them to be closer to God, has reset the way I think. Thankfully, it has also shown me how close God is, at all times.

When we’re self aware, we are more likely to act in a way that is true. I could make a decision at work because I want to humiliate the competition, or because I want to act in the interest of my client (clearly, there is a right answer as to how to act there). But if I am not aware of my own motivations, I will act immaturely. You could think of one million examples of this.

So that is a snapshot. Be self-aware, and therefore be transparent. Not see-through, but real. Sweep away the cobwebs of self-disillusion. That is why I think it is important.

That workshop is February 8 - sign up today!

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