Byline: Thomas Craughwell

Associating a saint with a particular cause is usually the work of the people in the pews. They hear the story of a saint and see something in his or her life that applies to their own life or situation. It’s usually very straightforward: Sts. Cosmas and Damian were doctors, so they are the patron of doctors; during her martyrdom, all of St. Apollonia’s teeth were knocked out, so she is invoked against toothache; St. Joseph labored as a carpenter, so he is the patron of all workers. But once in a great while the pope steps forward and formally declares a particular saint to be patron of a particular cause. That is what happened in 1979, when Pope St. John Paul II proclaimed St. Francis of Assisi the patron saint of the environment.

It’s not unusual to find statues of St. Francis standing amid a flowerbed or perched on the edge of a birdbath. Some of them are handsome works of art, and some are fairly sentimental, with cute bunnies and fawns at Francis’ feet and birds sitting in the palm of his hand.

Sentimental yard art can be a little hard to take, but there are worse things that have happened to poor St. Francis. Francis — one of the most popular saints among Catholics and non-Catholics — has sometimes been recast as a sun-and-moon worshipping pantheist. This characterization of St. Francis is deeply flawed. The man was profoundly, unshakably committed to the Catholic faith. When he contemplated the natural world he did not see a collection of “spirits,” but a gloriously complex, interrelated system that reflected the splendor, the goodness and the generosity of God. His famous “Canticle of the Sun” is a hymn of praise and thanksgiving to the Creator for the all the wonders of creation. It is because St. Francis loved and cherished the universe God made and all the creatures in it that Blessed John Paul named the patron of the environmental movement.

Francis began composing the “Canticle of the Sun” in 1225. He wrote in the style of the troubadours, the romantic poets he had tried to imitate when he was a teenager running the streets of Assisi. In order for his hymn to reach the widest possible audience, he wrote it in Italian rather than Latin. From time to time he added new verses. It’s likely that some of these were lost because Francis appears to have added verses spontaneously to fit a particular moment.

He composed some lines on the virtue of forgiveness (this verse has come down to us) after he had arbitrated a dispute between the bishop of Assisi and the governor of the town. He made his final addition to the “Canticle” as he lay on his deathbed. “Praised be my Lord for our Sister mortal death, from whom no man alive will escape,” Francis sang.

St. Francis is the patron saint of animals and animal welfare societies. He is also one of the patron saints of Italy, and of the Archdioceses of Denver, San Francisco and Santa Fe, N.M.  His feast day is Oct. 4.

Craughwell is the author of more than 30 books, including “Saints Behaving Badly” and “This Saint Will Change Your Life.”

Lapsed Catholics are not a modern phenomenon — the life of St. Monica teaches us that. Her son, Augustine, rejected the faith she had taught him as a child and joined the peculiar Manichean sect.

Monica (332-387) was born into a Christian family in the town of Thagaste, now Souk Ahras, in Algeria. Her husband, Patricius, appears to have been religiously indifferent, but he did not interfere with Monica’s faith and permitted her to raise their children as Catholics.

When Augustine was born, Monica did not have him baptized. During the first centuries of the Church, many Christians put off baptism until they were on their deathbed. Nonetheless, Monica did have her priest mark the infant Augustine with holy oil in the sign of the cross and sprinkle blessed salt, a sign of exorcism, on his tongue. This ceremony would have made him a catechumen, one who was taking instruction in the Faith, and Monica was Augustine’s teacher.

Monica and Patricius were ambitious for their son. They wanted Augustine to receive a classical education so he could enter one of the professions. Before Augustine went off to the university at Carthage — the Harvard of Roman North Africa — Monica pleaded with him to remain chaste. In his “Confessions,” Augustine admits he treated her “womanish advice” with contempt. He was, as he says, “in the mood to be seduced”; in fact, soon after he arrived in Carthage he found a mistress, and they moved in together. A year later, the woman (in none of his writings does Augustine ever mention her name) gave birth to a baby boy whom they named Adeodatus, meaning “gift from God.”

That news was bad enough. Augustine compounded it by abandoning the Catholic faith and joining the Manicheans, a sect that considered itself an intellectual and spiritual elite. Manicheans taught that there were two gods — one good, the other evil — who were in constant conflict for control of the universe. Throughout history many “Jesuses” had come to earth to struggle on the side of good, but none had ever triumphed over evil.

To have her son join such a sect broke Monica’s heart. She sought out a bishop who once had been a Manichean and begged him to go speak to Augustine. The bishop answered that so early in his conversion Augustine would not be willing to listen to any arguments against Manichaeism. But Monica would not take no for an answer. She pleaded and wept and made such a nuisance of herself that the bishop lost his temper. “Go away from me!” he cried. Instantly regretting his bad manners, he added, “Do not worry. It is not possible that the son of so many tears should be lost forever.”

Seventeen years passed before Augustine was ready to re-evaluate his life. By that point, he was teaching philosophy in Milan. Monica had moved there, too. In Milan, she found an ally in the city’s bishop, St. Ambrose. Augustine began attending any Mass where Ambrose was scheduled to preach. Between Monica’s prayers and Ambrose’s eloquence, Augustine renounced the Manicheans and entered the Catholic Church. On the night of April 24, 387, at the Mass of the Easter Vigil, St. Ambrose baptized Augustine and Adeodatus. The prediction an irritable African bishop had made to Monica so many years before had been fulfilled at last.

St. Monica is also the patron of homemakers, married women and victims of abuse by their spouses.

Her feast day is August 27.

Thomas Craughwell is the author of more than 30 books, including “Saints Behaving Badly” and “This Saint Will Change Your Life.”

Ignatius of Loyola was born into a family of Basque nobility in the family castle of Azpeitia. He was the youngest of the 13 children of Beltran de Loyola and Marina Saenz de Licona. From his earliest years, Ignatius was enchanted by dreams of chivalry and adventure. His own father had performed deeds of valor in the final years of the Reconquista, the Christian reconquest of Spain from the Moors. His oldest brother, Juan, had sailed with Columbus on the discoverer’s second expedition to the New World. With these models before him, it is no wonder that Ignatius longed to sacrifice himself for a great king, to serve faithfully a beautiful lady and to win immortal fame in the eyes of the world.

As a young man he tried to live out his notion of the gallant cavalier: He was ambitious, vain, prickly about his honor, a gambler, a fighter and a sexual adventurer. At age 26, he fought against a French army in his first — and last — battle. A cannonball struck Ignatius’ legs, shattering the one and wounding the other. Ignatius and his comrades surrendered to the French commander, who spared their lives, sent his own doctors to treat Ignatius, then provided an escort to carry him home to Azpeitia.

To help him pass the time during the long weeks of convalescence Ignatius read the only two books in the house — a life of Christ written by Ludolph the Carthusian and “The Golden Legend,” Jacobus de Voragine’s collection of saints’ lives. As he read these books, Ignatius’ heart was touched by grace: He became ashamed of the vanity, pride and lust that had ruled his life thus far. Ignatius had undergone a conversion, but he had not abandoned his chivalric ideals of suffering and self-sacrifice — instead, he had shifted his focus from winning honor in this world to winning souls for God.

Ignatius’ conversion came during one of the greatest crises the Catholic Church has ever faced: the Reformation. The Protestant revolt had split Europe into two religious camps, shattered the unity of western Christendom and cost the Church hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of souls.

To restore and revitalize the Church, Ignatius envisioned a new community of priests and lay brothers who would be deeply educated in the Catholic faith, in theology and in sacred Scripture. They would be skillful teachers, wise spiritual directors and gifted preachers. He would send out these men across Europe to reclaim Christians who had left the Catholic Church and to bolster the faith of Catholics who were perhaps uncertain about or poorly educated in the essentials of their faith.

Ignatius’ method worked. Jesuits schools and colleges became the pride of the Catholic world — it was not unusual for Protestant families to enroll their sons in them. Jesuit preachers attracted large crowds and brought countless souls back to the Church. And Jesuit missionaries were fearless, traveling into Protestant lands where some, such as St. Edmund Campion, met a martyr’s death, or much farther afield, to the New World or to Asia.

Today, much of the Western world is once again in a spiritual crisis. Religious practice is shrinking in Western Europe, Canada, the United States, even in Latin America. To reverse the trend, Blessed John Paul II called for a New Evangelization, a new missionary spirit to reclaim souls for God. Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI tried to advance John Paul’s vision, and Pope Francis is doing the same. A model for the New Evangelization is St. Ignatius of Loyola, whose Jesuits did so much to revitalize the Church and save souls.

St. Ignatius of Loyola is the patron saint of retreats, soldiers, the Society of Jesus and of the Basque country. His feast day is July 31.

Craughwell is the author of more than 30 books, including “Saints Behaving Badly” and “This Saint Will Change Your Life.”

Like St. Elizabeth of Hungary (1271-1336), her great-aunt, Elizabeth of Portugal, married young. At age 12 she became the bride of Portugal’s 20-year-old king, Dinis. It’s to be expected that Dinis would have no interest in a 12-year-old girl, and probably several years passed before the marriage was consummated (Elizabeth was 19 when she gave birth to her first child). In the meantime, Dinis was not lonely. He had a string of mistresses by whom he fathered at least seven, perhaps as many as nine, children.

Dinis was very fond of his illegitimate children; he brought them all to live in the palace and insisted that Elizabeth raise them along with their legitimate children. It is the kind of demand that could wreck a marriage, yet whatever Elizabeth may have felt — jealousy, resentment, rage — she kept to herself and proved to be a loving foster mother.

As callous as Dinis was to his wife, he compounded the problem by favoring one of his illegitimate sons over his eldest son and heir, Alfonso. Unlike his saintly mother, Prince Alfonso did not suppress his feelings of jealousy and resentment. Four times Alfonso schemed to overthrow his father and seize the crown; once he even contrived to murder his half-brother, the son Dinis loved best; each time it was Elizabeth who made peace in the family, although with each of Alfonso’s plots, it become increasingly difficult. Once, when Alfonso’s army was arrayed at one end of the field and King Dinis’ on the other, Elizabeth had to ride between them and refuse to leave the battlefield until father and son reconciled.

We do not know if Dinis ever asked Elizabeth to forgive him for all the pain he had caused her. After Dinis died, however, in his will he made Elizabeth executor of all he possessed. If he couldn’t respect Elizabeth while he lived, at least he showed her some token of it after his death.

St. Elizabeth is the patron of the University of Coimbra in Portugal, which she and her husband, King Dinis, founded when she was just 19 years old. Ratified in 1290, the university is one of the oldest continuously operating universities in the world. Papal confirmation was granted to the university by Pope Nicholas IV on Aug. 9, 1290.

St. Elizabeth is also the patron saint of brides and is invoked against jealousy. Her feast day is July 4.

Craughwell is the author of more than 30 books, including “Saints Behaving Badly” and “This Saint Will Change Your Life.”

In his biography of St. Margaret, Francois Mauriac, the French author and Nobel laureate, tells us that as a child Margaret possessed a sweet, loving temperament — as long as she got her way. In her village Margaret’s good looks and quick wit attracted attention, especially the attention of older boys. Margaret, who would not let anyone tell her what to do, discovered that with a little skillful flirting she could get boys to do almost anything she wanted them to do. When she was about 14 years old she caught the eye of Arsenio, the 16-yearold son of the local baron; he invited Margaret to live at the castle as his mistress. Margaret accepted.

For Margaret her new life was idyllic. A rich young man said he loved her. She had escaped the harsh life of a peasant to live in ease and comfort in a castle where servants did everything for her. The only thing that marred Margaret’s happiness was Arsenio’s candid avowal that he would never marry her. A baron’s son might have a peasant as his mistress, but he could not marry her. Nonetheless, Margaret believed she could change his mind. When she gave birth to Arsenio’s son, she thought the baby would persuade him to marry her. It never happened.

Margaret had lived as Arsenio’s mistress for nine years when he left the castle for a few days to tend to some business at one of his family’s estates. He did not return on the day he was expected. Nor the day after. Nor the day after that. Then Arsenio’s dog showed up alone. The dog’s behavior made Margaret nervous. It cowered in corners and whined. Suddenly it took her skirt in its mouth and, backing up, pulled her toward the door. As Margaret followed the dog outside she felt a terrible sense of dread. The dog led her deep into the woods, then stopped at a pile of dead branches and dry brush where once again it began to whimper. Margaret’s hands trembled as she cleared away the dead wood. Beneath the pile, lying in a shallow pit, she found Arsenio, dead and decaying.

Who killed Arsenio? No one knows. But Margaret’s mind was not on the culprits: for the first time in a long time she was thinking about the state of her soul. She and Arsenio had lived in sin together for nine years and had never been sorry about what they were doing. Now she wondered if at the last moment Arsenio had had time to repent. And she wondered, if death took her suddenly, would she have the sense to beg God for His mercy and forgiveness?

Determined to make a fresh start, Margaret took her little boy and left Arsenio’s castle. She headed for the hilltop town of Cortona where, she had heard, the Franciscan fathers helped repentant sinners. The Franciscans of Cortona were kinder than Margaret imagined. They found a home for her and her son. They assigned two Franciscan priests to be her spiritual directors. When Margaret’s son was old enough, the Franciscans arranged for him to go to school.

The priests suggested that Margaret devote herself to good works, so she served as nurse to the poor in Cortona. She became such a skilled midwife that the women in labor insisted that no one but Margaret care for them.

After Arsenio’s sudden death, Margaret became especially devoted to the poor souls in purgatory. For the rest of her life she prayed earnestly for the dead. When Margaret herself was dying, she had a vision of a vast company of souls streaming out of heaven: They were the souls she had ransomed from purgatory with her prayers.

As a young woman, Margaret had made a bad decision, but she turned her life around, found a stable home for her child, found a career for herself, and found spiritual and emotional comfort from the Franciscans of Cortona. For these reasons, she is a good role model for single mothers.

St. Margaret of Cortona is the patron saint for women raising children alone, and invoked against sexual temptation. Her feast day is February 22.

Thomas Craughwell is the author of more than 30 books, including “Saints Behaving Badly” and “This Saint Will Change Your Life.”