A Pilgrim's Journey Leads to Loyola

Diocese of Harrisburg, I have a confession to make.

I love St. Ignatius Loyola.  Absolutely love him.  Born to a Jesuit-educated mother, baptised by a Jesuit, raised by parents who worked at a Jesuit university, and finally attending a Jesuit university myself, it's no wonder I love the founder of the Society of Jesus.

So when I heard that we would visit Loyola, the place where Ignatius was born and the place where he turned his life around, I was excited.  Maybe even more excited than I was for Lourdes.  And possibly even more excited that I was for World Youth Day. And Loyola did not let me down.

The Basque country of northern Spain amazed me as we pulled into the town: all green, apartments with flower boxes and colorful clothes hanging off the balconies, cobblestone streets.  I hurried from lunch to the Holy House (the Loyola house), following the tour guide until the castle stood out in its stony magnificence against the sky and the town.

We did not have much time in the Holy House, so I rushed upwards, past rooms where a young Iñigo (Ignatius' given name) had played and dreamed to be a soldier,

past the room where he was born,

until at the top of the castle I found myself staring through a window topped by script saying: "Here Igñigo of Loyola surrendered himself to God."

I fell in love with Ignatius this year when I read his autobiography, A Pilgrim's Journey, for a class on Jesuit spirituality.  Ignatius is not a great writer, and he did not want to write about his life: the Jesuits asked him to write an autobiography for months before he agreed to sit down and do it, he dictates his story in the third person, and finishes the tale abruptly, basically saying, "Father So-and-so knows the rest of the story; go ask him."  He was a great friend, one of the prolific letter writers of his day.  His friends from the University of Paris, Peter Faber and Francis Xavier (my parish patron!) also became saints (Peter is still a Blessed), and isn't the best friend the one who helps you become a saint? He was also very dramatic.  When he decided to give his life to God, he went to a monastary, took off all his armor and his sword, and left it there; he grew out all his hair and nails and didn't bathe.  If he was going to be a saint, he was going to do it all the way!

He eventually learned that long dirty hair didn't bring him closer to God, but his most important gift to the world started in a bed in that room at the top of Loyola castle.  Ignatius had been horribly injured in the Battle of Pamplona, and had to lie in bed all day while waiting to recover.  He asked his sister to bring him stories about knights, but she didn't have any, so she gave him a copy of The Life of Christ and a book about the saints. Ignatius didn't have much to do besides imagine himself achieving glory on the battlefield and impressing "a certain lady," so he read the books.  He was impressed by people like St. Francis of Assisi and St. Dominic, thinking, "I could do that easy," and started to daydream about fasting and doing great things for God.  He noticed that after his dreams about knightly glory, he felt restless and unfulfilled, but after thinking about saintly feats, he felt happy.  He realized that God was communicating to him through his imagination and desires, and The Spiritual Exercises, a retreat that emphasizes imagination as a form of prayer, was born.

I quietly entered the room where Ignatius decided to become a saint and approached the altar, praying for my own conversion.  Ignatius reminds me that I can be Catholic without being devoted to God's will, that a good friend helps me on my journey to God, that I should go all the way for God even if I won't get my calling right the first time, that God will help me get to heaven if I only have the audacity to try to make it.  I know that St. Ignatius, "the pilgrim" as he called himself, is praying for all of us at World Youth Day, and I ask him to pray especially for those Jesuit-educated who are proud to call him a friend.