by Remmon E. Barbaza
Feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola
31 July 2012
Quezon City, Philippines
Feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola
31 July 2012
Quezon City, Philippines
 |
| St. Ignatius and St. Philip Neri |
“For Christ plays in ten thousand places, lovely in limbs and lovely in eyes not his, to the Father, through the features of men’s faces.” These lines from the Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins perhaps capture for me my own personal Ignatius. For Ignatius, too, as a companion of Jesus, must be playing in ten thousand places, through the features of men’s faces.
My first close encounter with the face of a Jesuit was way back in my college days at the University of the Philippines in Diliman, Quezon City, in the 1980s. The Catholic chaplain then was Fr. Guido Arguelles, S.J. He was so funny he could make you laugh even without him saying a word. He would simply look at you through his huge, thick glasses, his mouth agape and teeth that somehow reminded you of Jerry Lewis, and then he would begin to smile and you would know he was about to burst into laughter. It didn’t matter what made him laugh—you were bound to laugh with him as well. One time he was supposed to have told a penitent, “I absolve you of all your sins. For your penance, look at my face.” That must have been the first thing I learned about Ignatius and his Jesuit companions: not to take oneself seriously, even as one was serious about the welfare of others, not to be so overwhelmed by anything as to lose one’s faith.
The next face I remember was that of Fr. Roque Ferriols, S.J., with whom I took my first-ever philosophy course—sinaunang Griyego (ancient Greek philosophy)—in 1987 as a Jesuit pre-novice at the Ateneo de Manila University. Anybody who had the privilege of studying under Padre Roque and devoted full attention to every word he said and closely followed the movements of his thought in class could attest to the experience of what it really meant to study. As he sat there on the table before the blackboard, deep in his thoughts while lecturing in class (“danasin mo si Parmenides,” he would say—go through an experience of Parmenides, and manifest that experience in your own words, as if that experience was most concrete and palpable), one would begin to see his face fixed, as if onto something that was at once real and urgent. Listening to the lectures of Padre Roque was like getting hit by a lightning, and once you get hit there was no possibility of recovery. This must be the second thing I learned about Ignatius and his Jesuits: that the development of the intellect is essential to being human. Simone Weil herself saw the link between evil and the repugnance we feel whenever we have to do some intellectual work. I thus understood why Ignatius rebuffed the proposal of some younger Jesuits to cut short their seminary formation under the pretext of starting their apostolic work earlier.
The third face I remember was that of Scholastic Richie Fernando, S.J. Before he left for his regency assignment in Cambodia (it must have been in 1995), some of us Jesuit scholastics dropped by his room at the Arrupe International Residence inside the Ateneo de Manila University campus, mostly curious about the preparations he was making for his mission, but also wishing him good luck. Richie showed me a new pair of heavy duty, steel toe Caterpillar boots that a relative must have given him, jokingly telling me that they would protect him from land mines. I remember the face of Richie that night when I saw him the last time—beneath the childlike playfulness (and even some naughtiness perhaps), there just was this look in his face that told me he was extremely happy about going to Cambodia, there was this fire in his eyes that told me of this quiet passion burning within. A year later, I would hear of the tragic news of his death as he tried to prevent a distraught Cambodian student from pulling the pin of a hand grenade, which eventually blew and killed him instantly, but in the process saved the life of that student and those of others around him. This is another thing I learned about Ignatius through the face of a Jesuit: there is a fire burning within all of us, but we must keep it aflame, let it burn, and burn for the right things. We can call this fire zeal or passion. Father Pedro Arrupe called it love, saying that this love will decide everything for us.
There are many other Jesuit faces etched in my mind that somehow tell me who Ignatius was—the face of a Jesuit deep in prayer, or of another doing manual work in the most practical way. These faces help me imagine the Ignatius who showed us that God is in all things, and who invited us to bless all things in God. In them as in those of their many collaborators, I find God playing in ten thousand places, through the features of women’s and men’s faces.
[Image showing St Ignatius and St Philip Neri, available from: http://www.holyname.co.uk/news/2010/06/friendship-of-saints/]
My first close encounter with the face of a Jesuit was way back in my college days at the University of the Philippines in Diliman, Quezon City, in the 1980s. The Catholic chaplain then was Fr. Guido Arguelles, S.J. He was so funny he could make you laugh even without him saying a word. He would simply look at you through his huge, thick glasses, his mouth agape and teeth that somehow reminded you of Jerry Lewis, and then he would begin to smile and you would know he was about to burst into laughter. It didn’t matter what made him laugh—you were bound to laugh with him as well. One time he was supposed to have told a penitent, “I absolve you of all your sins. For your penance, look at my face.” That must have been the first thing I learned about Ignatius and his Jesuit companions: not to take oneself seriously, even as one was serious about the welfare of others, not to be so overwhelmed by anything as to lose one’s faith.
The next face I remember was that of Fr. Roque Ferriols, S.J., with whom I took my first-ever philosophy course—sinaunang Griyego (ancient Greek philosophy)—in 1987 as a Jesuit pre-novice at the Ateneo de Manila University. Anybody who had the privilege of studying under Padre Roque and devoted full attention to every word he said and closely followed the movements of his thought in class could attest to the experience of what it really meant to study. As he sat there on the table before the blackboard, deep in his thoughts while lecturing in class (“danasin mo si Parmenides,” he would say—go through an experience of Parmenides, and manifest that experience in your own words, as if that experience was most concrete and palpable), one would begin to see his face fixed, as if onto something that was at once real and urgent. Listening to the lectures of Padre Roque was like getting hit by a lightning, and once you get hit there was no possibility of recovery. This must be the second thing I learned about Ignatius and his Jesuits: that the development of the intellect is essential to being human. Simone Weil herself saw the link between evil and the repugnance we feel whenever we have to do some intellectual work. I thus understood why Ignatius rebuffed the proposal of some younger Jesuits to cut short their seminary formation under the pretext of starting their apostolic work earlier.
The third face I remember was that of Scholastic Richie Fernando, S.J. Before he left for his regency assignment in Cambodia (it must have been in 1995), some of us Jesuit scholastics dropped by his room at the Arrupe International Residence inside the Ateneo de Manila University campus, mostly curious about the preparations he was making for his mission, but also wishing him good luck. Richie showed me a new pair of heavy duty, steel toe Caterpillar boots that a relative must have given him, jokingly telling me that they would protect him from land mines. I remember the face of Richie that night when I saw him the last time—beneath the childlike playfulness (and even some naughtiness perhaps), there just was this look in his face that told me he was extremely happy about going to Cambodia, there was this fire in his eyes that told me of this quiet passion burning within. A year later, I would hear of the tragic news of his death as he tried to prevent a distraught Cambodian student from pulling the pin of a hand grenade, which eventually blew and killed him instantly, but in the process saved the life of that student and those of others around him. This is another thing I learned about Ignatius through the face of a Jesuit: there is a fire burning within all of us, but we must keep it aflame, let it burn, and burn for the right things. We can call this fire zeal or passion. Father Pedro Arrupe called it love, saying that this love will decide everything for us.
There are many other Jesuit faces etched in my mind that somehow tell me who Ignatius was—the face of a Jesuit deep in prayer, or of another doing manual work in the most practical way. These faces help me imagine the Ignatius who showed us that God is in all things, and who invited us to bless all things in God. In them as in those of their many collaborators, I find God playing in ten thousand places, through the features of women’s and men’s faces.
[Image showing St Ignatius and St Philip Neri, available from: http://www.holyname.co.uk/news/2010/06/friendship-of-saints/]
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