Seven UnSUng SaintS

Who Will Transform Your Faith

Seven Unsung Saints That Will Transform Your Faith

Since the early days of the Church, Catholics of all ages have looked to the saints as true role models — examples of ordinary, sometimes flawed individuals who were able to live extraordinary lives thanks to their faith and trust in God. These heroes of the Church can also intercede for us, praying in the presence of God for our daily needs.

Our friendship with the saints is rooted in a theological concept we all have heard of but probably haven’t spent much time studying: the Commu-nion of Saints. Every time we pray the Apostles’ Creed, we declare that the Communion of Saints is one of the things in which we believe. But what is it? The short answer is the Catholic Church is the Communion of Saints. We here on earth, the souls in purgatory, and the souls in heaven are all united in one sacred community.

There are many saints whose names are less well known than St. Anthony, St. Thérèse, St. Francis, or St. Teresa of Calcutta (Mother Teresa), and yet their contributions to the Church and the faithful are immeasurable. These seven “unsung saints” are no less heroes of the Church. They are our role models — men and women and children whose virtues we can try to im-itate. They are our inspiration, our companions in good times and in bad. Through their prayers we receive countless blessings from God. Anyone who strives to imitate one of the saints will draw closer to God and, by his grace, become a saint, too.

Unsung Saint #1

St. Camillus de LellisRoad to sainthood full of twists and turns

Camillus de Lellis was an unlikely candidate for sainthood. A slave to gambling as a young man, he financed his addiction by being a “soldier of fortune.” Yet by the time of his death, Camillus had become well known as a compassionate servant of the sick and dying. He went from being a killer to a healer, and he did so by God’s mercy.

Born on May 25, 1550, in Bocchianico, Italy, Camillus encountered im-mediately two contrasting models of human beings. His mother, Camilla, was a good, prayerful woman who tried to raise her only child in the Cath-olic faith. His father, Giovanni, was an inveterate gambler and mercenary seldom at home. Camillus longed to join his father on the road. He hated going to school, and he ignored his mother’s remonstrations. Instead, he practiced the card games he had learned from Giovanni.

Camilla dreamed around the time of Camillus’ birth that he would travel with a band of men who wore crosses on their shirts.

Given the fact that a cross was seen then as a sign of a condemned man, and seeing that Camillus was becoming more like his father every day, Ca-milla feared he would end up a tramp or worse. Still, she continued to pray for him and to teach him the ways of faith. She died when Camillus was thirteen, unaware that her vision actually foresaw a very different legacy for her son.

Camillus was sent to live with relatives who had no interest in dealing with such a difficult boy and left him to fend for himself. When he turned sixteen, having grown to the height of six feet six inches, Camillus left and joined his father. Evidently, they were quite a pair. Father and son inhabited a very narrow circle of life. As mercenaries, they would work for any army that would pay. With money in their pockets, they would set out for the gambling dens, playing until broke and then repeating the cycle over and over.

When Camillus was nineteen, he and his father were traveling to Venice hoping to join the fight against the Turks. They were in bad shape, though. Camillus had suffered a leg wound that suppurated constantly, and Giovan-ni was at death’s door. He asked Camillus to get a priest. Giovanni received the last rites, expressed sorrow for all his past sins, and died having been reconciled to God. This act of faith made an impression on Camillus.

He was sick, too. Would death visit him next? It was time to amend his life. He remembered that he had an uncle, a friar, at a Franciscan monas-tery. Maybe they would accept him. His uncle was very kind, but he told Camillus that entrance into the order could not happen so quickly. Besides,

they had no way of tending to his leg, which had yet to heal. He would have to come back later.

The next couple of years, Camillus made efforts to improve his life, but he kept returning to gambling and fighting. The one thing that removed him from this sad routine was the leg wound, which was not healing. Camillus traveled to the hospital of St. James in Rome. He said he would work in exchange for medical care. The hospital agreed, and Camillus began his work with fervor: sweeping floors, cleaning rooms, etc. While working, he noticed that the doctors favored patients who paid, and the poor were neglected. Even the parish priests ignored the poor. To make matters worse, his fellow servants, many of whom were criminals working off sentences, did as little as possible. Sadly, even Camillus became slack in his duties, and he started gambling again. As soon as it was discovered, he was thrown out.

Another series of ups and downs followed until Camillus had reached bottom. He had hired himself out to the Spanish navy, but a violent storm scattered the fleet, and Camillus’ galley was alone. They were able to reach shore, but the group disbanded since there was no hope of rejoining the fleet. Camillus quickly turned to gambling again and lost everything. All he had in the world was the shirt on his back. Walking aimlessly, he came to Manfredonia and joined a group of ragged beggars asking passersby for bread. One of them, a nobleman, noticed the tall youth among the motley crew and asked Camillus why he was begging. Camillus said nothing, but the nobleman offered him a job. The beggars tried to dissuade Camillus; he would be better off on the road than working for a pittance. Camillus agreed, but as he was walking away, he suddenly turned back and accepted the nobleman’s offer.

Camillus did not realize at first that he had heeded God’s call. It was only years later that Camillus understood that the nobleman’s charity stirred in him a deep memory of being God’s child. Indeed, God had been call-ing him throughout his life — through his mother’s prayers, through his father’s conversion, even through a job offer. Camillus was like the prodigal son in the pigsty, glimpsing the truth of his dignity as God’s child. Pope St. John Paul II wrote in Dives in Misericordia (“Rich in Mercy”), “the person who is the object of mercy does not feel humiliated, but rather found again and ‘restored to value’” (6). Camillus felt restored, and he left gambling forever.

Trials were still ahead of him, but the growing sense of his dignity kept Camillus focused on living well. He went back to St. James’ Hospital and

this time did not falter in his duties. He became so conscientious in his service, in fact, that the staff made Camillus superintendent. When the servants failed to join his enthusiasm, Camillus redoubled his efforts. He identified with the sick and dying, especially the poor, remembering that he had been in their situation, too. Like him, they were God’s children, deserv-ing care and respect. Camillus took to heart Jesus’ words, “Whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me” (Mt 25:40). He found that he was no longer doing a job, he was loving Jesus in his brothers and sisters.

By 1584, Camillus had been ordained a priest and had established an order of men for the care of the sick (known today as the Camillians). Camillus wanted to reform the way patients were treated. He devoted time to creating better methods of care. For example, he developed and trained his brothers in a way to change bed sheets without having to remove the patient. He began the practice of keeping notes, so caretakers changing shifts would know the patients’ situations. Patients were to be looked upon with love; they were not cases to be managed. In these and many other ways, Camillus anticipated the methods of modern nursing. (Pope Pius XI, in 1930, named Camillus a patron of nurses.)

Camillus’ care for the sick was not limited to the hospital. He and the members of his order would search the streets for the sick and dying. They went to battlegrounds, too, becoming the first group of hospital workers to care for the wounded in the trenches. In order to be better recognized by the sick, Camillus asked Pope Sixtus V for permission for his brothers to wear a red cross on their cassocks. The pope gave permission on June 26, 1586. We do not know if Camillus inspired the International Red Cross to use the same emblem, but we do know that it gives his mother’s dream a much more positive meaning than she was able to perceive.

Camillus’ story demonstrates that each of us can be an agent of God’s mercy in another person’s life. Camillus is a perfect model of Pope Francis’ exhortation to “show mercy because mercy has first been shown to us.”

A Model of FaithAs a man who in his youth struggled to live the life to which Christ was

calling him, St. Camillus de Lellis provides a perfect example of love and mercy. With St. Camillus as our model, we can:

• Always be open to Christ’s love. No matter how much we sin and separate ourselves from our Father, the Lord is ever present to welcome us

home with open arms. The choice, as always, is ours. • Take pride in our work. Because he knew his God-given dignity did not

depend on the job he was performing, St. Camillus worked tirelessly at all his tasks — whether mopping hospital floors or serving the religious order he founded.

• Love and serve the sick and the poor. St. Camillus recognized that society marginalized those who needed care the most. Let us, too, listen to Christ’s words in Matthew 25 and be inspired to live our lives accordingly.

Unsung Saint #2

St. Frances of RomeA guiding light of faith and mercy

If you are driving on the highway and get lost, or have some car trouble, you might ask St. Frances of Rome to intercede for you.

Pope Pius XI, in 1925, named her patron saint of automobile drivers based on the legend that St. Frances’ guardian angel carried a lantern before her on evening journeys so she would not fall. Now, every March 9, on St. Frances’ feast day, autos queue up for a blessing next to Santa Maria Nova, the church in Rome where the saint is buried. Legend or not, it fits as an allegory of St. Frances’ contribution to the Church.

Born in 1384, St. Frances lived during a dark period in the Church’s histo-ry, the time of the Western Schism (1378-1417), when popes and antipopes ruptured ecclesial communion by their bickering. Instead of following God’s will and shepherding the flock, these prelates vied for power and position. They did not heed God’s warning through the prophet Ezekiel:

“Should not shepherds pasture the flock? You consumed milk, wore wool, and slaughtered fatlings, but the flock you did not pasture. You did not strengthen the weak nor heal the sick nor bind up the injured. You did not bring back the stray or seek the lost but ruled them harshly and brutally. So they were scattered for lack of a shepherd, and became food for all the wild beasts” (Ez 34:2-5).

Indeed, during the Western Schism, the streets of Rome became a battle-ground between the troops of the different factions. The fighting brought famine and plague, and among the beggars and sick people roaming the byways wolves took advantage of the human spoil.

In such an environment, one might be tempted to abandon the Faith or retreat to a safe haven. Frances could have done both, except that the family into which she was born was doubly rich and taught her how to use her gifts well. Her father and mother, Paolo Busco and Jacobilla dei Roffredes-chi, were devout Catholics and members of Italian nobility. They encour-aged Frances to develop an intimate relationship with God, providing her with a spiritual director as soon as she could speak, and at the same time to be dispassionate regarding her wealth. Frances imbibed her parents’ instructions, and at a very young age made it her goal to follow God’s will in all decisions. She trusted that the light of Divine Providence would bring her safely to heaven, no matter the obstacles and dangers she faced along the way.

At age seven, Frances told her spiritual director, Dom Antonio di Monte Savello, that she wanted to be a nun. Dom Antonio encouraged Frances in her desire but said that it would be better to wait before speaking about it. At eleven years old, Frances could wait no longer and placed the matter before her parents. Her father said that it was impossible, for he had already promised her in marriage to Lorenzo de Ponziano, commander of the pa-pal troops and member of another noble family. Frances was crushed. With tears, she beseeched her father to reconsider. When he could not be moved, she turned to Dom Antonio for help. He simply put a question to her: Of what do you complain, the fulfillment of the divine will or the failure of your own hopes? Frances understood the question to mean that she could not go astray of God’s will if she obeyed her father in this instance, so she yielded to the marriage.

Lorenzo and Frances were married a year later, when she was twelve, and they lived in the Ponziani palace with Lorenzo’s family and servants. Fran-ces made every effort to adapt to her new situation, but her mother-in-law,

Cecilia, was displeased that Frances preferred prayer and works of chari-ty to the responsibilities of her rank, which included hosting parties and dressing in elegant clothes. The situation caused sadness in Frances, and even some bouts of illness, until she discovered that her sister-in-law, Van-nozza, also had leanings toward a religious life. The two women resolved to support each other in prayer and to help people in need as often as they could. Cecilia tried to prevent this alliance by appealing to her sons, but the men were unwilling to dissuade their wives’ spiritual works.

Frances began to thrive with the support of her husband and the friend-ship of her sister-in-law, and she was able to combine a life of prayer with the duties of marriage. In her the tension between the active and contem-plative lives, often symbolized in the persons of Martha and Mary, gave way to a pleasant harmony. Frances’ sanctity and her care for others endeared her to nearly everyone in the palace. When Cecilia died, Frances became matron of the house. In this role, she treated the servants as fellow Chris-tians, expecting them to fulfill their duties and nursing them in times of illness.

When conflicts in the city displaced many of the Roman people, Frances shared the family’s surplus of food and wine with any person who came to their door. When their own supplies ran low, Frances and Vannozza went door to door begging for the poor. This service would grow into an order of women oblates founded by Frances and dedicated to the needs of others.

Frances became a deeply beloved figure in her own day because of her generosity to others, not only with food but also with charity. As she under-stood well, the foundation of her holiness was the grace of God, to which she always tried to remain open by following God’s will. Given the vast wealth into which she was born (and married), Frances could have chosen a path of leisure and remained oblivious to the poor and sick, focusing in-stead on protecting her power and position. She also could have responded to her arranged marriage with bitterness and made every effort to under-mine it, but instead she loved and honored Lorenzo until his death in 1436, even caring for him daily as he was bedridden the last few years of his life. When Lorenzo died, Frances was able to live with the women of her order until her own death in 1440, thus experiencing the kind of life she had dreamed of when she was seven. Perhaps this was an extravagance on the part of God, honoring Frances’ fidelity to him.

In her day, St. Frances of Rome was a contrast to the higher clergy who fought over who got to wear the papal miter. She, who also had power and

position, dispossessed herself of privilege and served the lowly. In our day, she reminds us that putting God’s will first in one’s life does not mean the annihilation of the self. Indeed, one finds great joy in following God’s will, and that joy can be shared in abundance with others without diminishment because it comes from God.

Pope Francis may have had St. Frances in mind when he recommended to the faithful “the saints and blessed ones who made divine mercy their mission in life” (Misericordiae Vultus, 24). Pope Francis also said in Mi-sericordiae Vultus, which announced the Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy: “The Church’s first truth is the love of Christ. The Church makes herself a servant of this love and mediates it to all people: a love that forgives and ex-presses itself in the gift of one’s self. Consequently, wherever the Church is present, the mercy of the Father must be evident. In our parishes, commu-nities, associations, and movements, in a word, wherever there are Chris-tians, everyone should find an oasis of mercy” (12).

Many ordinary churchgoers did not know what to expect of the leader-ship during the Western Schism, but individuals like St. Frances and her sisters filled the void by following Christ and truly becoming an oasis of mercy.

A Model of FaithSt. Frances’ adherence to the will of God and her dedication to serving

the poor can be a shining example for all to:• Use the blessings we have been given to help those around us. While

many have been privileged to live a life of comfort, let us remember to use the advantages we have to serve others who are less fortunate in concrete ways through the corporal works of mercy.

• Pray, and then listen to God’s calling. While we all have an idea of the path we’d like to see our lives take, we must pray constantly that we have the strength to be open to the direction to which God is pointing us.

• Consider finding a spiritual director. Making decisions that can affect the course of our lives and the lives of those around us can be difficult. But having somebody to help guide us while keeping in mind God’s plan can be a tremendous blessing.

Unsung Saint #3

St. Charles LwangaA witness of selfless, merciful care

“[Jesus] said, ‘This is how it is with the kingdom of God; it is as if a man were to scatter seed on the land and would sleep and rise night and day and the seed would sprout and grow, he knows not how. Of its own accord the land yields fruit, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the grain is ripe, he wields the sickle at once, for the harvest has come’” (Mk 4:26-29).

Charles Lwanga was a seed planted in the Ugandan soil that in due time would produce fruit abundantly for the glory of God. He was born in 1860, seventeen years before the first Christians came to Uganda. H. M. Stanley, the British explorer, toured Uganda in 1875 and shared the story of Chris-tianity with the kabaka (king). The king, Mutesa, was impressed and had a request sent to Queen Victoria that missionaries be sent (he may also have been interested in gaining England as an ally against the Germans, who were looking to colonize East Africa).

Two years later, eight missionaries from the Church Missionary Society in England arrived and began preaching to Mutesa’s royal court.

Today, most Ugandans are Christians, and almost half are Catholic.Like the man in Jesus’ parable who “knows not how” the seed grows and

sprouts into wheat, many people have been surprised at the endurance of Christianity in Uganda; not all the leaders have been as hospitable to Chris-tians as Mutesa was (Idi Amin being, perhaps, the most infamous). After King Mutesa’s death in 1884, his son, Mwanga, came to power. Mwanga, who tolerated the Christians at first, sought to remove them and their faith

from his kingdom. He did not appreciate what was already growing in his midst.

The work of the first Christian missionaries — both Anglican and Lat-in-rite Catholic — had already planted the seed of faith. Many Ugandans were attracted to Jesus and his Gospel. Charles Lwanga became one of them, when, in 1880, visiting Kampala, he heard the Gospel preached by Catholic missionaries. Charles decided to receive instruction in the Catho-lic faith and then, in 1884, enter into the service of Mwanga’s royal court.

Charles Lwanga was placed in charge of the royal pages — boys and young men — and his immediate supervisor was Joseph Mukasa, the ma-jordomo. Joseph was also a Catholic who acted as catechist for all the pages in the royal service. Both he and Charles taught the pages the tenets of the Faith and highlighted their dignity as children of God. They also protected them from the advances of King Mwanga, who was a pedophile.

King Mwanga’s tolerance for Christianity came to an abrupt halt in October 1885. It seems that some of Mwanga’s advisers cautioned him that the spread of Christianity would one day rival his power, and the encroach-ment of Germany in Africa gave credence to their words. When a group of missionaries led by Anglican bishop James Hannington entered the coun-try, they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Mwanga had them all killed.

Joseph Mukasa admonished Mwanga for the murders. The king was en-raged. When he discovered that Joseph was also catechizing the pages and keeping them out of his presence, Mwanga took it as proof of his advisers’ warnings. He ordered the execution of Joseph, which took place on No-vember 15, 1885. He also forbade the teaching of Christianity henceforth.

On the very same night, Charles Lwanga went to the home of Father Sim-eon Lourdel, a member of the White Fathers, not far from the royal court. He requested and received baptism, sensing that the fury of King Mwanga would be vented on more Christians sooner than later. As it happened, a period of relative calm followed for six months, which gave Charles time to redouble his efforts in handing on the Faith to the pages and protecting them from the king.

What can explain Charles’ actions except that he had received the grace and love of God and that he was compelled to share the divine gifts with others? A reasonable person in the same circumstances as Charles might conclude that it would be best to flee: What can one person do against the power of a king? But this is not the logic of faith, and it was not the logic of

Charles, who believed that every kingdom on earth would bow one day to the kingdom of heaven.

Charles did all he could to love like Christ, because he knew in his heart that Christ’s love perdures.

St. Charles Lwanga witnesses to what Pope Francis wrote when announc-ing the Year of Mercy: “Love, after all, can never be just an abstraction. By its very nature, it indicates something concrete: intentions, attitudes, and behaviors that are shown in daily living. The mercy of God is his loving concern for each one of us.… This is the path which the merciful love of Christians must also travel. As the Father loves, so do his children” (Miseri-cordiae Vultus, 9).

The person who receives God’s love is less concerned about himself and more about the other person who is lost or hurt. So Charles, despite the real danger he was in, continued his efforts in teaching the royal pages the Christian faith.

In February 1886, the entire court of King Mwanga was transferred to his hunting lodge along the shore of Lake Victoria. Within a few months, the king learned that the pages were still receiving instruction.

He ordered his entire retinue to be brought before him and had them separated into two groups: those who would not renounce their Christian faith and those who would.

Charles and a group of pages stepped aside and told the king that they would keep their faith until death. The king ordered them to be bound to-gether by ropes around the necks, marched to the execution site at Namu-gongo (a two-day journey by foot) and to be burnt alive.

After reaching Namugongo, Charles was killed first on June 3, 1886. The executioners tried to make it as slow as possible since he had been the lead-er. Charles was able to remain quiet during most of the ordeal. He spoke only twice. Once upon being placed on the pyre, he said, “You are burning me, but it is as if you are pouring water over my body.” And then, just be-fore he died, Charles exclaimed, “Katonda” (“My God”).

King Mwanga thought he could wipe out Christianity in Uganda, but he was wrong. Charles and his companions have never ceased to inspire more and more Ugandans to embrace Jesus Christ and his Gospel.

Each year on June 3 at Namugongo, thousands of Christians celebrate their faith and recall Charles and his companions’ witness. No matter what situation we face, we can respond with faith. No power can take that choice away. Also, when we practice our faith, we support our brothers and sisters.

Pope Francis reminded us of this when he wrote: “How many uncertain and painful situations there are in the world today! How many are the wounds borne by the flesh of those who have no voice because their cry is muffled and drowned out by the indifference of the rich! During this Jubi-lee, the Church will be called even more to heal these wounds, to assuage them with the oil of consolation, to bind them with mercy and cure them with solidarity and vigilant care. Let us not fall into humiliating indiffer-ence or a monotonous routine that prevents us from discovering what is new! Let us ward off destructive cynicism! Let us open our eyes and see the misery of the world, the wounds of our brothers and sisters who are denied their dignity, and let us recognize that we are compelled to heed their cry for help!” (Misericordiae Vultus, 15).

St. Charles Lwanga, pray for us.

A Model of FaithSt. Charles Lwanga’s merciful concern for others in the face of grave dan-

ger can be an example for us to:• Proclaim the Faith boldly even when those in power are hostile to the

message of the Gospel.• Extend loving concern to the plight and well-being of others, even

when our own safety is threatened.• Protect young people from situations in which they might be vulnerable

to abuse of any kind.

Unsung Saint #4

Blessed Frédéric OzanamBringing mercy to those in misery

Walking down a city street, who has not encountered a homeless man sit-ting on a sidewalk and begging for alms? Blessed Frédéric Ozanam (1813-53) witnessed such a scene every day as a student in Paris when he walked to his classes at the Sorbonne. Frédéric was in Paris between 1831 and 1836 taking courses in law and literature. The 1830s in Paris featured frequent uprisings in the streets as people fought for the kind of government they wanted. Great societal change was taking place, too, as the Industrial Revo-lution brought thousands of people into the cities looking for work, many of whom remained unemployed. The Church suffered, too, as anticlerical-ism bred atheism and skepticism, particularly among university faculties and students. A cholera epidemic in 1832 exacerbated the already desperate situation in Paris, with more than 18,000 people dying from the disease. Victor Hugo’s novel Les Misérables, which chronicles the same time period, is aptly named.

What does one do in the face of such misery? Frédéric had an answer, although he didn’t know it until an adversary challenged him. Frédéric was born into a family that practiced their Catholicism. His parents, Jean Antoine and Marie Nantas, handed on the Faith to their son not only by teaching him the Creed but also by modeling charity. Both father and mother were well known for their efforts among the poor and sick in their parish. Jean Antoine was even recognized by the Emperor Napoleon for aiding people afflicted with typhus. For his part, Frédéric received his parents’ instruction well. Despite a brief but intense period during his teens

when he doubted Christianity, by the time he was a student in Paris he had embraced the Faith.

The Sorbonne, where Frédéric attended, was the vanguard in anticlerical and atheistic thought. Students were not bashful in denigrating the Cath-olic Church, and even the faculty would attack religion in their lectures. However, Frédéric refused to be intimidated. He inserted himself in the Catholic intellectual life of Paris, boarding in the home of André-Marie Ampère, the famous mathematician who remained a son of the Church, and meeting with other leaders of the neo-Catholic movement. At school, Frédéric organized a group of students who decided that whenever a pro-fessor spoke falsely about the Faith, they would issue an immediate chal-lenge. He also started a discussion group open to all students, regardless of religious affiliation, who wanted to debate the issues of the time. It was during one of these sessions that a student identifying himself as an atheist confronted Frédéric about Christianity, upon which Frédéric’s life took a dramatic turn.

The student issued an indictment against Frédéric, saying: “You are right, Ozanam, when you speak of the past! In former times, Christianity worked wonders, but what is it doing for mankind now? And you, who pride your-self on your Catholicity, what are you doing now for the poor?” The charge stung, and no doubt images of the homeless people he passed on the streets each day shot through his mind. What, indeed, was he doing? It was a fair question, and instead of being upset or defeated, he accepted the challenge.

Frédéric then met with his circle of friends and they considered what they could do. On the one hand, the needs of the poor in Paris were im-mense. On the other hand, Frédéric and his companions were a small group of students with few resources. Nevertheless, Frédéric issued his own challenge: “If we are too young to intervene in the social struggle, are we then to remain passive in the middle of a world which is suffering and groaning? No, a preparatory path is open to us. Before doing public good, we can try to do good to a few. Before regenerating France, we can give relief to a few of her poor.”

Those words were a kind of mission statement, so on April 23, 1833, he and his friends gathered the wood from their homes and delivered the supply to a poor widow who needed it for cooking and heat. With that one act of charity, the St. Vincent de Paul Society was inaugurated, and it has continued in service ever since, not only in France but worldwide. (Frédéric had great respect for St. Vincent, who helped the poor in Paris in the seven-

teenth century.)More students joined Frédéric’s little band, and they went out to the

streets to find people in need. Early on, Frédéric sought the advice of Ro-salie Rendu, a Daughter of Charity who was already serving Paris’ poor in the worst slums. She taught the young students how to organize and to rely on one another’s unique gifts in order to provide better service. She also impressed upon them the dignity of the poor and the need to treat them as they would Christ.

Frédéric was an exceptional student, not only under Rosalie but also at the Sorbonne. In time, he completed two doctorates, one in law and one in foreign literature. He would go on to have a successful teaching career. He married Amelie Soulacroix in 1841, and together they had a child, Marie, in 1845.

Frédéric led a full, active life. Yet that busyness did not interfere with his dedication to the poor. He applied the lessons learned from Rendu to his new society, and he began to organize more and more chapters that served the poor in their respective areas. He continued to make personal visits to the needy, but with his background in law he also began to champion workers’ rights. His vision always remained firmly rooted in Gospel values: “Charity is the Samaritan who pours oil on the wounds of the traveler who has been attacked. It is justice’s role to prevent the attack.”

The St. Vincent de Paul Society that Frédéric started in 1833, and which continues today worldwide, has seen amazing growth over the years. At his death in 1853, the society numbered fifteen thousand members in twenty-nine countries, with nine hundred conferences in France alone. In 2015, membership had grown to more than one million in 142 countries. Members remain close to their roots, too, emphasizing that charity should be done person to person. Ten to twelve people make up each local con-ference, which enables home visits to be conducted by neighbors or fellow parishioners. The personal service is grounded in two main principles: con-tinuing prayer and the conviction that through the poor one meets Christ. Following Frédéric’s example, members also engage in the effort to create a more just society as their talents enable them.

Blessed Frédéric Ozanam is an imitator of Christ, who, as Pope Francis has said, “went out to everyone without exception,” meeting people in their need and helping them. Pope Francis invites us to “the experience of open-ing our hearts to those living on the outermost fringes of society: fringes modern society itself creates. How many uncertain and painful situations

there are in the world today! How many are the wounds borne by the flesh of those who have no voice because their cry is muffled and drowned out by the indifference of the rich.… May we reach out to them and support them so they can feel the warmth of our presence, our friendship and our fraternity!” (Misericordiae Vultus, 15).

Frédéric shows the way to respond to the pope’s words: It’s not, as one might think, to join the local St. Vincent de Paul Society, although that would be a very good thing to do. Frédéric’s message is this: In whatever situation we find ourselves, with whatever gifts we have at our disposal, we can do something. And whatever we do, even if it’s bringing some kindling to a widow in need, if it’s done out of love of God and neighbor, then it will produce fruit a hundredfold.

A Model of FaithWe can imitate Blessed Frédéric Ozanam’s concern for the poor and love

of truth by:• Helping out in a local soup kitchen or works of the Society of St. Vin-

cent de Paul.• Learning more about the Faith so as to be able to faithfully present it to

those who speak out against it. • Taking steps to prevent injustice against the most vulnerable in our

communities.

Unsung Saint #5

Elizabeth of HungaryA selfless saint

Likely the best description of St. Elizabeth of Hungary is to say that she was, in a way, the antithesis of the rich young man described in Matthew’s Gospel. The young man turned away when Jesus said: “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give it to [the] poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me” (Mt 19:21).

St. Elizabeth, born into nobility with every luxury and advantage, spent her entire life seeking to do just what the young man wasn’t willing to do: give away everything she possessed and follow Jesus.

Born in 1207, Elizabeth was the daughter of King Andrew II of Hunga-ry and the niece of St. Hedwig. A political pawn, at four years old she was betrothed to the son of the landgrave (or ruler) of Thuringia, Germany. The landgrave was Hermann; his son, Louis, was ten years old when Eliza-beth arrived to live in her new home at the Castle Wartburg near Eisenach. Raised among nobility, at fourteen she married Louis, who was then twen-ty-one. Their commitment, love and devotion to Jesus and to one another serves as a model for young married couples.

From childhood, the young princess tried to walk in the footsteps of Je-sus and St. Francis of Assisi, always seeking to live in an austere and hum-ble manner. But being the wife of a powerful nobleman made such a life difficult. Others in the castle kept demanding that she act in the manner of the upper class and refrain from her intimate association with the classless peasants. Once when attending Mass in her royal garb, she fell before the statue of our crucified Jesus and took off her royal crown, saying she could not wear her crown of gold before the one who wore a crown of thorns. Her family, although not her husband, chastised her severely and told her that was not the way to act. Elizabeth paid them little heed.

Her compassion and charity for the poor, the hungry, the homeless, and the sick had no bounds. She often gave away food supplies from the castle pantry, much to the chagrin of others. She built a hospital at the foot of the castle and worked there several days a week. When she was in the castle, she arranged for those in need to come and be fed among the interior fin-ery. Anyone sick received attention; if someone needed clothes, Elizabeth found something for them.

Often, she made trips outside the castle looking for the marginalized and providing whatever they required. She was seen walking in a leper colony bringing aid and comfort to those shunned by others. When her personal funds were exhausted from assisting others, she sold her jewelry in order to continue helping the needy families near the castle.

The year 1226 was especially bad for the people in Eisenach and all of Germany. A great famine swept across the country, crops failed everywhere, and the winter brought rampant disease that wiped out herds of cattle and sheep. Elizabeth responded by giving away even more of the food stored in the castle. She dressed as a common peasant, selling her gowns and dresses, then she used the funds to keep others from starvation or sickness.

While her total spirit of poverty was resented by most in the castle, her husband founnd no fault with her and mostly encouraged her activities. The love between Elizabeth and Louis was remarkable. However, in 1227, Louis died en route to a crusade in the Holy Land, leaving behing his wife and three children. Elizabeth was devastated and mourned for months. Now her care for the poor would be challenged by her husband’s family. They denied her any castle possessions that she would likely give away. Eliz-abeth chose to leave the castle, taking her children with her into the town of Eisenach, only to discover that, because they feared retribution from the landgrave, no one would help her. She soon sent her children away to be cared for by others and, cut off from all her inheritance, became a beggar.

For months, she lived penniless, surviving day to day. Eventually, she re-ceived some of her inheritance and used it to build a hospital in Marburg, Germany, where she helped care for the sick and injured. She gave away all her remaining funds to the poor.

Before Louis died, he arranged for a German priest named Conrad of Marburg (d. 1233) to be St. Elizabeth’s spiritual adviser. Conrad had been selected by Pope Innocent III (r. 1198-1216) to seek out and eradicate heretics and heresies that had taken root in Germany. Often brutal in his methods, Conrad excelled at this task. He was stern in character, pious, and well-versed in the Scriptures. He despised anyone who was not a Christian or who faulted Church practices. He believed every Christian should live void of earthly distractions. He imposed his beliefs on Elizabeth demand-ing she give up everything, even her friends — anything that could stand between her and God. His relationship with Elizabeth was often harsh and exacting. Despite his methods, Elizabeth remained loyal to Conrad’s direc-tion.

In 1228, Elizabeth joined the Third Order of the Franciscans and sought an even simpler existence. She lived among the poor, trying to eke out a living and helping others through work as a seamstress. Her health slowly deteriorated, and on November 17, 1231, at age twenty-four, she died. Her feast is celebrated November 17.

The good she did for others during her short life is impossible to quantify. She was a model wife, mother, widow, and saint. She was canonized only three years after her death by Pope Gregory IX.

Besides being raised to the altar of sainthood, her life is recalled in nu-merous books, poetry, and art; hospitals and churches bear her name. The beautiful St. Elizabeth’s Church in Marburg is dedicated to her, and many say it is the grandest monument ever raised for a woman.

A Model of FaithWe can imitate St Elizabeth’s selfless care for the poor and marginalized

by:• Volunteering at a local hospital, hospice, or cancer treatment center.• Hosting a community rummage sale to raise funds for the poor.• Increasing financial or material support to food banks in our area.

Unsung Saint #6

St. Louis GuanellaSaint of society’s most vulnerable

Louis Guanella witnessed the ravages of poverty, illness and the neglect of the most vulnerable while growing up in the Southern Alps of Italy. He saw the handicapped and the elderly abandoned and underfed when mid-nineteenth-century society standards considered them useless and a burden. He was so filled with love for the marginalized that he devoted his life to serving them as a priest, and to founding two religious orders to carry out that work.

“We have been praying for a miracle for our founder to confirm to us that his charism can lead to holiness,” Servants of Charity Father Joseph Rinal-do had said. “We have been praying for a sign that our founder was a holy man.” Those prayers were answered. On October 23, 2011, Blessed Guanella was elevated to sainthood.

Father Rinaldo is treasurer of the Servants of Charity Province in Chel-sea, Mich., which includes the United States, India, Philippines, and Viet-nam. He was in his theological studies in Rome when Blessed Guanella was beatified in 1964.

“During that summer, and for four summers in a row, we visited every single town where he had been,” he said. “We searched libraries and religious archives for letters, correspondence, or any kind of information about him.”

Louis Guanella was born in Fraciscio, a small village in the Italian Alps, on December 19, 1842, a time rife with poverty, illiteracy, and intense po-litical persecution of the Church. He was ordained in 1866 and assigned to parish work. But he moved to Turin seven years later to join the Salesians of Don Bosco, where he could serve the poor and disabled.

In one village, he found a group of young religious women who were formed in piety and sacrifice. In 1886, two of those sisters and a few orphan girls went to Como, where St. Louis had prepared for them a simple moth-erhouse for the religious congregation he had dreamed of, the Daughters of St. Mary of Providence.

In 1904, under the protection of Pope St. Pius X, St. Louis opened a fa-cility for children who were living in the streets of Rome. He founded the Servants of Charity Congregation of priests and brothers in 1908, the same year he began building the Church of St. Joseph in Rome, named after the patron saint of the dying and the patron saint of a happy death.

He also established an association of devotees who would pray each day for St. Joseph’s intercession on behalf of the dying and the suffering. “There is a need to live well, but there is even a greater need to die well,” he wrote. He called it the Pious Union of St. Joseph for the Salvation of the Dying, and in 1914 Pope St. Pius X canonically recognized it and became its first member.

Louis Guanella traveled to the United States in 1912 to minister to immi-grants who were living in deplorable conditions. The next year, six Daugh-ters of Mary of Providence arrived in Chicago as the first Guanellians in North America.

An earthquake struck central Italy in 1915, killing tens of thousands. St.

Louis, his priests and sisters went to the destruction to search for survivors and to shelter orphans and the aged. It was his last service to the vulnera-ble. The work weakened his health and he died on October 24, 1915, in the fiftieth year of his priesthood.

His charism lives on in the work of the congregations he founded. In the United States, Servants of Charity run several residential facilities for in-dividuals with developmental disabilities. The St. Louis Center in Chelsea, Michigan, is for boys and adult men. In Springfield, Pennsylvania, the C. K. Center serves low-functioning young adults, and the Don Guanella School is for boys and young men. Sacred Heart parish in inner-city East Provi-dence, Rhode Island, has outreaches to the community.

The Daughters of St. Mary of Providence in the United States, headquar-tered in Chicago, serve the elderly and disabled and also do parish work. Three years ago, Sister Margaret Mary Schissler and Sister Brenda McHugh were asked to build up the Shrine of St. Joseph in Grass Lake, Michigan. The chapel, built in a barn, seats 130, and there are plans to build what the congregation hopes will become a national shrine.

The site also is dedicated to the Pious Union of St. Joseph for the Suffer-ing and Dying.

“Suffering doesn’t necessarily mean physical,” Sister Margaret Mary explained. “It can be emotional, and it can be spiritual. We are reaching out to the people to be a comfort and a strength. We are taking Communion to the sick, visiting the elderly and people in the hospital, and as time goes on we will try to reach out more and more.”

Father Dennis Weber of the Servants of Charity in Springfield calls St. Louis Guanella “a saint for our times in his spirituality.”

“He had great trust in God and is very relevant in these times when you hear the Holy Father speak of absence of God in people’s lives,” he said. “I strongly believe that he is a pro-life saint for his inherent respect for the dignity of the human person, especially those who are marginalized, vul-nerable, and disadvantaged in any way.”

A Model of FaithWe can imitate St. Louis Guanella’s faith by:• Tutoring low-functioning adults in reading or writing.• Taking Communion to the elderly or infirm in your parish community.• Joining or forming a pro-life prayer group, sharing relevant and recent

news stories as the basis for your prayer for the marginalized, vulnerable, and disadvantaged.

Unsung Saint #7

St. Gianna Beretta MollaPro-life witness, modern-day mother, and physician

Who is St. Gianna Beretta Molla? Pope St. John Paul II said of her: “What a heroic witness is hers, a true song to life, in strident contrast to a certain pervasive mentality of today.” Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini of Milan, Italy, called Gianna a “sign of hope for today’s families.” What can we learn from this young wife, mother, and pediatrician who died at the age of thirty-nine after giving birth to her fourth child?

Gianna was born on October 4, 1922, to Alberto and Maria Beretta, par-ents of thirteen children. Five of thosechildren died at an early age. Of the eight remaining, four became medical doctors; two, priests; and the others a nun, a pharmacist, an engineer, and a pianist.

Gianna’s family was imbued with the Faith. The mother led her children to daily Mass. They prayed the Rosary together often and consecrated their home to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

When she was fifteen she attended an Ignatian retreat that profoundly impacted her life. At that time she wrote down certain resolutions for liv-ing. She resolved:

1. To do everything for Jesus — every work, every trouble would be offered to him.2. To avoid viewing movies unless they were modest and not scandalous.3. To die rather than commit a mortal sin.Finally, Gianna prayed that the Lord would make her understand how

great is his mercy. She also composed a prayer: “O Jesus, I promise you to

submit myself to all that you permit to happen to me; only make me know your will.”

When Gianna was twenty and a leader in Catholic Action, a group in-volved with catechesis of young people, she gave them the following in-structions:

• Pray in the morning and evening on your knees.• Attend Holy Mass and receive holy Communion.• Meditate every day for ten minutes and make frequent visits to the

Blessed Sacrament.• Pray the holy Rosary to ask the help of Our Lady.In addition to her work with Catholic Action, Gianna was active in help-

ing the poor and the elderly through the St. Vincent de Paul Society.In 1949, Gianna graduated from the University of Pavia with a medical

degree in surgery, with honors. She opened a clinic in Mesero, about twenty miles west of Milan, with her brother Ferdinand. She liked babies, so she obtained a certificate in pediatrics.

As for her vocation, Gianna told the young girls of Catholic Action: “Eter-nal and earthly happiness depends on the fulfillment of your vocation. Your vocation is one to a material, spiritual, and moral maternity, because God has placed in us an inclination to life. Each of us should make room for our vocation, for the giving of life. If, perchance, we may have to die while car-rying out our vocation, that would be the most beautiful day of our lives.”

In 1954, Gianna made a pilgrimage to Lourdes, France, to ask Our Lady to guide her in her vocation. Should she become a lay missionary in Brazil and assist her brother, Father Alberto, who was the only physician in the impoverished area of Grajaù? Or should she marry and have a family?

On December 8, 1954, the feast of the Immaculate Conception, the young woman attended the first Mass of a Franciscan priest, where she met an en-gineer named Peter Molla. In his diary that night Peter wrote: “I feel certain I have made a good encounter. The Immaculate Mother has blessed me.” The couple was engaged the following April.

In preparing for her marriage to Peter, Gianna chose a wedding gown of the finest quality so that it could be made into vestments for a son if he should become a priest. (Later, a Mass vestment was indeed crafted that incorporated a piece of her wedding dress.) Peter and Gianna were married at the Basilica of St. Martin in Magenta on September 24, 1955, by Father Giuseppe Beretta, Gianna’s brother.

Gianna wanted to have a large family. She and Peter had a son, Pierluigi,

then two daughters, Mariolina and Laura, followed by two miscarriages. In the summer of 1961 Gianna became pregnant with another child.

Within two months, however, the young mother developed a large, painful uterine tumor that threatened her life and that of her developing baby. The surgeon suggested that she have an abortion or a hysterectomy — the latter, of course, would also have killed the child — in order to save her own life. Gianna opted instead for a riskier surgery that would simply remove the tumor to protect the baby while leaving her own life at risk.

The operation was successful in preserving the life of the child. But as the months of her pregnancy continued, Gianna had a premonition of what was to come. She was ready to sacrifice her life so that her child could live.

A few days before the baby was due, she told her husband: “If you must decide between me and the child, do not hesitate: choose the child. I insist on it. Save the baby!”

On Holy Saturday 1962, after a Caesarean section, Gianna gave birth to a healthy baby girl weighing nearly ten pounds. The child was named Gianna as well. (Today, “little” Gianna is also a medical doctor, a gerontologist.)

That same day, the mother’s condition began to deteriorate. She was dying of septic peritonitis, an infection of the lining of the abdomen — a result of her choice to preserve the life of her child. Gianna died a week later on April 28, 1962 (now her feast day).

Many saints aren’t formally recognized by the Church until centuries after their death. But Gianna’s cause for canonization began within three decades after she died. The miracles necessary for the process occurred in a relatively short period of time, so that her husband, three surviving children, and siblings were all able to attend her canonization by Pope John Paul II on May 16, 2004.

Perhaps our God is trying to promote Gianna’s message of holiness in everyday life to our troubled world at this crucial time, in this culture of death.

Today, St. Gianna’s husband and children emphasize that their wife and mother was canonized with the title “Mother of the Family” because she lived her entire life as an exemplary Christian witness to the Gospel. Her holiness is not so much the result of a single heroic deed as the fruit of daily perseverance. This brave mother’s importance to the Church is her witness to the Gospel of Life, her faithfulness to everyday activities, and her dedication to her husband and children.

Gianna is the first married laywoman physician to be canonized. She is

an exemplar for the many mothers who face circumstances similar to hers. Numerous individuals throughout the world testify that they have sought this saint’s intercession and received special favors — physical, spiritual, and emotional.

The Society of St. Gianna has established the first shrine to her in the United States at the Church of the Nativity of Our Lord, Warminster, Penn-sylvania. The shrine consists of a large framed photo of St. Gianna, accom-panied by a pair of her gloves, which visitors can touch and venerate. Many of the shrine’s visitors, especially women seeking to become pregnant, report that their prayers have been answered. St. Gianna Beretta Molla, pray for us.

A Model of FaithWe can imitate St. Gianna Molla’s faith and strive for holiness by:• Starting every morning with a simple prayer to God, asking him to

direct our paths.• Attending Mass and receiving Communion every Sunday.• Visiting Christ in Eucharistic Adoration frequently.

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