The Jesuit Guide To (Almost) Everything - James Martin [96]
Let me end with a story from Pedro Arrupe, the former superior general who did so much to invite the Jesuits to work with the poor. It beautifully encapsulates the Ignatian insights into simple living, poverty, and poverty of spirit.
WHAT A CONTRAST
Father Arrupe was known for his love of the poor. He once told the story of visiting some Jesuits working in a desperately poor slum in Latin America. During his visit, he celebrated Mass for the local people in a decrepit building; during the liturgy cats and dogs wandered in and out freely. Here’s what happened after the Mass, in Arrupe’s own words, taken from a book of interviews called One Jesuit’s Spiritual Journey:
When it was over, a big devil whose hang-dog look made me almost afraid said, “Come to my place. I have something to give you.” I was undecided; I didn’t know whether to accept or not, but the priest who was with me said, “Accept, Father, they are good people.” I went to his place; his house was a hovel nearly on the point of collapsing. He had me sit down on a rickety old chair. From there I could see the sunset. The big man said to me, “Look, sir, how beautiful it is!” We sat in silence for several minutes. The sun disappeared. The man then said, “I don’t know how to thank you for all you have done for us. I have nothing to give you, but I thought you would like to see this sunset. You liked it, didn’t you? Good evening.” And then he shook my hand.
As I walked away I thought, “I have seldom met such a kindhearted person.” I was strolling along that lane when a poorly dressed woman came up to me; she kissed my hand, looked at me, and with a voice filled with emotion said, “Father, pray for me and my children. I was at that beautiful Mass you celebrated. I must hurry home. But I have nothing to give my children. Pray to the Lord for me; he’s the one who must help us.” And she disappeared running in the direction of her home.
Many indeed are the things I learned thanks to that Mass among the poor. What a contrast with the great gatherings of the powerful of this world.
Chapter Nine
Like the Angels?
Chastity, Celibacy, and Love
HERE’S HOW ST. IGNATIUS Loyola famously begins—and famously ends—his discussion of chastity in the Constitutions.
What pertains to the vow of chastity requires no interpretation, since it is evident how perfectly it should be preserved, by endeavoring therein to imitate the purity of the angels in cleanness of body and mind. Therefore, with this presupposed, we shall now treat of holy obedience.
When I first read that passage in the novitiate, I said to David Donovan, “That’s it? Did I miss the rest of his discussion on chastity?”
“No,” he laughed. “That’s it!”
As John O’Malley notes in The First Jesuits, while Ignatius and the early Jesuits offered reflections about chastity elsewhere, for the most part it was understood that the vow was “clear-cut and needed no explanation.”
So, according to Ignatius, Jesuits should observe chastity like the angels. And angels were popularly believed to have no sexual organs!
Sixteenth-century Christians, including Ignatius and the early Jesuits, understood sexuality in a vastly different light than we do. First of all, there was a heightened emphasis on chastity as a way to spiritual “purity,” as Ignatius wrote. The ideal Christian should strive for the purity of Jesus, Mary, and the saints (and the angels). And purity included chastity. Peter Favre, one of the first Jesuits, made this connection early in his life: “When I was about twelve years of age,” he wrote, “I went into a field where from time to time I helped to guard [his family’s] flocks, and there, full of joy and with a great desire for purity I vowed perpetual chastity