#Chapel of St. Ignatius

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

In The Woods Somewhere

Chapter 4: Ecstasy Of St. Teresa

Summary: Penance through pain….and pleasure.

Pairing: Father Ignatius x nun!afab!Reader

Word Count: ~3.7k

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat 18+!, Hurt/Comfort Galore, Brief Trauma Flashbacks, Ignatius Being The Utmost Sweetest, Body Worship, CONSENT RAAAHHHHH, Unprotected Intercourse, Oral (F Receiving), Tongue Fucking, Freak4Freak

A/N: Alexa, play Take Me To Church by Hozier!

Tagging: @theprettiesthead @midnight-mess @queer-crusader @blueberrypancakesworld @theidiotwhowrites @nelegance @starry-eyed-wild-child

You had Jesus on your breath

And I caught Him in mine

Sweating out confessions

The undone and the divine

- Bedroom Hymns By Florence + The Machine

Cold moisture squelched from the woolen collar of your overdress as the thick and knobbly fingers of Sister Margarite grabbed the fabric in a fistful, the shorter yet much more fierce woman dragging you along the hallway with such haste that you nearly tumbled over in an attempt to catch up with her.

“One should think that you have adapted by now but quite the contrary.”, The hag of a woman huffed the words more to herself than actually addressing you, “No, you still have to act up every now and again, don’t you?”

You followed in quiet, the thin soles of your boots chafing over the floor with each step. You’d known that you had it coming since deciding to ditch lunch to clean yourself up; this particular endeavor somehow changing everything and nothing simultaneously. You still tiptoed around everyone else besides Carla maybe, still the outcast, and now even more so because you carried a secret at the very curve of your lips, one mouthed against them with an intoxicating sense of eagerness.

I will be there.

And you’d do everything you possibly could to make it to the chapel after dark, every little fiber within vibrating and buzzing at the thought alone.

“I am sick of it, Sister.”, The Mother Superior snarled into the cold of the corridor, air heavy and fragrant with the petrichor of rain to come soon, “And since you couldn’t be bothered to join us for breakfast, lunch, or prayer, I figured that you certainly wouldn’t mind being absent at the dinner table as well.”

Well, Sister Margarite wasn’t particularly right nor wrong about that. Most certainly, you enjoyed every second away from the lot of them, however, a clawing hunger for more sustainable things than thrill and adventure had been tugging at your stomach for quite some time now. If things had gone according to your flimsy and more spontaneous than everything else planning, you’d have crawled back to the convent, eyes lowered to the ground and apologetic for your absence, explaining it ad nauseam if Sister Margarite would’ve made you as she usually did; wanting you to steep and simmer in the disdain loaded upon you by the scorching eyes of the Mother Superior - old, pruned up bitch bittered to the core.

However, you could hardly be bothered with thoughts about that for the warmth spreading through your chest was much too fiery, made you feel too high and mighty for the moment because something within had learned that you weren’t the only outlier in disguise roaming these halls, not the only misfit disagreeing with what was being served day in and day out. It gave you an unbeknownst sense of security, feeling like you were in on something so far away from the convent's reach, something that was your very own for once.

“Come now.”, The Mother Superior nearly caused you to stumble over your own feet as she tugged at your dress to make you pick up your pace, “You’ve got some work to do, missy.”

Recalling the moment Sister Margarite had shoved an old wooden bucket and an equally ancient mop into your palms, tugged at the corners of your lips briefly, that was until a new dull flash of pain emitted from your bent kneed pressed against stone tiles.

Penance through physical labor and pain was the hag’s favorite but she couldn’t have possibly known that she was sending you right where you burned to be by commanding you to clean the chapel for next Sunday’s mass. Of course, you’d do that, nodding along whilst she shoved you off, biting down at the soft tissue on the inside of your cheeks not to start laughing.

Yes, Mother Superior, of course, Mother Superior.

“I don’t care if it takes you all night to do it and now you better get on with it, Sister.” She’d wanted for her words to cut through you like a sharpened threat but they didn’t even leave a chink in your steadily growing armor, they evaporated into nothingness by the time the heavy wooden doors to the chapel creaked shut and you were left to yourself; mop and bucket not exactly a sword and a shield but the next best thing around.

Cleaning the nearly fully renovated, round building of the tiny chapel slightly adrift from the gardens was a sisyphean task, all the last bout of pollen from the trees nearby collecting on the pews in a dusty yellow veil during those first days of autumn. Once you swiped them, a new layer manifested out of nowhere just minutes later. Exact same as for the floors - where was the point in scrubbing cold, dead stone anyways? A good brushing with a broom would've done the job just fine. It certainly would've elicited less hatred on your part, knees raw and sore from crawling around on the broad, rectangular cuts of gray stone even through the thick of your slowly drying overdress.

“What are you looking at, huh?” You huffed the question towards the massive wooden crucifix hanging from the roof right behind the altar, an array of candles illuminating the room in warm hues as the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the forest.

Carved and lifeless, half-lidded eyes looked down upon you and you felt the rage coiling and compressing like a pitch-black pit at the very bottom of your stomach.

“Fuck you and your whole lot. There's truly no hate like Christian love. Oh, fuck off.” The frazzled washcloth flew over your shoulder as you threw it away in frustration, wrists sore from scrubbing in circles for hours now.

The doors behind you were creaking and the sudden sound made you jump to your feet, head spinning around in a jolt of panic that it might’ve been Sister Margarite who heard your burst of anger.

“You tell him.” Ignatius raised his hand in a calming manner and nodded towards the solemnly hanging crucifix, drawing an immediate smile to spread on your face; the wash of rage ebbing away and being replaced by a bubbling sensation of nervousness.

“Am I not being burned at the stake?” To calm yourself a little, you brushed over your dress, dust falling off of it and sticking to the freshly wiped floor; sisyphean, truly.

“Hey, if that's what you're into…” He shrugged his shoulders, chest rumbling with a heartfelt chuckle.

“Thanks for reminding me why I believed you to be a total creep.” You reciprocated the tease as you watched him close the door behind him slowly and take a few steps towards you.

“A creep, huh? Says the total weirdo.” Ignatius bickered in return, eyes roaming the chapel, from polished pews to scrubbed stone plates and back to you standing upright and beaming in front of the crucifix.

For a moment, Ignatius took the time and simply admired you. Admired you for surviving this desolate piece of earth, its lack of love and compassion.

“How're the scratches doing?” The sudden remembrance made his voice drop a little.

“They're healing…I think.” You couldn't exactly tell how well they were off just by letting your fingertips run along them.

“Would you mind if I take a look?” You shook your head, waiting for him to stand before you, his presence now a comforting thing in your space and you sensed your heart picking up a beat; treacherous thing.

With slightly knit-together eyebrows, Ignatius pulled the collar to the sides, eyes darting right at thick and hardened scabs protecting the broken skin for it to heal in peace.

“No picking at it, yeah?” His gaze caught yours and your mouth turned dry in the very second.

“Uh-Huh.” You managed, feeling like you were drawn in and drowning by the blue in his eyes.

“Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” Ignatius was well aware of the way you stared at him, he himself was struggling more than just a little to keep his composure, to not just whisk you away and shower you in a myriad of kisses, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, hoping they'd make you forget all about this place for a fraction of time.

“Uh..” There was next to nothing left in your mind as your gaze slowly dropped down to the plush pillow of his bottom lip, the fresh memory of it glistening with your saliva on it short circuiting your train of thought entirely.

You wanted more of exactly that and in a sudden pang you felt bold enough to take it, hand reaching out to grab the priest by the waist and pull him against you, head leaning in and a hungry mouth crashing onto his.

This time, there was nothing holding either if you back, no looming sense of shame about the forbidden, no cold winds whipping at soggy clothes and no pressure to make as much as possible with the smallest amount of time given, nobody could stop you from kissing him into the early hours of the morning and once the spark had flown over, fired up Ignatius just alike, he pushed against you, walking you back in careful steps, his lips not breaking from your for any of it.

“Up.” He hummed into your mouth, gentle hands pawing at the undersides of your thighs to lift you up and sit you back down on top of the altar.

You couldn’t help yourself, fingers awkwardly fumbling at the buttons of his cassock because you didn't know where or how to touch him to begin with, nervousness eventually breaking free and surging through you, making your hands tremble.

In a brief moment of indulgent mindlessness, Ignatius pressed his body between your legs, needing to feel you impossibly close to him, pulling a desperate moan from your throat that had him reeling for his senses.

“Can I touch you?” He mouthed against your lips as he found himself again, slightly scolding himself for slipping up and coming off so strongly again.

“Please do.” You whispered in return, gladly allowing him to take the wheel as his fingers found your wrists, slowly pulling them up for his mouth to only break from the kiss to pepper tender pecks to your roughed-up palms.

His lips nipped at your pulse point, making you shiver with rapidly growing arousal and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint just yet, you only felt it growing within with every next little caress, every gentle ministration feeding into it.

Ignatius took his time with the nonverbal praise of your hands, thanking them for swiping relentlessly, tile for tile, and only dropping them back in your lap to finger at the buttons of his cassock himself, swiftly unbuttoning the gown.

A halfway exhaled breath hitched in the back of your throat as you reached to pull the white collar from around his throat and your eyes widened with mischievous joy as the white thing feathered down onto the ground before you slipped your palm underneath the fabric, fingertips grazing over his chest and up to his shoulder to help him shed and shake the robe like a snake did with its old skin that had lost its use.

The warmth of his body was exhilarating, making you want to touch it all over, trace how his muscles curved when he moved and follow the delicate dip of his collar bones up to the nape of his neck. His gradually uncovered form mesmerized you, eyes transfixed on his alabaster skin.

“Angelic.” The word spilled over your bottom lip like a thick droplet of honey.

“I wouldn't say it like that, but-” You shushed him gently with a look carrying nothing but sincerity about your statement and he caved immediately.

“Please tell me if this is getting too much, yeah?” The warmth in his tone gave you a little whiplash, scenes from a dusty closet and muffled No's and Stop's flashing behind your eyes for a split second.

“Will do.” You shook the distorting images with the nod of your head, not wanting any of it right now.

This time was so vastly different, world's between getting forcefully felt up between brooms and mops and now being cared about by Ignatius. He actually gave a damn and you sensed it with every tender touch of his fingertips, like a paintbrush against canvas. He made you want to trust him, trust him enough to let yourself fall for once.

After lifting your behind off the altar in a little hop, you pulled both the gown and underdress up to your hips, toes pulling at your heels to slip out of your boots, letting them clank down.

“Huh..” You follow Ignatius’ gaze down to your exposed knee, the center brightly red and sore.

“Cleaning.” You stated, a surprised yelp rolling over your tongue as you watched Ignatius slip his hand underneath your leg and lift it until he could put his lips to the brutalized patch of skin.

“Can't have that.” He muttered against your knee before leaving a patchwork of little kisses, the gesture and sensation jolting right between your legs, making you wish for his hand to slide up further but instead of his hand, his lips set off to wander.

You almost forgot to breathe whilst his mouth left a trail of gingerly placed nips and pecks along the inside of your thigh all the while holding eye contact to make sure you were alright. It only broke off as you allowed your head to loll back with a deep moan sounding from your chest, a warm, wet tongue darting out to lap at your throbbing cunt. The very tip of it working itself between soaked folds to get a full taste of you as you helplessly oozed onto the altar, arousal mixing with saliva amidst your thighs.

You hadn't been aware that something could feel just that good, your entire body vibrating every time he hummed into you, the tip of his nose nudging and rubbing against your throbbing clit as the full width of his tongue spearheaded to lick at your inside. You couldn’t fathom the sin in something that filled you with contentment like this, being one breathing, feeling experience with someone, letting them close to share pleasures with. If that was flying too close to the sun then you'd willingly risk catching on fire every day anew. What nonsense titling something as sin just because it brought a godly hue of joy and pleasure to the earthly suffering.

You leaned against the altar, back flat against the stone, allowing Ignatius to take over, to wrap his arms around your thighs and bury himself between your legs, the muscle of his tongue fucking into you slowly. He explored you, every little bit inside and out like you deserved to be discovered; fingers pushing into the supple flesh of your thighs, him searching for all your pleasure points, one after the other until he could make up a steady rhythm, tides of pleasure washing up your spine and down to your toes.

With that, your mind drifted away, pleasantly awash with fireworks of arousal jumping from every synapse to the next, all the pain swallowed up by the pleasure he was gifting to you with every tender nudge of his nose and each writhing motion of his tongue inside of you. This simply couldn’t be compared to you getting yourself off as quickly as possible, heart racing with worry to get caught by either a furious Sister Margarite or whatever God's ever-darting eyes. This was something real for once, an experience that belonged to you and only you, a beaming memory-to-be that you could cradle and invoke for as long and often as you pleased, nobody could take that away from you ever again.

Exhaling flat and labored breaths, you angled your hips further against his face whilst the muscles in your lower abdomen pulled together, each flick against your swollen clit sending a jolt of electric current through your body over and over until your body tensed up for the blink of an eye, your behind arching from the altar and fingers grazing over his scalp as blissful spasms took over.

For the matter of fractions, you forgot about everything and anything, the only thing important to you was knowing Ignatius to be with you in your most vulnerable of moments.

He pulled back and you inhaled, eyes fluttering open to stare at the unmoved crucifix above and a righteous, quick laugh clawed itself from your throat.

“Are you okay?” His tone was laced with amusement and you felt his teeth grazing over your hip bone seconds later, almost swallowing your attempt of forming an answer.

“Yeah.” You mouthed quietly, basking in the afterglow that was seeping through your every muscle; unbridled and content enjoyment, something you'd rarely felt.

After another handful of slow breaths, you worked yourself back up into your elbows, one hand reaching out to pull at the cassock.

You wanted him to get closer, yet, the fabric just slid off his shoulders completely, pooling on the floor in no time.

“Oh, well…” You grinned at him, the world surrounding you standing still for the time being.

He understood your notion, but before looming over you perched on the altar, Ignatius worked himself out of any remaining fabric, be it the layers to his cassock or his shorts underneath.

Pawing hands went straight back to your thighs, broad palms pulling you back just a little and you didn’t dare to break from his blown out eyes, the black of his pupils nearly covering all the blue of them, as you let him take you, thrusting into your still slightly overstimulated cunt, made pliable from the former orgasm. It didn't hurt and a little gasp dropped from your mouth at the sensation of feeling comfortably full, made whole by him.

A gentle hum of his got lost against your heated cheeks as his lips brushed against it on their way to find your mouth, tongue darting out to push past your bottom lip making you taste yourself in a rush of hungry kisses whilst he bottomed out slowly.

You appreciated his gentle and tender ministrations, however, he'd given you a taste and now it turned you greedy and wanting.

“I'm no porcelain.” You egged him on, teeth latching at his bottom lip in return, pulling him with you a little.

“Oh, I'm aware.” Ignatius groaned into your mouth, hands clasping at your thighs to hold you in place as he rolled his hips against you much harsher than before, effectively knocking the air from your lungs.

Your hands darted out to grab at his shoulders, fingernails digging into smooth skin, a little deeper with every thrust, the quickened pace pulling little sighs and groans to trickle from your lips.

“Like that?” You nodded into the crook of his neck as you held on to him, inhaling him in with every streaky breath and feeling the rhythm falter little by little.

An almost pained groan rumbled through your chest as Ignatius eventually tore himself away from you, pulling to send milky white ropes of his spent to drape over your thighs and up to your hip bone, leaving your overworked body to clench around nothing. However, you knew that it had to be like this. Catholic girl's school might not have taught you a whole lot but getting you knocked up on a horny whim like that was not an option in a place like this.

“You good?” The second he'd come down enough from his high, Ignatius’ attention was back on you, glazed-over eyes studying you attentively.

You nodded, tilting your head as you eyed the sticky mess covering your legs.

“Hold on a second!” Ignatius tucked himself back into his shorts, a weirdly modern contrast to the cassock, as he stepped out of the pooling fabric and went to pick up the washcloth you'd discarded over your shoulder earlier.

“That should do it.” He smiled at you as he put the damp piece of fabric to your skin, softly dabbing at it to gingerly wipe himself off of you.

“Thank you.” You watched him clean you up, a comfortable moment of silence spreading between the two of you as he did.

“Of course.” He hummed in return, his forehead leaning against yours after he placed a quick, little kiss on it, his curly copper hair falling against the bridge of your nose.

Smiling contently, you led your fingers to roam his arms upward, fingertips tracing the soft curve of the muscles up to the inside of his elbows, eliciting a poorly choked back sigh from Ignatius. It sounded pained as if you’d accidentally touched something that you shouldn’t have and you immediately retracted your fingers, eyes roaming his skin to find the culprit causing him this sudden push of discomfort but you couldn’t exactly find anything too obvious, nothing but an array of slightly darker spots that looked like a misplaced bunch of freckles.

“What’s that?” You pointed at the patch of skin and watched his gaze drop down to it, lips slightly contorting with the turn of his head.

“I've had a life before taking up the cloth, you know. Would you let me explain over a cigarette?” He proposed, a certain sense of reluctance hanging in the humid air between your bodies.

“Haven’t had one since high school, but sure.” Ignatius��� brows knit together in a mixture of curiosity and surprised amusement.

“High school?” He asked and you answered with a simple, brief nod.

“I’ve had a life before I was put into the cloth, you know?”

[betterbooktitles]

The first time I ever saw someone answer a cell phone in a movie theater was in the middle of a midnight screening of Mel Gibson’s The Passion Of The Christ. A blood-drenched Jim Caviezel was being whipped when I heard “Hello? Yeah, what’s good? I’m in the movie.” My stomach started to bounce as I tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a laugh. My friend Jeremy elbowed me to either egg me on or stop me, knowing the laughter would catch on with the rest of our group: ten other Saint Ignatius High School students who chose to go on an “Urban Immersion” retreat our senior year.

I saw Mr. Grady’s tear-stained face turn in the darkness. He was sitting a row in front of us, and he appeared to be livid. He let out a sharp “shhh!” then looked over to let us know he’d do far worse if we did anything further to disrupt his viewing experience. Disciplinary actions would be taken if we giggled again. Our trip would be cut short. A teacher threatening to send us all home to our parents that week, however, would have been welcomed.

Most Ignatius students went on “Kairos” retreats (Greek: “God’s Time”) that featured three days of camping and praying, followed by a “witness” portion where students arrived back on campus to share, at the center of St. Mary’s chapel, what they’d learned during their period of reflection. Typically, they said “I love you, Dad!” while fighting back tears before running back to their pews. They also wrote letters about their newfound or newly confirmed love of Jesus Christ. I received one of these letters from my best friend who was a year ahead of me. His words moved and excited me. I anticipated my trip all year.

The students in the movie theater with me that night, however, had all signed up for a retreat in which we spent the week living as if on the streets of inner-city Cleveland. The Urban Immersion retreat was four days of sleeping in a church basement, living off the equivalent of food stamps (about $5 a day for groups of four), and eating the rest of our meals at shelters where we also volunteered our time. There was also a “scared straight” period where we sat in a circle of folding chairs at the 2100 men’s shelter my friend Luke’s dad ran and listened to grown men scream about how “crack does not discriminate!” 

Also, we got to see The Passion of The Christ opening night.

Perhaps you read about the record-setting earnings this movie made the week it premiered. The first $125 million was thanks to big groups like ours attending. Also thanks to the guy who had to answer his phone while the Romans killed Christ. I’m not sure how we as mock-poor kids on our immersion trip were supposed to be able to afford the movie ourselves in keeping with the rules, but the timing seemed right, so our teachers took us.

Read the rest here.

[rogrogrog]

Beginning Lent today—Ash Wednesday. Have a blessed Lent to one and all.

Celebrating Valentine’s day as well. ❤️

St. Ignatius Chapel, NYC / Feb. 14, 2024

[hxneyfarm]

woke up thinking about this post and now i have to project on my blorbos a little bit cw: bullying, homophobia, mention of parent death

steve is in the first grade when he first becomes aware of eddie munson. it's a friday, which means he's in chapel alongside all the other students at st matthew's, but this morning is different. this morning they're doing a dress rehearsal for the second graders' first communion this weekend. there's a long line of them, right up the center aisle of the chapel in alternating boy-girl order, and everybody is watching them.

most of the second graders are doing just what they should; standing with their shoulders back, hands in front of them in prayer position, awaiting their turn to get to the front of the sanctuary and take the eucharist from father hyde.

there's one boy, though, who can't seem to stand still.

ants in his pants, as steve's mother would say. and that's no good for chapel, for mass this weekend when the boy will take the holy sacrament for the first time.

he's a little smaller than the rest of his grade, scrawny almost. his hair's a mop of unruly dark curls and he's got big brown eyes that take up most of his face. his faded trousers are an inch or so too short, showing off a strip of white sock beneath. steve's father would have never let him out of the house showing white sock beneath black trousers. the boy's belt is tightened to the very last hole.

sister ignatius hovers behind the boy, just to his right, with her severe brow pulled into a scowl and her long wooden ruler clutched in her hand.

"munson better cool it," tommy whispers at steve's side. "sister ignatius is gonna get him with that ruler of hers."

but eddie munson can't stand still, and he doesn't even get to father hyde before he catches sister ignatius' ruler across the thigh. he looks like his eyes might be welling with tears after she does it, but he stills, and he forces his body to remain as still as possible until the dress rehearsal is through

--

when steve is in the fourth grade, he's chosen to play joseph in st matthew's nativity play. eddie munson - still wild, still scrawny, still incapable of being still or quiet for more than a couple of minutes at a time - has for some godawful reason been chosen as the angel gabriel.

eddie munson doesn't take anything seriously, and the nativity play is no different. during practice and rehearsal, sister ignatius has to chase him all throughout the sanctuary while he dives beneath pews and hides under the altar and inside the hollow back of the pulpit.

steve thinks eddie munson is too old to be acting like this.

when the day finally comes, though, and they perform the nativity, munson delivers. for all the screwing around he did at practice and rehearsal, he really comes through and he shines as gabriel.

he's a touch dramatic, and his voice carries a little further than the rest of them, but there's a man and a woman in the second row of pews that smile at eddie like he is the star of both of their entire worlds as he takes a bow at the end.

the woman is young, her eyes big and dark in the same way eddie munson's are, her hair big and dark and curly. eddie's mother, for sure. the man at her side, though... that's not eddie's dad. steve's not sure how he knows it, but he does.

eddie is scooped into a hug by his mother when all is said and done, and the man at her side lays a companionable hand atop his head.

it's the happiest steve has ever seen eddie munson. the calmest, the most grounded.

--

steve is in the sixth grade when he watches eddie munson get expelled from st matthews.

he heard through the grapevine that eddie's mom died over the summer. he doesn't know the specifics but munson was out of school a lot last spring. they're not friends, barely even acquaintances, so steve doesn't offer any empty condolences when he sees eddie in the hallway between classes their first day back in the fall.

by the end of the week everything falls to shit.

steve's got no idea what or who started it, but when he comes across the scene in the hallway there are three boys surrounding eddie munson. they have eddie on his knees. one boy has a hand fisted in eddie's hair, pulling his head back at an uncomfortable angle, and the two other boys are taking turns hitting him.

the boys are using words that steve has never heard before.

fag. queer. cocksucker.

eddie munson's mouth is bleeding. there's nothing behind his eyes. he looks numb, almost dead himself. the boy holding munson down tightens his hand in his hair and pulls back again.

he says to eddie, "good thing your mom died before she found out what kinda faggot her kid is, huh?" and for the briefest moment, steve sees a flash of fire in his eyes.

and then eddie spits in the face of his attacker. he sprays blood across the other boy's face and all three of them go very very still before dropping eddie in a heap on the ground and running off to find an adult.

steve considers going to eddie, helping him up off the hallway floor, but eddie munson levels him with a hard stare and says, "fuck off."

eddie doesn't come back to st matthews after that, and over the next few years steve begins to hear rumors about him; he worships the devil, he's dealing drugs. he's gay.

--

in the spring of '86, when steve pulls on eddie's battle vest in the hazy nightmare of the upside down, there's a rosary in the pocket.

[sansimeonsims]

Starter interiors of the Jesuit Library and the St. Ignatius Chapel.

I kitbashed this peculiar looking shelf to hide the fact that none of the antique bookshelves hold any skill learning books when placed in a library.

I forgot that ornate ceiling was up there. They appear in my reference images so I'll have to find a way to fix everything so they match the new arrangement of the chandeliers.

Players are gonna hate loading this lot and the church for the sheer volume of material within alone. :(

[sweetswannylawson]

St. Ignatius Chapel in Ignacio, Colorado

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (May 15)

Isidore was born in 1070 in Madrid, Spain. His family was poor. He labored as a farmer on the land owned by a rich man named John de Vergas.

He was very pious and such a good worker that de Vergas allowed him to worship daily in the chapel on his property.

He was often accused by his fellow workers of neglecting his duties because he made prayer a higher priority.

Isidore eventually married a woman named Mary and they had a son. However, their son died while still very young.

Through this, they realized that it was the will of God for them not to have children, so they lived together chastely for the rest of their lives by doing good works.

Although he remained poor, he gave whatever he could spare to those in need.

One tale says that as he walked to the mill one day, he stopped and gave half of the corn in his sack to the hungry birds. By the time he got to the mill, his sack had miraculously filled up again.

He died on 15 May 1130 of natural causes.

Many miracles and cures have been reported at his grave in which his body remains incorruptible.

He was beatified in Rome on 2 May 1619 by Pope Paul V.

He was canonized nearly three years later by Pope Gregory XV, along with Saints Ignatius of Loyola, Francis Xavier, Teresa of Ávila, and Philip Neri on 12 March 1622.

He is the patron saint of agricultural workers and the United States National Rural Life Conference.

The story of St. Isidore is a reminder of the dignity of work and that ordinary life can lead to holiness.

[places-djp]

The Chapel of St. Ignatius

[ultraheydudemestuff]

St. Ignatius High School

1911 W. 30th St. at Carroll Ave.

Cleveland, OH

Saint Ignatius High School is a private Jesuit boys high school in the Ohio City neighborhood of Cleveland, Ohio. Founded in 1886 by a German Jesuit on the invitation of Bishop Richard Gilmour, the school was originally a six-year secondary school based on the German Gymnasium that was to be attended after the completion of six years of grammar school. Saint Ignatius High School remains at its original location at 1911 West 30th Street. The campus includes the original structure, now known as the Main Building, which was completed in 1891 and is now a designated Cleveland Historic Landmark. Separate four-year high school and college programs were formed in 1902, with the college changing its name to John Carroll University in 1923 and moving out of the Cleveland location to neighboring University Heights, Ohio, in 1935. From 1904 to 1917 St. Ignatius operated a summer retreat and science campus, in Vermilion, known as Loyola-on-the-Lake. On January 21, 1974, Saint Ignatius was added to the National Register of Historic Places.

Other buildings are Loyola Hall (originally St. Mary of the Assumption Elementary School), Clavius Science Center, Saint Mary of the Assumption Chapel (named after a church that once was located on the current campus), Gibbons Hall, Kesicki Hall (which now houses the Welsh Academy), The Carfagna Family Magis Athletic Center, Father Sullivan, S.J. Gymnasium, Murphy Field House, Kyle Field, and the O'Donnell Athletic Complex, which houses Wasmer Field and Dale Gabor Track. In addition, the $11.5 million Breen Center for the Performing Arts replaced the Xavier Center in August 2009. It houses all student performing arts programs and hosts many events for other local arts groups. A new $3.3 million cafeteria has replaced the former Student Center, stage, senior lounge, and cooking areas. It was renamed the Rade Dining Hall. Both the St. Mary of the Assumption Chapel and the Murphy Field House projects were funded and overseen by Murlan J. Murphy.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 8.15 (before 1800)

636 – Arab–Byzantine wars: The Battle of Yarmouk between the Byzantine Empire and the Rashidun Caliphate begins. 717 – Arab–Byzantine wars: Maslama ibn Abd al-Malik begins the Second Arab Siege of Constantinople, which will last for nearly a year. 718 – Arab–Byzantine wars: Raising of the Second Arab Siege of Constantinople. 747 – Carloman, mayor of the palace of Austrasia, renounces his position as majordomo and retires to a monastery near Rome. His brother, Pepin the Short, becomes the sole ruler (de facto) of the Frankish Kingdom. 778 – The Battle of Roncevaux Pass takes place between the army of Charlemagne and a Basque army. 805 – Noble Erchana of Dahauua grants the Bavarian town of Dachau to the Diocese of Freising 927 – The Saracens conquer and destroy Taranto. 982 – Holy Roman Emperor Otto II is defeated by the Saracens in the Battle of Capo Colonna, in Calabria. 1018 – Byzantine general Eustathios Daphnomeles blinds and captures Ibatzes of Bulgaria by a ruse, thereby ending Bulgarian resistance against Emperor Basil II's conquest of Bulgaria. 1038 – King Stephen I, the first king of Hungary, dies; his nephew, Peter Orseolo, succeeds him. 1057 – King Macbeth is killed at the Battle of Lumphanan by the forces of Máel Coluim mac Donnchada. 1070 – The Pavian-born Benedictine Lanfranc is appointed as the new Archbishop of Canterbury in England. 1096 – Starting date of the First Crusade as set by Pope Urban II. 1185 – The cave city of Vardzia is consecrated by Queen Tamar of Georgia. 1224 – The Livonian Brothers of the Sword, a Catholic military order, occupy Tarbatu (today Tartu) as part of the Livonian Crusade. 1237 – Spanish Reconquista: The Battle of the Puig between the Moorish forces of Taifa of Valencia against the Kingdom of Aragon culminates in an Aragonese victory. 1248 – The foundation stone of Cologne Cathedral, built to house the relics of the Three Wise Men, is laid. (Construction is eventually completed in 1880.) 1261 – Michael VIII Palaiologos is crowned as the first Byzantine emperor in fifty-seven years. 1281 – Mongol invasion of Japan: The Mongolian fleet of Kublai Khan is destroyed by a "divine wind" for the second time in the Battle of Kōan. 1310 – The city of Rhodes surrenders to the forces of the Knights of St. John, completing their conquest of Rhodes. The knights establish their headquarters on the island and rename themselves the Knights of Rhodes. 1430 – Francesco Sforza, lord of Milan, conquers Lucca. 1461 – The Empire of Trebizond surrenders to the forces of Sultan Mehmed II. This is regarded by some historians as the real end of the Byzantine Empire. Emperor David is exiled and later murdered. 1483 – Pope Sixtus IV consecrates the Sistine Chapel. 1511 – Afonso de Albuquerque of Portugal conquers Malacca, the capital of the Malacca Sultanate. 1517 – Seven Portuguese armed vessels led by Fernão Pires de Andrade meet Chinese officials at the Pearl River estuary. 1519 – Panama City, Panama is founded. 1534 – Ignatius of Loyola and six classmates take initial vows, leading to the creation of the Society of Jesus in September 1540. 1537 – Asunción, Paraguay is founded. 1540 – Arequipa, Peru is founded. 1549 – Jesuit priest Francis Xavier comes ashore at Kagoshima (Traditional Japanese date: 22 July 1549). 1592 – Imjin War: At the Battle of Hansan Island, the Korean Navy, led by Yi Sun-sin, Yi Eok-gi, and Won Gyun, decisively defeats the Japanese Navy, led by Wakisaka Yasuharu. 1599 – Nine Years' War: Battle of Curlew Pass: Irish forces led by Hugh Roe O'Donnell successfully ambush English forces, led by Sir Conyers Clifford, sent to relieve Collooney Castle. 1695 – French forces end the bombardment of Brussels. 1760 – Seven Years' War: Battle of Liegnitz: Frederick the Great's victory over the Austrians under Ernst Gideon von Laudon.

[egcarlos]

Food, Faith and Family

As the end of June was approaching, the health of my grandfather started to deteriorate. So, I decided to set a trip to the Philippines to arrive on July 20, not knowing that he would pass away July 18th.

It’s not like it was totally unexpected, my grandfather is the type to not tell anyone what is wrong or what is bothering him. His pain tolerance is incredulously high, so for him to tell us that he wanted to go to the hospital around the second week of July, we knew something was up. It was a stressful 2 weeks for all my family, not only those who were actually present in the Philippines, but also for me as I was the one trying to coordinate and approve lab work and procedures for my grandfather. It was very difficult trying to communicate with doctors several thousand miles away in a different time zone. I regret having lost my patience with them at times and questioned their motives as the treatment they were offering my grandfather was sort of disjointed and scattered. At the end of the day though, that afternoon on July 18th that I got the news that he passed, I thought, It’s probably for the better.

He was almost 85 years old and lived a beautiful life filled with so many accomplishments, friendships and service to his community. His success and sacrifice in turn gave my mom the opportunity to find her own, starting the domino effect of leading me to where I am today. In the Philippines, it is custom to have a more extended wake filled with multiple services and prayers. For almost a whole week, I spent majority of my day in the chapel where my grandfather's body was being displayed socializing with my cousins (who slept in the chapel at night!), meeting relatives I haven’t seen in years and being able to spend quality time with some of my best friends from the Philippines who love and admire my grandfather as well. Despite it being a wake, followed by the funeral on the very last day, it really felt more like a party with laughter, lots of food and prayers. The only two things missing from making it a true Filipino party was the beer and the karaoke!

Faith, food and family are so intertwined in my culture. I guess you can say that about a lot of other cultures as well, but it is just so apparent every time I head back home. Churches, religious articles and catholic figures are everywhere. In Ususan, my hometown, today actually is the feast day of St. Ignatius (July 31st) and for the past week there has been a night market filled with street food to celebrate his feast day. It made me reflect and think about faith again, as I haven’t been the stand-up ‘good’ catholic the past several years. I’ll attend mass every now and then, but if I don’t have my family or my parents around, more likely than not, I probably won’t go. I don’t want to say that I’ve lost my faith, its just that I think my faith has changed or more so, the expression of my faith has changed. I am very thankful to grow up in the family that I have who grew up believing in God and going to church as my faith became a foundation for my life from the start. There were many times during undergraduate and medical school that I prayed so hard to be able to get through my classes and exams. Having faith gave me humility and gave me a reason to hope bringing me to where I am today. It's just that now, it just really feels like I’m actually able to live my faith out. I have the ability to serve God’s people; I am able to go to work everyday and give them the opportunity to be healthy and also serve God’s people as well. What touches me so much about the Chirstian faith is that we believe that God came down to earth and took up our own flesh and blood to live, suffer and sacrifice like us. It gives our humanity, our pain and our struggles meaning. There is significance in our everyday lives and struggles because God thought that it was significant enough for God to experience life as we know it. Each life is supposed to be significant, meaningful; each life matters. I think one of the gravest of sins is when we don’t acknowledge the humanity of a person. When countries (developing or developed) don’t acknowledge the significance, the importance and the holiness of one life, well, I think that this is when God gets the most mad and disappointed. Paul Farmer, infectious disease doctor and anthropologist and founder of Partners in Health said, “The idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that is wrong with the world.” When a 5 year old living in the Democratic Republic of Congo dies from malnutrition or malaria, or when an unhoused individual from Skid Row in Los Angeles dies from Hepatitis C or when billionaires make their money on the back of the poor- I think this is when God actually gets the most disappointed. I guess, at the end, one can say that my religious practices have changed, but I still think that my faith has always stayed the same. I am a product of my past and my past, being Filipino, is also filled with a lot of family, food and faith. One of the many beautiful memories that I have of my grandfather is that whenever we would talk in the phone, he would always make a point saying that

Lagi kitang pinagdadasal, or  I am always praying for you And yes, I believe that his prayers worked. And now, he is continuing to pray for me and my family up in heaven. We love you Lolo.

[riyalissst]

One of the reasons for going back to Davao City was to visit my patron saints. 😇

1-2. San Pedro Cathedral

3. St. Ignatius Chapel in my alma mater, AdDU

4. St. Anne

5-6. Sacred heart of Jesus

7-8. St. Jude

I call them my dearest friends. 🤍

[tunglo]

Reynolds Newspaper, Feb 2nd 1868. Report on an anti-ritualist lecture in London, featuring Brothers Stanislaus, Edmund and Osmund...

Mr. J. B. Hughes, who was habited in monk's attire, with crucifix and knotted rope ("for the purpose of illustration") said he was "Brother Stanislaus" in the Church of Rome, and retained that appellation when he was admitted to the monastery of Norwich. A new order, "the Order of St. William of Norwich," was founded when he entered, and he was made superior or provost. He was recommended to it, on desiring to leave the Church of Rome, by the Rev. Archer Gurney, of Paris, and went there believing it to be a Church of England institution, but he soon found that it was more Popish than the system he had left. 

Part of his duty was to confess the boys, and that he did strictly according to the Romish system, knowing no other. In the confessional he had been compelled to put questions which would horrify the meeting if he dared to repeat them, and he had no hesitation in saying that the records of the Reformation never laid bare greater enormides than those which were practised amongst the men in the Norwich Monastery - men they were not, but fiends in human shape. 

George Mills, a youth of seventeen, was called forward, and answered questions put to him by the chairman. He said he was formerly an inmate of the Benedictine Monastery at Norwich, and was known as "Brother Edmund," of "the Order of St. William." The members of the order were certainly not the most virtuous, pious, or elevated persons in the world. He underwent penance on various occasions. He had to lie prostrate three or four hours with his arms and legs extended, and to lick the dust off the floor in the form of a cross.

A gentleman in the room said: Are you prepared to state what that was for?

Mills said that would be going too far. How he got into the monastery was in this way: He attended the chapel services as other lads did, and Ignatius, having noticed him, asked him if he would blow the bellows. Afterwards Ignatius and the Rev. Gideon Ouseley got him up stairs, and persuaded him to enter the monastery, much against the wish of his mother (his father being dead). 

His mother, after the lapse of some time, managed to get him out. Ignatius was away at the time, and the brother who had charge of the monastery during his absence was in bed drunk. The inmates had great difficulty in communicating with their parents and others. They could only see them through a sort of cage, and in the presence of some official of the monastery.

The Chairman: Was there a course of proceeding there too disgraceful to tell a public assembly, and too horrible to contemplate?

Mills: Yes, there was.

John Meadows, a youth of about the same age, was then called, and said he was known in the monastery as "Brother Stanislaus," a name given to him before Mr. Hughes entered. He could endorse what Mills had stated. Father Ignatius behaved with extreme cruelty to him.

The Chairman: Were things done in the monastery which were disgraceful and unfit to talk about?

Meadows: Yes, and unfit to be thought about.

George Nobbs said he went to the monastery when he was thirteen years of age, and was called "Brother Osmund." He had held a situation at a wine merchants, but went so often to the monastery and to St. Lawrence Church that his master discharged him. Ignatius told him to follow him, and he would be like Peter and the other apostles. 

He agreed with Mills and Meadows that most demoralizing proceedings took place in the monastery. He was one shut up in a room in solitary confinement for five days, and once had all his hair out off because Ignatius thought he was proud of himself. Ignatius said it did not become "Williamites" to be vain.

[harveyspictures]

 Magnolia Tree in bloom. April 17, 2021. St Ignatius Chapel, Port Tobacco Maryland.

[thetraveler2023]

The Monumental Things! 

Italy is home to a copious amount of famous paintings, sculptures, and monuments. Some monuments in particular that I look forward to going to see and visit are the Sistine Chapel and the Caravaggio Calling of Saint Matthew and Inspiration of St. Matthew which is located at The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew in the Church of St.Louis of the French, Rome. Also the ​​Pozzo Glorification of Saint Ignatius on the Sant'Ignazio ceiling fresco located in the nave of Sant'Ignazio, Rome. All my life I’ve heard references to the famous Sistine Chapel so it would be nice to finally see it in the flesh for myself. The structure itself is fascinating and inside it is filled with a seemingly endless amount of artwork such as Michelangelo’s painting depicting God and Adam with the hands almost touching. Then you have the Caravaggio Calling of Saint Matthew with a very dramatic light shining down on Matthew depicting he’s being specially chosen by God. However, the one I’m especially excited to see is the ​​Pozzo Glorification of Saint Ignatius with its magnificently realistic and almost trance-like appearance created during the Baroque period. In this painting it shows Saint Ignagius being received into heaven along with many angels and people groups from all over the world, specifically the four major continents.