This is a guest post by Dawn Eden, author and blogger at The Dawn Patrol.

Dawn Eden

In St. Ignatius Loyola’s Suscipe, the prayer for perfect charity that appears toward the end of his Spiritual Exercises, we find important clues to the nature of the saint’s own spiritual journey:

“Take, O Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my whole will …”

The first thing Ignatius offers God is his liberty. Wanting to live for God instead of for himself, he gives up his freedom to act, so that he might say with St. Paul, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Gal 2:20).

Then comes the aspect of the Suscipe prayer that is perhaps the most striking. Having given his freedom, Ignatius seeks to give God his mind and heart. What is the first part of his inner self that he offers? It is his memory.

In Ignatius’s understanding of the human mind, the concept of memory refers to more than just particular memories. Memory includes everything that had entered into his consciousness to make him who he was—whether or not he could actually remember it. It forms the foundation of his present identity, including his hopes for his future.

This is an ancient way of understanding memory, dating back at least to St. Augustine, and it makes particular sense for one who has survived trauma—as Ignatius had, having been wounded during his military days. Often in trauma survivors (and this holds regardless of whether the trauma was the result of sexual abuse or military combat) the brain attempts to protect itself by consigning painful swaths of the past to areas where memory’s tendrils cannot reach them. Yet the memories of traumatic events, whether present to us or not, remain part of us.

That is why there is something very beautiful about St. Ignatius offering his memory to God. The saint acknowledges there are things he cannot change—the events of his past—and at the same time displays the bold hope that his Maker will accept him as he is now, with everything he did and everything that was done to him. Such is true abandonment to divine providence—joyfully accepting in your own life the truth encapsulated in the old proverb, “God writes straight with crooked lines.”

The fathers of the Second Vatican Council, writing of Christ’s Passion, said that “the Holy Spirit in a manner known only to God offers to every man the possibility of being associated with this paschal mystery.” Ignatius discovered in his own life that the Holy Spirit was able to use all the experiences that had shaped him—all the traumas he endured, as well as the mistakes he made along the way—to bring him to the love of Christ.

Excerpted from My Peace I Give You: Healing Sexual Wounds with the Help of the Saints by Dawn Eden. Copyright 2012. Ave Maria Press Notre Dame, IN. All rights reserved.

At our parish on Mother’s Day, we have a tradition of honoring all women, whether they biologically have children or not. I am always deeply moved by this tradition, because it allows us to honor women who “mother” even if they do not have children of their own.

As all women stand in our parish, I can barely hold back the tears as I survey the room and the beautiful array of women who stand with pride. This tradition allows us to honor the religious sisters of our parish, who nurture people by tending to their needs and faith lives. It allows us to honor the women who were never able to have children or who chose not to have children, yet still have profound impacts on the lives of others. They, too, are mothers in my eyes!

When I stand up, I most certainly stand with a full heart of love for having the opportunity to love my two children. As I stand, though, I cannot help but think of all the other women in my life that make me the woman I am today: my own mom, my grandmothers, my sisters-in-law, my aunts, my cousins, my friends, colleagues, my mom’s friends who are like second moms, women at our parish, some very dear religious sisters, and on and on. These women create a circle of support that provides strength and courage in my own mothering.

St. Ignatius says, “Love ought to show itself in deeds more than in words, and love consists in sharing what one has and who one is with those one loves.” The act of mothering allows us to do this every day. This Mother’s Day, I invite us to be thankful for all the women in our lives who have shown us the meaning of St. Ignatius’s words.

Every time the story of Ignatius Loyola is told, the teller of the tale mentions that he was a soldier and that he was wounded in battle.  But then the speaker hurries on to what happens next–his conversion during his year-long recovery from terrible battle wounds.

Writer Dawn Eden thinks we should pause a moment and reflect on what Ignatius experienced as a soldier.  She suggests that he was a trauma survivor. Fighting was often hand-to-hand.  Men killed other men with swords, pikes, axes, and knives.  Ignatius must have experienced intense terror and witnessed horrific carnage. Such things cause deep emotional and spiritual wounds.  This is something that was always known but seldom talked about, and to our knowledge, Ignatius never talked about it.

I wonder how Ignatius’s battle experiences affected him.  Trauma survivors often feel responsible for the horrific things they experienced.  Could this be a factor in the bouts of morbid scrupulosity Ignatius suffered?  Survivors are often tormented by memories.  Ignatius was careful to include his memories in the things he gave back to God (“Take, O Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my whole will.”)  Those who heal from trauma have a profound sense of having come a long way from a very dark place.  Can we detect this in Ignatius’s deep sense of gratitude to God?

Possibly so.  In the Spiritual Exercises Ignatius strives to help us understand that we are sinners who are redeemed and loved by God.  He may have been able to do this because he experienced it in a place where most of us don’t go.

Image by Arutemu under Creative Commons License.

I’ve been thinking about Ignatius’s  Presupposition lately.  This is a ground rule for the Spiritual Exercises that he puts right at the beginning of the book.  It’s about the relationship between the spiritual director and person making the retreat.

To assure better cooperation between the one who is giving the Exercises and the exercitant, and more beneficial results for both, it is necessary to suppose that every good Christian is more ready to put a good interpretation on another’s statement than to condemn it as false.  If an orthodox construction cannot be put on a proposition, the one who made it should be asked how he understands it.  If he is in error, he should be corrected with all kindness.  If this does not suffice, all appropriate means should be used to bring him to a correct interpretation, and so to defend the proposition from error.

Note that Ignatius isn’t saying that we should play Mister Nice Guy and ignore mistakes and false beliefs.  Error should be corrected—but “with all kindness.”  But before we start correcting other people, we need to do something else, and that is to do everything we can to understand how the other person understands the proposition that bothers us so much.   This is the part that’s so often skipped.  We think we already know why someone is spouting dangerous nonsense: they’re ignorant, or selfish, or afraid to admit the truth.  They’re bad.

How good it would be if spouses, politicians, business associates, and fellow Christians did what Ignatius advised, and were more ready to put a good interpretation on another’s statement than to condemn it as false.

The radical change in Ignatius’s conversion story—his stark change from military man to extreme follower of Christ—intrigues young adults. I cannot count the number of times that a retreatant has approached me on a Charis retreat to find out more about this part of Ignatius’s story. As I share it with them, I often find us laughing at the length that Ignatius went to try to follow Christ and imitate St. Francis of Assisi and St. Dominic.

One of my favorite stories to share, because of the response young adults have to it, is the story of Ignatius on the donkey and the Moor, who “bad-mouthed” the Virgin Mary. It is in this story that we understand the depth of Ignatius’s pride and at times, what seems now, an almost foolish trust in God. Who would really allow a donkey to decide if a person should live or die?

While we may laugh at parts of Ignatius’s conversion story, there is much within his story to teach us about following Christ. Most often I find us savoring the reality that God called a layman of intense vanity and pride to be one of his followers. Ignatius, sinful like us, impacted people not only of his time, but continually impacts people today with his legacy of the Exercises and his profound relationship with Christ. Ignatius inspires confidence in me and young adults to follow Christ, despite our flaws.

How is Christ calling us today, as graced sinners, to follow him?

One of my greatest joys in life is journeying with those in their 20s and 30s in my work with Charis Ministries, and even more specifically, sharing with them the gifts and joys of Ignatian spirituality. At the beginning of every Charis retreat, we take the time to share St. Ignatius’s story. I am always amazed at how much his story speaks to the young adults and how much they find encouragement and inspiration in Ignatius’s story.

To begin with, Ignatius’s conversion happened when he was a young adult and a layman. Instantly, this opens up the reality that we are invited, as Ignatius was, into a relationship with God right now as we are in our 20s and 30s. His conversion story did not happen after years of theological training or years of religious education; rather, it happened in the prime of his military career. What does that say to young adults? God wants us now, and if Ignatius could make the radical change as a young adult to follow Christ, then we can also right now. Caitlin, a 22-year-old college student, captures this reality when she says:

What inspires me the most about Ignatius is the humanness of his story. The humanness and the humility that his conversion story ends with are inspiring. It seems that if he can overcome the life he was living to find Christ, our journey can’t be that far.

The question that Ignatius’s story invites all of us, not just young adults, to consider is, “Am I aware of the depth of God’s desire for a relationship with me right now?”

How would you depict something as abstract as the Examen prayer?  That was the challenge for artists vying for a commission to make a statue of St. Ignatius for Fairfield University.  The winning idea came from New York artists Joan Benefiel and Jeremy Leichman.  Their statue, “Examen,” was unveiled this week, picture above.

Two identical figures of St. Ignatius, made from the same mold, face each other.  Their gaze is intense; it’s no simple glance in a mirror.  The feet are abnormally large, signifying the saint’s journey.  The hands are large as well, signifying a man ready to go to work. The idea was to erect a statue that would encourage young people to reflect–one of the goals of Jesuit education.  You look at the statue and realize that you’re reflecting on a man reflecting.  That’s part of what you do when you pray the Examen.

Certainly the statue is open to many interpretations.  What’s yours?

Sunday is the big day–the feast of St. Ignatius.  I decided to end our month-long IgnatiusFest by posting my favorite Ignatius video.  The amazing story of Ignatius has been told many times, but rarely as well as in this production from the Fairfield University Media Center.  The narrator is a stuffed Spanish olive.  Really.  (Click here to watch the video on YouTube.)

Don’t forget to enter our book giveaway contest.  The winner will be announced early next week.  Details here.

Ignatius Loyola, writing to a Jesuit who hesitated to work in the king’s court, fearing for the safety of his soul:

My own opinion is that even the argument based on your personal safety is not relevant.  Obviously if our religious profession has no other purpose but to ensure our security, and if we were supposed to subordinate the good we do to keeping clear of danger, then we would not have to live among people and have contact with them.  But according to our vocation we have contact with everyone . . . If we go about with our intention upright and pure . . . then Christ himself will look after us in his infinite goodness.

What do you like about Ignatius and Ignatian spirituality?  Here’s a sampling of some responses here and on our Ignatian Spirituality page on Facebook.  Add your own reflections in the comments.

Carol Voss: The freedom to explore and stretch the talents I have been given all AMDG, the knowledge that something is NOT just my imagination, it is the stirring of the spirits, and the sheer joy of detachment from all things unless they point me to His will.

Mary Sutton: Removing my focus on life and all its problems, and raising my eyes and focusing on God. When I do this, I can experience God’s love for me, and from this love, I can better accept the person who I am, a child of God, much loved by Him.

Antonio Matta: Finding God in all things.

Marion Chatterley: To look for that which is life-giving and actively choose to invest energy in that direction.

Ruth Wibisono: That God is trying to communicate with us through everything around us. So Finding God in all things really is just a response to God’s initiative to communicate with us in the first place.

Mike Romeu: Discernment, detachment, the Examen, finding God everywhere/all the time (not easy!), the beloved sinner, I am loved by Him.

Jay Kronenberg:  Finding God in all things, the good and the “bad,” is what has particularly touched me about this approach to spirituality.

Su Scipe: The Exercises.

Anna Lyn Salva Saludes-Aguilar: Ignatian indifference…