The Silent Crisis in Jesuit Formation: Between Ideals, Individuality, and the Cry for Companionship

A reflection written not out of anger, but out of concern, love, exhaustion, hope… and a little bit of existential comedy

I know one thing very clearly: the Jesuit is idealized immensely. From the very beginning, the image is powerful—intellectual, disciplined, spiritual, socially aware, available for mission, deeply prayerful, fearless before the world. And honestly, it is beautiful. A young novice enters the novitiate carrying all these dreams. He enters believing that he is stepping into a brotherhood of saints who laugh together, pray together, fight for justice together, and accompany one another toward God.

And then…

The novice comes out of the novitiate and discovers a new world. A different reality. A reality no one fully explained to him.

Suddenly, formation becomes less about the person and more about systems. Rules and regulations begin to dominate everything, while the individual slowly disappears somewhere in between timetables, reports, expectations, evaluations, and subtle comparisons. The irony is almost poetic. We are told to become “men for others,” but somewhere along the line, the “man” himself is forgotten.

No accompaniment is really given. No inquiry is made. Nobody genuinely asks:

“How are you actually doing?”

And if they ask, the answer is expected to be diplomatic anyway.

When we are told to do something, no real help is given. We are told:

• “Do this.”
• “Be responsible.”
• “Be mature.”
• “Be available.”
• “Be detached from the world.”

And then the same people tell us:

“Be competitive.”

Now explain this slowly.

You are told not to belong to the world, but you are expected to survive by worldly standards inside formation itself. You are expected to excel, outperform, prove yourself, build credibility, and constantly demonstrate worth. Somewhere in this process, formation risks becoming less like spiritual growth and more like a corporate performance review with theological vocabulary.

And honestly, many scholastics are tired.

Not lazy. Not rebellious. Tired.

Tired of becoming parrots who repeat ideas without being taught how to reflect deeply on them. Tired of being spoken to but not listened to. Tired of pretending that everything is fine because questioning itself has become emotionally exhausting.

And let me make one thing clear: this is not a complaint about my personal experience alone. This is about what many silently feel but hesitate to say aloud because once comparisons begin, questioning slowly dies. You realize that your concerns may simply be labeled:

• “immaturity,”
• “lack of obedience,”
• “poor spiritual disposition,”
  or the classic:

“You do not understand formation yet.”

Maybe.

But maybe formation also does not understand the present generation.

Because the present generation does not reject values. It rejects lifeless methods.

That is the real issue.

The priests kept in common houses are often exhausted themselves. Some are frustrated. Some are overburdened. Some are genuinely trying. But many times, what scholastics long for is not control—it is accompaniment.

We do not want taskmasters constantly monitoring our every move as if holiness can be manufactured through surveillance. We want companions. We want someone who will:

• allow us to make mistakes,
• guide us without humiliating us,
• correct us without crushing us,
• tell us where to be careful,
• and help us discover who we are.

We want freedom—not irresponsibility. Freedom.

We want the uniqueness of each person to be upheld instead of pushing everyone through the same factory-set-up model of formation where everyone is expected to emerge polished, identical, disciplined, and strangely emotionally unavailable.

Every Jesuit is unique.

But uniqueness is often tolerated only until it becomes inconvenient.

The ideals of the Society of Jesus are still inspiring. Extremely inspiring. Christ remains our master. He is the one we follow. Nobody is denying that. But at certain stages of formation, this idea becomes abstract. Very abstract.

And at that point, we need someone who does not merely explain Christ academically, but someone who says:

“This is how I encountered Christ in my own life.”

That witness matters.

That authenticity matters.

Because faith is not sustained only through theology—it is sustained through living examples.

The tragedy today is that many scholastics no longer feel safe enough to question openly. Comparisons are constantly made:

• “Look at him.”
• “Why can’t you be like that?”
• “In our time we did this.”
• “Others are doing better.”

And slowly, silently, thought itself begins to die.

Not because scholastics have nothing to say—but because they feel nothing will change anyway.

The educational system during philosophy and theology also desperately needs renewal. Let us be honest. For decades people have been saying this. The methods are outdated. The style of teaching is outdated. The engagement is outdated. And somehow, even when reforms happen, the same patterns repeat themselves wearing new clothes.

We are producing academically capable men, yes.

But are we producing thinkers?

Or are we producing highly trained theological robots who know citations but struggle with emotional honesty?

Because life is not merely rational.

This is where I strongly feel something important is being ignored.

Formation emphasizes rationality heavily:

• analysis,
• structure,
• argument,
• academics,
• excellence.

All of this is important. Very important.

But human life is also:

• emotional,
• sensual,
• empirical,
• experiential.

And honestly, these dimensions are equally important because at the end of the day, ministry is not about touching brains first. It is about touching lives.

People do not remember your perfect philosophical argument. They remember:

• how you listened,
• how you stayed,
• how you loved,
• how safe they felt around you.

To tell people who Christ is, one must first experience life deeply—with proper guidance, freedom, and accompaniment.

Otherwise, we risk creating emotionally disconnected ministers who can preach beautifully about compassion while secretly struggling to feel understood themselves.

And yes, the Church is moving. The world is changing rapidly. Formation must become more practical, contextual, reflective, dialogical, and humane. Otherwise, we will continue losing people.

And when someone leaves formation, the blame should not automatically fall on that individual alone. Sometimes the system itself failed to nurture that vocation carefully, patiently, compassionately, and honestly.

Formation should not merely test vocations. It should protect them too.

What we need today is:

• dialogue,
• formative assessment rather than merely summative assessment,
• continuous reflective growth,
• contextual learning,
• emotional accompaniment,
• freedom with responsibility,
• and spaces where scholastics feel heard rather than evaluated every second.

Because fear cannot produce mature freedom.

Only love can.

And if you ask me personally, one painful thing has slowly disappeared among scholastics:

brotherhood.

That sense of being a team. That sense of soldiers walking together. That sense of family.

Today many are trapped in:

• comparison,
• silent competition,
• stress,
• insecurity,
• and the pressure to constantly prove their worth.

Why?

Because everyone knows that if a Jesuit becomes “irrelevant” in a community—if he has no visible work, no recognition, no influence—he risks being sidelined quietly because of egos, politics, or invisible power structures.

So naturally people become individualistic.

They try to secure their place.

And slowly the desire to contribute joyfully disappears because people fear:

• not being seen,
• not being trusted,
• not being given opportunities,
• not being allowed to become the best version of themselves.

And that is tragic.

Because each Jesuit carries gifts. Different gifts.

One may be a thinker.
One may be an artist.
One may be deeply pastoral.
One may heal through silence.
One may transform through teaching.
One may inspire through friendship.

But uniqueness should be nurtured—not judged.

And before anyone misunderstands this article, let me say clearly:

This is not written out of anger.

It is written out of concern.

Out of love.

Out of hope for the future.

Because despite everything, I still believe in the mission. I still believe in the Society. I still believe Christ is working through broken people trying their best.

But compassion and love must once again become central to formation.

Not fear.
Not performance.
Not comparison.

Because if Jesuits stop accompanying one another with genuine humanity, then no amount of excellence will save the mission.

And maybe the final question is this:

Are we forming men who merely survive formation…
or men who are truly alive in Christ?

Because there is a difference.

And deep down, everyone knows it.

Student of Philosophy - Rohan Brahmane