"I came out with a joyful heart and gave thanks to God." ~ Thanksgiving in luxury and in persecution

At Mass this morning, our good priest reflected in his homily on thankfulness, as is proper on this Thanksgiving Day here in the US. He specifically called out how we Americans can tend to obsess over our First World problems which can cause us to forget to give thanks for the blessings we have. He gave a general example of the millions upon millions of people on earth who wonder how they will feed their children anything at all each day. Meanwhile, we get upset if the baked potatoes get a little burnt, or if the pasta sauce is watery. 

As Catholics, we have our own version of "First World problems." Most American Catholics have easy access to the spiritual sustenance the Church provides, with multiple options for Mass and the sacraments within easy driving distance. If we don't cotton to the way a particular priest says Mass or runs his parish, we can opt for another that is more to our preference. 

Compare this to a time not so long ago, when many Catholics had vanishingly few opportunities to attend Mass or receive the sacraments—when a priest had to risk his own life just to hear a confession. Here is one such story drawn from the letters of Venerable Father Thomas Choe Yang-eop. Father Choe was the second native-born Korean Catholic priest (the first being Saint Andrew Kim Dae-geon). He was trained in seminary as a young man in Macao and after his ordination, he was smuggled back into Korea to minister to the far-flung and secret Catholic community. At that time, Christianity was outlawed by the reigning Joseon dynasty, and those suspected of following the abominable foreign religion were subject to torture and execution.

The following anecdote was recorded by Fr. Choe in a letter he wrote to his spiritual father, Fr. Pierre Louis Legrégeois in 1850. In it, he laments the travails of Korean Catholics, both poor and noble. In particular, he calls out the plight of noble Korean women who were not permitted to leave their houses or even be seen by men other than their husbands and family members. For Christian maidens living in a pagan family, the situation was almost impossible. If they tried to leave the house to visit a traveling priest like Fr. Choe or to gather with other Christians, they were subject to kidnapping and forced marriage to any man who could catch them. So many of these young women opted to remain in place, pining for the consolation of the sacraments. Father Choe records his experience with one such woman:

I also saw another woman named Anna, who came from a noble family. She had been confined to a house of strict pagans for 19 years, where she had no contact with believers, and she thus remained without the sacraments. Finally, this year the woman was able to pass her news on to a believer who was her relative. This Christian had the opportunity to listen to her and speak to her, and he came to me when I was in a Christian village 50 li from Anna’s house. He told me how eagerly Anna was longing to see me, how fervent she was, and how miserable in the totally pagan house. In a place where the whole village venerates all kinds of superstitions, she had never neglected the duties of a believer for all those years. She constantly longed to receive the sacraments, at every moment, and she prayed and begged God to send her a priest. Anna tried to comfort herself in her loneliness, and as she sometimes picked up a small piece of cloth produced in Europe and looked at it, she would think of Europe and the missionary priests. She comforted herself as she said, “As these goods have been transported from Europe, missionary priests will come from Europe someday.”

When I heard this, I was so moved that I couldn’t stand it. Although there seemed to be no possibility of getting close to this faithful sister and giving her the sacraments, I completely relied on God’s mercy and trusted Anna’s sincerity. I hoped that our Dear Lord and the Virgin Mary would at last have pity on Anna’s so desperate pleading, that they would show me how to administer Confession and Holy Communion to their maidservant who was so faithful.

So I took the believer who told me Anna’s story, together with the Eucharist, our only Consolation in this world, and rushed to the village where Anna lived. The whole village was pagan, and all her family were also pagans. In other words, there was no suitable place to use as a confessional, and there was nowhere to enshrine the Eucharist. I sat in the shade of a tree by the river and waited, as if I was tired from walking on the road and was taking a short break to rest and escape the scorching sun. Meanwhile, I sent the believer who had accompanied me to see if he could find a place where I could meet her. When the believer entered Anna’s house, all the men had gone out to the fields, and there were no adults in the house, Anna was alone with her daughter and several younger children. The believer brought me her written examination of conscience. I read it where I was and immediately went into Anna’s house, summoned her to the outer living room, quickly absolved her and she received the Sacrament, and then I immediately went away. I came out with a joyful heart and gave thanks to God. [Martyr of Blood, Martyr of Sweat, Fr. Choe, Letter 7]

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This story is drawn from a new book entitled Martyr of Blood, Martyr of Sweat: The Letters of Saint Andrew Kim Dae-geon and Venerable Father Thomas Choe Yang-eop, featuring the complete corpus of extant letters from these first two native Korean priests translated by Brother Anthony and Brother Han-yol. Reading the accounts in this book will provide a fresh perspective on our own relatively mild sufferings as compared to the truly miserable travails that the unbelievably courageous and zealous Korean Catholics of the mid-19th century endured while trying to live their faith in the midst of a persistent and brutal persecution. 

For Thanksgiving today, it is proper to give thanks for all the blessings that God has bestowed upon our Church and our nation. We should be grateful for the freedom to practice our Catholic faith without threat of imprisonment, torture, and death, that we can receive the sacraments at practically all hours of the day, and that even if the turkey is a little dry, we have more than enough to eat each day. While being grateful to Almighty God for these good things, we should also endeavor to pray for those who do not enjoy such blessings, and renew our intention to work toward a day all may enjoy the freedom from want and the liberty to worship Almighty God as Catholics.

The Origins of All Saints Day and the Consecration of the Pantheon in Rome as a Church in AD 608

The Basilica of Santa Maria ad Martyres (aka, the Pantheon) in Rome as it looks today.

The Feast of All Saints as we know it today has its origins in that period of chaos and transition between Late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages. One of the milestones in the development of the Feast took place in the year AD 608 when Pope Boniface IV consecrated the formerly pagan temple known as the Pantheon in Rome to Our Lady and All the Saints.

The Pantheon, of course, is that marvelous architectural monument to Roman ingenuity which has somehow managed to survive the scourge of time and come down to us practically intact. Originally built as a temple to all the gods by Augustus Caesar's greatest general, Marcus Agrippa, the Pantheon would burn down and be completely reconstructed by the emperor Hadrian in the early 2nd century AD. In that form, it would remain a silent witness to the climactic moments of Roman history, including the Crisis of the Third Century, the persecution of Christians under Decius, Valerian and Maximian, the rise and defeat of Maxentius, and the victorious advent of Constantine the Great.

Yet even after the conversion of Rome to Christianity, the Pantheon would remain a pagan temple for another 80 years. The temples were finally shuttered by Theodosius the Great in the late 4th century, so the Pantheon likely existed as a fortress-like hulk for 200 years as the city around it became universally Christian. Devout residents of Rome likely viewed the darkened, abandoned temple as a demon-infested haunt, and an anonymous Latin sermon about the consecration says that "the Romans were so thoroughly terrified that they customarily did not dare to go near the temple even at noon."

It wasn't until the early years of the 7th century AD that a change would occur at a time when the usurping tyrant, Phocas, unleashed his brutally inept reign upon a Roman Empire on the brink of dissolution. Rome during this time was still nominally part of the Empire. With the climax of the Gothic Wars in AD 555, the Roman Empire was briefly re-established in all of Italy. But by the time of Pope Gregory the Great, in the 580s, everything was once again falling apart. The Italian peninsula was overrun by an insuperable horde of Lombards who conquered and settled practically all the land outside of the major cities. The Empire hung on to the city of Rome—but barely.  

In Constantinople, Phocas had taken the throne as beneficiary of a rebellion which toppled the reigning emperor, Maurice. The unfortunate Maurice would be executed by Phocas, along with his wife and eight children. With more than enough crises to deal with in the East, Phocas was anxious to maintain whatever political alliances he could in the West. 

19th century engraving of Pope Boniface IV cleansing "the ancient filth of idolatry" from
the Pantheon and consecrating the building to the Ever Virgin Mary and All the Saints. 

Boniface IV became Pope during the seemingly endless troubles of the early 7th century. With the political authority of the Empire once again waning in Italy, the Popes had been forced to take a more active role in defending and caring for the city. When Boniface requested that Phocas grant the Pantheon to the Church, Phocas likely felt that this was an easy way to demonstrate his authority and keep Boniface and Rome solidly on his side. In his celebrated Ecclesiastical Annals written in the late 16th century, Caesar Cardinal Baronius gives a summary of what happened, based originally on the biography of Boniface from the Liber Pontificalis of the 9th century AD: 

Boniface IV, Pope, who dedicated the Pantheon to God.

In the six hundred and seventeenth year of the Indiction, Boniface, from the city of Valeria in the region of the Marsi, the son of John the physician, was created Pope on the eighteenth day of September, being the fourth of that name. Immediately he turned his own house into a monastery and enriched it with revenues.

When he saw that the Emperor Phocas was more favorably disposed toward the Roman Pontiffs than previous rulers had been, he ventured—what none of the Roman Pontiffs before him had attempted—to ask the emperor to grant him the Pantheon, that noble temple of Rome. He wished, after it had been cleansed of the ancient filth of idolatry, to consecrate it in honor of the Mother of God, the Blessed Mary, and of all the holy martyrs.

The emperor freely granted this request, and Boniface, having obtained what he desired, happily accomplished it without delay. These things are taken from Anastasius [author of that section of the Liber Pontificalis].

Thus that marvelous building, celebrated by the praises of so many ancient writers—constructed by Marcus Agrippa, consul, in the time of the Emperor Augustus, and dedicated to Jupiter the Avenger—at length passed into the service of the Christian religion after six hundred and thirty-two years.

Indeed, it had remained untouched by demolishers—(as has been said) though it had been the dwelling-place of demons—because of the solid strength of its construction, which made it stand firm. Yet it had not yet been dedicated to Christian use, since such a conversion seemed execrable to some.

For we see from Saint Gregory that at first he had ordered that the temples of idols among the newly converted English nation be destroyed; but later he permitted that, for the sake of the new planting of faith, those same buildings should remain intact—provided that, after solemn purification, they be consecrated and adapted to sacred worship.

So likewise the Pantheon, being transformed into a church and consecrated, and ennobled by the title of the Mother of God, and enriched with the relics of martyrs brought from cemeteries outside the city, obtained the name that it should be called the Temple of the Mother of God and of All Martyrs—a venerable title which it retains to this day. [Ecclesiastical Annals of Baronius, Volume 11, page 77]

A similar account may be found in the History of the Langobards (Lombards), an early 8th century work by Paul the Deacon. Other accounts refer to Boniface translating 28 cartloads of relics of various martyrs from the catacombs to a porphyry niche beneath the high altar of the newly-consecrated church. The date of this consecration (May 13) would become a day to commemorate all the saints in Rome, which would be moved to November 1 and become a universal feast throughout the Holy Roman Empire by Louis the Pious in AD 835.

Note that Baronius's account above refers to the letter of Gregory the Great written in AD 601 that permitted the British converts to Catholicism to consecrate their pagan buildings to Christian usage. The full letter may be found here: "That the nation, seeing that their temples are not destroyed, may remove error from their hearts." ~ St. Gregory the Great's letter to St. Mellitus on reconsecrating pagan temples as Christian churches, AD 601

The Pantheon would continue to exist as the Basilica of Santa Maria ad Martyres for the next 1,400 years. The building's remarkably solid construction and continuing service as a Catholic Church help to explain its wonderful state of preservation. 

Aside from the martyrs whose remains were entombed at the consecration of the building as a church, numerous other more modern Italians are interred within these sacred precincts. Most notable among these are the artist Raphael along with several other Renaissance-era painters and sculptors, Italian Kings Vittorio Emanuele II, his son, Umberto I, and Umberto's wife, Queen Margherita. 

We should let the Basilica's history and conversion stand as a metaphor for all of us Catholics, who were rescued by Christ from the filth of idolatry and who should remain standing steadfast to the end with the help of our Blessed Lady and the holy saints in Heaven.

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As Saint Alphonsus Liguori said, "Let us read the lives of the saints, and pride shall depart from us. There we shall find the great things that they have done, at the sight of which we shall feel ashamed of the little we have done." 

A good place to start is the book, I Am a Christian: Authentic Accounts of Christian Martyrdom and Persecution from the Ancient Sources. Reading about the saints and their works is a beautiful way to commemorate the feast of All Saints, and directly contrary to the worldly culture's insistence on tying the celebration of the vigil of the holy day with the works of darkness.

They had to silence his voice with a bullet: The political assassination of Charlie Kirk and a Turning Point for America

Requiescat in pace, Charles James Kirk (1993 -2025)

Charlie Kirk was assassinated while doing what he loved—talking with young people and getting them to ponder what they believe and why they believe it. 

Charlie was supremely effective at engaging with college-age crowds. The reason for this is because he was authentic. If he talked about Jesus, it's because he truly loved Jesus and he wasn't afraid to say so into a microphone in front of a thousand people, many of whom might not have been particularly receptive to the message. If he touted marriage, it's because he was married and knew that strong marriages are the core of a strong nation. If he rejected abortion, it's because he had had a deep love for life and fathered two beautiful children of his own. If he loved freedom of speech, he proved it by giving a microphone to anyone who wanted to have a go at him in front of an audience. 

These same virtues made Charlie an object of pure hatred to the political Left. If he was authentic, the Left hated him because they are hypocrites. If he was joyful, the Left hated him because he made them appear positively miserable by comparison. If he was willing to have deep conversations with confused young people who disagreed with him, the Left hated him because angry slogans and blue-haired vitriol are all they have to offer. 

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It’s all about Jesus.

— Charlie Kirk (@charliekirk11) August 17, 2025

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If Charlie was tremendously brave to the point of standing before hostile crowds, one of which proved to have an assassin embedded within it, the Left hated him because at heart, they are cowards.

Charlie's outspoken and unapologetic love for the United States of America—our country, institutions, and history—caused an immediate and violent allergic reaction among the true believers on the Left. They recoiled like Howard Zinn when confronted with a primary source historical document.

The "hate has no home here" crowd could not tolerate such an eloquent, authentic, and exuberant advocate of faith, family, and freedom. And since they could not debunk his authenticity or refute his arguments, they had to silence his voice—with a bullet. 

In the immediate aftermath of the assassination, when Charlie's death was broadcast on social media, many, many on the political Left responded with: "Thoughts and prayers. Isn't that what we're supposed to say?" This mocking comment was repeated over and over, as if it was the epitome of a clever riposte. It was accompanied by many hundreds and thousands of "laugh" emoticons. 

This reaction well defines the state of post-Christian America today. Ugly only begins to describe it. I can only pray that most of the "people" reacting that way were bots and not actual humans. 

The best thing that could happen in the aftermath of the assassination of Charlie Kirk would be the emergence of ten thousand more Charlie Kirks. Ten thousand more authentic young people who love America and are unafraid to engage in debate with the Left. Ten thousand more men who are unafraid to enter the lists and run toward danger, knowing that the Left may try to kill them. Ten thousand sharp, eloquent, enthusiastic voices who will confound the stale, soulless rhetoric of the Left.

What more fitting legacy could emerge than millions of zealous, activated young Americans joining Charlie's Turning Point USA to confront and ultimately defeat the Left? 

God willing, Charlie Kirk's death will truly become the turning point for America.

"Helena was visited that emperors might be redeemed." ~ The ancient sources on Saint Helena's discovery of the True Cross

Early 9th century illustration from northern Italy of Saint Helena discovering the True Cross.

The feast day of Saint Helena, the mother of Constantine, is commemorated by Catholics on August 18. Aside from her role as matriarch of the Constantinian dynasty, Helena is most remembered today for her finding of the True Cross of Jesus Christ. This discovery took place during Helena's celebrated pilgrimage to the Holy Land near the end of her life, during which time she undertook the task of uncovering the sites associated with Christ's life and passion and the building of commemorative shrines.

Eusebius Pamphilus, Helena's contemporary and bishop of Caesarea Maritima, records many of Helena's deeds during this trek. Curiously, he does not mention her discovery of the True Cross. For this, we must seek another early source, and one even more illustrious than the historian Eusebius: Saint Ambrose of Milan. 

In his eulogy on the death of Theodosius the Great, a man whom he had once barred from the Sacred Liturgy due to his very public sins, Ambrose provides a lovely interlude commemorating Helena. He uses her discovery of the True Cross, along with the nails of the crucifixion, to relay a moral lesson on the difference between the Christian Roman Emperors who are restrained in their actions by the tenets of Christianity, and the pagan emperors who were encumbered by no such restraints:

Blessed was Constantine with such a mother!...The mother, solicitous for her son to whom the sovereignty of the Roman world had fallen, hastened to Jerusalem and explored the scene of the Lord's Passion....

Helena, then, came and began to visit the holy places. The Spirit inspired her to search for the wood of the Cross, She drew near to Golgotha and said: "Behold the place of combat: where is thy victory? I seek the banner of salvation and I do not find it. Shall I," she said, "be among kings, and the cross of the Lord lie in the dust? Shall I be covered by golden ornaments, and the triumph of Christ by ruins? Is this still hidden, and is the palm of eternal life hidden? How can I believe that I have been redeemed if the redemption itself is not seen?"...

And so she opened the ground and cleared away the dust. She found three fork-shaped gibbets thrown together, covered by debris and hidden by the Enemy. But the triumph of Christ could not be wiped out. She hesitated in her uncertainty. She hesitated, as a woman, but the Holy Spirit inspired her to investigate carefully, because two robbers had been crucified with the Lord. Therefore, she sought the middlebeam, but it could have happened that the debris had mixed the crosses one with another and that chance had interchanged them. She went back to the text of the Gospel and found that on the middle gibbet a title had been displayed, 'Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.' Hence, a sequence of sound reasoning was established and the Cross of salvation was revealed by its title. This is what Pilate answered to the Jews who petitioned him: "What I have written, I have written," that is: "I have not written these things to please you, but that future ages may know them. I have not written for you, but for posterity," saying, as it were: "Let Helena have something to read whereby she may recognize the cross of the Lord."

She discovered, then, the title. She adored the King, not the wood, indeed, because this is an error of the Gentiles and a vanity of the wicked. But she adored Him who hung on the tree, whose name was inscribed in the title...

She sought the nails with which the Lord was crucified, and found them. From one nail she ordered a bridle to be made, from the other she wove a diadem. She turned the one to an ornamental, the other to a devotional, use. Mary was visited to liberate Eve; Helena was visited that emperors might be redeemed. So she sent to her son Constantine a diadem adorned with jewels which were interwoven with the iron of the Cross and enclosed the more precious jewel of divine redemption. She sent the bridle, also. Constantine used both, and transmitted his faith to later kings. And so the beginning of the faith of the emperors is the holy relic which is upon the bridle. From that came the faith whereby persecution ended and devotion to God took its place....

But I ask: Why was the holy relic upon the bridle if not to curb the insolence of emperors, to check the wantonness of tyrants, who as horses neigh after lust that they may be allowed to commit adultery unpunished? What infamies do we not find in the Neros, the Caligulas, and the rest, for whom there was nothing holy upon the bridle? 

What else, then, did Helena accomplish by her desire to guide the reins than to seem to say to all emperors through the Holy Spirit: "Do not become like the horse and mule," and with the bridle and bit to restrain the jaws of those who did not realize that they were kings to rule those subject to them? For power easily led them into vice, and like cattle they defiled themselves in promiscuous lust. They knew not God. The Cross of the Lord restrained them and recalled them from their fall into wickedness. [Fathers of the Church, Vol. 22, Funeral Orations, pp 325-331]

Ambrose's eulogy for Theodosius was written about 70 years after the death of Helena.

Additional details on the discovery of the True Cross are provided by (among others) Hermias Sozomen in his Ecclesiastical History, which was written approximately 120 years after the death of Helena: 

...The emperor [Constantine] rejoiced exceedingly at the restoration of unity of opinion in the Catholic Church [following the Council of Nicaea], and desirous of expressing in behalf of himself, his children, and the empire, the gratitude towards God which the unanimity of the bishops inspired, he directed that a house of prayer should be erected to God at Jerusalem near the place called Calvary. 

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At the same time his mother Helena repaired to the city for the purpose of offering up prayer, and of visiting the sacred places. Her zeal for Christianity made her anxious to find the wood which had formed the adorable cross. But it was no easy matter to discover either this relic or the Lord's sepulcher, for the Greeks, who in former times had persecuted the Church, and who, at the first promulgation of Christianity, had had recourse to every artifice to exterminate it, had concealed that spot under much heaped up earth, and elevated what before was quite depressed, as it looks now, and the more effectually to conceal them, had enclosed the entire place of the resurrection and Mount Calvary within a wall, and had, moreover, ornamented the whole locality, and paved it with stone. They also erected a temple to Venus, and set up a little image, so that those who repaired there to worship Christ would appear to bow the knee to Venus, and that thus the true cause of offering worship in that place would, in course of time, be forgotten. And that as Christians would not dare fearlessly to frequent the place or to point it out to others, the temple and statue would come to be regarded as exclusively appertaining to the Greeks. 

At length, however, the place was discovered, and the fraud about it so zealously maintained was detected. Some say that the facts were first disclosed by a Hebrew who dwelt in the East, and who derived his information from some documents which had come to him by paternal inheritance. But it seems more accordant with truth to suppose that God revealed the fact by means of signs and dreams, for I do not think that human information is requisite when God thinks it best to make manifest the same. 

When by command of the emperor the place was excavated deeply, the cave whence our Lord arose from the dead was discovered. And at no great distance, three crosses were found and another separate piece of wood, on which were inscribed in white letters in Hebrew, in Greek, and in Latin, the following words: "Jesus of Nazareth, the king of the Jews." These words, as the sacred book of the Gospels relates, were placed by command of Pilate, governor of Judæa, over the head of Christ. There yet, however, remained a difficulty in distinguishing the Divine cross from the others. For the inscription had been wrenched from it and thrown aside, and the cross itself had been cast aside with the others, without any distinction, when the bodies of the crucified were taken down. For according to history, the soldiers found Jesus dead upon the cross, and they took him down, and gave him up to be buried, while, in order to accelerate the death of the two thieves, who were crucified on either hand, they broke their legs, and then took down the crosses, and flung them out of the way. It was no concern of theirs to deposit the crosses in their first order, for it was growing late, and as the men were dead, they did not think it worth while to remain to attend to the crosses. 

A more Divine information than could be furnished by man was therefore necessary in order to distinguish the Divine cross from the others, and this revelation was given in the following manner: There was a certain lady of rank in Jerusalem who was afflicted with a most grievous and incurable disease. Macarius, bishop of Jerusalem, accompanied by the mother of the emperor and her attendants, repaired to her bedside. After engaging in prayer, Macarius signified by signs to the spectators that the Divine cross would be the one which, on being brought in contact with the invalid, should remove the disease. He approached her in turn with each of the crosses, but when two of the crosses were laid on her, it seemed but folly and mockery to her for she was at the gates of death. When, however, the third cross was in like manner brought to her, she suddenly opened her eyes, regained her strength, and immediately sprang from her bed, well. It is said that a dead person was, in the same way, restored to life. 

The venerated wood having been thus identified, the greater portion of it was deposited in a silver case, in which it is still preserved in Jerusalem: but the empress sent part of it to her son Constantine, together with the nails by which the body of Christ had been fastened....

The above incidents we have related precisely as they were delivered to us by men of great accuracy, by whom the information was derived by succession from father to son; and others have recorded the same events in writing for the benefit of posterity. [Sozomen: Ecclesiastical History, Book II, Chapter 1]

Regular readers of this blog know that Helena is among my favorite saints. Here are a couple other posts about her:

• Helena's role in Constantine's execution of Crispus and Fausta
• Review of Saint Helena and the True Cross by Louis de Wohl

Book Review: Father Michael McGivney and the Knights of Columbus by Emily Tennant

Fr. McGivney hurries through inclement weather on a sick call.

For many years I have appreciated and enjoyed the Vision series – a sequence of biographical novels about the lives of the saints and Catholic heroes written especially for younger readers. The series commenced in the hoary antiquity of the 1940s and has continued over the decades, featuring a variety of authors—some of whom, like Louis de Wohl for example, were writers of supreme talent.

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Several of the books in the series have been reviewed by your humble blogger over the years, among them books on Saint Helena, Blessed Miriam Teresa Demjanovich, and Saints Louis and Zelie Martin. The last two mentioned were recent additions to the series written by GinaMarie Tennant, an author, organist and music teacher who grew up in a large homeschooling family. Perhaps not surprisingly, this same family has produced another writing talent, Emily Tennant, who is the author of the brand new title in the Vision series, Father Michael McGivney and the Knights of Columbus.

What a tremendous idea it was to write this novel. As a Fourth Degree Knight myself, of course I had heard of Fr. McGivney. But I would be lying if I said I knew much about him before reading Miss Tennant’s historical novel about his life. Father McGivney comes across in the work as a man of shining parts who emerged from a humble yet virtuous family to become a humble yet virtuous priest.

As portrayed by Miss Tennant, Fr. McGivney’s life reminded me of that of his rough contemporary, Saint Therese of Lisieux. He lived his own “little way”, performing the menial tasks of a Catholic priest with great fervor and wearing himself out physically in the process. Much like St. Therese, Fr. McGivney died young, entering eternal life at the age of 38.

But also similar to St. Therese, Fr. McGivney’s small acts would be transformed by God in His own good time into tremendous works that impacted millions of people. I doubt that Fr. McGivney realized in 1890 when he died, that the Catholic mutual aid society he created known as the Knights of Columbus, would eventually grow into the charitable leviathan that it has become today, with over 2 million members worldwide.

Father Michael McGivney and the Knights of Columbus is an eminently readable little novel, and is ideal for the young Catholic audience for whom it is intended. The prose is mostly light-hearted and fun. Of course, there are scenes of tragedy that play out throughout the story, but these all coalesce as the rationale for Fr. McGivney’s vision of the Knights of Columbus. In those days, when the father of a young Catholic family passed away, his wife and children often became wards of the state, to be separated among orphanages and other charitable organizations. Fr. McGivney founded the Knights to provide life insurance and other aid to such Catholic families in their moment of need.

The aspect of this novel that I appreciated the most, however, was the author’s attention to historical detail. The book includes a wealth of minor personal anecdotes from Father McGivney's life that lend a distinct flavor of authenticity to the work. As I read, I found myself wondering, “What is the significance of this passage?” As Miss Tennant explains in the Author's Note at the end, nearly all of these seemingly insignificant events were drawn directly from Father's correspondence or church archives—even the many humorous prizes that Father McGivney wins at the various Church fairs came from the old records. 

Steeped as it is in the Catholic history of the United States in the mid-19th century, Father Michael McGivney and the Knights of Columbus is an ideal book to read aloud with your kids. If you are a Knight of Columbus or have one or several in the family, this book should definitely be on your bookshelf.

"He has much talent, and a gentle, fine character. I am convinced that he will delight you." ~ a brief bio of Rev. Joseph Coolidge Shaw

Painting of Rev. Joseph Coolidge Shaw, uncle of Civil War hero, Col. Robert Gould Shaw.

The top spot on my rankings of Civil War movies alternates between two classics: Clint Eastwood's The Outlaw Josie Wales, and Glory, which features an all-star cast including Denzel Washington, Morgan Freeman, Carey Elwes and Matthew Broderick. We re-watched both within the past week.

Of the two, I think Glory is the more intriguing if only because it portrays the deeds of true Civil War heroes: Col. Robert Gould Shaw and the 54th Massachusetts Regiment. After watching it this time, I was inspired to dig a little deeper on Shaw to see what made him tick. What made a Boston brahmin, the scion of one of the wealthiest families in New England at the time, decide to take up the decidedly unglamorous post of leading the Union's first Black regiment? Particularly, I wanted to see if he had any connection at all to the Catholic Church.

As I normally do, I started with his Wikipedia entry. Upon reading it, I had a momentary thrill of discovery: the entry seemed to indicate that Shaw had converted to Catholicism during a trip to Europe! But alas, this was nothing more than imprecise wording in the Wiki entry—a sadly common occurrence that even threw off the chat-bot I asked to confirm this improbable fact. Lo and behold, after some more in-depth reading, it became clear that Robert Gould Shaw had not converted to Catholicism.

It seems that the Wiki entry was referring to Shaw's paternal uncle, Joseph Coolidge Shaw. It was Uncle Coolidge who had converted to Catholicism, not his famous nephew. But my disappointment was soon tempered after delving into the life of Joseph Coolidge Shaw and finding out what an absolutely fascinating fellow he was. 

As a member of the mid-19th century Boston elite, Coolidge Shaw (as he was known) grew up surrounded by the bright, the brilliant, and the bountiful. Born in 1821 to Robert Shaw, Sr. and Elizabeth Parkman, Coolidge was first cousin to Francis Parkman who would go on to write one of the classic histories of colonial North America, the seven volume France and England in North America. 

Coolidge was apparently very well-liked by his contemporaries, some of whom would, like his cousin Francis, go on to become quite famous. His name appears surrounded by laudatory glow in a letter from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow to Julie Hepp of Heidelberg, Germany. 

Dearest Friend,

The bearer of this letter is Mr. Shaw of Boston. He will spend the winter in Heidelberg; and I know of no greater pleasure to arrange for him there than your acquaintance. He is from a very respectable family; has much talent, and a gentle, fine character. I am convinced that he will delight you. [The Letters of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, September 28, 1840]

Coolidge Shaw did go to Germany, but not to delight young women, apparently. Rather, he found himself unexpectedly delighted by that bugbear of the English-speaking world of his day—Roman Catholicism. While sojourning in Germany, Coolidge encountered Frederick William Faber, a leading light in the Oxford Movement. Though still an Anglican at the time, Faber influenced Shaw toward Catholicism. Not long afterward, Shaw was baptized a Catholic in Rome by Charles Cardinal Acton. 

It seems that converting to Catholicism met with a very negative reaction in the generally anti-Papist circles Coolidge inhabited in New England. An indication of this may be found in a letter his cousin, Francis Parkman, wrote to his mother while visiting Rome "in the midst of the fooleries of Holy Week." After making some additional snide comments about Catholic practices, Parkman writes: “You will perceive from the tenor of my remarks that the farce of Coolidge Shaw has not been reenacted in my person.” [The Letters of Francis Parkman, April 5, 1844]

It should be recalled that Coolidge's conversion happened as a time when the violently anti-Catholic Know Nothings were reaching the pinnacle of their popularity in the United States. However, it seems that neither popular opinion, nor the mocking disapproval of family and friends could discourage Coolidge. He pressed on with his newfound Faith, and with the zeal of the newly converted, attempted to convince his relations to join him in the Catholic Church. Less than two years after Parkman's letter to his mother above, we find Coolidge attempting to convince his cousin (and his uncle) of the virtues of Catholicism:

Do you think you shall stick to the Law, or cut it in a year to give yourself completely to history? I am glad you have taken this term for we want literary men, and a fair historian is a great desideratum….It was history made Hunter a Catholic; and I think if you continue it, it will make you one; …Remember me with all love to Uncle Francis…Tell him we are now studying the treatise De Trinitate [by St. Augustine of Hippo], which I think, if he read it, would convince him that our Lord is not over well pleased at being stripped of his Divinity and only honored as man when he ought to be worshiped as a God. [Sedgwick, American Men of Letters: Francis Parkman, Letter from Joseph Coolidge Shaw to Francis Parkman, from Rome, November 16, 1845].

At about the same time, we find him corresponding with another well-known New England convert, Orestes Brownson of Vermont. This letter gives a window into Coolidge Shaw's deepening Catholic conviction, along with hints as to where this conviction might be leading. We also again see his interest in not only converting his family to the faith, but in developing a strategy whereby Catholic belief could be introduced to all his New England neighbors in a persuasive way:

As you may suppose, a second year’s experience of religion, and that too in the very centre of Catholicity, has only served to ground me more firmly in the faith, and to fill me with an ever increasing longing for the time when I shall be prepared to go on His mission who alone I love, and teach others to love Him; for it seems to me that we to whom God has shown such unspeakable mercy are in a peculiar manner commissioned, like his great precursor, to go before the face of the Lord and prepare His ways….And oh, pray God for me, that I may not be unmindful of His Call.

     I do not know our people as well as I could wish, for I left home at 19, passed more than three years abroad, and spent the 10 months after my return for the most part quietly at Cambridge. I should think, however, that though they may be more ignorant of the Catholic religion than any other part of the country, and on that account may seem farthest from it, they have, nevertheless, more solidity, more sound principle, and more good will, than either the South or the West, and hence would make better and more earnest converts than those who appear at first sight to be of a more generous nature, for I am inclined to think much of the warmth at the South mere impulse and climate. But my intercourse in Boston, etc., has been chiefly with Episcopalians, Unitarians, and infidels, who are, I imagine, a much better set than the Presbyterian and Methodist part of the community. I wish you would give me some more correct information as to the different sects, and to the general spirit of the N. E. people. The Unitarians, infidels, etc., the most sensible, decidedly, are best acted upon by sound reasoning; the others, I suppose, by the Bible, and by church history. Is it not so? [Orestes Brownson's Middle Life: 1845-1855, p. 65-66, Letter from 

Coolidge Shaw to Orestes Brownson from Tivoli, Italy, October 14, 1845]

Coolidge Shaw's passion for his Catholic faith was not just a passing fancy. In 1847, he was ordained a Catholic priest. By that time, most of his family had come to terms with their eccentric relation's religious direction. Regarding the ordination, Shaw would write in his diary:

The ordination was a species of triumph for the Church in Boston, not of course as regards me personally, but from the circumstances of my family, etc. My Father and Mother who were present themselves at the three ordinations invited a great many of their friends, & especially at the last ordination the church was full of Protestants, & the papers talked a good deal of the matter. [Donovan, Joseph Coolidge Shaw: Boston yankee, Jesuit, early Boston College patron, p. 4]

His amiable nature and familiarity with New England allowed Fr. Shaw to break barriers. He was apparently the first priest to celebrate Mass in Brattleboro, Vermont in the autumn of 1848:

Mass was celebrated for the first time in Brattleboro in the early autumn of 1848, by Reverend Joseph Coolidge Shaw of Boston, under a tree on the Wood farm in the presence of fifty or sixty worshipers. Father Shaw had come to take the water-cure. [Cabot, Annals of Brattleboro, 1681-1895, p. 649].

Not long after this time, Fr. Shaw spent some time at Fordham University in New York. It was also at about this time that he was somehow able to convince his brother, Francis Shaw, to send young Robert Gould Shaw then aged 12 to boarding school at Fordham. But while Coolidge would thrive at Fordham, young Robert had a miserable time. His letters home during this time include some rather typical pre-teen angst, including the following:

"I hate it like everything."

"I'd rather do anything than stay here."

"My old teacher scolded me to-day because I didn't do something he didn't tell me to do, and I hate him."

"I wish you hadn't sent me here." [Fordham Prep Hall of Honor page]

Robert only lasted a year at Fordham, retreating at last to the bosom of his family which was about to embark on an extended European tour. He would spend the next two years at a boarding school in Switzerland. As a result, he would not be present for the denouement of his uncle's short life.

God in His providence would see fit to limit Fr. Shaw's life on this earth. Following his stint at Fordham, Fr. Shaw decided to seek admittance to the Society of Jesus. Accepted as a novice, he entered the novitiate in Frederick, Maryland in September of 1850. His time there would be short. Though always in excellent health, he became ill around Christmas of 1850. A passage in Brownson's Middle Life explains what happened next:

...[T]he Novitiate catching fire, Shaw was the first to mount the roof, and receiving buckets of water, handed up by the other novices, succeeded in extinguishing the flames. It was a cold evening and probably Shaw’s clothing was more or less wet; but he returned, as he was, to the usual exercises of the community until the regular bed-time. This exposure brought on an attack of pleurisy, from which he was delivered only by death a little later. [Orestes Brownson's Middle Life: 1845-1855, p. 63]

In the 1850s, deaths at age 30 were sadly not uncommon. Even so, and despite Fr. Shaw being the black sheep of his family, he would be sincerely and universally mourned following his passing. A sermon given by Unitarian minister Ephraim Peabody gives a beautiful illustration of the man whose virtues were recognized even by those whom he had theologically abandoned:

A few years ago, there was one among you, a youth nurtured in the same schools with yourselves, your companion and friend; having in his own heart those gifts which win the hearts of others. A few years went by, and you knew of him as one passing through dark struggles of the mind, but through them reaching repose and peace: you knew of him as making those sacrifices of his sense of duty, which to the gentle and affectionate are the true martyrdom. A few years more passed, and he was again among you, a living and saintly example of devotion to the works of mercy and love—a short season more, and his life sank peacefully away. Where lay the charm of that life? And what took from that death all that lends death terror? It is answered in a single word, and that word is fidelity. Fidelity to his own convictions of duty, fidelity to God, laboring faithfully where he felt himself called to labor. ["Father Joseph Coolidge Shaw: A Memorial Sketch" as found in Woodstock Letters, p. 449]

Coolidge Shaw's death and memory was not the end of his legacy. During his three month long illness, when it became apparent that he should not recover, Father Shaw dictated his last will to a friend. In that will, he would set aside about $4,000—a gift from his father at his ordination—along with his valuable collection of books gathered while traveling Europe—more than 1,500 volumes—for the foundation of a Jesuit University in Boston. That institution would not emerge for another twelve years when Fr. John McElroy, SJ would found Boston College. Fr. Shaw's bequest would make him BC's first benefactor.

As an alum of BC myself, this came as a surprise. It was even more of a surprise to find out that Shaw House on campus was named for him. During my tenure at BC, I never heard his name mentioned once, even though I spent a summer working in the Burns Library and archives. Sadly, that kind of muting of the history of the illustrious religious men who helped found the University was typical of my experience there. 

But if those who benefited from Fr. Shaw's bequest too soon forgot about him, his nephew, Robert Gould Shaw apparently did not. While serving in the Army of the Potomac in the opening months of the Civil War, Robert Shaw relates this charming anecdote of a visit to his uncle's gravesite in Frederick, MD:

Camp near Darnestown
September 3, 1861

Dear Father,

Yesterday, Harry and I got 24 hours leave of absence and drove over to Frederick. We went to the Seminary and saw Uncle Coolidge’s portrait & grave. He has a Jesuit’s dress & the miniature I think has a cassock with buttons down the front. They treated us very well and got permission for us to visit the convent which was very interesting. The nuns, who never go out, and the pupils too, though they cleared the way for us with precipitation, were inquisitive enough to peek out of the windows as we went along the gallery. [Duncan: Blue-Eyed Child of Fortune, p. 135]

I was able to track down an online copy of this portrait mentioned by Robert Gould Shaw above (I think) on the findagrave.com website here and have included a detail from the portrait at the top of this post. The Boston College website also includes an image of what may be the miniature. I have included this at right. The miniature image is used to promote membership in the Shaw Society which encourages alumni, parents and friends to remember the university in their estate planning. 

Given the not-especially-Catholic state of BC in particular, and Jesuit institutions more generally these days, one is forced to wonder whether such a gift is a wise investment for a faithful Catholic or whether it will be used in the spirit of Father Shaw's original bequest.

Let us pray for the repose of Father Joseph Coolidge Shaw's soul.

Let us pray for the repose of Col. Robert Gould Shaw's soul, and the souls of all the men of the 54th Massachusetts.

Let us pray for the renewal of Jesuit educational institutions, that Christ may lead them away from the crass worldliness that infects them, back to grounding young people in the Gospel, which was the founding vision of men like Father Joseph Coolidge Shaw.

"I wished to see a king, not corpses." ~ Achilles, Alexander, Augustus and the historian as transmitter of heroic virtue

Detail from Augustus Caesar visits the tomb of Alexander the Great by French artist Lionel Royer (1878).

The dominant literary culture of the late 20th century loved to tear down the heroes of the past, focusing almost entirely on their flaws while belittling the virtues, beliefs, and deeds that made them worthy of admiration in the first place. I have written about this annoying tendency previously on several occasions, including here and here.

In our own time, we are afflicted with a slightly different problem: cultural arbiters who know almost nothing about the great men and women who went before them, save the cherry-picked anecdotes that magically seem to support their political cause of the moment. It has recently gotten to the point where these intellectually vacuous creatures have become parodies of historians and educators, rhetorically incapable of discerning even between men and women, let alone moral and immoral behavior.

But let us not be lulled into the belief that it was always this way. 

Until fairly recently, it was considered one of the primary duties of the historian to exalt the brilliant words and actions of the good and great, offering them up to subsequent generations as worthy of emulation. Whatever foibles may have co-existed with said virtues could be offered as cautionary examples to be avoided, but they were never presented as the primary drivers of the hero’s character.

Education in the classical world followed this pattern, and the celebrated men of one era could often point to their motivation coming from the acts of great men who preceded them—often by centuries. Examples abound, but let’s look at three in particular who lined up as sort of an inspiration conduit. All three of them would become the greatest political or military heroes of their respective ages. 

According to Homer’s Odyssey, following the death of their greatest warrior, Achilles, the Greeks, “heaped up a great and goodly tomb on a projecting headland by the broad Hellespont that could be seen from far from the sea both by men that now are and that shall be born hereafter.” (Odyssey, Book XXIV, 80-84)

This tomb would be visited by many famous individuals in antiquity as a kind of pilgrimage site, particularly for those seeking to venerate the great warrior in anticipation of a campaign of their own. Among those who visited the shrine was Alexander the Great. Seeing parallels between his own expedition and that of the Mycenean Greeks of 800 years before, Alexander made a point of stopping at the site of ancient Troy on his way to make war on the Persians. In Plutarch’s Life of Alexander, the following memorial of the event is recorded:

"Then, going up to Ilium, he sacrificed to Athena and poured libations to the heroes. Furthermore, the gravestone of Achilles he anointed with oil, ran a race by it with his companions, naked, as is the custom, and then crowned it with garlands, pronouncing the hero happy in having, while he lived, a faithful friend, and after death, a great herald of his fame. As he was going about and viewing the sights of the city, someone asked him if he wished to see the lyre of Paris. 'For that lyre,' said Alexander, 'I care very little; but I would gladly see that of Achilles, to which he used to sing the glorious deeds of brave men.'" [Plutarch, Life of Alexander, Section 15]

A few more details are added by Arrian in his Anabasis: 

"Alexander then encircled the tomb of Achilles with a garland….There is indeed a report that Alexander pronounced Achilles fortunate in getting Homer as the herald of his fame to posterity." [Arrian of Nicomedia, The Anabasis of Alexander, Book I, Chapter XII ]

As the most important extant chronicler of Alexander’s campaigns, Arrian also points out that Alexander had a desire to imitate the hero of the Trojan war from his boyhood, and sought to equal and surpass his achievements. [Arrian of Nicomedia, The Anabasis of Alexander, Book VII, Chapter XIV]

Detail from Alexander the Great at the tomb of Achilles by Giovanni Paninni (1718).

Alexander perished after gaining unparalleled victories over the hated Persians. Realizing immediately the inspirational value of Alexander’s remains, his general Ptolemy snatched up Alexander’s corpse when it was on its way back to Macedonia from Babylon, and re-routed it to Egypt and the conqueror’s greatest foundation, Alexandria. There, Ptolemy would establish his own kingdom, and the body of his one-time benefactor would repose in a shrine which was likely much more grand than the ancient tumulus of Achilles. 

Three hundred years after Alexander’s death, another conqueror would arrive following his defeat of Antony and Cleopatra at Actium, and the dissolution of the Ptolemaic kingdom in Egypt. This was Octavian Caesar who, a few years later, would be called Caesar Augustus, Rome's first emperor. Arriving in Alexandria following his complete victory, Octavian made his way to the shrine of Alexander, as recorded by Suetonius:  

"About this time he had the sarcophagus and body of Alexander the Great brought forth from its shrine,⁠ and after gazing on it, showed his respect by pla­cing upon it a golden crown and strewing it with flowers; and being then asked whether he wished to see the tomb of the Ptolemies as well, he replied, 'My wish was to see a king, not corpses.'" [Suetonius, Lives of the Caesars, Life of Augustus]

The reader will note the similarity between Octavian's response and that of Alexander. There is some historical complexity here in that Plutarch's account of Alexander and Suetonius's account of Augustus were written at about the same time (late 1st - early 2nd century AD). Both were certainly based on earlier sources which have not come down to us. It is likely that Octavian was aware of Alexander's response regarding the lyre of Paris when he made his quip about wanting "to see a king, not corpses."

Dio Cassius records Augustus's visit to the body of Alexander as well, but adds an additional detail:

“[Octavian] viewed the body of Alexander and actually touched it, whereupon, it is said, a piece of the nose was broken off. But he declined  to view the remains of the Ptolemies, though the Alexandrians were extremely eager to show them, remarking, 'I wished to see a king, not corpses.' For this same reason he would not enter the presence of Apis, either, declaring that he was accustomed to worship gods, not cattle.” [Dio Cassius, Roman History, Book LI]

Augustus was, no doubt, impressed by his visit because he began construction of a tomb of his own shortly following his return to Rome. This was to be a grand construction rivaling the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, which itself was one of the wonders of the ancient world. This Mausoleum of Augustus would serve to inspire generations of Romans before falling to ruins during the Middle Ages.

As these examples make clear, admiration of heroes for their virtues often extended to that common human desire to visit and adorn the remains of the hero following his death. In doing so, it was hoped that some sort of mystical connection might be established by which some portion of the hero's genius and fortune would be transferred to his devotee. This tendency in antiquity pre-figured the later Christian practice of veneration of the relics of the saints and martyrs, and the subsequent doctrinal understanding of the efficacy of the intercession of the saints who are in Heaven with Christ. 

Thus Christians would gain inspiration and motivation not from men who managed to achieve military glory or political triumphs, like Achilles or Alexander, but from humble souls like Justin Martyr or Augustine of Hippo whose victories often involved the sacrifice or their own lives for the sake of Christ, or the conversion of thousands through fearlessly preaching the truth of the Gospel. 

It is for this reason that Catholics ought to take the teaching of authentic Christian history — which our children will never get in state-run schools and only occasionally in Catholic schools — very seriously. Otherwise, the connection to the virtuous examples of our progenitors would be lost, and in their absence, our children will take their inspiration from the vain two-dimensional paragons provided by movie, pop-music, and sport.

The Mausoleum of Augustus following the renovations initiated by Mussolini in the 1930s.

As a postscript, it is worth remembering that most of the devotees who visited the tombs of dead heroes did not possess the innate ability to attain greatness themselves and often absorbed the wrong message. A few of them were downright awful human beings who brought destruction upon themselves and their countries. Suetonius records that the notorious emperor Gaius Caligula treated the tomb of Alexander with somewhat less respect than his great grandfather, having looted Alexander's armor which he sometimes wore in public [Lives of the Caesars, Life of Caligula]. 

Meanwhile, the Mausoleum of Augustus would later be restored, and made the centerpiece of a piazza by a self-styled illustrious man of the 20th century who viewed himself as the successor of Achilles, Alexander, and Augustus. This was none other than Il Duce himself, Benito Mussolini, who wished to attain the status of hero without bothering to emulate the heroic virtues. Upon his death, his desecrated corpse became not the center of cultic devotion, but rather an object of scorn and shame, hanging from a lamp-post.