Viva La Vida

By John O'Brien, S.J.

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.

It’s the anniversary of being “dato alla luce” (literally: given to the light), 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.

Truth, Film Characters, and My Hunger for Authenticity

 By Santiago Rodriguez, S.J.

“$#!^”, I said it. I had just returned home after a long day that unfortunately included a colossal series of mistakes. They played on my inauthenticity and pride. No cuddly panda there to entertain me, I sequestered myself to my room and I sat frustrated on my bed. I had no desire to pray, or to call a friend, but I didn't want to wallow in my own misery. In moments like that, only two things benefit me: exercise or a film. I opted for the latter. Thought-provoking plots in films help me expand my horizons and consider things differently. As I drove to the movie theatre, I kept thinking, “When will I fully grow up? Why can't I be more authentic?”

Gerard Manley Hopkins and Inscape

By Adam Hincks, S.J.

Image: micknailspoetry

Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realise you. Do any human beings ever realise life while they live it?―every, every minute? The saints and poets, maybe―they do some.  –Thornton Wilder

I recently read the biography Gerard Manley Hopkins: A Very Private Life by Robert Martin. It is a detailed portrait of this great Victorian poet and is especially engrossing since Martin takes a heavily psychological approach to his subject. While on balance I appreciated this tack, I sometimes found myself wondering how much the Hopkins presented in the book has been accurately reconstructed from his letters and diaries, and how much was supplied by Martin’s imagination. It is hard to tell. But it is fairly clear that many aspects of his life were, as the subtitle suggests, “very private”: not in the sense that he shared nothing with anyone else―it is thanks to his extensive correspondence that we know as much as we do about him―but rather that he enjoyed solitude, writing poetry, taking long walks in the country and above all communing with nature.

One of Hopkin’s greatest delights was contemplating the quiddity or "thisness" of things. He had an intense awareness of the irreducible uniqueness of each thing and coined the word “inscape” to refer to this property of nature. In a Platonic dialogue On the Origin of Beauty, he attempts to give a systematic account of how beauty arises through the disarming, slight lacks of symmetry in natural objects; half-way through, the treatise turns into a consideration of the quality of poetry. It is a little work that is well worth reading.

Papa Paco Preaching Patience

By Edmund Lo, S.J.

During the past academic semester at Campion College in Regina, I gave a course on Jesuit history. When Jorge Cardinal Bergoglio was elected as Pope Francis last month, I knew that I needed to make some modifications to my course. History was being made; a Jesuit was made a Pope. Given that he spent much of his life in Argentina, his works and thoughts are not well known to the English-speaking world. In fact, books about him are just being translated and put on the the shelves of bookstores. I, however, had neither the time nor patience for this, as my course was ending in early –in April; so I changed directions and looked for his books in Spanish.

Eventually, I got my hands on a book called El Papa Francisco: Conversaciones con Jorge Bergoglio, which is based on interviews that he gave to journalists Sergio Rubin and Francesca Ambrogetti. It is not my intention to give a review of this book, and I invite you to read it yourself when its English translation comes out. Here, I would like to simply talk about a concept that he frequently mentions, called transitar la paciencia, or transitar en paciencia.

"I am Pregnant with Expectation"

By Santiago Rodriguez, S.J.

Credit: http://www.hueinasu.com/

I have used this expression of pregnancy for several years to indicate my excitement about an upcoming  event. It denotes my anticipation for the celebration of a holiday like Christmas, a birthday, or the release of a long-awaited music album or film. Recently, I remember using it when telling friends apropos my giddiness about Mumford & Sons' new album or my trip to the Basilica of our Lady of Guadalupe. Just last week, I used it to announce my childlike anticipation for a decadent piece of chocolate cake (it was my way of making up for Mondays).

Vowed for Life and Lord

By Adam Lalonde, S.J.

Three weeks ago I made my first and perpetual vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Interiorly I had been telling myself that there would be no public display of emotion. I wondered if some people would be put off. Would they understand that I had spent two years preparing for the vows I would now profess? If so, then it should be obvious that I had already been through the struggles, the joys, the discernment. I had spent countless hours in prayer, in retreats, in seminars, and spiritual direction. Everything that was to be experienced emotionally had been done. Now I would simply be declaring publicly what I was already living in my heart.

That’s not quite how it turned out. The moment came. I knelt before the elevated Eucharist as per the centuries-old tradition of the Society of Jesus. And that’s when it began to hit me. I was suddenly aware of my Lord before me and my family, friends, and my brothers in the Society behind me. And then (in French) I said the words:

Till Death Do Us Part?

By Edmund Lo, S.J.

(photo: http://saintpetersbasilica.org)

The life of a Jesuit is heavily immersed into doing different kinds of ministries, and it is of no surprise that these often become conversation topics. A few nights ago, the topic of funerals came up in our dinner conversation. We talked about how people have preferences for their funeral plans: some cultures have public viewings like wakes, some even having them in their own homes. Others opt to have a public prayer service. A fellow Jesuit remarked that it is becoming more and more common for some to decide on foregoing a funeral altogether. At times, it is due to financial issues; but other times, it seems as if people do not want others to see how awful they look after they die. It is as if they prefer to visually remain in others' memories the best way possible.

A Day in the Life of A Jesuit

By Eric Hanna, S.J.

www.jesuits.ca

My friends and family know that I am a Jesuit, that I study, that I live a life of prayer and dedication to God. Yet the exact nature of this life is something of a mystery. So I have decided to give the account of a typical day in my life as a Jesuit.

No Jesuit I know has ever done just one thing his whole life. Our work is always growing and changing, as we ourselves do. We are many things to many people. We are teachers, both in high schools and universities. We are pastors of parishes. We are researchers in almost any field you could name, from theology to physics to ecology. We are coordinators of programs that provide aid to the poor, homeless, refugees, and different kinds of people who are marginalized. We are spiritual counsellors and retreats directors. And when we are in formation, as I am, we are mostly students.

First Reflection on Humanae Vitae: Where is God in Our Struggles?

By Edmund Lo, S.J.

The papal encyclical Humanae Vitae (HV) released on July 25th, 1968 – has been a topic of intense debate; it has been both staunchly defended and heavily criticized. As the anniversary of its publication approaches, several of the Ibo Et Non Redibo bloggers will give a few reflections on this document.

What is often misunderstood about HV, with its focal point on the use of contraceptives, is that it is not merely a “do this” and “don't do this” document. The Church has a bigger picture in mind. This vision is about how love between a married couple reflects the love of God, and also about our human nature as God intended it, a nature that does not restrict our individuality or creativity, but rather leads us to a true authenticity.

I think that many of us agree on this basic outlook, but some may disagree on the interpretation of certain details of the document, such as the legitimacy of the “totality” of marriage, or the exact definition of the “procreative” and “unitive” aspects of marriage, but these are not the points of my blog entry. What I am interested in is rather our reaction towards the seemingly demanding teachings on married love put forth by our Church through HV.

Impressions from Venezuela IV

By Adam Hincks, S.J.

Early two Saturdays ago, Eric and I boarded the bus for Maracaibo. (Daniel left later in the day for Guasdualito). It was a fourteen hour ride and ten o’clock when we arrived and were picked up by our hosts.

The length of our journey underscores the historic isolation of Maracaibo from the rest of the country, as it is on the west coast of the huge Lake Maracaibo. Indeed, with its sprawling geography, slower pace, heavy sun and dry, dusty terrain, the city does feel far from Caracas. As advertised, Maracaibo is hot: daytime temperatures are consistently in the mid-thirties with a fair amount of humidity. Contrary to my expectations, however, pretty much everything is air conditioned. But this does not stop all the locals from asking us, somewhat eagerly, with the same kind of idiosyncratic pride that some Canadians display at their cold winters, how we are handling the heat: a standard refrain to which we have learned simply to smile and nod politely.