Take Lord, and receive all my liberty,
my memory, understanding, my entire will and
all that I possess.
You have given all to me.
To You, O Lord, I return it.
All is yours; dispose of it wholly
according to your will.
Give me only your love and your grace,
for this is enough for me.

Every year, July 31 is a special day for me. St. Ignatius continues to play a very pivotal role in my life. What most captivated me as a young man, and still amazes me today, is his vision. His personal, intense love of God and a sense of the Divine Presence that is acutely close, warm, and reassuring all came to me in my journey through the Spiritual Exercises as a Jesuit novice.

I will never forget one of my first meetings with John D. McAnulty, my Master of Novices. He simply began by saying, “Let us place ourselves in the presence of God.” I had not been a stranger to priests or to spiritual direction, but this experience was completely different. The room and the atmosphere changed in an instant. There was a looming presence, an awesome profound silence, and a great peace.

I guess, that is why I tend to chuckle when people refer to the great learning of the Jesuits. It is not what they are about. I also laugh because that is what I thought until that first invitation to enter into the Presence. It was far from intellectual. It was very intense, very real, very soothing. St. Ignatius would say that our prayer can be marked by times of consolation and desolation. What has struck me over the years is that sometimes there are joyful fireworks when entering into the Mystery and sometimes there is a great zen of nothingness - but the Presence remains.

Happy Feast Day Fr. Ignatius.

For more background on the life St. Ignatius and his spirituality see my previous entry.

James, son of Zebedee and Salome, was one of the first disciples of Jesus. He was a fisherman, son of a fisherman, and was called by Jesus, along with his brother John, from his boat on the Sea of Galilee. He followed immediately, being a man who acted decisively and sometimes brashly all his life. Jesus called James and John the “Sons of Thunder.” They were two of his closest disciples, present throughout his ministry, including private experiences such as the Transfiguration and the Agony in the Garden.

Two men named James were among the twelve Apostles. James, son of Zebedee, and James, son of Alphaeus. James, son of Zebedee, is known as James the Greater. James, son of Alphaeus, is called James the Lesser. The use of “Greater” and “Lesser” was always puzzling to me. But what I have learned is that the terms probably referred more to the relative size of the men than to any sense of being greater or lesser in zeal, holiness, intelligence, or any of the many other qualities we treasure in people. It was probably like we find today among young men. I’m thinking particularly about two friends of one of my sons. Both are named Dan. But one is taller. So he’s called “Big Dan.” I suspect that James the Greater today might be called “Big Jim.”

One of the stories told about Big Jim was the day his mother approached Jesus and asked if her sons, Jim and John, could sit at His right and left hands in the Kingdom. Jesus told her that she didn’t know what she was asking. Could they drink of the same chalice from which he would drink? They confidently assured Him that they could. He confirmed that they would indeed share in the same chalice, but that it was not His to give a place at his right or left hand. He went on to explain that unlike earthly kingdoms, where leaders were the powerful who lorded it over all the rest, among his followers, the leaders were to be the servants, those who took care of those less able to help themselves. (Mt 20:20-28)

Big Jim learned that lesson well. Following the Resurrection, he enthusiastically spread the Good News of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. Some say he went as far as Spain, preaching the Good News, though we have no proof of that. We know that he he was one of the leaders of the community in Jerusalem and died there in 44 AD, the first of the Apostles to die as witnesses (martyrs) for the Good News.

And what of this kingdom where service to the least of the least is the hallmark of greatness? It grew and continues to grow. We look around us and see all of the pain and suffering of the poor. We get disheartened by the wars that rage and the senseless killings. But we also need to look at the good things that have developed. Think of doctors, hospitals and clinics that serve the poor as well as the rich. Think of schools for children of all social classes. Think of public funds that help provide food for mothers and children who otherwise might have none. These and many more good things have come about because followers of Jesus, sometimes one lonely person at a time, saw a need and set about to serve those who had nothing and no one who cared enough to help them. We still have a long ways to go, but the Kingdom of Jesus is growing, slowly though it may seem, and changes continue to come even in our days. The lesson Big Jim learned on that day so many years ago is one for us today. “Whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave.” (Mt 20:26-27)

One of the most striking sayings of Jesus is perhaps His simplest. It is one word, “Mary.” He is not referring to His mother or Mary of Bethany or any of the several other Marys of the Gospels.

Mary of Magdala is utterly distraught. She has come with other women to anoint the body of Jesus. The stone has been rolled away. The tomb is empty. She sees a man whom she mistakes as a gardener or caretaker and wants to know where the body of Jesus has been taken. (John: 20). Jesus utters her name, and through her, the Apostles and all of us learn of the unthinkable. Christ is risen.

This is Mary of Magdala, a woman that many of us don’t recognize because of a movement set in motion by Pope St. Gregory the Great, making Mary into the repentant prostitute whom Jesus forgives. In fairness to Gregory the Great, he was probably voicing a earlier tradition confusing Mary of Magdala with the penitent who washed the feet of Jesus with her tears and dried them with her hair.

The restoration of the historical position of Mary of Magdala is recent. In 1969 the Vatican officially corrected the traditional misconception of her as a prostitute. This also coincided with the rise of the women’s movement. More recent scholarship on the gnostic Gospel of Mary shows that Mary of Magdala appeared to have played a more central role in the immediate circle of the Apostles. This is also part of a trend in historical scholarship of the early church indicating that women played a more prominent role in leadership and teaching and were supplanted by men as the church became established under the emperor Constantine.

Mary the Apostle? Mary the penitent prostitute? These questions are an uncomfortable reminder that male dominated societies place women on a pedestal while also exploiting them at the same time. This is not only a tragic double bind; it also contradicts what Jesus was about in His relations with women.

St. Camillus de Lellis is one of those saints that remain quietly in the background of our Catholic lives, despite having sown seeds that continue to bear fruit into our present day. He was born in Italy in the mid-1500s and lived to the age of 64. His mother died when he was thirteen and his father was in the military, so he did not receive as much attention and loving care as he should have as an adolescent. He grew up to be an agressive, hot-headed, compulsive gambler. He worked as a mercenary soldier, selling his services to whichever ruler’s army would pay him. Between stints as a soldier, he spent time working in a hospital for the incurably ill. But his gambling and agressive behavior cut short that employment and he returned to being a soldier, serving in the war against the Turks in 1569.

Following the war, when he was working in construction on a building at Manfredonia for the Capuchins, he was touched by a talk from the guardian of the community there and at the age of 25, his life changed. His legs had been injured when he was younger and they never really healed completely. He spent time in hospitals both receiving treatment and helping with the care of other patients. Following his conversion, he dedicated the rest of his life to caring for the ill and injured. He eventually became a priest and founded a religious order, the Fathers of a Good Death, in 1584. Wearing a red cross on their black cassocks, they cared for the sick, including victims of the plague, in hospitals, in the homes of their patients and on the battlefields. The order continued to grow through the years, and today they are known as Camillians (Clerks Regular Ministers to the Sick). Camillians work all over the world.

St. Camillus de Lellis was called the “Founder of a new school of charity” when he was canonized by Pope Benedict XIV in 1726. He taught that God is present in people confined to hospitals and sick beds, reminding his followers, “The poor and the sick are the heart of God.  In serving them, we serve Jesus the Christ.” 

A Camillian priest visited our parish last year, raising money for their work in the missions. He spoke compellingly about the people he had served and their stories. It was quite inspiring. When he introduced himself and his order, he told us that Camillians were the “original Red Cross” because of the color of the cross on their habits. Their work through the centuries in hospitals, battlefields and sick rooms would seem to bear that out.

Once again it seems that “God writes straight with crooked lines.” A mercenary, who is a compulsive gambler and brawler, with injured legs, becomes the founder of a group of men who spend their lives working to heal the sick and care for the dying - the patron saint of gamblers and nurses. Truly a life story to be told more widely.

Faith and reason are often seen as opposites in today’s controversies. Some people say that faith has to be subject to reason and others say that there can be no reason if one has faith. St. Bonaventure shows not only how faith and reason are reconciled but how they are fulfilled in each other and lead us to that transcendent mystical encounter beyond words and comprehension for which we were all created.

The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy clearly summarizes the life and teaching of St. Bonaventure:

Bonaventure of Bagnoregio (ca. 1217 to 15 July 1274), the religious name of Giovanni di Fidanza, was a Franciscan friar, Master of Theology at the University of Paris, Minister General of the Franciscan Order, and Cardinal of the Catholic Church. During his lifetime he rose to become one of the most prominent men in Latin Christianity. His academic career as a theologian was cut short when in 1257 he was put in charge of the Order of Friars Minor (O.F.M.). He steered the Franciscans on a moderate and intellectual course that made them the most prominent order in the Catholic Church until the coming of the Jesuits. His theology was marked by an attempt completely to integrate faith and reason. He thought of Christ as the “one true master” who offers humans knowledge that begins in faith, is developed through rational understanding, and is perfected by mystical union with God.

St. Bonaventure was a man of passionate intensity. In the Prologue to his famous Itinerarium Mentis Ad Deum - The Mind’s Journey to God - Dr. Ambrosio’s translation conveys the Saint’s great feeling and vision:

To begin with, the first principle from Whom all illumination descends as from the Father of Light, by Whom are given all the best and perfect gifts [James, 1,17], the eternal Father do I call upon through His Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ, that by the intercession of the most holy Virgin Mary, mother of God Himself and of our Lord, Jesus Christ, and of the blessed Francis, our father and leader, He may enlighten the eyes of our mind to guide our feet into the way of that peace “which surpasses all understanding, [Eph., 1,17; Luke, 1,79; Phil., 4,7], which peace our Lord Jesus Christ has announced and given to us; which lesson our father Francis always taught, in all of whose preaching was the annunciation of peace both in the beginning and in the end, wishing for peace in every greeting, yearning for ecstatic peace in every moment of contemplation, as a citizen of that Jerusalem of which that man of peace said, with those that hated peace he was peaceable [Ps., 119,7].  

Although the Itinerarium Mentis Ad Deum is a classic of Western philosophy, its brevity and poetic beauty sweeps the reader up into a vision and a search for the Divine while synthesizing major questions about the nature of God, the universe and our existence.

St. Bonaventure has always played a special role in my life, since I grew up in the parish of Mission San Buenaventura in Ventura, California. Mission San Buenaventura was the ninth and last mission founded by Blessed Junipero Serra, who taught philosophy in Majorca, Spain before coming to the new world. These are some pictures of the mission and its gardens.

Benedict of Nursia is called the founder of Western Monasticism. He was born at Nursia around 480 AD to a noble family. According to tradition, his had a twin sister, Scholastica, who became the founder of a similar form of monasticism for women. As the son of a noble family, he was educated well and lived a comfortable life. The world and all its opportunities were open to him. Presumably he sampled some of its treats as a young man.

Around 500 AD, he decided to leave Rome for a quieter life in the country. He took his childhood nurse along as a servant and moved to a smaller town about 40 miles away. According to St. Gregory, who wrote the first biography of Benedict, his intention was to live a life more in tune with the Gospel than that of a typical young noble in Rome. He didn’t plan to become a hermit or to organize groups of men to live in religious communities or to develop a “Rule” for monastic orders. He simply wanted to have time for prayer and work and a life with a friends who shared the goal of living a Gospel centered life.

From a distance of hundreds of years, we see choices like the one he made as signs of holiness. Up close in our own lives, we often see them as somehow irresponsible or “crazy” - a judgement generally shared by the families of those, including Benedict, who made those choices in the past.

It’s easy to forget/overlook the fact that Benedict never set out to start a religious community. The rules he eventually developed and wrote down were ones that developed out of his experiences in living with other men and by himself. They were developed for lay people. Only later did his followers become priests.

So what were these rules about? They were about how to live a holy life in the world, as a person sharing life with other people. They were written not just for those who left family and jobs to live a life of prayer, but for anyone seeking holiness. They assumed that people would work. That a life of prayer without work is not healthy. And both work and prayer need to be undertaken with the support of other people in a community. We need friends and family to keep us going and to challenge us to continue when it would be easy to cut corners or take the easy way out of a tough situation. And - surprise - there must be time for fun and play in life!

For Benedict, balance was important. Work, prayer, play — all within the framework of a community/family. 

There is a saying from Buddhist tradition, “Before Enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After Enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”  Benedict’s example and the rule he developed are very much in alignment with this wisdom. Prayer includes deep awareness of the presence of God in all things. So as we work, we pray if we are “present”  in what we are doing and aware of God’s presence in it. When we come together in community to pray, as monks do at regular times in the day and night, or as families do over meals or at bedtime, we pray most deeply when we are again “present” in the moment of prayer. When we have time by ourselves for personal, quiet prayer, and we find ourselves in the presence of God, we are to stay rooted in that experience too. The trick is to stay aware and present to the reality of what we are doing. “Chop wood, carry water.” And when we play, we are to play wholeheartedly as well - like happy children. Not worrying about how we look or who will win or what else we should be doing that would be “holier.”

Benedict’s life was not easy. The lessons he learned came through many twists and turns. He spent time living alone and time living in communities. He started some communities. Lived within others. Was rejected by some. One community even tried to poison him! But through it all he kept his eyes and ears open to God’s presence and call. And the witness of his life drew other people, men and women, who passed on what he learned down through the generations to us. How to find holiness in the balance of a life of work, prayer and play as individuals and as members of families and communities.

Somewhere, lost in the depths of a bookcase, my family has a comic book about Junipero Serra. It is set in the year 20something, still in the future from now, on board a space craft. The story is about a priest telling a friend of his about Serra. I first picked up the book, (actually I found it), in fourth grade, the time when all California kids study the California missions. That was the first real intro I had to Serra and the founding of the missions, because I found the book just before we started studying the missions in school. His story fascinated me, but soon I forgot about him and the book, until today when I started doing research for this post. Some might say that comic books never tell the truth, but they would be wrong about this one. The research I did showed me that the comic book is actually rather accurate at portraying his life.

Blessed Father Junipero Serra was born Miguel Jose Serra on November 24th, 1713 in Petra, Majorca, Kingdom of Spain. Later, he took the name “Junipero” in honor of Saint Juniper. He entered the Order of Friars Minor on September 14th, 1730.  Because he was so good with his studies, Serra was appointed Lector of Philosophy (some sort of professor) before he was ordained a priest. Later on he also received his doctorate from Lullian University in Palma De Mallorca.

In 1749, Serra travelled to Mexico City. On the way from Vera Cruz to Mexico City, he was bitten in the leg by an insect. The bite never got better, and that leg bothered him for the rest of his life. He never wanted any help with it though, and preferred to walk whenever he could.

From Mexico City, Serra requested transfer to the Sierra Gorda Indian Mission. He spent nine years there, learning the language of the Pame Indians, and translating the Catechism into their language. He was soon recalled to Mexico City and gained fame as being the most fervent and most effective preacher, because he would do ridiculous stuff in order to get people to repent. It is said that he used to pound his breast with rocks at the pulpit, scourge himself and hold a lit torch to his chest. Whether or not he actually did any of that is debated.

The years went by, and in 1769, Serra acompanied Govenor Gaspar de Portola to Nueva California. On July 1st, 1769, the exedition landed in San Diego, where Fr. Serra founded Mission San Diego de Alcala, the first of 21 California missions. After founding Mission San Carlos Borromeo de Carmelo in Montery, Serra relocated his head quarters to Carmel. Under his rule as ”Father Presidente of Alta California”, the missions expanded to include: Mission San Antonio de Padua, Mission San Gabriel Arcangel, Mission San Luis Obispo de Tolosa, Mission San Juan Capistrano, Mission San Francisco de Asis, Mission Santa Clara de Asis and Mission San Buenaventura. Each of the California missions is located within one day’s walk of each other. He also pressed for laws to protect the Natives from the abuses of the military.

Around 1778, Serra was given dispensation to give the sacrament of Confirmation. He went around confirming people for a year until Felipe de Neve told him to stop until he could present a Papal Brief. Serra waited for two years, until the Viceroy Majorga gave instructions to the effect that Serra was within his rights. Over the next three years, Serra traveled from San Fransico to San Diego, over 600 miles, and confirmed 5,309 people. 600 miles may not seem like a lot now days, but it was a lot then, on foot, with a bad leg.

Blessed Father Junipero Serra died of a snake bite on August 28th, 1784. He was beatified by Pope John Paul II on September 25th 1988. He is buried in the Carmel Mission.

P.S This is not actually Kathy writing. I am Rosie her 15 year old daughter. Gotcha!