On a mid-January day in 1994 I arrived at the historic Arts and Crafts styled manor house that would be my home for the next thirty days. It sat on top of the highest hill in the town of Larne, in County Antrim, Northern Ireland. From the well-sited Drumalis House, built in 1873 by Sir Hugh Smiley, you could see most of Larne Harbor and the Belfast shipyards of Harland and Wolff who built the Titanic.
Larne Harbor is also the Northern Ireland homeport of the P&O Ferry that sailed nine times a day to Stranraer, Scotland. I learned the departure times from the deep bellowing horn echoing from the harbor to the manor house each time a ferry set sail. Since the 1930s, Drumalis House had been run as a retreat center by the Sisters of the Cross and Passion. It was at Drumalis that I and eight other Jesuits from seven different countries, with our Irish and English Jesuit retreat directors, began a Thirty Day Ignatian retreat.
This Thirty Day retreat was the second one of my life. My first was as a nineteen year-old novice. That one took place high on another hill in Oregon’s Willamette Valley outside the town of Sheridan. Twenty years later and now thirty-nine years old, I was fast approaching that iconic forty-year mark. Yet as I serenely set sail on this journey, I did not realize that my own spiritual voyage would have something in common with that of the most famous of all ships, the Titanic, that sailed calmly out of Larne Harbor at the beginning of the century. Had I reflected on it, I might have had second thoughts before embarking, or at least proceeded with greater caution. Yet like they, I was celebratory and a bit too self-satisfied, confident of how the journey would unfold.
It seemed fitting to have my upcoming final vows be the retreat’s spiritual focus. They would most likely take place in my 40th year, and both the vows and that iconic age invited a high-minded goal. While I intended to reflect on all three of the vows—poverty, chastity and obedience—I suspected poverty and chastity would emerge as strong themes in my retreat prayer. On the first count, I thought my life lacked simplicity. So I had planned my finances for the year to have nothing above what the program required.
On the second count, being just shy of forty, I expected the proverbial mid-life crisis sometime in the near term. “Of course, poverty and chastity would surface in my prayer.” My vow of obedience was something I never second-guessed and so there was no compelling reason to give it but a passing glance. Being both a retreat leader and spiritual director I am somewhat shamefaced to admit my naiveté—arrogance might be a better word—at anticipating how the Holy Spirit would guide me in that retreat.
For those not familiar with the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, they are divided into four themed Weeks: Week One—creation and the fall (leading to sacramental reconciliation); Week Two—the public life of Christ; Week Three—the passion and death of Christ; and Week Four—the resurrection of Christ. Ignatius’ goal for travelers on this holy voyage is a personal encounter with Christ that leads to nothing less than a deep conversion and a life of discipleship.
I was highly motivated to get into the “substance” of the retreat and so made my confession on the fourth day. My confessor was also my spiritual director—a well-established practice in my life by this time. For this confession, I had resolved that I would not excuse my sinfulness by contextualizing or minimizing my actions. I discerned a pattern in past confession of explaining away my sinful behaviors as if they were the only option open to me. I don’t think I am alone in this. So on this occasion I just confessed my sins with no exculpatory narrative. It really was the most direct and honest confessions of my life up to that point.
After making my confession, I confidently proposed to my spiritual director that I move to Ignatius’ Week Two exercises. With my heart-felt confession, I assumed I had accomplished the necessary tasks of Week One. The director had another idea: “Why not take a few more days in Week One.” I presumed he wanted the eight other Jesuits making the retreat to catch up to me. My sinful pride was the first iceberg on that spiritual voyage to tear a gash in my ship of life. I certainly never saw it coming, but I would not advance beyond Week One for the remainder of the retreat—nearly a month. For thirty days I experienced my sinfulness and Christ’s forgiveness. I wept for sadness and wept for joy as the Lord, the Divine Physician, gently operated on this sinner with unparalleled love, patience and compassion.
Upon returning to the States, I was reluctant to share the experience of God’s wire brush on my barnacle encrusted soul. God cut through my past and present and illuminated the ego and arrogance that my plans for future success were unwittingly being built upon—built upon sand. It was a hallowed and at times harrowing voyage.
Yet apart from the soul scouring, three powerful themes defined my retreat and they were not the ones I had chosen. All three upset and mystified me, ultimately reshaping my life and my future ambitions. Like the unexpected month-long cleansing, these too appeared from seemingly nowhere, like towering icebergs in the midnight waters of the retreat’s voyage. The themes were the Blessed Mother; obedience; and The World. What both troubled and mystified me is that none of these themes fit into any of my previous intellectual pursuits or religious imagination, and I definitely did not anticipate or plan to reflect on them before the retreat.
Here is how I experienced them at the time, and what they mean to me now, nearly twenty years hence.
Ever since entering the Society of Jesus, I had a strong devotion to Christ and to the Sacred Heart. I never had a devotion to the Blessed Mother and I never prayed the Rosary—ever! Jesus was my go-to guy for prayer. Yet on this retreat, the Blessed Mother was all over my prayer, and in my dreams and my daily thoughts. It was strange and alarming to me even though I was consoled by it. Why would Mary make an appearance now, at this point in my life? I had no idea, and all I could say at the time of the retreat was that “I knew who Jesus is to me, but not Mary. Maybe I am supposed to find out.”
Obedience was the second surprising theme of the retreat. It was not a vow that challenged my fidelity, so why would it manifest with such vividness on this retreat? Remember, I had figured out a context for why poverty and chastity would naturally surface in my prayer. But I never once thought of poverty or chastity, or even reflected upon them—not once! Yet obedience to my superiors and to the Church was impressed upon me with an alarming forcefulness; literally “a matter of life and death.” I had no idea where this was coming from and I was confused and more than a little distressed. I was uncomfortable although it was clear from the consolation I experienced that God was the source of this powerful message.
As the themes of Mary and obedience were tearing gaping holes in the comfortable luxury liner of my spiritual life, the third iceberg all but sank it. My spiritual director and confessor was a former Jesuit provincial of Ireland. He was wise, pragmatic and no one’s fool. As each theme surfaced on this thirty-day voyage, I felt both uncomfortable and duty-bound to share them with him in our daily spiritual direction conversations.
But this new one was more difficult to talk about. Would he think I was as crazy as I felt? When I finally mustered the courage I shared with him that in my prayer and in daily walks along the sea, I had a compelling sense of impending world change. This is what he offered: “The world is getting better and worse all the time.” Imagine that phrase said with a lilting Irish accent and you can hear the gentle wisdom of a spiritual master. I was happy that he did not send me packing off to a shrink. But his reassuring words, gently delivered, did not remove the utter strangeness of what I felt in my soul—nor explain the forcefulness of the themes—all three of them.
I have lived with the impact of these three spiritual icebergs for the past twenty years. Here is how I have come to understand and integrate them into my life, my priesthood and my apostolic ministry.
The Blessed Mother
Before the retreat I did not know who Mary was for the Church or for me personally. Mary’s presence on that retreat gifted me with an experience of the holy feminine that brought a new balance to my spirituality and my emotional life. I was prompted to ponder Mary’s role for and in the world. I read Marian theology and acquainted myself with Marian apparitions, what I previously considered backwater spiritual conspiracies. But mainly what Mary has come to represent to me are the value and necessity of humility and a simple faith and trust in God’s power.
I grew up in a time of a demystified Christianity—a rational and reasonable faith for rational and reasonable times. No one wanted to be called simple-minded about his or her religious beliefs and practices so I learned caution early on after being chided for my overt piety. The times, I was hearing, called for rational faith. Ultimately reason, science and knowledge would save us and make the world a more just place.
Living and working in universities, I was accustomed to analyze all global problems entirely from academic and theoretical perspectives and to search for technical solutions as remedy. I discovered this was only a partial solution, because the roots of injustice and the violence it unleashes—social, economic, political, technological, environmental, and spiritual—cannot be untangled by merely human means, no matter how intelligently applied. For the origin of all injustice and evil is spiritual, and ultimately a spiritual solution must be applied if success is to be achieved. And all spiritual remedies ultimately require a simple faith and trust in God.
Perhaps the educated and sophisticated person I had become did not think he needed simple faith and miracles to navigate life’s challenges. God proved me wrong on that retreat and many times in my life since. I had a powerful experience of the grace of the Holy Eucharist when people asked me to offer the Mass for them that totally changed my attitude. I was given the conviction that God hears those prayers, and was shown once with startling clarity how He works so I would never downplay or minimize the Eucharist’s transformative graces. I had astonishing personal encounters with new friends and complete strangers that touched me at the core of my being; revealing how present God is to all people at each moment of our lives. And finally I learned of the power of Mary’s intercession for each of us in our daily walk with her Son. I was deeply comforted by a simple faith and trust in God’s love and discovered that I needed it. I have discovered too that the majority of people I encounter are responsive to this message of simple faith and trust in God’s abiding love.
What has been unleashed in the world by the original disobedience is no match for human efforts alone. This is why God did not send an army when the time had reached its fulfillment. He sent the Angel Gabriel to a virgin whose humility would open human history to the miraculous power of God.
“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord;
My spirit rejoices in God my savior.
For he has looked upon his handmaid’s lowliness;
Behold, from now on will all ages call me blessed.
He has shown might with his arm,
Dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart.
He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones
But lifted up the lowly.”
Lk 1: 46-48, 51-52
We all long for and need God’s power and miracles of grace and the tender touch of the Blessed Mother to strengthen our faith in times of hardship. God’s visitation to me on that retreat in Mary’s gentleness brought a new hope to my heart broken by sin. The history of God’s work through Mary’s docility of spirit is a profound lesson for me. God’s miraculous strength is something we all need in the face of evil’s apparent advantage.
Because of my experience on that retreat, I learned to pray a Rosary nearly every day. It slows me down and focuses my heart on the key mysteries of life. And I have to be honest; I get many inspirations and ideas about my life and the projects in which I am engaged when I pray the Rosary. It is as if Mary is giving mini-apparitions that help me in my daily walk with the Lord. The inspirations, strength and hope God gives to us though Mary’s intercession and by our docility of spirit will continue until the final coming of the Lord in Glory.
Obedience
The vow of obedience did not pose difficulties for me in the first twenty years of my religious life. I never struggled with religions superiors over things I was asked to do. So the extraordinarily strong message during my retreat was both startling and mysterious. Yet the utter strangeness and power of the message was to designed wake me up. It turned out to be more a forewarning than a correction for past faults.
In hindsight, I realized I had never considered my vow of obedience in the context of fidelity to the teaching of the Church. How can this be, you say? My religious formation in the 70’s and 80’s invited more questioning than it did obedience. Skepticism towards authority and questioning the Church was in the air—it was the spirit of the age. In my intellectual training there was little that urged adherence to the “official” teaching of the Church. But the startling spiritual message during my retreat was crystal clear: fidelity to the Church—my fidelity as a priest and religious to the teaching Church and my religious superiors—was a matter of life and death.
My response to the retreat’s obedience message was to study the content of my faith for probably the very first time in my life. The new Catechism of the Catholic Church had just been published. I purchased a copy in Dublin and read it cover to cover. I also read every modern encyclical I could and many other documents and books on theology.
But at a deeper level I discerned a previously undetected opposition to Church teaching, or more accurately, a strong bias against bending to any outside authority. All my life I had been taught that my conscience was the final arbiter of truth. Obeying an institution quite frankly felt medieval and psychologically destructive. But it was not a subservient lock-step obedience I was being invited to engage but instead to educate my conscience, and this was something I had not done previously.
Like many people, I associated conscience with the most immediate and the strongest thought or emotion I was feeling at any given moment. Yet, obedience to conscience—to the heart where God’s voice of truth resides—requires real spiritual discipline and is hard work. For the conscience—the deep unity of mind and heart—does not easily surrender its mysteries. It takes much effort to plumb its depths and to excavate our true thoughts, feelings and desires. My most immediate and strongest thought or emotion, I learned, does not necessarily equate with the deepest truths of my conscience.
The Spirit’s invitation to obedience was a clarion call to dig deeper into my heart—into my conscience. For true obedience is not a fear-driven or unreflective subservience. The original Latin connotation of the word “obey” means to “listen deeply.” I was being challenged to begin a deep listening to the wisdom of the Church and also a much deeper listening to my own conscience—my heart—to truly examine my conscience in light of the ancient wisdom of the Catholic mystery.
My wake-up call on obedience led ultimately to a renewed twice-daily practice of the Ignatian Examination of Conscience. Ignatius prescribes this spiritual discipline to be engaged twice daily by every Jesuit, but I had exempted myself from the practice. I thought professional competence equaled spiritual maturity and in my self-satisfaction, presumed a level of spiritual growth that in truth did not exist. God woke me up with my month-long spiritual surgery and exposed my undetected weakness and sinfulness. Conversion, I discovered, is a life-long process and I was not nearly as far along as I thought. If I hoped to ever achieve the true peace and the fruitful apostolate I desired, then much more effort was required including a daily conversion to the message of the Gospel.
More challenges regarding my obedience to religious superiors and the Church would come in the years after the retreat. Had I not heard with such forcefulness that obedience was a matter of life and death, I would have rejected the most profound lessons in humility and the gift of conversion it facilitates. God does not ask us to submit to Church teaching and leadership only when things fit our immediate desires and plans. We are called to believe God’s grace will work ultimately for our good when, with a trained conscience, we cultivate a docile spirit even when it is unappealing. Obedience for me, I discovered, was a much higher bar than poverty or chastity.
My twice-daily Examen has both challenged and saved me. It reminds me twice every day how my entire life and ministry, all my wisdom and all my strength, come from God and God alone. By twice daily confronting my profound weakness and sinfulness in light of God’s mercy and healing grace, I can joyfully engage the deep listening to God’s voice in my heart that true Christian obedience requires and signifies. This practice has saved me countless times from the rash judgments of my narcissism. It has taught me that both joy and holiness are achieved only by humble submission—obedience to God’s truth and love—and the conquering of my self-centeredness, the default drive of my fallen nature.
The World
If these first two retreat themes can be called holy humility and holy obedience, the third theme—the world on the verge of profound change—might best be understood as a call to holy discernment. My spiritual director told me that the world is “getting better and worse all the time.” In this he said that God’s salvific grace in Christ has dealt a deathblow to evil’s triumphant march and presumed victory in world history. Yet the final confrontation between the power of Christ and the prince of this world (called the “enemy of human nature” by St. Ignatius)—was still heading to its climax.
My spiritual director indicated that both the power of Christ’s resurrection and the handiwork of evil are developing and advancing side-by-side. Those who are spiritually awake should sense the evolution of both forces in global events. This spiritual intuition provides the knowledge of global change at its most elemental level, for good and for evil.
What is needed he said, is the gift of discernment. You need to align your life and all your efforts to the true progress Christ proposes for the world’s reconciliation and healing. And you need to be ever vigilant for the counterfeit progress of human nature’s enemy whose goal is the destruction of God’s creation and all human life. That so many throughout history have been deceived to confuse the counterfeit for the authentic in relation to “progress” indicates that spiritual discernment is indispensable in the life of every Christian.
This spiritual wake-up call of world change shook me out of a naïve presumption that evil was all but conquered and the world was gradually getting better. Twenty years ago I believed that, in light of the Iron Curtain’s collapse and democracy’s ascendance, prosperity and freedom for most peoples and nations would soon follow. What I was invited to understand instead is that Evil never rests. It is ruthlessly intelligent, utterly strategic and motivated by hate. It will always return and seek new methods and alliances to destroy God’s creation and the beloved ones made in God’s holy image. It is the very embodiment of anti-love and anti-Christ.
Evil can quietly work itself into every system, structure, religion and life. Even a democratic society can be caught off guard. Self-righteousness, wealth, pleasure and laziness can dull the senses, making us forget what true joy feels like. The very engines of material and scientific progress can easily morph into destructive forms of economic or technological totalitarianism. And if history is any guide, we will be utterly surprised when overcome by evil’s resurgence, since spiritual lassitude hides evil’s evolution in our lives, the Church and the world. Evil is untiringly ambitious! The Church and we in our individual Christian lives must therefore be people of faith, grounded in Christ and untiringly discerning!
The reality of ongoing global change—the world’s getting better and worse all the time—should not paralyze or frighten us. Christ has guaranteed our victory against all forms of evil and we therefore have cause for inner peace, joy and confidence. Yet Evil’s ongoing effort to destroy people and creation demands that we engage our relationship with Christ and consciously align our lives with His. We must daily develop a relationship with Christ Jesus so that we can be people of discernment, guided by His Spirit in our Church, our workplaces, and our families.
You know the time; it is the hour now for you to awake from sleep.
For our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed;
the night is advanced, the day is at hand.
Let us then throw off the works of darkness [and] put on the armor of light;
let us conduct ourselves properly as in the day,
not in orgies and drunkenness, not in promiscuity and licentiousness,
not in rivalry and jealousy. But put on the Lord Jesus Christ,
and make no provision for the desires of the flesh.
Rm 13: 10-14
Inviting God Into Your Life
I share these reflections with you, dear friend, so that you will not hesitate to daily invite God into your life. Each of us is called to the engage faith’s holy voyage and these three guide-stars can help us reach safe harbor: the humble docility of the Blessed Mother; obedience to Christ’s Spirit speaking in the Church and in the depth of our consciences; and holy discernment, ever vigilant to distinguish Christ’s progress for the world from the counterfeit progress of human nature’s enemy—to live for joy, not for pleasure.
We are always pilgrim voyagers; sinners who are daily redeemed by the merciful, patient, and compassionate love of the Divine Physician. May we have many graced encounters with those unexpected icebergs awaiting us in the open waters of our heart’s journey to Christ. Be not afraid to daily continue the voyage. Maranatha Come Lord Jesus!
Fr. Bill Watson, S.J.
December 1, 2013
First Sunday of Advent
Update August 25, 2023
The global Covid pandemic was declared by the World Health Organization on the 11th of March, 2020. Three days before this fateful date, I was in my chaplain apartment and turned off my TV. It is one of those units that when turned off, has the option of showing a screen saver. I had set my TV to show a 16th century still life with flowers and fruit. When I turned my TV off that night on the 8th of March, 2020, the screensaver I had set was mysteriously replaced by the image above, a section of Botticelli's the Virgin of the Pomegranate. I was startled and then shocked by what I heard in my heart: "These are the times I told you about all those years ago." I had lived for over a quarter a century with the strangeness of those three "messages" on my thirty-day Ignatian retreat in Northern Ireland. Those messages about the Blessed Mother, Obedience and the World were realized, converged and crystalized in that split second.
The strength of the message that evening in my heart was powerful--it was totally out of the blue and forceful. When the pandemic was declared three days later, I was not surprised. And look at how profound the changes have been since that start of the pandemic. Our world has been completely upended. Credible reports of a possible nuclear war between China and the US or Russia and the US. Forecasts of possible global financial collapse. Talks of new pandemics right over the horizon--Spanish Flu, Marburg or Ebola. Political upheavals all over the world. Mass starvation in Africa. The destruction of so many cities with lawlessness, drugs and violence. Judges that free felons with multiple crimes while incarcerating Catholic and free speech proponents. The demonic transhumanism and transgender agendas being forced upon populations. The introduction of Artificial Intelligence and the plan for mass-tracking of personal and biometric information. And you can add your own tales of woe to the list that keeps growing.
We need a "God event" to wake up the world. And our first response should be always to pray and ensure our hearts are right with God. The next video in this introductory section was one I presented at the Napa Institute in the summer of 2021, just over a year into the pandemic madness. I stand by the message and I hope it brings you a sense of perspective on the times in which we are living and hope that we do have God on our side. And as I end the video, I ponder: "Perhaps God does want each of us to pray the Rosary daily for world peace."
