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Posted by on Sep 22, 2007

Saint Thomas of Villanova: Almsgiver, Father of the Poor, and Model of Bishops

Saint Thomas of Villanova was born to a family of modest means in Fuentellana, Spain in 1488. His father was a miller and his parents were known for their generosity to the poor.

Thomas was educated as a child and at sixteen entered the University of Alcalá. While there, he earned advanced degrees in Theology. By 1514, he received the chair of arts, logic and philosophy. He was offered the chair of natural philosophy at the University of Salamanca, one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in Europe, but declined it in order to enter the Augustinian order in 1516. He was ordained a priest in 1518. His new duties included teaching scholastic theology at the Salamanca Convent of his order. As the years passed, his duties expanded to include preaching in many areas of Spain. Eventually he was named to the position of court preacher to Emperor Charles V (Charles I of Spain).

Thomas held many positions of responsibility among the Augustinians, including the position of provincial-prior in Andalusia and Castile. During those years, he sent the first Augustinian missionaries to Mexico (1533). In 1544, he was nominated to serve as Archbishop of Valencia, a post that had been open for nearly one hundred years. He had declined the position of Bishop of Granada previously, but this time he accepted the position as a matter of obedience to his superiors.

Thomas of Villanova was the thirty-second bishop and eighth archbishop of Valencia. He served in this role for eleven years. During his time as archbishop, he began a series of reforms and initiatives in service of the poor, for which he received the titles of “Almsgiver,” “Father of the Poor,” and “Model of Bishops” from Pope Paul V at his beatification in 1618. The reforms included abolition of excessive privileges and unreasonable exemptions for the clergy, visits to parishes in the archdiocese, and abolition of underground prisons. He set up institutions to serve the poor in practical ways, including rebuilding Valencia’s general hospital that had been destroyed by fire, setting up two colleges, including one for the children of the poor, founding a home for orphans and children whose parents could not support them, and having Mass offered early in the morning, so working-class people could attend before going to their jobs.

The palace in which Thomas lived as archbishop was always open to the poor. Anyone who came for help received it, with hundreds of people receiving meals through the years. In every city, he appointed people to seek out those “respectable” people who were in need but hesitated or did not think to ask for help. To these he provided clothing, food, or money to help them get back on their feet. To workmen, farmers, and mechanics, he provided tools, seeds, livestock and other items they needed to be able to earn their livings again.

Thomas himself lived simply, mending his own clothing and repairing things as needed. He spent much time in prayer and study. He was known for his supernatural gifts, including healing the sick, resolving conflicts, and bringing people closer to God. He was a mystic and his writings and sermons include practical rules and reflections regarding mystic theology.

Despite his education and commitment to reform in the Church, Thomas did not participated in the Council of Trent (1545-1563). Many reasons have been given for his absence, including illness, the difficulty of travel, and the press of his duties to his people and as advisor to the emperor.

Thomas of Villanova died of angina pectoris at the age of 67, at the end of his daily Mass. He was buried in the cathedral of Valencia. Pope Alexander VII canonized him on November 1, 1658.

Descriptions of the life and works of Thomas of Villanova, while impressive, may not have as dramatic a ring of heroic sanctity today as they did in his day. Bishops who lord it over the people, live lives of conspicuous consumption, and spend most of their time living and acting as princes are not the norm today, as they were in his lifetime. The ideal of bishops has come to be one that more closely resembles the life of Thomas of Villanova. The title, “Model of Bishops,” was well bestowed. The example he gave has borne fruit into our days. When we intercede for our bishops, we would do well to ask his intercession for them too.

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Posted by on Sep 22, 2007

Canning, A Little “Communion of Saints”

Monday this past week was a “Canning Day” at our house. The pears were ripe enough to be sweet even without the addition of a light syrup. Canning days cannot be easily scheduled. They can be predicted, but everything must wait for the right degree of ripeness. I had bought the pears nearly a week earlier, on Tuesday, with the hopes that they would be ripe on Saturday. (Saturdays are easier for canning because I can lasso a helper. Weekdays she’s in school.) But they were still green. Sunday they were smelling like ripening pears, but when we tasted one that was beginning to mold, it still had a green tang, so we waited. I washed the jars and made sure I had honey for making the syrup, but that was as far as I could go. Monday they were ready and I set to work.

Canning pears is not difficult, but it is time consuming because the pears must be pealed and the core removed before they are put into the jars for processing. I only had one box of them, but it still took an afternoon of work to get them into the jars and processed and the jam made to complete the day’s work. But oh, the wonder of them in the middle of the winter, when I enjoy them as part of my breakfast or for a midnight snack! It’s worth every minute spent.

So how does this relate to the “Communion of Saints?” I was blessed to know not only all of my grandparents, but also one set of my great-grandparents. Great Grandad died when I was very young and I really don’t remember him except from a picture. But my Great Grandmother Heitstuman lived until after I graduated from college and was engaged. She lived in town and we saw her frequently. We called her Grandma, because I was the first great grandchild and she didn’t like to think she was old enough to be a great grandmother. She even gave us lemon drops when we remembered for a whole visit to call her “Grandma” rather than “Great Grandma.”

Grandma’s birthday was July 3 and she liked to celebrate it on the 4th. We’d gather at her house for a potluck of all the relatives living in town, including three families of my Mother’s cousins who were children my age. (We called my mother’s mother, Grammy. Grammy’s brothers and sister had children much later than she did.) While awaiting the expected fireworks coming after dark, we children would play in the yards and basements of the three family houses on Grandma’s block. In a corner, safely tucked away on neat shelves, there were the jars and jars of canned fruits, vegetables, jams, and jellies. Everyone had them. By the end of the growing season, the shelves were full of the bounty of summer and ready to take us all through the coming winter.

My grandmothers, my mother, my aunts, and many of our neighbors and friends preserved both fruits and vegetables. When I got married, I too began to preserve foods for my family, despite the fact that by the mid-70s fresh fruits and vegetables were available in the stores year round. The variety, textures and flavors of commercially prepared or preserved foods did not match those I had grown up loving. Continuing the tradition, my married son and his wife have joined in the art of canning and preserving foods for the coming seasons.

While none of us is likely ever to be named officially as saints, and certainly we all have our share of faults, our sharing in this activity of canning brings us together in a very special way. I always feel very close to the women who have gone before me as I prepare the raw ingredients and fill the shelves with jars of pickles, jams and canned fruits. I’m sure they are smiling at the sight with their own memories of the work and the pleasure of the enterprise.

The Communion of Saints is somewhat like this communion of canners of fruits. Not people we worship in any way, but more like older sisters and brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. People who care about us, who are interested in what we do and how we do it, and who want to help us in whatever way they can to live our lives responsibly, do the good that God hopes we will accomplish, and have a little fun along the way. And, like an older brother or sister, if we need someone to put in a good word for us along the way, they’re happy to do that too!

Yes, Canning Days are special. They bring the reality of my little “communion of saints” into focus again in its relationship to the great Communion of Saints in which all of us share.

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Posted by on Sep 4, 2007

The Triumph of the Lowly – St. Thérèse of Lisieux and The Little Way

The Triumph of the Lowly – St. Thérèse of Lisieux and The Little Way

Not too long after Pope John Paul II named St. Thérèse of Lisieux a Doctor of the Church in 1997, I overheard someone commenting to one of her friends that a specialist in the spirituality of St. Teresa of Avila, was upset by his action. This specialist was very clear about the reasons that Teresa of Avila had received that honor, based on her years of spiritual growth, her reformation of the Carmelite order, and her writings. By contrast, Thérèse of Lisieux, in her short 24 years, had really not contributed anything of substance, certainly not enough to merit such a grand title as Doctor of the Church, a status shared by only 32 other people. Only two other women, Teresa of Avila (1515-1582) and Catherine of Siena (1347-1380) were Doctors of the Church. They had only received this recognition in 1970. (The New Catholic Encyclopedia, in 1967, ventured that women were unlikely to receive this honor because it is linked to the teaching office of the church,”which is limited to males.”)

Marie Françoise Thérèse Martin (1873-1897) became Sr. Thérèse of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face when she took her vows at the Carmelite convent in Lisieux in Normandy, France in 1888. I have been a fan of hers since I was in second grade. I read a children’s biography, Saint Thérèse and the Roses. It was really too hard for me to read easily, but I plowed my way through it and fell in love with her. I returned to the story many times as I grew up and continued to find her attractive. In fact, I chose her as my Confirmation patroness at age 13, long before she was so grand.

When Randy and I were newly-weds, we went to Guadalajara, Mexico to meet his cousins on his father’s side of the family. Randy’s aunt, Tía Dorotea, gave me a copy of Thérèse’s autobiography, The Story of a Soul, in Spanish. Thérèse was also Tía Dorotea’s favorite saint and I learned that in Mexico she is sometimes known as Santa Teresita (St. Little Teresa). I have thought of her as Teresita since that time.

However, I was in graduate school and then had young children and a business to operate with Randy, and I never found time to read my precious gift.

I’d like to say that I have now found and read it, but that would not be true. I know it is in our house somewhere, but like the beads for repairing my favorite moccasins, it is hiding in our resident Black Hole. I’m confident that it will someday escape and I plan to read it with a smile when it does, as I remember Tía Dorotea fondly.

So, I found myself wondering, what was it that made her as important in the life and history of the Church as Teresa of Avila and Catherine of Siena? I found the answer recently while shopping for a birthday gift at my favorite bookstore. On the shelf was a small book by Patrick Ahern, Auxiliary Bishop of New York, Maurice and Thérèse: The Story of a Love.

In this little book, Bishop Ahern offers a brief biography of Thérèse of Lisieux and an explanation of the general spiritual ambience of the late 19th Century. He then presents a series of letters written by Maurice Bellière to Thérèse of Lisieux and her responses. Maurice Bellière was a seminarian who had written to the Prioress of Carmel in Lisieux requesting that a Sister be chosen to pray especially for his vocation and with whom he could correspond. Thérèse’s sister Pauline was prioress at the time and she chose Thérèse to be the one who would respond to him.

Thérèse was passing through the last 18 months of her life, dying of tuberculosis. She was holding on by sheer force of will to her belief in God and her trust that her life of faith had not been that of a fool. It was a time of deep spiritual darkness for her, yet she offered sound advice, great encouragement and deep love to Maurice in her letters.

I couldn’t send the book to its new owner until I read it all myself! And through this book, I came to understand the great gift my Teresita gave to the Church, a path out of the darkness of Jansenism back into the light of trust in a loving God.

During the late 19th Century, an heretical approach to spirituality called Jansenism was still widely influential in popular spirituality, especially in France. The fundamental idea of Jansenism, which began in the mid-1600s, was that humans are not able to resisting any deep longing of the soul or any pleasure, whether towards good or evil. The only hope of salvation rested on God’s intervention in a person’s life, steering the person directly to choose the good. This understanding denied the existence and role of free will as a foundation of the relationship between God and humans. It was a system of predestination in which no one could have any certainty that he or she had been chosen (predestined) for salvation.

As a result, it tended to be a spirituality leading to uncompromising firmness or rigidity regarding beliefs and stern, strict religious practices. There was no role allowed for the heart or for feelings in worship. The infallibility of Church teachings was denied. Humans were seen as inherently bad and unworthy of God’s love or forgiveness. Frequent reception of Communion was discouraged because people are so unworthy to receive such a great gift.

Jansenism persisted for the next several centuries, especially in France. It was formally outlawed in 1712, but many Jansenist ideas and practices continued. St. Pius X, who had read Thérèse’s autobiography, was elected Pope in 1903. He tried to counter Jansenism by lowering the age for First Communion to 7 and by encouraging frequent Communion. Yet even into the mid-20th century when I was a girl, the remnants of Jansenism popped up in popular spirituality and even in the pulpit.

The “Little Way” of Thérèse of Lisieux, again opened the door to the Good News of Jesus, that God is a loving Father (a Parent) to us. While it is true that we are weak and we sin all too easily and frequently, God’s Love still reaches out to us and forgives.

The essence of the Little Way is the idea that most of us are not called to heroic degrees of self giving and sacrifice in our lives. Most of us are not called to leadership roles in the community. Few are called to celibacy. Even fewer are called to the heroic witness of martyrdom. But all of us are called to holiness (sainthood).

In her own words, “Love proves itself by deeds, so how am I to show my love? Great deeds are forbidden me. The only way I can prove my love is by scattering flowers and these flowers are every little sacrifice, every glance and word, and the doing of the least actions for love.”

Teresita understood, as did the great St. Teresa of Avila, that God is found even in the cooking pots of the kitchen — in the daily routines of cooking, cleaning, sewing, gardening and praying of her community.

Bishop Ahern notes that her greatest fear in facing death was that death might truly be the end of everything. That her life might go out like an extinguished candle and all have been in vain. Her second greatest fear was the death by suffocation that tuberculosis often causes. However, when the time came, she simply stopped breathing, with a smile of peaceful delight on her face, and moved into her new life, all fear and doubt obviously left behind her. Her final words were, “My God, I love you.”

John Paul II, in Divini Amoris Scientia (The Science of Divine Love), the decree that gave Marie Françoise Thérèse Martin the title, Doctor of the Church, noted that she gave us a foundation for spirituality that was innocent, open, hopeful, and trusting. Church authorities also noted that Thérèse was ahead of her time. Thérèse stressed the importance of reading Scripture and using it as a basis for prayer and meditation. She promoted the importance of studying the Scriptures in their original languages. These views would set theology and spirituality on a whole new course when they were advocated in 1943 by Pope Pius XII, in Divino Afflante Spiritu (Inspired by the Divine Spirit).

Thérèse Martin’s little book and her Little Way also influenced Pope John XXIII who convened the Second Vatican Council. Her autobiography influenced most of the movers and shakers of the early 20th Century in the Church and those insights shine through the Council documents and reforms.

Thank you, Bishop Ahern for your wonderful little book.

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Posted by on Aug 23, 2007

Harden Not Your Heart

Many years ago I was teaching a 5th and 6th grade religious education class (otherwise known as CCD in Catholic circles). It was a lively group of children, many of whom were quite outspoken. We gathered weekly in a church hall after their regular school day. I always let them move around a bit, talk with each other and work on a cross stitch project while I was getting the space ready for our class. It helped them transition into the time we would spend together. It also helped them get to know each other, because they came from four or five different schools.

One particular day, a very lively, expressive girl, I’ll call her Marcie, decided that she didn’t like something I had said in greeting or in calling the group together. I don’t remember now what it was, but none of the other children thought anything of it.

When I called the children to gather in a circle for our opening prayer verse and song, Marcie joined the circle but faced away from the rest of us, towards the outside, saying she wasn’t going to be part of the group because she didn’t like what I had said.

It’s not often that a teacher gets such a perfect example handed her on a platter, so I shamelessly moved ahead and used it! We were, after all, studying the sacraments, including Reconciliation, that year. I asked the other children to look at Marcie and notice what she was doing. She had chosen not to be part of the group and had turned away from us. We had not turned from her. None of us had rejected her in any way. It was her choice to turn away and would be her choice to turn back to join the group. That is the way it is between us and God. God never turns away from us. We may choose to turn from God — and we are the ones who can choose to turn back at any time. God will never force us to act in either direction. It’s entirely up to each of us.

And what did Marcie do while I was speaking? Before I finished the first sentence, she had turned back to the group and was apologizing to all of them for giving me the chance to make a “religion” lesson out of what she had done. They were quick to make her feel at ease again.

I remembered Marcie and that day today as we prayed the Psalm at Mass. “If today you hear God’s voice, harden not your heart.” (Ps 95:7-8) God’s voice calls us. I hope we can respond as quickly as Marcie and the other children did to join the circle listening to His voice.

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Posted by on Jul 29, 2007

Love At the Fabric Store

While waiting in line at the local fabric and crafts store yesterday, a grandmother and her two granddaughters joined me. The older girl was probably about 5 and the younger seemed about 2 ½ or 3. She was young enough to be carried without too much difficulty by her grandmother, who had an injured foot.

The older girl immediately moved forward to look at the display of stuffed animals, and the candy packages next to them in front of the checkout stand. Of course, the little one wanted to join her, so Grandma set her down, with a reminder to touch gently.

The child ignored the candy and instead moved quickly to the display of stuffed animals. She selected a small dog and immediately planted a kiss on the dog’s forehead and returned it to the shelf. That done, she moved over slightly and picked up another dog. This one received a heartfelt hug before its kiss. She repeated this four or five times, sometimes choosing a dog, sometimes another animal. Then, her attention caught by the candies, she began putting a small bag of candy into the paws of each animal.

Her innocent offer of love and her desire to give something special to someone she found loveable, the stuffed animals, was a reminder for me of the way children are channels of Love to all of us. She wanted nothing from the toys. She did not demand or expect a response from them. She didn’t think to expect her grandmother to give her a toy or any candy. She just let her love flow out to the toy animals in front of her.

I left the store with a smile and a reminder to keep looking at my world through the eyes of Love too.

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