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Posted: August 1
(Rome) The big Mass at the Gesù church on July 31 was the second major liturgical moment of this anniversary year, commemorating the death of St. Ignatius which occurred on this day 450 years ago—hence the jubilee celebration along with the 500th anniversary of the births of St. Francis Xavier and Blessed Pierre Favre. These three men formed a lasting bond when they met as students at the University of Paris. Out of their friendship came the Society of Jesus. Hundreds of years later a big crowd of Jesuits and friends filled the cavernous space of the Gesù even as the city of Rome began to empty out for the annual August vacations. I don't know whether the crowd was bigger this year than normal, but the Mass seemed more festive.
Father General presided, as usual, and gave a homily that pointedly described St. Ignatius' giving over the Society into the hands of God as he neared the end of his life. He knew that he was dying, and clearly said so, but the community around him could not hear that message. So he quietly passed from this life, without receiving the sacrament of Annointing of the Sick or naming a vicar to succeed him. Ignatius was not a man to leave anything to chance, as his thousands of letters testify; he gave specific, lengthy instructions for every new activity. How strange that he would leave no directions for the men he knew would have to deal with his absence—or perhaps not strange at all, but a final act of putting everything into the hands of God. Ignatius began doing that when he started his pilgrim journey years before. He refused to take any money to cushion the uncertainty of his journey or to rely on the privileges of his noble birth. At the end of his life's pilgrimage, he once again entrusted the religious order that was so dear to him into the hands of God. Ignatius was eloquent in his silence.
Earlier in the day, I shared four of my recent paintings with the Curia community after our mid-day meal. One of the paintings will soon be off to Montreal, Canada, to be part of a jubilee year art exhibit that the French Canadian province is hosting. I wanted my brothers to see it and thought it would be a good way for me to celebrate Ignatius. The painting is titled, "Holy ground, the hills at Loyola."
I picked this painting to send to the exhibit partly because of the theme since it represents the hillside above the house where Ignatius grew up. Ever since I visited Montana and Idaho to photograph the places where the Jesuit missionaries journeyed in the 1840s, I realized that geography says much about history, that knowing and understanding the place where a story takes place changes how you understand the story itself. The land shapes people, as I think these hills shaped Ignatius.
Beyond the theme, however, I like the way I painted this image. I like the colors and the looseness with which the paint was applied. It looks very realistic and it is accurately drawn. Some of the leaves look like you could pick them up off the grass, but they are just quick daubs of color. I like the subtle variations in purples in the distant hill that sets off the two trees in full fall color. Painting takes so long to learn, and you have to stumble around making mistakes and "ruining good canvas"—as one of my teachers used to say. I feel like I am finally getting somewhere on my own pilgrimage.
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