Matthew J. Ippel, SJ

Thoughtful, missionary, solidario. I found this to be really humbling. The word “solidario” stands out to me, especially because it is difficult to translate directly in English. We do not really have an adjective that fully captures the essence of solidarity.

This attribute is probably the one I least expected to evolve during my formation, or at least my understanding of it. Yet, it’s become an important part of who I am. Of course, there is always room to grow in recognizing the interconnectedness of humanity, working for the common good, and caring for and standing with those on the margins. However, Jesuit formation has deepened my understanding of the relational component of solidarity. It is not only about caring for others compassionately; it is about mutuality in relationships and cultivating right relationships.

Pope Francis has written that “solidarity is a way of making history.” It is about reweaving the social fabric of our human family. This is an adventure worth undertaking! And I am inspired by the witness of our forebearers of faith and people across time and space who continue to weave and reweave the threads of human solidarity.

Blessed Rutilio Grande, SJ. When I professed my religious vows as a Jesuit, I chose to take the name Rutilio in honor of Padre Tilo, as he was affectionately known. A Salvadoran Jesuit, Padre Tilo dedicated himself to the socio-pastoral accompaniment of campesino communities in El Salvador. His commitment to stand with the oppressed and excluded ultimately led to his martyrdom, along with two parishioners, Manuel Solórzano and Nelson Rutilio Lemus, who were killed for their faith.

For Padre Tilo, his apostolic work was not driven by ideology or abstract concepts; it began with God — God incarnate, God-with-us. His entire ministry embodied the grace of the Second Week of the Spiritual Exercises: to know Jesus intimately, to love him interiorly, and so to follow him more clearly (n. 104). Padre Tilo found Christ in the poor, to whom the Gospel was not only addressed, but also from whom it was proclaimed. Living among the poor and marginalized, he learned from them — walking with them, listening to their stories and letting their process of transformation unfold from below, not imposed from above. Through this, they formed small Christian communities in which they read the Gospel from their reality. This led to developing their capacity to lead and organize. As Tom Kelly, a friend and Creighton University professor, writes, for Padre Tilo, the Gospel had to “grow feet.”

Padre Tilo allowed the injustices he witnessed in El Salvador to break his heart. The suffering of the poor and oppressed became the starting point for his own transformation. It was through this personal immersion in their reality that he was able to authentically live out the Gospel with them. And Padre Tilo was not a lone ranger; he formed part of a team of Jesuits, religious and lay people committed to accompanying the campesino communities, announcing the kingdom of God and denouncing all that opposed its realization.

Rutilio Grande is one Jesuit — whom I have only read and heard about — that has inspired my vocation. Padre Tilo believed in the church as pueblo de Dios, that all of God’s people, especially those on the margins of society, are invited to sit around the Lord’s table. He embraced the joining of his sacramental and social ministries. And while aware of his inadequacies and constantly fighting with his worthiness to be a priest, Padre Tilo gave himself fully to his priestly vocation, to the point of laying his life down for his friends.

Letter writing. It is truly fascinating! Over 6,700 letters are attributed to St. Ignatius, addressed to Jesuits, benefactors, ecclesial authorities and people seeking spiritual guidance. The tone and content of these letters varied greatly, ranging from apostolic encouragement to matters of governance, to words of spiritual accompaniment.

In the nascent experience of the Society of Jesus, with Jesuits missioned to different parts of the globe, Ignatius’ letters — and those sent by fellow Jesuits — served not only to share important news, but also to edify and encourage. These letters brought to life stories from the streets of Barcelona, the cultural and religious dynamics of Goa, or the missionary efforts in Brazil. I often imagine Ignatius and Francis Xavier exchanging letters, sharing updates about the global Society and insights about missionary work in India.

What strikes me most is how this written correspondence fueled the intrinsic dynamic of the Society of Jesus, uniting Jesuits dispersed across the world in a common mission. These letters helped maintain a sense of belonging, a union of hearts and minds, despite the physical distances and the diversity of apostolic endeavors.

Through these letters — and communication more broadly — Jesuits were not only drawn out, learning about the Gospel being proclaimed in different contexts, the challenges faced and the graces received, but they were also drawn in. It fostered a deep sense of participation in a shared mission, regardless of location or the specific work at hand.

While I do my best to keep the art of letter writing alive, what resonates with me most is the importance of sharing — among Jesuits, friends and those we meet along the way. To learn about the works and ministries others are engaged in, delighting in their successes, holding their struggles in prayer, and sharing my own hopes, dreams, and challenges. All to remain united in heart and mind with all of whom participate in this shared mission.

As I neared the end of my regency in South Sudan, my refugee friends organized a football (soccer) match as a gesture of appreciation for my time with them over the past three years. I am not particularly skilled at sports, nor am I an avid sports watcher, but I cherished spending the late afternoons after work watching the football matches with my refugee friends.

At the end of the game, the players and community leaders invited me to one of their homes. As we sat in a circle, members of the refugee camp took turns expressing their gratitude for my work and for the unwavering support of JRS in accompanying them. What struck me most, however, were the words of one elder. He thanked me for loving his people — for spending time in their homes, sharing meals, playing with their kids, listening to their stories and their dreams, and for working with them for a more dignified life.

I am deeply grateful for this gift of love — both for being loved and for loving in return. It has deepened my sense of love, drawing me ever closer to God’s people, their passions and desires, their hopes and sorrows. Ultimately, this experience has led me closer to God’s love, and I will continue to carry forth a heart that opens freely and abundantly, both in giving and receiving.

South Sudan! As I approached the end of my philosophy studies in Peru, I began discussing potential regency assignments with my provincial and formation director. Initially, our conversations focused on options in Latin America, a place close to my heart. Then, one day, I received an email from my formation director informing me that my provincial wanted me to also consider a regency assignment in the Eastern Africa Province. To be honest, I felt a deep sense of desolation at first. We had spent so much time discussing Latin America, and it is where my heart was set.

After a few weeks of wrestling with the idea, I began to open myself more fully to what my provincial was asking. We started exploring opportunities with the Jesuit Refugee Service (JRS), and the possibility of South Sudan, where I could use my Arabic language skills, emerged. When I spoke with my provincial via Skype, and he shared with me my new mission with JRS in South Sudan, I think he anticipated a bit of resistance, given my strong desire to remain in Latin America for regency. But surprisingly, I felt entirely free and excited — though with many unknowns ahead!

Fast forward to my regency, and I can say that working with JRS in South Sudan has been one of the greatest gifts of my Jesuit life. It immersed me into the gritty realities of humanity, living and working alongside refugee and local communities. I forged deep friendships, expanded my apostolic horizons as a Jesuit, and my desire to become a Jesuit priest was solidified in ways I had not imagined.

Ultimately, it was a real experience of how Jesuit obedience works: being transparent with my desires and prayers, trusting in my provincial and formation director, and being available for the mission proposed and eventually entrusted to me. It also opened horizons in a new and particular way. Through JRS, I had the privilege of making myself fully available to ministering in an apostolate of great priority for the Society and the church. It was truly a mission on the frontiers, where great love and great suffering converge, where dehumanizing forces and structures threaten humanity’s plea for life, where the spiritual and the material are intertwined.

It is hard to mention only one! Throughout my formation, I have been blessed with the support of many — family, friends, colleagues and brother Jesuits — each of whom has shaped and formed me into who I am today. Among them is my Jesuit brother and friend, Fr. Kevin Flaherty. Kevin has accompanied me in more ways than not: as my superior while I was studying in Chicago before heading to Peru for philosophy studies, as my spiritual director during regency, and as a friend and mentor throughout formation.

When I think of Kevin, I am drawn to El Agustino, a marginalized neighborhood on the outskirts of Lima where the Jesuits have ministered for over 50 years. Kevin served there as a parish priest and has remained committed to this community over several decades during his ministry in Peru. I recall him celebrating Mass at the small chapel of San Judas Tadeo, surrounded by families he has baptized, married and buried. I remember him leading the Stations of Cross through the market of El Agustino on Good Friday and accompanying groups from the U.S. Jesuit parishes, high schools and universities, sharing the rich history of a community to which he has given and received so much.

This “composition of place” is important to me because it is from this deep, spiritual and human well in El Agustino that Kevin has offered me his friendship and companionship. What has influenced me most is not his accomplishments or particular ministries — though certainly significant — but rather who Kevin is. Two key themes stand out: consolation and love for the poor.

Kevin is a consoler. Countless times I have sought his counsel — whether about the complexities and hardships of our JRS work in South Sudan, my discernment regarding theology studies or navigating the transitions in formation. Kevin listens attentively, helping me articulate deeper interior movements, name my challenges and face my frustrations. Through his words and actions, Kevin consoles and encourages.

Kevin’s eyes are fixed on Jesus, who entered our gritty reality to be among us, who expressed a great love for the poor and marginalized. Over the years, Kevin has accompanied me in my own journey of loving the poor, listening to their call and allowing myself to be formed by them.