Brother Andre (1845-1937 )

Alfred Bessette was born Aug. 9, 1845. At his birth he was so weak that his parents baptized him.

Alfred's father moved the family to Farnhan in 1849 where he hoped to lift them from poverty while working as a lumberman. He died five years later when he was crushed by a falling tree. Alfred was nine at the time.

His mother found herself widowed at 40 with 10 children in her care. Three years later she died of tuberculosis, having never fully recovered from the shock of her husband's death. Much later, Brother Andre was heard to say: "I rarely prayed for my mother, but I often prayed to her."

The family was dispersed. At age 12, Alfred was forced to leave school to learn a trade and to look for work. He began thirteen years of wandering from job to job with few belongings and very little reaming; he was barely able to write his name or read his prayer book.

In spite of his physical weakness, Alfred tried to make a living as an unskilled worker. He traveled from job to job as an apprentice and was easily exploited by those stronger than him. For a time, he worked on construction projects. Later, he made his living as a farm boy, tinsmith, blacksmith, baker, cobbler and coachman.

Following the flow of French-Canadian emigrants, he went to the United States and worked four years in the textile mills. Even in poor health, he put his whole heart into his work. "Despite my weak condition, I did not let anyone get ahead of me as far as work was concerned," he said later.

In 1867, he resumed to Canada with thousands of others who were to witness the dawn of the Canadian Confederation.

Three years later, Alfred presented himself as a candidate at the novitiate of the Congregation of Holy Cross in Montreal. Because of his uncertain health, his superiors had doubts concerning his religious vocation. Finally, he was accepted and given the name Brother Andre. He was made porter at Notre Dame college and was known to say: "When I entered the community, my superiors showed me the door, and I remained there 40 years without leaving." He also washed floors and windows, cleaned lamps, brought in firewood, and worked as messenger.

Soon Brother Andre started to welcome the sick and broken-hearted. He invited them to pray to St. Joseph to obtain favors. Before long, many people reported their prayers were being answered. For 25 years, in his small office or in the tramway station across the street from the college, Brother Andre spent six to eight hours a day receiving visitors. He built a chapel with the help of friends and with the money he earned giving haircuts to the students of the college. He was certain that St. Joseph wanted a place on the mountain and he spent his whole life preparing a beautiful shrine in the saint's honor.

In the meantime, there was talk of healings which doctors could not explain. Brother Andre began visiting the sick and earned the reputation of miracle-worker. But he strongly protested: "I am nothing ... only a tool in the hands of Providence, a lowly instrument at the service of St. Joseph." He went even further: "People are silly to think that I can perform miracles. It is God and St. Joseph who can heal you, not I."

His aloofness in the presence of strangers contrasted sharply with the carefree side he showed friends. He loved to tease. He would often say: "You must not be sad; it is good to laugh a little." Brother Andre was always cheerful and tried to communicate his happiness to others, especially to the poor and unfortunate. He used his sense of humor to share his joy and to slip some good advice into a conversation, or to change the subject when a verbal attack on someone was brewing.

He was a man of determination who refused to compromise his principles. His great respect for others was largely responsible for the respect others had for him. He was a very sensitive man. At times, he could be seen crying with the sick or being moved to tears after hearing a particularly sad story from one of his visitors.

During all these years, an immense project was being realized and larger crowds were swarming to the Oratory. The first small chapel had been erected in 1904, but it soon became too small to receive all the people who were coming to the mountain. The chapel was extended in 1908 and again in 1910. Still, a larger church was needed.

In 1917, a new crypt church, able to hold a thousand persons, was inaugurated. This, however, was only the starting point of an even more important endeavor. During his whole life, Brother Andre devoted his efforts to building the Oratory, which was to become the world's greatest sanctuary dedicated to St. Joseph.

And yet, Brother Andre never referred to "my project, my work". On the contrary, he said: "God chose the most ignorant one. If there was anyone more ignorant than I am, God would have chosen him instead of me."

When crowds came to the Oratory for important celebrations, Brother Andre would go into seclusion. He would hide behind the choir and pray quietly.

The economic crisis of 1931 forced the construction of the basilica to come to a standstill. In 1936, the authorities of the Congregation of Holy Cross called a special meeting to decide if the project should continue, especially since snow and frost threatened to damage the roofless structure. The provincial summoned Brother Andre for his opinion. The aging brother had only a few words for the assembly: "This is not my work, it is the work of St. Joseph. Put one of his statues in the middle of the building. If he wants a roof over his head, he'll take care of it."

Two months later, the congregation had the necessary funds to continue working on the construction.

Brother Andre assigned great importance to meeting and greeting people. He spent long hours in the office where thousands came to see him. In the evenings, he visited homes or hospitals accompanied by one of his friends.

In fact, he was so good-natured and put so much humor into these daily outings that some considered him to be an "old gadabout" who liked to travel around in a friend's car. But Brother Andre replied: "There are some who say that it is for pleasure that I visit the sick, but after a day's work, it is far from being for pleasure...."

His kindness and compassion were matched by a sharpness of mind which prompted him to say: "It is surprising that I am frequently asked for cures, but rarely for humility and the spirit of faith. Yet, they are so important...."

On another occasion he said: "If the soul is sick, one must begin by treating the soul." His often repeated questions were well known: "Do you have faith? Do you believe that God can do something for you? Go confess yourself to the priest, go to communion and then come back to see me." These were the words he used constantly when asked for favors and cures.

Brother Andre understood the sense and the value of suffering and spoke with depth when addressing the subject. "People who suffer have something to offer to God. When they succeed in enduring their suffering, that is a daily miracle."

To someone who was suffering, he said: "Do not seek to have these trials lifted from you. Instead, ask for the grace to bear them well."

There are people who still claim to have received the gift of healing from Brother Andre and yet he always denied that he had any gift of healing. "I have no gift and I cannot give any."

Generally, he encouraged people to see a doctor for treatment. To doctors, he said: "Your work is good. Your science was given to you by God. You must thank Him and pray to Him."

"God," he said, "is love and he loves us; that is the heart of the Christian faith."

"God gave us the commandments and it is in observing them that we show whether we love God. Pray that you may obtain a true love of God. God loves us so much. He wants us to love Him."

Brother Andre's way of speaking about God helped him succeed in sowing seeds of hope in the people he met. One of his friends said: "I never brought a sick person to Brother Andre without that person returning home enriched. Some were cured. Others died some time later, but Brother Andre had consoled them."

To live in God's house is heaven, Brother Andre said: "You know, it is permitted to desire death if one's unique goal is to go toward God. When I die, I will go to heaven, I will be much closer to God than I am now; I will have more power to help you."

A few months before his death, those around him heard him cry out, "I am suffering so much, my God! My God!" And then, in a very weak voice: "Here is the grain," as if referring to the Gospel ["Unless the grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone. But If it dies, it brings forth much fruit" (Jn 12, 24)].

"He spent his whole life speaking of others to God, and of God to others," said a friend of Brother Andre's. It is difficult to say at what point in his life work began and ended, and at what point prayer started and ended: the two seemed to flow so naturally one into the other. He died Jan. 6, 1937, at the age of 92, and newspapers reported that more than a million people attended his wake and burial.

His body lies today in a simple tomb in the beautiful basilica that rises gracefully on Mount Royal. To this day, thousands of visitors come to St. Joseph Basilica to receive physical and spiritual healing.

For the canonization of Brother Andre:

Lord, you have chosen Blessed Brother Andre to spread devotion to St. Joseph and to minister to all those who are afflicted. Through his intercession, grant us the favor that we are now requesting. . .

We also pray that the Church may canonize him as soon as possible. Grant us the grace to imitate his piety and his charity so that, with him, we may share the reward promised to all those who care for their neighbor because of their love for you.

Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

(Taken from the "National Catholic Register," July 21, 1996. )

Saint Elizabeth Bayley Seton

ELIZABETH was born in New York of a very distinguished family on August 28, 1774.

Her mother Catherine Charlton was the daughter of the Episcopalian Rector of St Andrew's church, Staten Island, while her father Dr Richard Bayley was not only a noted physician, but also professor of anatomy at King's College, an institution later to develop into Columbia University.

It was her father who undertook in a somewhat unorthodox fashion, though with remarkable success, Elizabeth's education, for her mother died when she was only three years old. In 1794 Elizabeth married a young merchant of ample means, William Magee Seton, and she bore him two sons and three daughters. But their happiness was short-lived.

William Seton lost his fortune, and with it his health, and though they went to Italy in an attempt to effect a cure, William died there in December 1803. His widow remained on in Italy, staying with friends, until the May of the following year, and during that time her natural piety was strongly attracted to Roman Catholicism.

When, upon her return to the United States, this attraction became apparent, she met a good deal of opposition from her family and her friends. Nonetheless she persevered, and on March 14, 1805 she was received into the Catholic Church. This step, which estranged her from her family, left her in some financial difficulty. She therefore welcomed the invitation from a priest to establish a school for girls in Baltimore.

The school opened in June 1808. Even while her husband had been alive, Elizabeth had devoted much time to the care of the poor in New York, and had founded the Society for the Relief of Poor Widows with Small Children. So active had she and her friends been, that Elizabeth became known in the city as 'the Protestant Sister of Charity'.

Now in Baltimore she again gathered around her a group of like-minded women, and there was the possibility of establishing formally a congregation of nuns. In the Spring of 1809 the community based on the school in Baltimore formed a community, the Sisters of St Joseph, and from that time onwards Elizabeth, as their superior, was known as Mother Seton.

In the June of that same year Mother Seton and her community moved to the town of Emmitsburg in north-west Maryland and there, with some modifications and adaptations, the Sisters took over the rule of the Daughters of Charity of St Vincent de Paul. The congregation from 1812 onwards was therefore known as the Daughters of Charity of St Joseph. It spread rapidly. The sisters established orphanages and hospitals, but they gained most renown for their commitment to the then burgeoning parochial school system, which became one of the glories of the Catholic Church in the United States.

In moments caught from running her congregation, Mother Seton not only herself worked with the poor and with the sick, but found time to compose music, write hymns and prepare spiritual discourses, many of which have since been published.

It was at Emmitsburg that Elizabeth died, on January 4, 1821, by which date her congregation, the first to be founded in America, numbered some twenty communities spread right across the United States. Her cause was introduced in 1907 by Cardinal Gibbons, himself the successor in the see of Baltimore of Archbishop James Roosevelt Bayley, a nephew of Mother Seton, and she was canonized in 1975. She is the first native-born North American to be raised to the altars.

Saint Rose of Lima

Rose of Lima has a special claim on our interest for she has the honor of being the first person born in the Western Hemisphere to be canonized by the Church. Only a little more than half a century before her birth, the fabulous land of Peru had been discovered and seized for Spain by the explorer Francisco Pizarro. In 1533 this enterprising conquistador subdued the native population and took over as his capital the inland city of Cuzco, with its strange Inca temples, palaces, and great fortress. Two years later the seat of government was transferred to Lima, a city on the coast, which came to be called the "royal city of kings," because of its architectural splendors. Dominican friars and the representatives of other religious orders were in the vanguard of a great migration from Spain and Portugal that meant a long, dangerous journey across the Atlantic, across the Isthmus of Panama, and down the western coast of South America. To implant Christianity in the new empire was a major aim; while the civilian population, European and native, were working the mines and raising products for export, the friars and priests were intensely active. They taught, preached, learned the native languages, tried to win the love and confidence of the Indians, and soon were engaged in building churches, hospitals, and schools.

The child who became St. Rose of Lima was born on April 20 1586, of a Spaniard, Gaspar de Flores, and Maria d'Olivia, a woman who had Inca blood in her veins. The infant, one of ten children born to the couple, was baptized Isabel, after an aunt, Isabel de Herrara, who acted as godmother. This ceremony took place at home, for the baby was extremely weak. Several weeks later the tiny infant was carried to the nearby church of San Sebastian for baptism by the priest, Don Antonio Polanco. By the time she was confirmed by Archbishop Toribio of Lima, the name Isabel had been replaced by Rose, and this was the name now bestowed on her. Rose had a fresh, lovely complexion, and she was worried by the thought that this name had been given as a tribute to her beauty. So sensitive was her conscience that she had genuine scruples over bearing the name, and on one occasion, after hearing someone praise her comeliness, she rubbed pepper into her face to mar it; another time, she put lime on her hands, inducing acute suffering. This was her way-a way conditioned by the time and place-of fighting a temptation to vanity. Such self-imposed cruelties, as we have seen in the lives of some of the other saints, have not been uncommon, particularly among those of a mystical bent.

Rose seems to have taken for her model St. Catherine of Siena, and, like the earlier saint, she experienced so ardent a love of God whenever she was in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament that exaltation completely filled her soul. Yet Rose was not without a practical side. Her father had been well-to-do, but when he lost money in mining ventures, the family's fortunes reached a very low ebb. Rose helped out by selling her fine needlework; she also raised beautiful flowers and these too were taken to market. One of her brothers, Ferdinand, was sympathetic and understanding toward this sister who was so markedly "different." As she grew to maturity, her parents were anxious to have Rose marry, and indeed there were several worthy aspirants for her hand. Rose did not wish marriage, and, to end the arguments and offers, she joined the Third Order of St. Dominic, donned the habit, and took a vow of perpetual virginity.

For many years Rose lived virtually as a recluse. There was a little hut in the family garden, and this she used as an oratory. She often wore on her head a circlet of silver studded on the inside with sharp points, in memory of the Lord's crown of thorns. Other forms of penitence which she inflicted on her body were floggings, administered three times daily, the wearing of a hair shirt, and the dragging of a heavy, wooden cross about the garden. She rubbed her lips with gall and often chewed bitter herbs to deaden the sense of taste. Both eating and sleeping were reduced to a minimum. Naturally her health was affected, but the physical disorders which resulted from this regime-stomach ailments, asthma, rheumatism, and fevers-were suffered uncomplainingly. This manner of life offended her family, who preferred their daughter to follow the more conventional and accepted ways of holiness. Finally, when Rose began to tell of visions, revelations, visitations, and voices they deplored her penitential practices more than ever. She endured their disapproval and grew in spiritual fortitude.

In spite of the rigors of her ascetic life, Rose was not wholly detached from happenings around her, and her awareness of the suffering of others often led her to protest against some of the practices of the Spanish overlords. In the new world, the discovery of unbelievable mineral resources was doing little to enrich or ennoble the lives of the Peruvian natives. The gold and silver from this land of El Dorado was being shipped back to strengthen the empire and embellish the palaces and cathedrals of Old Spain, but at its source there was vice, exploitation, and corruption. The natives were oppressed and impoverished, in spite of the missionaries' efforts to alleviate their miseries and to exercise a restraining hand on the governing class. Rose was cognizant of the evils, and spoke out against them fearlessly. Sometimes she brought sick and hungry persons into her own home that she might better care for them.

For fifteen years Rose bore the disapproval and persecution of those close to her, as well as the more severe trial of desolation of soul. At length an examination by priests and physicians was indicated, and this resulted in the judgment that her experiences were indeed supernatural. Rose's last years were passed in the home of a government official, Don Gonzalo de Massa. During an illness towards the end of her life, she was able to pray, "Lord, increase my sufferings, and with them increase Thy love in my heart." This remarkable woman died on August 25, 1617, at the age of thirty-one.

Not until after her death was it known how widely her beneficent influence had extended, and how deeply venerated she was by the common people of Lima. When her body was borne down the street to the cathedral, a great cry of mourning arose from the crowd. For several days it was impossible to perform the ritual of burial on account of the great press of sorrowing citizens around her bier. She was finally laid to rest in the Dominican convent at Lima.

Later, when miracles and cures were being attributed to her intervention, the body was transferred to the church of San Domingo. There it reposes today in a special chapel. Rose of Lima was declared patroness of South America and the Philippines; she was canonized by Pope Clement in 1671, August 30 being appointed her feast-day. This holy woman is highly honored in all Spanish-American countries. The emblems associated with her are an anchor, a crown of roses, and a city.

Saint Benedict of Nursia

In our modern world, we talk fast, we travel fast, and we even pray fast. Have you ever attended rosaries where people seem to say the words at breakneck speed -- apparently more worried about finishing before Mass starts than savoring each word? Our impatience to get to the end, our focus on completion rather than process is a real danger in reading Scripture when every word is from God and has a power all its own. Benedict knew that power because he took the time to let it work within him.

In the fifth century, the young Benedict was sent to Rome to finish his education with a nurse/housekeeper. The subject that dominated a young man's study then was rhetoric -- the art of persuasive speaking. A successful speaker was not one who had the best argument or conveyed the truth, but one who used rhythm, eloquence and technique to convince. The power of the voice without foundation in the heart was the goal of the student's education. And that philosophy was reflected in the lives of the students as well. They had everything -- education, wealth, youth -- and they spent all of it in the pursuit of pleasure not truth. Benedict watched in horror as vice unraveled the lives and ethics of his companions.

Afraid for his soul, Benedict fled Rome, gave up his inheritance, and lived in a small village with his nurse. When God called him beyond this quiet life to even deeper solitude, he went to the mountains of Subiaco. There he lived as a hermit under the direction of another hermit, Romanus. After years of prayer, word of his holiness brought nearby monks to ask for his leadership. He warned them he would be too strict for them, but they insisted -- then tried to poison him when his warning proved true.

So Benedict was on his own again -- but not for long. The next set of followers were more sincere and he set up twelve monasteries in Subiaco where monks lived in separate communities of twelve.

He left these monasteries abruptly when the envious attacks of another hermit made it impossible to continue the spiritual leadership he had taken.

But it was in Monte Cassino he founded the monastery that became the roots of the Church's monastic system. Instead of founding small separate communities he gathered his disciples into one whole community. His own sister, Saint Scholastica , settled nearby to live a religious life.

After almost 1500 years of monastic tradition his direction seems obvious to us. But Benedict was an innovator. No one had ever set up communities like his before or directed them with a rule. What is part of history to us now was a bold risky step into the future.

Benedict had the holiness and the ability to take this step. His beliefs and instructions on religious life were collected in what is now known as the Rule of Saint Benedict -- still directing religious life after 15 centuries.

In this tiny but powerful Rule, Benedict put what he had learned about the power of speaking and oratorical rhythms at the service of the Gospel. He did not drop out of school because he didn't understand the subject! Scholars have told us that his Rule reflects an understanding of and skill with the rhetorical rules of the time. Despite his experience at school, he understood rhetoric was as much a tool as a hammer was. A hammer could be used to build a house or hit someone over the head. Rhetoric could be used to promote vice ... or promote God. Benedict did not shun rhetoric because it had been used to seduce people to vice; he reformed it.

Benedict did not want to lose the power of voice to reach up to God simply because others had use it to sink down to the gutter. He reminded us "Let us consider our place in sight of God and of his angels. Let us rise in chanting that our hearts and voices harmonize." There was always a voice reading aloud in his communities at meals, to receive guests, to educate novices. Hearing words one time was not enough -- "We wish this Rule to be read frequently to the community."

Benedict realized the strongest and truest foundation for the power of words was the Word of God itself: "For what page or word of the Bible is not a perfect rule for temporal life?" He had experienced the power of God's word as expressed in Scripture: "For just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down and do not return there till they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful, giving seed to him who sows and bread to him who eats, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; It shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it" (Isaiah 55:10-11).

For prayer, Benedict turned to the psalms, the very songs and poems from the Jewish liturgy that Jesus himself had prayed. To join our voices with Jesus in praise of God during the day was so important that Benedict called it the "Work of God." And nothing was to be put before the work of God. "Immediately upon hearing the signal for the Divine Office all work will cease." Benedict believed with Jesus that "One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of God' " (Matthew 4:4).

This prayer, called the Divine Office, was to be chanted from the breviary at specific times of the day. If a monk could not make it to chapel, he was to immediately fall to his knees in the place where he in the fields, in the stable, wherever he was and perform the Work of God under the vault of the sky. There was nothing special about praying in a chapel -- or praying outdoors -- but there was something very special about the prayer. "We believe that God is everywhere," but "without doubt, we believe this is so especially when assisting in the Divine Office." The Church still believes Benedict's and considers the Divine Office the prayer of the Church.

But it wasn't enough to just speak the words. Benedict instructed his followers to practice sacred reading -- the study of the very Scriptures they would be praying in the Work of God. In this lectio divina, he and his monks memorized the Scripture, studied it, and contemplated it until it became part of their being. Four to six hours were set aside each day for this sacred reading. If monks had free time it "should be used by the brothers to practice psalms." Lessons from Scripture were to be spoken from memory not read from a book. On Benedict's list of "Instruments of Good Works" is "to enjoy holy readings."

This sacred reading, however, was a study in love, not intellect. Not just an exercise of the mind, it was an exercise of contemplation so that "our voices and hearts harmonize." Each word of God would soak into their minds, their hearts, their very souls, so that the prayers would spring up from the depths of their being, not just from their memory. "We realize that we will be heard for our pure and sorrowful hearts, not for the numbers of our spoken words." A heart was pure when it was empty of all but God's Word and our desire to remain in God's Word.

First came the lectio, reading the Scripture until a phrase was found that inspired the person to stop. Our natural tendency would be to read the phrase and think about what it means, what it has to do with our lives and then move on. But that was not part of sacred reading.

The next step was to memorize the phrase, repeat it over and over and over from memory without reading it, without thinking about it, just repeating it, until it seemed to be coming from the heart not the voice, until the power of the Word of God could take over.

When the phrase had lost all meaning except that power, the person would fall silent, still not thinking, but letting the inspiration of the Holy Spirit speak about the meaning in the heart. And finally the person would sink into contemplation, going beyond the voice, beyond the intellectual understanding, to sit in the presence of God in the divine Word.

In one story of Benedict's life, a poor man came to the monastery begging for a little oil. Although Benedict commanded that the oil be given, the cellarer refused -- because there was only a tiny bit of oil left. If the cellarer gave any oil as alms there would be none for the monastery. Angry at this distrust of God's providence, Benedict knelt down to pray. As he prayed a bubbling sound came from inside the oil jar. The monks watched in fascination as oil from God filled the vessel so completely that it overflowed, leaked out beneath the lid and finally pushed the cover off, cascading out on to the floor.

In Benedictine prayer, our hearts are the vessel empty of thoughts and intellectual striving. All that remains is the trust in God's providence to fill us. Emptying ourselves this way brings God's abundant goodness bubbling up in our hearts, first with an inspiration or two, and finally overflowing our heart with contemplative love.

Benedict died in 547 while standing in prayer before God.