Keep Watch

In his ninth rule, Ignatius continues to provide assistance to the person who is struggling with spiritual desolation, and he does this by addressing a fundamental question—one that all of us have asked of the Lord, sometimes with real anguish in our hearts when God permits us to go through times of darkness and discouragement. The question is essentially this. I'll just put it in my own words: Lord, I'm doing the best that I can. Yes, I struggle and I have my weaknesses, but you know how sincerely I do want to love You.

I do want to live my vocation well. I do want to make my life a response of love and service to You. Why do You ask me? Why do You permit me to go through these difficult times of darkness? Basically, the question is this: couldn't a God who loves us, and whom we are seeking to love, spare us these times of discouragement and darkness?

It's an important question, a very real question, and one that Ignatius' rules would be incomplete if they did not address. And so Ignatius says, well, let's be clear about this: God never gives spiritual desolation. God does ask us to carry the cross of struggles with health or relational issues, and so forth, from familial issues. But these discouraging lies of the enemy are only and always of the enemy. However, God will permit the enemy to visit us at times with spiritual desolation because if we go through it well—understanding it, resisting it, not giving in to it—then we grow in some wonderful ways in the spiritual life.

And all of us know this. We look back over our spiritual lives and we recognize the growth that has come through spiritual consolation, when our hearts have found joy and energy in the Lord and we've taken, sometimes, just wonderful new steps in the spiritual life. But if we look back, we'll also recognize that oftentimes it's the times of darkness that have caused us to take the most helpful steps, even in our spiritual lives. That is to say that God's providence is always at work, whether giving us spiritual consolation or permitting the enemy to visit us at times with spiritual desolation. So Ignatius says God may permit us to experience spiritual desolations at times when we've grown negligent in one or another area of the spiritual life.

Maybe prayer, maybe sometimes not even as a conscious choice, just busyness and so forth. Prayer has diminished or regressed in some way. God may permit an experience of spiritual desolation, which serves as a wake-up call. Oh, I don't feel the same closeness to the Lord, and I want that back. I'm going to resume tomorrow again with my usual rhythm of daily prayer.

And sometimes Ignatius says God may permit spiritual desolation when there's no negligence at all on our part, but simply as a trial, because as we go through it faithfully, we grow in wonderful ways in the spiritual life. How do we grow in the virtue of patience? By being in situations that require us to be patient and exercising the virtue. How do we grow in prayer? By praying day after day.

How do we grow in love of difficult people, for example? By being in situations that are not easy for us and that require us to exercise that kind of love. And how do we grow in the ability to resist spiritual desolation? By being in the experience of spiritual desolation and actually resisting it. And if it's true, as I've said earlier, that for most of us, spiritual desolation really is the main issue, this is one of the greatest gifts that God can give us to increase our freedom to love and to serve Him.

And finally, Ignatius says God may sometimes permit spiritual desolation because it keeps us humble, and it helps us recognize that all spiritual consolation is not our doing but God's gift and grace. And for Ignatius, that rich biblical space of humility is the most fruitful space that opens us to all other growth in the spiritual life. So why does God permit spiritual desolation? To heal us from negligence, to provide an opportunity for growth, and thirdly, to enable us to avoid a kind of complacency in the spiritual life that would limit possibilities of growth. Basically, God permits spiritual desolation to use the enemy against himself if we resist the spiritual desolation.

Our text now is Jesus in the Agony in the Garden, Matthew 26, verses 36 through 46. And again, I let my heart settle and be receptive. I see the love in the Lord's gaze upon me. I ask for the grace to share with Him in His Passion and so grow closer to Him and be strengthened in my own living out of His Word. And I am there now.

Then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane. And He said to His disciples, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." He took along Peter and the two sons of Zebedee and began to feel sorrow and distress. Then He said to them, "My soul is sorrowful even to death. Remain here and keep watch with Me."

He advanced a little and fell prostrate in prayer, saying, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not as I will, but as You will.” When He returned to His disciples, He found them asleep. He said to Peter, “So you could not keep watch with Me for one hour? Watch and pray that you may not undergo the test.”

The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Withdrawing a second time, He prayed again, "My Father, if it is not possible that this cup pass without my drinking it, Your will be done." Then He returned once more and found them asleep, for they could not keep their eyes open. He left them and withdrew again and prayed a third time, saying the same thing again. Then He returned to His disciples and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and taking your rest?"

Behold, the hour is at hand when the Son of Man is to be handed over to sinners. Get up. Let us go. Look, my betrayer is at hand.

So we walk now with Jesus as He enters His time of sorrow, of burden, the time of the Cross. And we ask Him to show us through His Cross the meaning of our own sorrows and burdens, the cross in our lives. We join Jesus and the eleven as they walk through the streets of the city now as night has fallen, and then up alongside the city walls and over to the Garden of Gethsemane. It is night, and we hear the quiet sounds of the night. We feel the heaviness in the hearts of the disciples, and our hearts too know times of heaviness and foreboding.

My soul is sorrowful even to death. With great reverence, I ponder the sorrow of Jesus, the deep sorrow that nearly overwhelms His life itself. What is stirring in His heart? What stirs now in my heart? I speak to Him of sorrow in my own life.

And now I see Jesus go a little farther into the garden, and He is alone. The three near Him sleep. Humanly, He is utterly alone in His time of need. My heart, too, knows what it means to feel alone, and I speak to Him. Now His energy fails Him.

He simply falls down upon the earth, and the cry rises with anguish from His heart to His Father: If it is possible, let this cup pass from Me. There is in Jesus—so like us in all things but sin—a deep, deep desire to be freed from the burden, the pain, and the suffering that lie ahead. If it be possible, let this cup pass from Me. And how often we have made prayers like this: let this cup pass—the cup of physical weakness and pain, perhaps, of responsibilities, of struggles and relationships.

And I am there with Jesus, prostrate on the earth. Yet not as I will, but as You will. Two wills: as I will, as You will. And though it costs His humanity so much, Jesus bows His will to the will of His Father. And now I ask of Him the courage to accept the Father's will in my own life.

He comes out of deep need, seeking companionship and support from those close to Him, and they are sleeping. But now I do not sleep. I speak to Him. I watch as a second time Jesus repeats His acceptance of His Father's will: My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, Your will be done.

And again, a third time, and still He is alone. But now He is ready. Get up. Let us go. Look.

My betrayer is at hand. His prayer has strengthened Him, and He is ready to face the Cross. I ask of Him for that same strength in my own life. What speaks to my heart as I pray with Jesus in the Garden? What is the Lord saying to me?

Where is He strengthening me, enlightening me? In what way is He calling me to take the next step? In our preceding sessions, we have looked at some concrete experiences of people who pray with Scripture, and I'll look at a final one as we conclude this session. And this is Brian. Brian also is someone who has prayed with Scripture daily for many years and has found his own way, the way that helps him best to do this.

Each of us will find his or her own way. And what Brian does is focus on the Gospel from the Sunday Mass throughout the entire week. I pray with the Sunday Gospel throughout the week. I spend my prayer time on Friday and Saturday preparing this Gospel. Then I look at a Bible which has wonderful study notes, and there are wonderful Bibles like this.

And I read the notes for this Gospel. Finally, I look at a commentary. Though by this time, I may already be reflecting on the text. So he's really dedicating this Thursday, Friday, and Saturday to getting deeply into the text and understanding it. Although, as he says, he's already beginning to pray with it as he's doing this.

On Sunday, I hear the Gospel proclaimed and the homily, and that too becomes part of my preparation. Then from Sunday through Thursday, so the next five days, I pray on this Gospel. I need that many days to pray with it. I'm usually not finished with it after I pray. When I come back to the same Gospel, I am reminded of the readings I've done about it, or I may sit with another part of it.

Things that happen during the week come into the prayer, and that's a beautiful thing when the daily prayer with Scripture enters into life, and what's happening during the day also enters into the prayer. Let's just note Brian's comment on a commentary. I've mentioned this before: a spiritual, devotional, brief commentary on the daily readings can be very helpful for us as we pray. There is a place for more academic commentaries, and they have their place in study. Probably for prayer, something a little shorter and more geared toward prayer itself would be helpful.

My best time for prayer is in the afternoon or evening when the others are out and the house is quiet. I'm at my best in the evening. I have a comfortable chair in my room. I call it my God chair. I have a table there with a candle, my Bible, and the other readings I've done.

I usually pray for about half an hour. Each of us will find his or her own way. It's beautiful to see these men and women who have found this as they've prayed over the years. May God grant us that blessing. Amen.