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Dear Sisters and Brothers in the
Lord:
Let’s continue with Fr. John Jay Hughes’ article on the
Cure’ of Ars, St. John Vianney.
Opposition continued nonetheless. There were complaints
to the bishop about Vianney's excessive severity. There were false
charges that he was the father of a recently born illegitimate child in
Ars, and a whispering campaign from fellow priests based on little more
than dislike of a colleague who was "different." For much of his
priestly life, Vianney suffered from what has been called throughout
Christian history invidia clericalis, clerical envy. It's no
wonder, then, that he said at one point: "I do not like being a parish
priest, but I very much like being a priest because I can say Mass."
A jubilee declared by the pope in 1826 brought many
conversions in Ars and the surrounding area. People began travelling to
Ars to confess to the eccentric but increasingly famous priest, enabling
Vianney to say from the pulpit: "Ars is no longer Ars, it has changed!"
To accommodate the growing crowds, he slept only three hours, rising
after midnight so as to be in his confessional at 1:00 a.m. At 6:00 or
7:00, he would celebrate Mass; after a short break for his meager
breakfast, he would return to the sacristy for men's confessions,
breaking off at ten to pray the Breviary. Then it was time for the
children's catechism lesson. When this was finished he ate a sparse
midday meal, consumed standing; dealt with mail; and visited the sick.
Then it was back to the church for women's confessions until 5:00, when
he returned briefly to his rectory, returning to the sacristy for men's
confessions until 7:30 or 8:00, when he went into the pulpit to lead the
rosary and evening devotions. Finally he retired to his bedroom, only to
spend a good portion of the night in prayer.
What was his secret? Part of it was his ability to read
minds and souls. To a penitent who said he had not confessed for 40
years, Vianney said: "It is 44 years." A female cousin with whom he had
boarded during his studies wondered, while visiting Ars in 1833, whether
she could confess to a relative. "At that moment," she testified later,
"someone came to me with a message from him to say that he was waiting
for me. I was very much astonished, for he could not see me from where
he was. I left Ars filled with wonderful interior joy." Similar is the
story of a young hunter, François Dorel, who went to Ars with friends,
but told them there was no way he would go to confession. He was
standing in the square with his dog when the Abbé Vianney passed by. "I
wish your soul were in as good shape as your dog," the priest said.
Overwhelmed, the young man wept, and made his confession, during which
Vianney told him: "Go to La Trappe." François Dorel died there as a
Trappist monk 30 years later.
A geologist who had not attended Mass since his First
Communion went to Ars in 1841 just to please a friend. Once there, his
companion insisted that the geologist accompany him to Mass. His eyes
met those of Vianney as the priest went to the altar. "I felt
overwhelmed," the man said later. "During the whole of Mass I hid my
face in my hands. After Mass I wanted to get out of there. As I was
passing the sacristy door, I heard a voice from within saying 'Out,
everybody out.' A bony hand drew me in. Without thinking what I was
saying I began to tell the saintly man the whole story of my life, from
my First Communion onwards. While I did so he wept and cried out
repeatedly: 'How good God is! How much He has loved you!'"
This was clearly not the same man who had told his
parishioners two decades earlier that they would go to hell if they did
not stop going to dances. Divine wrath had been supplanted by divine
love. Toward himself, however, Vianney remained severe to the end,
fearing for his salvation. "I should be the happiest of priests," he
said on one occasion, "if it were not for the thought of having to
appear before God's tribunal as a parish priest." Three times he
attempted to leave Ars for a monastery. Each time he was prevented,
either by circumstances or by his own change of mind.
By 1859, the year of his death, it is estimated that up
to 120,000 pilgrims were coming annually to Ars (an average of almost
330 a day) to confess to the most celebrated priest in France. Special
trains were laid on to accommodate the crowds. He made light of this,
saying: "I am like the zeros, which have no value except alongside other
figures."
At the end of July 1859 Vianney knew he was dying. On
the fourth of August, two hours after midnight, he went home to God, at
the hour when, on thousands of days previously, he had already spent an
hour hearing women's confessions in his little church. He was canonized
in 1925 by Pope Pius XI, who declared him the patron saint of parish
priests. I have invoked his prayers daily for more than 40 years. Of all
the sayings attributed to him, my favorite is this: "In the heart which
loves God, it is always springtime."
One can see from this brief biography that sanctity is
essentially a centering or grounding in God which we choose daily. One
can readily observe that St. John Vianney’s life was anything but easy
or comfortable; some might even say it was arduous. And yet through
prayer, faith and trust in God, the Cure’ of Ars was an effective avenue
of God’s grace for his parishioners. Would that we all would be
remembered as such. I pray that each and every one at St. Kieran Parish
be open to be God’s touch of grace and share that grace with your
family, friends and neighbors. I trust that you all pray that I can be
as well.
Let’s give our minds and hearts to the Lord!
Father Joe |
