Saint Peregrine Laziosi (1260-1345) did not write theological masterpieces like Saint Thomas Aquinas. He did not convert thousands of people in multiple countries like Saint Francis Xavier. He did not even become known as a miracle worker during his lifetime like Saint Martin de Porres. But most people today know someone—or many people—who have been diagnosed with cancer. For this reason, Peregrine has become a popular saint all over the world.

We don’t know much about Peregrine’s life. But we do know about two important events in his life, and to understand the first one, it will help to know a little Italian history.

During the Middle Ages, there was constant tension—and even sometimes outright violence—between secular leaders and the pope. Kings often wanted to leverage Church authority and money to advance their own political agendas, and popes often fought back. By the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, two powerful families controlled much of Italy, one taking the side of the pope, and the other taking the side of the Holy Roman Emperor. Dante included members of these families, the Guelphs and the Ghibellines, in his famous work, Inferno.

Just as people in a region today may lean toward a particular political affiliation because of longstanding history, so cities in Italy generally sided with one or the other of these two families. The city of Forli often supported the Ghibellines and the emperor, which was considered an act of rebellion since Forli was located in the Papal States. At one point, the pope punished Forli by placing the city under an interdict, which meant, among other things, that the faithful in that city could not receive the sacraments.

Peregrine was born an only child to wealthy parents in Forli. Like a lot of young men in every time and place, he had strong opinions about the political issues of the day. The citizens (and eighteen-year-old Peregrine) were incensed about the interdict, so the pope sent a Servite priest to Forli to mediate with the residents. That priest was heckled and threatened by the citizens, and Peregrine even struck the priest in his face with his fist. But the priest calmly responded as Jesus had taught his followers to do (Matt 5:39, Luke 6:29), and he literally offered the teenager his other cheek as well.

This simple, humble act brought Peregrine to his knees, and he asked for the priest’s forgiveness. He later sought out the priest whom he had attacked and decided to join the man’s religious order. The priest was Philip Benizi, a brilliant and holy man who eventually became the superior of the Servite order and is now recognized as a saint.

Peregrine became just as devoted to God and peace as he previously been to politics and anger. He carefully followed the rule of life of the Servants of Mary and was zealous in trying to live a life of spiritual perfection and virtue. For example, as a personal penance, he remained standing as much as possible, never sitting down, a practice that he continued for thirty years.

He was also ordained a priest and served in the city of Siena for many years. Eventually, he was sent back to his hometown to establish a Servite community. He became well-known for his preaching in Forli, and he was effective at bringing fallen away Catholics back to the Church.

After years as a Servite priest, at the age of sixty, he was diagnosed with cancer in his foot. (Some sources instead say the cancer affected his leg.) The swelling became painful, smelly, ugly, and persistent, and his doctor finally said that the only possible treatment was amputation. Obviously, the surgery would be done without modern anesthesia (because such things did not exist at the time), and there was a serious risk that he would die during or after the surgery.

But Peregrine had spent his life trusting in God, and he prayed with great peace the night before the surgery was to take place. When he woke up, the cancer was completely and inexplicably gone. After this miracle, Peregrine became widely known for his personal holiness, and he lived to be eighty years old.

Peregrine is certainly not the first or last saint to be diagnosed with cancer. From Saint Galla of Rome (sixth century) to Blessed Chiara Badano (twentieth century), many women and men have been diagnosed with cancer and have showed great peace and trustful surrender to God during their illnesses.

For example, two holy men—a martyr and an almost-martyr— who lived at about the same time but in different countries, were both told they had cancer. Blessed Edward Oldcorne (1561-1606) was an English priest who was forced to keep his vocation secret due to anti-Catholic persecution at the time. He was miraculously cured of throat cancer after a pilgrimage to Saint Winifred’s Shrine, but he was later arrested and tortured for the crime of being a priest. He died a martyr. On the other hand, Saint Joseph of Leonessa (1556-1612) was a Capuchin Franciscan priest. He traveled to Turkey to ransom Christians from slavery and brought many Muslims to the faith. For the crime of converting Muslims, he was tortured, but they eventually released him. He returned to Leonessa, Italy, where he later died of cancer.

Other holy men and women who have suffered with cancer include:

• Saint Émilie (Marie Guillemette) de Rodat (1787-1852)
• Saint Zelie (Marie-Azelie) Guerin Martin (1831-1877)
• Blessed Maria Anna Sala (1829-1891)
• Blessed Maddalena Caterina Morano (1847-1908)
• Blessed Marie Leonie (Alodie-Virginie) Paradis (1840-1912)
• Blessed Isidore of Saint Joseph de Loor (1881-1916)
• Saint Marie Bertilla (Anne Frances) Boscardin (1888-1922)
• Blessed Margarita María (María Pilar) López de Maturana Ortiz de Zárate (1884-1934)
• Blessed Liduina (Elisa Angela) Meneguzzi (1901-1941)
• Blessed Eustachius (Joseph) Kugler (1867-1946)
• Blessed Pere Tarrés i Claret (1905-1950)
• Saint Artemides Zatti (1880-1951)
• Blessed Lucia of the Immaculate Conception (Maria) Ripamonti (1909-1954)
• Blessed Charles Emmanuel Rodriguez Santiago (1918-1963)
• Blessed Giovanni Schiavo (1903-1967)
• Blessed Hanna Helena Chrzanowska (1902-1973)
• Blessed Stefan Wyszyński (1901-1981)

While there are many effective treatments—and even cures—for cancers today, even the prospect of suffering from cancer can be frightening. For those who are suffering from cancer and those who care for them, Saint Peregrine can be both an inspiration to trust in God and an intercessor during difficulties. Even today, each person needs the wisdom of the Holy Spirit when making medical decisions and the grace of perseverance when undergoing treatments. Catholic practices such as making a pilgrimage to a shrine of Saint Peregrine (such as this one in Chicago) or praying a novena to Saint Peregrine can help us become more open to God when facing cancer.

After all, Saint Peregrine has no power on his own to save anyone from cancer; it is Jesus Christ who is our Divine Physician and our Savior. But the life story of Saint Peregrine can give us hope when things seem hard or hopeless. And asking for his intercession reminds us that there are saints in Heaven who are cheering us on until the day when God calls us from this world into the next.

One of the most famous mystics in the history of the Church—Saint Catherine of Siena—is celebrated in the month of April. But there are three other canonized saints of April who have a great deal in common with the famous Saint Catherine (1347-1380).

All three of these overlooked saints died relatively young. All three were women who chose to remain virgins and to consecrate their lives to Christ. All three inspired many other Catholics during their lifetimes. And all three were mystics.

What does it mean to say that someone is a mystic? While the secular world may define a mystic in terms of esoteric or occult practices, Catholics prefer to use the term with respect to its root meaning, “a teacher of mysteries”. The mysteries in question are not Agatha Christie-style mysteries or magic-show mysteries, but mysteries of the Christian faith. The mysteries taught by Catholic mystics are the ones that a person can only learn by drawing so close to God that He reveals Himself in powerful and amazing ways.

The woman now known as Saint Teresa of Los Andes (1900-1920) was given a long name at her birth—typical for a girl born into an upper class family in Santiago, Chile—Juana Enriqueta Josephina de Los Sagrados Corazones Fernández Solar. She was a devout girl and made serious efforts to grow in virtue even when she was young. On the other hand, she could be as stubborn and bad-tempered as any other typical child, and she enjoyed swimming, playing tennis, singing, and dancing.

At the age of nineteen, she entered the novitiate of a Carmelite convent in Los Andes. A little less than a year later, she had died of typhus.

But Teresa spent that short year of her life influencing others just as Saint Catherine of Siena had done. That is, she wrote letters. Teresa’s spiritual letters offered advice and encouragement to family and friends. She also shared her mystical experiences and deep devotion in her diary, a devotion so personal that she wrote that she could hear Mary’s voice speaking to her. Because her example and writings influenced others long after her death, she was eventually canonized and is celebrated on the date of her death, April 12.

Most Catholics have heard of Saint Bernadette Soubirous (1844-1879), the girl who received multiple visions of our Blessed Mother at a grotto in Massabielle, France. Born into poverty and suffering from poor health all her life, the visions of Our Lady of Lourdes made Bernadette famous, although she tried to avoid attention as much as possible.

The Sisters of Notre Dame of Nevers accepted young Bernadette into the order when she was twenty-two years old. Some allege the sisters accepted her primarily to protect her from endless pestering from the faithful about her visions, and they only allowed her to take her religious vows because it was thought she was near death.

But Bernadette was more than just a person who received visions of our Blessed Mother. Like Saint Catherine of Siena, Bernadette’s words had worldwide impact. Her humble retelling of her unexpected visions led to a greater devotion to Mary, a world-famous center for healing, and seventy medically-inexplicable healing miracles. At the same time, Bernadette was a simple young woman who patiently bore endless questioning from both those who adored her and those who vilified her, along with illness and pain. She suffered from chronic asthma from the time she was a child, and it was the asthma, along with tuberculosis of the bones and lungs, that ultimately caused her premature death. Her incorrupt body can be found in the convent in Nevers where she died on April 16, 1879.

The life story of Saint Gemma Galgani (1878-1903) may sound like a novel, but it is a true story.

Gemma was born in Lucca, Italy, and was one of eight children. Her mother died when she was seven years old, her father died when she was nineteen, and some of her siblings died young as well. Although she wanted to enter the Passionist order, she recognized that her continual poor health made that impossible and instead tried to model her life around Passionist spirituality. Gemma was a beautiful young woman, and she received proposals of marriage after her father’s death. But she instead chose to stay and care for her three younger siblings with the help of an aunt and work as a housekeeper.

As is obvious from her diary, Gemma was a woman of great faith in God. She was diagnosed with spinal meningitis when she was sixteen years old and was expected to die, but she inexplicably recovered. She attributed that miracle to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and to the intercession of two saints, Saint Gabriel of Our Lady of Sorrows (who died in Lucca) and Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque.

Like Saint Catherine of Siena, Gemma received the stigmata. She was seen to levitate and go into ecstasies while she was praying. She was both respected and mocked by citizens of her city for her piety. Gemma eventually contracted tuberculosis and died on April 11, during Holy Week.

These three devout young women show us that understanding and teaching others about the mysteries of God are not tasks restricted to theology professors. They demonstrate that people of all ages can face physical and emotional suffering with trust in God. And they remind us that mystical gifts come at a price: the price of wholehearted dedication to prayer.

For all these reasons, these overlooked mystics can be as inspirational to us in the twenty-first century as Saint Catherine was in the fourteenth. We can turn to their example of struggling with our weaknesses, patiently accepting our daily crosses, and making prayer a priority in our lives. And we too can hope to become mystics who love God so deeply that His Spirit spills into the lives of those around us.

How should a leader lead? That is, how should a president, elected representative, executive board member, office superior, or other leader behave, make decisions, and treat the people he or she governs, at least from a Christian perspective?

Unfortunately, today’s culture does not often use a Christian perspective in its understanding of leadership. Instead, our culture encourages us to judge our leaders by all the wrong metrics. For example, modern media gives us endless access to public leaders’ off-the-cuff remarks, daily physical appearance, family squabbles, and many other personal matters that do not really indicate whether those individuals’ leadership is good, bad, or indifferent.

The teaching of the Church also allows considerable leeway in how a leader can approach many issues. For example, there is no magic percentage of taxation that is always permitted or prohibited. There are some boundaries involving faith and morals which a Christian leader can never cross, but those boundaries apply to every other follower of Christ as well.

However, as Christians, we should hope that our leaders will pattern themselves after the perfect leader: the King of Kings Himself. Three of the saints who are celebrated in the month of March—Blessed Charles the Good on March 2; Saint Cunegund on March 3; and Saint Matilda of Saxony on March 14—show us what a good leader should look like, at least for a Christian leader.

The father of Blessed Charles the Good was both a king and a saint. Canute, king of Denmark, died a martyr during a rebellion, and his son, three-year-old Charles (1083-1127), was taken to the nearby court of Flanders (modern Belgium) for his safety. Charles became a knight in the service of his uncle, Robert II, count of Flanders, and accompanied him to free the Holy Land from Muslim control during a crusade. Charles returned home and married Margaret, the daughter of a French count. After his uncle and cousin died (and after fighting and defeating other claimants to the throne), Charles succeeded them to become count of Flanders.

Why is Charles known as Charles the Good? Because that’s what his subjects called him. Charles recognized that his great duty as a Christian leader was to establish peace, justice, and charity for the wellbeing of his people. He established laws that protected the helpless poor from the greedy rich, and he enforced those laws so sternly that the rich and powerful were afraid to break them. Interestingly, one of his compassionate and innovative decisions was to prohibit children from being taken away from their parents without their consent. During a time of famine, he distributed large quantities of food to the poor, ordered the planting of fast-growing crops, and punished nobles who attempted to hoard food and sell it at exorbitant prices. In the end, it was those greedy nobles who plotted his death and sent knights to murder him in a church in Bruges. But Charles died as he had lived, doing his best as a Christian leader to protect those who were poor.

Saint Cunegund (978-c. 1033) was the daughter of the count of Luxembourg and married Henry, duke of Bavaria. Both Henry and Cunegund were devout Catholics. Although some traditions say that they lived as brother and sister, it is perhaps more likely that they were simply unable to have children. Childlessness was surely painful for them, particularly since having an heir would have encouraged stability for their nation.

Henry was a duke when he married Cunegund, but he later became king of Germany, then king of Italy, and then Holy Roman Emperor. Cunegund was much more than merely the wife of an emperor; she was Henry’s closest advisor, participated in imperial councils, and provided generous endowments for monasteries of nuns from her own resources. She negotiated with the pope for privileges for certain cities, and some said that protection granted by the empress was stronger than the walls of the city itself. Cunegund was a true helpmate to her husband, but she was also a wise woman who set a high standard for faith and morals for an entire empire simply by the way she lived her life.

A year after Henry’s death, Cunegund put aside her crown and entered a Benedictine monastery that she had newly founded. She spent the rest of her life living humbly in that monastery.

Saint Matilda of Saxony (895-968) was also born into the German nobility and married Henry I, king of Germany. Like Cunegund, she was well-matched in her faith by her equally pious husband. Unlike Cunegund, Matilda was not childless. There may have been moments when she wished otherwise.

Matilda also advised her husband and was generous in her support of monasteries. Two of her daughters married into other noble families, and one of her sons, Bruno, became bishop of Cologne, Germany, and is now considered a saint. But her eldest two sons, Otto and Henry, were in constant conflict after the death of their father, each wanting their father’s throne. Initially, Matilda supported her second son to succeed his father, thinking Henry would be better suited to be king. This favoritism caused even more trouble between the sons, although Otto was eventually named king. Otto and Henry later reconciled, at least outwardly. They also criticized their mother for her generosity with the poor and sent spies to spy on her. She patiently joked that at least her sons were united about something for once in their lives.

To put an end to their accusations, Matilda renounced her inheritance and retired to the country. But when multiple disasters occurred afterward in Germany, many people thought that this was due to God’s displeasure over the mistreatment of the widely loved Matilda. Her son Otto, encouraged by his wife, asked for his mother’s forgiveness, and Matilda was able to return to court. And she continued to help the poor, whether her sons liked it or not. Later in life, she retired to one of the monasteries that she had founded, where she died.

What does it mean to be a Christlike leader? These three saints remind us that while it is difficult for a leader not to be intoxicated by power or greedy for money, it is possible to be neither of those things. Sometimes being a good leader simply means ensuring just treatment of those under your control, helping those who need extra help, or patiently dealing with impatient people. That is how our Lord lived His life, and it’s what these three saints remind us to work toward in the month of March.

In the month of January, the Catholic Church remembers Saint Anthony the Great, who is considered the father of monasticism. Although he was not the first Catholic to leave the world behind and live in the desert, he is certainly considered the greatest of the early monastic leaders of the Church.

Many centuries later, the priest and future saint John of Kanti (1390-1473) was serving as a professor in Poland. Like Anthony, he also lived a life of prayer, fasting, and poverty. Perhaps out of jealousy over his academic achievements, people began to criticize the priest. They particularly warned John that his ascetic practices were too extreme and would lead to his premature death. John simply pointed out that the Fathers of the Church were famous not only for their holiness but for another reason: many of them lived very long lives.

In the Bible, we are told about the long lives of many great Jewish figures, with the clear implication that such people were greatly favored by God. For example, the Old Testament tells us that Abraham lived to be 175 years old and that Moses lived to be 120. Adam’s immediate descendants are recorded as having even longer lifespans; Methuselah, Adam’s great-great-great-great-great-grandson, lived to be 969 years old.

Why does the book of Genesis tell us that Adam and his descendants lived such long lives? There is debate over how to interpret these numbers. But Adam and the nine firstborn men of his line are all said to have lived well over 100 years, most over 900 years. That trend decreases sharply after Noah and the Flood. One simple interpretation is that the Bible is teaching us that human beings were designed to live longer lives, but the effect of sin since the Flood has dramatically reduced our lifespans.

God Himself says (in Gen. 6:3) “My spirit shall not abide in man for ever, for he is flesh, but his days shall be a hundred and twenty years.” This is born out by the example of the “meekest of all men”, Moses, who died at the age of 120 years.

There have been many holy people—including the Holy Innocents who died for Christ at the hands of King Herod the Great—who died young. Our Lord Himself died around the age of thirty-three. So one cannot say that only those who live long lives are blessed by God.

But it is not easy to convince people today that some individuals did live very long lives, even in ancient times. It is not uncommon today to hear someone say that people of the past only lived to be sixty years old, or fifty or forty or some other low number. The idea that people of the past did not live to great ages is based on the high rate of infant mortality, number of deaths in childbirth, and other causes of death that we are so fortunate to have reduced in modern times. It is certainly true that these causes dramatically affected the average age of death in past centuries. But that doesn’t mean that no one lived past the age of sixty before the twentieth century. Psalm 90:10 points out that our lives are full of troubles, whether we live to be seventy or eighty years old, indicating that at least some people in the ancient world did reach those ages. Proof of that fact, as Saint John of Kanti knew, can be found in some of the great ascetic saints of the Church.

Saint Anthony the Great (251-310) left his home to live in the Egyptian desert when he was a young man, and he lived to be 105 years old. His recipe for longevity included eating only bread and water (with a little salt) and only after sunset.

Saint Sabas (439-532) lived as a hermit in a cave in Turkey and mostly in solitude, although he also guided the disciples who gradually sought him out. He was ninety-one years old when he undertook a journey on foot. His mission was to ask the emperor to respond with mercy toward the people of a region who had recently rebelled against him. The emperor, recognizing Sabas’ great age, wisdom, and popularity, agreed to Sabas’ requests. Sabas died at the age of ninety-three.

Saint Theodosius the Cenobiarch (423-529) was inspired by the example of the ascetic Saint Simeon the Stylite; he left his family to become a pilgrim and later to live in solitude in a cave. Disciples flocked to him—despite his isolation and strict way of life—and he eventually had to build four separate churches to accommodate the different languages of all his monks. (Cenobiarch is his title, a title which means that he served as abbot over a group of men who lived in community.) At one point, the emperor sent Theodosius a heretical profession of faith and expected him to accept it; Theodosius sent him a fiery no in return. The emperor responded by continuing to persecute the faithful and banishing Theodosius. But the holy man outlived the emperor, returned to his monastery, and died at the age of 106.

Saint Alferius of La Cava (d. 1050) was a courtier who promised God he would become a monk if he recovered from a serious illness. After his recovery, Alferius kept that vow and became a monk at the Abbey of Cluny in France. Alferius later left to live alone as a hermit, but men sought out his wisdom and way of life. He eventually founded the great Abbey of the Holy Trinity of La Cava (La Trinità della Cava, Italy) and died at the age of 120.

But the winner of the longevity award for Christian ascetics has to be Saint Narcissus of Jerusalem (d. 215). Narcissus lived his entire life during the time when the Church was persecuted by the Roman Empire, yet he managed to reach the age of 100 before he was named bishop of Jerusalem. When he recognized that he wanted to spend more time in solitude, he left the city one day and did not come back. Two men succeeded him and served as bishop before Narcissus—still very much alive—returned to the city more than a decade later. Narcissus appointed a coadjutor bishop to help him with his duties, but he remained a strong leader during times of persecution until his death. He may have been 122 years old at his death, beating the great Moses by two years.

While the asceticism of these great saints may not be for everyone, it is easy to draw three conclusions from their example. First, these holy men show us that restricting food and other pleasures and replacing them with prayer, moderation, and solitude can be a recipe for a long life. Second, if we live lives of Christian self-control, others may be inspired to do the same. But most importantly, these holy men remind us that the most blessed life is one spent in the company of God.

I once heard a priest mention in a homily that most heresies have been started by smart priests. The fourth century priest Arius, for example, was a brilliant man, but he was so brilliant that he thought he knew better than the Church. The result was the heresy of Arianism, which not only led innumerable Catholics away from a true understanding of Christ, but also led to decades of persecution and many martyrs.

It is all the more remarkable, therefore, that Joseph Mary Tomasi is now considered a saint of the Church. (Note that his name is sometimes given by the Italian spelling, Guiseppe Maria Tomasi, and sometimes spelled Tommasi.) If you are born into a powerful family, are naturally gifted with a brilliant mind, receive an excellent education, and have all the money you could want, are you more likely to be a great saint or a great sinner? Sadly, there are many Christians who received such advantages and used them scandalously.

Joseph was born in 1649 in Sicily, and his father was a duke. His family members were exceptionally devout. His four older sisters became Benedictine nuns, his mother eventually entered a convent as an oblate, and his father wanted to leave the family title to Joseph and retire to religious life as well. But Joseph would not be deterred from his own religious vocation as a priest, and his father was stuck with remaining a powerful leader in the secular world.

Joseph loved to pray, and he loved silence. He was also attracted to the Theatines, a relatively small religious order which had been founded in the sixteenth century. The Theatines had been established as a relatively austere order, and because of the structure of the order, it tended to attract intellectuals and members of the aristocracy. It was hoped that members would not only preach the Gospel but also set a high standard of moral uprightness and intellectual rigor among the clergy. It was the perfect choice for Joseph, and he entered the order as a novice in 1664.

His older sister, who has also been declared a Venerable by the Church, encouraged Joseph in his spiritual life, although she did so long distance from her convent. Joseph himself lived almost like a hermit. He studied (and mastered) many subjects, including philosophy, theology, and eastern languages. His Hebrew teacher, a prominent rabbi, eventually entered the Church because of Joseph’s prayers and personal witness.

After becoming a priest, Joseph wrote many scholarly works, some under a pseudonym out of humility. His writings were so influential within the Church that people called him the “prince of liturgists”.

What made his work so memorable? Through his careful and thorough scholarship, he translated ancient liturgical texts and made them available to his contemporaries to study, opening up a new field of research in sacred liturgy. His writing showed his excellent education and brilliance, but it also showed his piety. He did not study liturgical texts to make a name for himself or as a mere intellectual exercise, but out of his deep devotion and love for God.

Many people also came to him for spiritual direction; one of his penitents was a cardinal named Giovanni Albani. Before entering a conclave to elect a new pope, Joseph told Albani that Albani should accept any attempt to make him pope and that to do otherwise would be a mortal sin. When Albani was then named pope, he got even with his confessor. He promptly named Joseph a cardinal, although Joseph tried hard to escape the honor.

Even while living in Rome as a cardinal, Joseph lived an ascetic life, kept a simple household, patiently bore his own health problems, and personally instructed children in the catechism. He died less than a year after being named a cardinal, on January 1, 1713.

Of course, Joseph is often overlooked on his feast day because his date of death, January 1, is celebrated as New Year’s Day by the world and as the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, by the Church. But a man who spent his life trying to avoid even the appearance of pride would not mind. Saint Joseph Tomasi’s entire life shows us that we should always work hard with whatever gifts God has given us—whether that be natural intelligence or fortune or powerful friends or none of the above—but always for God’s glory, not our own.

When my book about saints was first released, I was interviewed by Michael O’Neill, better known as the creator and host of the EWTN television show, Miracle Hunter. Before our interview started, I mentioned to him that I was interested in his out-of-print book, 365 Days with Mary. He told me that he was working on a new version, which I am hoping will be released sooner rather than later.

Personally, I have found the Catholic liturgical year to be invaluable in keeping my days, months, and years focused on Jesus Christ. That’s why I was intrigued by the premise of his book. That is, could every single day of the year can be linked to a devotion related to the Blessed Mother? There is at least one website offering a calendar of Marian feast days for every day of the year, but I have been hoping that someone would thoroughly research the subject and determine the origins of all of those dates. Are they related to dates when Marian apparitions occurred? Historical sites and events? Theological controversies? All three of the major Marian feast days currently celebrated by the Church in December can be attributed to one of those three causes.

On December 8, the Church celebrates the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of Mary. The doctrine of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin was defined by Pope Pius IX in 1854 in the papal bull Ineffabilis Deus, and the Catechism of the Catholic Church also includes an explanation of this teaching (see nos. 490-493). Although this definition occurred relatively recently, Catholics have been celebrating local feasts in honor of Mary’s conception (although not her immaculate conception) for over a thousand years, and generally around the date of December 8. For centuries, theologians and saints argued about how to explain Mary’s conception in such a way that it would show proper honor to the Mother of God but without detracting in any way from the Son of God Himself. Finally, in the nineteenth century, the pope confirmed and explained this teaching. If this teaching seems complicated to you, a simple, visual explanation is shown at the top of this article. Steve Ray’s Footprints of God: Mary video also has a memorable visual explanation of the teaching, which can be found in this excerpt on YouTube.

But what day of the year should be chosen for such a celebration? The month of December couldn’t be a better time. As we wait to celebrate the birth of Christ in Advent, we can remember that Mary needed a Savior, just like every other man and woman.

Pope Francis recently restored the commemoration of Our Lady of Loreto and made it an optional memorial in the universal calendar on December 10. Many faithful Catholics are familiar with the prayer called the Litany of Loreto, but there’s more to this celebration than a prayer.

The Basilica della Santa Casa is located in Loreto, Italy. According to tradition, this basilica contains the house in which the Blessed Mother lived in Nazareth. Some say the building was miraculously transported from Nazareth to Italy by angels; some say the house was relocated by a wealthy and aristocratic family with the last name of Angelos. If the latter explanation is true, it is easy to see how people came to believe the former. This Wikipedia page lays out arguments for and against theories about the house’s origin, and it also includes some photos of the lovely statue of Our Lady of Loreto and a beautiful marble screen that has been built around the house.

Why was this date restored to the calendar? Probably because pilgrims have been flocking to Loreto since the Middle Ages, perhaps earlier, and this feast day shows respect for the longstanding devotion of faithful Catholics. Why celebrate on December 10? Because the church in Loreto itself established that tradition. Why remember this date at all? Maybe because, while Wikipedia may scoff at reports of miracles at Loreto, ordinary Catholics do not.

On December 12, the Church celebrates the apparition of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico. In North, South, and Central America, this is commemorated with greater emphasis than elsewhere in the world; it is a feast day in the US.

Most Catholics know the story of Guadalupe, how a peasant named Juan Diego encountered a beautiful woman, how that mysterious woman encouraged him to go to the bishop and ask for a church to be built, how the woman’s image was inexplicably imprinted on his cloak, and how millions of native Americans saw God’s love for them in this miraculous event and became Catholics. There are many other miracles associated with these visions, such as the blooming roses that the Lady pointed out to him—in December— and the fact that Juan’s cloak has survived both the passage of time and a bombing attempt. Since Saint Juan’s final vision of Mary occurred on December 12, 1531, this feast is celebrated on that date.

There are many dates related to the Virgin Mary in the calendar of the Roman Catholic Church. There are even Marian feast days in the Eastern Orthodox Churches, Greek Orthodox Churches, the Greek Catholic Church, Anglican Churches, and Lutheran Churches, although not all are celebrated universally in those churches. But of all the Marian dates in December, the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe is the most notable—because it is the date that our Blessed Mother apparently chose herself.

There are some martyrs of the Church who could easily have been canonized as saints even if they had died of old age in their beds, rather than being killed for their Catholic faith. Saint Maximiliam Kolbe (1894-1941), for example, was widely known as a spiritual powerhouse long before he died in a bunker in a Nazi concentration camp, having offered to die for the sake of another man.

There are many Catholic martyrs about whom we know very little except the dates of their deaths and the fact that they chose to die rather than to betray their faith in Christ. This is certainly true for many holy martyrs celebrated by the Church in October.

For example, we know that many men, women, and children died as martyrs in North Africa in the year 483. This occurred because Huneric, king of the Vandals, ordered that anyone who refused to accept Arian teachings, a heresy which he followed, would be put to death. We don’t know the names or ages of all those who died as martyrs for rejecting Arianism, and we don’t know how many were priests, bishops, monks, nuns, or laymen. We just know that some of the Catholics in North Africa survived, remembered the faithfulness of those who had been killed, and kept track of the fact that there were 4,996 of them. For many years, African Catholics remembered those martyrs annually on October 12, and eventually that date was added to the calendar of the universal Church.

But there are other martyrs who are celebrated in October. Ten of them are particularly memorable.

The centurion who stood at the foot of Jesus’ Cross on Good Friday and said, “Truly this was the Son of God!” (Matt. 27:54) is traditionally known by Catholics as Longinus. Tradition also says that Saint Longinus died a martyr in what is now Turkey, and he has been remembered on the Church calendar (currently on October 16) for many centuries. But would we have reason to believe Longinus is a saint in Heaven if he hadn’t died a martyr?

A centurion in the Roman army was a soldier in charge of 100 men, and when he became a Roman soldier, he swore an oath to serve both the Roman Empire and the Roman gods. While Longinus surely didn’t understand all the theological implications of Jesus Christ’s Passion as it transpired in front of him, he clearly recognized that there was something extraordinary about this crucified Man. Jesus’ actions and words were so unlike those of every other condemned criminal whom Longinus had helped to crucify in the past that he publicly blurted out a profession of faith (surely inspired by God, see 1 John 4:15). For his recognition of Jesus Christ as the Son of God and his willingness to publicly proclaim it, Longinus shows us the faith of a saint.

Few writings from early Church leaders have been as influential as the writings of Saint Ignatius of Antioch (c. 69-107). Ignatius was the bishop of the city of Antioch (now Antakya, Turkey) when the Roman emperor Trajan entered the city and demanded that everyone, including the Christians living there, publicly worship the pagan gods. Bishop Ignatius was arrested and brought before the emperor himself, and when Ignatius refused to renounce his faith in Christ, he was ordered to be brought to Rome for execution. The emperor thought it would be good “entertainment” for the people of Rome to watch a Catholic bishop be fed to wild lions in the Colosseum. As Ignatius traveled to Rome in chains, the Christians of each city came to greet him along the way.

If they thought they needed to encourage Ignatius, they were wrong; Ignatius encouraged them, and he wrote letters to the Christian communities of six cities afterward. In one of the most famous passages of his letters, Ignatius begs the Catholics of Rome to not use their influence with Roman leaders to try to save him from martyrdom. Instead, he expresses his willingness to be literally consumed by wild animals. Just as amazingly, he ties this description to our teaching about the Eucharist, which we consume. Ignatius’ letters indicate the traditional Catholic understanding of what is now called transubstantiation, which is why many non-Catholics have found themselves becoming Catholic after studying the writings of Saint Ignatius of Antioch. For his theological depth as much as his fortitude in facing death, Ignatius is celebrated in the Church’s calendar on October 17.

The Jesuits of France sent many missionaries to the French colonies in North America in the seventeenth century. Eight of those missionaries died as martyrs in the New World and are celebrated together on October 19. All died particularly gruesome deaths and valiantly faced martyrdom, but one could argue that they could have been named saints even if they had not died at the hands of the native peoples they gave their lives to serve.

Imagine leaving a world of seventeenth-century conveniences—wagons, sailing ships, and printing presses, for example—and living among the members of a nomadic tribe, where comforts are few and where access to basic medical care and sometimes food is limited. Saint Noel Chabanel had volunteered to travel to North America to serve the native Hurons as a Catholic priest, but he found it very difficult to live as they did. Still, he remained at his assignment until his death.

On the other hand, Saint John de Brebeuf found that his previously poor health improved as he lived among the Hurons. He spent more than two decades among them, earned their respect, and wrote the first dictionary of their language. Saint Isaac Jogues lived among the Hurons but was captured and tortured by the Iroquois. He survived, returned to France to recover, and, rather than giving up, came back to North America to live among and serve the Hurons again, until he was killed.

All eight of these martyrs, just like the other Jesuit missionaries who came to North America in the seventeenth century, chose to live alongside the native peoples, share in their daily struggles, help those in need, and gently lead them to the Savior who teaches peace and forgiveness. Not only did the heroic deaths of these men lead to conversions among the native peoples, but less than ten years later, a little girl was born in a nearby Mohawk village. Through paths known only to God, these martyrs’ deaths apparently later gave birth to the “Lily of the Mohawks”, Saint Kateri Tekakwitha.

All of these martyrs of October are recognized by the Church for their holy deaths, but they should also be recognized for their saintly lives.

Saints Longinus, Ignatius, and the North American martyrs, pray for us!

May is the traditional month that Catholics particularly remember the Blessed Virgin Mary, but there are several lesser-known feasts associated with Mary in September that deserve our attention too. After all, these feasts teach us about God’s love for Mary and, by extension, for every Christian.

On September 8, the Church celebrates the nativity of Mary. Obviously, Mary’s birth (and the date on which it occurred) are not recorded in Scripture. Some apocryphal gospels—that is, early writings that relate stories about Jesus Christ but which were eventually excluded from the Bible—describe events surrounding the birth of Mary. Although the Church rejected these writings, those works indirectly pointed out the fact that Mary had a birthday, just like every other human descendant of Adam and Eve. Perhaps that is the reason that her birthday was celebrated in various areas for centuries until the pope himself added a litany and procession to its celebration in the Church in the late seventh century. The reason behind September 8 being chosen as the date is lost in time, but the practice of celebrating Mary’s birthday on the date of September 8 is very ancient.

On September 12, the Church calendar asks us to remember the Most Holy Name of Mary. Although this memorial was not added to the calendar until 1683 after a great battle in which Catholic forces were victorious, the idea of calling upon Mary’s name in time of need is not a new concept. After all, her name is the second word of a prayer that faithful Catholics recite daily: Hail Mary.

On September 15, the Church celebrates a memorial in Mary’s honor, under the title of Our Lady of Sorrows. The reason behind this date is rooted in an historical event. Some time after Saint Helena, the mother of the Roman emperor Constantine the Great, discovered the relics of the True Cross in Jerusalem, two churches were built there: one on Calvary and one at the site of the Holy Sepulchre. These churches were dedicated on September 14. Just as the Church eventually decided that it made sense to universally commemorate Jesus’ triumph on the Cross on September 14, so it made sense to remember the woman who stood faithfully at the foot of that Cross on September 15.

There are two other notable feast days of the Blessed Mother in September, although they are not celebrated in the universal calendar of the Church. But both are related to Marian apparitions that have been approved by the Church.

On September 19, 1846, two French children were walking on a mountain when they encountered a weeping woman. From her words and appearance, they eventually recognized this woman as the Blessed Mother. In this apparition, which was eventually approved by the Church, Mary wept over the faithlessness of the people of France, who were notably failing to observe the Ten Commandments. She begged the children to tell French Catholics to observe Sunday as a day of rest, stop using the Lord’s name in vain, and repent of other sins. There are signs that the French people obeyed the instructions of Our Lady of La Salette, as she came to be called, and averted the punishments of God that she warned would otherwise result.

On September 24, probably in 1218 (the exact year is debated), our Blessed Mother appeared to Saint Peter Nolasco and encouraged him to establish a religious order with a unique purpose: ransoming slaves. At the time, Christians were being captured by Muslims in Spain and on ships at sea and were being forced into lives of slavery. Saint Peter became a priest and devoted his life to the difficult vocation of raising funds from Christians and entering Muslim lands to negotiate for the release of those Christian captives. The religious order he founded became known as the Mercedarians, and it was placed under the patronage of Mary under the title of Our Lady of Ransom.

What do these feasts teach us about the Mother of God? They remind us that Mary was just a human being, like every one of us, with a birthday and a date of death. They remind us that God knows her by name—as did the angel Gabriel, who greeted her and related God’s invitation for her to become the Mother of God—just as He knows us by name. These feasts remind us of Mary’s readiness to suffer and stay close to her Son, even in His blackest moments, as we do particularly every Lent and Good Friday. And they remind us that God in Heaven cares about our sins and our sufferings and is ready to send the Blessed Virgin Mary to encourage us or correct us when we need help, just as any good mother would do.

Christians believe in the communion of the saints. After all, that’s something we proclaim every Sunday during the Apostles’ Creed, and to be a Christian is to believe that at least some of the holy men and women who have preceded us in life are waiting for us in Heaven. But how can we know the names of those saints?

I previously blogged about the complicated question of whether or not the martyr Philomena is really a saint. I’ve also blogged about the history of the process of naming of saints here. But I am often asked a related question: how can I be sure that [insert name of a particular holy person] is really a saint?

This question could lead to a much deeper philosophical question about how we know things at all. Your knowledge of the color blue, your own name, whether or not there are cookies in your kitchen, and of the existence of God, for example, are different things. But let’s set those questions to one side.

Instead, let’s examine the lives of some of the more famous saints celebrated in the month of August. Assuming that certain men and women have been canonized or beatified by the Catholic Church, can ordinary Christians recognize the reasonableness of those decisions? Based on our understanding of God, our understanding of ordinary human nature, and our own natural reason, can we agree that it’s reasonable to believe that certain holy men and women are saints in Heaven?

Saint John Vianney, the nineteenth century priest of Ars-en-Dombes, France, is celebrated as saint by the Church on August 4. As a modern saint, we have many sources of information about him and his life. While John intentionally diverted attention away from details about himself—and the miracles that resulted from his prayers—the 230 villagers of Ars reported what they saw during the decades that he lived among them. Thousands of faithful Catholics traveled to Ars, generally to go to Confession with the famous priest. Even secular newspapers of the day wrote about him, and John received the award of the imperial cross from France’s secular government out of respect for his positive effects on the country. It was not difficult to acknowledge John to be a saint.

Saint Dominic de Guzman (feast day August 8), on the other hand, was born in 1170 in Spain. Although Dominic became the priestly founder of the Order of Preachers (often called the Dominicans after him) and traveled widely during his lifetime, he, like John, never wrote a biography. In fact, although the most famous Dominican—Saint Thomas Aquinas—was a prolific theological writer, Dominic himself appears to have left behind no theological works. However, he did found a religious order that has a unique charism which has inspired thousands of men and women to join the order over the past eight hundred years, and many of those men and women have become known as saints and blesseds. If you think it is a trivial thing to establish a religious order, just think about how hard it would be to establish, say, a business, particularly one that would still be around in eight centuries. Saint Dominic de Guzman is therefore also easy to recognize as a holy man and a saint.

Saint Lawrence the Deacon (August 10) died a martyr in the third century. Although his death occurred during a time of Roman persecution of the Church and although written records were lost or often nonexistent during that time, our certitude about Lawrence’s existence and even the year of his death is fairly high. That’s because he was executed just a few days after his famous boss: Pope Saint Sixtus II.

In the year 258, the Roman emperor Valerian sent his soldiers into the catacombs to execute the pope during the middle of Mass. Lawrence was not killed at that time, but that was only because the Romans wanted to confiscate any treasures that the Church possessed, and deacons were often placed in charge of sacred items. When Lawrence showed up a few days later with what he considered the treasure of the Church—the poor—the authorities were not amused. He was roasted slowly over a fire and famously quipped to the executioner to “turn me over because I am done on that side”.

Did that really happen? Actually, we have good reasons to believe that it did. After all, Roman soldiers executed a lot of people, and making jokes is not the typical way that people respond to torture. Lawrence’s response was memorable and quickly became popular news throughout Rome. The proof that Lawrence really did face his death with bravery and humor is shown in the remarkable number of conversions to the faith that occurred in the city of Rome after his martyrdom. The fact that so many people converted to the faith at that time, as well as the fact that a strong devotion to Lawrence can be traced back to the early centuries of the Church, strongly indicates that the story of his holy death is no mere story.

Saint Augustine of Hippo is celebrated by the Church on August 28. One of the most brilliant and prolific saints in the history of the Church, few people would argue against his holiness. Augustine’s biography, Confessions, is a remarkable and frank autobiography but also a spiritual classic. In this book, Augustine reveals the ugliness of his youthful sins, as well as his sins of the flesh and the intellect. Unlike modern autobiographies which are typically all about me, me, me, Augustine’s autobiography is certainly about Augustine, but also a lot about God.

But while describing his life, Augustine also discusses his friends and family, particularly his long-suffering mother, Monica, who is commemorated on August 27 in the Church’s calendar.

Being the mother of a saint does not earn you the right to be named a saint. (Sorry, moms.) But Augustine’s autobiography is an important document in the Church’s decision to honor Monica as a saint. In Confessions, Augustine explains how his mother raised him in the Catholic faith (though he rejected it), repeatedly invited him to be baptized (though he refused), followed him in his travels and gently confronted him with his sinful lifestyle (though he responded by running away to another city). She never stopped praying for him and loving him, even when he seemed so far away from God that a lesser woman might have given up hope. With the help of Monica’s tears and prayers, Augustine finally opened his heart to God. She died soon after his conversion, having “prayed” her son into the Church, becoming a model for every mother of a prodigal child since the fourth century. Her son’s miraculous conversion was no small miracle, either for her or for us.

Blessed Teresa Bracco, remembered by the Church on August 29, is not nearly so well-known as Augustine and Monica. In 1944, she was only a twenty-year-old woman living in a little village in Italy during World War II. German soldiers looted the countryside and entered her town. One of those German soldiers kidnapped Teresa, dragged her into the woods, and tried to rape her. She died during the attempt.

Those details alone would not be enough to canonize Teresa Bracco. Sadly, there have been many rape victims during wartime in the history of the world. But there is more to Teresa’s story than that.

Teresa was only nine years old when she saw a holy card of Saint Dominic Savio, an Italian boy who lived a holy life and died young. The holy card included Dominic’s famous quote: “Death rather than sin.” Teresa was so moved by that quote that she pasted the holy card over her bed and kept it there for years. She became the sort of devout, modest young woman that the other villagers noticed, precisely because she was so “different”. That is, she was prayerful, charitable, and an exemplary student, and she seemed to have a profound devotion to the Blessed Sacrament.

When Teresa disappeared in August of 1944, villagers went looking for her, and they found her body in the woods. They realized not only that she had been assaulted but that she had vigorously tried to stop her attacker, so vigorously that the man had killed her with particular brutality. That’s when they recognized that Teresa was not just a typical twenty-year-old woman. Instead, having spent several years meditating on God’s love for her and His hatred of sin, she had become the sort of Catholic who was willing to die to try to stop someone from committing a sin. And that is a sign of holiness.

At the end of the month of August, on the 31st, the Church remembers two saints whom all Christians know by name: Saint Joseph of Arimathea and Saint Nicodemus. These two men are described in the Gospels. They were followers of the Lord, tried to defend Him during his trial, and even brought His body to Joseph’s tomb after His death. But how do we know that they are saints?

First, both men are described repeatedly in the Gospels by name. This indicates that it is likely that they were members of the early Christian community. They, just like the apostles, had personal stories to tell about their encounters with Jesus Christ, and they surely told them to other Christians.

Second, there are ancient traditions about the two men that have come down to us. According to one tradition, Joseph of Arimathea brought the chalice from the Last Supper—the Holy Grail—to England because he owned mines in England. One tradition about Saint Nicodemus says that he was martyred with Saint Stephen. Granted, the validity of these traditions is open to debate.

But Saints Joseph and Nicodemus are recognized by the Church as saints for the same reason as are all the other men and women in this list. That is, they were followers of Jesus Christ, but there was something profound and personal about the way they followed Him. They accepted whatever vocation that God had given them—as a priest, a religious founder, a deacon, a theologian, a mother, a young woman, or an older man—and they lived that vocation wholeheartedly, trusting in God to work big and small miracles through them.

Each of these saints of August reached a point in life where they had fulfilled their vocation, just as Saint Monica had done when she saw her wayward son fully converted. They recognized that the end had come and, as good and faithful servants, they entered into the joy of their Master in Heaven (Matt. 25:21). And that is why we call them saints.

July and August are hot months of the year for the northern hemisphere, and the summer heat always weighs more heavily on those people who are sick or older. That’s why August is traditionally (and somewhat bluntly) known as the “dying month” in Rome, at least in the years before air conditioning.

Since feast days for the saints are usually assigned to the date of death, it’s not surprising that there are more individual saints and blesseds on the Church’s calendar in those two months than in the other months of the year. But for some reason, the month of July beats out the month of August in one category: the number of holy popes. There are nine popes who are saints or blesseds in August, but ten in the Church’s calendar for July. Who were those men?

On July 3, we remember Pope Saint Leo II, who died in the year 683. Most Catholics have probably never heard of him, but the Church honors him particularly for two reasons. First, he condemned a heresy called Monothelitism which was spreading through the Church at the time and causing confusion. Second, he publicly recognized and condemned the fact that his predecessor, Pope Honorius (who is certainly not a saint of the Church) did not speak up against that heresy.

On July 7, Blessed Benedict XI (1240-1304) is remembered by the Church. Not only was Benedict a wise man, a great preacher, and a successful Church leader in many positions before his election, he was determined to live a humble, penitential life even as pope. Soon after becoming pope, his mother showed up to see him and was very elegantly dressed. Too elegantly dressed, the pope thought. Benedict insisted that she go home and change into more typical clothing before he would see her. His personal emphasis on moderation and simplicity was the hallmark of his unfortunately short reign.

On July 8, both Saint Adrian III (d. 885) and Blessed Eugene III (d. 1151) are listed on the calendar. Adrian reigned for only a year, but he was a strong leader who sought to protect Christians from a potential Muslim invasion of Europe. Eugene was a Cistercian monk before becoming pope and was a disciple of the influential Saint Bernard of Clairvaux. Like Bernard, Eugene sought to reform abuses within the Church; for that reason, his reign was marked by outbreaks of violence, often from those whose financial success was based on perpetuating those abuses of Church power. But Eugene was a likeable, generous man who continued to live like a monk, even when he was pope.

On July 11, we remember an early pope: Pius I (d. 155). Records from the early days of the Church are sometimes sparse because the Roman empire did not only persecute Catholics by killing them, but it also destroyed their property, written records, and copies of Scripture. However, we know that Pius responded to curb multiple heresies that were spreading in the Church while he was pope and that he died a martyr for the faith.

On July 17, Pope Saint Leo IV (d. 855) is celebrated. When Leo was elected pope, the city of Rome had been repeatedly attacked by Muslim Arabs and was almost defenseless. Leo recognized that the safety of the people of Rome was a priority, so he ordered a new wall to be built around the city. He also fortified fifteen towers around Rome. This construction became known as the Leonine City in his honor. Not only did the people of Rome love Leo for his strong leadership and his dedication to protecting the city, they publicly recognized him as a miracle-worker through his prayers even during his lifetime.

On July 19, we remember Saint Symmachus (d. 514), who was physically attacked by the forces of an anti-pope soon after his election. After a violent and complicated political controversy, Symmachus was finally recognized as the true pope and was able to do what is typically expected of a pope: defend the teachings of the Church against the false teachings of the day.

On July 27, Pope Saint Celestine I (d. 432) is included in the Church’s calendar. Celestine was a strong leader who opposed the heretical teachings of Nestorius and Pelagius, and one of his writings became a founding document for early canon law.

On July 28, Saint Victor I (d. c. 199) is remembered. Although the Catholic Church was technically illegal in the Roman empire at the time, the persecution of Catholics appears to have abated during most of his reign. Victor was able to focus on trying to settle a serious problem that vexed the Church for centuries afterward: what is the proper date to celebrate Easter? Victor’s writings were praised by Saint Jerome of Stridon, a brilliant scholar who was not an easy man to impress. Although we don’t have all the details, it is clear from early records that Victor died as a martyr.

On July 29, we remember Blessed Urban II (d. 1099). Urban was a monk and then a cardinal before becoming pope, and he was elected during a particularly tumultuous time. Violence, feuding, and an anti-pope (who, of course, claimed to be the true pope) forced Urban to leave Rome. But even though his enemies forced him into debt and exile, Urban continued to act like a pope. He held councils and insisted on greater ecclesiastical discipline. When Christians living in the Holy Land were attacked, he called for a Crusade to protect Christians from Muslim violence. He even tried to make peace with the Orthodox Church and bring about a reconciliation soon before his death.

What do these ten popes teach us about the papacy and about holiness? Each man faced different challenges as pope based on circumstances outside his control, such as political unrest, power struggles, false teachings, and even simple disagreements between faithful Catholics. But each man impressed his contemporaries with his holiness, faithfulness, and dedication to leading the Church of Christ. For that, we can honor them in July.