Today is the feast of St. John Damascene (aka John of Damascus), poet, doctor of the Church and last of the Greek Fathers, (c. 645 - c. 749). He is also called John Chrysorrhoas, John the "Golden Speaker" for his great writings, and John Mansur, his real surname. It was conferred upon his father by the Muslim caliph in whose service he was and means "the Victorious". John was destined -- later in life, as he had a late vocation -- to fight the Iconoclast movement (one that felt there was no place for representational art in churches) and so to take on all the forces of the late Roman empire. The Emperor Constantine V Copronymus twisted his name to John Mamzer, or Bastard John, to show his displeasure with our saint's strong defense of art -- not only statues, icons and stained glass, but hymns, books and poetry as well. "One might have expected that a man named Copronymus would have been a bit more careful about playing the fool with people's names, seeing that the Copronymus he bore all his life recalls his own infantile indiscretion of having soiled the font while being baptized." - William Jurgens, Faith of the Early Fathers, vol. 3, p. 330.
John, educated by a profoundly gifted Sicilian slave named Cosmas -- whom the elder John had bought to secure his freedom only to retain as a tutor -- went into civil service just as his father had done. He became head of the internal revenue service under the caliph in Damascus. Ooh, he's a tax man! But then John precipitously left his job and retreated to the desert to the monastery of Mar Saba. (He didn't become a priest until years later when John V, patriarch of Jerusalem tapped him. But he immediately returned to his cell in the monastery to write.)
Now you'd think the monks at Mar Saba would be pleased and grateful to have a man of the stature and education of John in their midst, but no. They were deeply suspicious of his Aristotelian sensibilities and especially of his joy in creation and in his delightful hymns, of which he wrote not only the lyrics but also the melodies. But John accepted their scorn and obediently even cleaned out the filth of the cells as his punishment. This unfair situation continued until the head monk had a vision of Our Lady in which she castigated him for punishing John and told him to allow him to write all the books and hymns he wanted!
John wrote "The Source of Knowledge," which includes the extremely influential "Of the Orthodox Faith" -- still today a bedrock of theology, especially for the Eastern churches. John was a master of synthesis, able to take facts from many difference sources and blend them into a coherent whole. His special strength was theology (though he knew math and medicine, grammar and logic equally well). And he was able to speak his mind fearlessly and unmolested, in part because he was under Muslim authority and NOT (iconoclast) Christian.
Dear St. John Damascene, pray for us.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Today March 26
Today is the feast of St. Ludger, died c. 809. We have a surprisingly lot of information on today's saint, a native of Frisia, that group of islands off the coast of Germany where, if you close your eyes and concentrate, you'll feel like you're hearing English spoken, so close is Frisian to English. Ludger was in Germany itself when an Englishman arrived who wanted to preach in Frisia. The dean of the school there said okay, provided he take Ludger with him as deacon. The man, Alubert by name, took him back to York to be consecrated and it was there Ludger met Alcuin, that stellar mind, and the two clicked. In fact, Ludger stayed at the college for three and a half years and would have stayed longer had not all Frisians been kicked out in retaliation for the murder of an important English merchant's son. So he returned to Utrecht and was given charge of repairing a local church. Rather than doing so, he built a whole new one -- on the (previously unknown) burial place of the saint for which the church was named.
Then, finally, he was sent as deacon to his native Frisia aka Frieseland, where he labored long and hard to wrest the people from their pagan ways. He built churches and destroyed pagan temples, which were plundered by Charlemagne, although some was given back to the church (about a third), also in the form of protection. But all of a sudden, all his work came to naught when the Saxons invaded Frisia. Poor Ludger must have felt like a total failure, watching all his country plunge back into the darkness of paganism.
But all was not lost. After a three-year sabbatical in Monte Cassino , where he studied under, but did not become, a Benedictine. He was later able to return to his homeland, and to areas beyond: Heligoland, Westphalia and even Denmark and Scandinavia. He established a see at Muenster and became its first bishop.
Late in life, he kind of torqued off his emperor, the famous Charlemagne, because he didn't come immediately when called by a messenger -- nor a second or third. Ludger, you see, was praying and, as he later explained to the monarch, "I believed that the service of God was to be preferred to yours or to that of any man." He died in peace on this day, which was Passion Sunday in 809. St. Ludger, pray for us.
Then, finally, he was sent as deacon to his native Frisia aka Frieseland, where he labored long and hard to wrest the people from their pagan ways. He built churches and destroyed pagan temples, which were plundered by Charlemagne, although some was given back to the church (about a third), also in the form of protection. But all of a sudden, all his work came to naught when the Saxons invaded Frisia. Poor Ludger must have felt like a total failure, watching all his country plunge back into the darkness of paganism.
But all was not lost. After a three-year sabbatical in Monte Cassino , where he studied under, but did not become, a Benedictine. He was later able to return to his homeland, and to areas beyond: Heligoland, Westphalia and even Denmark and Scandinavia. He established a see at Muenster and became its first bishop.
Late in life, he kind of torqued off his emperor, the famous Charlemagne, because he didn't come immediately when called by a messenger -- nor a second or third. Ludger, you see, was praying and, as he later explained to the monarch, "I believed that the service of God was to be preferred to yours or to that of any man." He died in peace on this day, which was Passion Sunday in 809. St. Ludger, pray for us.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Today March 23
Today is the feast, well, of Easter of course (Alleluia!), but also of St. Joseph Oriol (1649 - 1702). His father died when Joseph was still an infant, but his mother married again and the stepfather treated him as his own child. There was no "your child" or "my child" between them. Good man! Those unsung heroes, the stepfathers.
Joseph was very poor (the stepfather was a shoemaker), but the priests in the diocese there in Barcelona considered him so promising and bright that they taught him to read and write. He was such a good student he merited a scholarship to the university, even getting an advanced postgraduate degree.
But he was not proud. Although all thought him a saint, he knew better. He knew the virtuous life would be a struggle, but he was up to the task. He ate very little, drank only water, dressed simply and lived in perfect continence. He became a parish priest. His simple room contained only these: a crucifix, a table, a bench, and some books. He didn't even have a bed, as he only slept a few hours a night!
He was a great confessor and had a real gift for spiritual direction. He didn't please everyone, though; some who felt him too strict complained about him. Some of his critics must have been the "big givers" (or at least "big men on campus" so to speak), since they got the attention of the bishop who forbid him to hear confessions. He obeyed instantly, unfair though the ruling was; but the prohibition didn't last long. The bishop died and was replaced with a more discerning man (who immediately lifted the ban).
He was very active in the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith, though he was never able to travel nor to offer himself as a martyr. He was equally committed to the sick (whom he often cured!) and children and soldiers -- to all of whom his directness, gentleness and wisdom never failed to move. His funeral was so well-attended they had to shut the cathedral down so the burial could proceed. He was canonized in 1909. St. Joseph Oriol, pray for us.
Joseph was very poor (the stepfather was a shoemaker), but the priests in the diocese there in Barcelona considered him so promising and bright that they taught him to read and write. He was such a good student he merited a scholarship to the university, even getting an advanced postgraduate degree.
But he was not proud. Although all thought him a saint, he knew better. He knew the virtuous life would be a struggle, but he was up to the task. He ate very little, drank only water, dressed simply and lived in perfect continence. He became a parish priest. His simple room contained only these: a crucifix, a table, a bench, and some books. He didn't even have a bed, as he only slept a few hours a night!
He was a great confessor and had a real gift for spiritual direction. He didn't please everyone, though; some who felt him too strict complained about him. Some of his critics must have been the "big givers" (or at least "big men on campus" so to speak), since they got the attention of the bishop who forbid him to hear confessions. He obeyed instantly, unfair though the ruling was; but the prohibition didn't last long. The bishop died and was replaced with a more discerning man (who immediately lifted the ban).
He was very active in the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith, though he was never able to travel nor to offer himself as a martyr. He was equally committed to the sick (whom he often cured!) and children and soldiers -- to all of whom his directness, gentleness and wisdom never failed to move. His funeral was so well-attended they had to shut the cathedral down so the burial could proceed. He was canonized in 1909. St. Joseph Oriol, pray for us.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Today March 21
Today, besides being Good Friday, is the feast of the beloved St. Serapion, Desert Father, died c. 370. He was also a bishop, a fearless defender of (and correspondent with) St. Athanasius, and an exile for his beliefs. He was an author, too, and wrote many admonitions, including: "The mind is purified by spiritual knowledge, the spiritual passions by charity, and the irregular appetites by abstinence." Wise words, especially today.
He was against all forms of avarice, even in the (gulp) possession of books. When a brother asked him for "a word," Abba Serapion looked around his cell and paused. He was reluctant to speak, but the brother begged him. He got an earful. "What shall I say to you? You have taken the living of widows and orphans and put it on your shelves." For he saw them full of books. Sigh.
He was unafraid of anyone. When he ran into a prostitute he said to her, "Expect me this evening for I should like to come and spend the night with you." The prostitute, not wanting to lose an opportunity, agreed. When Serapion arrived, he asked if the bed was ready. When she said it was, he said he must first fulfill his "rule of prayer." The woman started trembling as he prayed the psalms and after each one said a prayer for her conversion. When he was finally finished, she collapsed on the ground. He now started reading from St. Paul's Letters. The woman was moved to profound repentance and gave her life to God right then and there. He found her a home in a convent and later witnessed her holy death.
And finally, the story is told of a brother who came to Serapion for advice. When Serapion asked him to let him wash his feet, the brother refused, saying he was "unworthy." When Serapion asked him to join him in prayer, the brother again refused, saying he was "a sinner." Serapion then told him to stay in his cell, pay attention to himself, and do some manual work. When the brother got offended at this, Serapion let him have it. "Up to now you have called yourself a sinner and accused yourself of being unworthy, but when I admonished you lovingly, you were extremely put out. If you want to be humble, learn to bear generously what others inflict upon you."
Wise St. Serapion, pray for us.
He was against all forms of avarice, even in the (gulp) possession of books. When a brother asked him for "a word," Abba Serapion looked around his cell and paused. He was reluctant to speak, but the brother begged him. He got an earful. "What shall I say to you? You have taken the living of widows and orphans and put it on your shelves." For he saw them full of books. Sigh.
He was unafraid of anyone. When he ran into a prostitute he said to her, "Expect me this evening for I should like to come and spend the night with you." The prostitute, not wanting to lose an opportunity, agreed. When Serapion arrived, he asked if the bed was ready. When she said it was, he said he must first fulfill his "rule of prayer." The woman started trembling as he prayed the psalms and after each one said a prayer for her conversion. When he was finally finished, she collapsed on the ground. He now started reading from St. Paul's Letters. The woman was moved to profound repentance and gave her life to God right then and there. He found her a home in a convent and later witnessed her holy death.
And finally, the story is told of a brother who came to Serapion for advice. When Serapion asked him to let him wash his feet, the brother refused, saying he was "unworthy." When Serapion asked him to join him in prayer, the brother again refused, saying he was "a sinner." Serapion then told him to stay in his cell, pay attention to himself, and do some manual work. When the brother got offended at this, Serapion let him have it. "Up to now you have called yourself a sinner and accused yourself of being unworthy, but when I admonished you lovingly, you were extremely put out. If you want to be humble, learn to bear generously what others inflict upon you."
Wise St. Serapion, pray for us.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Today March 18
Today is the feast of St. Cyril of Jerusalem, died c. 387, priest and doctor. Poor Cyril. "Not orthodox enough for the orthodox and not Arian enough for the Arians," - William Jurgens, The Faith of the Early Fathers, vol. 1, p. 347. He was a priest in Jerusalem under St. Maximus, and while he understood the term "homoousious," he was reluctant to use it. Of a conciliatory temper, he ruled the spiritual side of the Holy Land well, but came into conflict with Acacius, the Arian bishop of nearby Caesarea, and was expelled three times from his see. But all's well that ends well: he took part in the council of Constantinople, which re-imposed the "homoousious" ("consubstantial", meaning of Jesus's nature with the Father) and served out his last years in peace.
St. Cyril of Jerusalem, pray for us.
St. Cyril of Jerusalem, pray for us.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Today March 17
Today is the glorious feast of St. Patrick (c. 418 - 493), beloved of all Irishmen and patron of Ireland. While he did not single-handedly Christianize Ireland (there were others before and after him), it can well be said that the spiritual fate of that country rested on his narrow shoulders. A British subject, kidnapped as a slave, he was forced to work as a shepherd for six long years in Antrim. He was shaved, cursed, starved and beaten, the whole cruel lot of slaves. He managed to escape and begged a ride on a boat carrying wolfhounds to Continental Europe. They actually landed in Britain, but in a wild, untamed part of it. They wandered around, but at one point Patrick managed to escape and to return to his family.
You'd think that joyful reunion would be the end of it, but no. Patrick was haunted by the memory of the sad, mostly pagan Ireland and in his generous heart decided to return and give them the light of Jesus. He became a priest in France, then returned to the land of his captivity. Turned away from several ports, he finally landed in Strangford Lough (near Bangor, in County Down) and made his way to Tara, the place of the High King, making converts all along the way. Once when he was preaching to the king about the passion of the Christ, he accidentally pierced the king's foot with the point of his sharp crosier. Instead of castigating Patrick, or even crying out, the king bore it quietly, thinking it was all part of the ritual! The King himself never accepted Christianity, but allowed Patrick to preach, baptize, build churches, and ordain (he had been made a bishop by the Brits) unhindered throughout the land. And succeed he did: he built hundreds of churches, ordained 3000 priests, and baptized thousands. He was not able to convert his former owner, however -- that man committed suicide (and arson) rather than face the shame (as he saw it) of repentance and conversion.
Although Patrick seldom had ANY free time, he managed to escape to Croagh Patrick (a white quartz mountain near Clew Bay) for the 40 days of Lent. It was during this time of prayer and fasting that he had the vision and heard the angel's promise that the Irish would hold fast to the faith til the end of time. And "all the men of Erin, living or dead, shall be blessed and consecrated to God through thee." Neat.
Patrick traveled less as time went on, and wrote more. He settled in Armagh and there set up his cathedral. He wrote many beautiful prayers, psalms, poems and even an autobiography called the Confession. But not all his words were diplomatic and flowery. He also wrote a blistering attack against a British prince and slaveholder who had raided Ireland and kidnapped and enslaved some of Patrick's own subjects. He wrote: "Is it a crime to be born in Ireland? Have we not the same God as you?" And he called him a "rebel against God" and said, "What manner of hope in God have you, or any who cooperate with you? God will judge!" Wow.
He died where he started out, in Strangford Lough in the North and while many towns vied for the right of his final resting place, Downpatrick received the honor when the oxen carrying his coffin stopped there and could not be moved. You can visit his grave there in the churchyard, adorned with the simple marker: a boulder marked with a cross and the one word: Patric.
Dear St. Patrick, pray for us. Erin go bragh.
You'd think that joyful reunion would be the end of it, but no. Patrick was haunted by the memory of the sad, mostly pagan Ireland and in his generous heart decided to return and give them the light of Jesus. He became a priest in France, then returned to the land of his captivity. Turned away from several ports, he finally landed in Strangford Lough (near Bangor, in County Down) and made his way to Tara, the place of the High King, making converts all along the way. Once when he was preaching to the king about the passion of the Christ, he accidentally pierced the king's foot with the point of his sharp crosier. Instead of castigating Patrick, or even crying out, the king bore it quietly, thinking it was all part of the ritual! The King himself never accepted Christianity, but allowed Patrick to preach, baptize, build churches, and ordain (he had been made a bishop by the Brits) unhindered throughout the land. And succeed he did: he built hundreds of churches, ordained 3000 priests, and baptized thousands. He was not able to convert his former owner, however -- that man committed suicide (and arson) rather than face the shame (as he saw it) of repentance and conversion.
Although Patrick seldom had ANY free time, he managed to escape to Croagh Patrick (a white quartz mountain near Clew Bay) for the 40 days of Lent. It was during this time of prayer and fasting that he had the vision and heard the angel's promise that the Irish would hold fast to the faith til the end of time. And "all the men of Erin, living or dead, shall be blessed and consecrated to God through thee." Neat.
Patrick traveled less as time went on, and wrote more. He settled in Armagh and there set up his cathedral. He wrote many beautiful prayers, psalms, poems and even an autobiography called the Confession. But not all his words were diplomatic and flowery. He also wrote a blistering attack against a British prince and slaveholder who had raided Ireland and kidnapped and enslaved some of Patrick's own subjects. He wrote: "Is it a crime to be born in Ireland? Have we not the same God as you?" And he called him a "rebel against God" and said, "What manner of hope in God have you, or any who cooperate with you? God will judge!" Wow.
He died where he started out, in Strangford Lough in the North and while many towns vied for the right of his final resting place, Downpatrick received the honor when the oxen carrying his coffin stopped there and could not be moved. You can visit his grave there in the churchyard, adorned with the simple marker: a boulder marked with a cross and the one word: Patric.
Dear St. Patrick, pray for us. Erin go bragh.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Today March 13
Today is the feast of St. Euphrasia, virgin, died c. 420. This remarkable girl, a foster child of an emperor (Theodosius I), may well have been the envy of St. Therese the Little Flower, for Therese fought hard to gain admittance to a convent at age 15 . . . and Euphrasia was accepted at 7! The power of the emperor didn't secure her her position, for both she and her widowed mother were fleeing the court, since they both were being sought by potential suitors! The unnamed mother was more successful in this than the daughter, for when she came of age, the son of the wealthy senator to whom she'd been promised came looking for her. She refused him, but began more and more to be distracted and tempted by that rich old world she had once -- and could again -- inhabited.
To help keep her mind on her vocation (and the love of the Lord), the mother superior gave her many hard and/or menial tasks to do: cleaning the cells, carrying water, chopping wood, baking bread, cooking food, and, Dostoevsky's perennial favorite: moving a heavy pile of stones to one place and then back again! The treatment worked: she humbly and completely embraced the life she had once chosen, and even joined in extra prayers and hymns. She was accused of doing so in order to win the superior's position; instead of countering such slander, she merely knelt and asked the accuser to pray for her! She died peacefully, and when her cellmate and best friend Julia prayed to join her in heaven, three days later Julia was found dead. A month later the grieving mother superior prayed to join them also; the next morning she was dead as well, having gone to her reward. St. Euphrasia is honored by the Russians, Orthodox and Catholic alike. St. Euphrasia, pray for us.
To help keep her mind on her vocation (and the love of the Lord), the mother superior gave her many hard and/or menial tasks to do: cleaning the cells, carrying water, chopping wood, baking bread, cooking food, and, Dostoevsky's perennial favorite: moving a heavy pile of stones to one place and then back again! The treatment worked: she humbly and completely embraced the life she had once chosen, and even joined in extra prayers and hymns. She was accused of doing so in order to win the superior's position; instead of countering such slander, she merely knelt and asked the accuser to pray for her! She died peacefully, and when her cellmate and best friend Julia prayed to join her in heaven, three days later Julia was found dead. A month later the grieving mother superior prayed to join them also; the next morning she was dead as well, having gone to her reward. St. Euphrasia is honored by the Russians, Orthodox and Catholic alike. St. Euphrasia, pray for us.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Today March 12
Today is the feast of St. Louis Orione (1872 - 1940), secular priest extraordinaire. This thoroughly modern saint was all about achievement, the work of God. He established a boarding school for boys -- all before he was even ordained a priest! He founded four orders. He got things done fast. When he'd asked permission to found his boys' club, the bishop had granted permission but then rescinded it. After all, the man was just a seminarian, folks said. Louis went obediently, but not meekly. He pointedly expressed his sharp disappointment in the bishop's going back on his promise; besides, Louis had already received the entire amount he needed AND a suitable place AND his first registered pupil . . . all in the space of a few hours! The Bishop could see the writing on the wall and gave his fervent support. Not bad for a poor boy who'd washed out of the Franciscans and quit the Salesians!
Louis wasn't shy about "speaking truth to power" -- even power beyond that of the bishop. He remonstrated with a certain cardinal who he said had favored a talented musician/seminarian. He wrote it in a powerful but tactless letter. Only after he'd mailed it did it occur to him that maybe he was very condescending; he wished to God he could fish the letter back OUT of the mailbox! Years later, he came face to face with that very letter -- on the eve of his ordination, when the cardinal, now Pope Pius X (!) showed it to him in his brieviary. Pius smiled and said, "Even the pope, you know, needs frequently to be reminded of the need for humility!" He then gave him a gift of money, some new vestments, and approval of his new order, the Work of Divine Providence. All Louis' orders, that and the (contemplative) Hermits of Divine Providence, the Little Missionary Sisters of Charity, and the Blind Sacramentine Sisters (with all blind members!) all work according to the program of Dante's "Our love has no closed doors." The boys' (and later, girls') clubs, the boarding schools, the homes for the aged, the sick, the insane, the retarded, and the poor, were open to everyone, of any belief (or no belief), without cost. They relied almost totally on Divine Providence. Time and time again, thousands or even millions of lira would arrive at exactly the right time, and when one home was filled, another would be offered.
Louis kept eating, but he constantly lost weight. He joked with his doctor that he still had his sins and THEY at least were heavy! He'd always had diabetes and he suffered two debilitating strokes in '39 and '40. When chided by his nurse for writing 22 personal letters just before he died, he smilingly replied, "It's all right. We'll have a long rest in Paradise." This kind man with the piercing eyes closed them for the last time in 1940. His body is still incorrupt. He was beatified a mere 17 years after his death, astonishingly quick in that day. He was canonized in 1980. St. Louis Orione, pray for us.
Louis wasn't shy about "speaking truth to power" -- even power beyond that of the bishop. He remonstrated with a certain cardinal who he said had favored a talented musician/seminarian. He wrote it in a powerful but tactless letter. Only after he'd mailed it did it occur to him that maybe he was very condescending; he wished to God he could fish the letter back OUT of the mailbox! Years later, he came face to face with that very letter -- on the eve of his ordination, when the cardinal, now Pope Pius X (!) showed it to him in his brieviary. Pius smiled and said, "Even the pope, you know, needs frequently to be reminded of the need for humility!" He then gave him a gift of money, some new vestments, and approval of his new order, the Work of Divine Providence. All Louis' orders, that and the (contemplative) Hermits of Divine Providence, the Little Missionary Sisters of Charity, and the Blind Sacramentine Sisters (with all blind members!) all work according to the program of Dante's "Our love has no closed doors." The boys' (and later, girls') clubs, the boarding schools, the homes for the aged, the sick, the insane, the retarded, and the poor, were open to everyone, of any belief (or no belief), without cost. They relied almost totally on Divine Providence. Time and time again, thousands or even millions of lira would arrive at exactly the right time, and when one home was filled, another would be offered.
Louis kept eating, but he constantly lost weight. He joked with his doctor that he still had his sins and THEY at least were heavy! He'd always had diabetes and he suffered two debilitating strokes in '39 and '40. When chided by his nurse for writing 22 personal letters just before he died, he smilingly replied, "It's all right. We'll have a long rest in Paradise." This kind man with the piercing eyes closed them for the last time in 1940. His body is still incorrupt. He was beatified a mere 17 years after his death, astonishingly quick in that day. He was canonized in 1980. St. Louis Orione, pray for us.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Today March 11
Although today is the feast of St. Sophronius (d. 638), we are going to go with St. Teresa Margaret Redi (aka Teresa Margaret of the Sacred Heart, aka Anne Mary Redi) (1747 - 1770), virgin. She was a modest little girl of a large and fairly well-to-do family; and she was endowed with remarkable good sense. Well-educated in Florence a the convent of the Sisters of St. Apollonia, she chose not to join them even though she felt compelled to religious life. A supernatural vision of St. Teresa of Avila suggested to her to join the Discalced Carmelites. She followed the rules of the order completely -- and even went above and beyond the call of duty in prayer, penance and poverty.
She entered as a lay sister but was requested to become a choir-nun, which she did. She lived a fairly anonymous life, shut off from the world, and was a real joy to the few sisters who shared her short life. Wisely, she said, "Everything comes to an end; therefore take heart, for we pass from one thing to another until at last we arrive at eternity. Even seeing how things of this world end so quickly ought to console us, because the nearer and more quickly are we approaching that end towards which all our activities should tend."
This pure-hearted girl truly experienced that which St. Angela of Foligno described as "fire, love and sweetness" -- literally -- especially when she received Holy Communion. And probably fittingly, she exuded a sweet perfume -- as did all her clothes and even the flowers placed around her coffin -- long after her death, for she was -- and remains to this day -- incorrupt. It is even more remarkable because not only was she not embalmed, but she died with the horrible affliction known today as "dead colon." The gastro-intestinal disease came on her quite suddenly -- though there are indications she had a foreknowledge of it -- and she died peacefully despite 18 hours of great pain. This gangrenous condition ordinarily results in an acceleration of decomposition, rather than the exact opposite! You can still see the body of this dear woman in the Monastery of St. Teresa in Florence. St. Teresa Margaret Redi, pray for us.
She entered as a lay sister but was requested to become a choir-nun, which she did. She lived a fairly anonymous life, shut off from the world, and was a real joy to the few sisters who shared her short life. Wisely, she said, "Everything comes to an end; therefore take heart, for we pass from one thing to another until at last we arrive at eternity. Even seeing how things of this world end so quickly ought to console us, because the nearer and more quickly are we approaching that end towards which all our activities should tend."
This pure-hearted girl truly experienced that which St. Angela of Foligno described as "fire, love and sweetness" -- literally -- especially when she received Holy Communion. And probably fittingly, she exuded a sweet perfume -- as did all her clothes and even the flowers placed around her coffin -- long after her death, for she was -- and remains to this day -- incorrupt. It is even more remarkable because not only was she not embalmed, but she died with the horrible affliction known today as "dead colon." The gastro-intestinal disease came on her quite suddenly -- though there are indications she had a foreknowledge of it -- and she died peacefully despite 18 hours of great pain. This gangrenous condition ordinarily results in an acceleration of decomposition, rather than the exact opposite! You can still see the body of this dear woman in the Monastery of St. Teresa in Florence. St. Teresa Margaret Redi, pray for us.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Today March 10
Today is the feast of Father John Joseph Lataste (1832 - 1869), Dominican, founder of the Dominican Sisters of Bethany for former women prisoners. It took a long, roundabout way for Father John Joseph (born Alcide) Lataste to become this patron of female prisoners. A seminary dropout, he was a worldly young man, light-hearted and ordinary. He got a good job with the civil service and fell in love with and got engaged to a young woman named Cecile. His parents, far from what most parents we have read about in these pages, actually wanted him to be a priest and pulled strings to have him transferred, hoping the romance would die a natural death. (Of course, a lot of it had to do with the fact that Cecile was poor and low-class, though of the highest reputation.) Alcide was devastated, but was obedient, and said a secret prayer that a sign be given him if his old intention to be a priest was in fact God's will. Well, be careful what you wish for! Not long after, his fiancee died! Not only that, but his mother and foster mother (he'd been raised in the South of France by this woman for the first four years of his life for the sake of his health) died also, all within the space of a month. He took it as a sign that no human person on earth could truly make him happy, but God alone.
He joined the Dominican order in 1857. He suffered a crushed finger and a bone malady soon after entering the order and spent a lot of time in the infirmary, praying. A relic of St. Mary Magdalen was taken to the basilica at St. Maximin, where he was, and he developed great devotion to this woman of love. He conducted retreats at the local prison in Cadillac and entrusted the women with these two thoughts:
1) What God wants more than all else is to be loved; and,
2) God does not ask us what we were; He is only interested in what we are today.
Some of the women were so moved by this, they desired to commit their lives to God in a special way once they got out, but there was no order that would take them. Father Lataste, under the mistaken idea that St. Mary Magdalen was Mary of Bethany and that she was a "reformed sinner," had the noble idea of founding this new order himself under the name "Sisters of Bethany." A radical idea, this plan of his was met with scorn and distaste -- some thought him mentally ill -- but Father fought for it and lived to see it brought to fruition. With the help of a platonic female friend, Sister Henry Dominic, he formed the order with the newly-freed inmates, who devoted their lives to contemplation and prison ministry. Now there are a number of houses, and are not made up exclusively of former prisoners, but women from all walks of life.
Father John Joseph Lataste, pray for us.
He joined the Dominican order in 1857. He suffered a crushed finger and a bone malady soon after entering the order and spent a lot of time in the infirmary, praying. A relic of St. Mary Magdalen was taken to the basilica at St. Maximin, where he was, and he developed great devotion to this woman of love. He conducted retreats at the local prison in Cadillac and entrusted the women with these two thoughts:
1) What God wants more than all else is to be loved; and,
2) God does not ask us what we were; He is only interested in what we are today.
Some of the women were so moved by this, they desired to commit their lives to God in a special way once they got out, but there was no order that would take them. Father Lataste, under the mistaken idea that St. Mary Magdalen was Mary of Bethany and that she was a "reformed sinner," had the noble idea of founding this new order himself under the name "Sisters of Bethany." A radical idea, this plan of his was met with scorn and distaste -- some thought him mentally ill -- but Father fought for it and lived to see it brought to fruition. With the help of a platonic female friend, Sister Henry Dominic, he formed the order with the newly-freed inmates, who devoted their lives to contemplation and prison ministry. Now there are a number of houses, and are not made up exclusively of former prisoners, but women from all walks of life.
Father John Joseph Lataste, pray for us.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Today March 9
Today, besides being the Fifth Sunday of Lent, is the feast of St. Vitalus, whose name means "lively," or "full of life," and so he was. He was a very early saint, a knight to a man named Paulinus. He had a wife Valeria (who was herself a martyr), and two sons, Gervasius and Protasius. This layman, who had a nice, respectable, middle-class kind of life, risked it all at the trial of the physician Unicinus. This man, tortured and wavering, was about to sacrifice to idols, when Vitalus spoke up: "O doctor and brother Unicinus, you have made a practice of curing others, do not now kill yourself with an eternal death! You have come to the palm by caring for the sufferings of many. Do not lose the crown prepared for you by God!" Well, the man recanted his (imminent) apostasy and abjured the sacrificing to the gods and the eating of the meat so sacrificed, but it cost Vitalus a great deal: first his freedom and then his life. See, nobody knew he was a Christian at that point (aside from his family and close circle of friends), and Paulinus turned him in to the authorities.
A pagan priest had him stretched on a rack and when that didn't sway him, had him buried alive in a cistern dug by a palm tree, where he sank into the mud to die. (Kind of like Jeremiah.) Not long later, it was thought that the priest himself was possessed by demons and was pushed -- or jumped -- into the river and drowned. Vitalus died during the reign of the Emperor Nero, which began in the year 52.
Brave St. Vitalus, help us to defend the truth and speak it.
A pagan priest had him stretched on a rack and when that didn't sway him, had him buried alive in a cistern dug by a palm tree, where he sank into the mud to die. (Kind of like Jeremiah.) Not long later, it was thought that the priest himself was possessed by demons and was pushed -- or jumped -- into the river and drowned. Vitalus died during the reign of the Emperor Nero, which began in the year 52.
Brave St. Vitalus, help us to defend the truth and speak it.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Today March 8
Today is the feast of the wonderful, the challenging St. John of God (1495 - 1550). First of all, let me say that I love John of God, because, among other things, he is the patron of booksellers. What would we do without booksellers -- good, wholesome, scholarly Catholic booksellers? He is also (with Camilllus de Lellis) the patron of hospitals, the sick, and nurses, because he was himself a nurse, a hospital administrator and a mentally ill person! Or at least that is what people assumed he was. After all, he WAS committed to an insane asylum. Why? Because he so took to heart a sermon against sin by St. John of Avila and so determined in his fervor that he was running about almost like a wild man, accusing himself of his sins and begging for penance. St. John himself rescued him from the asylum and settled him down.
He opened up his house to the neglected sick and nursed them himself. He put to use his vigor and his energy for penance in an extremely positive way. He no longer frightened the citizens of Granada. In fact, several young men joined him in his selfless cause -- to the point that the archbishop of Granada encouraged him to take a habit, organize the men, and found an order. John was reluctant to do so, but he did, and that is the origin of the Brothers Hospitallers.
He died kneeling before the altar in his sickroom, remaining kneeling totally unsupported even hours after his death! Plus a glorious and pleasant fragrance permeated the room, which is now a chapel. His funeral had to be at the Our Lady of Victory Church, since it was the only one large enough to hold all the people. When his coffin was opened a full 20 years after his death, his body was incorrupt (except for the very tip of his nose). His body has since deteriorated into bones, which were separated and distributed to many of the churches and hospitals of the Brothers Hospitallers.
St. John of God, pray for us.
He opened up his house to the neglected sick and nursed them himself. He put to use his vigor and his energy for penance in an extremely positive way. He no longer frightened the citizens of Granada. In fact, several young men joined him in his selfless cause -- to the point that the archbishop of Granada encouraged him to take a habit, organize the men, and found an order. John was reluctant to do so, but he did, and that is the origin of the Brothers Hospitallers.
He died kneeling before the altar in his sickroom, remaining kneeling totally unsupported even hours after his death! Plus a glorious and pleasant fragrance permeated the room, which is now a chapel. His funeral had to be at the Our Lady of Victory Church, since it was the only one large enough to hold all the people. When his coffin was opened a full 20 years after his death, his body was incorrupt (except for the very tip of his nose). His body has since deteriorated into bones, which were separated and distributed to many of the churches and hospitals of the Brothers Hospitallers.
St. John of God, pray for us.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Today March 7
Today is the feast of St. Paul the Simple, (died c. 339), Desert Father. He himself passed down the story of his conversion and his monastic life to the Desert Fathers, who, in the dry environment, preserved all their histories from that year to this. Paul was an ordinary layman whose wife had been stepping out on him. One day he arrived home and caught her in bed with another man. He could have responded with violence but did not. He immediately left and presented himself to Abba Anthony in the desert. As Paul was already 60, Anthony rebuffed him and told him to go home, but Paul was not to be moved. Four days he waited outside Anthony's cell. Finally, worried that Paul would die on the spot, Anthony received him as a monk. Paul, for his part, fulfilled his duties so humbly and completely that he was known as -- and called himself -- "simple." That didn't mean he was a doormat or stupid or silent or ungifted. In fact, he was given many graces.
One day he went to the monastery to make himself useful. He observed the brothers going into church. It was given to him to see the spiritual disposition of each monk as he passed. Most had bright, shining faces and happy angels, but one's soul was dark and dominated by a demon. Paul said as much (without naming names), and wept and beat his breast all the while they were in at Mass. And when they came out, he saw the previously tormented brother now whole and shining; his angel triumphant, his demon far behind. "O the ineffable loving-kindness of God!" he cried. Then the man whose heart had been converted came forward and identified himself, and testified to the truth of Paul's vision. "I am a sinful man; I have lived in fornication for a long time, right up until the present moment; when I went into the holy church of God, I heard the holy prophet Isaiah being read, 'Even though your sins are as scarlet, I will make them white like snow.' And I, the fornicator, am filled with compunction in my heart and from now on, I give my word, I affirm and promise in my heart that I will not sin any more." And the brothers rejoiced.
St. Paul the Simple, pray for us.
One day he went to the monastery to make himself useful. He observed the brothers going into church. It was given to him to see the spiritual disposition of each monk as he passed. Most had bright, shining faces and happy angels, but one's soul was dark and dominated by a demon. Paul said as much (without naming names), and wept and beat his breast all the while they were in at Mass. And when they came out, he saw the previously tormented brother now whole and shining; his angel triumphant, his demon far behind. "O the ineffable loving-kindness of God!" he cried. Then the man whose heart had been converted came forward and identified himself, and testified to the truth of Paul's vision. "I am a sinful man; I have lived in fornication for a long time, right up until the present moment; when I went into the holy church of God, I heard the holy prophet Isaiah being read, 'Even though your sins are as scarlet, I will make them white like snow.' And I, the fornicator, am filled with compunction in my heart and from now on, I give my word, I affirm and promise in my heart that I will not sin any more." And the brothers rejoiced.
St. Paul the Simple, pray for us.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Today March 6
Today is the feast of St. Colette, (1381 -1447), virgin and reformer. A tiny, petite little French peasant girl, she was a delightful and attractive pixie. She was always drawn to God and filled her days with prayer . . . and even playing with animals. (That does my heart good.) Even in her later days, lambs and doves would gather around her and she could get even the shiest of birds to eat right out of her hand. Perhaps it's natural she became a Third Order Franciscan. But it wasn't a direct thing at all. She tried the Beguines first, but didn't fit in there; then the Benedictines, then the Poor Clares. Nothing. Almost as a last resort she became a Third Order Franciscan. She retired to a humble hermitage given to her by the Franciscan abbot of Corbie. It was attached to the church, and she could come and go as she pleased. First she received plenty of visitors, anxious to see such a curiosity. Later she received fewer, but many still welcomed her prayer and advice. Finally she received none at all. And all might have continued like this, had she not had a dream.
She had a vision of St. Francis himself, calling her to restore the female Franciscans (aka the Poor Clares) to their original severity. Asking for a sign, she received an unlikely one: she was struck blind for three days. Regaining her sight, she was then struck mute for three days more. She went out on pilgrimage, completely barefoot, determined to reform the order by hook or by crook.
Interestingly, she here made an error, albeit innocently. (Isn't it wonderful that saints are human?) She applied for permission to the WRONG pope. Yes, she sought authority from one who had no authority to give, Peter de Luna, pretender to the papacy, and going by the name Benedict XIII. He was the anti-pope in Nice, but the French generally acknowledged him as pope. Now equipped with what she thought was a mandate, she limped from convent to convent, preaching the idealism of the first founder of the order, St. Francis. Laughed at, ignored, spurned, she went on her way serenely, knowing she was pruning the now almost fruitless vine, preparing it to bear much fruit in future, which it did. Despite all the calumny of "realism," she WAS able to turn the Poor Clares around, to the point that even the male Franciscans reformed, embracing the poverty and prayerfulness of the Seraphic founder.
And here, too, she had a mysterious, some would say miraculous, sign to support her -- one of the most unusual in hagiographical history. Jesus Christ appeared to her mystically and gave her a golden reliquary, but unlike other examples of a heavenly "gift" that not everyone can see (think St. Catherine's mysterious golden "ring" from heaven), anyone can see this jewel-encrusted golden cross with a piece of wood in it, purported to be a fragment of the True Cross. You can see it yourself at the Monastere de Ste. Claire in Poligny, France, where Colette's remains themselves rest. Dear St. Colette, pray for us.
She had a vision of St. Francis himself, calling her to restore the female Franciscans (aka the Poor Clares) to their original severity. Asking for a sign, she received an unlikely one: she was struck blind for three days. Regaining her sight, she was then struck mute for three days more. She went out on pilgrimage, completely barefoot, determined to reform the order by hook or by crook.
Interestingly, she here made an error, albeit innocently. (Isn't it wonderful that saints are human?) She applied for permission to the WRONG pope. Yes, she sought authority from one who had no authority to give, Peter de Luna, pretender to the papacy, and going by the name Benedict XIII. He was the anti-pope in Nice, but the French generally acknowledged him as pope. Now equipped with what she thought was a mandate, she limped from convent to convent, preaching the idealism of the first founder of the order, St. Francis. Laughed at, ignored, spurned, she went on her way serenely, knowing she was pruning the now almost fruitless vine, preparing it to bear much fruit in future, which it did. Despite all the calumny of "realism," she WAS able to turn the Poor Clares around, to the point that even the male Franciscans reformed, embracing the poverty and prayerfulness of the Seraphic founder.
And here, too, she had a mysterious, some would say miraculous, sign to support her -- one of the most unusual in hagiographical history. Jesus Christ appeared to her mystically and gave her a golden reliquary, but unlike other examples of a heavenly "gift" that not everyone can see (think St. Catherine's mysterious golden "ring" from heaven), anyone can see this jewel-encrusted golden cross with a piece of wood in it, purported to be a fragment of the True Cross. You can see it yourself at the Monastere de Ste. Claire in Poligny, France, where Colette's remains themselves rest. Dear St. Colette, pray for us.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Today March 5
Today is the feast of St. Roger le Fort, d. 1367. He could be the patron saint of jokers, since he owes his appointment to the bishopric of Orleans to a joke. He saw all these canons clamoring for the position without realizing the tremendous duties and responsibilities that went with it, so he ribbed them as they went in. Kind of an Oh, by the WAY, "I hope the electors will think of ME on the present occasion, for I too should like to be a bishop!" (his actual words) Well, they thought he was serious, and proposed him as well. The presiding bishop rose to acclaim him, saying "Brethren, heaven and earth are witnesses that you have made the choice of Monsieur Roger for your bishop. Concurring as I do with your judgment, I declare that he upon whom your votes have fallen is the preordained pontiff [his word] of this city, for he is a man of eminent sanctity and wisdom. Assuredly this is the decision of the Holy Spirit."
In vain did Roger protest he was only joking! The people joined their voices to that of the clergy and he was drafted. (I get the impression that in the raucous old days, "the people" were a lot more involved in the choice of the bishops than they are today.) Anyway, he could hardly withstand the movement. And he did well.
Upon his (double) ordination, he freed all the prisoners and started an education fund for poor boys. When he died in his 90's, his will was found to have left all his possessions to the poor children for their education. He is best known for the raising of the Conception of Mary to a first-class feast in his diocese and encouraging its celebration by all his subjects. He was in turn bishop of Limoges and Bourges and was remembered for his pristine reputation, his piety and the miracles wrought at his tomb. Good St. Roger, pray for us.
In vain did Roger protest he was only joking! The people joined their voices to that of the clergy and he was drafted. (I get the impression that in the raucous old days, "the people" were a lot more involved in the choice of the bishops than they are today.) Anyway, he could hardly withstand the movement. And he did well.
Upon his (double) ordination, he freed all the prisoners and started an education fund for poor boys. When he died in his 90's, his will was found to have left all his possessions to the poor children for their education. He is best known for the raising of the Conception of Mary to a first-class feast in his diocese and encouraging its celebration by all his subjects. He was in turn bishop of Limoges and Bourges and was remembered for his pristine reputation, his piety and the miracles wrought at his tomb. Good St. Roger, pray for us.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Today March 4
Today is the feast of another Pole, St. Casimir (1461 - 1484), called "the Peace Maker," although he never really did MAKE peace, he just refused to participate in war. Perhaps he would be better called "the Pacifist." He also is sometimes referred to as the "king of Poland" or the "king of Hungary," but he never wore the crown of either country.
King Casimir IV had 13 children and Casimir was the second son -- the "spare heir" as they say -- and his older brother Ladislaus did, in fact, become king of Bohemia. But Casimir remained just a prince. And he was that rarest of saints: the unmarried layman. Few there are of saints who are not in the religious life, and fewer still who are not married. But Casimir took the "third way" of the single life,
also a vocation. He was pressured to marry, sure, but he was strong in his will to celibacy, which is, after all, the requirement for all the unmarried. And he had help to maintain that state: a profound sense of penance and self-denial (surely not easy in the lush palaces of the Polish kings). But he did it healthily and always with a smile: and no self-flagellation for him. . . . Simple meals, a hard bed, a hair shirt, but a smile for everyone.
But this unruffled state was not to last. At the request of the Hungarian aristocracy, Casimir Senior sent his son to Hungary to be their king. Casimir Junior hated to go but being obedient, he went. But when he reached the border, he was confronted in battle by the rightful king, Matthias Corvinus. And he had to make a choice: go on and fight or retreat. He was compelled by his father but he felt the cause was not sufficiently just and he gambled that the Pope himself would agree (he did). So he retreated, knowing what it would cost him in the eyes of his father. Indeed, he was exiled -- nearly disowned -- and spent the remainder of his life in the castle of Dobzki. He never again would take up arms . . . for any reason.
He died of lung trouble on this day in 1484 and is buried in Vilna, where his relics still rest in the church of st. Stanislaus. St. Casimir, pray for us.
King Casimir IV had 13 children and Casimir was the second son -- the "spare heir" as they say -- and his older brother Ladislaus did, in fact, become king of Bohemia. But Casimir remained just a prince. And he was that rarest of saints: the unmarried layman. Few there are of saints who are not in the religious life, and fewer still who are not married. But Casimir took the "third way" of the single life,
also a vocation. He was pressured to marry, sure, but he was strong in his will to celibacy, which is, after all, the requirement for all the unmarried. And he had help to maintain that state: a profound sense of penance and self-denial (surely not easy in the lush palaces of the Polish kings). But he did it healthily and always with a smile: and no self-flagellation for him. . . . Simple meals, a hard bed, a hair shirt, but a smile for everyone.
But this unruffled state was not to last. At the request of the Hungarian aristocracy, Casimir Senior sent his son to Hungary to be their king. Casimir Junior hated to go but being obedient, he went. But when he reached the border, he was confronted in battle by the rightful king, Matthias Corvinus. And he had to make a choice: go on and fight or retreat. He was compelled by his father but he felt the cause was not sufficiently just and he gambled that the Pope himself would agree (he did). So he retreated, knowing what it would cost him in the eyes of his father. Indeed, he was exiled -- nearly disowned -- and spent the remainder of his life in the castle of Dobzki. He never again would take up arms . . . for any reason.
He died of lung trouble on this day in 1484 and is buried in Vilna, where his relics still rest in the church of st. Stanislaus. St. Casimir, pray for us.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Today March 3
Today is the remembrance of Mother Angela Truszkowska (1825 - 1899), born "Sophie". Her life was everything she desired and nothing she planned. Drawn to the needs of the many poor and weak on the streets of her hometown in Poland, this upper-middle-class girl gave all the money she was given for treats to the poor beggars. Drawn as she was to love of the Lord and contemplation, she naturally desired to be a nun, but her parents, and especially her lawyer father Joseph, wouldn't hear of it. Rather than rebelling, she obeyed and stayed home, where she taught the younger children. Without knowing it, she was being prepared for her future -- as a nun! -- in education. She kept trying to enter religious life, but met yet another setback when her beloved father became ill. She began to nurse him -- and this prepared her for her future in nursing and in hospital administration. As she took him through Germany for his health, she had a profound mystical experience at the cathedral in Cologne which made it clear that her future was NOT with the contemplative orders she had been seeking. She was serene after that.
Still at home, she was allowed to bring in a couple of orphans -- sort of as a payment for her nursing and her obedience. And this, too, prepared her for her future as head of orphanages! The two were soon joined by four more, and then by so many more that they had to move to a new location, paid for by Joseph. Angela was joined by several other girls who wished to help. Their spiritual director suggested they take a habit, and soon Angela, a Third Order Franciscan, was applying for permission to found a new congregation based on the Rule of St. Francis. They were named the Felicians, in honor of the church of St. Felix, the church where they'd take the orphans each day for Mass or for a "visit."
So, Angela soon put all her talents to good use, running the orphanage, the school, and soon a hospital. And when the order got so large it could be split up, she got the whole contemplative branch she had wanted all along. She was head of both for awhile until the time of the popular uprising against the Russian occupation (they were in the Russian sector of divided Poland). The order was disbanded as punishment for hiding refugees in false walls (and even in garbage cans!) in the hospital, even though the sisters had aided the Russians themselves. "Friend and foe alike, everyone is our neighbor," Angela had said. The "active" sisters were forced into secular dress and the contemplatives forced to join the Bernardines -- with military guards surrounding the convent! Finally, Angela received the news that the sisters -- all of them -- could emigrate to the much more moderate Austrian sector. They rejoiced and continued their good work there, even sending some sisters to America to help the Polish immigrants. All of us third generation Poles are grateful. Mother Angela Truszkowska, pray for us.
Still at home, she was allowed to bring in a couple of orphans -- sort of as a payment for her nursing and her obedience. And this, too, prepared her for her future as head of orphanages! The two were soon joined by four more, and then by so many more that they had to move to a new location, paid for by Joseph. Angela was joined by several other girls who wished to help. Their spiritual director suggested they take a habit, and soon Angela, a Third Order Franciscan, was applying for permission to found a new congregation based on the Rule of St. Francis. They were named the Felicians, in honor of the church of St. Felix, the church where they'd take the orphans each day for Mass or for a "visit."
So, Angela soon put all her talents to good use, running the orphanage, the school, and soon a hospital. And when the order got so large it could be split up, she got the whole contemplative branch she had wanted all along. She was head of both for awhile until the time of the popular uprising against the Russian occupation (they were in the Russian sector of divided Poland). The order was disbanded as punishment for hiding refugees in false walls (and even in garbage cans!) in the hospital, even though the sisters had aided the Russians themselves. "Friend and foe alike, everyone is our neighbor," Angela had said. The "active" sisters were forced into secular dress and the contemplatives forced to join the Bernardines -- with military guards surrounding the convent! Finally, Angela received the news that the sisters -- all of them -- could emigrate to the much more moderate Austrian sector. They rejoiced and continued their good work there, even sending some sisters to America to help the Polish immigrants. All of us third generation Poles are grateful. Mother Angela Truszkowska, pray for us.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Today March 1
Today is the feast day of St. David (c. 520 - 589), bishop and patron of Wales. All good Welshmen wear leeks around their necks on this day. You ask why they do this thing. I'll tell you. I don't know. Tradition!
David, aka Dewi, was born a Welshman, his father a prince named Sant and his mother St. Non. (So he was, in fact, "son of Non.") He learned the Scriptures, knew the psalms by heart, and was known to play with doves (a dove is his symbol). He was a serious, even perhaps severe, young man. He never drank alcohol; he was nicknamed "the Waterman" for this reason. In time he became the leader of the monks, but though he was of princely estate himself, he lived as simply and worked as hard as the least of them. He'd grab a hoe and till the fields (no horses or oxen to help) himself. He founded 12 monasteries/churches throughout the kingdom of Wales, and as far as Glastonbury and Bath in England. He retired to a little abbey in the extreme southwest corner of Wales in Menevia, or Mynyw, in the vowel-challenged Welsh tongue.
St. David was prevailed upon to attend the synod at Brefi in Cardigan to address the heresy of Pelagianism which, once dead in the region, had flared up again. This heresy maintained that God's grace (and thus, by extension, the sacraments as well) was not strictly necessary for salvation -- that salvation could be "earned" through good works alone. St. David spoke so well and so eloquently, he was made bishop by acclaim on the spot. Wow! We don't do things quite that way today. The proceedings of both that synod and another he attended and wrote down have been lost, due to "age and negligence, and also in the frequent attacks of pirates who, arriving in summertime in ships of war from the Orkney Islands, had been wont to lay waste the maritime provinces of Wales." - Rhygyfarch, his early biographer.
He lived a long time and ruled wisely and well. His last words were: "Be joyful, brothers and sisters. Keep your faith, and do the little things that you have seen and heard with me." St. Kentigern, at some distance (in Llanelwy) saw his soul ascend into heaven. His relics were buried in Mynyw, now called St. Davids in his honor. The tomb is now empty; the remains were moved somewhere (probably to Glastonbury) sometime after 1346.
Today is a feast approved by Pope Callistus II in 1120 for Wales and several dioceses in England as well. St. David, pray for us.
David, aka Dewi, was born a Welshman, his father a prince named Sant and his mother St. Non. (So he was, in fact, "son of Non.") He learned the Scriptures, knew the psalms by heart, and was known to play with doves (a dove is his symbol). He was a serious, even perhaps severe, young man. He never drank alcohol; he was nicknamed "the Waterman" for this reason. In time he became the leader of the monks, but though he was of princely estate himself, he lived as simply and worked as hard as the least of them. He'd grab a hoe and till the fields (no horses or oxen to help) himself. He founded 12 monasteries/churches throughout the kingdom of Wales, and as far as Glastonbury and Bath in England. He retired to a little abbey in the extreme southwest corner of Wales in Menevia, or Mynyw, in the vowel-challenged Welsh tongue.
St. David was prevailed upon to attend the synod at Brefi in Cardigan to address the heresy of Pelagianism which, once dead in the region, had flared up again. This heresy maintained that God's grace (and thus, by extension, the sacraments as well) was not strictly necessary for salvation -- that salvation could be "earned" through good works alone. St. David spoke so well and so eloquently, he was made bishop by acclaim on the spot. Wow! We don't do things quite that way today. The proceedings of both that synod and another he attended and wrote down have been lost, due to "age and negligence, and also in the frequent attacks of pirates who, arriving in summertime in ships of war from the Orkney Islands, had been wont to lay waste the maritime provinces of Wales." - Rhygyfarch, his early biographer.
He lived a long time and ruled wisely and well. His last words were: "Be joyful, brothers and sisters. Keep your faith, and do the little things that you have seen and heard with me." St. Kentigern, at some distance (in Llanelwy) saw his soul ascend into heaven. His relics were buried in Mynyw, now called St. Davids in his honor. The tomb is now empty; the remains were moved somewhere (probably to Glastonbury) sometime after 1346.
Today is a feast approved by Pope Callistus II in 1120 for Wales and several dioceses in England as well. St. David, pray for us.
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