Tag Archives: Patron Saints

True Devotion to the Saints

Before he died, St. Ignatius, yielding to pressure from his assistant and secretary Fr. Luis Gonzalez de Camara, dictated a spiritual biography.  The future saint knew just how important it was to study the lives of the saints, especially because God had brought him to conversion through his exposure to different hagiographies.  At one pivotal point Ignatius, led by the grace of God, began to “think and reason to himself.  ‘Suppose that I should do what St. Francis did, what St. Dominic did?’ He thus let his thoughts run over many things that seemed good to him, always putting before himself things that were difficult and important which seemed to him easy to accomplish when he proposed them. But all his thought was to tell himself ‘St. Dominic did this, therefore, I must do it. St. Francis did this, therefore, I must do it.’”   In this way, St. Ignatius could be the Patron Saint of studying the lives of the saints.

In coming to read the lives of the saints, many of us seem to take a similar approach to Ignatius.  We are moved by their exploits and try to model our spiritual lives after theirs.  We think St. Dominic preached the Rosary, therefore I must preach the Rosary.  St. Francis went to great lengths to tame “Brother Ass” (the epithet he gave his body), so I too must regularly fast by eating nothing several times a week.  The problem with this, as Ignatius later hinted at, is that it has all the makings of a self-help trap in which we risk running out ahead of grace instead of cooperating with it.

The Importance of the Floating Pronouns

Ignatius understood the deeper meaning of the floating pronouns this and it when he was moved by the Holy Spirit to think “because Francis or Dominic did this, therefore I must do it.”  The this is not the specific exploits.  Ignatius was wholly incapable of doing those things because the great and holy things that Francis and Dominic did were done under the influence of grace.  They were impossible no matter how determined Ignatius was.  But moved by supernatural grace, they made the extraordinary seem ordinary and sanctity achievable.  It becomes the key and by it Ignatius meant cooperating with grace.  What made Francis and Dominic, and ultimately Ignatius, saints was not what they did specifically, but their habit of never missing a single grace that God sent to them.  They were, according to the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, inhabitants of the Third Class of Men who “seek only to will and not will as God Our Lord inspires them.”  They didn’t just do good, but they did the good that God wanted.

To study the saints then we should understand that everything they did was because they were docile to grace.  We ought to begin, not by being amazed at their exploits, but by being amazed at what grace can do to an ordinary person who desires to always cooperate with it.  That is what we should seek to imitate first and foremost.

True Imitation of the Saints

The reason why this is important is because we are each given different graces.  We are all commanded to fast and thus given the grace to carry out that commandment, but only some of us are given the grace to fast in the manner of Francis.  It would be wrong for us to imitate Francis in that regard unless we have been told and equipped—”to will and not will as God Our Lord inspires us.”  The first question we must ask is not what Francis would do, but whether God is asking it of us.  Too often we get ideas to do something extraordinary that turn out to be of our own (or the Enemy’s) making. It is important to discern those graces because God will equip us to do the extraordinary, but unless we have the necessary sensitivity to grace we will miss it.  We should be regularly asking for the grace of being faithful and docile to grace.

It is important to stress that this is not the only reason we should study the lives of the saints.  It is simply what our initial approach should be aimed at.  Armed with the realization of what grace can turn us into, we now ought to turn to their example personally.  Each of the Saints is still, perhaps even more, alive and active in the Church today.  Our eternal destiny is not just a “me and Jesus” twostep, but to be united to the Holy Trinity and the Saints.  This is the Communion of Saints.  We will know each of them personally.  That friendship is based on mutual devotion.  We study their lives because we cannot love who we don’t know.  But when we do get to know them, we not only grow to love them, but also come to rely on them.  They become devoted to us as well. 

One of the things that most of the Saints did during their earthly sojourn was to develop relationships with the Saints who had gone before them.  St. Thomas relied on St. Paul to explain to him the difficult parts of his letters.  St. Gemma relied on St. Margaret Mary Alocoque to help her in her suffering with spinal meningitis and to teach her devotion to the Sacred Heart.  Because St. Margaret Mary had received the unique grace of knowing and understanding the Sacred Heart of Jesus, she became a distributor of that grace when she entered into her eternal reward.  St. Gemma knew this about St. Margaret Mary and so she knew to go to her when she wanted the grace of devotion to the Sacred Heart.  This is why we must also come to treat the notion of patron saints as much more than a mere talisman and part and parcel with holy friendship.  God gave each saint very specific graces in his lifetime so that he in turn could become a distributor of that grace from heaven.  Please God that we too might take those special graces that He gives us and become His distributor from heaven. 

Catching Zeal

In summarizing His mission to the Apostles, Our Lord tells them plain and simply that He “came to cast fire upon the earth; and would that it were already kindled” (Luke 12:49).  He came to set the world ablaze with divine charity and, so ardently does He desire the conflagration that He would offer Himself as tinder.  To set the world aflame with a single kindle would take a highly combustible fuel, a fuel mixed with equal parts of the glory of God and the salvation of souls.  In fact, we could say that everything Jesus said and did was for those two ends.  It drove Him to clean the Temple and it drove Him up the hill of Calvary.  When it was bottled up, it erupted out of the tomb and propelled Our Lord to ascend into Heaven.  It is this fuel that drove Himself in the Eucharist (c.f. Lk 22:15) and it is this fuel that shines forth from all the monstrances on the earth. 

This fire can never be extinguished.  When asked by St. Catherine of Siena what His greatest pain was, Our Lord said it was the pain of desire:

“My child, there can be no comparison between something finite and something infinite. Consider that the pain of My body was limited, while My desire for the salvation of souls was infinite. This burning thirst, this cross of desire, I felt all My life. It was more painful for Me than all the pains that I bore in My body. Nevertheless, My soul was moved with joy seeing the final moment approach, especially at the supper of Holy Thursday when I said, ‘ I have desired ardently to eat this Pasch with you, ‘ that is, sacrifice My body to My Father. I had a great joy, a great consolation, because I saw the time arrive when this cross of desire would cease for Me; and the closer I felt Myself to the flagellation and the other torments of My body, the more I felt the pain in Me diminish. The pain of the body made that of desire disappear, because I saw completed what I had desired. With death on the Cross the pain of the holy desire ended, but not the desire and the hunger I have for your salvation. If this love that I have for you were extinguished, you would no longer exist, since it is only this love that maintains you in life.” 

This habitual desire, this “predominant virtue” of Our Lord as Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange describes it, is zeal.  Our Lord was not only meek and humble, but also zealous.  And it is this zeal that sets the world ablaze.  But we must be absolutely clear on how the fire of Christ’s zeal is spread. 

Christ’s Zeal

We might initially think that it is spread via imitation of Christ.  We would, of course be correct, but only in a secondary way.  Christ’s virtues are not primarily taught to us, but caught by us.  His Messianic mission was not simply to shed His blood on the Cross, but to have that blood touch every aspect of human life.  Messiah was not just a mission, but an identity and His act of redemption is continuous.  He came not just to show us how to live, but to empower us to live that way.  He does not give us an example, but a share in all of His virtues so that if Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange is right, then He wants us to predominantly share in His zeal for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.

We have spoken previously on what zeal is and isn’t  so rather than revisiting that, we should examine how by true zeal we already are.  The Church has long taught that one of the distinctive marks of Catholics is the practice of the Works of Mercy.  But there is always a danger in examining ourselves against these because they can easily be animated by a humanitarian spirit.  When this is the case, they become merely signs of activism rather than evangelism.  Therefore we must examine the spirit in which we perform these acts.  To be truly acts of mercy, they must be zealously done for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.  When we feed the hungry we must do so for the glory of God and the salvation of the hungry man’s soul.  Any other reason is superfluous and draws us towards humanitarianism.  This remains a serious temptation because activism often masquerades as zeal. 

Fr. Jean-Baptiste Chautard in his book The Soul of the Apostolate calls this the “heresy of good works” and describes “activistic heretics” as those who, “for their part, imagine that they are giving greater glory to God in aiming above all at external results. This state of mind is the explanation why, in our day, in spite of the appreciation still shown for schools, dispensaries, missions, and hospitals, devotion to God in its interior form, by penance and prayer, is less and less understood. No longer able to believe in the value of immolation that nobody sees, your activist will not be content merely to treat as slackers and visionaries those who give themselves, in the cloister, to prayer and penance with an ardor for souls equal to that of the most tireless missionary; but he will also roar with laughter at those active workers who consider it indispensable to snatch a few minutes from even the most useful occupations, in order to go and purify and rekindle their energy.”

Catching Zeal

If it is not in external works that we catch Christ’s zeal, then how do we catch it?  Fr. Chautard tells us that we become infected in prayer.  All of our exterior works are simply overflow from our interior lives.  The more time we spend in prayer, close to the Heart of Jesus, the greater will be our love for Him.  The greater our love, the more we will desire what He desires—the glory of God and the salvation of souls.  An apostle without an interior life is no apostle at all but simply a social worker.  We must first be committed to a deep prayer life before we should set out into the world to save souls.  Only in slaking our thirst for Jesus can we quench His thirst for souls.

As Fr. Chautard puts it, “I must seriously fear that I do not have the degree of interior life that Jesus demands of me:   If I cease to increase my thirst to live in Jesus,  that thirst which gives me both the desire to please God in all things, and the fear of displeasing Him in any way whatever. But I necessarily cease to increase this thirst if I no longer make use of the means for doing so: morning mental-prayer, Mass, Sacraments, and Office, general and particular examinations of conscience, and spiritual reading; or if, while not altogether abandoning them, I draw no profit from them, through my own fault.”   

It is this principle in action that has left the Church with a co-Patroness of missionaries that never left the convent.  St. Therese of Lisieux is, along with the great missionary St. Francis Xavier, the co-Patroness of Missionaries.  Her great zeal for the glory of God and the salvation of souls was formed and then poured out in prayer.  In fact, it was revealed to St. Therese that through her prayer she had converted as many souls as St. Francis Xavier, the great missionary to the East.  The point is that zeal must always be formed first in prayer and then exercised in the manner in which God chooses.