May 15, 2025

ST. ROSE OF LIMA: Was She Too Extreme?

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On a warm, late April day in 1586, a servant woman in Lima, Peru experienced a miraculous vision while gazing upon the newest member of the noble Flores family. Before her very eyes the infant girl’s face seemed to transform into a beautiful rose in full bloom. The astonished servant rushed to share her vision with the child’s mother, who agreed it was a Divine sign. From that day forward, the baby, who had been baptized Isabel Flores de Oliva on April 20, was called “Rose.”

Rose’s father was Gaspar Flores, a Spanish Imperial Cavalry member, whose family had originated in Spain and later emigrated to Puerto Rico. Her mother, 26-year-old María de Oliva y Herrera, was a criolla, which meant she was a female of European, typically Spanish, ancestry who was born in Spanish America. She also had Inca blood. Rose was their seventh child.

The era of Rose’s birth was marked by stark contrasts. Fifty years after Francisco Pizarro’s conquest of Peru for Spain, Peru’s vast mineral wealth enriched Spain but left the indigenous people impoverished and oppressed. This period also saw the Catholic Church’s reform following the Council of Trent. The religious climate in Peru was complex, with Christianity thinly overlaying native beliefs and superstitions. The forced conversion of indigenous Peruvians to Christianity without proper instruction led to widespread reversion to pagan beliefs within fifty years of Spanish arrival in Peru. The Spaniards’ harsh response only intensified the Peruvian resistance, creating a seemingly hopeless situation for both parties. As little Rose grew, she would become keenly aware of her historical context, and would pray fervently for her homeland.

Rose was a child of extraordinary beauty, her pink cheeks indeed reminiscent of a blooming rose. Her heart was devoted to God from a tender age. At just three years old, Rose demonstrated remarkable fortitude when she endured a severe finger injury in silence, not informing her parents. When discovered, the injury required the removal of her fingernail, a procedure she bore without a whimper or tear.

Rose loved flowers and often used them in her spiritual practices. When she was five years old, she constructed a little chapel in the family garden, where she spent countless hours in prayer. At the time of her first Confession, it is said that, strangely enough, she got permission from her confessor to make a vow of virginity. Since, due to her young age, this would not have been any kind of binding vow, and it was unlikely that she even truly understood its meaning yet, the priest’s permission probably was just a way of pacifying her wishes and encouraging her piety.

When she was confirmed in 1597, she officially chose “Rose” as her Confirmation name. Her mother, Maria, proud of Rose’s beauty, adorned her with wreath crowns of the garden’s finest roses. Initially resisting elegant attire, Rose ingeniously concealed thorns beneath the rose crown, transforming it into her personal “crown of thorns.” When she made her First Communion, Jesus promised her that if she fasted for His sake, He would sustain her. From that time on, for the rest of her life she gave up eating meat.

Rose had a deep devotion to the Infant Jesus and His Blessed Mother and spent countless hours praying before the Blessed Sacrament. She received Communion three times a week. Although she would have liked to receive daily, in those days young girls were forbidden to go out unless accompanied by an adult woman, and Maria was not always available, perhaps deliberately. Later in her life, Rose was able to receive Communion daily, which was an extremely rare practice at that time.

After reading a book about St. Catherine of Siena, the impressionable young girl adopted the saint as her personal role model. Emulating St. Catherine, Rose fasted three times a week, donned coarse clothing, and cut her beautiful hair short. She concealed her cropped locks with a veil to avoid her parents’ disapproval. When Maria eventually discovered it, she was very angry.

In Rose’s teenage years, her family faced financial hardship when her father’s gold-mining venture failed, leaving them impoverished, with seven children still living at home. Rose, ever resourceful, stepped up to support her family by selling flowers from her own garden and creating exquisite lace and embroidery. Her needlework was of the highest quality, with remarkable beauty and delicacy. Despite long hours of labor, Rose dedicated her evenings to prayer and acts of penance.

Maria had grand aspirations for her beautiful daughter, hoping to secure a marriage into one of Peru’s wealthy and prominent families. She orchestrated opportunities for potential mothers-in-law to admire Rose, but these efforts were in vain, because, contrary to her mother’s wishes, Rose felt a Divine calling to a life of virginity.

When Rose realized she was attracting the notice of suitors, she attempted to deflect their attention by rubbing crushed hot peppers on her beautiful face and lime juice on her hands to roughen them.

SO WHAT DID ROSE REALLY LOOK LIKE?

We sometimes hear about saints, like Rose of Lima, who were said to be beautiful. But in most cases, we don’t have any idea what they really looked like. However, in a groundbreaking scientific endeavor, the face of Saint Rose of Lima has been reconstructed using advanced technology. A team of scientists from the University of Saint Martin de Porres in Peru collaborated with the Brazilian Anthropological and Dental Legal Forensics Team to analyze and reconstruct the saint’s facial features. Here I am showing two views of her reconstructed face.

The project involved not only Saint Rose but also two other saints. At the clinic, researchers employed CT scans to create detailed images of the skulls. This non-invasive technique, commonly used in medical diagnostics, allowed for precise 3D digital modeling of the saints’ cranial structures.

Saint Rose of Lima’s reconstructed face was the first to be unveiled. According to researchers, the reconstruction revealed “a pretty woman with soft features and a well-distributed face.” Notably, her eyes appear larger than in classical portrayals.

At age 17, with the help of her brother, Rose constructed a small hut in the family garden. This humble abode became her sanctuary where, with the permission of her confessor, she retreated to devote herself fully to work, prayer, and penance. She offered her life in reparation for the sin and corruption in her society.

Rose worked hard to support her household and was obedient to her parents, except in their insistence that she marry. This sticking point caused a decade-long conflict with her parents, during which Rose exercised great patience and prayed for guidance. She eventually discerned that it was not God’s will for her to enter a convent, and she received a sign that she, like her idol St. Catherine of Siena, was to become a Dominican Tertiary and continue to live at home.

At age 20, she finally received her parents’ permission to join the Third Order of St. Dominic, donning the habit and taking a vow of perpetual virginity. Instead of entering a convent, she stayed in the hut in her parents’ garden, intensifying her prayer and penances.

Despite her life as a partial recluse, Rose remained acutely aware of the oppression in Peruvian society. She became renowned in Lima for her virtue and acts of charity, caring for the sick and hungry in her community, often bringing them to her hut to care for them. Her garden soon became the spiritual nucleus of Lima. She learned how to make herbal medicines, which she distributed to the poor, and occasionally visited hospitals to nurse the sick.

Rose was blessed with miraculous abilities. Seeking Divine intervention from the Child Jesus to cure the sick, her prayers often were answered with remarkable healings. At times, she also worked wonders to provide sustenance for her family. One such example was when her father, Gaspar, had overextended himself financially outfitting two of his sons who had been granted the prestigious honor of joining a royal galleon to battle the British. In addition, the family had also recently celebrated the wedding of another daughter, further straining their already precarious finances. The normal income from Rose’s needlework was not coming in, because she was working on a trousseau for her sister. The situation reached a critical point when Gaspar received an ultimatum from his creditors: produce the money by ten o’clock the following morning or face dire consequences, including the possibility of imprisonment. Gaspar, his voice heavy with resignation uttered the despairing words, “All is lost! It is the end!”

Determined to help, Rose accompanied her equally dejected brother to church, continually encouraging him to keep faith. In church, Rose prayed harder than she ever had before. As they exited the church, a stranger approached Rose, pressing a packet of money into her hands, saying, “I have this package of money for the señorita. Give this to your father for his present needs.” To the family’s astonishment and relief, the sum was exactly the same as Gaspar’s debt.

Rose’s boundless charity and selfless devotion to the needy earned her the affectionate titles “Mother of the Poor” and “The Rose of Lima.” Her commitment to the sick was particularly noteworthy. She personally dressed the wounds of those suffering from cancers, ulcers, and repulsive sores. Her compassion knew no boundaries. Although many of these women were beyond medical help, Rose provided comfort and solace in their final days. She dedicated herself to caring for the most neglected and abandoned women in Lima, regardless of their race or social status. She would seek out these women, bring them home with her, and tend to their needs with tireless dedication. She devoted considerable time to caring for the indigenous women of Peru, who were often the most forsaken in society. Her compassion and love for God deeply impressed those who met her, and her works of mercy laid the foundation for social work in Peru.

Maria found her daughter’s work distasteful, but Rose, guided by Divine inspiration, found ways to overcome her mother’s objections. However, the intensity of her charitable work took a toll on Rose’s health and appearance. Her once rosy cheeks and fair complexion faded, leaving her looking pale and gaunt. One day, while walking to church with her mother, Rose overheard someone commenting that her altered appearance was a sign of sanctity. Troubled by possible temptation towards spiritual pride, Rose fervently prayed to God to restore her healthy appearance. She wished to keep her work and fasting hidden from others, and God granted her request.

One day, a miraculous event unfolded that would forever be associated with Saint Rose. Dutch pirates, emboldened by their victory over the Peruvian fleet, set their sights on the city with sinister intent. Driven by the fervor of the Reformation, these marauders sought not only to loot Lima but also to desecrate its sacred churches.

As fear gripped the city, women, children, and members of the religious sought sanctuary within the city’s houses of worship. In the church of Santo Domingo, young Rose took charge, rallying the terrified refugees to prayer. As the pirates breached the church’s threshold, they were met with an awe-inspiring sight. Before them stood a young girl holding aloft a monstrance containing the Blessed Sacrament, her form radiating a brilliant, otherworldly light. Without a word, the terrified pirates turned on their heels and fled back to their ships. As quickly as they had arrived, the pirate fleet set sail, leaving Lima untouched and its people in awe of the miracle they had witnessed. This reported miracle is similar to one that took place in Assisi in 1240, when Saracen soldiers threatened the convent of San Damiano, only to turn and flee when St. Clare held up the Blessed Sacrament.

Forever afterwards, whenever earthquakes struck close by Lima, people believed that Rose’s prayers were the reason Lima was spared.

Whenever Rose spoke about Jesus, her face would radiate with an intense glow, reflecting the profound love she held for Him. Beyond her spiritual fervor, Rose had a special affinity with nature, finding solace and inspiration in its beauty. She was gifted with a melodious voice and composed a beautiful hymn in praise of God, which became her solace during times of suffering. As she struggled through painful illness during the final years of her life, she would sing it many times, pouring out her heart to God in song. It is said that at sunset each day, as she sang from within her room, a small bird would appear at her window. Drawn by the sweetness of Rose’s voice, and perhaps sensing something Divine emanating from it, the bird would join its own sweet song to hers.

Two fellow future saints played crucial roles in Rose’s spiritual journey. St. Turibius de Mongrovejo, the Archbishop of Lima, who confirmed her in 1597, was known for his religious and social reforms, particularly in defending the Indigenous people. Rose prayed fervently for God to sustain him in his trials. The second saint was St. Martin de Porres, a fellow Dominican. He shared Rose’s deep devotion to the Holy Eucharist and dedication to caring for the sick and poor and became her great friend and confidante.

Rose’s devotion to her faith was marked by extreme acts of penance and self-mortification, practices that were not uncommon among devout Catholics of her time, but which she pursued with exceptional intensity. Because she could not be a missionary as she longed to be, she turned to penance instead. “As I cannot do any good,” she said, “is it not just that I should suffer whatever I am capable of suffering?”

She subjected herself to severe physical discomfort, wearing a hairshirt to irritate her skin, an iron chain tightly wound around her waist, and a silver crown of thorns concealed beneath roses. Her dietary habits were remarkably austere for her era; when she wasn’t fasting, she consumed only the bare minimum of food and water necessary to sustain life. When she could no longer stand, she rested on a bed of broken tiles she had made. She later confessed, “The thought of lying down on it made me tremble with dread.” Despite her feelings, she maintained this practice for an astonishing fourteen years. I’ll be addressing Rose’s extreme penances a little later in this episode.

Physically, Rose suffered simultaneously from asthma and arthritis. But her spiritual trials were equally challenging. She endured disturbing dreams and intense temptations against purity and faith, experiences that tortured her mind and left her soul desolate. At times, she felt abandoned by God, believing herself to be revolting in His sight. These periods of anguish were so severe that they visibly altered her appearance, shocking those who observed her tortured expression. Her only earthly support came from her close friend, Brother Martin de Porres, who reassured her that her visions and periods of spiritual dryness were signs of God’s highest favor.

Paradoxically, these trials only drove Rose to intensify her mortifications. Yet, she also experienced profound spiritual consolations. Christ often appeared to her, offering strength and encouragement. She also was comforted by visions of the Virgin Mary and St. Catherine of Siena. One day, Rose found herself deeply troubled, her mind consumed with worries about her eternal salvation. Suddenly, Christ Himself appeared before her, His presence radiating Divine love and compassion. With gentle reassurance, He told her: “My daughter, I condemn only those who will not be saved.” He then bestowed upon Rose three extraordinary promises: First, He assured her of her place in heaven, dispelling her fears of eternal separation. Second, He promised that she would never fall from His grace through mortal sin. Finally, He pledged that Divine assistance would always be available to her in times of need. He also revealed to her the exact day and hour when she would die. This knowledge, far from being a burden, became a source of peace for Rose. It allowed her to approach her remaining days with a sense of purpose and anticipation, knowing that each moment brought her closer to eternal union with her Beloved. During this period of intense spiritual experience, Rose received the grace of mystical marriage with Christ. To commemorate this union, she had a ring engraved with Christ’s words to her: “Rose of My Heart, be My spouse.”

Rose’s extreme practices did not go unnoticed. Concerned individuals suggested that ecclesiastical authorities should investigate her conduct. Summoned before the Archbishop of Lima and a panel of theologians, Rose responded to their questions with brevity and humility. The examiners were impressed by her selflessness and her profound understanding of religious matters, and she was allowed to continue her way of life undisturbed.

Reflecting on the Divine influence that guided her, Rose wrote, “That same force strongly urged me to proclaim the beauty of Divine Grace.”

As Rose approached her twenty-eighth year, she became very sick, causing those around her to fear for her life. However, Rose, with the profound spiritual insight granted to her, knew that her time had not yet come. During this period of illness, her mother seized the opportunity to persuade Rose to part with her hideously uncomfortable bed of broken tiles. Though Rose agreed to have her old bed removed, she remained steadfast in her commitment to self-mortification. Refusing the comfort of a mattress, she instead compromised by accepting plain boards as her new resting place for the duration of her illness.

After recovering from this bout of illness, Rose’s living situation changed. She left the small hut in her family’s garden and, accepting the hospitality of Don Gonzalo de Massa, a Spanish government official, and his wife, she moved into a room in their home. Despite her new living arrangements, Rose’s compassionate spirit remained undiminished. She continued to transform her room into a sanctuary of mercy, welcoming society’s most vulnerable – homeless children, the sick, and the elderly – to provide them with care and comfort.

Rose’s position as a guest in the home of a Spanish official did not temper her outspoken nature. She fearlessly raised her voice against the harsh practices of the Spanish overlords, pointing out their greed as being the root cause of the poor’s suffering. Her courage in speaking truth exemplified her commitment to justice.

On July 31, 1617, Rose fell gravely ill, marking the beginning of her final days on earth. As her condition worsened, she endured intense suffering, including a raging thirst when the doctor forbade her to drink water. Despite her physical agony, Rose’s spiritual radiance seemed only to intensify. Those near her often heard her voice murmuring a poignant prayer: “Lord, increase my sufferings, and with them increase your love in my heart.”

After receiving the holy sacraments, she humbly addressed those gathered around her, seeking forgiveness for any faults and urging them to love God above all else. As death approached, Rose’s joy grew as she anticipated being united with her Divine Bridegroom. Shortly before her passing, she experienced a state of profound religious ecstasy. Upon emerging from this state, she confided to her confessor, “Oh! How much I could tell you of the sweetness of God, and of the blissful heavenly dwelling of the Almighty!” These words offered a tantalizing glimpse of the celestial visions she had seen.

In her final act of earthly penance, Rose asked her brother to remove the pillow from beneath her head, so she could die on bare boards, just as Christ had died on the cross. With the pillow removed, Rose bid farewell to her loved ones and asked God to comfort her mother. In her final moments, she uttered the words: “Jesus, Jesus, be with me!” Rose passed away just after midnight on August 24, 1617, the feast day of St. Bartholomew the Apostle.

Remarkably, Rose’s mother did not succumb to grief upon her daughter’s passing. Instead, she was overcome with an inexplicable joy, so profound that she hurried to another room to conceal her emotions. This joy spread throughout the household and the town, with a collective decision made to forgo mourning in favor of celebration. The profound impact of Rose’s life and death, and the esteem in which she was held, was evident in the extraordinary nature of her funeral procession. The Canons of the Church led the way, carrying her body for part of the journey. They were followed by the Senate, evidence of how Rose’s influence had reached even the highest echelons [ESH-ah-lons] of civil authority. Finally, the Superiors of various religious orders took their turn, each group eager to pay homage to a woman whose holiness had touched and inspired so many. This remarkable funeral procession, with its diverse participants, was a fitting tribute to a life that had bridged the gap between the earthly and the Divine, between the humble and the exalted.

The impact of Rose’s life and death was immediate and profound. Abundant miracles began to occur following her death. There were reports that she had cured a leper, and that the city of Lima smelled like roses; some claimed they witnessed roses falling from the sky. The people of Lima clamored for her immediate canonization; however, due to a recent Papal ruling requiring a 50-year waiting period between death and canonization, Rose’s official recognition as a saint was delayed. She was beatified by Pope Clement IX in 1667 and canonized by Pope Clement X in 1671, becoming the first person born in the Americas to receive this honor.

One of the most popular saints in the history of the Church, Rose of Lima is the patron saint of Latin America and the Philippines, of embroiderers, gardeners, florists, people who are ridiculed for their faith, and those who suffer with family problems. Her feast day has undergone several changes in the liturgical calendar. When first inserted into the General Roman Calendar in 1729, it was celebrated on August 30. This date was chosen because August 24, the anniversary of her death, was already occupied by the feast of Saint Bartholomew. In 1969, Pope Paul VI revised the liturgical calendar, making August 23 available for Saint Rose’s feast day. This change was implemented worldwide, including in Spain. However, Peru and some other Latin American countries continue to celebrate her feast on August 30, which remains a public holiday in her honor.

In art, St. Rose is often portrayed wearing a crown of roses and holding a cross, or a heart with a cross. Her symbols also include roses and lilies, and she is often portrayed with a brown habit, as a reference to her religious vocation as a Third Order Dominican.

WAS ST. ROSE TOO EXTREME?

Since I always strive for honesty with my readers, I must confess that I sometimes struggle to relate to saints like Rose of Lima who engaged in extreme, even bizarre, practices of penance and mortification. While I deeply admire these saints, their behavior can seem peculiar, even potentially unstable, when viewed with the perspective of modern times. Moreover, it’s challenging to see them as relatable role models, because their practices appear far beyond what most ordinary 21st-century Christians could or would aspire to.

In researching St. Rose of Lima for this episode, I was genuinely shocked by some of the facts I uncovered. In a book called Voices of the Saints, author Bert Ghezzi writes of St. Rose: “She fasted often. Sometimes she made herself vomit after meals, which today would probably be regarded as bulimia. She prayed long hours and frequently beat herself with a little whip.” Other sources mention that a spike in the silver crown she wore became so deeply embedded in her skull that its removal was extremely difficult. Then there’s the matter of her “bed” – used for only two hours of sleep a night – filled with broken tiles, pottery shards, and thorns. She also suffered from scrupulosity, today considered a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder, which involves excessive guilt and anxiety about sin and moral or religious issues.

This all seemed so extreme that I nearly decided against producing this episode. However, in my quest to better understand the saints, I delved into the subject of asceticism, which is the practice of self-discipline and self-denial, and the issue of extreme mortifications. I’d like to share my findings and conclusions with you.

Lest we think that asceticism is something peculiar to Catholic Saints, it’s important for us to realize that it has its roots in ancient human attempts to achieve various goals and ideals. Originally, it was closely tied to athletic training, where Greek athletes would abstain from gratification and endure physical challenges to prepare for competitions like the Olympic Games. Warriors also adopted similar practices to excel in combat, with ancient Israelites even abstaining from carnal relations before battle.

Over time, the concept of asceticism expanded beyond physical training to encompass mental, moral, and spiritual development. Across many religions and times, people have used asceticism to grow spiritually and connect with the Divine. In older tribal religions, asceticism was important too. Coming-of-age rituals play a significant role in many cultures, particularly among Native American tribes. These ceremonies mark the transition from childhood to adulthood and often involve challenging physical and spiritual experiences, such as the Vision Quest. This consists of isolation in nature for 2-4 days, often at sacred sites; fasting and prayer to seek spiritual guidance; hoping for a vision or dream that provides life direction; and guidance from elders in interpreting the experience. This closely resembles the visions and revelations of many of the saints who practiced extreme fasting, prayer, and isolation.

In major religions like Hinduism, Buddhism, and Christianity, people turned to asceticism because they realized life on Earth is fleeting, so they wanted to focus on the afterlife. They pushed back against worldly things, believing a simple life was more spiritual. In Christianity, asceticism took many forms. In the Gospels, Jesus did not directly talk about asceticism, but His followers were inspired by His simple life. St. Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians, compared Christian life to an athlete in training. Early Christians often fasted, stayed up all night praying, and avoided physical gratification. Some Christians took these practices to extreme levels. The Desert Fathers (early Christian monks) taught that self-denial or “mortification” is a tool, not the main goal. They advised being careful with these practices and said that harsh forms should be done only with guidance from an experienced spiritual teacher. They believed it is wrong to practice self-denial for physical gratification or because of scrupulosity.

As I examined the life stories of saints who engaged in extreme penances, I noticed a pattern. Many, though certainly not all, were initially young, healthy, and born into households of wealth and luxury. Given that adversity and some degree of suffering are necessary for spiritual growth – a belief shared by many religions – it appears that these individuals, lacking natural hardship, felt compelled to reject their comfortable lifestyles and create ways in which to suffer. But the idea of manufactured suffering can seem perplexing and unnecessary for those of us born into less fortunate circumstances, who have experienced struggle and adversity in daily life, have serious disabilities, or who are experiencing the aches, pains, and health problems that come with simply growing older.

Many saints besides Rose of Lima engaged in severe forms of self-mortification as a means of spiritual growth and penance, including Gemma Galgani, Catherine of Siena, Ignatius of Loyola, Dominic, Francis of Assisi, and Thomas More, to name just a few. Today, such extreme practices might be viewed as symptoms of mental health issues like obsessive-compulsive tendencies, eating disorders, and self-harm behaviors. But it’s important to view them in the context of their own times, realizing that these practices often were accepted and even encouraged in certain historical and cultural settings.

Saints typically undertook these penances out of deep devotion and a desire for spiritual growth, not due to mental illness or reasons of vanity or physical gratification. For instance, anorexia and bulimia normally arise from a distorted body image and excessive fear of weight gain, whereas spiritual fasting is practiced in many religions as a way to deepen one’s connection with God, cultivate humility, resist temptation, and seek God’s guidance. St. Rose of Lima’s actions to spoil her beauty were primarily motivated by her determination to avoid marriage and fulfill her vow of virginity, rather than for self-harm purposes. Since young women of her time had very little say in choosing their own path in life, they sometimes had to resort to desperate measures.

The saints believed that anything that might jeopardize their relationship with God had to be eradicated. Prayer, fasting, self-denial and mortifications were their way of achieving this goal. Most of the saints practiced mortification under the guidance of spiritual directors, showing a level of restraint and obedience. Many saints were discouraged from severe mortifications by their spiritual directors, St. Francis of Assisi being one notable example of this. St. Rose’s obedience to spiritual authority, too, was absolute. When her confessor forbade a particular penance, she would immediately cease the practice until given permission to resume or substitute another form of mortification. (We can only imagine the practices she was forbidden to do)! By the time of her death, she had nine spiritual directors, and all of them testified that her penances had been Divinely inspired, because of her humility and obedience.

While we can appreciate the devotion of these saints, in modern times it’s important to approach such practices with caution and discernment. Canonization does not imply that every action of a saint should be imitated; it simply affirms that the person is in heaven. Stories of extreme mortification often capture our attention and stick in our memory, which may lead to their overemphasis in religious instruction.

The Church has shifted focus towards emphasizing the fundamental goodness of the body and creation, and discourages extreme forms of bodily mortification that could be harmful or counterproductive. Mortification should be purpose-driven, a means to spiritual growth, not an end in itself. It should be part of a balanced spirituality in which the focus is on overall virtue and holiness, not just physical austerity.

Many Catholics practice “everyday internal mortification” by offering up daily discomforts or challenges as a form of spiritual discipline. I always like to start my day with a prayer called “The Morning Offering,” which offers to Jesus all the prayers, works, joys and sufferings of the day. Although this seems pretty lame in comparison to St. Rose’s heroic penances, on days when my joints hurt or I’m facing a particularly stressful situation, I like to think that my offering it up to God will at least make it a little more meaningful.

Modern Catholic devotional practices that aim to foster a deeper spiritual connection and devotion to God without resorting to extreme physical acts include: Novenas dedicated to specific saints or intentions; Eucharistic adoration; praying the Rosary; making the Stations of the Cross; wearing scapulars or religious medals; and pilgrimages to holy sites or shrines; fasting and abstinence during Lent and other prescribed times; voluntary acts of self-denial, such as giving up certain comforts or gratifications; offering a sickness or discomfort for our own sins and those of others; and practicing patience and charity in difficult situations. This last one is especially challenging for me, so much so that I have created an episode about it called “How to Become More Patient.” If patience is difficult for you as well, you might be interested in checking it out. I have included the link here: HOW TO BECOME MORE PATIENT: 7 TIPS | Everyday Life Spirituality

In this day and age, when most of us live in relative comfort, we are subject to temptations to overindulge in many things: Food, drink, entertainment, physical relationships, attachment to electronic devices, etc. We are bombarded every day by ads urging us to acquire more and more “stuff,” most of it trivial, useless, and excessive. Although we might shudder in horror at the voluntary disciplines undertaken by St. Rose of Lima, maybe it can at least inspire us to practice a little self-restraint and self-denial as we are able, for the benefit of our own souls.

Rather than merely dismissing her as too extreme, we can remember St. Rose of Lima’s admirable spiritual virtues and the way she lived out her life in true imitation of Jesus Christ, rather than just her severe penances. Although her earthly journey was brief, the impact of her immense faith, compassion, charity, and courage in the face of opposition, ridicule and severe temptations, has endured over the centuries. Let’s ask her today to make us stronger Christians, too.

March 14, 2025

VENERABLE PIERRE TOUSSAINT: From Haitian Slave to Hairstylist to Holiness

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On a summer’s day, in the lush, tropical country of Saint-Domingue, now known as Haiti, a slave woman named Ursule cradled her newborn son in her arms. She gazed out the window, her eyes taking in the green, fertile fields of the sprawling Bérard family sugar-cane plantation located on the banks of the Artibonite River, near the port town of Saint-Marc. This land was her home, where she lived and worked as a personal maid to Madame Berard. Even though she knew that her son, too, would be a slave, in her heart she dared to hope for greater things in his future. Little did she know that this baby boy was destined to play an important role, not only in the history of her people, but of the Catholic Church as well.

The infant had been given the name Pierre, after the owner’s father, Pierre Berard. The date of Pierre’s birth is recorded in many sources as June 27, 1766; however, based on the more recent research of journalist and biographer Arthur Jones, Pierre’s year of birth is now believed to have been 1781. His father’s name is unknown. The roots of Pierre’s family tree stretched back to Africa, where his great-grandmother Tonette had been born and raised before being taken across the Atlantic as a slave to toil on the sugar-rich soils of Saint-Domingue. Pierre’s grandmother, Zenobe Julien, had earned her freedom through years of loyal service to the Bérard family. Five years after Pierre’s birth, his sister Rosalie was born, who would become his steadfast companion throughout the years ahead.

As Pierre grew, the Bérard family, recognizing something special in the young boy, had him educated by their children’s tutors. In the grand house, far removed from the backbreaking labor of the fields, Pierre’s mind blossomed. Intelligent and eager, he learned to read, write, and think critically — skills that would one day prove instrumental in shaping not just his own destiny, but in helping and influencing many others. Jacques Berard allowed Pierre free access to his library, where the curious boy spent many hours avidly reading books on many diverse topics, further broadening his education. He was a playmate to the Berard children, and raised with knowledge of all the social niceties. Tall and mild-mannered, he was trained to courteously greet and serve the family’s guests, and had an excellent command of the French language, both written and spoken. He was also musically inclined and a talented fiddler. Pierre was baptized and raised a Catholic, and found solace in the rituals and teachings of the Church. Yet, as he matured, he couldn’t help but wonder at the contradictions between the Christian message of universal love and equality and the harsh realities of plantation life.

When the senior Bérards returned to France, their son Jean Bérard took over the plantation. Soon, tensions began to escalate, which eventually would lead to enslaved and free people of color uprising in the Haitian Revolution. In 1797, as conditions became more dangerous, Jean & Marie Berard fled for New York City, taking with them 16-year-old Pierre, his younger sister, Rosalie, his aunt, and two other house slaves. They arrived in the young country of the United States shortly after George Washington, its first President, had completed his two terms in office. They were among many French aristocrats, from St. Domingue and from Europe–where the French Revolution had ended in 1794–who were seeking refuge in America.

Once settled in a stylish rented house in lower Manhattan, Jean Bérard signed Pierre up as apprentice to a Mr. Merchant (first name unknown). He was a hairdresser, who taught Pierre the art of hair styling, a skill in which he quickly excelled. This was a wise move on Berard’s part, since the city was full of wealthy society women whose lifestyle required elaborate hairstyles for their frequent social engagements. Male hairdressers, while popular in France, were a fairly new phenomenon in America, where wealthy women generally had their hair done by their lady’s maid.

Berard allowed Pierre to keep most of what he earned as a hairdresser. Pierre quickly mastered all the latest hairstyles of the French, including powdered wigs and false hair additions, along with the chignons and face-framing curls that were trendy among the Americans. He became what one biographer described as “the Vidal Sassoon of his day.” His client list read like a “Who’s Who” of 18^th-century New York society: Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton, wife of Alexander Hamilton, and their daughter, Eliza Holly Hamilton, were among his important clients, along with Catherine Church Cruger, known as “Kitty,” whose father would give the pistols to Hamilton for his duel with Aaron Burr. Another client, a prominent socialite named Mary Anna Sawyer Schuyler, also related to the Hamiltons, became Pierre’s close friend, referring to him as “my Saint Pierre.” Most of his women clients were Protestant, but they deeply admired Pierre’s devotion to his faith, along with his pious, kind and gentle nature. Hannah Farnham Sawyer Lee, Pierre’s first biographer and the sister of Mary Anna Schuyler, recounts, “He often quoted in his native language from the Sermon on the Mount, and the Beatitudes seemed to have found their way into his heart.”

Pierre also met some French emigrants in NY who knew the senior Berards in France, with whom he corresponded for decades, generously assisting his godmother, Aurora Berard, who had fallen on hard financial times in Paris. He also regularly corresponded with friends in Haiti. A prolific writer, his letters filled 15 bound volumes and served as part of the documentation submitted to the Vatican for his canonization process.

After a while, Jean Berard returned to Saint-Domingue to check on his property there. While in Haiti, he learned that his plantation was lost. He planned to return to New York; however, he developed pleurisy, an inflammation of the lungs, and died while still in Haiti. Soon after his death, his widow, Marie, learned that she was completely destitute. By then, Pierre was earning good money as a hairdresser. He voluntarily continued to care for the widow Marie, allowing her to lead a life of dignity, and assumed financial responsibility for the household. Marie eventually remarried to Gabriel Nicolas, who was also from Saint-Domingue. Pierre and Rosalie continued to live in the Nicolas household.

Eventually, Marie’s health began to fail. Pierre knew that having company lifted her spirits, so he encouraged her to entertain, and would buy tropical fruit and ice cream for the guests. Before they arrived, he would style Marie’s hair, adorning it with a flower as a finishing touch. In 1807, on her deathbed, Marie gave Pierre his freedom. In 1811, he bought the freedom of his sister, Rosalie, and also of his fiancé, Marie-Rose Juliette Gaston, whom he had known in Saint-Domingue.

Pierre’s relationship with the abolitionist movement was complicated. From the growing number of Haitian refugees in New York, he heard reports of murder and devastation from the island of his birth. Despite his intimate knowledge of slavery’s evils and his awareness of New York’s abolitionist movement, he refrained from active participation and hesitated to engage in America’s abolition debate, mindful of the immense toll paid to end slavery on his native island. He avoided anything that could incite violence, explaining, “They have not seen the blood flow as I have.” This stance led some Black Catholics in the 1990s to oppose his candidacy for sainthood, viewing him as too accepting of enslavement. However, the truth is that Pierre’s inner freedom transcended his legal status as a slave. He consciously chose to embrace God’s grace daily, becoming a powerful symbol of Divine generosity. Pierre himself articulated it this way: “I have never felt I am a slave to any man or woman, but I am a servant of almighty God who made us all. When one of His children is in need I am glad to be His slave.”

This perspective echoes that of Saint Josephine Bakhita, another former slave who expressed similar sentiments about her time of enslavement and her relationship with God. Pierre chose to exemplify human dignity and Christian charity to both the affluent and impoverished in the city. However, after gaining freedom, he chose the surname Toussaint, likely in honor of Toussaint Louverture [Loo-vah-TOUR], the leader of the Haitian Revolution. This choice suggests a connection to revolutionary ideals, despite his apparent reluctance to engage in overt abolitionist activities.

In his later years, Toussaint was reluctant to discuss the atrocities he had witnessed in Haiti. His approach focused on living out his faith through acts of kindness and generosity, becoming a beacon of hope and compassion in 19th-century New York.

Pierre and Juliette wed on Aug. 5, 1811. For the next four years, they continued to board at the Nicolas house. In 1815, Gabriel Nicolas, who had remarried, moved down South with his wife, and the Touissants purchased a home of their own in Manhattan. Although they never had biological children, when Pierre’s sister Rosalie died of tuberculosis, he and Juliette adopted Rosalie’s daughter, Euphemia. They enrolled Euphemia in a school for Black children in New York. Pierre tutored her in French and taught her to write in both French and English. She also had piano lessons from an accomplished musician named Cesarine Meetz, who gave recitals at City Hotel. Cesarine’s father, Raymond, owned a musical depository on Maiden Lane and was a minor composer and music teacher. When Euphemia died at the age of 14, also of tuberculosis like her mother, Pierre and Juliette were devastated with grief, for they had loved her as their own child.

The Touissants lived a life of charity, compassion and generosity in New York City. They frequently visited the Orphan Asylum, bringing joy to the children with baked treats as well as financial support. Their home became a sanctuary, where they fostered a succession of orphan boys, providing them with education and vocational training. Pierre and Juliet established a credit bureau and an employment agency, offering crucial support to those in need. Their home also served as a refuge for priests and travelers seeking shelter. Pierre’s bilingual skills in French and English made him an invaluable asset to Haitian refugees arriving in New York. He assisted these newcomers by organizing sales of goods, helping them secure funds for their livelihood.

Pierre and his family attended St. Peter’s Church on Barclay Street. He went to Mass every morning at 6:00 a.m., until in his later years illness prevented him from doing so. He was devoted to the rosary and had an excellent command of Scripture. St. Peter’s was the same parish that Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton had attended for a few years after her conversion to Catholicism in 1805, before moving to Maryland, where she founded the Sisters of Charity, America’s first community of nuns. There is no record of Seton and Touissant ever meeting one another; however, he played an important role in later raising funds for the Sisters of Charity’s orphanage in New York, even though it admitted only white children.

The Touissants’ contributions to the Catholic community were significant, including fundraising for the construction of Old St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Mulberry Street. They supported various Catholic institutions, including orphanages and schools, and also helped establish the first Catholic school for Black children in New York City, at St. Vincent de Paul on Canal Street. Pierre Touissant is called the “father of Catholic Charities,” because his legacy of compassion and service laid the foundation for what would later become the Catholic Charities organization.

During a cholera epidemic, Pierre fearlessly crossed barricades to care for quarantined patients. On at least one occasion, he brought a sick priest back to his house to nurse him back to health. He also showed heroic charity in his response to the outbreaks of yellow fever that occurred every summer in New York, something he had seen often back in Saint-Domingue. Hannah Sawyer Lee wrote the following about one such epidemic:“When the yellow fever prevailed in New York, by degrees Maiden Lane was almost wholly deserted, and almost every house in it closed. One poor woman, prostrated by the terrible disorder, remained there with little or no attendance, till Toussaint, day by day, came through the lonely street, crossed the barricades, entered the deserted house where she lay, and performed the nameless offices of a nurse, fearlessly exposing himself to the contagion.”

Despite his success, Toussaint faced significant challenges as a free Black man in New York, where slavery remained legal until 1829. He risked abduction by bounty hunters, and was barred from public transportation, forcing him to walk to his clients’ homes. His Catholicism added to his vulnerability, as anti-Catholic prejudice was widespread in New York at the time. Conversely, his reputation as an entrepreneur and highly-skilled master of his trade made him welcome in the homes of New York’s society families, not only as a hairdresser but as a trusted friend and confidante. Many clients came to view Pierre as more than just a hairdresser, seeking his advice on personal matters. His wisdom and discretion made him a trusted advisor. His clients were deeply impressed by his staunch commitment to discretion and his refusal to engage in gossip. This level of trust allowed them to confide in him freely, knowing their secrets were safe. One client remarked, “It was like the confessional to talk to Toussaint, you were so sure of his secrecy.” This steadfast refusal to share gossip was seen as evidence of his strong moral character. When pressed for information, Pierre would simply state, “Toussaint, Madame, is a hairdresser. He does not gather news.” This polite but firm response became well-known among his clientele, further establishing his reputation for discretion.

A significant friendship blossomed on Franklin Street in New York City, where Pierre and Juliette lived at number 144. Just down the street at number 70 resided the Moore siblings – Nathaniel Fish Moore, an enthusiastic amateur photographer and the future president of Columbia University, and his sister Sarah Ann. Toussaint’s skillful hands had long been tending to Sarah Ann’s hair, their relationship evolving from that of stylist and client to genuine friendship. Evidence of their bond survives in the Pierre Toussaint papers at the New York Public Library, where two letters from Sarah Ann reside. One, undated, simply requests a hairdressing appointment. The other, penned in 1840, speaks of a more personal connection – Sarah Ann had thoughtfully brought Pierre a rosary from her and Nathaniel’s pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

It was through this connection that Toussaint came to sit for Nathaniel Fish Moore’s camera. Nathaniel, ever eager to practice his craft, captured a striking portrait of Toussaint in his later years. For decades, this photographic image lay dormant, passed down through the Moore family until 1944, when William Hodges, Sarah Ann’s grandson, donated it along with other salt prints to Columbia University’s Columbiana Collection. Initially misidentified and incorrectly credited, the photograph’s true significance remained hidden until many years after Pierre’s passing. But more about that later!

Through the 1820s and early 1830s, Pierre Toussaint’s fortune grew steadily through his tireless work.His days often stretched beyond 12 hours as he traversed New York’s streets, styling hair in the city’s most prestigious homes. Yet, this demanding work was not for personal gain; rather, it was a means to generate more resources for the less fortunate. When a friend suggested he had amassed enough to retire comfortably, Toussaint responded with characteristic selflessness: “Madam, I have enough for myself, but if I stop work, I have not enough for others.”

In 1835, disaster struck New York City, when the Great Fire of New York engulfed lower Manhattan, destroying between 530 and 700 buildings across 13 acres. Witnesses described the inferno as “immense iron furnaces in full blast,” with copper roofs melting and “fiery tongues of flame” leaping from buildings. This catastrophe is believed to have cost Pierre investments equivalent to almost a million dollars in today’s currency. Despite this significant financial setback, he persevered in his charitable endeavors.

Hannah Sawyer Lee eloquently captured the essence of his philanthropy in her 1854 memoir: “It must not be supposed that Toussaint’s charity consisted merely in bestowing money; he felt the moral greatness of doing good, of giving counsel to the weak and courage to the timid, of reclaiming the vicious, and above all, of comforting the sick and sorrowful.”

The 1840s brought stark reminders of the persistent racism in American society. Although New York had abolished slavery, prejudice and violence against Black individuals remained commonplace. In 1842, Toussaint and his wife faced a painful incident at Old St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Mulberry Street – a church whose construction he had helped finance. Unaware of his prominent status, ushers turned them away due to their race. As they turned to leave, some Cathedral trustees saw what was happening and rushed to apologize and welcome them into the church. But the damage had been done, underscoring the pervasive discrimination of the era. By contrast, Pierre’s own charity and inclusivity stood as a shining example of true Christian virtue, to be emulated not only in his day, but in ours.

Though he continued to grow steadily in spiritual strength and beauty, Pierre gradually began to decline physically during the following decade. On May 14, 1851, his beloved wife and partner, Juliette, died and was buried in the cemetery of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral beside their adoptive daughter, Euphémia. It was at this time that Pierre demonstrated the assertiveness he could summon when it truly mattered. At Juliette’s funeral, he requested that only Black attendees follow the procession to the graveyard, although white mourners were welcome at the graveside. This practice was repeated at his own funeral.

After Juliette’s death, Pierre’s health further deteriorated. He became increasingly inactive and was often bedridden. Two days before he died, he uttered the words, “God is with me.” When someone asked him if he wanted anything, he replied, “Nothing on Earth.” Those were his last recorded words. Pierre Toussaint entered into his eternal home on June 30, 1853.

At his funeral Mass, St. Peter’s Church overflowed with mourners of all types – rich and poor, Black and white – wishing to pay their respects to the man whose kindness, dignity and charity illuminated the lives of everyone he encountered. Pierre Toussaint had managed the incredible feat of displaying true Christian charity, compassion, respect and mercy that transcended all the levels of society in which he moved. Father Quinn, who gave the eulogy, said that Pierre Touissant was “one who always had wise counsel for the rich and words of encouragement for the poor.”

As the funeral service concluded, Pierre’s white friends and associates honored his final request, stepping back to allow members of the Black community to bear his casket through the streets to St. Patrick’s Cemetery on Mulberry Street, as they had for Juliette two years earlier. At the graveside, people from all walks of life united in prayer as Toussaint was laid to rest beside his wife Juliette and adopted daughter, Euphemia.

New York’s newspapers paid tribute to Pierre Toussaint’s passing with lavish praise. One obituary eloquently stated: “His charity was of the efficient character which did not content itself with a present relief of pecuniary aid, but which required time and thought by day and by night, and long watchfulness and kind attention at the bedside of the sick and the departing.”

In 1854, Hannah Sawyer Lee’s biography, “Memoir of Pierre Toussaint, Born a Slave in St. Domingo,” published in Boston, became crucial in preserving details of his extraordinary life through notes left by her sister, Mary Anna Schuyler, and other sources. But in the turbulent decades following Toussaint’s death, as America grappled with political upheaval leading to the Civil War and its aftermath, his remarkable story faded from public memory, persisting mainly as oral history within Haitian-American and Black Catholic communities. A few decades later, the Touissant archives at the NY Public Library were compiled by Mary Ann Schuyler’s granddaughter Georgina.

But these did not draw much public attention until the 1930s, when Garland White, Jr., a young African-American student preparing for Confirmation challenged his teacher, a seminarian named Charles McTague, with the words, “You can’t name me one Black Catholic that white people respected!” McTague did not back down from the challenge. He managed to locate a Jesuit priest named John LaFarge, who remembered his grandmother’s stories about a devout Black man who had been her hairdresser for many years. McTague rediscovered Toussaint’s family gravestone in the Mulberry Street cemetery, where the inscription had faded to the point of being illegible. This discovery generated new interest in Toussaint’s extraordinary life and works.

In the 1950s, research and promotion of Pierre Touissant’s life was begun by the John Boyle O’Reilly Committee for Interracial Justice, an Irish-American group dedicated to social justice and equality. In 1951, a petition for the canonization of Pierre Toussaint was begun, and Cardinal Francis Spellman blessed a plaque to mark Touissant’s headstone. Spellman’s successor, Cardinal Terence Cooke, initiated the cause of canonization in 1968, which gained momentum over the following decades.

Fast forward to 1990, when, as part of Toussaint’s canonization process, his remains needed to be exhumed, examined and identified. Columbiana Curator Hollee Haswell provided the photograph taken in 1850 by Nathaniel Fish Moore to a team of forensic anthropologists, who compared it against Toussaint’s exhumed skull, leading to positive identification. Cardinal John O’Connor arranged for Pierre’s remains to be interred in the crypt beneath the altar of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, an honor usually reserved only for high-ranking clerics. Pierre Touissant thus became the only lay person, and the only Black person, to be buried in this crypt. A portrait of Touissant by Hunt Slonem now also hangs in the Cathedral.

In 1996, Pope John Paul II declared Pierre Toussaint “Venerable,” advancing him one step closer to sainthood. As of now, Toussaint’s canonization cause awaits an intercessory miracle — specifically, the instantaneous, complete, permanent, and medically-inexplicable healing of a serious medical condition — to progress to the next step of beatification. A second miracle is required for canonization. He is one of six North Americans under consideration for sainthood, potentially becoming the first Black North American saint.

Pierre’s legacy continues to thrive in the Archdiocese of New York and beyond. The Pierre Toussaint Guild, actively involved in advancing his cause for sainthood, also works to share his inspiring story globally. The Pierre Toussaint Scholarship Fund, managed by the archdiocese’s Black Ministry Office, perpetuates his mission by providing financial grants, mentorship, and opportunities for students to develop both their faith and careers. The foundation’s impact extends internationally, supporting the College Pierre Toussaint in Sassier, Haiti, enabling young Haitians to acquire skills to serve their community. In Miami, Florida, the Pierre Toussaint Haitian-Catholic Center bears his name, offering support services to Haitian immigrants. Though there are too many to list here, Pierre Touissant’s legacy extends to charitable and education institutions throughout the United States and beyond.

Additionally, Toussaint’s memory is honored through various public recognitions. A series of portraits in Gracie Mansion commemorates his good works. In April 2021, a significant portion of Church Avenue in Brooklyn, New York, was co-named Pierre Toussaint Boulevard. Additionally, the intersection near St. Peter’s Church in Manhattan, Toussaint’s former parish, was named after him in 1998. Most recently, in February 2024, Toussaint was featured in the New York Times’ “Overlooked No More” series of articles, which highlight remarkable individuals whose deaths originally went unreported in The Times.

In 1999, at a Mass in Toussaint’s honor, Cardinal O’Connor said, “If ever a man was truly free, it was Pierre Toussaint…. If ever a man was a saint, in my judgment, it was Pierre Toussaint. … No one can read this man’s life…without being awed by his holiness. He is now buried beneath this high altar with all of the bishops, archbishops and cardinals of New York. It will be a great privilege for me to be buried in a vault in the same section with Pierre Toussaint.” Cardinal O’Connor further stated that it was not necessary to wait for Pierre’s official sainthood to emulate his virtues. “Beatified or not,” he said, “Pierre Toussaint remains a wonderful model, and I wish he were here.”

September 21, 2024

THE BLESSED FAMILY OF ASSISI

The Family of St. Clare

To watch the YouTube video, click arrow in thumbnail below:

The Offreduccio clan of Assisi, the family of St. Clare, didn’t just produce ONE saint – they gave the world an entire holy dynasty! This family certainly carried the holiness gene – sanctity seemed to permeate their DNA!😇

In this post, we’ll explore the surprising spiritual journeys of Clare’s mother, two sisters, an aunt, and a cousin. Learn how this remarkable wealthy and noble family embraced poverty and revolutionized religious life in medieval Italy. From midnight escapes to miracle healings, their story is filled with drama, devotion, and Divine inspiration.

BLESSED ORTOLANA OF ASSISI

Ortolana Offreduccio knelt in the tranquil embrace of the church, the cool air wrapping around her like a comforting shawl. Her gaze drifted to the statue of the Blessed Virgin nestled in the alcove to her left, then shifted to the crucifix looming above the altar. It was the Fall of 1193, a time of joy and trepidation, for she had recently discovered she was with child. The news brought exhilaration to her and her husband, Favarone, yet a flutter of anxiety stirred within her. Childbirth in those days was fraught with peril, often claiming the lives of both mother and infant.

In the stillness, with only the flickering candlelight to accompany her, Ortolana placed a gentle hand on her barely noticeable belly, closed her eyes, and offered a heartfelt prayer to Jesus and His Blessed Mother, beseeching for a safe delivery and a healthy child. Just then, a voice broke the silence, soothing and resonant: “Fear not, for you will safely give birth to a light which will shine on all the earth.” Startled, she opened her eyes and scanned the empty church. Soon realizing the voice was of Divine origin, her worries dissipated, replaced by a profound sense of peace that enveloped her throughout her pregnancy.

Born into the noble Fiumi family, Ortolana (sometimes called Hortulana) was a descendant of a lineage of knights and was raised with deep Catholic faith and piety. Before her marriage, she embarked on numerous pilgrimages to sacred sites, including Rome and the Shrine of Archangel Michael on Mount Gargano in southeastern Italy. Pilgrimages in those days typically included a retinue of nobles, knights, and their attendants. Among her companions was a woman named Pacifica, described by some as a friend, though it remains uncertain if she was the same Pacifica who was Clare’s cousin. Ortolana and Pacifica even ventured to the Holy Land, a perilous but not uncommon undertaking in the wake of the Crusades, fully aware of the dangers that lay ahead on their journey.

Upon her return from her pilgrimages, Ortolana married the man chosen by her parents: Sir Favarone Scifi de Offreduccio, a knight hailing from one of Assisi’s most esteemed noble families. In her new life in Favarone’s elegant palace, Ortolana embodied kindness, love, and loyal devotion as a wife, nurturing her faith with the same fervor she had shown on her journeys.

On July 16, 1194, joy filled the household as she welcomed a beautiful, golden-haired baby girl into the world. As she gazed into her daughter’s innocent face, memories of the heavenly words she had heard in church months earlier, proclaiming her child to be a “light to the world,” echoed in her mind. In that moment, she decided to name her daughter “Chiara,” the Italian form of Clare, which means “clear, bright, and shining.”

Ortolana’s family soon expanded with the arrival of four more children: Don Boso, Penenda, Agnes, and Beatrice. True to her name, which means “the gardener,” she lovingly referred to Clare and her other daughters as “her little plants.” Years later, Clare would embrace the title of “the little plant” of St. Francis, who, as she described, “took so much care, through his words and through his works” to “cultivate and make it grow.”

However, in 1200, turmoil struck Assisi with an uprising that forced the nobility, including Favarone, Ortolana, and their children, to flee to Perugia, while war raged against their city. The battle of Collestrada in 1202 saw Assisi’s defeat, leading to the capture and imprisonment of many knights, including Francesco, the son of a prosperous silk merchant, Pietro Bernadone. Francesco endured nearly a year in captivity. Finally, peace returned in 1210, allowing Ortolana, her husband, and their children to return to their beloved Assisi.

Ortolana’s piety and faith permeated every aspect of her life, and she passed these virtues on to her children. The family lived near the Cathedral, often visiting to pray and attend Mass. Gracious and charitable, Ortolana frequently ventured out to the poor neighborhoods of Assisi, offering aid and sustenance to those in need. Ortolana and Clare became very well-respected in Assisi because of their pious and charitable way of life.

During this time, Francesco Bernardone, whom we now know as St. Francis of Assisi, underwent a profound conversion and transformation following his time as a prisoner of war. He left his family and their thriving business to pursue a life of poverty, humility and good works in imitation of Christ. By 1210, now a deacon, he was entrusted by the Bishop to preach during Lent. Ortolana and her daughters attended one of his sermons, eager to hear to the words of this young man who had become such a controversial figure in Assisi. This moment proved pivotal for Clare, who was captivated by Francis’ eloquent preaching and fervent spirituality.

On the night of Palm Sunday in 1212, she made the courageous decision to join Francis’ burgeoning movement, becoming his first female follower and the founder of the Poor Ladies of San Damiano, now known as the Poor Clares.

I won’t delve deeply into Clare’s life here, as I covered her remarkable journey in a previous post titled “The Life of St. Clare of Assisi:‘The Other Francis’.” I encourage you to check it out for a more detailed exploration of her story.

Little is known of Ortolana’s initial reaction when her daughter Clare left home to follow Francis. Perhaps the apparent betrayal deeply wounded the kind-hearted mother — or maybe, with a mother’s intuition, she had sensed it coming. Regardless, the family was in for another shock when, just 16 days after Clare’s departure, her younger sister, 14-year-old Catarina, inspired by her sister’s courage and dedication, also ran away from home to join Clare.

After Favarone’s death, Ortolana, now a widow, made the decision to follow in both of her daughters’ footsteps. Around 1226, she disposed of her wealth, distributing the proceeds to the poor, and wrote a farewell letter to her family. Ortolana then joined The Poor Ladies at the San Damiano convent, where she was personally invested into the Order by Francis himself. True to her name, Ortolana was entrusted by Clare with the care of the monastery’s vegetable garden, a vital role in ensuring the survival of a community that subsisted on what they could grow and what was donated.

One day, a gravely-ill boy was brought to Clare and Ortolana at their monastery, with the hope that the prayers of these two devout women would bring about a miraculous cure. To the amazement of all, the child was healed. Clare attributed the miracle to Ortolana’s heartfelt prayers; however, Ortolana humbly insisted that it was Clare’s prayers that had brought about the healing. The truth of whose prayers truly obtained this grace remains a mystery, but it seems likely that the intercession of both saintly women played a part. This miraculous cure serves as a testament to the power of prayer and the holiness of this remarkable family.

Within the walls of the monastery, Ortolana continued to dedicate herself to hidden sacrifices for Jesus. Her days were filled with prayer, penance, and labor, all aimed at serving God and her fellow sisters. The miracles attributed to her during her life and after her death reflect the strength of her faith and the sanctity of her actions.

Ortolana passed away around 1238. Her cause for canonization was initiated in recognition of her virtuous life and the miracles attributed to her. Ortolana of Assisi was declared a Blessed by the Catholic Church, although the exact date of her beatification is not well-documented. Her legacy is particularly honored as the mother of Saint Clare and Saint Agnes of Assisi, both canonized saints, as well as Beatrice, who also is recognized as a Blessed.

At St. Clare’s canonization, Pope Alexander IV said, “Her mother, named Ortolana, [was] intent upon pious deeds, followed her daughter’s footprints, and afterwards accepted this religious way of life. In this excellent garden which had produced such a plant for the Lord, she happily ended her days.” (Bull Can., 10: CAED 241).

CATARINA/ST. AGNES OF ASSISI

Just 16 days after Clare’s departure, inspired by her sister’s example, Agnes made the dramatic decision to run away from home and join Clare at the convent of the Benedictine nuns in San Paolo, where Francis had taken Clare temporarily until a residence could be built for her.

Favarone, enraged at the loss of yet another daughter, sent his brother Monaldo, accompanied by some other relatives and armed knights, to storm the convent and persuade – or force – Catarina to return home. When they arrived and confronted her, only to be met with her staunch refusal to leave, Monaldo drew his sword to frighten her. But he was struck with a violent pain in his arm, causing him to drop the sword. Then the other men forcibly pulled Catarina from the monastery by her long hair, striking her as she resisted with all her might. Two different accounts describe what happened next: In one version, they dragged her down the mountainside with such force that she was rendered unconscious. In the other account, when Clare arrived to defend her, Catarina’s body became miraculously heavy, making it impossible for them to carry her. In any case, it became clear to the men that they were up against supernatural forces, and they ultimately left her behind.

Catarina ran back to the convent, overjoyed to be able to remain with her sister. Francis, for his part, was impressed and deeply moved at Catarina’s heroic resistance to the threats of her family, and he realized what spiritual treasures dwelt in the soul of this young girl. As he had done with Clare, he cut off Catarina’s long, lovely hair, and gave her a rough, penitential garment and veil similar to Clare’s. At receiving the habit, Catarina chose as her new name “Agnes,” which means “pure” or “holy,” reflecting the values that Catarina embraced as she dedicated herself to a spiritual path. The name Agnes also carries a legacy of sainthood, being associated with Saint Agnes of Rome, a martyr of the 4^th century known for her purity and faith. Some sources say that Francis himself suggested this name, because Catarina reminded him of a gentle and innocent lamb, and the name also honored Christ, the spotless Lamb of God.

As one of the Poor Ladies of San Damiano, Agnes exhibited such a high degree of virtue and faithfulness to Clare’s ideals, inspired by Francis, that her fellow nuns believed she had discovered a road to perfection known only to herself. At the young age of 22, she was appointed by Francis as Abbess of a new community of Poor Ladies in Monticello, near Florence. Agnes governed the community with wisdom and charity, teaching the nuns to love and embrace Lady Poverty and the difficult but rewarding life of virtue. Though life in the convent was harmonious, Agnes’ great cross was being separated from her beloved sister Clare, as evidenced by a moving letter she wrote, expressing her heartache at the separation. Describing herself as “extremely distressed and saddened,” she wrote: “What shall I say, now that I can no longer hope to see my sisters again?” Still, she carried on bravely with her new duties, offering her sufferings to Jesus, the Lamb of God.

Agnes went on to establish Poor Ladies communities in Mantua, Padua and Venice, inspiring many young women to leave their worldly lives to pursue a life consecrated to God in monastic seclusion. Like her sister Clare, she embodied the Franciscan spirit and lived in humble faithfulness. Agnes was favored with many extraordinary graces from God. It is said that she experienced levitation during prayer, similar to St. Francis, and was blessed with a vision of the Infant Jesus. One year, from Holy Thursday until Holy Saturday, she became so immersed in prayer that she lost all track of time, believing she had prayed for only one hour when, in fact, three days had passed.

In 1253, Agnes was summoned to Assisi because Clare was dying. She devoted herself to nursing Clare until her sister’s death on August 11, and took on the solemn task of planning her funeral. Just before Clare passed away, she comforted Agnes with the words, “My beloved sister, it is the will of God that I go, but be comforted, you will soon come and rejoin me with our Lord.” This prophecy was indeed fulfilled when Agnes died three months later, on November 16, and was buried next to Clare and their mother, Ortolana.

Agnes’ tomb became a site of numerous reported miracles. In 1753, the year marking the 500th anniversary of her death, she was canonized as St. Agnes of Assisi by Pope Benedict XIV.

One well-known quote from St. Agnes during her lifetime resonates powerfully even in the 21st century: “The most deadly poison of our times is indifference. And this happens, although the praise of God should know no limits. Let us strive, therefore, to praise him to the greatest extent of our powers.”

BLESSED BEATRICE OF ASSISI

In the year 1229, Beatrice Offreduccio found herself at a crossroads. Because of her mother’s decision to join the Poor Ladies of San Damiano, Beatrice at 18 years of age had become the sole heiress to the Offreduccio family fortune. The weight of responsibility pressed upon her, urging her towards marriage and a life of nobility. However, the path her sisters had chosen beckoned to her as well.

Inspired by Clare and Agnes, Beatrice made a decision that would alter the course of her life, as it had that of her sisters. She turned her back on wealth and privilege, choosing instead to join the Order of the Poor Ladies at San Damiano. Within the austere walls of the monastery, Beatrice immersed herself in prayer, embraced mortification, practiced fasting, and performed good works. She outlived her mother and her sisters Clare and Agnes, becoming a pillar of the community at San Damiano.

Beatrice’s devotion to her sister Clare extended beyond Clare’s earthly life. During Clare’s canonization process, Beatrice served as the ninth witness. Her testimony provided invaluable insights into Clare’s childhood, her embrace of St. Francis’s teachings, and her leadership as Abbess of the Poor Ladies.

Beatrice died in 1260, and was laid to rest in the church of St. George, which later became part of the Basilica of Santa Chiara in Assisi. In recognition of her pious life, the Catholic Church eventually declared Beatrice a Blessed, cementing her place in religious history.

BIANCA

Bianca was either the sister or sister-in-law of Favorino Offreduccio, Clare’s father. As such, she was aunt to Clare, Agnes, and Beatrice. But Bianca was more than just a relative; she was a confidante and co-conspirator in Clare’s spiritual journey.

On that fateful night of Palm Sunday in 1212, when Clare made the daring decision to leave her family’s home, it was Bianca who stood by her side. Together with Clare’s cousin Pacifica, who may have been Bianca’s daughter, they slipped away under the cover of darkness. Their destination: the humble Portiuncula chapel, where Francis of Assisi awaited.

In that small, candlelit sanctuary, Clare took her first steps towards a life of radical poverty and devotion. Bianca witnessed as Francis cut Clare’s hair and gave her a simple habit, marking the birth of the Second Order of Francis, a profound moment that would ripple throughout history.

But Bianca’s role didn’t end there. Inspired by Clare’s courage and conviction, she too eventually joined the Poor Ladies of San Damiano. This decision wasn’t made lightly; it meant abandoning the comforts of a noble life for a path of austerity and prayer. Yet Bianca embraced it wholeheartedly, her choice a testament to the powerful bonds of family and faith that fueled the Order’s growth.

While the details of Bianca’s daily life within the convent walls are lost to us, her presence alongside Clare speaks volumes. In those early, uncertain years, as the Poor Ladies faced opposition and struggled to establish their way of life, Bianca’s staunch support must have been a real source of strength for Clare.

From aunt and niece to sisters in faith, Bianca and Clare’s relationship evolved into something profound. Together, they helped forge a new path for women seeking a life of deep spiritual devotion. Bianca’s story, though less celebrated than Clare’s and Agnes’, is a reminder of the quiet supporters who often play crucial roles in monumental changes.

Bianca of Assisi stands as a symbol of loyalty, courage, and the transformative power of faith. Her legacy lives on in the Order she helped establish, a testament to the enduring impact of those who choose to follow their convictions, no matter the cost.

BROTHER RUFFINO

Ruffino Offreduccio was a relative of St. Clare’s, most probably her cousin. He was one of St. Francis of Assisi’s first 12 followers. Ruffino’s spiritual journey was marked by an intensity that captured the admiration of Francis, who used him as example of the “ideal friar.” Francis often praised Ruffino’s “virtuous and incessant prayer,” marveling at how Ruffino seemed to commune with the Divine even in sleep. A man of angelic purity, so profound was Ruffino’s piety that Francis used to say that he was “canonized in Heaven” while still walking the earth, and often referred to him as “Saint Ruffino,” except in his presence.

Yet Ruffino was no preacher. His was a contemplative nature, more comfortable in silent communion with God than addressing crowds. His focus on the Divine was so complete that the world around him often faded into insignificance. This single-minded devotion, while admirable, posed challenges when Francis sought to broaden Ruffino’s ministry.

In a tale recounted in “The Little Flowers of St. Francis,” Francis once instructed the reluctant Ruffino to preach in Assisi. When Ruffino hesitated, Francis, in a dramatic gesture of spiritual authority, ordered him to strip to his undergarments, go the the church and preach that way, as a gesture of holy obedience and humility. The scene that unfolded in the church was at first comical, with townsfolk laughing at the half-naked friar. But Francis, moved by Ruffino’s obedience, began to question himself: “How could you, a humble son of a merchant, send the distinguished Ruffino to preach as if he were a madman? You shall do the same thing you have ordered him to do!”

He then removed his own mantle and habit and went to the church, carrying both his and Ruffino’s garments. The people, seeing Francis also in his underwear, believed he and Ruffino had truly lost their minds from excessive penance. While Ruffino was preaching, Francis ascended the pulpit and began to speak about holy penance, voluntary poverty, and the nakedness of Christ during His Passion. This moved the crowd to tears, so deeply inspired were they by the actions of both Ruffino and Francis. From that day on, they were so greatly revered by the people that those who managed to touch the hem of their garments considered themselves blessed.

Ruffino’s spiritual journey was not without trials. In a harrowing episode, he faced severe temptation from the devil, who appeared to him as a crucifix, sowing doubt about his salvation. The demon told him that all his good deeds were in vain, because he was not among the elect destined for eternal life. This caused Ruffino great distress and doubt, both about his faith and his following of Francis.

Brother Masseo, another early follower of Francis, tried to console Ruffino, but it was Francis who ultimately helped him overcome the crisis. Through Divine revelation, Francis learned of Ruffino’s condition and confronted him, revealing the details of his temptation. Francis assured Ruffino that it was the devil, not Christ, who was tormenting him. Moved by Francis’s words, Ruffino confessed his struggles and found great comfort and consolation. Francis encouraged him to continue his prayers and advised him on how to boldly respond to the devil’s accusations the next time he appeared. He assured him that this trial would ultimately be beneficial. When the devil returned, Ruffino responded as Francis had instructed, and the devil was unable to harm him. The demon fled in rage, causing a landslide of rocks from Mt. Subasio. Ruffino was then consoled by a real vision of Christ.

Brother Ruffino was one of the four brothers who were close to Francis during his last illness, and he was privileged to see the stigmata wound in Francis’ side before he died. In 1246, along with Brothers Angelo and Leo, Brother Ruffino provided crucial material for the “Legend of the Three Companions,” a pivotal biographical work that would shape future narratives about Francis.

Ruffino passed away around 1270. Though never officially beatified or canonized, his legacy as a paragon of Franciscan spirituality endures.

The sanctity of the Offreduccio family members reflects their steadfast commitment to embodying the Franciscan ideals of poverty, humility, and prayer. Their lives were characterized by profound faith and a selfless dedication to serving others, creating a powerful legacy that continues to inspire future generations. Through their actions, they set a remarkable example of how to live a life devoted to God and the well-being of those around them, demonstrating that true greatness lies in humility and love.

August 28, 2024

ST. CLARE OF ASSISI: “The Other Francis”

*Chiara Offreducio, known as St. Clare of Assisi*

To watch the YouTube video, click arrow in the thumbnail below:

The honey-colored stone buildings gleamed in the bright Italian sunshine as dawn broke over the town of Assisi one day during Lent in the year 1212. The lively medieval town, perched on the slopes of Monte Subasio in the heart of the Umbria region of Italy, offered breathtaking views of the surrounding misty valleys and rolling green hills. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of livestock and the pungent smell of tanned leather. As the sun climbed higher, the narrow, winding streets echoed with the sounds of daily life – merchants hawking their wares, craftsmen at work, and the distant chiming of church bells. To everyone else in Assisi, it was just an ordinary day. But for a young woman named Chiara Offreduccio, it was the day that would determine her destiny.

In the modest church of San Giorgio on the outskirts of town, Chiara (Italian for Clare) sat with her family during the Lenten service, listening to the preaching of a young man named Francesco Bernardone. The more he spoke, the more Clare was riveted by his words about a life dedicated to truly living the Gospel values. His radical ideas were beginning to take root, attracting admiration, as well as scorn and suspicion, from his fellow citizens.

She glanced at her two younger sisters, Beatrix and Catarina, sitting on either side of her, and then turned her head slightly to look at her mother. They all were listening politely, but none appeared moved and inspired as Clare herself was feeling. She had heard the gossip around Assisi about Francesco (Italian for Francis), a wealthy, charismatic, handsome young man who loved parties and revelry, but had suddenly decided to leave his family and their thriving silk business to pursue a life of poverty, humility and service to others in imitation of Christ.

As she walked home with her mother and sisters, Clare thought about her own life. She knew she was fortunate and blessed to belong to a wealthy and noble family. Born on July 16, 1194, she was the eldest daughter of Favorino Sciffi, the Count of Sasso-Rosso, and his wife, Ortolana. Their family legacy traced back to an ancient Roman lineage, their wealth evident in the grand palace that graced Assisi and the castle perched on Mount Subasio’s slope. Ortolana, noble and deeply pious, had embarked on pilgrimages to Rome, Santiago de Compostela, and the Holy Land. Her faith was etched into her very being, and she had instilled her deep spirituality into her daughters from their early childhood.

As was typical for most young women of her status, Clare had received a basic education in reading, writing, a little Latin, and basic arithmetic, along with religious instruction. She spent her days learning household management, personal hygiene, skincare, fashion, sewing and embroidery. In her leisure time she could pursue dancing, music, poetry or painting as she wished. Her wardrobe consisted of elegant garments made of the finest materials, often decorated with elaborate embroidery and fur. As a young woman of marriageable age, she attended social events, feasts and tournaments. Marriages among the wealthy were often arranged for political or economic advantages and were crucial for forming alliances and consolidating wealth and power. Clare was expected to marry well, and for the past several years had been facing increasing pressure from her family, especially her father, to do so. She finally had persuaded her parents to let her delay marriage until she was 18, and that time was fast approaching.

But for years now, Clare had found herself detaching from all the worldly trappings of her life, wanting a more deeply meaningful and spiritual existence. She spent many hours in prayer and contemplation, and practiced penances to achieve greater virtue. Unlike most of her friends, who were caught up in frivolous pursuits, she saw all the poor people of Assisi and its surrounding areas, and felt a deep compassion and sense of responsibility for them. As a child, she sometimes had hidden food from her plate to later give to the poor. Little by little, Clare found herself torn between two worlds. But despite all her inner turmoil, she did not know what to do or what God expected of her.

That is, until today.

*Francis’ words stirred the depths of Clare’s soul*

Francis’s words stirred the depths of her soul, and she finally had a focus for the nagging restlessness and dissatisfaction with her life that had haunted her throughout her teenage years. Francis and his followers exuded a peace that seemed sorely lacking in the people around her, who were mainly focused on material possessions and power. Clare now knew that her heart beat to a different rhythm—one that echoed the footsteps of the wandering friar named Francis, called “Il Poverello” or “The Little Poor Man”— a radical path that led not to marriage and privilege, but to a sacred union with Christ. That day marked the beginning of her profound spiritual journey, guided by Francis’s teachings and example. From then on, every chance she got, Clare listened to Francis preaching.

Her father announced that it was time she prepared to get married, and that he had an eligible suitor in mind for her. Clare realized that she didn’t have much time left to make a major change in her life before it was too late. She went to see Francis and poured out her heart to him. After listening carefully, Francis, recognizing her sincerity and devotion, advised her to leave behind her worldly possessions and follow the path of humility, simplicity, poverty and service to God, as he had.

On the night of Palm Sunday, March 20, 1212, with the consent of the Bishop, Clare, along with her Aunt Bianca and a cousin, set out for a prearranged meeting with Francis and his companions. Their meeting place was the Portiuncula, a small chapel dedicated to the Blessed Mother, which Francis had restored. There, in the soft glow of the candles, Francis cut off Clare’s beautiful golden hair, a symbolic act demonstrating that she was no longer bound by the laws of man or society, but by the will of God. Clare then exchanged her exquisite dress for a rough woolen habit and veil, her fine leather shoes for wooden sandals, and her jeweled belt for a knotted rope. Francis then brought her to the convent of the Benedictine nuns of San Paulo, since she was the first woman follower of Francis, and there was no residence for her as yet. With the Benedictine Sisters, Clare would learn how to live the life of a nun in a religious community.

It didn’t take long for Clare’s father to find her and attempt to force her back home. She adamantly refused, professing that she would have no other husband than Jesus Christ. Clare’s family, desperate to reclaim their daughter, tried every tactic. They dangled jewels and whispered promises of status and prestige. When persuasion failed, they resorted to force. One day, they stormed the chapel where Clare sought solace. She clung to the cold stone of the altar and defiantly revealed her cropped hair. The scissors had severed more than her lovely hair; they had cut her ties to earthly things. Her family, stunned by her resolve, finally relented and left Clare in peace.

*Clare’s hair was cut as a symbol of her renunciation of worldy things and her commitment to God.*

In order to give her the greater solitude she needed, Francis then sent Clare to Sant’ Angelo in Panzo, another Benedictine convent, nestled on the flanks of Subasio. There, Clare’s days were spent in prayer and contemplation. But fate wove another thread into her story: Sixteen days later, her sister Catarina arrived, also wanting to pursue the path Clare had chosen. Catarina shed her former name and embraced a new one—Agnes. The family had now lost two daughters to a higher love than human marriage. Soon their father’s brother Monaldo arrived, flanked by a group of stern men. As Clare prayed for Agnes’ safety, Monaldo demanded Agnes’s return, but Agnes would not be swayed. Eventually, their uncle gave up and left.

It wasn’t long before other women joined Clare and Agnes. It was obvious that a convent would have to be built for them as soon as possible. Their dwelling, hastily constructed near the church of San Damiano, became a peaceful sanctuary of simplicity, poverty, austerity and seclusion. This was the first community of the Poor Ladies of San Damiano, as they called themselves — the Second Order of Francis. After Clare’s death, they would become known as the Clarisse, or Poor Clares in English.

In the beginning, having no formal rule to guide them, Clare and her companions followed a simple formula vitae, or life formula, given to them by Francis, which can still be found among his works. Unlike the Franciscan friars who roamed the countryside preaching and evangelizing, Clare’s nuns found their sanctuary within the sturdy walls of enclosure. For women, an itinerant life such as the friars led was a distant dream. Their days were etched with the simplicity of manual labor and prayer. The daily life of the Poor Ladies of San Damiano combined the joy and simplicity of the Franciscan call within the framework of their contemplative community.

Their days began with Morning Prayer, Mass and reception of the Eucharist—the heartbeat of their existence. Throughout the day, they prayed the Canonical Hours, read Scripture and other spiritual literature, and lived mostly in silence. Clare considered work a grace—a way to banish idleness without extinguishing the spirit of prayer. They made altar breads (hosts), tended to secretarial tasks, sewed, cooked, and maintained the monastery. Two sacred hours were set aside for private prayer—one at dawn, the other in the evening. Some sought to pray before the Blessed Sacrament; others communed with God in nature. Music—from Gregorian chants to contemporary compositions—enriched their days, echoing Francis’s love for all things. This was a time of great simplicity and devotion, where the women relied solely on their faith and the teachings of Francis. They imitated Christ, following His footsteps with joy, trusting to God for their daily existence.

In 1215, at the insistence of Francis, Clare reluctantly accepted the mantle of Abbess at San Damiano at the age of 21. She continued in that role until her death in 1253. She preferred the titles “mother,” “handmaid,” or “servant.” Shyness veiled her authority, and when she gave orders, it was with humility. The tedious tasks, like scrubbing floors and mending habits, she reserved for herself. The nuns were her flock, and she looked after them with maternal tenderness.

Clare had a profound and special devotion to the Holy Eucharist. To deepen her love for Christ crucified, she memorized the Office of the Passion, a beautiful book of prayers composed by Francis himself. She would emerge from prayer with her face luminous, glowing with peace and joy. Eyewitnesses claimed she possessed a radiant beauty, even without the luxurious trappings of her earlier life. Under Clare’s wise and gentle and guidance, the community of San Damiano flourished. It became a sanctuary of every virtue, a true nursery of saints. The nuns there lived lives of simplicity and holiness, inspired by Clare’s example. They called her “alter Franciscus”—”another Francis” — because she so perfectly mirrored his virtues, his simplicity.

Francis and Clare shared a rare and enduring friendship and spiritual bond. Francis was Clare’s inspiration, her touchstone, her spiritual father figure. When residing at Assisi, he often visited Clare to give her holy counsel, to which she trustingly deferred. Clare, in turn, played an important role in supporting and encouraging Francis throughout his life, especially during times when he was assailed with doubts. When he expressed to Clare his wish to lead a more contemplative life, Clare persuaded him to continue his mission of working among the people.

Clare’s heart was filled with joy as she saw her family join her in this sacred journey. Her younger sister Beatrix, her widowed mother Ortolana, and her faithful Aunt Bianca, all eventually followed Agnes into the Order, creating a close-knit family of faith. However, as the community grew, so did the need for a more structured rule. In 1219, while Francis was away in the East, Cardinal Ugolino, the protector of the Order, drafted a written rule for the Poor Ladies, based on the Rule of St. Benedict. Unfortunately, this new rule, approved by Pope Honorius III, inadvertently stripped the Poor Ladies of their Franciscan identity of absolute poverty, making them more like a congregation of Benedictines. When Clare discovered that the new rule allowed the holding of property in common, she was deeply troubled. This was entirely against the intentions of Francis, who had forbidden both his friars and the Poor Ladies from possessing any worldly goods, even in common. They were to depend entirely on what the Friars Minor could beg for them. Clare’s resistance to these changes was both courageous and steadfast.

When Francis, ill and with failing eyesight, came to visit to San Damiano for what would be the last time, Clare provided a small hut for him in an olive grove near the monastery and served as his caretaker. In this peaceful and secluded place, Francis composed his famous “Canticle of the Sun.” After Francis’s death, Clare and her community had the opportunity to venerate his remains, especially the stigmata on his hands and feet, a moment poignantly captured in one of Giotto’s frescoes.

In 1228, Cardinal Ugolino, now Pope Gregory IX, visited Assisi for the canonization of Francis. He took this opportunity to visit Clare at San Damiano and urged her to accept some provision for the unforeseen needs of the community. Clare, however, firmly refused. When Gregory offered to absolve her from her vow of strict poverty, she responded with unwavering conviction, “Holy Father, I crave for absolution from my sins, but not to be absolved from the obligation of following Jesus Christ.” The Pope was deeply moved by Clare’s heroic commitment to poverty. His admiration and fatherly affection for Clare is evident in his letters to her, which still exist today.

Ultimately, on September 17, 1228, he granted her the unique privilege — the first of its kind ever issued by the Vatican — that allowed Clare and her community to continue living in absolute poverty as St. Francis had intended. The original autograph copy of this privilege is preserved in the archive at Santa Chiara in Assisi, a testament to Clare’s unwavering faith and dedication.

THE RULE OF THE POOR CLARES:

Clare’s loyalty to Francis’s ideals and teachings was evident throughout her life. Always dedicated to his rule and mission, she was the embodiment of the spirit of the Franciscan movement. The Rule of the Order of the Poor Ladies, written by Clare of Assisi in the 13th century, is a set of guidelines for the nuns in this religious community. The Rule emphasizes simplicity, humility, and a deep commitment to spiritual life, inspired by the teachings of St. Francis of Assisi.

Here are the key points in simple terms:

Poverty: The nuns live a life of extreme poverty, owning nothing personally or as a community. They rely entirely on donations and alms for their needs.
Chastity: They take a vow of chastity, dedicating their lives to God and refraining from marriage and romantic relationships.
Obedience: The nuns vow to obey their superiors and the rules of the Order.
Enclosure: They live in a cloistered environment, meaning they stay within the confines of their monastery and do not go out into the world.

There is no evidence that Clare ever ventured beyond the boundaries of San Damiano. Yet, her influence was so great that Popes, Cardinals and Bishops often came to consult her. Although we do not have too many details of her life in the cloister, “hidden with Christ in God” to use the words of St. Paul, we do know that, inspired by Francis, Clare embraced a life of profound poverty, humility, and self-denial. She became a living reflection of St. Francis’s virtues, dedicating herself entirely to the service of God. Clare also witnessed the foundation of monasteries of Poor Ladies spreading far and wide across Europe, a testament to the enduring legacy of her devotion and leadership.

THE EUCHARISTIC MIRACLE OF ST. CLARE

In the year 1234, the valley of Spoleto was under siege by the army of Frederick II. As the soldiers prepared to assault Assisi, they scaled the walls of San Damiano under the cover of night, much to the horror of the nuns. Despite being ill at the time, Clare went to the chapel and prayed, “Behold, my Lord, is it possible You want to deliver into the hands of pagans Your defenseless handmaids, whom I have taught out of love for You? I pray You, Lord protect these Your handmaids whom I cannot now save by myself.” She suddenly heard a voice from the tabernacle say, “I will always protect you.” Clare then calmly took the ciborium – a large covered cup containing the Eucharist — from the altar and approached an open window where the invaders had placed a ladder. With unwavering faith and courage, Clare raised the Blessed Sacrament high. Miraculously, the soldiers who were about to enter the monastery fell back as if blinded by a dazzling light, and those who were ready to follow them fled in terror.

This miraculous event, an account of which is recorded in the writings of Tommaso da Celano, a Franciscan Friar who lived during the time of St. Clare, is the reason St. Clare is often depicted in art holding a ciborium.

Some time later, a larger force led by General Vitale di Aversa, who had not been present during the first attack, returned to launch another assault on Assisi. Clare and her nuns knelt and begged God that the town be spared. Suddenly, a violent storm arose, scattering the soldiers’ tents. They fled in panic. The grateful people of Assisi attributed their deliverance from harm to Clare’s intercession. Their love for Clare, whom they called “the Seraphic Mother,” became even more fervent as she neared the end of her life.

Even as the years etched lines on her face, Clare’s heart remained aflame with the love of Christ. She outlived Francis by 27 years, but suffered serious illness for most of those years. On a cold Christmas Eve in 1252, Clare lay in her humble cell at the convent of San Damiano. She was gravely ill, her frail body unable to join her fellow Sisters at the Midnight Mass in the new Basilica of St. Francis, one mile from the convent. Her heart ached with longing to be present at the celebration of the Holy Eucharist. As the night progressed, feeling lonely and on the verge of tears, she closed her eyes and poured out her soul to God, expressing her sorrow and yearning.

Suddenly, a miraculous vision unfolded before her. The bare wall of her cell transformed into a vivid scene of the Midnight Mass at the Basilica. She could see the altar, the flickering candles, and the priests in their vestments. The sacred hymns and prayers filled her ears as if she were physically present in the Basilica. Her heart swelling with joy and gratitude, Clare watched the entire Mass unfold, recognizing the familiar faces of the friars and the faithful gathered there. The vision was so clear and detailed that she could recount every moment the next day. This miraculous event brought immense comfort to Clare, reaffirming her deep connection with the Divine, even in her physical weakness. It was a testament to her steadfast faith and the special graces bestowed upon her. Because of this vision, Pope Pius XII designated Clare as the patron saint of television in 1958.

Having heard that Clare was seriously ill, Pope Innocent IV came to visit her a few days before she died, and gave her absolution. On August 11, 1253, she breathed her last, after murmuring softly to herself, “Go forth in peace, for you have followed the good road. Go forth without fear, for He Who created you has made you holy, has always protected you, and loves you as a mother. Blessed be You, my God, for having created me.”

*Wax figure of St. Clare at the Basilica di Santa Chiara in Assisi*

Clare was canonized on September 26, 1255 by Pope Alexander IV. Just a year after her canonization, the foundations of the Basilica di Santa Chiara began to take shape beside the ancient church of San Giorgio. But Saint Clare’s influence extends far beyond Assisi, with her name gracing numerous places worldwide.

A charming tradition that has endured through the centuries is an offering of eggs to the Poor Clares as a plea for good weather, especially for weddings. This custom is particularly cherished in the Philippines, at the Real Monasterio de Santa Clara in Quezon City and in Obando, Bulacan. The practice is said to have originated from the dual meaning of Clare’s name in Castilian, where “clara” signifies both a clear interval in weather and the white of an egg.

St. Clare of Assisi’s feast day is celebrated in the Roman Catholic Church on August 11, and in the Church of England and other Anglican Communion churches with a Lesser Festival on the same date, ensuring that her spirit and contributions to faith and community remain vibrant and honored across the world.

SPIRITUAL LESSONS FROM ST. CLARE OF ASSISI

Beyond her miracles, St. Clare of Assisi’s life offers several inspiring aspects:

Radical Poverty: St. Clare embraced a life of radical poverty, following in the footsteps of St. Francis. She renounced material wealth, choosing simplicity and dependence on God. “If we love things, we become a thing,” she said. “If we love nothing, we become nothing.” Although we may not choose or be able to embrace poverty to such an extreme as she did, her commitment to poverty was a powerful witness to the Gospel. Clare’s life reminds us that material success and possessions will not follow us into eternity. Rather than obsess over money or allow it to cause us undue anxiety, we can embrace Christ’s words during the Sermon on the Mount: “Do not worry and say, ‘What are we to eat or drink?’ or ‘What are we to wear?’ All these things the pagans seek. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides. Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for the day is its own evil.” Matt. 6:25-34
Courage and Perseverance: Clare’s decision to cut her hair and leave her family to join Francis was bold and courageous. Despite societal norms, she stood firm in her faith and vocation. In this way, she stands as a role model for modern women to pursue their own path fearlessly, in accordance with God’s plan. Her perseverance in discerning and following God’s call to live a life of prayer and service is admirable, inspiring us to discern and follow God’s call in our own lives.
Deep Prayer Life: Clare’s devotion to prayer was steadfast. She spent hours in contemplation, seeking intimacy with God. Her reliance on prayer sustained her during trials and inspired others.
Compassion for the Poor: St. Clare cared for the poor and marginalized. She established the Order of Poor Ladies, later known as the Poor Clares, to serve those in need. Her compassion extended beyond words to practical acts of love.
Eucharistic Devotion: During the siege of Assisi, Clare’s faith and unwavering belief in Christ’s Real Presence in the Eucharist led her to courageously hold up the Blessed Sacrament, resulting in the enemy’s retreat. She was, in today’s vernacular, “willing to bet her life on it.”
Sisterhood and Community: Clare fostered a strong sisterhood within her order. Her leadership and commitment to communal life created a supportive environment where women could grow spiritually together, inspiring us to help one another to do the same.
Joy Amid Suffering: Despite physical ailments, Clare radiated joy. Her joy came from her relationship with God, and she shared it with others. Her example teaches us to find joy even in adversity.

St. Clare’s life inspires us to live authentically, love selflessly, and seek God above all else. She followed in the footprints of Christ, leaving her own behind for others to follow.

*Clare followed in the footsteps of Jesus*

POWERFUL PRAYER TO ST. CLARE

O glorious Saint Clare!

God has given you the power of working miracles continually, and the favor of answering the prayers of those who invoke your assistance in misfortune, anxiety, and distress.

We beseech you, obtain for us from Jesus, through Mary, His Blessed Mother, what we beg of you so fervently and hopefully, if it be for the greater honor and glory of God and for the good of our souls.

O Blessed Saint Clare, your life shines like a beacon and casts its light down the ages of the Church to guide the way of Christ. Look with compassion on the poor and humble who call on you for help.

As you bow before your Eucharistic Lord in Heaven, speak to Him of my afflicted body and my broken spirit. Ask Him to heal me and to wash away my sins in His precious Blood.

Great Servant of Christ, remember the needs of my family and all those I pray for. Defend us from everything that would threaten our faith.

Hear the cry of the poor and make it a song of intercession, rising from your poor heart to the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus, our Healer, our Savior, and our Lord. Amen.

Saint Clare, Pray For Us!
Amen.

August 4, 2024

KATERI TEKAWITHA, “Lily of the Mohawks”

First Native American Woman Saint

To watch the YouTube video, click on the arrow in the thumbnail below:

*Kateri Tekakwitha, “Lily of the Mohawks”*

Around 1656 in the Mohawk village of Ossernenon, located in what is now northeastern New York State, a baby girl was born. Little did anyone know that this child would grow up to become a significant figure in both Native American and Catholic history. Her parents named her “Little Sunshine,” because she was born at sunrise and had a cheerful disposition. Her father, Kenneronkwa, was a Mohawk chief of the Turtle Clan, one of the three separate extended family networks of the Mohawk nation, the other two being the Wolf clan and the Bear clan. Her mother was an Algonquin woman named Kahenta, who had been captured by Mohawk warriors and brought to their homeland. She was eventually adopted and assimilated into the tribe, but with one important difference: before her capture, Kahenta had been baptized as a Catholic and educated by French missionaries. Kenneronkwa wished to maintain peace between the Mohawk nation and the French, and was tolerant of the spread of the Catholic faith. Kahenta likely introduced Little Sunshine to Jesus, Mary, and the Christian faith as she grew up in a fully Mohawk culture, although Kenneronkwa did not consent to the baptism of his children.

Their village was a melting pot of cultures and traditions. Because the Mohawk had lost so many of their people to warfare and disease, they actively absorbed captured natives from other tribes, particularly their rivals, the Huron. This diversity would have exposed the children of the village to a rich tapestry of Native American cultures from an early age.

Four years later, a devastating smallpox epidemic swept through the village, claiming the lives of Kenneronkwa, Kahenta, and their baby boy. Little Sunshine survived, but the disease left its mark – her face was scarred, her eyesight impaired. She was adopted by her father’s sister, and her aunt’s husband, who had succeeded Kenneronkwa as the new chief of the Turtle Clan. In their Haudenosaunee culture, this adoption meant that they treated her exactly as if she were their own biological child. Haudenosaunee parents typically gave their children names later in life, after observing unique traits about them. The little girl’s adoptive parents renamed her ‘Tekakwitha,’ which in English means ‘she walks groping for her way’ or ‘she puts things in their place.’ This name reflected both her physical reality—having to feel her way around due to her impaired vision—and her personality traits. Little Tekakwitha, now an orphan, indeed had to navigate her way through her new life while dealing with the physical and emotional scars of her ordeal.

Tekakwitha’s childhood and teenage years were set against a backdrop of considerable upheaval. The Mohawk were caught between French and Dutch colonists competing for control of the lucrative fur trade. In 1666, when Tekakwitha was about 10 years old, a significant French military campaign targeted the Mohawk territory. The Mohawk, facing overwhelming odds, strategically withdrew from their settlements rather than engage in direct conflict. The French resorted to destructive measures by burning Mohawk towns and destroying food supplies, thus creating a severe threat of famine. But the Mohawk people, including young Tekakwitha, managed to survive, aided by the support of the other Haudenosaunee nations and their traditional practice of maintaining substantial food reserves. In the aftermath, the Mohawk rebuilt their communities, with each clan establishing new primary settlements.

In 1667, when Tekakwitha was 11, three Jesuit missionaries arrived in her village. She was fascinated by these strange men in black robes, speaking of a God she had never known. Her uncle did not want Tekakwitha to convert. He was wary of Christians and often opposed them, which created tension when she began showing interest in Christianity. But this encounter with the Jesuits eventually would prove to be a great turning point in Tekakwitha’s life.

Despite her interest in Christianity, Tekakwitha continued to grow up immersed in Mohawk culture. Over the years, her eyesight had improved somewhat, and she became skilled in the traditional women’s arts of learning to make clothing, weave mats, process animal pelts, tend crops, and prepare food. But there was something different about Tekakwitha – she was described as a modest girl who often avoided social gatherings.

Despite the turmoil around her, Tekakwitha’s strength of character shone brightly. In the summer of 1669, when she was around 13, she shocked everyone by refusing to consider marriage. In a bold statement to her confessor, she declared, “I can have no spouse but Jesus,” and even went as far as to say, “I have the strongest aversion to marriage.”

That same year, Mohican warriors attacked her village. Instead of hiding, Tekakwitha joined other girls in helping a priest named Jean Pierron tend to the wounded, bury the dead, and carry food and water to those in need, demonstrating her compassionate and caring nature.

As Tekakwitha grew older, the pressure to conform to traditional expectations intensified. When she was about 17, her adoptive mother and another aunt tried to arrange her marriage to a young Mohawk man. But Tekakwitha stood her ground. In a dramatic turn of events, she fled from her cabin and hid in a nearby field to avoid the marriage. Her determination was so strong that eventually, her aunts gave up their efforts to marry her off.

In the 1600’s, the Haudenosaunee men and women donned cloth garments, adapting their attire to various occasions, much like we do in our modern world. The women’s fashion, in particular, was a vibrant tapestry of colors, adorned with intricate beadwork that told stories of their rich culture. Unmarried Mohawk women of that era had a unique custom of leaving their hair loose and unbraided, a symbol of their status and freedom. Tekakwitha, however, stood out from the crowd with her distinctive choice of attire. While her peers favored the popular red shawl draped over their shoulders, Tekakwitha opted for a Marian blue shawl that she wore over her head. This wasn’t merely a fashion statement; it served a practical purpose, shielding her sensitive eyes and partially concealing her scarred face. Although self-conscious about her smallpox scars, she embraced them with true humility, viewing them as a blessing that allowed her to focus more on her spiritual life rather than receiving attention for her appearance.

In the spring of 1674, when Tekakwitha was 18, she met Jesuit priest Jacques de Lamberville, who was visiting her village. In a brave move, Tekakwitha openly shared her story with him and expressed her desire to become a Christian. This marked the beginning of her formal Christian education as she started studying the catechism with Lamberville.

Tekakwitha’s journey to Catholicism was significantly influenced by Mohawk converts who had embraced the faith. These role models lived out their faith in a way that made a deep impression on her. Their commitment to Jesus Christ and their ability to integrate their Catholic faith with their Mohawk culture showed Kateri that she could do the same. However, her decision to convert was not an easy path, as it sometimes led to tensions within her family and community, particularly given the complex political landscape of the time. Even before her religious conversion, her refusal to marry and start a family – values deeply ingrained in Mohawk culture – strained her relationship with her adopted parents. Her embrace of Catholicism in 1676 only increased the tensions.

Tekakwitha’s baptism on Easter Sunday of 1676 marked a significant milestone in her spiritual journey. The choice of her baptismal name, “Kateri,” which means “Catherine” in English, remains a topic of speculation. Some biographers suggest she named herself after St. Catherine of Siena, the contemplative mystic, while others propose St. Catherine of Alexandria, who was martyred for her faith. It’s possible that Kateri identified with both the mystic and the martyr, adding profound meaning to her chosen name and identity. Her baptism marked the beginning of her deep and personal relationship with God. Her faith was not just a set of beliefs but a way of life that influenced every aspect of her existence.

Holy Mohawk Catholics played a significant role in Kateri’s conversion. Many lay Catholics bore witness to their faith, sharing their testimonies of life in Jesus Christ and inviting their fellow Mohawk to follow Him. While Jesuit priests were involved in her instruction, it was the evangelization by Mohawk Catholics, living out their faith within their culture, that deeply impressed her. By this time, some of the Mohawk Catholics advocated for re-establishing themselves at the St. Francis Xavier du Pres settlement at Caughnawaga — now known as Kahnawake. It was situated on their traditional northern frontiers in what is now southern Quebec. Known as “the praying village,” it was founded by a devout Oneida married couple, in conjunction with the Jesuits. Migrating to Caughnawaga would allow Mohawk Catholics to live their faith intentionally and position them to dominate a trading route with the French, while also guarding the southern approach to Montreal.

Kateri Tekakwitha found herself at the center of a cultural and spiritual storm. Her adopted father took a very harsh approach to maintaining unity and keeping people rooted in Mohawk territory. This stance, largely supported by the influential clan mothers, led to severe consequences for those who chose to leave. But rather than convincing them to stay, the chief’s stringent policies actually encouraged Mohawk Catholics more than ever to migrate to Caughnawaga. Kateri, as the daughter of a Turtle clan chief, was in a quandary further complicated by her adopted sister’s conversion and subsequent move to Caughnawaga with her husband.

As a devout Catholic, Kateri’s decision to observe Christian practices, such as refraining from work on Sundays and holy days, was perceived by many as shirking her duties to the Mohawk nation. Yet, despite facing opposition from her tribe and even her own family, Kateri remained steadfast and courageous in her faith. She endured escalating hostility, including being insulted and ostracized, harsh labor, having stones thrown at her, and being denied food, yet she persevered in her Christian beliefs. Even as she faced persecution from her own people, Kateri prayed for their conversion and forgiveness, showing a remarkable capacity for love and understanding. In a particularly cruel attempt to prevent her departure, one of her aunts falsely accused Kateri of incest with an uncle, figuring that this would make her unwelcome in the praying village.

Aided by the encouragement of a Jesuit priest, Kateri’s unwavering faith led her to Caughnawaga in 1677, a year after her conversion. In this welcoming community, she could fully embrace her identity as a Mohawk Catholic woman. Kateri showed exceptional devotion to her faith, particularly to the Blessed Sacrament, which she visited frequently throughout the day. She attended daily morning Mass and was often the first to arrive at the chapel, even in harsh winter conditions. At Mass, the priests would pray in Latin, while the congregation sang in their native language. The sermons were preached by Haudenosaunee catechists. Kateri participated in Vespers and Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament in the evening, and received the sacraments regularly. She spent many hours in prayer, both in the chapel and in nature. Along with the other residents, she prayed the Rosary as she worked in the fields. She also worked alongside the Jesuits in caring for the sick, wounded and elderly. Because of her personal sanctity and exemplary virtue, Kateri was soon invited to join the Holy Family Confraternity, a spiritual community at Caughnawaga dedicated to living out Gospel values. They would meet every Sunday afternoon and prayed a special form of the rosary. Her profound spirituality attracted a group of devout women, known as “Kateri’s band,” with whom she contemplated establishing a culturally-aligned religious order, but was discouraged from doing so by the Jesuits, probably because of her poor health. She formed close bonds with Marie-Thérèse Tegaiaguenta, an Oneida convert about her age, and Father Claude Chauchetière, who became her spiritual advisor. Throughout her time in Caughnawaga, St. Kateri’s guiding principle was reflected in her motto, “Who will teach me what is most agreeable to God, so that I may do it?

Still experiencing pressure from her relatives to marry, on March 25, 1679, at the age of 23, she made her consecration of virginity, framing her commitment in matrimonial terms. Instead of getting married in the traditional sense, she decided to become a “bride of Christ.” In this way, St. Kateri demonstrated that she was not rejecting the traditional Mohawk values of marriage and family. Instead, she chose to live out these values spiritually through her union with Jesus. Making a private vow of perpetual virginity was unusual for a young woman in her culture. Her biographer, Fr. Claude Chauchetière, described her chastity as “the most beautiful flower in her crown”.

However, even in this rose garden of spirituality that was Caughnawaga, she wasn’t immune to the thorns of human nature. A painful incident arose when a woman in the community, driven by jealousy and misunderstanding, falsely accused St. Kateri of seducing her husband during a hunting trip. This accusation was particularly hurtful, as it echoed similar false claims made against her in her homeland. Despite the pain this caused, Kateri’s response was one of grace and restraint. She denied the accusation, as did the woman’s husband, but chose not to retaliate. Instead, she made the personal decision to abstain from future hunting trips, wanting to avoid even the appearance of impropriety. Eventually, the the woman realized her error of rash judgement and repented. But the shadow of this accusation lingered, prompting a Jesuit priest to seek confirmation of St. Kateri’s innocence on her deathbed. While this questioning was undoubtedly distressing for Kateri in her final moments, it served a greater purpose. The priest’s intention was to secure a deathbed testimony that would silence any future detractors and preserve Kateri’s legacy of purity and devotion. This poignant episode highlights Kateri’s unwavering faith and character in the face of adversity, further cementing her status as a model of Christian virtue.

Kateri Tekakwitha’s relationship with nature and creation was deeply intertwined with her faith and cultural heritage. She had a profound connection with the natural world, which was a significant part of her Mohawk heritage. The Haudenosaunee people, including the Mohawks, held a deep respect for nature, seeing it as a gift from the Creator. This respect was reflected in their daily lives, rituals, and spiritual practices. For Kateri, nature was not just a backdrop for her life but a living testament to God’s presence and creation. She often found solace and inspiration in the natural world, which she saw as a reflection of God’s beauty and handiwork. This connection with nature was evident in her prayer life and her contemplative practices.

Kateri would often retreat to the woods to pray, finding in the quiet and solitude of nature a perfect setting to commune with God. The forests, rivers, and fields around her were not just physical spaces but sacred places where she could feel closer to the Creator. Her deep love for the natural world was a way for her to express her gratitude and reverence for God’s creation. She saw the land as a sacred trust, something to be cared for and preserved for future generations. Her relationship with nature resonated with the Haudenosaunee belief in responsible stewardship of the earth, and also was in harmony with her Catholic faith, which teaches respect for God’s creation and the importance of caring for the environment.

Kateri’s devotion manifested in intense ascetic practices that often surpassed the expectations and comfort levels of her Jesuit mentors. These penances, driven by an ardent love for Christ, included extreme fasting and bodily mortifications, which she often concealed from the concerned Jesuits and shared only with close confidantes like Marie-Therese. The severity of Kateri’s self-imposed disciplines reflected a 17th-century Western Catholic theology that emphasized Christ’s suffering. Another intention behind her penances seemed to be reparation: Kateri took on her own body the punishments due to sin that might otherwise fall on the Mohawk nation, whom she loved deeply. Kateri’s asceticism also incorporated traditional Mohawk practices designed to prepare individuals to display their orenda, or “greatness of spirit,” in the face of extreme pain, such ritual torture and death at the hands of enemies. When Marie-Therese informed the Jesuit father that Kateri was lying on a bed of thorns, he ordered her to stop out of obedience.

After a painful illness that left her bedridden in the longhouse, Kateri died on Holy Wednesday, April 17, 1680, softly repeating her last words, “Jesus, Mary, I love you,” in her native language. She was buried according to her people’s traditional customs. The Haudenosaunee Catholics of Caughnawaga honored her with the highest praise they could give: “She died as she lived. That is, a saint.” Upon drawing her last breath, her skin became clear and smooth, with no sign of smallpox scars. Her face radiated a smiling beauty and serenity which remained until her burial.

Immediately following her death, Kateri appeared in visions to some of her loved ones, assuring them that she was going home to God. These apparitions held a deeper meaning in traditional Haudenosaunee culture than might be apparent to Catholics accustomed to European culture. According to Haudenosaunee beliefs, the souls of the dead would visit their loved ones before departing to the village of the dead.

One night, one of the Jesuits had a dream in which St. Kateri appeared to him. In the dream, their chapel was overturned, and one of Caughnawaga’s Catholics was burning at the stake. This prophecy seemed to come true when a powerful windstorm flattened the church, nearly killing the Jesuits inside. They prayed to Kateri for protection and credited their survival to her intercession. This event, along with the eventual martyrdom of Caughnawaga’s Haudenosaunee Catholics, reinforced their belief in her protective presence. This vision of the overturned church and the persecuted indigenous Christian might have multiple fulfillments. Further south, the La Florida Mission Martyrs, primarily Appalachee and Timucua Catholics, were killed for their faith during an invasion and persecution led by the English. The vision’s fulfillment has likely repeated itself in more recent times, particularly during the 19th and 20th centuries.

Although St. Kateri did not experience martyrdom herself, her witness and prayers had a profound impact on the Haudenosaunee Catholics of Caughnawaga, deepening their commitment to the Catholic faith.

Kateri Tekakwitha’s journey to sainthood is a fascinating tale that intertwines Native American and Catholic traditions. The first written account of her life didn’t appear until 1715, decades after her death. Her commitment to chastity earned her the title “Lily of the Mohawks,” drawing on the flower’s symbolism of purity in Christian iconography. Artistic depictions of Tekakwitha often feature a lily and cross, with feathers or a turtle added to acknowledge her Mohawk heritage. She acquired several other poetic titles, including “the Mohawk Maiden,” “the Pure and Tender Lily,” and “the New Star of the New World.” Her gravestone bears the inscription “the fairest flower that ever bloomed,” reflecting how she was viewed by both her tribal community and European settlers.

Tekakwitha’s legacy sparked an increase in Native American participation in Catholicism. In the 1730s, a convent for Native American nuns opened in Mexico. By the 1880s, Indian Catholic missions and bishops were petitioning for her official veneration alongside Jesuit martyrs Isaac Jogues and René Goupil.

Over the centuries, devotion to Kateri Tekakwitha grew, and numerous miracles were attributed to her intercession. Her reputation spread across North America, with French Canadians reporting miraculous recoveries. People would take dirt from her grave and touch it to their bodies. Many personal miracles were attributed to St. Kateri, and among the French, she was known as the “Genevieve of Canada” for her aid during times of conflict and famine. Native communities across the continent heard of Kateri Tekakwitha long before any Catholic missionaries arrived there.

The path to Tekakwitha’s canonization began in earnest at the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore in 1885. Support came from both U.S. and Canadian Catholics, with 906 Native Americans signing letters advocating for her sainthood. Her cause progressed steadily: her spiritual writings were approved in 1936, she was declared Venerable by Pope Pius XII in 1943. There were so many reports of miracles that St. John Paul II waived the first miracle requirement for her beatification in 1980.

The miracle that led to St. Kateri’s canonization was the healing of a five-year-old boy, Jacob Finkbonner, a descendant of the Lummi nation in Washington state. He was cured of a fatal flesh-eating disease that had attacked his face. Doctors had given up all hope of his recovery. Interestingly, one of Finkbonner’s ancestors had signed a petition to canonize Kateri back in the 19th century.

On Oct. 21, 2012, Kateri Tekakwitha was canonized by Pope Benedict XVI. Although St. Juan Diego is considered the first indigenous saint of the Americas, Kateri Tekakwitha is the first Native American woman saint. Along with St. Francis of Assisi, she is the patron saint of ecology and the environment. Her patronage also includes Native Americans, orphans, people in exile, those ridiculed for their faith, and World Youth Day. She is also one of the patron saints of Canada. Her feast day in the United States is July 14; in Canada, it is celebrated on April 17.

St. Kateri Tekakwitha’s canonization has sparked a renewed interest in the Native American roots of Catholicism in North America, fostering a deeper appreciation for indigenous contributions to the faith, and has reinvigorated efforts to recognize other Native American holy figures, such as the Martyrs of La Florida Missions, Nicholas Black Elk, and Rose Prince. These emerging stories of Native American saints and martyrs are enriching the Catholic Church’s understanding of its diverse heritage in North America.

St. Kateri Tekakwitha was a remarkable figure whose life bridged Indigenous and European cultures during a tumultuous period in North American history. Her life was a powerful witness to the transformative power of faith. Despite the challenges she faced, including the loss of her family, physical ailments, and cultural pressures, St. Kateri remained committed to her spiritual path. Her ability to integrate her Catholic beliefs with her Mohawk identity, her devotion to prayer and the sacraments, and her unwavering commitment to purity and holiness all highlight the central role that faith played in her life. Her legacy remains complex. She is viewed by some as a symbol of religious transformation. Others regard her as a victim of colonization, even though Christianity was never forced upon her; she willingly chose it and embraced it with her entire being. Regardless of interpretation, her story continues to inspire many, showing that true sanctity is possible even in the face of great adversity.

*St. Kateri Tekakwitha,*
*First Native American Woman Saint*

PRAYER TO ST. KATERI TEKAKWITHA

by Harold Caldwell

O Saint Kateri, Lily of the Mohawks,
Your love for Jesus,
so strong, so steadfast,
pray that we may become like you.

Your short and painful life
showed us your strength and humility.
Pray that we may become
forever humble like you.

Like the bright and shining stars at night,
we pray that your light
may forever shine down upon us,
giving light, hope, peacefulness
and serenity in our darkest moments.

Fill our hearts, Saint Kateri Tekakwitha
with your same love for Jesus
and pray that we have the
strength and courage
to become one like you in heaven.
Through Christ our Lord.

Amen.

June 1, 2024

UNLOCK THE POWER! THE SACRED HEART DEVOTION

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Is your prayer life dull and dry? Do you feel bored and stagnant in your spiritual growth? Or are you looking for a more intimate relationship with Jesus Christ? If you answered yes to any of these questions, get ready to supercharge your spiritual life and benefit from the 12 awe-inspiring promises of Jesus to all those who embrace devotion to His Sacred Heart!

“In the Sacred Heart, every treasure of wisdom and knowledge is hidden,” said St. John Paul II. “In that divine heart beats God’s infinite love for everyone and for each of us as individuals.”

You’ve probably seen those iconic images – the heart of Jesus aflame, encircled by thorns, and crowned with a cross. But where did this devotion come from, and why has it captured hearts worldwide? Get ready to be enlightened and inspired as we delve into the rich history and profound spiritual depths of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

HOW IT BEGAN

Although the modern devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus was popularized by St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, a French nun who had several visions of Christ in the late 17^th century, it actually had its roots in early Church history. Church Fathers such as St. Justin Martyr, St. Irenaeus, and St. Augustine, made references to the Heart of Jesus as a symbol of Christ’s love for humanity.

In the Middle Ages, the devotion grew through the writings and visions of mystics such as St. Bernard of Clairvaux and St. Anselm in the 12th century, who referred directly to the love of the Sacred Heart. In the 13^th century, the writings of St. Gertrude the Great spoke extensively of the love of the Sacred Heart for humanity on earth and the souls in Purgatory. During the same century, the Franciscan and Dominican Orders also helped spread this devotion through their preaching on the Sacred Heart as a symbol of Divine Love. All of this laid the groundwork for the revelations of Jesus to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, a nun of the Visitation Order in Paray-le-Monial, France, from 1673 to 1675.

During the 1600’s, the Catholic Church in France was plagued with schisms and heresy, especially Jansenism, a strict, puritanical interpretation of morality with a very limited view of salvation. The dogma of God’s infinite love for man was looked upon with coldness, indifference and doubt.

But on Dec. 27, 1673, during the first revelation of the Sacred Heart to St. Margaret Mary, Jesus told her, “My Divine Heart is so passionately in love with humankind that it cannot contain itself within the flames of its ardent charity. It must spread them abroad by your means, and manifest Itself to them.”

*Vision of the Sacred Heart of Jesus to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque*

Of the second vision, Margaret wrote: “The Divine Heart was presented to me in a throne of flames, more resplendent than a sun, transparent as crystal. It was surrounded with a crown of thorns, signifying the punctures made in it by our sins, and a cross above.”

During the third revelation, Jesus appeared brilliant with glory, His five wounds shining like five suns. He revealed to Margaret His wish to be known, loved, and honored by all, and to draw them away from damnation. He said that the ingratitude He received from humankind in return for His great love was much more painful to Him than all He had suffered during His Passion. He asked that an image of His Heart be venerated and worn over a person’s heart, promising to “imprint His love on their hearts and destroy all unruly inclinations.”

During the last of the four Sacred Heart revelations, Jesus made known to St. Margaret Mary His requests for devotion to His Sacred Heart and His promises to those that followed it. He charged her with the mission of making this devotion known throughout the world. Keep reading to find out more about the requests and the promises of Jesus!

Because of the visions and revelations of St. Margaret Mary, devotion to the Sacred Heart slowly began to spread from convents and monasteries to the faithful public. It began with images of the Heart, and then with little devotional booklets, which met with considerable success and soon spread to areas outside of France. But so far the devotion was on a private, individual level. For it to be raised to the level of public devotion, it would need the approval of the Pope.

As is usually the case when the Church approves a new revelation or devotion, this was very slow in coming. But public celebrations were allowed on a diocesan level with the permission of the Bishop. On Feb. 4, 1689, on the First Friday of the month, the first Roman Catholic Mass in honor of the Sacred Heart of Jesus was celebrated in France. It took place in the chapel of the Convent of the Visitation in the presence of only the Community. The first public celebration of Mass in honor of the Heart took place that same year on the Feast of the Sacred Heart, 19 days after Pentecost, in the Church of the Visitation.

After this, spread of devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus gradually grew. Progress was slow, however, until 1720, thirty years after Margaret Mary’s death, when an outbreak of bubonic plague swept through the city of Marseilles, France, killing 40,000 people. On Nov. 2 of that year, the prelate of Marseilles, Msgr. de Belsunce, solemnly consecrated his diocese to the Heart of Jesus. From that day on, the plague disappeared from Marseilles. Other cities followed the Monsignor’s example, and soon the whole south of France proclaimed devotion to the Sacred Heart. It gradually spread from France throughout the Mediterranean countries. But still Rome had not given its final approval.

Then, on Jan. 25, 1765, Pope Clement XIII officially approved the devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus in all the dioceses of France, for Poland, and the Archconfraternity of the Sacred Heart in Rome. In 1856, Pope Pius IX established the feast for the whole Church. A Portuguese nun named Sister Mary of the Divine Heart received visions from 1863-1899, requesting that the whole world be consecrated to the Sacred Heart. This was done by Pope Leo XIII in 1899.

The first church dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus was in the United States, in the little Pennsylvania town of Conewago, not far from Gettysburg. The year 1787 is cut into a stone near the roof, just above a slab of marble bearing a Heart encircled with a crown of thorns and surmounted by a cross.

The Sacré-Cœur (Sacred Heart) Basilica in Paris, France, was built in response to the violence and war in France over the previous century. The church is located on the Montmartre hill, where the first Christians of Paris were martyred in the 3rd century. The site is also traditionally associated with the martyrdom of Saint Denis, the patron saint of Paris. Construction of the Basilica began in 1875 and ended in 1914, after delays due to World War I. It was formally consecrated in 1919, after the War. The basilica has maintained a perpetual adoration of the Holy Eucharist since 1885, and attracts pilgrims from all over the world.

WHAT IS THE DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART OF JESUS?

The Sacred Heart devotion focuses on the physical heart of Jesus as representing his Divine love for humanity. On June 16, 1675, during the last of the four Sacred Heart revelations, Jesus showed His Heart to St. Margaret Mary, saying “Behold the Heart that has so loved men…Instead of gratitude, I receive from most only ingratitude.” He made known to her the following requests for devotion to His Sacred Heart:

Reception of Holy Communion on the First Fridays: Jesus asked for the faithful to receive Holy Communion on the first Friday of each month for nine consecutive months, a practice intended to honor His Sacred Heart and to promote a deeper communion with Him.
The Holy Hour: Jesus requested the observance of a “Holy Hour” of prayer to provide an opportunity for the faithful to spend time in adoration and reparation to His Sacred Heart.
Consecration to the Sacred Heart: Jesus called for the faithful to consecrate themselves to His Sacred Heart, an act of dedication and acknowledgment of His sovereignty and love.
The Celebration of the Feast of the Sacred Heart: Jesus desired the establishment of a feast day in honor of His Sacred Heart, 19 days after Pentecost, on a Friday, as a liturgical expression of devotion and love towards His Heart.
The Exposition and Veneration of an Image of the Sacred Heart: Jesus requested that an image of His Sacred Heart be publicly exposed and venerated, promising blessings to those who honor the image, thereby fostering a visual reminder of His love and presence.
Acts of Reparation for the indifference and ingratitude shown towards His love, encouraging the faithful to express sorrow and atonement for their own sins and those of others.
Spreading the Devotion: Jesus asked St. Margaret Mary to spread devotion to His Sacred Heart, promising that it would be a source of grace and blessing for those who embraced it, aiming to rekindle love and faith in the hearts of believers.

THE 12 PROMISES OF JESUS

To those who practice devotion to His Sacred Heart, as revealed to St. Margaret Mary, Jesus made the following 12 promises:

I will give them all the graces necessary in their state of life.
I will establish peace in their homes.
I will comfort them in all their afflictions.
I will be their secure refuge during life, and above all, in death.
I will bestow abundant blessings upon all their undertakings.
Sinners will find in My Heart the source and infinite ocean of mercy.
Lukewarm souls shall become fervent.
Fervent souls shall quickly mount to high perfection.
I will bless every place in which an image of My Heart is exposed
and honored.
I will give to priests the gift of touching the most hardened hearts.
Those who shall promote this devotion shall have their names written in My Heart.
I promise you in the excessive mercy of My Heart that My all-powerful love will grant to all those who receive Holy Communion on the First Fridays for nine consecutive months, the grace of final perseverance; they shall not die in My disgrace, nor without receiving their sacraments. My divine Heart shall be their safe refuge in this last moment.

For more about the life of St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, be sure to check out my upcoming post, “St. Margaret Mary, Sacred Heart Visionary.” Subscribe so you won’t miss any of my upcoming posts!

A SHORT ACT OF CONSECRATION TO THE SACRED HEART

Sacred Heart of Jesus, filled with infinite love, broken by my ingratitude, pierced by my sins, yet loving me still, accept the consecration that I make to You, of all that I am and all that I have. Take every faculty of my soul and body, and draw me, day by day, nearer and nearer to Your Sacred Side, and there, as I can bear the lesson, teach me Your blessed ways. Amen.

Sacred Heart of Jesus & St. Margaret Mary Alacoque

April 8, 2024

HOUR OF GREAT MERCY

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Dedicated to the memory of my mother, Anna, for Divine Mercy Sunday. (Divine Mercy Sunday is celebrated by the Roman Catholic Church on the first Sunday after Easter)

“At three o’clock, implore My mercy, especially for sinners,“ Jesus told St. Maria Faustina Kowalska in a vision. “This is the hour of great mercy….In this hour I will refuse nothing to the soul that makes a request of Me in virtue of My Passion….In this hour you can obtain everything for yourself and for others for the asking; it was the hour of grace for the whole world — mercy triumphed over justice.”

At 3:00 p.m. daily, all those gathered in the perpetual adoration chapel of my parish fulfill Our Lord’s request by reciting the Chaplet of Divine Mercy for the sick and dying, often called “the 3 o’clock prayer.” For Catholics, who believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, perpetual adoration is the practice of prayer and worship in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament (consecrated Host), which is usually exposed in a golden receptacle called a monstrance. It is called “perpetual” adoration because there is at least one person voluntarily committed to each hour of the day without intermission. This practice has been carried out by monks and nuns since early Christian times, and eventually spread to lay Catholics in parishes that have a perpetual adoration chapel.

For many months, my mother and I had been keeping a Holy Hour together once a week from 2:00 – 3:00 p.m. We cherished this weekly vigil, sitting and praying quietly side-by-side in the peaceful atmosphere of the chapel. Since both of us had read Divine Mercy in My Soul (The Diary of St. Faustina), and often prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet, we gladly stayed the extra ten minutes to recite it for the sick and dying at 3:00 p.m.

Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska — *Photo of St. Maria Faustina Kowalska*

One terrible afternoon in January 2002 found my mother and me together in a different type of vigil. But this time, the harsh sterility and bustling activity of the hospital’s Surgical Trauma Unit replaced the soft light and peaceful hush of the chapel. Although my mother and I were physically only a foot or two apart, the gulf between us seemed to me unfathomable.

Mom lay motionless and unconscious in a hospital bed, surrounded by tubes and a complex array of blinking, beeping machines. She was dying of complications following emergency surgery to repair a ruptured abdominal aortal aneurysm. Amazingly, she had survived the four-hour operation, but the massive amounts of blood she had lost made it impossible to stabilize her. I sat at her bedside, my eyes glued to readouts on the machine that monitored her heartbeat and blood pressure. The rosary clutched in my hand was my only weapon against the icy grip of fear and despair that grew tighter as it became increasingly clearer to me that all the heroic efforts of the medical team were not going to save my beloved mother. With each agonizing minute, my prayers were changing gradually from a hopeful plea for healing to the prayer of Gethsemane: “Not my will, but Yours be done.”

My mother and I had always shared a deep spiritual bond and had often discussed the afterlife. Neither of us feared death itself, but we had the natural apprehension about what form it would take and the suffering that might precede it. I knew that my mother was spiritually ready to face God, and since she already had been given Last Rites, the one remaining gift I could give this woman who had given me so much was to let her go.

“It’s alright, Mom, ” I told her silently. “If it’s your time to go Home, you go ahead and don’t worry. I won’t hold you back — I want you to be happy.”

My mother died at 3:20 that afternoon. Although I was too overcome with grief to think about it at the time, I later realized that she had passed into eternity during the Hour of Great Mercy, just minutes after the adorers at my parish’s chapel would have finished praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy for the sick and dying. The same prayers my mother and I had recited so many times for other souls in need had come back to us, easing my mother’s transition into the next life and giving me the strength to accept and bear the greatest loss of my life. Furthermore, I was grateful that my mother had been spared the painful and lingering death she had always feared.

For several years afterward, I still kept my weekly hour in the chapel, although the first few times there without my mother were so painful I couldn’t even bear to sit in the same place I used to sit with her. But now, every time I say the Divine Mercy Chaplet at 3:00 p.m. for the sick and dying, it is much more meaningful to me than it was before her death.

Now when I pray, I see images in my mind of families gathered around sickbeds, keeping vigil with a loved one they can’t bear to lose but know they must let go; of souls closing their eyes to darkness and opening them to a Light so brilliant their sufferings fall away like dying leaves. I see people whose time on earth is not yet through, gaining strength of body and mind through the healing energy of a stranger’s prayers.

With a certainty that surpasses understanding, I know that all souls are connected in ways more profound and mysterious than we can ever imagine. I feel reassured that each one of us praying the Chaplet will be blessed with the same sustaining light of God for which we are offering ourselves as channels today.

I sense my mother’s presence with me and I recall Our Lord’s words to St. Faustina: “Encourage souls to say the Chaplet which I have given to you….Whoever will recite it will receive great mercy at the hour of death….When they say this chaplet in the presence of the dying, I will stand between My Father and the dying person, not as the Just Judge but as the Merciful Savior….”

As the Chaplet ends, I silently add St. Faustina’s prayer of praise: “Divine Mercy, embracing us especially at the hour of death, I trust in You.”

(For more information on Divine Mercy, visit: http://www.thedivinemercy.org/message/devotions/chaplet.php)

Studio portrait photo of my mother, Anna — *My beautiful mother, Anna*

December 11, 2023

ST. LUCY, BEARER OF LIGHT

To watch the YouTube video, click on the arrow in the thumbnail below:

I learned about St. Lucy at a very young age, when my mother told me she believed that her prayers to this great saint saved my eyesight when I was an infant. It was customary at that time to put silver nitrate into the eyes of newborn babies to prevent bacterial infections that can occur during birth. Unfortunately, in my case too much silver nitrate was applied to my eyes, which can cause severe inflammation, corneal melting and scarring, and significant vision impairment. My mother said that for a while my eyes were stuck shut, and the doctors didn’t know if I would suffer vision loss. Being Italian-American and knowing that Santa Lucia, greatly venerated in Italy, is the patron saint of eyes, my Mom fervently prayed to her on my behalf. Fortunately, my eyes cleared up, and I suffered no permanent damage to my vision. (In the 1980’s, erythromycin replaced silver nitrate as a precautionary treatment for newborn babies’ eyes.)

As a result of this incident, St. Lucy always has held a special place in my heart, and I’ve had a devotion to her all my life. I even picked Lucy as my confirmation name. I have invoked her intercession whenever I or a loved one have had any type of eye problem, and she has always helped us.

Because Lucia lived so long ago, most of her history has been lost to time. We do have some basic facts about her, as well as legends that have persisted over the centuries. The following account is the one that has stood the test of time and seems the most plausible:

Lucia was born in Siracusa (Syracuse) in Sicily, Italy in or around the year 283. Her parents were wealthy members of the nobility. Her father was of Roman origin, but there seems to be no record of his name. He died when Lucia was five years old. Her mother’s name was Eutychia and she was seemingly of Greek ancestry. Lucia converted to Christianity at a young age and developed a devotion to St. Agatha, a virgin who was martyred in Catania, Sicily, around 251 AD. Like Agatha, Lucia consecrated her virginity to God and vowed never to marry.

Her mother, Eutychia, is said to have suffered from a chronic hemorrhagic condition and feared that she did not have long to live. She worried about Lucia being left alone after her death, so she arranged Lucia’s betrothal to a wealthy young man from a noble pagan family. It’s possible that Eutychia was unaware of Lucia’s vow of virginity, or else her concern for Lucia’s future caused her to ignore the vow. But somehow, Lucia managed to delay the marriage for the next several years.

Having heard of the many cures reported by people who had traveled to St. Agatha’s tomb in Catania to invoke her intercession, Lucia persuaded her mother make a pilgrimage with her to the tomb to request St. Agatha’s intercession to cure Eutychia of her malady. Lucia hoped not only for the healing of her mother, but that the healing might convince her mother that Lucia’s Christian faith was indeed the best choice for her life.

Lucia and Eutychia traveled to Catania, which was less than 50 miles from their home, and prayed at St. Agatha’s tomb for Eutychia’s healing. While there, Lucia had a dream in which St. Agatha told her that Eutychia would be cured because of Lucia’s faith. Agatha also told her, “Soon you will be the glory of Siracusa, as I am of Catania.” Upon awakening, Lucia cried to Eutychia, “O mother, mother, you are healed!”

St. Lucy's Dream at St. Agatha's Tomb
14th-century painting by Giovanni di Bartolommeo Cristiani — *Lucia’s Dream at St. Agatha’s Tomb*
14th-century painting by Giovanni di Bartolommeo Cristiani

Eutychia’s condition did indeed improve, so when they returned home Lucia took the opportunity to convince her mother to allow Lucia to distribute her dowry money to the poor and live the celibate life she had vowed to God years earlier. At first, Eutychia tried to persuade Lucia that it would be imprudent to dispose of all her money straightaway, and suggested that Lucia instead bequeath it in her will. Lucia is reported to have replied, “Whatever you give away at death for the Lord’s sake you give because you cannot take it with you. Give now to the true Savior, while you are healthy, whatever you intended to give away at your death.” Eutychia finally agreed, and Lucia began to distribute her dowry money to the poor.

In 303 A.D., the Roman Emperor Diocletian issued an edict that outlawed the Christian religion throughout the Roman Empire. Christians were forbidden to gather for worship, their churches were destroyed, and sacred Christian texts were abolished. Christian civil servants or members of the nobility were stripped of their ranks, and their belongings confiscated. Christians were forced to offer sacrifice to the Emperor and the Roman gods. To refuse meant torture and even execution.

Tradition says that Lucia visited the poor, the homebound, and Christians hiding in the catacombs, delivering wheat and bread to them. Because she often went at night to avoid being discovered, she carried a lamp to light her way. Sometimes, to keep her hands free to carry the provisions, she wore on her head a wreath crowned with candles. An early Christian text records her as telling her fellow Christians by way of encouragement: “To God’s servants the right words will not be wanting, for the Holy Spirit speaks in us. All who live piously and chastely are temples of the Holy Spirit.”

Eventually, gossip about Lucia’s donation of her dowry to the poor reached her prospective bridegroom. He became enraged, either because of the rejection of realizing that Lucia had no intention of becoming his bride, or because of his greed over the loss of her dowry money – and probably both. He reported to Paschasius, the Governor of Siracusa, that Lucia was a practicing Christian.

Lucia was arrested and questioned by the Governor. He ordered her to offer a sacrifice to the Roman gods, but of course she refused.A later text on Roman martyrs reports her to have said: “I know but one sacrifice pure and full of honor, which I can offer. This is to visit orphans and widows in their tribulation, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world. For three years, I have daily offered this sacrifice to my God and Father, and now I long for the happiness of offering myself to Him as a living victim. His holy will be done.”

Lucia also told the Governor that his worship of the Roman Gods would condemn his soul before the one true God, and that the reign of Diocletian would soon come to an end. This so outraged Paschasius that he ordered her to be taken to a brothel and forced into prostitution, the ultimate mockery of her Christianity and vow of virginity. Legend tells, however, that Lucia was so filled with the Holy Spirit that she became immovable. No efforts on the part of her captors was able to budge her, not even when they attempted to drag her by tying her to the yoke of a team of oxen. They then surrounded her with wood and set it on fire, but the flames did not harm her.

To further torture her, Lucia’s eyes, which were reportedly very beautiful, were gouged out by her captors. Another account says that Lucia gouged them out herself, in an effort to make herself unattractive to her suitor or any man who would attempt to defile her. (Personally, I find the torture theory to be more plausible than the self-mutilation theory.) Her frustrated captors finally succeeded in killing her by piercing her through the neck with a sword. Early literature on the martyrs reports Lucia to have said as she was dying: “O Siracusa, O place of my birth, as Catania finds its safety and glory beneath the guardianship of my sister Agatha, so shall you be shielded by me, if you are willing to embrace that Faith for the truth of which I shed my blood.”

"Santa Lucia" by Carlo Dolci — *“Santa Lucia”* by Carlo Dolci, 1616

Whatever the real cause of Lucia’s loss of her eyes, when her body was being prepared for burial, it was discovered that her beautiful eyes had been restored by God. This is the reason Lucia is honored as the patron saint of those suffering from blindness and eye diseases, and why she is most often depicted in art holding her eyes on a golden platter.

Whatever one believes about the legends that have sprung up around Lucia’s life, one thing is clear: She had to have been a woman of a particularly heroic nature, because devotion to her grew exponentially after her death. The first writings about her were in the Acts of the Martyrs, written in the late fifth century. Many miracles were attributed to her, and by the sixth century she was included in the Sacramentary of Pope Gregory I, and also in the Roman Martyrology. She was honored throughout the Christian world until the Protestant Reformation. In England, her feast day of Dec. 13 was at one time considered a holy day, on which no work except farming was allowed. Today, St. Lucy is still venerated in the Roman Catholic, Orthodox, Lutheran and Anglican Churches.

Lucy holds the honor of being one of several women saints mentioned in the Roman Catholic Eucharistic Prayer I said at Mass: “To us, also, your servants, who, though sinners, hope in your abundant mercies, graciously grant some share and fellowship with your holy Apostles and Martyrs: with John the Baptist, Stephen, Matthias, Barnabas, Ignatius, Alexander, Marcellinus, Peter, Felicity, Perpetua, Agatha, Lucy, Agnes, Cecilia, Anastasia, and all your Saints….”

St. Lucy is the patroness of Siracusa and Perugia in Italy, the town of Olon in Ecuador, and Guane, Santander, Colombia. The island of St. Lucia in the Caribbean is named after her. She is the patron of authors, glaziers, laborers, martyrs, peasants, saddlers, salesmen, and stained glass workers. Besides her special patronage of people with blindness and diseases of the eye, she is invoked against hemorrhages, dysentery, and throat infections. In art, she is usually pictured carrying her eyes on a golden plate, and sometimes holding a palm branch, symbolic of martyrs. She also is sometimes depicted with the symbols of a lamp, dagger, sword, or two oxen.

St. Lucy’s current feast day is December 13, during Advent. Before the calendar reforms, her feast day was also the Winter Solstice. Since this was the shortest and darkest day of the year, and because her name, Lucia, derives from the Latin word for light (“lux”), she stands as a symbolic bearer of light in the darkness. Thus, her feast day became a festival of light.

One legend tells that during a famine in Italy, ships filled with wheat sailed into the harbors on St. Lucy’s feast day, saving the people from starvation. Because of this, in Sicily it is traditional to make “cuccia,” a dish of boiled wheat berries, mixed with ricotta and honey or served as a soup with beans, to celebrate her feast day. Croatians plant wheat in a pot indoors on Dec. 13, and by Christmas, when the shoots have emerged, they are put next to the Nativity manger as a gift to the Christ Child and a symbol of the Eucharist, which is made of wheat.

A similar legend states that on the Winter Solstice during a famine in Sweden, a boat came into sight sailing across the lake. St. Lucy could be seen at the prow of the boat, dressed in white with a heavenly light emanating from her. Upon the boat’s docking at the shore, she handed out sacks of wheat to the starving people. To commemorate this, Scandinavians bake a sweet saffron bread called “Lussekatter,” and bring it to the poor, sick, and shut-ins on Dec. 13. In Scandinavian countries, on “lucienatt” (Lucy night), there is a procession of schoolchildren carrying candles and singing the “Santa Lucia” song. They are led by a girl dressed as Lucia in a white dress, with the wreath crown of candles on her head. The “Santa Lucia” song, which is popular in many countries, was written by the Neapolitan composer Teodoro Cottrau in 1850. There is a Scandinavian version as well, using the same melody but with Swedish lyrics. In some villages in the Philippines, a St. Lucy novena (9 days of prayer) is held before her feast day. There is a procession of St. Lucy’s image every morning at the village center during the 9 days of the novena.

Even though Lucy lived so long ago that there is little known about her, it is extraordinary that she has remained a beloved and venerated figure for over 1700 years. This fact stands as an enduring testimony to her sanctity, her courage, and her great love of Christ and her fellow humans. Her light still shines brightly today, as it did so many centuries ago. It is a light that is sorely needed in our present time, which is so often enveloped in the darkness of hatred, violence and evil. St. Lucy stands near to us as a steadfast friend in the communion of saints, ready to intercede with God on our behalf. For myself, I am grateful for her intercession in saving me from blindness, allowing me to be able to see the light and beauty of God’s creation. Grazie, Santa Lucia!

Traditional Prayer to St. Lucy:

“Saint Lucy, you did not hide your light under a basket, but let it shine for the whole world, for all the centuries to see. We may not suffer torture in our lives the way you did, but we are still called to let the light of our Christianity illumine our daily lives. Please help us to have the courage to bring our Christianity into our work, our recreation, our relationships, our conversation – every corner of our day.

By your intercession with God, obtain for us perfect vision for our bodily eyes and the grace to use them for God’s greater honor and glory and the salvation of all people. Saint Lucy, virgin and martyr, hear our prayers and obtain our petitions. Amen.”