A Canadian Jesuit Walks Into A Space Opera
Or, how the new Star Wars show points to “graced history”
What’s that you said? You wanted to know what I thought about the new live-action Star Wars show The Acolyte directed by Leslye Headland and now streaming on Disney Plus? Oh. Well, I loved it, obviously. I’m pretty easy to get along with when it comes to all things Star Wars. Lightsabers, space wizards, mysteries. It’s working for me so far—but you know, we’re only a quarter of the way through. We should let the story unfold in the fullness of time.
Oh—that’s not what you asked? You wanted to know if there were any split-second scenes in the first episode in which I found some profound spiritual resonance? Something I might want to incorporate, say, into a second edition of My Life with the Jedi: The Spirituality of Star Wars? That makes a lot more sense. And thanks for asking.
Because, well, yes—there is such a scene.
It’s no more than a conversation, really. Master Sol (Lee Jung-jae, Squid Games) stands in the Jedi Temple, studying an old holo (read: holographic image) of his former, failed student Osha. Osha is wanted for murder—more specifically, for murdering Jedi. Sol doesn’t believe his former padawan to be a killer, but the evidence is stacked against him.
In walks padawan Jecki Lon (Dafne Keen, Logan). She is not at all pleased to see her master displaying such un-Jedi-like attachments.
“Why do you keep old holos of your former Padawan?” she asks. “This pastime encourages sentimentality and nostalgia and both of these emotions can lead to—"
“Our memories are lessons,” Sol retorts. “If we don’t meditate on the past…?”
“We’re doomed to repeat it,” Jecki finishes. And the two leave the chamber.
Simple. Brief. Profound. And probably, thematically key to the whole series.
I’ve been interested to learn that Lee Jung-jae studied Liam Neeson’s depiction of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn in preparation for his own role as Master Sol. Qui-Gon was an unorthodox Jedi who insisted more on direct experience of the Living Force (see John Jackson Miller’s new Star Wars novel of the same name) over any remotely discerned precepts handed down by the Jedi Council. He respected the Council, followed the Jedi path, and yet was able to reinterpret and reinvigorate his own understanding of and connection to the Force by being in the galaxy. Countless beings benefitted as a result.
Qui-Gon also gave us this all-important line: “Your focus determines your reality.” (Phantom Menace!)
And so, where we place our focus, who receives our attention, and what we do as a result of seeing plainly what’s in front of us—these are key spiritual practices that determine not only our individual reality but our shared one as well.
Master Sol is not content to condemn Osha from the comfort of the Jedi Temple. Rather, he goes to her, to read her reality and understand how she fits into the larger galactic puzzle.
The late Canadian Jesuit John English wrote about graced history. “A series of events becomes graced history when it is approached and understood in terms of God’s constant loving presence with each individual and the whole human race.” This from his foundational text, Spiritual Freedom: From an Experience of the Ignatian Exercises to the Art of Spiritual Guidance (p 264).
Fr. English insists upon two things as we wade into our own graced history: “[1.] We must view God as approving and affirming when we take a spiritual approach to all the events of our life story. [2.] Knowing that God regards us with unconditional love enables us to recall all the events of our lives, whether they are positive or negative.” (264)
(It’s worth noting: God isn’t affirming our missteps, those ways in which we hurt others. But God is affirming our desire to prayerfully review those missteps so as to heal those relationships. And of course, God never stops delighting in us, God’s own beloved.)
Praying with our graced history demands we explore and unpack those aspects of our stories that are challenging, uncomfortable, embarrassing and shameful. We repress nothing; we embrace everything so as to make ourselves and those around us whole.
Importantly, praying with graced history in this inclusive way allows us to “appreciate God’s unique ways with us” through “experiential wisdom and concrete data.” (266 & 268)
Master Sol tells us that memories are lessons that help us learn from the past. Master Qui-Gon insists that what we focus on helps us determine our present reality. And Fr. English writes: “Memory is the instrument of recall, yet this type of prayer is not just for reminiscing, but for being present and finding meaning in the events of our lives.” (272)
I’ve been reading a wonderful collection of essays in the new book Praying for Freedom: Racism and Ignatian Spirituality in America, edited by Laurie Cassidy. In the introduction, Dr. Cassidy notes how praying with graced histories is also a necessary act of justice and reconciliation, and points to Pope Francis’ penitential pilgrimage to Canada in which he asked for forgiveness for the Church’s appalling mistreatment of Indigenous communities.
“This starting point situates our personal ‘graced histories’ in collective histories of this land,” Cassidy writes. “Recognizing our own stories as inextricably linked to the history of America is not just knowing new historical data, but rather is a form of authentic memory, which [and here she quotes M. Shawn Copeland] ‘is not a type or degree of knowledge, but a relationship to what is known.’” (5)
I’m struck by this idea of graced history being bound up in a place, a culture, a way of life. It demands, again, a going out to discover and a humility to be taught once we arrive—and we see that in Master Sol’s immediate departure from the Jedi Temple to lands unknown.
Because ultimately, we can’t focus on what we can’t see, on what we don’t know. And to know something—to really know something—demands a level of bold intimacy. Do we go out to discover? Do we allow the hard truths of our personal and collective past to shape us? Or, do we suppress the truth and allow darkness to slowly entangle us?
Master Sol, Master Qui-Gon—they aren’t Jesuits, to be sure. They know nothing of Ignatian spirituality. And yet, they go out into the galaxy confident of their own connection to the Force, trusting in the will of the Force and what seems to be something akin to graced history.
We can do the same, though with a much more powerful force surrounding us: our God of infinite delight, reminding us again and again that no matter how dark the world appears, no matter how dark the stories we uncover in our past, we are always and forever God’s beloved. And we have the agency now, in this moment, to focus on the reality we wish to create.
And another thing:
If you liked this essay and want more, pick up a copy of my latest book, My Life with the Jedi: The Spirituality of Star Wars. Makes a great Father’s Day gift…just saying.
I was interviewed on the “Star Wars Cleaning Crew” podcast, and part 1 dropped this week. Give it a listen!
I wrote about acting against our creative censors for IgnatianSpirituality.com. Give it a read!
National Catholic Register ran a review of My Life with the Jedi. Check it out.
Have a great week!