The morning I left home to begin my college years at Holy Cross in Worcester, MA, my dad’s farewell hug and kiss were followed by an exhortation: “Be careful of those Jesuits, Jackie!”
Having listened to many debates at the kitchen table, I knew that the warning stemmed from the political leanings of nationally known Jesuits in the 1970s. As much as I was attracted to Fr. Bob Manning, S.J.’s popular course on Liberation Theology, I bypassed it my first year to keep some peace at the table when I returned home.
Two years later, a terrible tragedy, indeed a “cannonball,” hit our large, loving family: my next oldest sister, Margaret, was struck and killed by a reckless driver while riding her bike. My parents were devastated by the loss and particularly concerned about me as the sibling among their eight children closest to Margaret. In the days and months following Margaret’s death, I came to realize that the Jesuit formation my parents had feared actually became the source of strength and support I needed to cope with grief and grapple with such senseless loss. During Margaret’s funeral, the words from the Suscipe “take Lord, receive…your love and your grace are enough for me” and prayers of the liturgy were no longer abstract statements detached from life. They were Christ’s promises of life, resurrection, and freedom for Margaret, and for me.
When I returned to campus a few days later, my world had turned upside down. I struggled to invest in and care about the things that had been important to me only the week before. At times moving through disorienting fog and at other times sorting through ideas, commitments, values, and relationships with piercing clarity, the words of the First Principle and Foundation offered consolation, hope, and solidarity in suffering, as well as a vision for moving forward:
“…it is necessary to make ourselves indifferent to all created things as much as we are able so that we do not necessarily want health rather than sickness, riches rather than poverty, honor rather than dishonor, a long rather than a short life, and so in all the rest so that we ultimately desire and choose only what is most conducive for us to the end for which God created us.”
I had done nothing to merit one day more of life than the twenty-two years my sister had been given. With new insight and clarity on what mattered most, the questions from St. Ignatius’s Colloquy on the Cross gradually became my own, shaping my discernment for everyday life as a college student and for the bigger questions of my future: What have I done for Christ in choices that I’ve made so far? What am I doing for Christ in gratitude for all that he offers me? How can I respond to the call of Christ in a way that’s authentic for Jackie? These were the questions that would anchor my life for the next forty years, through an early career change, the decision to work and minister as a Catholic educator, through marriage and forming a family, and in my work now as part of the Jesuit apostolate at the CSTM.
The Ignatian Year presents an opportunity to the worldwide Ignatian family to collectively renew our commitment to Jesus, who invites us to walk with him in friendship every day. Fr. Sosa’s invitation to engage the Ignatian Year, “to make known our spiritual root, that spiritual source that feeds and nourishes us in so many different ways and places” is a call for ongoing conversion. The transformative Christian vision can become blurry amidst life’s ongoing trials, disappointments, and injustices. Under a constant barrage of cannon fire, even the most fervent hope can fade. Ignatian spirituality and everyday discernment offer the wider church community a distinctive way to listen to the voice of the Spirit, to open ourselves to the grace and mercy of God, to care for the poor and vulnerable, “ to see all things new in Christ.” This is a mission I’m proud to be part of. I think my dad would be, too.