When I was applying for the Jesuits, I was thinking about my back-up plan if I was denied. If not a Jesuit, I wanted to be a teacher. I probably would have applied for a program like Teach for America had I not been accepted (and then the back-up for that just for kicks would have been to train as a masseur. I used to give massages before I entered, and many said I did a pretty good job). Who I am most definitely has been influenced by the many wonderful teachers I have had throughout my life, and I feel incredibly blessed to have been provided the education I received. They helped to shape and develop the person I am today and the way I think about the world around me.
As a result, I look to the future and towards my upcoming assignment at Jesuit High School with a lot of excitement and consolation. In this upcoming period of my formation called regency, most Jesuits are typically missioned to teach high school at one of our Jesuit high schools around the country for around two to three years. I will be teaching four sections of freshmen faith formation, and with two of my other Jesuit brothers teaching the same class, none of these freshmen will be able to get away from Jesuit without having had at least one Jesuit in the classroom.
It's a curious thing to think that, at age 27, this will be my first full time job ever, since I entered the Jesuits right out of college. I have spent practically all of my life in the classroom, which obviously will not change in these upcoming years. But, I will now be on the opposite side of the classroom for a change, and thank God for that!
In preparation for regency, I had the privilege along with a number of other neo-regents from across the country to get some teacher training here in California. Half of the group was placed at Bellarmine Prep in San Jose, and the other half was placed at St. Ignatius High School in San Francisco, which is where I was assigned for the summer. Working with my master teacher, I was able to make some important notes about the vital details I need to keep in mind for the fall such as classroom management and lesson planning. If I can come up with some arbitrary numbers, it seems to me that 10% of teaching is the actual content of a course and 90% of teaching is the manner in which that content is conveyed to the students.
When I was talking to a older Jesuit a number of weeks ago, he remarked that I should simply aim at surviving my first year of regency. Well, that seems like a rather minimal goal to have and which also gives the sense that the first year teaching will kinda suck. While surviving might be what ends up happening, I would like to do more than simply survive my first year in regency. My goal is to thrive God willing.
As a teacher, I expect to be quite demanding at an appropriate level for incoming freshmen while being fair at the same time. I want to begin challenging them to think critically about faith and to provide them with the some tools to begin thinking about it more deeply. I hope to develop budding prayer lives that aims at a relationship of depth with God. While doing this, I also want to love my students, and this certainly does not mean giving out an easy 'A.'
Well, these are goals anyway and hopefully what I don't end up doing is simply crashing-and-burning. And hopefully I don't end up burning for being considered a heretic, lol.
I would like to mention that I am extremely grateful thus far to have amazing support from the school and Jesuit community in Portland. I feel that they have gone out of their way to show how much they are looking forward to having new Jesuits and have made sure that the proper structures are in place to enable me to do my best.
This is the final post of this series that I have written throughout this past week. If you have been following along, I hope it has been a good read. I was given a real gift the other day when an incoming Jesuit novice wrote me saying how much he found my writing over the past year to be moving and inspirational to him. That makes my writing completely worth the time. I never know who reads it, but I throw my seeds (or whatever it is I throw) and hope that my reader is able to find at least one thing that is helpful to them.
I'm now off to Los Altos, CA for an 8-day silent retreat. But, before that, my sister has just come home with sesame balls. Mmmmmmm
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Looking Back, Looking Forward - First Studies
The day after I took First Vows, my provincial gave me my first mission--to live at Ciszek Hall in the Bronx and to study philosophy at Fordham University. A few months ago, after three years there, I finally graduated with, as we like to say in my community, the highly elusive and coveted MAPR (Master's in Philosophical Resources). The MAPR is similar to an MA in philosophy, except that its requirements are much different. We approach philosophy historically, starting with Plato and Aristotle and work our way forward. The program culminates with the De Universa - an oral exam administered by three philosophy professors who grill you for one hour about broad philosophical questions.
Many Jesuits strongly see this mission as a true act of obedience, as they would much rather be doing something else. They validly ask what how philosophy is relevant to their work as Jesuits, and some do in fact say that philosophy has little to no influence with their current work. Some tell horror stories of their time in philosophy--one had such a strong visceral reaction to first studies that upon visiting the old site where he studied many years before, he promptly threw up.
During my time at Seattle University, it was my own choice to study philosophy during my first two years there. I actually rather like the discipline, although I'm quite aware that I'm in the minority position here. So, I found myself in a privileged position, since some of my other Jesuit brothers hadn't studied philosophy before.
My approach to philosophy stems from the root meaning of the word. Philo in the Greek means love and sophia means wisdom. At its core, philosophy is a journey towards the love of wisdom, which is a helpful trait to have as a Jesuit. Indeed, love of God should not contradict love of wisdom -- these loves should very much be in harmony. Of course, that is a disputable point depending on one's perspective, but Christian thinkers I assume would not argue with me on that.
One of the lessons from my philosophy studies at Seattle University that I carried with me into Fordham was the importance of slow thinking. The questions that philosophers have asked throughout the centuries are not easy ones to grasp, and it necessarily demands a lot of time, energy, and patience if one is to plumb its depths of meaning. For me, I have never been satisfied simply regurgitating what ancient philosophers have stated about a particular topic. I seek to understand the importance of the questions being asked and to ponder why they are being asked in the first place. I also ponder whether the question being asked is relevant, which does not always seem so because some philosophers don't seem to know how to put forward a clear thought. At least it seems that way to the contemporary ear. And, to be honest, some of their questions are rather irrelevant today.
Some of the more compelling questions I encountered were: What does it mean to be a human being? How did the universe come to be? What can we know of the world around us? Can anything meaningful ever be said of God philosophically, or must we necessarily rely on Scripture? (The Catholic Church historically has used philosophical discourse to talk about God without relying on faith as a way of asserting that God-talk is indeed possible even without faith while stressing that reason alone can only take us so far) Why is there evil in the world? What is truth? What is justice? Are we truly free beings? The quest of philosophy is the quest for understanding, to set aside substantial time to reflect and meditate upon some of these big questions. In an age where so many can live an unreflected life spurred on by habit, routine, and technology, philosophy necessarily requires the person to step back and to consider the life one leads in light of these major questions.
For me, the most significant questions related to those concerning human nature, to God, and to an understanding of the created world (some claim the universe simply 'is' and never had a beginning point, a claim I don't buy). While most of the philosophers we engage with are dead, I would think about the type of questions I would want to ask were the philosopher alive today. For me, philosophy is not about looking back to the past and dwelling there ad nauseum. Minimally, it is at least entertaining the idea that the philosophers of the past might have something worthwhile to say to the present, which might challenge the way we look and understand the world in our own time and place. Might what they say uncover false assumptions and opinions that we hold today? Or, how might we respond to their questions and give clarity to our own thought?
So, the question is: why is philosophy studies relevant for a Jesuit? It is important to acknowledge that we live in an age where people more readily question their beliefs and no longer view tradition as a sufficient source for truth. The Catholic Church, as a result, continues to be in need of those who are willing to critically think and give well-reasoned responses to today's probing questions. As religious, people expect us to know what we are talking about, and they can smell bull**** from a mile away. Of course, studying philosophy will not magically give us all the answers we need. Indeed, sometimes it leaves us with more questions than answers. And sometimes it just leaves us dazed and confused. I think, though, that the practice of critical thinking is essential in our ministries, as I have witnessed many people who do not respect and who readily dismiss priests they deem to be incompetent.
Second, most of the philosophers we study are not people of faith. It is very easy for religious people to live in their own bubble and to expect that everyone should think the same way they do. It is much easier to converse and talk with those who share our same beliefs. Yet, in an increasingly globalized and diverse world, it is essential for us to be able to develop the skill to have honest and meaningful conversations with those who see otherwise, and one of the ways this is done is by truly making the effort to see as the other sees. Nothing is so maddening as those who pompously assume they are right without even respecting what the other has to say. One might be right, but what is gained if the other is alienated in the process? Philosophy truly is a time when we are forced to try to see things the way others see them. We don't have to agree, but the manner in which we disagree is essential to the way we relate to the world today.
Finally, Jesuits are challenged to find God in all things. I remember my provincial urging us who were going to embark in philosophical study to do our best to find God in our work. For me, this became an important interpretive lens as I sifted through various philosophers. If I was conscientious, I tried to ask where God was found in what I was reading and studying, and trust me, it can very much seem like God is absent in the studies. Thankfully, I feel that I was able to keep this challenge in front of me in many instances, as many of the papers I wrote reflected this struggle of finding God. If I may exaggerate, if one can find God in philosophy, then one can find God anywhere.
I can write so much more about the past three years, and indeed I have so much more to say. For example, there was so much I learned and experienced during this time that was really important to my growth and development and that has absolutely nothing to do with philosophy. But, this post is already getting long, so I'll restrict this post primarily to reflecting on the academic aspect of my previous mission. I'll end by saying that I find myself quite grateful for my time in first studies in spite of the numerous challenges I faced, and I was privileged to feel God's intimate presence in a variety of ways during the past three years.
On an unrelated note, tomorrow is the Feast of St. Ignatius day - a cause for celebration. I intend to do just that =p Happy St. Ignatius day!
Many Jesuits strongly see this mission as a true act of obedience, as they would much rather be doing something else. They validly ask what how philosophy is relevant to their work as Jesuits, and some do in fact say that philosophy has little to no influence with their current work. Some tell horror stories of their time in philosophy--one had such a strong visceral reaction to first studies that upon visiting the old site where he studied many years before, he promptly threw up.
During my time at Seattle University, it was my own choice to study philosophy during my first two years there. I actually rather like the discipline, although I'm quite aware that I'm in the minority position here. So, I found myself in a privileged position, since some of my other Jesuit brothers hadn't studied philosophy before.
My approach to philosophy stems from the root meaning of the word. Philo in the Greek means love and sophia means wisdom. At its core, philosophy is a journey towards the love of wisdom, which is a helpful trait to have as a Jesuit. Indeed, love of God should not contradict love of wisdom -- these loves should very much be in harmony. Of course, that is a disputable point depending on one's perspective, but Christian thinkers I assume would not argue with me on that.
One of the lessons from my philosophy studies at Seattle University that I carried with me into Fordham was the importance of slow thinking. The questions that philosophers have asked throughout the centuries are not easy ones to grasp, and it necessarily demands a lot of time, energy, and patience if one is to plumb its depths of meaning. For me, I have never been satisfied simply regurgitating what ancient philosophers have stated about a particular topic. I seek to understand the importance of the questions being asked and to ponder why they are being asked in the first place. I also ponder whether the question being asked is relevant, which does not always seem so because some philosophers don't seem to know how to put forward a clear thought. At least it seems that way to the contemporary ear. And, to be honest, some of their questions are rather irrelevant today.
Some of the more compelling questions I encountered were: What does it mean to be a human being? How did the universe come to be? What can we know of the world around us? Can anything meaningful ever be said of God philosophically, or must we necessarily rely on Scripture? (The Catholic Church historically has used philosophical discourse to talk about God without relying on faith as a way of asserting that God-talk is indeed possible even without faith while stressing that reason alone can only take us so far) Why is there evil in the world? What is truth? What is justice? Are we truly free beings? The quest of philosophy is the quest for understanding, to set aside substantial time to reflect and meditate upon some of these big questions. In an age where so many can live an unreflected life spurred on by habit, routine, and technology, philosophy necessarily requires the person to step back and to consider the life one leads in light of these major questions.
For me, the most significant questions related to those concerning human nature, to God, and to an understanding of the created world (some claim the universe simply 'is' and never had a beginning point, a claim I don't buy). While most of the philosophers we engage with are dead, I would think about the type of questions I would want to ask were the philosopher alive today. For me, philosophy is not about looking back to the past and dwelling there ad nauseum. Minimally, it is at least entertaining the idea that the philosophers of the past might have something worthwhile to say to the present, which might challenge the way we look and understand the world in our own time and place. Might what they say uncover false assumptions and opinions that we hold today? Or, how might we respond to their questions and give clarity to our own thought?
So, the question is: why is philosophy studies relevant for a Jesuit? It is important to acknowledge that we live in an age where people more readily question their beliefs and no longer view tradition as a sufficient source for truth. The Catholic Church, as a result, continues to be in need of those who are willing to critically think and give well-reasoned responses to today's probing questions. As religious, people expect us to know what we are talking about, and they can smell bull**** from a mile away. Of course, studying philosophy will not magically give us all the answers we need. Indeed, sometimes it leaves us with more questions than answers. And sometimes it just leaves us dazed and confused. I think, though, that the practice of critical thinking is essential in our ministries, as I have witnessed many people who do not respect and who readily dismiss priests they deem to be incompetent.
Second, most of the philosophers we study are not people of faith. It is very easy for religious people to live in their own bubble and to expect that everyone should think the same way they do. It is much easier to converse and talk with those who share our same beliefs. Yet, in an increasingly globalized and diverse world, it is essential for us to be able to develop the skill to have honest and meaningful conversations with those who see otherwise, and one of the ways this is done is by truly making the effort to see as the other sees. Nothing is so maddening as those who pompously assume they are right without even respecting what the other has to say. One might be right, but what is gained if the other is alienated in the process? Philosophy truly is a time when we are forced to try to see things the way others see them. We don't have to agree, but the manner in which we disagree is essential to the way we relate to the world today.
Finally, Jesuits are challenged to find God in all things. I remember my provincial urging us who were going to embark in philosophical study to do our best to find God in our work. For me, this became an important interpretive lens as I sifted through various philosophers. If I was conscientious, I tried to ask where God was found in what I was reading and studying, and trust me, it can very much seem like God is absent in the studies. Thankfully, I feel that I was able to keep this challenge in front of me in many instances, as many of the papers I wrote reflected this struggle of finding God. If I may exaggerate, if one can find God in philosophy, then one can find God anywhere.
I can write so much more about the past three years, and indeed I have so much more to say. For example, there was so much I learned and experienced during this time that was really important to my growth and development and that has absolutely nothing to do with philosophy. But, this post is already getting long, so I'll restrict this post primarily to reflecting on the academic aspect of my previous mission. I'll end by saying that I find myself quite grateful for my time in first studies in spite of the numerous challenges I faced, and I was privileged to feel God's intimate presence in a variety of ways during the past three years.
On an unrelated note, tomorrow is the Feast of St. Ignatius day - a cause for celebration. I intend to do just that =p Happy St. Ignatius day!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Looking Back, Looking Forward - The Novitiate
On August 19, 2006, I entered the Jesuits. I sometimes get some strange questions like: "how long does it take until you become a Jesuit?" Well, it's not like I should expect everyone to know everything about our lives. When men choose to enter that door to their respective novitiates on entrance day, that is the day they become Jesuits. Of course, we are always growing more and more into that identity, but we are technically considered a part of the order at that time.
Some Jesuits look at me funny when I mention that I actually enjoyed my two-year experience as a novice. Well, maybe enjoy isn't the right word, but for me, that time as a novice was an essential time for my own growth and development as a human being.
Practically speaking, I feel in a lot of ways that I truly grew as an adult in developing life skills important for anyone. For example, I entered without my driver's license, and a few months in, my novice master out of obedience told me that I had to get my license, which I was more than happy to do. I learned how to cook, and not the sort of cooking where you learn to boil water and heat some ragu sauce. I also came to highly value the importance of cleaning and taking care of the place I lived (which is a good reminder for me, since I can be a slob still. This also reminds me of something a speaker said to the guys at Ciszek some time ago, that she was truly impressed that grown men were talking about properly cleaning the kitchen at community gathering). It's kind of true for me that the state of my room is similar to the state of my mind.
Novices are sent on a number of experiments during their two years, and for me, I found my experiments to be important in challenging and stretching me. I probably would never have done most of the things I did as a novice in any other context, nor would I have traveled as much and gotten the opportunity to visit so many different cities. For example, I spent some time on a native reservation. I was privileged to live in a L'Arche community for a few months. I also had the unique opportunity to visit Colombia. Though challenging in their own way, I thought it was awesome to be able to do things I never would have considered doing otherwise, and I truly learned a lot from those experiences.
Spiritually, it was as a novice that I truly began to develop my prayer life and an authentic relationship with God. As someone who is typically unstructured with his time, I appreciated an external schedule (what in Jesuit lingo we term as an 'ordo') that helped me to order my day. One would hope that I would learn how to pray with all of this time structured in the day for it. I also learned how to be silent and to listen and discern the movements of God in my life (literally, for more than 30 silent days praying with the Spiritual Exercises).
I also learned how to faith share under the Oregonian model. We have a reputation with other Jesuits for 'oversharing' because as novices, we would faith share every week, and there would be a double round. I like to think we simply learned how to share honestly and authentically, which fostered and challenged us to have relations of depth. In the first round, everyone was invited to share their consolations and desolations of the week and how they experienced God. Unique to our province is the second round, in which after everyone shares, we go off for twenty minutes to pray over what everyone has shared, and then we reconvene to share the fruit of our prayer. Sure, the sessions might have seemed drawn out and somewhat painful at times, but I think these sessions helped to develop a level of openness and trust I think is important in Jesuit communities. We weren't simply sharing at one another, but we were encouraged to share and to be able to have a dialogue with one another about our lives in a meaningful way.
The novitiate was also a very important time for me because, with all of this time for prayer and reflection, a lot of old demons began to surface that was necessary for me to face. I found myself wrestling with a lot of old emotions that my novitiate experience brought to the forefront of my consciousness. I remember feelings of uncertainty, wondering, as I mentioned earlier, what the heck I had gotten myself into. Wounds from my childhood that I thought I had gotten over a long time ago resurfaced in unexpected and surprising ways. Sometimes, I felt the darkness so strongly that I wanted to kill myself. Of course, that wouldn't look too good on the Jesuits =p Through these times, I am extremely grateful to my formators who gave me so much love and support during those times and who allowed me to be open and honest with what I was going through. It was especially in these shared moments that I felt my love of the Society truly deepen and grow. These men were not afraid to confront that darkness that I faced, because they believed much more deeply in God's healing light.
On the day of my First Vows, I remember feeling so much joy and consolation on that day. I truly believed that God had given me so much, and that God was truly inviting me into this way of life by sharing the gifts I have been given in this unique way. I prayed over the vow formula we had to recite, and I felt strongly that I would not recite those words unless I truly meant it. When it came my turn to recite my vows, I had a difficult time getting through the first line. Not for lack of belief, but for how moved I felt in proclaiming my vows before God. I started to tear up, which got my mom to tear up, which got another mom to tear up. Of course, it was a huge shock to everyone that I got emotional =p
In one of the lines, Jesuits profess that God will give us the graces we need to live our lives. In other words, we acknowledge that this life is truly impossible without God, and it is in God that we must necessarily place our trust. That is why our prayer life is so important for us. If we are not connected to God through our daily prayer, then we begin to lose our connection to the One who truly makes our life possible.
I remember sharing my vow picture with one of the philosophy students here at Fordham, and she remarked how happy we looked. At least for myself, I knew that was true at the time that picture was taken. It has remained as my desktop wallpaper for quite some time. It's good for me to be reminded from time to time.
Some Jesuits look at me funny when I mention that I actually enjoyed my two-year experience as a novice. Well, maybe enjoy isn't the right word, but for me, that time as a novice was an essential time for my own growth and development as a human being.
Practically speaking, I feel in a lot of ways that I truly grew as an adult in developing life skills important for anyone. For example, I entered without my driver's license, and a few months in, my novice master out of obedience told me that I had to get my license, which I was more than happy to do. I learned how to cook, and not the sort of cooking where you learn to boil water and heat some ragu sauce. I also came to highly value the importance of cleaning and taking care of the place I lived (which is a good reminder for me, since I can be a slob still. This also reminds me of something a speaker said to the guys at Ciszek some time ago, that she was truly impressed that grown men were talking about properly cleaning the kitchen at community gathering). It's kind of true for me that the state of my room is similar to the state of my mind.
Novices are sent on a number of experiments during their two years, and for me, I found my experiments to be important in challenging and stretching me. I probably would never have done most of the things I did as a novice in any other context, nor would I have traveled as much and gotten the opportunity to visit so many different cities. For example, I spent some time on a native reservation. I was privileged to live in a L'Arche community for a few months. I also had the unique opportunity to visit Colombia. Though challenging in their own way, I thought it was awesome to be able to do things I never would have considered doing otherwise, and I truly learned a lot from those experiences.
Spiritually, it was as a novice that I truly began to develop my prayer life and an authentic relationship with God. As someone who is typically unstructured with his time, I appreciated an external schedule (what in Jesuit lingo we term as an 'ordo') that helped me to order my day. One would hope that I would learn how to pray with all of this time structured in the day for it. I also learned how to be silent and to listen and discern the movements of God in my life (literally, for more than 30 silent days praying with the Spiritual Exercises).
I also learned how to faith share under the Oregonian model. We have a reputation with other Jesuits for 'oversharing' because as novices, we would faith share every week, and there would be a double round. I like to think we simply learned how to share honestly and authentically, which fostered and challenged us to have relations of depth. In the first round, everyone was invited to share their consolations and desolations of the week and how they experienced God. Unique to our province is the second round, in which after everyone shares, we go off for twenty minutes to pray over what everyone has shared, and then we reconvene to share the fruit of our prayer. Sure, the sessions might have seemed drawn out and somewhat painful at times, but I think these sessions helped to develop a level of openness and trust I think is important in Jesuit communities. We weren't simply sharing at one another, but we were encouraged to share and to be able to have a dialogue with one another about our lives in a meaningful way.
The novitiate was also a very important time for me because, with all of this time for prayer and reflection, a lot of old demons began to surface that was necessary for me to face. I found myself wrestling with a lot of old emotions that my novitiate experience brought to the forefront of my consciousness. I remember feelings of uncertainty, wondering, as I mentioned earlier, what the heck I had gotten myself into. Wounds from my childhood that I thought I had gotten over a long time ago resurfaced in unexpected and surprising ways. Sometimes, I felt the darkness so strongly that I wanted to kill myself. Of course, that wouldn't look too good on the Jesuits =p Through these times, I am extremely grateful to my formators who gave me so much love and support during those times and who allowed me to be open and honest with what I was going through. It was especially in these shared moments that I felt my love of the Society truly deepen and grow. These men were not afraid to confront that darkness that I faced, because they believed much more deeply in God's healing light.
On the day of my First Vows, I remember feeling so much joy and consolation on that day. I truly believed that God had given me so much, and that God was truly inviting me into this way of life by sharing the gifts I have been given in this unique way. I prayed over the vow formula we had to recite, and I felt strongly that I would not recite those words unless I truly meant it. When it came my turn to recite my vows, I had a difficult time getting through the first line. Not for lack of belief, but for how moved I felt in proclaiming my vows before God. I started to tear up, which got my mom to tear up, which got another mom to tear up. Of course, it was a huge shock to everyone that I got emotional =p
In one of the lines, Jesuits profess that God will give us the graces we need to live our lives. In other words, we acknowledge that this life is truly impossible without God, and it is in God that we must necessarily place our trust. That is why our prayer life is so important for us. If we are not connected to God through our daily prayer, then we begin to lose our connection to the One who truly makes our life possible.
I remember sharing my vow picture with one of the philosophy students here at Fordham, and she remarked how happy we looked. At least for myself, I knew that was true at the time that picture was taken. It has remained as my desktop wallpaper for quite some time. It's good for me to be reminded from time to time.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Looking Back, Looking Forward - The Call
It doesn't seem that long ago that I followed my gut and chose to enter into a way of life that is amazingly foreign and other to the way most live their lives.
Of course, one of the most common questions Jesuits are asked are our reasons for entering religious life. I've always struggled to answer that question, because it's not like I literally received a call one day from God telling me to drop everything I was doing and to follow Him. To truly answer that question honestly and authentically takes a lot of vulnerability, especially when you're being asked by those suspicious of religious life in general and who hold negative views of the Church. It also takes a lot of time to answer if one wants a full answer and not a canned response.
It's hard to pinpoint just one reason why I decided to become a Jesuit. It was probably the culmination of influences of those who threw their seeds and sought to nourish them with their time and love. My parents labored long hours for countless years to put me and my four siblings through Catholic education. An incredible hardship, to say the least, and completely a sacrifice on their part--a sacrifice, I believe, that shaped my own desire to offer my own self for others. The friends and teachers I encountered from Kindergarten up through college who taught me what it meant to be a person of faith and who challenged me to do that authentically and openly. Schooled in Catholic education all my life, the way I see, view, and interpret the world around is inextricably linked to my faith. In a lot of ways, my faith is who I am--a self shaped and molded by the embrace of God. I also encountered in high school and college those Jesuits who were both uncouth yet also some of the most Holy people I have met, who through word and example helped to enkindle a fire in my heart, and who challenged me to find God in every moment and place. When I met them, I wanted to be like them.
As a feeler, I place a lot of value, both consciously and unconsciously, on my emotions when processing. In my prayer life, I feel that God has always invited me to own that aspect about myself, as my emotions can very much be conduits of grace in my experience. Looking back before I entered the Jesuits, I remember a lot of hurt and emotional suffering. Painful as it was, I always remember how that inner hurt and suffering was integral to my vocation as a Jesuit, and I truly would not be the person I am today without having gone through those experiences. I remember moments such as my Kairos retreat in which I felt that hurt to be healed in a powerful and transformative way thanks to those who mirrored the love of Christ--a love I wanted to extend. I think back to moments of learning about and seeing injustice that fueled a desire to make an impact in society. I also think about how I wanted to live my life in a much different and radical way than the typical get-a-job-and-raise-a-family route. I saw, and see, these inner movements as a call.
It's rather ironic that I did decide to enter religious life because I hated going to Church growing up. I thought Mass was the most boring thing in the world, and it seemed silly to me to engage in rituals which I felt had no bearing on my life. My experience of going to Mass was not lifegiving. It was simply a duty that one had to do because that's what Catholics do on Sunday, which I thought was stupid. It was the same damned thing week after week, and sometimes even the priest looked like he was bored. I needed good reasons for doing things, and I never considered the reason "doing it because you had to" as a good reason. My doubts and questions, though, were essential to my vocation, because they led me to question why we do things the way they do, and I realized that Catholics actually have damn good reasons for doing the things they do.
So, during my time at Seattle University, I decided to pursue my desires and to see where they took me. For most of my time in college, I had a Jesuit spiritual director whom I saw on a fairly regular basis. I had the opportunity to get to know the Jesuits much more at that time through weekly masses, Campus ministry retreats, and vocation retreats. I also remember when I visited the novitiate for the first time, and I just remember feeling quite at home with the men there. Once my senior year came along, it just felt right for me to apply to the Society, and so I followed me gut and went for it.
In my mind, it wasn't a life commitment. I was simply applying to the novitiate. Nothing more.
Although I was quite open about my desire to become a Jesuit with my friends, I was much more secretive about it with my family. The way I told my parents about this desire is rather strange. A number of months before I entered, I called my parents and told them that I had "big news," and that I would call them the following day. In my mind, I felt I had to prepare both myself and them for what I was going to share. When I did, they asked the typical questions that concerned parents would ask: "who's forcing you to apply?" "how will you make money?" "what if they send you to Africa?" I had always been surrounded by people who were super supportive of my desire to enter the Jesuits. I actually can't think of one person who told me that they felt it was a bad idea for me. Well, that changed with my parents--at least for a while. They are now proud parents who have no problems telling others that their son is a Jesuit. I think it was my First Vows and the way they saw me profess them that changed the way they saw it.
I feel extremely blessed and grateful for all of those who helped to shape the person I am today. It's very possible that I literally would not be here alive and doing what I am doing without their love and support. They imaged the love of Christ for me in a real way, and perhaps unknowingly, they imaged the voice of God who beckoned me to come and see where He wanted to lead me. AMDG
Of course, one of the most common questions Jesuits are asked are our reasons for entering religious life. I've always struggled to answer that question, because it's not like I literally received a call one day from God telling me to drop everything I was doing and to follow Him. To truly answer that question honestly and authentically takes a lot of vulnerability, especially when you're being asked by those suspicious of religious life in general and who hold negative views of the Church. It also takes a lot of time to answer if one wants a full answer and not a canned response.
It's hard to pinpoint just one reason why I decided to become a Jesuit. It was probably the culmination of influences of those who threw their seeds and sought to nourish them with their time and love. My parents labored long hours for countless years to put me and my four siblings through Catholic education. An incredible hardship, to say the least, and completely a sacrifice on their part--a sacrifice, I believe, that shaped my own desire to offer my own self for others. The friends and teachers I encountered from Kindergarten up through college who taught me what it meant to be a person of faith and who challenged me to do that authentically and openly. Schooled in Catholic education all my life, the way I see, view, and interpret the world around is inextricably linked to my faith. In a lot of ways, my faith is who I am--a self shaped and molded by the embrace of God. I also encountered in high school and college those Jesuits who were both uncouth yet also some of the most Holy people I have met, who through word and example helped to enkindle a fire in my heart, and who challenged me to find God in every moment and place. When I met them, I wanted to be like them.
As a feeler, I place a lot of value, both consciously and unconsciously, on my emotions when processing. In my prayer life, I feel that God has always invited me to own that aspect about myself, as my emotions can very much be conduits of grace in my experience. Looking back before I entered the Jesuits, I remember a lot of hurt and emotional suffering. Painful as it was, I always remember how that inner hurt and suffering was integral to my vocation as a Jesuit, and I truly would not be the person I am today without having gone through those experiences. I remember moments such as my Kairos retreat in which I felt that hurt to be healed in a powerful and transformative way thanks to those who mirrored the love of Christ--a love I wanted to extend. I think back to moments of learning about and seeing injustice that fueled a desire to make an impact in society. I also think about how I wanted to live my life in a much different and radical way than the typical get-a-job-and-raise-a-family route. I saw, and see, these inner movements as a call.
It's rather ironic that I did decide to enter religious life because I hated going to Church growing up. I thought Mass was the most boring thing in the world, and it seemed silly to me to engage in rituals which I felt had no bearing on my life. My experience of going to Mass was not lifegiving. It was simply a duty that one had to do because that's what Catholics do on Sunday, which I thought was stupid. It was the same damned thing week after week, and sometimes even the priest looked like he was bored. I needed good reasons for doing things, and I never considered the reason "doing it because you had to" as a good reason. My doubts and questions, though, were essential to my vocation, because they led me to question why we do things the way they do, and I realized that Catholics actually have damn good reasons for doing the things they do.
So, during my time at Seattle University, I decided to pursue my desires and to see where they took me. For most of my time in college, I had a Jesuit spiritual director whom I saw on a fairly regular basis. I had the opportunity to get to know the Jesuits much more at that time through weekly masses, Campus ministry retreats, and vocation retreats. I also remember when I visited the novitiate for the first time, and I just remember feeling quite at home with the men there. Once my senior year came along, it just felt right for me to apply to the Society, and so I followed me gut and went for it.
In my mind, it wasn't a life commitment. I was simply applying to the novitiate. Nothing more.
Although I was quite open about my desire to become a Jesuit with my friends, I was much more secretive about it with my family. The way I told my parents about this desire is rather strange. A number of months before I entered, I called my parents and told them that I had "big news," and that I would call them the following day. In my mind, I felt I had to prepare both myself and them for what I was going to share. When I did, they asked the typical questions that concerned parents would ask: "who's forcing you to apply?" "how will you make money?" "what if they send you to Africa?" I had always been surrounded by people who were super supportive of my desire to enter the Jesuits. I actually can't think of one person who told me that they felt it was a bad idea for me. Well, that changed with my parents--at least for a while. They are now proud parents who have no problems telling others that their son is a Jesuit. I think it was my First Vows and the way they saw me profess them that changed the way they saw it.
I feel extremely blessed and grateful for all of those who helped to shape the person I am today. It's very possible that I literally would not be here alive and doing what I am doing without their love and support. They imaged the love of Christ for me in a real way, and perhaps unknowingly, they imaged the voice of God who beckoned me to come and see where He wanted to lead me. AMDG
Monday, July 25, 2011
Looking Back, Looking Forward: An Introduction
Has it really been five years?
As you may know, the road to priestly ordination for Jesuits typically takes about 11-12 years. These years can be broken down into four main periods of formation in the United States: 2 years as a novice, 2-3 years in first studies, 2-3 years of regency (A period in which Jesuits are engaged in full-time work, and usually this entails high school teaching) , and about 3 years of theology. In terms of our education, we are required to have about 2 years of philosophy (first studies) and 4 years of theology. Most Jesuits in the US typically do a year of their theology studies during first studies, so first studies will usually take 3 years.
In terms of time, I am not yet halfway towards ordination, which baffles many people I tell. However, I have just finished my first studies and will be entering into regency later next month. In a lot of ways, it does feel like I'm halfway there, having finished the first two main periods of my formation towards priesthood.
Jesuits are in the habit of reflecting. Our way of proceeding in a lot of ways is to look back in order to move forward. This is not meant to dwell on the past--life of course must always be lived in the present. But, it is a helpful exercise to look back in order to orient the present towards a hopeful and lifegiving future. Through our examen--which I'm finding I talk about quite a lot on my blog--we dispose ourselves to prayerfully seek how God has been at work in our lives in the day. We reflect on the past in the present moment, and the examen for Jesuits is a daily invitation of intimacy with the Lord.
As I move soon into my regency at Jesuit High School in Portland later next month, I thought it might be a helpful exercise to examen my vocation thus far and to remember how God has been at work in my life.
I've actually written most of my reflection, but then I thought it would be waaaaaay to long for a blog post. So, in this next week, I will upload four different posts reflecting upon my Jesuit journey thus far. That's how long I ended up writing =p
As you may know, the road to priestly ordination for Jesuits typically takes about 11-12 years. These years can be broken down into four main periods of formation in the United States: 2 years as a novice, 2-3 years in first studies, 2-3 years of regency (A period in which Jesuits are engaged in full-time work, and usually this entails high school teaching) , and about 3 years of theology. In terms of our education, we are required to have about 2 years of philosophy (first studies) and 4 years of theology. Most Jesuits in the US typically do a year of their theology studies during first studies, so first studies will usually take 3 years.
In terms of time, I am not yet halfway towards ordination, which baffles many people I tell. However, I have just finished my first studies and will be entering into regency later next month. In a lot of ways, it does feel like I'm halfway there, having finished the first two main periods of my formation towards priesthood.
Jesuits are in the habit of reflecting. Our way of proceeding in a lot of ways is to look back in order to move forward. This is not meant to dwell on the past--life of course must always be lived in the present. But, it is a helpful exercise to look back in order to orient the present towards a hopeful and lifegiving future. Through our examen--which I'm finding I talk about quite a lot on my blog--we dispose ourselves to prayerfully seek how God has been at work in our lives in the day. We reflect on the past in the present moment, and the examen for Jesuits is a daily invitation of intimacy with the Lord.
As I move soon into my regency at Jesuit High School in Portland later next month, I thought it might be a helpful exercise to examen my vocation thus far and to remember how God has been at work in my life.
I've actually written most of my reflection, but then I thought it would be waaaaaay to long for a blog post. So, in this next week, I will upload four different posts reflecting upon my Jesuit journey thus far. That's how long I ended up writing =p
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Sunday Scripture Reflection for June 26, 2011
Today, Catholics celebrate the feast of Corpus Christi. I find it to be a curious feast, since really every Mass is a celebration of the body and blood of Christ. Fr. Radmar Jao, a newly ordained Jesuit priest, beautifully preached today the awe and wonder that we are invited to experience everytime we approach this most Sacred Mystery. Yet, it is a quite natural experience that such awe and wonder is dulled by habit and routine. The feast, then, provides us with an important occasion to reflect and remind ourselves about the faith we take for granted. We believe that Jesus is truly present to us in an immediate and real way, and such a rich encounter can inspire and transform us to become more and more what we eat--the Body of Christ.
As I prayed over the readings today, I found my thoughts focused primarily on the reading from Deuteronomy. Here, Moses tells a people who find themselves in the desert for 40 years that this journey was meant as a test for them to see whether they would keep his commandments in times of strife.
As I listened to the readings, I found myself thinking about a movie I watched recently with some of my Jesuit brothers called Rabbit Hole starring Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart where they play a struggling couple attempting to cope with the death of their young son tragically killed in a car accident. In order to cope with their loss, they go to these support group meetings where other couples share about their own loss. In a poignant scene, a couple is talking about how God acts for a reason, and that their child's death happened so that God could have another angel at His side. Upon hearing this, Kidman's character Becca angrily retorts by asking why God didn't simply make a new angel rather than taking her son. The tension is strong in the movie between those who find comfort in God and faith and those who find the notion of God and faith repulsive in the face of tragedy.
Becca's reaction is very real and her anger over any God-talk is quite understandable. Many would not find the response "it happened for a reason" to be very comforting when attempting to process a seemingly senseless death. When reading Scripture, though, we find these feelings are not isolated to the present moment. Even in the Bible, especially in the OT, we read of a people who continuously struggle to make sense of their relationship and faith in God in light of their own struggles. We read of a people continuously in exile, a people who yearn for peace and justice while being battered by violence, war, and oppression. We read of a people who continuously strive to turn their hearts back to God over and over again even in those times when they feel abandoned by Him. Why?
For our ancestors in faith, they found strength in remembering the great works that God had done for them. They continuously go back to that pivotal moment in history when God led them out of Egypt and out of the hands of their captors. They remember the enormous blessing that God bestowed upon Abraham. Their communal memory makes present in their mind the wonders of God, strengthening them to have faith in God and to believe wholeheartedly as they journeyed through the valleys of death.
I imagine that someone like Becca would not find such a move comforting these days. My sense in the movie was that she grew up Catholic and no longer believed a long time ago. What she seems to most deeply long for is a pastoral response--someone to be there for her in her pain and suffering, not someone to recite to her creeds and doctrines. She yearns for a nourishment not given by bread alone.
When we encounter Beccas in our world, we certainly cannot force them to have faith. But, we can perhaps nourish them with an embodied love formed by the grace of God. As Christ sacrificed for us, so too can we sacrifice ourselves for those in need and to share the life we have been given to others. We cannot bring back her son, but perhaps we can begin to ignite hope back into her eyes. Let us become what we are: the Body of Christ.
As I prayed over the readings today, I found my thoughts focused primarily on the reading from Deuteronomy. Here, Moses tells a people who find themselves in the desert for 40 years that this journey was meant as a test for them to see whether they would keep his commandments in times of strife.
As I listened to the readings, I found myself thinking about a movie I watched recently with some of my Jesuit brothers called Rabbit Hole starring Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart where they play a struggling couple attempting to cope with the death of their young son tragically killed in a car accident. In order to cope with their loss, they go to these support group meetings where other couples share about their own loss. In a poignant scene, a couple is talking about how God acts for a reason, and that their child's death happened so that God could have another angel at His side. Upon hearing this, Kidman's character Becca angrily retorts by asking why God didn't simply make a new angel rather than taking her son. The tension is strong in the movie between those who find comfort in God and faith and those who find the notion of God and faith repulsive in the face of tragedy.
Becca's reaction is very real and her anger over any God-talk is quite understandable. Many would not find the response "it happened for a reason" to be very comforting when attempting to process a seemingly senseless death. When reading Scripture, though, we find these feelings are not isolated to the present moment. Even in the Bible, especially in the OT, we read of a people who continuously struggle to make sense of their relationship and faith in God in light of their own struggles. We read of a people continuously in exile, a people who yearn for peace and justice while being battered by violence, war, and oppression. We read of a people who continuously strive to turn their hearts back to God over and over again even in those times when they feel abandoned by Him. Why?
For our ancestors in faith, they found strength in remembering the great works that God had done for them. They continuously go back to that pivotal moment in history when God led them out of Egypt and out of the hands of their captors. They remember the enormous blessing that God bestowed upon Abraham. Their communal memory makes present in their mind the wonders of God, strengthening them to have faith in God and to believe wholeheartedly as they journeyed through the valleys of death.
I imagine that someone like Becca would not find such a move comforting these days. My sense in the movie was that she grew up Catholic and no longer believed a long time ago. What she seems to most deeply long for is a pastoral response--someone to be there for her in her pain and suffering, not someone to recite to her creeds and doctrines. She yearns for a nourishment not given by bread alone.
When we encounter Beccas in our world, we certainly cannot force them to have faith. But, we can perhaps nourish them with an embodied love formed by the grace of God. As Christ sacrificed for us, so too can we sacrifice ourselves for those in need and to share the life we have been given to others. We cannot bring back her son, but perhaps we can begin to ignite hope back into her eyes. Let us become what we are: the Body of Christ.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Sunday Scripture Reflection for June 19, 2011
Today Catholics celebrate the Feast of the Most Holy Trinity. Probably one of the most confusing and difficult theological beliefs that we have, since we hold that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are both separate yet One at the same time. Historically, this doctrine posed a major problem for early Christians, since the Trinity evoked polytheism. The Church uses a big philosophical word which is pretty relevant with the new translations coming up--consubstantial--which will replace the line 'one in being with the Father' when we recite the creed. The term 'substance' in philosophy refers to the quiddity or 'whatness' of a thing, and the term 'consubstantial' is meant to express how the Father and the Son are not two essentially different beings but are united as One. St. Ignatius in his autobiography likens the Trinity to three musical keys which are in profound harmony with one another.
As I was praying with Scripture this morning, however, I must admit that most of my thoughts were not on the contemplation of the Trinity. Rather, I found my prayer centered around the words of St. Paul in today's 2nd reading. He writes in 2 Corinthians 13:11-12
Encourage one another. We are in this together; we cannot do it alone. In my own experience, simple gestures that people offer to me like saying hello or giving a warm smile is enough to brighten my day. These small acts of encouragements are acts of love which can bring so much life. I just got back from a short trip at St. Marys, Alaska, a small town of about 500 people, primarily Eskimo people, and I was struck by how so many of the villagers would wave at you when you drove by. Such small acts expressed how so much life can be found in a place I deemed was a pretty run-down area in the middle of nowhere.
Live in peace. There is a rich and profound depth of meaning in these simple words. It speaks to an inner disposition saturated with an interior quiet and tranquility--a still pond untouched by a surrounding storm. Jesus sleeping on the boat. I find myself most close to this sort of peace when I am faithful to my prayer life. It also speaks to an outward disposition in which we work to end all hatred and violence. When our actions towards one another bring into life the words of Christ: "Peace be with you."
And the God of love and peace will be with you. In doing all of these things, we will find ourselves coming into greater union with God. Our awareness of God's presence in our lives will be heightened, and we will be more apt to see the working of the Holy Spirit around us. The profound harmony of the Trinity will extend to our own personal lives and relationships with one another.
So I pray that we all may mend our ways, that we may encourage one another, and that we may live in peace, so that we may enter into greater life with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
(On a side note, I've been thinking about how I can write a little more frequently on my blog, and it occurred to me that one way I can do this is by writing weekly on a scripture passage. Hopefully this is not a one time thing and that I can keep it up in the future. I definitely would like to be more active in my writing, and I'll be more disposed to write more often now that I am no longer a graduate student)
As I was praying with Scripture this morning, however, I must admit that most of my thoughts were not on the contemplation of the Trinity. Rather, I found my prayer centered around the words of St. Paul in today's 2nd reading. He writes in 2 Corinthians 13:11-12
Brothers and Sisters, rejoice. Mend your ways, encourage one another, live in peace, and the God of love and peace will be with you.Mend your ways. Here, St. Paul highlights the fact that we are a broken people. Our lives and actions are in need of healing and repair. The way that we act and treat each other can often be hurtful and harmful, and sometimes we are not even aware that we do such things. I think this is probably one of the reasons St. Ignatius stressed the examen prayer so much. When we get so busy and distracted, we do not allow ourselves the time to reflect on our day. When we reflect, we can take note of things we might not have noticed otherwise in our day. We cannot mend something that we do not see is broken. The first step to healing is to acknowledge that we are in need of healing. Too often, we find ourselves mired in self-deception.
Encourage one another. We are in this together; we cannot do it alone. In my own experience, simple gestures that people offer to me like saying hello or giving a warm smile is enough to brighten my day. These small acts of encouragements are acts of love which can bring so much life. I just got back from a short trip at St. Marys, Alaska, a small town of about 500 people, primarily Eskimo people, and I was struck by how so many of the villagers would wave at you when you drove by. Such small acts expressed how so much life can be found in a place I deemed was a pretty run-down area in the middle of nowhere.
Live in peace. There is a rich and profound depth of meaning in these simple words. It speaks to an inner disposition saturated with an interior quiet and tranquility--a still pond untouched by a surrounding storm. Jesus sleeping on the boat. I find myself most close to this sort of peace when I am faithful to my prayer life. It also speaks to an outward disposition in which we work to end all hatred and violence. When our actions towards one another bring into life the words of Christ: "Peace be with you."
And the God of love and peace will be with you. In doing all of these things, we will find ourselves coming into greater union with God. Our awareness of God's presence in our lives will be heightened, and we will be more apt to see the working of the Holy Spirit around us. The profound harmony of the Trinity will extend to our own personal lives and relationships with one another.
So I pray that we all may mend our ways, that we may encourage one another, and that we may live in peace, so that we may enter into greater life with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
(On a side note, I've been thinking about how I can write a little more frequently on my blog, and it occurred to me that one way I can do this is by writing weekly on a scripture passage. Hopefully this is not a one time thing and that I can keep it up in the future. I definitely would like to be more active in my writing, and I'll be more disposed to write more often now that I am no longer a graduate student)
Monday, May 2, 2011
A brief philosophical reflection on the death of Bin Laden
Many people around the country and around the world, unsurprisingly, are rejoicing that the mastermind behind the attacks of 9/11 has been killed. The news of Bin Laden's death certainly has aroused within our memories that stark day nearly ten years ago when so many witnessed the collapse of the Twin Towers and the permanent mark it left on too many families. In our desire for justice, President Obama's late-hour news conference inevitably caused many to run into the streets in joy and celebration.
I join with quite a number of people, however, who are unable to find it in themselves to celebrate. The Vatican summarizes it best when Fr. Lombardi, the Vatican's spokesman, stated earlier today:
Curiously, I find myself reflecting on the thought of St. Thomas Aquinas during this time, whose philosophy has heavily influenced Catholic thought to this day. Aquinas in many ways can be characterized as being a pure optimist when it comes to the human person. He believed that it is impossible for a human being ever to will evil, and certainly someone today might use the example of Bin Laden to refute him on this point. Yet, I find myself in agreement with Aquinas--perhaps because I would like to be overly optimistic about the human condition. Human beings cannot help but act towards what we understand to be the good, and it is through the errors of our judgment that we get into a lot of trouble. Yet, our erroneous thinking does not negate our human impulse towards the good. In response, Aquinas would argue that Bin Laden never willed what he understood to be evil. He arguably understood the attacks of 9/11 and all the other terrorist acts he committed to be an absolute good in itself.
This is the point of tragedy for Bin Laden. That any human being could understand the death of thousands to be a good is beyond me. Yet, I am sure there are a lot more people like Bin Laden out there whose thinking is shaped by injustice, greed, and desperation. Somehow, Bin Laden's thought was tragically shaped into the mind of a killer, which is not the natural state of a human being.
Our essential task is to bring healing and reconciliation to the world. We have to be able to transform hearts and minds so that no human being ever thinks that the death of innocent life is a good. We have to be able to build and nurture environments where love and charity are at the center of all human action. This is why the education of youth is so important, since when improper thinking takes root, it is almost impossible to uproot as one becomes older. Striving for justice, then, cannot simply be reactive. It must also be necessarily preventative. Ideally, it can also be restorative--that justice restores us to become the sort of human beings we were meant to be.
May Bin Laden's death, then, be an event that spurs us into greater love and service. May his death lead us into the greater task of working for peace and justice. For Christ teaches: "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God." (Matthew 5:9)
I join with quite a number of people, however, who are unable to find it in themselves to celebrate. The Vatican summarizes it best when Fr. Lombardi, the Vatican's spokesman, stated earlier today:
In the face of a man’s death, a Christian never rejoices, but reflects on the serious responsibilities of each person before God and before men, and hopes and works so that every event may be the occasion for the further growth of peace and not of hatred.Personally, I find myself thinking about the tragic nature of Bin Laden's life. What would ever cause a human being to think up something like 9/11 and rejoice in the death of countless lives?
Curiously, I find myself reflecting on the thought of St. Thomas Aquinas during this time, whose philosophy has heavily influenced Catholic thought to this day. Aquinas in many ways can be characterized as being a pure optimist when it comes to the human person. He believed that it is impossible for a human being ever to will evil, and certainly someone today might use the example of Bin Laden to refute him on this point. Yet, I find myself in agreement with Aquinas--perhaps because I would like to be overly optimistic about the human condition. Human beings cannot help but act towards what we understand to be the good, and it is through the errors of our judgment that we get into a lot of trouble. Yet, our erroneous thinking does not negate our human impulse towards the good. In response, Aquinas would argue that Bin Laden never willed what he understood to be evil. He arguably understood the attacks of 9/11 and all the other terrorist acts he committed to be an absolute good in itself.
This is the point of tragedy for Bin Laden. That any human being could understand the death of thousands to be a good is beyond me. Yet, I am sure there are a lot more people like Bin Laden out there whose thinking is shaped by injustice, greed, and desperation. Somehow, Bin Laden's thought was tragically shaped into the mind of a killer, which is not the natural state of a human being.
Our essential task is to bring healing and reconciliation to the world. We have to be able to transform hearts and minds so that no human being ever thinks that the death of innocent life is a good. We have to be able to build and nurture environments where love and charity are at the center of all human action. This is why the education of youth is so important, since when improper thinking takes root, it is almost impossible to uproot as one becomes older. Striving for justice, then, cannot simply be reactive. It must also be necessarily preventative. Ideally, it can also be restorative--that justice restores us to become the sort of human beings we were meant to be.
May Bin Laden's death, then, be an event that spurs us into greater love and service. May his death lead us into the greater task of working for peace and justice. For Christ teaches: "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God." (Matthew 5:9)
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Last Mass Reflection at Ciszek
Today, I gave my last Mass reflection at Ciszek Hall, so I thought I would share it for anyone interested. As always, what I write for Mass is always intended for my immediate Jesuit audience, but perhaps it can be some fruit to others.
Anyway, a quick note that during my April 1st fun post, I totally didn't intend for the part where I wrote how I wanted to write an update to be part of the joke. I actually had meant to write an update, but then the craziness of this past month went into overdrive, and I'm just getting a quick breather from it all. From the various papers/exams due, to my time at the Jesuit Conference in DC to discuss the role of Jesuits and Communications in the 21st century, and to organizing a great deal of the Easter Triduum music at the local parish here (bilingual, no less), it's been difficult to find time or energy to write. This upcoming week, I have two more papers and what is called the De U-- the capstone oral exam that I will have to take to finish up my Master's, so I'm sure I won't be writing anytime soon, especially since afterwards I have to worry about moving back to the West Coast. Hopefully in due time, though.
FYI: the Gospel reading today is taken from Luke 24:13-35
Anyway, a quick note that during my April 1st fun post, I totally didn't intend for the part where I wrote how I wanted to write an update to be part of the joke. I actually had meant to write an update, but then the craziness of this past month went into overdrive, and I'm just getting a quick breather from it all. From the various papers/exams due, to my time at the Jesuit Conference in DC to discuss the role of Jesuits and Communications in the 21st century, and to organizing a great deal of the Easter Triduum music at the local parish here (bilingual, no less), it's been difficult to find time or energy to write. This upcoming week, I have two more papers and what is called the De U-- the capstone oral exam that I will have to take to finish up my Master's, so I'm sure I won't be writing anytime soon, especially since afterwards I have to worry about moving back to the West Coast. Hopefully in due time, though.
FYI: the Gospel reading today is taken from Luke 24:13-35
In today’s Gospel reading, we hear how the Risen Christ appeared to two of his disciples on the road to Emmaus. We hear at the beginning of the passage how the village is about seven miles from Jerusalem, and that it was nearly evening by the time they reached Emmaus. We can assume, then, that Jesus had spent practically the whole day with them, yet it was only near the very end when they came to recognize Him through the breaking of the bread, at which point Jesus disappears from their midst. And, as they reflected and did their examen, so to speak—they noted how their hearts burned, and how this intense feeling within was confirmation that Christ truly was in their presence.
When I think about times when I have felt my heart burning within me, that intense feeling in which I could not help but believe that I was in the presence of God, I typically think about my Kairos retreat during my senior year of high school at the beloved CA retreat center in Applegate. Kairos, as it was described to us, was defined as God’s time. This was God’s time—a time in which we were invited to intimately place ourselves in the presence of God and to be receptive and vulnerable to God’s grace at work. The student leaders and faculty shared personal and often vivid stories of their lives—stories of great vulnerability—and how they strived to see God at work in the midst of their great struggles and joys. I’m sure those of you who will be moving on to regency will be invited into such situations.
I remember a moment in particular after I had the opportunity to confess what was going on within me during the retreat. I was sitting in the chapel and gazing upon the cross of Christ. As I looked at the cross, I remember being overwhelmed with the intense feeling that Jesus was really with me. That Jesus was there, his arms outstretched, his gaze inviting me to draw ever closer to Him.
As I looked at the cross, I found myself in tears, because I had never before felt the presence of God so strongly. I could not help but believe that this truly was the work of the Holy Spirit, that God really was present to me at that time. There, I believe my heart began to truly burn for the first time, and I tend to think about that time as the seed of my vocation into the Society.
When I think about our Father Ignatius, I cannot help but contemplate the fire that burned in his heart throughout his lifetime. As he read about the Saints and about their love and desire to follow Christ, I can imagine the transformation taking place within his heart. At his bed, in the reading of Holy men and women, Ignatius was having a Kairos moment. God deemed that to be the appropriate time to seize his heart and mind and set it aflame, and from that point Ignatius would never be able to look back.
Ignatius at the river Cardoner was also a Kairos moment for him. As he sat and contemplated the mysteries of Christ amidst the beauty of nature, I imagine the fire in his heart as he began to understand more and more the ways that God was working in his life and the way God was working in the world. Ignatius was often so moved that he would tear up just thinking about how beautiful, for example, the Trinity was, as it seemed to him to be like three harmonious musical keys.
And, on his way to present himself to the Pope, Ignatius had a Kairos moment in the Chapel of La Storta, where the Father came to him in an intimate way and placed Ignatius with his son Jesus. I imagine the intense feeling that Ignatius was having during this vision, and how this vision sought to confirm the deep desires he believed Christ was placing within him.
Ignatius’ heart was set on fire by our Lord, and he could not help but want to share and enkindle that fire with others.
I think this is why GC 35 truly wanted to remind us about how our charism is founded upon this inner flame given to us in God’s time. For all of us, I would venture to guess that all of us have had Kairos moments in our lives prior to entering the Society in which we felt ourselves to be on fire with the love of God—a flame so strong and intense that we sought to enter into such a radical life. And why? Because God had lit a fire within us, and we had a burning desire to respond to his Call. Like Ignatius, we received something from God that was so profound and so intimate that we could not help but want to share the life of God given to us with those around us. As first year novices, we then all entered into the Spiritual Exercises, in which we devoted a full month of silence where we truly dedicated our lives to Christ—a Kairos month meant to ground our lives as Jesuits even to this day. In those days, we encountered the living God in a real and intimate way, and we might have found ourselves like the disciples, in which our hearts burned because of Christ’s real work within us.
As Jesus was his disciples on the road to Emmaus, and as Jesus was with Ignatius, so too is Jesus with us, even when we are blind to his intimate presence. All time is Kairos—all time is God’s time, for He is always with us, never leaving our side.
In my humble opinion, the people of God deserve nothing less that Jesuits who are on fire with the love of God. And we should expect nothing less of our Jesuit brothers than to know that each of us have this flame within. Of course, I’ll be the first one to admit that I have not always tended well to my flame or to that of others, nor do I expect to feel on fire everyday for the rest of my life. Just the same, in spite of my own weaknesses and faults and blindness, You should expect me to have a burning heart for Christ that grounds my life and vocation as a Jesuit, and I would expect nothing less of all of you. And I personally don’t think that is too much to ask. Only with hearts truly aflame can we set the world on fire and make present to all the already present presence of our living God.
As we approach the table, let us come before the Lord, as the psalm says, with hearts that rejoice in his presence. Here, in the proclamation of his Word, and especially in the breaking of the bread, we believe that God is here with us in an intimate and special way. Every liturgy for us is a Kairos moment for God’s grace to enter ever intimately within and to renew our flames. This is God’s time. Jesus is here, alive, and with us. Alleluia!
Friday, April 1, 2011
Back with Big News!!!
So, my last posting on here was in late November, so it has been way too long since my last update. Well, I'll be writing another update in the next few days about news that is going on in my end, but I just wanted to share about a new mission that I have been given that is super exciting!
Anyway, you probably would not have known, but much of my silence has been due to the fact that I have been secretly cultivating a program that will be introducing a new frontier to the work of the Jesuits that I am now ready to share with the world. I call this new ministry the ministry of smiles. As a Jesuit, one of the ministries you are apt to hear about is called the ministry of presence. I think my new program will revolutionize the way we think about the ministry of presence and bring us to a new frontier where we can boldly go where no man has gone before.
Let me explain this in a simple way:
Ministry of presence does not necessarily entail smiling.
Ministry of smiling necessarily entails smiling.
Everybody likes smiling.
Therefore, everybody will like the ministry of smiling.
In order to develop this program, I have been working every day to develop a smile that is new, revolutionary, and avant-garde while still retaining traditional elements pleasing to all. Let me tell you my superiors have been completely blown away by this new program that I am proposing, and when I pray about it, I know that God is all smiles.
As one theologian puts it: "The one who smiles prays twice."
I thought I would post a few pictures that shows the fruit of my five-month silence and that this period of time has not gone to waste. I think these show quite evidently how successful the ministry of smiles will be.
Anyway, you probably would not have known, but much of my silence has been due to the fact that I have been secretly cultivating a program that will be introducing a new frontier to the work of the Jesuits that I am now ready to share with the world. I call this new ministry the ministry of smiles. As a Jesuit, one of the ministries you are apt to hear about is called the ministry of presence. I think my new program will revolutionize the way we think about the ministry of presence and bring us to a new frontier where we can boldly go where no man has gone before.
Let me explain this in a simple way:
Ministry of presence does not necessarily entail smiling.
Ministry of smiling necessarily entails smiling.
Everybody likes smiling.
Therefore, everybody will like the ministry of smiling.
In order to develop this program, I have been working every day to develop a smile that is new, revolutionary, and avant-garde while still retaining traditional elements pleasing to all. Let me tell you my superiors have been completely blown away by this new program that I am proposing, and when I pray about it, I know that God is all smiles.
As one theologian puts it: "The one who smiles prays twice."
I thought I would post a few pictures that shows the fruit of my five-month silence and that this period of time has not gone to waste. I think these show quite evidently how successful the ministry of smiles will be.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Mass Reflection for Daily Mass
Well, I said I'd be away for a bit, but it's been my custom since having my blog to upload my once-a-semester mass reflections that I offer for the community. So, here it is. As always, these reflections are typically aimed at my Jesuit audience, but perhaps you may find some fruit in it. A belated happy thanksgiving to all of you!
During my second year as a novice, I had the opportunity to work at a L’Arche community in Tacoma, WA for about two and a half months or so. We had three core members at the house I was staying at, and one of those core members was named Bobby. I think I’ve probably told some of you about Bobby before.
Bobby was never able to develop in the way most humans do over time. Although he is about two years older than I am, he never was able to mature past the mental stage of infancy. He is unable to talk, and he cannot do most things on his own. As a live-in-assistant, some of my duties included clothing, toileting, washing, and feeding Bobby. Whenever you fed him, you had to put an apron on him because it could get a little messy. In the morning, I would have to gingerly attach him to a machine that lifted him out of his bed and would slowly placed him on to his wheelchair, and he was no small guy. Also, throughout the day, I would have to check to see if he had soiled his diaper and would have to change him on a regular basis. Changing the diaper on a baby is much different than changing the diaper on a grown man.
I imagine that many who come across Bobby are bound to feel sorry for him and the sad state of life he finds himself in. If we placed ourselves in Bobby’s shoes, what kind of life would that be? Knowing that we were that helpless and that we were so entirely dependent on others for our livelihood. Feeling the degeneration of our own human dignity because of our stark infirmity?
Whenever I think about Bobby, though, I do not feel pity or remorse for Bobby. Actually, whenever I think about Bobby, most of the memories that arise in me are memories of laughter and joy. Bobby was always laughing, and I would always think to myself why he was laughing. I would actually sometimes ask him: “Bobby, why are you laughing?” and look at him as if I was expecting an answer. Although he couldn’t communicate verbally to me, I read his laughing as a sign of his happiness and his smiles as his joy. Curiously, I consider Bobby to be one of the happiest people I’ve ever met in my life, and I truly believe that God in his mysterious power, was communicating something quite profound to me and to many others through Bobby.
In today’s gospel, Jesus asks us to consider the fig tree, and that when we notice the buds bursting, that this is a sign of summer. All around us are signs for us to interpret in the same way that Jesus asks us to interpret the sign of the fig tree. Sometimes, those signs are very ordinary. When we see that the fridge has suddenly become filled with Gatorade bottles and coconut juice, that is a sign of that the shoppers have gone shopping. Or, when the bathrooms are restocked with toilet paper, that is a sign that someone has done his manualia. Or when we are able to go to class because our bills are getting paid, that is a sign that Rich has been up to no good. Or, when we saw the amount of food before us during thanksgiving, that is a sign of all who pitched in before hand has taken the time to prepare the food. Contrary to popular belief, though, just because you score low on the karaoke machine is not a sign of the mic’s prejudice. But, I tend to think of these actions as presencing God in the smallest of ways.
Christ uses the fig tree to help us to be attentive of the signs taking place which are expressing how that the kingdom of God is near. But, clearly, unless God was playing a major joke on us, I think it would be difficult to think about the nearness of the kingdom temporally. It’s been almost two thousand years after the fact—where is this kingdom? It certainly doesn’t seem to be near. But, I would like to suggest not the temporal nearness of the kingdom but the physical nearness of the kingdom. For me, Bobby’s life was a sign for me that the kingdom of God is near. When I was in Bobby’s presence, as I mentioned earlier, I truly felt that God was near, and that each smile and laugh that he imparts on others is another brick offered for the kingdom. As we hear in today's responsorial psalm: "Here God lives among His people."
And, I think we are all challenged to be like Bobby in the certain sense. Of course, one of the themes that Joe has been reminding all of us throughout the semester is that we are who we are. I am me, and you are you, and you are not me. I am certainly not Bobby, nor should I be exactly like Bobby. But, during my time with Bobby, I was able to recognize the gifts and talents that he was able to share with the world—gifts and talents that are uniquely Bobby’s. In the same way, we must recognize the gifts, the talents, and the life that we have been given by God and to lay down our own bricks for the kingdom. We must challenge ourselves as Jesuits to make God present to others through the graces that God is pouring out for us on a daily basis. Through our prayer and our examen, we are challenged to notice and to be grateful for the ways in which Jesus seeks to nourish and sustain us and to be attentive to the signs made present to us on a daily basis in our Jesuit vocation. In being attentive to the signs, we ourselves can form ourselves more and more to become signs and witnesses to the kingdom of God. When we do that through the help of our Lord, then we are indeed helping to bring the kingdom of God closer to those around us.—especially to those who feel the kingdom to be tragically distant.
So, for your prayer, as we continue our celebration in which we believe our Lord to be very near to us in the Eucharist, I may suggest that we pray about those people or those experiences in our life that have been signs of the kingdom. Let us pray in thanksgiving to the many people who have touched our lives in this way, for those who have laid down those bricks in our lives. Let us also pray for the continued grace to be witnesses and signs to the kingdom, that our lives and vocations as Jesuits may help others to see and recognize that the Kingdom of God is indeed near.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Retreating from the blog
This post should come as no surprise, as I have barely updated the blog since I arrived back in New York this past August.
I imagine in this last year of studies that I will not be updating the blog very much. As much as I would like to devote more time and energy to it, I find that most of my mental energy is directed towards study and paper writing, leaving little left in my reserve to offer anything of substance at the current moment.
A blogger should have something to say, but unfortunately I currently find myself having little to offer at this current time. Unless a wave of inspiration hits me, I imagine that you probably won't be hearing from me too often for the time being.
Until next time, I am retreating from the blog (which I already have been doing anyway). I have less than a year left to learn from and to listen to those who know much more than I do before I enter into full time ministry. It is primarily a time for me not to teach, but to be taught and to take in from the wisdom of others. The journey over the past two years at Fordham have certainly been tough in a lot of ways, but I believe the academic formation is important in a world that increasingly sees faith and the Church with greater skepticism. Hopefully, by the end, this time of study and reflection will have prepared me to offer words of greater depth and insight.
God Bless. AMDG
I imagine in this last year of studies that I will not be updating the blog very much. As much as I would like to devote more time and energy to it, I find that most of my mental energy is directed towards study and paper writing, leaving little left in my reserve to offer anything of substance at the current moment.
A blogger should have something to say, but unfortunately I currently find myself having little to offer at this current time. Unless a wave of inspiration hits me, I imagine that you probably won't be hearing from me too often for the time being.
Until next time, I am retreating from the blog (which I already have been doing anyway). I have less than a year left to learn from and to listen to those who know much more than I do before I enter into full time ministry. It is primarily a time for me not to teach, but to be taught and to take in from the wisdom of others. The journey over the past two years at Fordham have certainly been tough in a lot of ways, but I believe the academic formation is important in a world that increasingly sees faith and the Church with greater skepticism. Hopefully, by the end, this time of study and reflection will have prepared me to offer words of greater depth and insight.
God Bless. AMDG
Sunday, October 10, 2010
An Update On My Final Year in First Studies
Over the past week or so, I've received a few inquiries about how I'm doing since I haven't updated the blog in over a month. Currently, I am at Boston College for the weekend primarily to support one of my fellow Oregonian brothers--Alejandro Olayo, SJ--who was ordained as a Deacon this past Friday (for those training to become priests, it is customary first to be ordained as Deacons. This is simply a temporary phase for those training to become priests, and these new Jesuit deacons around the US will later become ordained as priests around June or so). One of my favorite moments of ordination is when the bishop tells each ordinand: "Believe what you read. Teach what you believe. Practice what you teach."
Today, I had the pleasure of witnessing Alejandro's first Mass (in Spanish) as a deacon and listening to his beautiful homily. During the ordination and the Mass, I was edified to see how happy he seemed in this new phase of religious life and the energy he brought into his ministry. I remarked to him afterwards: "You're a natural!" Here's a pic following Mass.
Alejandro hosted a nice lunch yesterday, and we had quite the gathering of Oregonians present. Here is another pic! (We had to get at least one pic in to give the impression that we like each other =p Truly, though, it was great to be with them)
Now, because tomorrow is a holiday at Fordham, and Mondays are typically quite a busy day for me, I thought I would finally write an update about how things are going.
Typically, I find philosophy studies to be quite exhausting mentally, but I find it even more so in my final year here. Unfortunately, my capacity to invest more time mentally into the blog has been quite diminished. I think part of it is due to the fact that I have practically been in school since I was 4 years old, and almost all of my life has been spent in the classroom. I also find myself quite ready to move onto a new stage of formation in which I am no longer a student but rather one who is ready to integrate all of that learning into full-time work. Yearning for the future, however, is not so helpful in approaching the present situation, so I find myself praying for the ability to fully engage myself in this final year without checking-out too soon.
On that note, I recently met with my new superior for Formation, Fr. Jerry Cobb, and it seems most likely that I will be going to teach at one of our high schools in the Northwest next year (we have four schools in the Oregon Province: Jesuit High in Portland, OR, Bellarmine Prep in Tacoma, WA, Seattle Prep, and Gonzaga Prep in Spokane, WA). I very much enjoyed working at Gonzaga Prep for a few months as a novice, so I very much look forward to this new opportunity.
So, I am taking four classes this semester: Natural Law Ethics, Integration Seminar, Introduction to Old Testament, and Philosophy of Religion. I actually don't need to take philosophy of religion, but prior Scholastics of Ciszek Hall have recommended the course. Plus, I figured that it would be useful to wrestle more with the question of religion and how we think about religion. Although I have found some of the readings and discussion helpful, I have not found myself really in love with any of my classes at the current moment. Curiously, during this past week, I found myself beginning to appreciate and actually liking the topic of metaphysics. I must be going crazy =p I think, however, there is something to be said for humans to ask those philosophical questions about the origins of the universe and why things are the way they are. I believe these sorts of questions and the way we answer them do very much affect the way we perceive and interact with the world around us--that is, if we even give pause to consider such questions. Of course, the Catholic response to these questions centers on our belief in God who created the world and sustains its existence, and such a belief is harmonious with our natural powers of reason and not contrary to faith (see JPII's encyclical, Fides Et Ratio)
In addition to the music, I continue to help lead a CLC group on campus, which I began last year. It is always great to come together with the group to dedicate a moment of our week for prayer and reflection.
In all, I have found things to be rather busy and stressful this year. In the midst of the busyness, I recognize my need to make moments in the day that I dedicate for silence and prayer. One of my Jesuit brothers recently talked about his prayer as a contemplative in the world, and that he strives to make his life and his work a prayer in itself. As Jesuits, I think that is the proper attitude for how we approach our life and ministry. On the other hand, I recognize in myself a personal need to carve out actual moments in my day in which I temporarily retreat from the world in private prayer. As always, there's room for improvement on my part =p
Finally, I thought I would provide a new picture of the Ciszek Hall community this year, which was taken about a month and a half ago, lol. I believe, in total, that we are 26 Scholastics and 3 priests. This year, we have 6 new first year men as well as a new superior, Fr. Joe Sands. Our bright and smiling faces expresses how excited we are to study philosophy and to share this mission with one another =) These are my Jesuit brothers whom I share this vocation with, and together we strive as vowed religious to root our lives centrally in Christ--Christ who is our light and our life. One of the first things that Joe asked of all of us in the first weeks was to support each other by praying for one another, and I would like to end this by offering my prayers of thanksgiving for my fellow Jesuit brothers at Ciszek Hall, that God may continue to pour forth the Holy Spirit to inspire their work, and that they may be given the graces they need at this time to become formed more and more as religious who will spend their lives laboring in the vineyard of our Lord. AMDG
Today, I had the pleasure of witnessing Alejandro's first Mass (in Spanish) as a deacon and listening to his beautiful homily. During the ordination and the Mass, I was edified to see how happy he seemed in this new phase of religious life and the energy he brought into his ministry. I remarked to him afterwards: "You're a natural!" Here's a pic following Mass.
Alejandro hosted a nice lunch yesterday, and we had quite the gathering of Oregonians present. Here is another pic! (We had to get at least one pic in to give the impression that we like each other =p Truly, though, it was great to be with them)
Now, because tomorrow is a holiday at Fordham, and Mondays are typically quite a busy day for me, I thought I would finally write an update about how things are going.
Typically, I find philosophy studies to be quite exhausting mentally, but I find it even more so in my final year here. Unfortunately, my capacity to invest more time mentally into the blog has been quite diminished. I think part of it is due to the fact that I have practically been in school since I was 4 years old, and almost all of my life has been spent in the classroom. I also find myself quite ready to move onto a new stage of formation in which I am no longer a student but rather one who is ready to integrate all of that learning into full-time work. Yearning for the future, however, is not so helpful in approaching the present situation, so I find myself praying for the ability to fully engage myself in this final year without checking-out too soon.
On that note, I recently met with my new superior for Formation, Fr. Jerry Cobb, and it seems most likely that I will be going to teach at one of our high schools in the Northwest next year (we have four schools in the Oregon Province: Jesuit High in Portland, OR, Bellarmine Prep in Tacoma, WA, Seattle Prep, and Gonzaga Prep in Spokane, WA). I very much enjoyed working at Gonzaga Prep for a few months as a novice, so I very much look forward to this new opportunity.
So, I am taking four classes this semester: Natural Law Ethics, Integration Seminar, Introduction to Old Testament, and Philosophy of Religion. I actually don't need to take philosophy of religion, but prior Scholastics of Ciszek Hall have recommended the course. Plus, I figured that it would be useful to wrestle more with the question of religion and how we think about religion. Although I have found some of the readings and discussion helpful, I have not found myself really in love with any of my classes at the current moment. Curiously, during this past week, I found myself beginning to appreciate and actually liking the topic of metaphysics. I must be going crazy =p I think, however, there is something to be said for humans to ask those philosophical questions about the origins of the universe and why things are the way they are. I believe these sorts of questions and the way we answer them do very much affect the way we perceive and interact with the world around us--that is, if we even give pause to consider such questions. Of course, the Catholic response to these questions centers on our belief in God who created the world and sustains its existence, and such a belief is harmonious with our natural powers of reason and not contrary to faith (see JPII's encyclical, Fides Et Ratio)
Studies aside, I have also begun a new apostolate this year. In my previous two years, I worked as a catechist at the local parish here in the Bronx, St. Martin of Tours, and prepared 6th/7th graders for the Sacrament of Confirmation. I wanted to tap into my musical side this year, so my apostolate now is to provide music for the 9:30AM Sunday mass at the parish. The pastor really wants to promote this Mass more, and one of the ways to encourage such participation is to enhance the music at the liturgy. Two other Jesuit brothers of mine are helping me at this particular Mass, and in our debut performance, we had quite a number of parishioners truly thanking us for providing this ministry. I'm quite aware that it's not good to form something, only to leave it after a year. I'm hoping that once I leave, I will have been able to set something up that can be sustained in the future. Prayers are appreciated in this regard.
In addition to the music, I continue to help lead a CLC group on campus, which I began last year. It is always great to come together with the group to dedicate a moment of our week for prayer and reflection.
In all, I have found things to be rather busy and stressful this year. In the midst of the busyness, I recognize my need to make moments in the day that I dedicate for silence and prayer. One of my Jesuit brothers recently talked about his prayer as a contemplative in the world, and that he strives to make his life and his work a prayer in itself. As Jesuits, I think that is the proper attitude for how we approach our life and ministry. On the other hand, I recognize in myself a personal need to carve out actual moments in my day in which I temporarily retreat from the world in private prayer. As always, there's room for improvement on my part =p
Finally, I thought I would provide a new picture of the Ciszek Hall community this year, which was taken about a month and a half ago, lol. I believe, in total, that we are 26 Scholastics and 3 priests. This year, we have 6 new first year men as well as a new superior, Fr. Joe Sands. Our bright and smiling faces expresses how excited we are to study philosophy and to share this mission with one another =) These are my Jesuit brothers whom I share this vocation with, and together we strive as vowed religious to root our lives centrally in Christ--Christ who is our light and our life. One of the first things that Joe asked of all of us in the first weeks was to support each other by praying for one another, and I would like to end this by offering my prayers of thanksgiving for my fellow Jesuit brothers at Ciszek Hall, that God may continue to pour forth the Holy Spirit to inspire their work, and that they may be given the graces they need at this time to become formed more and more as religious who will spend their lives laboring in the vineyard of our Lord. AMDG
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
When Jesuits Leave
The bonds that Jesuits form with one another are special relationships in which our shared life connects us to each other in a very unique way. We live together, labor together, and pray together. We are men rooted in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius in which our intimate experiences of Christ unite our hearts and minds together with the Lord. We share a life that appears quite foolish to the outside world yet makes sense to us as Jesuits only in light of our lives of faith.
When Jesuits decide to leave the Society, as a result, it can be an extremely jarring moment for us when we hear the news. This past year, we saw many men in our company who chose to leave their lives as Jesuits. We ask the question ‘why?’ and wonder what events transpired that led to such a decision. There is that feeling that a member of our spiritual family who has been with us for so much time has decided to leave us. These departures inevitably challenge the vocations of us who continue on with this life as we ask ourselves why we stay. This vocational challenge, however, is not necessarily a bad thing.
About a month ago, while I was taking my day off from my work in LA, I was relaxing at our LA villa house near Redondo Beach when I received a phone call. I was excited to see that it was from John and very much looked forward to sharing our summer experiences and how it was going so far. John first asked about how my summer was, and I shared a little bit about what I was doing at Dolores Mission and Homeboy Industries. After I was done sharing, John went on to remark: “So Ryan, I’ve made my decision…”
I knew exactly what John meant when he said that, but I didn’t expect this phone call would be “that” time.
I remember feeling devastated back in January when John mentioned to me that he was thinking about leaving the Society. During my time at Ciszek Hall, he became one of my best friends in the house, and last year we became next door neighbors. John was one of the type of friends you would have who often poked fun at you, but deep down you knew he really valued and respected you (although he would never admit that easily). Not only could we have fun and joke with one another, but we could also vigorously argue about philosophical/theological viewpoints and eventually also discuss highly personal things. When he told me that his leaving was a possibility, I remember feeling myself enter a place of deep desolation and the need to talk to my superior and spiritual director about it. In those talks, I recognized a desire to want what was best for John—even if that meant that he would leave. I often prayed for Christ to lead him in his discernment and to follow where God was leading him at this time of his life.
Over the next few months, we would have a few conversations where I would ask him how things were going with the discernment. Sometimes, he didn’t want to talk about it, but I respected that. I only wanted him to talk to me about if he felt free to have the conversation and wanted to discuss it. In those conversations, it was apparent that John’s leaving was a possibility, but not necessarily a certainty. John spent quite a bit of time thinking about this because it was not clear to him during the semester what he would do.
So when John remarked that he made the decision, I became very aware that his subsequent words would be big ones for him to share with me. I did not have a clear sense in me what he had decided, so I awaited anxiously to hear what he would say. Finally, he said: “I’ve decided to leave the Society…”
Upon my arrival back to the Bronx, I have recognized a real sense of loss within me. When I walked past his door, I was deeply reminded about those words he shared with me a month ago. But, on the other hand, I carry with me a lot of gratitude for the friendship and brotherhood we developed over the past two years at Ciszek. I also carry with me a sense of peace, because I believe in this specific situation that John would not have left unless he felt that God was calling him into a different place. John was open with his superior, his spiritual director, and his formation assistant for quite some time, and so I trusted his discernment and those who were leading him at this time in his life.
Although men enter and leave the society for various reasons, I think John’s time in the Jesuits served as a special time for his own development and growth as a person. I had the opportunity to speak on John's behalf about two weeks ago, since he asked if I could be one of his references for a full-time youth minister position he is seeking. I remarked to the pastor that John's time with the Jesuits and being formed by Ignatian Spirituality was a major asset to this position that makes him quite unique among the pool of applicants. Although his decision to leave is difficult, I pray that John is able to flourish in this time of major transition and that he may always know and experience the love of God who constantly pours forth his grace.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Summer Reflections: R&R and Personal Highlights of Province Days
Following my time in LA, the past two weeks or so have primarily been a time of R&R for me. I spent some time in Sacramento to be with the family, see some friends in Seattle, and also to indulge my own introvertedness by taking some personal time here and there to be by myself.
I am reminded during these past two weeks how blessed I am to have people in my life who are so generous to me. My siblings remark how my grandma pities my being "poor" ("he always wears the same clothes") and tells them to give me money. I chuckle to myself about that thought, since I am well taken care of and believe that oftentimes less is more (I read a bumper sticker in NY that read: "the more you know, the less you need"). I don't need a lot of things in my life to be happy--my happiness is not rooted in material wealth. I make sure, though, that I have the things I need to function. At the same time, I'm not going to say no to going out to yogurt or getting an Asian massage =)
The past few days or so I have been in Spokane. Because we didn't have ordinations this year, the Oregon province centered our province days around the First Vows of the novices. It is highly unusual to have the Vows in Spokane, as we usually have them in Portland where our novitiate is located. Spokane has the main perk of having Gonzaga University where many of our Jesuits in the province reside. Also, our retired men usually cannot come to the First Vows due to health reasons, so having them in Spokane allowed them to have the rare opportunity to participate in the festivities.
These events continue to remind me how much I love and admire my brother Jesuits here in the Northwest. I personally continue to find great consolation when we come together and to see so many of the men I am not able to see throughout the course of the year due to being on the East Coast.
A few moments were especially moving for me this year. First, I found our Vow Crucifix ceremony quite moving. It is the custom of the Vow men to choose from a number of crosses that were owned by previous Jesuits who have passed away over the years. During the ceremony, Jesuits are invited to share stories about the Jesuit who previously owned that cross. This year, however, one of the men chose a cross that came from an unknown Jesuit. What I found particularly moving was that we were invited to share stories about Jesuits who often go unnoticed and hidden--those men whom we often fail to recognize. Yet, often their work is a symbol of the hidden work of God in our lives. They labor without even a nod or a thank you, yet they continue to work out of a sense of love and service.
This theme carried into the following day where we were invited to share in small groups after a formal talk (our lay colleagues also participated) about three themes: the hidden work of God in our lives, our experiences of suffering, and finally our experiences of resurrection. David Murphy, a lay companion who works as the house manager of the Jesuit Community at Seattle University, talked about his own hidden work in the community. He first remarked how ironic it was that in a room full of intelligent Jesuits that he would be asked to speak. Yet, he did a magnificent job talking about his day-to-day work such as dealing with plumbing, mechanical problems, and the car issues that are bound to come up in a Jesuit community. He talked about his own romantic notions of what it would be like to work for a group of Jesuits, only to realize in his work how human the Jesuits actually are (as if we would be anything besides human. Sometimes it's good to remind people about that). Yet, once he got past that illusion and saw us in our fraility, he also talked about the great beauty of our lives. He talked about being moved by Ignatian Spirituality and how doing the Retreat in Everyday Life has been so important in his life. He was able to see in our humanness and weakness how God somehow finds a way to work even with us! My sense is that he loved his job and the men that he serves.
Gloria Rothrock, from Africa, talked about her battle with cancer and yet shared how blessed she feels in her life. In the midst of her own suffering, she still is able to find God active in her life blessing her with many gifts. It is quite amazing when you encounter people who have such faith and hope in their lives despite great trials.
Lorenzo Herman, a fellow Scholastic studying at St. Louis University, spoke about research he did about his family lineage in which he uncovered that he had English blood in him--blood of a slave owner who had two sets of kids, kids with his actual wife and kids with one of the slave women. Lorenzo is a by-product of his many-greats grandmother who was enslaved by a man with the last name Harvard. Yet, he spoke about how if that had never happened, he would not be here today. Perhaps one way to put it is "finding grace in the midst of shittyness." Jesuits speak about finding God in all things, and that includes finding God in the most difficult times. Such is our vocation. In the Oregon province, we are certainly called into that sentiment in the midst of our bankruptcy.
Pat Twohy, a Jesuit in our province who has worked with Native Americans for many years, read a letter he wrote to Father General who posed the question to the province: "why are you still working with them?" His letter was remarkable and moving as he described the history of the Jesuits with the Native peoples in the Northwest (we were actually invited by them) and the great pain and suffering he has witnessed in his ministry. Pat remarked that we stay with the Native people at this time not because we are not done with them, but because they are not yet done with us. In his eyes, he felt the province had a great deal to learn from them about how to carry pain and suffering as they have carried it for many generations. So many of them in our apostolates, despite what is happening in the province, support us in our work and continue to stand with us in this difficult time.
Finally, witnessing the Vows of Perry Petrich and Sean Towey, two grads from Bellarmine Prep in Tacoma, was quite moving. I had a great seat since I was conducting the Jesuit choir for the first time (I "conducted" last year from the piano, but actually conducting where you wave your hands and hope people follow is quite a different experience. I've always imagined an experience where I would tear up while conducting a choir and genuinely had that first-time experience). We are lucky to have these two young men enter more fully into the Society who beautifully professed their Vows before friends and family.
Well, I am now back in Seattle and will be returning back to the Bronx later this week. I look forward to to this upcoming school year with a lot of gratitude, strengthened by the many graces and consolations that I have received this past summer. AMDG
I am reminded during these past two weeks how blessed I am to have people in my life who are so generous to me. My siblings remark how my grandma pities my being "poor" ("he always wears the same clothes") and tells them to give me money. I chuckle to myself about that thought, since I am well taken care of and believe that oftentimes less is more (I read a bumper sticker in NY that read: "the more you know, the less you need"). I don't need a lot of things in my life to be happy--my happiness is not rooted in material wealth. I make sure, though, that I have the things I need to function. At the same time, I'm not going to say no to going out to yogurt or getting an Asian massage =)
The past few days or so I have been in Spokane. Because we didn't have ordinations this year, the Oregon province centered our province days around the First Vows of the novices. It is highly unusual to have the Vows in Spokane, as we usually have them in Portland where our novitiate is located. Spokane has the main perk of having Gonzaga University where many of our Jesuits in the province reside. Also, our retired men usually cannot come to the First Vows due to health reasons, so having them in Spokane allowed them to have the rare opportunity to participate in the festivities.
These events continue to remind me how much I love and admire my brother Jesuits here in the Northwest. I personally continue to find great consolation when we come together and to see so many of the men I am not able to see throughout the course of the year due to being on the East Coast.
A few moments were especially moving for me this year. First, I found our Vow Crucifix ceremony quite moving. It is the custom of the Vow men to choose from a number of crosses that were owned by previous Jesuits who have passed away over the years. During the ceremony, Jesuits are invited to share stories about the Jesuit who previously owned that cross. This year, however, one of the men chose a cross that came from an unknown Jesuit. What I found particularly moving was that we were invited to share stories about Jesuits who often go unnoticed and hidden--those men whom we often fail to recognize. Yet, often their work is a symbol of the hidden work of God in our lives. They labor without even a nod or a thank you, yet they continue to work out of a sense of love and service.
This theme carried into the following day where we were invited to share in small groups after a formal talk (our lay colleagues also participated) about three themes: the hidden work of God in our lives, our experiences of suffering, and finally our experiences of resurrection. David Murphy, a lay companion who works as the house manager of the Jesuit Community at Seattle University, talked about his own hidden work in the community. He first remarked how ironic it was that in a room full of intelligent Jesuits that he would be asked to speak. Yet, he did a magnificent job talking about his day-to-day work such as dealing with plumbing, mechanical problems, and the car issues that are bound to come up in a Jesuit community. He talked about his own romantic notions of what it would be like to work for a group of Jesuits, only to realize in his work how human the Jesuits actually are (as if we would be anything besides human. Sometimes it's good to remind people about that). Yet, once he got past that illusion and saw us in our fraility, he also talked about the great beauty of our lives. He talked about being moved by Ignatian Spirituality and how doing the Retreat in Everyday Life has been so important in his life. He was able to see in our humanness and weakness how God somehow finds a way to work even with us! My sense is that he loved his job and the men that he serves.
Gloria Rothrock, from Africa, talked about her battle with cancer and yet shared how blessed she feels in her life. In the midst of her own suffering, she still is able to find God active in her life blessing her with many gifts. It is quite amazing when you encounter people who have such faith and hope in their lives despite great trials.
Lorenzo Herman, a fellow Scholastic studying at St. Louis University, spoke about research he did about his family lineage in which he uncovered that he had English blood in him--blood of a slave owner who had two sets of kids, kids with his actual wife and kids with one of the slave women. Lorenzo is a by-product of his many-greats grandmother who was enslaved by a man with the last name Harvard. Yet, he spoke about how if that had never happened, he would not be here today. Perhaps one way to put it is "finding grace in the midst of shittyness." Jesuits speak about finding God in all things, and that includes finding God in the most difficult times. Such is our vocation. In the Oregon province, we are certainly called into that sentiment in the midst of our bankruptcy.
Pat Twohy, a Jesuit in our province who has worked with Native Americans for many years, read a letter he wrote to Father General who posed the question to the province: "why are you still working with them?" His letter was remarkable and moving as he described the history of the Jesuits with the Native peoples in the Northwest (we were actually invited by them) and the great pain and suffering he has witnessed in his ministry. Pat remarked that we stay with the Native people at this time not because we are not done with them, but because they are not yet done with us. In his eyes, he felt the province had a great deal to learn from them about how to carry pain and suffering as they have carried it for many generations. So many of them in our apostolates, despite what is happening in the province, support us in our work and continue to stand with us in this difficult time.
Finally, witnessing the Vows of Perry Petrich and Sean Towey, two grads from Bellarmine Prep in Tacoma, was quite moving. I had a great seat since I was conducting the Jesuit choir for the first time (I "conducted" last year from the piano, but actually conducting where you wave your hands and hope people follow is quite a different experience. I've always imagined an experience where I would tear up while conducting a choir and genuinely had that first-time experience). We are lucky to have these two young men enter more fully into the Society who beautifully professed their Vows before friends and family.
Well, I am now back in Seattle and will be returning back to the Bronx later this week. I look forward to to this upcoming school year with a lot of gratitude, strengthened by the many graces and consolations that I have received this past summer. AMDG
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Summer Reflections: Looking back at my time in LA
Sometimes I watch shows like "America's Got Talent." My little sister earlier today was watching "So You Think You Can Dance" and I was watching a bit of it with her (and making fun of her about it too). I find myself quite inspired by the way these contestants pour out their heart and soul into their work, and you can tell the ones who truly love what they are doing.
This past summer has been filled with experiences in which I have often thought to myself: "I truly love this Jesuit life that I lead." My vocation as a Jesuit is something I have poured my heart and soul into, and I have experienced things I would never had an opportunity to otherwise. Sure, it has had its fill of challenges, but I truly cannot imagine myself at this moment doing anything else. After being in the Society for almost four years now, I am beginning to notice how my Jesuit Spirituality is beginning to shape more and more how I view and experience the world. I find myself finding Christ more and more in the everyday--that Jesuit motto of "Finding God in All Things." It is like a language where, initially, you are spending quite a bit of time just trying to understand the grammar. But, you come to a point when learning a language where you are no longer trying to figure out how to say things. The words just come to you naturally. I find myself beginning to see things as a Jesuit more and more naturally.
One of my desires in my Jesuit life is to work in an educational setting. I think probably high school, but I am not completely opposed to the University setting. Although, my time at Dolores Mission has shown me that I would love to be a pastor as well (if I can avoid the administrative duties). For myself, I have sought to challenge myself in my Jesuit life and to insert myself in places that are not the most comfortable for me with the opinion that the more types of experiences I have, the better I will be able to serve in the future.
This summer, I spent quite some time with the homeless at Dolores Mission and ex-gang members at Homeboys--a segment of the population I have had little interaction with. I didn't want to read about them simply in books--I wanted to get to know them and to build some relationships. In listening to their struggles, their fears, and their hopes, I realized how my life is quite removed from theirs. For example, I don't know what it's like to become homeless because I couldn't pay my medical bills. Yet, anyone in ministerial work must learn how to place themselves in the other's shoes and understand where s/he is coming from in order to communicate more effectively with them. And sometimes, it's not what you say to people--sometimes it is just enough just to be in their company. When you feel yourself oppressed, unloved, and forgotten, sometimes all you need is someone who shows up and believes in you despite what you have been hearing for a majority of your life--someone to become like Christ to you. One homie who graduated from the school at Homeboy's remarked to his teacher: "thank you for believing in me when no one else did. You are the reason I graduated."
Being now at home in Sacramento to visit my family, I am reminded that one of the things I learned from my dad growing up is that when you are generous to others, others will be generous to you. I did my best being generous to this summer experience and to the people I became involved with. In turn, I felt so many people were generous to me. This weekend was filled with beautiful prayers and well-wishes from so many different people. At the 6pm mass this past Sunday, for example, I was invited towards the front of the Church where I was surrounded by quite a number of the GHP men. Their blessing was immensely moving and an experience I will remember for quite some time.
I find myself immensely grateful at this moment in my life, and I truly believe that Christ has been with me and continues to walk with me through all of these experiences. For that, I am truly blessed, and I cannot help but want to continue pouring my heart and soul into this life I lead.
This past summer has been filled with experiences in which I have often thought to myself: "I truly love this Jesuit life that I lead." My vocation as a Jesuit is something I have poured my heart and soul into, and I have experienced things I would never had an opportunity to otherwise. Sure, it has had its fill of challenges, but I truly cannot imagine myself at this moment doing anything else. After being in the Society for almost four years now, I am beginning to notice how my Jesuit Spirituality is beginning to shape more and more how I view and experience the world. I find myself finding Christ more and more in the everyday--that Jesuit motto of "Finding God in All Things." It is like a language where, initially, you are spending quite a bit of time just trying to understand the grammar. But, you come to a point when learning a language where you are no longer trying to figure out how to say things. The words just come to you naturally. I find myself beginning to see things as a Jesuit more and more naturally.
One of my desires in my Jesuit life is to work in an educational setting. I think probably high school, but I am not completely opposed to the University setting. Although, my time at Dolores Mission has shown me that I would love to be a pastor as well (if I can avoid the administrative duties). For myself, I have sought to challenge myself in my Jesuit life and to insert myself in places that are not the most comfortable for me with the opinion that the more types of experiences I have, the better I will be able to serve in the future.
This summer, I spent quite some time with the homeless at Dolores Mission and ex-gang members at Homeboys--a segment of the population I have had little interaction with. I didn't want to read about them simply in books--I wanted to get to know them and to build some relationships. In listening to their struggles, their fears, and their hopes, I realized how my life is quite removed from theirs. For example, I don't know what it's like to become homeless because I couldn't pay my medical bills. Yet, anyone in ministerial work must learn how to place themselves in the other's shoes and understand where s/he is coming from in order to communicate more effectively with them. And sometimes, it's not what you say to people--sometimes it is just enough just to be in their company. When you feel yourself oppressed, unloved, and forgotten, sometimes all you need is someone who shows up and believes in you despite what you have been hearing for a majority of your life--someone to become like Christ to you. One homie who graduated from the school at Homeboy's remarked to his teacher: "thank you for believing in me when no one else did. You are the reason I graduated."
Being now at home in Sacramento to visit my family, I am reminded that one of the things I learned from my dad growing up is that when you are generous to others, others will be generous to you. I did my best being generous to this summer experience and to the people I became involved with. In turn, I felt so many people were generous to me. This weekend was filled with beautiful prayers and well-wishes from so many different people. At the 6pm mass this past Sunday, for example, I was invited towards the front of the Church where I was surrounded by quite a number of the GHP men. Their blessing was immensely moving and an experience I will remember for quite some time.
I find myself immensely grateful at this moment in my life, and I truly believe that Christ has been with me and continues to walk with me through all of these experiences. For that, I am truly blessed, and I cannot help but want to continue pouring my heart and soul into this life I lead.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
In Gratitude for the Women at Dolores Mission
(Pictures are from a leadership meeting from today)Every Tuesday, I have the opportunity to attend CEB meetings. These meetings are like CLC meetings--they come together once a week to pray, to reflect on the upcoming Gospel reading for Sunday, and simply to spend time with one another and to enjoy each other's company. Here at Dolores Mission, these CEB groups are almost entirely composed of women--women who play a very active role in the life of the Church. Last Tuesday, we reflected on the passage from Luke about Mary and Martha, and I used that time to acknowledge the role that the women played at Dolores Mission.
I remarked: "As I reflect on this Gospel passage, I am reminded how important women are in the life of the Church. Of course, we already know that, but I think it is important for us to acknowledge and to highlight from time to time the vital role of women in our community. During this past month or so, it has become very clear to me that this Parish would not be able to operate without women. You are the ones who come to these CEB meetings. You are the ones who come to Daily Mass. You are the ones who have important leadership roles here at Dolores Mission. You are the ones who march for peace in the community and who lobby for justice with our local government officials. Without you, this parish would truly die. I want to take this time to thank all of you for the very important work that you do. Thank you so much for your inspiration and your ability to breathe life into the different ministries of the parish."
It is no secret that the number of priests in the U.S. is diminishing. We are not getting enough vocations to replace the many priests who are approaching retirement. Parish priests will begin to feel themselves overextended and will simply not have the energy to do all of the things they are asked to do. Some parishes are already hiring "Parish Life Directors" who essentially run the parish excluding Sacramental ministry. This is a big help to priests who were never trained anyway to run the business-side of parish life. Most of these Parish Life Directors will probably be women.
In the Gospels, the women are marked by their strong faith in Christ, and I have certainly witnessed the strong faith of the women here at Dolores Mission. I am very grateful for the positive role that women have played in my life, and I know that the future of the Church will very much be shaped by their work and contribution.
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