“I love you” It just was the most believable utterance of that phrase I’ve ever heard, while sitting in an utterly unremarkable conference room transformed with incense and song into a place open to worship; somehow breaking through the stubborn habits of conventional self-assurance I felt forced to carry. For some, a vocation is automatic, an easy skin to fit into. For others, God’s call is great, the response is real, and yet it is something one must learn to love. Take a moment to read and pray with a reflection about my vocation, and maybe it will illuminate something about yours.
The big European soccer leagues are using VAR, and soccer fanatic Ian Peoples can’t help but feel it’s ruining the game. But is that true?
When the women’s and gender department first caught my eye, it was not just a passing, “Oh, look at that.” It was something more. It was the feeling that my mind and heart were on fire. Excited. Hopeful. Joyful. Captivated. Stirred. It felt like confirmation of what I already identified as: a feminist. The experience was what, in Jesuit lingo, we would call “consolation.” The Spirit was moving me. As I continue my studies, I continue to feel God calling me here. Read how all this has unfolded for me and my vocation, and maybe it might illuminate something in yours.
At eighteen, I studied theology and philosophy at the University of San Diego. After graduation I still wasn’t ready to join the seminary. So, I bounced over to Boston and earned a Master of Divinity. It’s there I first met the Society of Jesus. Even so, I was still hesitant to take the dive. So, I skipped back to San Diego and began a two-year stint as a hospital chaplain. And this is just the beginning of my vocation story! Take a moment to read more and maybe uncover – or perhaps rediscover – your own journey of God’s call for you.
One Jesuit thought he was done with deer hunting for good when he entered religious life. Then he had an opportunity to hunt earlier this month in northern Michigan. Here’s what he learned about prayer during that time.
I was a 22 year old kid from California, wore shorts and flip-flops, carried myself with an informal San Diego vibe, and spent my free time running around and playing sports. Bob was from the opposite side of the country having grown up in a small town in Massachusetts and had a much more serious persona, although he was a master of witty humor and clever word play. Sometime there are people who affect your life in ways that remain with you, even inspiring a vocation. Read how Bob influenced my life and my vocation, and maybe you will recall people in your life who have done the same for you.
I first met Fr. Matt when I was two years old. I don’t remember much from those early days, but I do recall that on quiet Saturday afternoons in the late 1990s, when he was teaching at Xavier University and I was in primary school, Fr. Matt often stopped by our house just to say hello.Fr. Matt was part of the family. When the people you love pass away, how do they remain in your life? Today on All Souls Day, read how my friend, Fr. Matt, has remained and will continue to remain in my life after his recent passing.
I had helped to COVID-proof the school with the other faculty members. I had hustled my way through the first weeks teaching a new subject. I had experimented with masks to be sure my voice could be heard over New York City traffic. Suddenly, none of that mattered. I was thrust into something totally new. I no longer needed to wear a mask, but wrangle a group of thirteen-year-olds I could barely see through their tiny on-screen boxes. As soon as I finished my first online lesson, I complained to Jesus in prayer. And that prayer was raw and real. Find out happens when you start getting real with Jesus.
I found myself in the community garden here at Loyola University Chicago, where students and Jesuit scholastics volunteer. We harvest the crops and donate them to a local food pantry, I was told, and the idea of helping out appealed to me. So much more happens in the garden that day. Take a moment to read and reflect with me on an experience of a God who nurtures.
When a day trip to New Hampshire’s White Mountains came up this past weekend, some friends and I considered ways to enjoy the great outdoors and the explosion of fall colors in the Northeast. Surely, this was a place to practice my newfound parkour passion. Read what happens when I have to let go and let God.
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