Finding Love in All Things

by Ani Vidrine

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“Take Oh Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will, all that I have and possess. You have given all to me, to You, oh Lord, I return it. All is yours; dispose of it according to Your will. Give me Your love and Your grace, for this is enough for me.” ~St. Ignatius of Loyola

My Work With The Jesuits

Before I graduated from seminary and received my ordination as an interfaith minister, I had the opportunity to serve as activity director for a community of retired Jesuits. My fondest memories from that time center around my friend, Tom. He was 90-years-old when I met him, 63 years a Jesuit, 52 years a priest, and one of six siblings, all deceased. Clearly a looker in his younger years, he was tall and athletic. Some of Tom’s favorite songs were Charmaine by Mantovani and His Orchestra, Alice Blue Gown by Joseph McCarthy and Harry Tierney, and Sylvia by Mario Lanza, nostalgic remnants of days gone by. Diligent in preserving his health, Tom had quit smoking on his 50th birthday and kept up a consistent routine of daily walks. Eating as an obligation, he stirred together a combination of what he deemed to be the healthiest foods on the Jesuits’ daily buffet and ate it in teeming spoonfuls — at times a mix of incongruencies such as spinach, blueberries, seeds, pickled okra, and oatmeal.

I believe that many of the Jesuits viewed Tom as eccentric, but he made sense to me. He liked to try novel treatments for his arthritis, even asking me to take him to have some type of infusion at a very suspicious facility. The Jesuits humored him in this. His room was always a mess, mostly from piles of books from which he had been reading snippets here and there, titles ranging from Self-Hypnosis to a plethora of Christian classics. He slept in his recliner and binge-watched movies.

I remember the day we watched the beginning of Django Unchained together. I told him that my sons really enjoyed the movie but didn’t think I would like it because of the violence. Still, I was curious and figured that if the movie got to be a bit much for me, I would just tell Tom that I had enough. He was game. Well, after seeing the hilarious scene with the Ku Klux Klan members on horseback, I was summoned away for some work duty. When I saw Tom later, he said, “They were right. You wouldn’t have liked it.” I smiled inside at the fact that he knew me well enough to affirm that.

Tom and I made regular nursing home visits, in many ways a preparation for my later work as a hospice chaplain. Tom created intentional and well-known ploys (by those who knew him) to brighten everyone’s day. One of his favorites went like this:

(Tom approaching a nursing home staff member) “Hey, would you do me a favor?”

(Nursing home staff member looking either suspiciously or empathetically at this elderly priest) “Ok, what do you need?”

(Tom, verbatim) “Would you have the best day of your life today?”

(Staff member chuckling and often flushing) “Okay, I’ll try.”

(Tom) “Don’t try, do it!”

Often times we walked away giggling together about the person’s expressions and response. Gosh, I miss him.

One day when we were driving to the nursing home, Tom asked if I wanted to pray the rosary with him, and I consented. In each section of the rosary (called a decade), there is a suggested grace for which one might pray. As we prayed, Tom was trying to recall the grace that was assigned to one of the decades. He had memorized the decade graces by thinking of some acronym like “PLACE,” for example “P” is for the grace of patience, etc. Anyway, I don’t remember what acronym he used, but when he got to “L” he said, “Let’s see, ‘L” is for lust and laziness. No that’s not right, I already have those.” We both fell out laughing.

On our nursing home visits, Tom would offer Holy Communion or the Eucharist (a wafer consecrated by a priest, believed to contain the spiritual presence of Christ, and consumed to commemorate the last supper of Jesus and his disciples) to the residents. On random occasions when preparing to distribute Communion, Tom would turn to me and say, “You do it.”

Not yet sanctioned as a Eucharistic minister at the time, I would reply, “I’m not supposed to.”

Tom would say, “It’s okay. You can do it,” but I would stand my ground. Nevertheless, I smiled inside at his rebel spirit and generosity of heart.

Tom would additionally offer the Catholic sacrament of the Anointing of the sick or Extreme Unction to the infirmed at the nursing home. This required him utilizing oil that had been blessed for that purpose. I had observed Tom offering this sacrament so many times that I knew most of the words, and it was for that reason that, when he would momentarily forget a segment of the prayer, he would look to me to fill in the blanks.

Tom also had a flare for the dramatic and was on a mission to relieve the suffering of as many people as he could. It was with that in mind that he would make a large circular gesture, bringing his arms overhead, and bestow a plenary indulgence on every person with whom he prayed. When I asked him about the meaning of this ritual, he said, “It gets rid of the time punishment for sin.” The whole concept was so alien to my world view that I refrained from requesting further explanation.

Once when we were at the Jesuit retirement home, a visitor asked Tom and me to pose together for a picture — I sure wish I had that photo now! We stood next to one another, and Tom put his arm around my shoulder. Seeing the wary looks on the faces of some of his Jesuit brothers who were present, Tom said, “It’s okay. You can touch her!”

One of my favorite field trips that I organized for the retired Jesuits was to visit a recently renovated retreat house that was about an hour and 15 minute drive from their home. The guys wanted to see the new look of the center. Tom and his brother Jesuit, cool-cat Dave, 80-something at the time, tall and lanky and seeming like a remnant from the 60’s, rode in the vehicle with me. We were followed by a van in which other Jesuits and staff rode.

It was a cold day, somewhere near 40°. Dave, sitting in the front passenger seat to my right, was wearing an insulated jacket, and Tom was seated behind me. I had taken my jacket off for the ride. Whenever I would try to put the heater on, Dave would crack his window because he said that it was stuffy. Tom and I froze on the way there. At one point I looked over at Dave and said, “Dave, I’m cold.” I asked him to take off his jacket, but he said it was too difficult with the seatbelt on. It didn’t seem like a good idea for me to pull over amidst the fast-paced traffic on the interstate, so we were at an impasse. What transpired afterwards was like an automated response. If I moved my hand toward the knob to turn on the heater, Dave moved to lower the window; and so it went. Well at some point, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that Tom was wearing a jacket and had put his hood on. I reached back and gave him my jacket to cover his legs.

While we were riding to the retreat center, Dave was listening to Chopin. Because I knew that Dave loved Chopin, I had brought a CD so that he could listen to it on the way. As one might imagine, being at their advanced age, both priests were hard of hearing, so we were listening to Chopin at a pretty good volume. Well Tom decided that he wanted to pray, so he started all-but-shouting, “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. . .” in an effort to compete with Chopin. I felt Dave’s energy change and knew that if I looked over at him, I would burst into laughter. My eyes watered and my body was shaking as I suppressed my mirth. I kept waiting for Dave to call Tom out, saying, “Don’t you know that I’m listening here?” The whole situation felt like a sitcom with one priest sitting in the backseat praying at the top of his lungs, bundled in two jackets and a hoodie, and another priest wearing an insulated jacket, freezing us out, and listening to Chopin in competition with his praying brother Jesuit.

Well we made it to the retreat center without a fight breaking out, and disembarked with the occupants of the van. There were three priests in the other vehicle: one in a wheelchair, one who used a cane, and another one who used a cane and was blind and hard of hearing. We were met by a retreat center staff person who offered a golf cart in which we could ride around the grounds. The blind priest, who could see shadows and was somewhat familiar with the layout of the center, insisted on walking on his own and took off down the road. I was pushing the guy in the wheelchair, and there was only one priest riding in the golf cart. Dave was walking beside me. Tom had disappeared quickly, so the driver of the van went to look for him. She found him in the library, stuffing a book inside his jacket. She leaned out of the door with a big smile on her face and whispered, “He’s stealing a book!” Tom was standing around attempting to look casual, like nothing was amiss. Covertly, I told the priest that was showing us around that Tom had taken the book and asked if we needed to reimburse the center for it. He said that I should ask the person who ran the retreat house. So, I went up to that guy and told him that Tom wanted a book and inquired about whether we needed to offer compensation. He said, “No, he can have the book as long as they don’t all want a book!”

When we got ready to go back to the Jesuit retirement home and before he got in the vehicle, I petitioned Dave, “Please take your jacket off so that we can put the heat on.” He started hemming and hawing. Like a knight in shining armor bearing a swift sword, from the back seat Tom yelled, “TAKE THE JACKET OFF! We FROZE on the way here because you wouldn’t take your jacket off!” Dave grudgingly conceded.

The day after the field trip, I was leading a chair exercise class for the retired Jesuits, followed by centering prayer. Tom and another priest, Herve’, were in class. Next to me on the floor, I had a new table chime that I had received as a Christmas present. Noticing the chime, Herve’ asked me what it was, so I told him, and rang the chime. Herve’ smiled and nodded his head as if it sounded pretty.

Tom said, “I can’t hear it.”

Herve’ said, “Me either,” and we all giggled.

I told Tom that he might want to have a hearing evaluation, and he said, “Oh, I have hearing aids. I just don’t wear them.”

Herve’ added, “I have them too, but I don’t wear them either.”

Then Tom turned to Herve and tried to tell him something, and Herve said, “Huh?” Uncontrollable laughter ensued, and it was a long while before we could continue our exercise.

At the end of Tom’s life, I was working as a hospice chaplain. Because of these credentials, I was able to visit him in the ICU. He was awake and alert on our last visit, but unable to articulate well. I sat by his bed, bereft and grief-stricken. As his final gift to me, he indicated for me to lower my head, and placed his hand softly upon it, bestowing a blessing. The morning he died, I arrived only minutes after his passing. He was alone in the ICU, and I was able to weep privately and touch his face, still warm; a gesture that would have been unseemly in life. My friend, my unlikely friend, did you know how much I loved you?

Fr. Tom, 11/13/1924-12/7/2016

Ignatius of Loyola

Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Society of Jesus (members of which are called Jesuits), master psychologist, Catholic saint, and the youngest child of 13, was born in 1491 to a wealthy family. His mother died not long after he was born, so Ignatius was reared by Maria, the blacksmith’s wife. The young Spaniard grew up loving military exercises and was described by biographers as quite the macho womanizer.

Ignatius enlisted in the army and served under Charles the 5th of Spain, working his way up to captain. In 1521 at the battle of Pamplona, a cannonball hit his lower body, shattering his right leg and severely wounding his left. After convalescing awhile in his home castle in Loyola, Spain, and enduring several surgical procedures without anesthetics, Ignatius, could not support weight on his legs, so he requested books be brought to him. The only books in the castle were The Life of Christ and biographies of saints. Ignatius preferred to read about chivalry and romance, but having no other choice, read what he was given.

Daydreaming was a favorite pastime for Ignatius while he was recovering. He used to fantasize about winning the hand of a noble woman and felt momentary pleasure; but noticed that shortly afterward, he felt dry and empty. He also imagined following in the footsteps of the saints and being a renunciate, and this would lead to an increase in faith, hope, and joy. Considering these different consequences, Ignatius determined to pursue a saintly lifestyle.

In this formative time, the young soldier had a vision of Mary with the child Jesus. This gave him great consolation that lingered and also convicted him to leave behind his life of violence, vanity, and promiscuity. With certitude, Ignatius decided to leave home and travel to the mountaintop monastery at Montserrat, Spain, despite the diligent attempts by one of his brothers to dissuade him.

Ignatius’ spiritual formation had a robust beginning at Montserrat and continued when he travelled to Manresa, Spain. Over time, Ignatius was transformed from a generally self-centered, egotistical person to a humble man of faith. While in Manresa, he developed a reputation as a holy man, and people sought out his counsel. He had several interior experiences of Jesus and Mary, with the visions of Jesus continuing throughout his life. At Manresa, he also had the most enlightening spiritual epiphany of his life while gazing out at the river. He reported that this revelation opened the eyes of his heart to perceive many spiritual truths and matters of faith. From there, Ignatius went on to become one of the most influential Catholic saints in history.

The Work Of My Life

The word God means different things to different people and can be a trigger for religious wounding remembered. The term does not bother me, however, because I conceive of God as Love; not a deity that resembles an old white guy in the sky, but a beneficent force that connects and enlivens us all.

When I was a child, my father used to kneel by my bedside to pray with me each night, and my mother would often take me to visit shut-ins and the infirmed. Through their examples, I was drawn at an early age to find God in all things, a core concept of Ignatian spirituality. While not originally introduced to this idea by way of St. Ignatius, finding Love in all things is the work of my life.

Finding Love in all things does not happen automatically, but rather is a skill that I cultivate intentionally, and Ignatian spirituality informs my efforts. Three specific practices that Ignatius recommended construct the bedrock of support for my work in the world. These are regular introspection (the Daily Examen), consideration of whether I am engaging with life from a fearful, egoic perspective or a loving, centered perspective (Meditation on the Two Standards), and mindful appreciation (Contemplation on Divine Love).

The Daily Examen

Ignatius encouraged his students to bookmark a regular period for introspection each day, which he called the Daily Examen. He suggested that this introspection be performed in 15 minutes or less and as often as needed. Current day Jesuits describe five steps in the examen:

Become aware of God’s loving presence. (Center yourself and become mindfully present.) Review the day with gratitude. Pay attention to your emotions. Choose one feature of the day and pray with it. (With a curious mind, open heart, and relaxed body, ponder or examine recent activating/triggering events or special, inspiring moments.) Look toward tomorrow with intention.

This practice is the cornerstone of preparing me to find Love in all things. It truly is a non-negotiable part of my day because it creates the self-awareness I need to mindfully and intentionally engage with my life and to meet myself and others with empathy and compassion. Without it, I feel disempowered, like a puppet being manipulated by my emotions.

Meditation on the Two Standards

A significant component of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, a four-week program created by Ignatius for spiritual enlightenment, is the Meditation on the Two Standards, a battle image. To be identified with a standard means that one stands under the flag of a chosen side and consistently engages in the tactics of that camp in daily life. Ignatius likened the two standards to aligning with Christ or Satan, which for me is to be identified with either a loving, centered perspective or a fearful, egoic perspective. In this usage when meditating on theses two camps, one explores the questions: What does it mean to be identified with unconditional love? What does it mean to be identified with my fearful ego?

Ignatius described the tactics of Satan (Fear) as:

• the pursuit of wealth for wealth’s sake,

• the pursuit of honor for honor’s sake,

• and the pursuit of power for power’s sake.

These endeavors are directly related to the basic human needs for security, control, and esteem. There is nothing inherently wrong with having wealth, being highly regarded, and feeling empowered. However, when riches, status, and power are the end game, Ignatius claimed that we will not have peace and are missing the point; which, according to the saint, is to praise, reverence, and serve God — or put simply, to learn to live with an open heart.

The Spanish mystic elucidated this philosophy as a mission statement, called the First Principle and Foundation:

The goal of our life is to live with God forever. God, who loves us, gave us life. Our own response of love allows God’s life to flow into us without limit. All the things in this world are gifts of God, presented to us so that we can know God more easily and make a return of love more readily. As a result, we appreciate and use all these gifts of God insofar as they help us develop as loving persons. But if any of these gifts become the center of our lives, they displace God and so hinder our growth toward our goal. In everyday life, then, we must hold ourselves in balance before all of these created gifts insofar as we have a choice and are not bound by some obligation. We should not fix our desires on health or sickness, wealth or poverty, success or failure, a long life or a short one. For everything has the potential of calling forth in us a deeper response to our life in God. Our only desire and our one choice should be this: I want and I choose what better leads to God’s deepening his life in me. (contemporary translation by David Fleming, S.J.)

Considering the First Principle and Foundation, the tactics of Christ (Love) are:

• non-attachment (a holy indifference, as Ignatius would put it, to created things),

• humility, and

• love.

Non-attachment means that I am responsible for my effort, not the outcome, in any given circumstance. Humility refers to the acknowledgment that I am not self-sustaining, but completely dependent on the provision of the Magnificent Universe for my maintenance. Love may be construed as a receptive benevolence to all living beings, including myself.

In practice, then, when aligning with unconditional love, I don’t consider: Will I be safe? Will this make me rich? What will other people think of me? Will I receive recognition for doing this? Will I be in control? Will I get my way? Rather, I understand that if I follow the call of Love in the moment, I accept that I may suffer ridicule, may be in situations where I don’t feel safe, and may not have wealth. I commit to the conscious surrender of the fears of my ego and a stance of defensiveness, and instead choose to be guided by unconditional love. This is a major component of the work of finding Love in all things.

Contemplation on Divine Love

Ignatius’ Contemplation on Divine Love is the pinnacle of his Spiritual Exercises and has four points. I offer them below in an adapted version.

Point One: Consider with gratitude the many gifts that you have received in your life. In particular, from what have you been redeemed? Perhaps there was a time in your life when you suffered great hardship, whether from emotional or mental issues, such as shame, anger, anxiety, arrogance, grief, loneliness, or low self-worth; practical issues, such as financial poverty, death of a loved one, divorce, or an abusive situation; and/or physical conditions, such as sickness or addiction. Remember how your life was then, and consider how far you’ve come.

Point Two: Reflect on how Love dwells in each part of the manifest universe, no matter how minute; and so in you, giving you consciousness, sensation, and the ability to think and understand. Thomas Merton, Catholic theologian and mystic, put it this way:

To say that I am made in the image of God is to say that love is the reason for my existence, for God is love. Love is my true identity. Selflessness is my true self. Love is my true character. Love is my name. (New Seeds of Contemplation, Chapter 5)

Point Three: Consider how Love works and labors for you in all things created on the face of the earth, how you are part of an interdependent web of life, how your very being depends on the existence of everything else on the planet, and how every detail of life is intricately formed to preserve all beings. Reflect, also, on how you are called to work and labor to promote the reign of Love on Earth by manifesting love, compassion, kindness, and forgiveness; how by challenging the status quo that promotes consumerism, fear, pride, greed, selfishness, and an us against them attitude, you are joining in solidarity with the poor, oppressed, and neglected — in effect, being a beneficent force in the world.

Point Four: Reflect on the abundant provision that is yours daily, how all of your needs are met, and how tenderly you are loved by those who care for you. Allow yourself to be lost in admiration and appreciation for the gift of your daily life.

The Contemplation on Divine Love is customarily done in time set aside for prayer or introspection. However, I utilize this tool as an intentional way of being in the world that includes:

• regularly practicing gratitude;

• recognizing inherent unity — that the force that enlivens me also animates every living creature;

• honoring the work of each organism in this magnificent universe that is literally laboring for my existence, and offering my own committed response to do what is mine to do for the benefit of all;

• and purposefully living in awe of the abundant provision freely given each day.

My work in the world, whether serving in roles for which I get paid, spending time with family and friends, being alone with myself, hiking, singing, writing, or in other ways creating, is to find Love in all things. This mission is reflected in the vows I wrote when I received my ordination as an interfaith minister:

I vow to be obedient to the call to listen for the truth in myself and others. I vow to cultivate a chastity of heart that looks for the innocence in myself and others, and I vow to practice a spiritual poverty that shows up with an empty cup waiting to filled.

May it be so.