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.”

February 19, 2025

PT. 4 of 4: ST. FRANCESCA CABRINI – THE FINAL YEARS

To watch the YouTube video, which includes BOTH Parts 3 & 4, click arrow in thumbnail below:

Click here to read the previous three parts:

Part One: https://everydaylifespirituality.com/2024/12/15/st-francesca-cabrini-part-one/

Part Two: https://everydaylifespirituality.com/2024/12/22/st-francesca-cabrini-part-two/

Part Three: https://everydaylifespirituality.com/2025/01/26/part-3-of-4-st-cabrinis-excellent-adventures/

Although she had become a public figure celebrated for her accomplishments, Mother Cabrini hated the spotlight and refused to allow her picture to be published in newspapers. By this stage in her life, she yearned for a retirement of peaceful contemplation, hoping to pass on the mission work to her younger and stronger nuns, This dream, however, would never materialize.

At the end of 1907, Francesca Cabrini once again set sail for Buenos Aires to visit her school—this time by boat from Barcelona instead of by mule across the Andes! After her visit, she continued on to Brazil, where her Sisters had established a school in São Paulo. Her journey then took her to Rio de Janeiro, but during the train ride through mosquito-infested marshlands, she contracted malaria and fell ill for several weeks. Despite her weakened state, she managed to open a school in Rio; however, shortly after its opening, a smallpox epidemic swept through the city, affecting several of the nuns. The first Sister to contract the disease tragically died because the authorities insisted she be taken to the public plague house, where she received inadequate care. Distraught over this, Francesca quickly arranged for a cottage outside the city for the remaining sick nuns, nursing them tirelessly just as her sister Rosa had cared for her during her own battle with smallpox decades ago in Italy.

After returning to the United States, Francesca dedicated the next two years to visiting all her houses across the country. In 1910, she was approached by the Archbishop of Chicago with a request to open a second hospital. She discovered a prime property in an affluent neighborhood, which was generously donated to the Sisters. However, local wealthy residents opposed having a free hospital in their community and attempted to dissuade Mother Cabrini through bribery and political pressure. When these tactics failed, they resorted to vandalism by cutting the water pipes on a frigid night. The resulting flood froze into thick layers of ice, which Francesca and her Sisters, along with some immigrant supporters, laboriously hacked away with pickaxes. After repairing the damage and making a few rooms livable, Francesca moved in, to ensure that the building remained guarded at night.

Their adversaries were undeterred, and one night arsonists broke into the basement and set it on fire. Fortunately, the Sisters and the fire department managed to extinguish the blaze. The following evening, however, the arsonists returned. This time, Francesca was prepared; she dashed into the street shouting for the police. The frightened criminals fled, and although they were never apprehended, they never returned. Ultimately, the hospital opened and was so well-received that many individuals and organizations within the community rallied together to support its ongoing operation.

Once the hospital was established and thriving, Francesca returned to Italy with plans to announce at the Rome motherhouse her intention to retire, and to request that a replacement be elected as Superior General. However, the Sisters were shocked and dismayed at the thought of losing their beloved Mother-Foundress. They conspired to fulfill her request by electing a Superior who would serve for life—but that Superior turned out to be Mother Cabrini herself! Surrounded by her joyful Sisters at her birthday celebration, where she was informed by the Cardinal of this decision, she graciously accepted their choice and relinquished her dream of a peaceful retirement at West Park.

While in Italy, Francesca sought out Antonia Tondini—her old nemesis who had caused her so much distress while she was a young woman caring for orphans at the House of Providence. Antonia was brought into the convent’s reception room, where Francesca warmly embraced her and said, “Please forgive me for any trouble I involuntarily may have caused you.” Confused, and overwhelmed with emotion, Antonia began to tremble and weep. Afterward, a nun asked Francesca, “Didn’t she make you suffer terribly?” To which Francesca replied with remarkable grace: “Antonia Tondini was given by God not to know any better. She truly thought that when she treated me as she did, it was for my own good.” This exemplified the profound forgiveness that dwelt in Francesca Cabrini’s magnificent heart. She recognized that all she endured at the House of Providence had been a crucible, preparing her for her great mission.

That summer, she embarked on a journey to Paris and London, seeking new houses to replace the original ones that required expansion. Her stay in London lasted 10 months, but before returning to the United States, she was compelled to return to Italy for some much-needed rest. In December, she visited Rome, where she fell gravely ill. By mid-March, her health had improved somewhat, and she abruptly announced her need to return to New York, because the hospital there required her presence. On March 27, 1911, she set sail from Naples on what would become her final sea voyage. She had a strong sense that she would never return to her homeland. As usual, the sea air invigorated her, restoring some of her strength.

Back in New York, she faced challenges in raising the necessary funds for a new Columbus Hospital to replace the old one, whose needs had outgrown its capacity. Undeterred by these obstacles, she enlisted a young architect to design a 10-story building that would eventually rise at 227 E. 19th St. Unfortunately, due to delays caused by World War I, she would not live to see its completion.

In July, while visiting West Park, she burst out of her room one morning, exclaiming that she was dying. Though she did not pass away at that time, the nuns insisted on sending her to the Mount of the Holy Cross in Colorado—a health refuge for sick nuns donated by a benefactor. Once well enough to travel, she made her way there. A fellow nun tended to her needs in a log cabin nestled among glistening snow atop the mountain. She cherished the tranquility of the place and especially loved watching the eagles soar high above her. She spent much time in peaceful meditation, gradually regaining her strength.

As soon as she was able, she ventured to Los Angeles, where another school was desperately needed. She purchased four lots, but struggled to gather enough funds to construct the school. Lacking money for a contractor, she sent for Sister Salesia, a bricklayer’s daughter with considerable building skills. At that time, the Luna Amusement Park was slated for demolition. Mother Cabrini negotiated for the rights to salvage the wooden structures set for destruction. She hired skilled Italian carpenters and laborers on a daily basis and arranged for horses and wagons to transport the materials. The parish community rallied together as well, helping dismantle the frame structures of Luna Park. Francesca was often on-site supervising the work, sporting a wide-brimmed Mexican sombrero and carrying a bamboo cane. At noon each day, she drove a horse and cart between Luna Park and the new building site, delivering wine, coffee, sandwiches and sweets to everyone laboring there. Despite the strenuous work, laughter, singing and prayer lightened their spirits. After a month of hard work collecting building materials, Francesca found herself with more than enough for the Los Angeles school, so she arranged for the surplus materials to be shipped by freight car to expand the Denver orphanage.

Leaving Sister Salesia in charge, Francesca traveled to Seattle, where an orphanage was threatened by a planned highway expansion. The orphans needed relocation, prompting her search for a new site. Exhausted from countless trips through the city, Francesca spread a map of Seattle on the table, pointed to a spot, and instructed the Sisters to explore that location and report back. That evening, the excited nuns returned with news—they had discovered what they called “a little paradise on earth.” With a knowing smile, Francesca replied, “Yes, I knew it would be beautiful. I saw it all in a dream last night.” The following day, they visited the villa, perched on a hill with breathtaking views. The owner revealed that it belonged to his wife who loved the place and would never part with it. As they descended the hill back into town, Francesca firmly declared to her Sisters, “That paradise will be for our orphans…somehow or other.”

As dusk fell, streetcars became scarce. Although hiring a taxi felt extravagant, the exhaustion of her companions made it seem to Francesca the only alternative. But just then, a limousine carrying an elegantly-dressed woman approached them. On impulse, Francesca raised her cane, signaling for assistance. The car stopped, and the lady offered them a ride back to the convent. During their drive together, the woman learned that she was speaking with Mother Cabrini—a woman she greatly admired. When Francesca mentioned the beautiful estate they had seen earlier that day, the woman’s eyes widened in astonishment; it turned out that she owned that very property! After conferring with her husband, they offered Mother Cabrini the estate at an exceptionally reasonable price. A week later, two wealthy American men donated $160,000—sufficient funds for establishing not only an orphanage on the property, but also an adjoining chapel.

Once back in New York, she resolved to establish another orphanage closer to the city. During her search for suitable properties, she stumbled upon a stunning estate right by the river in Dobbs Ferry. One of the Sisters informed her that it was a neighborhood of millionaires, and the prices would be exorbitant; moreover, the building she admired was a private school for affluent Protestant boys. Undaunted, Francesca rang the bell, which was answered by a young man whose father was the president and owner of the school. Initially cool in his demeanor, he informed Francesca that the estate was not for sale. However, as their conversation progressed, Francesca’s charm began to work its magic on him. He graciously offered to give her and the other nuns a tour of the impressive building, which included classrooms, dormitories, a kitchen, dining room, chapel, gymnasium, and swimming pool—all in excellent condition. As they departed, Francesca handed the young man her card, in case his father would consider selling. Just before leaving, she bent down to tie her shoelace, and discreetly pushed a medal of St. Joseph into the soft earth of a flower bed. A few days later, she received a letter from the owner, asking her to make an offer on the property. Armed with her plan, Francesca approached several wealthy businessmen and successfully secured the necessary funds.

With financial backing in place, she and her nuns set to work on the improvements necessary before the March 31st grand opening of what would be known as the Sacred Heart Villa at Dobbs Ferry. Francesca felt inspired by Jesus to undertake the whitewashing of the building herself. Wearing a painter’s cap and pinning up her skirts, she joyfully began painting. However, the can slipped from her hand, splattering paint all over her from head-to-toe. Laughing, she wiped at her clothes and continued with determination. The nuns held the ladder steady as she climbed up; but when they offered to take over for her, she insisted that the whitewashing was her special task. For the next 15 days, she diligently applied her brush until the job was done.

During the opening ceremony, Francesca stood alongside the Cardinal. It was at this time that the last photograph of Francesca Cabrini was taken, capturing her shining eyes and serene smile as she stood observing the happy orphans around her.

On June 28, 1914, the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand of Yugoslavia marked the beginning of the First World War. From that day on, a shadow was cast over Francesca’s heart and she was burdened with sorrow and concern for her Missionary Sisters in Europe. She prayed ceaselessly for their safety, entrusting them to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, their Divine Protector. Her usual smile was now tinged with sadness, and restful sleep eluded her; only her work provided a semblance of relief.

In August 1915, Francesca traveled to Seattle with plans to open an orphanage. The train journey proved arduous as she battled intermittent chills and fever, coupled with excruciating discomfort from sitting upright in coach for days on end. “If my Lord wants this mission accomplished,” she confided to one of the Sisters with her, “He will return to me the strength which has almost totally abandoned me.” In Seattle, she found a fine building in the heart of the city—the former Perry Hotel, which had gone bankrupt. Her discreet inquiries revealed that the principal trustee was a Mr. Clarke based in New York. Although lacking his first name, Francesca refrained from further inquiries to avoid alerting competing interests to her intentions. She telegraphed her nuns back in New York with a clear directive: “Find a certain Mr. Clarke, who is in possession of the Seattle Hotel Perry, and ask it as a donation to charity.”

This task proved daunting with no first name, as the New York City directory listed at least 200 Clarkes! Undaunted, the Sisters patiently called each number until they finally located the right party—a shrewd Protestant man, who was taken aback by their request for such a large donation to a Catholic charity, and adamantly refused. When they reported back to Mother Cabrini, she instructed them to return and propose the lowest price he would accept. This time, he was struck by their sincere humility and agreed to negotiate. After numerous visits from the Sisters, and exchanging 90 telegrams with Mother Cabrini, he ultimately bypassed the other trustees and offered her the property for $150,000—a bargain at the time. Even the Archbishop encouraged Francesca to accept this deal. Despite her persistent fatigue, she reached out to rich and poor alike, and was able to raise $10,000 as a retainer, which Mr. Clarke accepted. However, opposition soon arose. The other trustees were furious, and influential local figures vehemently opposed an Italian orphanage in that location, out of fear it would diminish property values. They ensured that all banks in Seattle would refuse to issue a loan to Mother Cabrini. From November through April, Francesca faced relentless struggles in securing financing for the property. During Lent, she gathered all her nuns and orphans to pray before the Blessed Sacrament, placing their hopes in Jesus, while she prepared herself to accept His will—whatever it might be.

In the Seattle convent stood a statue of St. Anne holding a book and teaching young Mary to read. In desperation, Francesca wrote “$120,000” in the book held by St. Anne and spent the evening in fervent prayer. While she was praying, the doorbell rang. A young nun entered to inform her that a gentleman wished to see her. When Francesca greeted him, she discovered that he was Mr. Chilberg, the Jewish president of the Scandinavian Bank. He bowed respectfully before Mother Cabrini and apologized for being out of town when she had previously visited his bank. Upon his return, he had learned about her loan denial. He expressed complete faith in her mission and offered to arrange any amount she needed. Leading him to St. Anne’s statue, Francesca told him that the amount she needed was written in the book. He read it and nodded. She then invited him to join her in the reception room for a glass of wine, which he gratefully accepted. The following day, the contract was signed, and on April 30, Mother Cabrini officially took possession of the Perry Hotel. Together with her Sisters, she prayed for abundant blessings upon their great friend Mr. Chilberg for his generous support of their mission.

It became clear that the turmoil of wartime was not an ideal backdrop for fundraising efforts aimed at establishing an orphanage. One night, Francesca had a profound dream. As she recounted to her Sisters, “…St. Anne instructed me to relinquish my desire for a foundling home, and indicated instead a hospital that will do acts of mercy and yet sustain itself.” However, this goal proved to be as challenging as her initial one. The presence of an existing Catholic hospital in Seattle led some within the Church to deem another one unnecessary and unwelcome. Additionally, those who had previously opposed her acquisition of the Perry Hotel were now rallying against her new plans. These factions exerted pressure on local doctors, causing them to withdraw their support from Mother Cabrini’s Seattle Columbus Hospital. The situation escalated to the point where even the Archbishop forbade the opening of the facility. Although initially disheartened, Francesca soon decided to pivot her approach. Instead of a general hospital, she resolved to establish a center focused on physiotherapy and electrotherapy treatments—services that were in high demand and would not directly compete with the other Catholic hospital in Seattle.

One day, a young pregnant woman from a respectable family approached the convent with a request: she wanted her baby to be born at Mother Cabrini’s hospital. Several weeks before the delivery date, Mother Cabrini felt inspired to send a Sister to visit the young woman’s home with an urgent message to summon her doctor and come immediately to Columbus Hospital, where a bed awaited her. The young lady complied, and just hours later, she gave birth to a baby girl. Due to her premature birth, the infant’s survival was uncertain; thus, Mother Cabrini herself baptized the child, naming her Columbina, which means “little dove.” The joyous event of the baby’s birth, and the happiness of the young parents, their family, friends and doctor, significantly eased the initial hostility towards Columbus Hospital. Over time, as word spread about the Sisters’ compassionate care, the hospital began to flourish.

In the fall of 1916, Francesca sensed that her life was nearing its end and felt compelled to visit some of her other houses. She informed the Sisters in Seattle of her intention to travel to Los Angeles. Her pale and fragile appearance alarmed the nuns in California, who had eagerly awaited her visit. Standing in the garden, she gazed lovingly at the Sisters gathered around her. The orphans burst into the garden, running toward her and joyfully shouting, “Mama Cabrini is here!” Francesca spent the winter in the warm California sun, enjoying long hours of deep meditation amidst the beauty of the garden. The orphans frequently visited her, and she delighted in sharing candy and telling them funny stories. Birds flocked to her feet, drawn by her quiet gentleness as spoke softly to them, scattering crumbs and seeds on the ground.

One of her nuns in Los Angeles, Sister Euphemia, suffered greatly from varicose veins, despite years of treatment from numerous doctors. Francesca suggested that she try wearing silk stockings to ease her discomfort. Taking this advice a step further, Sister Euphemia borrowed a pair of Mother Cabrini’s own cotton stockings and put them on. To her amazement, she found immediate relief. She shared this with Mother Cabrini, who laughed off the notion, but then gently admonished her: “I hope you’re not going to be so foolish as to say that my stockings cured you! It was your faith that did it.”

As Spring approached, Francesca realized she needed to travel to Chicago, due to issues arising at the new hospital. By the time she reached the Chicago Columbus Hospital on April 18, 1917, she appeared thin, bent, and frail, relying on a cane for support as she struggled to walk. The doctors quickly recognized that her malaria had worsened significantly and insisted on immediate treatment. Although the chills and fever eventually subsided over the following weeks, the treatment left her exceedingly weak. She also was suffering from chronic endocarditis, an infection involving the heart’s valves and lining.

Despite her frailty, Francesca rallied enough to participate in spiritual exercises at the convent that summer, being the first to arrive at the chapel each morning at 5:00 AM. Following medical advice, the Sisters arranged for her to be driven into the countryside daily, where she gathered wildflowers to adorn the chapel. Nostalgic for the farm life of her youth, she was inspired to purchase a farm for the Institute that would provide fresh produce for the hospital. After exploring rural areas further afield, she discovered a lovely farm in Park Ridge, Illinois, which she purchased in October. She found immense joy in stocking the farm with horses, cows, goats, pigs, and chickens.

By November, Francesca’s health had once again deteriorated. One morning during Mass, just after receiving Communion, she nearly collapsed. The Sisters quickly carried her to her bed. Though her strength waned daily, she yearned to be with her daughters during their recreation periods. She loved these times with the Sisters, and in the past had delighted them with her stories, and liked to play cards, although she was terrible at it and never won unless her opponents secretly let her. Mother Antonietta Della Casa, the Superior of the Hospital, now implored her to reconsider and conserve her energy. But Francesca firmly replied, “Oh, no! It is only now at their recreation that I can be together with them. If I am not, they will think I do not love them.”

During these cherished recreation times, she would bring them small gifts of fruit, candy, cake, or cookies—tailored to each Sister’s preference—as they gathered around her affectionately. On December 8, the feast of the Immaculate Conception, she asked the Sisters to write verses about the Virgin Mary. This would be the last time she could join them for recreation. Subsequently, she quietly withdrew to spiritually prepare herself for Christmas—a feast that held a special place in her heart. She ordered new habits for all of the Sisters, including one for herself, secretly knowing she would be buried in it. For the Order’s Christmas cards, Francesca requested a verse from the Psalms to be printed: “Oh, send out Thy light and Thy truth; let them lead me; let them bring me unto Thy holy hill, and to Thy tabernacles.” When a Sister objected that the verse seemed more fitting for a funeral than for Christmas, Francesca smiled and insisted, “Yes, I know, but this Christmas that verse goes well. Leave it the way it is.” Upon learning that the 500 children of the parish school would have to go without candy due to the difficult times, she exclaimed, “Oh, no! They must have their candy! Christmas would not be Christmas for them without it!”She instructed the Sisters to purchase the candy at her expense.

On December 21, despite suffering from the final stages of malaria, Francesca attended Mass and joined the Sisters in preparing the Christmas packages of candy for the children. The following morning, December 22, 1917, Mother Della Casa visited Francesca’s room to greet her and consult about the day’s tasks. A young nun came in to ask if Francesca wanted a bowl of broth. She agreed, and requested that her room be tidied so she could sit in her rocking chair. Mother Della Casa returned at 11:40 AM with a question for Francesca. After she left, Francesca locked the door and returned to her chair to pray and meditate in solitude. While sitting there, she felt a sudden pain in her chest and got up to unlock the door and ring for help. When a Sister entered, she found Francesca slumped in her wicker chair, her nightgown and handkerchief stained with blood. The young nun rushed to summon Mother Della Casa, who immediately sent for both the priest and the doctor. All the nuns hurried to Francesca’s room, finding her unconscious. The priest administered Last Rites just as Francesca opened her eyes one final time. She leaned her head against Mother Della Casa’s arm and cast a loving glance at all her Sisters before drawing her last breath.

A solemn Requiem Mass was celebrated by the Archbishop of Chicago, after which Francesca’s body was transported to New York for a second Requiem Mass conducted by Bishop Hayes at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. In accordance with her wishes, her body was interred at her beloved West Park on January 2, 1918. Hundreds of orphans dressed in white, carrying lilies and candles, followed her casket from the convent chapel to her tomb. In 1930, her remains were moved to their current location in the chapel of Mother Cabrini High School (formerly the Sacred Heart Villa) at 701 Ft. Washington Avenue.

In 1928, the process for her canonization began. Two miracles are required for sainthood, and in Francesca’s case, the first miracle involved an infant named Peter Smith, who was born at the New York Columbus Hospital on March 14, 1921. As was customary at the time, a nurse applied a solution of silver nitrate to the infant’s eyes. As she put the bottle down, she realized with horror that in her haste she had used a 50% solution instead of the intended 1%, resulting in severe chemical burns to the baby’s eyes. An eye specialist, along with other doctors, concluded that there was nothing they could do—the corneas of the eyes were destroyed, and the child would be permanently blind. The Mother Superior rushed in with a relic of Mother Cabrini, placed it on the baby’s eyes, and then pinned it to his nightgown. She and the Sisters, along with the nurse involved, spent the entire night praying in the chapel for a miracle.

The following morning, when the doctors returned to examine baby Peter, they were astonished to find his eyes intact and perfectly normal. However, that same day, the infant developed double pneumonia, with a temperature reaching 108°F—just one degree short of fatal. The doctor advised the Mother Superior to start praying again, as the baby’s condition was critical. “Doctor,” she replied confidently, “Mother Cabrini has not cured his eyes just to let him die of pneumonia!” They prayed once more, pleading for a second miracle. By morning, all symptoms of pneumonia had vanished. Peter Smith grew up healthy with normal vision, and as a young man, served as a soldier in the Army. The only remnants of his hospital ordeal were two small scars from the silver nitrate that had leaked from his eyes.

The second miracle involved Sister Delfina Grazioli, who had suffered since 1915 from adhesions of the gallbladder and intestines. Despite undergoing four surgeries, her condition showed no improvement, and she was painfully wasting away. By December 1925, doctors had given up all hope and predicted she had only a day or two left to live. Funeral arrangements were already underway; however, on the night of December 16, after praying to Mother Cabrini, Sister Delfina saw her in a dream. The next morning, although still very weak, she announced that she was cured. The instantaneous healing was confirmed by the doctors, and she never experienced a recurrence of her illness. Mother Francesca Xavier Cabrini was beatified on November 13, 1938, and canonized on July 7, 1946.

Throughout her life, Francesca believed that faith, simplicity, humility, and obedience were the foundations of all spiritual power. She often reminded her Sisters that the only necessary mortification was to perfectly observe the Rule of the Order and wholeheartedly carry out their daily tasks. She prayed fervently that she would never ask her nuns to do anything she herself was unwilling to do. Francesca valued openness and candor in others and detested any pretentious displays of piety. She did not want to see her Sisters carrying rosaries unless they were actively reciting them. Always gentle and kind in her approach, she never hesitated to speak her mind, but did so with compassion. Rather than giving orders, she made requests that were promptly obeyed. She discouraged self-pity and long faces among her Sisters. A sense of humor and fun bubbled out of her spontaneously, gladdening the hearts of everyone who came under the spell of her infectious smile.

In my research for this video series, I came across a quote from one of her biographers that described her life as “a quiet whirlwind.” I can think of no better description. Francesca Cabrini perfectly fulfilled the hope she once wrote in her notebook: “I wish to die of love after a life of total surrender to God….Oh Jesus, I love you so much, so much!….Give me a heart as large as the universe, so that I may love you, if not as much as you deserve, at least as much as I am capable of.”

December 31, 2024

Releasing Negative Thoughts & Feelings

Girl Blowing on Dandelion-resized — Photo by Nine Köpfer on Unsplash

To listen to the audio version (podcast), click player arrow above

My previous posts (“Time to Wake Up” and “Identifying Habitual Thought Patterns”) addressed the subject of negative thinking and how it can set us up for failure at what we want to be, do, or have in life. It can keep attracting the same bad situations and adversely affect how we act and react to the world around us. We explored a number of common negative thoughts, so that we could identify the areas in which we seem to have the most trouble. In this way, we are “waking up” spiritually and mentally, by recognizing the numerous negative thoughts we have on a daily basis. If you did not see this list, please read my last post, “Identifying Habitual Thought Patterns” or listen to the audio version: https://anchor.fm/edlspirituality/episodes/IDENTIFYING-HABITUAL-THOUGHT-PATTERNS-e1svc1s

This post will explore in simple steps how to begin to change your circumstances for the better, and how to cooperate with our Creator to bring more joy, peace and abundance into your life.

Turning Negative Thoughts Around

Once we’ve identified some of our negative thought patterns, how do we turn things around? Most negativity is an expression of what we hate, fear, and want to avoid — in other words, all the things we DON’T want! Thoughts are energy, and because “like attracts like,” constantly dwelling on what we don’t want will keep bringing what we don’t want into our lives. The subconscious mind accepts everything you tell it, whether good or bad, positive or negative. For instance, if you keep thinking, “I don’t want to be poor,” “I hate being poor,” “I have no money and no prospects,” or “I need to get out of debt,” you are still focusing on poverty and debt, and probably fearing it, which is subconsciously setting you up to fall prey to more circumstances, people, and bad decisions that will keep you poor and in debt! The negative energy you are emitting will draw those negative circumstances and people to you.

To bring about change, we need to focus on what we love and yearn for, rather than what we don’t love and don’t want. Think of it this way: Supposing you went with a group of friends to an all-you-can-eat buffet. You go down the buffet table, looking at all the varieties of food, and every time you see a food that you dislike and would never want to eat, you add it to your plate. By the time you get to the end of the buffet, your dish is filled with food you can’t stand. You pay for it and go sit at the table with your friends. You sit there, not eating, feeling hungry and miserable, while your friends are heartily eating and enjoying their food.

Now you’re probably thinking, “Who the heck would do that?” Well, we do exactly that every time we waste our valuable energy by thinking and talking about what we DON’T want out of life! The friends who are enjoying their meal represent the people who focus their thoughts and energies on the things they truly want and to which they aspire — the people who love their lives and feel happy and satisfied. Meanwhile, you look on and wonder why you are so miserable. Would it help you to resent and envy them because they are enjoying their food and you’re not? No, because you chose the food yourself!

This life is a precious treasure — God’s gift to you. Your power to co-create with God the kind of life you truly want is part of this gift. Why would you waste it on things you don’t want? Why would you expend your precious time and energy perpetuating a life that is unsatisfying to you?

Remember, a random negative thought or two will not bring a host of bad things upon you. There is a time delay between our thoughts and their consequences, and positive thoughts are a great deal stronger than negative ones. That’s the good news. The bad news, though, is that sustained or habitual negative thoughts, especially when accompanied by strong emotion, will eventually attract negative things into your life. Like the food you chose at the buffet, the currency of your thoughts and feelings is capable of bringing both good and bad things to you. It’s a matter of which ones you choose.

As St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Philippians: “Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute; if there is any excellence, and if anything is worthy of praise, dwell on these things.”

GorgeousSunrise-Sunset_Final — Photo (without text) by Ravi Pinisetti on Unsplash

Because we have tens of thousands of thoughts a day, it is impossible to monitor each one. But an easy way to identify your predominant thoughts is to tune into your feelings, because your feelings are the result of your thoughts. Are you feeling negative emotions, such as boredom, irritability, disappointment, anger, worry, depression, hatred, envy, guilt or fear? Or are you feeling positive emotions like love, gratitude, joy, excitement, enthusiasm, hope, satisfaction?

Don’t feel guilty or afraid because you are experiencing a negative emotion or thinking a negative thought, as that is just adding more negativity! We don’t want to deny our negative emotions and pretend they don’t exist, because they often serve to point out areas in our lives that need our attention. Also, it’s natural to feel negative emotions at particular crisis points in our lives, i.e., loss of a job, end of a relationship, death of a loved one, etc. If this is the case, you must allow yourself to experience the emotions, and seek help if necessary. We’re also not talking here about serious mental or emotional illnesses, for which one needs to be under medical supervision, but rather the typical thoughts and emotions that most of us experience on a regular basis. However, even if you are going through a life crisis or suffering from a mental illness, you can still apply these principles in addition to any other help you may be receiving.

Self-awareness is the key

Once you are aware of why you are feeling a particular way, you can understand what your emotions are telling you and what changes you can make to improve your circumstances. This then allows you to achieve mastery of your conscious thoughts. One way to do this is to practice a simple form of meditation. Don’t let the word “meditation” scare you. I don’t mean that you need to sit in Lotus Position for two hours every day and chant “Om” (although this is perfectly fine if you want to do it)! The objective is simply to quiet your conscious mind for a while. You need only a few minutes, and the following practice is very simple and will become even easier with time:

Set a timer for 10 minutes. Sit comfortably in a quiet room. Turn off all electronic devices and ask to not be disturbed. Begin to focus on your breathing and/or picture a blank movie screen in your mind.
As you sit there, thoughts will naturally bubble up. Just “watch” the thoughts. Don’t get involved with them; just witness them, and then turn your mind gently but firmly back to your breathing or to the blank movie screen.
If the thought that comes up is negative, acknowledge that you had a negative thought. Do not try to resist it, because resistance means you are focused on it with powerful emotion, which only will make it stronger. Just release it without judgement or guilt.
Continue this way until the timer goes off.

Make an effort to do this every day, or at least several times a week. You will find that you feel more relaxed and focused after this, and may want to do it for longer periods. Eventually you will reach a point where the intruding thoughts will decrease, and you will experience longer periods of peace as your mind lets go of its constant chatter.

How to Deal with Persistent Negative Thoughts

If you are feeling particularly sad, angry, depressed or fearful, and these same thoughts stubbornly keep recurring, you can use the following, more in-depth exercise to get to the root of your feelings and release them:

As in the previous exercise, sit in a quiet place where you will not be disturbed, with all electronic devices turned off or in another room. Focus on your breathing until you become more relaxed.
Ask yourself why you are feeling unhappy, and express the reason out loud, i.e., “I am afraid that I won’t find another job,” or “I’m sad and lonely because my love life is terrible right now,” or “I’m depressed because I’m not feeling well.”
Once you have identified the emotion and its cause, don’t try to resist it or force it to go away. “Fighting” an emotion — like “fighting” an illness — usually doesn’t work, since it involves negative emotions like anger, resentment or resistance, which actually can attract more negativity to you and make the condition worse.
Face the negative emotion and ask it what it might be trying to teach you. Let it speak to you, without forcing it or censoring it. Learn from what it is telling you. For instance, if you are depressed because you’re sick, the reason you might hear when you ask this question is that your life was out of balance. You were stressed, rushing around, not taking time to relax, not eating and sleeping right. The illness was your body’s way of telling you to slow down and take better care of it, to bring your life into a better balance of mind, body and spirit.
Now, ask yourself if there are actionable steps you can take at the present time to help ease this negative emotion. Just writing down some small actions you can implement right away is a very effective way to ease the tension and stress you’re feeling. You can follow-up after your meditation session by doing some research for additional ideas. Eventually, you can build upon these small successes, until you begin to see a measurable improvement in your situation and your mood.
From now on, reframe your fears and negative statements into positive affirmations. For example, “I have a career that pays well and is personally fulfilling to me;” “I have many positive, loving, and uplifting relationships in my life;” “I feel healthy and whole in body, mind and spirit.” In other words, you are stating what you love and aspire to, rather than focusing on what the less-than-ideal situation might be at the current moment.
At the end of your meditation session, thank your subconscious mind for giving you the reasons and the suggestions. Tell it that you will heed the lesson, and that you no longer need to experience the negative emotions. You can picture yourself letting go of the emotion in any way you like: i.e., blowing it away like dandelion fluff, releasing it as a balloon, or watching it wash away like sand in an ocean wave. Once you learn the lessons that your negative emotion is trying to teach you, it will no longer have a strong hold on you. You will be able to release it and move on.

Once again, do not worry or become anxious about having negative thoughts, as this will attract more negative thoughts to you. We all have numerous negative thoughts occurring throughout each day, but they become a problem only when we dwell upon them and repeat them often or infuse them with strong emotion. Instead, say to yourself, “All my negative thoughts are weak, while my positive thoughts are very powerful!”

Simply by having read this post and the last one, you have become much more aware of any negative thought patterns you have. Congratulations! From now on, you will not be on “automatic pilot,” reacting in the same old way to everything that happens in your life. You now will be aware of your reactions (your thoughts) in each situation and can take action on them! Now you are in the driver’s seat of your mind, rather than a helpless and clueless passenger!

Brooding Man_Final — *Photo (w/o text) by ANDRIK ↟ LANGFIELD ↟ PETRIDES on Unsplash*

The simple forms of meditation practice given here are an excellent way to become more observant of your thoughts and feelings in order to learn to control them. Meditation has tremendous benefits for mind, body and spirit. There are many excellent books, blogs, and videos about meditation if you would like to explore this practice in more depth.

In the words of Charles Haanel, New Thought author who lived from 1866 to 1949: “Be careful of your moods and feelings, for there is an unbroken connection between your feelings and your visible world.”

Next time: How to deal with challenges to staying positive.

December 30, 2024

Identifying Habitual Thought Patterns

My last blog post, “Time to Wake Up,” addressed how what we think consciously and believe subconsciously affects how we act and react to the world around us, and how our thoughts can directly influence our future. This principle, nowadays called “The Law of Attraction (LOA),” has actually been around for thousands of years and can be found in the Bible and many other spiritual texts and teachings. So it is important that we first identify our habitual thought patterns, to see which ones are serving us and which might be holding us back from achieving the sort of life we would like to have.

Following is a series of questions to help you in this thought identification process.

Do you often say or think any of the following:

I’m too ___ (tired, sick, achy, weak, old, young, fat, ugly, stupid, etc.)
I’ll never be able to _____ (fill in the blank)
I’m not ______(fill in the blank)
I’m a bad sleeper
I can’t relax…I can’t concentrate…I can’t lose weight…I can’t get up early…I can’t _______ (fill in the blank)
I’m always late / I’m always running behind schedule
I never have any money
I’ll never get out of debt
I’m never at the right place at the right time
It’s all the fault of my dysfunctional parents/family…my bad childhood…the traits I inherited from my parents, etc.
I’m just a victim of ______.
I have no control over what happens to me
I never get a break
It’s Murphy’s Law
I just look at food and gain weight
I’m getting…(old, fat, sick, worn out, forgetful, poorer)
I’ve only got a few more years left
I’m not ____ enough (i.e., smart, attractive, thin, talented, skilled, educated, rich) — or: I don’t have enough ______ (brains, education, looks, money, ability, luck, talent, etc.)
Something that good can never happen to me
I’d never be so lucky
I never win anything
Other people get everything, and I get nothing
This is just my luck (or) I never have any luck
I hate that person
I look horrible in everything I put on
I never take a good picture
I’ll never have enough ____ (money, time, ability, health, etc.)
I’m so afraid of _____
I really dread _______
I’m not feeling well – it’s probably cancer
I will probably get (name the disease), because it runs in my family (or because so many people get it).
I live in constant fear of getting (this disease).
I HATE (cancer, diabetes, asthma – or any disease)
We must FIGHT cancer (or other disease or problem)
Getting old sucks
I’m getting senile
I just can’t lose weight
I can’t cope with this
What if _____ (imagining something bad and then worrying about it)
I always have too much work
I hate my job and I’ll never get a better one
I don’t have enough to give to or share with anyone else
I’ll never forgive _____ (fill in name(s))
I’m too…(old, tired, busy, far gone)…to care about my looks or my health anymore
Everyone gets (fat, sick, high blood pressure, diabetes, memory loss) as they age.
I’m just falling apart
It’s hopeless
I never get good weather on my vacations or when I plan something

Do you often:

Gossip or complain about someone, or join in gossip/complaining about someone?
Try to instigate trouble and bad feeling among others?
Argue over and/or ridicule someone’s political or spiritual opinions?
End a friendship or become estranged from a family member because of differing political or spiritual beliefs?
Feel you have nothing to be thankful for?
Compare yourself negatively to other people?
Make nasty, snide or critical comments or cruel jokes in person or on social media?
Refuse to buy something you really wanted or needed, even though you have more than enough money to afford it, because you’re afraid to spend any money?
Make self-deprecating comments or denials when someone compliments you?
Criticize someone, and/or try to make someone else do things your way?
Harbor resentment or bitterness towards someone? Keep thinking about how to get even? Wish bad things on them?
Respond instantly with anger to someone else’s words or actions?
Try to control and “fix” other people’s lives rather than letting them learn from their experiences in their own way?
Frequently make or share self-deprecating remarks or jokes about being stupid, fat, old, forgetful, or other negative things?
Forward emails or share social media posts encouraging hatred against anyone or anything (political figures, celebrities, certain races, ethnic groups, religions, etc.)?
Say, “I HATE____” (fill in the blanks)?
Talk at length and frequently about your illnesses or someone else’s?
Feel envy towards someone? Withhold a compliment from someone because you secretly envy them?
Try to take something/someone away from a person because you think you deserve it more? Try to turn others against someone because you’re jealous?
Constantly worry about your loved ones and what could happen to them, or about losing your partner, your money, your health, etc.?

Okay, so you probably identified with at least several – and maybe a lot – of these. Some of them might rarely or never pertain to you, while others are fairly frequent. If so, welcome to the human race! We ALL think, say or do these things from time to time. A fleeting thought or occasional slip-up won’t have a significant effect on your life or your future. If, however, you habitually think, do or say any of them, and if the thoughts carry a strong emotional charge, you are setting yourself up to attract exactly what you say you hate, fear and don’t want! This is because our subconscious mind believes everything we tell it, whether it’s true, false, good or bad. It is merely responding to our conscious thoughts, words and actions, like an obedient, cooperative child. It doesn’t analyze whether the thoughts are good or bad for you, positive or negative. Analyzing and choosing are the domain of the conscious mind; the subconscious just accepts what we tell it.

Consequently, with our negative thoughts we will attract, or subconsciously be attracted to, just the circumstances and people that we want so much to avoid! Also, fighting against something negative is never as effective as striving instead to bring about a positive result. For example, instead of hating and “fighting” a disease, it’s better instead to think wellness and health, and do whatever we can to promote these positive qualities. Mother Teresa, now St. Teresa of Calcutta, was quoted as saying:“I was once asked why I don’t participate in anti-war demonstrations. I said that I will never do that, but as soon as you have a pro-peace rally, I’ll be there.”

Negative thinking also will block any good things that God wants to send us. Nothing is forced on us by God, who respects and honors our free will. Negative thinking is like keeping your hands behind your back when someone offers you a gift. You cannot accept the gift unless your hands are open to receive it.

LOA experts recommend that we shift our positive thoughts to at least 51% over the negative ones. Even this 1% over the halfway mark could be enough to dramatically change one’s life. I believe that the more we can shift our thoughts from the negative to the positive, the quicker and more dramatic the change will be!

Legend says that in the Buddha’s travels, he encountered a man who was awed by his peaceful, radiant persona. The man asked, “My friend, what are you? Are you a celestial being? Are you a god? A magician? A wizard?” The Buddha replied, “No. I am awake.”

Jesus told His followers that if they had faith “the size of a mustard seed” they could move mountains. He also told them that, with enough faith and belief, they could do all the things that He had done, and even greater things.

*Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash*

We cannot even begin to improve our lives unless we become awake and aware of the negative thoughts and lack of faith we harbor on a daily basis. Otherwise, we walk around in a perpetual state of “automatic pilot” and unconsciousness. Once you become aware, you will begin to notice any instances in which you are thinking or speaking negatively. You also will be shocked and dismayed at all the negativity you will notice around you from other people! In upcoming posts we’ll examine these negative thoughts and attitudes and explore ways to bring about positive change and achieve our goals and dreams.

Have a positively wonderful day!

December 15, 2024

ST. FRANCESCA CABRINI – PART ONE

PATRON OF IMMIGRANTS & FIRST U.S. CITIZEN SAINT

THE EARLY YEARS: ITALY, 1850 – 1889

Mother Francesca Xavier Cabrini, circa 1889

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

St. Francesca Xavier Cabrini has always been a cherished figure in my mother’s family. My introduction to her came in childhood, when a framed photo of her had a place of honor in our home—a photo that now graces my own home This deep-seated devotion stems from the connection to my maternal grandparents, Lorenzo & Angelina, who owned a bakery on First Avenue in Manhattan during the early 20th century. My grandparents had the honor of knowing Mother Cabrini, as she was called then. It was common practice for Mother Cabrini and her fellow nuns to visit local Italian businessmen seeking donations, and my grandfather’s bakery was one of their regular stops. Occasionally, Mother Cabrini would bring along some of the orphans, and my grandfather would delight in treating them all to pastries. At the end of the day, he would give away his unsold bread to her or her other Sisters. Remarkably, even today, a bakery operates at that same location, though it is no longer Italian.

I take great pride in this familial connection to such an extraordinary woman —diminutive in stature, yet monumental in her achievements — and I am grateful for the times she has listened to my prayers by interceding to God on my behalf. The film “Cabrini,” while impressive, only scratches the surface of her remarkable life. As I delved deeper into her story, I was astounded by the breadth of her travels and accomplishments. This inspired me to present her awe-inspiring life through a three-part series. Here begins Part 1: The Early Years (Italy, 1850-1889)

On the morning of July 15, 1850, in the quaint village of Sant’Angelo, nestled in the Lombardy region of Italy, Stella Cabrini, a 52-year-old woman was threshing wheat beside her husband, Agostino. She suddenly paused in her work, turned to him, and with a calm yet urgent voice, announced that their baby was ready to be born—two months earlier than expected.

The couple hurried back to their home, and Agostino summoned the midwife. As he waited anxiously, Agostino’s mind wandered to the memories of their nine children who had passed away over the years. Only three children had survived: Rosa; Maddalena, who had been disabled by polio; and Giovanni. Together, the four of them gathered in anticipation of welcoming a new family member, who would be the couple’s 13^th child.

As they stood outside, a curious sight caught their attention—a flock of white doves appeared in the sky. The doves flew gracefully over the red-tiled roofs of Sant’Angelo and began circling above the Cabrini home. Agostino watched in awe; he had never seen these birds in their village before. Concerned for his grain storehouse, he and his children waved their arms to shoo the birds away. In his haste, Agostino accidentally ensnared one dove with his flail. The children rushed to gently free the bird and pleaded with their father not to harm it. Once released, the dove fluttered to rest on the windowsill of Stella’s bedroom. At that moment, a newborn’s cry pierced the air, followed by the midwife’s joyful announcement: “Agostino! It’s a girl, and pretty!” Overcome with happiness, Agostino tossed some grain into the air as an offering to the doves. The birds eagerly pecked at it before taking flight once more, disappearing into the western sky.

The family entered the room to behold the new baby cradled in Stella’s arms. Rosa exclaimed with delight at her sister’s silky blonde curls and striking blue-green eyes. Yet, amid their joy, the midwife voiced a somber warning: “She is so frail that if she lives, it will be a miracle. You must have her baptized as soon as possible.” As the hours passed and Stella regained some strength, the couple tenderly wrapped their precious baby in soft linen and made their way to the church of Sant’Angelo, where she was baptized Francesca Maria, in honor of two beloved children they had lost. Stella Cabrini lavished loving care upon her baby daughter, and against the odds, the little girl survived, although she remained frail.

It was her sister Rosa, rather than their mother, who took on the responsibility of raising Francesca, affectionately known as Cecchina. Rosa had a stern and uncompromising demeanor that made her somewhat unlikable. Yet it may have been this very nature that instilled in Francesca a sense of determination, and conversely, an extraordinary sweetness that balanced it.

As Cecchina’s beautiful curls began to grow, Rosa was determined to curb any hint of youthful vanity. She would take a brush dipped in olive oil and press it down on Cecchina’s curls, trying to straighten them out. The stiff bristles often brought tears to the little girl’s eyes. “There, that’s better! I won’t have you looking like a silly, simpering doll!” Rosa would declare. In later years, Francesca would joke that her hair was unlikely to ever turn white, due to the excessive oiling it had endured at the hands of her sister. Despite Cecchina’s childhood admiration for Rosa, as she matured into a woman, the two could not have been more different.

As was the custom at that time, little Cecchina was confirmed before she made her First Communion. In fact, her Confirmation, which took place on July 1, 1857, was the turning point of her life. In her own words, “The moment I was being anointed with the sacred chrism, I felt what I shall never be able to express….I seemed no longer on earth. My heart was replete with the most pure joy. I cannot say what I felt, but I know it was the Holy Ghost.” Writing in a notebook many years later, she addressed to Christ, “You know that my heart has always been Yours.”

The idea of being a missionary was planted in Cecchina during the evenings when she would sit near the fireplace and listen to her father read aloud from a Catholic missionary magazine. One day, a missionary from the Orient arrived at Sant’Angelo and preached about his work. His words aroused so much enthusiasm in her that she decided she wanted to be a missionary to China. Cecchina spent many joyful days visiting her Uncle Luigi Oldini, a beloved local priest in Livagra. Recognized for his extraordinary generosity, he was known to give away his own shoes and blankets to those in need. Cecchina cherished these visits, not only because of her deep love for her uncle, but also because they allowed her to engage in a delightful game she had created—one that she couldn’t play at home. She would craft little boats from paper, filling them with violets she picked, and send them sailing down the swift current in the canals near her uncle’s house. In her imagination, these flowers were her missionaries, embarking on journeys to far-off lands.

One fateful day, when Cecchina was about eight years old, she became so absorbed in her game that she leaned too far over the stone embankment and fell into the canal. The water flowed swiftly into a tunnel, and had it not been for a timely rescue, she might have drowned. A boy who witnessed the incident rushed to Uncle Luigi’s house, shouting for help. Her uncle arrived and found Cecchina lying on the bank, drenched and shivering. He felt immense relief as she opened her eyes. Gratefully, he thanked God for her safety and asked her who had saved her. “I don’t know, Uncle,” she replied. “I just found myself lying here.” He gathered her in his arms and carried her home, suggesting that perhaps it was her Guardian Angel who had intervened. Following this terrifying experience, Cecchina developed an overwhelming fear of deep water that kept her from approaching the canal again.

Cecchina’s sister Rosa was her first teacher. Holding a normal-school certificate, Rosa ran a small private school in their town and seemed to excel at teaching. She imparted lessons in religion, a bit of French, and instilled in Cecchina a deep appreciation for their Italian language. During this time, Francesca found herself particularly captivated by geography. Hours would pass as she immersed herself in the maps of her atlas, her imagination ignited by the facts she learned about various countries around the world.

At the age of 13, Cecchina was sent to a private school run by the Daughters of the Sacred Heart in nearby Arluno. There, she spent five years pursuing courses that would qualify her to obtain a teacher’s certificate. Her frequent quotations of Latin in her letters—often without any reference books at hand—demonstrated that she had mastered the language thoroughly. She also possessed an aptitude for mathematics, a skill she would later need for important business dealings throughout her life.

As a teenager, Cecchina’s spiritual director was the pastor, Father Bassano Dede’. A man of few words, his advice to her regarding her small troubles was almost always the same. After a moment of thoughtful silence, he would simply say, “Go and tell that to Jesus.” For Cecchina, this advice proved valuable, because later in her life, circumstances made regular spiritual direction impossible. So it was all the more important that she learned early on to trust completely in Divine guidance.

Teaching was essentially the only “white-collar” job available to women at that time. Following in Rosa’s footsteps as a teacher, Cecchina obtained her certificate at 18, passing her exams cum laude. Shortly thereafter, she applied to join the religious community but was turned away by the Superior. Though the nuns were greatly edified by her presence, they doubted her strength for religious life. Had Francesca been accepted by the Sisters, it’s unlikely she would have become the great saint we’re talking about today! With no other option, Francesca returned home in the autumn of 1868, where she assisted her mother and Rosa with household chores, while dedicating herself to prayer and acts of charity.

In February of the following year, tragedy struck when her father suffered a severe stroke. He lingered for a year before passing away, soon followed by the death of her mother and her disabled sister, Maddalena. This left just Rosa, Francesca, and their brother Giovanni, who managed the family farm with help from hired hands and his two sisters. Though they lived frugally, they were not lacking in money and continued to give generously to the poor. Together, Rosa and Francesca supported and cared for an elderly woman in their town who was suffering from cancer.

A remarkable transformation occurred in Rosa following their parents’ deaths. The sternness that had made her virtue less appealing faded away. She began to show a gentle affection toward Francesca, who had often faced her sister’s harshness in the past. Now approaching middle age, Rosa realized she would have to abandon her dreams of becoming a nun, and with acceptance came a newfound sweetness. Throughout her life, Francesca always spoke of Rosa with deep gratitude.

The year 1871 passed quietly and uneventfully. However, Spring brought an epidemic of smallpox to Sant’Angelo. Both Rosa and Francesca devoted themselves to nursing the sick in their village. Francesca’s deep aversion to the sight and smell of sores made her willingness to care for smallpox patients all the more heroic. But eventually, Francesca herself fell victim to the dreadful disease. Rosa took on full-time care for her sister, lovingly bathing her face with olive oil and milk to prevent scarring. Thanks to Rosa’s devoted care, Francesca recovered without any facial disfigurement from the smallpox.

After her recovery, Father Bassano approached her with a request: would she be willing to fill in for a couple of weeks for a sick teacher at the public school in Vidardo, just 1.5 miles away? He explained that without a substitute, the teacher might be permanently replaced. Kind-hearted Francesca could not refuse. This decision resulted in her remaining in Vidardo as teacher for two years. Initially, Francesca struggled with her first teaching assignment due to the unruly behavior of her students and her own feelings of shyness and awkwardness. In an attempt to manage the situation, she adopted a strict demeanor that mirrored her sister Rosa’s temperament, which ultimately proved ineffective in engaging her students. However, Francesca soon recognized this misstep and shifted to a more relaxed, genuine, and affectionate manner, which became one of her hallmark characteristics. This change not only helped her regain control over the mischievous children but also fostered a genuine enjoyment of learning among them.

In Vidardo, she met Fr. Antonio Serrati, who would become her guide for many years. Unbeknownst to Francesca, it was he who advised the Daughters of the Sacred Heart to deny her admission when she applied for a second time, as well as the Canossian Sisters, with whom she sought to join because of their mission in China. His reasoning was grounded in her fragile health; however, now that he had become a Monsignor and the Provost of Codogno, his deeper intention was a specific task he envisioned for her.

Codogno is a charming town in the province of Lodi. In the town stood an orphanage known as the House of Providence, which had fallen into disarray. The Monsignor proposed that Francesca take on the challenge of reforming it. The institution was under the leadership of Antonia Tondini, who had endowed it with 30,000 lire, making it difficult to remove her despite her extreme unsuitability for the role. In 1872, Bishop Dominic Gelmini of Lodi successfully persuaded Tondini and her friend Teresa Calza—who lived with her—to become nuns. Although he knew they had no inclination for it, he hoped that this commitment would improve their character and behavior. They agreed to enter a novitiate with the Sisters of Nazareth but did not remain long. After a six-day retreat, they were allowed to make their profession along with their cook, a meek and mild woman named Guiseppa Alberici. They wore simple black gowns with no veil. But there any resemblance to a nun’s life ended. Not only did Tondini and Calza engage in loud and frequent quarrels, but Antonia also regularly funneled money meant for the orphanage into the hands of her irresponsible nephew, leaving the poor orphan girls neglected and often mistreated.

Francesca doubted her ability to effect any meaningful change during the two weeks that Msgr. Serrati requested of her. Nevertheless, she followed his advice and went to the House of Providence, where she was met with resentment, screams and insults from Tondini. During these outbursts, the orphan girls would seek refuge in Francesca’s room while the so-called nuns banged on the door, threatening them. Because it was clear that the girls needed Francesca, she felt compelled to stay beyond her initial two-week commitment. Although she appeared to be drifting further from her missionary aspirations, when she later reflected on her life, she recognized that each step had been Divinely orchestrated.

After a couple of months, hoping to improve Francesca’s situation, Monsignor Serrati and the Bishop suggested that she wear the habit to eliminate her status as an outsider. Although this felt like another sacrifice of her own plans, she agreed. She and two of her pupils were invested in the habit on October 15, 1874, soon joined by five other girls. For three years, she remained without vows—technically still a novice under the eccentric Tondini—yet she acted as a novice mistress, gathering the girls for spiritual conferences and assuring them that one day they all would become missionaries. That dream seemed more unattainable than ever, yet she clung to it fiercely. Francesca had developed a great devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and she placed her present situation trustingly into His loving care.

With supplies sent by her sister Rosa, Francesca tackled the chaos and filth of the House of Providence. Armed with fine combs, she painstakingly removed lice from the girls’ hair; baths, salves, and powders helped cure their skin ailments. She restored unsightly petticoats and dresses through washing and sewing, and taught the girls how to make bonnets and cobble their worn shoes. From her guidance, they learned self-sufficiency rather than dependency on others. She educated them in geography, mathematics, spelling and writing, while ensuring they all said their prayers. As some of the girls approached adolescence, Francesca considered the potential dangers they faced, and recognized that she would need to be their personal mother.

Francesca and her small band worked diligently at sewing and embroidery to support a new group of orphans they had taken in, which eventually swelled their numbers to about 30. The House of Providence began to function more like a true orphanage. However, Tondini seethed with frustration at any improvements made for the orphans, since they reflected poorly on her. But even all these improvements could not excuse the fact that the house of Providence was badly located.

One day, seven of the girls approached Francesca and declared, “We, too, want to become missionaries with you.” Francesca, now 27, took the girls with her to see Msgr. Serrati, where they earnestly pleaded to consecrate themselves to God through holy vows. The Monsignor gazed fondly at the petite, beautiful, golden-haired young woman he had placed in this challenging situation. Despite Tondini’s constant complaints about Francesca, she had never shown resentment or bitterness towards the odious woman. On September 14, 1877, Francesca and her seven orphan girls offered their vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience to God. She chose the name “Francesca Xavier Cabrini,” honoring the great missionary St. Francis Xavier with her middle name. The Monsignor then conferred upon her the title of Mother Cabrini, Superior of the House of Providence.

This recognition sent Tondini into a rage; her insults escalated into attempts at physical violence against Mother Cabrini. Fortunately, her new Sisters quickly gathered around her to offer protection. As the newly-appointed Superior of the House of Providence, it became Francesca’s duty to prevent Tondini from giving money to her slacker nephew. However, Tondini continued to sign promissory notes that she could not back financially. This left Francesca with no choice but to report the situation to Bishop Gelmini. By the end of 1880, the Bishop announced the termination of the House of Providence.

Now the pressing question was what would happen next for Mother Cabrini and the seven Sisters she had trained? Bishop Gelmini summoned her and said, “I know that you want to become a missionary. I know of no missionary order of women. Why not found one yourself?” Taken utterly by surprise by this unexpected turn of events, Francesca fell silent for a moment. Then, with her heart overflowing with gratitude to God, she looked at the Bishop and simply replied, “I will look for a house.” The six years Francesca had spent at the House of Providence had been marked by darkness and complexity—the most challenging years of her life. Yet by the end of that time, she had emerged fully formed and finally ready for her great calling.

Behind the Franciscan church in Codogno was a 17^th-century monastery which had lain abandoned and empty since the time of Napoleon. Francesca told the Msgr. that this was where she wanted to open her convent. It was somewhat in need of repairs but solidly built and just what she needed. A young Milanese architect employed by Bishop Gelmini was commissioned to inspect the place and make an offer to the owner. Because the owner was fiercely against the church, the Msgr. instructed his friend to tell the owner that he was buying the monastery for the storage of cement. Little would he know that the cement would be of the spiritual kind! Francesca could not part with the orphans. She decided to take them with her and make of the monastery a missionary convent and orphanage combined. She also took with her Guiseppa Alberici, the meek and inoffensive cook from the house of Providence who was thrilled be included. Their fondest dream had come true; they were going to their own true home. They moved into the monastery on November 12, 1880. As she watched the orphans as running joyfully through the tall grass and wildflowers, she said to Bishop Gelmini and Monsignor Serrati: “Today his children know laughter, and their ringing voices are the bells announcing this, the new house of His Heart.”

The early days of the Codogno house were to become cherished memories for all of them. Francesca had just turned 30, yet her youthful appearance made her seem almost childlike. Her ethereal presence flitted through the Codogno house, moving with a lightness and swiftness that fascinated those around her. Despite this delicate exterior, she was a remarkably mature, determined, and wise woman. She possessed an endearing charm and charisma that won her friends wherever she went. She never struggled to attract vocations; instead, she drew souls to her, igniting their spirits with her fervor and ideals.

One night, a sister in an adjoining bed awoke, startled to see a radiant light surrounding Francesca’s short golden hair and face. Her expression was one of transfiguration, and her eyes reflected a vision ablaze with fervor. Alarmed, the sister cried out, causing the light to vanish. Mother Cabrini, noticing the commotion, asked, “What’s wrong, Daughter?” The Sister replied breathlessly, “The light! Mother, did you see it?” “Yes, daughter. It was nothing. Pray yourself back to sleep.” From that moment on, Francesca Cabrini would sleep alone in a small room.

There was much work ahead before she could hope to see her fledgling order thrive. Francesca and her Sisters went door to door in Codogno, appealing for donations of furnishings and money. She arranged credit with local merchants for flour, groceries, charcoal, milk, eggs, vegetables, meats and fish. She aimed to furnish the chapel and establish a private school within the house to generate income for supporting orphans. Simultaneously, she began formulating regulations for her Order. Her guiding principles would not consist of a convoluted theological maze or useless mortifications, but would instead focus clearly on imitating Christ. The Institute would embody the spirit of the Holy Family, ensuring all members were equal in love without preference or favoritism. They would wear simple, practical habits that would not hinder their labor. No veil was worn, but only a white bonnet, until Mother Cabrini and her first group of nuns later went to America, at which time they adopted a veil of black, lightweight fabric.

Francesca envisioned each new house as being independent and self-sufficient through begging, subscriptions, soliciting donations, and accepting paying pupils. The Mother Superior of each House would be chosen by Francesca based solely on administrative capability rather than sentimentality. She was resolute about not turning away those who were worthy, regardless of their physical strength. As time passed, more orphans and aspiring nuns sought refuge in her house; within a year of its purchase, it had to be enlarged.

From the outset, the question of what was possible and what was not was set aside. This was not due to any overconfidence; Francesca was naturally unassertive, retiring, and even timid. Rather, it stemmed from her deep faith in God. Almost daily, she would express the words of St. Paul: “I can do all things in Him who strengthens me.” These words became her personal motto and later the guiding principle of the Institute. She encouraged all the Sisters to embrace this same trust, telling them, “None of us will fail if we leave everything in the hands of God. Under Him, the question of possible and impossible ceases to have any meaning.”

It quickly became clear to the nuns at Codogno that they could expect anything to happen. A series of incidents unfolded that, while some could be explained through natural means, hinted at the marvelous—perhaps even the miraculous. Francesca herself refrained from labeling them as miracles, yet she could not prevent the Sisters from viewing them as such. These extraordinary events would continue throughout her life.

On one occasion, a Sister was sent to the kitchen to assist the cook, who was in distress over an empty milk container. The Sister approached Francesca’s room to report the situation and seek guidance. “Are you sure you looked well?” Francesca asked. “Yes, Mother. Sister Frances and I both checked. There isn’t a drop.” Raising her eyes heavenward, Mother Cabrini moved her lips in prayer before smiling and instructing, “Go down and look again more thoroughly this time.” The Sister complied and discovered that the can was filled to the brim.

In another instance, when Francesca learned from a Sister that the bread bin held only a few stale crusts, she said confidently, “You couldn’t have looked properly. Go look again.” The Sister was certain there was no bread left, but obeyed nonetheless—and found the bin overflowing with fresh loaves that they could not account for, since they had no money to purchase bread.

Father Gallone, the provost from the nearby town of Grumello, approached her with a request to open a school in his diocese. The establishment of this first branch of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart brought Francesca nearly as much joy as founding the Mother house in Codogno itself. By 1887, seven houses had blossomed under her guidance. At 37 years old, she felt an increasing impatience to embark on the missionary work she had long envisioned. She confided in Msgr. Serrati about her desire to establish her Institute in Rome and seek approval for missions across far lands. However, Msgr. Serrati hesitated at the enormity of her ambitions and suggested that such extraordinary endeavors should be left for saints.

One night, Francesca dreamt that the Christ Child appeared to her and said: “Francesca, go to Rome.” This gave her the determination to pursue her goal. Despite Msgr. Serrati’s attempts to discourage her, she firmly responded: “Dear and good Msgr. Serrati, I will not be deterred from the Way.” Reluctantly, he penned letters to acquaintances with connections in Rome. On September 24, 1887, Francesca and Sister Serafina boarded a train bound for Rome. As they traveled along the coast, Francesca gazed out at the sea for the first time — an awe-inspiring sight that marked another step in her extraordinary journey. At that moment, her phobia of water disappeared. She now regarded it as a symbol of the enormity of God, and as her road to the missions.

Francesca had two primary objectives for her journey to Rome: to secure papal approval for her Institute and to obtain permission to open a House in that city, from which all subsequent operations of the Institute could be directed. Upon arriving in Rome, she quickly learned that the key figure for her ambitions was Cardinal-Vicar Lucido Parocchi. Without delay, she sought an appointment, and after three days of waiting, the important prelate agreed to meet with her.

During their meeting, he questioned her about her Order and her intentions. Her swift and candid responses seemed to please him, eliciting a smile. However, he cautioned her that if he were to grant every fledgling Order’s request, every building in Rome would become an Institute. He graciously reviewed her handful of papers regarding the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart but pointed out significant gaps: where were the letters of recommendation? Where were the financial resources? Could she possibly raise a half-million lire to establish and sustain a Motherhouse in Rome?

“Francesca Cabrini, youthful mother,” he told her, “you are well appreciated in Codogno. Leave to the hands of the strong the foreign missions. Your Institute is too small, its background brief, and it has no money. For now, I suggest that you take your dream back with you to Codogno.”

Standing before him, she replied resolutely, “Forgive me, your Eminence. I will stay in Rome, for I know our Lord will change your heart. I thank you. God bless you.” It was only when she stepped out onto the street that she allowed her tears of disappointment to flow freely.

Thus began Francesca’s exhausting quest for approval and support to establish the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart in Rome. She often went without meals from dawn until dusk, knocking on every ecclesiastical door she could find, waiting hours in ante-chambers, writing letters, and walking endlessly through rain and cold in worn shoes. Despite her tireless efforts, she received little more than cautious advice and discouragement.

Francesca managed to secure a few more meetings with Cardinal Parocchi, who began to admire both the breadth of her vision and the passionate glow of her character. He found it increasingly difficult to resist her fervor. Finally, on the afternoon of October 22, he asked her pointedly, “Now, Francesca Cabrini, will you be obedient?” When she affirmed her willingness, he smiled and said, “Good. Well then, instead of the house you desire here for your missionary sisters, I request you to open two houses! I want you to establish a free school here in Porta Pia and a nursery in the suburb of Aspra. I can equip the schools, but your sisters will have to support themselves and pay rent.”

Overjoyed by this unexpected opportunity, Francesca shared the news with Msgr. Serrati in a letter. He responded enthusiastically, sending her every lire he could gather or borrow. With this support, she rented an unfurnished apartment on Via Nomentana and scoured junk shops and auctions for affordable furnishings. The apartment on Via Nomentana became the Rome Motherhouse for her Institute. Soon after, five of her Daughters arrived from Codogno to join her.

The Cardinal-Vicar Parocchi observed Francesca’s unswerving passion for Christ, as well as her remarkable wisdom and industriousness as she successfully established the schools at Porta Pia and Aspra with limited funds. She became dear to the Cardinal-Vicar, who, unbeknownst to her, highly recommended her at the Vatican. On March 12, 1888, she received a momentous acknowledgment from the Vatican: the recognition and approval of her Institute.

As she embarked on the ambitious project of opening a college in Piacenza, she forged a significant friendship with Bishop Giovanni Scalabrini. This relationship would herald her true mission in life. Bishop Scalabrini was deeply committed to providing moral and spiritual support to the ever-growing tide of Italian emigrants heading to America. The economic crisis of 1887 had prompted the Italian government to encourage emigration, leading to an annual outflow of approximately a quarter of a million people from Central and Southern Italy seeking work in labor-hungry America. Bishop Scalabrini took the emigrant cause to heart. He founded the St. Raphael’s Society, and in 1888, the Congregation of St. Charles Borromeo to minister to the emigrants’ spiritual needs. Two priests and a lay brother had taken over a former Protestant church in New York City, dedicating it to St. Joachim, while five other priests and two lay brothers had gone to South America to work with Italian emigrants there. Although the Bishop was doing what he could, it was pitifully inadequate. But when he met Francesca Cabrini, he recognized in her the ideal person for this mission. He spoke passionately to her about the plight of emigrants, declaring, “America needs your Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart, for there are prodigious works of light to be done.”

He had already spoken with Archbishop Corrigan of New York during a visit to Rome, who expressed a sincere desire for her to come and assist with orphanage work. When he mentioned this to Francesca, she replied, “But New York is too small a place for me.” The Bishop smiled. “Well, you ought to find the whole country of the United States large enough!” But Francesca smiled back and declared, “No, Your Excellency. For me the whole world is too small!”

At last, at the age of 38, Francesca was presented with the opportunity to cross the ocean. Yet, as she contemplated her journey to America, although far from the dark realms of China, Japan, India, and Africa, she felt an unexpected wave of fear wash over her. Uncertain about what lay ahead, she found herself at a crossroads, not knowing what God wanted her to do. However, on the eve of her long-anticipated audience with the Pope, she experienced a vivid dream. In it, her mother appeared alongside several saints and the Virgin Mary. Finally, Jesus Himself came to her, His Sacred Heart glowing with love and reassurance. He urged her gently: “Be courageous and fear not, for I am ever with you, and with Me you can do all things.”

The next morning, Bishop Scalabrini arrived in a carriage. Before he could speak, she shared her dream with him. He laughed joyfully and produced a letter from his pocket. “Here now is the dream you speak of,” he said. “It just came—a letter from New York. Archbishop Corrigan has an orphanage waiting for you there. Now you can actually depart for America!”

When Francesca finally met Pope Leo XIII, he was 78 years old and had been pontiff for ten years. His unique perspective on society encompassed concern for all classes—from the poor and humble to the affluent. He engaged her in conversation about her family, village life, childhood dreams, education, and the founding of her Institute. As he spoke, his demeanor reminded Francesca fondly of her father. He told her with a gentle chuckle that he was already well-acquainted with her story, but enjoyed hearing it from her own lips. He told her, “Sweet daughter, Cardinal Parocchi and others among my good sons tell me your dream of bearing light to the Orient.” He paused before shaking his head slowly. “No,” he said firmly. “The house and family of western civilization must first be put in order. Hundreds of thousands of our Italian souls in America have become lost like battered sheep—isolated from Christ and ordinary decency. The New World cries for the warmth and compassion of a mother’s heart—one tempered by love and sacrifice—the heart of an apostle.” He looked directly at Francesca Cabrini and declared: “You have that very heart. My daughter, your field awaits you not in the East but in the West. Francesca Cabrini, go to America! Plant there and cultivate the beautiful fruit of Christ!”

Back at the Codogno house, excitement filled the air as Francesca Cabrini attended a jubilant Mass celebrated by Bishop Scalabrini, with Monsignor Serrati also in attendance. The atmosphere was charged with joy, yet beneath it lay a current of urgency. Francesca and her six daughters had little time to prepare for their journey to Paris, where they would proceed to La Havre. They hastily packed their few personal belongings before bidding farewell. Bishop Scalabrini, with a warm smile, blessed each of the emigrating missionaries, presenting them with rosaries and crucifixes to carry with them on their new adventure.

On the morning of March 23, 1889, at the port of La Havre, Francesca and her daughters ascended the gangplank of the old French liner, Bourgogne (Burg-O-nya). As soon as the ship set sail, however, her daughters began to succumb to seasickness, one by one. Panic-stricken, they fled to their cabin in search of refuge from the rolling waves, leaving only Mother Cabrini remaining on deck. Were these the brave missionaries she had envisioned for America?

Among the 1,300 passengers aboard, 900 were emigrants crammed below deck in steerage—700 Italians and 200 Swiss. Though her daughters struggled with seasickness, they descended with Francesca into the depths of the ship to mingle with the emigrants. Almost everyone was battling nausea and despair. Yet when she spoke to them in their rich Italian dialect, their spirits lifted; they became animated and welcoming. Some of the men rallied around her, gallantly assisting in comforting the elderly and young children who were suffering.

On March 31, the first glimpse of American land appeared on the horizon. As dusk fell, the ship entered New York Bay. Towering above them stood the Statue of Liberty, silently holding aloft her burning torch—a beacon welcoming all who sought refuge and opportunity in this new land. Francesca Cabrini’s heart swelled with hope as she prepared to embark on her mission among those who needed it most.

Coming in Part Two: The New World – New York, Nicaragua, New Orleans

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 29, 2024

ST. MARGARET MARY ALACOQUE, Sacred Heart Visionary

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“I need nothing but God, and to lose myself in the heart of Jesus.” Those were the words written by an extraordinary woman whose life was utterly transformed by mystical encounters with Christ. Her name was St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, and her powerful visions of the Sacred Heart of Jesus left a lasting impact on the entire Church. If you’re ready to be inspired by the remarkable journey of this visionary saint – her profound faith, incredible supernatural encounters, and the great spiritual legacy she left behind – then keep reading as we explore the extraordinary life and mission of St. Margaret Mary, the Visionary of the Sacred Heart.

Margaret Mary Alacoque was born on July 22, 1647 in Verosvres, a small town in Burgundy, France, a region surrounded by a chain of jagged mountain peaks. She was the fifth of seven children born to Claude, the royal notary of the town, and Philiberte Lamyn Alacoque. Margaret had three older brothers and one younger brother, and two sisters, one older, one younger than she. Both sisters died young, leaving Margaret as the only surviving daughter of the family. The house of her birth consisted of two large buildings separated by a courtyard. The first house, called the cabinet house, was where Margaret was born and today is a chapel devoted to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

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. Despite this, Margaret Mary’s family were devout Catholics, and Margaret was devoted to Jesus Christ from early childhood. To make her behave, all an adult had to tell her was that her behavior was offensive to God, and she altered her conduct immediately. When she was 4-1/2, Margaret went to live with her godmother, Mademoiselle de Fautrieres de Corcheval, who was childless and greatly wanted Margaret with her. Since her godmother’s castle was near Margaret’s home, and her father often traveled and would be able to visit regularly, her parents consented.

The Château de Corcheval was an imposing castle, surrounded by mountains and forests. Margaret deeply appreciated its air of solitude. Just outside the gates of the castle was a chapel shaded by trees, where she often went to pray. Two of Mme. de Corcheval’s lady companions taught Margaret to pray, read and write, and als0 taught her catechism. She developed a great and tender devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Whenever her friends couldn’t find her in prayer at home, they looked in the church, where she usually was found in deep prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. This great love of prayer helped to make her one of the greatest contemplatives of the Church. Margaret wrote in her autobiography, “I was constantly urged to repeat these words, the sense of which I did not understand: ‘My God, I consecrate to Thee my purity! My God, I make to Thee a vow of perpetual chastity!’…I did not know what I had done nor what the words ‘vow’ and ‘chastity’ signified.” She only understood them as giving the complete gift of herself to God.

In 1655, when Margaret was eight, her godmother died, and Margaret returned to her family. At the end of that same year, her father, Claude, who was only 41, died of pneumonia. Though an honest, devout Christian, he was a poor businessman who did not pay his debts nor collect his fees, leaving his family only a modest amount. Margaret’s mother was determined to remedy their financial situation, which caused her to have to travel frequently. So, her two eldest sons were sent to Cluny and the other two went to their Uncle Antoine Alacoque, a priest and the cure’ of Verosvres. Margaret was sent to the Poor Clares of Charolles. Her time there made such an impression on her that she realized this was the kind of life God wanted her to have, even though the Poor Clares Order was not hidden enough to suit her. The nuns prepared her for First Holy Communion at the age of nine. She was a lively little girl who loved playtime and amusements, but after her First Communion she no longer found them as attractive.

Shortly thereafter, she became seriously ill and had to return back home, where she was tenderly cared for by her mother and brothers. Despite their excellent care, she did not seem to be getting better. In Margaret’s own words, “They could find no cure for my malady till they gave me to the Blessed Virgin. They promised her if I were cured, I should someday be one of her daughters. They had no sooner made the vow than I was cured. I ever after experienced the Blessed Virgin’s protection…as of one belonging entirely to her.” During her long hours of convalescence, Margaret felt strongly attracted to prayer. She was more determined than ever to belong unreservedly to God.

It was only after she recovered from her illness that Margaret noticed all the unfortunate changes that had come over the household. Her mother’s efforts to reestablish the family fortune had not succeeded. A new lease of the land was made in the name of her Uncle Touissant Delaroche, who took over its management. His wife became the absolute mistress of the home, where Margaret’s grandmother Mme. Alacoque and her unmarried daughter Catherine were already living. Margaret’s mother was pushed aside, divested of any influence in the household, and treated very unkindly.

Of this Margaret wrote: “God permitted my mother to be deprived of authority in her own house and forced to yield to others. Those in charge so lorded it over her that both she and I were soon reduced to a state of captivity….We had no freedom in our own house, everything was under lock and key, so that I could not even find my apparel when I wished to go to Holy Mass. I was even obliged to borrow clothes. It was at this time that with all my strength I sought my consolation in the most Blessed Sacrament.” But because they lived in the country, far from the church, Margaret could not go to church without the permission of the family. This often was withheld with an absurd accusation that Margaret was covering up a secret rendezvous under the pretense of going to Mass or Benediction.

Hurt and frustrated, Margaret would hide in a corner of the garden, in the stable, or in some other secluded place, where she knelt and poured out her heart in tears to the Blessed Virgin. She remained there for days without eating or drinking. The other people in the village, pitying her, would come in the evening to give her some food. She would finally return to the house fearful and trembling, where she then was accused of neglecting the house and children, and was not allowed to speak in her own defense. God was her only refuge from all her trials. She prayed continuously, and began to practice austere penances.

But the greatest cross to Margaret at this time was her inability to help her mother in any significant way. When her mother became ill, she was left entirely in Margaret’s care. Margaret was unable to obtain from the head of the household the necessary nourishment for her mother, so she had to beg for eggs and other nutritious food from the people in the village. This was a great trial to Margaret, who was naturally timid and often was received very rudely. One time, her mother was gravely ill, and the doctor said that nothing short of a miracle could save her life. Margaret ran to the church and begged God to heal her mother. When she returned home, her mother was much improved and was completely healed within a few days.

Enduring her relatives’ cruelty was heroic for Margaret. She had a tender, sensitive nature and blossomed under attention and affection, which was sorely lacking in her present environment. Aside from church, her favorite spot was a little wooded area in a valley right outside the gardens that surrounded the house. This would become Margaret’s chosen refuge, where she liked to pray and where she had her first visions. From there she could see the main altar of the church, which was less than half a mile away. Leaning on a rock, she would spend hours in contemplation. At night from her window she could see the little lamp burning before the tabernacle.

It was during this difficult period that the Lord Jesus began to appear to Margaret. In her innocent way, she thought that everyone was favored with such visions, so she did not think it out of the ordinary. She usually saw Jesus crucified or carrying His cross. These visions allowed her to regard her malicious relatives as instruments through whom God would accomplish His holy will, and she was able to treat them with charity.

When Margaret was 17, her circumstances dramatically changed for the better. Her eldest brothers, who were now of age, took charge of the business affairs. Her mother was once again in a position of authority in the household. During the previous 10 years, their Uncle Toussaint, who had most likely died by this time, had regained the fortunes of the family. This meant that now Margaret and her siblings were free to enjoy their lives once again. Since most of them were of marriageable age, there was much social activity at the house. Margaret herself was attracting a lot of attention, and had already received a few good offers of marriage. In appearance, Margaret is said to have been a little above average height and of a delicate constitution. She had an expressive face with soft, clear eyes. Her personality was agreeable and vivacious, her manner cheerful and graceful, yet with keen intelligence, solid judgement, a noble soul and a great heart.

Although she maintained her pure, innocent nature, once released from her previous adversity, she now delighted in parties and amusements, cut her prayers short, and stayed away from confession. Lively and bright, she was so fond of fun that it could have led her astray, had she not constantly sought the guidance of Our Lord. At times she would be pierced by remorse, beg God for forgiveness and undertake severe penances. “In spite of all this,” she said. “I fell once again into vanity, and again I offered the same resistance.” One day, during Carnival time, she returned from a masked ball to find the Lord waiting for her. She wrote of this encounter: “My Sovereign Master presented Himself before me all disfigured as He was during his flagellation. He reproached me saying that…I was losing infinitely precious time, of which he would demand of me a rigorous account.” After this experience, Margaret wept bitterly and again subjected herself to severe penances.

She had not forgotten her vow of chastity, and did not want to marry. She felt great pressure to do so by her family, however, especially her mother, who seemed to feel that her own future would be more secure once Margaret was married and settled. On the other hand, Margaret strongly felt God’s urging to honor her earlier vow. Torn between love for God and love for her mother, Margaret suffered much mental anguish for the next several years. She wondered whether she was truly bound by her childhood vow, since she had not fully understood it at the time. She also felt that she was not worthy of a religious vocation. She decided to devote herself to the service of the poor, giving whatever extra money she had to needy children. She also taught them prayers and catechism in a large room within the Alacoque home. She visited their families and nursed the sick ones, despite the fact that she had a horror of blood, wounds and disease.

When Margaret was 20 years old, and still torn between loyalty to her mother and loyalty to God, her two older brothers died within a short time of one another. Her brother Chrysostom then became sole proprietor of the estate and head of the family, and married at the age of 22. James, her youngest brother, was preparing for Holy Orders. Her mother, remembering her past sufferings at the hands of relatives, did not want to live in a household ruled by a daughter-in-law. She tearfully begged Margaret to make a decision to marry and bring her to live with her and her husband. Chrysostom told Margaret it was high time she got married, and James offered her half of his inheritance as a dowry, to further persuade her.

In the midst of all this pressure, God came to the rescue. One day, after Holy Communion, He said to her, “If you are faithful to me, I shall never leave you. I will render you victorious over all your enemies….If you are faithful to me, I shall teach you to know me and shall manifest myself to you.” Arriving home from church, she told her family of her decision. Her mother, convinced that Margaret really meant it, no longer insisted that she marry. In her memoirs, Margaret wrote, “After this, my mother shed no more tears in my presence, but she wept before all with whom she spoke on the subject. Those persons never failed to tell me that if I left her, I would be the cause of her death.”

Despite Margaret’s resolve, her family was not yet convinced. But now she was sure of what she was going to do and lived in peace about her decision. While visiting some relatives in Macon, she learned that her cousin, a pious young woman, was preparing to enter the Ursuline convent. She urged Margaret to come with her. But Margaret preferred to enter a convent where she knew no one, so that her only motive would be the love of God.

Around this time, her brother Chrysostom arrived to take her home, because her mother was very sick and not expected to live. Margaret wrote, “They made me understand that my mother could not live without me, and that I should have to answer to God for her death. This was told to me even by ecclesiastics, which caused me cruel suffering, as I tenderly loved my mother. The devil made use of this ruse to make me believe that my mother’s death would be the cause of my eternal damnation.”

In this state of mental torment, Margaret poured out her tears and prayers at the foot of the crucifix. God answered her prayers by gradually changing the hearts of her family members. A visiting priest of the Order of St. Francis became friendly with the family and had a serious discussion with Chrysostom about his opposition to Margaret’s vocation. Fearful of offending God, Chrysostom had a long talk with Margaret and realized how determined she was about her vocation. He immediately arranged for her departure and accompanied her to the Convent of the Visitation in Paray-le-Monial, which she had decided upon. No sooner had she crossed the threshold than she heard an interior voice whisper, “Here it is that I wish you to be.” She returned home to say her last, heart-rending farewells. Upon leaving her mother, she was swept with a terrible wave of bitterness. “It seemed to me,” she said, “that my soul was being torn from my body.”

She entered the convent of the Visitation on May 25, 1671, at the age of 23. Shortly thereafter, she asked Mother Thouvant, the Mistress of Novices, just what she could do to give herself entirely to God. MotherThouvant answered, “Go place yourself before God like canvas before a painter.”

On Aug. 25, 1671, Margaret received her habit. Almost immediately afterwards, she began to sense the constant presence of the Lord. As one witness at her canonization described, “She was so united to God that, whether working, writing, or reading, she was always on her knees with such recollection as one might expect to see in church.”

The Lord appeared to her in visions from time to time, encouraging and consoling her, and sometimes reproving her for her faults. The other nuns, not knowing about this, were baffled by her behavior. As one biographer put it: “What most astonished the Sisters was not only the long hours that she passed on her knees in the choir or in her cell, her face radiant, her eyes full of tears, but the state of constant abstraction from which it was necessary to arouse her. Her work fell from her hands, and she forgot everything. The poor child’s soul was in heaven, and she did not know how to conduct herself on earth.”

*Margaret Mary as a novice,*
*in an ecstatic state*

The Mistress of Novices told Margaret that her behavior was not in accordance with the spirit of the Visitation Order, and if she did not change it she would not be allowed to profess her final vows.

Of this Margaret wrote: “I made every effort to follow the method of prayer taught me, along with other practices; but my mind retained nothing of all those teachings. The beautiful points of prayer vanished, and I could neither learn nor retain anything but what my Divine Master taught me. This made me suffer greatly, for His operations in me were frustrated as much as possible, and I had to resist Him as much as I was able.” To help her overcome her state of absorption, Margaret Mary was assigned as an aide to the Mistress of the Infirmary, who was told to keep her constantly employed. Margaret swept floors, cleaned the nuns’ cells, weeded the garden, and other such tasks. Not being allowed time for prayer, she went to the Mistress and asked if she could resume it. She was reprimanded sharply, told she needed to learn how to unite prayer and labor, and sent on to other numerous and demanding tasks.

It was now August 1672, and Margaret was not yet called to her final vows. She was admired for her humility, obedience, and charity, and although not skillful in domestic ways, she was so willing and eager that the other nuns were touched by her goodness of heart. Yet, as one witness at her canonization attested, “I heard from the Superioress and Mistress of Novices that she would one day be a saint, but that she was so extraordinary that perhaps she was not intended to live out her life at the Visitation.”

Around this time, 52-year-old Mother Marie-Francoise de Saumaise became the Superior of the Visitation convent. She possessed good judgement and fairness, was extremely kind, and had a perfect understanding of the rules of the Visitation Order. She immediately recognized in Margaret Mary the workings of the Spirit of God, and decided she should be allowed to take her final vows on Nov. 6, 1672. Following this, Margaret rapidly increased in virtue to the point that the whole community was astonished. She entered into a state of entire absorption in God. The other Sisters constantly were having to rouse her from this absorption, and they found her often in the chapel, where she knelt motionless for hours with closed eyes and joined hands, seeing and hearing nothing. But if she was asked to do something in the name of obedience, she responded immediately.

Another Sister once asked her, “My dear Sister, how can you remain kneeling so long?” Margaret replied, “At such times I do not even know that I have a body.” In today’s terms, it would seem that these were out-of-body experiences, where her spirit resided in the heavenly realm while her body remained on earth. The Sisters called her an “ecstatic.” Other saints who were considered ecstatics were Francis of Assisi, Catherine of Siena and Teresa of Avila, to name just a few.

It was during such ecstatic episodes that Margaret received the grand revelations of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. There were four distinct revelations in all, each separated by a considerable period of time. The first occurred on Dec. 27, 1673. As Margaret Mary knelt before the Blessed Sacrament, she felt entirely filled with the Divine Presence. The Lord said to 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.”

He told Margaret Mary nothing more at this point, except that He was going to use her to make this known to the world, but did not tell her when or how. Then Jesus asked for her heart, which she willingly gave, and placed it within His Sacred Heart.

The second revelation took place on July 2, 1674. 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 promised that if an image of His Heart was venerated and worn over a person’s heart, He would “imprint His love on their hearts and destroy all unruly inclinations.”

*Sacred Heart of Jesus Revelation to*
*St. Margaret Mary*

Shortly after this vision, Margaret Mary came down with a fever that resisted every remedy. The Mother Superior commanded her to ask God for healing, saying that she would recognize such a healing as a sign of the genuinely supernatural character of Margaret’s visions. After Margaret Mary obediently said a short prayer, her fever vanished, her pulse steadied, and the physician pronounced her cured. Now Mother de Saumaise was faced with a dilemma. The instantaneous cure seemed an acknowledgment of Sr. Margaret’s sanctity. But although Margaret’s visions were extraordinary, she was only 26 and had been a nun for merely two years. After seeking counsel, the Mother Superior concluded that Margaret Mary’s case might involve an overactive imagination and maybe some cleverly disguised illusion of the evil spirit.

When she was told this, Margaret Mary did not know what to do. She tried to resist the interior attractions, fearing that she was in error. “But I could not succeed,” she wrote. “It was impossible for me to resist the spirit that moved me.” One day, while pouring out her heart in prayer, she heard a voice say to her: “Have patience, and await My servant.” She didn’t know what the words meant, but felt comforted knowing that she would receive God’s assistance when the time was right.

It wasn’t long before Margaret Mary met this foretold “servant of the Lord,” who would become her spiritual director, invaluable friend and ally. He was Claude de la Colombiere, a 32-yr.-old Jesuit priest who arrived at the convent to give a conference to the Sisters. When Margaret Mary arrived at the conference, she naturally had no idea he was. But she distinctly heard an interior voice say, “Behold him whom I send to you.” When Fr. de la Colombiere later heard Margaret Mary’s confession, he spoke as if he knew everything that was going on in her soul. Although hesitant at first, before the priest left Paray, Margaret Mary confided everything to him. She emerged from this conversation enlightened and consoled. Father de la Colombiere had told her not to fear the guidance of the Spirit, as long as it did not interfere with her religious obedience. He advised her to follow Its instructions, and that she should make continual thanksgiving for such great favors.

On June 16, 1675, the last of the four Sacred Heart revelations took place, during which 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 Margaret His requests for devotion to His Sacred Heart, and also made 12 promises of graces that would be bestowed upon all who follow the devotion.

For more about the Sacred Heart devotion and promises, check out my post, “Unlock the Power: The Sacred Heart Devotion”.

Then Jesus charged her with her great public mission to make devotion to His Sacred Heart known throughout the world. Margaret Mary asked, “Lord, how can I?” But Jesus told her to address herself to that servant of God who had been sent to her expressly for the accomplishment of this task — meaning, of course, Father de la Colombiere. When Margaret Mary confided all this to the priest, he asked for a written account that he could study. After examining it carefully and seeking the guidance of the Holy Spirit, Father de la Colombiere told Margaret that she could rely on it, for it indeed came from Heaven. On June 21, Margaret Mary and Father de la Colombiere solemnly consecrated themselves to the Divine Heart of Jesus.

After the last revelation, Margaret fell into a period of intense physical and mental suffering. Her health failed, and she became an object of speculation and suspicion to the other Sisters, who could not comprehend her strange mystical behavior. This is understandable, since they did not know about her visions and revelations. Only her Superiors and Father de la Colombiere knew of these. The Community was divided in opinion about her. They acknowledged her virtue, but her conduct was baffling to them. Some of the Sisters wondered if she were possessed by the devil, and some even sprinkled holy water when they passed her.

In June 1678, Mother Greyfie was elected Superior in place of Mother de Saumaise. She was an austere, rigorous character who had “an extreme distrust for the guidance of extraordinary souls.” It seems that God brought her to the convent to prove beyond a doubt the authenticity of Sister Margaret Mary’s mission. Mother Greyfie, who had heard from Mother de Saumaise about the four Sacred Heart revelations, resolved to ignore them and to see that Margaret adhered in all things to the common life of the Community. She called Margaret Mary to account for whatever went wrong in the convent, and began to take away the permissions that Margaret had previously been granted. One of these was the Holy Hour every week on the night between Thursday and Friday that our Lord had requested of her. Margaret obeyed, but when the Lord in a vision appeared irritated, she feared that a terrible punishment would come upon the community. She told this to Mother Greyfie, who paid no attention. But one day shortly thereafter, one of the youngest and most likable sisters died suddenly and unexpectedly. Mother Greyfie took this as a sign of the Lord’s anger, and quickly restored Margaret’s permission to resume her Holy Hour.

Mother Greyfie still enforced the rest of her orders upon Margaret Mary, however, and paid no attention to Margaret’s physical maladies. Even when Margaret was sick with a high fever, she was obliged to follow every exercise of the Community. Mother Greyfie did not act this way to be cruel; she was responsible for the souls of the Sisters in her charge, and did not want to be a victim of deception. To rise above her doubts once and for all, she resolved to demand a miracle that would have many witnesses. She commanded that Mary Margaret should follow all the Community exercises for five months without once returning to the infirmary due to illness. She told Margaret Mary to ask the Lord to grant her the health to be able to carry this out and not be a burden to the Community, until the the feast day of the Presentation of Our Lady, 5 months in the future. Margaret Mary proceeded to follow these instructions to the letter. There occurred an instantaneous cure, followed by perfect health. But at the end of the five months, on the day designated by Mother Greyfie, Margaret Mary’s condition relapsed so severely that God’s intervention seemed evident.

Shortly thereafter, Father de la Colombiere returned to France and once again visited the Convent in Paray. He had long conversations with Mother Greyfie about Margaret Mary, whom he had always held in high esteem. He told Mother Greyfie that he truly believed that “what passed in this dear Sister came from God.” Upon meeting with Margaret Mary again, it appeared to him that Mother Greyfie’s severity had served to increase Margaret’s virtue and the divinity of her revelations. Father de la Colombiere was by this time extremely ill, and spent his last 6 months of life in Paray. His final wish was to be buried near the altar where Jesus had appeared to Margaret Mary. He died on Feb. 15, 1682. Today he is known as St. Claude de la Colombiere, having been canonized by Pope John Paul II on May 31, 1992.

Mother Greyfie’s six years of being Superior were ending, and Mother Marie-Christine Melin took her place. She was exceedingly kind, and her personality was directly opposite from the severity of her predecessor. She understood the workings of Margaret’s soul and shared with her all the new devotions. She appointed Sister Margaret Mary Mistress of Novices. The novices loved her, because Margaret enkindled the fire of Divine love in their hearts, animated them with her words, and inspired them by example to emulate her. Without disclosing her part in the revelations, she spoke to them of the beauty and treasures of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the graces they could obtain through devotion to it.

“The Divine Heart is an ocean full of all good things, wherein poor souls can cast all their needs,” she said. “It is an ocean full of joy to drown all our sadness, an ocean of humility to drown our folly, an ocean of mercy to those in distress, an ocean of love in which to submerge our poverty.”

Up to now, none of the Sisters except the Superiors knew that Margaret was the recipient of the Sacred Heart apparitions. But this secret was revealed one day by accident. Mother Melin asked one of the Sisters to read to the Community some notes written by Father de la Colombiere during a retreat. Towards the end of these notes, he described a conversation he’d had with the person who had received the Sacred Heart revelations. Although he did not mention Margaret Mary by name, the nun who was reading suddenly discerned that it was Margaret Mary. As she later said, “When I came to what concerned the revelation of the Sacred Heart, I looked at the venerable Sister. She was sitting with her eyes lowered and looking profoundly annihilated…The Community, feeling the same emotions, understood then that it was Margaret who had made these predictions.”

Devotion to the Sacred Heart slowly began to spread from convents and monasteries to the faithful public.. On Feb. 4, 1689, on the First Friday of the month, the first Catholic Mass in honor of the Sacred Heart of Jesus took place in the chapel of the Convent of the Visitation, in the presence of only the Community. The first public Mass in honor of the Heart was celebrated on the Feast of the Sacred Heart, 19 days after Pentecost, in the Church of the Visitation.

In 1690, Margaret Mary felt her life was drawing to a close, and she begged the Mother Superior to destroy everything that she had ever written, so that no attention would be given to her after her death. Of course, this request, made out of humility, was ignored. She was regarded by all the Sisters as a holy and privileged soul, and they privately looked upon her as already a saint. Despite her angelic and pure expression, her clear gaze seemed to penetrate one’s very soul, and she often had the ability to read hearts. But this was not intimidating, because of her sweetness and modesty. Small miracles seemed to follow her. One day, another Sister wounded herself while splitting wood with an axe. Not wanting to create a fuss, she hid the wound, but when Margaret passed nearby, she secretively touched her wound to Margaret’s garment. The next morning, there was no trace of the wound.

Margaret spoke often of her impending death, but since she was only 43 yrs. old and relatively healthy, no one took it seriously. But she sweetly and humbly insisted that it would be that year, and even told them how it would happen at a time when they were least expecting it. She even named the two Sisters whose arms would hold her as she died.

In the Fall of 1690, the day before she was to begin her retreat she came down with a slight fever. The doctor reassured the Sisters that it was nothing serious, and to all outward appearances, this seemed to be the case. But Margaret Mary, knowing better, asked for a particular Sister, saying that she wanted her nearby when she died. To this Sister, she looked to be suffering, not so much physically, but from inner, spiritual pains that were difficult to discern. Margaret Mary told the other Sister of her all-consuming desire to be with God in Heaven, but said she would remain on earth as long as God willed it.

On Oct. 16, she begged to be given Last Rites, but as she did not appear to be dying, it was refused. So she asked at least to be given Holy Communion. When the Host was brought to her, she opened her arms wide and fervently thanked Jesus for coming to her. She then received what was to be her last Communion on earth.

The next day, she had some fainting spells and again asked for Last Rites, and was again refused. The doctor said he did not feel she was near death, but Margaret replied, “You’ll see!” That evening, she had a slight convulsion, and the Sister tending her ran to call the Mother Superior. When she came, and mentioned summoning the doctor, Margaret said, “Mother, I no longer need anyone but God alone, and to be buried in the Heart of Jesus.” All the Sisters gathered around her bed, weeping. Margaret Mary rallied enough to tell them all to love God without division or reserve. She then asked once again for the Last Rites. As the priest administered the Sacrament, she tried to raise herself up for the anointing. Two Sisters went spontaneously to support her in their arms. Though no one remembered until later, these were the same two Sisters that Margaret had predicted would be holding her when she died.

Margaret Mary passed from this life to the next at 7:00 p.m. on Oct. 17, 1690, with the name of Jesus on her lips. At that moment, the cry “The saint is dead!” was proclaimed throughout the town. For two days, the townspeople came to view her body, and touched it with chaplets, medals and crucifixes to obtain a blessed relic. She was buried near the spot upon which she had knelt when the Lord appeared to her.

In 1824, the cause for the canonization of Margaret Mary Alacoque was begun. Two extraordinary cures followed. She was beatified on Sept. 4, 1864 and canonized on May 13, 1920. St. Margaret Mary is the patron saint of devotees of the Sacred Heart, those suffering from polio, and those who have lost parents. Her feast day is celebrated on October 16.

PRAYER OF ST. MARGARET MARY TO THE SACRED HEART OF JESUS

Lord Jesus, let my heart never rest until it finds You, who are its center, its love, and its happiness. By the wound in Your heart, pardon the sins that I have committed, whether out of malice or out of evil desires. Place my weak heart in Your own divine Heart, continually under Your protection and guidance, so that I may persevere in doing good and in fleeing evil until my last breath. Amen.

– St. Margaret Mary Alacoque

May 19, 2024

Getting Life Direction from the Holy Spirit

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Do you sometimes feel lost and confused about what direction to take in your life? Some years ago, I was facing a lot of changes and adjustments, as well as new opportunities and possibilities, including a new job. Naturally, I was feeling excited yet stressed, encouraged yet confused. I was praying about all of it, of course. Several years prior, I had discovered Cardinal Mercier’s prayer to the Holy Spirit, which I talk about in my video, “Inviting the Holy Spirit into Your Life.” If you haven’t seen it, I encourage you to watch it after you have finished this video. Watching my video to the end tremendously helps my channel with YouTube’s algorithm.

Anyway, I said Cardinal Mercier’s prayer every morning, adding at the end of it another little prayer based on Psalm 25:4-5: “Show me the path where I should go, O Lord; teach me the right road to walk. Lead me in Your truth and teach me Your ways, for You are God my Savior, and my hope is in You all day long.”

Despite all the prayer, I still felt somewhat overwhelmed. So I asked the Holy Spirit for a sign to help me know what direction to take with some of my goals. One night, I had the following dream, which I titled “The Unknown Road.”

As the dream begins, I am driving my car along a beautiful but unfamiliar country road. I am alone, with no particular destination in mind – just going for a ride on a beautiful summer day. I am driving carefully, especially at intersections, although there is little traffic in that rural area. The scenery is gorgeous, with gentle, rolling green hills in the distance, and the sky is a lovely blue with some puffy cumulus clouds. But then I notice some wisps of black in the sky and become frightened, thinking a storm is approaching. Then I see some men fixing the road up ahead and realize that it had not been black clouds that I had seen, but smoke rising from a machine that is mixing hot asphalt.

The road then ends at a “T”-type intersection. I don’t know whether to turn left or right. I pull over to the side, stop the car and get out, looking for a street or destination sign, but see none. The scenery here is breathtaking, because up ahead I see beautiful mountains and an enormous cathedral, bigger than any building I’ve ever seen, with the ornate, beautiful architecture common in old cathedrals. As I scan the panorama, I’m dismayed to see some ugly industrial buildings to the right and left in the distance. I think what a shame it is that they’re spoiling the beautiful landscape. The sight of them lends an eerie, desolate aspect to the scenery, giving me a creepy feeling. I wonder if I should ask someone where I am, so that I can figure out how to get back home. At first I resist, because I really had wanted to figure it out for myself, but with no signs to guide me, it doesn’t seem possible.

As the dream ends, I realize that I’ll have to ask someone for directions.

When I awoke, I realized how perfectly symbolic this dream was of my current situation. Roads, of course, symbolize the path we are taking in life. The road I was on, though beautiful, was rather narrow, which brought to mind “the narrow way” mentioned in the Gospels, and it was long and winding, showing that I still have far to go. The black clouds that I saw, which turned out to be harmless smoke from a truck doing street repairs, seemed to mean that some of my fears were groundless, and that my attempts to “repair” the things that are wrong in my life might be scary and upsetting sometimes, but necessary.

The T-intersection symbolized the fact that I can’t travel in the same direction forever; eventually I will come to a crossroads and have to make a decision and choose a new direction. I believed that the great cathedral in the distance represented my spiritual aspirations, and its huge size showed that it was an extremely important aspect of my life. The industrial buildings felt “creepy” and also made me angry with the way they ruined the beautiful landscape. Since industry is another word for work, I felt that they symbolized my fear of being overwhelmed with mundane work to the point where I’d be unable to fulfill my higher ambitions and spiritual goals.

The dream was inconclusive, because it ended with my still being at the crossroads. To get more insight into this dream and what it might be trying to tell me, I put my mind into a passive, receptive state and used my personal method to connect with Divine guidance. I received the following message about my dream, which I believe was inspired by the Holy Spirit:

“Become as a traveler who is not totally sure of the way, so he asks Someone who knows the area well to guide him. From the traveler’s viewpoint, sometimes the road will be deceptive. He might think one direction will lead him where he wants to go, only to find that it winds around and around, and he ends up back where he started. The wise traveler will admit his ignorance of the way and seek help. He will follow the direction of a knowledgeable person, even though sometimes the road that is pointed out seems like it could not possibly be the right one. The shortest path is sometimes the wrong one, and the experienced guide will know this, but the traveler, who is unfamiliar with the territory, will not.

“If sometimes the road ahead looks deceptively easy and you are fooled into thinking it is the right one, you might get lost. But if you seek the help of God, Who knows the way, you will never go wrong. You still might have to travel a great distance, go over many obstacles and follow a very tortuous road, but in the end you will reach your goal.

“The traveler who goes nowhere is the one who is too proud to ask directions, who goes his own way no matter what the circumstances. Do not be like this traveler, but like the one who is humble enough to know when he needs guidance.

“Ignore those who will tell you that sometimes you must hurt others to get ahead. If you aspire to this sort of success, you are on the wrong path. ‘Getting ahead’ this way is only a euphemism for selfishly grasping at things that are only temporary. This will give you nothing but grief. You will ponder what you achieved and find it empty. Honor first what God has asked of you — to use your gifts and talents for the benefit of others and to glorify God. If you do this, you will achieve your goals, find true contentment, and overcome the obstacles which hinder your growth. This will give you a freedom that no earthly success can ever give. Do not heed the discordant voices that try to lead you astray. They are only empty noise in a space that is devoid of any true peace or happiness.”

I have shared this dream and message to encourage you, if you are feeling lost and confused about what direction to take in your own life. After you consider all the known choices you can make and paths you can take, surrender it to God. Ask to be shown the way, through your own inner guidance. Do not depend only on your intellect; leave room for your intuition and inner knowing. Open your mind to possibilities and opportunities you may have not considered yet, and try not to cling stubbornly to ideas that clearly are not working out and need to be revised or discarded.

It’s funny how we usually trust a GPS system to tell us how to get to a destination. If we make a wrong turn and find ourselves being corrected by the GPS, would we sit in our car and argue with it, insisting that the road we took, which is clearly in the opposite direction, is the right one and that the GPS is wrong? No, most of the time we will follow the GPS directions without question. Yet, when our inner guidance, directed by Higher Power, is emphatically showing us that we need to take a detour, we question and resist it. A GPS system can sometimes be wrong; but God is never wrong. So, let’s give God at least as much trust as we put into our modern-day, man-made technology!

Here are some Scripture verses about God’s guidance. I hope they will inspire you in your own life’s journey:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” ~ Proverbs 3:5-6

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will guide you with My eye.” ~ Psalm 32:8

“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him.” ~ James 1:5

“Your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it,’ whenever you turn to the right hand or whenever you turn to the left.” ~ Isaiah 30:21

“Your word is a lamp to my feet And a light to my path.” ~ Psalm 119:105

And finally, take comfort in the promise of Isaiah 42:16: “I will bring the blind by a way they did not know; I will lead them in paths they have not known. I will make darkness light before them, And crooked places straight. These things I will do for them, And not forsake them.”

Everyday Life Spirituality

A practical spiritual approach to a more meaningful life

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VENERABLE PIERRE TOUSSAINT: From Haitian Slave to Hairstylist to Holiness

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PT. 4 of 4: ST. FRANCESCA CABRINI – THE FINAL YEARS

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Releasing Negative Thoughts & Feelings

Turning Negative Thoughts Around

Self-awareness is the key

How to Deal with Persistent Negative Thoughts

Identifying Habitual Thought Patterns

ST. FRANCESCA CABRINI – PART ONE

PATRON OF IMMIGRANTS & FIRST U.S. CITIZEN SAINT

THE EARLY YEARS: ITALY, 1850 – 1889

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THE BLESSED FAMILY OF ASSISI

The Family of St. Clare

ST. CLARE OF ASSISI: “The Other Francis”

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KATERI TEKAWITHA, “Lily of the Mohawks”

First Native American Woman Saint

ST. MARGARET MARY ALACOQUE, Sacred Heart Visionary

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Getting Life Direction from the Holy Spirit

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To watch the YouTube video, which includes BOTH Parts 3 & 4, click arrow in thumbnail below:

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Turning Negative Thoughts Around

Self-awareness is the key

How to Deal with Persistent Negative Thoughts

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PATRON OF IMMIGRANTS & FIRST U.S. CITIZEN SAINT

THE EARLY YEARS: ITALY, 1850 – 1889

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The Family of St. Clare

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First Native American Woman Saint

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