An encounter with a shabby old woman many dismissed as insane prompted Saint Joan to dedicate her life to the poor. For Joan, who had a reputation as a businesswoman intent on monetary success, this was a significant conversion.
Born in 1666, in Anjou, France, Joan worked in the family business—a small shop near a religious shrine—from an early age. After her parents’ death she took over the shop. She quickly became known for her greediness and insensitivity to the beggars who often came seeking help.
That was until she was touched by the strange woman who claimed she was on intimate terms with the deity. Joan, who had always been devout, even scrupulous, became a new person. She began caring for needy children. Then the poor, elderly, and sick came to her. Over time, she closed the family business so she could devote herself fully to good works and penance.
She went on to found what came to be known as the Congregation of Saint Anne of Providence. It was then she took the religious name of Joan of the Cross. By the time of her death in 1736 she had founded 12 religious houses, hospices, and schools. Pope John Paul II canonized her in 1982.
Reflection
The downtown areas of most major cities hold a population of “street people.” Well-dressed folks usually avoid making eye contact, probably for fear of being asked for a handout. That was Joan’s attitude until the day one of them touched her heart. Most people thought the old woman was crazy, but she put Joan on the road to sainthood. Who knows what the next beggar we meet might do for us?
Clare looked into the San Damiano crucifix, which had spoken to Francis. Like her, we look into the mirror of Christ on the cross to see God and to see ourselves; who we are, who we can become. As Christ mirrors us, so we, when we contemplate that mirror, begin to mirror him, who is both God and us when we are transformed by virtue. And it all begins with contemplation, which enables us to see, not subject to object, but subject to subject. What we look at begins to look back at us, both of us alive in the Spirit of God. The cross is both the image of God and of us, only if we let ourselves be transformed by contemplating the crucified Christ. Clare gazed on the San Damiano crucifix for over forty years, and it transformed her into Christ’s mirror.
A brilliant philosopher who stopped believing in God when she was 14, Edith Stein was so captivated by reading the autobiography of Teresa of Avila that she began a spiritual journey that led to her baptism in 1922. Twelve years later she imitated Saint Teresa by becoming a Carmelite, taking the name Teresa Benedicta of the Cross.
Born into a prominent Jewish family in Breslau, Germany—now Wroclaw, Poland—Edith abandoned Judaism in her teens. As a student at the University of Göttingen, she became fascinated by phenomenology–an approach to philosophy. Excelling as a protégé of Edmund Husserl, one of the leading phenomenologists, Edith earned a doctorate in philosophy in 1916. She continued as a university teacher until 1922, when she moved to a Dominican school in Speyer; her appointment as lecturer at the Educational Institute of Munich ended under pressure from the Nazis.
After living for four years in the Cologne Carmel, Sister Teresa Benedicta moved to the Carmelite monastery in Echt, Netherlands, in 1938. The Nazis occupied that country in 1940. In retaliation for being denounced by the Dutch bishops, the Nazis arrested all Dutch Jews who had become Christians. Teresa Benedicta and her sister Rosa, also a Catholic, died in a gas chamber in Auschwitz on August 9, 1942.
Pope John Paul II beatified Teresa Benedicta of the Cross in 1987 and canonized her 12 years later.
Reflection
The writings of Edith Stein fill 17 volumes, many of which have been translated into English. A woman of integrity, she followed the truth wherever it led her. After becoming a Catholic, Edith continued to honor her mother’s Jewish faith. Sister Josephine Koeppel, O.C.D., translator of several of Edith’s books, sums up this saint with the phrase, “Learn to live at God’s hands.”
Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross is a Patron Saint of:
The only thing we should have pride in is the mercy of our good Lord. From His pierced heart, flows the river of Sacramental love so that we may have life and have it to the fullest in this life and in the next. It is our means of salvation. What we should be proud of, and the only thing, is our Savior’s love. It’s not a sin or a debauchery.
Now, let me tell you what you must do to get to heaven. You have to do one thing, and it’s extraordinary. You know what it is? You may be thinking, “Oh, God! Father, please, I’m having enough problems with the ordinary stuff! What the heck are the extraordinary things?” Well, although it’s extraordinary, it’s not hard. God doesn’t ask us to do hard things. The extraordinary thing we have to do is do ordinary things ordinarily; in other words, do routine things routinely. Do the same things day after day after day.
Jesus said, “If you love Me and wish to be My follower, take up your cross every day and follow Me.” So, we take up our cross and follow Him. Now, our goal is progress…not perfection. This includes saying our prayers, not choking the you-know-what out of someone who desperately needs it, and practicing spiritual and corporal works of mercy. When I say “practicing,” I mean practicing just like doctors practice medicine. It’s not perfect, but they keep trying. Another way to carry our cross is by going to Mass every Sunday and on Holy Days, and maybe even on other days of the week. The doors are open, and on weekdays, we don’t take up a collection. So, you’re welcome to come in and get extra credit. You also can carry your cross by going to Confession once a year…every three months is better. Who wants to walk around with all that doodoo staining your soul that affects the body, mind, and spirit. You’ll have a much better attitude. We have much better vision and self-awareness when our souls are bathed in the most precious blood of Christ. These are the ordinary things we can do ordinarily…the routine things we can do routinely, and that’s the extraordinary part.
Because we do ordinary things, some may be tempted, and it’s a grave temptation, to stop, because they think that they are not progressing, they think they aren’t good at it, or they believe it’s not benefitting them. All of that is a lie by the devil. “I don’t think my medicine is helping me get well, so I’m going to stop taking it.” That’s not going to lead to a good outcome. Likewise, if we stop doing ordinary spiritual works of mercy, that also won’t lead to a good outcome. The extraordinary part is when we keep doing it and doing it…whether we enjoy it or not. We embrace the suck. I don’t enjoy eating fish. But, I have to eat it, because it was prescribed by my doctor. That’s doing an ordinary thing ordinarily. If I don’t follow my doctor’s advice, it’s a sin against the Fourth Commandment and a sin against the Fifth Commandment, because I would be endangering my life unnecessarily.
Is doing ordinary things ordinarily a lot of fun? No. “Father, you’re a professional.” Yes. “Do you always enjoy your prayers?” No. If you catch me in the morning around 7:30, I’ll be over here saying my prayers. You will notice, if you see me day after day, that I’m not walking on air. I’m not levitating. I’m not in mystical ecstasy every time I say the Rosary. I’m not always happy. Do my prayers always thrill me? Oh, heck no! Do I want to listen to one more whiner who comes in to complain? “Oh, Father, it’s too hot in church!” Oh, shut up. Do I want to listen to that? No. But, remember, everything we do should be focused on Him, our Beloved. The things we do are acts of love to our dear Lord and are not done to please ourselves. When you are tempted to stop doing ordinary things ordinarily, the focus is on you. I’m not much but I’m all I think about…that’s one of my favorite sayings. Whatever we do, whatever our gifts of love for our Lord are, big or small, they are acts of love and devotion to our Savior.
Now, as you know, in the Oval Office at the White House, there’s a phone that goes from the United States to the Soviet Union in case there is a nuclear war so that people don’t end up in a mushroom cloud. In the Vatican, there is also such a phone. Remember the bat phone? It’s kind of like that. This phone doesn’t go from the Vatican to the United States or to Russia. It goes from the Vatican to Heaven. It’s not used, but occasionally the housekeepers come along and dust it like any other piece of furniture. This phone had never rang, but, one day it did. Whoa! I doubt it was a wrong number. Everyone was too scared to touch it. No one but the pope could answer the phone, so, they found the Holy Father, brought him in, and he picked up the phone. The pope said, “Yes, Lord. Yes, Lord.” The pope smiled and put the phone down. By that time, everyone in the Vatican had gathered around. “Holiness, who was it? Speak to us!” The pope said, “It was God.” “What did He say?” The pope responded, “He’s coming back soon.” “Holiness, what should we do?” The pope answered, “Look busy!”
How will you apply this message to your life? Are you doing routine things routinely? Are you coming to weekend Mass and going to Confession at least once a year? Are you practicing corporal and spiritual works of mercy?
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“Do not seek to be regarded as somebody, don’t compare yourself to others in anything. Leave the world, mount the cross, discard all earthly things, shake the dust from off your feet.” — St. Barsanuphius
When Clare entered San Damiano, she came into possession of the beautiful Byzantine cross before which Francis had prayed. Now it was her “book” of prayer, her silent reminder each day: “Take up your cross and follow me.” In that Face, she saw mirrored the love that would insist that one who lays down a life is the greatest of Friends and the model of all Christian friendship. The story of redemption portrayed on the Cross helped her to anchor her soul in that mystery. One speaks of “reading” an icon. What did Clare read in that Cross? She found the images of those who accompanied Jesus to Calvary, the angels mourning the outrage they witness, the centurion piercing that beloved Heart with his lance. There, too, she would see the image of Christ ascending back to the heavenly firmament—his Father’s hand outstretched to welcome him.
