What Happened on Holy Saturday? ~ The ancient sources on Christ's Harrowing of Hell

Fresco of Christ's Descent into Hell from the lower Basilica of San Clemente in Rome, 9th Century AD.
In this detail, Christ takes Adam by the hand to lead him out of the underworld.

Wednesday of Holy Week is sometimes referred to as Spy Wednesday, a reference to the betrayal of Our Lord by the traitor Judas Iscariot.

Every Christian knows that on Holy Thursday, we remember the Last Supper, and that Good Friday is the day on which the Lord was crucified and died.

Holy Saturday, however, is different. For most Christians, it is a peaceful time – a day of reflection separating the drama and sorrow of the Passion from the joy of Easter Sunday. On Holy Saturday, there is seemingly not much going on. For the modern Church, it is a quiet time of watching and waiting.

But the traditional teachings of the ancient Church tell a much different story. Something tremendous on a cosmic scale happened on Easter Saturday: Christ’s descent into Hell.

Often called the Harrowing of Hell in English, or the Anastasis in Greek, we find this mysterious event recorded without elaboration in the Apostles’ Creed:

“He descended into Hell.”

It is rumored that Mel Gibson’s follow-up to The Passion of the Christ will attempt to bring this event to the big screen as part of the larger story of the resurrection of Christ. How he will do that is anyone’s guess. But you can bet it will be epic. And probably gruesome.

The harrowing of Hell is mentioned obliquely in Sacred Scripture, most specifically in First Epistle of St. Peter, where the Apostle says:

"Because Christ also died once for our sins, the just for the unjust: that he might offer us to God, being put to death indeed in the flesh, but enlivened in the spirit, in which also coming he preached to those spirits that were in prison: Which had been some time incredulous, when they waited for the patience of God in the days of Noah, when the ark was a building: wherein a few, that is, eight souls, were saved by water." [1 Peter 3:18-20]

This mysterious passage from the Gospel of Matthew is similarly used to support the Harrowing of Hell:

"And the graves were opened: and many bodies of the saints that had slept arose,  And coming out of the tombs after his resurrection, came into the holy city, and appeared to many." [Matthew 27:52-53]

Saint Paul also mentions Christ's descent into the underworld in his Letter to the Ephesians:

"But to every one of us is given grace, according to the measure of the giving of Christ.  Wherefore He saith: Ascending on high, he led captivity captive; he gave gifts to men.  Now that he ascended, what is it, but because he also descended first into the lower parts of the earth? He that descended is the same also that ascended above all the heavens, that he might fill all things." [Ephesians 4:7-10]

Though Christ’s descent into Hell is not described in detail in Sacred Scripture, the event was most certainly an article of faith for the ancient Church. One of the earliest references may be found in an ancient homily for Holy Saturday, sometimes attributed to St. Melito of Sardis, a bishop in Asia Minor who wrote in the late 2nd century AD, within 150 years of Christ's death and resurrection. The following passage from this homily is taken from the Vatican website. The sentences in bold are included in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (635):

"What is happening? Today there is a great silence over the earth, a great silence, and stillness, a great silence because the King sleeps; the earth was in terror and was still, because God slept in the flesh and raised up those who were sleeping from the ages. God has died in the flesh, and the underworld has trembled.

Truly he goes to seek out our first parent like a lost sheep; he wishes to visit those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death. He goes to free the prisoner Adam and his fellow-prisoner Eve from their pains, he who is God, and Adam's son.

The Lord goes in to them holding his victorious weapon, his cross. When Adam, the first created man, sees him, he strikes his breast in terror and calls out to all: 'My Lord be with you all.' And Christ in reply says to Adam: ‘And with your spirit.’ And grasping his hand he raises him up, saying: ‘Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light.

‘I am your God, who for your sake became your son, who for you and your descendants now speak and command with authority those in prison: Come forth, and those in darkness: Have light, and those who sleep: Rise.

‘I command you: Awake, sleeper, I have not made you to be held a prisoner in the underworld. Arise from the dead; I am the life of the dead. Arise, O man, work of my hands, arise, you who were fashioned in my image. Rise, let us go hence; for you in me and I in you, together we are one undivided person.’" [Ancient homily sometimes attributed to St. Melito of Sardis]

12th century mosaic of the harrowing of Hell from St. Mark's Basilica in Venice.  

Numerous other ancient Church Fathers commented on Christ’s sojourn into hell. Writing at about the same time as St. Melito, St. Clement of Alexandria speculated on the reason for the descent, saying:

“Wherefore the Lord preached the Gospel to those in Hades…. So I think it is demonstrated that the God being good, and the Lord powerful, they save with a righteousness and equality which extend to all that turn to Him, whether here or elsewhere….What then? Did not the same dispensation obtain in Hades, so that even there, all the souls, on hearing the proclamation, might either exhibit repentance, or confess that their punishment was just, because they believed not?... If, then, He preached the Gospel to those in the flesh that they might not be condemned unjustly, how is it conceivable that He did not for the same cause preach the Gospel to those who had departed this life before His advent?” [The Stromata of St. Clement of Alexandria, Book VI, Chapter 6]

Also active in the mid-to-late 2nd Century AD was Saint Irenaeus of Lyons, who wrote clearly concerning this belief on Christ's descent into Hell:

"It was for this reason, too, that the Lord descended into the regions beneath the earth, preaching His advent there also, and [declaring] the remission of sins received by those who believe in Him. Now all those believed in Him who had hope towards Him, that is, those who proclaimed His advent, and submitted to His dispensations, the righteous men, the prophets, and the patriarchs, to whom He remitted sins in the same way as He did to us, which sins we should not lay to their charge, if we would not despise the grace of God. For as these men did not impute unto us (the Gentiles) our transgressions, which we wrought before Christ was manifested among us, so also it is not right that we should lay blame upon those who sinned before Christ's coming." [St. Irenaeaus, Against All Heresies, Book IV, Chapter 27:2].

The context of this passage in Irenaeus's work, Against All Heresies, is complex and well worth reading in its entirety. 

A more descriptive and fanciful account is rendered in the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus, which is thought to have been written in the Third or Fourth century AD and appended to the equally apocryphal Acts of Pilate about the Fifth or Sixth century AD. Here is a sample:

"...The Lord of majesty appeared in the form of a man and lightened the eternal darkness and brake the bonds that could not be loosed: and the succor of his everlasting might visited us that sat in the deep darkness of our transgressions and in the shadow of death of our sins. 

When Hell and death and their wicked ministers saw that, they were stricken with fear, they and their cruel officers, at the sight of the brightness of so great light in their own realm, seeing Christ of a sudden in their abode, and they cried out, saying: 'We are overcome by thee. Who art thou that art sent by the Lord for our confusion? Who art thou that without all damage of corruption, and with the signs of thy majesty unblemished, dost in wrath condemn our power?...' 

Then did the King of glory in his majesty trample upon death, and laid hold on Satan the prince and delivered him unto the power of Hell, and drew Adam to him unto his own brightness....

And the Lord stretched forth his hand and made the sign of the cross over Adam and over all his saints, and he took the right hand of Adam and went up out of Hell, and all the saints followed him. Then did holy David cry aloud and say: 'Sing unto the Lord a new song, for he hath done marvelous things. His right hand hath wrought salvation for him and his holy arm. The Lord hath made known his saving health, before the face of all nations hath he revealed his righteousness.'

And the whole multitude of the saints answered, saying: 'Such honor have all his saints. Amen, Alleluia.' [Gospel of Nicodemus/Acts of Pilate, Part II]

Of course, the discussion of Christ's descent into Hell spawned a multitude of theological and eschatological questions, among them: Who were "the saints" who arose following the resurrection mentioned in the Gospel of Saint Matthew? Who were "the spirits that were in prison" mentioned by Saint Peter? Did our Lord actually enter the Hell of the Damned? Or did He visit that mysterious theological construct known as "The Limbo of the Fathers"?

Those questions are beyond the scope of this humble blog, but I will close with Dante Alighieri's view on the matter, as put into the mouth of the poet Virgil, a denizen of the Limbo of the Just, who according to Dante's metaphysical world, was a novice in that shadowy realm when Christ's harrowing occurred, Virgil having died about 20 years prior to the birth of Christ:

"Tell me, my Master, tell me, thou my Lord,"
     Began I, with desire of being certain
     Of that Faith which o'ercometh every error,
"Came any one by his own merit hence,
     Or by another's, who was blessed thereafter?"
     And he, who understood my covert speech,
Replied: "I was a novice in this state,
     When I saw hither come a Mighty One,
     With sign of victory incoronate.
Hence he drew forth the shade of the First Parent,
     And that of his son Abel, and of Noah,
     Of Moses the lawgiver, and the obedient
Abraham, patriarch, and David, king,
     Israel with his father and his children,
     And Rachel, for whose sake he did so much,
And others many, and he made them blessed;
     And thou must know, that earlier than these
     Never were any human spirits saved."
[The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri, Inferno, Canto IV]  

Don Giovanni, Lorenzo Da Ponte, and the Unforgivable Sin

Don Giovanni confronts the statue of Il Commendatore at the climax of the eponymous opera.

During Lent, I usually attempt to limit my consumption of secular entertainment and shift over to works with more overt Catholic themes. With this in mind, I noticed a video pop up on my YouTube feed of a work that had long been familiar to me, but that I had never troubled myself to watch in its entirety. 

This was a production of Mozart’s great opera, Don Giovanni. 

Full disclosure: I’m not a huge fan of opera generally, select Gilbert and Sullivan works notwithstanding. Some of the extended Prima Donna arias can really get under my skin.

In the case of Don Giovanni, however, I was willing to put those prejudices aside. 

But wait. How can an opera full of humorous scenes about a complete profligate womanizing scoundrel and his many romantic conquests be Catholic? Well, I’m glad you asked.

I decided on the 1954 production by Salzburger Festspiele, with Cesare Siepi in the lead role, Wilhelm Furtwängler conducting. When I set up the video to watch with my kids, I asked them whether they thought the opera would be a tragedy or a comedy based on Mozart’s music. Listening to the first few minutes of the overture, they thought it sounded very much like a tragedy. But then, inexplicably, the music transitions into something light-hearted. So by the time the singing began, my teens and 20-somethings weren’t really sure which direction things were going to go.

I suspect that’s what Mozart intended. As the opera progresses, we see Don Giovanni, a nobleman living in very Catholic 17th century Spain, behaving like a heathen, particularly with regard to the fair sex. He attempts rape. He murders the victim’s father. He denounces, insults, betrays and abandons his wife, Donna Elvira. He attempts to seduce a bride on her wedding day. His behavior is so awful that a posse of his victims and their protectors seeks to hunt him down and kill him—without success.

Mozart's accompanying score seems to make light of the main character's crimes. Similarly, the librettist, Lorenzo Da Ponte—an ordained Catholic priest whose eventful life sounds more like that of Don Giovanni than Don Bosco — approaches the above litany of evil deeds with a certain casual humor. Indeed, one of the most famous scenes features Don Giovanni’s lackey, the buffoonish Leporello, reciting the numbers of women his rakish padrone had seduced in various countries, finishing his recitation with a count of the Spanish ladies, declaring emphatically: “mille e tre!” — 1,003.

But even though Don Giovanni's sins against Donna Elvira are awful and grave, she is of a mind to forgive her wayward husband. She wishes that he would reform his life and come back to her. She feels genuine pity for him, but her hopes are continually disappointed. Even in the last scene, she comes to plead with him to reform himself, saying: “I want that you change your life!”  

But Don Giovanni cannot, for life to him are wine, feasting, and seduction. He mocks Elvira and she departs in tearful frustration, but not before seeing something terrifying at Don Giovanni’s door.

In a previous scene, Don Giovanni and Leporello had jokingly invited the funerary statue of one of the nobleman’s victims, the slain Commendatore, to visit them for supper. At the base of the statue had been inscribed: “Of the wicked man who bereaved me of life, I wait here for revenge.” To everyone’s shock, the statue of the Commendatore has now arrived at Don Giovanni’s door to sup. 

But strangely, the animated statue has not come to strike down Don Giovanni himself—but to give him a choice, a final chance. The statue offers an invitation to Don Giovanni: Will he sup with him? Despite Leporello’s urging against it, Don Giovanni will not succumb to fear. Indeed, it has never been said of him that he was afraid. He is too proud. He will accept the statue’s invitation. 

But when he grasps the statue’s hand and feels his life ebbing away, even then Don Giovanni is too proud to repent. “Repent!” the statue commands three times. Three times, Don Giovanni says “No!” But this finally, is too much. Whereas his myriad of previous grave sins would have been forgiven, Don Giovanni is now guilty of the worst sin. The ultimate sin. The unforgivable sin. 

Final impenitence. 

There can be only one path from this point forward. The statues cries: “There is no more time!” Immediately, flames appear. Ghastly creatures appear. Demonic beings appear. Don Giovanni is seized and brought to hell amidst a Mozartian blast of music in the suitably terrifying key of D minor. 

It is worth considering that both Mozart and Lorenzo Da Ponte were Catholics, though certainly imperfect ones. In Da Ponte’s case, he was a fallen priest who, at the time he wrote the libretto for Don Giovanni, had fathered several children out of wedlock. Mozart himself, though devoutly Catholic in many areas of his life, was also a Free Mason.

Both da Ponte and Mozart would have been very familiar with the teaching of the Church on final impenitence. This teaching is drawn from the early Church Fathers who considered final impenitence to be the sin against the Holy Spirit mentioned by Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew:

“Therefore I say to you: Every sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven men, but the blasphemy of the Spirit shall not be forgiven. And whosoever shall speak a word against the Son of man, it shall be forgiven him: but he that shall speak against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, neither in this world, nor in the world to come.” [Matthew 12:31-32]

Saint Augustine of Hippo summarizes the teaching as follows:

“For by the Holy Spirit, by whom the people of God are gathered together into one, is the unclean spirit who is divided against himself cast out. Against this gratuitous gift, against this grace of God, does the impenitent heart speak. This impenitence then is the blasphemy of the Spirit, which shall not be forgiven, neither in this world, neither in the world to come.….But this impenitence or impenitent heart may not be pronounced upon, as long as a man lives in the flesh.” [Augustine of Hippo, Sermon 21 on the New Testament, Chapters 19-21]

Don Giovanni, in his final act, final minutes and seconds on the stage, steadfastly refuses to repent, even when he feels his own dissolution at hand. Is it his love of pleasurable sins that drives him to this point? No, it is not. It is only his pride. For truly it is written: “Pride goeth before destruction.”  [Proverbs 16:18]

Portrait of Lorenzo Da Ponte as an elderly
man in America by Samuel Morse. From
the frontispiece of the 1929 edition
of his Memoirs. 

As a somewhat ironic point of emphasis, let’s revisit the strange meandering life of Don Giovanni’s librettist, Lorenzo da Ponte, in light of the above teaching. 

Da Ponte would eventually leave Europe and settle in America with his wife, Nancy Grahl, in 1805. He spent the remaining 30-odd years of his life on a variety of ventures, from opening a bookstore, writing poetry, and building an opera house in New York City, to serving as a professor of Italian literature at Columbia University. He wrote an extensive memoir of his life, the 1929 edition of which includes the following note at the end:

“Early in 1831, Da P. had sent some of his poems and a letter [to his one-time academic colleague, Monsignor Jacopo Monico, who was at this time, Patriarch of Venice]; and the Patriarch had replied with great deference, expressing, among other good wishes, the hope that Da P. ‘might someday settle his affairs that his last moments should not be embittered by any trace of remorse.’ Da P. now sent the Patriarch the “Sonnets to Ann” with assurances that ‘the holy counsel and Christian good wishes’ of that ‘foremost pillar of the portals of the Church of Christ,’ ‘had produced in his soul the effects desired by such a charitable heart.' That was why, seven years later, sensing the approach of death, he felt free to summon the Rev. John MacCloskey, future Bishop of Albany, to his bedside that he might make confession and receive absolution at the hands of the Church.” [Memoirs of Lorenzo da Ponte, p. 491]

So it seems that the librettist of Don Giovanni eventually proved himself a better Christian gentleman than his own rakish character. 

When presented with the command: “Pentiti!” he responded, “Sì!” 

“It is better to be Herod’s hog than his heir.” ~ Did Herod's Massacre of the Innocents actually happen?

Detail from The Massacre of the Innocents by Léon Cogniet, 1824.

Three days after the feast of the Nativity of Jesus, the Catholic Church traditionally commemorates the massacre of the Holy Innocents – the children of Bethlehem slain by King Herod following the birth of Christ.

This event is recorded in the Gospel of Saint Matthew in connection with the arrival of the Magi – the Wise Men from the East – who had followed a star to Jerusalem, and had sought out the newborn king of the Jews. According to Matthew’s account, King Herod requested that the Magi return to him after finding the child, ostensibly so that Herod could join in worshipping the newborn King.

But the Magi were suspicious of Herod’s true motives. Matthew’s Gospel gives the account of what happened next:

“And having received an answer in sleep that they should not return to Herod, they went back another way into their country…. Then Herod perceiving that he was deluded by the wise men, was exceeding angry; and sending killed all the men children that were in Bethlehem, and in all the borders thereof, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had diligently inquired of the wise men.  Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremias the prophet, saying:  ‘A voice in Rama was heard, lamentation and great mourning; Rachel bewailing her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not.’” [Matthew 2:12, 16-18]

Matthew is alone among the evangelists in recording this event. There is also no non-Christian Roman, Greek, or Jewish historian who reports on it directly. As a result, the massacre has fallen under the skepticism of the modern era which views all early Christian sources as highly suspect. Indeed, there exists a tendency in some circles to consider any events recorded in Christian sources which are not corroborated by contemporary non-Christian sources as little more than hagiographic fantasies, interpolations or outright fabrications. Meanwhile non-Christian sources are not treated with anything like that kind of rigor.

As readers to this blog know, I tend to give early Christian writers the benefit of the doubt, and will even give late antique and early medieval writers latitude when they are discussing earlier events, as many of them are relating information from more ancient sources that were subsequently lost.

In the case of Herod's massacre of the children of Bethlehem, I see no reason why Matthew’s account shouldn’t be taken at face value. It is cited by Christian authors as early as Saint Justin Martyr, who mentions Matthew’s account in the mid-second century AD in his Dialogue with Trypho (Chapter 78). It’s worth noting that Trypho was a Jew and Justin was a convert to Christianity from paganism. While Trypho disputes much of what Justin says, it is not recorded that he disputed the historicity of Justin’s mention of Herod’s slaughter of the innocents.

A similar case may be found in Origen’s work, Against Celsus. Celsus was a pagan philosopher who wrote an anti-Christian polemic in the mid-to-late 2nd century AD entitled The True Word. Most of what we know about this work is contained in Origen’s response which was written in the mid-3rd century, and in which he quotes freely from The True Word. As a rhetorical device, Celsus puts some of his arguments into the mouth of a fictional Jew, and it seems fairly clear that Celsus had learned a considerable amount about the relationship between Judaism and Christianity from Jewish associates. Even so, Celsus retained a Hellenistic antipathy toward the Jews as he frequently held their practices up to scorn. We find a passage in Against Celsus, which discusses the massacre of the innocents, saying specifically that Celsus's fictional Jew did not believe that Herod had conspired against the infant Christ, nor that an angel had warned Joseph in a dream to flee into Egypt. (Against Celsus, Book 1: Chapter 61). Later in that same paragraph, however, Celsus assumes that this event did occur. He has his Jewish mouthpiece say to Jesus: 

“But if [the massacre of the innocents] was done in order that you might not reign in [Herod's] stead when you had grown to man's estate, why, after you did reach that estate, do you not become a king?” 

Of course, part of the reason Celsus must doubt that the massacre of the innocents took place is because he has his own thoroughly blasphemous alternate version of the infancy of Christ, the details of which “are frequently identical with those of the Talmud.” (Celsus ~ Jewish Encyclopedia, 1906) 

Finally, we have perhaps the most interesting and obscure of all the ancient references to the massacre of the innocents. It is provided by the pagan writer Macrobius in the early 400s AD. This late Roman author penned a book of various anecdotes compiled on the occasion of the Saturnalia. In one passage, Macrobius provides a litany of jokes and clever sayings, including the following: “On being informed that among the boys under two years of age whom Herod had ordered to be slain in Syria, Herod’s own son had also been slain, Augustus said: “It is better to be Herod’s hog than his son.” This quip probably raises more questions than it answers. At the very least, Macrobius seems to have his facts scrambled given that Herod's son, Antipater, was an adult when he was put to death around the time of Christ's birth. What the quote does reveal is that even a late antique pagan like Macrobius was aware of the massacre of the innocents, an event that was most likely an accepted part of conventional knowledge among the Roman educated classes.

A point often mentioned to nullify the massacre is that the event is nowhere mentioned by the great Jewish historian of the 1st century AD, Flavius Josephus. As useful as he is in recording in detail the reign of Herod, it can not be expected that Josephus provides every detail. It has been pointed out by more than one scholar that Bethlehem was a small town with a likely population of less than 2,000 at the time of Christ's birth. The number of boys under age two was probably fairly small—perhaps 40-50 at the most. Considering the scale of some of the atrocities committed by Herod that Josephus does record, is it surprising that the butchery of 40-50 infants might pass unnoticed? A list of Herod's enormities may be found in the excellent article by Richard T. France, "Herod and the Children of Bethlehem," Novum Testamentem, Vol. 21, Fasc. 2 (Apr., 1979), pp. 98-120

Ciarán Hinds (right) accurately portrayed a paranoid and malevolent
Herod the Great in The Nativity Story (2006).

I tend to agree with the conclusion offered by Dr. France in the above mentioned article: 

"The historical evidence, such as it is, suggests that the incident is not in itself improbable, but very much in keeping with what we know of Herod's reign. Among the more striking atrocities of that period, it was a relatively minor incident, which has understandably not left any clearly independent mark in the very selective records of Herod's reign." 

Rather than being so quick to dismiss scriptural narratives as fabrications, we should at least apply to them the same credibility thresholds that we apply to other ancient sources. 

A library of memes at the Arx Publishing website

Arx Publishing has recently gone live with a page of glossy quote cards for purchase. If some of them look familiar, it's because nearly all of them have appeared on this blog at some point or another. Most if not all of these memes were created by yours truly.

In the wild pre-throttle days of social media, several of these memes were passed around and enjoyed by thousands of people. In fact, even now, I see some of the earliest ones pop up occasionally on my feeds. A few of them have even been incorporated into other memes. 

If you're on Facebook, you can see my complete output here: Paolo Belzoni on Facebook. They don't get much traction these days on Facebook—I can almost pinpoint the exact day that the Facebook censors put the clamps on my account. But lots of people still see them on Reddit.

At some point, we thought it would be fun to turn these memes into physical artifacts. While everyone else in the world is digitizing physical items, we decided to pull a Chesterton-style paradox and turn some digital objects into physical ones. We started printing out these photo cards to give away at conferences. Arx also includes them in book shipments they send out to individual customers. I know for a fact that some of them end up tacked to people's refrigerators for years.

Here are several low-res samples from the new Arx Meme Page:

"We become like that which we love. If we love what is base, we become base; but if we love what is noble, we become noble."
~Ven. Fulton J. Sheen
[Source]

"Not by numbers of men, nor by measure of body, but by valor of soul is war wont to be decided."
~Flavius Belisarius
[Source]

"If I am not in God's grace, may He put me there; and if I am, may He so keep me."
~Joan of Arc
[Source]

"The primary duty of charity does not lie in the toleration of false ideas."
~Pope St. Pius X
[Source]

"The divine commandment of purity of soul and body also applies without diminishment to today's youth.
~Ven. Pope Pius XII
[Source]

"A time is coming when men will go mad, and when they see someone who is not mad, they will attack him, saying, "You are mad, you are not like us."
~St. Anthony the Great
[Source]

For the record, yes I do benefit financially if someone purchases these. So if you would like to support my work, please feel free to purchase them and hand them out!

A Review of Cabrini -- A saintly biopic marred by boring Hollywood tropes

Mother Cabrini (played by Cristiana Dell'Anna) receives the reply of
Pope Leo XIII (played by Giancarlo Giannini)

My wife and I went to see Cabrini last night. Given the mixed yet passionate reaction to the film by a variety of folks whose opinions I respect, I was looking forward to it. Having now seen it, I think the mixed reaction is completely appropriate.

My reaction was also mixed, though tending more toward the negative. 

On the positive side, the film had a lot of spoken Italian in it which was fun. It was also well acted and beautifully shot, with a moving soundtrack that reminded me of a cross between The Village and Master and Commander. Though there have been some complaints that Catholic spirituality is not overtly put into the mouth of a Catholic saint (a valid complaint to be sure), Catholic spirituality saturates the background of the film. There are crosses and other Catholic symbols in practically every scene, and several scenes take place in beautiful Catholic churches and buildings. So we end up with some beautiful Catholic settings for a not particularly Catholic film.

The lead role was well played by Cristiana Dell'Anna who provided a convincing likeness of Mother Cabrini. Pope Leo XIII is played sympathetically by Giancarlo Giannini, though I thought he resembled Pope Pius IX more than Leo XIII.

That said, I felt that the film was too dark and brooding for the story of a Catholic saint. The first third of the film is purposely dark, focusing on Mother's illness and all of the "no" answers she receives from the men who are in positions of authority over her. The film does lighten up in spots, but the overall ambience is darkness and obscurity.

What truly drove Mother Cabrini was left largely unexplored. The inferences one must draw from the film are the typical boring Hollywood tropes -- follow your heart; don't let the naysayers get you down; I am woman, hear me roar. The film presents a woman primarily motivated by an altruistic desire to help other Italians. So rather than being driven by the Gospel message of Jesus Christ to take care of the poor, Mother is portrayed, rather, as the celibate CEO of an Italian NGO in America. There is also an insinuation that she is at least partly driven by spite. Every time she faces an obstacle, the Cabrini in the film hears in her head an admonition given early in the film by a patriarchal archbishop: "Stay where you belong." This very worldly urge, rather than any divine inspiration, seems to motivate her to do bold things.

The film also spent considerable time building up the Italian immigrant-as-victim trope. While nativist sentiments were no doubt major obstacles for the first waves of Italian immigrants coming to America, there was another issue at play that the film studiously avoids: the hatred of Catholics by the largely Masonic ruling elite. (This particular angle was effectively brought to the fore in the film For Greater Glory, another imperfect though more inspiring film.) Though forty years after the height of the KnowNothing period when Catholic churches were torched in several cities, there was still a strong antipathy toward Catholics among the upper echelons of American society that persists to this day. While it wasn't long before Italians were accepted as Americans, devout Catholics have never really been. If you need evidence of that, consider the overtly anti-Catholic emails of Hillary Clinton campaign chair, John Podesta in 2016, or how our current "Catholic" president's Department of Justice classifies traditional Catholics among potential terrorist groups. 

As other reviewers have pointed out, the filmmakers also managed to turn Mother Cabrini into something of a Mary Sue. Whatever she accomplishes, she does via the force of her own powerful will. She draws her strength not from God nor from the Gospel, but from within herself. That is not a Catholic mentality at all, and I'm sure the real Mother Cabrini would have been horrified at being portrayed that way. This seems to have been done in service to a narrative that is not in keeping with the actual life of the saint.

Finally, the ending of the film was anti-climactic and strange. 

SPOILER ALERT -- stop here if you don't want to read what happens at the end...

In the movie, Mother Cabrini achieves her final victory via political blackmail -- threatening the mayor of New York that she will unleash a negative publicity campaign against him and work to get him defeated in the next election unless he allows her hospital project to go forward. She also indicates that she is willing to help him if he helps her -- a sort of "pay to play" arrangement. The fictitious Mayor Gould (who is portrayed effectively by John Lithgow as a racist political animal) is impressed by Mother's rather savvy tactics and agrees to her terms. I have no idea how much of this scenario is based on reality, but it didn't strike me as a particularly fitting denouement to a biopic of a Catholic saint. 

So overall, I give Cabrini two stars. It's worth watching once, but having now seen it, I have no desire to see it again. Instead, I'll go and read more about The Intense Catholic Spirituality of Mother Cabrini.

The Intense Catholic Spirituality of Mother Cabrini ~ "How grateful we should be to Christianity, which has raised the dignity of woman."

Photo of St. Frances Xavier Cabrini from the frontispiece
of Travels of Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini.

Yesterday marked the opening of a new film by Angel Studios — Cabrini — and the film has already generated an impressive amount of buzz. Considering the Catholic content of the film, this is somewhat surprising but in a very good way.

I haven't seen the film yet, but I intend to over the next week. I'm told that local theaters are basically sold-out this weekend.

Of course, nothing produced with religious content is without controversy. Cabrini is being promoted as a sort-of feminist anti-Barbie, which is an interesting tactic. This indicates that the filmmakers are attempting to broaden the audience beyond the Christian core, out to the larger market of pop-culture agnostics and nones. Of course, that tactic will not please everyone, and one of the criticisms of the film that has already emerged is that the feminist angle is played up to the detriment of the spiritual angle. Indeed, it is claimed that the film makes almost no reference to Mother Cabrini's intense spiritual life.

Again, I haven't seen the film yet, so I can't comment on that. If Mother Cabrini's spiritual life is cast into shadow by the film, that is a shame. However, it nevertheless presents a golden opportunity to set the record straight. Anyone who has their curiosity piqued by the film should certainly delve deeper into the life and works of this holy apostle to the Italian immigrants.

Interested viewers might take a look at her letters which may be found in a book from the 1940s entitled Travels of Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini: Foundress of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Following is an example which demonstrates how much Mother Cabrini's thoughts were permeated through-and-through by the power of Almighty God and how, for her, every event was an inspiration to advance in the spiritual life.

This charming letter was written from aboard a steamer en route from Paris to New York in 1890, and addressed to "her dear daughters" — the Missionary Sisters of The Sacred Heart, The Alumnae and Students of the Teachers' College in Rome. By this point, Mother and her sisters had been on the water for three days and were encountering rough seas:

Monday, April 21st. 

Here we are; the see-saw has started, moved by the almighty hand of God: willy nilly we have to play the game. Yesterday about five o’clock in the afternoon the sea began to be a real sea. It was not possible to stand on your feet without leaning on something for support. Already five hours have elapsed since Sister Eletta began to pray God to calm the sea. But now, seeing such a frightful spectacle, she is lost for words, and thinks the best thing to do is to go to bed as the other Sisters have done.

I remain firm and always keep on deck. I made them laugh so much that Sister Eletta said she felt almost better. After supper, about six o’clock, I wanted to see the other good Sisters, and, following their example, I began to feel sea-sick. Patience! Twice I was obliged to resign myself to their company.

Sister Assunta looks like a soul full of thoughts and weariness. Sister Giovannina is always laughing, even when she is very sick. Sister Agostina also smiles. Sister Bernardina is just like one dead, so is Sister Battistina! Sister Ignatius tries to endeavour to follow my example, but after a time she has to run for her life, or else stay in the cabin so as not to fall. Of all the passengers on board, both men and women, only six or seven come to the table.

It is dreadful if we do not try to resist this sickness; the best plan is to stay on deck; even if it rains, it is better to remain in the open. Last night, I stayed until after midnight, partly dressed (because I believed a storm was threatening), so as to be ready to save myself and all; but the good God is continually watching over His Spouses. The great swing subsided though the gale beat all round us.

I rose early this morning to go on deck to view the wonderful spectacle. Oh! how beautiful is the sea in its great motion! How the waves swell and foam! Enchanting! The wind is, however, favourable, and the boat goes so quickly, it seems to fly. If you could only see the waves! None of us could stay at the stern because the waves swept over the vessel at every moment. At the bows it is not so bad, and, stretched in an armchair, I can write fairly well. A single wave could submerge all, but He Who has created the sea and has commanded it to rise like mountains, would not permit His beloved creatures to be drowned, much less His loving Spouses.

God loved us before He created the sea; nay, He created the sea itself for our use and pleasure. He has chosen us for His Spouses, and we have answered His call, attracted by His infinite lovableness. Let us remain, my daughters, entirely subject to Him, conquered by His love; and let us run swiftly in His footsteps. The good God has perpetually loved us with the love of predilection, so let us love Him and serve Him with joy during the few days of our life.

If you were all here with me, dear daughters, to cross the immense ocean, you would exclaim, ‘‘Oh, how great and loving is God in all His works!'’ But the ocean of graces, oh, my daughters, that the good Jesus pours down upon us, in every instant of our life, is immensely superior to anything in nature. All natural splendours are eclipsed by the abundance of riches which God showers upon His beloved Spouses.

Let us venerate and love, then, our excellent state, and let us examine ourselves frequently and remove all defects that are unbecoming the Virgins of Christ, so that our Beloved may quickly introduce us into the Holy of Holies and plant charity in our souls. [Travels of Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini, pages 5-6]

Here is an excerpt from another letter by St. Frances Cabrini, deeply imbued with the wisdom of one who knows that children must be brought up in virtue. This one addressed to the students of the Teachers' College in Rome, and dated May 1904:

How great, noble, exalted, is the mission you are called to accomplish in this world! To you. Our Divine Lord addressed the words He spoke to His Apostles one day, "I have chosen you so that you will bear fruit and that your fruit will remain.”

Reflect a little with me on the predilection of God for you in this call, "I have chosen you," not "you have chosen Me." In fact, He did not wish that during your studies you should be exposed to the poisonous atmosphere of the world. He has drawn you into His own House, so that you could breathe into your souls its salubrious atmosphere. There you prepare yourselves for the mission you are to fulfill in Society.

To many of you, already, we may say, despite our great regret at parting from you, "Go and bear fruit," for you are already fortified against the world’s dangers by the solid instruction you have received. But what fruit will you bear? However small your experience is of the world, still you see that the multitude is insensible, forgetting God. But how much good cannot a wise teacher do to repair this, the greatest of evils, if to her mental culture and her intellectual gifts she adds that of a soul solidly founded and frankly Christian and religious.

She knows as the immortal and lamented Pontiff Leo XIII, said that we cannot renew Solomon’s judgment on the child by the cruel and unjust separation of the intellect and the will. She knows that while she cultivates her mind, she is bound to direct her will at acquiring virtue to obtain the last end. She knows that those who have not received in their early years the impressions of Religion, grow up without having even the slightest idea of those high truths which alone can awaken in them the love of virtue and the control of the passions. She then makes her sweet influence felt in the school, aided by the grace of the Holy Ghost, and silently mould those young hearts which, soft as wax, are ready to receive impressions. Here you perceive the great responsibility of those who neglect their duty, for it is difficult to eradicate these early impressions.

This is the fruit which you are called upon to bring forth in the Church, with this difference, however, that whilst a simple teacher has only to instruct her class of children, you have the responsibility of educating the future teachers, and consequently have a wider field wherein to sow your seed, which will thus spread more rapidly and bear more fruit. As such you are associated with the great work of the Christian Apostolate. Thus you enter the ranks of those generous champions who at the command of our great Leader and His Vicar on earth, fight bravely to restore the world to Christ.

How far the world is from Him who is the Way, the Truth and the Life, is better understood by one who has to travel so to speak, from one end of the world to the other. [Travels of Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini, pages 239-240]

This letter also contains a brief reflection on the history and nature of womanhood which, given the film's seeming focus on feminism, it seems appropriate to quote. In this reflection, Mother Cabrini begins with her observation of the status of women among the Coeur d’Alenes, an American Indian tribe of eastern Washington State, as follows:

The Indian woman, as in all those nations which have not received the light of faith, has to work while the man quietly smokes his pipe. The poor woman and mother of many little ones, who are too small to stand, is forced to tie her offspring round her waist in a sack, and in this unconventional way has to do her washing. If the baby cries, she moves it with a shrug of her shoulders and thus quiets it. This is the way the Indian baby is fondled.

See how grateful we should be to Christianity, which has raised the dignity of woman, re-establishing her rights, unknown to the pagan nations. Until Mary Immaculate, the Woman by excellence, foretold by the prophets, sighed for by the patriarchs, desired by the people. Dawn of the Sun of Justice, had appeared on earth— what was woman?

But Mary appeared, this new Eve, true Mother of the Living, elected by God to be the Co-Redemptrix of the human race, and a new era arose for woman. She is no longer a slave, but equal to man; no longer a servant, but mistress within her domestic walls; no longer the object of disdain and contempt, but raised to the dignity of Mother and Educator, on whose knee generations are built up. [Travels of Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini, pages 245]

This was the spirituality of Mother Cabrini. Nowhere near the destructive creed of modern feminism, but hewing closely to the ideal of Christian womanhood.

Is the floor of Hell paved with the skulls of bishops?

The well-used quote: "The floor of hell is paved with the skulls of bishops," may be found in a variety of forms. Perhaps the most colorful version of it is: "The road to Hell is paved with the bones of priests and monks, and the skulls of bishops are the lamp posts that light the path."

 

This saying has been attributed to one of several Fathers of the ancient Church and to Protestant revolutionaries from more recent times. Most often, it is claimed to be from the writings of St. Athanasius or St. John Chrysostom. After a thorough search, I have come to the conclusion that this saying is of more modern provenance, likely originating from a Protestant polemic which made very liberal use of a homily from St. John Chrysostom. 

 

So to respond to the question posed in the title of this post: Is the literal floor of Hell paved with the literal skulls of bishops? The answer is: No, probably not as such.

That said, I looked up the homily of St. John Chrysostom to which this quote is often attributed, and what I found there is, perhaps, even more daunting than the rhetorically evocative version that most folks are familiar with. The work in question is St. John's Third Homily on the Acts of the Apostles. The passage in question is the following which I am pasting here for future reference:

"I do not think there are many among Bishops that will be saved, but many more that perish: and the reason is, that it is an affair that requires a great mind. Many are the exigencies which throw a man out of his natural temper; and he had need have a thousand eyes on all sides. Do you not see what a number of qualifications the Bishop must have? To be apt to teach, patient, holding fast the faithful word in doctrine [see 1 Timothy 3:2-9; Titus 1:7-9]. What trouble and pains does this require!

 

And then, others do wrong, and he bears all the blame. To pass over every thing else: if one soul depart unbaptized, does not this subvert all his own prospect of salvation? The loss of one soul carries with it a penalty which no language can represent. For if the salvation of that soul was of such value, that the Son of God became man, and suffered so much, think how sore a punishment must the losing of it bring! And if in this present life he who is cause of another's destruction is worthy of death, much more in the next world. Do not tell me, that the presbyter is in fault, or the deacon. The guilt of all these comes perforce upon the head of those who ordained them.

 

Let me mention another instance. It chances, that a bishop has inherited from his predecessor a set of persons of indifferent character. What measures is it proper to take in respect of bygone transgressions (for here are two precipices) so as not to let the offender go unpunished, and not to cause scandal to the rest? Must one's first step be to cut him off? There is no actual present ground for that. But is it right to let him go unmarked? Yes, say you; for the fault rests with the bishop who ordained him. Well then? Must one refuse to ordain him again, and to raise him to a higher degree of the ministry? That would be to publish it to all men, that he is a person of indifferent character, and so again one would cause scandal in a different way. But is one to promote him to a higher degree? That is much worse.

 If then there were only the responsibility of the office itself for people to run after in the episcopate, none would be so quick to accept it. But as things go, we run after this, just as we do after the dignities of the world. That we may have glory with men, we lose ourselves with God. What profit in such honor? How self-evident its nothingness is! When you covet the episcopal rank, put in the other scale, the account to be rendered after this life. Weigh against it, the happiness of a life free from toil, take into account the different measure of the punishment. I mean, that even if you have sinned, but in your own person merely, you will have no such great punishment, nothing like it: but if you have sinned as bishop, you are lost." 

Read the entire Third Homily of St. John Chrysostom on Acts of the Apostles here.

What more is there to say, really? Except this -- may our bishops understand the gravity of what they do when they preach that which is contrary to traditional Church doctrine and morality.

"Why is the believing Catholic not subject to neurosis?" A question posed to Karl Jung in 1939

Social media grenade-launcher Matt Walsh recently posted the following on his FaceBook page: 

"Many people claim to know for a fact that the practice of psychotherapy has been deeply helpful to humanity. To those people, I ask: If therapy is generally so helpful, and more people than ever are doing it, then why are people less able to deal with hardship and cope with suffering than ever before? Is it because our lives are really so much more difficult?" 

It's a fair question.

It's certainly hard to make the case that our lives are so much more difficult than, say, those of our Great Depression era grandparents or great-grandparents. 

Add to this the fact that despite the ubiquity of mental health services in American society, we are in the midst of an ongoing and worsening mental health crisis, particularly among the young. It's almost as if the expansion of mental health services has in some way contributed to the proliferation of mental illness. 

Thousands of articles like the following have been written over the past half-decade examining the problem and ultimately failing to come up with good answers:

Over 50% Of Liberal, White Women Under 30 Have A Mental Health Issue. Are We Worried Yet?

Depression rates among US adults reach new high: Gallup

Rates of Depression and Anxiety Are Rising in Young People

Many will no doubt blame the mental health crisis on a host of pop-politico-cultural bugbears: sexism, student debt, racism, transphobia, the COVID shutdowns, MAGA-terror, etc. But could the core reason for this epidemic of mental illness be that fewer people than ever before in the West are practicing Catholics who make regular and devout use of the sacraments of the Church? 

Now before you dismiss this possibility out of hand, I'd like to call your attention to a talk by one of the primordial psychoanalysts of the early 20th century, Carl Gustav Jung. 

Jung was the offspring of a Swiss Lutheran pastor. Several of his uncles were also Protestant pastors, and it was expected that Carl himself would find a career in the ministry. Instead, Jung rejected Christianity and entered the nascent world of psychotherapy as it was developing under Sigmund Freud. During his life, Jung had numerous spiritual experiences, nearly all of which a believing Catholic might consider encounters with the demonic.

All this is to say that Carl Jung was no great friend of Catholicism. 

And yet, in a lecture he gave in London in April of 1939, on the eve of the outbreak of the Second World War, Jung was asked to offer insights on why the believing Catholic was not subject to neurosis, or at least not to the same extent as, say, Protestants or Jews. Jung's answer is fascinating:

"You have heard that I said Roman Catholics are less threatened by neurosis than members of other religious confessions. Of course, there are Catholic neurotics just as well as others, but it is a fact that in my forty years of experience I have had no more than six practicing Catholics among my patients. Naturally, I do not count all those who have been Catholics, or who say that they are Catholics but who do not practice; but of practicing Catholics I have had not more than about six. That is also the experience of my colleagues. In Zurich we are surrounded by Catholic cantons; not quite two-thirds of Switzerland is Protestant and the rest is Catholic. And then we have on the frontier Southern Germany, which is Catholic. So we should have a fair number of Catholic patients, but we have not; we have very few....

"...Now, I have spoken of my own experience in this field, but recently statistical researches have been made in America about the very same question, but from another angle. It is a sort of appreciation of the amount of complexes, or complex manifestations, you find in people. You find the least or the smallest number of complex manifestations in practicing Catholics, far more in Protestants, and the most in Jews. This is absolutely independent of my own researches; a colleague of mine in the United States made these researches and that bears out what I have told you. [See more on this below.]

"So there must be something in the Catholic Church which accounts for this peculiar fact. Of course, we think in the first place of confession....The fact is that there are relatively few neurotic Catholics, and yet they are living under the same conditions as we do. They are presumably suffering from the same social conditions and so on, and so one would expect a similar amount of neurosis. There must be something in the cult, in the actual religious practice, which explains that peculiar fact that there are fewer complexes or that these complexes manifest themselves much less in Catholics than in other people. That something besides confession, is really the cult itself. It is the Mass, for instance. The heart of the Mass contains a living mystery, and that is the thing that works. When I say "a living mystery," I mean nothing mysterious;  I mean mystery in that sense which the word has always had—a mysterium tremendum. And the Mass is by no means the only mystery in the Catholic Church."

Of course, by "the Mass", Jung was referring the Traditional Latin Mass as it was known everywhere by Catholics prior to the late 1960s. After a tangent during which Jung elaborates on ancient symbolism as found in Catholic ritual, he returns to confession with this very curious passage:

"When a practicing Catholic comes to me, I say, 'Did you confess this to the father-confessor?' 

Naturally he says, 'No, he does not understand.'

'What in hell, then,' I say, 'did you confess?'

'Oh, lousy little things of no importance'—but the main sins he never talked of.

As I have said, I have had quite a number of these Catholics—six. I was quite proud to have had so many, and I said to them, "Now, you see, what you tell me here, this is really serious. You go now to your father-confessor and you confess, whether he understands or does not understand. That is of no concern. It must be told before God, and if you don't do it, you are out of the Church, and then analysis beings, and then things will get hot, so you are much better off in the lap of the Church."

So you see, I brought these people back into the Church, with the result that the Pope himself gave me a private blessing for having taught certain important Catholics the right way of confessing." [Source: C. G. Jung, The Collected Works, Volume 18: The Symbolic Life, beginning on page 267]

God only knows if what Jung says above regarding the Pope giving him a private blessing is actually true. His account has a pretty thick overlay of hubris, so it is perhaps best to take it with a grain of salt.

But the fact remains that this former Lutheran spiritualist psychoanalyst who occasionally had communication with potentially demonic beings was astounded by the psychological resilience of practicing Catholics. 

I looked up the American study Jung cited and found out that it was part of a 1938 work entitled Explorations in Personality: A Clinical and Experimental Study of Fifty Men of College Age by Henry A. Murray. Murray was another mid-20th century psychological researcher who was no great friend of Catholics. In his conclusion, Murray writes:

The Catholic subjects were conspicuously more solid and secure....There was relatively little anxiety-linked material bubbling up in the minds of the Catholics. Their repressions were firmer and what occurred in their depths could only be inferred indirectly by interpreting their projections. It was as if their faith in an ultimate authority relieved them of the necessity of independently resolving fundamental issues. Their unconscious fears, one might say, were quieted by the hovering presence of the maternal Church. And if they were unable sometimes to live up to the precepts of their religion, they knew that forgiveness was always at hand. A secret, remorseful confession and once more they would be beneficently accepted members of the flock. It might be supposed that the irrational unconscious tendencies of these Catholics were so satisfactorily interpreted by a wise, human and altogether forgiving Church that they never knew what it was to feel themselves alone and forsaken in a maelstrom of incommunicable feelings and ideas. In the rationalized fantasy system of an effective Church there is a place for everything, and the faithful communicants do not have to face—and thus become conscious of and wrestle with—the naked impulses of their own souls. The problem of good and evil is settled and only the problem of moral will remains. Our Catholic subjects were relatively happy, free from neurotic symptoms, blissfully self-deceived, superficial in their psychological discernments, and always competent to clothe raw facts in the rational vestments of their faith."

Were they really "self-deceived"? Or had they adopted a faith that allowed them to see the world as it truly is, understand it, and react to the challenges presented by life in healthy and resilient ways? Given that Murray's later career included abusive experiments on college students, one of whom was apparently so damaged that he went on to achieve infamy as the Unabomber, I'm not particularly concerned about his judgments on self-deception.

Sad to relate, those very aspects of Catholicism which formed such mentally strong men and women in the past—the Mass, the rituals, the sacraments and confession in particular—were all watered down and de-emphasized in the aftermath of the 1960s. The result has been that today's Catholics, practicing or otherwise, seem just as susceptible to mental illness as the rest of society. 

Nevertheless, we can hear echoes of this resilience even today. Anecdotally, some of the most emotionally and psychologically solid people I have ever known may be found among that relatively small remnant of Catholics who steadfastly practice the faith with reverence and devotion. Never have I encountered a group of people who have endured so much personal suffering with such abiding grace. I am continually amazed at how many of these good people are struck with truly gut-wrenching family tragedies. And yet, they are able to endure, heal, and carry on, trusting that Christ will always be with them and that their departed loved ones are even now praying for them before the heavenly throne of God Almighty.

It is not controversial to observe that many of the current-day princes of the Catholic Church have wandered far from the traditional teachings and practices of the Church. Perhaps if these men would pause their awkward shamble after adolescent sexualized mysticism, they might realize that the ancient practice of Catholicism which they largely discarded in the 1960s was among the greatest treasures that God has ever gifted to mankind. 

At the very least, we can posit that the traditional practice of Catholicism is a way to comprehend the triumphs and tragedies of human existence that does not ultimately drive men mad. 

The same can not be said for the neurotic mess that modern Western secular culture has become.

"Among laymen, none are superior to him in devotion and zeal for the Church." ~ A review of "Pierre Toussaint: A Citizen of Old New York"

Pierre Toussaint, from a miniature painted ca. 1825 by Anthony Meucci.

I recently picked up a copy of Pierre Toussaint: A Citizen of Old New York by Arthur and Elizabeth Odell Sheehan (published by the good folks at Hillside Education) of at a homeschool conference on Long Island. Truth be told, I knew next to nothing about Toussaint before I began reading, though I can honestly say I had wanted to know more about him. I especially wanted to know what heroic virtues this man possessed that has him on the path to canonization as a saint of the Catholic Church.

Click here for more info.

Well, to start with, Venerable Pierre Toussaint's life story is anything but typical. It is a study in contrasts and paradoxes. It began in a country that was considered a paradise on earth at the time — Saint-Domingue, a French colony on the island of Hispanola in the Caribbean which is today known as the nation of Haiti. But like many European colonies in the western hemisphere, Saint-Domingue was burdened at its creation with the original sin of slavery. Pierre himself was born a slave, though perhaps atypically, he was born into a French family that did not consider its slaves as mere property but as children of God with souls who could love and be loved.

During Pierre's early life, the slave-supported paradise of Saint-Domingue would become hell on earth for the original colonizers. The ideals of the French revolution took root in the colony and encouraged former slaves like Toussaint Loverture and Jean-Jacques Dessalines to consider freedom the birthright of all men. With the advent of Napoleon, a slave rebellion broke out in Saint-Domingue which quickly escalated into a war of atrocities, with the French and Haitians vying to outdo each other in brutality. Eventually, the French lost. But their cruelty toward their former slaves was not forgotten. By way of revenge, General (and later Emperor) Jean-Jacques Dessalines systematically slaughtered the 3-5,000 French who remained in the country.

Pierre Toussaint witnessed little of this, however. As the conflicts increased, Pierre's French family, the Bérards, fled Saint-Domingue in 1787 for what they believed was temporary refuge in New York City. Little did they know that they would never return to their homes again. Pierre himself would live in New York for nearly 60 years.

Over the course of those 60 years, the fortunes of the Bérard family would decline. They would have been completely ruined and destitute if not for the abilities of their indefatigable slave, Pierre. While in New York, Pierre was apprenticed to a man who was an expert hair-dresser. In an era where arranging women's hair was a complicated art form, Pierre became a master. His talents were soon in high demand among the rich ladies of New York. But Pierre was no mere mindless automaton who curled and coiffed all day long. He had other talents, among them an approachable demeanor, an ear for listening, a quiet wisdom, and a genuine care for the trials and tribulations of others. 

In a short time, Pierre became the sole support of the Bérards. Jean Bérard, the scion of the family, had returned to Haiti in 1791 an attempt to reclaim his family's property, only to die of sickness shortly after his arrival. His widow, Marie, was now destitute. During this time, Pierre supported her with his earnings as a hair-dresser. She would later marry another French refugee, only to perish in 1807. Upon her death, Marie Bérard gave Pierre his freedom.

With freedom and a marketable skill in tremendous demand, Pierre could have lived the easy life of a wealthy ne'er-do-well. He did exactly the opposite. He transformed his earnings into charitable good works. He purchased the freedom of another slave, Juliette Noel, then married her. He also displayed an almost supernatural sense of magnanimity, secretly assisting many distressed French refugees in New York. Former slave-holders found themselves beholden to a former slave. And Pierre never lorded this paradox over them. Instead, as Our Lord suggested, he kept his works of mercy discreetly quiet so that his beneficiaries could save face.

Euphemia Toussaint, Pierre's adopted
daughter, from a miniature painted ca. 1825
by Anthony Meucci.

When Pierre's sister Rosalie died, Pierre and Juliette adopted her infant daughter, Euphemia. Unable to have children of their own, Pierre and Juliette would raise Euphemia as their child. Tragically, the child would die at age 14 of tuberculosis. This incident and the pain it caused Pierre is described poignantly in Pierre Toussaint: A Citizen of Old New York.

Incredibly, Pierre's devotion to the French family that held him as a slave extended decades after his freedom. Word reached Pierre that his godmother Aurora, the sister of Jean Bérard, had fallen upon hard times in France. Pierre and Juliette kept up a lively correspondence with Aurora over many years, sending her expensive presents to help alleviate her straits. In one letter, regarding some dresses and Madras handkerchiefs Pierre and Juliette had sent her, Aurora wrote: "To judge from the dearness of the articles here, I fear you may have made some sacrifice to purchase them, and this idea gives me pain." [Lee: Memoir of Pierre Toussaint]

Examples of Pierre's charity are too numerous to mention in their entirety. His hard work, intelligent money management, and scrupulous penny-pinching meant that he had resources enough for a comfortable home for Juliette and Euphemia, and largesse for both the poor and the Church. Pierre's devotion as a Catholic is the stuff of legend. Whatever rudeness Pierre endured as a black man in antebellum New York was redoubled by the fact that he was a very public Papist in an era where Catholicism was considered by many to be the moral equivalent of treason. Neither of these social handicaps thwarted Pierre. It is said that Pierre attended Mass every day of his life after his arrival in New York.

Pierre also took up the philanthropic works of the Church as his own. He donated and helped raise money for the first Catholic cathedral in New York City—Old Saint Patrick's. According to Hannah Lee, who knew Pierre and compiled a memoir of his life, Pierre endeavored to do the 19th century equivalent of "paying it forward":

"One of the methods in which Toussaint did essential good was by bringing up colored boys one after another, sending them to school, and, after they were old enough, teaching them some useful business. In all these plans of charity Juliette united." [Lee: Memoir of Pierre Toussaint]

Juliette, wife of Pierre Toussaint, 
from a miniature painted ca. 1825
by Anthony Meucci.

Pierre Toussaint: A Citizen of Old New York chronicles many of Pierre's charitable works. Written in 1950, the authors could not know that Pierre would be declared Venerable by Pope John Paul II in 1996, though doubtless they would have celebrated the announcement. It should be kept in mind that this book is not an historical novel like many of the others I review. It is more of a biography with numerous dramatized scenes sprinkled throughout. As such, it easily holds the attention of the reader and is especially well-suited for young Catholics. It is a perfect addition to a homeschool curriculum for those who "read their way through history" as it covers a somewhat obscure period of US and world history. It allows for tangential discussions of such historical events as the revolution in Haiti, the Napoleonic wars and their aftermath, slavery both in the US and abroad, numerous devastating epidemics, the free Black community in New York, the growth of Catholicism in the US during the early 19th century, and life in America cities more generally during the early years of the Republic. 

But perhaps the most important contribution made by this book is that it successfully spurs curiosity about the humble and virtuous Pierre Toussaint. Based on the research I have done on him subsequent to reading this book, there is much more that could be said about him. But that was not the object of this brief review, so I will close with a quote taken from Fr. Quin's oration subsequent to Pierre's funeral Mass which seems to exemplify the esteem in which Venerable Pierre Toussaint was held at the time of his death: 

"There were few left among the clergy superior to him in devotion and zeal for the Church and for the glory of God. Among laymen, none." [Lee: Memoir of Pierre Toussaint]

Such high praise seems to presage that Venerable Pierre Toussaint will be recognized as a saint in due course. Read Pierre Toussaint: Citizen of Old New York now so that you'll be well prepared when that happy day arrives.

"This pontificate is a disaster..." The final testament of George Cardinal Pell (d. January 10, 2023)

George Cardinal Pell prays before the body of Pope Benedict XVI lying in state, January 2023.

George Cardinal Pell is dead. 

As a man, Cardinal Pell stood accused of grievous sins before several earthly tribunals. He was convicted of some of those crimes in secular courts, and as a result, spent over a year in prison—much of it in solitary confinement. He was later acquitted and released when the High Court of Australia unanimously overturned his convictions saying that the jury likely made its decision based on faulty evidence, and that there was a significant possibility that an innocent person had been convicted. 

Was Cardinal Pell guilty of the crimes he was accused of? Or was he targeted for destruction by enemies who would stoop even so low as to manufacture false sins? In this world, we will never know. 

But now, Cardinal Pell has taken his stand before the Just Judge from whom nothing can be hidden. Whether his sins warranted mercy or damnation is in the hands of Christ, and all the faithful can do is pray that our gracious Lord will have mercy on him. 

What is clear is that George Cardinal Pell did not go out with a whimper, but with a resounding bang.

Less than a week before he died, Cardinal Pell wrote an article in the UK Spectator that is nothing less than a clarion call. The title of the article says it all: The Catholic Church Must Free Itself from this "Toxic Nightmare."

What toxic nightmare is he referring to? That would be the so-called Synod on Synodality—that useless and wasteful meeting of bishops that seems to be the very embodiment of the unofficial motto of the current pontificate: "¡Hagan lío!" or "make a mess!" Regarding the 45-page document put out by the Vatican explaining the "listening" stage of the synod, Pell calls it: "one of the most incoherent documents ever sent out from Rome."

After offering a point-by-point deconstruction of the document, Pell is left scratching his head:

What is one to make of this potpourri, this outpouring of New Age good will? It is not a summary of Catholic faith or New Testament teaching. It is incomplete, hostile in significant ways to the apostolic tradition and nowhere acknowledges the New Testament as the Word of God, normative for all teaching on faith and morals. The Old Testament is ignored, patriarchy rejected and the Mosaic Law, including the Ten Commandments, is not acknowledged.

This is a pretty harsh condemnation that should be taken very seriously by all serious Catholics.

But it gets better. 

In the spring of 2022, an anonymous letter was said to be circulating among the Cardinals signed by someone called "Demos" or the Greek word for "the common people." It was a sober reflection upon and harsh criticism of the numerous scandals which have proliferated over the past 10 years within the Church, with an unusually pointed critique of the Francis papacy. The opening sentence gives the reader a sense of what follows:

Commentators at every school, though for different reasons, with the possible exception of Father Spadaro SJ, agree that this pontificate is a disaster in many or more respects, a catastrophe.

It was revealed today that the author of this letter was none other than George Cardinal Pell.

This letter is not merely a litany of the failures of Pope Francis. It is a road map for his successor. Indeed, the second half of the letter reads more like avuncular advice from an experienced elder churchman to a man who will be faced with cleaning up a gigantic mess not of his doing. 

The entire letter is well worth reading, but the following point seems to be the most important of all, encapsulating what has gone wrong and the attitude necessary to fix it:

The new pope must understand that the secret of Christian and Catholic vitality comes from fidelity to Christ's teachings and Catholic practices. It doesn't come from adapting to the world or money.

This point is followed immediately by another that lays out the steps necessary to return from the present chaos:

The first tasks of the new pope will be the restoration of normality, the restoration of doctrinal clarity in faith and morals, the restoration of just respect for the law, and the guarantee that the first criterion for the appointment of bishops is acceptance of apostolic tradition. Theological competence and culture are an advantage, not an obstacle for all bishops and especially for archbishops. These are necessary foundations for living and preaching the Gospel.

More than anything else, the faithful need doctrinal clarity. Indeed, we thirst for it, as one can not drink the muddy slurry churned up by "¡Hagan lío!"

Pell's "Demos" letter reads like an encyclical letter written by one of the Church Fathers when faced with an ecclesiastical crisis.

Thank you, Cardinal Pell, for speaking like a believing Catholic, reminding us of our patrimony, and for standing up for the devout who have spent the past nine years taking abuse from those tasked to nurture them in faith and teach them the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

With men like Benedict XVI and Cardinal Pell passing into eternity, ordinary devout Catholics pray that Christ will raise up other bishops and cardinals with the fortitude to keep the current mess from spreading and leading even more souls to perdition. 

May the Holy Spirit, in His good time, bestow upon us a new pope who will come armed the charism of Saint Francis of Assisi who was commanded by God to "restore my Church which is falling down."