The Event with the Divine Word

Prayer is an event, a special time that brings us into relationship with God--God whom the faithful believe to be very present to us in the here and now.

When we read the bible, or listen to the Word proclaimed at Mass, I believe it is important how we relate to those words on the page or how we listen to the spoken word. Scripture is not simply an occasion in which we figure out what happened to God's people in the past or read about the historical acts of Christ. Of course, there is significance to such an interpretive reading. Yet, in the reading or in the listening, there is also that greater faith element of believing in the immediacy of God's real presence. In those acts, God is speaking to us.

One of the richest Gospel passages for me was read a few days ago: the parable of the sower. We listen from Mark 4:

"Hear this! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Other seed fell on rocky ground where it had little soil. It sprang up at once because the soil was not deep. And when the sun rose, it was scorched and it withered for lack of roots. Some seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it and it produced no grain. And some seed fell on rich soil and produced fruit. It came up and grew and yielded thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold. He added, 'Whoever has ears to hear ought to hear.'"

Of course, one way to read this passage is just to skim read it and to glance its meaning. "Okay, plant your seed in fertile ground...duh" You hear it, you've "attained" its meaning, and then you forget about it. In this type of reading, has God's word really taken root?

Those religious who have written about the formal prayer of Lectio Divina understood the significance of prayer as an event. In the slow reading or hearing of a text, they understood prayer to be a means in which God can take root in us, to form us and to shape us, to change us into who we are fully meant to be. We allow God to speak, and we challenge ourselves to actually listen.

In an increasingly technological age of efficiency in which our greatest commodity is our time, the deficiency of our culture is our inability to pause, to be still, and to listen. I say that, because I understand the effects technology has had on my own life--the power of television and computers and iPods, to name a few. It's quite hard nowadays to think of a world without electricity and technology, but those days did indeed exist. I'm sure the experience and relation our ancestors had to time was far different from our experience now. Five minutes can seem like an eternity to us--I'm not sure they would have experienced time like that in the same way.

When I ask my 7th graders to sit silently for a few minutes in prayer, I see how extremely difficult it is for many of them. Yet, after those few moments, I have experienced a greater calm in them than if I did not start off my classes with those moments of silence. If we have not cultivated an inner space of silence in which we can listen to and respond to the Word of God, how can we ever have a real experience of God? How can we ever enter into those relational events with the Divine?

St. Ignatius, with his emphasis on the Spiritual Exercises, understood the importance of the relational event with the Divine in his promotion of using our senses and imagination with respect to the Gospels. For Ignatius, the words become more than simply bearers of meaning. The words become the bearer of God himself, the Word, through which, by faith, we are able to have a real and immediate experience of God. The words open up a world unto God's self, a realm in which His grace radiates forth in the here and the now.

It is perhaps a good question for us to consider our own relationship to Scripture--of how we read and hear the Word of God. What kind of soil are we cultivating through which God desires to take root in us? Where do we need tending? Where are the weeds?

A (Somewhat Lengthy) Update on Life

Well, I went to bed intending to get a good night's rest. I know, however, that if I wake up in the middle of the night, around the hours or 3-4, I'll have a hard time getting back to bed. So, I thought I'd just write a post in the meantime--I've been wanting to write an update about how things are going on my end anyway.

One might notice over the past few months that I have not been as active with my blog posts as I was earlier this year. When I first began the blog, I told my formation assistant that I wanted to try out a blog, just to see how it would go. But, I wanted a certain detachment from it--a certain freedom, you might say. It would be a place for me to write when I felt moved, not a place where I felt obligated to produce. I think it has been this semester where I have truly felt for the first time that freedom with my blog.

So, where to begin...

This semester, I mentioned when the school year started that I have three classes: History of Christianity, Classical Modern Philosophy, and Kierkegaard. I'll offer briefly just a little blurb on each class:

Hist. of Christianity: Last week, one of the class members began one of his remarks by declaring that he didn't want to throw napalm on the discussion. Of course, when you hear that, it means napalm is going to be thrown into the discussion. You never know what new and exciting things will come out of your classmates' mouths each week
Classical Modern: This has been my first experience of having classes run through the internet. Unfortunately, that is because our professor has to be close to her dad during this time of his life. Now, although I have more than a year of philosophy left to study, I will come out and declare now that this period of philosophy is definitively my least favorite. Just a heads-up reader--you are a mode.
Kierkegaard: Love it! Professor is well-known for being a hard grader, though, but I don't mind. Am I here for a grade, or am I here to learn??

Overall, I think the studies aspect to my life is going quite well in the sense that I been fairly good at keeping pace with the workload. It's about that time of the year, however, when the stress begins to pack-on, so I'm bracing myself for the work I need to put in during this next month or so.

I have continued my apostolate from last year which has been to teach catechism at the local parish to 7th graders. I joked with my class that I have had them for over a year, but I still don't really understand them. Last year was a constant juggle of figuring out what works and what doesn't. Finally, I think I have been able to get a grasp on my kids and have found a flow and rhythm to the class that works.

I start off the class with a few minutes of silence--both because they need the silence as much as anyone, and it's also a time for me to get settled and prepare myself internally for what I am about to do. Then, I give a little blurb for the upcoming Sunday Gospel reading. My students complain that they don't understand the priest when he preaches, so I try to make it more accessible to them (who knows if I succeed at that!). Then, I have thought it important to engage my class with reading comprehension exercises. I'm sure any help they can get in their education will be a boon for them in the long run. This semester, I have been wanting my class to get to know the lives of the Saints and the way they strove, each in their particular way, to serve God and the world. So, I bring into class a reading excerpt for my students to read and have them answer a number of questions based on the reading. I have been quite surprised how well this has worked not only in terms of their learning but also in terms of my sanity. Their behavior has been at an all-time high when I am not just lecturing at them for an hour but actually require them to take the learning into their own hands. Finally, I try to do something creative with them at the end. Last time, I had them write AIM chats to God (inspired by the colloquies of the Spiritual Exercises), which were quite the hit. I think I will continue with these.

Besides CCD, I am now a leader of a CLC group (Christian Life Community). CLC are small groups of about 7-8 people that meet on a weekly basis to deepen and share our faith with one another. When I was at Seattle U, I was a part of a CLC group my freshman year and tried leading one the following year. In my time at SU, though, CLC's had a difficult time thriving, and my group eventually dissolved. At Fordham, however, CLC's seem to be a growing ministry, and I have certainly experienced that with my own group. My group is mostly comprised of freshmen, and it has been a gift for me to journey with them and to help develop their faith lives. It's also been a great way for me to get more involved with the wider Fordham community. Jesuits in the midst of studies can get rather caught up in our bubble of books and papers.

A few weeks ago, I had the great privilege to help lead a silent retreat. Specifically, I had the unique opportunity to "direct" a retreatant. I put that in quotes, because I believe very much in Ignatius' wisdom that God is the primary director in this setting--the director serves only as a means to help the retreatant discern the movements of her/his prayer. I must say that, although this was my first time, I felt right at home with this type of ministry. It was a joy and a blessing to share this rather intimate time they were having with God and to see how it was inspiring them to live their lives. I was also humbled by how open they were with me--I got a glimpse of what it might be like to hear one's confession. I found myself often throwing out the phrase that has been thrown out to me so often in direction: be gentle with yourself. I think spiritual direction is something I would LOVE to do as a Jesuit.

My other "apostolate" has actually been with one of my Ciszek brothers. Every week, I have been giving him piano lessons. It was one of those things where he asked me to teach him, and I was more than happy to help him with this. Of course, I told him there is a price to pay for such a request: bruised hands, harsh whip-lashing, and naturally some bitter tears. He keeps coming back, so I figure he's a glutton for pain.

Generally, things here at Ciszek-land are going quite well. I must say that I have felt rather at home here this past semester, which has been a gift for me to feel. I get along with them quite well and haven't felt the need to punch anyone in the face. In the face (it's all in the delivery). Anyway, one of the things that I have found myself being particularly grateful for are our community masses. There is an energy and prayerfulness to our Masses that I have found quite edifying. It has been a source of much life for me here. A few of the many other things that I have felt lifegiving include my morning crossfit group, Wednesday glee club, and a number of intimate fraternal conversations that I have had.

Although I have certainly had my moments of struggle, I would wholeheartedly say that I have felt God very present in my life. I look back on this semester thus far with much thanksgiving and praise for God's work.

Well, I hope this post finds you all well. Many prayers and blessings!

Joy and Consolation

While I was praying before Mass today, I found myself suddenly overcome with a deep sense of peace and joy. There was no particular cause to the incident. I had spent most of the day with a headache trying to sort through the myriad of Spinoza's philosophical proofs and propositions, and I came home from class frustrated by the onerous philosophical study. This joy I therefore experienced came as quite the surprise to me. Ignatius has a term for this spiritual movement: "consolation without preceding cause" (from the Discernment of Spirits for Week II of the Spiritual Exercises). Jesuits believe this to be the work of God within us. It is a grace. It is gift.

I cherish these moments in my Jesuit vocation. As I began to experience this joy, I could not help but respond with a sense of awe and thanksgiving. God was doing something within me that I had not necessarily asked for. In these moments, I find myself in a place of surrender. It is the call to let God in, to get out of the way, and to trust in the work that is taking place.

This is one of the ways in which I understand our 'Suscipe' Prayer: "Take Lord, Receive, all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will." In offering these faculties over to God, it removes the focus on self and redirects it towards God's action. Paradoxically, in the surrendering of self, we, in a sense, become more liberated, more free. By allowing God to take root and to take hold, to inspire and to animate, we become more fully who we are meant to be.
We become more human.

I feel blessed to be living religious life. Because of my vows and the life I have chosen to live as a Jesuit, my life must necessarily have God as my center if I am to live this life with passion, integrity, and joy. And, I am called everyday to live into this relationship that I have freely chosen to enter. God knows that I often fail at this. But, I try my best. And sometimes, I become surprised by joy.

Feast of St. Ignatius

A very happy and blessed Feast of St. Ignatius to all of you, especially to my Jesuit brethren out there. May the spirit of Ignatius continue to confirm you in your vocation, to inspire you in your life and your work, and to walk with you in finding God in all things.

Probably every Jesuit blogger and his mom will write something, if they haven't already, about today's feast day, so I might as well join in on the fun!

In his homily today, Fr. Pat Lee, the provincial of the Oregon Province and one of the Jesuits I have most come to admire, referred to Ignatius as a pilgrim, as a friend, and as a mystic. Ignatius often referred to himself as the pilgrim--he saw his life as an ever-present journey in search of God, God who gave him a heart of fire, God who gave him ultimate meaning in his life. Every moment, every breath was an encounter with Divine Mystery. He had tremendous faith that God was always present--it was just a matter of having the right way of looking, of disposing himself to always place himself within God's embrace. This pilgrimage, in a sense, was an essential part of Ignatius' mysticism. Ignatius' monastery was the world, and he sought to find God every step that he took. Jesuits are to thrust themselves into the heart of society, to carry Christ deep within their hearts wherever they go, especially in those places of great hurt and despair. Especially there, we have the ability to bring hope to the world.

Ignatius grew in great friendship with his Jesuit brothers, but arguably one of his closest, and earliest, companions on this pilgrimage was St. Francis Xavier. If you read some of the letters that Ignatius writes to Xavier while Xavier is away on mission, you can sense a deep fraternal love that they have for one another. As friends in the Lord, they were able to be very open and honest with each other, to share about how God was moving in their lives, probably to also express their regrets, concerns, or struggles that they were facing throughout the day. In the example of Ignatius, I think all Jesuits are called to develop these deep, personal relationships with one another. Not necessarily that we need to do this with every single person we meet, but, particularly as celibate men, we need good, healthy relationships where we can share in the same way that Ignatius and Francis shared with one another.

Finally, we are not called Ignatians, but Jesuits. Of course, throughout history, that term has received a lot of criticism and has been quite the pejorative, but Ignatius wanted it this way because he felt it so important that Jesuits place their focus on Christ, not on himself. Our Jesuit way of proceeding, our formation throughout all of our lives, is to create ourselves more and more into His image, to love the world as He did, with meekness, gentleness, and humility.

Well, many Jesuits from around the province will be heading out to Hayden Lake to spend St. Ignatius day together, and I will be heading out there shortly as well. Again, a very blessed St. Ignatius day to you all. May our founder continue to strengthen us on our journey, to direct us into greater imitation and service for our world. AMDG

On Freedom

Probably one of the more helpful things about being a philosophy student is that I can look at the image above and ask myself: what does that really mean? Is that a lived reality in the US? You might find those questions silly--I don't. We throw around these terms a lot, especially in the political realm, but I do not think there is one shared understanding of what they truly mean--or even how we go about achieving these goals.

The US was founded on these principles, and it is our duty as US citizens to at least give these principles some critical thought--and I don't mean that in the negative sense.

What does it mean to be free? Is freedom merely the choice of choosing one brand of cereal among five? Even then, you don't have complete choice in the matter, since it's the companies that set the choices before you. Is freedom the ability to say whatever you want? Clearly, we can't just say anything.

Now, I'm not providing answers, but it's important to see that these principles that the country fights for are highly complex with a lot of nuance.

Personally, one of the helpful ways that I have come to see and experience freedom comes from my Jesuit training. One of the most important questions that is asked of us to consider is to reflect on those places in our lives in which we are most unfree. Many of us enter the novitiate with a lot of personal baggage, and we are asked to sort through that. Some of what we carry with us in our hearts is very life-giving, and it is important to be grateful for those memories. Other baggage, however, has shaped us into who we are today--and not necessarily in the best way possible. That may be memories of physical abuse, addiction, abandonment, etc. These moments of great hurt, through God's grace, can be moments of joyous light and reconciliation, but too often they continue to weigh us down in anger and despair. If we are not able to deal with the baggage in a healthy way, it can consume us for the rest of our lives. In a sense, we become people of unfreedom.

St. Ignatius knew this, and the Spiritual Exercises was one of his ways of forming people to lead more free lives. It's about having rightly-ordered desires that give life, not bring death. We are asked to have faith that God can heal us of these infirmities, that God can lead us into fuller and richer lives. If we grant permission, God will carry our burdens in the same way that Christ carried the cross. But, if we cling on tight, we will never be able to let go.

God wants us to be free people. Let us rejoice in that, and let us allow God to lead us into such a life.

Learning from the Pros

I was watching the tennis match between Serena Williams and Elena Dementieva today and could not help but be in awe at the high level of play between these two highly talented athletes. Although it was a semi-final match, it seemed like a championship game in which both players were a point away from winning. The game ended at 6-7, 7-5, and 8-6. Contrast that to the other semi-final game, in which the other Williams sister, Venus, whooped the top-seeded player, Dinara Safina, 6-1, 6-0.

I used to watch tennis growing up in which the top stars in the game were Andre Agassi, Pete Sampras, Steffi Graf, and Monica Seles. I found great joy in listening to the grunts of the women and found a number of occasions to mimic, or maybe to mock, their sound. Seles was special--she had a double grunt. Although I lost interest in pro tennis later on, part of that has been rekindled during my year at Ciszek hall--a number of the guys watched tennis, and I found myself again enjoying the matches. Here I am during the beginning of my first year at Ciszek at the US Open.


When you watch two highly talented individuals play tennis at the top of their game, it's like watching poetry in motion. There are just moments during the game when your jaw cannot help but drop--all you can say is "wow..." You are glued at those times when the crowd gasps in nervous anticipation as the players continue to scramble for the ball while hitting out-of-this-world shots. These players are passionate individuals who have worked extremely hard to get to where they are today, and the fruits of their labor often result in great beauty.

In many ways, I find great inspiration in watching a well-played sports game. You can tell that a number of these players excel for a sheer love of what they do and a will to be at the top of their game.

I think God wants all of us to always be on our A-game, to give it 110%. Our A-game, however, is not meant for our own self-glorification. True pros not only make themselves better but inspire those around them to be better as well. And, they often acknowledge and offer gratitude to the people in their lives who have helped them and shaped them into the individuals they are today--without them, they would be nothing.

When Fr. Kolvenbach says: "We should recall that mediocrity has no place in Ignatius' world view", I think that is meant as an exhortation to be people on fire, to live with passion, to excel in our lives in things both great and small. That doesn't mean that all of us need to get 4.0's or get the MVP award. But, it does require sweat, and it most certainly involves a special kind of love.

Christ Amidst the Storms

This past Sunday, the Oregon Scholastics here in Spokane had a day of recollection--a time to pray, to share our faith, to discern our inner movements over the past year or so. Fr. Peter Byrne, a spiritual guru in our province, led our prayer and grounded it in that Sunday's Gospel reading--the Apostles and Jesus in a boat amidst the storms.

From Mark 4:35-41 (taken from the New American Bible Translation)

On that day, as evening drew on, he said to them, "let us cross the other side." Leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat just as he was. And other boats were with him. A violent squall came up and waves were breaking over the boat, so that it was already filling up. Jesus was in the stern, asleep on a cushion. They woke him and said to him, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" He woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Quiet! Be still!" The wind ceased and there was great calm. Then he asked them, "Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?" They were filled with great awe and said to one another: "Who then is this whom even wind and sea obey.?"

One of the great gems of St. Ignatius found in the Spiritual Exercises is his belief that all people can have direct contact with God, and one of the ways that he has the exercitant experience this grace is through our power of imagination. He asks the one praying the exercises to imagine herself/himself at the scene, to experience the storm, to colloquy with Christ at this time. And, since we all have our own history, our own experiences, the way we may imagine and experience this storm will probably differ from one another.

I imagine that many people would probably experience a lot of anger and resentment towards God for putting them through stormy situations. I experience it a little differently. I have certainly navigated my fair share of stormy weather during my life journey, but when I look back, I never feel that I was ever alone in the boat. I believe that Christ was always there to lend a hand, to offer words of comfort, to lead certain people into my life, sometimes even to throw me a lifeline when I needed it--even if I didn't recognize His presence at the time. It's not a "I'll believe it when I see it" moment, it's a "I'll see it when I believe it" experience that I cannot describe any other way. The light of Christ pierces even the deepest darkness, calms our raging winds.

At the end of the storm, sometimes you'll encounter a rainbow if you look in the right spot.

In terms of the Oregon Province, one of the ways in which we situate our experience of bankruptcy is through this gospel passage. It's a stormy time for us collectively, but I have personally witnessed a strength of faith and hope in the Jesuits here. We believe Christ is always with us and will lead us through this uncertain future of ours, whatever that may look like. Our material goods may get taken, but we have greater treasure that can never be taken away. And, it is these gifts that we have faith will sustain us. AMDG

St. Ignatius and Contemporary Iconography: Ignatius in Rome

Panel 5 of 5: Ignatius in Rome

During my past few posts, I had been quoting the prayer cards that I have of the icons at St. Ignatius Chapel at Seattle University.  Although there were a number of differences between the ones at SU and the ones in the novitiate, the essence of the art is the same.  However, this 5th icon is strikingly dissimilar to the one at SU, and I felt that the quote that described SU's icon does not really capture what is going on in this new icon.  

On the icon at SU, Ignatius is shown writing the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus. He sits alone in his room in contemplative thought, amidst books and letters.  An image of the Virgin Mary is in the background, with only 2 other people walking down an alleyway. Certainly, to write a robust document like the Constitutions, Ignatius would have needed that quiet solitude.  

Yet, as we see here in the icon at the Oregon novitiate, Bittau's depiction of Ignatius is completely different. Instead of being withdrawn in Rome, Ignatius is flooded by people reaching out to him. He is in priestly garb, preaching to the people and administering to them while the light of Christ overlooks all. His arms not only are in a giving posture to the people but also are open to receiving the graces of God poured down, inviting the people to do the same.  

Indeed, Ignatius was quite active in the works he began in Rome, and I think Bittau is right to highlight that in this icon. For example, he aided the people in the winter of 1538 during a harsh famine, helped those who were poor, sick, and crippled, established a work "The House of St. Martha" to help prostitutes and "The Association of Downtrodden Young Women" for those in danger.  

Throughout the 5 icons, Bittau gives equal weight not only to Ignatius' life of prayer following his conversion, but also his life of ministry.  It is this fusion that gives Jesuits our charism. 

Well, this ends my week-long glimpse at the life of St. Ignatius through the iconography of Dora Bittau.  I have found my own prayer life enriched in being able to look again upon these icons and to contemplate the life that he led. And, as with any art, you may see things that I did not catch, or you may even find something in the future that had not caught your eye in the past. Definitely, there are much more to these icons that I have written about. I hope this week at least has given you a glimpse into the life of a man that inspires so many works today. And, perhaps, it has offered you a way in which you can pray with art. 

"O Spirit of God, we ask you to help orient

all our actions by your inspirations,

carry them on by your gracious assistance,

that every prayer and work of ours

may always begin from you

and through you be happily ended."

St. Ignatius and Contemporary Iconography: Confirmed in Mission at La Storta

Panel 4 of 5: Confirmed in Mission at La Storta

"Ignatius' desire and prayer that he and his companions serve Christ's mission is confirmed when God places him with Jesus carrying his cross"

The following quote is all we get from Ignatius himself about this vision:

"One day, a few miles before reaching Rome, he was at prayer in a church and experienced such a change in his soul and saw so clearly that God the Father placed him with Christ his Son that he would not dare doubt it--that God the Father had placed him with his Son."

However, other Jesuit documentation gives greater detail around this experience. Ignatius is said to have been praying frequently to Mary for this grace to place him with his son, and his prayers were answered at La Storta.  An early companion and future General, Diego Lainez writes that Ignatius told him "that it seemed to him that God the Father had impressed on his heart the following words: 'I shall be propitious to you in Rome'...then at another time it seemed to him that he saw Christ carrying a cross on his shoulder and the Eternal Father nearby who said to Christ: 'I want you to take this man for you servant.' Upon receiving this vision, Ignatius felt inspired to name the new order he would found using the name of Jesus--the Company of Jesus, or the Society of Jesus.  Most religious orders are named after their founder, but Ignatius wanted the emphasis to be squarely placed on Christ.  

Like the 2nd icon, Bittau again obscures the vision in a radiant white light. This is actually a departure from the icons at Seattle U that she made before, in which Ignatius' visions are clearly shown.  In this way, it honors the mystery of Ignatius' vision.  Yet, you can still make out the cross of Christ in the light.  

You can see Rome in the background, showing the close proximity of this experience to his mission.  On the side is the chapel of La Storta.  

What is fascinating in this icon is that Bittau again chooses to fuse modern day images with the experience of Ignatius.  Stark images of torture and naked bodies lie amidst the vision. She wanted to highlight that Jesuits, who are called to be in the world, are necessarily called to be in the midst of suffering.  Indeed, many Jesuits have lost their lives in the Society's long history.  

When I look at this icon, I am reminded about Fr. Pedro Arrupe's witness of the atomic bomb in Hiroshima and his service to the Japanese people who suffered its effects--a true example of a Jesuit in the midst of real suffering.  Trained as a medical doctor, Fr. Arrupe did his best to save as many lives as he could. I have much to say about that topic, but I think I will save my reflection of Arrupe at Hiroshima for another day.  

Ideally, as Jesuits, we do what we do because we are rooted and grounded in Christ--that profound love and affection inspires and sustains our life and our ministry. It is that orientation that orders our thoughts and actions. Some of us even lose our lives because of that love.  

It is that love that brought Ignatius to Rome. 

What/who are you in love with? What sets you on fire?

"Nothing is more practical

than finding God, that is,

than falling in love

in a quite absolute, final way. 

What you are in love with,

what seizes your imagination,

will affect everything. 

It will decide 

what will get you out of bed

in the morning,

what you do with your evenings,

how you spend your weekends,

what you read, who you know,

what breaks your heart,

and what amazes you

with joy and gratitude. 

Fall in love, stay in love,

and it will decide everything."

~Fr. Pedro Arrupe, S.J.

St. Ignatius and Contemporary Iconography: Educated and Blessed with Companions at the University of Paris

Panel 3 of 5: Educated at the University of Paris

"Ignatius pursues an education so he can help others and serve God."

Ignatius had a deep desire to aid souls.  Yet, he realized that in order to be effective in his ministry, he had to obtain a good education.  Thus, he traveled to Paris in pursuit of higher learning (even studying with children to strengthen his lack of fundamentals). It is during this time that Ignatius meets the "first companions", the ones who will later join him in establishing the Jesuit Order--Blessed Peter Faber and St. Francis Xavier.   

It is clear that Ignatius' desire for learning inspired the role that Jesuits would play in educating others. Bittau acknowledges this relationship with the past by melding Ignatius and companions with present day students in their graduation garbs.  Most of the students are directed towards Ignatius, but notice that Ignatius is pointing directly upwards towards the "IHS".  We look to Ignatius who inspired Jesuit education, but Ignatius points at his own inspiration--Christ.  

Many who attend Jesuit institutions, particularly Jesuit high schools, would be familiar with the phrase "AMDG" - for the greater glory of God. Ignatius believed that through this education that he would obtain, he would have greater ability to magnify God's work here on earth.  

I think it's quite a conscientious move on Bittau's part to depict the students in their graduation robes.  Not only does it represent success in obtaining one's education, it also points towards the future. It marks the transitional phase in which we enter into the world, bringing our newly formed gifts and talents to others.  

Specifically as a Jesuit in formation in the phase of first studies, I find that reflecting on this icon puts my philosophical studies in a bit of perspective. This time of studies is meant to make me a better Jesuit down the line. It is not education for education's sake and for one's personal benefit--it is education for ministry. 

How has your own education shaped and formed you? Have you been able to bring those unique gifts and talents into ministry? For those Jesuit educated, how has Jesuit education influenced the way you see the world today?

"The contemporary mission of the Society of Jesus is the service of faith and the promotion of that justice of the Gospel that is the embodiment of God's love and saving mercy."

             ~General Congregation 34.d.2.no.3

"We should recall that mediocrity has no place in Ignatius' world view; he demands leaders in service to others in building the Kingdom of God in the market place of business and ideas, of service, of law and justice, of economics, theology, and all areas of human life.  He urges us to work for the greater glory of God because the world desperately needs men and women of competence and conscience who generously give of themselves for others."

             ~Fr. Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, S.J. (former General of the Society of Jesus)

St. Ignatius and Contemporary Iconography: Transformed at River Cardoner

Panel 2 of 5: Transformed at the Cardoner

"The pilgrim to Jerusalem pauses in Manresa and spends a year of purification and enlightenment, culminating in a transforming illumination by the River Cardoner"

When I look at this icon, I see St. Ignatius retreating from the world.  It represents a "desert" experience, of needing to take a few moments away from the business of everyday life in order to reflect and examine his life.  In the background, we see in the distance that is in Ignatius' view.  He is outside the city, yet can still see it.  

This experience probably inspired parts of his work with the Spiritual Exercises, the main retreat experience that binds all Jesuits together.  

This retreat experience is important for the Jesuit life and indeed shapes who we are and how we interact with the world.  We are called always to step back and to reflect, to remove ourselves completely from the world for a short time in order to re-enter refreshed and renewed.  

If you look closely, you may see images within the rocks themselves.  In those times of prayerful solitude, we may see things that we would not be able to otherwise.  I mean that in a very positive sense too--not in the sense of "seeing" things because we're going crazy.  Well, we are a little crazy...But, I mean that our ability to discern and to reflect back on experiences becomes heightened in that short detachment from the world.  

Overlooking everything is a white dove, representing the Holy Spirit.  I find that image to be very comforting. 

In Ignatius' spiritual autobiography, he shares specifically about this experience at the river (always referring to himself in the 3rd person as he dictates his story to a brother Jesuit): 

"Once he was going out of devotion to a church situated a little more than a mile from Manresa; I believe it is called St. Paul's and the road goes by the river.  As he went along occupied with his devotions, he sat down for a little while with his face toward the river, which ran down below.  While he was seated there, the eyes of his understanding began to be opened; not that he saw any vision, but he understood and learned many things, both spiritual matters and matters of faith and of scholarship and this with so great an enlightenment that everything seemed new to him" 

I feel that Bittau, the artist, captures this understanding quite well.  She intentionally obscures the image in the river as a ray of light to represent this new understanding of Ignatius.  Yet, you can still faintly make out a silhouette of the Virgin Mary with child. 

Have you ever had a "river" experience in which old things all of a sudden became new, in which you saw things in a new and breathtaking light?

"Take, Lord, Receive

all my liberty,

my memory,

my understanding

and my entire will,

all that I have and possess.

You have given all to me. 

To you, Lord, I return it. 

All is yours. 

Dispose of it wholly

according to your will.

Give me only your love and your grace

That is sufficient for me."

~St. Ignatius

St. Ignatius and Contemporary Iconography: Wounded at Pamplona

This week, I invite you to get to know St. Ignatius through contemporary icons.  At the Chapel of St. Ignatius at Seattle University, many would be familiar with the icons of Ignatius inside. Dora Bittau created 5 important scenes of Ignatius' life.  The Oregon Province Jesuits, however, actually commissioned her to do another set of 5, which was gifted to our novitiate the year I entered.  

Before I took my first vows, I thought it would be good to take pictures of these icons before I left for NY.  These aren't the best quality photos (for example, this one has a little flash on the right side), but I hope you may enjoy them, even finding them as tools for prayer.  To find icons that may move and inspire you.  

Icons aren't necessary art--rather, they are known more as "prayer windows", "meeting places of the divine and the world". The icon is itself a prayer, and its visual nature invites us to approach the mystery of God.  The Orthodox tradition is well known for its use of icons.  

Fr. William Hart McNichols, SJ, writes: 

"Icons change you from within, because they are a prayer.  They will at times create an atmosphere inside you to receive something new from God.  They will plough the field, or get ready the ground, so that you can receive what God is doing next...What you gaze at, you become."

In these Icons which I will be sharing this week, it is clear that Dora is prayerfully interacting with the story of Ignatius through the way she depicts things.  You will see in this first icon, for example, how she fuses the battle of Pamplona with modern images--most strikingly the image of two towers on fire, meant to connect to 9/11. 

This image, the battle of Pamplona, represents the turning point in Ignatius' life.  He was critically wounded from a cannon shot to his leg, leaving him with a limp the rest of his life. While he lay in bed, recovering, he was pretty bored out of his mind and wanted something fun to read, like romantic novels.  However, the house he was staying at had nothing to read except a book on the life of Christ and a book on the saints.  These readings were to profoundly move him that he wished to leave his past life behind of riches, honor, and womanizing, and to follow the path of Christ.  

So, our first icon of this week on the Spiritual Journey of St. Ignatius

Panel 1 of 5: Wounded at Pamplona

"Lord, teach us to be generous,

to us to serve you as you deserve;

To give and not to count the cost;

To fight and not to heed the wounds;

To toil and not to seek for rest;

To labor and not ask for any reward,

save that of knowing that we do your will."

      ~St. Ignatius