The Two Standards

A couple of years back, there was a meme about how men “can’t stop thinking about the Roman Empire.” The idea was not that some men think about the Empire—the assumption was that we all do—it was that men tended to think about it often. 

I don’t know what others think. I do know that when my thoughts drift to Rome, they tend to gravitate toward the Vatican hill, not ancient Gaul—but I can say that in my boyhood, my mind did meander toward visions of legions on the march in gleaming breast plates following the vexilla and aquila which symbolized their units.   

It was those banners—and the later flags and ensigns that were part of the military of his day—that St. Ignatius had in mind when he created his “Meditation on the Two Standards” for the second week of his Spiritual Exercises. In that meditation, the retreatant is asked to contemplate two armies massed against each other on a field of battle. On one side are the forces of Satan, marshalled behind his banner. Opposite them are the forces of Christ, similarly arrayed. The retreatant—and now you and I—is asked to choose sides.

And we have to choose sides: in the spiritual life, there is no sitting out the fight.

On the surface, the choice seems easy: of course, each of us would rally to Christ. In making the retreat (or reading blogs like this), each of us has already shown Who we want to follow. But Satan (and yes, he is very real!) is a devious one. The “Father of Lies” (Jn 8:44), who comes as “an angel of light” (2 Cor. 11:14), is a master of seduction. Like Caesar or Pompey in ancient Rome (there I go!), he uses our vulnerable points and even our strengths against us. Ignatius, ever a military man, noted how the Evil One had worked in his own life and wants us to understand his tactics at work in ours.

The first thing Ignatius teaches us is that the Devil will use our desire for riches against us. We have a natural desire for material security. Rainy-day funds and ample savings accounts can—and do—protect us and our families from the problems associated with illness or economic uncertainty. But, of course, desire for security can, unchecked, become greed. We can cut corners to acquire wealth. We might also sacrifice other, more important, goods (like familial obligations, friendships, and our relationships with God) in our quests for financial safety.

Most of us get that and work hard to find a “work-life” balance. But Jesuit Fr. John Hardon, in his reflection on the standards, notes that the riches we covet may be a little more subtle. For some of us in the academic world (at whatever level), earning multiple degrees might be the riches we covet. Others may strive to tally multiple and diverse religious experiences: pilgrimages, retreats, memberships in prayer groups, etc.

If we crave these things because they can help us come closer to Christ and help others do the same, great. But there is a temptation to strive for these things so that we might look good in the eyes of others. I know: I’ve struggled with these myself.

Ignatius recognized that with wealth–monetary, academic, and spiritual–we easily rise in the esteem of others. Thus, we risk taking the second step toward Satan’s standard: craving honor. Like coveting “riches,” wanting to be admired is understandable. We are made for community—to love and be loved. Being held in the esteem of our fellows can look and feel like love. But it isn’t. Seeking validation from the wrong people can tempt us to compromise our Christian principles, and we can slip farther away from the standard of the One we claim to follow.

More importantly, uncritically accepting the honors lavished on us can lead to the most ancient of the deadly sins: pride, thinking ourselves to be better than others. It was pride, after all, that was the cause of Lucifer’s fall (Isaiah 14:12-15), as well as that of humanity (Gen. 3: 1-24). Self-esteem is good: as humans, we are all, unlike any other created beings, made in the image and likeness of God (Gen 1:27), the only creature He made for Himself (Is. 43:7). But as noble as we are, we are not God. And in very practical, if subtle, ways, pride gets us to forget that.

Sadly, Original Sin makes drifting toward the standard of Satan our default setting. So if we don’t make a conscious decision for Christ, we’ll find ourselves in trouble. Moreover, Jesus Himself was clear: “Whoever is not with Me, is against Me” (Mt. 12:30). And being with Him, Ignatius tells us, means cultivating a spirit of detachment when it comes to riches and honors and positively rejecting pride.

His long explication of the Standard of Satan is Ignatius’s, the military commander’s, “intel briefing” for Christians. Knowing what we are up against, with God’s grace, we can defend against it. Thankfully, he also shows us the other way, what the ancient Didache called “the Way of Life” and what Ignatius called “the Standard of Christ”. Like eating vegetables, getting a yearly physical, and cutting back on social media, there is not a lot appealing on the surface about Jesus’ standard. Against the desire for riches, Ignatius proposes actively seeking spiritual—and in some cases even material—poverty. To come closer to Jesus, He must be the focus. The victim trapped in her car can’t be rescued if she refuses to leave her BMW behind. You and I can’t really give ourselves to Christ if we can’t give up part of our Saturday afternoon game-watches and Sunday morning tee times to worship Him—and we can’t serve both Him and mammon (Mt. 6:24). 

Ignatius also tells us that to follow Christ, we need to want to be, in his words, “scorned, despised, ignored, rejected.” Jesus tells us in His Sermon on the Mount that we will be blessed when(!) we are “persecuted for the sake of righteousness” (Mt.5:11). Not if: when. To stand with Jesus means to be subject to ridicule. As one wise man once told me, “If you go through life and haven’t made any enemies, you’ve never really stood for anything.” We shouldn’t look for scorn by being selfish and cruel, but by being selfless and compassionate. Jesus suffered for doing the will of His Father; being mocked for doing His will puts us in pretty good company. 

All of this can and will, if we let it, humble us. And being humble, the final sign of being under Christ’s banner, is the only way we can defeat the Enemy. Because only through humility can we truly see our need for the grace of Jesus, and it is the only way we can truly do His will.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that when we speak of the Standard of Christ, the image St. Ignatius presents is that of a flag flying as we enter (spiritual) battle. But in English, the term “standard” also refers to a norm or an ideal.

The “Standard of Christ,” then, is also the ideal for which we must strive as Jesus’s disciples. Like Him, we need to be women and men detached from the things of this world, willing to bring our faith to our brothers and sisters and be misunderstood and even mocked in the doing. Moreover, we—like Him—need to have the humility to say to God “not my will, but yours be done.” An impossible ideal? Perhaps. But as Jesus reminds us, “for human beings this is impossible, but for God all things are possible” (Mt 19:26).

What is this standard? What best symbolizes the impossible ideal which, with God’s help, we can nonetheless attain? What sign can we stand under and know that we are on the side of what is Godly and good? What ensign reminds us of the love of God we are called to share with others?

The Cross: the Standard of Christ.

 

A.M.D.G. / B.V.M.H.