To begin, ask yourself these questions:
What will I do when I retire?
Do I really need that big house?
We are constantly making choices, in matters serious and trivial, every day of our lives. A great deal of spiritual literature deals with moral choices that people face at any age, such as how to avoid sin and grow in grace. There has also been much emphasis traditionally on the kinds of decisions that are most often made in young adulthood: choosing a “state in life,” such as marriage or priesthood.
The kinds of decisions that are faced by people in their sixties and older, such as those required by retirement, diminished capacity, and caregiving obligations, do not fit neatly into such traditional categories. Where, then, do we look for guidance? Newspapers, bookstores, and the Internet are full of do-it-yourself advice about saving for retirement and choosing areas of the country with the lowest cost of living or the best golf courses. But the God-centered person needs more substantive guidance on how to make later-life decisions in the context of seeing, loving, and following Jesus; on how to find God in all things.
Decisions particular to this stage of life can be divided into two major groups: “whether” decisions and “how” decisions. Retirement is often a “whether” decision; caregiving and diminished capacity are more likely to involve “how” decisions. Ignatian spirituality has guidance for both.
One of the biggest decisions for many people is whether and when to retire. The first consideration is often whether they will have enough to live on after retirement. The answer isn’t as obvious as it may seem. “How much is enough?” depends on what assumptions we make about our standard of living after retirement, which can certainly affect the timing of retirement and, in the unforgiving economy of recent years, may lead to the decision to keep working indefinitely.
Another consideration is how long a person can expect to be physically and mentally able to continue doing the same job. The answer may be obvious for workers whose jobs are physically demanding, such as a nurse’s aide who lifts heavy patients. It may be less so for a corporate executive who must be fully engaged in important meetings despite an exhausting travel schedule and debilitating jet lag. The nurse’s aide may have an unequivocal signal in the form of chronic back pain, but for many people there is no bright line. In these circumstances, it is often easy to be in denial, refusing to admit that one’s professional skills are not what they once were, or simply that one is too tired too much of the time to enjoy life.
A related question that often arises at or after retirement concerns downsizing. This topic is so important, in itself and in relation to Ignatius’s advice, that it is considered separately in the next chapter.
Closely related to the decision to retire is the question of what to do in retirement. Generalized goals such as travel or spending time with family aren’t really helpful unless they can be expressed concretely. Most people don’t have the resources or inclination to spend all their time traveling; what, then, follows that trans-Pacific cruise or African safari? Does “spending time with family” mean doing more things with one’s spouse, babysitting one’s grandchildren, or sharing in caregiving responsibilities for another family member? Should you have a definite plan or wait to see what occasions arise?
Following are topics to consider while making decisions about retirement.
Working. Some retired people opt for part-time jobs because they either need the money or want the structure and social interaction involved. The type of work available on this basis will vary greatly in different locations, but it is important to face the likelihood that the work will be less interesting or rewarding than one’s former career.
Ministry of Service. Others may choose volunteer work. Many retired people welcome the opportunity to “give back” some of their talents and resources by helping others. There are innumerable opportunities to be of service in ways that fit one’s interests. A recent Google search for “volunteer opportunities New York City” yielded more than seventeen million results. In most cities, the number and quality of choices is overwhelming: drive an ambulance; be a candy striper in a hospital; work with a neighborhood organization that plants flowers and tends to the upkeep of local parks; read for the blind; take the Eucharist to a hospital or nursing home; care for abandoned animals at a local shelter; or use your existing business or professional skills to help the poor. Some kinds of volunteer work require training, such as tutoring GED candidates, assisting immigrants applying for citizenship, or teaching religious education at a local parish. Other agencies just need more hands to stock food pantries, serve meals at homeless shelters, or answer phones.
Whatever one’s interests, there is a tremendous advantage in service that includes a spiritual dimension. The Ignatian Volunteer Corps, which I mentioned in chapter 1, has members serving those in need through literally hundreds of different jobs: they hold regular meetings for prayer and faith sharing as well as lead retreats, provide spiritual direction and opportunities for spiritual reading and discussion. Other organizations at the parish, diocesan, or international level may provide a spiritual dimension in a variety of ways.
Finding the right fit involves some soul-searching. Why do I want to volunteer? Is it just to fill free time, or is there a cause I care about, a group of people I really want to help? Is there a religious dimension to the kind of work I am considering? Will this opportunity help me grow in my spiritual life, or will it divert my attention from it? Do I want to use the skills and knowledge from my former career, or would I be more comfortable with something entirely new? A lawyer acquaintance of mine retired from a demanding position as a partner of a major law firm and immediately went to work full-time for a not-for-profit legal organization. Many of my fellow Ignatian Volunteers choose to use their professional qualifications as nurses, social workers, and grant writers a few days a week in the service of the poor. I, on the other hand, told the Ignatian Volunteers coordinator that I was open to any kind of volunteer service except legal work—after all, I was retired from the legal profession!
Creativity. Others may discover that creativity can flower in later life. Michelangelo was eighty-eight when he sculpted his Rondanini Pietà, a much more profound treatment of the subject than the more famous version in St. Peter’s Basilica, completed when the artist was twenty-four.13 While few of us may have that kind of outsize talent, there are many ways of unlocking our inner creativity. A lawyer I knew wrote a book of wisdom for his grandchildren, for distribution to them after his death. A grandmother makes scrapbooks documenting her grandchildren’s lives with photos, artwork, and other media. Painting seems to be a favorite late-life pursuit of retired politicians, including Winston Churchill, Dwight Eisenhower, and George W. Bush. I have had a lifelong interest in photography, but in recent years I have noticed a new way of seeing through the lens, “praying with the camera.”
These and other means of expression offer opportunities for contemplation. We can all be open to new ideas, new graces, and a much deeper understanding of ourselves and our spiritual journey. God may be calling us to—who knows what?
In the face of any of these decisions, being well informed about the facts of a situation is a necessary starting point. The Internet has made essential information easier to find than was true even twenty years ago, but it still takes time and commitment to evaluate all of it. Then, the question is what criteria to apply in making a decision.
Ignatius devotes a great deal of space to what I have called “whether” questions. A substantial portion of his advice is devoted to what he calls “unchangeable elections,” such as marriage or priesthood. This is unsurprising, considering the appropriateness of the Exercises, then and now, for young people making life decisions such as whether to enter the Society of Jesus. But for those of us trying to make shorter-term decisions appropriate to the situations in which we find ourselves, Ignatius also offers guidance on how to make what he calls a “changeable election,” i.e., one that is not irrevocable. In this context, election means a choice between alternatives that are good, better, or neutral insofar as they relate to our living the Christian life. We are not talking about how to choose virtue over sin.14
It sometimes happens that, as Ignatius puts it, “God our Lord moves and attracts the will in such a way that a devout person, without doubting or being able to doubt, carries out what was proposed” (SpEx 175). The best choice appears with unmistakable clarity; all of one’s impulses and feelings move toward it, and any alternatives seem dry or meaningless. Ignatius is not talking about mystical experience or a kind of grace given only to the saints. God, after all, can give grace to whomever he chooses, in whatever circumstance. When this kind of attraction occurs, it may be like being swept up in a powerful current or seeing a goal clearly illuminated. Whatever the metaphor, there is little room for doubt, and usually there is a feeling of peace.
Decisions such as when to retire or whether to sell a house may present themselves with that kind of certainty, but most people face competing considerations that need to be sorted out. In some circumstances there is a need to focus on conflicting feelings, which may be too strong for reasoned analysis. Ignatius’s advice for those situations is discussed in the next chapter. Here we consider his advice on a rational way of proceeding.15 His principles can be summarized in modern terms as follows:
Define the question.
Strive to be as detached as possible without assuming the result you prefer.
Ask God to move your will toward what pleases him and makes you a better Christian.
List and rationally consider the advantages and disadvantages.
Make a decision based on what seems most reasonable.
Bring the decision to prayer and ask God “to receive and confirm it” (SpEx 183).
Although prayer is expressly mentioned in only two of the six steps of the process, it is hardly excluded from the others. We can better understand the importance of prayer in the entire process by considering some of the kinds of decisions discussed in this chapter.
Consider a hypothetical couple living in a northern state, who take winter vacations in Florida or the Caribbean and have always dreamed of living all year in a warm climate. Newly retired, should they move? It may look like a yes-or-no question, but there are all kinds of subsidiary questions. In researching such things as the cost of living in the new community, the availability of public transportation and medical services, cultural resources, and opportunities to meet people, the couple may have to examine more closely what their priorities are. Are they willing to make substantial adjustments to their lifestyle? How will the move affect their relationships with children and grandchildren? What kind of relationship with their adult children do they want at this stage of their lives? In short, what is involved in such a move other than a change of climate?
While some of these issues need to be looked at more carefully at the fourth step, listing advantages and disadvantages, it should be clear that the process ought to begin with prayer for enlightenment in defining the decision to be made.
Define the question as concretely as possible. It is sometimes hard to formulate a yes-or-no question. There may be several alternatives, such as what I call “subsidiary questions” in the hypothetical example above. Richard Hauser, SJ, former chairman of the Department of Theology at Creighton University, suggests a procedure that may facilitate the process: List all the possibilities; next, identify the pros and cons of each; then, rank the alternatives in order of importance; and use the one at the top of the list as the defined question to use in the rest of the exercise.16 I would add to this analysis that the process may illumine more than one important question, so that it may be profitable to repeat the exercise. However one approaches it, defining the question really is the most important part of the exercise, and it deserves a substantial commitment of time and reflection.
This may be the most difficult step for many people. The kinds of decisions we face in later life can be highly emotional: retirement from work with which our identity may be bound up, leaving a home with a lifetime of memories for a situation that may involve dependence. Ignatius’s advice is to see oneself as “the pointer of a balance,” that is, “not more inclined or emotionally disposed toward” one choice or the other.17 That may seem an almost unattainable goal in an emotionally charged situation. How can I possibly feel the same way about retiring as about working? About leaving my home as staying in it? The answer, which is not at all obvious, is to try as much as possible to set the feelings aside and examine the matter rationally. One way of testing our ability to do this is to apply what lawyers call the “reasonable person standard”: How would an ordinary, reasonable person assess the situation? Or, in Ignatius’s language, where would such a person place the pointer of the balance?
The prayer at step 2, then, should be for the grace to set aside feelings and calmly consider the reasons that should inform the choice.
Perhaps there are strong emotional pulls in both directions. You may really want to keep working at a job you love, but you have always looked forward to a time when your days were not governed by clocks and deadlines. Your spouse may want to keep working longer or may want to retire sooner. Your work may have become a physical and emotional burden that you no longer feel equal to, but you fear financial insecurity. You may realize that you are no longer up to the demands of your job, but you still want to continue.
In these and many similar situations, it may be difficult to proceed to a rational analysis of the consequences. The emotional force may simply be too strong—if we are relying solely on our own power. This is a point at which we really need to recognize and acknowledge our dependence on God. The prayer at step 3, then, should be for God to move your will toward the choice that is consonant with your life’s journey as a Christian in an ever-growing relationship with the Creator. God indeed can move the will, sometimes toward choices we might never have imagined.
Having aimed for detachment and then asked God to move the will, we are in the right frame of mind to identify and weigh the advantages and disadvantages of each alternative. This is a deliberative process that may require substantial time. The ramifications of major decisions can rarely be articulated in fifteen minutes or listed on a single page. A person thinking of selling a house, for example, would need to estimate how much might be realized from the sale and the affordability of alternative living arrangements. This in turn would require accurate information about, among other things, the real-estate market in the area; the condition of the property; whether the sale would result in a profit; and how predictable the cost of realistic alternative living arrangements would be. A move to a warmer climate might entail less frequent contact with children and grandchildren, or it might afford the opportunity to learn a new skill or to do a new kind of volunteer work.
An important caution at this stage is to consider the quality, not merely the quantity, of the pros and cons. There may be only one consideration on the “pro” side, but it may outweigh six or seven trivial “cons”—or vice versa.
Notice that this step assumes both a sincere effort at detachment in step 2 and a thorough and careful analysis in step 4. The “reasonable person standard” may be helpful here. But if it seems particularly difficult to make a choice, it might be profitable to review the previous steps, if time permits. Otherwise, it is important to recognize that 100 percent certainty is rare in life. The missing part is trust in God.
Asking God to “receive and confirm” the decision should flow naturally from what has gone before.18 How do we know that God has confirmed the decision? Many commentators on Ignatian spirituality suggest that we may find new reasons to support the decision, feel more emotionally drawn to it, or experience a growing feeling of certainty and a new sense of peace. This final step, which may take some time, is another way of asking God for the grace to live the decision and to find God in all things.
Some of the decisions that arise in the later stages of life do not fit neatly into either-or categories but are more open-ended. Finding out what the options are may not be easy. Some examples are
how to treat an illness, an issue that is not always straightforward, as the experience of Joseph in the preceding chapter illustrates;
how to care for an invalid spouse or parent, which includes a whole panoply of issues that may involve whether and where to find help, either from family members or paid professionals; how to safeguard one’s own health; whether assisted living, a nursing home, or hospice care is appropriate, and if so, where, and how to pay for it; and not least, how to give emotional support to the patient;
how to respond to diminished capacity, such as when to stop driving or living alone;
how to respond to children who insist on “helping”—or telling you what to do;
how to spend one’s “free” time; and
how to approach one’s spiritual journey as its length diminishes.
While the Spiritual Exercises do not specifically address any of these modern issues, they do contain wisdom that is as applicable in our times as in any other.
After discussing the process of choosing a “state of life,” Ignatius goes on to counsel that we should “think about how we ought to dispose ourselves to come to perfection in whatever state of life God our Lord may grant us to elect.”19 The formality of the language, even in modern translation, is a bit off-putting. A contemporary formulation for older adults might be, “How can I grow in grace, where I am, here and now?”
For Ignatius, the starting point is always to focus on Jesus, who took on our humanity so that we might learn how to be fully human. In one well-known example, Ignatius advises that when eating and drinking, one should try to imagine how Jesus conducted himself at table and then “try to imitate him.”20 This should not be reduced to “What would Jesus do?” (often asked as a preface to a predetermined answer). Rather, it should be a reminder to reflect on Jesus as our model in all things.
In the full Exercises, Ignatius introduces the principles of decision making at a point when the retreatant is asked to meditate on the life and ministry of Jesus from the time of his baptism in the Jordan to his arrival in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. He thus reminds us at the outset that the answers to questions about how to live begin and end with Jesus. One way to model ourselves after Jesus is by praying with Scripture.
While Scripture study is always valuable, it is not the same as praying with Scripture. Study emphasizes intellectual knowledge—for example, about the authorship of various books of the Bible, their cultural context, or the major theories of interpretation. This kind of knowledge can inform our prayer, but it isn’t prayer. Praying with Scripture sees the Bible as the living word, a channel for a closer relationship with God. The two principal ways of praying with Scripture in the Ignatian tradition are lectio divina (usually translated as “holy reading”) and imaginative prayer. Some people prefer one over the other, but they are not mutually exclusive.
In lectio divina, the emphasis is on the words of Scripture. The very title—“reading”—makes this clear. We read a passage slowly and attentively, several times over. We look for a word or phrase that stands out, and we savor it, turning it over in our minds, taking it into our hearts. We can ask ourselves, Why does this word or phrase resonate with me here and now? The language may illuminate a recent gift of grace, a weakness, or a pressing problem. What is God saying to me? We may want to simply rest awhile in our awareness of the presence of God in the living word. Then we may ask, What do I want to say to God?
Whatever insights have come to us we can bring to God in words of thanksgiving, repentance, or earnest supplication.
In imaginative prayer, the emphasis is on images. We try to visualize the situation as though we ourselves were there. We focus first on the details of the scene, perhaps searching for details omitted from a succinct Gospel passage. For example, Ignatius imagined Mary on the road to Bethlehem “seated on a burro; and with her were Joseph and a servant girl, leading an ox.”21 Whatever our initial image of the scene, we should try to experience it by imagining the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and textures.
What do the people in the episode look like? Are they young or old? Families with children? Are they well-dressed or in rags? Watch.
What are they saying? Are they shouting or whispering, or are they silent, listening to Jesus? What other sounds can I hear: horses, birds, children shouting, someone playing a flute, goats with bells around their necks? Listen.
What can I smell: fresh-caught fish? The wind off the Sea of Galilee? Breathe.
Can I taste the wine at the dinner of Simon the Pharisee? At the Last Supper? Savor.
Is Jesus touching a leper, a blind man, a woman washing his feet with precious ointment? Is Jesus touching me? What does his touch feel like? Yield.
From the sense impressions, it is an easy step to the feelings evoked by the scene. With whom do I identify: the forgiven sinner, the woman at the well, a skeptical onlooker in the crowd? How do I feel about what I have seen and heard? How do I feel about Jesus? What is Jesus saying to me? Listen. What do I want to say to Jesus? Speak to him.
People new to imaginative prayer sometimes object that they don’t know enough about daily life in ancient times to place themselves in the scene. For example, they can’t imagine how the crowds who followed Jesus would have been dressed, what Matthew’s tax station looked like, or what kind of food Martha was preparing when she complained to Jesus that she needed her sister’s help. There are several answers to this objection.
First, the emphasis is on our own feelings. If I identify with Martha, or for that matter with her sister, Mary, do I really need detailed cinematography? How does it feel to be doing all the work while the person who should be helping is sitting at Jesus’ feet? How does it feel to experience the grace of Jesus’ presence, only to be called away by a nagging sister? Can I tell Jesus how I feel? What is his response? Listen.
For those who feel better able to enter the prayer with the help of greater detail, it isn’t necessary to go back to school. Fiction, films, and art provide many resources.
Good historical fiction often presents a more vivid picture of daily life in ancient times than biblical commentary or history. Films can be even more evocative. There are some suggestions in the Ignatian Resources, but most readers will be able to find on their own the works that speak to them.
For those who think more visually than verbally, religious art can be evocative. In the West, the art of the Middle Ages focused almost exclusively on biblical subjects, and the Renaissance produced some of the greatest religious art of all time. In the Eastern churches, praying with icons is an ancient tradition. Henri J. M. Nouwen spent several days sitting in front of Rembrandt’s The Return of the Prodigal Son in The Hermitage, St. Petersburg. The painting, like much of Rembrandt’s mature work, focuses on the character of each of the principals: the father and his two sons. Nouwen lingered long and thoughtfully over the smallest details, such as the position of the father’s hands and the subtleties of light and shadow. As he went deeper into the images, he could experience the father’s love and the conflicting emotions of each of the sons. The book that resulted from this experience, The Return of the Prodigal Son, is a primer on the richness of imaginative prayer.
It isn’t necessary to go to St. Petersburg or Rome or even to the nearest museum (although there are rich resources in most major cities). Many museums have made large parts of their collections available online, and these databases are only likely to grow. Some religious art is actually easier to appreciate in a good-quality reproduction than on-site. The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican comes immediately to mind, especially for any of us with limited range of motion in our aging necks.22
Finally, one of the most noticeable things about religious art is how often the artist has used the landscapes and costumes of his own time. Medieval artists knew little or nothing about Judea in the time of Jesus, so they painted landscapes with medieval towers and showed women wearing the elaborate headdresses common in Europe at that time. If we imagine Peter’s mother-in-law getting up to prepare a meal for Jesus after he has cured her, there is nothing wrong with picturing her in our own kitchen. Perhaps we can use our modern appliances to offer hospitality to someone who has just done us a great favor? Or to someone who can offer us nothing but has needs that we can meet? In meditating on the arraignment of Jesus before Pilate (Luke 23:1–5), I have imagined what the scene might have been like in the Magistrate Judges Courtroom at the old federal courthouse in Foley Square. Pilate’s attempt to pass the buck to Herod was not very different from transferring a prisoner from federal to state custody—which in New York City is directly across the street. The federal marshals making the transfer would have to take a circuitous route to avoid the protesting crowds on the steps. I wonder how the Roman soldiers managed transporting Jesus to Herod’s court?
Imaginative prayer is particularly appropriate for praying with passages that describe an event in the life or ministry of Jesus, such as the visit of the Magi, the multiplication of loaves and fishes, or the cure of a blind man. Lectio divina, on the other hand, is well suited to more abstract passages without visual imagery, such as St. Paul’s meditation on love, or Jesus’ promise of the coming of the Holy Spirit, in the Last Discourse. There is no bright line dividing the two types of prayer, and both can help us to know, love, and imitate Jesus.
Do an online search for “Nativity Scene Old Masters” and click on “Images.” Choose one that appeals to you and that you can view full screen.23
Look first at the light in the picture: Where is it coming from? Who is illuminated? Are there areas of darkness as well? Who or what is in the dark space? Where are you—in the light or in the dark?
Look closely at each figure in the picture, one at a time. Don’t rush. You may want to start with some of the figures on the outer fringes of the picture, such as shepherds. Notice the expression on each of their faces: Which of them is feeling awe? Surprise? Confusion? Curiosity? Joy? Which ones are trying to get closer? Which are hanging back? Can you identify with one of these shepherds? Why are you there? What do you see? How do you feel about it?
Look at Mary. Does she look like a woman who has just given birth, or has the artist idealized her? Imagine how she might have looked an hour or two earlier. Is she still in pain from the birth? What is the expression on her face now? How does she feel about the sudden visit of the shepherds? Have they told her what they heard and saw in the fields? And, if so, is she surprised? Is there something you want to ask her?
Is Joseph in the picture? How old is he? Is he (as he is often depicted in art) worshipping the baby Jesus? What emotions do his face and body language suggest? Can you identify with Joseph? How would you feel about caring for a child born in a stable when you are far from home? What are you going to say to all these shepherds?
Look at the baby Jesus. Does he look like a real newborn baby? Do you want to pick him up and hold him? Ask Mary’s permission to pick him up. What will you say to him?
The variations are infinite—and, of course, you don’t have to choose the Nativity.
The difficulty with any selective list is that it leaves out more than it includes. The Gospel of the day is often a good place to begin. Among many other sources, the day’s readings can be found on the Web site of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings. The following passages deal with situations and teachings that may resonate with older adults.
For Imaginative Prayer
Luke 2:22–38 (Simeon and Anna)
Luke 7:11–17 (Raising of the Widow’s Son)
Luke 10:38–42 (Martha and Mary)
Luke 15:11–32 (The Prodigal Son)
Luke 18:18–23 (“What must I do to inherit eternal life?”)
Luke 21:1–4 (The Widow’s Mite)
John 4:1–29 (The Woman at the Well)
For Lectio Divina
Luke 6:20–26 (Sermon on the Plain)
Luke 18:18–23 (“What must I do to inherit eternal life?”)
Luke 21:1–4 (The Widow’s Mite)
John 1:1–5 or 1:1–14 (“In the beginning was the Word.”)
John 14:1–7, 25–28; 15:1–5, 11–17 (Last Discourse)
1 Corinthians 12:4–11 (Different Gifts)
1 Corinthians 13:1–13 (“Love never fails.”)
2 Corinthians 7–10 (Strength in Weakness)