Where God meets man
Monday, May 28, 2018
Rogelio Zelada
Old chronicles of Santiago de Cuba preserve the story of the great devastation caused by the earthquake of 1776. Churches, convents, hospitals, ancestral homes and offices of the crown collapsed on the inhabitants, filling the city with dead and wounded.
Amid the chaos, a black slave, fervent and devout, recovered an image she found among the ruins of a house, wrapped it in a cloak and went out into the street to implore the cessation of that terrible situation. Little by little, those who had survived the disaster joined the procession. Those people prayed like never before; they begged for mercy from the God of heaven, until the earth stopped shaking. Their prayer had saved them from death. Grateful and relieved, they wanted to know who the saint was that had interceded for them. When they uncovered the bundle that the slave held against her chest, they found a beautiful porcelain statue of Napoleon Bonaparte, who in a sense had also made the earth shake.
In the complex setting of the relationship between the human being and God, there is an area of mystery in which God acts from our intentions and not from our positions. He often overlooks our mistakes, doing a merciful reading of all our human limitations, which he knows perfectly well.
In the 14th century, after the Western Schism, St. Catherine of Siena moved heaven and earth to defend the legitimacy of Urban VI. She turned to cardinals, princes, nobles, people of prestige and influence; she wrote letters and urged the hierarchy and the faithful to adopt the only solution to the crisis that the Church was experiencing: the return to holiness.
At the same time, in Valencia, Spain, another great saint defended the opposite: for him, Clement VII was the legitimate pope, elected by the rebellious cardinals in Avignon. St. Vincent Ferrer, a Dominican, convinced that he had to recognize, obey and defend the pope of Avignon, was a great supporter of then Cardinal Pedro de Luna, who wanted the four kingdoms of Spain to accept the pontificate of Clement VII. Upon his death, St. Vincent became counselor to his successor, Benedict XIII (Cardinal Pedro de Luna).
St. Thomas Aquinas was not too convinced about the theological foundation of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, and St. Bonaventure affirmed the contrary until the Church proved him right.
A religious elder, holy, wise and educated, told me one day, venting, “If the persecution of the bad ones is dreadful, that of the good ones is much worse.” St. Joseph Calasanz was denounced by his enemies to the Inquisition, but he was released unscathed, since he slept soundly while waiting in the hall. “A man who is able to fall asleep in these circumstances has nothing to hide.”
Only the integrity and humility of St. John Bosco prevented the dissolution of his work when his bishop accused him of libeling him. Being innocent, John Bosco knelt down and apologized for something he had not done. The future of the entire Salesian work was at stake.
In San Giovanni Rotondo, Padre Pio of Pietrelcina, accused of being an impostor, was relieved of his priestly duties for many years. Today he is recognized as a saint, mystic and miracle worker, and thousands of pilgrims visit his tomb every day.
St. Mary Mackillop, the first saint of the Australian continent, was unfairly accused of disobeying the local bishop, who excommunicated her without having confirmed the rumors. Today, Mary Mackillop is a saint, and the congregation she founded, the Sisters of St. Joseph of the Sacred Heart, continue their work for the poor and in education.
In the 19th century, St. Jeanne Jugan, the French founder of the Little Sisters of the Poor, was dismissed by the chaplain of the congregation, Father Le Pailleur, and sent to a remote convent to avoid having contact with the benefactor. The chaplain intended to attribute to himself the foundation and the work of Mother Jugan. She remained silent, occupied with the household chores of the convent until her death in 1879, when the whole truth became known.
St. Paul says, “All things work for good for those who love God.” The mistakes, blunders, weaknesses, even the bad intentions, are the pavement where we advance in our inner growth. We are not discouraged by what makes us suffer, nor do we become inflamed with satisfaction for the successes of the moment. Everything in its fair share, because everything that happens to us, suits us.
On a side altar of an old church, the faithful can see a splendid life-size image of James the Apostle — “Santiago Matamoros” — a carving that recalls the Battle of Clavijo, where the Christians, at clear disadvantage against the Muslim army, charged with unusual courage when they saw among the clouds the apparition of the patron apostle of Spain, who joined the battle to support them. The image in question represents the moment when the Apostle, mounted on a white horse, plunges a long spear into the heart of a Moor, already dying, lying at the feet of the horse.
An elderly woman who had quietly stood by my side told me very timidly, “Son, remove my doubt: Which one is the saint, the one on the horse or the black one on the ground? I have always prayed to the black one, and God has heard me many times because of his intercession.”
It cost me a lot of work to explain the symbolic meaning of the image. In the end, I think I did not convince her that the one who received the thrust was not a martyr sacrificed by a cruel Roman on horseback. “But he always grants me the miracles...”
Similar to Napoleon Bonaparte during the earthquake in Santiago de Cuba.
