6 OCTOBER – SAINT BRUNO (Confessor)

Bruno was born in 1030 at Cologne in Germany. From from his very cradle he gave great promise of future sanctity. Favoured by divine grace, the gravity of his character made him shun all childishness so that, even at that age one might have foreseen in him the future father of monks and restorer of the anchoretical life. His parents, who were distinguished for virtue and nobility, sent him to Paris where he made great progress in philosophy and theology, and took the degrees of doctor and master in both faculties. Soon after this, he was, for his remarkable virtue, appointed to a canonry in the church of Rheims.

After some years, Bruno, with six of his friends, renounced the world and betook himself to Hugh, Bishop of Grenoble. On learning the cause of their coming, the Bishop understood that they had been signified by the seven stars he had seen falling at his feet in his dream of the previous night. He therefore made over to them some wild mountains called the Chartreuse, belonging to his diocese, and himself conducted them there. After having there lived an eremitical life for several years, Bruno was summoned to Rome by Pope Urban II who had been his disciple. In the great trials through which the Church was then passing, the Pontiff availed himself of the Saint’s prudence and knowledge for some years, until Bruno, refusing the archbishopric of Reggio, obtained leave to retire. Attracted by the love of solitude he went to a desert place near Squillace in Calabria. Count Roger of Calabria was one day hunting when his dogs began to bark round the Saint’s cave. The Count entered and found Bruno at his prayers. He was so struck by his holiness that from then on he greatly honoured him and his companions and supplied their needs. His generosity met with its reward. A little later, when Count Roger was besieging Capua, and Sergius, an officer of his guard, had determined to betray him, Bruno, who was still living in his desert, appeared to the Count in sleep, revealed the treason to him, thus saving him from imminent peril.

At length, full of virtues and merits, and as renowned for holiness as for learning, Bruno fell asleep in our Lord in 1101, and was buried in the monastery of Saint Stephen built by Count Roger, where he is greatly honoured to this day. He was canonised by Pope Gregory XV in 1623.

In art Saint Bruno is represented contemplating the crucifix, with the words on a scroll issuing from his mouth, “O bonitas!” (O goodness!) or, “Ecce elongavi fugiens, et mansi in solitudine” (Behold, I wander far off, and I abode in the wilderness) (Psalm liv. 8). Sometimes he is shown bearing an olive-branch, or a crucifix the ends of which are foliated with olive leaves, on account of an antiphon in the Carthusian Breviary, which likens him to the olive taking root and bearing fruit in the most barren soil.

Dom Prosper Guéranger:

Among the divers religious families, none is held in higher esteem by the Church than the Carthusian. The prescriptions of the corpus juris determine that a person may pass from any other order into this without deterioration. And yet it is of all the least given to active works. Is not this a new, and not the least convincing proof that outward zeal, however praiseworthy is not the only, nor the principal thing, in God’s sight? The Church, in her fidelity, values all things according to the preferences of her divine Spouse. Now our Lord esteems His elect not so much by the activity of their works, as by the hidden perfection of their lives — that perfection which is measured by the intensity of the divine life, and of which it is said: “Be you therefore perfect, as also your heavenly Father is perfect” (Maathew v. 48). Again, it is said of this divine life: “You are dead and your life is hid with Christ in God” (Colossians iii. 3). The Church then considering the solitude and silence of the Carthusian, his abstinence even to death, his freedom to attend to God through complete disengagement from the senses and from the world, sees in it the guarantee of a perfection which may indeed be met with elsewhere, but here appears to be far more secure. Hence, though the field of labour is ever widening, though the necessity of warfare and struggle grows ever more urgent, she does not hesitate to shield with the protection of her laws, and to encourage with the greatest favours, all who are called by grace to the life of the desert. The reason is not far to seek. In an age when every effort to arrest the world in its headlong downward career seems vain, has not man greater need than ever to fall back upon God? The enemy is aware of it, and therefore the first law he imposes upon his votaries is to forbid all access to the way of the counsels, and to stifle all life of adoration, expiation and prayer. For he well knows that, though a nation may appear to be on the verge of its doom, there is yet hope for it as long as the best of its sons are prostrate before the Majesty of God.

Look at the history of the West in the eleventh century. If there ever was a time when it seemed urgent that the cloister, far from increasing the number of its inmates, should send them forth to the last man for the active service of the Church, it was surely the epoch when the flesh, victorious over the spirit, posted up its triumphs even in the sanctuary: when, for each other’s sake, Caesar and Satan held the pastors of the people in bondage. Nevertheless, at that very time, not only Cluny became the stronghold of Christianity, but Camaldoli, Vallombrosa, the Charterhouse, and finally Citeaux, were founded and grew strong. So great was the demand even in the monastic life itself, for still closer retreat, by souls athirst for immolation and penance. And yet, so far from complaining of being abandoned, the world reckoned among its most glorious deliverers Romuald, John Gualbert, Bruno and Robert of Molesmes. Moreover the century was great in the faith, and in that energy of faith which knew how to apply fire and steel to the festering wounds of humanity, great in the uprightness with which it recognised the necessity of expiation for such crying evils. Society, represented by its choicest members before the feet of God, received new life from Him.

This Feast, then, is the world’s homage to one of its greatest benefactors. The reader may learn more about our Saint by having recourse to his works: his letters, breathing the fragrance of solitude and written in the beautiful style known to the monks of that heroic age, and his commentaries on Saint Paul and on the Psalms, which are clear and concise, revealing at once his science and his love of Jesus and of the Church. According to the custom of the time, the breve depositionis announcing his death was sent round from church to church, and returned covered with testimonies of universal veneration. Nevertheless his disciples were more intent on imitating his holiness than on having it recognised by the Apostolic See. Four centuries after his death, Leo X without any process, on the simple evidence of the cause, authorised the Carthusians to pay public honour to their Father. A hundred years later, in 1622, Gregory XV extended his feast to the entire world.

* * * * *

BLESS, O Bruno, the grateful joy of God’s children. With their whole hearts they acquiesce in the judgement of their Mother the Church when, among the beautiful, rich fruit-trees in our Lord’s garden, she hides not her predilection for those whose silent shade attracts the preference of her divine Spouse. “Show me, O you whom my soul loves where you feed, where you lie in the midday, lest I begin to wander after the flocks of your companions” (Canticles i. 6). Thus speaks the Bride in the sacred Canticle. And hearing the divine answer extolling the better part, you mingle your voice with the song of our Lord and the Church, saying: “O solitude and silence of the desert. Hidden joy. Good things unknown to the multitude, but known to the valiant. There are the young shoots of virtue carefully cultivated: there labour and rest are one and the same, and are nourished with fruits of Paradise: There the eye acquires that look which wounds the Bridegroom’s heart (Canticles iv. 9) and that purity, which beholds God (Matthew v. 8). There is Rachel in all her beauty, more loved by Jacob than Lia, although less fruitful. And her sons, Joseph and Benjamin, are their father’s favourites.”

Your sons cherish, in their hereditary peace, this privilege of the perfect even in these days of feverish excitement. Simple as themselves is the history of their Order: full of the supernatural, yet seeming to eschew the marvellous and the miraculous, while the heroism of all is so great, that very few stand out from the rest as remarkable for sanctity. Preserve this your own spirit in your children, O Bruno, and make us profit by their example. For their life silently preaches to the world the Apostle’s doctrine: “Concerning spiritual things... I show to you yet a more excellent way. If I speak with the tongues of men and of Angels, and have not charity... if I should have prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I should have all faith, so that I could remove mountains... and if I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor, if I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profits me nothing. Charity never falls away: whether prophecies will be made void, or tongues will cease, or knowledge will be destroyed. Do not become children in sense, but in malice be children, and in sense be perfect” (1 Corinthians xii. xiii. xiv.)

Also on this day according to the ROMAN MARTYROLOGY:

At Laodicea, the blessed bishop and martyr Sagar, one of the first disciples of the blessed Apostle St. Paul.

At Capua, the birthday of the holy martyrs Marcellus, Castus, Æmilius and Saturninus.

At Agen in France, the birthday of St. Faith, virgin and martyr, whose example encouraged blessed Caprasius so much that he happily terminated his combat by martyrdom.

Also St. Erotis, martyr, who, being inflamed with the love of Christ, triumphed over the violence of the flames.

At Treves, the commemoration of almost numberless martyrs who were put to death for the faith in various manners under the governor Rictiovarus in the persecution of Diocletian.

At Auxerre, St. Eomanus, bishop and martyr.

At Oderzo, St. Magnus, bishop, whose body rests at Venice.

At Naples, the decease of St. Mary Frances of the Five Wounds of Our Lord, a nun of the Third Order of St. Francis. On account of her reputation for virtues and the working of miracles, she was placed among the holy virgins by Blessed Pius IX.

And in other places, many other holy martyrs, confessors and virgins.

Thanks be to God.

5 OCTOBER – SAINT PLACIDUS AND COMPANIONS (Martyrs)

Placidus was born in 515 AD. A Roman by birth and son of Tertullus, he belonged to the noble family of the Anicii. Eutychius and Victorinus were brothers of Placidus and Flavia was their sister. Offered to God while still a child, Placidus was entrusted to Saint Benedict and made such progress in sanctity and in the monastic life as to become one of his principal disciples. He was present when the holy Father obtained from God by prayer a fountain of water in the solitude of Subiaco. While still a boy, being sent one day to draw water, he fell into the lake but was miraculously saved by the monk Maurus who at the command of the holy Father ran dry-shod over the water. Later on he accompanied Saint Benedict to Monte Cassino. At the age of 21 Placidus was sent into Sicily to defend, against certain covetous persons, the goods and lands which his father had given to Monte Cassino. On the way he performed so many great miracles, that he arrived at Messina with a reputation for sanctity. He built a monastery on his paternal estate not far from the harbour, and gathered together Donatus and Firmatus, deacons, Faustus and thirty other monks, being thus the first to introduce the monastic life into the island.

Nothing could be more placid or more humble than his behaviour, and he surpassed everyone in prudence, gravity, kindness and unruffled tranquillity of mind. He often spent whole nights in the contemplation of heavenly things, only sitting down for a short time when overpowered by the necessity of sleep. Placidus was most zealous in observing silence and when it was necessary to speak the subjects of his conversation were the contempt of the world and the imitation of Christ. His fasts were most severe, and he abstained all the year round from flesh and every kind of milk-meat. In Lent he took only bread and water on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. The rest of the week he passed without any food. He never drank wine, and always wore a hair-shirt. So numerous and so remarkable were the miracles he worked, that the sick came to him in crowds to be cured, not only from the neighbourhood, but also from Etruria and Africa. But Placidus, in his great humility, worked all his miracles in the name of Saint Benedict, attributing them to his merits. His holy example and the wonders he wrought caused the Christian faith to spread rapidly.

In the fifth year after his arrival in Sicily, the Saracens made a sudden incursion, and seized upon Placidus and his thirty monks while they were singing the Night Office in the church. At the same time were taken Eutychius and Victorinus, his brothers, and his sister the virgin Flavia, who had all come from Rome to visit him, and also Donatus, Faustus and the deacon Firmatus. Donatus was beheaded on the spot. The rest were taken before Manucha, the chief of the pirates. And as they firmly refused to adore his idols, they were beaten with rods, and cast, bound hand and foot, into prison without food. Every day they were beaten afresh, but God supported them. After many days they were again led before the tyrant, and as they still stood firm in the faith, they were again repeatedly beaten, then stripped of their clothes and hung, head downwards, over thick smoke to suffocate. They were left for dead, but the next day were found alive and miraculously healed of their wounds. The tyrant then addressed himself to the virgin Flavia. But finding he could gain nothing by threats or promises, he ordered her to be stripped and hung by the feet from a high beam, insulting her meanwhile upon her nakedness.

But the virgin answered: “Man and woman have the same Author and Creator, God. Hence neither my sex, nor this nakedness which I endure for love of Him, will be any disadvantage to me in His eyes who for my sake chose not only to be stripped, but also to be nailed to a cross.” Manucha enraged at this reply ordered her to be beaten and tortured with the smoke, and then handed her over to be dishonoured. At the virgin’s prayer, God struck all who attempted to approach her with sudden stiffness and pain in all their limbs. The tyrant next attacked Placidus, the virgin’s brother, who tried to convince him of the vanity of his idols. Manucha thereupon commanded his mouth and teeth to be broken with stones, and his tongue to be cut out by the root. But the martyr spoke as clearly and easily as before. The barbarian grew more furious at this miracle and commanded that Placidus, with his sister and brethren should be crushed under an enormous weight of anchors and millstones. But even this torture was powerless to hurt them. Finally, 36 of Placidus’ family, with their leader and several others, were beheaded on the shore near Messina and gained the palm of martyrdom on the third of the Nones of October in 539. Gordian, a monk of that monastery, who had escaped by flight, found all their bodies entire after several days and buried them with tears. Not long afterwards the barbarians, in punishment of their crime, were swallowed up by the avenging waves of the sea. In 1588, the discovery of the martyrs’ relics at Messina confirmed the truth of their Acts. On this occasion Pope Sixtus V extended the celebration of their Feast to the universal Church.

Dom Prosper Guéranger:

The proto-martyr of the Benedictine Order stands before us today in his strength and his beauty. The empire had fallen, and the yoke of the Arian Goths lay heavy on Italy. Rome was no longer in the hands of the glorious races which had made her greatness. These, nevertheless, kept up their honourable traditions. They offered a great lesson for future times of revolution to other descendants of not less noble families: in lieu of the ensign of civic honour once committed to their fathers, the survivors of the old patrician ranks made it their duty to raise still higher the standard of true heroism of those virtues which alone are everlasting.

Thus Benedict of Nursia, fleeing into the desert, had rendered greater service than any mighty conqueror to Rome and her immortal destinies. The world soon discovered this fact and then began, as Saint Gregory tells us, the concourse of Roman nobles bringing their children to the Patriarch of monks to be educated by him for Almighty God. Placidus was the eldest son of the patrician Tertullus. The excellent qualities early discovered in the child led his worthy father to offer to God, without delay, this dear first-fruit of his paternity. In those days parents loved their children not for this passing world, but for eternity. Not for themselves, but for our Lord. The faith of Tertullus was well rewarded when, twenty years later, not only his first-born, but also his two other sons and their sister, were crowned with martyrdom. This was not the first holocaust of the kind in that heroic family, if it be true that they were relatives by blood, and heirs of the goods as well as the virtues, of the holy martyr Eustace who had been immolated four centuries earlier with his wife and sons.

Among the children of promise enlisted by the vanquished nobles of the ancient empire in the new militia of the holy Valley, Equitius brought to Subiaco his son Maurus, a boy some years older than Placidus. Henceforth the names of Maurus and Placidus became inseparable from that of Benedict, and the Patriarch acquired a new glory from his two sons, so united and yet so different. Equal in their love of their master and father, and themselves equally loved by him for their equal fidelity in good works, they experienced to the full that delight in virtue which makes its practice a second nature. However similar their zeal in using the most strong and bright armour of obedience in the service of Christ the King, it was wonderful to see the master accommodating himself to the age of his disciples, so adapting himself to their differences of character that there was nothing precipitate, nothing forced, in his education. It disciplined nature without crushing it, and followed the Holy Ghost without endeavouring to take the lead. In Maurus was especially reproduced Benedict’s austere gravity, in Placidus his simplicity and sweetness. Benedict took Maurus to witness the chastisement inflicted on the wandering monk who could not stay at prayer. But Placidus accompanied him to the mountain-top where his prayer obtained a spring of water to deliver from danger and fatigue the brethren dwelling on the rooks above the Anio. But when walking along the river side holding Placidus by the hand and leaning upon Maurus, the legislator of monks explained to them the code of perfection they were afterwards to propagate, the Angels knew not which most to admire: the candour of the one winning the father’s tenderest affection, or the precocious maturity of the other meriting the holy patriarch’s confidence and already sharing his burden.

Who does not recollect the admirable scene of Maurus walking on the water and saving Placidus from drowning? Monastic traditions never weary of extolling the obedience of Maurus, Benedict’s humility and the sagacious simplicity of the child pronouncing sentence as judge of the prodigy. Of such children the Master could say from experience: “The Lord often reveals that which is best to him that is the younger.” And we may well believe that the recollections of the holy Valley prompted him later on to lay down in his Rule this prescription: “In all places whatsoever, let not age be taken into account as regards order, neither let it be to the prejudice of anyone: for Samuel and Daniel, while yet children, were judges over the elders.'”

“Placidus, my beloved son, why should I weep for you? You are taken from me, only that you may belong to all men. I will give thanks for this sacrifice of the fruit of my heart offered to Almighty God.” Thus, on hearing of this day’s triumph, spoke Benedict, your spiritual father, mingling tears with his joy. He did not survive you long: yet long enough to complete, of his own accord, the sacrifice of separations by sending into far off France the companion of your childhood, Maurus, who was destined not to rejoin you in Heaven for so many long years. Charity seeks not her own interests. She finds them by forgetting self and losing self in God. Placidus had disappeared. Maurus had been sent away. Benedict was about to die: human prudence would have believed the holy Patriarch’s work in danger of perishing, whereas at this critical moment it strengthened its roots and extended its branches over the whole world. Unless the grain of wheat falling into the ground dies itself remains alone. But if it dies, it brings forth much fruit (John xii. 24‒25). As heretofore the blood of martyrs was the seed of Christians, it now produced a rich harvest of monks.

* * * * *

Blessed be you, O Placidus, far beyond your native Italy and Sicily, the scene of your combat. Blessed be you for the numberless ears of corn, for the abundant harvest sprung from the choice grain that fell to the earth on this day: faith bids us see in your immolation the secret of the success granted to the monastic mission of Maurus. Thus, despite the great diversity and the unequal length of your paths in life, you are ever united in the heart of your master and father. At the appointed hour he did not hesitate before the holocaust our Lord required of him, wherefore, he now in Heaven beholds the fulfilment of the hopes he had centred in his two beloved sons.

Deign, O Placidus, to continue your interest in the extension of Christ’s reign on Earth, in the progress of the perfect life in the Church, in the diffusion throughout the world of the monastic family on which you are the glory. Novices especially are confided to you: remembering the blessed education you were privileged to receive, watch over the aspirants to the better part. To them above all is applied the Gospel saying: “Unless you become as little children, you will not enter into the kingdom of Heaven” (Matthew xvii. 3), that kingdom of Heaven which consists in the anticipated possession of God here on Earth in the life of union attained by the way of the counsels. May they reproduce before the Angels your humble and sweet simplicity and show their gratitude for the maternal solicitude of their holy Order by the came filial docility with which you responded to the holy Legislator’s special tenderness. May they, in spite of the world’s opposition, increase in numbers and in merit, for the honour of God! The trials of the present must prepare the monastic Order, and indeed the whole religious state, for the trials of the future. It is around the monks that the martyrs of the last days will gather, as around thee assembled the Christians of Messina, and your two brothers, and the heroic Flavia, so truly worthy to be doubly your sister. May the chosen flock increase and be ever united, so as to be able to say with one voice to the persecutors both present and future: “Do what you mean to do, for we are all of one mind, one faith, one manner of life.”

Also on this day according to the ROMAN MARTYROLOGY:

The birthday of blessed Thraseas, bishop of Eumenia, who ended his career by martyrdom at Smyrna.

At Treves, the holy martyrs Palmatius and his companions, who suffered martyrdom in the persecution of Diocletian under the governor Eictiovarus.

The same day, under the emperor Diocletian and the ex-consul Domitius, St. Charitina, a virgin, who was exposed to the fire and thrown into the sea, but escaping uninjured, she had her hands and feet cut off, her teeth plucked out, and finally she yielded her spirit in prayer.

At Auxerre, the departure from this life of the saintly deacon Firmatus and the virgin Flaviana, his sister.

At Ravenna, St. Marcellinus, bishop and confessor.

At Valence in France, St. Apollinaris, a bishop, who was renowned in life for virtues, and in death for miracles and prodigies.

The same day, St. Attilanus, bishop of Zamora, who was ranked among the saints by Pope Urban II.

At Leon in Spain, St. Froilanus, bishop of that city, renowned for his zeal in spreading the monastic life, for his liberality to the poor and other virtues, and for miracles.

At Rome, St. Galla, widow, daughter of the consul Symmachus, who, after the death of her husband, remained many years near the church of St. Peter, applying to prayer, alms-giving, fasting and other pious works. Her most happy death was described by Pope St. Gregory.

And in other places, many other holy martyrs, confessors and virgins.

Thanks be to God.

4 OCTOBER – SAINT FRANCIS OF ASSISI (Deacon and Confessor)

“Il Povorello”, Saint Francis of Assisi, was born in Assisi, Italy, in 1182 to Pietro Bernardone, a wealthy cloth merchant and Pica, a woman belonging to a noble family of Provence, France. Francis was baptised with the name of John but his father soon afterwards changed it. One day, contrary to his custom, Francis repulsed a poor man who begged an alms of him for Christ’s sake, but immediately repenting of what he had done, he bestowed a large bounty upon the beggar, and at the same time made a promise to God never to refuse an alms to any one that asked him. After this he fell into a serious illness, and on his recovery, he devoted himself more eagerly than ever to works of charity, making such rapid progress in this virtue that, desirous of attaining evangelical perfection, he gave all he had to the poor. His father, angered by this, brought Francis before the Bishop of Assisi that, in his presence. he might formally renounce all claim to his patrimony. The Saint gave up all to his father, even stripping off his garments that he might, he said, for the future have more right to say: “Our Father who art in heaven”.

After hearing one day the passage of the Gospel “Do not possess gold nor silver, nor money in your purses. Nor scrip for your journey, nor two coats, nor shoes,” Francis took this for his rule of life, laid aside his shoes and kept but one tunic. He gathered together twelve disciples and founded the Order of Friars Minors. In salvation 1209 he went to Rome to obtain the confirmation of his rule and 0rder from the Apostolic See. Pope Innocent III at first refused to see him but having in his sleep beheld the man he had repulsed supporting with his shoulders the Lateran Basilica which was threatening to fall, he had him sought out and brought to him. Receiving him kindly, the Pope confirmed the whole system of his institute. Francis then sent his brethren into every part of the world to preach the Gospel. He himself, desirous of an opportunity of martyrdom sailed into Syria, but the Sultan treated him most kindly so that, unable to gain his end, he returned to Italy.

Francis built many convents of his Order and then retired into solitude on Mount Alvernia where he fasted forty days in honour of the Archangel Saint Michael. On the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, he had a vision of a seraph bearing between his wings the figure of the Crucified, who impressed the sacred stigmata on his bands and feet and side. Saint Bonaventure said he heard Pope Alexander IV, while preaching, relate how he had himself seen these wounds. These signs of Christ’s exceeding love for His servant excited universal wonder and admiration. Two years later Francis grew very ill and was carried, at his own request, into the church of Saint Mary of the Angels, that he might give up his mortal life to God in the very place where he had commenced his life of grace. There, after exhorting the brethren to poverty and patience, and the preservation of the faith of the holy, Roman Church, he said the Psalm: “I cried to the Lord with my voice.” When he reached the verse: “The just wait for me, until you reward me,” he breathed forth his soul on the fourth of the Nones of October in 1226. He was canonised in 1228. Saint Francis is the patron of animals.

Dom Prosper Guéranger:

And I saw another Angel ascending from the rising of the sun, having the sign of the living God. And he cried with a loud voice to the four Angels to whom it was given to hurt the earth and the sea, saying: ‘Hurt not the earth, nor the sea, nor the trees, till we sign the servants of our God in their foreheads’” (Apocalypse vii. 2, 3).

The sixth seal of the Book of destinies had just been opened before the eyes of the prophet of Patmos. It was a time of anguish, the hour for the wicked to cry to the mountains: “Fall upon us.” The sun was darkened: an image of the Sun of Justice eclipsed by the night of iniquity. The moon, the figure of the Church, appeared red as blood, through the evils that defiled the sanctuary. The stars fell from heaven, as the fig-tree casts its green figs when it is shaken by a great wind. Who would appease the Lamb and retard the day of wrath? At the invitation of the Saints and of the Apostolic See, let us recognise the Angel who won for the world a delay of the judgement: the Angel with the impress of God upon a mortal Body, the Seraph with his sacred stigmata, the sight of which once more disarmed the justice of God. Dante thus sings of the elect of God under whose leadership took place on Earth as it were a repetition of the first and only Redemption:

Between Tupino, and the wave that falls

From blest Ubaldo’s chosen hill, there hangs

Rich slope of mountain high, whence heat and cold

Are wafted thro’ Perugia’s eastem gate:

And Nocera with Gualdo, in its rear,

Mourn for their heavy yoke. Upon that side,

Where it doth break its steepness most, arose

A sun upon the world, as duly this

From Ganges doth: therefore let none who speak,

Of that place say Assisi; for its name

Were lamely so delivered; but the East,

To call things rightly, be it henceforth styled.

He was not yet much distant from his rising,

When his good influence ’gan to bless the earth.

A dame to whom none openeth pleasure’s gate

More than to death, was, ’gainst his fathers will,

His stripling choice: and he did make her his,

Before the spiritual court, by nuptial bonds,

And in his father’s sight: from day to day

Then loved her most devoutly. She bereaved

Of her first husband, slighted and obscure,

Thousand and hundred years and more, remain’d

Without a single suitor, till he came

* * * * *

The lovers’ titles — Poverty and Francis.

Their concord and glad looks, wonder and love,

And sweet regard gave birth to holy thoughts,

So much, that venerable Bernard first

Did bare his feet, and, in pursuit of peace

So heavenly, ran, yet deem’d his footing slow.

O hidden riches! O prolific good!

Egidius bares him next, and next Sylvester,

And follow, both, the Bridegroom: so the Bride

Can please them. Thenceforth goes he on his way

The father and the master, with his spouse,

And with that family, whom now the cord

Girt humbly: nor did abjectness of heart

Weigh down his eyelids, for that he was son

Of Pietro Bernadone, and by men

In wondrous sort despised. But royally

His hard intention he to Innocent

Set forth; and from him first received the seal

Of his religion.

* * * * *

And when He had, thro’ thirst of martyrdom, stood up

In the proud Soldan’s presence, and there preached

Christ and his followers, but found the race

Unripen’d for conversion; back once more

He halted, (not to intermit his toil,)

And reap’d Auaonian lands. On the hard rook,

Twixt Arno and the Tiber, he from Christ

Took the last signet, which his limbs two years

Did carry. Then, the season come that he,

Who to such good had destined him, was pleased

To advance him to the meed, which he had earned

By his self-humbling; to his brotherhood,

As their just heritage, he gave in charge

His dearest lady: and enjoined their love

And faith to her; and, from her bosom, will’d

His goodly spirit shou1d move forth, returning

To its appointed kingdom; nor would have

His body laid upon another bier.

Dante’s Paradiso Canto xi (Cary’s Translation).

Francis took his flight, for his work was done. Innumerable souls were now treading the paths of penance. The Cross of Christ was set before the eyes of the whole world as the treasure of the Church, now that she was beginning her ascent of Calvary. How admirably had the sanctifying Spirit conducted this work!

At the age of four and twenty, Francis, who was destined not to see his forty-sixth year, was the head of a party of gay youths who filled Assisi day and night with their songs. Full of the poetry of France (from which country he borrowed his name), he dreamed of nothing but worldly renown and knightly prowess. One night he beheld in a prophetic dream a large assortment of arms and weapons. “For whom are all these?” he inquired, and on hearing the answer: “For you and your soldiers,” he hastened to join Gauthier de Brienne, who was at war with the Germans in the South of Italy. But God arrested him: in a series of manifestations to which the young man corresponded with all the generous ardour of his pure heart, our Lord revealed to him the object of his life’s labour, the standard he was to carry through the world, and the Lady in whose service he was to win his spurs.

The Church, ever under attack, yet hitherto ever victorious, seemed about to succumb, so undermined were her walls by heresy, so broken by the battering ram of the secular power: while, within the citadel, the ancient faith was sinking under prolonged scandals, leaving the field open to the enterprises of traitors, and multiplying defections in a society already beginning to feel the torpor of death. Nevertheless, it is written that the gates of Hell will not prevail against the Church. “Francis, see you not that my house is falling to decay? Go, then, and repair it for me.” There was need of a sudden surprise to disconcert the enemy, and of an energetic appeal to rouse the sleepy garrison and rally them around the too forgotten ensign of Christians, the Cross of Christ. Francis was to be, in his very flesh, the standard of the Crucified. The sacred wounds already pierced his soul and made his eyes two ceaseless fountains of tears: “I weep for the Passion of Jesus Christ my Master. Nor will I blush to go weeping all over the world.”

Avarice was the crying sin of the age. The hearts of men, too preoccupied with earthly affairs to have a desire of heaven, must be delivered from a slavery which crushed out all noble thoughts, all love, all devotedness. Holy Poverty, the mother of that true liberty which disarms Hell and laughs at tyrants, could alone achieve such a deliverance. Francis was take with the beauty of poverty in spite of the jeers and insults of the vulgar, and of his rejection by his own family. But his sublime folly was the salvation of his people, and he was blessed by our heavenly Father as a true brother of His eternal Son. As by nature the consubstantial Word receives His unbeginning Being from Him who begets Him eternally, so within the Holy Trinity He has nothing appropriated to Himself but the title of Son, to the glory of the Father, in the Holy Spirit who is their love. Such is God’s destitution of all things of which nothing created could give an idea, but which is reflected in the Incarnate Word’s sublime disappropriation in presence of that Father from whom He derived His all. Would it, then, be far wrong to consider the Poverty chosen by Saint Francis as no other than Eternal Wisdom, offering herself, even under the old Law, to the human race as bride (Wisdom viii. 2) and as sister? (Proverbs vii. 4). Once espoused in Mary’s womb at the Incarnation, how great has been her fidelity!I But whoever loves her, must become in Jesus like her.

“Lord Jesus,” said Francis, “show me the paths of your well-beloved Poverty. ’Tis she that accompanied you from your Mother’s womb to the crib in the stable and on the waysides of the world took care you should not have where to lay your head. By the combat which concluded the war of our Redemption, Poverty, adorned with all the privations which form her bridal attire, mounted with you upon the Cross, which even Mary could not ascend. She followed you to your borrowed tomb and as you yielded up your soul in her embrace, so in her arms you took it again in the glorious nakedness of the Resurrection. And together with her entered Heaven, leaving to the Earth all that was earthly. O who would not love this queen of the world which she tramples under her feet, my lady and my love? Most poor Jesus, my sweet Master, have pity on me. Without her I can taste no peace, and I die of desire.”

God cannot turn a deaf ear to such entreaties. If he contends, it is in order to add fresh wounds of love until the old man being destroyed, the new rises from the ruins, in all things conformed to the image of the heavenly Adam. Eighteen years later, after the prodigy on Mount Alvernia, Francis, impressed with the divine seal of Christ’s wounds, sang in heavenly language the sublime combat which had made up his life: “Love has cast me into a furnace, love has cast me into a furnace, I am cast into a furnace of love. My new Bridegroom, the loving Lamb, gave me the nuptial ring. Then having cast me into prison, He cleft my heart and my body fell to the ground. Those arrows propelled by love struck me and set me on fire. From peace He made war, and I am dying of sweetness. The darts rained so thick and fast that I was all in an agony. Then I took a buckler, but the shafts were so swift that it shielded me no more. They mangled my whole body, so strong was the arm that shot them. He shot them so powerfully that I despaired of " parrying them, and to escape death I cried with all my might: ‘You transgress the laws of the camp.’ But He only set up a new instrument of war which overwhelmed me with fresh blows. So true was His aim, that He never missed. I was lying on the ground, unable to move my limbs. My whole body was broken, and I had no more sense than a man deceased. Deceased, not by a true death, but through excess of joy. Then regaining possession of my body, I felt so strong that I could follow the guard who led me to the court of Heaven. Returning to myself, I took up arms and I made war upon Christ. I rode into His territory, and meeting Him, I engaged Him at once, and took my revenge on Him. Having had my revenge, I made a treaty with Him, for from the beginning Christ had loved me with a true love. And now my heart has become capable of the consolations of Christ.”

Around the standard-bearer of Christ were already gathered those whom he called his knights of the Round Table. However captivating he may have been when his fellow citizens proclaimed him the flower of their youth, and he presided at their feasts and games. Francis was much more attractive now in his life of self-renunciation. Scarcely ten years after his espousals with holy Poverty, he had so well avenged her for having been so long despised that she hold full court in the midst of five thousand Friars Minor encamped under the walls of Assisi, while Clare and her companions formed for her such a suite of honour as no empress could ever boast of. The enthusiasm soon became so general that Francis, in order to satisfy it without depopulating the State and the Churoh, gave to the world his Third Order into which, led by Louis IX of France and Elizabeth of Hungary, entered countless multitudes of every nation, and tribe, and tongue. Thanks to the three Seraphic Orders, as well as to the triple militia founded at the same time by Dominic de Gusman, devotedness to the Roman Church, and the spirit of penance and prayer everywhere triumphed for a time over the anticipated rationalism, the luxury, and all the other evils which had been threatening the speedy ruin of the world.

The influence of the Saints springs from their sanctity, as rays from the focus. No rich man ever possessed the earth to such a degree as this poor man who, seeking God and depending absolutely upon His Providence, had regained the condition of Adam in Eden. Thus, as he passed along, the flocks would welcome him. The fishes would follow his boat in the water. The birds would gather round him and joyfully obey him. And why? Francis drew all things to himself because all things drew him to God. With him there was no such thing as analysing love and making distinctions among those things which come from God and lead to God. To raise himself up to God, to compassionate with Christ, to be of service to his neighbour, to be in harmony with the whole universe like Adam when innocent, was for the seraphic father, says Saint Bonaventure, one and the same impulse of that true piety which ruled his whole being. The divine fire within him found fuel in everything. No touch of the Holy Spirit, whenever it came, did Francis let pass, so much he feared to frustrate the effect of a single grace. He did not despise the stream for not being the ocean, and it was with an unheard of tenderness of devotion, says his son and historian Bonaventure, that Francis relished God’s goodness in creation, contemplated His supreme beauty in every created beauty, and heard the echo of Heaven’s harmonies in the concert of beings sprung like man himself from the only source of existence.

Hence it was by the sweet name of brothers and sisters that he invited all creatures to praise with him that well-beloved Lord, whose every trace on earth was the dear object of his love and contemplation. Neither the progress nor the consummation of his holiness altered, in this respect, what would now be called his method of prayer. On hearing that his death was approaching, and again a few minutes before he passed away, he sang, and would have others sing to him, his favourite canticle: “Praised be God my Lord, for all creatures, and especially for our brother the sun, which gives us light, and is an image of you, my God! Praised be my Lord for our sister the moon, and for all the stars which He has created bright and beautiful in the heavens! Praised be my Lord for our brother the wind, and for the air, and the cloud, and the fine weather, and all the seasons. For our sister the water, which is very useful, humble, precious and pure. For our brother the fire, which is bright and strong. For our mother the earth, which bears us and produces the fruits and the flowers! Be praised, O my God, for those who pardon and who suffer for love of you! Be praised for our sister the death of the body, which no living man can escape. Unhappy is he who dies in mortal sin, but happy is he whom death finds conformed to your holy will! Praise and bless my Lord, give Him thanks, and serve Him in great humility.”

After having received the stigmata, Francis’ life was an unspeakable martyrdom in spite of which he continued to travel through towns and villages, riding, like Jesus of whom he was so touching an image, upon a poor little ass. And everywhere he preached the Cross, working miracles and wonders of grace. Assisi cherishes the memory of the blessing bequeathed to it by its glorious son when, gazing on it for the last time from the beautiful plain that stretches at its feet, he exclaimed with tears: “Be you blessed of the Lord, O city faithful to God, for in you and by you will many souls be saved!”

The humble Portiuncula, the cradle of the Order, where Clare too had exchanged the vain ornaments of the world for the poverty of the Cross: Saint Mary of the Angels, which awakens in the pilgrim a feeling of the nearness of heaven, and where the Great Pardon of the 2nd August proves the pleasure our Lord still takes in it: this was the appointed place of Francis’ death. He passed away on the 3rd October, towards eight o’clock in the evening , and although darkness had already set in, a flight of larks descended, singing the rising in heaven of the new sun which was mounting towards the Seraphim.

Francis had chosen to be buried in the place of public execution, called the Colte d’Inferno, near the west wall of his native city. But within two years Gregory IX enrolled him among the Saints and changed the name of the hill into Colle del Paradiso. James the German built over the bare rock, where lies the Poor Man of Assisi, a two-storied church, which the genius of Giotto has made to outshine in glory all the princely palaces on Earth.

* * * * *

MAY you be blessed by every living soul, O you whom our Saviour associated so closely with Himself in the work of Redemption. The world, created by God for Himself, subsists through the Saints, for it in in them He finds His glory. At the time of your birth the Saints were few. The enemy of God and man was daily extending his darksome reign, and when society was entirely lost faith and charity, light and heat, the human race must perish. You came to bring warmth to the wintry world, till the thirteenth century became like a spring time, rich in beautiful flowers. But alas, no summer was to follow in its wake. By you the Cross was forced on men’s notice. Not indeed, as heretofore, to be exalted in a permanent triumph, but to rally the elect in face of the enemy who would too soon afterwards regain the advantage. The Church lays aside the robe of glory which beseemed her in the days of our Lord’s undisputed royalty. Together with you she treads barefoot the path of trials which liken her to her divine Spouse suffering and dying for His Father’s honour. By you and by your sons, ever hold aloft before her the sacred ensign.

It is by identifying ourselves with Christ on the Cross that we will find Him again in the splendours of His glory: for, man, and God in man, cannot be separated. Ad both, you did say, must be contemplated by every soul. Yet no otherwise than by effective compassion with our suffering Head can we find the way of divine union and the sweet fruits of love. If the soul suffers herself to be led by the good pleasure of the Holy Ghost, this Master of masters will conduct her by no other way than that set forth by our Lord in the books of His humility, patience and suffering.

O Francis, cause the lessons of your amiable and heroic simplicity to fructify in us. May your children, to the great profit of the Church, increase in number and still more in sanctity. And never spare themselves in teaching both by word and example, knowing however, that the latter is of greater avail than the former. Raise them up again, with their former popularity in that country of France, which you loved on account of its generous aspirations, now stifled by the sordid vulgarity of money-makers. The whole Religious state looks on you as one of its most illustrious Fathers. Come to its assistance in the trials of the present time. Friend of Dominic, and his companion under our Lady’s mantle, keep up between your two families the fraternal love which delights the Angels. May the Benedictine Order never lose the affection which causes it to rejoice always on this day, and by your benefits to it, strengthen the bonds knit once for all by the gift of the Portiuncula!

Also on this day according to the ROMAN MARTYROLOGY:

At Corinth, the birthday of the Saints Crispus and Cams who are mentioned by the blessed Apostle St. Paul in his Epistle to the Corinthians.

In Egypt, the holy martyrs Mark and Marcian, brothers, and an almost countless multitude of both sexes and of all ages who merited the blessed crown of martyrdom, some after being scourged, and others when they had suffered horrible torment, after being delivered to the flames. Some were precipitated into the sea, some others were beheaded, many were starved to death, others were fastened to gibbets, while others were suspended by the feet with their heads downward.

At Damascus, St. Peter, bishop and martyr, who, being accused before the king of the Agarenians of teaching the faith of Christ, had his tongue, hands and feet cut off, and being fastened to a cross, ended his martyrdom.

At Alexandria, the holy priests and deacons Caius, Faustus, Eusebius, Chseremon, Lucius and their companions. Some of them were martyred in the persecution of Valerian, others, for serving the martyrs, received the reward of martyrs.

At Athens, St. Hierotheus, a disciple of the blessed Apostle St. Paul.

At Bologna, St. Petronius, bishop and confessor, celebrated for learning, miracles and sanctity.

At Paris, St. Aurea, virgin.

And in other places, many other holy martyrs, confessors and virgins.

Thanks be to God.

25 SEPTEMBER – FERIA

On this day according to the ROMAN MARTYROLOGY:

At Emmaus, the birthday of blessed Cleophas, a disciple of Christ. It is related that he was killed by the Jews for the confession of Our Lord in the same house in which he had entertained Him, and where he was honourably buried.

At Rome, under the emperor Antoninus, St. Herculanus, soldier and martyr, who, being converted to Christ by the miracles wrought during the martyrdom of the blessed bishop Alexander, was put to the sword after enduring many torments.

At Amiens in France, in the persecution of Diocletian, blessed Firmin, bishop. Under the governor Rictiovarus, after various torments, he suffered martyrdom by being beheaded.

At Damascus, the holy martyr Paul, Tata, his wife, and Sabinian, Maximus, Rufus, and Eugenius, their sons. Accused of professing the Christian religion, they were scourged and tortured in other ways until they gave up their souls to God.

In Asia, the holy martyrs Bardomian, Eucarpus and twenty-six others.

The same day, St. Anathalon, bishop, who was a disciple of the blessed Apostle St. Barnabas and succeeded him in the See of Milan.

At Lyons, the decease of St. Lupus, at one time an anchoret, but later a bishop.

At Auxerre, St. Anacharius, bishop and confessor.

At Blois, St. Solemnius, bishop of Chartres, renowned for miracles.

The same day, St. Principius, bishop of Soissons, brother of the blessed bishop Remigius.

At Anagni, the holy virgins Aurelia and Neomisia.

At San Severino, the decease of St. Pacificus of St. Severin, confessor, of the Order of the Reformed Friars Minor of the Observance of St. Francis, illustrious by his extraordinary patience and love of solitude. He was placed in the Calendar of the Saints by Pope Gregory XVI.

And in other places, many other holy martyrs, confessors and virgins.

Thanks be to God.

6 SEPTEMBER – FERIA

On this day according to the ROMAN MARTYROLOGY:

The prophet Zachary, who returned in his old age from Chaldea to his own country and lies buried near the prophet Aggeus.

In Hellespont, St. Onesiphorus, a disciple of the Apostles, of whom the blessed Apostle St. Paul speaks in his Epistle to Timothy. He was severely scourged with St. Porphyry by order of the proconsul Hadrian, and being dragged by wild horses, gave up his soul to God.

At Alexandria, the holy martyrs Faustus, priest, Macarius, and ten companions, who received the martyr’s crown by being beheaded for the name of Christ in the time of the emperor Decius and the governor Valerius.

In Cappadocia, the holy martyrs Cottidus, deacon, Eugenius, and their companions.

In Africa, in the persecution of the Vandals, the holy bishops Donatian, Praesidius, Mansuetus, Germanus and Fusculus, who were most cruelly scourged and sent into exile by order of the Arian king Hunneric because they proclaimed the Catholic truth. Among them was one named Laetus, also a bishop, a courageous and most learned man, who was burned alive after a long imprisonment in a loathsome dungeon.

At Verona, St. Petronius, bishop and confessor.

At Rome, the holy abbot Eleutherius, a servant of God, who, according to the testimony of Pope St. Gregory, raised a dead man to life by his prayers and tears.

And in other places, many other holy martyrs, confessors and virgins.

Thanks be to God.

13 AUGUST – SAINT RADEGONDE OF FRANCE (Queen)

Radegonde was the daughter of Berthaire, king of Thuringia. When 10 years old she was led away captive by the Franks, and because of her striking and queenly beauty their kings disputed among themselves for the possession of her. They drew lots and she fell to the share of King Clothaire of Soissons. He entrusted her education to excellent masters. She eagerly imbibed the doctrines of the Christian faith, and renouncing the worship of false gods which she had learnt from her fathers, she determined to observe not only the precepts, but also the counsels of the Gospel. When she was grown up, Clothaire, who had long before chosen her, took her to wife, and despite of her refusal and her attempts at flight, she was proclaimed queen to the great joy of all. When raised to the throne she joined charity to the poor, continual prayer, frequent watchings, fasting and other bodily austerities to her regal dignity, so that the courtiers said in scorn that the king had married not a queen but a nun. Her patience shone out brightly in supporting many grievous trials caused her by the king.

But when she heard that her own brother had been unjustly slain by command of Clothaire, she immediately left the court with the king’s consent, and going to the blessed bishop Meclard she earnestly begged him to consecrate her to the Lord. The nobles strongly opposed his giving the veil to her whom the king had solemnly married. But she at once went into the sacristy and clothed herself in the monastic habit. Then advancing to the altar she thus addressed the bishop: “If you hesitate to consecrate me because you fear man more than God, there is one who will demand an account of my soul from you.” These words deeply touched Meclard. He placed the sacred veil on the queen’s head, and imposing his hands on her, consecrated her a deaconess. She proceeded to Poitiers and there founded a monastery of virgins which was afterwards called “of the Holy Cross.” The splendour of her virtues shone forth and attracted innumerable virgins to embrace a religious life. On account of her extraordinary gifts of divine grace, all wished her to be their mistress, but she desired to serve rather than to command.

The number of miracles she worked spread her name far and wide, but she herself, forgetful of her dignity, sought out the lowest and humblest offices. She loved especially to take care of the sick, the needy, and above all the lepers whom she often cured in a miraculous manner. She honoured the divine Sacrifice of the Altar with deep piety, making with her own hands the bread which was to be consecrated, and supplying it to several churches. Even in the midst of the pleasures of a court, she had applied herself to mortifying her flesh, and from her childhood she had burned with desire of martyrdom. Now that she was leading a monastic life she subdued her body with the utmost rigour. She girt her self with iron chains and tortured her body with burning coals, courageously fixing red-hot plates of metal on her flesh that thus it also might, in a way, be inflamed with love of Christ. King Clothaire, bent on taking her back and carrying her off from her monastery, set out for Holy Cross, but she deterred him by means of letters which she wrote to Saint Germanus, Archbishop of Paris, so that prostrate at the holy prelate’s feet, the king begged him to beseech his pious queen to pardon him who was both her sovereign and her husband.

Radegonde enriched her monastery with relics of the saints brought from different countries. She also sent clerics to the emperor Justin and obtained from him a large piece of the wood of our Lord’s Cross. It was received with great solemnity by the people of Poitiers and both clergy and laity sang exultingly the hymns composed by Venantius Fortunatus in honour of the blessed Cross. This poet was afterwards bishop of Poitiers. He enjoyed the holy friendship of Radegonde and directed her monastery. At length the holy queen, being ripe for Heaven, was honoured a few days before her death by an apparition of Christ under the form of a most beautiful youth, and she heard these words from His mouth: “Why are you consumed by so great a longing to enjoy my presence? Why do you pour out so many tears and sighs? Why do you come as a suppliant so often to my altars? Why do you break down your body with so many labours, when I am always united to you? My beautiful pearl, know that you are one of the most precious stones in my kingly crown.” In 587 she breathed forth her pure soul into the bosom of the heavenly Spouse who had been her only love. Gregory of Tours buried her, as she had wished, in the Church of Saint Mary.

Dom Prosper Guéranger:

Never was such a booty won as that obtained by the sons of Clovis in their expedition against Thuringia towards the year 530. “Receive this blessing from the spoils of the enemy” (1 Kings xxx. 26), might they well say on presenting to the Franks the orphan brought from the court of the fratricide prince whom they had just chastised. God seemed in haste to ripen the soul of Radegonde. After the tragic death of her relatives followed the ruin of her country. So vivid was the impression made in the child’s heart, that long afterwards the recollection awakened in the queen and the Saint a sorrow and a home sickness which nothing but the love of Christ could overcome. “I have seen the plain strewn with dead and palaces burnt to the ground. I have seen women, with eyes dry from very horror, mourning over fallen Thuringia. I alone have survived to weep over them all.”

The licentiousness of the Frankish kings was as unbridled as that of her own ancestors. Yet in their land the little captive found Christianity which she had not until then known. The faith was a healing balm to this wounded soul. Baptism, in giving her to God, sanctified, without crushing, her high-spirited nature. Thirsting for Christ, she wished to be martyred for Him. She sought Him on the cross of self-renunciation. She found Him in His poor suffering members. Looking on the face of a leper, she would see in it the disfigured countenance of her Saviour, and from there rise to the ardent contemplation of the triumphant Spouse whose glorious Face illumines the abode of the Saints.

What a loathing, therefore, did she feel when offering her royal honours, the destroyer of her own country sought to share with God the possession of a heart that Heaven alone could comfort or gladden! First flight, then the refusal to comply with the manners of a court where everything was repulsive to her desires and recollections, her eagerness to break, on the very first opportunity, a bond which violence alone had contracted, prove that the trial had no other effect, as her Life says, but to bend her soul more and more to the sole object of her love. Meanwhile, near the tomb of Saint Martin, another queen, Clotilde, the mother of the most Christian kingdom, was about to die. Unfortunate are those times when the men after God’s own heart, at their departure from Earth, leave no-one to take their place. As the Psalmist cried out in a just consternation, “Save me, O Lord, for there is now no saint!” (Psalms xi. 2).

For, though the elect pray for us in Heaven, they can no longer “fill up those things that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ, in their flesh, for His body, which is the Church” (Colossian i. 24). The work begun at the baptistery of Rheims was not yet completed. The Gospel, though reigning by faith over the Frankish nation, had not yet subdued its manners. Christ who loved the Franks heard the last prayer of the mother He had given them, and refused her not the consolation of knowing that she should have a successor. Radegonde was set free just in time to prevent an interruption in the laborious work of forming the Church’s eldest daughter, and she took up in solitude the struggle with God, by prayer and expiation, begun by the widow of Clovis. In the joy of having cast off an odious yoke, forgiveness was an easy thing to her great soul. In her monastery at Poitiers she showed an unfailing devotedness for the kings whose company she had fled. The fortune of France was bound up with theirs. France the cradle-land of her supernatural life, where the Man-God had revealed Himself to her heart, and which she therefore loved with part of the love reserved for her heavenly country. The peace and prosperity of her spiritual fatherland occupied her thoughts day and night. If any quarrel arose among the princes, say the contemporary accounts, she trembled from head to foot at the very thought of the country’s danger. She wrote, according to their different dispositions, to each of the kings, imploring them to consider the welfare of the nation. She interested the chief vassals in her endeavours to prevent war. She imposed on her community assiduous watchings, exhorting them with tears to pray without ceasing. As to herself, the tortures she inflicted on herself for this end are inexpressible.

The only victory, then, that Radegonde desired, was peace among the princes of the Earth. When she had gained this by her struggle with the King of Heaven, her joy in the service of the Lord was redoubled and the tenderness she felt for her devoted helpers, the nuns of Sainte-Croix, could scarcely find utterance: “You, the daughters of my choice,” she would say, “my eyes, my life, my sweet repose, so live with me in this world that we may meet again in the happiness of the next.” And they responded to her love. “By the God of Heaven it is true that everything in her reflected the splendour of her soul.” Such was the spontaneous and graceful cry of her daughter Baudonivia, and it was echoed by the graver voice of the historian-bishop, Gregory of Tours, who declared that the supernatural beauty of the Saint remained even in death. It was a brightness from Heaven which purified while it attracted hearts, which caused the Italian Venantius Fortunatus to cease his wanderings, made him a Saint and a Pontiff, and inspired him with his most beautiful poems.

The light of God could not but be reflected in her who, turning towards Him by uninterrupted contemplation, redoubled her desires as the end of her exile approached. Neither the relics of the saints which she had so sought after as speaking to her of her true home, nor her dearest treasure, the Cross of her Lord, was enough for her. She would fain have drawn the Lord Himself from His throne to dwell visibly on Earth. She only interrupted her sighs to excite in others the same longings. She exhorted her daughters not to neglect the knowledge of divine things and explained to them with profound science and motherly love the difficulties of the Scriptures. As she increased the holy readings of the community for the same end, she would say: “If you do not understand, ask. Why do you fear to seek the light of your souls?” And she would insist: “Reap, reap the wheat of the Lord, for I tell you truly, you will not have long to do it: reap, for the time draws near when you will wish to recall the days that are now given you, and your regrets will not be able to bring them back.” And the loving Chronicler to whom we owe these sweet intimate details continues: “In our idleness we listen coolly to the announcement, but that time has come all too soon. Now is realised in us the prophecy which says: ‘I will send forth a famine into your land: not a famine of bread, nor a thirst of water, but of hearing the Word of the Lord’ (Amos viii. 11). For though we still read her conferences, that voice which never ceased is now silent. Those lips, ever ready with wise advice and sweet words, are closed. O most good God, what an expression, what features, what manners you had given her! No, no-one could describe it. The remembrance is anguish! That teaching, that gracefulness, that face, that mien, that science, that piety, that goodness, that sweetness, where are we to seek them now?”

Such touching sorrow does honour to both Mother and daughters, but it could not keep back the former from her reward. On the morning of the Ides of August 587, while Sainte-Croix was filled with lamentations, an Angel was heard saying to others on high: “Leave her yet longer, for the tears of her daughters have ascended to God.” But those who were bearing Radegonde away replied: “It is too late, she is already in Paradise.”

YOUR exile is over, eternal possession has taken the place of desire. All Heaven is illumined with the brightness of the precious stone that has come to enrich the diadem of the Spouse. O Radegonde, the Wisdom who is now rewarding you toils led you by admirable ways. Your inheritance, become to you as a lion in the wood spreading death around you, your captivity far from your native land, what was all this but love’s way of drawing you from the dens of the lions, from the mountains of the leopards, where idolatry had led you in childhood? You had to suffer in a foreign land, but the light from above shone into your soul and gave it strength. A powerful king tried in vain to make you share his throne. You were a queen but for Christ, who in His goodness made you a mother to that kingdom of France which belongs to Him more than to any prince. For His sake you loved that land become yours by the right of the Bride who shares the sceptre of her Spouse. For His sake, that nation, whose glorious destiny you predicted, received unstintedly all your labours, your unspeakable mortifications, your prayers and your tears. O you who are ever queen of France, as Christ is ever its King, bring back to Him the hearts of its people, for in their blind error they have laid aside their glory, and their sword is no longer wielded for God. Protect above all the city of Poitiers which honours you with a special cultus together with its great Saint Hilary. Bless your daughters of Sainte-Croix, who, ever faithful to your great traditions, prove the power of that fruitful stem which through so many centuries and such devastations has never ceased to produce both flowers and fruit. Teach us to seek our Lord and to find Him in His holy Sacrament, in the relics of His Saints, in His suffering members on Earth. And may all Christians learn from you how to love.

8 AUGUST – SAINTS CYRIACUS, LARGUS AND SMARAGDUS (Martyrs)

Cyriacus, a deacon, underwent a long imprisonment together with Largus, Sisinitis and Smaragdus, and worked many miracles. Among others, by his prayers, he freed Arthemia, a daughter of Diocletian, from the possession of the devil. He was sent to Sapor, king of Persia, and delivered his daughter, Jobia, in like manner from the devil. He baptised the king, her father, and 430 others, and then returned to Rome. There he was seized by command of the emperor Maximiau, and dragged in chains before his chariot. Four days afterwards he was taken out of prison, boiling pitch was poured over him, he was stretched on the rack, and at length he was put to death by the axe, with Largus, Smaragdus, and 20 others at Sallust’s Gardens on the Via Salaria. A priest named John buried their bodies on that same way, on the 17th of the Calends of April, but on the 6th of the Ides of August, Pope Saint Marcellus I and the noble lady Lucina wrapped them in linen with precious spices, and translated them to Lucina’s estate on the Via Ostiensis, seven miles from Rome. Afterwards they were brought to Rome and placed in the Church of Santa Maria in Via Lata (the Title of a Cardinal-deacon).

Dom Prosper Guéranger:

Today a precursor of Laurence appears on the Cycle: the deacon Cyriacus whose power over the demon made Hell tremble, and entitles him to a place among the Saints called Helpers. He and his companions in martyrdom form one of the noblest groups of Christ’s army in that last and decisive battle in which the eagerness of the faithful to show that they knew how to die won victory for the Cross. Rome, baptised in the blood she had shed, found herself Christian in spite of herself. All her honours were now to be lavished on the very men whom in the time of her folly she had put to the sword. Such are thy triumphs, O Wisdom of God!

Mention of the three martyrs celebrated today is to be found in the most authentic calendars of the Church that have come down to us from the fourth century. If then, as Baronius acknowledges, there is some reason for calling in question certain details of the legend, their cultus is none the less immemorial on Earth, and the unwavering devotion of which they are the objects, especially in the sanctuaries enriched with their holy relics, proves that they have great power before the throne of the Lamb.

Also on this day according to the ROMAN MARTYROLOGY:

At Anzarba in Cilicia, St. Marinus, an aged man, who was scourged, racked and lacerated, and died by being exposed to wild beasts, in the time of the emperor Diocletian and the governor Lysias.

Also the holy martyrs Eleutherius and Leonides, who underwent martrydom by fire.

In Persia, St. Hormisdas, a martyr, under king Sapor.

At Cyzicum in Hellespont, St. Æmilian, bishop, who ended his life in exile after having suffered much from the emperor Leo for the worship of holy images.

In Crete, St. Myron, a bishop renowned for miracles.

At Vienne in France, St. Severus, priest and confessor, who undertook a painful journey from India in order to preach the Gospel in that city, and converted a great number of pagans to the faith of Christ by his labours and miracles.

And in other places, many other holy martyrs, confessors and virgins.

Thanks be to God.

12 JULY – SAINT JOHN GUALBERT (Abbot)

Giovanni Gualberto was born in Florence to the noble family of Visdomini in about 995. While a soldier, his sole brother Hugh was slain. On Good Friday, John met the murderer alone and unarmed in a spot where they could not avoid each other. The murderer, with arms out stretched in the form of a cross, begged for mercy, and John, through reverence for the sacred sign, graciously spared him. Having changed his enemy into a brother, John went to pray in the nearby church of San Miniato. As he was adoring the image of Christ crucified, he saw it bend its head towards him. Touched by this miracle, John determined to fight for God alone, even against his father’s wishes. He cut off his hair and put on the monastic habit. Soon the pious and religious manner of his life shed made him a living rule and pattern of perfection. On the death of the Abbot of the place he was unanimously elected its superior, but preferring obedience to superiority, and being reserved by the divine Will for greater things, John went to Romuald who was living in the desert of Camaldoli. The latter, inspired by Heaven, announced to John the institute he was to form. Thus he laid the foundations of his Order of the Vallis Umbrosa under the Rule of Saint Benedict.

Soon afterwards many flocked to John. He received them into his society, and with them zealously devoted himself to rooting out heresy and simony, and propagating the Apostolic faith, for which devotedness he and his disciples suffered many injuries. His enemies, in their eagerness to destroy him and his brethren, suddenly attacked the monastery of San Salvi at night, burned the church, demolished the buildings and mortally wounded all the monks. But John restored them all to health by a single sign of the Cross. The monk Peter miraculously walked unhurt through a huge blazing fire, and thus John obtained for himself and his sons the peace they so much desired. From that time forward every stain of simony disappeared from Tuscany, and faith was restored to its former purity throughout Italy. John built many new monasteries and restored many others, both as to their material buildings and as to regular observance, strengthening them all with the bulwark of holy regulations. In order to feed the poor he sold the sacred vessels of the Altar. The elements were obedient to his will when he sought to check evil-doers, and the sign of the Cross was the sword he used by which to conquer the devils.

Worn out by abstinence, watchings, fasting, prayer, maceration of the flesh and old age, John became seriously ill. During his sickness he repeated unceasingly those words of David: “My soul has thirsted after the strong living God: when will I come and appear before the face of God?” When death drew near, he called together his disciples and exhorted them to preserve fraternal union. Then he caused these words to be written on a paper which he wished should be buried with him: “I, John, believe and confess the faith which the holy Apostles preached, and the holy Fathers in the four Councils have confirmed.” Having been honoured during three days with the gracious presence of Angels, John died, aged 78, Passignano in 1073. He was canonised by Pope Celestine III in 1193.

Dom Prosper Guéranger:

Never, from the day when Simon Magus was baptised at Samaria, had Hell seemed so near to conquering the Church as at the period brought before us by today’s feast. Rejected and anathematised by Peter, the new Simon had said to the princes, as the former had said to the Apostles: “Sell me this power, that upon whoever I will lay hands, he may receive the Holy Ghost.” And the princes, ready enough to supplant Peter and fill their coffers at the same time, had taken on themselves to invest men of their own choice with the government of the churches. The bishops in their turn had sold to the highest bidders the various orders of the hierarchy, and sensuality, ever in the wake of covetousness, had filled the sanctuary with defilement.

The tenth century had witnessed the humiliation of the supreme Pontificate itself. Early in the eleventh, simony was rife among the clergy. The work of salvation was going on in the silence of the cloister, but Peter Damian had not yet come forth from the desert, nor had Hugh of Cluny, Leo IX and Hildebrand brought their united efforts to bear upon the evil. A single voice was heard to utter the cry of alarm and rouse the people from their lethargy: it was the voice of a monk who had once been a valiant soldier, and to whom the crucifix had bowed its head in recognition of his generous forgiveness of an enemy. John Gualbert, seeing simony introduced into his own monastery of San Miniato, left it and entered Florence, only to find the pastoral staff in the hands of a hireling. The zeal of God’s House was devouring his heart, and going into the public squares, he denounced the Bishop and his own Abbot, that thus he might at least deliver his own soul.

At the sight of this monk confronting single-handed the universal corruption, the multitude was for a moment seized with stupefaction. But soon surprise was turned into rage, and John with difficulty escaped death. From this day his special vocation was determined: the just, who had never despaired, hailed him as the avenger of Israel, and their hope was not to be confounded. But, like all who are chosen for a divine work, he was to spend a long time under the training of the Holy Spirit. The athlete had challenged the powers of this world. The holy war was declared: one would naturally have expected it to wage without ceasing until the enemy was entirely defeated. And yet, the chosen soldier of Christ hastened into solitude to “amend his life,” according to the truly Christian expression used in the foundation-charter of Vallombrosa. The promoters of the disorder, startled at the suddenness of the attack, and then seeing the aggressor as suddenly disappear, would laugh at the false alarm. But, cost what it might to the once brilliant soldier, he knew how to abide in humility and submission the hour of God’s good pleasure.

Little by little other souls, disgusted with the state of society, came to join him. And soon the army of prayer and penance spread throughout Tuscany. It was destined to extend over all Italy, and even to cross the mountains. Settimo, seven miles from Florence, and San Salvi at the gates of the city, were the strongholds whence the holy war was to recommence in 1063. Another simoniac, Peter of Favia, had purchased the succession to the episcopal see. John, with all his monks, was resolved rather to die than to witness in silence this new insult offered to the Church of God. His reception this time was to be very different from the former, for the fame of his sanctity and miracles had caused him to be looked upon by the people as an oracle. No sooner was his voice heard once more in Florence than the whole flock was so stirred that the unworthy pastor, seeing he could no longer dissemble, cast off his disguise and showed what he really was: a thief who had come only to rob and kill and destroy. By his orders a body of armed men descended upon San Salvi, set fire to the monastery, fell upon the brethren in the midst of the Night Office, and put them all to the sword, each monk continuing to chant till he received the fatal stroke. John Gualbert, hearing at Vallombrosa of the martyrdom of his sons, intoned a canticle of triumph. Florence was seized with horror and refused to communicate with the assassin bishop. Nevertheless four years had yet to elapse before deliverance could come, and the trials of Saint John had scarcely begun.

Saint Peter Damian, invested with full authority by the Sovereign Pontiff, had just arrived from the Eternal City. All expected that no quarter would be given to simony by its sworn enemy, and that peace would be restored to the afflicted Church. The very contrary took place. The greatest saints may be mistaken, and so become to one another the cause of sufferings by so much the more bitter as their will, being less subject to caprice than that of other men, remains more firmly set on the course they have adopted for the interests of God and His Church. Perhaps the great bishop of Ostia did not sufficiently take into consideration the exceptional position in which the Florentines were placed by the notorious simony of Peter of Pavia, and the violent manner in which he put to death, without form of trial, all who dared to withstand him. Starting from the indisputable principle that inferiors have no right to depose their superiors, the legate reprehended the conduct of the monks, and of all who had separated themselves from the bishop. There was but one refuge for them, the Apostolic See, to which they fearlessly appealed: a proceeding which no one could call uncanonical. But there, says the historian, many who feared for themselves, rose up against them, declaring that these monks were worthy of death for having dared to attack the prelates of the Church, while Peter Damian severely reproached them before the whole Roman Council. The holy and glorious Pope Alexander II took the monks under his own protection and praised the uprightness of their intention. Yet he dared not comply with their request and proceed further because the greater number of the bishops sided with Peter of Pavia. The archdeacon Hildebrand alone was entirely in favour of the Abbot of Vallombrosa.

Nevertheless the hour was at hand when God Himself would pronounce the judgement refused them by men. While overwhelmed with threats and treated as lambs among wolves, John Gualbert and his sons cried to heaven with the Psalmist: “Arise, O Lord, and help us. Arise, why do you sleep, O Lord? Arise, O God, and judge our cause.” At Florence the storm continued to rage. Saint Saviour’s at Settimo had become the refuge of such of the clergy as were banished from the town by the persecution. The holy founder, who was then residing in that monastery, multiplied in their behalf the resources of his charity. At length the situation became so critical that one day in Lent of the year 1067 the rest of the clergy and the whole population left the simoniac alone in his deserted palace and fled to Settimo. Neither the length of the road deep in mud from the rain, nor the rigorous fast observed by all, says the narrative written at that very time to the Sovereign Pontiff by the clergy and people of Florence, could stay the most delicate matrons, women about to become mothers, or even children. Evidently the Holy Ghost was actuating the crowd. They called for the judgement of God. John Gualbert, under the inspiration of the same Holy Spirit, gave his consent to the trial, and in testimony of the truth of the accusation brought by him against the Bishop of Florence, Peter, one of his monks, since known as Peter Igneus, walked slowly before the eyes of the multitude through an immense fire without receiving the smallest injury. Heaven had spoken: the Bishop was deposed by Rome, and ended his days a happy penitent in that very monastery of Settimo.

In 1073, the year in which his friend Hildebrand was raised to the Apostolic See, John was called to God. His influence against simony had reached far beyond Tuscany. The Republic of Florence ordered his feast to be kept as a holiday, and the following words were engraved upon his tomb-stone:

TO JOHN GUALBERT, CITIZEN OF FLORENCE, DELIVERER OF ITALY.

O TRUE disciple of the New Law, who knew how to spare an enemy for the love of the Holy Cross, teach us to practise, as you did, the lessons conveyed by the instrument of our salvation, which will then become to us, as to you, a weapon ever victorious over the powers of Hell. Could we look on the Cross and then refuse to forgive our brother an injury, when God Himself not only forgets our heinous offences against His Sovereign Majesty, but even died on the Tree to expiate them? The most generous pardon a creature can grant is but a feeble shadow of the pardon we daily obtain from our Father in Heaven. Still, the Gospel which the Church sings in your honour may well teach us that the love of our enemies is the nearest resemblance we can have to our heavenly Father, and the sign that we are truly His children.

You had, O John, this grand trait of resemblance. He who in virtue of His eternal generation is the true Son of God by nature, recognised in you the mark of nobility which made you His brother. When He bowed His sacred Head to you, He saluted in you the character of a child of God which you had just so beautifully maintained: a title a thousand times more glorious than those of your noble ancestry. What a powerful germ was the Holy Ghost planting at that moment in your heart! And how richly does God recompense a single generous act! Your sanctification, the glorious share you took take in the Church’s victory, the fecundity by which you live still in the Order sprung from you: all these choice graces for your own soul and for so many others, hung on that critical moment. Fate, or the Justice of God, as your contemporaries would have said, had brought your enemy within your power: how would you treat him? He was deserving of death, and in those days every man was his own avenger. Had you then inflicted due punishment on him, your reputation would have rather increased than diminished. You would have obtained the esteem of your comrades, but the only glory which is of any worth before God, indeed the only glory which lasts long even in the sight of men, would never have been yours. Who would have known you at the present day? Who would have felt the admiration and gratitude with which your very name now inspires the children of the Church?

The Son of God, seeing that your dispositions were conformable to those of His Sacred Heart, filled you with His own jealous love of the holy City for whose redemption He shed His Blood. O you that were zealous for the beauty of the Bride, watch over her still. Deliver her from hirelings who would fain receive from men the right of holding the place of the Bride groom. In our days venality is less to be feared than compromise. Simony would take another form. There is not so much danger of bribery, as of fawning, paying homage, making advances, entering into implicit contracts: all which proceedings are as contrary to the holy Canons, as are pecuniary transactions. And after all, is the evil any the less for taking a milder form, if it enables princes to bind the Church again in fetters such as you laboured to break? Suffer not, O John Gualbert, such a misfortune which would be the forerunner of terrible disasters. Continue to support with your powerful arm the common Mother of men. Obtain for Christians of every condition the courage required for the warfare in which all are bound to engage.

On this same day the whole Church unites in the solemn homage which Milan continues to pay, after a lapse of [eighteen] centuries, to two valiant witnesses of Christ. “Our martyrs Felix and Nabor,” says Saint Ambrose, “are the grain of mustard-seed mentioned in the Gospel. They possessed the good odour of faith, though it did not appear to men. Persecution arose, they laid down their arms, and bowed their heads to the sword, and immediately the grace that was hidden within them was shed abroad even to the ends of the world so that we can now in all truth say of them: Their sound has gone forth into all the Earth.”

Also on this day according to the ROMAN MARTYROLOGY:

In Cyprus, St. Jason, one of the first disciples of Christ.

At Aquileia, the birthday of St. Hermagoras, a disciple of the Evangelist St. Mark, and first bishop of that city. While occupied in performing miraculous cures, in preaching frequently and bringing souls to repentance, he suffered many kinds of torments, and finally by capital punishment, merited an immortal triumph with his deacon Fortunatus.

At Lucca in Tuscany, blessed Paulinus, who was consecrated first bishop of that city by the blessed Apostle St. Peter. Under Nero, after many combats, he terminated his martyrdom with some companions at the foot of Mount Pisa.

The same day, the Saints Proclus and Hilarion, who won the palm of martyrdom after most bitter torments in the time of the emperor Trajan and the governor Maximus.

At Lentini, St. Epiphana, who, after having her breasts cut off, died in the time of the emperor Diocletian and the governor Tertillus.

At Toledo, St. Marciana, virgin and martyr. For the faith of Christ, she was exposed to the beasts, torn to pieces by a bull, and was thus crowned with martyrdom.

At Lyons, St. Viventiolus, bishop.

At Bologna, St. Paternian, bishop.

And in other places, many other holy martyrs, confessors and virgins.

Thanks be to God.