Today is the great feast of Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha, "lily of the Mohawks," (1656 - 1680). No one knows her baby name, that is, the name given her at birth, but as the Indians are known to do and interestingly so, she was given a new adult name when she came into her own, so to speak. It was descriptive and not always flattering; her name Tekakwitha meant Blinded by Light. Struck with smallpox at an early age, she became myopic and light-sensitive, as well as pock-marked for the rest of her short life. She was called Favorite One and Little Friend as a diminutive by her friends and surviving family members (both her parents and her little brother were killed by the smallpox plague, brought unfortunately by the French). She was a beautiful Indian princess, daughter of the Tortoise chief of the Iroquois, a pagan, and a captive Algonquin, a Christian.
The Iroquois, one of the famous "Five Nations," had captured the woman in a raiding party on their enemies, the Algonquins, and tortured and killed all the males. They were big on torture: burning, biting, whipping, mutilating and finally, tomahawking and/or scalping. They had done so to the brave Blackrobes right there in Kateri's first hometown of Ossernenon (now Auriesville, NY). She was a gentle girl, loved birds, worked hard, baked her famous green corn bread, and beaded her delightful peace belts. The Blackrobes came to her village at their request after a particularly nasty fight with the French, who burned down their village and destroyed their crops -- in retaliation for the earlier killing of "Great Mountain's" -- what the Indians called the French general, the Marquis de Tracy's -- nephew and cousin, and for breaking the treaty. The Iroquois were hurt and trying to make peace again; besides, the priests (whom the braves looked at as "womanly" -- an insult, of course!) made good hostages. Kateri was now living and working in the longhouse of her uncle Onsengongo, now the new Tortoise chief. For three days she hungrily drank in the words and the gestures of these brave men and desired "the saving waters," what she called baptism.
She was still a pagan, adoring the "Master of Life" and observing all the rituals of her people. But deep within her was a desire for virginity, a desire her aunt and uncle could not understand and did not want to honor, since their old-age security rested on their niece's future marriage and children. Indeed, Kateri was always good to the old, including her old grandfather, bringing them steaming bowls of their staple, sagamite, and would of course train her offspring to do the same. Now, Kateri was very shy by nature, but that would not alone account for her call to virginity. Her single vocation was unknown among Indian women, even for shy girls. It must have indeed come from the Master of Life Himself. But her aunt and uncle were not understanding and treated her harshly like a servant after she made it clear she would reject all suitors. But within three years she was treated as a real daughter again, practicing her little acts of charity and ornamental beadwork.
More and more Iroquois were converting, even big chief Kryn of the Mohawks, but still Kateri's uncle opposed her joining. But one day, the new Blackrobe, Fr. Jacques de Lamberville, responded to an unseen voice telling him to enter the chief's longhouse. Kateri was within, with an injured foot (so she was not out in the fields, as she usually was) and humbly asked him for baptism. She had already learned the basics of the Faith and said her prayers even as she worked. Finally, the priest said yes, and her uncle consented, which he did shortly -- on Easter Sunday.
The priest chose her name, Catherine, or Kateri in her language, for her love of purity. But all was not roses for her. She was laughed at and jeered and stoned to the point that Fr. Jacques suggested she travel to the (safe) Christian mission in Canada and helped her escape. It was a long and harrowing journey, but she made it, savoring the lovely colors that September. There at the mission deadly enemies knelt together in silence and peace during holy Mass at Sault St. Louis. Older Christians yielded the good lands to newcomers and broke hard, new land for themselves. All gave to the poor and sick. Some even risked their lives going back to pagan lands as apostles. Many times young Kateri's (she was 21 when she escaped and 20 when she was baptized) mind raced up to God. She carved little crosses on the trees, made a little shrine by the spring, and always said her rosary.
She made her First Communion on Christmas Day in 1677. Her heart became a beautiful manger for the newborn Babe. She loved to hear saint stories and asked to hear them over and over. St. Francis of Assisi was her favorite, he who talked to the animals. She marveled at the story of his stigmata, and endured something like it in the terrible sting of a false accusation by Enneta, wife of a brave named Occuna, who one night by accident fell asleep next to Kateri's cot. Enneta felt they were having an affair and spread the rumor. The Blackrobe even talked to Kateri about it, but she only said, "It is not true." She endured the ostracization bravely and quietly, and one day, years later, Enneta wept for her suspicions of this little saint. For saint she was, down to even the nature of her death, the date and the hour of which she knew (Holy Thursday, 1680), and the pains of which she bore humbly and courageously, arranging her hair and putting on her best clothes to meet her Great Lover. "Jesus, I love Thee. Jesus . . . Mary" were her last words. Father Cholenec and all who saw her body testified that it miraculously transformed after death, losing all its disfiguring pockmarks.
She was buried by the cross she had erected down by the river and a tombstone was placed over it, reading:
Kateri Tekakwitha
Onkweonweke Katsitsiio
Teotsitsianekaron.
Which means: Kateri Tekakwitha
The fairest flower that ever
blossomed among the Redmen.
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