Imagination of the Place
I first encountered Ignatius of Loyola at the Dominican House of Studies in Washington, DC. while taking a class there entitled, Lay Spiritual Formation. In it we studied such things as mimetic theory of Rene Girard, Walter Wink’s theology of creative non-violence and engaging the powers, as well as Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercizes. Being a Lutheran, I was never exposed to the writings of the founder of the Jesuits, though I had heard his name. It became for me a sort of awakening, a spiritual breakthrough, where you feel like you’ve been searching for something for years, and you didn’t know it, and then you find it, and it’s an instant fit. Ignatius was this for me.

Ignatius of Loyola
While not being a Roman Catholic myself, the writings of Ignatius struck a chord with me. For too long I had been struggling with prayer as it had been presented to me. There was either the “extremely heart-felt” prayer, complete with raised hands, squinty eyes, pained expression, improvised words interrupted (repeatedly) with stock phrases (“dear Lord, Jesus Christ, I just, just, just, just pray to you today that you’ll just, just, just, just, just, just, just ……”.), or with the purely scripted prayers, which worked somewhat better, or with the “inspiration devotional” prayers that came with an anecdote from daily life and a picture of a waterfall or scenic-sunset-over-wheat-field-with-red-barn-picture. None of these prayer methods are bad, of course; it’s a matter of what works for each of us best. There is no right or wrong. But I had never been able to connect well with any of these, myself.
Then, of course, there was always silent meditation, finding God in the pure absence. This was a dead end for me. My mind moved too fast, and within minutes I was either talking to myself in my head or falling asleep. I’m not a contemplative.
But Ignatius was none of these. In his Spiritual Exercizes he proposes a simple method for reading through scripture in prayer that’s often called “the imagination of the place”. In it you begin with a time of prayer to focus your thoughts, and you ask the Holy Spirit to guide your heart and mind. Then you read through the scripture passage carefully to make sure you catch all the words, all the details. Then, you step back again and imagine yourself in the place of Bible story. It works best for passages from the Gospels that narrate events – like the birth, or a healing story or the trial and crucifixion. I wouldn’t try imagining yourself in the writings of Paul, as that’s too abstract most of the time. So you picture yourself, for example at the trial of Jesus. You imagine the sanhedrin sitting on their benches with their fine robes, and the chatter among them. You picture the crowds outside, the poor, the rich, the angry, the chaotic mob scene that’s being held in check by Roman guards with their long pole-arms and short swords. Then you imagine yourself seeing Jesus there, being brought in, questioned, while the people sit outside at the barrel warming their hands. And so on ……
You imagine each part of the scene, the sounds, the sights, the smells, and you imagine yourself in them. Then you read through the text again, with all this in your mind, and you watch it come alive. The Spirit can guide our minds, and the scriptures can come alive in ways even we can’t control. It’s very powerful. And it’s great for people who are highly visual like me. You don’t have to put effort into clearing your mind. Instead, you put effort into filling it up. The focus on all the senses is what takes you away from the distractions, and it brings the text alive.
The exercize then concludes by saying the Lord’s Prayer.
This Advent, for mid-week services, I’ve been using the Ignatian imagination of the place in lieu of a written sermon. It isn’t just to make things easier for me in terms of prep time (though that doesn’t hurt), but to provide a way for us to do something different: to engage the scriptures our selves, have them come alive in our own minds and hearts. Worship can be, too often, a sort of spectator event, where you have a liturgy and music and sermon put on for you. Your place is to sing along or read along, take communion when it comes. All good stuff. But that’s only part of the story. The other part has to do with encountering God in a meaningful, personal way – one that isn’t at a safe distance, and that does not allow me to hide behind my carefully crafted self-image or public exterior. But how often do we do that? My hope for Advent was to open a new door for those, like me, who need more to engage God, not less.
One of my first funerals as a new pastor was for a man named Chuck Graff. He lived in Wilmette, Illinois, and was a marine in WWII. And not just any marine, he stormed Iwo Jima, and made it to the top of the hill with the guys who raised the flag. He showed me his case of medals – tons of them – and well-deserved. Here was a man who lost 1/3 of everyone he knew in the morning by the end of the day. He’s part of the reason our country is still standing. Yet, when I say Iwo Jima today, how many people remember?





I also got to visit some different churches, including this one: Bear River Lutheran. It’s literally out in the middle of the woods, right next to The Bear River, about 70 miles from Canada. It’s been there since 1915, and still has a small, but vibrant worshiping community.
And, by 9pm we got to pull up our chairs in the east end of the parking lot and watch the Marana fireworks. For me it’s the perfect spot, being far enough away to not have your ears blasted, but close enough to see everything clearly. Plus, and this is a big plus, you don’t have to fight the traffic on Silverbell and Cortaro.
A couple days ago (July 3rd) a bunch of us from Lord of Grace went out with our kids to the 
So, I will finally be switching to a new class this fall, REL 221 – New Testament. I’m looking forward to getting to teach the NT from the perspective of scholarly criticism and analysis – different from the way one leads church Bible studies or sermons. The class is Monday and Wednesday from 11:40am to 12:55pm at the Northwest Campus.


