Below is the text of Pope Francis’ weekly Wednesday audience, delivered on Sept. 7, 2022.
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Dear brothers and sisters, good morning!
We’re continuing our reflection on discernment—on this time we are going to speak every Wednesday about spiritual discernment—and for this it might probably help us to seek advice from a particular witness.
One of the instructive examples is obtainable to us by Saint Ignatius of Loyola, with a decisive episode in his life. Ignatius is at home convalescing, after injuring a leg in battle. To dispel the boredom, he asks for something to read. He loves tales of chivalry, but unfortunately only the lives of saints might be found at home. Somewhat reluctantly he adapts, but in the middle of reading he begins to find one other world, a world that conquers him and seems to compete with that of knights. He’s fascinated by the figures of Saint Francis and Saint Dominic, and feels the will to mimic them. However the world of chivalry also continues to exert its fascination on him. And so, inside himself he feels inside himself this alternation of thoughts—those of chivalry and people of the saints—which appear to equate to 1 one other.
If we supply out a piece of charity, do something good and feel something of happiness, a superb thought involves us, and happiness involves us, something of joy.
Ignatius, nonetheless, also begins to perceive some differences. In his Autobiography—within the third person—he writes: “When he considered worldly things”—and of chivalrous things, one understands—“it gave him great pleasure, but afterward he found himself dry and sad. But when he considered journeying to Jerusalem, and of living only on herbs and practicing austerities, he found pleasure not only while considering of them, but in addition when he had ceased” (Chapter 8); they left him a trace of joy.
On this experience we note two elements, above all. The primary is time: that’s, the thoughts of the world are attractive at first, but then they lose their lustre and leave emptiness and discontent; they leave you that way, empty. Thoughts of God, quite the opposite, rouse first a certain resistance—“But I’m not going to read this boring thing about saints”—but after they are welcomed, they create an unknown peace that lasts for a very long time.
Here, then, is the opposite aspect: the end point of thoughts. At first the situation doesn’t seem so clear. There’s a development of discernment: for instance, we understand what is nice for us not in an abstract, general way, but within the journey of our life. In the principles for discernment, the fruit of this fundamental experience, Ignatius lays down a very important premise, which helps to grasp this process: “Within the individuals who go from mortal sin to mortal sin, the enemy is usually used to propose to them apparent pleasures”—to reassure them that all the pieces is fantastic—“making them imagine sensual delights and pleasures in an effort to hold them more and make them grow of their vices and sins. In these individuals the nice spirit uses the alternative method, pricking them and biting their consciences through the means of reason” (Spiritual Exercises, 314). But this can not do.
Discernment is the help in recognizing the signals with which the Lord makes himself known in unexpected, even unpleasant situations, because the leg wound was for Ignatius.
There’s a history that precedes one who discerns, a history that it’s indispensable to know, because discernment is just not a form of oracle or fatalism, or something from a laboratory, like casting one’s lot on two possibilities. The nice questions arise when we’ve already travelled a stretch of the road in life, and it’s to that journey we must return to grasp what we’re searching for. If in life we make a bit of progress, then: “But why am I walking on this direction, what am I searching for?”, and that’s where discernment takes place. Ignatius, when he found himself wounded in his father’s house, was not considering of God in any respect, or of easy methods to reform his own life, no. He had his first experience of God by listening to his own heart, which presented him with a curious reversal: things that were attractive at first sight left him disillusioned, whereas in others, less dazzling, he found lasting peace.
We too have this experience; fairly often we start to take into consideration something, and we stay there, after which we find yourself dissatisfied. As an alternative, if we supply out a piece of charity, do something good and feel something of happiness, a superb thought involves us, and happiness involves us, something of joy, and it’s an experience that’s entirely our own. He, Ignatius, had his first experience of God by listening to his own heart, that showed him a curious reversal. That is what we must learn: to hearken to our own heart, to know what is occurring, what decision to make, to make a judgement on a situation, one must hearken to one’s own heart. We hearken to the tv, the radio, the cell phone; we’re experts at listening, but I ask you: do you recognize easy methods to hearken to your heart? Do you stop to ask: “But how is my heart? Is it satisfied, is it sad, is it trying to find something?” To make good decisions, it is advisable to hearken to your heart.
That is why Ignatius will go on to suggest reading the lives of the saints, because they show the form of God within the life of individuals not very different to us, since the saints were fabricated from flesh and blood like us, in a narrative, comprehensible way. Their actions speak to ours, and so they help us to grasp their meaning.
See what happens once we experience things we weren’t expecting, and there we will learn to know our heart because it moves.
In that famous episode of the 2 feelings that Ignatius had, one when he examine knights and the opposite when he read concerning the lifetime of the saints, we will recognize one other essential aspect of discernment, which we already mentioned last time. There’s an apparent randomness within the events of life: all the pieces seems to arise from a banal mishap—there have been no books about knights, only lives of saints. A mishap that nonetheless holds a possible turning point. Only after a while will Ignatius realize this, at which point he’ll devote all his attention to it.
Listen rigorously: God works through unplannable events that occur by probability, but by probability this happened to me, and by probability I met this person, by probability I saw this film. It was not planned but God works through unplannable events, and likewise through mishaps: “But I used to be purported to go for a walk and I had an issue with my foot, I can’t…”. Mishap: what’s God saying to you? What’s life telling you there? We now have also seen this in a passage from the Gospel of Matthew: a person ploughing a field unintentionally comes across buried treasure. A completely unexpected situation. But what is essential is that he recognizes it because the lucky break of his life and decides accordingly: he sells all the pieces and buys that field (cf. 13:44).
I gives you a chunk of recommendation: watch out for the unexpected. He who says to you: “But I wasn’t expecting this”. Is it life talking to you, is it the Lord talking to you, or is it the devil? Someone. But there’s something to discern, how I react when faced with the unexpected. But I used to be quiet at home and “Boom!”—my mother-in-law arrives; and the way do you react to your mother-in-law? Is it love or something else inside? And you could discern. I used to be working well within the office, and a companion comes along to inform me he needs money: how do you react? See what happens once we experience things we weren’t expecting, and there we will learn to know our heart because it moves.
Discernment is the help in recognizing the signals with which the Lord makes himself known in unexpected, even unpleasant situations, because the leg wound was for Ignatius. A life-changing encounter can arise from them, perpetually, as within the case of Ignatius. Something can arise that makes you higher along the best way, or worse, I don’t know, but watch out; essentially the most beautiful thread is given to us by the unexpected: “How do I act in view of this?” May the Lord help us to listen to our hearts and see when it’s He who acts and when it is just not, and it’s something else.