Writing Columns

Feminine Saints

Saint Bakhita

The story of Saint Josephine Bakhita is a marvelous testament to the power of God’s love, the power of forgiveness, and the power of love to overcome evil. She was kidnapped by slave traders when she was a small child, beaten and scarred, treated as a near-worthless object—but she persevered until she found a new way to live. This short segment from my book explains how forgiveness fits in:

It was her fifth owner, the Italian consul at Karthoum, who first showed her kindness and ultimately brought her to Europe, where she discovered Christ. While taking care of the young daughter of a family there, she was introduced to the Canossan Sisters with whom she eventually found a home as a religious sister. Fifty years of quiet consecrated life allowed her to witness to others the deep abiding peace that faith and forgiveness can bring. Seeing God’s hand even in the difficult path of her life, she noted, “If I was to meet those slave raiders that abducted me and those who tortured me, I’d kneel down to them to kiss their hands, because, if it had not been for them, I would not have become a Christian and religious woman.”

At her beatification, Pope John Paul II praised her as “Our Universal Sister,” pointing out that she offers us “a message of reconciliation and evangelic forgiveness in a world so much divided and hurt by hatred and violence.” Note that Bakhita didn’t say that what the slave traders and her owners did to her was right—it most certainly was not. But she recognized that through her wounds she found salvation, which she could not ignore.

Cardinal Weurl reminds us of the importance of her story as it relates to the suffering of women even today:

At Bakhita’s canonization, Blessed John Paul II called the first saint from Sudan “a shining advocate of genuine emancipation” for women victimized in today’s world. “The history of her life inspires not passive acceptance, but the firm resolve to work effectively to free girls and women from oppression and violence and to return them to their dignity in the full exercise of their rights,” the pope said.

Some have promoted Bakhita as a possible patron saint for the victims of human trafficking, the modern-day form of slavery that includes forced labor and many women and children of both sexes being forced into prostitution. The feast day of Saint Josephine Bakhita, February 8, has been designated by the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops as a day of prayer to raise awareness of, and to help end, the scourge of human trafficking.

The severity of human trafficking cannot be underestimated. It is estimated that there are as many as 27 million trafficking victims at any given time worldwide. A recent article in the Catholic News Service notes that experts estimate that five million of these trafficked and enslaved people are children. The evil is unfolding not only in foreign countries. A 2013 report from the U.S. State Department confirms that the “United States is a source, transit, and destination country for men, women, and children – both U.S. citizens and foreign nationals – subjected to forced labor, debt bondage, involuntary servitude, and sex trafficking.”

That number—27 million—defies comprehension, but try to imagine the horror of each of those isolated souls. We must beg Saint Bakhita’s intercession to bring light, emancipation, and joy to these captives. But there’s more to the suffering than even the statistics reveal:

There are many forms of slavery, including those that do not have visible chains or leave outward marks. We suffer from them as long as we cannot name them, claim our own dignity which comes from being created in the image and likeness of God, and renounce them from holding us captive. The liberation that forgiveness can offer is as stark as the sundering of iron fetters and the opening of a prison door—it is for the one who suffers to choose freedom and wholeness of heart, despite her surroundings. The graces of God are available to all even in the darkest hours and each cross bears within it the seeds of Easter for those who cling to Christ.

Please pray for for all who are captive—from those enduring physical constraints to those trapped in a cell of resentment over past injuries. Consider how freedom may be lacking even in the lives of those around you, and share Bakhita’s story. Even when all the slaves have been freed, it remains for us to show them how to rise above the past, and how to realise all the good that God has in store for those who forgive.

Grace Amidst The Ordinary

The beauty of the communion of saints offered by the Church is the saints’ breadth and diversity. True to form, of the three people named saints in the last month, one was a woman whose life can speak volumes to so many women of the 21st century.

Bonafacia Rodriguez Castro was the oldest of six children born to devout parents in Salamanca, Spain in 1837. The home was set up as a sewing shop, and Bonifacia learned that trade early in life. Her father died when she was only 15, and she and her mother worked diligently to provide for the family. Indeed, those trials made her intimately familiar with the challenges of child laborers, the poor and working women — especially those without the help of a father in the home.

Her family had always had a great devotion to the Holy Family of Nazareth, which reminded them of God’s great love for honest work, the importance of steady trust in God, and the beauty of the silent virtues that are naturally instilled within families. Certainly, the Holy Family — which lived a hidden life of love for 30 years — can be the model for any family struggling with the demands of ordinary life, not to mention the trials of widowhood, which Our Lady embraced at some point before the public ministry of her Son.

When her younger siblings were raised, she and her mother turned their attention to a small community of young women in the working community in which they lived. These they welcomed into their home on Sundays and feast days for prayers and healthy diversions amidst a culture that provided so many temptations and distractions. The group was originally called the Association of the Immaculate and St. Joseph, and was thus entrusted to the parents of Our Lord. The name was later shortened to The Josephine Association, and through this the sewing shop took on an apostolic dimension in a very organic and practical way.

As naturally as this work sprang from the circumstances of her own life, Bonifacia looked for an existing religious community to join, assuming that traditional community life was necessary for her own spiritual growth, but Providence led her to a Catalan Jesuit named Francisco Javier Butiña y Hospital, who showed her that what she was already doing was the perfect nucleus of a new and greatly needed community among the working class.

He wrote “The Light of the Manual Worker,” which collected the stories of lay men and women who had sanctified themselves through various humble occupations. Through prayer and Father Butiña’s guidance, a unique community was created from among the women already finding spiritual sustenance at the sewing shop. Its mission was to understand the sanctification of ordinary work and to protect young women from the spiritual and physical dangers of the wider community.

The dire need for such leaven in a fallen world should resonate with our own generation, and the power of this simple message should hearten those who wonder what — if anything — can make a difference. Women who hold fast to daily prayer, humbly seek God’s will, and arrange their lives to prioritize the needs of the human person will spread the beauty of that quiet home in Nazareth.

Working women, especially, can find common cause with this beautiful soul who learned diligence, humility and fidelity through her daily trials. Surely, we think that the present age is unique in its own dark challenges, and yet the Church offers one more reminder that the communion of saints is a place of consolation and light. St. Bonafacia, pray for us!

Hildegard Of Bingen

A New Doctor of the Church

On October 7th, Pope Benedict XVI proclaimed two new Doctors of the Church, John of Avila and Hildegard of Bingen. While the former joins over two dozen men in that esteemed rank, Hildegard is only the fourth, joining Teresa of Avila, Catherine of Siena, and Therese of Lisieux who share the honour.

It is not the first time this Holy Father referenced this remarkable woman. In 2010, he recalled the words of Mulieris Dignitatem, which noted that. “The Church gives thanks for all the manifestations of the feminine ‘genius’ which have appeared in the course of history, in the midst of all peoples and nations” and “she gives thanks for all the fruits of feminine holiness.”i

Born in German to a large, noble family in 1098, Hildegard was dedicated to God at birth and entrusted to Benedictines in St Disibodenberg to be formed. She grew up in that small, cloistered monastery, and was asked to be its prioress in 1136. Benedict continues,

“She fulfilled this office making the most of her gifts as a woman of culture and of lofty spirituality, capable of dealing competently with the organizational aspects of cloistered life.”ii

Authority and Freedom

As was customary, her monastery was linked to a male monastery, but since the men were dominating in that setting, she removed her group to Bingen so that she would have the freedom to exercise her legitimate authority. For those who may misunderstand how the Catholic hierarchy views the vocation of women, consider what the Pope says about her decision:

Her manner of exercising the ministry of authority is an example for every religious community: she inspired holy emulation in the practice of good to such an extent that, as time was to tell, both the mother and her daughters competed in mutual esteem and in serving each other.iii

Authority also came into play when Hildegard began to receive mystical visions, whose legitimacy she prudently questioned. She turned to Bernard of Clairvaux, who encouraged her, and eventually to Pope Eugene III, who authorised her to write about her visions and even to speak publicly about what they revealed.

Benedict explains the significance of those particular decisions:

This, dear friends, is the seal of an authentic experience of the Holy Spirit, the source of every charism: the person endowed with supernatural gifts never boasts of them, never flaunts them and, above all, shows complete obedience to the ecclesial authority. Every gift bestowed by the Holy Spirit, is in fact intended for the edification of the Church and the Church, through her Pastors, recognizes its authenticity.

Late in her life, when she encountered the Cathars, who sought to “purify” the Church on their own, she rebuked them for seeking to reform outward structures without legitimate authority, when they should be seeking interior renewal based on humility and personal repentance. Like in all generations, it was not that the Church could not benefit by purification, but it begins with the members, not by tearing down the institution. Surely her insight is just as important today as in her own time.

The Nature of the Visions

Pope Benedict reminds us that the extraordinary lights that God sends to particular people are not meant for their own enjoyment or private pleasure—they are entrusted to those who will share them with the entire Church.

Hildegard’s mystical visions resemble those of the Old Testament prophets: expressing herself in the cultural and religious categories of her time, she interpreted the Sacred Scriptures in the light of God, applying them to the various circumstances of life. Thus all those who heard her felt the need to live a consistent and committed Christian lifestyle.

Rather than opening new vistas of revelation, the visions augmented what God had already revealed through Holy Scriptures. They encompassed the principle events of salvation history in ways that brought the truths alive. She wrote to St Bernard:

“The vision fascinates my whole being: I do not see with the eyes of the body but it appears to me in the spirit of the mysteries…. I recognize the deep meaning of what is expounded on in the Psalter, in the Gospels and in other books, which have been shown to me in the vision. This vision burns like a flame in my breast and in my soul and teaches me to understand the text profoundly.”iv

The Feminine Genius

While a number of mystics have received such visions over the centuries, what sets Hildegard’s apart is her ability to wrap the eternal truths in perceptively feminine terms, even then calling to mind the “catechesis on human love” that was such a centerpiece of John Paul II’s work.

As Benedict notes,

With the characteristic traits of feminine sensitivity, Hildegard develops at the very heart of her work the theme of the mysterious marriage between God and humanity that is brought about in the Incarnation. On the tree of the Cross take place the nuptials of the Son of God with the Church, his Bride, filled with grace and the ability to give new children to God, in the love of the Holy Spirit. From these brief references we already see that theology too can receive a special contribution from women because they are able to talk about God and the mysteries of faith using their own particular intelligence and sensitivity.

Whereas all persons are inclined to fall in on themselves—especially as concerning various experiences and choices—Hildegard’s visions were given as a gift to the Church, so that her members would recognise the echoes of divine realities that give meaning to every facet of our lives. Benedict continues:

Hildegard stresses the deep relationship that exists between man and God and reminds us that the whole creation, of which man is the summit, receives life from the Trinity. The work is centered on the relationship between virtue and vice, which is why human beings must face the daily challenge of vice that distances them on their way towards God and of virtue that benefits them.v

Each choice between good and evil has the potential to change our relationship with God, and it is only by choosing good for the greater glory of God can we attain the joys that are reserved just for us.

Despite lasting misperceptions about both the Church and the Middle Ages, the vitality and cultural richness revealed in the mystical visions show the vibrancy of the female monasteries in that period of history. Among many other things, the women were interested myriad fields of study, including medicine, music, art, the natural sciences, poetry, and geography. Hildegard herself is known for marvelous musical compositions and intriguing paintings.

This extraordinary saint was widely known in her day, and her advice sought from people in all strata of society. Regardless, she knew she had been entrusted with a wisdom that had to be carefully guarded from her own unreliable senses and various temptations:

“The spiritual life must be tended with great dedication. At first the effort is burdensome because it demands the renunciation of caprices of the pleasures of the flesh and of other such things. But if she lets herself be enthralled by holiness a holy soul will find even contempt for the world sweet and lovable. All that is needed is to take care that the soul does not shrivel.”vi

As we embark on this “Year of Faith,” the attention given to the work of Hildegard of Bingen will not only preserve our souls from shriveling, but will help them to soar towards the “living God” she helped to reveal to us in so many ways. God is good, and He loves his daughters with a father’s love. May what He revealed though this newly proclaimed Doctor of the Church help you to understand your femininity better and create a deeper appreciation for the feminine genius.

iWednesday Audience, 1 September, 2010.

iiIbid.

iiiIbid.

ivEpistolarium pars prima I-XC: CCCM 91.

vWednesday Audience, 8 September, 2010.

viE. Gronau, Hildegard. Vita di una donna profetica alle origini dell’età moderna, Milan 1996, p. 402.

Margaret of Scotland

I chose Margaret of Scotland for my patroness upon joining the Church as a young adult for many reasons, not the least of which was the move she made from one country to another early in life. Before explaining my choice, I must say that joining the Church overall wasn’t an easy process.

Being a veritable dinosaur, I like to remind my children that I joined before there was an internet, a Universal Catechism, wide access to EWTN, and before we really understood the gift of John Paul II, who had only recently been elected pope. Drawn by lots of reading—especially history (and, of course, God’s grace)—I wanted to be a member of this great and mystical institution that I knew to lay claim on having been born from the side of our crucified Lord. But getting “in the door,” so to speak, was like banging on a wall in search of a hidden tunnel.

The “inquiry class” I took did its best to hide the marvelous teachings I thought were there, the pre-Cana class watered down the Catholic understanding of marriage (especially concerning contraception) and the Masses I attended were informal and trendy to the point of banality. Somehow, I knew there was more.

But the last hurdle came when I was to be confirmed and I came with my chosen saint.

“We don’t do that any more,” the priest said with finality.

“Are you kidding me?” I said exasperated, as much from seeing hours of research going down the drain as from the overall disappointment.

“Look at the form,” he insisted. “There’s no room for a patron saint.”

“Then make ‘Margaret’ my middle name,” I countered. She was going to be a part of this process one way or another. And there she remained, incorporated in the name of the stubborn convert. I’ve never been sorry for the choice.

Having pored over my Butlers’ Lives of the Saints for weeks on end, I knew that saints came from all walks of life and lived myriad paths in their search for holiness. God’s grace is infinitely creative, and no circumstance was beyond redemption if one chose to live his will amidst the mundane details of daily life. There were kings and slaves, priests and poets, hermits and profligates, pious children and ne’er-do-wells—who eventually “did well” when they saw the light. The book was a marvelous window into how broad and magnificent Holy Mother Church was through the graces won by the Bridegroom.

Margaret, who was the niece of Edward the Confessor, was born a Saxon, raised in Hungary and was taken to England when her uncle died. Despite her desire to enter the religious life, she impressed Malcolm of Scotland who convinced her to marry him, and together they had seven children.

Despite the turmoil over the succession battles of various thrones in the region (which was par for the day) Margaret focused on establishing the Benedictines in Scotland and fostering their growth through the endowment of the first monasteries. She was intent on bringing the manners and customs of other royal courts to Scotland, which was somewhat primitive at the time, and she is also credited with helping to establish English-style feudalism and parliament in that isolated land.

Dedicated to prayer, acts of piety and charity for the poor, she established hostels for their care that would flourish through the royal endowment. All of this was done with the blessing of her husband, though with an independence of spirit that exemplified the best of complementary relationships. Indeed, while King Malcolm was absorbed in the affairs of state, it had been his intention from the start to choose a wife who could provide for his family—and the kingdom—a devoted wife and queen who would pray and work for the benefit of all.

I certainly couldn’t see all of this at the brink of marriage myself. It was a more romantic detail that caught my eye and clinched my decision: she died four days after her husband’s own death in battle—some say an illness, others a broken heart. As I prepared to tie the knot with a young man in the military, I thought this was a crowning element that was in keeping with young love. If two ardent souls are to be bound in marriage, who could endure such a death? Wasn’t that nice of God to collect them each to his bosom in such quick succession?

That was over a quarter century ago. My husband survived his military years intact, we have our own family and mission, and who knows how it will end? Yet, I still cherish dear Margaret, who is a model of motherhood and wifely companionship, and honor her mission to civilize her little corner of the globe. I have no kingdom, no anguish over succession, no rivalries concerning political authority, but I do insist on a certain standard for manners, have spent years incorporating feasts and fasts into our family culture, and love the order of monastic life that is an excellent counter-point to the spontaneity of a large family. I’ve never regretted choosing this motherly queen, and beg for her intercession for families everywhere, so that they may build up the domestic churches on which our faith depends. Saint Margaret, pray for us!

The Wise Virgin

Who is she that comes forth like the dawn, fair as the moon, bright as the sun, terrible as an army set in battle array? (Song of Solomon 6:10)

Does that Scripture really refer to the sweet mother in our crèche? The adoring mother, demurely gazing at the Babe, surrounded by inquisitive shepherds and under the watchful eye of silent Joseph? What are we missing?

We need not choose between seeing Mary as a docile maiden or the most formidable enemy of the ravager of souls; rather, we must recognize that the very docility that allows Mary to focus on her Lord is also the virtue that allowed her to be filled with God’s own strength—and which would one day reveal her to be Virgin Most Powerful and Tower of Ivory.

As silent as Mary seems to be in Holy Scripture, there is just enough information to assemble a heart-warming catechesis on authentic discipleship and the strength of God’s own familial bonds. Mary, of course, was not only the Mother of God but His most perfect disciple. This is what Our Lord meant when he asked, “‘Who are my mother and [my] brothers? Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother’” (Mark 3: 33, 35). Mary’s “yes” initially sealed her vocation as disciple, and only within that calling was she mother—but it stands to reason that these two dimensions are inseparable.

How do we really know what transpired? The remarkable account of the Annunciation had to have been told by Mary after Jesus’ resurrection. She must have been asked by those around her, whereupon the whole saga spilled out: the recollected quiet, the celestial visitor, the exchange, and the Incarnation around which salvation history revolves.

I confess I was always confused about why her question (“How can this be…?”) was considered appropriate and Zechariah’s (“How shall I know this…?”) was considered impertinent. The answer she received amplified our understanding of God’s plan; his answer was to be struck dumb. The way to look at this encounter, I’ve learned in the writings of Jacob of Serug, is not to compare Mary with her cousin, but to compare Mary with Eve. When Eve was approached by an angel, she asked no questions. Alas, she simply took him at face value and acted on his suggestion. Mary, who had to know about the previous ruinous encounter, exercised prudence before accepting the message.

Not only did Mary’s prudence spare her from a possibly disastrous choice, but the answer she elicited from the angel has since been foundational to our faith. She pondered the message in her heart, kept the information in her mind over the coming decades, and meditated on how those events related to the promises of God. When the time was right, she shared what was appropriate with the apostles. What we know of the Christmas story, no doubt, came to life through the quiet words of Our Lady as she told the story of God stooping to earth, entrusting himself to her care and that of her betrothed—who had shared with her his own dreams so long ago.

As with any family, the stories spread and were treasured, not only providing details about the human dimension of the God-man, but providing essential details about the Trinity, the Incarnation, and our Redemption. In that regard, we discover that that quiet maiden was not only the perfect vessel for the Holy One of Israel, but that she reigns with him now and will use her motherly influence to bring all her children home. That is the wonder of that sweet mother in the crèche who remains the refuge of sinners.

Virgin most prudent, pray for us!