For his journey to Rome Ignatius wanted to give up all human security and rely completely on God’s providence. Brian Grogan SJ explains how he got on.
During his final months in Manresa, Ignatius was eager ‘to help other people who came looking for him to discuss the affairs of their souls’ and he used to give lectures in the little chapel of Santa Lucia to the devout women who had become his followers. But he became ill on a number of occasions.
Once, for a whole week he remained in a state of complete prostration that gravely concerned the families who cared for him. Ines Pascual blamed her own negligence for this mysterious sickness and set out to cure it with her infallible remedy for all ailments – chicken soup! The winter of 1522 was exceptionally cold, and the solicitous women were successful in their efforts to make him dress properly. He put on shoes and covered his head ‘with a large bonnet of very coarse cloth shaped like a little beret.’
‘The time he had set for his departure to Jerusalem was drawing near. So, at the beginning of the year 1523, he left for Barcelona in order to set sail.’ His time spent in Manresa was not lost. Later, he would designate this period in his life as his ‘primitive church’ phase.
Never would he forget the people of Manresa who gave him food and lodging. The town kept remembrances of its own: his sackcloth gown and his belt were regarded as relics. Many places became stamped by the memory of his presence.
Without knowing who he had been, people followed him because they knew what he had become. The ever-kind Ines Pascual provided the pilgrim with a room in Barcelona. He was a guest who caused no inconvenience. He had a place where he could sleep and pray. That was all he needed, because he followed the same daily schedule in Barcelona that he had in Manresa.
His main goal in Barcelona was to book a passage on a ship bound for Rome, and that was not a difficult thing to do. But over and above this, Ignatius wanted free passage and he wanted to go alone. On this adventure he would give up all human security and live totally dependent on Providence alone.
Many people who held him in high regard argued with him that it was only reasonable that he team up with someone on this trip because he spoke neither Italian nor Latin. He said that he would not accept any company or protection, because ‘his whole purpose was to have God alone for refuge.’
‘He wanted to exercise the virtues of charity, faith and hope. If he had a companion, he would expect help when he was hungry, and if he should fall down, he would expect him to help him get up and he would also confide in him and on this account would feel affection for him.’
What he said came right from his heart. It was with such a disposition that he wanted to set sail, not merely all by himself, but also with no provisions for the journey.
The ship’s master gave him free passage, but forbade him to embark unless he had the prescribed amount of biscuit to last him on the journey. This posed a problem of conscience for him. He began to ask himself, ‘Is this the faith you have in God who would not fail you?’
He brought his dilemma to a confessor who recommended he take a middle course. He would embark with the biscuit, but to get it he would have to beg for it. And so he began to beg for the sole purpose of collecting provisions for his journey.
One woman lectured him on the point as follows: ‘You certainly seem to me an evil man, going around this way as you do. You would do better to go back to your own home, instead of wandering around the world like a good-for-nothing.’ The pilgrim accepted the reproach and agreed that he was a sinner and a good-for-nothing. Struck by this, the good woman gave the pilgrim bread, wine, and other items for his voyage.
Another woman asked him: ‘Where are you sailing?’ He answered with a half-truth and said he was going to Rome. ‘So,’ said she, ‘you want to go to Rome, do you? Well, there is no telling how those who go there come back.’ This woman did not have a high opinion of Renaissance Rome. Along with such exhortations and lectures, the pilgrim managed also to collect his provisions. In fact, he even counted a surplus of six coins that he scrupulously left behind on a waterfront bench.
While waiting for his ship to sail, the pilgrim sought out ‘spiritual persons’ as he called them, persons who could understand his interior state. But only one found favour in his eyes. This was the old Manresan woman mentioned before, who was nameless and who had asked God that Jesus might appear to him. She was ‘a woman of many years, who for a long time had been a servant of God. She was known as such in many parts of Spain, so much so that the Catholic King had called her once to seek her advice.’
He noted that ‘she was the only one who seemed to be deeply versed in the spiritual life.’ As time passed, he became more mature, less dependent, and given to greater solitude. ‘After leaving Barcelona, he lost for good this eagerness to seek out spiritual persons.’
To be continued
For pondering: How deeply do I try to depend on Providence?
This article first appeared in The Messenger (January 2009), a publication of the Irish Jesuits.
