MARGINALIA: A Muslim’s Decade-long Conversation with St. Ignatius

MAKATI CITY (MindaNews / 31 July) — Never did I imagine teaching in a Jesuit university.

In fact, when I was an elementary student deliberating on where to pursue college, I had already been granted a scholarship in a Catholic institution. Yet I quietly chose a public high school instead—perhaps out of habit, perhaps out of instinct, or maybe a subtle nudge of comfort in familiar religious terrain. Back then, the thought of studying—much less teaching—in a faith-based school outside Islam felt like traversing a forest with an unfamiliar map.

Today is St. Ignatius Day—a fitting moment to reflect on this unlikely journey and the spiritual companionship it continues to inspire.

A decade ago, an invitation arrived like a feather resting softly on my doorstep.

I was asked to speak in an interfaith and intra-faith forum at Ateneo de Davao University. The theme was reflective, the mood collegial. The Q&A took two long hours. I spoke not only as a Muslim but as someone shaped by the rhythms of Maguindanaon oral traditions, the legacy of the Bangsamoro struggle, and the quiet certainty that Islam is never threatened by dialogue—it is nourished by it.

After the forum, over coffee and careful words, the then university president whom I would personally identify with “common good” and “social justice” asked a question that would set the course of the next decade of my life:

“Why don’t you join us?”

I half-smiled. I half-winced. I fully paused.

And then I said yes while looking at Datu Muss.

Since then, I have taught Islamic Studies in this university known for its seal “Fortes in Fide”—Strong in Faith. And in the process, I have been illumined by unexpected beams—of questions, conversations, contradictions, and convergence.

The university offered more than a platform to teach. It gave me opportunities to grow—intellectually, spiritually, relationally. I had the chance to mentor students, guide research on Islamic finance and Shari‘ah governance, help shape conversations about justice in the Bangsamoro region, and most recently, design an entire course on “Methods of Research in Islamic Studies.” I have also written, published, and reflected more deeply than I would have elsewhere.

But more than the syllabi, the readings, and the lectures, what has marked me most is the slow, often silent, decade-long conversation I’ve had—with St. Ignatius of Loyola.

Not a verbal exchange, of course. But a dialogical presence that grows deeper with time.

As I got to know Ignatian spirituality, I began to recognize a surprising familiarity. In the Jesuit tradition’s emphasis on discernment—that prayerful interior sifting of motives and movement—I saw the Qur’anic invitation to tadabbur (deep reflection), tafaqquh (understanding), and ikhlās (purity of intention). The act of discerning one’s call within the tension of freedom and responsibility is mirrored in the Islamic principle of ijtihād—exerting one’s utmost intellectual and spiritual effort to arrive at truth and justice.

The Jesuit value of cura personalis—care for the whole person—echoes the Prophetic tradition’s concern for the nafs, not just as ego, but as soul (rūḥ). To educate the mind without touching the heart is to fall short in both traditions.

And the mantra to be men and women for others? It finds its counterpart in the Qur’anic ethos of khilafah (stewardship) and ‘amal salih (righteous action), where faith is never complete unless it is translated into acts of compassion, justice, and mercy.

Of course, our theological maps remain distinct. But it is precisely within the honest acknowledgment of difference that the conversation becomes more textured, more real.

If interfaith is often imagined as grand panels and academic lectures, mine has been more pedestrian—daily hallway greetings, collaborative projects, informal exchanges with fellow faculty, thoughtful disagreements, and moments of quiet learning from students whose views challenged and changed mine.

This is what happens when a Muslim walks with St. Ignatius—not to become him, but to encounter his questions and, in doing so, deepen one’s own faith.

The world today is loud.

We scroll more than we reflect. We argue more than we listen. We react more than we respond. But my years here have reminded me that real change comes not from shouting across fences, but from sitting under trees together, sharing the language of stories, parables, hadith, and hikmah.

What started as a one-time invitation to speak has become a decade-long conversation—one that continues not because of agreement, but because of mutual recognition.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this unexpected spiritual companionship, it is this: God speaks not only through our traditions, but often through the voices we least expect.

St. Ignatius and I may pray in different ways. But perhaps, in the end, we both yearn for the same silence: the kind that listens, that discerns, and that ultimately loves.

#StIgnatius #IgnatianSpirituality #AteneodeDavaoUniversity #MansoorLimba

[MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. Mansoor L. Limba, PhD in International Relations and Shari‘ah Counselor-at-Law (SCL), is a publisher-writer, university professor, vlogger, chess trainer, and translator (from Persian into English and Filipino) with tens of written and translation works to his credit on such subjects as international politics, history, political philosophy, intra-faith and interfaith relations, cultural heritage, Islamic finance, jurisprudence (fiqh), theology (‘ilm al-kalam), Qur’anic sciences and exegesis (tafsir), hadith, ethics, and mysticism. He can be reached at mlimba@diplomats.com and www.youtube.com/@WayfaringWithMansoor, and his books can be purchased at www.elzistyle.com and www.amazon.com/author/mansoorlimba.]