July 31st: The Feast Day of St Ignatius, an imagined photo: Statue with Clouds at the Jesuit Center

St Ignatius, Statue with Clouds at the Jesuit Center. Photo by Wayne Stratz

I am sure there are plenty of people born on feast days of saints who don't go on retreats inspired by the spirituality of that saint, but I do. And I had gone many a year before I realized the connection.

So what is the connection. Imagination? Ignatius wanted us to imagine ourselves into biblical stories, as bystanders and key characters. By becoming part of the scene, we become part of the story and are placed into the tradition of the church. On Facebook I list my job title as CID of Nutmeg Designs , Chief Imagination Dude. Imagination leads us into places we would never experience. Our story takes shape. Imagine a JOY inside a mandala. Then design it. Then collaborate with Margaret.

Joy Mandala: Imagined by Wayne Stratz. Created by Wayne Stratz and Margaret Almon

The clouds are not an afterthought, like when a photo of a flower lands a great insect within it. I was photographing the clouds as much as I was photographing the statue of Saint Ignatius. Photography is imagination. Imagine an image recorded for history. Use the camera. My imagined designs and photographs are not crystal clear. They have some clouds floating between the idea and the finished product. Ignatius did not say how exactly to imagine a story, we may have an idea when we leap into a scene, but forcing it to play out as it was predicted foils the creative flow of imagination.

Choose a story, any story, now leap in. And follow your imagination.

St Ignatius, Statue with Clouds at the Jesuit Center. Photo by Wayne Stratz

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I is of Imagine ~ The A to Z of one word messages

Imagine by Nutmeg Designs
lettering by Wayne Stratz
background by Margaret Almon

Imagine is word we chose to make.  For me it is a powerful reminder of times spent at the Jesuit Center in Wernersville.  Ignatius was big on using imagination in prayer.  Read scripture and place yourself into the story.  Be a bystander, be a main character ~ no matter, just place your self into the story and see where it takes you.

Of course this can be applied to real life as well.  Imagine a friend's misery before saying I can't imagine.  I think we say we can't imagine because it is painful to place ourselves into those shoes.  But if we do we can then respond to the needs of our friends.  Doing it for the stranger for the enemy is just as valuable and even more difficult.  Imagine.

Imaginative prayer and how I stumbled into a deeper place

I have been trying to pass on my love for Jesuit spirituality to my friends, who gather at Holy Trinity Episcopal Church on Monday evenings. Some have reported how doing an examen has changed the way they view their day, as they are in the midst of their day.


The week I took on consolation and desolation showed how the words of Saint Ignatius can cause both to happen within an hour. This past week I spoke briefly about Imaginative prayer, then guided them through an example.

The example came from a pile I had been given last August when I spent 8 days in silence at the Jesuit Center in Wernersville, PA. I did look at the pile briefly, but the final choice was made quickly as I sat with the group. We imagined Jesus hearing the news that John the Baptist had been killed, then heading off in a boat to find peace from the masses, only to find thousands searching for healing.

In the midst of the discussion, I asked if anyone had imagined a conversation in that boat. Most couldn't, instead they imagined the silence of Shiva. No one speaking to Jesus, who was mourning the death of his relative. I on the other hand imagined the fear after a murder... and a disciple blurted out... "Holy crap, what are we going to do?"

Jesus kept saying, "We are going to be silent." But as typical disciples, I and the rest of the boat folk, kept ignoring the words of wisdom. Eventually someone brought up concern for Elizabeth...

and all of a sudden I was with my three friends who lost sons in their 20's in the recent past. As I prepared to enter that silent retreat last August, one of those friends asked me to pray for her as she would be experiencing the anniversary date while I was in silence. And pray I did, but the few times I prayed on Matthew 14: 13-21, I never thought of John's mom. It turns out that none in that room on Monday had thought of her in all the years we had heard the story of John being killed.

This is why Ignatius and others have encouraged using our imagination. The story becomes alive with us. The story touches our heart. This is why Ignatius encouraged repetition, because we can always go deeper.


...

Iggy slaps me upside the head

a lousy night of sleep, well, till 4:19 AM it was going fine sent the end of the work week to a groggy point in time. I was glad to see Gannet Girl had written a post, but it sent me in a tail spin.

She spoke of how hearing others say it is impossible to imagine the pain you are feeling is not helpful. So some ancient part of my brain responds... "how dare she say that I can't say I can't imagine this pain. How could I imagine it." I take a nap. I read a short story. I start roasting an Asian eggplant, a patty pan squash, a red onion, and a two pound German Pink tomato. I think of a response. I start an e-mail to GG. I ramble on as words and thoughts remain a mess. I break away to eat the roasted veggies (first adding a can of beans, some salt, some pepper, and some balsamic vinegar).

As I nourish my body, Iggy (Saint Ignatius) and his Jesuit thugs slap me silly. "Stratoz, how can you tell GG and yourself that you can't imagine? Have you not imagined yourself into the life of Jesus? Have we taught you nothing about imaginative prayer?" I go to the gym to workout. I go to bed.

This morning Mosaic Woman headed out for breakfast with a friend. I headed to my chair of contemplation. I don't think it had that name at the store.

I imagine I am GG at a Jesuit retreat center... I am eating in silence with my fellow retreaters as I have a memory of a movie I saw years ago. I leave the cafeteria and check the message board. There is a note to call home. Stop, go back. I leave the cafeteria and there is no note on the board. I am sitting in my room reflecting on Jesus but thoughts of that movie scene keeps interrupting. A knock on the door. A spiritual director I adore guides me to her office. I have lost a son to death. I sit in silence, in prayer, in conversation, in lament. A Jesuit enters with a glass of wine. I will forever be grateful to the love I feel in this room. I am back in my room. I am alone. I should be packing. I am sitting on my bed, feet on the ground, head lowered as it is held on by my hands... Stop Go, back. I am not alone. My husband is there. My head rests on his shoulder. Days pass. I am wondering how I am to believe what so many can't imagine. It is real. But how can it be? The movie scene does not leave me. Was the memory sent by God?

I rise from my chair of contemplation and clean the shower.

translucent soul

so, I am feeling a bit disappointed for I could not find something on the web. isn't everything there.

As we got set to drive to Lancaster to visit family, I grab 5 Cd's from our pre-jazz days. But the song that most touched me on the first CD is not to be found as video. now for the exercise...

So, I am to be joyful. Seek joy. spread joy. easier said than done. I glance to my left and see JOY hanging in the window.

The disciples were filled with doubt at first. They were not ready for the joy of the resurrection.

But before I got there Ignatius wanted me to imagine a conversation between the risen and his mom. I see a son coming for some answers and he needs some family history. "Hey Mom. What the .... is going on here?" OK, so I gave him a bit of my angry young man attitude.

Mary realizes that the angel had spread the news correctly back in the day. She is so filled with joy and grace as any doubts brought on by death fleeing her... "Well son, there was this angel........" What a conversation ensued. Family secrets told.

Well, now it seems like the song I originally wanted to blog about fits the blog.... an angel with a message comes to Manhattan.

The song I couldn't find, Translucent Soul, is how Ellis Paul describes his best friend. That is where Jesus goes next. as does Patty Larkin on the CD we finished with on that road trip. OK, so that isn't on the web either....

but look what I found... another song about the person he most craved to see, by another favored performer, Richard Shindell.

Last week, Mosaic woman asked how I was dealing with something. I said it was good to have a friend who listens when I talk. a friend I trust. the next day I thanked her for the gift of friendship.

numbing and mockery

"which he tasted but refused to drink"

I stay in Matthew 27, where verse 34 has really popped out at me this week. Part of me wants Jesus to numb himself with that concoction of wine and gall. The man is being crucified. Isn't that a time for a bit of anaesthetic? He does come close and it reaches his lips, but then he stops himself. I know what happens when a person doesn't stop. When the physical or emotional pain is so high, one leaps in and the numbing feels so good that the next thing you know years have passed and you need help.

Jesus could have numbed not only the physical pain, but also the emotional pain of being mocked. The priests and pharisees were having their moment of thinking they had been right all along and told Jesus that he was a phony. That I think Jesus could handle better than those whose hearts were breaking. These folk had believed, and now their leader was being crucified and was doing nothing to save himself. They felt tricked. So in their grief and anger they too mocked Jesus.

Yesterday I went to check on the plants at work, where I visited with a friend. I spoke of the teenagers I had seen singing praises to Jesus. I told her how I had spent that time of my life mocking those foolish enough to believe. I woke this morning with these thoughts floating in my head. What had led me to that mocking? If memory can be trusted, it too was a grand disappointment.

Last night at church, our leader spoke of the "Way." I had believed that was true as a child. That it was a way of life that made one a Christian and as a teen I focused on those who proclaimed faith but did not walk in the Way. I just may have been expecting perfection or more effort, but I was sad and angry and left the church.

Jesus chose to live out this experience without any numbing. So he cries out to the Lord and quotes the first line of Psalm 22, which goes on to say this...

"all who see me jeer me" (7)
"my strength is trickling away" (14)
"they divide my garments among them and cast lots" (18)
"the poor will eat and be filled, those who seek the Lord will praise him" (26)
"and these will tell his saving justice to a people yet unborn: he has fulfilled it" (closing line)

Jesus seemed to be aware of what was happening... it is a good thing when we don't numb ourselves from our own life, even if we just stop short of doing it.