The formal end of the Spiritual Exercises

If I say, ‘Surely darkness shall hide me, and night shall be my light’ — Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. Darkness and light are but one.”

– Psalm 139:11,12

This past Thursday morning, after eight months, my journey through the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola ended formally with a closing ceremony with my spiritual director. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I began them, not even knowing fully what they were, and now that it’s over I’m still not sure if I know fully what they are, or if I ever will. My journey with St. Ignatius is just beginning, I have a feeling.

During the closing ceremony was a reading of Psalm 139 and a meditation on it. Among the verses, the two above stood out for me, perhaps because just before the ceremony, my spiritual director and I were talking about light and especially dark. It was on them that I meditated, thinking of the words of the hymn “Amazing Grace”: I once was blind/but now I see, and how paradoxically when we think we are seeing, i.e. in the spiritual realm (the direction God wants us to go, for example), we are truly blind, and when we think we are blind (when we don’t know where we are going, for example) with our eyes closed to the world, we are really seeing the path clearly, or maybe at least beginning to see the path where we saw no path.

“For we walk by faith, not by sight,” II Corinthians 5:7 reads. Even though I haven’t learned it yet, I am beginning to learn to do that and see the importance of faith and, as my spiritual director puts it “our utter dependence on God.”

Why I say I am beginning to learn is because too often I don’t see the importance of putting my trust in God’s hands. I try (again, that phrase) to do it on my own. For example, I say that when I get up mornings, I will devote time to God, as I did last weekend, but I don’t do it, perhaps because I’m trying too hard. It’s not that I don’t need to be disciplined, because I do, but it’s that I think I can do it by my own willpower: that’s where the problem arises, or at least one of many problems.

At the end of Psalm 139 are these verses:

Probe me, God know my heart; try me, know my concerns. See if my way is crooked, then lead me in the ancient paths.”

– Psalm 139:23,24

And in the Book of Jeremiah is this verse:

Thus says the Lord, stand beside the earliest roads, ask the pathways of old which is the way to good and walk it, thus you will find rest for your souls.”

– Jeremiah 6:16

In the footnotes of my Bible, it says on that verse: “Earliest roads…pathways of old: history and the lessons to be learned from it.” History, unlike that song by Sting so many years ago, will teach us something. What it is teaching me is to walk by faith and not by sight. Maybe thus I will find rest for my soul, even in the darkness. Maybe darkness and light can be as one for me and also for you.

Addendum: Perhaps not coincidentally, for my “graduation” of the Exercises, my spiritual director gave me a copy of The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, which includes “The Dark Night.” Maybe these are the ancient paths, the pathways of old, the one that saints like St. John of the Cross walked.

Finding God in the “in-between” times

Today in his homily, the priest at our church talked about how often in life when we are in those “in-between” times, we become impatient. He mentioned that it was no different for the disciples in the nine days between the Ascension, when Jesus physically left Earth, and Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descended. The Church, he explained, has a tradition of prayer that focuses on those nine days, that I found out later after doing a little research online is called Novena to the Holy Spirit for the Seven Gifts, and which can be done during any nine days. During those nine days, he said we should focus on giving thanks for what God has given us and ask what we need to do next.

This part of his homily resonated with me, perhaps because for almost the last two years, I felt like I’ve been in an “in-between” time, a holding pattern, in my own life, as I’m between jobs.

In keeping with Vatican II declaring the Eucharist as the source and summit of the Christian life, he reminded us how we are challenged to be men and women of prayer at Mass — however, not only at Mass, he said, but at the dinner table, before we go to bed and even before we go out of the bed.

This part of his homily also resonated with me, perhaps because I am just completing the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola and feel like I need to be reminded to still continue to pray each day. And when I say “pray,” I don’t just mean as in the sense of praying without ceasing, which is easier said than done, but to start and end my day with prayer: to center myself each day before I go to bed and right after I awaken the next day.

It might be something we all need to do, whatever our faith tradition, to center ourselves in God as the day begins and the day ends. Or even if you don’t believe in God, to take a deep breath before the day begins and think about all the good things in your life and more than a few deep breaths before you go to sleep, keeping in mind those good things. I don’t think it would hurt us as a species, do you?