Monica was born to Christian parents at Tagaste in North Africa in 333 AD. At a young age she was married to a pagan official named Patritius and had three children, Augustine, Navigius and Perpetua. Patritius later converted to Christianity, but he died shortly after being received into the Church and Monica resolved not to re-marry. Monica signed her sons with the cross and enrolled them as catachumens. Augustine deferred being baptised into the faith. He moved to Carthage to study there, took a mistress who bore him a son and embraced Manichaeism, a Persian gnostic religion. But after writing a work on aesthetics he began to doubt and repudiate Manichaeism which claimed that the Christian scriptures had been falsified. Augustine failed to find in it the science of the laws of nature which he he had sought. In 383 he secretly travelled to Rome and set up a school of rhetoric but gave up the venture when his students defrauded him of his tuition fees. Attracted by a vacant teaching position in Milan, he moved there and came under the influence of Ambrose, Bishop of Milan.
Monica, having followed Augustine to Rome, joined him in Milan and continued to pray earnestly for his conversion. On the eve of Easter in 387, Augustine was baptised by Ambrose in the Cathedral of Milan. It was on this occasion, so it is said, that the solemn hymn Te Deum was composed and chanted for the first time. Later that year Augustine and Monica left Milan and travelled to Ostia. There they took lodgings and were preparing to leave for their African homeland when Monica took ill with a fever and died. Saint Augustine later wrote:
She and I stood alone, leaning in a certain window, from which the garden of the house we occupied at Ostia could be seen; at which place, removed from the crowd, we were resting ourselves for the voyage after the fatigues of a long journey. We then were conversing alone very pleasantly... Scarcely five days after, or not much more, she was prostrated by fever; and while she was sick, she one day sank into a swoon, and was for a short time unconscious of visible things. We hurried up to her; but she soon regained her senses, and gazing on me and my brother as we stood by her, she said to us inquiringly, “Where was I?” Then looking intently at us stupefied with grief, “Here,” says she, “will you bury your mother”... On the ninth day, then, of her sickness, the fifty-sixth year of her age, and the thirty-third of mine, was that religious and devout soul set free from the body.
Monica was laid to rest in Ostia but in the sixth century her relics were translated to the nearby Basilica of Saint Aurea and were placed in a hidden crypt.In the thirteenth century a cult of Saint Monica began to develop and a feast in her honour was established on the 4th of May. In 1430 Pope Martin V ordered her relics to be brought to Rome. They were initially kept at the Chiesa di San Trifone in Posterula (which was demolished in 1746). On the 9th of April 1432 they were placed in a chapel in the Basilica of Sant’Agostino (now the Basilica dei SS. Trifone e Agostino) in the Campo Marzio.
Dom Prosper Gueranger:
In the company of our Risen Lord there are two women, two mothers, of whom we have often had to speak during the last few weeks. They are Mary, mother of James the Less, Thaddeus and Salome, mother of James the Greater and John the beloved disciple. They went with Magdalene to the Sepulchre on the Resurrection morning. They carried spices to anoint the body of Jesus. They were spoken to by Angels and, as they returned to Jerusalem, our Lord appeared to them, greeted them, and allowed them to kiss His sacred feet. Since that day He has repaid their love by frequently appearing to them, and on the day of His Ascension from Mount Olivet, they will be there, together with our Blessed Lady and the Apostles, to receive his farewell blessing. Let us honour these faithful companions of Magdalene, these models of the love we should show to our Lord in His Resurrection. Let us also venerate them as mothers who gave four Apostles to the Church.
But lo! on this fourth morning of beautiful May, there rises, near to Mary and Salome, another woman, another mother. She too is fervent in her love of Jesus. She too gives to holy Church a treasure: the child of her tears, a Doctor, a Bishop, and one of the grandest Saints of the New Law. This woman, this mother, is Monica, twice mother of Augustine. This masterpiece of God’s grace was produced on the desert soil of Africa. Her virtues would have been unknown till the Day of Judgement had not the pen of the great Bishop of Hippo, prompted by the holy affection of his filial heart, revealed to us the merits of this woman whose life was humility and love, and who now, immortalised in men’s esteem, is venerated as the model and patroness of Christian mothers.
One of the great charms of the book of Confessions is Augustine’s fervent praise of Monica’s virtues and devotedness. With what affectionate gratitude he speaks throughout his whole history of the untiring constancy of this mother who, seeing the errors of her son, “wept over him more than other mothers weep over the dead body of their children!” Our Lord who, from time to time, consoles with a ray of hope the souls he tries, had shown to Monica, in a vision, the future meeting of the son and mother. She had even heard a holy bishop assuring her that the child of so many tears could never be lost. Still, the sad realities of the present weighed heavily on her heart and both her maternal love and her faith caused her to grieve over this son who kept away from her, yes, who kept away from her, because he was unfaithful to his God. The anguish of this devoted heart was an expiation which would at a future period be applied to the guilty one. Fervent and persevering prayer, joined with suffering, prepared Augustine’s second birth and, as he himself says, “she went through more when she gave me my spiritual, than when she gave me my corporal, birth.”
At last, after long years of anxiety, the mother found at Milan this son of hers who had so cruelly deceived her when he fled from her roof to go and risk his fortune in Rome. She found him still doubting the truth of the Christian religion, but tired of the errors that had misled him. Augustine was not aware of it, but he had really made an advance towards the true Faith. “She found me,” says he, “in extreme danger, for I despaired of ever finding the truth. But when I told her, that I was no longer a Manichean, and yet not a Catholic Christian, the announcement did not take her by surprise. She leaped for joy at being made sure that one half of my misery was gone. As to the other, she wept over me as dead indeed, but to rise again. She turned to you, O my God, and wept and, in spirit, brought me and laid the bier before you that you might say to the widow’s son: Young man! I say to you, arise! Then would he come to life again, and begin to speak, and you could give him back to his mother!... Seeing, then, that although I had not yet found the truth, I was delivered from error, she felt sure that you would give the other half of the whole you had promised. She told me in a tone of gentlest calm, but with her heart full of hope, that she was confident, in Christ, that before leaving this world she would see me a faithful Catholic.”
At Milan Monica formed acquaintance with the great Saint Ambrose who was the instrument chosen by God for the conversion of her son. “She,” says Augustine, “had a very great affection for Ambrose because of what he had done for my soul. And he equally loved her because of her extraordinary piety which led her to the performance of good works, and to fervent assiduity in frequenting the Church. Hence, when he saw me, he would frequently break out in her praise, and congratulate me on having such a mother.” The hour of grace came at last. The light of Faith dawned upon Augustine, and he began to think of enrolling himself a member of the Christian Church. But the pleasures of the world, in which he had so long indulged, held him back from receiving the holy sacrament of Baptism. Monica’s prayers and tears won for him the grace to break this last tie. He yielded and became a Christian.
But God would have this work of His divine mercy a perfect one. Augustine, once converted, was not satisfied with professing the true Faith. He aspired to the sublime virtue of continence. A soul, favoured as his then was, could find no further pleasure in anything that this world could offer him. Monica, who was anxious to guard her son against the dangers of a relapse into sin, had been preparing an honourable marriage for him, but Augustine came to her one day accompanied by his friend Alypius, and told her that he was resolved to aim at what was most perfect. Let us listen to the Saint’s account of this interview with his mother. It was immediately after he had been admonished by the voice from Heaven: “We (Augustine and Alypius) go at once to my mother’s house. We tell her what had taken place she is full of joy. We tell her all the particulars. She is overpowered with feelings of delight and exultation. She blessed you, O my God, who can do beyond what we ask or understand. She saw that you had done more for me than she had asked of you with her many piteous and tearful sighs... You had changed her mourning into joy, even beyond her wishes, yes, into a joy far dearer and chaster than she could ever have had in seeing me a father of children.” A few days after this, and, in the Church of Milan, a sublime spectacle was witnessed by Angels and men: Ambrose baptising Augustine in Monica’s presence.
The saintly mother had fulfilled her mission: her son was regenerated to truth and virtue and she had given to the Church the greatest of her Doctors. The evening of her long and tried life was approaching and she was soon to find eternal rest in the God, for whose love she had toiled and suffered so much. The son and mother were at Ostia, waiting for the vessel that was to take them back to Africa. “I and she were alone,” says Augustine, “and were standing near a window of our lodging which commanded a view of the garden. We were having a most charming conversation. Forgetting the past, and stretching forward to the things beyond, we were talking about the future life of the saints, which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it ascended into man’s heart... And while thus talking about it and longing for it, our hearts seemed to bound forward and reach it. We sighed, and left the first-fruits of our spirit there, and returned to the sound of our own voice... Then my mother said to me: My son! As far as I am concerned, there is nothing now that can give me pleasure in this life. I know not what I can do, or why I should be here, now that I have nothing to hope for in this world. There was one thing for which I desired to live somewhat longer, and it was to see you a Catholic Christian before my death. My God has granted me this and more, for I see that you have despised earthly pleasures and become His servant. What do I here?” She had not long to wait for the divine invitation. She breathed forth her pure soul a few days after this interview, leaving an indelible impression upon the heart of her son, to the Church a name most dear and honoured, and to Christian mothers a perfect example of the purest and holiest maternal affection.
*****
O thou model of mothers! Christendom honours you as one of the most perfect types of human nature regenerated by Christ. Previous to the Gospel, during those long ages when woman was kept in a state of abjection, a mother’s influence on her children was feeble and insignificant. Her duties were generally limited to looking after their bodily well-being. And if some mothers of those times have handed their names down to posterity, it is only because they taught their sons to covet and win the passing glory of this world. But we have no instance in pagan times of a mother training her son to virtue, following him from city to city that she might help him in the struggle with error and the passions, and encourage him to rise after a fall. We do not meet with one who devoted herself to continual prayer and tears with a view to obtain her son’s return to truth and virtue. Christianity alone has revealed a mother’s mission and power.
What forgetfulness of yourself, Monica, in your incessant endeavour to secure Augustine’s salvation! After God, it is for him you live. And to live for your son in such a way as this, is it not living for God who deigns to use you as the instrument of His grace? What care you for Augustine’s glory and success in this world when you think of the eternal dangers to which he is exposed, and of his being eternally separated from God and you? There is no sacrifice or devotedness which your maternal heart is not ready to make in order to satisfy the Divine justice. It has its rights, and you are too generous not to satisfy them. You wait patiently day and night for God’s good time to come. The delay only makes your prayer more earnest. Hoping against all hope, you at length feel within your heart the humble but firm conviction that the object of all these tears can never be lost. Moved with mercy towards you, as He was for the sorrowing mother of Naim, He speaks with that voice which nothing can withstand: “Young man! I say to you, arise!” and He gives him to his mother (Luke vii. 14, 15). He gives you the dear one whose death you had so bitterly bewailed, but from whom you could not tear thyself.
What a recompense of your maternal love is this! God is not satisfied with restoring you Augustine full of life. From the very depths of error and sin, this son of thine rises and, at once, to the highest virtue. Thy prayers were that he might become a Catholic and break certain ties which were both a disgrace and danger to him when lo! one single stroke of grace has raised him to the sublime state of the Evangelical Counsels. Your work is more than done, O happy mother! Speed thee to Heaven where, till your Augustine joins you, you are to gaze on the saintly life and works of this son whose salvation is due to you, and whose bright glory, even while he sojourns here below, sheds the sweetest halo over your venerated name.
From the eternal home where you are now happy with this son of yours who owes to you his life both of Earth and Heaven, cast a loving look, O Monica, on the many Christian mothers who are now fulfilling on Earth the hard but noble mission which was once yours. Their children are also dead with the death of sin, and they would restore them to true life by the power of their maternal love. After the Mother of Jesus, it is to you that they turn, O Monica, you whose prayers and tears were once so efficacious and so fruitful. Take their cause in hand. Your tender and devoted heart cannot fail to compassionate them in the anguish which was once your own. Keep up their courage. Teach them to hope. The conversion of these dear ones is to cost them many a sacrifice. Get them the generosity and fortitude needed for their paying the price thus asked of them by God. Let them remember that the conversion of a soul is a greater miracle than the raising a dead man to life, and that Divine Justice demands a compensation which they, the mothers of these children, must be ready to make. This spirit of sacrifice will destroy that hidden egotism which is but too frequently mingled with what seems to be affection of the purest kind. Let them ask themselves, if they would rejoice, as you did, O Monica, at finding that a vocation to the religious life were the result of the conversion they have so much at heart? If they are thus disinterested, let them not fear. Their prayers and sufferings must be efficacious. Sooner or later the wished-for grace will descend upon the prodigal, and he will return to God and his mother.Also on this day according to the ROMAN MARTYROLOGY:
At the metal mines of Phennes in Palestine, the birthday of the blessed Silvanus, bishop of Gaza, who was crowned with martyrdom with many of his clerics by the command of Caesar Galerius Maximian in the persecution of Diocletian. Also thirty nine holy martyrs who were beheaded together after having been condemned to work in the same mines, to be branded with a hot iron, and to undergo other torments.
At Jerusalem, in the reign of Julian the Apostate, St. Cyriacus, bishop, who was murdered as he was visiting the holy places.
In Umbria, St. Porphyry, martyr.
At Nicomedia, the birthday of St. Antonia, martyr, who, for the confession of Christ, was cruelly tortured, subjected to diverse torments, suspended by one arm for three days, kept two years in prison, and finally delivered to the flames by the governor Priscillian.
At Lorch in Austria, under the emperor Diocletian and the governor Aquilinus, the martyr St. Florian, who was precipitated into the river Enns with a stone tied to his neck.
At Tarsus, St. Pelagia, virgin, who endured martyrdom under Diocletian by being shut up within a red-hot brazen ox.
At Cologne, St. Paulinus, martyr.
At Milan, St. Venerius, bishop, whose virtues are attested by St. John Chrysostom in the Epistle which he wrote to him.
In the province of Perigord, St. Sacerdos, bishop of Limoges.
At Hildesheim in Saxony, St. Godard, bishop and confessor, ranked among the saints by Pope Innocent II.
At Auxerre, St. Curcodomus, deacon.
And in other places, many other holy martyrs, confessors and virgins.
Thanks be to God.
