Ignatius Legacy Book Entry- as written by Hayden Butler
Ignatius, a group within the tenth graduating class of the Torrey Honors Institute, concurs with the words of legacy of those who have gone ahead, and does hereby leave its legacy for the edification of those who are to come.
We were an unlikely group of people. From our first days together, our ambitions for togetherness seemed as though they must surely succeed or utterly fail. We did both, or perhaps neither. For while we were uncommon in our compassion for one another, it seemed as though we always treaded the narrow path between an unconsidered amity and a recurring propensity for schism. Nevertheless, we loved one another as best as we knew how, and it is for that great endeavor that so many of us endured so to be able to leave this legacy. Our group was not in the habit of doing things in hesitating, half-hearted attempts. If we came to believe that something was good, we dove headlong into the pursuit. Even though this cost us innumerable bruises, breaks, and stitches (both literal and figurative), we were committed to the
conviction that a life well-lived was possessed of great devotion, of unwavering passion.
It should have come as no surprise, then, when love bloomed early in our time together. Those early days were a time of nigh unmitigated wonder. The blossoming romances were a sweet breeze that wafted through the branches under which we spent so many carefree moments. This time was not merely the venue for couples to form, although they did so beautifully. It was romantic in the old sense, when the world came alive for us to enjoy. Breathing in such splendid draughts of the world around us, even the commonplace took on a sort of awe. As such, the Ignatius tree outside of Sutherland Hall took on mythic qualities. It would be cynical to think that with as much laughter as we expended beneath her boughs, that we did not give the place a bit of magic through our mirth.
Paradoxically, we were also a group particularly touched by grief. It was not long into our journey together that terrible pain descended upon us. Perhaps it was an early test of our group’s resolve, an arena wherein we might practice the ideals to which we aspired. In any case, we were assiduous in our care for one another, in bearing one another up. We often studied and lived in a sense of contradiction; we knew times both high and low, and we sometimes wondered if these parallel truths did not make our love and joy more necessary and palpable.
We were not nearly as serious as we might have been, all things considered. Opportunities for frivolity, both actual and contrived, were seized upon with tenacity and acuity. We knew how to have a good time. Parties abounded in during class sessions, including a few half-birthday parties when the mood struck. The event that became known as “Thursday night adventure” developed under the leering Wal-Mart management or whiles a poor fast-food cashier patiently awaited payment in nickels and dimes from desk tops and sock drawers. One must never forget the infamous Ignatius-Sayers progressively-full-contact football game, the final score of which being one concussion to zero in our favor.
The relations between our men and women were complex. There was never a topic so disputed amongst our group as how we should behave toward one another (this statement is made with full respect to the near-melees that were our Eusebius, Calvin, and Chaucer sessions). It would be naïve to say that we were perfect in our perspectives. It would be cynical to say that we utterly failed. We did our best, and were always reflecting upon how we might do better. Amid these contemplations, there was a beautiful irony in the fact that we kept falling in love. The men were committed to a fervent standard of honor, and we did all within our ability to foster a community of brothers, even to the point of commandeering the lower floor of Sigma Chi. We were dissatisfied with faltering expectations for masculinity, and sought the Lord’s wisdom as to how we could be men above-reproach in a world of fractured identity. While the women tended to eschew commandeering, being naturally social we met in community in the various dorms to foster spiritual growth through Bible study and prayer, and personal growth amidst a network of
encouragement and support. We sought together what it meant to be women of God and ladies in an era of damaging feministic perspectives, and we respected, honored, and encouraged the men in their dedication to Godly behavior and chivalry.
We grew together for two years, and as a grain of wheat falls to the earth and scatters to the wind, so did our group disperse to other groups, to abroad programs, etc. There remained, however, a sense of belonging to the group that had formed us in the springtime of our journeys, and we would often reunite after a time to remember from whence we had come and renew our friendships. During this time, some of our number finished early, and some went on to other pursuits. We even gained members from other groups, which added diversity and a greater fullness to our community.
Twilight came abruptly for our group, and before we were fully cognizant of the fact, we were watching our friends graduate, start careers, or get married. Growing up had caught us off guard as a group, but we became increasingly aware that we had matured through our experiences, that we were different people. It seemed that an element of sadness pervaded our group for a time; our group was moving apart. In our final semester, however, we saw a reunion of sorts as most of our remaining members joined together for one final class.
Even as these words are written, the north wind has come upon us and we must now move onward. Our time has come and gone, and the time for those who are to follow must soon arrive. Only mark this down: we were a group of simplicity that ran the course of our college years in such a way that to the best of our ability we not only finished our race, but did so together. Glory be to our Lord Jesus Christ, for whose kingdom we anxiously await, that our own community might be made complete by the love that moves the sun and the furthest star.
We were an unlikely group of people. From our first days together, our ambitions for togetherness seemed as though they must surely succeed or utterly fail. We did both, or perhaps neither. For while we were uncommon in our compassion for one another, it seemed as though we always treaded the narrow path between an unconsidered amity and a recurring propensity for schism. Nevertheless, we loved one another as best as we knew how, and it is for that great endeavor that so many of us endured so to be able to leave this legacy. Our group was not in the habit of doing things in hesitating, half-hearted attempts. If we came to believe that something was good, we dove headlong into the pursuit. Even though this cost us innumerable bruises, breaks, and stitches (both literal and figurative), we were committed to the
conviction that a life well-lived was possessed of great devotion, of unwavering passion.
It should have come as no surprise, then, when love bloomed early in our time together. Those early days were a time of nigh unmitigated wonder. The blossoming romances were a sweet breeze that wafted through the branches under which we spent so many carefree moments. This time was not merely the venue for couples to form, although they did so beautifully. It was romantic in the old sense, when the world came alive for us to enjoy. Breathing in such splendid draughts of the world around us, even the commonplace took on a sort of awe. As such, the Ignatius tree outside of Sutherland Hall took on mythic qualities. It would be cynical to think that with as much laughter as we expended beneath her boughs, that we did not give the place a bit of magic through our mirth.
Paradoxically, we were also a group particularly touched by grief. It was not long into our journey together that terrible pain descended upon us. Perhaps it was an early test of our group’s resolve, an arena wherein we might practice the ideals to which we aspired. In any case, we were assiduous in our care for one another, in bearing one another up. We often studied and lived in a sense of contradiction; we knew times both high and low, and we sometimes wondered if these parallel truths did not make our love and joy more necessary and palpable.
We were not nearly as serious as we might have been, all things considered. Opportunities for frivolity, both actual and contrived, were seized upon with tenacity and acuity. We knew how to have a good time. Parties abounded in during class sessions, including a few half-birthday parties when the mood struck. The event that became known as “Thursday night adventure” developed under the leering Wal-Mart management or whiles a poor fast-food cashier patiently awaited payment in nickels and dimes from desk tops and sock drawers. One must never forget the infamous Ignatius-Sayers progressively-full-contact football game, the final score of which being one concussion to zero in our favor.
The relations between our men and women were complex. There was never a topic so disputed amongst our group as how we should behave toward one another (this statement is made with full respect to the near-melees that were our Eusebius, Calvin, and Chaucer sessions). It would be naïve to say that we were perfect in our perspectives. It would be cynical to say that we utterly failed. We did our best, and were always reflecting upon how we might do better. Amid these contemplations, there was a beautiful irony in the fact that we kept falling in love. The men were committed to a fervent standard of honor, and we did all within our ability to foster a community of brothers, even to the point of commandeering the lower floor of Sigma Chi. We were dissatisfied with faltering expectations for masculinity, and sought the Lord’s wisdom as to how we could be men above-reproach in a world of fractured identity. While the women tended to eschew commandeering, being naturally social we met in community in the various dorms to foster spiritual growth through Bible study and prayer, and personal growth amidst a network of
encouragement and support. We sought together what it meant to be women of God and ladies in an era of damaging feministic perspectives, and we respected, honored, and encouraged the men in their dedication to Godly behavior and chivalry.
We grew together for two years, and as a grain of wheat falls to the earth and scatters to the wind, so did our group disperse to other groups, to abroad programs, etc. There remained, however, a sense of belonging to the group that had formed us in the springtime of our journeys, and we would often reunite after a time to remember from whence we had come and renew our friendships. During this time, some of our number finished early, and some went on to other pursuits. We even gained members from other groups, which added diversity and a greater fullness to our community.
Twilight came abruptly for our group, and before we were fully cognizant of the fact, we were watching our friends graduate, start careers, or get married. Growing up had caught us off guard as a group, but we became increasingly aware that we had matured through our experiences, that we were different people. It seemed that an element of sadness pervaded our group for a time; our group was moving apart. In our final semester, however, we saw a reunion of sorts as most of our remaining members joined together for one final class.
Even as these words are written, the north wind has come upon us and we must now move onward. Our time has come and gone, and the time for those who are to follow must soon arrive. Only mark this down: we were a group of simplicity that ran the course of our college years in such a way that to the best of our ability we not only finished our race, but did so together. Glory be to our Lord Jesus Christ, for whose kingdom we anxiously await, that our own community might be made complete by the love that moves the sun and the furthest star.
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