Tony Lusvardi, S.J.

Jesuits and Liturgical Formation

I am pleased to have a talk I gave a couple of years ago at the Jungmann Society Congress in the Philippines included in a new volume, JESUITS AND LITURGY: COMMUNITY AND FORMATION published by the Faculty of Theology at Trnava University. A pdf version of the book is available here on the Jungmann Society website.

From Fr. Vlastimil Dufka’s introduction, here is a description of my own modest contribution:

In his presentation “Daily Mass in Jesuit Communities” Anthony R. Lusvardi SJ reflects on the role of daily Mass in Jesuit communities, framing his insights through both historical and contemporary perspectives. Drawing on early 20th-century debates between Jesuits and Benedictines, he identifies a persistent tendency among Jesuits to undervalue the formative nature of the liturgy—a tendency rooted in neo-scholastic minimalism and an overly intellectualized approach to worship. Lusvardi argues that the liturgy is not merely ceremonial but participatory and transformative, shaping those who engage in it through embodied symbolic action.

This conviction is grounded in his pastoral and pedagogical experience, particularly in his work with Jesuit scholastics preparing for ordination. While many Jesuit communities strive to celebrate daily Mass with reverence and fidelity, Lusvardi observes that implicit liturgical formation remains inconsistent and, at times, insufficient. Many young Jesuits express uncertainty about basic liturgical practices and a lack of theological grounding, revealing gaps in formation that risk weakening both priestly identity and the communal expression of the Church’s worship.

Lusvardi calls for a renewed appreciation of the daily Eucharist as central to Jesuit life and apostolate, in alignment with the Complementary Norms and the vision of Sacrosanctum Concilium. He advocates for more robust practical and theological formation in the ars celebrandi, deeper engagement with the practice of concelebration, and greater fidelity to liturgical norms—not as rigid formalism, but as a path to spiritual depth and ecclesial communion. Guided by the insights of Romano Guardini and Desiderio Desideravi, the talk concludes with a vision of the liturgy as a place of humility, formation, and peace—offering Jesuits the possibility of becoming men shaped by their encounter with the sacred, and capable of serving the Church with integrity and courage.

Readers might also enjoy the other articles in the volume; I found the opening remarks of the Jungmann Society President Jérôme Guignand, SJ, as well as his exceptionally well-researched article “Celebrating and the Prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours” particularly worthwhile.

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St. George in legend and in architecture

April 23 is the feast day of St. George, a saint whose popularity — as well as just about everything we know about him — is legendary. The saint hailed from the Christian east — possibly from Cappadocia in present-day Turkey — but seems to have been martyred in the late third century in what is today Israel. George was a soldier who converted to Christianity. He was put to death after refusing to sacrifice to Rome’s pagan gods and undergoing excruciating tortures.

This defiant courage when standing up to a more powerful foe is perhaps what has made the figure of St. George resonate with so many throughout history. Perhaps it also contributed to the legendary stories of St. George slaying a dragon who was oppressing a Christian population. The saint is particularly popular among Arab Christians, who have long lived under the yoke of Muslim rule, and across the eastern Mediterranean — in Greece and Malta, for example, communities menaced for centuries by invasion from various Islamic empires pushing westward.

St. George, in fact, has found popularity wherever an underdog has felt the need for a champion. He is the patron, along with St. Sebastian, of one of Rome’s station churches. This year when I traveled to Barcelona (which I mentioned here and here), I learned that George is the patron of that city as well. The legend of St. George fits, in an unexpected way, into one of the city’s best known architectural monuments, Antoni Gaudí’s Casa Batlló.

Egyptians and the afterlife

Romans have been fascinated with Ancient Egypt since before the time of the Caesars. Egypt was for them what Ancient Rome is for us–a powerful, slightly exotic civilization whose influence and fascination extends to the present day. Roman Emperors went to great lengths to bring Egyptian artifacts back to decorate the imperial capital, and today there are more Egyptian obelisks standing in the city of Rome than in Egypt itself.

Part of the fascination of Egypt for the Romans no doubt had to do with the religious intensity of the Egyptians. And that religious intensity, in turn, was concentrated on the life to come. The resources the Ancient Egyptians put into ensuring survival and flourishing in the next life continue to amaze. This aspect of Egyptian civilization is prominently featured in a special exhibit at Rome’s Scuderia del Quirinale (which hosted a fine exhibit on Guercino and the Roman baroque that I wrote about last year). The exhibit sensitively explains important aspects of the Egyptians’ belief system; the gold that covers ancient sarcophagi and death masks, for example, was not ancient bling meant to show off status, but a symbol of incorruptibility, a sign of hope in a new life that would not tarnish.

Easter images from the Sagrada Familia

Christ is risen! Happy Easter!

Last week I shared some photos from the stark Passion Facade of Antoni Gaudí’s Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. Not all is doom and gloom at the Basilica, of course, and, in fact, visiting the church is a amazingly uplifting experience.

The Glory Facade remains to be built, so we still can only imagine what is planned to be the most beautiful part of the whole project. But enough parts of the Basilica already suggest the victory of the Resurrection. High above the scenes of the Passion, in fact, one can see the women visiting the now empty tomb and, above that, a bronze figure of Christ ascending.

The Passion Facade of the Sagrada Família

Recently, I was fortunate to be able to take a brief trip to Barcelona for a research project (more on that to come). I spent as much time as I could at Antoni Gaudí’s marvel, La Sagrada Família (more on that, as well).

The entire basilica is a marvel, a deeply spiritual and prophetic building. This Holy Week, I thought it would be appropriate to share some photos of the Façana de la Passió, the Passion Facade. The sculptures broadly follow Gaudí’s instructions, though they are the work of Josep Maria Subirachs. If anything, the sculptures are even more harsh and austere than Gaudí’s original sketches. The hardness of the work is actually in keeping with Gaudí’s instructions.

Lent’s moment of choice

Homily for Friday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Jesus crowned with thorns, 18th century, Molave wood, San Augustin Museum, Manila

We have reached the final days of Lent. Five weeks ago, this penitential season began with an emphasis on prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. The austere sign of ashes reminded us of our mortality and challenged us to conversion. Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are the classic means of conversion. Perhaps we have examined our lives, sought to grow in certain virtues, and made personal resolutions. And perhaps now, at the end of these five weeks of Lent, we realize that we have grown—or that we have not been very faithful to our resolutions. Or, more likely, we find that the results have been mixed: some growth, some failure.

In any case, we have reached a new moment. You may have noticed that, in this week’s liturgy, we have stopped using the Lenten prefaces at the beginning of the Eucharistic prayer and have begun to use the Passion preface. And today’s readings strongly orient us toward the Passion. Jeremiah speaks of slander and betrayal, and we naturally think of the sufferings that the Lord will face within a week. In the Gospel, opposition to Jesus grows, becoming increasingly violent, and his identity becomes clearer. It is no longer possible to maintain a moderate position toward him. It is no longer possible to respect him simply as a good teacher, a prophet, or a philosopher with interesting ideas: he is either the Son of God or a blasphemer. Everyone must choose.

This is the moment in Lent when we forget ourselves. Even our desire for conversion takes a back seat, because our attention is focused entirely on Jesus. Perhaps at this very moment, even our unsuccessful resolutions and failures help us understand how much we need a Savior. We are leaving the time of resolutions and moral growth and entering the time of the Savior. This time is his. It is the time of the Son of God, the time of the One who is greater than John and all the prophets, the time of our only Lord and only Savior. Thanks to our efforts—or perhaps despite our efforts—we have arrived here, at this moment. But this is the time of Jesus.

Readings: Jeremiah 20:10-13, John 10:31-42

Original: Italian

Gregorian University Chapel

2025

Freedom and Life: the two guiding lights of Lent

Homily for Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Lent

Baptism of St. Augustine (copy), Tito Troya, San Augstin Museum (Manila0

In these two readings, we see the two points of the compass for our Lenten journey. These points are also the two sides of the sacrament of baptism, to which this journey is directed.

The first reading speaks of freedom from evil: freedom from war and oppression; the end of exile in a devastated land; liberation from captivity, darkness, hunger, thirst, and abandonment. The joy that the prophet Isaiah expresses comes from the defeat of these evils that oppress us. The ascetic dimension of Lent is motivated by the desire to be freed from the forces that hold us captive: sin and selfishness.

But the purpose of Lent is not empty freedom. Rather, it is a freedom that allows us to live in a new relationship with the Lord. In the Gospel, Jesus emphasizes his relationship with the Father. And we, at the end of this Lenten journey, hope to renew the gift that was given to us in baptism: the gift of a new relationship with the Father, the gift of being reborn as his adopted children, the gift of the Spirit of Jesus who transforms us. Jesus speaks of intimacy with God.

Hurrah for monogamy!

Cupid aims his arrow! From “Venus, Mars, and Cupid,” Guercino, 1633

Late last year, the Vatican’s Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith issued Una Caro a document praising monogamy. Monogamy is indeed a praiseworthy institution and not one to be taken for granted these days when everything seems up for grabs. In my seminar on marriage last semester, a student brought to my attention the story of a Protestant pastor in Berlin blessing a “marriage” of four men. And I know from the discussions about marriage in my introduction to the sacraments class at the Gregorian University that polygamy remains a real pastoral challenge in many parts of the globe.

I was happy to be able to review Una caro in the latest issue of La Civiltà Cattolica, adding some insights from recent sociological studies on marriage by Brad Wilcox, Mark Regnerus, and the Belgian sexologist Thérèse Hargot. These sort of studies cannot substitute for a theology of marriage, but they do provide an invaluable supplement to it, if for no other reason than that they help to dispel some of the myths used to deride the Christian vision of marriage.

Prophets of doom or prophets of truth?

Homily for Wednesday of the Second Week of Lent (translated from Italian).

When I was little, I liked a series of children’s books and cartoons called “Winnie the Pooh.” In this series there was a character called Eeyore—in Italian I think it’s “Ih-Oh”—a gray donkey who talks sadly and sl-ow-ly. Poor Eeyore is always pessimistic and depressed. Eeyore is not a bad character; he is just a melancholic person—or, rather, a melancholic donkey.

I think Eeyore would like today’s readings. The prophet Jeremiah is a prophet of doom. The message he receives from God to tell the citizens of Jerusalem is pessimistic. Destruction will come to the holy city, Jeremiah says. The king of Jerusalem and his advisors do not want to hear this message, so they find a more optimistic prophet, Hananiah, and plot to throw Jeremiah into a pit.

Jesus’ words today are also, in a way, words of doom. He repeats the prophecy of his crucifixion, which the disciples consistently try to avoid. Here, instead of listening to him, they immediately turn to church politics—who will have the highest position.

Bishop Erik Varden on beauty, chastity, and the contemporary world

As is traditional for the First Week of Lent, the Pope and the Roman Curia will spend several days making their annual spiritual exercises. This year’s retreat is being preached by Bishop Erik Varden of Trondeim, Norway. Some readers might know Bishop Varden already from his wonderful blog Coram Fratribus. A convert and then a Trappist monk, Bishop Varden has a gift for communication comparable to our own great Robert Barron, though with his own unique style.

At a mere 51 years old, Bishop Varden also represents something of a turning of the page in the life of the Church. I’ve written before (here and here) that the zealous and youthful Church I encountered in Scandinavia hints at what fidelity and evangelization must look like in an increasingly secularized world. Bishop Varden–articulate, orthodox, cultured, and creative–seems to understand how to respond to our twenty-first century reality.

Last year I read Bishop Varden’s profound book Chastity: Reconciliation of the Senses, and I thought this week would be a good opportunity to share a few of its many insights…