Passionist Saints

For a small and relatively new community in the Roman Catholic Church, the Passionists have a large number of canonized saints and members proposed for canonization. Beginning with their founder, St. Paul of the Cross, who died in 1774,  each generation of Passionists has produced men and women recognized for their holiness.

We’re hoping Father Theodore Foley may join the ranks of Passionist saints such as Paul Danei, Vincent Strambi, Gabriel Possenti, Dominic Barberi, Gemma Galgani,  Charles Houben, Isidore DeLoor and Blessed Eugene Bossilkov.

Saints are God’s answer to the poison of their times, and it’s important to see them in the light of the poison they combat.  The Catholic tradition sees saints as firm believers in church teaching and examples of heroic virtue, but it also sees them as powerful figures opposing the poisonous influences threatening the world in which they live. They’re signs of God’s power in a sinful world and God marks them out as saints through miracles performed through their intercession.

For example, St. Paul of the Cross was an antidote to the forgetfulness of the passion of Jesus which came from the Enlightenment, a 17^th century movement that denied or minimized the role of faith and religion in human life.

St. Vincent Strambi opposed this same movement as it was expressed in the political schemes of Napolean Bonaparte, who tried to subordinate religion to his own dreams of European domination. Vincent was a brave Italian bishop who resisted the emperor and suffered for it.  Like him, the Bulgarian Bishop Eugene Bossilkov suffered and died under an oppressive Communist government in the 20^th century.

Gabriel Possenti can be seen in the light of the 19^th century lure of the Enlightenment. As a young man, he chose religious life rather than the inflated promises of success that tempted so many of his contemporaries.

St. Gemma, St. Isidore de Loor, St. Charles Houben are figures that fit St. Paul’s description of those called by God, not wise by human standards, not powerful, not of noble birth. They’re “the weak of the world God chooses to shame the strong.” (1 Corinthians 1, 23-28)

We might call them ordinary people, of no special note, easily unnoticed and misunderstood, subject to the sufferings, disappointments and failures often part of ordinary life. God chooses them to be signs that he does not abandon ordinary people like them and, in fact, can do great things through them. Charles Houben was a healer. Gemma bore the signs of Jesus’ passion in her body.

It takes awhile to see a saint, because we often don’t understand our own times and the poison afflicting it.

Father Theodore Foley, CP

Today’s gospel from Mark speaks about the return of Jesus to his home in Nazareth. It reminded me of the great spiritual figures I’ve lived with, one of whom is Father Theodore Foley, CP, whom I appreciate more and more. Here’s a summary of his life.

He was born in 1919 in Springfield, Massachusetts into a devout Catholic family.  He went to Catholic schools and experienced a vibrant Catholic life in Sacred Heart parish in the north end of Springfield.

As a young boy of 14 he was attracted to the missionary spirit and spirituality of the Passionist community. Entering the Passionists, he was ordained a priest in 1940 and became one of its best spiritual guides and teachers of theology.

In 1958 Father Theodore went to Rome to be a general consultor for the worldwide Passionist community. In 1964 he became its superior general. He led his community through the turbulent decades of the 1960s and 70s when social unrest, political confrontations, assassinations, anti-establishment and anti-war demonstrations began shaking the western world and the Catholic Church.

As traditional values came into question and church membership (including membership in his own community) began to decline, he was a rock of hope to those shaken by the times.

A participant in the Second Vatican Council, Father Theodore took up its challenge and worked tirelessly to bring the message of Jesus Christ to the world. Seeking new opportunities to do God’s will, he traveled to Asia and Africa to extend the missionary outreach of his community. He also promoted the study of the Passion of Jesus as a remedy for a world in danger of forgetting God.

For him a perilous time like ours was not a reason to do nothing. It’s a time for “God’s purification in our lives and we have to accept it and do our best for the future of the congregation and our church.”

While furthering new ventures in Africa, he contracted a deadly virus which on his return to Rome caused his death on October 9, 1974.

A gentle man, faithful to prayer and unfailingly kind to others, Father Theodore believed that God is always at work in our world, even in bad times. The mystery of the passion of Jesus, which he kept constantly before his eyes, nourished in him a steady hope that God leads us on, no matter how dark life seems to be.

A hope like his is a hope to pray for today. Father Theodore is a candidate for canonization, and here’s a prayer that his cause succeeds:

Prayer for the Beatification of Fr. Theodore Foley, CP

 

Lord Jesus Christ,

You called Theodore Foley to follow you to Calvary’s heights as a Passionist priest and through your Immaculate and Sorrowful Mother taught him to fulfill your Father’s will by loving God and neighbor.

Let his life inspire us to a life of deeper virtue.

We humbly ask you to glorify your servant Father Theodore according to the designs of your holy will and through his intercession, grant the request I now present to you. (here mention  your request). Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

 

 

Our Lady of Guadalupe

Today’s the feast of Our Lady Guadalupe, which recalls the appearance of Mary on a hilltop near Mexico City to Juan Diego, a humble Mexican laborer. Keep this story in mind when the next discussion on immigration comes up.

Mary appeared dark skinned, with native features and dress in 1532, ten years after the Aztec Empire was crushed by the colonial armies of Spain. Her appearance caused many native peoples to accept the gospel. Pope John Paul II said this about St. Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin, whose feast is celebrated December 9^th:

“He has lifted up the humble. God the Father looked down onto Juan Diego, a simple Mexican Indian and enriched him not just with the gift of rebirth in Christ but also with the sight of the face of the Blessed Virgin Mary and a role in the task of evangelizing the entire continent of America. From this we can see the truth of the words of St Paul: those whom the world thinks common and contemptible are the ones that God has chosen – those who are nothing at all to show up those who are everything.

This fortunate man, whose name, Cuauhtlatoatzin, means “the eagle that speaks,” was born around 1474 in Cuauhtitlan, part of the kingdom of Texcoco. When he was an adult and already married, he embraced the Gospel and was purified by the waters of baptism along with his wife, setting out to live in the light of faith and in accordance with the promises he had made before God and the Church.

In December 1531, as he was travelling to the place called Tlaltelolco, he saw a vision of the Mother of God herself, who commanded him to ask the Bishop of Mexico to build a church on the site of the vision. The bishop asked him for some proof of this amazing event.

On 12 December the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to Juan Diego once more and told him to climb to the top of the hill called Tepeyac and pick flowers there and take them away with him. It was impossible that any flowers should grow there, because of the winter frosts and because the place was dry and rocky. Nevertheless Juan Diego found flowers of great beauty, which he picked, collected together in his cape, and carried to the Virgin. She told him to bring the flowers to the bishop as a proof of the truth of his vision. In the bishop’s presence Juan Diego unfolded his cape and poured out the flowers; and there appeared, miraculously imprinted on the fabric, the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, which from that moment onwards became the spiritual centre of the nation.

The church was built in honor of the Queen of Heaven. Juan Diego, moved by piety, left everything and dedicated his life to looking after this tiny hermitage and to welcoming pilgrims. He trod the way to sanctity through love and prayer, drawing strength from the eucharistic banquet of our Redeemer, from devotion to his most holy Mother, from communion with the holy Church and obedience to her pastors. Everyone who met him was overwhelmed by his virtues, especially his faith, love, humility, and other-worldliness.

Juan Diego followed the Gospel faithfully in the simplicity of his daily life, always aware that God makes no distinction of race or culture but invites all to become his children. Thus it was that he enabled all the indigenous peoples of Mexico and the New World to become part of Christ and the Church.

Pope John Paul II

Successful and Unsuccessful Saints

In yesterday’s post I offered a summary of Bishop N.T. Wright’s talk to the Italian Catholic Bishops in which he stated that our understanding of the resurrection of Jesus is influenced today by the thinking of the Enlightenment, which placed God (if God exists) beyond our world. We are the lords of creation, according to that thinking. This life and all in it is in our hands to shape and control as we think best.

Yet, the Risen Christ is Lord of creation, still present in our world, fashioning it to become God’s new creation. He has not just come and now is gone, with us only at our death to take his own into heaven. Nor is he just lord of the perfect. Every knee bows before him.

I wonder if the thinking of the Enlightenment has also influenced our thinking about the saints. We like “successful saints” who seem to leave their mark in society by what they accomplish: building schools, hospitals, blazing new trails on the world scene. We like saints who do something big.

What about saints like Saint Gemma, Saint Pio–who seem to be sidelined most their lives without obvious human accomplishments­– aren’t they witnesses to the power of the Risen Christ to reach into humble life and be present there?

I heard recently that Saint Pio is probably the most popular saint in the church right now. Interesting. Books about St. Gemma are the most popular books we distribute at Passionist Press. Interesting.

Is holiness only for the perfect, the bright, the accomplished? Or does the Risen Christ reveal himself to the humble, sometimes giving them the treasures of his wounds? Maybe the voice of the faithful is telling us something.

Catechisms Have Changed

Some of us may have learned our faith through the questions and answers of the Baltimore Catechism, but catechisms have changed in recent years. One big change is that they’re not just for children, they’re for adults too.

The United States Catholic Catechism for Adults, published by the US Catholic Bishops in 2006, is an adaptation of The Catechism of the Catholic Church published in 1992 in Rome after the Second Vatican Council, as a response from the American bishops to Pope Paul VI’s call to the bishops of the world to adapt the universal catechism to the circumstances and culture of their own people.

The American catechism follows the arrangement of the Roman catechism and teaches about the Creed, the Sacraments, Moral Life and Prayer. One of its features is that it begins each lesson with a story of faith, a short biography of a Catholic, usually someone from the United States, who introduces us to the teaching that’s presented.

Many of the stories also help us appreciate how the Church in our country grew and the particular spirituality that’s been expressed here.

For example, St. Elizabeth Seton introduces us to its first question: our search for God. We search for God through creation, through human relationships and through the various circumstances of our lives.

Mother Seton found God in all those ways. As a young girl, neglected by her father and her stepmother after her mother’s death, she found God in the beauties of nature, in the fields around New Rochelle, NY, where she played as a child.

Then, she married a successful man, William Seton, and had children, a happy married life, lots of friends, and was active in her Episcopal church, Trinity Church, on Wall Street in New York City.

Her life changed when her husband’s business failed. His health also failed and Elizabeth took him to Italy to see if a better climate could revive him. When they arrived in Livorno, Italy, he died in her arms in a quarantine station at the seaport.

Some Italian friends took Elizabeth and her daughter into their home and there she began to think about becoming a Catholic. That step caused her to lose some old friends; as a widow with small children she faced hard times.

Resettling in Baltimore, then Emmitsburg, Maryland, she established a Catholic school and gathered other women to form a religious community. One of the great saints and founders of the American Church, her quest for God was lifelong and many sided. She is an example of how our search for God goes on through creation, through the people around us and in the circumstances we face going through life.

Mother Seton is a teacher of faith and played an important role in the history of the church in our country.  She reminds us how important women have been, especially religious women,  in building our American church. She also reminds us that we’re all called by God to teach others.

Saving Santa Claus

Santa’s making his way into Macy’s and Walmart and thousands of stores and countless television advertisements these days.  I’d like to save him and get him back to what he does best.

He’s a saint, and saints aren’t in the world to sell stuff. They give things away.  So instead of hearing Santa Claus say, “What do you want for Christmas? I’ll show you where to buy it.”  We should hear him asking “What are you going to give others, what are you going to do for others, this Christmas?”

The best way to get Santa Claus back to what he does best is to know his story and tell it to others.  I’m going to put up soon a little clip that  may help little children get to know him.

Nicholas  lived way back in the 4th century in the busy seaport of Myra along the Turkish coast. He’s honored today in the great church of St. Nicholas in the city of Bari along the Adriatic Coast in Italy. Let me tell you his story.

Nicholas likely belonged to one of Myra’s wealthy families who made a living on the sea. But he wasn’t spoiled growing up. His family taught him to be generous with others, because that makes you richer than anything else.

One day, Nicholas heard there a man in Myra who lost all his money when his business failed. He had three beautiful daughters who were going to get married, but there was  no money for their marriage and no one wanted to marry them because they were so poor.

They didn’t even have enough to eat, and so the father in desperation decided to sell one his daughters into slavery, so that the rest could survive.

The night before she was to be sold, Nicholas came to the window of their house and tossed in a small bag of gold and then vanished in the night.  The next morning, the father found the gold on the floor. He had no idea where it came from. He thought it was counterfeit, but it was real.

He fell to his knees and thanked God for this gift. Then he arranged for his first daughter’s wedding; there was enough left for them to live for almost a year. But he kept wondering: who gave them the gold?

Before the year ended, the family again had nothing and the father, again desperate, decided his second daughter had be sold. But Nicholas heard about it and came to the window at night and tossed in another bag of gold. Again, the father couldn’t believe it. Who gave this gift?

A year passed and their money ran out once more. One night the father heard steps outside his house and suddenly a bag of gold fell onto the floor. The man ran out and caught the stranger. It was Nicholas.

“Why did you give us the gold?” the father asked.

“Because you needed it,” Nicholas answered. “But why didn’t you let us know who you were?” the man asked. “Because it’s good to give and have only God know about it.”

When the bishop of Myra died, the people of the city along with the neighboring bishops came together in their cathedral to select a new bishop. They prayed and asked God to point out who  would it be. In a dream, God said to one of them that the next morning someone would come through the cathedral door as they prayed. He’s the one.

It was Nicholas who came through the door, and they named him their bishop. This unassuming man, so good, was meant by God to lead them.

As bishop of Myra, Nicholas was always ready to help people. He helped anyone in need and then quietly he’d disappear, without waiting for thanks. He was a holy man, and word about him spread quickly.  He always wanted families to have enough to eat and a good place to live, that children got ahead in life, and that old people lived out their lives with dignity and respect.

And he always loved the sailors on the sea. Without their ships, people wouldn’t have food and the things they need.

Nicholas is known today as Santa Claus. I like him better as St. Nicholas. He’s an example of  a “quiet giver,” the kind of person who gives and wants only God to  know about it. That’s giving of the purest kind.

Steve Jobs. A Secular Saint?

Some years ago that term was used to designate someone without any obvious connection with religion, yet who had the heroic virtue we usually associate with the saints.

As I listened to his address to graduates at Stanford University a few years ago, I thought the term could apply to Steve Jobs who died a few days ago. It was a remarkable address that any Christian preacher would admire and be happy to preach. I was especially moved by his respect for death as an advisor and mentor for life.

A solid spirituality. You hope the next generation would follow his example.

The other night on iTunes, one of Jobs’ wonderful contributions to the new digital world, I listened to a lecture (free) by Charles Taylor, author of The Secular Age, from Columbia University. Taylor objected to new atheists like Richard Dawkins, Daniel C. Dennett, Sam Harris, and Christopher Hitchens who want to banish religion from the world as a worthless and destructive force.

But he also objected to Christians denying the worth of secularists who work for the good of the world and its peoples.

There are secular saints as well as saints honored by the church.

Saints of Korea

I celebrated the feast of the Korean saints Andrew Kim, Paul Chong and companions today during the Capuchin retreat in West Virginia.  A Korean priest, Fr. Stephen, is among those making the retreat.

Pope John Paul II called the Korean church unique, because it was founded by laypeople. In the 17th century, when that country was isolated from the rest of the world, some laymen traveling to Peking learned about Christianity from some books they found there and were converted.

They returned to their country and practiced the faith without any priests. The first priests to arrive there were quickly martyred. In the late 18th and 19th century over 10,000 Korean laypeople, husbands and wives and their children, were martyred.

The feast provides a wonderful endorsement of the role of the laity in the church. The earliest Christian martyrs were often bishops and priests, because the governments thought the church could be exterminated or controlled by eliminating its leadership. This feast  reminds us that laypeople can bring the faith to others and make it grow and endure even through persecution. And they will give their lives for it.

God bless this church,  thriving today.

The Saints March In

Last week was the feast of Saint Agatha, a early woman martyr from Catania in Sicily. We mentioned her at Mass that day among the women listed in the 1st Eucharistic Prayer, which many believe comes from the hand of St. Gregory the Great. (540-604 AD)

Some say Gregory’s mother or grandmother, I don’t remember who, got him to put Agatha’s name in the prayer because they had roots in Sicily and were devoted to the young martyr. Could be.

Rome was collapsing in Gregory’s day as barbarian invaders swept over the Italian peninsula, plundering, burning and destroying. It was the worst of times, and lots of people, among them the well-to-do residents of the Celian Hill where Gregory lived, were getting out of the troubled city as fast as they could.

But the saints weren’t marching out, they were “marchin in.” Those two lists of saints in the Roman canon were Gregory’s army, his enduring support. Their nearby  shrines were fortresses that sustained him. John and Paul, soldier saints who opposed a mighty army;  Cosmos and Damian, the doctors who cured and didn’t mind not getting paid,   Lawrence, who saw the poor as the treasures of the church. Besides Agatha, there was Cecilia, Agnes–strong Roman women of faith who wouldn’t give in, not matter what. All of them were still there in their churches. Gregory saw them, I think, as friends at his side, when so many others had left, and he wanted to remind others too that they were there.

And so we pray at the Eucharist “in union with the whole church.” The times may be rough, but we draw strength from the whole church, the saints living among us and those in glory who, in turn, get their strength from Jesus Christ.

A Contemplative in a Troubled World

I’m reading R.A.Markus’ book, Gregory the Great and His Times (Cambridge 1997). This pope, truly great, lived in Rome “in a period of insecurity unmatched in Roman history.” The world about him was falling apart, yet, though his health was always poor, he kept that world going. He was a “contemplative in a troubled world,” according to Markus, a persistent voice in a “world poised on the edge of chaos, in constant need of men’s devotion, imagination and enterprise, dedicated to its preservation.”

Gregory’s first work after becoming pope in 590 AD was a treatise on Pastoral Care, which deals with how pastors should care for an endangered flock.

Then, he wrote his “Dialogues” about holy people and the miracles they wrought. Most were not people of the past, heroic martyrs commemorated at famous shrines, but unknown, ordinary people of the present, who were largely overlooked by those around them. By the way, he wrote the treatise in the Library of Agapetus, right across from the Church of Saints John and Paul, where two great Roman martyrs were buried.

Gregory’s purpose for writing about them was to assure his readers– and also himself–that God had not withdrawn his gifts of holiness from the Italy of his day; holy people still lived there and were  the backbone of the church. Indeed, it was not the miracles they performed or any great achievement Gregory praised; it was their silent, heroic patience in troubling times.

I was thinking about our attempt to have Fr. Theodore Foley canonized. Does he fit in that category of patient saints in troubled times?

Gregory himself, according to Markus, left few structural achievements. His immediate successors didn’t follow his style and practices as pope. But the church honors him as a great contemplative leader.

Yesterday, Peter Steinfels wrote his last column of “Beliefs” in the New York Times. Another contemplative guide who has helped our church today see . I hope he keeps writing and thinking.