To the Band of Brothers: March 5, 2025
Welcome to Lent. I know some of us shudder as we make our way into these 40 days of preparation for Easter. We have to think about what we are giving up, what extra prayers we can do, and have to be mindful on Fridays not to make reservations at Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse only to remember when they serve you the sizzling filet that you’re not supposed to eat meat. Inconvenient… yes. Worth it… absolutely.
During this time, I have often walked into a church and seen it decorated for Lent. Some places adorn the front of the altar with a cactus instead of the usual flowers. A pretty dramatic change from the floral beauties that brighten Catholic sanctuaries. For the untrained eye, the automatic interpretation of such an addition is that Lent is that dry, prickly season we have to get through in order to get to Easter. It is a time of suffering, penance, and discomfort. But if you really knew anything about cacti, you would know there is much more to it than that.
Let me explain.
In 2005, I was sent to do tertianship, the last stage of formal formation for a Jesuit. It normally takes place a few years after ordination and is the last step before a Jesuit can take his final vows. When the provincial first approached me about tertianship he asked me where I would like to go. I had thought about it before and had played out the conversation many times in my head. I was convinced that Salamanca, Spain, was the perfect place.
To make my point about Spain, I had to come up with several good reasons. I would tell my provincial that I had never done any stage of formation in Europe, that Spain was the land of my ancestors, that Spain was the land of St. Ignatius and how wonderful it would be to walk in the founder’s footsteps, that Spain had awesome Jesuits, that Spain has a great climate, that Spain is beautiful, that I’ve never been to Spain, but I kinda like the music (that’s a Three Dog Night song by the way).
The conversation went beautifully with the provincial. He told me he loved the reasons for going to Spain. So, in 2005, I hopped on a plane to Santiago, Chile. That’s right: Santiago, Chile. I have to remember, for future reference, never to really say where I want to go. No hard feelings, though. God, in His infinite wisdom and with His great sense of humor, got me to the place where I needed to go and where I would most powerfully experience His grace.
One of the things I did while in Chile was spend three months working at Colegio San Luis Gonzaga, a Jesuit school in Antofagasta. This city is located in northern Chile, right on the coast (and Chile has a lot of coast) and on the edge of the world’s most arid desert: the Atacama. This desert is so dry (how dry is it?), it only receives one millimeter of rainfall a year! For a Miamian, this is unheard of. One millimeter of water a year?! Well, to show how inexperienced I was, the school was planning their annual gala dinner which they hold in their central patio. At one point in the planning meeting, I asked what their plan B was. “Plan B?” they asked. “Yeah,” I said, “in case it rains.” Needless to say, they laughed their little Chilean heads off.
I remember how I would stand on the rooftop of the school facing east and stare into an endless sea of sand. Plain brown sand as far as the eye could see. If you ventured into the desert, you would occasionally run into a solitary cactus. While its outward appearance is not very inviting, I learned that for the locals the cactus was a sight for sore eyes because it meant life. Not only could you eat the fruit it produces, but also its fleshy bark. Most importantly, locals knew that if you opened the cactus you would get water, and lots of it. Stranded in the desert, the cactus means hope; the cactus is life.
That’s how it is with Lent. For the stranger, Lent is thought of as a season of sadness, dryness, and suffering. So sad, it has to be buffered by a Fat Tuesday where no rules apply because there are forty days of pain coming. But for us locals, Lent is a time of spiritual growth, a time of strengthening our relationship with God, a time for offering to Him our lives as He offered His to us. Stranded in the sin of this world, Lent is a time of hope and life.
This is why the lonely cactus sits on a table close to the altar. It is the constant reminder that for Catholics, Lent is life. So, if you see a cactus in your local church, take a pew, sit for a while, and have yourself a drink.
Auspice Maria
In 2005, I was sent to do tertianship, the last stage of formal formation for a Jesuit. It normally takes place a few years after ordination and is the last step before a Jesuit can take his final vows. When the provincial first approached me about tertianship he asked me where I would like to go. I had thought about it before and had played out the conversation many times in my head. I was convinced that Salamanca, Spain, was the perfect place.
To make my point about Spain, I had to come up with several good reasons. I would tell my provincial that I had never done any stage of formation in Europe, that Spain was the land of my ancestors, that Spain was the land of St. Ignatius and how wonderful it would be to walk in the founder’s footsteps, that Spain had awesome Jesuits, that Spain has a great climate, that Spain is beautiful, that I’ve never been to Spain, but I kinda like the music (that’s a Three Dog Night song by the way).
The conversation went beautifully with the provincial. He told me he loved the reasons for going to Spain. So, in 2005, I hopped on a plane to Santiago, Chile. That’s right: Santiago, Chile. I have to remember, for future reference, never to really say where I want to go. No hard feelings, though. God, in His infinite wisdom and with His great sense of humor, got me to the place where I needed to go and where I would most powerfully experience His grace.
One of the things I did while in Chile was spend three months working at Colegio San Luis Gonzaga, a Jesuit school in Antofagasta. This city is located in northern Chile, right on the coast (and Chile has a lot of coast) and on the edge of the world’s most arid desert: the Atacama. This desert is so dry (how dry is it?), it only receives one millimeter of rainfall a year! For a Miamian, this is unheard of. One millimeter of water a year?! Well, to show how inexperienced I was, the school was planning their annual gala dinner which they hold in their central patio. At one point in the planning meeting, I asked what their plan B was. “Plan B?” they asked. “Yeah,” I said, “in case it rains.” Needless to say, they laughed their little Chilean heads off.
I remember how I would stand on the rooftop of the school facing east and stare into an endless sea of sand. Plain brown sand as far as the eye could see. If you ventured into the desert, you would occasionally run into a solitary cactus. While its outward appearance is not very inviting, I learned that for the locals the cactus was a sight for sore eyes because it meant life. Not only could you eat the fruit it produces, but also its fleshy bark. Most importantly, locals knew that if you opened the cactus you would get water, and lots of it. Stranded in the desert, the cactus means hope; the cactus is life.
That’s how it is with Lent. For the stranger, Lent is thought of as a season of sadness, dryness, and suffering. So sad, it has to be buffered by a Fat Tuesday where no rules apply because there are forty days of pain coming. But for us locals, Lent is a time of spiritual growth, a time of strengthening our relationship with God, a time for offering to Him our lives as He offered His to us. Stranded in the sin of this world, Lent is a time of hope and life.
This is why the lonely cactus sits on a table close to the altar. It is the constant reminder that for Catholics, Lent is life. So, if you see a cactus in your local church, take a pew, sit for a while, and have yourself a drink.
Auspice Maria
BELEN JESUIT PREPARATORY SCHOOL
500 SW 127th Avenue, Miami, FL 33184
phone: 305.223.8600 | fax: 305.227.2565 | email: webmaster@belenjesuit.org
500 SW 127th Avenue, Miami, FL 33184
phone: 305.223.8600 | fax: 305.227.2565 | email: webmaster@belenjesuit.org
Belen Jesuit Preparatory School was founded in 1854 in Havana, Cuba by Queen Isabel II of Spain. The task of educating students was assigned to the priests and brothers of the Society of Jesus (the Jesuits), whose teaching tradition is synonymous with academic excellence and spiritual discipline. In 1961, the new political regime of Cuba confiscated the School property and expelled the Jesuit faculty. The School was re-established in Miami the same year, and over the next decade, continued to grow. Today, Belen Jesuit sits on a 30-acre site in western Dade County, only minutes away from downtown Miami.