We all have likes, and some of these are strong, compelling, almost non-negotiable. We have favorite foods, colors, sports teams, things to do when we are not directly engaged with our responsibilities… The combination of our individual preferences make up a profile of our characteristic style. They are so familiar, so comfortable, and yet, they are not who we truly are.

One of the major barriers to making free and loving choices is what Ignatius of Loyola called disordered attachments – those people, things, activities, substances that we value more than our relationship with God. Whatever deviates our mind and/or our heart and/or our life-path away from what we know is right and good, away from God’s call, away from God’s loving desires for us and for others; these are disordered attachments. When it comes time for us to make an important decision, we are pre-conditioned by our attachments to choose according to whatever we are attached to. This can severely impair our discernment of God’s Will for us.

Ignatius has a simple antidote for disordered attachments – indifference (or detachment). To choose well, we need to be indifferent, detached. Ignatius was a passionate Basque. He was not talking about developing apathy as some backward kind of virtue. Indifference doesn’t mean that we don’t care. As fully alive human beings, we need to be in touch with, and have access to, all our feelings, no matter how fierce or deep. But when we choose, we need to be free from the domination of our feelings.

Once again, a huge help to dealing well with disordered attachments is awareness. We need to know ourselves inside and out. What claims us? What tugs at our heart? What siren’s song sings more loudly and more seductively to us, drowning out the voice of God? What, in our life, is more important to us than doing what is loving and just? Whatever pulls us away from God and God’s ways is a disordered attachment. It means more to us than is healthy and good for us. Knowing the answer to these questions allows us to choose more freely.

Because we do care, very much, we try to discover how our caring, or our passion, clouds our vision and moves us in one direction or another. Does it help or hinder our listening to/for God’s direction for our life? We may want something with all our heart. We may be totally convinced that what we want to do has to be the right way, the only way. We are attached. We need to back off and try to see our life and the choice in front of us from God’s perspective.

The gift of freedom we have been given offers us the opportunity to participate in God’s ongoing work of creation and to continue the mission of Jesus: to call all people, by our lives, to fundamentally change their way of seeing and acting; to believe in, and to build up God’s Kingdom now, where we are. Our freedom is awesome and, at the same time, so restricted. Our choices have vital significance, and are starkly limited – to the point where some people claim that because there is so much constantly shaping and conditioning us, we have no freedom at all. We can choose to focus on the awesome and do what we can, or get lost in the littleness of the impact of our decisions and choices, and court frustration and despair. 

Discernment requires that we have the fullest measure of interior freedom as is humanly possible. In order to recognize and choose according to God’s loving preferences and desires, we need to remove distractions (physical, sensory, mental, emotional, as well as spiritual). Distractions are whatever pulls us away from being freely present in this moment.

There are conditions that make it next to impossible to make a free and loving decision: ignorance, attachments, passions, deep wounding, intense pain, brainwashing, addictions, physical or psychological threats, being reduced to basic survival, social and familial conditioning… Brainwashing can either be a psychological weapon wielded by an expert, or the creation of a dependency on a powerful or charismatic personality who serves as one’s auxiliary mind, conscience and will – a substitute god, or a divine parent. 

Most of us, thank God, are not dealing with such heavy duty constraints. For us, the impediments to our freedom are usually simple, common and pervasive. I tend to lump them together as fear, ego, and expectations. If we are in fear, and to the extent we are afraid, we are not free to make good decisions. If we, because of some illusion of self-preservation, have set ourselves as the sole reference for orienting our life, ego rules – and ego is less concerned with freedom than with preserving its imaginary control over reality. Expectations are like a smiling giant with a cudgel, leaning down to us and suggesting what has to be right and good for us, and inviting us: “Now choose.” How free is that?

Since, I believe, we all are struggling with these challenges to making good, loving choices and decisions, how can we ever choose freely and well? The biggest factor is awareness – awareness of the influences that tend to restrict and inhibit our freedom to choose. If we know and can name these persuasive voices, they have less power over us. The secret is to know and name as many of these familiar “advisors”  as possible and to see how they are bending our will. This is choosing with our eyes open. We can say, “Yes.” We can say, “No.”

It is possible that in one’s lifetime, in order to prevent further hurt or killing, a person may be faced with the necessity to use violence or to kill. Our conscience can recognize the need to act in this way, but will never see taking life as right or good. We can try to use our gift of reason to override our conscience, but all that amounts to is internally screaming in an attempt to drown out the voice we are not ready, willing, or able to hear. Over time we can find ways to ignore or numb our conscience.

We macho males have a tendency to equate meekness with weakness. By definition, meekness is strength under control. Consider Jesus. He had access to amazing powers, yet he chose to not use them to protect himself from brutal suffering and death. Jesus is the epitome of meekness. 

Jesus knew that one evil cannot be effectively confronted or destroyed by another evil. In fact, such an attempt only serves to further entrench and disperse evil. Violence begets violence. Evil begets evil. In the garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives, as Jesus is about to be seized by the night-shrouded troops and guards (Matthew 26:50a-53) one of his followers draws a sword and strikes out with it, wounding one of the High Priest’s men. “Put back that sword!” Jesus commands. Those who rely on weapons and violence are most likely to perish through them.

Jesus goes to Calvary, refusing to call upon “legions of angels” to protect himself in an apocalyptic battle against evil. He is crucified, trusting that this is the way Abba-God has opened for him in the face of our rejection of his message. Being raised from death ratifies his decision. Jesus chooses to confront evil with the only power that can eliminate it: Love. Christianity is not a religion for the immature or cowards.  Following Jesus means faithfulness to the way of Love, even when this leads to a cross.

James and John, the sons of Zebedee, were among the first and the closest of Jesus’ followers. They were present at a number of special moments in Jesus’ ministry. Jesus had reason to give them the nickname, “Sons of Thunder.” John, in zealous protection of the authentic “Jesus brand,” is ready to put out of business a person who was casting out demons and relieving people of suffering by using Jesus’ name (Luke 9:49-50). Jesus, with broader vision and deeper wisdom, points out that anyone who is not actively against is for you. Think about that.

Just a few verses later (Luke 9:51-56) we have this incident. When Jesus, reading the signs of the times, recognizes that this is the moment to bring his person and message to the seat of power, he “sets his face” toward Jerusalem. Now the quickest route between Galilee and the capital was through the territory of Samaria. Israelites and Samaritans, as a rule, tended to hate one another. (Jesus was an exception.)

Jesus sent out an advance party ahead of himself to prepare for his passing through. One Samaritan town, mirroring the mutual animosity between the two peoples, refused to welcome Jesus and his entourage. James and John, filled with righteous fervor and indignation, approach Jesus with what they have decided is the only appropriate response to the unthinkable insult of a whole town refusing to offer the sacred obligation of hospitality. “Let us call down fire from heaven on them!” 

How saturated our mentality is with the clear, simple and direct solution of whatever we feel is a problem!  Kill! Destroy! Wipe it/them out! Look at how popular culture is permeated with the concept that the only effective way to deal with evil – or what we see as evil – is to eliminate it through some manifestation of violence (books, movies, video games, music…). The hero (or superhero) is the one who survives by taking the lives of all the “bad guys “and ingeniously finding ways to destroy all their  weaponry (unless a sequel with even greater violence and destruction is planned, of course). We feel good that there is such a clean, straightforward method for overcoming evil.

And Jesus’ response to James and John? He scolds them in no uncertain terms and heads on to another village. Jesus knows that destruction and killing is never a solution. 

 

One of the most poignant encounters in Jesus’ ministry is between a “rich, young man” and himself, related in the three synoptic Gospels. Here is someone filled with the energy, generosity and enthusiasm of youth, seeking a new and more challenging path for his life. He runs up to Jesus, falls on his knees, and bursts out with: “What do I need do to enter into fullness of life?”

Jesus points him to the commandments as a sure way forward. The response from the youth is almost comical, if it weren’t for his obvious earnestness: “I have kept all these my whole (albeit brief) life. What more do I need do?” Jesus, Mark notes, looks at him with love. 

This young person senses that there is more within himself to give, and Jesus takes him very seriously. “If you really want to give yourself completely,” Jesus responds,”Sell what you have, give to the poor, and then come follow me.”  The youth was not ready for this. He turns and walks away sad, because he had many possessions. And how does Jesus feel at this moment?

Do we desire fullness of life? Do we sense that we have more of our life, of our self, to give? Jesus invites us to dispossess ourselves, to use our wealth to enrich the lives of those who are needy, and to let him guide us each step of the way through life as his disciples. 

What possesses us?  In what do we invest our time, energy, loyalty, and that we guard out of fear of losing? What holds us back or holds us in from giving ourselves more fully and freely? What is more important to us than our relationships, than our care for ourself, than our very integrity? What claims our life as a substitute god? Is it a career, the image we project, some seductive activity, substance or relationship? Have we surrendered our life to a beguiling unfreedom? It is difficult to untangle ourselves from this demonic, deadly, yet familiar, dynamic.  Letting go is the first step.

We all have gifts enough to share. What is our “wealth?” What do we cling to that would bring blessing to others? Is it our time, money, presence, care, a particular art craft or skill, education, the ability to listen, our smile, an ability to speak out for the good and against all that divides and all that is evil? Share in a way that makes life easier or better for someone.

Once we are freer from the tyranny of possessions, have begun giving our gifts to and for others, then we can follow Jesus, without looking back over our shoulder at what we left behind or to see how others are looking at us. There are more than enough challenges, sacrifices and joys walking close to Jesus to engage us totally for the rest of our days. “Come, follow me.”

One of the greatest gifts from God is our human freedom. We can choose. We can even choose against God’s Will for us. This is a wonderful, terrible responsibility. This freedom we have is in no way absolute. We don’t have divine perspective to see all the options, and all the implications of those options, that present themselves throughout our lifetime. We are inhibited and blinded by fear and ego from within, and by expectations and other pressures on us from outside. We are free, but…

When we act as if we have absolute freedom to do as we have decided is best, we are no longer talking about freedom, but about license. We are not God. No human person (Jesus excepted) organization or ideology is God. It seems that millions of people today, acting out of their “freedom,” are doing so with no discernment. We are in the middle of a global pandemic, moving into a third year with no sign of stopping. For the vast majority of people, to refuse to be vaccinated when we desperately need to create mass immunity, cannot be equated with following God’s Will. How many more will die because of individuals asserting, as an absolute, their right to choose?

Our personal choices are never private. What we decide impacts the lives of others, whether we are aware of this or not. We have no right to deliberately choose actions that cause harm to our selves or to others. We are all interconnected and our choices need to take into account a greater good – the common good. Discernment invites us to consider consequences beyond our individual perceptions and perspective. 

Discernment is there to guide us in a healthy use of this gift of limited freedom, which God has entrusted to us. Discernment helps us to sort out how the possible choices before us are being presented to us or are shaped by forces other than the Spirit of God. Discernment leads us to a sense of the “goodness” or “rightness” of our decisions. If the action we are about to take is truly good for us, it will bring good to others as well.

We can have more wishes and desires for our life than we have abilities, energy, or years on this earth.  Which ones could be from God, and which are my own preferences or fantasies?  If I have no musical ability, no matter how much I enjoy listening to Chopin, it is most unlikely that God, who made me, is asking me to become a concert pianist.  If I feel ill or faint when I see blood, God is probably not inviting me to become a surgeon.

Then there’s the fact that God isn’t into giving us multiple choice tests.  Discernment is always binary – as much as we prefer to keep all options open (just in case…) – a choice between two mutually exclusive good paths. Am I called to serve God and others, using my gift for numbers, as a teacher of mathematics or as a financial counselor?  Am I called to serve God and others, using my gifts of compassion and in the area of science, as a researcher seeking cures, or as a hospice nurse?  

But if we have discerned that our vocation is marriage, we are not asked to discern if we are called to marry John or Matthew.  Here the binary discernment is: Am I called to marry John, or not. And the same goes for Matthew, or not.

Discernment is rooted in our concrete reality: who we are as we are, with our gifts, our limitations and the circumstances that shape our life as it is today. It is never theoretical, nor does it deal with “what ifs” or “maybes.” Discernment seeks the better of two, real choices, not the best or the ideal choice.

We’re called to be loving. Nice, but not very helpful in the concrete circumstances that make up our lives. Our days are filled with countless decisions and choices. Discernment is about learning how to choose well.

Most of our decisions do not have life-shaping consequences: which socks to put on; do I prepare my cup of coffee before or after I make toast; which book do I choose to read first…  Our preferences don’t require discernment.

Someone rear-ends the car I am driving; I am diagnosed with an aggressive and unpredictable cancer; someone I care about sends me a card for no particular reason…  Things happen to us that we have little or no control over, These are not discerned.

Do I lie rather than admit that I ate that last piece of cake – that I knew someone else had already claimed?  Do I steal a cell phone that someone left on the park bench? Do I lash out in anger or do I hold my tongue? Is what I am choosing to do, or how I am choosing to live, ruining my life, destroying my relationships, stealing peace and joy from me? No need to discern between right and wrong, bad and good. God desires that we always choose what is right and good, no matter how difficult it may be for us. God wants fullness of life for us.

What does that leave? Discernment is for major decisions, life-direction (vocation), choices that significantly impact our life and the lives of others. God desires to be involved, a partner, when we face these types of alternatives – alternatives that arise out of the circumstances of our lives like a fork in the road. How do we decide which way to turn? Discernment.

Along with prayer and community, discernment is one of the most important and most demanding of the spiritual disciplines. Discernment is all about coming to know what God wants for us, as individuals, and as communities. This isn’t some arrogant human effort. We can discern God’s Will because God empowers us to.

God has given the concrete model of Jesus’ life as well as the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Jesus, the Spirit of love, to be with us and to guide us. Clearly Jesus invested many hours in prayer, in coming to an intimate, deeply personal, familiarity of Abba and Abba’s preferences. Prayer and discernment go hand-in-hand. 

As Jesus lived and taught, we are all called to live our lives with a single focus – to become holy. God wants us to be holy. Holiness requires our wholehearted dedication, within the specific circumstances of each of our lives – not in some idealized, detached perfection. And what are we to be so completely dedicated to? Loving!

As disciples of Jesus, he commands us to love one another – as he has loved us – with his whole being – to the end. This is God’s Will, always and in every situation. To come to this depth of loving, we need to put aside any and all manifestations of ego: self-referencing, self-centeredness, self-assurance. Loving demands that we are free enough from our selves to be present, attentive, and available to others as they are; free enough to enter into the need and pain of the other. to care and to give, more and more fully, of what we have been given.

There must have been something strikingly memorable about how Jesus made sure a huge crowd of hungry people ate, and went home satisfied. All four Gospels tell the story, while Mark and Matthew have two versions of this wonderful event. Whether it was the location (deserted, apart), or the amount of time the people were with Jesus (three days), Jesus is concerned for their welfare.

In Matthew 14:13-21, Jesus has just received the terrible news of John’s death at the  often-bloodied hands of Herod. John had been a kind of mentor to Jesus. He had baptized Jesus in the river Jordan. When John was arrested, Jesus took up and expanded upon John’s mission and message. 

It seems natural that this bitter news would go straight to Jesus’ heart. He would need time and space to grieve this painful loss. John’s death would also make even clearer Jesus’ own fate if he chooses to continue the work of God.

Jesus and his disciples get into a boat and head off to a place away from the needy crowds, to feel, to process and to reevaluate. A crowd figures out where Jesus is headed and arrive at the spot before him. Jesus puts aside his need for a time, out of compassion for these little, broken and oppressed people. He gives them all he can.

It is getting late in the day and the disciples are becoming anxious about the needs of the crowd. Maybe their own stomachs are beginning to grumble a bit? They come to Jesus and lay out the situation for him (as if he, sensitive as he is, hasn’t already taken this all into account). These people need food. They are in a deserted place.

Jesus who has been tending to the hungers of these people’s hearts and spirits for hours, turns the responsibility back to his disciples – to us. “They don’t need to go anywhere. You feed them.” This is the moment of truth. What is our response? The disciples, having surveyed their resources, come up with five loaves and two fish, and fervently hope that Jesus won’t ask them to give away their supper. 

Jesus has the crowd make itself comfortable on the grass, lifts the loaves and the fish in blessing, and asks his disciples to share what they have. Is it possible, or even likely, that Jesus’ disciples are the only ones in that vast throng to have had the forethought to bring along food when going to a deserted place? The people recognize their common need and their shared gratitude for what Jesus has given of himself to them. The sharing is contagious. Barriers fall. There is more than enough food to go around.

Have we been paying attention to Jesus? Are we frozen in the realization of our littleness, our inability to solve such huge problems, or by the meagerness of what we feel we have to offer? Jesus doesn’t ask us to impoverish ourselves, just to give what we can – to bless what we have and share it with those God places in our path.