Posts Tagged ‘Jesuits’

Jesuit Father Joseph Mueller, a professor at Marquette University in Milwaukee, recently professed his final vows to the Society of Jesus, the same vows St. Ignatius took when he founded the religious order in 1534.

Fr. Mueller joined the Jesuits soon after graduating from Marquette, and his recent final vows come after years of preparation and reflection.

“I realized in college I actually thought the way the Jesuits thought and looked at the world the way they do,” Fr. Mueller said.

Besides the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience that Fr. Mueller took after two years as a Jesuit novice, the final vows include a vow of special obedience to the pope.

“When I make these final vows, they’re again a perpetual commitment on my part,” Fr. Mueller said. “It’s a lifelong commitment. But this time, the condition that was on them before is no longer there. The Jesuits are saying we think you worked out. You’re in.”

According to Jesuit Father James Martin in an America magazine article on final vows, “It’s somewhat like making tenure (you’re already a professor, but now you’re a ‘full’ one). It’s somewhat like making partner in a law firm (you’re already a member of a law firm, but now you’re a ‘full one).”

“I decided to become a Jesuit when I was a student here. I did it because I thought that’s what God wants me to do. I think Marquette students could benefit from listening for that kind of call from God,” Fr. Mueller said.

Read more about Fr. Mueller’s final vows at the Marquette Tribune.

Jesuit Father Lothar L. Nurnberger, 102, a teacher and Jesuit for 80 years, died on Nov. 1 in Clarkston, Mich. At the time of his death, he was the oldest living Jesuit in the United States.

Fr. Nurnberger’s relationship with the Jesuits dated back to 1923, when he convinced his parents to allow him to attend the Jesuit-run Loyola Academy in Chicago (now located in Wilmette, Ill.). After graduating from Loyola Academy in 1927, he attended Loyola University Chicago where he earned a bachelor’s in history with a minor in philosophy and Latin.

After earning his degree, Fr. Nurnberger spent a year working with the Mars Candy Company as a salesman before joining the Society of Jesus. “During my year at Mars I came to realize that I belonged in the Jesuits. My mother and father were satisfied with my decision because they felt it would help me behave better,” Fr. Nurnberger said a few months prior to his passing.

Fr. Nurnberger began his teaching career in 1937 and taught at various high schools around the Midwest until 1974, including St. Ignatius High School in Cleveland, St. Xavier High School in Cincinnati and the University of Detroit Jesuit High School. He also served as a professor of philosophy at West Baden College in West Baden, Ind., and Loyola University Chicago. Fr. Nurnberger spent his later years studying and completing research in Champaign, Ill., before retiring to the Colombiere Center for Jesuits in Clarkston, Mich., in 2007.

Always focused on the future, Fr. Nurnberger said, “Life is a gift from God. As Jesuits, we are responsible for building a culture of life.”

Read more about Fr. Nurnberger’s long life of service at the Chicago-Detroit Province website.

By Thomas M. Simisky

Thomas M. Simisky, a Jesuit scholastic in his third year of theology studies at the Boston College School of Theology and Ministry, wrote the following reflection about his connection to Jesuit Father Walter Ciszek and his own service in Russia.

“Well, I’m not really a monk.  I’m a member of the Society of Jesus.  This is kind of a pilgrimage, encountering God as St. Ignatius might.” Thus began many conversations in Siberia this past summer when people struggled to figure me out.

Russia is overwhelmingly Orthodox, which means people are familiar with married priests and celibate monks living in monasteries. Religious life in our Western tradition is hard to grasp. The fact that I lived vowed life in community pointed towards monastic life.  However, I spent my days working with Russia’s poorest populations and my weekends socializing with friends. Plus, I smiled too much.

So the question kept arising: What was I doing in Russia and why did I even want to be there? After Jesus and Ignatius of Loyola, Walter Ciszek gets the credit.

Reading His Story

During the first year of my novitiate in Syracuse, our Novice Master asked us to choose an inspiring Jesuit saint. I came across Walter Ciszek, SJ, and immediately felt a connection.  Fr. Ciszek described himself as a tough, stubborn Pole and an unlikely candidate for priesthood. As a former Marine artillery officer, I still had many of my own rough edges.  Though not a canonized saint, he fulfilled my criteria of holiness. He clearly possessed the missionary zeal that I hoped to emulate in my Jesuit life.

I appreciated his direct style, especially the quotation: “Man was created to praise, reverence, and serve God in this world and to be happy with him forever in the next. That is the fact of the matter; you believe it or you don’t — and that is the end of it.” These words have inspired me at various times when I find myself getting down about something. I hear Ciszek’s advice as: “Tom, quit complaining. Get grateful. Put the focus back on Christ.”

After the novitiate, I spent three years in Bolivia and Chile studying philosophy. There I met a couple of Chilean Jesuits who had been missioned to Russia. I was fascinated by their stories. Later, I taught theology at Cheverus High School in Maine. Just for fun, I signed up for Russian classes through Portland’s adult education program. (Yes, Maine winters are long and one needs hobbies.)

During my second year of teaching, I discussed some chapters of “He Leadeth Me” with my senior theology classes. His story also intrigued many of my students. The consensus seemed to be, if he can find God in Soviet gulags, we should be able to find God in our lives.

Meeting the People He Loved

I am currently in my third year of theology studies at Boston College School of Theology and Ministry and progressing toward priestly ordination. When I arrived, I asked to continue my Russian studies with a private tutor and to do apostolic work there during the summers.

Jesuit Thomas Simisky with Missionaries of Charity sisters.

My first summer was spent in Moscow in 2011. There I volunteered in an orphanage run by the Missionaries of Charity (Mother Theresa sisters) for children with severe disabilities.  I also helped organize books in the St. Thomas Institute library, a Jesuit school that grants bachelor’s degrees in religious studies.

On Sundays, I would attend different masses and be amazed by the enthusiasm of the Catholic community. There are only three Catholic churches in Moscow, each holding masses in various languages (Russian, Polish, French, German, Lithuanian, Spanish and English).  Every mass was standing room only and very international, the beauty of our Catholic faith.

This past summer was spent in Novosibirsk. There, the Society of Jesus runs a retreat house, as well as a pre-seminary for candidates who will move on to the diocesan seminary in St. Petersburg or the Jesuit novitiate in Poland. My task was to work with street alcoholics living at the Missionaries of Charity home. I taught a daily spirituality class in Russian to 15-20 adults whom the sisters had rescued from the streets. The rest of my day would be spent in pastoral conversations and simple housecleaning.

Another privileged encounter with Christ was the “Maly Kovcheg” (Little Ark) summer camp for adults with disabilities. This is a L’Arche-inspired community of Catholic and Orthodox volunteers who have been working together for the past 11 years. While physically challenging in many ways —  transporting patients in a rural setting and the labor involved in setting up the camp — it was a place of overwhelming joy and gratitude.

What Kind of Jesuit?

So, I’m not a monk. I am a sinner, yet called to be a companion of Jesus as Ignatius was (General Congregation 32). St. Ignatius always referred to himself as the pilgrim and dreamed of going to the Holy Land to walk in Jesus’ footsteps.

Walter Ciszek found God in Russia, and I too have found it to be a holy land because of its people. Russians face many challenges today, much of which comes from its history and the devastating effects of alcoholism on so many families. But I am grateful to Fr. Ciszek’s spiritual guidance, pointing me East so that I too might share in the love he had for the Russian people.

Jesuit Father John F. Kavanaugh, 71, died on Nov. 5 in St. Louis, where he was born and spent much of his teaching career as a professor of philosophy at Saint Louis University. Fr. Kavanaugh was also a longtime contributor at America magazine, author of the influential book “Following Christ in a Consumer Society,” and composer of several songs on the St. Louis Jesuits’ first album, “Neither Silver Nor Gold.”

Fr. Kavanaugh entered the Society of Jesus in 1959 and was ordained to the priesthood on June 3, 1971, in St. Louis. In 1975 Fr. Kavanaugh spent a year in India, where he worked with Mother Teresa and the Missionaries of Charity at The House of the Dying in Calcutta.

In 1976 Fr. Kavanaugh went to work in the philosophy department at Saint Louis University, where he would serve for the next 36 years. He established a reputation as an exceptional teacher, combining scholarly rigor with insights into human life. Highly regarded for his scholarship, Fr. Kavanaugh was awarded visiting professorships at Chishawasha Major Regional Seminary in Zimbabwe in 1987 and Creighton University in 1991.

Fr. Kavanaugh was also the founder of the Ethics Across the Curriculum program at Saint Louis University, which helps faculty to reflect critically on ethical issues and incorporate ethical considerations in their courses.

Jesuit Father J. Daniel Daly with the Missouri Province of the Society of Jesus said, “Fr. Kavanaugh served the Society of Jesus in a variety of ways. A highly regarded teacher and spiritual director for generations of young Jesuits studying at Saint Louis University, Fr. Kavanaugh inspired and challenged his brother Jesuits to lives of simplicity and solidarity with the poor, both in his words and the example of his life.”

An exceptional preacher, Fr. Kavanaugh was frequently invited to give lectures on the topics of consumerism, American culture, advertising, faith and culture, and medical ethics.

Fr. Kavanaugh was a contributor to America magazine for more than forty years and had been a regular columnist since 1993. Visit the America magazine website to read some of the editors’ favorite columns by Fr. Kavanaugh.

Timothy O’Brien, a Jesuit scholastic of the Maryland Province and a graduate student at the University of Chicago Divinity School, offers this reflection on Jesuit Father Walter Ciszek, whom the Society of Jesus in the United States is highlighting for National Vocation Month.

I first met Jesuit Father Walter Ciszek in 2007. I was a restless 23-year-old government bureaucrat discerning a vocation to the Society of Jesus. He had been dead for about as long as I had been alive. Nonetheless, we were introduced when a Jesuit friend recommended Ciszek’s two books — “With God in Russia” (1964) and “He Leadeth Me” (1973) — as spiritual reading while I awaited the Society’s decision on my application to enter the novitiate. “Walter Ciszek is one of our un-canonized saints,” my friend told me. “For now,” he might have added.

Even on paper, Ciszek made quite a first impression. Within the first pages of “With God in Russia,” he disabuses readers that he was a very likely candidate for the priesthood or for the Society of Jesus — let alone sainthood. As a kid, Walter was a local tough; he was a terror who picked fights just because he knew he could win them. Later on, well into his vocational discernment, he relates both a screaming match with his father (who opposed his entering the Jesuits) and talking back to his novice master (who had suggested that the Jesuits might not be the right fit). Far from a haloed image on a holy card, Ciszek emphasized his impressive stubbornness and his open hostility to exaggerated piety. This was clearly no ordinary saint’s biography.

I liked him immediately.

And yet his story scared me half to death — or at least intimidated me more than I was comfortable admitting at the time. How could a low-level bureaucrat like me, who read Ciszek’s books over lunch break, hope to join the same Society as a man who had gone (in person and unannounced) from Michigan to New York to tell the provincial he was determined to enter the Jesuits? How could I, who met my match teaching a weekly 8^th grade Sunday school class, follow in the footsteps of one who volunteered for the Russian missions — and then spent twenty years in Soviet captivity? Two peas in a pod we were not.

But the intimidation factor of reading about his exploits was only a small part of our acquaintance. The truth is, my heart was stirred as he told his story. The idea of a saint who took the scenic route to sanctity was (and is) endlessly hopeful and consoling. For all our differences, there were also points of deep resonance between us. He was able to put words to desires that I felt strongly but inarticulately — desires that had impelled me to apply to the Society of Jesus in the first place. Two of these remain vivid to this day: first, the intuition to seek the presence of God everywhere, even, and perhaps especially, in the most unlikely places. And second, the desire to speak of God with those who do not know him — who may even be hostile to knowing him — in ways that are honest, real and guided by experience.

Ciszek was convinced that he was put in very challenging, even life-threatening, circumstances because it was God’s will for him at that time. God, he said, “was asking only that I learn to see these suffering men around me, these circumstances [in prison], as sent from his hand and ordained by his providence.” He was convinced, in other words, that the story he was telling was not just his own, a tale of his private sufferings. Instead, it was the story of his life with God, a God who met him in places that we can only describe as godforsaken (e.g., the Gulag). He saw his time in Russia as a gift — no doubt a hard one — given him by God for the good of those he met there, and the good of all those moved by his later writings.

This struck me as profoundly true, though our circumstances were as different as could be. Throughout my own discernment process, I had the sense that God was calling me someplace that I had not chosen, but that was exactly where God was waiting to meet me — and therefore was precisely where I needed to be. Then as now, the times in my life when God has felt the closest were also the times when I was most vulnerable and therefore most dependent on God. Then as now, I prayed for Ciszek’s breathtaking ability to see the hand of the Lord in those places I all too hastily regard as cordoned off from God.

Practically everywhere he went in Russia, Walter Ciszek found himself doing some form of ministry. At times this was sacramental, at times it was a ministry of presence. But his ministry that struck me most forcefully was his constant engagement in “spiritual conversation.” And like so many Jesuits before and after him, Ciszek was not speaking with the pre-converted. He was a priest and believer in officially atheist Russia. His interlocutors were skeptical, if not outright hostile, to religious belief. And they were well versed in the faults and failings of churches and those who lead them.

As one who came of age and began discerning my vocation to the Society of Jesus during the height of the sex-abuse crisis in the American Church, these types of conversations became familiar. They mirrored the very topics that came up with friends, family and even the occasional perfect stranger. Yet I was encouraged by how Walter Ciszek handled them: with honesty and humility, never dodging or evading obvious problems. In words that can only be described as unflinching, he admitted that the Church “has its share of scandals and bad leaders, of mediocre minds, of selfishness and skin-deep spirituality, of fallible and imperfect men who do not always practice what they preach.” And yet his eyes were always trained on what God was doing in the Church — not his imperfect ministers. Behind any troubles, he saw the Lord who called this Church into being, and who, despite all shortcomings, sustains it still as the place “wherein even the weak can be made strong.” This was true when Ciszek was in Russia, true as I was applying to join the Society and true today.

I was intimidated upon first reading about Walter Ciszek partly because I thought my Jesuit life might not look just like his own. It doesn’t exactly work that way, I’ve found. Instead, we are asked to see and respond to the needs of God’s people in the present, here and now. The details are different in every age, but we are always called to respond generously. Saints, like Walter Ciszek, show us how to do that with honesty, integrity and eyes fixed on God. May we follow his example.

Walter Ciszek, pray for us.