
Today is the Feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary; it is also marks the hundredth anniversary of the canonization of St Jean-Marie-Baptiste Vianney, perhaps better known for the priestly assignment to which he dedicated the majority of his life, the Curé of Ars.
Although he has since become a spiritual friend of mine, I met the saintly priest in a somewhat unique way. I did not grow up with the practice of devotion to the saints because I was not raised Catholic. During my last year of college, however, I was in the process of reading my way into the Church. As a Protestant, I had always professed a belief in the communion of the saints. I knew that the heroes of Christianity were with God in heaven. For me, belief in the intercession of the saints in heaven was a very logical extension of truths I already held.
There was (and still is) a Catholic bookstore near my college, so when I had some free money, I would browse the offerings. In a small spinner rack, the store also offered inexpensive prayer cards. If you’ve been in the sort of religious goods store I’m talking about, you can probably picture what I have in mind: small laminated rectangles with a yellow background with a pious image on the front and usually a prayer on the back. While the publisher’s intentions were undoubtedly good, these images of Catholic heroes were often of questionable artistic value, which the hues of the printing made even worse, with palettes in the most saccharine of pastels.
I started buying them anyway.
On one visit, I was browsing the prayer cards, acquainting myself with people who were soon to become like brothers and sisters to me. But a certain card brought me up short. Imagine me, a twenty-odd-year-old young man, coming across an image of an individual in what seemed to be a long gown, elderly but with rosy cheeks, and shoulder-length white hair that curled in on the ends.
I didn’t think it was a man at first. It was only flipping it over that I found out the image was meant to depict St Jean Vianney. I was repulsed by how effeminate the image was, to the point of my gut registering disgust.
And then I paused. I was not yet Catholic, but leaning strongly in that direction. Even in that stage of my faith journey, I thought to myself, “There is no way that the Church has named as a saint a man who this image makes look like such a sissy.” As a matter of justice, that I not think ill of a saint of God, I promised to learn more about this saint. The bookstore had Fr George Ruttler’s delightful book, The Curé d’Ars Today (Ignatius Press, 1988).
From there, I moved to Abbé Trochu’s definitive biography, and by that point, I realized I had found a new elder brother in the Faith.
Why? Because, of course, the Curé of Ars was no sissy. He felt the first stirrings of a priestly vocation while witnessing the clandestine ministry of fugitive priests during the French Revolution. When he was finally able to go to the seminary, his delayed studies were a constant struggle for him. He was assigned to a parish in a region where the Faith had been devastated by the Revolution and its aftermath. He had to fight against the ignorance and deep-seated indifference of his parishioners.
He vowed to God that he would make whatever sacrifice necessary to lead his parishioners to salvation. And God took him at his word.
The Curé began to fast for his people, some days eating no more than a couple of boiled potatoes. He kept night vigils praying for his flock, rarely sleeping more than four hours a night. He performed physical acts of penance. He united all these efforts to the sufferings of Christ, praying that God’s grace would touch those entrusted to his care.
And God’s grace began to touch his parishioners. The Curé instituted Eucharistic Adoration in the Church, stressing this form of prayer. He heard their confessions, and this, of course, was where the saint shone. He began to spend more and more time in the confessional, to the point where he spent hours there, sometimes as many as seventeen hours in a day. People came from all over France to have him hear their confession.
The devil did not like the Curé helping people on their journey toward God, so he began to persecute the saint. His housekeeper heard strange knocking and rattling sounds coming from his bedroom in the few hours he tried to sleep. In an off-handed way, he blamed the devil. Though he was reluctant to admit it, some of the saint’s words can only be understood in such a way that he exchanged physical blows with the devil.
In other words, St Jean Vianney was no wimp.
It is fitting that the day he was canonized by Pope Pius XI also happened to be Pentecost Sunday in 1925, as the Curé of Ars is a striking example of what the Spirit of Christ can do in an individual open to His movements. The same pope proclaimed him the patron saint of parish priests, but Jean Vianney is a saint for everyone, not just them. As we head toward June and Father’s Day, it may be appropriate for men, especially, to reflect on the example of the Curé.
A famous story recounts how the priest, on his way to take up his assignment, got lost on the road. He asked a boy to take him to the village, and after some hesitation, he did so. When they arrived, the Curé said, “You have shown me the way to Ars; I will show you the way to Heaven.” And one can see his whole life as that effort: trying to get his parishioners to Heaven.
Men, do we realize that this is our calling too? For those of us who are married, God gives us our wives and family to help lead them on our journey to Him. How are we doing at that job? The Curé of Ars prayed constantly for his people; he went without sleep and offered sacrifices and mortifications for them. We can make great sacrifices for their job and for the material safety and comfort of those we love. Do we care about their souls as much?
In striving to ever transform our love for those God has put in our charge, we need to remember where true strength comes from: prayer, the Sacraments, God. Make friends even as a husband and father with the Curé of Ars. He is still showing people the road to Heaven.
St Jean Vianney, pray for us!
If you value the news and views Catholic World Report provides, please consider donating to support our efforts. Your contribution will help us continue to make CWR available to all readers worldwide for free, without a subscription. Thank you for your generosity!
Click here for more information on donating to CWR. Click here to sign up for our newsletter.