Feast of St. Ignatius

Today, on the anniversary of his death in 1556, the Catholic Church remembers Saint Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Society of Jesus. It's the biggest celebration of the year for Jesuits, and an occasion to celebrate our callings and our communities, our ministries and missions.

Jesuit Community
College of the Holy Cross, Worcester MA

Ignatius' life story is difficult to condense, and his many stations in life elude easy categorization. A soldier and a saint, a pilgrim and a planner, a seeker and a guide, among his many contributions (a global religious order with a 460-year history, a framework of spiritual discernment, an extensive corpus of hand-written letters, innovative insights into the human condition) is the example of striving to recognize God at work in individual lives and the world as a whole, and approaching the most profound relationships and the most mundane decisions in light of that deeply held belief.

DuBourg Hall
Saint Louis University, St. Louis MO

Having recently completed my annual eight-day silent retreat, I feel that I've been renewed in my sense of who Ignatius was and how his life and experience can inform mine. His course of "formation" in the years from his conversion to his establishment of the Society took him all over Spain and through several major European cities; he studied and worked, begged and offered counsel, suffered rejection and found friends. In the past year, I've transitioned from a middle school teaching position to a higher education administrative position, and found new gifts in a line of work (grant writing) at which I was completely new last June. I've been fortunate to visit friends up and down the East Coast as well as in the Midwest, and blessed by the opportunity to maintain contact with those further afield, much as Ignatius did when some of his beloved friends and fellow Jesuits were sent to the Far East and South America.

Personal correspondence
(The writer of this particular letter may recognize the handwriting!)

Perhaps most crucially of all, I've seen how deeply all of my progress and growth this year is rooted in the gradual work of God's grace, the support and guidance of my local community and extended family in the Society of Jesus, and the eagerness of many good friends to share their life stories and listen to mine as we work out the details of our respective callings and strive to live them faithfully. In one of his many letters– thousands survive– Ignatius put this far more eloquently, so I'll conclude with his words:

However for our part, to find that way through the medium of [God's] grace we will be greatly helped if we search about and make many kinds of experiments, so that we can follow the route that He most clearly shows to one, the happiest and most blessed route in this life, completely governed and directed toward that other life, which is without end, embracing and united to these most holy gifts... then it is not just the soul that will be healthy; we will have a sound mind in a sound body, and thus everything will be healthier and better fitted for the divine service.

– Letter to Francis Borgia,  September 1548 

Shifting Gears, Part II

The physical shifts now emerging in my summer training aren't the only changes afoot. Here at Holy Cross, the summer's populations and programming are undergoing a transition. More than one hundred summer research students just completed their work, in fields ranging from the hard sciences to the humanities, and have vacated the dorm, labs, and libraries where they've been toiling with their professors since just after Memorial Day weekend. Members of the incoming class have been stopping in for some additional orientation and enrichment activities before arriving for good at the end of August. This morning, I discovered a small flock of office chairs scattered throughout the hallway leading to my office; it's the week for major cleaning, repainting, and moving in the departments inhabiting this particular floor. Construction and renovation projects, always a popular news item on our website, are largely finished. The campus won't be characterized by relative emptiness and planned disarray for too much longer.

Hogan Oval, College of the Holy Cross, Worcester MA
Quiet for now...

With August arriving tomorrow, and grant proposals for the new academic year already rolling in, I'm in a summer endgame mentality, planning for initiatives and projects to undertake and/or adjust in the coming semester, and concluding the summer tasks that have been helping to pass the time during these lighter weeks in the rhythm of the College's workings. With the likelihood of, God willing, moving on to theology studies in fall 2013, I'm looking to the next nine months or so as an opportunity to contribute to some restructuring and strengthening of the Grants Office, as well as to renew or develop ties with other individuals and sectors within the Holy Cross community.

Within a few weeks, the campus should be humming with students preparing to welcome the Class of 2016 through their service as orientation leaders, RAs, and brothers and sisters in the Holy Cross family. Professors will arrive for departmental meetings, administrators will shift their focus as necessary, and campus ministers will help us all to call down God's blessings on a new year. For now, though, we're still making the shift... conscious of what's on the horizon, eager for what is to come, and wrapping up our various accomplishments from the summer months. As I walk the corridors of my building, and see signs of these processes, as well as long-quiet offices being inhabited again, I'm gladdened by these changes, and grateful for the potential that they promise.

Shifting Gears, Part I

At first, I thought the feeling was only fleeting... but it persisted. It comes every year around this time, yet always catches me by surprise. When it arrives, it heralds an imminent departure, a certain transition, and a realm of clear yet mysterious potential. What might this feeling be?

I'll explain it by means of my first memory of it. Just over six years ago, I completed my first marathon, thanks in large part to the support of a running club in Portland, Maine with whom I trained while working at the Jesuit high school there for a semester in early 2006. At the end of that summer, I professed my first vows as a Jesuit; the sixth anniversary of that event is coming up in two weeks. Through the intervening months, I noticed the immense physical toll and mental effort that I devoted to my first marathon as both body and mind slowly restored themselves after being thoroughly spent during my passage along a lovely 26.2-mile course in the mountains of western Maine. On the morning that I took my first vows, during a routine morning run that I set aside for some of my prayer, I suddenly felt, unmistakably, the return of the same level of fitness that I carried to the starting line several months earlier. The verve of anticipating vows and devoting my life to God through the Society of Jesus and its life and mission, though significant, was not the only responsible factor– I could tell that my recovery was at an end, and a new training cycle could now begin.

Tower Hill Botanic Garden
Boylston MA

All this being said, could I run my next marathon tomorrow? Absolutely not. I haven't run more than eight miles at a stretch since the Providence Marathon back on May 6. But I can feel the gears shifting into a rhythm in which I'm ready, even eager, to begin training for my next race... hopefully a 10K, 10-miler, or half marathon in October of November. Knowing how this cycle works, based on six years of experience with summer recovery from a spring marathon, as that momentum gathers, it will start some complementary shifts in other areas of my life. I'll detail those soon, now that I know for sure that change is underway once again.

Questioning the Medium

I've been away from blogging for the past few weeks, owing to a combination of circumstance and circumspection. Extensive travel during the month of June for a variety of events– a Jesuit gathering and priestly ordinations in New York, a management workshop in New Orleans, an Ignatian spirituality conference in Baltimore– brought a rich array of experiences to savor, information to absorb and interpret, and conversations and company to share with Jesuits and laypeople alike. These weeks blessed me with an abundance of material for my prayer, my reflection, my journaling, and some letters that I've not yet written. They also occupied my time with pursuits far more fulfilling, delightful, and stress-free than the shorter intervals that I occasionally snagged for the purpose of keeping up with work e-mails, most of which have dealt with a conference that my office is hosting next week.

Jackson Square and Cathedral of St. Louis
New Orleans LA

While in New Orleans three weeks ago, I took an evening stroll through Jackson Square, one of many picturesque locales in this fine city that blends a sense of history, a contemporary funkiness, and a vibrant cultural flair that escapes description while being undeniably tangible. Nightfall brings an odd paradox to this popular space: fortune-tellers setting up shop directly in front of the Catholic cathedral. While I neither engaged them in conversation nor consulted their services, I took their presence as a reminder that people seek meaning (and advice that they can consider trustworthy) from a variety of sources. The same can be said for the interpretation of signs and events; some read the news, some read palms, some read the Bible, and so on. Under a quiet sky of patchy clouds eerily lit by the Crescent City's urban glow, in the slightly uneasy embrace of the Gulf Coast's humid warmth, I not only sought the continuation of my life's dialogue with God's presence and will, but also mused anew upon the manners in which I communicate my thoughts, discern my choices, pursue my ideas, and convey the gifts and graces that I've been given to give in turn.

Audubon Park
New Orleans LA

Consequently, I've been debating the merits of this particular blog as one of many methods I use to carry out the practices I've listed above. Moreover, especially in the context of rich fraternal, intellectual, and spiritual relationships renewed or kindled through personal interactions and face-to-face conversations during my June travels, I've been questioning the ability of this blog to provide an adequate approximation thereof. A good friend of mine– from whom I received a four-page, handwritten letter earlier this week– recently announced her blog's finale after a few years of wonderful, thought-provoking, richly rendered posts. Such a decision is by no means imminent with respect to this blog of mine, though I am considering that possibility (among other options with respect to adapting and/or altering my pattern of posting and range of content) with some seriousness.

Garden District shops
New Orleans LA

I doubt that the fortune-tellers in Jackson Square would have had much to say about such deliberation. There are certainly far weightier matters to address in my prayer. Yet discerning the unfolding steps along my path, and ensuring that I appropriately and fruitfully share the experiences and gifts lived and shared along the way, remains an important concern. In lieu of easy answers, I only ask good company and wise insight to guide my questioning, and to share in my expression of whatever conclusions I reach.

A Prayer on the Fourth

The new translation of the Roman Missal includes special prayers for use at Mass in the United States on the Fourth Of July. One in particular, to be used before the reading of the day, resonates with me as I'm moving through my observance of the holiday this year:

"Father of all nations and ages,
we recall the day when our country
claimed its place among the family of nations;
for what has been achieved we give you thanks,
for the work that still remains we ask your help,
and as you have called us from many peoples to be one nation,
grant that, under your providence,
our country may share your blessings
with all the peoples of the earth.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever."

May you all have a delightful Fourth of July, and may our country and its people be blessed.

P.S.: More soon about the adventures during, and some of the rationale behind, my absence from the blogosphere over the past few weeks.

Summer Order

It's a phrase that I first picked up in the novitiate, the first two years of my Jesuit formation. The exact form of "summer order" has differed in the various communities in which I've lived over the past eight years, but generally it refers to a slightly different pace and rhythm of activities during those months outside of the academic calendar. Here at Holy Cross, it brings the promise of socializing on our front patio after Mass, even eating dinner there, taking advantage of the short season New England offers for such pleasures. There's a more casual feel to the house; I no longer think twice about wearing a soccer jersey to dinner, maybe even to Mass if one of my two favorite national teams (Mexico or Chile) is playing. (Thanks to my Jesuit brothers in these two countries for introducing me to this habit... no pun intended.) This season also speaks of greater mobility; within a week of Commencement, nearly a third of the community had departed for destinations around the globe: immersion trips, a pilgrimage, conferences, annual retreats. I hit the road tomorrow, first to New York for a few days of gatherings that will culminate in the priestly ordination of three Jesuits, then to New Orleans for a weeklong workshop on management and administration– the latest body of skills and experience that I've been developing.

I'll have my fair share of work and leisure, engaged activity and contemplative retreat, days on the road and days here in Worcester, during the summer months. While I'll strive to sustain my foundational rhythm of prayer and reflection, and the attentiveness to God in all things and all people that it fosters, amidst my comings and goings, I'm grateful for a different order that shifts the patterns of my days, and contributes richly and seamlessly into the ongoing journey of my life. The familiar and more intense pace of the academic year will return soon enough... three months from now, we'll be through the first week of class. In the meantime, summer order is a welcome change, and one that my brothers and I are certainly appreciating after a good year at the College and in our various apostolates around the city.

48-3-6

It's not a padlock combination, nor a mathematics puzzler, nor a stat line from any sport I know. Rather, these three numbers each anchor a set of memories, insights, and pursuits that comprised an adventurous Memorial Day weekend in good company.

48: The Appalachian Mountain Club recognizes four dozen peaks in New Hampshire's White Mountains that exceed 4,000 feet in elevation, and in 1957 established a club comprised of those who have successfully summited each of these peaks. Some incredibly ambitious, experienced, and mildly fanatical hikers have done them all in the course of a single season (even winter). Others take their time. As summer unofficially opened last Saturday, I joined a group assembled by one of my friends to celebrate her completion of this effort, which began in her youth when she accompanied her father for his last round of peaks on the list. On a splendid day– mild, sunny, with gentle breezes and a few passing clouds– father, daughter, and friends not only climbed two peaks, but celebrated and shared the successful pursuit of a goal situated in the context of family and a love of the natural world. Inspired by the event whose significance we honored with our presence, a number of us spoke of setting the same goal for ourselves, though without a firm deadline.

Guess who bagged her 47th and 48th peaks?

Claude makes it official: the USGS marker at Osceola (4,340').

Footloose, blister free, and beyond content.

3: By my reckoning, I can credit myself with three of the 48 peaks on the 4,000-footer list: Oscoela and East Osceola (above) and Washington (last summer). Over the course of the three-day weekend, I roamed through three states, reached three peaks, and spent about three hours on each ascent and descent. Along with a good Jesuit friend and hiking buddy (who gladly allowed me to bring him on a mountainous expedition for the third consecutive year), in strolling around Burlington for roughly three hours, I've decided that it's my favorite little city in New England... a small yet vibrant downtown, fabulous views of Lake Champlain, a charming state university campus, and a good feel that transcends words. If it weren't more than 200 miles from Worcester, I'd probably go there more often.

Lake Champlain and the Adirondacks from Burlington VT

Church Street Marketplace, Burlington VT

6: On Memorial Day itself, I completed a hiking goal of my own– reaching all six state high points in New England during my regency assignment in Worcester. Reaching back to a May Day summiting of Massachusetts' Mount Greylock with a dear friend in 2010, and attaining the three highest (and two most challenging) peaks in the company of the same Jesuit companion, it's been a good two-year journey. This quest has taken me to some lovely and isolated corners of New England, and also provoked no small degree of concerned inquiry from elder Jesuits in my community in the weeks before each trip. "What sort of equipment will you need?" (Just hiking boots, comfortable clothing, adequate food and water, modest first aid gear, and a good sense of humor.) "What about wild animals?" (Toads are common but hard to spot; bears lurked unseen; a juvenile bull moose was more than happy to make our acquaintance.) "What if you slip and fall?" (Depends on where you are. You might land on the very rock you're trying to traverse, or you could skitter down the steep pitches of a knife-edge summit ridge and plummet all the way to the hereafter.)

Mount Mansfield VT: Summit Ridge view

Mount Mansfield VT summit (4,393')

Impending doom: rain above treeline.
Advice to hikers: If you can tell that the rain is coming,
it's time to head downstairs!

In any case, checking off my 6th high point– Vermont's Mount Mansfield– occurred without the fanfare and triumph of a grueling ascent like Katahdin or Washington, but far exceeded the simplicity of tree-bounded strolls in Rhode Island and Connecticut. The mile-long summit ridge that we walked from treeline to summit, through fragile alpine vegetation vulnerable to footsteps yet nearly impervious to frigid temperatures and howling winds, induced a humbled, contemplative silence as I beheld a full circle of 50-mile visibility. The majestic progress of a rain shower– the only one I encountered all weekend– across the Adirondacks and Lake Champlain became a literally ridiculous and short-lived menace as its path carried it to the summit from which we beheld its approach for a little too long. "What happens when it rains up in the mountains?" I could hear my brothers asking back home. (Well, if you're above treeline, the rain doesn't quite fall... it hurtles freely.)

Greeley Pond Trail, White Mountain National Forest NH

There's plenty to tackle between now and Labor Day: a workshop in New Orleans, a conference in Baltimore, two conferences at Holy Cross (one I'm helping to organize, another for which I've submitted a session proposal), my annual 8-day retreat, sustenance of life-giving friendships and fraternal bonds, and no shortage of mountains in this lovely corner of the country. Having kicked a big item off my bucket list, I'm grateful for this strong and memorable start to the "academic summer," and eager to keep hiking the trails that lie before me.