Week 10: Visualizing Your Workout

As we approach Easter Break (just one more week!), we also approach the end of our lectures on Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises. As such, for this week’s blog post Fr. Ted has requested that we select four images – one representing each of the four Weeks.

For those of you not in the know, the four Weeks of the Exercises do not correspond to four seven-day-long periods. Rather, they are stages within the Exercises, to be done at whatever pace the director deems necessary for the retreatant.

So, without further ado, here are the four images which I believe best represent the Spiritual Exercises.

Week One is all about introspection. It starts off with the Principle and Foundation, which basically says that God loves us and has created the world for us out of this love, and so we should love him in return. This sparks the series of personal reflections on our strengths and weaknesses in this goal, which characterizes the First Week. In short, I guess I thought of a word that best represented the Week (introspection), and then chose this image as a visual manifestation of that.

In all honesty, part of what drew me to this image (of a real-life statue) was the shock factor. I mean, what kind of twisted person would think to put Lenin, Mickey Mouse, and Jesus walking hand-in-hand? The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that they all fit the criteria of what the Second Week is all about: our heroes. Jesus is inherently in there, since he is ultimately the one we are asked to follow. But even Lenin and Mickey are leaders of their own kind, who have characteristics that I’m sure many people across the world can look up to. Plus, with them all holding hands, it gives off an air of friendship, which leads into the Third Week.

With the third week focusing on the Passion and Jesus’s death, it evokes a complex amalgamation of grief and gratitude. After becoming friends with Jesus in the first two Weeks, we now contemplate how he is dying for our sins. We have to ask ourselves, would we do the same for him, and are we willing to share in his suffering? It took me a good while before I finally thought of a similar sense of sorrow and thankfulness, and that’s how I feel towards the men and women who put their lives on the line every day to keep us safe and free.

Finally, the Fourth Week is – in the words of Fr. Gerald Fagin – one of joy and hope. I thought this particular image captured the nuances of those two better than simply a smiling face or someone jumping in the air. Not only is the person in this image excited and joyous, but he’s also looking out on the horizon with the whole world in front of him, ready to take it on with confidence. So, too, can the retreatant move on in life with faith in Christ and the knowledge of God’s endless love. 

Week 9: A Hero of Our Stein

What constitutes a hero? Is it someone who you admire for her or his accomplishments in life? Maybe it’s someone whose actions or attitude you wish to emulate in your own? Or is it someone who you would follow to the ends of the Earth because you so believe in her or his cause?

Ignatius has us contemplate the question of who our heroes are in the Second Week of his Spiritual Exercises. This Call of the King is meant to inspire fidelity towards Jesus by first having us turn inward and ask ourselves: would we follow this man – not even as the son of God, but just a man – whose mission it is to save humanity?

Before I could even answer that, however, I had to think about who I would follow if, today, she or he knocked on my door and called me to join a transglobal mission for the greater good. I thought about movie stars, athletes, scientists, directors, but there was no one I could imagine devoting my life to.

Except one.

When this person first popped into mind, I thought it was a fluke. But after the first impression, I kept coming back to him. He isn’t anyone you’d recognize by name. In fact, unless you lived in California in the late ‘90s, you may have absolutely no idea who I’m talking about when I tell you that I think my hero is Robert Steinberg.

If you Google “Robert Steinberg,” the person I mean is the second result, right under Robert Steinberg, the Moldavian mathematician who taught at UCLA. Yes, my hero is Robert Steinberg, the co-founder of Scharffen Berger Chocolate.

Is this simply a chocoholic idolizing a chocolate maker? Maybe a little bit, but I also greatly admire Steinberg’s story, and wish that, if I were a similar situation, I would have the courage and tenacity to follow his example. In 1989, Steinberg was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer, and given a 50% chance of dying within ten years. Knowing it would be difficult, he sold his medical practice in California and went out to discover his interests.

Among other things, he took drawing and music lessons, and it was at the suggestion of a friend that he picked up a 600-page textbook on the making of chocolate. With his amazing ability for analysis and investigation, Steinberg set out to reinvent the way that Americans thought about chocolate. He traveled the world, sourcing the best beans, interning with French chocolatiers, and working in his home kitchen using little more than a coffee grinder and a mortar and pestle until he got the recipe just right.

After teaming up with John Scharffenberger, a former patient who had owned a winery, Steinberg moved production to a tiny factory in San Francisco, and then one in Berkeley. It was here that Steinberg produced what Julia Child would claim was the best chocolate she had tasted in the U.S.

I could go on and on about the ways in which Scharffen Berger Chocolate revolutionized the market, including being the first American bar to have the percentage of cacao content, as well as the first bean-to-bar producer of chocolate since the process had been industrialized. But the point is that Steinberg explored the world, found what his passion was, filled a niche that he believed had been empty for far too long, and worked day and night with what he could manage, all to give the world his absolute best. That is why Robert Steinberg is my hero.

Oh, and by the way: Remember that life expectancy of ten years? Call it an act of God, fate, or just plain science, but he lived more than double that, dying in 2008 at the respectable age of 61. Rest in peace, Robert.

Week 8: The First Step is Always the Hardest

Having read the “Principle and Foundation” and discussed the First Week of his Spiritual Exercises these past few days, Ignatius has managed to turn my whole world on its head – and from 500 years in the past, no less. It’s not that he writes some new, groundbreaking theory or anything (although, for his time, that may have been the case). Ignatius really just takes the ancient Greek adage “Know thyself” and runs with it to an extent most people don’t encounter in their daily lives.

One of the main theses Ignatius introduces in his Principle and Foundation is the notion of “indifference.” This isn’t just a lack of concern – like one might be indifferent to the shade of white her or his house is painted – but, rather, an avoidance of extremes in one direction or another. When I read this, the thought that repeatedly popped up in my mind was Siddhartha Gautama’s “middle way;” probably because I took a class in Buddhism last semester, but considering he lived over two millennia before Ignatius, maybe the former influenced the latter just a wee bit.

And this is where my world gets all topsy-turvy, because Ignatius calls us to contemplate our own extremes in life: our addictions, false gods, denials, hatreds, etc. Try this out for yourself and you’ll quickly realize that midterms are not the most opportune time to be questioning your notion of “good” and “bad” practices.

So in order to try to make sense of all the thoughts swirling around in my head, I thought I’d jot them down on virtual paper, along with where I am in my “indifference” and what I might be able to do in hopes of attaining it.

Health:

I only mentioned this in passing, so you may have missed it (Fr. “Hawk-Eye” Dziak didn’t), but I truly wish that I’ll never have to play the staring game with death. Scientists have already identified the mortality gene in earthworms, so there’s still an iota of hope, but in all practicality, I realize that it’ll happen sooner or later (though, hopefully later). To that end, I try to take good care of my body, though perhaps to a fault. I spend at least an hour exercising each day, five days a week, which I think is a pretty reasonable amount – I’m not sitting on the couch 24/7, nor am I spending half my life on the treadmill. I also keep a strict diet, which some may consider a little too strict. I’ll admit that sometimes it prevents me from partaking in certain festivities with friends, but if we’re going out to eat or something, I can usually just order a salad. I also make it a point to get around eight hours of sleep each night, which similarly prevents me from going out with friends sometimes. In reality, though, many of my friends get more than eight hours of sleep on the days they go out, they just happen to move those hours to the afternoon.

Diagnosis: Terminal, but as far as addictions go, this is pretty mild.

Treatment: Take a day off from counting calories and minutes of REM sleep and enjoy life every now and then. A little trans fat and late-night ruckus does the soul good.

Indifference: 4/5

Fear of Failure:

Another topic already discussed here, so I won’t go into too much detail. My need for control often spills over into my decision-making process. I.e., if I have the option between doing something where I would be under someone else’s supervision and something else where I would be independent, I’m sure as heck not going to let someone hold power over me. Plus, part of this whole ego trip I went on a couple weeks ago has to do with my pride. I don’t really care one way or another if I do something embarrassing or dumb, but I hate failing, and it’s just made all the worse when I have to report the failure to a superior.

Diagnosis: Yeah, this one’s something I definitely need to work on.

Treatment: For one thing, realize that there’s nothing wrong with being led. Everyone has someone else above them, going all the way up to God, and once you start trying to control God, you’re in for a world of pain. Most importantly, though, don’t be afraid to fail! After all, when Edison was asked how he felt about his 1000 failed attempts at a light bulb, he allegedly said, “I have not failed 1000 times. I have successfully discovered 1000 ways to NOT make a light bulb.”

Indifference: 1/5

Monetary Success:

When I first decided to become an engineer, a large part of the impetus was to be able to support my future family. However, at the moment at least, success and money have become essentially one and the same, and both are the end, not just the means. Part of this is surely because my future family doesn’t exist yet, but all the same I’ve lost sight of what my goal once was. I am starting to move away from my laser-focused fixation on career success and take classes that I enjoy, but the greater part of my academic work is still in areas conducive to money making.

Diagnosis: Showing signs of improvement, but some therapy is still necessary.

Treatment: Devote more time to the things you love to do. You never know, often times success comes from doing what one enjoys.

Indifference: 3/5

These are the first ones that came to mind, but there are PLENTY of others, I can assure you. What do y’all think, is there hope for me yet? Feel free to comment on how accurate you think I analyzed myself, or if there are any areas in your own life that you find yourself struggling to balance.

Week 7: Imagine ALL the People

Looking back on some of my decisions, it would have been really helpful if I had had Ignatius’s Rules of Discernment to guide me. For all the religious connotations that people associate with the Jesuits, they have some truly great practices regardless of one’s spirituality. The Rules start off with some common sense: don’t make a hasty decision; take some time for tempers to cool; get away from all the stress and just think things through.

But the genius of the Rules, I think, is in Ignatius’s use of imagination. Don’t just try to describe what it would be like, but actually experience it. Put yourself in the position and live through it with all your senses. It makes decision-making not only easier, but far more effective in the long run.

In High School, back when my academic record was questionable at best, I had to face the legitimate matter of whether or not I was going to college after I graduated. Not sure if I really wanted to get a job or explore the world, I decided on a compromise: join the military. In particular, I had this idea that it would be awesome to be a scout sniper in the Marines. You know, those guys who go behind enemy lines, gathering intel and taking out designated targets. How cool would that be, especially to a budding adult?

When I told my best friend (a person whose idea of chess is to set up armies and flick checkers pieces at them, and whose favorite scene from “The Patriot” is the battle where the soldier gets beheaded by a cannonball), he just chuckled. He pointed out my…well, let’s say my lack of musculature. He was convinced that I wouldn’t pass the physical fitness test, let alone get through all of basic training. And as indignant as I felt, I had to admit that he was probably right. What I lack in physical strength, though, I more than make up for in willpower. Or stubbornness. Tomato, tomato, right?

Hmmm, I guess that doesn’t work so well in writing.

I was still convinced that I could do it if I set my mind to it, and after talking with my friends and hearing all their arguments, I felt confident that I could discuss it with my parents. Boy was that a mistake.

My mom was immediately against it. Being the daughter of a Navy engineer, I guess her idea of the military was much less romantic than mine. Surprisingly, my dad supported the idea somewhat, much to the chagrin of my worrisome mother. He thought it would build discipline, teamwork, self-confidence – all those factors that a degree really doesn’t account for. After all, my uncle was in the Marine Corps Reserves, and he saw it as a positive life experience.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I knew it would be difficult, but I still thought I could manage. At the same time, I had to contend with one half of my family disagreeing with the other. With all this swirling around in my head, I unknowingly followed Ignatius’s advice: I found myself sitting on the couch one day, imagining what it would be like.

I saw myself in PT, pushing my body to its limit, dragging myself through mud and barbed wire. I heard the yelling, the breaking of our spirits so that we could be rebuilt from the bottom up. I felt the 100+ degree weather of the barren Iraqi desert. I experienced the trauma of pulling a trigger and seeing a fellow human being go limp on the other end. I even considered what it would be like if I were ever caught – execution if I was lucky, torture if I wasn’t.

Then I imagined coming home, unable to properly communicate to my friends and family what it was like. Maybe an initial homecoming celebration, but eventually it would all be lost among the countless number of battles fought in war. Is that what I wanted?

Obviously, you know what I chose. In hindsight? I’m pretty happy with my decision, though I can’t help but admire the men and women who took the path I couldn’t. I don’t know, maybe it was different for them – different available options, different pros and cons, different imagery. I’m sure God (or whatever you choose as your higher power) doesn’t show us all the same things, but maybe He shows us exactly what we need to see.