Saints above! – McSherry’s Musings

There is the story of an old woman who went to Rome, in the late 1960s, to talk to Pope Paul VI. A most prayerful and observant Catholic, she told the Pope she was worried about the state of the world and the direction in which it was going. In words of comfort, Pope Paul responded, “There’s a saint on every street.”

I don’t know who is the saint on our street, but I’m fairly sure it’s not me. Not that I despair; it was Oscar Wilde who said, “Every saint has a past, and every sinner, a future.”

No doubt, there are saints all around us. How often we hear the expression, especially of the Irish mother, “She’s a wee saint”.

She probably is, but just hasn’t officially received the halo.

I was recently made aware that Maximilian Maria Kolbe is the patron saint of journalists. To give him his official title: Saint Maximilian Kolbe is also venerated in the Catholic Church as patron saint of drug addicts, political prisoners and prisoners, once referred to here as Ordinary Decent Criminals, families and radio operators. Some of us would tick a few of those boxes.

Raymund Kolbe, born in Poland (January 8, 1894- August 14, 1941) was a Francscian Friar who volunteered to die in place of another poor soul in the German death camp of Auschwitz during World War II.

Among his many activities, pastoral and otherwise, he operated an amateur-radio station (SP3RN), and founded or ran several other organisations and publications.

He was canonised by Pope John Paul II in October 1982, and declared ‘The Patron Saint of Our Difficult Century’. His feast day is August 14… next Sunday.

A few years ago, I attended local Mass, and one of the offertory prayers called on the congregation to pray for journalists and reporters to ‘tell the truth’.

Yikes!

That got my attention… As if journalists were the villains but no call for priests, politicians or others to do likewise. It’s not the biggest chapel, and a quick scan revealed there wasn’t another hack in sight!

That week, ‘The Magdelene Women’, who when teenage girls became pregnant out of wedlock and were cruelly thrown into workhouses run by the Catholic Church, received an official apology from the Irish government and President Michael D Higgins.

Now middle-aged and older adults, in most moving scenes, they attended receptions at Áras an Uachtaráin and the Mansion House (official residence of the Mayor of Dublin), as people of similar age lined the streets with hugs and a ‘céad míle fáilte’ (one hundred thousand welcomes).

There was no offertory prayer for those ladies that morning.

Weeks later, I met another priest from the parish outside the local supermarket. “Here!” ses I, “till I tell you this one…” On being asked which priest was the culprit, I got the most wonderful answer, “Ah sure, don’t mind him.”

Enough said. “Thank you, Father!”

Prayers to saints seem to be the preserve of Catholics, although I am no expert on these things. American Bishop, Robert Barron, explains, “We ask the saints to intercede for us. God delights in that. God is not in competition with that, but rather, he glories in his love and providence to channel his graces through these secondary causes. In other words, that’s a fancy way to say it’s okay to ask the saints to intercede for us.”

A Church of Ireland friend, devout to her faith, tells me her church has a different view: “Some do pray to saints, but the majority pray to God,” she explained.

“Protestants would believe that God is the Almighty, and is without sin. Saints are normal people who did good work, but should not be worshipped like a God. We still are grateful for saints like St Patrick, who brought Christianity to these shores, but would not pray to him.”

It’s nothing to fall out about!

Saint Maximilian Kolbe is, of course, a modern saint. There were some in the old days that most likely didn’t exist. In a stock-taking exercise in 1969, alas St Christopher, patron saint of travellers, was struck off the list as ‘there wasn’t enough evidence that he ever existed’.

There was the religious student who visited the library in Rome and asked, “Do you have proof of the actual existence of St George?” The dusty old cleric replied, “Yes, and the dragon.”

Back in the New York days, I was a janitor in St Brendan’s School on 207th Street in the Bronx. It doubled with odd jobs about St Brendan’s Church next door. St Brendan (c. AD 484 – c. 577) is primarily renowned for his legendary journey to the Isle of the Blessed.

The roof of the church is shaped as the hull of a large boat, with a statue of St Brendan on the waves out front… I liked that.

’Is it right or left for Gibraltar, what tack do I take for Mizen Head? I’d love to settle down near Ventry Harbour’, St Brendan to his albatross he said.” (St Brendan’s Voyage – Christy Moore).

St Augustine, too, is an inspiring saint who said, “Lord make me pure, but not yet!”

I might just venture to Mass on Sunday, feast day of St Maximilian Kolbe, patron saint of journalists, in the hope that he gets a mention!

“No-one in the world can change Truth” – Maximilian Kolbe.