Today’s first reading tells us how the Israelites were grumbling against Moses and God for bringing them into a desert where they were starving and upset with their plight. They felt as if God had abandoned them. They began to think that God hadn’t saved them from slavery at all, and that they would be better off back in Egypt where they would at least have something to eat. All of a sudden, however, quail started falling from the sky, and they had “miraculous” food. Not only that, but in the morning they found a honey-like substance on the ground that was like a dessert.
Relieved at these wonderful, sustaining gifts from heaven, the people felt that God had saved them once again. And Moses reminded them to not lose faith in a God who gave them “manna in the desert” which was their “bread of life.” Scholars tell us that this reference in Exodus pre-figures the coming of a Jesus who would give us the “bread of life”—Himself—in the Eucharist (just as Moses pre-figure the coming of Jesus). But there’s more.
This past week saw Jesuits around the world celebrate the feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Society of Jesus (the religious Order of men who are priests and brothers who put the initials “S.J.” after their name). Drawing upon Old and New Testament sources, St. Ignatius offered guidance in his religious classic known as “The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius.”
When watching the U.S. play Puerto Rico in the Olympics this week, I noticed that the head coach was Steve Kerr—a one-time Chicago Bull who played with Michael Jordan. His first assistant there at the Games was Mark Few—the much-heralded coach of Gonzaga University’s basketball team that competes each year for the college championship. Seeing him on the TV, I wondered how many people knew that Gonzaga is a Jesuit university (one of the 27 found across the U.S.A.). I couldn’t help but think of the many times my being a Jesuit meant absolutely nothing to people who learned of the association.
Many moons ago, I had a conference with a Dean at Lake Superior State and hoped that my PhD in Anthropology might win me a role there. Shortly into the conversation, I realized my visit to the Soo would accomplish nothing. The woman was unfamiliar with Catholic priests employed at universities and needed to be informed of the longstanding reputation of Jesuits within higher education (at such schools as the University of Detroit, Boston College, Georgetown, and twenty-some others (all regarded as Class A schools, e.g., even the Jesuit school where I taught in West Virginia was identified by a national ranking service as the “Jewel of higher education in West Virginia”). N.B. Due to economics, that “jewel” no longer exists.
Knowing this interview would go nowhere, I proceeded to educate this academic administrator. I explained that the U.P. had cities named after Jesuits—such as St. Ignace and Marquette, and that Sault Ste. Marie itself was named by Father Marquette, S.J. (whose grave is in St. Ignace). I think she may have violated the law when saying “You’re a little old to be seeking university employment aren’t you?” Whereupon I told her that the average age of people receiving PhD’s in anthropology that year was my exact age!
Saginaw had a Jesuit connection when Henri Nouvel, S.J. celebrated the first Mass in the region—on Ojibway Island (a marker for which remains defaced by someone whose sense of history did not appreciate French priests on the Michigan frontier). When the diocese blanded the Catholic high schools in Saginaw, Bishop Untener named the new entity “Nouvel”—after the Jesuit who said the first Mass, and because the word “nouvel” in French means “new” (as the high school would be the new institution—in 1985).
Jesuits received national attention during the Trump presidency when the president replaced the chaplain of the House of Representatives. A Jesuit priest who both the Democratic and Republican House leaders had hired a few years earlier. The priest had prayed for some issue that Mr. Trump thought should not have been prayed for—so he asked for his removal. Steven Colbert periodically calls attention to Jesuits when he invites Fr. James Martin, S.J. to be a guest—someone Colbert humorously calls the chaplain of his nightly show.
This past May, Jesuit Greg Boyle, S.J. was awarded in Washington, D.C. the Presidential Medal of Freedom—an honor yearly bestowed on people who have made major contributions to humanity. Google Greg’s name on YouTube and you can see/hear him present any number of commencement addresses he has given over the years. His work has been with gangs in south-central LA where he started “Homeboys Industries”—a successful economic enterprise that has brought jobs to the poor and brought gangsters back into society where they make an honest living and raise their families. I told him “I present people with the same sort of thoughts that you do, Greg . . . . . . only you do it a hundred times better than me.” Some years back, 60 Minutes covered his work.
Now that you have a feel for some of my experience in dealing with the topic of Jesuits, it’s important that you know about the spirituality that Ignatius imparted to the Order he founded and the people who have adopted SJ spirituality into their lives. Lay people today work at retreat houses where they guide people through this saint’s teachings.
One counsel Ignatius gave to generations of Christians is that they “Find, or discover, God in all things.” This is what Moses and his fellow Israelites did when they saw the quail and honey-dew. Besides grumbling about their problems (as we do), they looked at their experience and discovered or found God providing them with what they needed (in freeing them from Egypt and sustaining them on their journey to a land that had been “promised” to them by God).
The spirituality associated with this counsel further reminds us that we can grumble like the Israelites OR we can find God in all things—in some way or other. Importantly, we can do so not just when we’re happy and well-fed and everything is going our way. No! When Jesus was born and we learned his name would be “Emmanuel,” we were told that this name meant “God is with us.” And this means that God is with us not just in good times—but in good times and bad, in sickness and health, to death and beyond. Harsh experiences can even force us to find God—in our effort to carry on.
Ignatius came upon this perspective when he was a young, playboy sort of nobleman at the court. An adventurer, he relished bringing back the spoils of war and winning the admiration of the ladies. However, when his leg was shattered by a cannonball, he was forever disabled—unable to walk as well as he once did. His days of impressing superficial people had come to an end. He was in a state of what he termed “desolation.”
During his recovery, he asked the medical staff if they would bring him some romance novels to read. They told him that all they had was a “Life of Christ” and a “Lives of the Saints” book. Not what he wanted, he nonetheless read them and noticed how mood swings took place during this period of convalescence. Namely, when he read about saints doing great things for people in different lands, he’d find himself fantasizing about doing something similar. His spirit picked up and he experienced what he called “consolation.”
He noticed that when he fantasized himself accomplishing good things for people, he’d feel upbeat. When he fantasized about living as he had before the cannonball injury, he experienced upbeat thoughts that would only last a short while—and then he’d go into a state of desolation. This experience revealed to him that serving God’s people would be the road for him to travel. Previously, he might raise his sword and proclaim: “For the greater glory of the king and for our greater glory.” Now, however, he would proclaim “For the greater glory of God!” This statement became the calling card of Jesuits. All their efforts would be to promote the greater glory of God (in Latin, the phrase reads: Ad Maioren Dei Gloriam—often noted on the cornerstone of buildings as “AMDG”).
Go to a Jesuit college or high school, and you may well find the institution presenting a “Magis Award” to someone in its ranks who has gone the extra mile in helping what Ignatius referred to as “the Kingdom” (of Christ on earth). Magis is a Latin word that means “the more.” It refers to God calling you and me to always realize we can improve our efforts to live the Gospel. I was reminded of this concept when hearing a line from singer Jackson Browne’s song that said: “Wherever I am, I’m a day away from where I want to be.”
You and I often enough think to ourselves that we’ve done our fair share of assisting some institution (family, community, world, activity, organization, etc.). Or we think to ourselves that we know the score on some issue or other—and no one will change our minds on the matter. We look at our lives and say “I’m retired. Let others do what they can.” Or we’re confined to the home and have little mobility. We are resigned to having no role.
The concept of “the magis” stops us in our tracks, and tells us that our vision is not God’s vision. As long as we exist, we are being called to be Christ-like in SOME way we apparently don’t see or acknowledge. Ignatius calls us to seek the magis in whatever we are doing.
The “General” of the Jesuits (his title since Ignatius modeled the Order on a military regimen) when I entered was a Spaniard named Pedro Arrupe, S.J. He might be canonized one day—so admired was he in leading the Jesuits. He survived the A-bomb at Hiroshima and ministered to the wounded. A concept he urged Jesuits to embrace was that all our institutions and ministries should aim to produce “Men and women for others.”
You will help my ministry at John XXIII parish by continuing to be a man or woman for others. You and I are called to find God in all things so that we can pursue the magis that God is calling us to perform (whatever our circumstances). We do our best in order to give glory to God—not ourselves.
How might God be calling you to serve the Kingdom?