Raised by Jesuits: Reason, Conscience, and Complexity in the Modern World

We love watching people change. Maybe because deep down, we’re all hoping we can too. Whether it’s Darth Vader removing his mask, Zuko switching sides in Avatar: The Last Airbender , or even Saul Goodman realizing he can’t outrun the wreckage of his own choices—redemption arcs hit us where we live. They remind us that people are complicated, capable of surprising growth, and rarely just one thing. Which is why Jesuits would probably feel right at home in a writers’ room. Ignatian spirituality is obsessed with transformation—but not the tidy, three-act kind. Instead, the Jesuit tradition understands the human story as messy, recursive, and marked by the slow, often painful work of discernment . You don’t “level up” and become a saint. You learn to notice, over time, where the spirit is moving—and where ego, fear, and false desire are leading you astray. St. Ignatius himself was a vain, wounded soldier obsessed with honor, who only began to change after being laid out by a cannon...

The word "Bible" comes from the Greek word "biblia," meaning "books" or "scrolls," suggesting not a single monolithic text, but rather a collection; essentially a library bound between two covers. This perspective invites us to reconsider our understanding of this ancient and influential text. When we view the Bible as a library, we recognize it contains a remarkable diversity of literary genres spanning hundreds of years of composition: Historical Narratives : From Genesis's creation accounts to the chronicles of kings and kingdoms, these texts attempt to record significant events and genealogies of the Hebrew people and early Christian church. Poetry and Wisdom Literature : The Psalms offer lyrical expressions of praise, lament, and human experience, while Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Job explore profound philosophical questions about suffering, meaning, and the good life. Prophetic Writings : Texts from Isaiah to Malachi record the ...

Every year on November 22 , the Church honors Saint Cecilia , the patron saint of music. Her name resounds through centuries of sacred song, but like many early martyrs, the historical record around her is thin, more legend than biography. What we have is a story—perhaps shaped by devotion more than documentation—of a Roman noblewoman who “sang in her heart to the Lord” even during her wedding, even as the empire closed in around her faith. That line "sang in her heart to the Lord" stayed with me. As someone who has spent decades living through music, touring and recording, I’ve come to understand that music is more than melody. It’s how we hold space for what words alone can’t carry. Saint Cecilia didn’t leave us a songbook. Unlike Hildegard of Bingen , we have no notated compositions, no preserved hymns. So why music? Because music, like faith, is a form of interior resistance. Cecilia’s heart-song during her wedding wasn’t about performance, it was an act of spirit...