As we celebrate the Feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola today, Fr. Temple Anuforo, a Jesuit and Country Director of JRS Nigeria explores how Ignatian spirituality continues to shape our common JRS mission, reminding us that our work is, at its heart, an ongoing experiment in trust.

What does the Feast of Saint Ignatius mean to you personally as a Jesuit and as a leader within JRS?

Getting to know Ignatius has not been for me about getting to know only the man; it is about how the tapestry of his life has helped me know myself more, accept who I am becoming, and most importantly, discern and hear the voice of God in my own life and context.

This experience is not unique to Jesuits alone. Millions of people across epochs and times, across cultures and religions have similarly been profoundly impacted by the life of St. Ignatius. As one called to the service of administration within JRS, each feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola is an opportunity to rekindle this inspiration and to also celebrate this larger and living community of practice who have been similarly inspired by the life of Ignatius.

Saint Ignatius invites us to “find God in all things.” How have you experienced God’s presence in your encounters with refugees and displaced communities?

Jesuit life runs on a set of what we call “experiments”, little enactments of Ignatius’ own life, meant to grow you into a rough connaturality with Ignatius’ Spirit. The big one, of course, is the Spiritual Exercises. The one I keep returning to is smaller and stranger: the pilgrimage experiment.

I was sent to a Nigerian town called Ekpoma, about two hours from our Novitiate in Benin City, with a one-way ticket, and nothing more. I was required to beg for food and boarding for two days and also beg for transport fare to return home the next day.

I wandered into the poorer neighbourhoods of the village, half by accident, half out of despair. And there, amongst people who had almost nothing, I found a generosity that undid me! The family that took me in for the night, I learned, had themselves received an eviction notice from their home that same evening. In fact, they were just discussing thesituation when I knocked on their door; and they let me in.

My whole time in JRS has felt like an extension of that experiment. So many of the people I have sat with have had everything stripped from them, except their faith in God and their trust in God’s providence. And often, I see this come through for them, sometimes even through the little interventions that we carry out.

In a global context marked by escalating humanitarian crises and increasingly limited resources, how can the experience of St. Ignatius help us address the challenges and uncertainties of today’s world?

Ignatius begins his life, as most converts do, in what many refer to as a “cannonball moment”. His legs were shattered by a cannonball in the battle of Pamplona in May of 1521. He thought of himself, from that point on, as a pilgrim, and his whole life subsequently revolved around a single conviction: that God’s providence would hold, even when nothing else did.

Since the funding cuts, the humanitarian sector has been in freefall: projects closing while needs multiply. We plan, we strategise, and rightly so. Yet, there is also a danger, that in planning so hard, we could become so overwhelmed and overburdened, that we forget that this enterprise was never entirely ours to begin with, we lose sight of the providence that sets everything in motion!

Trust in God’s providence is the foundation for trusting in the gifts that each member of the JRS family brings. The fact that we are a “faith-based” organisation is not an add-on label or title; it is the very condition for the possibility of the work that we do!

Providence isn’t a hammock. It shows up as charity written into hearts, as cooperation, as generosity, as the daily sacrifices ordinary people make, including, crucially, the sacrifices and resilience of those we serve. JRS, at its core, is an experiment in trust. That’s never been truer than now, when the challenges we confront are bigger than the horisons of our visions, and larger than our reserves. Now, more than ever, we must plan and trust!

Looking ahead to the future and the increasingly complex challenges faced by displaced people around the world, where do you see signs of hope?

I find hope and consolation in the people who keep showing up anyway, despite the challenges that the world is facing.

I see hope in people and countries that keep their doors open to refugees and asylum seekers even now. I see hope in communities that, though facing various challenges, are still willing to accommodate and share their limited resources with people seeking to find safety.

I find hope in the quiet rhizomic webs of solidarity between people and communities, between neighbours and strangers, between colleagues who labour together for a future they may never live to see realised, but which they believe will be realised.

I dream of a just, safer and more equitable world. I believe it is possible, because I don’t have a choice but to believe.