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

House Speaker Mike Johnson recently stated that Pope Leo's criticism of the Iran war was unfounded, and that Pope Leo should examine St. Augustine's Just War Theory. This is ridiculous on its face, since Pope Leo spent 12 years as the head of the Augustinian order, so would of course be well-versed on Just War theory. But let's examine what the Just War theory is and how it applies today, because this is the deeper problem: Augustine is routinely invoked not as a moral constraint, but as a permission slip. “St. Augustine of Hippo Receiving the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus,” by Phillipe de Champaigne, 1602-1674, French. (Wikimedia Commons) St. Augustine did not write a tidy doctrine called “just war theory.” What he gave us instead was a set of moral guardrails rooted in a tragic realism about human nature. War, for Augustine, is always a sign of disorder. It may sometimes be necessary, but it is never clean, never righteous in the sense politicians like to imply, and neve...

Going to church can be a good thing and still be misunderstood. It’s easy to assume that regular church attendance places us on higher moral ground than those who don’t show up. We may never articulate it, but it lingers in our unconscious, reinforced by habit and familiarity. Jesuit spirituality has always pushed back against this instinct, not by dismissing religious practice, but by asking what it actually does to us. In essence: if churchgoing doesn’t make us more honest, more tolerant, and more aware of our own limits, then it hasn’t done its work. Ignatius Cared About Movement, Not Marks Ignatius of Loyola was far less concerned with outward conformity than with interior movement. The point was never to perform faith correctly, but to be changed by it. The Spiritual Exercises don’t reward us with certainty; they leave us aware of how often we mistake comfort for grace and routine for conversion. That awareness makes it difficult to look down on anyone else without first confr...

My childhood didn’t have many examples of healthy, open conflict. When conflict did surface, it came with drama. Raised voices. Hurt feelings. The sense that something had gone wrong and might not be repaired. What I did not see was disagreement handled calmly. So I grew up associating disagreement with failure. Moral failure. Relational failure. If people disagreed, someone must be wrong in a deeper way. Someone must be at fault. It took years to learn that disagreement is not a moral failing. The Presumption of Good Faith Jesuit formation helped clarify that, though not always directly. One of the quieter assumptions in Ignatian spirituality is what’s often called the Presupposition. Ignatius of Loyola writes that we ought to be “more ready to put a good interpretation on another’s statement than to condemn it.” In practice, that means assuming sincerity before malice. Thought before corruption. Humanity before threat. That assumption alone changes the shape of disagreement. If the p...

Religion and political power have always had a complicated relationship. This reflection revisits familiar Gospel stories to see what they might say about today’s questions around nationalism and identity. The goal is not to discourage patriotism or civic involvement. Rather, it comes from a desire to understand what it means to follow a teacher who chose peace, humility, and service instead of domination. May this reflection encourage empathy and thoughtful engagement as people of faith seek the good of all. In the Gospel of John, chapter 18, verse 36, Jesus makes a profound declaration during his trial before Pontius Pilate: “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not from the world.” This statement has echoed through centuries of Christian theology, presenting a vision of spiritual sovereignty distinct from worldly power structures. Today, this teac...

Why God Isn’t Impressed by Ritual Alone In my first post on Raised by Jesuits , I wrote about the gap between professed faith and lived action: What happens when religion becomes performance, when belief floats unmoored from behavior. I’ve been sitting with that tension again lately, especially in light of a provocative truth found in the Hebrew Bible: God doesn’t reject people because they worship incorrectly. God rejects worship because people are living unjustly. That reversal matters. We often imagine that God demands reverence, obedience, religious observance, and if we get the liturgy right, say the right prayers, sing with the right amount of sincerity, then we’re aligned with the divine. But the prophets of the Hebrew Bible paint a much harsher, more urgent picture. Over and over again, we hear God refusing worship. Not because the music is off-key or the sacrifices impure but because injustice is being ignored. “I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no deligh...

When Don Miguel Ruiz published The Four Agreements , he drew on ancient Toltec wisdom , a tradition that sees words as magic, capable of casting spells of freedom or harm. His first and most foundational agreement, Be Impeccable with Your Word , asks us to speak with integrity, avoid gossip, and use language to create truth and love. I can’t help but hear an Ignatian echo in this teaching. Jesuit spirituality treats words as sacred tools, to be used with discernment, humility, and purpose. Both traditions remind us that every word we speak shapes the world. Truth + Discernment Jesuit teaching goes further than Ruiz’s invitation to personal integrity. Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, encouraged discernment: asking not just Is this true? but Should I say it? How should I say it? When? Being impeccable isn’t just blurting out truth; it’s aligning our speech with love, humility, and timing. The Jesuit practice of the Examen even includes reflecting on words: Where d...

One of my favorite saints, though one who isn’t as renowned as others, is St. Francis de Sales. Where our world equates strength with dominance and aggression, St. Francis de Sales offers a radically countercultural truth: "Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength." — St. Francis de Sales This single sentence captures the heart of his spiritual vision: that genuine strength is not loud, domineering, or forceful—but patient, compassionate, and grounded in love. A Life Shaped by Mercy and Wisdom Born in 1567 in the Duchy of Savoy, St. Francis de Sales was destined for a career in law before he felt called to the priesthood. He eventually became Bishop of Geneva during a time of great religious conflict, yet his pastoral approach was marked by calm and humility, not confrontation. In a time of theological polemics and political unrest, he chose gentleness over argument, persuasion over coercion. “There was nothing bitter or harsh in the...

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...

Imagine a parent hesitating before agreeing to an autism diagnosis for their child.   Not because they doubt the truth of it, but because they fear what being on the list might mean. Now imagine that fear becoming widespread, shifting clinical practices and reshaping statistics; not because autism is disappearing, but because honesty is becoming dangerous. This is the ethical and epistemological tangle we face if a national autism registry becomes reality. The Promise of a Registry Let’s begin in good faith. On paper, a centralized autism registry could offer immense benefits: Accurate data could support better resource allocation in schools, clinics, and workplaces. Researchers could access large-scale data sets, leading to deeper understanding and improved therapies. Policy-makers might craft smarter laws rooted in real demographic data. In short, the hope is that if we count people well, we’ll care for them better. But counting is nev...

One of my favorite teachers in high school was a wiry Scotsman named Mr. Ballantyne. He wasn’t a Jesuit, but he might as well have been. His demeanor was no-nonsense, his standards were high, and his wit as sharp as the thorns on a sprig of thistle. He taught Ethics—a required course at my Catholic high school. Mr. Ballantyne didn’t just teach Ethics as a subject; he lived it like a calling. His classroom was where we learned to think about what was right and wrong in a deeper way—not just in terms of rules or punishments, but in terms of what kind of people we were becoming. He taught us that ethics isn’t about having the right answers, it’s about asking better questions. That’s a very Jesuit idea, even if he never said cura personalis out loud. So what is ethics, really? At its core, ethics is a framework of moral principles that guide our actions and decisions. It’s how we navigate the question: What kind of life should I live, and how should I treat others along the way? I...

In another part of my life, I lead a band that plays jazz and blues. I write original songs—some of which have won awards—and perform in venues far removed from the walls of a church. Yet I grew up singing in the church choir (stereotypical, I know), and I was always acutely aware that some religious traditions treat secular music with suspicion, even outright condemnation. But that has never aligned with my lived experience. I’ve felt—viscerally—the healing power of music, both in my own life and among my audiences. I’ve watched music soften the hardened, uplift the weary, and bring strangers into communion. Something sacred happens when sound transcends speech and becomes something more than entertainment. It becomes presence. Connection. Maybe even grace. For a long time, though, I carried the tension between that sacred experience and the religious formation that seemed to draw sharp lines between what was holy and what was profane. That changed a few years ago during a convers...

Reflecting on Waiting, and the Will to Carry On Author's Note: I usually post on weekends, but this past one was so busy I didn't get a chance to do so. Since this post is partly about when everything happens, I thought it was an appropriate one to go with as it's definitely what I experienced this past weekend. - RA Paulo Coelho, one of my favorite authors, once wrote, “Life has a way of testing a person’s will – either by having nothing happen at all, or by having everything happen at once.” Like much of his writing, it’s deceptively simple. A single sentence that manages to articulate what entire seasons of life feel like. In the Jesuit tradition I was raised with, we’re taught to look for God not in the abstract, but in the concrete stuff of our lives: silence, uncertainty, disappointment, exhilaration. This quote offers a framework for naming two of life’s great spiritual tests—the barren stretches where nothing seems to move, and the overwhelming surges when ever...

Since my blog is called “Raised by Jesuits,” I’d be remiss if I didn’t get to this topic. If you've ever heard the phrase "Jesuit education" or noticed a university with “Loyola” in the name, you've brushed up against a centuries-old tradition that is much more than academic rigor or religious affiliation. Jesuit philosophy is rooted in the teachings of St. Ignatius of Loyola, the 16th-century founder of the Society of Jesus, and offers a way of thinking, being, and acting in the world that remains radically relevant today. At its core, Jesuit thought is about formation —not just information. It’s about becoming the kind of person who can navigate a complex world with clarity, compassion, and conscience. Here’s a quick primer on some of the foundational ideas that guide Jesuit institutions, thinkers, and those of us shaped by this tradition: Cura Personalis – Care for the Whole Person This isn't just a motto—it's a call to truly see people in their ful...

One of our very dear dogs passed away recently, which got me to thinking about our pets and heaven. This sweet boy never met anyone he didn't like. Dogs, cats, horses (he found our neighbor's horses fascinating), and especially people. He was a perpetually happy, calm presence and loved nothing more than getting some snuggle time with his people. He viewed everyone at the vet's office, including the other pet owners, as his friends. After each appointment, our vet would take him for a lap around the back of the office to visit everyone. It was tough to get him to leave. Over the last 18 months or so, he had suffered from arthritis, and it became increasingly painful for him to move around. We tried many different treatments and medications. By last month, he was on four different meds, and we were regularly carrying him down the stairs—though he would still climb up to my office, slowly and determinedly, just to spend time with me during the day. A few weeks ago, he t...

Pope Leo XIV, formerly Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost, was elected on May 8, 2025, after just four ballots over two days—a notably swift conclave by historical standards. He wasn’t on my radar at all when I wrote recently about Francis and the likely contenders to succeed him, so let’s get to know him a bit. Born in Chicago in 1955, he joined the Order of St. Augustine and later spent nearly two decades in Peru, serving as a missionary and provincial superior. That time deeply shaped his pastoral sensibility and gave him a first-hand understanding of the challenges facing the global South. Pastoral and Pragmatic Pope Leo XIV is widely viewed as a pastoral leader who continues the reformist trajectory of Pope Francis. His approach emphasizes inclusivity, dialogue, and a focus on the pastoral needs of the faithful. He has been a vocal proponent of synodality , advocating for a more inclusive and participatory Church structure. His background in canon law provides a balance betwee...

People often equate freedom with autonomy—self-sufficiency, independence, the ability to decide and act on our own. But the idea of synodality dares to suggest something different: that true freedom is found in communion. Not control. Not domination. But belonging—in listening, discerning, and walking together. This idea runs deep in the Jesuit tradition too. Discernment isn’t just a solo project—it’s communal. We listen for the Spirit together. We hold our desires and decisions up to the light, not just of God’s word, but of each other’s wisdom. It’s not easy, but it’s honest. And holy. But what does that actually look like in real life? Around the Dinner Table Synodality begins at home. It’s in how we listen to our kids—or our parents—without rushing to fix, correct, or win. It’s the courage to say, “I don’t know, let’s figure it out together.” A family that practices synodality makes room for every voice, not just the loudest or most insistent. In the Workplace Think of me...

 In our increasingly polarized world, we often find ourselves caught between two moral imperatives: the need to defend justice and the call to love our enemies. This tension becomes especially sharp when we compare Karl Popper’s Paradox of Tolerance with Jesus’ command to “turn the other cheek.” At first glance, these two ideas seem incompatible. Popper warned that if a society becomes endlessly tolerant, even of intolerance, it will eventually be destroyed by those very forces. Tolerance, to survive, must have boundaries. Intolerance must be resisted, even suppressed if necessary. On the other hand, Jesus offers what seems like the opposite advice. In the Sermon on the Mount, he says: “If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.” It’s a radical rejection of retaliation. It’s not just about forgiveness—it’s about refusing to return harm even when justified. So how do we reconcile these two visions? How can we protect what is good without b...

With the news of Pope Francis’ failing health, I have had this blog post on the back burner for some time. Now that he has passed, I find that for me (and probably for many other people too), this feels like the end of an era. Francis was more than a pope. He was a symbol of a Church trying to rediscover its soul. And, I should mention, he was the first Jesuit to serve as Pope. With his quiet humility, sharp moral clarity, and deep love for the poor and marginalized, he invited the Catholic world to walk a different path—one that prioritized mercy over judgment, encounter over exclusion, and the Gospel over institutional self-preservation. Now, as the Church enters mourning, it also enters a moment of profound discernment. What kind of Church will we be after Francis? A Legacy of Mercy and Tension Francis didn’t change church doctrine in dramatic ways, but he changed the tone; and that, in many ways, changed everything. He spoke of a Church as a “field hospital,” not a courtroo...