Tag: Young Saints

Her family was the context in which St. Thérèse of Lisieux began to discover her “Little Way” of holiness for which she’s so well known. From an early age, this daughter of saints, who would go on to be a saint herself, learned to accept all as grace and providence, and to rely solely on God’s will to find her peace. St. Thérèse teaches us that holiness is found in doing little things consistently and with great love.

Thérèse was born the ninth child of Sts. Louis and Zélie Martin on Jan. 2, 1873, in Alençon, France. Louis would lose his wife to breast cancer four years later, and his brother-in-law helped arrange for the widower’s family to move north to Lisieux.

During her childhood, Thérèse was considered weak and unusual. At the age of 9, she became so sick that it appeared the end was near. Her father even requested Masses at Our Lady of Victories Church in Paris, and her family kept vigil at her bedside. As three sisters were leading prayers of intercession to the Blessed Mother in front of the family’s statue of her, Thérèse experienced a miracle: The statue began to smile at her. She was healed.

Thérèse and her four older sisters (her other four siblings did not survive infancy), discovered God’s call to the religious life. And Thérèse was quite insistent upon doing God’s will as soon as possible, despite the many difficulties she encountered on that path.

Refused entry to the Carmelite convent in Lisieux because of her young age, Thérèse seemingly could not contain the zeal with which her soul desired total union with Christ. She even used a meeting with Pope Leo XIII during a pilgrimage to Rome as an opportunity to seek his assistance. The pope replied “Well, my child, do what the superiors decide … You will enter if it is God’s will.” The local bishop later gave his consent for her to enter the Lisieux Carmel when she was 15.

Life in the Carmel of Lisieux was taxing for Thérèse. Living with the other nuns was not always easy. She was maligned and mistreated. But it was there that Thérèse found her “Little Way.” Entering the convent with a desire for spiritual greatness, her attitude slowly changed, writing in her diary: “I applied myself especially to practice little virtues, not having the facility to perform great ones.”

Thérèse explained the “Little Way” more: “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.” Among the names she’s known by today is “the Little Flower.”

Finding blood in her handkerchief, she experienced “joy,” and awaited death as the final act in her complete union with Christ. Dying from tuberculosis, she taught of suffering’s purpose: “I have reached the point of not being able to suffer any more, because all suffering is sweet to me.”

Thérèse experienced intense physical suffering and offered it all to the Lord, in union with his to the end — uttering as she breathed her last, “My God, I love you!” She died on Sept. 30, 1897.

The simplicity and practical approach to the spiritual life of St. Thérèse of Lisieux make her among the most popular saints in the Church, and the universality of her message reached a pinnacle in 1997 when Pope St. John Paul II declared her a Doctor of the Church.

Her feast day is Oct. 1.

Michael R. Heinlein is editor of Simply Catholic.

Perhaps one of the first miracles attributed to St. Maria Goretti is what speaks most of her character. Nearly six years after her violent murder by Alessandro Serenelli, she appeared to him in his jail cell. She had forgiven him as she lay dying in 1902, after he stabbed her to death for refusing his sexual advances. But here, serving a 30-year imprisonment for his crime, Serenelli found great peace and consolation in the mercy shown by his young victim as he heard her forgive him yet again. Even after her death, St. Maria Goretti provides a heroic example of what it means to forgive.

Although only 11 at the time of her death, young Maria’s wisdom and spiritual depth were more developed than most. Typically, children who lose a parent early in life mature quickly and develop strength beyond their years, and Maria was no exception, her father having died when she was 9.

Poor finances forced Maria’s family to share a home with the Serenelli family, but their poverty was no blockade to young Maria’s happiness. While her mother and siblings worked in the fields, Maria did the household chores — like cooking and sewing — meanwhile taking care of her baby sister. She embraced whatever work she had to do around the house, no doubt performing countless chores without any recognition in return. A year before she died, Maria received her first Communion, possibly the most joyful day of her young life.

During one of these days of everyday chores, Maria fought off Alessandro’s attempt to rape her. Dark forces clouded Alessandro’s judgment — persuaded to immorality by pornographic publications — and he decided to kill Maria if she refused his advances as she had done previously. She defended her God-given purity resolutely, risking death rather than allowing sin, shouting, “No! It is a sin! God does not want it!” But Alessandro didn’t relent and stabbed her 14 times in retaliation.

Maria was brought to hospital where doctors tried to save her. She lasted some 20 hours, during which time she taught us all the lesson of forgiveness — praying for and forgiving her attacker from her deathbed. Nourished by the last sacraments of the Church, Maria died on July 6, 1902, as she looked upon a picture of the Blessed Mother.

The faith she lived and learned in her family — not formal education — is the foundation for the strength, maturity and heroic virtue with which she defended herself and forgave Alessandro. Six years after her death, as she appeared to him in his jail cell, Maria handed him 14 white lilies — a supernatural expression of forgiveness and love that led not only to Alessandro’s contrition but also to his conversion. Up to his dying day, he credited her for his redemption, often saying, “Maria’s forgiveness saved me.”

St. Maria Goretti died for love of God and hatred of evil. She lived an ordinary life, yet her faith and love for God were extraordinary. Maria was declared a martyr and, in her mother’s presence, Venerable Pope Pius XII canonized Maria in 1950.

At her canonization, the pope said that while we are not all called to be martyrs, Maria’s witness reminds us all that “we are all called to the pursuit of Christian virtue … a constant, persistent and relentless effort … right up to the moment of our death. This may be conceived as a slow, steady martyrdom which Christ urged upon us when he said: The kingdom of heaven is set upon and laid waste by violent forces.”

Her feast day is July 6.

Michael R. Heinlein is editor of Simply Catholic.

The story of St. Charles Lwanga and his fellow martyrs must be considered within the context of the wider narrative of the early evangelization efforts in the modern-day country of Uganda. Theirs is an inspirational story in the face of religious persecution.

Evangelization began in Uganda in 1879, when the pope assigned a missionary order known as the White Fathers to work there. Through much hard work and labor in that corner of the Lord’s vineyard, a strong Christian community was established, although they quickly grew suspect to King Muteesa. Subsequently, the White Fathers withdrew from their missionary efforts for a time after falling out of favor with the king.

In the meantime, those early converts maintained the Church’s evangelical efforts, taking charge to instruct and initiate others into the Church. Many converts lived and worked as pages in the court of king’s son — now King Mwanga.

Charles was one of these pages — some 400 young men who lived and worked for the king — and was himself a convert. He was under the guidance of the head of pages, Joseph Mkasa, a close adviser to the king and a leader among the first Ugandan Christians. When Joseph was eventually killed for criticizing the king’s murder of a Protestant missionary, Charles — who had been living his faith underground — took his place.

Although initially friendly and welcoming to the Christians, King Mwanga eventually turned on them. One presumes this is mostly because the Christians in the court were in opposition to the king’s violent and predatory behavior, including homosexual pedophiliac acts.

With Joseph Mkasa’s death, Charles took his place within King Mwanga’s court and within the Christian community. He was responsible for protecting the young boys from the king’s sexual predilections. Eventually, the king found out that the Christians were converting the young pages, which resulted in their resistance to the king’s advances toward them. Filled with rage, the king put his compound on lockdown, ordering that no one was allowed to leave. Knowing the executioners were on the way, Charles baptized four catechumens that night.

The next day, the king scrutinized the pages and asked the Christians to step forward. Fifteen young men and boys identified themselves and said they intended to remain faithful. The king condemned them to death.

Some were martyred on the road during a march of nearly 40 miles to Namugongo, where the rest were burned alive on June 3, 1886. Along the way, the soon-to-be-martyrs recited prayers like the Rosary and Angelus, and sang hymns in preparation for death.

As Charles was dying, his heart full of love was ablaze. He yearned to invite others to the Faith, saying to an executioner, “It is as if you are pouring water on me. Please repent and become a Christian like me.” As he died, he cried out, “Katonda,” or “My God.”

Once King Mwanga was dead, the Ugandan Christians were visited again by the White Fathers. They found a Church invigorated and enlivened by the blood shed by Charles and his martyr companions. In fact, a third-century Father of the Church named Tertullian said the “blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.” This was most definitely true in Uganda.

Although no sacraments were celebrated due to the absence of priests, the Faith was very much alive — the priests discovered more than 500 Christians and 1,000 catechumens upon their return.

The 22 Catholic Ugandan martyrs were canonized in 1964 by Blessed Pope Paul VI. Additionally, there were 23 Anglican martyrs. Their bravery, enthusiasm and joy inspires, especially those whom suffer where the Faith is endangered.

Their feast day is June 3.

Michael R. Heinlein is editor of Simply Catholic.

God bestowed several spiritual gifts upon St. Gemma Galgani, one of which was to receive special heavenly messages about current and future events. One such message was that the Passionist order would establish a convent in her hometown of Lucca, Italy.

Why is this significant? The order had previously refused her entry, citing poor health — a source of great disappointment to the young aspirant to religious life. But more than that, because of her undying spiritual connection to the order, the Passionists today consider her one of their greatest saints. They only claimed her after she died. St. Gemma’s story teaches us much, but especially how God’s plan is perfect even though our understanding might be lacking.

The daughter of a pharmacist, Gemma was well-loved in school by peers and teachers. Known for her love of prayer, she was a quiet and reserved child. She excelled in academics, showing great promise intellectually, and for this is known as patroness of students. Weakened health prohibited Gemma from completing her studies, however.

Gemma was dedicated to acts of charity, often caring for the poor. Since both her parents were then deceased, she became the mother figure to seven siblings at the age of 19. For a time, she lived with an aunt and her family once some siblings were old enough to take care of the youngest ones. During this time, she rejected two marriage proposals. Simply put, Gemma was drawn to a life of quiet prayer and contemplation. Meningitis struck Gemma once she returned home. Not wanting to be an inconvenience, she did not like having to be cared for by her relatives. That did not last long, however, because Gemma was miraculously cured by God through the intercession of the now canonized Passionist St. Gabriel Possenti.

Gemma was known to endure temptations from Satan, just one example of the unique spiritual experiences that often caused her to be maligned and mistaken by many. Gemma endured all that as an extension of her union with the Lord, who was himself mistaken and maligned. She shows us how to endure suffering patiently on account of our faith.

Wanting to give herself to Christ in religious life, but too ill to be accepted, Gemma learned that God had chosen another path for her. In 1899, Gemma sensed something unusual would be given her by God. Having pain in her feet, hands and heart, she soon saw blood in those places. With love and patience, she bore the marks of the crucified Christ — called the stigmata — seeing this suffering as an opportunity to be further united to Christ. Gemma’s confessor instructed her to pray for them to be taken away three years later. White marks remained in their place until she died.

Her confessor arranged for Gemma to move in with the Giannini family, which was more amenable to her spiritual life than being at home. The Gianninis and her confessor recorded many of Gemma’s mystical experiences, which included levitating. She often spoke with her guardian angel, giving instruction to deliver messages or letters to her confessor. She took upon herself a severe penitential and sacrificial life, hiding it from the public eye in a spirit of humility.

After a life of trials and difficulties, which she united to Christ’s own, Gemma bravely embraced tuberculosis in her last months. She died quietly on April 11, 1903, with only her parish priest by her side. “She died with a smile which remained upon her lips, so that I could not convince myself that she was really dead,” he said. Venerable Pope Pius XII canonized her in 1940.

Her feast day is April 11.

Michael R. Heinlein is editor of Simply Catholic.