Our Mission


Ignatians West transforms lives by supporting nonprofit agencies that assist people who are poor or marginalized through the service and companionship of mature adults 50+ who are available to share their experience and talent in meaningful part time volunteer positions and reflect on their encounters in the Ignatian tradition.




Dear friends,


Today is the long-awaited Madonna Della Strada Celebration, our time to honor individuals and agencies that model the Ignatian value of service to and with others.


The 2024 honorees, Dr. Lane Bove, Matt Harper, and Homeboy Industries, give us a glimpse of hope as we settle into a new reality in our country.


Today, I will not share my thoughts on the readings. Instead, I asked Reverend Mary Haggerty, an Episcopal priest from the Diocese of Chicago, to share her homily. It is relevant to our own readings.


My thoughts are a bit jumbled this week. I live in Camarillo and was caught in the fire that decimated areas of the town. Wednesday morning dawned clear, beautiful, and very windy. The wind had roared all night, battering the landscape and interrupting sleep. As I went about my morning, the wind picked up. At one point, I smelled smoke and realized there were dark clouds in the distance, but I was not too concerned, as this had happened before.


The power went out and before long the phone started ringing as my children and husband were watching and hearing about the fire, “Get out, now.” They were panicking, I foolishly thought.


Suddenly, very suddenly, I realized it was time to go. I grabbed the dog, my purse and went to the car. The wind was so ferocious it pushed me off balance. As I drove out of my driveway, neighbors were doing the same. We knew it was time to move.


I cannot describe properly what I saw. There were two ways out—one led to the flatlands and farmlands, where the fire seemed to be, and the other went down the hill into town. It was a split-second decision. I took the route down the hill because more cars were going that way.


It was a log jam of cars and billowing black smoke. No one could move, and fire engines and police cars were racing up the hill with sirens blaring. Due to the smoke, you could not see two feet in front of you, and the wind continued to be ferocious. It was harrowing, the only word I know to describe it. The drive down the hill, which I do multiple times a day at a good clip, was agonizingly slow.


In the end, over 100 homes were lost, many in my neighborhood. It is heartbreaking. Our house was spared. There is still a heavy presence of firefighters and equipment and the smell of smoke hangs in the air. We are acutely aware that if the fire turned left instead of right at one point, we would be among those who lost everything. There is no rhyme or reason to fire.


There are many lessons to process this week and into the future.


Peace,

Anne

By Rev. Mary Haggerty


How are you feeling this morning?


It’s been an intense week. An intense season. We have just come through one of the most contentious election cycles in our history.


How are you feeling?


You might be OK with the election results, or you might be devastated by them. You might be surprised or you might feel vindicated. Whatever you feel, this is the place to bring it. This is the place to examine our own hearts, the place to lay our lives on this table and to invite Jesus to transform us and our world.


Whatever you feel about this election and the days ahead, it’s important for us to remember that our identity doesn’t lie in the powerhouses of this country. Our identity lies in the story of God’s creation, God’s compassion, God’s love for all humanity. And rooted in THAT identity our call is to be co-creators with the Divine in building a world where all are seen and heard and where the dignity of every human person is recognized.

 A lot of folks will say, Oh sure that’s a lovely ideal but it’s crazy. That’s not really possible. But guess what, friends: as baptized followers of Jesus, whom many called crazy, we are crazy, too!


Our former presiding bishop, Michael Curry, wrote a book in 2012 called “Crazy Christians.” In it he says this:


“We need some Christians who are as crazy as the Lord. Crazy enough to love like Jesus, to give like Jesus, to forgive like Jesus, to do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with God— like Jesus. Crazy enough to dare to change the world from the nightmare it often is into something close to the dream that God dreams for it. And for those who would follow him, those who would be his disciples, those who would live as and be the people of the Way? It might come as a shock, but they are called to craziness.”


Now this isn’t Bishop Curry’s opinion or a cute marketing strategy. This is our story. It’s a story full of surprises and crazy turns. We see that clearly in today’s readings.


Take the story of Ruth and Naomi. Last week we heard the beginning of this beautiful story of fidelity. Naomi is left widowed and alone after first her husband and then both of her sons die. That would have left her with little or no means of financial support. In the patriarchal culture of the day, she was left to scramble for her survival. So, she decides to return home to Bethlehem now that the famine is over. Her daughter-in-law, Ruth, a Moabite woman, insists on going with her. We hear her beautiful words of fidelity: “Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge, your people shall be my people, and your God my God.”


It is easy to romanticize this story, but it is actually a tragic tale of hardship. These two women cling to one another in hopes of their very survival. And they do survive. Not by accident. But by cunning and planning and plotting. These are not meek women. Naomi sees security in Boaz and she steers Ruth toward him. Ruth seduces him and a new family is born. The future of these two women is secured. A happy ending to a sad story.


But now comes the surprise. We learn at the very end of today’s reading that Obed, born of the union between Ruth and Boaz, “became the father of Jesse, the father of David.” King David, the one into whose lineage Jesus is born. The future of Israel is secured through an outsider, a poor, childless, foreign woman, one who engages in sexual seduction at that!


This community, in living out God’s ways of hospitality and inviting Ruth in as one of their own, in extending love beyond boundaries brings about unfathomable blessings. The community’s salvation comes from welcoming the stranger and the outsider as one of their own. God is at work here, through this community, in surprising, unexpected, crazy ways.


I wonder how God is waiting to bring boundary-breaking blessings in surprising ways through All Saints? I wonder in what crazy ways your own day-to-day life, my own day-to-day life, might be a blessing in ways we could never imagine. Where is God inviting us to look beyond the boundaries, beyond political parties, beyond the rhetoric, to break the cycles of insiders and outsiders, to show holy hospitality with no strings attached? 


This theme of crazy surprises is actually not such a surprise in itself. Throughout Scripture God works through the most unlikely people. To touch us, to teach us, to challenge us, to love us into being co-creators of the reign of God.


The poor widow in today’s gospel is one of those people. We often hear her virtue extolled in giving away all she had. But I wonder, is Jesus pointing to her as a model for giving? Is Jesus saying that we need to be like the widow?


I don’t think so. Jesus never commends her. He doesn’t applaud her self-sacrifice. He doesn’t invite the disciples to follow in her footsteps. He simply notices her. He SEES HER. Amidst the grandeur of the temple, the flashy robes of the religious leaders, the big, public displays of donations from those who are in power, he sees this woman. This woman who was wholly insignificant. I doubt anyone else noticed her. I doubt that the religious elites parading around the temple noticed her. But Jesus noticed her and cared about her. He sees what everyone else is too busy, too grand, too spiritual, and too self-absorbed to see.


Jesus sees us. And He invites us to look around and see one another. To really see. To see the pain of those who are mistreated because of their race, gender, orientation, class, color, differences from the mainstream. The despair of those who have lost hope. Jesus invites us to look around and see who is hurting, who has been left out or left behind or deemed unworthy. The God of Ruth and the God of the widow invites us to see them, to care for them, to advocate for a system that does not leave anyone behind.

        

The crazy thing is that we are co-creators with God. We can make a difference. We can contribute. Our words and actions can bring to life the kingdom that Jesus proclaimed and embodied. We will fall short and need to ask forgiveness. We may not see the results of our own “seeing” and caring. We may have to cross boundaries again and again before we see change. We may get discouraged. But we plant the seeds and God is the gardener. The good news this morning is that, even in the face of all that we have endured these past few months, we trust that God who raised Jesus from the dead and proclaimed that love wins is with us through it all.


However we feel this morning about the election, our path is clear in the promises we made at our baptism: To seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves. And to strive for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being.


And for that may we humbly bear the title, “Crazy Christians.”

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