Memorial of Saint Ignatius of Loyola

Leviticus 23:1, 4-11, 15-16, 27, 34b-37

Psalm 81:3-4, 5-6, 10-11ab

M atthew 13:54-58  and coming to his own country he taught them in their synagogue, so that they were astonished, and said, "Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works? (55) Is not this the carpenter's son? Is not his mother called Mary? And are not his brothers James and Joseph and Simon and Judas? (56) And are not all his sisters with us? Where then did this man get all this?" (57) And they took offense at him. But Jesus said to them, "A prophet is not without honor except in his own country and in his own house." (58) And he did not do many mighty works there, because of their unbelief. 

* Meditation by Brian Kokensparger

W hen I was in 4th Grade at St. Rose Elementary School , my teacher, Miss Meikle, called me up to her desk during a quiet time in class.  She showed me a manuscript of a novel she was working on.  She pointed out one particular paragraph, where she characterized a “small, sandy haired boy.”  She told me that the character was based on me.

I had never met a writer before, and I thought it was cool that this lady who could keep all of us hooligans in line could also find the time to write a novel.  That got me thinking.  Maybe this little backwater county I grew up in could produce more than coal miners and welfare checks.  Maybe, just maybe, it could produce a writer or two.

“To be a writer” became one of my childhood dreams.  I penned poems, journalized like crazy, and tried my hand at a song or two.  They weren’t very good; they were syrupy emanations of raging hormones.  (Nevertheless, I still have most of them.)  I did not know at the time that they were the physical beginnings of a spiritual quest.

Lately I’ve been reading the late Randy Pausch’s The Last Lecture.  He refers several times to his list of childhood dreams, and how he tried to order his life to experience as many of those dreams as possible.  Sometimes he experienced his dream explicitly – like “being in zero gravity.”  (You’ll have to read the book to find out how.)  He achieved some of his other childhood dreams in different ways than he expected.

I cannot help but think of the parallel in today’s Memorial of St. Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Society of Jesus.  According to some early sources, St. Ignatius’ childhood dream was to become a knight, fighting in service of a king.  When a war injury made that dream physically impossible, his physical dream was gradually transposed to a spiritual one, one where he vowed to serve Jesus in the ongoing struggle between good and evil.

One of the ways he sought to do this was through a pilgrimage to Jerusalem .  During this pilgrimage, he made stops in Montserrat and Manresa , both which were critical steps on his spiritual journey.  He also began formulating his thoughts for the Spiritual Exercises during this time.  Clearly, God was guiding and molding him during this important quest.  With knightly zeal, he lived the essence of the life that he had dreamed about.  He inspired – and still inspires – millions around the world.

Today’s first reading provides a spiritual itinerary, of sorts, a calendar of observances for bringing the community together in its collective quest to deepen its relationship with Yahweh.  Just like the first reading, Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises can also be seen as an itinerary for a spiritual quest, one undertaken with the guidance of a Spiritual Director.

The Gospel, too, gives us some insight into our spiritual journeys, but from a different perspective.  Jesus is clearly a different person when He returns home; His family expects Him to be unchanged, the same person He was before He left.  This is impossible.  A true pilgrimage changes the pilgrim from the inside, out.  I can only imagine someone spouting off, “I thought you wanted to be a carpenter, like your dad.  Isn’t that good enough?”  It isn’t about “good enough,” it’s about what’s worthy of a child’s dream.

Even though I wouldn’t call myself a writer, I still write.  Every day.   Perhaps my childhood dream of being a writer wasn’t so much about making a living by writing as it was about engaging in the act of putting myself in the presence of the moment, and then trying to make sense of it on paper.  In that sense, it’s more of a spiritual process than a physical one.

Perhaps today, in honor of St. Ignatius, we can attempt to recall our childhood dreams, and see how the hand of God has molded them into spiritual quests for His greater glory.

I bet that most of us are living our childhood dreams and don’t even realize it.

* Supplementary Reading

Put others First in your Thinking by John C. Maxwell

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. - Hebrews 10:24

W hen you meet people, is your first thought about what they'll think of you or how you can make them feel more comfortable? At work do you try to make your coworkers or employees look good, or are you more concerned about making sure that you receive your share of the credit? When you interact with family members, whose best interests do you have in mind? Your answers show where your heart is. To add value to others, you need to start putting others ahead of yourself in your mind and heart. If you can do it there, you will be able to put them first in your actions.

But how can anyone add value to others if he doesn't know what they care about? Listen to people. Ask them what matters to them. And observe them. If you can discover how people spend their time and money, you'll know what they value.

Once you know what matters to them, do your best to meet their needs with excellence and generosity. Offer your best with no thought toward what you might receive in return. President Calvin Coolidge believed that "no enterprise can exist for itself alone. It ministers to some great need, it performs some great service, not for itself, but for others; or failing therein it ceases to be profitable and ceases to exist."

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Put others ahead of you in your mind and heart today.

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