The image of life as a journey of exile and return home has always appealed to me. Like many Irish people, I’ve moved around a lot. Brought up on a farm in Northern Ireland, I couldn’t wait to get away from it. Later, working in computers in England in 1988, I had my first existential crisis. Even though I had a great job and everything materially, I had no inner peace or enjoyment and had let go of my faith. Finally, the stress forced me to face that something was wrong. In desperation, I signed up for a Benedictine retreat on the Isle of Wight to get some clarity. That weekend, even though I was left largely to my own devices, simply walking and reflecting, was to mark a turning point.
One evening, I sat alone at night in the monastery chapel, which was lit only by the red sanctuary lamp. Then something happened, as simple and as complex as knowing that I was loved. I was loved by family and friends, but this only hinted at a deeper loving presence. This understanding became the light that illuminated my then-superficial lifestyle and egoism; I was ashamed of how far I had drifted. Like the Prodigal Son, I realized I had to begin the journey back home to who I really was. This search, which initially involved emigrating to Australia for a fresh start, would bring me into contact with the Jesuits, and I returned to Ireland to enter the order several years later.
The key Bible story for me was that of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15:11–32. It was such an extraordinary story, because it was so counter to my initial faith experience. How could I be reinstated as a child of God after all the mistakes I had made? What kind of parent would go to such great lengths for me? Crucially, it was this parental unconditional love that reminded me of who I was, thawed my numb heart, revealed my mistakes, and brought me back home. It is only in the light of God’s love that I could “wake up,” realize my mistakes, and find the way back.
There is no doubt that the yuppie lifestyle of consumerism and materialism I had been living before that retreat had begun to corrode my soul. The Catholic values with which I’d been raised finally began to re-emerge as I prioritized prayer, faith, and helping others. I could relate to St. Ignatius Loyola in his journey from swashbuckling courtier to penitential pilgrim. His spiritual wake-up call that came from realizing that God was calling him in a radically different direction resonated with me. I knew personally what Ignatius meant by “desolation,” this moving away from God and my true self. Like Ignatius, my deep sense of unease and restlessness was the impetus to revive my lapsed faith, explore my inner life, and get some direction forward. Something deep in me had rebelled against narrow individualism and consumerism, impelling me to act and choose another life path.
The discovery of our true identity in God and the sense of being forgiven and embraced in God’s mercy changes hearts and lives.
Image: Hans Thoma, “The Prodigal Son,” 1885. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.
