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Of people |
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Here are several articles about unusual and interesting people, of ages past, the recent past and the present.
Saint Joseph, Foster Father of Jesus - a just man Saint Joseph, who used to be one of the more popular saints, has become a forgotten and undervalued saint – though I guess it really has to be said that most of the once familiar saints of the Catholic Church have gone much the same way: our secularised world knows the names of the participants in Big Brother, but little of the long and grand traditions of our Christian heritage. The once popular feasts of the Sacred Heart, Corpus Christi (I find it odd that a US battleship is named the Corpus Christi - a battleship named the Body of Christ!), Our Lady of Lourdes, Our Lady of Fatima, Our Lady of Loreto, the saints – Anthony, Francis of Asissi, Ignatius Loyola, Agnes, Catherine of Sienna, Teresa of Avila, Therese of Lisieux (though her bones were recently amongst us and drew many pilgrims)– all gone, all forgotten, save by the elderly, devoted few. So it is with Saint Joseph, that archetypal “just man” of the Scriptures. Little is known of him. The Gospel of Matthew gives him most space and tells the story of Jesus’s conception, birth and infancy from Joseph’s point of view (while Luke concentrates on Mary). Matthew gives the genealogy of Jesus from Joseph’s side and then goes on to speak of the birth of Jesus as understood by Joseph. The angel of the Lord appears to Joseph in a dream – in the Old Testament tradition of such divine revelations – and tells him: “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived by her is of the Holy Spirit”. Joseph had been understandably upset to discover that Mary was pregnant: he knew he was not the father. His response is a model of decency and much to be admired. Let me ask you to consider what would be the normal response today if a young engaged man found his fiancée pregnant to someone else. I do not need to spell it out. And Joseph’s response? “Being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, he resolved to divorce her quietly” (Matthew 1:19). That would have to one of the most gracious and selfless actions in the history of the human race. No court case, no television interviews, no million dollar fee from a newspaper for an exclusive story; no bitching, no whingeing, no screaming torrents of abuse or threats of vengeance, no macho posturing. Picture him: a healthy, attractive young guy from Nazareth (and let’s forget the aged and therefore sexually non-threatening image of Joseph which has featured in holy pictures and statues for years), well known amongst his mates, popular in the town, a good craftsman – and his fiancée becomes pregnant to someone else. How much does he stand to lose in the small town where everyone’s business was everyone’s business! And his response – remember that this was before the personal revelation he received - “being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, he resolved to divorce her quietly”. I think there is a lot to learn there for men of all ages, a lesson to counterbalance the behaviour and response expected today when things don’t go our way, when “all occasions do inform against us”. A Man of Our Times – Joseph of Nazareth Angry Fiancé Sues Nazareth Virgin. “In an exclusive interview given on Eleven Seconds (NITS – North Israel Television Service), well known Nazareth building contractor, Joe Carpenter, went public for the first time on his hurt and disappointment at being stood up by Maria Virginia, Miss Galilee for this year (AUC 753 according to the Roman Calendar imposed on our country by the Governor in Jerusalem). In a dramatic turn of events, the soon to be announced wedding of this popular couple-about-town is off. Joe says he will sue the hapless Miss Mary (as the kindy kids call their much loved teacher) for breach of promise; he says she is pregnant and he denies he is the father. ‘If I get my hands on the … responsible, I’ll murder him, and I’ll sue the … for everything she’s got. I won’t settle for anything less than two million drachma’, an emotional, angry Mr Carpenter told our ace reporter for Galilee, Matthew Taxman. ‘She’s made me the laughing stock of the town. It’s costing me business. It’s upsetting my mother – she can’t sleep, or cook my meals or do my washing. I can’t even go the tavern without my mates taking the joshua out of me.’ We’ll keep you posted on events as this drama unfolds.” And so the work of the Lord that day came to nothing because Joseph did spit forth his dummy and did gnash his teeth, weep and curse mightily. ******** The story of course, is quite different. The extraordinary thing about Joseph is that in one of the few passages about him in the Scriptures he is called a “just man”. No greater tribute could be paid to this decent, good, gentle man. The story goes this way: “When Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together, she was found to be with child by the Holy Spirit. And her husband Joseph, being a just man, and unwilling to put her to shame, decided to divorce her quietly.” (Matthew 1:18-19) The man displays the great virtues of modesty and humility. No fuss, no macho posturing, no death threats, no middle finger thrusting towards the voracious cameras, no drawing attention to himself as the wounded party, no guns, no revenge, no screaming abuse from the housetops, no media conference. No refusing to take personal responsibility, blaming others like the government, the medical system, the education system, poor parenting or being so drunk he didn’t know what he was doing. He deliberately chose to salvage what was good from a difficult, embarrassing, unpleasant, hurtful situation It’s got to be a fairy story, hasn’t it! Things don’t happen like that in real life. Surely deep down we can only admire Joseph for a truly courageous and truly human response. He displays genuine strength and models the Jesus who later in Matthew’s Gospel calls himself gentle (“Learn of me for I gentle and humble of heart” Matt. 11:29). And it’s worth pointing out that the word gentle – much debased in our understanding of Jesus – is a weak translation of what should be “controlled power”. Joseph is a real man. The Eternity Man – Arthur StaceMany Sydneysiders of my age have a clear recollection of the Eternity man. Not that I ever saw him – few did (even my revered and omniscient grandmother didn’t! – and she knew them all: Bea Miles, Tilly Devine, Mr Menzies!)– but I saw his elegant script a number of times around the city. It was a regular reminder that we “have not here a lasting city, but look for one that is to come” (Hebrews 13.14), and of that extraordinarily challenge of Jesus: “What’s the point of gaining the whole world and losing your soul!” (Mark 8:36) What a pity that this gentle reminder of things beyond ourselves should be hijacked by the Sydney City Council who, it seems, have patented it! Arthur Stace would be turning over in his grave, along with thousands of other Sydneysiders, alive or dead. Arthur Stace? Arthur Stace was born in Balmain in 1884. His father and mother were drunkards as were his two brothers and two sisters (who were also prostitutes and brothel keepers.) Now we shouldn’t be too po-faced about drunkards and brothel keepers, because if we read the genealogy of Jesus Christ as found in Matthew, we find a number of that good man’s ancestors guilty of incest, prostitution and adultery. Even in the best of families … ! After a chequered career that saw him in and out of pubs, courts, jails, the army, as cockatoo for two-up schools and gangs of burglars, Stace found himself one day at St Barnabas’s Church in Broadway – for earthly food and drink, certainly not for spiritual sustenance. But Archdeacon Hammond was a clever man: the Rock of Ages before the rock cakes and tea. That’s where his conversion started. Some months later he attended a meeting at the Burton Street Baptist Church in Darlinghurst where he heard the preacher cry out: “I wish I could shout the word Eternity throughout the streets of Sydney.” Stace when he left the church that day wrote the word on the footpath in the beautiful copperplate script that was soon to become so familiar to Sydneysiders from Wynyard to Central Station, from Paddington to Glebe. Arthur Stace could barely write his own name: he had had no schooling, he was not particularly literate and his normal handwriting was illegible. But there the word was for all to see, as clear as day. Of all the times I saw it on the city footpaths, the clearest memory is of the word, written in yellow waterproof crayon alongside the wall of what was Toohey’s brewery in Elizabeth Street, just down from Foveaux Street. Stace was almost arrested several dozen times, but his message derived from a response to a higher power than the local law. He wrote the word an estimated half a million times before he died in 1967. The word belongs to Sydney, not to any corporation. The word is from the beginning, not from any commercial source. The Bible writes of it; it is part of the way we understand the message of Jesus; the poets and prophets write about it. Marcus Aurelius (Roman Emperor from 161 AD) reflected: “Every pinprick of time is a pinprick of eternity. All things are petty, easily changed, vanishing away.” Shakespeare reminds us: “Who buys a minute’s mirth to wail a week? Or sells eternity to get a toy?” In an age desperately seeking the spiritual, any reminder of eternity is a wise word: we Sydneysiders have our very own image of eternity. It is ours and should not be taken away from us. Padre Pio Santo Just in case you missed it, there is a new feast day in the Church, that of Padre Pio Santo (Saint Padre Pio, or Father Pius), to be celebrated by the whole Catholic Church on 23 September. I think I am right in saying that among the 457 canonisations (including Marcellin Champagnat) proclaimed by the present Pope (more than all the canonisations by all the other Popes in history), Padre Pio is the only saint to be accorded a universal celebration in the Church Who was this remarkable man? In an age of scepticism, not to say unbelief, his story may seem weird, but his life has drawn millions of people to venerate his life and holiness. In fact some 300,000 people attended his canonisation in Rome on Sunday 16 June this year – a crowd of 400,000 was planned for, but the ferocious Rome heat kept many away. The ceremony was seen on huge television screens down the Via della Conciliazione all the way to Castel Sant’Angelo on the Tiber, as well as on national television. The day concluded with a concert and fireworks. He was born Francesco Forgione, one of five children, in 1887, and died in 1968. At the age of fifteen he entered the Franciscan seminary and was ordained eight years later. From the beginning he was different: given to excessive self-denial, fasting and long hours of prayer, he would sometimes slip into ecstasy and take over two hours to say Mass. During WWII he went AWOL and his superior sent him to the friary of Our Lady of Grace, San Giovanni Rotondo, a mountain-top town in the south of Italy. There his mystical life deepened: he began to see himself primarily as victim, suffering with Christ on behalf of others; he struggled with demons and yet was engaged in a long arduous journey in prayer of utter union with God In September 1918 he was afflicted with the stigmata: the five wounds of Jesus (hands, feet, side) opened up in his body and poured forth a perfumed blood. (Saint Francis of Assisi is the best known stigmatist, though some believe Saint Paul was similarly afflicted – blessed?) The heart wound bled continually for several days a week, and the whole phenomenon caused him much embarrassment. He was subject to medical and ecclesiastical investigation: scientists and doctors came to San Giovanni Rotondo to examine him and were surprised that their fingers could meet through the wounds and that the blood, which remained constantly fresh, was perfumed. One archbishop set spies on him and declared he had proof that the wounds were created with the aid of carbolic acid and eau de cologne. The archbishop was the one to be discredited. Padre Pio spent as many as twelve hours in the confessional each day, for people flocked to him for healing and reconciliation. He could be brusque and sharp tongued, and would sometimes send penitents away with an earful of abuse and a box across the ears, if he believed they were not genuine in their repentance. He was also believed to have the gift of bilocation – the ability to appear in different places at the same time. There were several miracles attributed to his intercession, which the Church still requires for canonisation. One was the inexplicable recovery of a little boy from meningitis: Matteo Colella was eight years old when he contracted meningitis in January 2000. His father is a doctor at the Casa della Sofferenza, the hospital which Padre Pio founded in San Giovanni Rotondo. The now ten year old Matteo received his first Communion from Pope John Paul II at the canonisation ceremony. Padre Pio was canonised not because of the stigmata or his supposed ability to bilocate but because of the holiness of his life: his prayer and charity and his union with God in personal prayer are the key to his holiness – prayer, and prayer in action, as it always has to be, for us as well. If we are to celebrate his holiness we are called to imitate it to some degree in our own lives, however humble and ordinary they might be. (The material for this account comes from The Tablet, an English Catholic Weekly, 15 and 22 June 2002). |