tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88419922738822251412024-02-19T11:35:03.948-05:00Ibo et Non RediboWriting on a variety of subjects for the sake of furthering the "praise, reverence, and service" of God, this merry assembly of vowed men-in-formation from the Jesuit Province of English Canada can be relied upon to offer stimulating, informative, and edifying reflections for all people of faith and good will.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.comBlogger425125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-90136201666794899602014-08-29T05:30:00.000-04:002014-08-29T20:05:35.619-04:00Farewells and Rebirths<i>By John D. O'Brien, S.J., on behalf of the </i>Ibo<i> writers</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Credit: Santiago Rodriguez</span></td></tr>
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<i>Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning. –Winston Churchill</i></blockquote>
The time has come to say farewell to our loyal readers. Sort of. For we are not so much departing from you, nor you from us, as we are putting to rest the format of communication that has served us both so well these past few years. The editors and writers of <i>Ibo</i> have decided that this will be the final article here, as we migrate to <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/thejesuitpost/">an exciting new blog-site hosted on <i>Patheos</i></a>.<br />
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But first, it’s opportune to take stock of what <i>Ibo</i> has been. Since our launch in February 2012, we have written 425 original articles, which in this time have seen 220,000 hits. The blog’s origins lie in several aspirations: to be a meeting place between contemporary concerns and Ignatian spirituality. To permit dialogue and creative conversation to erupt over a host of issues facing Christians everywhere. To be a voice-piece for young Jesuit thinkers and writers in an age when the printed magazine is in decline. We sought to bring creativity and depth, two qualities urged upon us by our religious order, to our writing. We hope you will stay with us as we continue this mission to the Church.<br />
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So this is not so much a farewell, as an invitation. A request to join us in our new format, on a new site. We are combining forces with our American colleagues at <a href="https://thejesuitpost.org/" target="_blank"><i>The Jesuit Post</i></a> to provide thought-provoking and spiritually nourishing content at <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/thejesuitpost/"><i>The Jesuit Post on Patheos</i></a>. <i>Patheos</i> is one of the largest websites in the world that provides content on religion. Its Catholic Channel, which contains numerous blogs, is edited by Elizabeth Scalia, who writes at her own well-known blog, called <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/theanchoress/posts/" target="_blank"><i>The Anchoress</i></a>. At the same time, we will edit our own articles within our own blog-site. So we are joining both an existing Jesuit blog (<i>The Jesuit Post</i>) and a vast community of conversationalists on a large aggregate site (<i>Patheos</i>). <i>Patheos</i>, it should be noted, gets more hits in one month than we did in our entire 2.5 year history. We are looking forward to expanding our readership under these auspices.
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<i>For last year’s words belong to last year’s language and next year’s words await another voice and to make an end is to make a beginning. – T.S. Eliot </i></blockquote>
Most importantly, we would like to restate our commitment to continually improve the quality of our thought and writing, which we make entirely in service to the Church. You may not agree with everything we write, but we guarantee each article will contain something substantial for heart and mind. We will not waste your time.<br />
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For starters, Sam Sawyer, S.J. raises an interesting question about the relationship between faith and technology, <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/thejesuitpost/2014/08/so-great-a-cloud-virtual-choir-real-gift/" target="_blank">profiling a stunning multimedia recording</a> made by world-wide Carmelites in a virtual choir.
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You will start seeing your favourite <i>Ibo</i> writers appearing soon at <i><a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/thejesuitpost/" target="_blank">The Jesuit Post on Patheos</a></i>. Please bookmark us. We look forward to seeing you there often.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-7175758394163275562014-08-27T05:30:00.000-04:002014-08-27T11:21:06.660-04:00Three Impediments to the Christian Faith that St. Augustine Overcame, and Why They Still Matter<i>By Adam Hincks, S.J.</i><br />
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<i><i>Good and ill have not changed since yesteryear. – J.R.R. Tolkien</i></i></div>
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Many of the things get in the way of Christian faith and have remain remarkably consistent through the ages. Here are three roadblocks that St. Augustine, whose feast we celebrate tomorrow, had to overcome before fully embracing the Catholic faith, as described in his autobiographical <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Confessions_of_St._Augustine#English_translations" target="_blank">Confessions</a>.</i><br />
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<b>1. Disordered Sexuality</b><br />
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When it comes to sex, St. Augustine wears his heart on his sleeve in the <i>Confessions</i>, speaking with remarkable frankness. He is famous for relating that as young man he used to pray, ‘Give me chastity and continence, but not yet’ (VIII, 7). Unfortunately, he lived in a culture, not unlike ours, in which chastity was seen as unmanly. When his friends boasted of their own conquests, he was eager not to lose face with them:<br />
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I heard them bragging of their depravity, and the greater the sin the more they gloried in it, so that I took pleasure in the same vices not only for the enjoyment of what I did, but also for the applause I won. … If I had not sinned enough to rival other sinners, I used to pretend that I had done things I had not done at all, because I was afraid that innocence would be taken for cowardice and chastity for weakness. (II, 3)</blockquote>
Neither did his family dissuade him from his lack of discipline. His father was proud of Augustine’s virility; his mother, St. Monica, was distressed, but held her tongue and bided her time. Together, his parents were more concerned that he advance in a career rather than settle down and marry, which Augustine later thought might have been a suitable antidote to his unbridled lust.<br />
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As a grown man he had a long-term mistress who bore him a son. This does not seem to have been scandalous among his peers, and rather appears to have been a matter of course. Augustine truly loved and cared for his concubine but never married her. Later, when the two of them separated and he became engaged to a young girl, he took up another mistress while waiting for his marriage, explaining that he could not control his sexual appetite. (The engagement was later broken off.)<br />
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Now, despite the appearance of normalcy and social acceptability of Augustine’s relationships, he was in turmoil inside. Among all the forces holding him back from the Christian faith, he returns again and again to discuss his reluctance to fully embrace chastity as an impediment to his conversion. His struggles are pertinent today for a couple of reasons. First, they remind us that living a healthy sexuality is a perennial challenge. Widespread social pressure to shun sexual inhibitions are nothing unique to our times. Unfortunately, for Augustine, as for many today, sins against chastity are a real impediment to growth in faith. God must have full sovereignty over our lives. As Augustine explains,<br />
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I was quite sure that it was better for me to give myself up to your love than to surrender to my own lust. But while I wanted to follow the first course and was convinced that it was right, I was still a slave to the pleasures of the second. … For the rule of sin is the force of habit, by which the mind is swept along and held fast even against its will, yet deservedly, because it fell into the habit of its own accord. (VIII, 6)</blockquote>
The second lesson we can from Augustine is to trust in grace. As the <a href="http://www.vatican.va/archive/ENG0015/__P85.HTM" target="_blank">Catechism explains</a>, “Chastity is a moral virtue. It is also a gift from God, a grace, a fruit of spiritual effort. The Holy Spirit enables one whom the water of Baptism has regenerated to imitate the purity of Christ” (2345). This was certainly true for Augustine. He worked at it as a moral virtue by cultivating a desire to change and discussing his difficulties with his friends. But ultimately it was by God’s working in his life, in response to his prayers, he grew in virtue. Only by surrendering to God is he is able to leave behind the serious sin which had been enslaving him.<br />
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<b>2. Materialism</b><br />
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Today, “materialism” usually means an excessive attachment to wealth, worldly possessions and honours. In a sense, Augustine was captivated by this kind of materialism due to his ambition to be a great orator and prestigious teacher. But in a deeper sense materialism is the conviction that all of existence is reducible to the material world.<br />
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In our time, materialistic doctrine is certainly preached by militant atheists, but it is also subtly present in certain religious movements in which God’s transcendence is denied or reduced, so that he becomes a spirit in the world or a life-principle or what have you. In Augustine’s time, there were similarly plenty of philosophies that had materialistic world-views.<br />
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Now, Augustine was never an atheist, but he did have erroneous ideas about God. As a young man, he fell under the influence of Manichaeism, a religion that denied the omnipotence of God by teaching that there is an uncreated evil principle in opposition to him. Thus, Augustine thought of God as a powerful being among other beings, not as the fully transcendent God of Abraham. He explains,
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I attempted to understand you, my God … as though you too were [material] substance, and greatness and beauty were your attributes in the same way that a body has attributes by which it is defined. But your greatness and beauty are your own self: whereas a body is not great or beautiful simply because it is a body … My conception of you was quite untrue, a mere falsehood. It was a fiction based on my own wretched state, not the firm foundation of your bliss. (IV, 16)</blockquote>
A key element to Augustine’s conversion, therefore, had to be intellectual in nature. He needed to come to understand that God is wholly immaterial, simple and unchanging. Reading the Neoplatonic philosophers moved him in the right direction, for through them he was able to reject the Manichean notion that evil is a pre-existing substance and was confirmed in the notion of God as non-material. But he still had difficulty coming to terms with this: “I could not free myself from the thought that you [God] were some kind of bodily substance extended in space, either permeating the world or diffused in infinity beyond it” (VII, 1).<br />
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In the end, though the human wisdom of philosophy was a help, it was through faith that Augustine was able to come to know the true God. St. Paul helped him to see that though the Platonists taught true things about God, Platonism is not sufficient. Knowing God requires not just knowing <i>about </i>him, but loving him, and this means acting accordingly. Thus, Augustine’s own moral life was not unrelated to his intellectual difficulties in understanding who God is. It is much harder to see beyond the world of the senses when that world is your chief means of gratification; conversely, it is much easier to be ruled by material goods and worldly honours when you believe that there is nothing more to the world than those. Augustine’s attachment to honour and his rejection of chastity, then, are surely related to his difficulty perceiving a reality beyond the material world.<br />
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But most important of all for knowing God is the realisation that all along he has loved us. It is this discovery that culminates in Augustine’s magnificent hymn to the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob: the God who had been patiently trying to reach him his whole life:
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I searched for you outside myself and, disfigured as I was, I fell upon the lovely things of your creation. You were with me, but I was not with you. The beautiful things of this world kept me far from you and yet, if they had not been in you, they would have had no being at all. You called me; you cried aloud to me; your broke my barrier of deafness. You shone upon me; your radiance enveloped me; you put my blindness to flight. You shed your fragrance about me; I drew breath and now I gasp for your sweet odour. I tasted you, and now I hunger and thirst for you. You touched me, and I am inflamed with love of your peace. (X, 28)</blockquote>
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<b>3. Biblical Fundamentalism</b><br />
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While there is <a href="http://www.ibosj.ca/2012/10/reading-bible-literally-right-way.html" target="_blank">an authentic literal sense to scripture</a>, it is frequently forgotten or unknown in our times. Instead, people treat Sacred Scripture as though it is a modern scientific and historical treatise, which leads to strange and even harmful notions about religion. Such Biblical fundamentalism is probably much more widespread today than it was in St. Augustine’s time, but it was a phenomenon that existed then as well.<br />
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In fact, it was partly a fundamentalist approach that made the young Augustine dissatisfied with the Christian faith. The Manicheans believed that the Bible, though having some truth in it, was a corrupted text. Augustine, reading the Bible in a fundamentalist way, was inclined to agree with this view because of the absurdities he perceived in it, especially in the Old Testament. He thought that everything in the Bible should be read as baldly factual claims, and when he found that they made no sense when read in this light, he had no more time for it.<br />
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It was through the preaching of St. Ambrose, the bishop of Milan, that Augustine learnt a more mature approach to Scripture:
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I was glad too that at last I had been shown how to interpret the ancient Scriptures of the law and the prophets in a different light from that which had previously made them seem absurd, when I used to criticize [the] saints for holding beliefs which they had never really held at all.</blockquote>
This was a key realisation for Augustine, because it freed him from the notion that the Christian faith required one to switch off rational judgement in the presence of a religious text. Finally, he was able to engage with the Bible in a way that did not do violence to his reason.<br />
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Today, unfortunately, erroneous approaches to the Bible remain a stumbling block for many. After all, if one is presented with a fundamentalist reading of Scripture, it is pretty reasonable simply to dismiss it as incredulous. There are lots of people today who are suspicious of Christianity because of this, just as Augustine was. Perhaps we are called to be little St. Ambroses in our time, helping people to understand the Bible in the authentically Christian way.<br />
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<b>Evangelising Our Age</b><br />
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Disordered sexuality, materialism and fundamentalism are not the only impediments to Christian faith. Different people have different weaknesses. But they still are three important phenomena that today, just as much as in the fourth century, can hold people back from seriously engaging with the faith of the Church.<br />
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We might think about how we might be evangelists in our own times by refuting the misunderstandings raised by these impediments. How can we resist the prevailing culture of irresponsible sex, while at the same time presenting a positive and life-giving alternative that brings people to God? How can we help people come to know God as the omnipotent Creator and personal Saviour, and not as a second-rate superhero or a vague spiritual force? How can we aid people in not only reading the Bible, but reading it with all of their critical intellectual powers guided by the light of faith?<br />
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If we engage in these issues, I am confident that we will discover that there are a lot of Augustines among us, not very far from the Kingdom of God.<br />
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<i>Quotations from the </i>Confessions<i> are from the translation of R. Pine-Coffin (Penguin, 2003).</i>
John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-48948962306538961052014-08-22T05:30:00.000-04:002014-08-22T09:36:32.654-04:00The Day I Wanted to Punch Jesus<em>By Santiago Rodriguez, S.J.</em><br />
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totalrocky.com</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>"My arms are too short to box with
God.” - Johnny Cash</em></div>
<o:p></o:p>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
I got into a fistfight once. It was more of a crazy dance than a boxing match.
I’d like to think that I was defending my then-girlfriend's honour, but I was
probably protecting my stubborn pride. I hated that fight. I was terrified and
my heart thumped in my chest, but I knew I had to fight. The way I remember the
fight we both got our noses bloodied. In all likelihood, I got the worst of it.
Hopefully, the other guy thought of me as he got out of bed the next day. I
doubt he did. That’s the closest I’ve ever been to being a boxer. Fisticuff
games don’t count, regardless of what my brothers might say.<o:p></o:p>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
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I thought about that fistfight a lot during my last eight-day silent retreat.
I've felt the desire to punch someone in the face a few times since my high
school days, but it was only during this last retreat that I felt the need to
fight somebody. Not just anybody; I wanted to fight Jesus. Maybe not a full-blown
fight, but at least the chance to lay one on him. You are probably shocked by
the chutzpah of my comment, but hear me out before you judge me.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, Jesus frustrates me. He upsets me once in a while, but this is the first time
I’ve wanted to punch him. I know this says more about me than it says about the
Good Shepherd, but the annoyance is real. Jesus has a way of saying and asking
for things that can make me a bit antsy or frantic. He says these things when I
am edging closer to my limits. The truth set us free. But before it sets me
free, it irks me. Jesus ticks me off at times – much like Mom annoyed me with
her comments when I was a teenager. She was usually spot on, but my pride could
not handle it. I’ve grown a bit since then, but not as much as I’d like to.<br />
<o:p></o:p>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
During my retreat, I found myself vulnerable and a bit lost. Jesus’ companionship
reaffirmed me, but it also challenged me. His love soothed me, but it also
confronted me. Without saying it out loud, I knew what Jesus was asking of me.
It scared the bejesus out of me. The prospect of Jesus’ invitation threw me
into a panic. It was a very visceral reaction. I could not surrender to his love.
I wanted to stand my ground. Thoughts of Jacob wrestling with God crossed my
mind. I clenched my spiritual fist and I readied to battle the Son of God.<br />
<o:p></o:p>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
This would not be a David-and-Goliath-like battle. I pictured it more like the
friendly fight between Rocky Balboa and Apollo Creed at the end of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rocky III</i> – much like Apollo, I wanted to make a point. I didn’t need a barn-burner; I only wanted a few rounds. Jesus
and I would climb into the ring through the ropes. There wouldn’t be any trash
talk with Jesus, so I’d just settle for the boxing handshake. I’d put my mouth
guard on, but Jesus would not.<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
'Wow, Jesus, you are tough.’ He’d smile. 'Are you ready?’ I would ask.<br />
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'Absolutely,' he would say – I don’t imagine Jesus sounds anything like Apollo Creed.<br />
<br />
'You wanna ring the bell?’<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
'All right. Ding-ding.’<br />
<o:p></o:p>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<em>Eye of the Tiger</em> would be playing, but there’d be no punches. Jesus is a nonviolence kind of guy. He’d
dance around me, and wear me out. I’d try to land a jab or a hook, but Jesus would
be too fast for me. In terms of his style, I imagine Jesus is less like Mike Tyson
and more like Muhammad Ali. I can’t picture Jesus as a biter. Like Cassius
Clay, he probably floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee. Jesus has both
rhythm and power. His rhythm is measured in love and his power has nothing to
do with punches.<br />
<o:p></o:p>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
Ours would be a spiritual boxing match – just another way to let the Carpenter’s Son
love me. He would agree to a match in order to wear out my pride and fears. He
does not fight me to force me into his ways. He wrestles with me to undo my
worries and tribulations. Instead of a punch to the breadbasket, Jesus offers
me freedom. His mercy overcomes the heavy earthliness and selfishness that
resist his pleading love. He delights as he utters: ‘Abide in me’. Love
prevails when he hears me say: ‘When I am weak, then I am strong’. His victory
is my yielding, and, in the yielding, I grow strong.<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
Jesus is the holy pugilist. He does not shy from a good dance around the ring. He confronts
us because he loves us. That makes us uneasy. By loving us, God stirs and
brings to the surface the areas of our lives we would rather ignore – areas
that, if we had our way, we could live just fine without ever having to change.
All of us have those areas. We all react differently to the confrontation,
but all of us have to deal with them. God desires to remove those things that
hinder us from moving forward. He wants to teach how to love more deeply. His
merciful strivings wear out our egos and our inability to trust. His victory is
also our victory. If we yield, there will be peace and strength in our hearts.
As we surrender to Love, we become better lovers. We are transformed as we pray
on the ring where our ‘foe’ becomes our friend. God does not want to bloody our
noses or to lame us with his touch – ask Jacob. He wants to strive with us
towards greater freedom. So next time you are confronted and the Word of God
disturbs your security, don’t run, don’t hide, and don’t ignore it. Prepare to
dance around the ring, but know that the thrill of the fight is no match for
the joy of surrendering to our loving rival.
John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-32976702054393749182014-08-20T05:30:00.000-04:002014-08-20T11:56:50.306-04:00Having Tea with China<i>By Edmund Lo, S.J.</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-size: xx-small;">Photo: Edmund Lo</span></td></tr>
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<br />
I feel like I know you, yet I do not.<br />
<br />
We share the same bloodline, but I was raised under colonial rule, for better and for worse.<br />
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I jokingly tell others that my Chinese friends think I am too western, whereas my western friends think I am very Chinese. This is who I am, but I want to know more about my roots. I am not a Sinophile, because I do not come to you as a foreigner; you are already a part of me. I just want to know you more. I have longed for such an opportunity, and it finally happened.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDu5b12j90F-90shGCj7mz4dfahNLmDhU9lcpdo4fVq4R-kAhKOexkm_3Qdn69HKt3gNSYjMwA9Ll_j3mbZbGmRFpeCsAWV1EYXwliK4DmtGRVftoFE5yWc6F_kPpjUrrwvFXv2M9rZA/s1600/140803+Beijing+smog+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDu5b12j90F-90shGCj7mz4dfahNLmDhU9lcpdo4fVq4R-kAhKOexkm_3Qdn69HKt3gNSYjMwA9Ll_j3mbZbGmRFpeCsAWV1EYXwliK4DmtGRVftoFE5yWc6F_kPpjUrrwvFXv2M9rZA/s1600/140803+Beijing+smog+2.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Smog over Beijing <span style="color: #666666;">(Photo: Edmund Lo)</span></span></td></tr>
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The first impression that you gave was not a flattering one, and it mostly had to do with your infamous smog. I waited patiently as our flight pilot announced our descent into your heartland that is Beijing. Then I waited. And waited. And then I waited some more. I began to wonder why we were circling in the sky for what felt like eternity. As soon as we emerged from the clouds, we landed in the airport within a minute. I finally realised that we hadn’t been in the clouds for all that time; we were in the smog. You covered yourself with this sickening stuff for the first two days of my stay, and it was honestly very depressing. Thankfully, a thunderstorm unveiled your natural face. You draped yourself with blue sky, and put on a hint of gentle breeze. Much better, I thought.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJBw93yYDYibfjQ9smv-W_KutY8JdK0R6jSjBGic5SrQYwDgXcUvVGmJ5yWtODYN5UyLL46zZp7HwMs8uZ1x9SVkbbc4To75Q4IIjX5lhWr5RolG6DJjz1lebqiqkuzqk_vLMaJAg3pnM/s1600/140804+Tiananmen.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJBw93yYDYibfjQ9smv-W_KutY8JdK0R6jSjBGic5SrQYwDgXcUvVGmJ5yWtODYN5UyLL46zZp7HwMs8uZ1x9SVkbbc4To75Q4IIjX5lhWr5RolG6DJjz1lebqiqkuzqk_vLMaJAg3pnM/s1600/140804+Tiananmen.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Tiananmen Square <span style="color: #666666;">(Photo: Edmund Lo)</span></span></td></tr>
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Some of our time spent together made me feel like a tourist. For instance, I would have loved to stay with you longer during the Tiananmen Square visit. For someone who is born and raised in Hong Kong, the Tiananmen Square massacre in 1989 marked how I feel about you in so many ways. As I looked up in the Square, I met the judging eyes of a number of surveillance cameras on the light poles. I looked down, and saw the ground on which thousands of students stood twenty-five years ago. I looked at my watch, and it was time for our group to go to the nearby Forbidden City. There was no time to dwell, to soak it all in. Not even enough to finish a cup of tea. Although I had a few photos to show for it, they are not the same as physically being there at the Square. This was one of my regrets.</div>
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On the other hand, I was glad that we had some quality time at the Great Wall. As we say in Chinese, bù dào cháng chéng fēi hǎo hàn (one who has not visited the Great Wall cannot consider himself as a great person). What began as an attempt to thwart the invasion of northern nomadic tribes became an integral part of your identity, and that of your descendants. For thirty-two years, I have been waiting for this chance. It finally happened, and you did not disappoint. Where do I begin? The steep, twenty-minute ascent; those uneven and somewhat broken steps on which countless have climbed; the feel of antiquity; the somewhat low arch of the entrance which reminded me that I am probably taller than the average Chinese Joe back in the day. There I was, standing at one of the highest points to drink in the nearby mountain ranges. I felt the burning heat of the sun through the baked bricks underneath my hand. So, this is how it feels.<br />
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On our way down from the Great Wall, a middle-aged lady by the roadside was selling beverages. “Cold water, cold water!” She yelled in her heavily-accented English. Perhaps due to my British-trained politesse, I instinctively replied in Mandarin: “No, thank you.” Much to my surprise, she shot back in Mandarin with her northern accent: “I wasn't talking to you!” I immediately realised that her target was my non-Chinese companions who were next to me. As much as I felt like I was on foreign land, then I was just another yellow-skinned Chinese man to the vendor lady. You are funny that way.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The endless ribbon of the Great Wall. <span style="background-color: white; color: #666666;">(Photo: Edmund Lo)</span></span></td></tr>
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After my brief visit with you, many would ask me about your relationship with Christianity, and in particular the Catholic Church. How should I describe it? A word often used by young people nowadays would do: “It's complicated”. It cannot be explained in a black-and-white manner. This may be unsettling for some, but such is the reality of you, and also that of the Church. Perhaps it has to do with that “Middle Kingdom” mentality of yours: You come to me, but I don't come to you. Such is your cup of tea. This balance between proclaiming the Good News and not rocking the proverbial boat is certainly not for the faint of heart.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Parish church in <span style="text-align: start;">Zhujiahe <span style="color: #666666;">(Photo: Edmund Lo)</span></span></span></td></tr>
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Speaking of Christianity, your church buildings make for an interesting tale. The old, along with the renovated ones understandably have a European feel; that being said, what is with the new churches that followed the same design? Forgive my bluntness, but these new church buildings are also painted over in a way that makes them look like Lego sets. In other words, they may look European, but they do not have the elegance of the European churches. Do you still associate Christianity with foreigners? How do you feel about the relationship between the Christian faith and Chinese culture, or at least the more classical Chinese culture as we know it? Where is the Chinese soul of the local churches? To be fair, the concept of enculturation remains foreign to many people. But you should at least look into it. There is a way for you to express yourself in the Christian faith. How that is to happen, it is for you and I to figure out.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Edmund with a descendant of one of China's early Christian martyrs.</span></td></tr>
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This is not to say that good seeds have not been sown in your soil. You have given birth to many who died for the faith, especially during the Boxer Revolution in 1900. I had the privilege to visit one of the churches at Zhujiahe in rural China, where three of its parishioners drank the cup that Lord Jesus drank and became martyrs. The church itself was half-filled with stools that had home-made cushions on top of them. It was humble, yet it was faithful. I managed to take a photo with the great-granddaughter of one of the martyrs. Her mere presence was a living testament of the perseverance of faith. Despite everything that goes on, something continues to happen in you.<br />
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Ten days. That was all I had to spend with you. History. Culture. Religion. I could have learned about you through textbooks, but meeting you in person makes for a much more organic tête-à-tête. By no means was our encounter comprehensive, but it didn't have to be. If anything, the Chinese culture and the heart of Christianity share one thing in common: Building friendships. Friendship with each other, and <a href="http://www.ibosj.ca/2014/07/i-would-friend-you-lord-but-in-what-way.html" target="_blank">friendship with God</a>. This takes time, but it has to begin somewhere. Who knows? We may have another cup of tea together soon enough.
John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-10841441432176059452014-08-18T05:30:00.001-04:002023-11-26T20:53:35.075-05:00Bread in the Lord’s Prayer – Common misunderstandings<i>By Artur Suski</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Credit: http://officetipsandmethods.com</span></td></tr>
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One of the very first prayers that Christians learn is the <i>Our Father</i>. It’s a prayer that all Christians know and pray daily, and it’s one of the only prayers that Jesus taught us. It is such an important prayer that the entire English-speaking Christian world has adopted the same translation.<br />
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As I’ve been reading some commentaries on the Greek text of the Lord’s Prayer, I’ve come to see how much meaning we miss in the English translation. Consequently, also lost in translation is some of the original intent that Jesus had in mind.<br />
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It is some of these findings that I would like to share in this post. I’ve decided to limit myself to the sentence that has provoked the most discussion over the ages, the phrase “give us this day our daily bread.” Here are three points that I will tackle:<br />
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<li>Does Jesus speak of ordinary, material bread or the Eucharistic bread?</li>
<li>Is the <i>Our Father</i> neatly divided in two, the first part addressing things pertaining to God and the second part addressing our material needs?</li>
<li>What is the correct interpretation of the mysterious word <i>epiousion</i> (translated as ‘daily’)? </li>
</ol>
Below are literal translations of the bread petition from the Greek:<br />
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<u>Matthew 6</u>: Give us [the verb is in the aorist tense, signifying a one-time, completed event] today our bread, which is <i>epiousion</i> [daily? Meaning to be discussed below].<br />
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<u>Luke 11</u>: Be giving to us [the verb is in the present – continually] day by day [or, according to each day] our bread, which is <i>epiousion</i>.<br />
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Since I am constrained by space and time, and since our English translation is based more on the Matthew version than on the Luke version, I will chiefly focus on the former.<br />
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It must be stated at the beginning of our investigation that, as good Catholic exegetes, we have to understand the context and always keep it in mind. Jesus gives this prayer during the Sermon on the Mount. The obvious should be stated that the <i>Our Father</i> is Jesus’ prayer for his disciples, pre- and post-Resurrection. The prayer is for those who believe that he is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that he has risen from the dead. The recipients of the prayer have been sealed with the Holy Spirit, they also call God ‘Abba,’ and they are convinced that they already mystically belong to the Kingdom of Heaven due to their participation in the life of Christ. In short, the Lord’s Prayer is a prayer asking the Father to bring the Kingdom of God into the whole reality of the world – or, to bring the whole reality of the world into the Kingdom of God.<br />
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Concerning the prayer as a whole, many divide the prayer into two sections: The first three petitions are concerned with God and His Kingdom, and the rest of the prayer addresses the earthly realm and our needs. The phrase concerning “our daily bread” is where this shift takes place, from heavenly to worldly cares. A dichotomy is therefore created. If we do interpret the prayer in this way, then the bread is seen in a purely materialistic sense.<br />
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Unfortunately, this interpretation is not very Scriptural. Firstly, it must be noted that the first three petitions in the <i>Our Father</i> each conclude with “on earth as it is in heaven”, a fact that is not at all evident in the English translation but is evident in the Greek text. If we were to translate the first three petitions into English, the text would be something like:<br />
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“Hallowed be Thy name on earth as it is in heaven; Thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”<br />
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It is also on earth that we want God’s name to be hallowed, God’s will to be done, and God’s Kingdom to come – these realities are not in some abstract spiritual realm that ought not influence our lives here on earth; we ask that they take root here on earth too!<br />
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Secondly, this kind of dualism does not accord with Scripture. The whole created cosmos have to enter the Kingdom of God: “For He has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of His will, according to His purpose which He set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth” (Eph 1:9-10).<br />
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Finally, interpreting the second part of the prayer as asking for material needs for ourselves is in outright opposition to what Jesus teaches us in the rest of the Sermon on the Mount. Soon after the <i>Our Father</i> in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says: “Do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body” (Matt 6:25-26). Does it make sense for Jesus to tell them to pray for material bread and then to tell them not to pray for food?<br />
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Now we turn to that mysterious word that has given many a scholar a headache. The understanding of the word <i>epiousion</i> in the context of the prayer, the Sermon on the Mount and the Gospels will bring us closer to the original meaning of this sentence. There are three possible interpretations of the Greek word.<br />
<ol>
<li><u>Sufficient, necessary, essential</u>: The material bread that we really need to survive on a day-by-day basis (hence the word “daily” in the English translation). And so the meaning of the phrase: Give us this day the bread that we need to survive.</li>
<li><u>More than essential, supernatural</u>: <i>epi</i> literally means over or on, and <i>ousios</i> means being, substance, existence, essence, or nature. Putting these together, the phrase can mean: give us today our bread that is super-essential; the bread that’s more than necessary; the super-substantial bread; that belongs to another realm of being.</li>
<li><u>Later essential, beyond current being, still to come, existing after</u>: <i>epi</i> can metaphorically be taken to mean after, later, or beyond. If this is the case, the word has a futuristic meaning. Since the first three petitions deal with the future Kingdom becoming a reality now, it makes perfect sense that the rest of the prayer continues along the same lines. As such, this phrase can be interpreted in a number of creative ways: Give us the bread of the coming age for today; give us, being still in this age, the bread that we’ll eat in the age or the Kingdom to come. It is significant to note here that some early Syriac versions of this phrase literally say: Give us today tomorrow’s bread</li>
</ol>
If we take a closer look at these three options within the proper context, it is clear that it cannot be just ordinary bread (“do not be anxious for the food you eat…”). The second and third interpretations, together, fit best with the Sermon on the Mount and Jesus’ other teachings in the Gospels. The true bread that we should ask for is identified with the Word of God (Matt 4:4) and anyone who knows the Scriptures will identify the Word of God with Jesus himself. Jesus is the bread of life come down from Heaven (cf. Jn 6).<br />
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As we bring all of this together, the first part of the prayer’s meaning is: give me to eat now the living bread that has come from heaven, Jesus, the Eucharistic bread of the age to come, where your Name is already holy, where your kingdom has already come, and where your will is already being done. It will certainly enrich our experience of praying this prayer in English if we keep these fascinating points in mind. I know it has for me.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-8052982645937083122014-08-15T05:30:00.000-04:002014-08-20T11:55:56.205-04:00Viva La Vida<i>By John O'Brien, S.J.</i><br />
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On the feast of St. Maximilian Kolbe (Aug 14), patron of journalists among other things, I noted that my birthday — or “anniversaire” as they say here in Quebec — had arrived.<br />
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It’s the anniversary of being “dato alla luce” (literally: <i>given to the light</i>), as the Italian phrase goes. But enough linguistic poaching. I’m presently enjoying days of villa with my Jesuit brothers on a lake in the Laurentian Mountains west of Montreal. “Villa” is Jesuitese for our annual week of relaxation, usually accompanied by hikes, films, novels, and this year at least, paint-ball. Yes, a large group of late-20 and 30-something professed religious let their primal survival instincts loose in an epic game of urban warfare. But I digress. As my birthday often falls during our summer villa-week, I get plenty of fraternal feting and roasting (the two go hand-in-hand in notre petite compagnie). But it also is a pleasant reminder each year to take stock, as a good existential philosopher might do, of the horizons of my being.<br />
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All right, downgrade that. I’m less an existentialist than I’d thought, and probably less a philosopher. But as I begin the seventh year of Jesuit life, and the 38th year of human life, I realize more and more how much all is truly, at its most essential nature, a gift. Before a certain year in the late 1970s, I was not. Now I have probably lived half my life. In a few short decades hence, I will, again, not be, at least not in the corporeal form I presently enjoy. And during this time there is so much that has been granted freely, starting with the breath I breathe, the world I inhabit, the family and friends I love, and even the basic elements like colour, and smell and sound. “Tout est grace!”, as the little Therese said. I cannot but be overwhelmed by the fact that this life, now more and more swift in its passing, is less something of my making, and more a collaboration with the ministrations of grace. It’s also remarkable how the more I surrender, in all the facets that compose “self”, to the transforming action of God, the more I seem to receive. That’s the ultimate paradox of this existence.<br />
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So my prayer this day must be a blend of thanksgivings: for the human life I’ve been given and the Jesuit vocation that’s now given it form. For this, I can think of no greater words than a song penned by a 22-year-old named Robert Robinson in 1757, with lyrics recently adapted to give them an Ignatian twist. May it be likewise the prayer of all those I know and love, and of those who might read this post today.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Come thou fount of every blessing<br />
Tune my heart to sing thy grace<br />
Streams of mercy never ceasing<br />
Calls for songs of loudest praise.<br />
Jesus sought me when a stranger,<br />
Wandering from the fold of God;<br />
He, to rescue me from danger,<br />
Bought me with His precious blood. <br />
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O, to grace, how great a debtor,<br />
Daily I’m constrained to be!<br />
Let thy goodness, like a fetter,<br />
Bind my wandering heart to thee:<br />
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,<br />
Prone to leave the God I love;<br />
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it;<br />
Seal it for thy courts above.<br />
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Take my freedom and my mem’ry,<br />
Understanding, my whole will,<br />
All I have in my possession<br />
Are the gifts you have instilled.<br />
Lord, to you, I make this off’ring<br />
For your glory and your praise;<br />
Do with me as you find pleasing,<br />
Give me but your love and grace. </blockquote>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(<i>Come Thou Font</i>, by Robert Robinson, alt: Gregory Celio, SJ and Rob Van Alstyne, SJ)</span>John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-52205397431257348012014-08-13T05:30:00.000-04:002014-08-13T05:30:01.095-04:00Does God Answer Prayers?<i>By Adam Hincks, S.J.</i><br />
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<i>There will be an answer—let it be.</i> – Paul McCartney</div>
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Does God answer prayers? This is one of the most common religious questions out there. It cuts straight to the question of what kind of relationship we can have with God. It informs how—or even whether—we pray. And it quickly branches out to a multitude of related questions. How can God answer conflicting prayer requests? If God doesn’t answer all our prayers, how can we know which he will answer? What kinds of things should we ask for and what should we not ask for?<br />
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I would like to suggest that asking whether God answers prayers is often the wrong question. Usually, it comes out of anxiety or unreflective doubts. Assurance that God “answers” requests is taken to be a sort of proof of faith. In such situations, the question that people should really be interested in is, “Is God listening to me?” And this is really distinct from whether he grants requests.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>When the issue becomes more about whether God hears our prayers rather than whether he answers them, the relational aspect of prayer becomes clearer. In a human relationship, it is crass to base the depth of the relationship on whether it is possible to get something from the other person. Rather, if you really care about another person, you are more concerned about whether he really listens when you communicate with him. Once you are convinced that you are being heard, you don’t worry so much about what requests are granted and which are not. Any child of a loving parent knows that asking for something doesn’t guarantee that he will get it; conversely any sensible adult would be appalled if a parent gave to his child everything that was requested. And I think the same must be true in our relationship with God. God’s hearing comes before his answering. “This poor man called, and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles.” (Ps. 34:6)<br />
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All this being said, we should still ask God to give us things. On the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus famously preaches, “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” (Matt. 7:7) At the Last Supper, he tells the disciples, “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” (Jn. 15:7) Part of knowing someone well is being free to ask for things, and the granting of requests flows from the relationship. The promise of the Last Supper, after all, is attached to an invitation to intimacy with the Lord. Similarly, St. James notes that our petitions must come from a place of honesty: “When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.” (James 4:3)<br />
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At the end of the day, trusting that God hears our prayers is a matter of faith. Believing that events in our lives are a response to petitions is similarly an act of faith. It is a faith that his providence is perfectly wise and that his way of responding is always for the best. Much of the time we may not be able to understand his ways, and we may be completely at a loss about how and even whether he has answered our petitions. It should be stressed that this is not a cop-out. It is not obscurantism or an attempt to stifle embarrassing questions. The fact is that we are limited in what we can see and understand. If God is perfect and we are not, then it is to be expected that his ways will be sometimes inscrutable. From our limited vantage point, why should we ever expect to be able to discern how all our prayers are answered? On the other hand, we can always be assured that God hears us. For if God’s power is infinite and all-knowing, then he hears all we ask of him. And if the God of the universe is listening to us whenever we call upon him, what more could we ask?<br />
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John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-36717210485513742732014-08-11T05:30:00.000-04:002014-08-11T05:30:00.191-04:00The Art of Listening<i>By Brother Daniel Leckman, S.J.</i><br />
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A few weeks ago, as I was praying with the city, I contemplated one of the recurring themes in my Jesuit vocation: I've known for years that I can be a good listener to people’s stories and spiritual journeys. This does not mean that I remember everything they tell me. It just means that I have a natural ability to silence my own voice and listen to the experience of the other so attentively that I almost feel like I’m partaking in it. I believe this is one of the greatest assets I bring to the Society of Jesus but I also know that there are limitations to my ability. I know, for example, that a crowded room can distract me from focusing solely on one person. I also know that, for whatever reason, there are times when I lose interest in a person’s account. I feel bad whenever that does happen but it’s just part of life I guess. Finally, I’m fully aware of the fact that when I work as a spiritual director there is a certain danger of being too emotionally engaged in listening to my directee. Until this particular prayer, I had always thought that my ability to connect with people by emotionally sharing their experience would be one of my great assets to the society. That night, I began having second thoughts about it.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>However, rather than letting the doubt consume me I took the Ignatian route: I began asking what it is that would be necessary to hone these skills. After all, one aspect of being Ignatian is taking the gifts that we have as individuals and nourishing them even more so that they can flourish into gifts for others. Once I understood that, I also understood that part of the answer to my question of how to perfect my listening skills lay in my own history, my past.<br />
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At that moment, I began to think about one of my uncles who had a very particular habit. Every year when our family got together for Christmas, he would take me aside, and say, “Tell me a Danny story.” With a bit of
reluctance I’d start talking about my year a little but before I knew it I would realize that his gaze was completely upon me and that he would never interrupt. Somehow, this made me feel that in his eyes I was the most important person in the room at that moment. So I would keep going and before I knew it this uncle with whom I wasn't even that close would manage to get me to open up about some very personal details in my life that even my parents would not have known. And he reserved this question for my siblings and cousins as well; so it wasn't just for me. His approach was perhaps a little unorthodox, some might even argue it was lame, but it worked beautifully.<br />
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In my prayer, I realized why my uncle's approach worked. That simple, somewhat tacky, but surprisingly effective gesture showed people how much he cared about them. I realize that no matter how much I state that my vocation is rooted in love, I very often don’t really care about the person in front of me, either because I’m bored, tired, or simply uninterested. But how can I be uninterested by the lived story of any child of God? My boredom in those moments, regardless of its causes, does not reflect my greater vocation to be a loving presence before others.<br />
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Maybe I’m expecting too much out of myself, but after this prayer I realized that a big part of my desire to listen better lies in how much I allow myself to care about others. And yes, that desire to care must sometimes be translated into effort: it’s not enough to say you care, there has to be some gesture there to back your sentiments! But if I already know that God is in every moment of labour that I live then I will know that he is also with me in those moments when I don’t really care but I really want to care! This is one important part of my desire to become a better listener; though I’m sure there are many others to uncover as the years go by. May the Holy Spirit grant me patience and perseverance in this task and may he also open
your heart today to become a more caring listener to those around you!Adam D. Hincks, S.J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09317894445176628003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-36902562678867303902014-08-08T05:30:00.000-04:002014-08-08T09:40:17.365-04:00Enter Sandman: Ignore the Trolls and Avoid Walking Dead<i>By Santiago Rodriguez, S.J.</i><br />
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Over my years of seminary and Jesuit formation, one thing has always been clear to me: the wand chooses the wizard. It is also clear to me that the decision to stay up late at night is also the decision not to pray in the morning. Whether I am making a sandwich at 11:17 pm, watching Epic Fail YouTube videos after midnight, or pondering my life goals at 2:46 am, sometimes I resent having to go to bed because there's so much I could be doing instead.<br />
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This blog entry is not about sleep preferences, for both early birds and night owls can be successful. It's not about the stuff you do on the internets, either. We all need the World Wide Web to settle all sort of ridiculous disagreements with friends and co-workers. I've written before about <a href="http://www.ibosj.ca/2013/04/focus-and-schedules-spirituality-of.html" target="_blank">time management</a> and <a href="http://www.ibosj.ca/2012/07/from-procrastination-to-gratitude.html" target="_blank">procrastination</a>, so I'm going to spare you all sorts of lists and tips. I write these lines to point out how sleep deprivation and its consequences get in our way of living life to the fullest.<br />
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The problem is not so much the bedtime we choose, but the many ways we delay greeting the sandman. There's always one more scroll. One more like on Facebook. Three more pictures to like on Instagram. One more episode on Netflix. One more text message to send. There's always something to do or to process. Bedtime is usually the time I'm filled with the sort of intensely strange emotions I blame on the moon (I don't mean weird or ridiculous, but rather insane). The moment we lay our heads on the pillow, a thousand possibilities knock at our door. When we choose to pursuit them, we also choose to surrender our energy and preparation for the next day. Life is lived more fully when we discern the right time to pursue the possibilities that make us more loving, passionate, and joyful.<br />
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The bad news is that time flies. The good news is that you're the pilot. In order to pursue the things that help you glorify God, you need a good night of sleep. Otherwise, you'll be running madly behind in your crowded schedule, and reacting to the surprises that dawn with a new day. Delaying your sleep means choosing to rush in the morning. It means snoozing the alarm a few times and then cussing at the darn thing because you only have 12 minutes to catch your bus. It ends up with you choosing between ironing your shirt or taking a shower - either way skipping breakfast. Lack of sleep leads to lack of time, patience, and energy as you prepare for your day. It means road or commuter rage because you are late. It translates into missed opportunities to be charitable with and joyful around those you meet in the morning.<br />
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When young adults ask me for tips to grow in holiness, I often give them three: drink lots of water, pray every day, and guard your sleep time (some seem confused about the water bit, but they nod in agreement when I remind them about Moses parting the Red Sea). Too many of these young women and men tell me how they don't sleep enough and go through their days slow and without focus - much like zombies. These 'walking dead' crave the creativity, energy, and concentration that comes with a good night of sleep. I urge them to guard their sleep from the trolls that crave their attention: cellphones, midnight snacks, problems, and good books.
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There is a season for everything (although there should be no season to play with glitter - it gets stuck everywhere - please don't play with glitter). It probably is not a good idea to want to pursue new initiatives when it's time for bed. There is time for texts, ice cream, and good reads, but not when we are getting ready to travel to Never Never Land. Working, living, praying, dancing, talking, kissing, serving, singing, laughing, and learning won't happen or won't get done well if we don't recharge our batteries at night.
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We all need to guard our sleep - to slay the things that can turn us into zombies (by the way, I think I'd make an awful zombie; I mean, I'd be a handsome but not very industrious zombie). Something that helps me guard my sleep is to make my last hour before bed more contemplative and less active. That could mean many things for you. You could schedule your TV time to make sure you are not binging on episodes of your favourite show before sleep. If I am still trying to figure out how Jack Bauer is going to save the world at 10:47 pm, I am probably not going to pray in the morning. You can also disconnect from all technology at 09:30 pm. I have realized that, if I keep my computer on after 09:33 pm, my bedtime is going to be very late. The later I turn off my computer or put my cellphone away, the later I’m going to bed and the less sleep I'll get.<br />
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As you can see, habits can make a difference in the quality of your rest and the way you greet the next day. On the path toward love, passion, and joy, there are no detours, VIP updates, or Get Out of Jail Free cards. There are no wands, charms, potions, or spells that will fill you with creativity, energy, and focus. You will need your sleep and you will have to guard it from the many things that knock at your door late at night. God desires you to live life to the fullest. He invites you to pursue the things that make you both joyful and holy, for they are not mutually exclusive. In order to do so, you will have to make tough decisions to guard your sleep (no playing with glitter!). You'll have to ignore the trolls that crave your attention and to slay the things that want to turn you into a walking dead.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-1109487353102234702014-08-06T05:30:00.000-04:002014-08-08T22:35:35.743-04:00Entering Through Their Little Doors: Doing Theology With Children<i>By Edmund Lo, S.J.</i><br />
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About a year and a half ago, my niece Monica asked me a question: “So, how do you know what God wants you to do?” How on earth do I answer her? As I kicked my mind into high gear, she was quickly distracted, as a six-year-old would.<br />
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I thought about my niece's question for quite a while afterwards. If Mony were to demand an answer from me again, I would tell her that we know what God wants us to do by a peace and happiness that we find within us. It is different from the short-lasting happiness of a piece of chocolate; rather, it is a happiness, or “joy”, that lasts. This has to do with the Ignatian understanding of consolation, that we are being oriented towards God, and we can concretely detect this in our lives. Perhaps you have found yourself in a similar situation before, where a child asks you a question that requires a complicated answer.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>One summer, about two years ago, I was working at <a href="http://www.ibosj.ca/2013/07/the-gift-of-giver.html" target="_blank">Camp Ekon</a>, a Jesuit camp for youth, in the Ontario wilderness. One day, while I was working with some teenage girls, one of them asked me why I became a Jesuit. I wanted to tell her in a language that she could understand, without backpedalling into a kind of theological language that was incomprehensible for her. I had to reflect for a while. How would I tell her about vocation? My answer was that I wanted more. Not just doing more things, or having more exotic experiences, but that I wanted more for my life. I wanted more meaning, more depth, more available to God, and being a Jesuit seemed to be the best fit for me.<br />
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When it comes to questions on spiritual matters as such, there are three possible outcomes:<br />
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<li>We give a watered down answer to temporarily appease the child. This would be similar to only teaching “God is love” or “God wants us to be happy” to children without properly addressing the nuances. For example, it is true that God wants us to be happy, but happiness is not the goal; rather, it is to grow closer to this God who loves us, and growing pains (which do not bring this emotional high) are beneficial.</li>
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<li>We respond to the child as if she is an adult. This assumes that she understands all the terminologies and analogies. It leaves the child in a state of greater confusion.</li>
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<li>We try to be true to the spirit of the question and come up with a creative answer.</li>
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It should be clear which answer I personally prefer. Truths about living a life in God need not be painstakingly difficult to understand, nor does they have to be overly simplified. I see this as the missionary approach which St. Ignatius of Loyola calls “entering through their doors”: We take the other's perspective and context so to share a common ground. By doing so, we are trying to get the other to “exit through our doors”. In the end, we are trying to help the other to build a deeper relationship with God. But this is more than just building bridges.<br />
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Not only do we explain to children with words that they can understand, but such a perspective has great value in itself. The reason is simple: We are loved children of God. Seeing and loving God from the eyes of a child makes sense for us as well. Indeed, Jesus says that the kingdom of God belongs to those who are like children (Mt 19:14). St. Thérèse of Lisieux was a master at this with her understanding of the Little Way. This reminds me of a conversation with a friend, Grace Urbanski, who works at the Apostleship of Prayer (AoP) head office in the United States. She is involved with the <a href="http://www.apostleshipofprayer.org/childrenspage.html" target="_blank">children branch</a> of the AoP. Grace commented that not only are the materials meant for children; they are equally as helpful for the parents as well. In fact, some have found it so useful that they use the materials themselves to nourish their prayer lives. <br />
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There is ample room for good catechism for children through sound theology without sacrificing its richness and profundity. It is perhaps not without reason that St. Ignatius wants Jesuits to catechise children as one of our main priorities. Entering through those little doors can be challenging; but if we know how to enter through children's doors, it sets us up for the other doors that we would encounter. We may even discover that our doors become smaller as well, and it leads to that Little Way of St. Thérèse. Here is an invitation to us to be creative and authentic about our catechising of children, because we benefit from it as much as they do.<br />
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John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-12947900393631501482014-08-04T05:30:00.000-04:002014-08-04T05:30:01.947-04:00A Glance at Contemplative Prayer<i>By Artur Suski, S.J. </i><br />
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More and more I’ve been noticing that people these days have a great thirst for spirituality, and especially for prayer. It seems that the more our contemporary culture throws at us an anti-faith and materialistic mindset, the more something deep within calls to us. I think this is what has moved people to search for some sort of spirituality. “New Age” movements have sprung up like dandelions; for instance, there has been a renewed interest in Buddhist meditation. There has been a modest increase in interest in Christian spirituality too, though admittedly not as great as such things as those “New Age” movements. Christianity has been tried, and is has been found to be very, very difficult, mostly because of its sexual morality, which uncomfortably challenges many in today’s “liberated” and sexualized society.<br />
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When it comes to prayer and its many forms, however, Christianity can offer a wealth of resources. That so many Christians today don’t know how to pray, or simply don’t pray, speaks volumes about the terrible job we have been doing in promoting and teaching prayer. In this entry, I would like to spend some time on what many in the Church call contemplative prayer. I will attempt to provide some sort of practical guide that can be followed by people in all walks of life.<br />
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Perhaps the best image to describe contemplative prayer is the image of a couple that has been married for many, many years. Imagine a couple sitting on a porch in the evening, looking at the sunset. The two of them have spent many years together – much has been said in their marriage and much has been experienced: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Yet now, words are not necessary. They are quite content with sitting in each other’s company and enjoying each other’s presence. It is a loving, gentle presence that is tranquil, yet at the same time, very much felt.<br />
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It is the same with contemplative prayer. Contemplative prayer, in some aspects, is similar to what Aristotle called “contemplation”, the summit of ethical life. For Aristotle, when the four cardinal virtues – courage, temperance, justice, and prudence – are lived out faithfully for many years, it disposes the person to the contemplation of divine truths. Some consider this a kind ofstudying, but this is an incorrect understanding of what this last stage is all about. We are not to study these eternal, everlasting truths, but rather relish them and dwell upon them. Perhaps a helpful example would be mathematics and geometric proofs. Think of the labour of getting the final proof as the cardinal virtues, and the end product, the final proof, as Aristotle’s contemplation. The Pythagoreans exemplified this, as they marvelled at and contemplated the elegance, beauty, and eternal truth of the proof after it has been worked out.<br />
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Christian contemplation is similar, but with one very big difference. For Aristotle and the Pythagoreans, they themselves were the active agents in the contemplation. They took the initiative and there was no direct and explicit interaction with the Divine. For Christians, however, it is more of a receptive process. We receive interior movements from the Holy Spirit. It is God that takes initiative as we wait. The personal dimension is very much central here: God desires to deepen his relationship with us.<br />
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That being said, this is not necessarily in the form of an inner conversation with God; there are other prayer types for this. Contemplation is dwelling upon the Lord’s goodness, his presence with us, and his love for us. It is, like the old couple, beholding God beholding us with great love, and simply remaining in this moment. Things will certainly come up, perhaps inspirations, or other spiritual movements, but all we are concerned with and pleased with, is simply to be with God and exchange with each other the love we have for each other.<br />
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As Aristotle spoke of preparing for this moment, so also we often prepare ourselves for contemplative prayer by dwelling on a passage of scripture. It may be helpful to take a paragraph or two from the Gospels, read it, and dwell upon what moves you in the text. Then, simply be present to the Lord. One helpful attitude to keep in mind as you pray this prayer is: <i>do not try to force anything or do not expect results</i>. In the current society, we’re obsessed with seeing results quickly! Such concepts are foreign to the spiritual life. We shouldn’t go into prayer expecting anything. To go even further, prayer isn’t for something. We don’t pray to get something out of it for ourselves, much like we don’t have friendships to get something out of them, or at least we shouldn’t.<br />
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We don’t pray to get inner peace, we don’t pray to become better people, we don’t even pray to know ourselves better. All of these things may come as a result of prayer, but prayer is an encounter between two friends, nothing more. We pray to fall deeper in love with the Beloved and to sing him praises, because we love him. If this attitude is appropriated, it will be a tremendous help in overcoming that result-oriented obstacle that so many of us have.<br />
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I will end with some practical suggestions. Since many of us are busy, working people, we don’t always have a full hour to devote to prayer. It may be helpful to start slowly, perhaps with twenty to twenty-five minutes. As your prayer muscles get toned, it will be easier to add more time, or simply repeat for twenty to twenty-five minutes again later in the evening.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-84623422086473919422014-08-01T05:30:00.000-04:002014-08-08T19:21:31.161-04:00On the Threshold of Religious Life: an Interview with Jesuit Novice Erik Sorensen<i>By John O’Brien, S.J. </i><br />
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<i>Erik Sorensen is in the final days of the first phase of Jesuit formation known as novitiate. For two years, he has been studying, praying and embarking on experiences known as “experiments”, all designed by St. Ignatius of Loyola to test the candidate and help him grow in his vocation. Erik, 24, will be professing vows of perpetual poverty, chastity and obedience on August 17, 2014. </i><br />
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<b>Erik, tell us a little bit about yourself and your family background. </b><br />
I grew up in Red Deer, Alberta with my parents and two younger sisters. Ever since I was young, I have been interested in aviation. This interest led me to get both my pilots license and a Bachelors Degree in Aerospace Engineering.
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<b>What brought to the doorstep of the Jesuit novitiate? </b><br />
During my years in high school, I entertained the thought of being a priest. But I was never super serious about it because I was so intrigued by my passion for aviation and I was unable, at the time, to reconcile these ideas.<br />
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Then while I was doing my undergraduate degree at Carleton University in Ottawa, I met and developed a strong relationship with the Catholic chaplain there. This chaplain, Fr. David Shulist, S.J., was the first Jesuit I had ever met. Through him and the other Jesuits that I subsequently encountered, I began to realize that my passion for aviation and the idea of being a priest were not irreconcilable. The other thing I noticed was that as much as I loved my Aerospace degree, I had a deep desire to serve that went beyond being an engineer for the rest of my life.<br />
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As my interest in the Society of Jesus grew, I began attending Ignatian retreats and shortly after started the formal discernment process. Through this process, my interests in the Jesuits were confirmed over a number of years. Finally, I applied and was accepted into the Society of Jesus. I entered the novitiate as soon as I finished my degree.<br />
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<b>As a young person, what does it mean to vow yourself to God</b>?<br />
For me, this means giving all of who I am to God in a practical and concrete way. These vows of poverty, chastity and obedience are ways of serving God through others in my daily life. I have a strong desire to dedicate my life to serve others, and the vows are ways of imitating Jesus life in all aspects of my life. These vows are not a one time thing but more of a dedication to journeying towards these ideals.<br />
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<b>What aspects of the Jesuit charism draw you in particular? </b><br />
I was drawn to the idea of finding God in all things. With my interests in math and science, many of my peers felt that God should be absent from the world of science. However, I always felt that God should be present in my work as an engineer. This idea of finding God in all things has expanded from just finding God in my engineering to find God in all aspects of my life.<br />
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<b>What were the highlights of your novitiate experience? </b><br />
One of my highlights of the novitiate has to be doing the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. This month long silent retreat was an amazing experience of growing closer to Jesus and growing in self knowledge.<br />
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<b>Any advice you might give to a young person who might be discerning a religious vocation?</b><br />
Be open to the Spirit working in your life. God’s will becomes apparent in our deepest desires, so pay attention to these desires and interior movements.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-11583966019466406852014-07-30T05:30:00.000-04:002014-07-30T05:30:00.166-04:00My Interview with St. Ignatius Loyola<i>By Eric Hanna, S.J.</i><br />
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Thursday (July 31) is the Feast of St. Ignatius Loyola this year. As a Jesuit in formation, I have always looked to Ignatius for inspiration. The fifteenth century noble turned religious pilgrim set down a spiritual tradition that continues to change the lives of people in the present day. But what would Ignatius say if he could see what has been built upon his foundations? It was my privilege to sit down with St. Ignatius and pose this question.<br />
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I was impressed with Ignatius' calm demeanor. He gave me a smile and a handshake as he sat down. This was quite a contrast from the often stern spiritual director I had read in Ignatius' letters. It seems resting in eternity with the communion of saints has mellowed Father Ignatius a bit. And also given him great fluency in English.<br />
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ERIC: St. Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuits and author of <i>the Spiritual Exercises</i>, thank you for doing this blog interview.<br />
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IGNATIUS: Hello, Eric. Pleased to be here.<br />
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ERIC: I guess the first thing I'd like to ask is about the past. You were there. What was your experience of the Jesuits as they first really came into their own as a religious order?<br />
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IGNATIUS: I was surprised. My life has been a continual story of surprise at how little my results resemble my plans. When I first started out as a pilgrim I wanted to live in Jerusalem and minister to people there. But as you know, our plan B became simply to go wherever the Holy Father had need of us. So we ended up teaching, preaching, and ministering to the poor in many different places. I was also surprised by the number of people who wanted to work with us. In my mind, I hadn't seen our little community growing much beyond a few small circles of friends. But by the time I was an old man the Society served dozens of schools and had almost a thousand men: as well as support from all sorts of collaborators and friends. I was delighted; but I was also very aware that we should remain humble and grateful in times of success. Better to rely on God in times of adversity.<br />
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ERIC: What was it like when they elected you Father General? <br />
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IGNATIUS: I tried my hardest... but they elected me anyway. I was looking forward to a quiet life of prayer and contemplation and then it was all just work, work, work. Oh well. It was fun sometimes. <br />
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ERIC: What about the present day. What do you think about the tumultuous world of this generation?<br />
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IGNATIUS: Every time in history calls itself tumultuous and unstable. We are always unstable when we look to the visible and the worldly for understanding. As a saint, it is my privilege now to see the innumerable labours of God in the lives of individual people. Unnoticed by anyone else, companions are at work in the world. A woman who works tirelessly for the marginalized. A boy who forgives, even when it hurts. An elderly Jesuit who prays for his brothers each day while others think he is sleeping. Look to grace and you will understand the events of your time. <br />
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ERIC: What about large-scale issues, like globalization or technology? <br />
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IGNATIUS: They are wonderful opportunities. I have always held that companions of Jesus should live as He did: always going to the margins and working for reconciliation. We have the opportunity to view large, global trends with an eye towards how they can promote peace and justice. The same perspective applies to technology, which should be used to the extent it serves and praises God and discarded to the extent that it does not. If we can reach people through art and culture, the internet is a good medium to do so. I'd like to see many more of ours on Youtube for example. A blog is all well and good, Eric, but it's a little 2004. Let's see some more videos. <br />
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ERIC: Ah, yes. Those can take a bit of time to produce...<br />
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IGNATIUS: Young man, a Jesuit should always be doing more, always be stretching himself further. How else will you learn dependence on grace? <br />
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ERIC: I'm starting to understand a lot of your letters. Alright, you got me. I'll do what I can. But before we close, can I ask how you think the Ignatian tradition will unfold in the future?<br />
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IGNATIUS: Well, I do have a little special insight into such things but it wouldn't be fair to reveal my knowledge of the future. You should focus on doing good in the present moment.<br />
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ERIC: Come on, just a little hint. <br />
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IGNATIUS: Spaceships. <br />
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ERIC: Spaceships?<br />
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IGNATIUS: I've said too much already. <br />
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ERIC: Cooool. <br />
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John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-11633085907288972382014-07-28T05:30:00.001-04:002014-07-30T19:30:36.443-04:00Seatback Entertainment: Progress or Stultification?<i>By Adam Hincks, S.J.</i><br />
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<i>The medium is the massage. </i>– Marshall McLuhan</div>
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I have always enjoyed flying, which is a blessing given that my current position involves a fair amount of travel. Apart from the security lines, I profit from the down-time in the lounge, I enjoy looking out the window of the aeroplane, and I actually like the little meals they bring right to your seat as though you were an astronaut. Finally, I appreciate the opportunity to watch films. A large fraction of the movies I see are at ten thousand metres off the ground.<br />
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Today it is common for planes to have on-demand, seatback entertainment, with access to dozens of films and television shows. It is a big leap from the overhead screens showing a single video to the whole plane, for which one would often have to crane one’s neck or squint to see the distant monitor. But even if the technology has progressed, I have recently been <a href="http://www.ibosj.ca/2014/05/so-youre-reading-title-of-this-blog.html" target="_blank">more aware</a> of how different media shape me, and I am not sure that I prefer the seatback movie to the common, overhead movie. Certainly the new situation is easier on the eyes (and neck) and gives an actual choice in terms of content and when one watches. Nevertheless, there are a few aspects of seat-back entertainment that I question, and which are not unrelated to the wider culture.<br />
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First, there is the aspect of choice. There is nothing wrong about having multiple options for what to watch, but there is also something to be said for simply accepting what is there. To start with, it means that I don’t get opportunities any more to watch plain bad films—with on-demand viewing, I never would have seen such cinematic gems as <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0102216/" target="_blank"><i>King Ralph</i></a> or <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0445934" target="_blank"><i>Blades of Glory</i></a>. On a more serious note, there is something to be said for having opportunities to watch something that you wouldn’t otherwise choose. It can keep you in touch with elements of the culture you don’t normally experience, whether high- or low-brow. Further, accepting what you are presented with is more akin to how we naturally encounter reality. The world isn’t something that we choose, but is something we meet. Much of our freedom has to do with how we respond to what we meet: a lot of the time the situations and settings of our lives are beyond our control. Of course, how we respond and the choices that we make do alter the world. But fundamentally, the world is not like an on-demand video system where we can choose the stimuli that suit us in the moment. Paradoxically, insisting that reality meet our tastes may make us less free by restricting our world to the narrow confines of our own predilections. Much of the joy of life is in encountering the unexpected and learning that what we may not have otherwise chosen is in fact worth having.<br />
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Second, there is the aspect of time. With on-demand entertainment, you yourself control the starting and stopping and pausing of the film as you please. But in my experience, this does not necessarily make you more free. You begin planning the trip around how many and which films will fit into a flight of such-and-such a length; you get fidgety if the screen is not being used, even if there is beautiful scenery just through the window. Again, instead of learning to be receptive to a world that presents itself to you, you map out a world that meets your predefined desires.<br />
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Third, there is the aspect of community. Perhaps the biggest difference in personalised entertainment is that everyone is in his own little world. This is not to say that having everyone watch the same, overhead movie is an excellent way to build community, but the difference between the common and the private movie is, I think, symbolic of our increased tendency to isolate ourselves. Each person on the aeroplane has the opportunity to set up a private zone consisting of nothing beyond his seat and the screen in front of it. Having private time is healthy and is nothing new—reading a book or a magazine is very similar, after all—but it does reflect a development in visual media. Movies and television shows used to be watched in groups; now, though, it is becoming quite normal for individuals to retreat to their private rooms to watch shows online.<br />
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In the end, my thoughts about the older, over-head monitors may be more influenced by nostalgia than by a serious analysis of media. It’s not as though airlines are going to go back in time, even if that were a good thing. And I think I prefer the new technology. But reflecting on how in-flight entertainment has evolved is a good entry point into reflecting on how we engage with media, and how that shapes our perceptions of the world we live in.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-45671908672201174622014-07-25T05:30:00.000-04:002014-07-25T06:22:47.412-04:00Though the Gorge Was Mute, God Spoke at the Grand Canyon<i>By Santiago Rodriguez, S.J.</i><br />
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We went deep into the heart of Arizona to see the earth and the sky display their magnificence. After the last of the retreats of our summer tour, Adam and I drove for four days back to Milwaukee. Our first stop was one of the seven Natural Wonders of the World, the Grand Canyon – an impressive and inspiring landscape, overwhelming our senses with its immense size and beauty. As our visit guide explained, almost two billion years of our planet’s geological history have been exposed as the Colorado River and the wind cut through layer after layer of rock. This erosion resulted in combinations of spectacular forms and delightful geologic colours like every shade of red, citron, buff, russet, and pink. In its depths, the canyon is deep red, and at times brown or violet.<br />
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It is incredible to behold how the Colorado River carved its magic on the Colorado Plateau. While the view from the top of the rim is breathtaking, the real experience comes from hiking down into the canyon and feeling its power and beauty all around you. It was then that the real contemplation of the Grand Canyon started for me. It was not enough to simply make our way through Japanese and German tourists to take the mandatory selfie near the cliffs. I needed to have a deeper experience of the Canyon.<br />
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Climbing down into the Canyon prepared my mind, body, and soul for an encounter with God, in the same way silence prepares me to encounter God through Sacred Scripture. The beauty around us, Adam’s company and friendship, and the wildlife we encountered all reminded me of God’s passionate love for me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Credit: Santiago Rodriguez</span></td></tr>
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After climbing back up and having dinner, evening had fallen and we made our way back to the main view area to await for complete darkness to envelop the wide Arizonan sky. What followed was another impressive sight: thousands of twinkling stars. In the dark and moonless sky, we saw stars, planets, stardust, satellites, and even the Milky Way. It was awe-inspiring and very relaxing. The isolation from big cities and their increased light pollution makes the Grand Canyon a wonderful spot for star-gazing. The lack of luminous backwash from buildings, neon lights, and street lamps provides the perfect backdrop to contemplate the universe.<br />
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The contemplation of the stars inspired three distinct moments of gratitude in me. First, I was thankful for the night; for without the darkness, I could never see the stars. Then, I had a Carl Sagan moment of understanding my relation to the universe that I was contemplating. In his own words, “The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.” As I contemplated the heavens, I experienced my own creature-hood: “I am created. I am part of this creation. God created me out of love.” That led to the third moment of gratitude. Beholding the sky a song rose in my heart: Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will. My heart prayed this for a while. Glory to God in the highest. Glory and praise to God <i>for</i> the highest – for the stars, for planets, stardust, and our own Milky Way.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Credit:www.bishoponabike.com</span></td></tr>
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While we laid on some rocks by the cliffs, we were reminded of St. Ignatius who, towards the end of his life, would find God in blades of grass and at night in the contemplation of the stars. This reminded me of the type of spiritual freedom necessary to behold God in his creation. I have learned that I must be willing to detach myself from the pull of the ego to experience the presence of God in nature. Climbing up and down the canyon, or beholding the Milky Way is not about what it is in it for me, like a picture or a story. Rather, it is about what the Lord wants to reveal to me through his magnificent creation, and that includes all of me.<br />
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Every time I physically leave the world of buildings, highways, and technology to get out into natural surroundings – meadows, mountains, forests, lakes, seas, deserts – the first reactions are usually joy and relief: “Wow, look at that”, or “It’s so beautiful, so peaceful”. Then, after uploading a couple of pictures to Instagram, I am pulled back to the world of schedules, meetings, and responsibilities. It usually takes a second effort to relax and to put aside thoughts of the everyday world in order to notice that a whole complex universe of plants, insects, animals, and birds is in a state of busy activity all around me.<br />
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Careful observation and thoughtful contemplation of nature engenders the humility that prepares my heart for a wonderful experience of God’s love for me, and for the world. In moments like these, I am reminded of one of the Desert Fathers, Anthony, who was asked how he could be happy when he was deprived of the consolation of books. Anthony replied that his book was the nature of creatures, “and this book is always in front of me when I want to read the word of God.”<br />
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At the end of <i>the Spiritual Exercises</i>, Ignatius asks us to contemplate how God creates everything – including us – out of love, and how he dwells and labours in all things. Gratitude is the natural response to this contemplation of God’s love for us, and it inspires us to love God in return. In the words of Dante Alighieri in the <i>Divine Comedy</i>, we are moved “by the Love that moves the sun and the other stars.” We are moved by Love to love.<br />
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God is actively creating in, through, with, and around us. If God can be found in all things, we have a vocation to find him in all things. Our vocation is to behold how God’s love overflows in all things, to marvel at his creation, and to ponder how God dwells and labours in the world around us. God is the source of all goodness. Like the Colorado River on the Colorado Plateau, his love wants to cut through layer after layer in our hearts of stone, to transform them into hearts of flesh moved to gratitude, love, and a desire to serve the world.<br />
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Some journeys end so that others may begin. The Colorado River’s journey ends in the Gulf of California. Our road trip came to an end in the Midwest. Every journey is an opportunity to increase in faith, hope, and love. My visit to the Grand Canyon was a religious experience. Though the gorge was mute, God spoke to me at the Grand Canyon. God touched my heart and prepared me to behold the world in a different way for the rest of the trip: behold and pray. This road trip filled me with holy desires and animated me to continue the mission Christ entrusted to all Christians: Go into the whole world, and preach the gospel to every creature (Mk 16:15). The trip reminded me that, at times, we are also invited to let every creature preach the gospel to us. The Spirit of Jesus summons us for the adventure ahead, to explore the world, to find God in all things, to let our hearts be transformed, and to let his love flow like a river reaching every nook and cranny on its path.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-61993827920344403552014-07-23T05:30:00.000-04:002014-07-23T13:08:02.973-04:00I Would “Friend” You, Lord; But in What Way?<i>By Edmund Lo, S.J.</i><br />
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We all have friends. “Bros”, Best Friend Forevers (BFFs), close friends, acquaintances, you name it. Not surprisingly, the quality of the friendship depends on how well we know the person, and how much effort we put into the relationship. Think about those groups of friends that you have, with differing levels of intimacy. Which group does God fall into?<br />
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Let us be honest about this. Some of us have God in the “BFFs” category; others may have God in the “acquaintances”, or even the “speed-dial when crap happens in my life” category. Some only seek affirming or wise words from God when they want them. When this is the case, God is not any different from an inanimate book with wisdom sayings. Such a relationship is one-way with no strings attached: I call you up when I need a quickie. Or, some may have God in the “awkward” zone: I kind of know you, but I don't know how I feel about you.<br />
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St. Ignatius has this to say about our friendship with God. First of all, we need to know God to love him. This knowledge, however, is not a kind of intellectual understanding that remains in the head. Rather, it is a kind of knowledge that moves our being on the most profound level. He coins a specific term for this in the Spanish version of the <i>Spiritual Exercises</i> (SE): <i>conocimiento interno</i>. This translates into “internal knowledge” in English, but its essence is better captured by translating it into “intimate” or “heartfelt knowledge”.<br />
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It is very convenient for us to understand Jesus as an intellectual concept, because personal commitment is unnecessary in such a case. We can memorise the Gospels, the catechism, and volumes upon volumes of theological texts for this. Then we go onto “Jeopardy: Jesus Edition” and win it all. But we are only knowing these facts about Jesus from a polite distance. This is very similar to what Jesus asks of Peter in the Gospel (Mk 8:29): I am not asking you about what others think of me; who am I to you? St. Ignatius wants that this knowledge of the Lord be personal and heartfelt for us, not impersonal and definitional.<br />
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Recall the last time you had a heart-to-heart conversation with a friend. It required the letting down of guards, and it probably involved the discussion of matters that were intimately personal. Perhaps you were seeking advice, and perhaps advices were given; what mattered at the end was the friend's presence. Our hearts were exposed, but they were also transformed. The same goes for our friendship with God. It will change us, and changes can be intimidating. But God isn't intimidating, and love always transforms us.<br />
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Moreover, if such is the nature of this knowledge, it has to go somewhere. It cannot be a kind of “Aww, that's nice” attitude which leaves us standing pat. Our hearts are moved in such a way that the momentum carries us in a certain direction: It leads us to love Jesus more and follow him more closely (<i>SE </i>104). After all, this friend is not just any other friend, but one that allows us to grow into who we truly are in the most life-giving way.<br />
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As you can see by now, <i>conocimiento interno</i> does not apply to casual friends or distant acquaintances; it is simply not in the fabric of such relationships. If God falls into these categories for you, here is an invitation to move him up onto a more advanced level. Spending more time with this friend (like having a regular personal prayer routine) can be a start. Trying to <a href="http://www.ibosj.ca/2012/08/one-more-time-on-examen-prayer.html" target="_blank">realize</a> how this friend regularly pops up in your life can also help. Ultimately, this is not about checking things off a list, but rather finding a way that works for me to develop this <i>conocimiento interno</i> of the Lord. I leave you with this question for reflection: How much am I investing into developing this friendship?<br />
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John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-75273649100717950032014-07-21T09:16:00.002-04:002014-07-23T13:07:27.510-04:00[Not] Seeing the Face of Christ in the Homeless<i>By Artur Suski, S.J.</i><br />
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Three weeks in the Paris of North America. Three weeks contemplating the suffering and rejected Christ. Three weeks of soul-searching.<br>
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Though a Jesuit’s summer is often full of Jesuit-formation activities, such as making one’s own eight-day retreat and attending formation gatherings, there are chunks of time that often lend themselves to creativity. I had three weeks at my disposal and I decided to make good use of them. I have been the last three weeks in Montreal, volunteering at a well-established (since 1877) soup kitchen and shelter – <a href="http://www.accueilbonneau.com/">Accueil Bonneau</a>.<br>
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My initial decision was simply to come to Montreal in order to polish my French. Not really knowing how to go about doing this in a most effective way, I asked some French Canadian Jesuits for some suggestions. After a few email exchanges it was decided that I’d have lots of French conversation at a soup kitchen. Hence Accueil Bonneau.<br>
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Before long I realized that what initially was perceived as French practice, quickly became friend-making time and some deep soul-searching time. How could it not? Once we enter the realm of disinterested service, things tend to stubbornly take on different forms, forms that we initially did not mould ourselves.<br>
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Accueil Bonneau daily welcomes anywhere from 350 to 700 people for brunch. Numbers drop significantly for lunch, anywhere below 150. Most of the people that frequent Accueil Bonneau have lots of “frequent flyer points”, i.e., the same people are usually there every day. I was there from Monday to Friday, for three weeks. After a couple of days I began to recognize people and make some small talk with them. I started to learn about their lives and why it is that they are on the streets. The truth is not easy to hear. There are many suffering people out there that carry very heavy burdens of which we know nothing.<br>
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As I talked to them, heard their stories, and served them food, I honestly asked myself if indeed Christ is in them. But look how rugged and unkept they are! And the things they’ve done! How can this be Jesus? Sure, Jesus in Matthew 25:31–46 reminds us that “whenever you did these things for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did them for me!” Truly? I can find you so many more people that show Christ to the world. But these? The answer to these musings did not come through reflection, however. Rather, the more I served them and looked them in the eyes, and engaged them, and saw each one’s uniqueness, this one’s smiles, that one’s meekness, the more I saw humanity’s raw face. No makeup, no Photoshopped appearances, simply humanity <i>au naturel</i>. I heard the grumblings, the complaining, yes, the cussing. I also saw fraternity, loyalty, humour, and joy. The real stuff, no mask or pretension. With this realization, which took a couple of days to take root, there came the image of the Christ who was downcast and trampled underfoot by his oppressors during Holy Week, a Christ not particularly beautiful or attractive to the eye.<br>
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<br>All along I’ve tried to picture the Transfigured and Resurrected Christ in people. But more often then not people are carrying heavy burdens – in a unique and real way they are somewhat like Christ, who also carried upon himself the heavy burdens of fallen humanity. It ain’t a pretty picture, fallen humanity, that is. I was looking for beauty in the wrong place. In the picture perfect society that we live in, in the age of Photoshop, we have a skewed view of beauty. It ultimately leads us to the question: Is suffering beautiful? I certainly don’t want to glorify suffering and praise it. What is beautiful, however, is authenticity and self-gift. The ugliness of the Passion can therefore be beautiful as can the face of a rugged individual authentically struggling with self-identity and the psychological scars of past abuses.<br>
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I am grateful for the opportunity to grow closer to these strangers. After three weeks I felt fond of them and did not want to leave, but alas, the rest of the Jesuit-formation activities call.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-49010291861308961122014-07-18T05:30:00.000-04:002014-07-18T16:23:51.825-04:00Lansana<i>By John O’Brien, S.J.</i><br />
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One night, which happened to be Good Friday, I sat in a friend’s living room and listened to a man describe his trip to hell and back. Human suffering was never so visible as it was in the face of that smiling man.<br />
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Lansana is from Sierra Leone, a west African country founded by former American slaves. In 1991, armed rebels, frustrated by decades of tribal discrimination and the huge gap between the poor and diamond-swollen rich, launched a civil war. In ten years it displaced or killed nearly one third of the population. For Lansana, the son of a moderately successful plantation owner, the war meant a descent into Dante’s inferno.<br />
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As he spoke his story, I saw the lamplight catch in the dents and scars on his forehead. Lansana is still young, in his mid-thirties, but he has already lived many lifetimes. He wears tan clothing, in the simple but fashionable way of young Toronto males. The expression of his eyes varies from mirth to anguish, as he recounts the dark history of his recent past.<br />
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When he was 23 and a student, Lansana went to stay with his uncle who lived some distance away. One night, as he slept alongside his two cousins, armed men banged on the door of the home. Lansana’s uncle went to the door, and began to defend his home. Because he resisted, rebel soldiers shot him dead before Lansana’s eyes, then took him and his cousins into the forest. There they asked Lansana to join them. When he refused, they beat him savagely until he passed out. Lansana never saw his cousins again.<br />
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When he awoke, Lansana was deep in the mountains at a encampment. Every day his captors asked him to join their number. Every day he refused and was subjected to inhuman degradations.<br />
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English is the official language of Sierra Leone, which won its independence from the U.K. in 1961, and Lansana is articulate and expressive. But here on a spring evening, attempting to express his experiences to a group of Canadians, words sometimes fail him. His voice cracks and he weeps unashamed before us. We wait, until the story starts again.<br />
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For two months, Lansana was a prisoner. The rebels beat him daily, using bamboo whips that stripped the skin off most of his body. Whenever he was told to join them, he refused. They would hold him down and press their machetes blades upon his skin, always mocking his pain, saying, “Doesn’t that feel good, doesn’t it feel sweet?”<br />
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The heartbreaking side of this story is that most of Lansana’s tormentors were children, child-soldiers crazed on the drugs that were forcibly injected into them by their officers, and brainwashed into showing no softness or kindness.<br />
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Lansana pulls up his pant cuffs, and reveals his legs, which are covered with stripes of scar tissue.<br />
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“Every part of my body felt pain,” he says. “Every part.” He raises his cuffs higher and shows us his knees, which are gnarled blobs of flesh.<br />
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Lansana professes not to hate his torturers. He says he does not even blame them, for they did not know what they were doing. When I ask Lansana why he refused to join them, his eyes shine.<br />
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“It’s hard to explain,” he said. “But I knew I didn’t want to become like them. I didn’t want to be killers like them.”<br />
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A lasting feature of the civil war in Sierra Leone was the atrocities committed by the rebels, whose trademark act was to cut off the hands of their victims. But Lansana knew that to become a rebel would kill his soul.<br />
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During his long captivity, there were moments of despair. One day, his captors gave him a pistol and told him to shoot a fellow prisoner. This was to be his initiation by murder. Despondent, and not wanting to become a killer, he turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger. But the gun was empty. His captors laughed and once more beat him unconscious.<br />
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Unbeknownst to Lansana, all this suffering was to have a purpose. One day, government troops attacked the mountain camp, and in the ensuing gun battle, every member of the rebel company was killed.<br />
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Lansana explains to us that even the child soldiers were not spared. Too often they served as lethal cover for their officers, or would cry wolf then shoot would-be-rescuers. Soldiers fired on everything that moved in the rebel camps. There would be no survivors. Yet when a government soldier burst in on Lansana's hut, he paused. Lansana says he happened to be a former classmate of his, and took him outside.<br />
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“I was so disfigured by this point,” he said, “that the government soldiers saw it was impossible that I was a rebel.” Lansana lifts up his shirt sleeves and reveals his arms, which like the rest of his body, are marked by scars.<br />
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“I was saved by a miracle,” he said emphatically. “If I had joined the rebels I would be a dead man today. Although I suffered like I never want my worst enemy to suffer, the suffering saved my life.”<br />
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After his release, Lansana went to Guinea, where he taught English, eventually saving up enough money to get him onto a cargo ship bound for America. His plan was to hide in the cabin of crewman, until the boat arrived in the U.S. But it turned out that the ship’s destination was Jamaica.<br />
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In Kingston, Jamaica, members of a church befriended him and helped secure his passage to Canada. He wanted a new start in a new country, far from the horrors back home.<br />
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Today, Lansana lives in Toronto, where he works on a construction crew, and is married to an African-Canadian nurse. Although raised a Moslem, Lansana says he has a huge respect for Christianity.<br />
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“It was always the Christians who were there for me, when nobody else was,” he said to our small group.<br />
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This was a poignant Good Friday. Sometimes the cross gets very real.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-64402175716641057672014-07-16T05:30:00.000-04:002014-07-16T12:08:54.458-04:00The Astonishing Givenness of the World<i>By Adam Hincks, S.J.</i><br />
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<i>The whole of nature is something prepared for us, composed for us, given to us, delivered into our care by a supernatural dispensation. – David B. Hart</i><br />
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Being suddenly struck by the sight of the full moon is one of those commonly disarming experiences. The other night as I was walking down the street, I looked up and there it was, perfectly round and full and low on the horizon next to a church spire. I had not been at all aware of its phase, and it took me a bit by surprise. There it just was.<br />
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There is a mix of the familiar and the strange when one sees the full moon in this way—or any other weird or beautiful thing: a bridge over a river, a deer in the path, even the dripping of an icicle outside the window. It is not that it is something entirely new, for these are all things that are commonly seen, but rather the being surprised at all by its simple presence that is disarming: one is suddenly reminded <i>that </i>it is, rather than what it is. Such unexpected encounters are, I think, not uncommon, though some more than others have cultivated an attitude that makes them more alive to the sheer givenness of things in the world.<br />
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Recognising the givenness of the world—the strange and astonishing fact that it is simply there and yet somehow could be otherwise—can provoke three basic reactions. The first is simply to shrug and to move on with life. This sort of person will probably unlearn their wonder about the world, though I suspect that the world cannot help surprising them every now and then.<br />
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The second reaction is to channel the surprise towards absurdity. “There the full moon is,” one might say, “And it offers no explanation or defence for its being there: but why should there be? Ultimately nothing in the world means anything anyway.” The world surprises and provokes and delights, but for no deeper meaning. We are just lucky to happen to be here to see it, and one day will be gone. Even to ask why or how it is is meaningless and breaks the spell. There is a certain thrilling romance to this attitude.<br />
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The third reaction is to be surprised but not to revert to meaninglessness. Rather, one accepts the givenness of the world: the astonishing presence of what need not be there. Further, one is struck that being is not only given, but that being is good: being is not just given, but a gift with a Giver. And the natural reaction to this can only be gratitude.<br />
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What is your reaction when you are confronted with the thereness of things in the world? For you do have a choice as to how you respond thereafter. The choice you make will determine how you live in the world. And, I dare say, only one of the three choices will help you to live in a self-consistent and joyful way.
John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-49272732316373456222014-07-14T05:00:00.000-04:002014-07-14T10:59:46.185-04:00St. Petersburg and Montréal: A Tale of Finding God in Two Cities<i>By Br. Daniel Leckman, S.J.</i><br />
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In 2004, I spent a month in St. Petersburg, Russia. It’s a trip that affected me on many levels and created many incredible memories: like standing at the graves of Dostoyevsky, of Pushin, and of Tchaikovsky. It was also one of the first times in my life where I can remember having a deeply spiritual experiences in a city. Of course, St. Pete was like no other city I had ever seen. Her history, her architecture, her incredible colours, amazing metros, her culture … each one of her stories seemed to call to me. There are too many moments in this trip to recount in a short blog; but there is one that stood out.<a name='more'></a><br />
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Although it's one of Russia’s biggest cities, “The Burg” sometimes resembles more of a giant museum with all its churches and historical buildings to visit. However, the smells and sounds of the modern big city still fill the air of this place. There’s always some kind of murmur of activity to be heard wherever one might be.<br />
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Then one day I stumbled onto a street that was completely empty and totally free of that murmur. It was as if the tall, colorful buildings completely blocked the sounds of the city (though I know there must be another explanation for the absolute silence I encountered on that street). As I walked on the cobblestones the only sound I could hear was that of my own footsteps. I took it all in. It was as if the complicated history of that city had been encapsulated in that one single place. And I suddenly, undisturbed by the noise of the rest of the world, could drink it all in.<br />
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Years later, the French Movie, <i><a href="https://www.blogger.com/www.imdb.com/title/tt0409184">Les Poupées Russes</a></i> (<i>The Russian Dolls</i>) which took place partly in the Burg, filmed a scene either on that very street; or in one that captured the same mystical, romantic experience behind it. My mother saw the movie. And I guess my description of the street to her had been so vivid that, the moment my mother saw the scene, she also recognized the street I was talking about! I can honestly say that since then no street in any corner of world I've been to has come close to giving me the same sense of being connected with something bigger than me. And yet …<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOXSS9iFnOr5QaeH_DQDacuMLGnHavVOEGdsjtDsWVBlldGSIGZNaxEHg8lAovdGcOMMCLNR17iVdmPHneGO-enrorpBICp_52GR0vTpV5bDMNIdZbSt1UZdyiM2JvTCAoC3fg91rrIONo/s1600/Most-Beautiful-Places-In-Canada-Montreal-Quebec.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOXSS9iFnOr5QaeH_DQDacuMLGnHavVOEGdsjtDsWVBlldGSIGZNaxEHg8lAovdGcOMMCLNR17iVdmPHneGO-enrorpBICp_52GR0vTpV5bDMNIdZbSt1UZdyiM2JvTCAoC3fg91rrIONo/s1600/Most-Beautiful-Places-In-Canada-Montreal-Quebec.jpg" height="196" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Montréal</td></tr>
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When I returned from the Burg, I was surprised to learn that through this trip I had developed a deep appreciation for the urban beauty of my own city, Montréal. Suddenly the Old Port, St. Catherine, the Plateau, and many other corners of the city became places where I could connect with beauty and, therefore, with God’s presence in the place. Even something as random as the way the sound of a saxophone bounces off the buildings during the Jazz fest, or how the old buildings seem to have so many stories to tell: these moments became a trigger for me, almost as if I were experiencing that
same connection with my own city.<br />
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I recently experienced this connection, this appreciation of the beauty of a city, very differently than I usually do. In an effort to kill some time one Sunday night I decided to go find a place to pray. Needless to say, there’s no shortage of churches in downtown Montréal and I was gradually
making my way towards one of them. Then I realized that God was calling me to pray with the city. So I found myself a small park and sat for a good half-hour or more listening to God speak about this city, about my future as a Jesuit, and even, believe it or not, about potential ideas for an <i>Ibo</i> blog. My next blog entry will be the product of that idea!<br />
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What began as an effort to kill some time ended up being one of the richest prayers I've ever had. I looked up to the city before me and found God’s calming voice in the buildings, and the trees, and birds, and the people that give this city its life. Montréal is not as exotic as that stunning, northern Russian city; but it has its own sacred places where one can really be in communion with the divine and connect with the world. So the next time someone tells you they can only see God in nature, tell them to take some time to walk on a busy downtown street and listen to the stories. Maybe through those stories and reflections, they will find a prayer and share a holy moment with this God who so yearns to share many moments with His children everyday!Adam D. Hincks, S.J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09317894445176628003noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-2398306304698221272014-07-11T05:30:00.000-04:002014-07-12T10:06:58.767-04:00The Guy Who Drove Jesus Nuts <i>By Santiago Rodriguez, S.J.</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Credit: www.thinkstockphotos.com</span></td></tr>
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The scent of bitterness filled my heart and resentment clouded my mind. I could not take one more minute of his foolishness, and I danced away from a conversation I did not want to continue. It was dark by the time I reached my room and flicking the switch on did not seem to alter my foul mood. I tried to read for a bit, but I found myself replaying the conversation in my mind. I knew it was a waste of energy and I opted for the rest that comes with sleep. I went to bed but sleep did not come easily, for my heart was heavy with anger and my mind was stuck in replay. I was too tired to sweep the floorboards of my brain and to hush the echoes of my heart. Resentment and bitterness invited all their friends and they threw a party at the foot of my bed. I always try to be a good neighbor and let people party, even if it’s late, but after a while it was time to either knock on the door or to call the police. A rushed Hail Mary served as my messenger, and soon the party was over – either my tiredness kicked in or my emotions caved in.<br />
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I like people. Alright, I like most people. But even with those I don’t really like, I do my earnest to love them – to wish and give them nothing but the best. Because I am flawed, I try my best to love the likable and unlikable alike, and even find beauty in their flaws. But sometimes I can fail miserably at loving. Once in a while, I meet someone I cannot deal with. I am not talking werewolves, vampires, or that annoying cousin – I am talking about a real human being I cannot stand at all. This is not about the lady who blocks the aisle at the supermarket or the guy who taps his pen at the bank, but the sort of person who causes a vicious visceral reaction. We’ve all encountered people like this. They are the pompous jerk at work with the annoying laughter, the friend with the insensitive and narcissistic Facebook posts, and the family friend who wants to talk politics at the Thanksgiving dinner.<br />
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I find someone like this every few months, but seldom do I let my rage take over. This guy was different. I am usually good at passing over the flaws and mistakes of others, but from the moment this guy greeted me, I began to dislike him. As life would have it, I would see this guy a lot for a couple of days. It was tiring and trying. Every single one of his comments infuriated me. It was draining to talk to him. I tried to resist the urge to judge or to assume I knew him, but there was something weird about this guy and I could smell it. I tried to temper my emotional response, but all I wanted to tell him was, “shoo away with you.” I felt an irrational dislike taking root, and though I attempted to dismiss it, anger swelled in my guts. If this happened ten years ago, I would have punched him in the face with the greatest of pleasures. That night, I could only flee to avoid making a scene in front of those around us.
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The next day brought a new perspective. I suspended my dislike of him for a few moments to ponder how Jesus must love this person. The first thing I discovered was that my visceral reaction was giving away what I disliked in me. As I listened to him talk, I was unconsciously reminded of what I’ve struggled to tame and to transform in my life. But even this realization did not change the way I felt about him. With some people, I have the natural tendency to focus in what I dislike in them instead of loving them. If I was going to learn to love the guy, Jungian psychology would not be enough. I needed Jesus to teach me how to love him. I started by asking the Lord to give me the sentiments of his Heart – to see this guy as he sees him, to understand him as he understands him, and to love him as he loves him. Yet, in my eyes, this guy remained the same idiot.<br />
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I decided to imagine what it was for Jesus to be angry at someone. I am sure he got upset at someone once in a while. As a human being, he had to learn to love and to forgive. I bet he encountered a few difficult people in his life. From an early age, Jesus learned what it was like to earn a living, to save to buy food and clothes, and to care for Mary. Once in a while, he probably met a dissatisfied and critical customer who would not pay his dues. That must have driven him nuts. It was through people like this that Jesus was challenged to love more deeply. His encounters with these people stretched him in the right way.<br />
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As I pondered about Jesus’ encounter with the customer that drove him nuts, and a few others, I realized God uses people like these to teach me how to love more deeply. Through them, Jesus invites me never to treat anyone like an inconsequential token or to let my emotions get the best of me. This realization moved me deeply. Jesus’ message was loud and clear: “At all times, dare to love more deeply. Nothing else but love. Tried and failed? No matter, let’s try again. Fail again? Fail better and grow with every attempt. When you feel stretched, there’s room for growth. When you are frustrated and angry, trust me. When people annoy you, dare to smile gratefully to them. When darkness overwhelms your heart, shine a light. When irrational fears and dislikes cloud your mind, tell me what bothers you. When something seems difficult, accept the challenge. When there seems to be no reason to love someone, find some. When you are tired, come to me and I will keep you going.”<br />
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I am thankful for my encounter with this guy. I am more grateful that I realized what my visceral reaction implied: God wanted to show me how to love those I thought unlovable and to inspire me to reach the unreachable. For when I let God work in me and through me in those impossible situations, hearts are healed, relationships are recreated, and sleep becomes more enjoyable.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-30633813364080300872014-07-09T05:30:00.000-04:002014-07-10T05:57:09.344-04:00An Open Letter to St. Paul<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SjYOR9IfYDOUXjuS_grAGuLBSRWL0umidBVmVPdWgRGAADnwLtOBNqTxAen3_MEzeib50hyphenhyphenqKLUeomGNSZd4aT2yDVnQ3BvOKfMRfFSYQn8UXXn6e1tEQLmwKx0IAB3JKo6jip7OQxE/s1600/140630+US+highway+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SjYOR9IfYDOUXjuS_grAGuLBSRWL0umidBVmVPdWgRGAADnwLtOBNqTxAen3_MEzeib50hyphenhyphenqKLUeomGNSZd4aT2yDVnQ3BvOKfMRfFSYQn8UXXn6e1tEQLmwKx0IAB3JKo6jip7OQxE/s1600/140630+US+highway+1.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">View from Highway 1, along the California coast.</span></td></tr>
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Dear St. Paul:<br />
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I know that you have to sort through much fan mail, so I want to thank you for taking the time to read this letter. You probably know me from all the “intercession requests” that I've sent you. You are a great inspiration to me; in fact, you are one of my top-five saints. For the past four weeks or so, I have been a part of a Jesuit “mission band” which gives the <i>Spiritual Exercises </i>to young adults. I trust that you've heard of this manual written by my spiritual father, St. Ignatius of Loyola. I am not here to recount to you all the details of the retreat; rather, I think I've found some parallels between my experience and yours.<br />
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You know, working with fellow young Jesuits has been something that I have thoroughly enjoyed. It isn't as if we all think alike and we always get along. Friction is inevitable, as we are only human beings. I mean, even you and St. Peter had that argument in Antioch. If that could happen in public, I wonder how the discussions were like in private!<br />
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But I digress. What I find fruitful is that we challenge each other for the sake of improving the retreat. Each of us is responsible for at least one of the presentations, and we give each other feedbacks on what can be improved. Sometimes it feels as if my brother Jesuits have ripped my presentation into pieces, but it stings much less when I realize that their comments challenge me out of my comfort zone and help me to improve.<br />
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I imagine that you and St. Barnabas or St. Luke would bounce ideas off each other in a similar manner when y'all prepared yourselves to share the Good News with those who had never heard it. Some of you are better at rhetoric, others at writing or theology. But it is teamwork for the sake of the Kingdom of God. All the behind-the-scenes stuff has not gone unnoticed. Not by me, at least.<br />
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Not only are we preparing for these presentations, we are helping each other better understand the dynamics of the <i>Spiritual Exercises</i>. It is no small matter, as the Exercises define the world view of us Jesuits. It has been a great learning experience. I cannot help but think that this was how your theology was shaped as well.<br />
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We Jesuits have a charism that is missionary at heart, and a mission band travels quite often. You would understand this, being a missionary yourself. It is also why I have given you the nickname “Jesuit anonymous”. I've been in this Jesuit life for six years and have lived in three different cities, but this mission band is something else altogether. Living out of a suitcase is difficult in many ways. We have already completed several nine- to ten-hour trips, and the travelling definitely takes its toll. You've done some travelling yourself, so you can sympathize. All those dangerous trips by boat would scare the heck out of me; I don't know how you did it all. The frequency of movement also plays a factor. Since the tour began, we haven't stayed in the same city for more than five days.<br />
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This can seem exciting at first glance: “Wow, you get to visit Denver/ Salt Lake City/ Sacramento/ Los Angeles/ Orange County/ San Diego!” But everything comes second to the primary purpose of our visits, which is to give retreats to young adults. When you factor in the necessary down time to recover from the high-intensity retreat and the time spent to improve our presentations, we haven't got much time left. We had a chance to drive past some gorgeous scenery, but this is quite different from wanderlust.<br />
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I am also a person who needs to get into a rhythm. This is especially so with the two things that I need to have a balanced life: prayer and exercise. I tend to do my personal prayer early in the morning, but it becomes more complicated when I share a room with another Jesuit, or when there isn't a small chapel around. The difficulty here is that we often need to unpitch our tents just as soon as a rhythm is established. It is not the end of the world, but it is a realistic portrayal of the daily life of a mission band.<br />
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When we give retreats, we are not only there to preach and hope that the retreatants get something inspirational out of it. A large part of this ministry is to engage in deep conversations with others, an approach that we Jesuits call <i><a href="http://www.ibosj.ca/2013/05/cura-personalis-incarnate-teaching.html" target="_blank">cura personalis</a></i>. This is also a crucial aspect of friendship: to care for the whole person. I desire authentic friendships, like the ones that you had with Priscilla and Aquila. So, I do not consider this as “work”.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVYZXXXTBk4W2i8NnobQ5LOrKDCgJtfRjGKcs3qhKbjksezU7zuAOu0K6CRf4QvRbxDrVTKK8lfQoTrCt_EPx8gCF9p_iXLjn16tRL02SbMkcV7tMsYNboYKBzNhYaWdRqPu615PifcJc/s1600/140627+HoF+Sac+Santi.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVYZXXXTBk4W2i8NnobQ5LOrKDCgJtfRjGKcs3qhKbjksezU7zuAOu0K6CRf4QvRbxDrVTKK8lfQoTrCt_EPx8gCF9p_iXLjn16tRL02SbMkcV7tMsYNboYKBzNhYaWdRqPu615PifcJc/s1600/140627+HoF+Sac+Santi.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Small group discussion at a Hearts on Fire retreat. Sacramento, California.</span></td></tr>
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I personally prefer to develop friendships over time in a more profound way, and the itinerant nature of our mission band makes this a tricky endeavour. Also, staying in touch through Facebook does not cut it for me. At least you got to stay for more than five days in each city and develop your friendships! But I will stop my whining. There is something to be said about remaining in contact with others in <a href="http://www.ibosj.ca/2014/06/staying-connected-in-another-way.html" target="_blank">other ways</a>, but the tension remains. Now I can better appreciate why you wrote all those letters to the early Christian communities. I wonder whether all these blog entries that I've written might serve a similar purpose. I mean, it is not directly addressed to my retreatants, but I have them in mind as I write.<br />
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Many of my Jesuit missionary brothers in the past have looked to you for inspiration. What they have done is also extraordinary: bringing the Good News to the remotest part of the Earth, and often on their own. I am glad that I am on the mission band with four other brother Jesuits; being a lone ranger as a missionary would be mighty difficult and lonely. Ultimately, it is the love of Christ and his people that sustains this fire from within. This fire must have burnt pretty brightly in them and in you, whereas I still have much to learn in that regard.<br />
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At any rate, I will conclude this letter now. My experience is that people usually stop reading an article when it gets too long. I would appreciate any insights that you may have. Keep me in your prayers, will you?<br />
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Yours in Christ, <br />
Edmund<br />
July 9th, 2014<br />
San Diego, CA<br />
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John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-50102830821342132852014-07-07T05:30:00.000-04:002014-07-07T05:30:01.881-04:00Apparitions – Should We Care?<i>By Artur Suski, S.J.</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRRt18L4SbSBUDnmE4uUiKa9t5eEpTQ3ht6qoEuNQgg7Lxa-xyeQyckBkIMXIgj2zKoEm46Gw7CMBOJ7ogOEyJLPrYYA7cO23RZ5xBmTljH_LfBrhtkQr9-MhTgtzAjlVXLzTyJq6j-Y/s1600/ibo_et_non_redibo_Akita_Apparitions.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRRt18L4SbSBUDnmE4uUiKa9t5eEpTQ3ht6qoEuNQgg7Lxa-xyeQyckBkIMXIgj2zKoEm46Gw7CMBOJ7ogOEyJLPrYYA7cO23RZ5xBmTljH_LfBrhtkQr9-MhTgtzAjlVXLzTyJq6j-Y/s1600/ibo_et_non_redibo_Akita_Apparitions.png" height="320" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Credit: http://www.michaeljournal.org</span></td></tr>
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Ask a handful of Christians if they believe in apparitions, and you would likely find that the majority of them do not. And, really, why should they? We already have the Bible and our traditions. What more can these apparitions possibly “add” to our faith? Right? I beg to differ. In fact, I would challenge them and say that it is not biblical to reject all apparitions and make light of them. Was it not St. Paul who wrote, "Do not extinguish the Spirit. Do not despise prophecy. Test everything; retain what is good" (1 Thess 5:19-22)? Apparitions have been an integral part of our faith journey as Judeo-Christians. It was through apparitions that our Patriarchs of the Old Covenant received guidance from God, and the Torah itself! It is through apparitions that prophets received their call and their sacred messages to pass on to the people. Why would it be any different now?<br />
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Some claim that since the fullness of the revelation of God came through Jesus, there is no more to reveal. All has been given. Period. This is absolutely true: The fullness of revelation is in Jesus, and Jesus, the revealer, has come to reveal to us who the Father really is. But if we step back a moment and examine even the <a href="http://campus.udayton.edu/mary/resources/aprtable.html" target="_blank">most recent apparitions</a>, we will quickly realize that apparitions do not claim to reveal to us anything new about God. They don’t try to fill in the gaps about who the Father is, as if Jesus somehow forgot to include something in his discourses. We will quickly realize that most of these messages are prophetic in nature, and I do not mean it only in a predicting the future way.<br />
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They are prophetic in the sense that they relay to humanity a message from God – a message that the people need to hear at the moment of the apparition. They are no different than the prophetic apparitions of the Old Covenant. Take Jeremiah the prophet, for example (born ca. 657 BC). Jeremiah was a prophet to Judah before the fall of Jerusalem, calling them to conversion and repentance. He warned Israel’s southern kingdom of Judah of its pending doom if they did not change their ways. They did not listen and Babylon destroyed the city and took the Jews captive. Jeremiah did not bring new laws to the people, nor did he have anything especially interesting to say. The message was simple and desperately needed at the time: turn away from what you are doing now, or else things will go badly for you.<br />
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Recent apparitions seem to deal with similar topics. Their very existence shows us God’s continual care and love for his people. God did not stop speaking to us with the Ascension of Jesus or with the apparitions that the disciples received in the book of Acts. Indeed, God always tries to warn us and wake us up from our spiritual slumber. Some of the messages are admittedly very uncomfortable, as some recent ones touch on the unfaithfulness of priests and certain practices that have crept into the Church.<br />
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For example, consider the 1973 apparition in Akita, Japan, an apparition approved by the local <a href="http://www.ewtn.com/library/mary/akita.htm" target="_blank">bishop</a>. Our Lady appeared to Sister Agnes Katsuko Sasagawa and gave her three messages. The third and most important one took place on October 13, on the anniversary day of the last apparition of Our Lady in Fatima. In the message, Our Lady states: “…The work of the devil will infiltrate even into the Church in such a way that one will see Cardinals opposing Cardinals, Bishops against other Bishops. The priests who venerate me will be scorned and opposed by other priests. Churches and altars will be sacked. The Church will be full of those who accept compromises, and the demon will press many priests and consecrated souls to leave the service of the Lord. The demon will be especially implacable against the souls consecrated to God…”<br />
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Though thousands of years later, the message could have easily been given to the prophets of old and would have nicely fit into their prophetic texts. Nevertheless, I think it is important to note that the message’s purpose is not to scare and sensationalize, as some people receive it, but rather to call the people of God to repentance and to self-examination, something that we all need to do regularly. Since such apparitions are becoming more frequent and dire, it may be because we need a stronger reminder. Maybe we are growing deaf and God needs to shout louder.<br />
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If it is in fact God who is trying to reach us through these apparitions, should we not make an effort to listen to what God has to say to the world today? Each person needs to examine these apparitions and their messages himself. They’re out there – the Internet is a great tool to access them. Find them. Read them. And see for yourself if they are indeed important and how they mesh with what is going on in the world, rather than going by the negative things others say about them.<br />
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One must nevertheless be cautious when we examine these apparitions. Are they all from God? The Beloved Disciple warned the early Christians to “not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world” (1 Jn 4:1). This is a call to discernment. As such, Rome has provided <a href="http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/documents/rc_con_cfaith_doc_19780225_norme-apparizioni_en.html" target="_blank">some criteria</a> for assessing the authenticity of apparitions and discerning God’s presence in them. These are by no means the only criteria, but they eliminate many hokey apparitions.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-47307835581188187812014-07-04T05:30:00.000-04:002014-07-09T03:42:12.551-04:00Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire of Grace<i>By John D. O’Brien, S.J. </i><br />
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The life of a Jesuit Regent can be pretty marvellous, even a little unhinged. Especially summers, when any pretence to maintaining a "regular" life fails completely. All that remains is living in the here-and-now, or in the "sacrament of the present moment", as de Caussade puts it. I recently described a two-week <a href="http://www.ibosj.ca/2014/06/in-land-of-midnight-sun_20.html" target="_blank">service trip to the Northwest Territories (NWT)</a> with a group from my college. It was a tremendous experience in every way: we travelled far, we served in distant communities, prayed a lot together, and shared both joy and hardship. We came limping back, but with hearts full and alive.<br />
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NWT is the mosquito and horse-fly capital of the world this time of year, and the near-constant sun also means that the land bakes, and reflects its heat to the inhabitants who walk its surface. This was no pleasure cruise, no “service tourism”. Many of us came home swollen and bug-bitten, and, I might add, exhausted and a little retina-burnt. Never has the darkness of night been so welcome. At the same time, I think it may just have been the best mission trip I’ve been on.<br />
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Yes, the sheer grace. We planned as best we could, but in the end, we had to enter into a different kind of time, that mysterious intertwining of God’s time – “Kairos” – and the ways of the north, which do not suffer rigid Anglo-Saxon timetables gladly. So we exercised availability, flexibility and trust, and did things we never planned. Like travelling on motorboats for five hours on the Mackenzie River, to the remote Dene community of Jean Marie, which was hosting an annual assembly of the regional leaders. We did the drum dance around the fire with our First Nations brothers and sisters, and with them, made offerings of tobacco to the Creator, with signs of the cross and genuflection.<br />
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We prepared food in the cookhouse with the local women, and served it, and let the children accompany us all over the village, as it their wont. We attended a talent show, and baked bannock. We nourished ourselves daily from the Word of God and the Table of the Lord so that our interest in being here would be from more than just curiosity. We withdrew in the evenings and practiced <i>lectio divina</i>, and shared our experiences of the day. It was communal, it was Christian.<br />
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Back in Vancouver we returned to perfect weather and sushi. Tomorrow I leave for another trip, this time a pilgrimage in northern British Columbia. It’s a two-day drive, and we are around fifteen persons. This, too, is a forum to encounter First Nations people, and again, we’ll offer our hands in friendship. It is the humble figure of <a href="http://www.roseprincecatholic.net/" target="_blank">Rose Prince</a> who will be the pole that draws us together. She is quietly spending her heaven doing good on earth. There we will continue to learn to love one another as brothers and sisters, our micro experience to reflect the master-plan of God’s <i>koinonia</i>.</div>
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Yes, it’s intense. But I wouldn’t trade the life of Jesuit Regent right now for the kingdoms of the world.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841992273882225141.post-65124920023347829902014-07-02T05:30:00.000-04:002014-07-02T05:30:01.407-04:00Justice and Peace and Galaxies<i>By Adam Hincks, S.J.</i><br />
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<i>I found Him in the shining of the stars.</i> –Tennyson</div>
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What do galaxies have to do with justice and peace? It is perhaps a curious question to ask, but it is one that came up during the <a href="http://www.voss2014.va/" target="_blank">2014 Vatican Observatory Summer School</a> held last month. This four week programme, offered every two years, is for beginning graduate students or upper-year undergraduates in astronomy. One of its unique features is that a maximum of two students are accepted from any one country, making it a very international experience. The school this year, on the topic of “Galaxies: Near and Far, Old and Young”, had twenty-five students from twenty-three countries.<br />
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I was very happy to be invited by Fr. José Funes, S.J., the director of the Vatican Observatory, to help out at the summer school. My auspicious title was “faculty assistant”— that is, a liaison between the faculty and the students. In particular, I acted as a guide to the students for the research projects that they were assigned, and also made sure the necessary technology was purring along.<br />
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Each day, there is a full morning of lectures, and afternoons are left free for the students to work on their homework and to recreate. Throughout the school there were short presentations from the students on their home countries and their own research. But in addition to academics, there were opportunities for other cultural experiences. Each weekend we took a field trip together, and over the course of the summer school were able to see Assisi, Florence, Siena and Ostia Antica. The town of Albano, next to the papal summer residence on whose grounds the Observatory is located, is itself a charming place. Finally, many of us took advantage of the proximity to Rome to take in the culture there.<br />
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But to come back to my original question: what do galaxies have to do with justice and peace? Pope Francis, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlaHvZeT-sIHYPERLINK" target="_blank">in an audience</a> we were privileged to have with him near the end of the school, <a href="http://www.news.va/en/news/to-participants-in-the-summer-course-of-the-vaticaHYPERLINK" target="_blank">told us</a>:<br />
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The Vatican Observatory School in Astrophysics is … a place where young people the world over can engage in dialogue and collaboration, helping one another in the search for truth, which in this case is concretized in the study of galaxies. This simple and practical initiative shows how the sciences can be a fitting and effective means for promoting peace and justice.</blockquote>
We tend to think of justice and peace in terms of politics, economics or activism, but they are issues that encompass all of human affairs, including academic life. In the quote above, Francis singles out dialogue and collaboration as ingredients of academic progress, which are activities that explicitly promote justice and peace. But this is not all. Near the end of his address, he said:<br />
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I would also encourage you to share with people in your own countries the knowledge about the universe which you have acquired. Only a fraction of the global population has access to such knowledge, which opens the heart and the mind to the great questions which human beings have always asked.</blockquote>
Part of the reason, then, that the school was a contribution to justice and peace, is that it provides an opportunity for the dissemination of scientific knowledge. Some of the students at the school were from countries where astrophysical research barely exists or is underfunded, and they will be able to contribute to building it up. Others, who come from countries with more well-established research centres, may be able to continue that heritage.<br />
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In both cases, sharing “knowledge about the universe” is a part of justice and peace. Politics, economics and activism are means, not ends. Justice and peace are only truly realised in a culture in which people are free and capable of exploring the world they live in and are united in a common pursuit of truth. For it is only when we have engaged with the “great questions which human beings have always asked” that we can have any basis or motivation for even desiring a just and peaceful society.John Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07309411001384211788noreply@blogger.com0