by Jim Manney

A few years ago I made the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola with the help of a cheerful Jesuit named Dennis. I had always thought of the Exercises as the spiritual equivalent of Navy SEAL training or hiking the Appalachian Trail-something for highly trained, disciplined, ambitious people who aren’t satisfied with anything short of the toughest challenge. I’m not one of those people. I’m a baseball fan in the Midwest with a mortgage, a family, two cars, and a full-time job. I’m a pretty ordinary guy, but I made the Exercises anyway, and they did me a lot of good. If I can make the Spiritual Exercises, just about anybody can. That’s the main reason why I wrote this book-to plant the idea in your mind that the Spiritual Exercises might be something for you too.

The Exercises don’t feature theology, doctrine, devotional practices or other “churchy” stuff. Ignatius assumes a Christian outlook; he was a European Catholic writing in the sixteenth century, after all. But Ignatius was more interested in what you feel rather than what you think. His Exercises aim for a changed heart more than a changed mind (though it’s certainly true that you’re going to think about things differently as a result of making the Exercises). He built the Exercises around certain ideas and themes that he thought would bring about a “conversion of the heart.” These themes are my gateway into the Exercises. I’ve built this book around them. By explaining them, I hope to give you a sense of what the Exercises are about.

I also hope that reading this book will give you a sense of what making the Exercises is like. Maybe it can be a kind of retreat for you. To that end, I’ve drawn on my own experiences of the Exercises, and I talk about the themes in roughly the order that you’d take them up if you were doing the Exercises yourself.

I hope you do that. I’m an unabashed fan of the Spiritual Exercises. I think they are very “modern.” They fit the temper of our times very well. But they don’t fit the times perfectly; if they did, they wouldn’t be worth the trouble. In fact, they appeal especially to people who don’t feel perfectly at home in our humdrum secular world, people who aren’t satisfied with the conventional wisdom, people who are looking for something different. If that’s you, read on.

• The Road to Daybreak – A Spiritual Journey
• Intention of Praying With The Church

2nd Week of Lent

• 1 Mar
• 2 Mar

3rd Week of Lent

• 3 Mar  Sunday
• 4 Mar
• 5 Mar
• 6 Mar
• 7 Mar
• 8 Mar
• 9 Mar

4th Week of Lent

• 10 Mar  Sunday
• 11 Mar
• 12 Mar
• 13 Mar
• 14 Mar
• 15 Mar
• 16 Mar

5th Week of Lent

• 17 Mar  Sunday
• 18 Mar
• 19 Mar  Feast of St Joseph, Husband of BVM
• 20 Mar
• 21 Mar
• 22 Mar
• 23 Mar

Holy Week

• 24 Mar  Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord
• 25 Mar
• 26 Mar
• 27 Mar
• 28 Mar  Maundy Thursday
• 29 Mar  Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion
• 30 Mar  Holy Saturday

Easter Week

• 31 Mar  Easter Sunday

by Michael Rossmann, S.J.

I recently took a cross-country bus ride that was anything but comfortable. After those in my row had experienced bloodshed-the bus bounced so vigorously that a man was thrown up in the air, hit his head against the luggage rack and gushed blood just a few feet from me-and a whole lot of sweat in this bus without air conditioning during summer, I laughed to myself that we had nearly completed the trifecta of blood, sweat and tears. Then night came, and babies started crying because they could not sleep. Perfect.

But something else happened on that bus trip. After many of us first vented our frustration over our shared misery, several of us laughed at just how ridiculous it was. And we bonded. We did not enjoy comfort on that ride, though we started to enjoy the contact with those who were previously strangers but now seemed to be fellow soldiers in a battle together.

This was not an isolated experience. I’ve amassed thousands of miles “flying Greyhound” across the United States; and while a plane can get me to my destination much faster and more comfortably, the trip also tends to be easily forgettable. I remember very little of the small talk I have made on countless flights, though I vividly remember many of the characters I have met on buses: the driver who regaled me with stories from the road for six hours, the 18-year-old preparing to be deployed to Iraq, the man who told me T.M.I. (too much information) about his love life.

These experiences are like those that make me appreciate staying with a family rather than sleeping at a hotel when I am on the road. Having my own space, free from disturbances, at a hotel is certainly comforting, whereas staying with a family I’ve just met can lead to some uncomfortable moments-especially if they are not coffee drinkers and I’m unable to get my fix in the morning!

Still, I almost always find those stays with families to be far more satisfying. I might feel awkward staying in a room decorated with the mementos of another person’s life, but I am frequently amazed by the goodness and generosity of complete strangers and often leave a city with a richer experience than if I had stayed in a hotel. The joy of forming relationships through shared contact outweighs the possible discomfort.

Of course, we are human beings, not machines, and most of us cannot deal with constant discomfort. At times, we need simple pleasures. After living in Tanzania for some time now, I would give a kidney for some deep dish pizza or simply to blend in rather than sticking out as one who is obviously an outsider.

That said, always choosing the easy or comfortable option might not be what brings us the most satisfaction, most especially because the comfortable route frequently reduces the amount of contact with other people beautiful, hurting, hilarious humanity.

When I read in the Gospels about thousands following Jesus for days, I often forget that this was a time without air conditioning, deodorant and public restrooms. This would have been miserable! At the same time, it is apparent that those who hung on Jesus’ every word were not in misery; despite difficult conditions, they could not get enough of who he was to them. Contact with Jesus made all other matters insignificant.

It’s not surprising that for thousands of years people have found going on pilgrimage a privileged way to connect with God. We can still find God in comfortable places; though when many things are out of my control, as they are when on pilgrimage, then I’m more likely to let God be God and open myself up to those who enter my life.

I’m not suggesting that we start clothing ourselves in camel’s hair and eating locusts and wild honey à la John the Baptist. Being uncomfortable is by no means inherently holier than being comfortable. Still, in choosing how we spend our time, where we stay or how we travel, we might ask ourselves: How might this promote or prohibit my contact with other children of God? Could this lead to new friendships, spontaneous conversations or shared laughter?

People can be annoying; and when you pack many on a public bus, we can be a sweaty lot.

When you share blood, sweat and tears with others, however, you certainly know you’re not alone in this world. Contact with others-even when it is uncomfortable-is what really brings joy.

Michael Rossmann, S.J., teaches at Loyola High School in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.

by Catholic News Service

An expert in medieval history speaks about the resignation of Pope Celestine V.

When Pope Benedict quit his job this week, he simultaneously stunned his flock and primed the peanut gallery. One one hand, you had Catholics the world over trying to understand and support the first resignation of a pontiff in almost 600 years. And on the other hand, jokes multplied on line and on late night tv like so many fishes and loaves. What’s so funny about Catholicism, anyway? It’s a religion with a history of violent persecution, with a central figure that died for all people’s sins. Jesuit father James Martin, author of Between Heaven and Mirth, thinks comedy and mirth deserves more recognition in his faith.

by Mark Raper SJ

Ignatius insisted that the identity of the Society should be intimately linked with the name and person of Jesus. As the first day of January celebrates the name given to Jesus, the beginning of each new calendar year has greater significance for Jesuits. It is a major Jesuit feast. “When eight days were completed … he was named Jesus, the name given him by the angel before he was conceived…” (Luke 2:21).

The only witnesses to this momentous event were some shepherds who happened to be close by. As we enter 2013, what can we learn from the shepherds? What does their experience have to say to those lay people, religious and Jesuits who share a common mission as companions of Jesus today?

I offer three features of this story for consideration. First we are invited to find God in the ordinary places where we are. Second, we are invited constantly to discern the events of our lives. Third, there is a reason why Luke’s story begins with the poverty in which Jesus was born, and echoes this theme right through the Gospel account by showing how Jesus lived among the poor and died possessing nothing.

First, God is present where we ordinarily are. Joan Chittister sums this up nicely:
“What surprised the shepherds was not that the Messiah would come or the angels had called them or the divine presence was a baby. What surprised them was that God had come to the very place where they have always been. The process is the same for us. Wherever we go to find Life, the fact is that Life is already within us if we will only attend to it.”

Second, Mary “kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart”, and similarly, the “shepherds returned glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen”. Actually the shepherds, like Mary and Joseph, had nowhere to go but a field or a crude shelter, but the experience had profoundly marked their lives. In the Spiritual Exercises, the meditation on the birth of Jesus precedes the considerations of contrasting sets of values, and is another step in the preparation for making a good decision. The values reflected in the life of Christ from the very beginning are so different from those normally accepted by the world around us. Reflecting with a discerning heart on Christ’s birth and his naming prepares us for making choices about our present lives.

Third, Jesus needs us to join his work of bringing love and salvation to the world. Yet to join the mission of Jesus we have to rely not on ourselves, not on wealth, skills or influence, but on God working through us. This was the constant message of Jesus, beginning with the first mission given to the twelve: “Take nothing for the journey, neither staff, nor backpack, nor bread, nor money; and let none of you take a spare tunic.” If we rely on ourselves, we are limited to five loaves and two fish that don’t go very far.

In being born poor, Jesus does not glorify poverty, nor accept the conditions of so many poor of his day or of ours. Poverty is a scandal. The earth and all it contains is given by God for everyone. Freedom from poverty is a sign of the Kingdom in which the hungry are blessed and have their fill. Jesus chose to be born poor and to live and die in poverty because of a special love described as an ‘emptying’ of himself: “His state was divine yet he did not cling to his equality with God but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave, and become as humanity is; and being as all humanity is, he was humbler yet, even to accepting death, death on a cross.” Because of this, “God raised him on high” (Philippians 2:6-9).

The poor shepherds are linked with the birth and naming of Jesus, and so linked with our story as Jesuits and companions in mission. Their discovery of Jesus in their ordinary lives, the discerning heart of Mary whom they visited, and their poverty all carry a deep message for us.

May this year now beginning be full of God’s blessings and joy.

St. Paul Miki was born in 1584. he was baptized at the age of ten entered a school run by the Jesuits.

He took his vows when he was 22 and as a traditionalist had much success preaching the gospel.

As the persecution against the Christians became greater under Hideyoshi Toyotomi, six foreign fathers and 25 Japanese were rounded up and marched to Nagasaki to be killed. St paul Miki was one of them. Despite hardship, he continued to preach the gospel as he was marched to his death.

St. Paul Miki was crucified in Nagasaki at the age of 33. As he was dying on the cross, he forgave his persecutors. He was honored to die as his savior had.

St.Paul Miki’s shroud was taken to Manila.

It was later brought back to Nagasaki by a Fr.Puchijan. It is now being kept with the shrouds of other martyrs at the Congregation of the Sacred Infant Jesus in Takarazuka city in Hyogo Prefecture.

In 1862, St. Paul Miki was canonized by Pope Pius the 9th. As his father was in the service of Nagayoshi Miyoshi, who had deep ties to Tokushima, St. Paul Miki was chosen to be the patron saint of this parish.