Week 3: The Help

Service.

It was important to Ignatius and, therefore, continues to be important within the Jesuit tradition. Some of Ignatius’s deepest spiritual visions occurred while he was volunteering at a local hospital in Manresa, and more than just that, he believed it was an integral part of helping others to become brothers and sisters of the world.

I truly do believe that good deeds and happy feelings are infectious. Just yesterday, I bumped into a buddy of mine who had his roommate’s puppy with him. Maybe I just miss my own, but for hours afterwards I had an inexplicable high that made class almost enjoyable.

Not that Mr. Tan’s presentation needed any mind-altering canines to make it enjoyable, of course. I was talking about all my other classes.

In the same way, I like to think that even a single act of kindness permeates society in innumerable ways. You know, like those heartfelt and kind of cheesy Liberty Mutual ads.

Of course, here we get into the semantics of what constitutes service. My usual go-to for such dilemmas – the dictionary – doesn’t offer much help. Here’s a sample of Merriam Webster’s definitions:

1a: the occupation or function of serving

2a: the work performed by one that serves

4: the act of serving; as:

            a: a helpful act

            b: useful labor that does not produce a tangible commodity

Like I said, not very enlightening. But maybe that’s the point. The first thought that comes to mind when the word “service” is thrown around is the community service requirement of high school (thanks, Mr. Mattern, for signing off that I had spent 101 hours in pep band). Upon further reflection, I might come up with my summers volunteering as a camp counselor.

But as I look deeper and deeper within myself, I keep coming back to that commercial. That’s my greatest service to the world, to my community, to my family: the little things I do every day, which culminate into the way I live my life.

These first few weeks of the semester have made that abundantly clear. I did the math (something I’m particularly good at) and, not counting the time I’m asleep or eating, I have an average of 4.36 hours each day completely for myself (3.42 if we take Sunday out of the equation). However, more often than not, half this time is spent studying or preparing for the next stage in my academic life.

I’m not complaining, though (well…maybe a little bit). Since the end of high school, this is the life I’ve chosen to lead. I do well in school so that my family is proud of me and I can create a better life for them and future generations; I work hard to help pay for my education and other needs; I'm always there for any person who comes to me in a time of need, even if it means other priorities have to be put on hold momentarily.

When I think long and hard about it, this is how I serve the greater good. No, I don’t go to Africa and chew food for toothless orphans. I just try my best to be a kind, helpful member of society, and hope that the love will spread from there.

Week 2: Getting to the Point

Writing my spiritual autobiography for class got me to thinking about some of the times I felt most at peace, most at one, with the universe and whatever power may be responsible for its existence.

Sometimes it was the little stuff: sitting inside on a wet winter’s day with a bowl of warm tomato soup, listening to the pitter-patter of rain on stone; lying on the dew-moistened grass of a baseball field, staring up at the stars and discovering that, in reality, not a single square inch of sky is dark; waking up in a foreign bed in Tahoe, anxiously awaiting breakfast because it marks that bundling up and playing in the ethereal white powder will shortly follow.

In case you couldn’t tell, I’m a bit of a nature boy. As much as I love the sights and sounds of the Quarter, my two favorite places in New Orleans are Audubon and City Parks, hands down.

Of course, every now and then such enthusiasm can reach an extreme, to the point that my decisions may seem a bit crazy to the outside observer. One such instance occurred just this past summer, in fact.

For months before flying back to California, I had been looking at Google Maps and following the various cities along Highway 1 (which runs pretty much along the coast from Orange County to Mendocino, for those who don’t know). Maybe someday I’ll actually take the road along its length like I planned, but with the price of gas the way it is, it’s becoming less and less likely.

In any case, as I was staring at the maps, I noticed the peculiarity of the land surrounding Tomales Bay. In particular, the Point Reyes side had a sharp point at the bay’s inlet named (oddly enough) Tomales Point. When I got back to the Golden State, all I could think about was what it would be like to stand right at that point. So I decided to find out.

Long story short, none of my friends wanted to come with me, so I just went by myself. I packed the necessary provisions, including a dinner (figuring that I would make it back to my car by dinnertime, but probably not back to the house), drove to the trailhead, and set off on my adventure.

Words alone can’t do the experience justice. Even these pictures are, at best, close approximations. All I can say is that it is, to this day, my favorite trail I have ever hiked. With Tomales Bay on one side and the Pacific on the other, walking along the sheer cliffs makes you feel like you’re on some unexplored island. Plus, it’s smack dab in the middle of a Tule Elk reserve.

I kid you not. Elk.

I got to the very tip of the peninsula (I’m talking close enough to feel the spray from the waves), where I sat down to eat my dinner and revel in the glory of nature. For my meal I had hastily roasted some leftover tofu and baked a sweet potato, storing both in plastic containers that did nothing to keep them warm and only made them soggy.

I’ll tell you, that was the most delicious meal of my life.

Of course, I was so infatuated by the experience, that I had failed to notice it was nearly dark. And guess who forgot a flashlight. I was forced to guess my way back in the dark, just barely able to make out the grey outline of the trail. But you know what? I really didn’t care. I was on such a high that when I tripped, or went the wrong way and had to retrace my steps, I was just happy to be there.

In the end, I managed to find my car and drive back to the house, with little to tell of my adventure but the dirt on my pants and shoes, my dull soreness in my muscles, and the memory of the whole experience seared into my mind.

Was it reckless, potentially dangerous, poorly thought out? Probably. Was it worth it?

Absolutely.

Week 1: A Man, A Class, A Blog, Golbassalcanama

Greetings Everyone!!!

And by “everyone” I of course mean Fr. Dziak, any of my family members who have nothing better to do, and the occasional stalker.

But mostly the first two.

For those of you still uninitiated, “For the Greater Glory” is a blog for my Ignatius Loyola class this semester, in lieu of a final paper. Then again, I may post other thoughts, musings, worries, etc. from time to time. This semester is guaranteed to be an interesting one, so who knows?

The main reason I chose a weekly blog (besides the obvious elimination of another paper looming over me at the end of the year) is because… well, I’ve never had a blog before. That being the case, y’all will have to pardon the lack of inspiration in the décor. As I get more familiar with this whole interweb, MyFace-ish contraption called Blogger, I hope to hang a couple pictures on the wall. Maybe bring in a nice area rug or some accent lighting.

Not that any of this accounts for why I’m taking the class in the first place. I mean, what does an engineer need to know about the Jesuits? Probably nothing. I guess it might help if I ever build a church or something. Or if I decide building stuff and/or blowing it up isn’t right for me, then I could always become a priest.

My reasoning was that I’d probably do better in a course that was less dogmatic, and which I would therefore find more interesting. Then again, looking at all the readings, quizzes, and exams, interest alone may not be enough. I guess we’ll all just have to see where I go from here.

In all honesty, though, I’m glad to be in this class, and to be attending a Jesuit institution. Every semester, I’ve taken a Philosophy or Religious Studies course, and they never fail to build upon my worldview.

In my freshman seminar I was introduced to Pluralism, in “Freedom and the Self” I discovered phenomenology (and even learned how to pronounce it), and in “Making Religion Into Art” I got the crazy idea after college to go on a journey by foot, never staying in a city for longer than a day, with nothing but the clothes on my back and a bowl with which to beg for my food.

Uh… Mom and Dad, y’all can just forget that last part.

In any case, I’m excited to see what this semester brings. I figure that if I’m going to be in a school named University of Loyola, I should at least learn a bit about San Ignacio de Loyola.

Plus I heard Father Ted’s a pretty chill guy. And from what I’ve seen so far, I’m inclined to agree.