It was a great celebration. The angels were in fine voice, and Jesus consented to be a baby again. He lay in Mary's arms while Joseph sat to one side, smiling protectively.

One by one, the Saints advanced, bringing gifts to the young King of Kings.

St Francis came barefooted, carrying a little white dove which he placed at Mary's feet. The angels sighed with pleasure.

Then came St Therese of Lisieux with a bunch of roses. Oo-ooh! went the angels again.

Big Teresa of Avila walked across, carrying all her original manuscripts. The angels were very impressed. Aa-aah! they cried as St Teresa offered her writings.

And so it went on.

Finally, in came St Ignatius of Loyola. As he limped towards the Holy Family, the angels noticed his hands were empty. No gift!. This sent ripples of shock through the angels. They nudged each other. Typical Jesuit! they muttered.

Worse was to come. Ignatius ignored Mary and Jesus. He walked straight past them and stopped on the other side of Joseph. Then he leaned over and said in Joseph's ear, "Have you thought about his education?"

It's a good story, but the reversal lies in the fact it was Jesus who taught Ignatius of Loyola.

A nobleman and soldier, Ignatius was crippled by a cannon ball. With broken bones and ambitions, all he could do was lie in bed, read, think and dream. It was the life of Jesus in the gospels that spiritually mended and reshaped his life.

I can connect with this. I'm made aware of the ways God has sent cannon balls to disable my plans for myself. Some of you will know exactly what I mean.

It can be a literal blow - accident, illness, sudden loss or failure. Whatever, we are made helpless. Some part of ourselves has gone and even prayer seems empty. The phrase "feeling gutted" becomes reality.

Then the resurrection happens. Like Lazarus we stagger out of the tomb, dropping our bandages.

There is new life in us, something bigger than what has been taken away, and given time we may well think that the ‘cannon ball' was the best thing to happen to us.

As for Ignatius? Well, 30 years ago, Br Marty Williams SM showed me around Rome, and the most cherished memory was seeing the room and bed where St Ignatius died.

Both were bare, starkly beautiful in their poverty. I gazed at the little iron bed, knowing that the man who had lain on it, was very different from the man bed-ridden with a shattered leg.

The wounded soldier had been small; the man who had died in Rome was spiritually immense.

I still think about that. I imagine the younger Ignatius unable to walk, in pain and helpless, and Jesus whispering in his ear, "Have you thought about your education?"

• Joy Cowley is a wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and retreat facilitator.

For the last month, Muslims have been celebrating the holy month of Ramadan, a time of fasting, almsgiving, and praying over God's revelation.

For those at Jesuit institutions — schools, parishes, and organizations inhabiting the spirit of St. Ignatius of Loyola — this July is a celebration of the spirituality of the Jesuit founder, whose feast day is July 31.

This confluence of celebrations prompted me to reflect on the points of convergence between Islamic and Ignatian spirituality.

As a student of Islam educated in Catholic Jesuit schools, I've discovered some profound similarities, or, as the late Trappist abbot Christian de Cherge would call them, "the notes that are in common" between the religions.

These similarities can be explained best by pointing to three Arabic mottos, central to the Islamic tradition, and their surprising Ignatian counterparts.

The phrase MashaAllah, or "what God wills," is used to express appreciation, gratitude, reverence, and awe about the good and beautiful. As my friend Zainab put it, it's about recognizing "a flicker of God's divine character" in the created world.

Muslims exclaim it when their friends get into college, when they spot a stunning sunset, or when their relatives post a picture of their new, healthy baby on Facebook. I like to think of this prompt acknowledgement of God's blessings as an immediate, "in-the-moment" Examen, the daily prayer of gratitude developed by St. Ignatius.

The Daily Examen encourages us to reflect back on — or rummagethrough — our day, looking for the places where God made Godself known to us. Often, these ayat, or signs of God, can be found in creation.

Pope Francis, a Jesuit, and the Muslim mystic Ali al-Khawas, both realized this. In his recent encyclical, "Laudato Si', on Care for our Common Home," Francis cites the Sufi writer, who wrote in the ninth century: "The initiate will capture what is being said when the wind blows, the trees sway, water flows, flies buzz, doors creak, birds sing, or in the sound of strings or flutes, the sighs of the sick, the groans of the afflicted." Continue reading

Sources

• Jordan Denari is a research fellow at Georgetown University's Center for Muslim-Christian Understanding, where she works for the Bridge Initiative, a research project on Islamophobia. She is writing in National Catholic Reporter
• Image: The Daily Stormer

Scaffolding is needed for major repairs and maintenance, such as replacing a roof, or painting a tall building. Sometimes, this scaffolding is then plastic-wrapped, to provide privacy, safety, and a weather-proof working environment.

Once work is completed the scaffolding is dismantled. Ladders, cherry pickers, or long poles are then used to effect minor repairs and on-going maintenance.

We are a building - Shekhinah, a temple of God. Well-designed. The intrinsic design and health of my temple will enable it to weather many storms. But it still needs regular upkeep … and sometimes a major overhaul.

How do I maintain the spiritual life of this temple?

There is an infinite variety of 'scaffolding' available to us on our spiritual journey. Sacraments. Prayer. Worship. Community. Retreat. Spiritual teaching and reading. Spiritual direction and companionship. The framework provided by different spiritualities, such as Marist, Benedictine, Franciscan, Ignatian. Silence.

Some of this scaffolding is designed for major events … initiation, marriage, ordination, death. It shapes us, moulds us, gifts us with grace … but then we take it down and allow that grace to become visible in our temple.

Sometimes we erect scaffolding and wrap it in plastic, to effect a major change. Entering a time of retreat or discernment, when we become especially attentive to the voice of the divine, is a time when we are particularly vulnerable. We need the protection and privacy that exclusion of the outside world offers. But then we strip away the scaffolding and the protective wrap, and slowly the metamorphosis that has taken place deep within, will become evident in our attitudes, our words, our actions.

There are many tools available to us to effect minor repairs and on-going maintenance. Communal worship and liturgy nourishes and sustains us. Reconciliation and conflict resolution repairs cracks and dents in our relationships with others and with God. A personal prayer discipline, unique to each of us as we seek to relate to the God-within and the God-without. Service to others … being the eyes and ears and feet and heart of God to others. Reflection on sacred scripture. Small group interactions.

Our institutional churches are also temples - literally and metaphorically. Well designed. Intrinsically good. But the scaffolding has been up for many years - and I wonder why it has not been taken down. Scaffolding in the guise of Vatican 2 enabled major renovations within the Catholic Church - a major transformation. But not only is this scaffolding being dismantled, many of the renovations have also been removed. A little counter-productive.

I wonder if ancient, ineffectual scaffolding is shoring up a crumbling edifice. Perhaps it is time for this scaffolding to be removed, and demolition experts invited in to remove all that is rotten. This is not a time for plastic-wrapping: everything must be done in plain view, open to inspection and inspiration.

Scaffolding is always a sign of hope; of new beginnings; of creativity and hard work; of attentiveness to what has been done, what needs to be done, and what needs to be protected. Scaffolding is always unique. It is shaped to the building and to the work that must be undertaken. Scaffolding can be used again and again but each time it will be different and will enable different work to be done. While scaffolding is designed to facilitate construction work and repairs, its primary purpose is ALWAYS the health and safety of those who use it.

Can we say that the scaffolding we use in our spiritual life is healthy - for us and for those who encounter us?

Can we say that the scaffolding our churches use is healthy - and considers first those who dwell within and those who are passers-by?

• Liz Pearce, a mother of three adult children, loves story, writing, and dollmaking www.heartfeltdolls.weebly.com

The CLC Ignatian way lies in healing historical divisions, a way that blurs distinctions of skin colour, offers a new way of relating, and shows the love of the Lord for all his peoples. In the forefront of these endeavours stand the Jesuits. They often came with the conquerors, but immediately showed a different way of relating with the indigenous peoples. They demonstrated 'love in action'.

Based on formation through the Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius, CLC offers a process and ways of discernment and evaluation for those individuals who take seriously Christ's call to 'love one another as I have loved you' Coming together in small groups to share their spiritual journey strengthens them to begin healing the terrible wounds inflicted on their neighbours, through the divine gift of forgiveness. as in Rwanda offering to share the treasure of CLC with Burundi, the country which had massacred so many Tutsis. Taking the first step is crucial on this journey.

I find it inspiring, challenging, shaming that people who seem so poverty stricken and disadvantaged compared to those around me in Aotearoa, are able to rise above their circumstances by ministering to others in need.

Here are the brief stories of two women from Burkina-Faso, one of the tiniest and poorest countries in Africa, as examples:

The woman with little education who studies for three relentless years to become a nurse, followed by three years of more advanced medical studies so that she may help HIV/AIDS victims. She has the perspicacity to see that they want most of all to be listened to, treated with dignity, when they are often rejected by their families through shame or fear of infection. Through the CLC process of sharing on personal prayer, of being listened to without comment or judgment, she learns to express herself, to pray, and to find a commitment to 'help souls', as Ignatius has it. She finds that CLC is not for herself, but for her sisters and brothers.

Another woman whose son's failing sight motivates her to train in ophthalmology, in order to help those suffering from eye infections. She emphasises the importance of the quality of the reception of the patient for healing. She continues by detailing how the CLC, by means of silent, interior prayer on the Word of God has helped her to share her Christian experience through the witness of her life. She says that she looks for joy in the patients; their joy becomes her joy, and sustains her in her work.

The Christian Life Community is long established in over 60 countries and now nascent in Aotearoa. Tricia Kane.

• Tricia Kane is a former librarian and a grandmother.

Ignatius was also in touch with the parts of himself that were incomplete, thirsting for, hungry for, longing for a deeper relationship with God and with others. He has been known to have wept at the very celebration of Eucharist because he feels so deeply.

A friend of mine told me he carries an empty plastic container for facial tissues in his pocket to remind himself that his work as a chaplain does not involve wiping away tears, but to allow others to cry and express themselves in a safe and sacred space. Read more

Sources

• Jocelyn A. Sideco in National Catholic Reporter
• Image: Travco

Jocelyn A. Sideco is a founding member of Contemplatives in Action, an urban ministry and retreat experience.