Jesuit Heritage Week Opening Mass

In this week—Jesuit Heritage Week at Georgetown—we honor a two centuries old commitment of a group of men who came to this Hilltop to teach. I wish to express my appreciation to Michael and Alma for their leadership in making this week possible—in carrying forward this annual opportunity for us to reflect on a tradition that unites all of us as members of this community.

That early group of men were seeking to capture, in this new nation, a sense of the animating spirit of a tradition of learning that is among the most extraordinary the world has ever seen.

We are heirs to this tradition. It is a tradition that has always revered the pursuit of knowledge. Ignatius himself, in his mid-thirties, prepared himself in his vocation, by returning to school—first in Spain, learning Latin and then at the University of Paris. Imagine a man in his mid-30’s, sitting alongside you tonight, or tomorrow in class, or later in the day at Leo’s, sharing lecture notes in Pierce Reading Room, or perhaps a pitcher at the Tombs—OK maybe I’m getting a little carried away.

Ignatius went to be with those who taught, and from that experience started an Order whose most significant activity would be to advance learning.

There was something profoundly original in his approach to learning.

This originality is grounded in his remarkable innovation—an act of imagination that serves as the foundation of everything that happens here. This is the Spirituality of Ignatius, captured in the Spiritual Exercises.

There is a powerful insight within the Exercises that animates his conception of learning. Ultimately, our learning must be appropriated, must be internalized, must become an affective element of who we are. We can’t be passive receivers of learning. Knowledge can sometimes seem so abstract—we can keep our distance from it. For Ignatius, it must become a part of our very being.

He had a word for this—Sentir—“felt knowledge.” It is knowledge you can feel in your bones. It is a deep sense of consolation that comes when you are in possession of truth.

Throughout these first weeks of the new year, in these days following Advent, we have been presented through Scripture, with image after image of Jesus emerging—discovering who he is and what he is called to do. We are given insight into how those around him came to understand who he was.

We see this through two movements.

Two weeks ago today we heard these words:

“Two were following Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following him and said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him: “Rabbi”—which translated means Teacher—“where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come, and you will see.” So they went and saw where Jesus was staying, and they stayed with him that day.” (John 1:37-39)

A few days later we heard these words:

“Jesus went up the mountain and summoned those whom he wanted and they came to him. He appointed Twelve, whom he called Apostles, that they might be with him and he might send them forth…” (Mark 3:13-14)

The second movement we have seen are the accounts of his miracles. We saw him restore the man with the withered hand, and in Capernaum, a paralytic “picked up his mat, and went away in the sight of everyone.”(Mark 2:12)

I’d like to share a short poem that connects these reflections. When I think about the convergence of these two threads—the pulling together of his closest group and the miracles, I remember the first time I heard this poem.

I heard it read in New South, in what is now the film screening room. It was a reading of one of my teachers, Roland Flint, who taught poetry here for more than a generation. He was reading his own poems that night. He was an exceptional poet and teacher.

The poem reflects on the scene described by Matthew in the fourth chapter of his Gospel—

“As he was walking by the Lake of Galilee he saw two brothers, Simon, who was called Peter, and his brother Andrew; they were making a cast into the lake with their net, for they were fishermen.  And he said to them, ‘Come after me and I will make you fishers of people.  And at once they left their nets and followed him.” (Matthew 4:18-20)

The poem is called Follow.

I think this captures the idea of Sentir. It is one of the elements of the tradition we are all so fortunate to share and which we celebrate this week.