Ignatian Spirituality: Set the World Ablaze
John Predmore, S.J., is a USA East Province Jesuit and was the pastor of Jordan's English language parish. He teaches art and directs BC High's adult spiritual formation programs. Formerly a retreat director in Gloucester, Massachusetts. Ignatian Spirituality is given through guided meditations, weekend-, 8-day, and 30-day Retreats based on The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. Ignatian Spirituality serves the contemporary world as people strive to develop a friendship with God.
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Tuesday, April 7, 2026
Monday, April 6, 2026
Poem: “Early While It Was Yet Dark” By: Alice Meynell
All night had shout of men and cry
Of woeful women filled his way;
Until that noon of sombre sky
On Friday, clamor and display
Smote him; no solitude had he,
No silence, since Gethsemane.
Public was death; but power, but might,
But life again, but victory,
Were hushed within the dead of night,
The shuttered dark, the secrecy,
And all alone, alone, alone
He rose again behind the stone.
Sunday, April 5, 2026
Spirituality: Salvation
Saturday, April 4, 2026
Poem: “I Thirst” By: Evelyn Varboncoeur
Lord, why speak this word – “I thirst” – with your last breath?
Don’t you know that the last words of the dying
Are etched in the memories of the living?
Are pondered in their hearts?
Are cherished as reflecting the full stature of the life of the dying one?
Ah – could it be that this is your intent?
Could it be that this word is a parable,
As were so many words spoken during your life?
Those of us who were with you
Have heard you speak this word before –
To the woman of Samaria.
And your thirst became in her
“a fountain welling of living water leaping up to eternal life.”
Is this your intent now?
To make known to us this soul-thirst of yours,
This God-sized soul-thirst?
Once again – in your last breath
You cry out your thirst – this time to us
So that for all ages
Your thirst might again become a fountain of living water in us.
Let this word be etched in our memories
Pondered in our hearts
Cherished as reflecting the full stature of your life.
Friday, April 3, 2026
Poem: "Gethsemane" by Mary Oliver
The grass never sleeps. Or the roses. Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning. Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept. The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet, and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body, and heaven knows if it ever sleeps. Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did, maybe the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn't move, maybe the lake far away, where once he walked as on a blue pavement, lay still and waited, wild awake. Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not keep that vigil, how they must have wept, so utterly human, knowing this too must be a part of the story.
Thursday, April 2, 2026
Poem: "The Last Supper” By: Rainer Maria Rilke
round him, who like a sage resolved his fate,
and now leaves those to whom he most belonged,
leaving and passing by them like a stranger.
The loneliness of old comes over him
which helped mature him for his deepest acts;
now he will once again walk through the olive grove,
and those who love him still will flee before his sight.
To this last supper he has summoned them,
and (like a shot that scatters birds from trees)
their hands draw back from reaching for the loaves
upon his word: they fly across to him;
they flutter, frightened, round the supper table
searching for an escape. But he is present
everywhere like an all-pervading twilight hour.




