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SAINTS PAST AND PRESENT
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This title actually doesn’t refer to “older” and more “modern” saints—it’s actually a reference to some of the ones whose intercession we asked last weekend and this weekend. I want to consider St Jerome Emiliani and the Seven Founders of the Servite Order. After all, even if we ourselves know little about them, they’re in the liturgical calendar and so are worth learning about.
Jerome was a 15th-16th century nobleman and soldier who was not, as the saying goes, “Gospel-greedy.” In this regard he was a prototype of others, including Ignatius Loyola and Charles de Foucauld. But as life circumstances changed them, they also changed Jerome. Specifically, after being captured in a battle he was imprisoned, and there in his solitude he discovered prayer. After his escape, he decided to dedicate his life God (being ordained) and to the service of orphans.
His ministry was focused especially during these times because of an outbreak of plague. His concern was always service: he took his motto from II Thessalonians 3:10—“Anyone who would not work, should not eat.” And it led to the forming of a religious congregation, the Company of the Servants of the Poor (does that seem to be a pre-echo of one of the mottos of our own St Vincent de Paul Society?). He died of the plague whose victims he was serving and ministering to, again especially orphans.
What “prisons” are there in which our own hearts and minds and souls are locked, seemingly preventing us from discipleship and prayer? Even there, God can be found—more properly, we can open ourselves to God’s touch. If we do, we can experience what St Catherine of Siena wrote—“Be what God intends you to be, and you will set the world on fire.”
How anonymous is it simply to be known as “one of Seven”? There they were, though, all friends and members of prominent families in 13th-14th century Florence. They banded together to live a life of solitude, prayer, and poverty (I hope this reminds folks of the origins of the Franciscans; the Servite fellowship was a generation or so afterward). They found a way to mix a life of prayer, work, and silence with a more active apostolate especially of parish work, teaching, and preaching. Their superior was one of those who had standing rights of speaking at the Council of Trent, showing how their original community had garnered a dignity and appreciation that marked them as potential leaders of reform in the Church.
Francis’ and the Seven Servites’ original visions were modest and very personally oriented; Francis’ was changed by Pope Innocent III; the Servites’ was modified by their local bishop. In both cases, being open to the unexpected made them far more than they’d ever dreamed (or desired to be). This too is a lesson for us—as I mentioned in last weekend’s homily, it’s very tempting to say (with all due—false!—humility, “I’m not good enough for this call; find someone else.” But if we are genuinely being called, then surely our Lord knows the good that can come from our saying YES, and then letting the Lord direct the progress of the program.
It sounds easy (as does Catherine of Siena’s quote above). We know it’s not; we’re filled not only with self-doubt about ourselves but also about the call. Where does it come from, really? Francis listened to the pope; the Seven Founders listened to their bishop. I don’t recommend those as “infallible” sources of guidance, but listening to someone else in a position of spiritual authority (for example, a spiritual director or a confessor) is surely a step in the right direction. It’s a way of taking the “ego” out of the decision-making process.
We don’t need to found religious orders or build hospitals; we need only to be open to the Spirit, to the call/challenge to be kind, merciful, and generous, wherever we are—even in our families.