I thank you for coming.  I am happy for your interest in Ignatian or Jesuit spirituality.  There are some materials available on Ignatius Loyola, the Jesuits and spirituality.  You can pick them up at your convenience.  Also, after my talk there will be time for questions and discussion.  But for now, I want to plunge into what has brought us together – Ignatian Spirituality.

I want to begin with that most typical of all Jesuit beginnings – I want to begin by quoting another Jesuit.  Toward the end of his life the famed Jesuit and German theologian, Karl Rahner, wrote a book as a kind of farewell to his brother Jesuits.  Only a German Jesuit theologian would think to make his goodbyes by writing a book.  In the book Rahner assumes the persona – the character of Ignatius Loyola and speaks to his fellow Jesuits.  I would like to use Rahner's or Ignatius' words to Jesuits to begin our reflections on Ignatian Spirituality.  And he says:

One thing remains certain:  it is possible for man to know God.  And your care of souls must keep this goal in mind – always, at every step, unwaveringly.

If you fill up the barns of man's consciousness only with your very learned and up-to-date theology, which ultimately engenders nothing but a fearful torrent of words –

If you were to train people only for piety, as zealous subjects of the ecclesiastical establishment –

If you were to make the people in the church no more than obedient subjects of a distant God, represented by an ecclesiastical establishment –

If you were not to help people through all these difficulties –

If you were not to help them finally to abandon all tangible assurances and isolated insights – and to go with confidence towards what cannot be totally comprehended – to go towards God – and to do this at the final fearful end of life –

If you were not to help people in this way –

Then you would have forgotten or betrayed my spirituality in your so-called care of souls and missionary efforts.

Those words, I think, move us into considering Ignatian Spirituality.  As we begin, I want to say something about the person and life of Ignatius Loyola.  And I want to say something about the word spirituality.

In talking about Ignatius I do not intend any extensive presentation on his life.  Rather, I want to describe him as we find him at the beginning of his autobiography – an autobiography which begins with these words:  Up to his twenty-sixth year he was a man given to worldly vanities, and having a vain and overpowering desire to gain renown, he found special delight in the exercise of arms.

Ignatius was born into a noble yet poor Basque family about the year 1491.  Being the youngest son he would probably have been destined for the clergy as a profession.  Clear signs of this are that he received the clerical tonsure and that he was well educated for his times and class – he could read and write.  But there are also clear signs that this initial plan was abandoned.  In 1506 Ignatius' father sent him to live with a friend's family to be raised and educated as a Castilian gentleman.  Ignatius became a courtier – a caballero.

The first biographer of Ignatius, Pedro de Ribadeneira, describes him during these years as becoming "a soldier disorderly and vain".  A later biographer from the twentieth century, Paul Dudon, has this to say:  "Very careful about his personal appearance, anxious to please the fair sex, daring in affairs of gallantry, punctilious about his honor, he feared nothing.  Holding cheap his own life and that of others, he was ready for all exploits, even for those that are but an abuse of strength."

In other plainer words, Ignatius was becoming your typical macho stallion.  Listen to this eyewitness account of an incident.  "I saw Inigo with my own eyes pass a line of men in the street, one of whom accidentally shoved him against the wall.  And he took out after him with drawn sword to the end of the street, and had he not been restrained, would have ended by committing murder."  So much for now for our swaggering caballero.

Now – Spirituality.  What is it?  I raise the question only to make a simple but important point.  What we call spirituality has as its object nothing less than the experience of God.  Spirituality asks:  Who is God – experientially?  And correlatively it asks:  Who am I – before the God so experienced?

So the foundational question for spirituality is:  What is the actual, lived experience of God and of self?  Therefore, only in a derivative, subordinate way is spirituality concerned with theory and concepts.  It does not ask primarily:  What is my idea, my concept of God?  Rather, it asks:  What is my personal experience of God?  For spirituality to know God is not to know about God.  It is not to know facts or have ideas about God.  Rather, for spirituality to know God is to encounter God – to encounter the living God directly, personally, existentially.

In the book by Rahner I used at the beginning this is how Ignatius speaks about his experience of God:  ...I had a direct encounter with God.  This was the experience I longed to communicate to others.  When I claim to have known God at first hand,  ...all I say is – I knew God, nameless and unfathomable, silent yet near, bestowing himself upon me in his Trinity.  I knew God beyond all concrete imaginings.  I knew him clearly in such nearness and grace as is impossible to confound or mistake.  ...I knew God himself – not simply human words describing him.

So, where are we now?  We have taken a brief look at Ignatius.  And we have thought about the meaning of spirituality.  Therefore Ignatian Spirituality must have something to do with this swaggering and vain caballero coming to know God directly and existentially.  That coming to know God will take place over time.  It will be a process beginning undramatically but growing and moving toward intensity.  In that process Ignatius will be changed.  The Christian tradition calls that process of change conversion.  After his conversion Ignatius' fundamental desire will be to communicate to others that experiential process.  Ignatian Spirituality is precisely entering into this experiential process – which he describes in his Autobiography and which he programmatically outlines and offers to others in The Spiritual Exercises.

So now our question is:  How did Ignatius come to know God?  What was the experiential process involved?  And – how can he help us to come to know God?  To answer these questions we need to turn to his Autobiography.

I don't know how familiar you are with the events surrounding the beginnings of Ignatius' conversion.  Briefly put – Ignatius was sent to the defense of the town of Pamplona which was under attack from the French.  In the siege a cannon ball shatters his leg.  Ignatius is returned to his ancestral home at Loyola.  Because the bones aren't mending well, the doctors break the leg again to reset them.  True to his code of honor, Ignatius shows no sign of pain as the leg is rebroken.  Also true to his code, since the mending leg had what to him was an unsightly protruding bump that would draw unwelcome attention in public, he decides to undergo surgery to saw off the protrusion.  Without benefit of anesthesia or anything else the macho Ignatius shows no sign of pain.  Following all this, there's a long, wearying recuperation.

As a diversion from his boredom he begins to read – not what he preferred – tales of chivalry and romance – but what was available:  The Life of Christ and The Lives of the Saints.  As he reads, gradually images and thoughts begin to occur to him which are quite foreign to his usual dreams about grand knightly deeds and romantic conquests.  He begins to fancy himself doing what St. Francis and St. Dominic did.  It comes about that opposed images begin to alternate with one another.  Images of romantic conquests are followed by images from the life of Francis.  And Ignatius learns to distinguish or discern between the images in terms of the affective responses they call forth in him.  This is how he describes it in the Autobiography:

When he thought of worldly matters he found much delight, but after growing weary and dismissing them he found that he was dry and unhappy.  But when he thought of going barefoot to Jerusalem and of eating nothing but vegetables and of imitating the saints in all the austerities they performed, he not only found consolation in these thoughts but even after they had left him he remained happy and joyful.  He did not consider nor did he stop to examine this difference until one day his eyes were opened partially and he began to wonder at this difference and to reflect upon it.  From experience he knew that some thoughts left him sad while others made him happy, and little by little he came to perceive the different spirits that were moving him; one coming from the devil, the other from God.

There we have the undramatic beginnings of Ignatius' conversion.  He is telling us that God is experienced and in that sense known in and through one's own affections.  It is a knowledge of God in and through the affections and desires we find within ourselves.  This affective knowledge or "heart knowledge" of God Ignatius came to call consolation.

It's important to note that this knowledge he has of God at this point is very much a beginner's naïve knowledge.  He senses God in some initial way in terms of happiness and sadness.  And he writes in the Autobiography:  the results of all this – of all this experience and knowledge of God, however obscure and incipient – the results of all this was that he felt within himself a strong impulse to serve our Lord.  Service, the desire to serve is somehow related to knowing God.

As if to underline just how much of a crude beginner he is, Ignatius tells us he was "still blind" and describes his blindness in the following way:

Thus he decided to practice great penances, not with the view of satisfying for his sins, but to please and appease God.  Whenever he made up his mind to do a certain penance that the saints had done, he was determined not only to do the same, but even more.  All his consolation derived from these thoughts; he never considered anything about the interior life, nor did he know what humility was or charity, or patience, or that discretion was the rule and measure of these virtues.  His only intention, not having any other reason in mind, was to perform these important external actions because the saints had performed them for the glory of God.

Now Ignatius was never a sentimental man given to exaggeration.  He was reflective, measured, objective.  We should take him at his word.  The blind Ignatius is till very much the "macho caballero" – who knows neither humility nor charity – love.  He continues to be self-preoccupied – but now with his own spiritual feats.  He is going to do better than the saints in his penances – all with a view to pleasing and appeasing God.  It is important to note that Ignatius is focusing on himself and on what he can do to make himself pleasing to God – so that God will love him.  He has taken on the unhealthy task of making himself lovable to God and lovable to himself.  And he has taken on the unholy task of making God loving.

The heart of the issue – Ignatius' unavoidable starting points are – that God is not loving and must be coaxed into love – and – that "all depends on me."  – even God's love depends on me – depends on what I do.

Let us be quite clear here.  Earlier I said that spirituality asks the experiential question.  And so we ask about Ignatius' actual experience of God's love.  And we find experientially that that love depends on himself – on what he does.  Experientially Ignatius is acting and behaving as if God were not really lovingly present.  God's loving presence might exist as an idea – as a hope or conviction – even as a doctrine to be believed.  But as a matter of actual personal experience God is neither loving nor present.  Experientially for Ignatius God is loveless and the world is godless.  Later Ignatius will call this experience desolation.  It is the counterpoint to consolation.

Ignatius will move through desolation into consolation.  He will do so over a period of about ten months in a little town, Manresa.  Here at Manresa we come to the heart of the matter of Ignatian Spirituality.  This time at Manresa Ignatius will later call his "primitive Church".

It is a time of searing temptation coming out of his spiritual self-preoccupation and self-reliance.  This spiritual ego-centrism manifests itself in dramatic bouts of scrupulosity.  Finally and effectively defining for Ignatius is not God and God's love – but himself.  "All depends on me."  Finally defining and decisive is what he has done – his sins.  And finally defining and decisive is what he now does at Manresa – acts of severe penance.  Among the penances are repeated confessions – meticulously prepared and repeated over and over again.  He turns to extreme fasting – all to no avail.  As long as he concentrates on himself – on his own efforts at self-salvation – as long as he concentrates on making God loving and forgiving – God seems remote, unloving and finally absent.  It is also during this time that he considers suicide.

Gradually and painfully Ignatius learns to shift his attention and perspective.  His question shifts from "What am I doing?" to "What is God doing?"  He writes:  In this manner the Lord chose to awaken him as from a dream.  He begins to look for God's active presence in his life.  What is happening is that Ignatius is learning to take God seriously – God not as a notion – God not as a convenient explanation for life's quandaries – God not as the creature of my own thoughts and wishes – but God as really, intimately, powerfully involved in my life.  Ignatius finally becomes present to the God who is ever-present.  What he finds – actively, powerfully and ever present is Infinite Goodness.  Infinite Goodness becomes his characteristic name for God.

Ignatius describes his experience of God – his experience of Infinite Goodness.  He uses the imaginative language of visions.  And he gives five such examples in the Autobiography.  I will take up the first example which I think is the most important.  He calls it an experience of the Trinity and he writes:  His understanding was raised on high, so as to see the Most Holy Trinity under the aspect of three keys (notes) on a musical instrument.  Using the image of musical notes Ignatius is trying to convey an experience of being in loving and close harmony with the Trinity – with Father, Son and Spirit.

What he only obscurely describes in the Autobiography he treats more programmatically in the Spiritual Exercises and more closely still in his Spiritual Diary.  So let us take a closer look at what he says there.

In the Spiritual Exercises Ignatius presents the Trinity looking at the world.  They see people – people who blind, who are yelling and swearing at one another – people who are harming and killing one another.  The response of the Trinity is not horror – not with drawl – not judgment or condemnation.  Rather, their response is to say:  "Let us work the redemption of the human race by working out the most Holy Incarnation."[Exx 107/8]  The Trinity becomes actively, redemptively involved in the world – becomes involved with people as they really are – in their good and evil, in their light and darkness.  To be in close harmony with the Trinity is to be similarly poised toward the world – similarly involved with people in all their neediness.  To experience God – to experience Infinite Goodness – is for Ignatius to experience yourself desiring, wanting to say with the Trinity:  "Let us work the redemption of the human race."

In his Spiritual Diary he takes an even closer look at the experience of the Trinity.  There he recalls that as he was writing the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus he was continually perplexed about the shape the vow of poverty should take.  As was his practice, he turned to God for guidance in prayer.  Yet every time he sensed himself looking up to God, he also felt unrest within himself and God's absence.  In fact he sensed that God did not want him to look up at all but to look down – not up to the heavens but down to the earth.

This was for Ignatius his peak experience of the Trinity.  He called it an experience of amor reverencial – an experience of reverential love.  Reverential – because he experienced the movements in the depths of his own heart and soul as God's own movements.  They came from and belonged to God. Love – because these movements were the movements of God's own love moving him into the world – moving him toward an earthly and earthy love of people.

From all that we have seen, I think we can conclude the following:

To experience God – to experience Infinite Goodness – to experience the Trinity – is to experience one's own love – to experience one's own love – as having its source in the Father – as having its image and prototype in the Son, in Christ – and as being sensed in the Spirit.

If you want to experience the active, powerful, intimate presence of God, consult your own love.  Look to the love found in others.

God is already at work in you – already at work in others – moving you, moving others – to love, to earthly and earthy love.

Let me give you some quotes from Ignatius that help to elaborate what we are saying.  In the Spiritual Exercises he writes:  It is the love of God that moves me and stimulates me to express my care and affection in the sharing of what I have.  I should be aware that deeper down than the stimulus which comes from my natural feeling and concern I am being moved by God, and God is the source for my being able to love these people ever more fully.[Exx 337]

God's work – and for Ignatius God is eminently a working, laboring, struggling God – God's work is to fashion me into a lover – a loving human being in the manner and style of Christ.  And I can actually recognize God's work in me.  Again in the Spiritual Exercises he writes:  Let each one think that he will benefit himself in all spiritual things in proportion as he goes out from his self-love, self-will and self-interest.[Exx 189]

To say "yes" to God – a real yes to the real God – is to say yes to the movement of un-self-centered love in my life – moving me out of and beyond my own self-concerned love – and moving me toward a truly other-centered, other-concerned love and care for the neighbor.

Correlatively, to say "no" to God – to really reject the real God – to really deny God's real existence – is to choose to remain self-encapsulated, self-indulgent – in one's own love.  "To deny God" doesn't mean primarily for Ignatius to assume some kind of philosophical stance about how the world was created and is sustained.  Rather, the real and radical denial of God is basically to live for oneself.  The denial of God means to create a world where I become my own greatest good and goal – a world where "I", "Ego", "my" life, "my" career, "my" future, "my" security become the real, effective determinants of my concrete, daily decisions.  The "other" simply does not figure into these decisions in any major way.

A final word – and that word is Glory.  Glory is a key word in the Ignatian vocabulary.  Ad maiorem Dei Gloriam – For God's Greater Glory – is the motto of the Society of Jesus.  This parish – this Jesuit parish – exists for God's greater glory.  But we must be careful not to project our own or current understandings of glory onto his.  Ignatius had a biblical understanding of God's glory.  The Glory of God is God's real presence becoming clear, apparent, sensible and palpable in a given situation.  For Ignatius you can even taste it.

I hope we now have some sense for where Ignatius would locate that Glory.  Glory is not to be found in the self-important or the self-preoccupied.  It is not to be found in flight from the world as it is – nor in a moralistic stance of shock, judgment and condemnation of that world as it is.

Rather, Glory – God's Glory – is to be found in the ordinary and prosaic – in the earthy and earth-bound.  God's Glory is found in a couple's love for each other – in a parent's love for their child – in a daily love that goes to work so that others may live and thrive.  In dedicating the time and care to talk, listen and reflect with one another – as in this gathering – we see God's earth-bound Glory.

I hope then we can recognize and rejoice in what the Jesuit poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote:  the earth is charged with God's grandeur.

But most important of all – let us live and do God's grandeur.