We get into our routines. More than that, we get into set ways of thinking, speaking, acting, and praying. Sometimes it takes a jolt to jostle us out of a rut or a groove that might seem comfortable, but which in fact has been holding us back from becoming our true selves.
Saint Ignatius of Loyola literally got thrown off course, as he might have seen it at the time. In retrospect, it seems he might have sensed that a course correction was being made, not that he was being blown off course.
In his mid-twenties, as a soldier, his leg was shattered by a cannonball. His leg was so severely damaged that it had to be re-broken and set again. Sometimes we're so set in our own ways of doing things, that it takes a major mishap to get us to see the way.
Even then we still might insist on clinging to our preconceptions of what we're supposed to look like. Once his leg had healed, its irregular shape displeased him, so he had his leg cut and set again, despite subjecting himself to the worst pain he had ever felt. We're willing to undergo the discomfort we choose so things can look as we envision them; do we embrace the suffering inherent in the present moment?
As he was recovering, Ignatius asked for some reading material, hopefully some tales of adventure. We have our ideas of how we can get better, to get ourselves from where we are to where we want to be. We make our assumptions of what's best for us based on where we think we're heading. Maybe something else is best for us, especially if we're heading for someplace other than where we thought we're going.
In the place of his recuperation, there were no such swashbuckling stories. Instead Ignatius was given a book on the lives of the saints. First he started reading the book just to help him be less bored. When we take up what has been given to us, do we do so only grudgingly, or with fully open hearts?
Slowly he became entranced reading the lives of the saints. After not too long he was wondering, "What if I should do what Saint Francis did, what Saint Dominic did?" In the midst of our troubles, perhaps we are being invited to imagine becoming more than we have been.
As he imagined doing as the saints did, or alternately succumbing to worldly pleasures, he noticed the varying effects these different thoughts had on him. Thinking of worldly enticements, he relished them, but later found himself dry and uncontent. Yet pondering ascetical practices, he felt consolation not only as he considered them, but he also felt consoled later after having set aside such ideas.
Having listened, Ignatius kept listening. He kept paying attention. He considered and discerned what was being placed before him. He pondered the options before him. Once he had fully healed, he had become a new person, a metamorphosis he welcomed.*
Ignatius was seriously injured by the cannonball. Some might see only misfortune in such an occurrence, yet God works all things to the good of those who love Him.** In that injury, Ignatius received an invitation. In his convalescence, he was put into a situation where he had not only the time and the ability, but indeed the necessity, of evaluating who he was and what he was going to do.
Right now we too are forced to sit and wait. We can welcome this lockdown, imposed due to the coronavirus, for the conditions which help us see the way. As we embrace our current challenges, we choose to learn from them. As long as our hearts remain open, we can accept a course correction, and perhaps start heading in a new direction.
If we so desire, we can become more than we have been. With such inclinations, it becomes easier not only to accept our present situation, but through it, to thrive, to become more fully alive, to become our true selves. With this perspective, we can be broken out of the inertia that has been preventing us from moving forward, that has been holding us captive. If we consent, we can be set free.
* Ellsberg, Robert, "The Saints' Guide To Happiness." 2003, New York; Farrar, Straus and Giroux, p. 110-111.
** Romans 8:28
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