St Ignatius College - Ignatian Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

Page 13 text:

V lish, El llum t-S blk rn. i, Tl' 'wal C kay ..! W, A l ,Wie tilt- t yimlf llizl, ' l iw if mul' 1 r l wit, -i'r'lfH pn. A ii PATHS OF THE PADRES ll If the 1'll'i1'l46?d mission, a temple bereft of its ceremonies, a sanctuary without spirituality, a crumbling corpse, long since separated from the religious activity that animated it, appears, even thus, beautiful to the eye, what must have been its attractiveness, its grandeur, when it was livened by the peal of the Angelus, bestirred by the thread of sandled feet, vivified by the presence of its soul-the ritual of a practiced faith? Fair and stately in death, it must have been of a transcendent beauty in the bloom of life. The explanation of the California missions present love- liness is seen when we reflect that every great institution leaves its impress upon future ages. The temples of the Greeks are buried under the debris of years. The Roman forums are barely traceable in the dust of centuries but their influence still lives and they speak-even from their ruins. So it is with the California mission. It's beneficent influence survives. It is eloquent even in its mute and silent ruin. The California mission will last forever. The padre could exclaim, with Horace, E.rcgz7 monit- llI6'1'lfIllll acre pf.1'011ni11s!

Page 12 text:

IO THE IGNA TIQ-1 N Years of such toil and patience resulted in the establish- ment of a long chai11 of famous missions, along the 'lEl Camino Real. To recite the names of these missions from San Diego in the south to Sonoma in the north is to recite a most beautiful Litany of the Saints. VVhy do We not learn more of this wonderful period? Nllhile engrossed in the temporal activities of their missions, while attending to the field, the table and the Hock, while leading with gentle hand the strange, sad, melancholy savage along the paths of labor, the Cali- fornia missionaries bore ever in their hearts a Wonderful zeal for their higher spiritual duties. Their temporal labors were but the means by which they accomplished their nobler supernatural purpose. The feeble Indian mind could not grasp the most fundamental and primary truths: the dull edge of their intellects could not penetrate the simplest abstract problems, Their inherited slowness of comprehension convinced the wise Franciscan that, not along the path of knowledge, but along the path of honest labor and wholesome toil should the neophyte be led. Many calumnies have been uttered against the mission- aries: much criticism of the mission system has been made. An unprejudiced, diligant inquiry, however, will disclose only that which was appropriate, noble and in- nocent, will only increase the glory of the humble padres of California.. After reverting even for a moment to the mission days, after awakening memories that hover about ivied walls and lonely sanctuaries, we can not without a pang of regret turn from those warmful, interesting scenes of mission history to the cold, crumbling adobe that to-day marks in silence the old grounds and the old days. And yet all is not lost. There yet remains a beauty thriving in ruins, an enchantment surrounding whitened walls, a romance Filling the California breeze, The mis- sions are impressive still,

Page 14 text:

TH E IGNATIAN A Sung nf Ihr iKnah TINCEN17 VVn.1-mM HixI-L1N.xN, AB., 'l9. There's something in the camp tire's light That's kinda got me going to-nightg lielieve me, lio, l've got it right-- The 1 Jut The The fever's coming back: yonder where the grey pack reigns, night is whispering to the plains, night-winrl's spell is in my veins, It drives me in its track. l'm There's something That calls me off Bids Come and due to go: I know the signg in this blood of mine the beaten line. go I must: It's foundling of the South-sea's spray, The zephyrs of the mountain Way. It's jungle depths and sea-lapped cay, It's called the Wanderlust! A thousand times I've tried to shake Away the charm its memories wake, I've bent my very heart to break Its sinister spell, and then Out of the South would come the callg I'd see the well-known scenes and all The old familiar haunts, and fall. Ah! what a curse it's been! And with what strength it holds the man IVho follows in its causeless yan: lt's held in thrall since time began The race that don't fit ing Nor does its mystic message seek The craven-hearted or the weak. And those who learn at last to speak Its siren tongue are 1nen: Spill on their tracks the midnight trains