“In the spiritual life there are two great principles which should never be forgotten: Without grace we can do nothing; with it we can do all things. Sometimes it anticipates our desires; ordinarily, God waits till we ask for it. This is a general law thus expressed by Our Lord: ‘Ask, and it shall be given to you.’ Prayer is, therefore, not only a precept, it is a necessity. God places the treasure of His graces at our disposal, and its key is prayer. You desire more faith, more hope, more love; ‘ask, and it shall be given to you.’ Your good resolutions remain sterile, resulting always in the same failures: ‘ask, and it shall be given to you’. Precepts are numerous, virtue painful, temptation seductive, the enemy ruthless, the will weak: ‘ask, and it shall be given to you.'”— Rev. Dom Vitalis Lehodey p. xv
Death can plunge us into despair. Confrontation with our mortality can also, as Francis reminds us, awaken us to the beauty and wonder of God’s creation and presence in our lives. Recognizing our mortality inspires us to experience our solidarity with suffering humanity. We are, as a plaque once erected on a Paris hospital noted, “the dying taking care of the dying.” Francis would have recognized that within the tragedy of the COVID-19 virus is the challenge to all people and nations to realize our interdependence and recognize the illusion of ethnic, national, or economic separation. As Jesus asserted, the sun shines and the rain falls on the righteous and unrighteous—and the wealthy and poor—alike (see Matthew 5:45). Francis recognized the dangers of privilege and out of his own experience of conversion from privilege to prayer counseled his companions to go beyond class and status, emphasizing humility as the pathway of human heartedness and empathy.
We know more about the devotion to Saint Blaise by Christians around the world than we know about the saint himself. His feast is observed as a holy day in some Eastern Churches. In 1222, the Council of Oxford prohibited servile labor in England on Blaise’s feast day. The Germans and Slavs hold him in special honor, and for decades many United States Catholics have sought the annual Saint Blaise blessing for their throats.
We know that Bishop Blaise was martyred in his episcopal city of Sebastea, Armenia, in 316. The legendary Acts of St. Blaise were written 400 years later. According to them Blaise was a good bishop, working hard to encourage the spiritual and physical health of his people. Although the Edict of Toleration (311), granting freedom of worship in the Roman Empire, was already five years old, persecution still raged in Armenia. Blaise was apparently forced to flee to the back country. There he lived as a hermit in solitude and prayer, but he made friends with the wild animals. One day a group of hunters seeking wild animals for the amphitheater stumbled upon Blaise’s cave. They were first surprised and then frightened. The bishop was kneeling in prayer surrounded by patiently waiting wolves, lions and bears.
The legend has it that as the hunters hauled Blaise off to prison, a mother came with her young son who had a fish bone lodged in his throat. At Blaise’s command the child was able to cough up the bone.
Agricolaus, governor of Cappadocia, tried to persuade Blaise to sacrifice to pagan idols. The first time Blaise refused, he was beaten. The next time he was suspended from a tree and his flesh torn with iron combs or rakes. Finally, he was beheaded.
Reflection
Four centuries give ample opportunity for fiction to creep in with fact. Who can be sure how accurate Blaise’s biographer was? But biographical details are not essential. Blaise is seen as one more example of the power those have who give themselves entirely to Jesus. As Jesus told his apostles at the Last Supper, “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you” (John 15:7). With faith we can follow the lead of the Church in asking for Blaise’s protection.
“Undertake courageously great tasks for God’s glory, to the extent that he’ll give you power and grace for this purpose. Even though you can do nothing on your own, you can do all things in him. His help will never fail you if you have confidence in his goodness. Place your entire physical and spiritual welfare in his hands. Abandon to the fatherly concern of his divine providence every care for your health, reputation, property, and business; for those near to you; for your past sins; for your soul’s progress in virtue and love of him; for your life, death, and especially your salvation and eternity—in a word, all your cares. Rest in the assurance that in his pure goodness, he’ll watch with particular tenderness over all your responsibilities and cares, arranging all things for the greatest good.”— St. John Eudes, p. 363
No doubt, despite his personal generosity, Francis of Assisi, like many in our society, took his privilege for granted as God-given. Only later did Francis let go of his social and economic privilege so he could live in solidarity with all creation—rich and poor, human and nonhuman. I have come to recognize that privilege can insulate as well as isolate. Despite our relative wealth and comfort, the realities of privilege can spiritually harm both the privileged and the marginalized, whose poverty is often the shadow side of our abundance. We who are privileged can gain the world and lose our souls. Our sense of entitlement and alienation from those who struggle contracts our spirits and renders us oblivious to the voice of God speaking through our human and nonhuman neighbors. We fail to realize that many of our greatest achievements are the result of advantages we neither deserved or earned just as many persons’ poverty and failure come are the result of factors beyond their control. Initiative and hard work matter, but achievement is shaped by what we’ve been given, not just what we’ve earned. Tragically, the poverty of others is often connected to our own economic wellbeing.
