The radical change in Ignatius’s conversion story—his stark change from military man to extreme follower of Christ—intrigues young adults. I cannot count the number of times that a retreatant has approached me on a Charis retreat to find out more about this part of Ignatius’s story. As I share it with them, I often find us laughing at the length that Ignatius went to try to follow Christ and imitate St. Francis of Assisi and St. Dominic.

One of my favorite stories to share, because of the response young adults have to it, is the story of Ignatius on the donkey and the Moor, who “bad-mouthed” the Virgin Mary. It is in this story that we understand the depth of Ignatius’s pride and at times, what seems now, an almost foolish trust in God. Who would really allow a donkey to decide if a person should live or die?

While we may laugh at parts of Ignatius’s conversion story, there is much within his story to teach us about following Christ. Most often I find us savoring the reality that God called a layman of intense vanity and pride to be one of his followers. Ignatius, sinful like us, impacted people not only of his time, but continually impacts people today with his legacy of the Exercises and his profound relationship with Christ. Ignatius inspires confidence in me and young adults to follow Christ, despite our flaws.

How is Christ calling us today, as graced sinners, to follow him?

One of my greatest joys in life is journeying with those in their 20s and 30s in my work with Charis Ministries, and even more specifically, sharing with them the gifts and joys of Ignatian spirituality. At the beginning of every Charis retreat, we take the time to share St. Ignatius’s story. I am always amazed at how much his story speaks to the young adults and how much they find encouragement and inspiration in Ignatius’s story.

To begin with, Ignatius’s conversion happened when he was a young adult and a layman. Instantly, this opens up the reality that we are invited, as Ignatius was, into a relationship with God right now as we are in our 20s and 30s. His conversion story did not happen after years of theological training or years of religious education; rather, it happened in the prime of his military career. What does that say to young adults? God wants us now, and if Ignatius could make the radical change as a young adult to follow Christ, then we can also right now. Caitlin, a 22-year-old college student, captures this reality when she says:

What inspires me the most about Ignatius is the humanness of his story. The humanness and the humility that his conversion story ends with are inspiring. It seems that if he can overcome the life he was living to find Christ, our journey can’t be that far.

The question that Ignatius’s story invites all of us, not just young adults, to consider is, “Am I aware of the depth of God’s desire for a relationship with me right now?”

How would you depict something as abstract as the Examen prayer?  That was the challenge for artists vying for a commission to make a statue of St. Ignatius for Fairfield University.  The winning idea came from New York artists Joan Benefiel and Jeremy Leichman.  Their statue, “Examen,” was unveiled this week, picture above.

Two identical figures of St. Ignatius, made from the same mold, face each other.  Their gaze is intense; it’s no simple glance in a mirror.  The feet are abnormally large, signifying the saint’s journey.  The hands are large as well, signifying a man ready to go to work. The idea was to erect a statue that would encourage young people to reflect–one of the goals of Jesuit education.  You look at the statue and realize that you’re reflecting on a man reflecting.  That’s part of what you do when you pray the Examen.

Certainly the statue is open to many interpretations.  What’s yours?

Sunday is the big day–the feast of St. Ignatius.  I decided to end our month-long IgnatiusFest by posting my favorite Ignatius video.  The amazing story of Ignatius has been told many times, but rarely as well as in this production from the Fairfield University Media Center.  The narrator is a stuffed Spanish olive.  Really.  (Click here to watch the video on YouTube.)

Don’t forget to enter our book giveaway contest.  The winner will be announced early next week.  Details here.

Ignatius Loyola, writing to a Jesuit who hesitated to work in the king’s court, fearing for the safety of his soul:

My own opinion is that even the argument based on your personal safety is not relevant.  Obviously if our religious profession has no other purpose but to ensure our security, and if we were supposed to subordinate the good we do to keeping clear of danger, then we would not have to live among people and have contact with them.  But according to our vocation we have contact with everyone . . . If we go about with our intention upright and pure . . . then Christ himself will look after us in his infinite goodness.

What do you like about Ignatius and Ignatian spirituality?  Here’s a sampling of some responses here and on our Ignatian Spirituality page on Facebook.  Add your own reflections in the comments.

Carol Voss: The freedom to explore and stretch the talents I have been given all AMDG, the knowledge that something is NOT just my imagination, it is the stirring of the spirits, and the sheer joy of detachment from all things unless they point me to His will.

Mary Sutton: Removing my focus on life and all its problems, and raising my eyes and focusing on God. When I do this, I can experience God’s love for me, and from this love, I can better accept the person who I am, a child of God, much loved by Him.

Antonio Matta: Finding God in all things.

Marion Chatterley: To look for that which is life-giving and actively choose to invest energy in that direction.

Ruth Wibisono: That God is trying to communicate with us through everything around us. So Finding God in all things really is just a response to God’s initiative to communicate with us in the first place.

Mike Romeu: Discernment, detachment, the Examen, finding God everywhere/all the time (not easy!), the beloved sinner, I am loved by Him.

Jay Kronenberg:  Finding God in all things, the good and the “bad,” is what has particularly touched me about this approach to spirituality.

Su Scipe: The Exercises.

Anna Lyn Salva Saludes-Aguilar: Ignatian indifference…

Something to think about | We are challenged by Ignatius in much the same way that he was challenged by Francis and Dominic. And that may be the best purpose for books of saints: to have our complacency and mediocrity goaded, and to highlight our lame urge to go forward with the familiar rather than the difficult and serious. We often find tension and unease with the holy lives we read about because there is always an implicit criticism of our habits and weaknesses in greatness and achievement. We know God wants us to be happy, but what is happiness? What is enough? What is the difference between that which is hard to do and that which ought not be done by me? Women are often put off or mystified by this highly masculine saint, but I find so many points of intersection with Iñigo’s life that I feel compelled to ask, What if I should do what Ignatius did? And it does not seem to me easy to accomplish.

Ron Hansen

Growing up Jewish in Northern Jersey, what did I know about St. Ignatius Loyola? Not much. Fast forward to the late 1980s and I’m at his feet, sort of literally. Where? At the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health in Lenox, Massachusetts.*

Unless it has been blasted out, there’s a ginormous mosaic of St. Ignatius in what was once Kripalu’s main chapel, once a Jesuit novitiate house. The saint’s gaze is lifted to heaven in a way that invites us to do the same. His arms are raised and hands opened to welcome a descending dove. Veni Sancte Spiritus Jai! I’ve heard the towering icon is usually hidden from public view and that Kripalu is more resort than spiritual community these days. I hope I’ve heard wrong.

When I was at Kripalu, it was an ashram and yoga-based retreat center. The saffron-colored drapes around St. Ignatius Loyola were rarely drawn shut. He was almost always visibly present—during morning meditation for residents and programs for our guests; during community-only darshan with the guru as well as evening satsang and aarti open to whomever showed up.

This was back in the day when we had a guru and 250 residents. Yours truly was one of many community members who lived locally and helped to serve nearly 20,000 visitors each year. In time, I would become one of Kripalu’s first paid staffers, but that’s another story.

I spent many hours contemplating that glorious image of St. Ignatius over the course of 15 years—while the guru sat in front of it and then after the guru was gone. We had to fire our guru and that, too, is another story.**

On the day our community gathered, brokenhearted and infuriated, to witness our teacher’s ignominious departure, the curtains over St. Ignatius Loyola were wide open. As far as I was concerned, they could never again be shut, something which might explain why I am here and no longer there.

*I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re surprised by this. By 2008, I’d basically stopped writing anything about my yoga ashram years. You can read more here about why.

** For the best and most beautifully written ethnography about Kripalu Center and what happened, I recommend reading Yoga and the Quest for the True Self by Stephen Cope.

Pedro Ribadaneira, one of the first Jesuits, describes Ignatius:

“We frequently saw him taking the occasion of little things to lift his mind to God, who even in the smallest things is great. From seeing a plant, foliage, a leaf, a flower, any kind of fruit; from the consideration of a little worm or any other animal, he raised himself above the heavens and penetrated the deepest thoughts, and from each little thing he drew doctrine and the most profitable counsels for the spiritual life.

“And he desired that all in the Society accustom themselves always to find the presence of God in everything and that they learn to raise their hearts not only in private prayer, but also in all of their occupations, carrying them out and offering them in such a way that they would feel no less devotion in action than in meditation. And he used to say that this method of prayer is very profitable for all and especially for those who are much engaged in exterior things of the divine service.”

This is a guest post by Gary Smith, SJ.

He was short; I’m tall; he grew up in a castle; I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. He spent years in Rome; I’ve never been there. He was a mystic; I’m not.

But his vision of the Holy took me by force; it’s an invitation inside God’s country, where the world’s empty promises and life’s dead ends fall away before the size and power and distance of Christ; it’s an invitation to claim the centrifugal and centripetal passion of Love and Call, sweeping one into the heart of God and hurling one out to the hearts of God’s people.

Ignatius: Any takers? Smith: I’m in.

Gary Smith, SJ, works with the Jesuit Refugee Service in Kakuma Refugee Camp, Northern Kenya. He is the author of They Come Back Singing and Radical Compassion.