Who We Find on the Other Side
Chapter 5: The Ignatian Myth & Narrative Project
This is the fifth part of a limited series I’m calling The Ignatian Myth & Narrative Project. If you want to get caught up, read:
We’ve finally arrived in the “upside-down” world.
For readers who’ve been with me since November, we’ve returned. I wrote about the “upside-down” world and our need to find a mentor a few months back—you can read that post here.
But whether you’ve been here before or are here for the first time, a bit of a refresher on the “upside-down” world is in order. To recap:
“It’s in Act 2 of any story, Jessica Brody reminds us in her essential novel-writing book, Save the Cat! Writes a Novel: The Last Book on Novel Writing You’ll Ever Need. It’s where the protagonist of a story necessarily steps into once they’ve answered the call to adventure and graduated from Act 1. It’s the opposite of the life the so-called hero has been living. It’s the place where the protagonist is challenged, where they’re given the opportunity to grow, to solve their problems, to imagine something new, to meet their needs, to test their skills and insights and to respond to whatever instigated the story in the first place.
“The upside-down world represents the opposite of whatever world the protagonist has been living in. The upside-down world, in short, pushes back against the hero’s status-quo world.”
Importantly, the “upside-down” world is where our protagonists meet their own Gandalfs (see: Grey) and Glindas (see: Good Witch). Something about stepping across that threshold we encountered last week allows us to now embrace these mentor figures in ways we otherwise couldn’t in our previous status quo. We now understand something of their purpose, something of what they have to teach us, something about the curious life they live—and why we might be called to emulate it.
In the eyes of Bilbo and Frodo, Gandalf goes from a “conjurer of cheap tricks” to a wizened old sage from whom they must learn to survive. Glinda becomes an essential guide and confidante for Dorothy, such as she never could have fathomed from her home in Kansas.
Something about crossing that threshold makes us more willing, more able, more receptive to growth. And perhaps—hopefully—we see ourselves in new ways, more powerful and full of possibility than we had previous imagined.
The Second Week of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises is an extended contemplation on the life of Jesus Christ, an invitation to sink into the story of God Incarnate, God entering history. The “grace” we are invited to pray for is this: “intimate knowledge of our Lord…that I may love him more and follow him more closely.” (SE 104)
In short, we desire to draw nearer to Christ, to accompany and be accompanied by this God who desires to draw nearer to us, the one who issued the call to adventure in the first place.
For those of us of a Christian persuasion, we can readily turn to Christ at this point in our adventure. Christ becomes our Gandalf, our Glinda, the wizard, the good witch. Ignatius’ invitation to us to sink into the Gospel stories and place ourselves in the scene is an opportunity to learn from Christ through word and deed—in the same way hobbits might learn from wizards.
Christ works miracles, and we stand by and watch. Christ draws near to the vulnerable, the sick, the outcast, and we follow. Christ flips over the status quo of retribution and violence and group-think, and we do the same. And then Christ turns to us and asks, “Can you follow my lead?” And we must respond.
We have just begun Lent, after all; we’ve crossed a liturgical threshold. The stories of Christ that we engage in this season are ones that necessarily point through the ugliness of death and suffering to the light and hope of new life. But we had to cross that threshold; we have to make this 40-day journey. We have to accompany the Christ who saves others but seemingly refuses to save himself.
An “upside-down” world indeed.
And even if Christianity is not your religious or faith tradition, there is still a figure within your own spiritual lives that can and should challenge you, shake you out of your status quo and engage you on the far side of the threshold. What sacred stories can you turn to?
This stage of our journey is about drawing near to others, to those who inspire us to change and grow and become our best selves. Who can we turn to? Who might need to turn to us?
And another thing:
I wrote a reflection on pilgrimage and Ash Wednesday to kick off our annual Lenten series at the Jesuit Conference of Canada and the United States. Read my reflection here and sign up for the series here.
You have such an approachable yet poignant perspective. I'm grateful for this series, Eric - thank you!