The Perfect Place

The Perfect Place

 

 

This past Friday, the Saint Ignatius community celebrated the Mass of the Holy Spirit as we have done each year for about as long as there has been a Saint Ignatius. In doing so, we continue to cement ourselves into the Jesuit tradition of invoking the presence of the Holy Spirit into our academic, social, athletic, and spiritual lives to begin each school year. It is a tradition which dates back to 16th Century Sicily where our first Jesuit school was established.

Since (according to curricular technologist, Andrew Johnson ’79) the fall of 1981, freshmen have made the trek from 30th and Lorain and across the mighty Cuyahoga to arrive en masse at the doorsteps of St John’s Cathedral. Symbolizing the relationship of “Wildcat Nation” to the Church and the city, it is a tradition which has continued (with only once exception) unbroken ever since, taking a global pandemic to halt the march of our youngest brothers through the streets of downtown.

That is, until this year.

Extensive (and much-needed) renovations at the Cathedral required us to stay home this year and celebrate Mass in Sullivan Gym. Our freshmen didn’t know what they were missing, but my junior and seniors were vocally disappointed that their little brothers weren’t going to have the chance to make “the Walk”—giving lie to the idea that the younger generation has no appreciation for tradition. Bishop Malesic apologized a couple of times for not being able to open the doors of the Diocese’s mother church, but he neededn’t have.

To be sure, having Mass at the Cathedral gives a special luster to the day—and celebrating the Eucharist in a space specifically designed for that purpose adds to the power of the ritual. But to be in Sullivan Gym for Mass is to forget for a moment that one is inside of an athletic arena. The work of campus ministry, the art department, and our plant services team have a way of transforming a secular into a sacred space: a space that was already, the bishop noted, “full of life.” But even if all that work hadn’t been done, having Mass in the gym would have still been magnificent.

Jesus literally shows up in the Eucharist after all.

But there’s something even more going on here and it is good that we occasionally pray in such a humble place. In the movie, The Song of Bernadette, the mayor of Lourdes, France—succumbing to the political pressure of his political superiors—tries to stop the people of the region from going to the grotto of Massabielle where 14-year-old Bernadette Soubirous claimed to have a vision of a “beautiful lady.” The grotto was essentially the town’s garbage dump and the mayor, trying to prod the parish priest into action, asks: “How can you stand by and watch your parishioners carry on these pagan ceremonies? I understand they use a kitchen table as an altar and there they pray, yes, on a spot littered with filth!” The priest’s rejoinder is noteworthy: 

“Prayer is good wherever it is offered.”

The good people of Lourdes offered prayer on a kitchen-table altar. This is not an exceptional action. For example, most of us have seen photos of Catholic chaplains saying Mass on the hoods of jeeps during the Second World War. The rector of my college dorm celebrated Mass in our rooms on a re-purposed steamer crate under the watchful gaze of John Belushi and a St Pauli girl. Back in the ‘80s, Wildcats had “Mass on the Grass” on our then newly-created mall. At Saint Ignatius, prayer continues to be offered on the sidelines of soccer matches and in hockey locker rooms. The Harlequins pray the Mass backstage before weekend performances.

St Ignatius encouraged his followers to “find God in all things”: his school reminds us that we can also meet Him in all places.

Many of us can remember saying our nightly prayers while kneeling at the side of our bed. Remembering that remains among my fondest memories. (I wish I had been a better dad to my kids and introduced them to that ritual.) Making a bed a kneeler reminds us—as Scripture does—that God often speaks to His people in their dreams. Saying our prayers bedside puts a bow on our days…and lets the Lord know we are ready for Him to speak to us as we sleep.

Praying bedside at other times (at the birth of our children and at the death of our parents) marks those places and those moments as sacred. But bedside needs not be the only place where prayer can be offered. Discussing an observation brought up on the “Mike & Mike” show years ago with my brothers and father, the conversation moved to morning “drive time” radio. We all talked about our favorite morning shows. Asking my father about where his radio dial was set, I expected to hear about WTAM or some music station. “I don’t listen to the radio in the morning,” he said. Rather, for the previous 30 years or so he used his morning commute to simply be quiet and pray, offering his day to the Lord, asking for strength, and thanking God for the all blessings in his life. My dad never wore his faith on his sleeve, but with this revelation I was able to see how he was able to practice it in his day-to-day living. It was a game-changer for me and now I—the poster boy for road rage—have taken to saying my rosary as I drive up I-71 each morning.

You’re all safer because of that. 

The more I look at Scripture, the more I appreciate how God plays the long game in salvation. I think it is instructive that when the Creator of the universe took on a human nature—when God entered the world—He did so in a stable: a place where animals live and eat (and do the other things that require pitchforks and a good deal of hay). It seems to me that the Father sent a message to humanity 2,000 years ago. Because if He chose a place like that to enter the world, all places are sacred. And so any place is the perfect place to pray.

Even a gym.

A.M.D.G./B.V.M.H.