The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything

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The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything Page 26

by James Martin


  How did Ignatius respond to his difficult friend?

  Rather than angrily berating him, Ignatius wrote his old friend several letters and asked Simon to correspond more frequently so that he could help him with his problems. But Ignatius was also serious about his role as superior general; in response to the growing crisis, he relieved Rodrigues from his post in December of 1551 and sent him to Spain. Unfortunately, Rodrigues’s behavior continued to be a source of embarrassment, and Ignatius was forced to call him back to Rome.

  This must have been a painful time for even someone as balanced as Ignatius: one of his most trusted confidants had failed. Ignatius may have felt let down by a friend. Or embarrassed at the trust he placed in him. Or angry at Simon’s intransigence.

  Yet Ignatius treated his friend with dignity, remembering the Presupposition and giving him the benefit of the doubt. In the letter relieving Simon of his post in Portugal, Ignatius mentions not Simon’s shortcomings and problems—which both knew—but the burden that was placed upon Simon as provincial and how it “does not seem proper to hold you any longer in these labors.” After asking Simon to return to Rome, Ignatius wrote compassionately of his desire to maintain his friend’s good reputation and provide for Simon’s future. There is not an ounce of recrimination in his generous letter.

  Moreover, says Ignatius, he treasures Simon’s friendship. If he loves the other Jesuits, he says, he feels an even greater affection for his first companions, “particularly toward you, for whom, as you know, I have always had a very special love in the Lord.” It is a remarkable letter that shows how well Ignatius understood the value, and challenges, of friendship and love.

  We all have friends or family members who find themselves in trouble, who disappoint us with self-destructive behavior, or who seem incapable or unwilling to change, despite the best efforts of those who love them. These periods may last for a few weeks, a few years, or a lifetime. In these situations we are called to be special friends and to not only encourage them to lead healthy lives, but also to extend to them our “special love,” as Ignatius did with Simon Rodrigues.

  And if you think your relationships are too complicated for this, remember Ignatius had to deal with a devilishly complex situation— having to balance the following: his responsibility for the Jesuits in Portugal and Spain; his duty toward those with whom they worked in their schools and churches; his need to remain in the good graces of the king of Portugal; his desire to uphold the reputation of the Society of Jesus; and his wish to be kind to one of his oldest friends.

  Ignatius was able to navigate these waters because of his “way of proceeding.” To begin with, Ignatius, who was, after all, the author of the Presupposition, gave Simon the benefit of the doubt, trying to see things from his point of view. Second, he was honest without being insulting. Third, he was reasonable about what would work and what wouldn’t, making decisions and taking actions that would be painful for himself, and that even might lead him to be misunderstood. Fourth, he understood the absolute centrality of love. Fifth, he was “detached” enough to know that he might not be able to change his “difficult friend.” Eventually, according to The First Jesuits, Rodrigues came to accept the wisdom of Ignatius’s actions.

  Ignatius had a talent for friendship because he had a talent for charity, honesty, reason, love, and detachment.

  UNION OF HEARTS AND MINDS

  Just as I was writing this chapter, I got a phone call from a good friend. Dave was a mathematics professor before entering the Jesuits and is also one of the most organized and hardworking people I know. And one of the kindest, too—I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say an uncharitable word about another person. During philosophy studies in Chicago, we lived in the same community. (The wall between our two rooms was so thin that we also, unavoidably, heard each other’s phone conversations, and therefore we had few secrets!)

  But as with many Jesuit friends, my days of living near him are over for now. Since Dave works in Chicago, we rarely see each other.

  After I told Dave that I was working on this chapter, I asked him, “What do you think it takes to keep a good friendship?”

  “Staying in contact is most important,” he said. Times when distance or overwork diminish one’s ability to maintain friendships are when one needs to be diligent about keeping in touch. And, said Dave, the times when you are most tempted to neglect friendships, which can move you toward loneliness, are precisely when you most need to care for yourself by nourishing those relationships.

  Even with the hurdles of distance and time, deep friendships can be sustained. “Like most people who have known each other well, we have a commonality that enables us to reconnect,” said Dave. “So the distance is not so much a problem.”

  Ignatius referred to this as a “union of hearts and minds,” in which Jesuits could be united in a common purpose, and as companions, even though many miles apart. That’s a good goal for any friendship: the union of hearts and minds.

  After Dave’s providential phone call, I decided to call a few other friends, men and women who are well versed in Ignatian spirituality to ask them what the way of Ignatius taught them about friendship and love.

  Many insights dovetailed with Father Shelton’s article on friendship, in which he offers not only some things to avoid, but also some positive tips on what leads to healthy friendships. Let’s look at some of Shelton’s recommendations and also some of my own friends’ wisdom.

  Shelton begins by saying that good friends know about one another’s lives. That sounds obvious, doesn’t it? But a friendship can become one-sided. Sometimes you see your friend or a family member as existing to serve your needs—say, as psychologist or life coach—forgetting the need to take an active interest in the other person’s life. There has to be both giving and receiving. “Love consists in a mutual communication between the two persons,” wrote Ignatius in the Exercises. “Each shares with the other.”

  Sister Maddy, my friend from Nairobi and Gloucester, also pointed to that dynamic—but wanted to emphasize the receiving. “You have to let your friend be a friend to you,” she said. “Sometimes it’s more difficult to receive.” She quoted one of her favorite sayings: “A friend knows the song in my heart and sings it to me when my memory fails.”

  When I asked Bill, president of a high school in Portland, Maine, if I could identify him as one of my oldest Jesuit friends, he laughed. “Say longest, not oldest!” Bill and I entered the novitiate the same year and have gone through over twenty years of Jesuit training, so we know each other well. He’s an easygoing, affable fellow with plenty of friends.

  For Bill the “work” of friendship includes taking initiatives. “It’s easy to say you want to see one another,” he said, “but just as easy to let things slide. Friendships can die through attrition if you don’t take the initiative.”

  Paula, a longtime friend from graduate school who studied alongside many Jesuits, is a lively but soft-spoken woman. Ten years after finishing her theology degree, she is now married with two young children and works as a campus minister at a Jesuit university in Cleveland, Ohio. She laughed when I asked about sustaining good friendships.

  “You mean with Jesuits or with others?” she said. “Because friendships with Jesuits require a special set of strategies!”

  More seriously, Paula pointed to “intentionality” as a key element. She asks, “Are there core values that go beyond the situation that brought you together? Was it only a great college friendship, or is it deeper? Are you able to talk about meaningful areas of your lives?”

  Paula agreed with Shelton’s warning against possessiveness, even—and she surprised me by saying this—in a marriage. She appreciated this in terms of Ignatian spirituality. “The Principle and Foundation of the Spiritual Exercises,” she said, “talks about not being attached to any one thing or person. And that includes your spouse.”

  “When I first heard about being ‘detached’ from my husband, I thought it was ridic
ulous!” Paula explained. “But as I got older, I realized that as wonderful as the relationship is, it can’t be more important than my relationship with God, because one day it will end. You cannot be utterly dependent on anyone and look to only one person to fill all your needs. Because, eventually, they won’t be able to.” She often shares that insight with college students who are inclined to make their girlfriends or boyfriends the center of their lives.

  Does putting God at the center mean that you have less love available for your spouse? “Oh no,” she said immediately. “If God is at the center, there’s always room for others. In fact, there’s more room.”

  In his article Shelton noted that a good friend is also able to share his true feelings and listen to the other’s feelings, even when it may be uncomfortable. A good question to ask is, Whom do I trust enough to freely share any negative feelings with? In other words, with whom can I be honest?

  That starts with being honest with yourself. One of my closest friends is George, who entered the novitiate the year before me. Today he is a prison chaplain in Boston. George offered some rich insights into how Ignatian spirituality can help with friendship.

  “Since Ignatian spirituality helps us to be honest with ourselves, it also invites honesty in our relationships with friends,” said George. “My friends are those with whom I can be myself: they know my baggage and limitations. They also appreciate my strengths—perhaps more than I do. And when I think of the Ignatian idea of ‘sinners loved by God,’ it easily translates into ‘sinners loved by friends.’ ”

  This means looking at both ourselves and our friends compassionately. “Having more compassion for myself,” says George, “allows me to have more compassion for friends.”

  It is a great help to progress to possess a friend who is privileged to point out to you your failings.

  — St. Ignatius Loyola

  Like George, each of my friends made explicit connections between Ignatian spirituality and friendship. Bob is president of a Jesuit high school in Jersey City, New Jersey. He’s an excellent listener and, as a result, an excellent friend. Bob reflected on the link between friendship and the Ignatian understanding of desire.

  “From an Ignatian standpoint, God interacts with a person on a direct basis,” Bob said. “And the way this often happens is through our friends. So friendship, in both its support and challenges, is one of the main ways we discover God. We discover who we are as loved individuals, and we discover that in our friends.”

  That desire for friendship comes from God, he said. “It’s a desire to discover what’s going on with someone else. And it’s the desire for the infinite, which comes from God, and the desire to participate with the infinite, which is ultimately satisfied by God, who is our friend.”

  One way Jesuits cultivate friendships is through a practice called “faith sharing.” The practice may provide hints about how you can build an honest relationship with your friends.

  LISTEN MUCH

  Every Sunday night in the novitiate our community gathered for “faith sharing,” which meant speaking to one another about our spiritual lives: where we had experienced God in our daily lives and what our prayer was like.

  There were two rules. First, everything was confidential. Second, no comments were allowed after someone spoke, unless it was a question asked to clarify something.

  The first rule made sense. The second seemed ridiculous. Early on, when people expressed their struggles, I wanted to say, “Why not try this?” If someone said he missed his old life, I wanted to say, “Me, too.” If someone talked about being lonely, I wanted to say, “Knock on my door.” I couldn’t understand why the novice director wanted us to be silent.

  Gradually I realized: it was so we could listen.

  Listening is a lost art. We want to listen, we want to think we’re listening, but we are often so busy planning what we’re going to say in response or what advice we’re going to give, that we fail to pay attention.

  As Gerry, our novice director, explained, there was ample time in the novitiate to console, to counsel, and to advise. The practice echoed one of Ignatius’s lesser-known sayings: “Speak little, listen much.” We were also told that keeping everything strictly confidential made people feel more relaxed.

  Gradually I grew to love faith sharing. When my fellow novices, as well as Gerry and his assistant, David, shared about how they had experienced God in the previous week, I was fascinated. What a wonder to see how complicated these men were and how much they were all trying to grow in holiness, trying to be better men, better Jesuits.

  It’s Listening!

  Jesuits aren’t always good listeners. One of my favorite Jesuit stories might sound apocryphal, but I know the two men involved!

  One was a wise and elderly priest, renowned for his spiritual-direction skills. The other was my friend Kevin, who was at the time a novice. The two met at a Jesuit gathering. The priest said, “So, Kevin, where are you from?” Kevin said, “Boston.”

  Then Kevin decided to ask this revered spiritual director an important question. “Father,” he said, “what would you say is the most important part of spiritual direction?” The priest answered, “That’s easy, Kevin. It’s listening. You have to be a good listener. Listening is the key to being a good spiritual director.” Kevin said, “Thanks, Father. That’s really helpful.”

  And the priest said, “So, Kevin, where are you from?”

  After a few weeks, I became not only amazed at how God was at work in their lives, but also more tolerant of their foibles. When one novice was short-tempered, I remembered that he had been dealing with a difficult situation in his family. When another was sullen, I remembered that he was dealing with an intractable problem in his ministry. The way they related to the world was colored by their own experience. It helped me to remember the Presupposition, and give them the benefit of the doubt.

  My friend Chris is a Jesuit brother who worked for several years in the vocation office, helping to recruit and screen candidates to the Society of Jesus. Chris has a wide circle of friends—both Jesuit and otherwise. In our discussion on friendship and love he pointed out the value of listening, and he adverted to faith sharing.

  “For a long time,” said Chris, “I’ve known that faith sharing is critical.” He offered an example why: “Early on, I lived with a Jesuit community member whom I found, well, difficult. Knowing his struggles from faith sharing was helpful because it is harder to dismiss or judge another person when you know he’s struggling.”

  Listening attentively and compassionately to my fellow novices also helped me feel less crazy. Until then, I assumed that everyone led healthy and integrated lives. Except me—or so I thought. Faith sharing was the first time I grasped that everyone’s life is a full measure of joy and suffering. And that all of us are more complex than our surface appearance indicates.

  We should be slow to speak and patient in listening to all. . . . Our ears should be wide open to our neighbor until he seems to have said all that is in his mind.

  —St. Ignatius Loyola

  Listening also made me better able to celebrate with my friends. When a novice who was having personal problems experienced some healing, I was more able to rejoice with him, since I knew what he had been through.

  Most of us don’t have the time to do faith sharing, or any kind of sharing, with our friends for an hour every week.

  But the concept may provide important lessons for developing loving relationships within families and maintaining good friendships. First, before you start to console or advise or sympathize, really listen. Second, try to listen without judging. Third, the more you know about your friend, the easier it will be to understand, sympathize, console, and even forgive your friend. Fourth, the more you can share honestly, the greater will be your ability to say challenging things. Fifth, the more you listen and understand his or her life, the more you will be able to celebrate with your friend over joys.

  In these simple ways you will
deepen your relationships, your conversations, and your compassion for your friends, and you’ll begin to develop real intimacy, where, as St. Francis de Sales says, “Heart speaks to heart.”

  HUMILITY AND FRIENDSHIP

  James Keenan, S.J., a professor of moral theology, once wrote that compassion is the willingness to enter into the “chaos” of another person’s life. But even the best of friends sometimes avoid getting involved in the chaos of another life. You might feel overwhelmed by a friend’s problems or frustrated that you can’t fix or solve things for him or her. You might find yourself unconsciously pulling away from friends or family members who are facing job stress, marriage or relationship problems, serious illness, or even death. What happens when you feel you can’t help someone?

  This is when you are often called not to do but to be. To remember that you are not all-powerful. Shortly after I entered the novitiate, for example, two friends of mine had an explosive argument and stopped talking with each other. I confessed to David, my spiritual director, how frustrated I felt that I wasn’t able to get them to reconcile. Consequently, I felt like a failure. And a bad Jesuit. It was driving me crazy.

  “Shouldn’t a Jesuit be able to do all this?” I asked.

  “Where did you get that idea from?” he asked.

  “Well,” I said, “that’s whatJesus would do.Jesus would help them to reconcile. Jesus would get them to talk to each other. Jesus would work until there was peace between them, right?”

  “That’s true,” David said. “Jesus would probably be able to do all of that. But I have news for you, Jim. You’re not Jesus!”

  We both laughed. Not because it was silly, but because it was true. In some of the most painful moments in the lives of friends and families—illness, divorce, death, worries about their children, financial problems—we usually cannot work miracles. Sometimes our efforts do effect change, but sometimes they do not.

 

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