Feast Day: April 28^th 

Luchesio Modestini was far from living up to his surname. 

He grew up in the lovely and abundant region of Tuscany, in Italy (so, around the time, and not far from St. Francis). He had begun life, not unlike the poverello of Assisi, with dreams of being a soldier but had discovered the wealth and privilege that came from outfitting pilgrims on their way to Rome and had thus turned his dreams towards the life of a merchant and moneylender. His name meant “modest”, but he quickly outstripped that adjective, growing prosperous from his sales, marrying a woman we only know as “Buonadonna” [literally “lovely-woman”], and gaining a reputation as unfeeling and greedy. 

But around the age of 30 God’s grace broke into his comfortable life. 

We don’t know exactly what happened.  Did he encounter the newly converted St. Francis (they had known each other before both being merchants)? Did the pilgrims he was fleecing finally show him a joy that he didn’t find in money? Did a fellow merchant question why he was so fixated on wealth and success? We just know that he had the grace to realize the foolishness of striving merely for worldly goods, none of which would matter much in just a few more decades. He discovered that he had a soul. He discovered that eternal joy was more important that the passing delights he had given much of his early life to stockpiling. 

Now, it is always interesting to see how conversions actually play out because often the Lord’s converting our hearts does not happen instantaneously, and so was the case with Luchesio. He began simply, but concretely, but practicing the works of mercy – feeding the poor, going out of his way to help the sick or lonely, learning to love people again. And, alongside of this he resumed the life of a faithful Catholic – going to Mass, repenting of his sins, praying each day. It would not have seemed much to a time when most people lived that kind of life, but for Luchesio these were the small steps that allowed the tremendous gift of God’s joy and freedom to break back into his life. 

Buonadonna discovered a different, much better, person in her husband as he began this journey. Her own heart was moved away from the comforts and avarice that had been her highest goods to that point, and she discovered, like Luchesio, that what she really wanted – what really made her happy – was the life of a disciple, of generosity, piety, hope, and prayer. Together the couple decided to take a much more decisive step after the Lord: they gave away most of their property, retaining only enough land to provide for their daily needs, and leaving their hearts open to whatever God asked of them next. 

Many people in that region were being moved at this time by the example and words of St. Francis, though his only formal followers were the brothers who were forming the fledgling Order of Friars Minor (the First Order Franciscans) and the nuns beginning to collect around St. Clare (Second Order Franciscans). But then Luchesio and Buonadonna hosted the saintly deacon at their home in Poggibonzi, moving him by their story of conversion and penitence, and asking him for instructions on how to continue forward as a couple seeking radical holiness. 

St. Francis’s dream of developing a way of life for lay people to follow the call into simplicity and humility that God had given to him was inspired and concretized by this couple. Out of their friendship came what would become the Third Order of St. Francis, originally called simply the Order of Penance, but honed and expanded over the years to include not only lay people affiliated with the Franciscan Order but also the groups of active religious sisters who also live lives of poverty in the world, examples to all of us of Christ’s own freedom and utter dependency on God. 

Now, it wasn’t as if this couple lived their life as the first Franciscan Tertiaries perfectly for the rest of their days. There were times when Luchesio’s radical generosity was inconsiderate of Buonadonna; though then again, when once she frustratingly exploded when he gave away the last of their food, he gently asked her to look in the pantry again only to find it filled with the best of bread. Would we would see similar miracles if we chose similar confidence in God? They took plague victims into their home, risking their health, and the ridicule of others because they really saw Jesus in each invalid. 

Eventually Luchesio grew sick, and his distraught wife begged that she could die with him. “Implore God, who gave us to each other as companions in life, to permit us also to die together” she asked Luchesio. So they prayed, and so it happened. She died shortly before him, both having received the last sacraments before they passed.

– Fr. Dominic recently ran the Boston Marathon. He successfully discovered his own poverty at mile 24 when he found himself walking instead of setting a new (personal) record for the 26.2 mile race. Sometimes the Lord knows He needs to slow us down to a walk to help us discover what is really important in life, and maybe the path to radical holiness that you couldn’t see till then.

I was recently confronted by a gentleman who held strong beliefs against the Catholic Church.  At one point, he criticized the Catholic Mass as something unbiblical.  I simply asked him: “Have you ever been to Catholic Mass?”  To which he quickly responded with a firm “No!”  As we parted ways, I could not help but think of the story of Dr. Scott Hahn’s journey to the Catholic faith.  I recall him sharing how he would slip into the back of the chapel for Mass.  Being so familiar with the Scriptures, he saw unfolding before him a liturgy filled with biblical connections.  The Mass is not mere human invention, but it is firmly rooted in the Scriptures.

One of the many places where this is seen in the Mass is as the celebrant, before receiving Holy Communion himself, says: “Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who takes away the sins of the world.  Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.”  The first sentence is directly from John 1:29, where St. John the Baptist points out Jesus to his followers.  The second sentence is taken from the Book of Revelation, which reads: “Then the angel said to me, ‘Write this: Blessed are those who have been called to the wedding feast of the Lamb.” (Rev. 19:9)

The response from the faithful is as follows: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”  Anybody who has even a casual familiarity with the Scriptures knows that this also comes from the Bible.  It is almost a direct quote from the Gospel of Matthew where the Centurion appeals to Jesus for Him to heal his servant, saying: “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed.” (Mt. 8:8)  In a resource that I have referred to in this series one other time, I came across a beautiful explanation of how this brief exchange both demonstrates the Church’s use of the Scriptures in the Mass, as well as how this passage in particular is a helpful final preparation for us as we are about to approach Our Lord in Holy Communion:

These were the words addressed by the Centurion to our Lord, who was coming to heal his servant. Once again let us repeat, Holy Church is ever showing how she possesses the happy secret of choosing the loveliest passages of Sacred Scripture, to place in the Holy Mass; as it were enchasing them there, like priceless diamonds! We likewise say Domine non sum dignus [Lord, I am not worthy]. … In our case, it is not for our servant that we beg a cure; it is our own poor soul craving help for herself, and making use of these words as a last appeal to God. We sorely need to be cured; and the nearer we approach the Lord who alone can cure us, the greater should be our confidence in asking. Assuredly nothing can be so certain and manifest, as our unworthiness; but, on the other hand, who is so powerful as the Lord. There is nothing for us, but to appeal to Him, and crave with true humility: sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea. Yea, say but one word, and my soul shall be healed! 

(Dom Prosper Guéranger, Explanation of Prayers and Ceremonies of Holy Mass, 64)

What a gift the Mass is to us!  The Word of God is spoken directly to us in the Liturgy of the Word, and it continues to speak to us in a variety of ways throughout the Liturgy of the Eucharist.  Even if we are not familiar with all of the passages and references scattered throughout the Mass, their power is evident, for “the Word of God is living and effective.” (Heb 4:12)  It is that effectiveness of the Word of God that prepares our hearts throughout that Mass, so that at this moment, in which we are about to receive the Word made Flesh in the Eucharist, our hunger for Him prompts us to cry out with all humility that we are not worthy of this gift, while at the same time being moved to gratitude that despite that unworthiness, He desires to come to us to feed us and heal us.

Father Alford     

Feast Day: April 21^st 

Automatic doors are the worst.

I mean that somewhat facetiously, though we have had a decisive down-turn in the number of saintly doormen ever since powered-doors started their climb towards ubiquity in the 1950s. It has been 3 years since I wrote about a saint-porter, that is a saint who achieved his holiness from opening the door for people coming to Church, but there are many such remarkable individuals now canonized saints (or blessed): Paschal Baylon, Charles of Sezze, Didacus of Alcalá, Felix of Cantalice, Alphonsus Rodriguez, André Bessette, John Macias, Benito Solana Ruiz, Bonaventure of Barcelona, Solanus Casey, and today’s saint, Conrad of Parzham.

He was baptized with the name John and the patronage of John the Evangelist, the second to last of 12 children (though only 7 survived past infancy). He was known for his devotion and prayerfulness as a child, visiting the church some distance from his home even during inclement weather and walking all the way to a shrine of the Blessed Mother on feast days. He grew up helping on his family’s farm, though when he was still a teenager lost both of his parents a few years apart. A few years later, following a parish mission, he began to seriously consider religious life and entered the OFM-C (Order of Friars Minor, Capuchins) in 1842.

And then he spent 41 years open the friary door. He was widely known for his charity, patience, and generosity towards all who came knocking, and that he would step into an alcove of their chapel for brief moments of prayer whenever he wasn’t engaged with visitors. One line about him that particularly caught my attention says that he was “eager and ready to receive and help strangers.” He died in 1894, a few days after giving the role of porter to another friar.

Now, back to powered-doors.  The problem isn’t the motors and electronics that make the things operate … but neither was it the physical act of opening and closing the door that made Br. Conrad a saint. The thing that made him a saint was loving individuals, and loving the Lord, every time he encountered someone. And power-doors are one of the many places in our lives where we have avoided encountering others … avoided them needing our love … or us giving them our love.

Think of all the places where our modern world allows us to avoid interacting with others: self-checkout, 2 day shipping, movie streaming, google maps, earbuds. I don’t want to be entire down on technology, but in making our lives “easier”, in many ways our lives are less human, less dependent on others, less open to others. When I go for a jog and smile and wave at a stranger they often look up from their own little world, shocked that someone would speak to them, care about them. And, to be honest, I often find myself in my own zone too, wanting to do my thing, keep to my own plans, not really wanting to be bothered, not really wanting to be noticed, not really wanting to need someone else, or them needing me. 

But to live “my own” life, is not really to live a fully human life at all. We are made for community, for communion, for interaction, for self-gift, and when we risk ourselves and open up to someone else, we discover we are far more who we want to be. Our Lord knew this when He said “whoever would save his lifewill lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” [Matthew 16:25] Unfortunately, we live in an age where our lives are not always asked of us, or when they are we are quick to begrudge the request. As Christians we have to look for ways around this buffered, isolated, narrowed way of life and look for ways to push back against the things that keep us disconnected, solitary, “going alone”. 

– Fr. Dominic is not the best at this! Asked before the Boston Marathon “Why do you run?”, I said some things about offering up miles for people, about praying and soaking in the grace and strength that God gives me, but I completely forgot that running is absolutely an opportunity to sacrifice for others, to cheer them on, to get to know them as you share miles of road together. But these are some of the best moments of those races! The kid you high-five on the sidelines, the person who gives you a cup of water at the aid station, the unexpected person who celebrates with you at the finish line, and the guy you cheered on who says it got him through some tough miles. Those, and so many others, are opportunities to love each other. Those are the places where saints are made.