St. Mark Ji Tianxiang
And me.
A childhood friend of my family said I was weird on FB yesterday. He was reacting to a piece of art I posted. I laughed.
I began thinking about a couple of weird saints I admire, whose stories I will share here.
St. Mark Ji Tianxiang
Mark Ji Tianxiang was an opium addict. Not had been an opium addict. He was an opium addict at the time of his death.
For years, Ji was a respectable Christian, raised in a Christian family in 19th-century China. He was a leader in the Christian community, a well-off doctor who served the poor for free. But he became ill with a violent stomach ailment and treated himself with opium. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do, but Ji soon became addicted to the drug, an addiction that was considered shameful and gravely scandalous.
As his circumstances deteriorated, Ji continued to fight his addiction. He went frequently to confession, refusing to embrace this affliction that had taken control of him.
Unfortunately, the priest to whom he confessed (along with nearly everybody in the 19th century) didn’t understand addiction as a disease. Since Ji kept confessing the same sin, the priest thought, that was evidence that he had no firm purpose of amendment, no desire to do better.
Ji’s confessor told him to stop coming back until he could fulfill the requirements for confession. He couldn’t stay sober, but he could keep showing up. And show up he did, for 30 years. For 30 years, he was unable to receive the sacraments. And for 30 years he prayed that he would die a martyr. It seemed to Ji that the only way he could be saved was through a martyr’s crown.
In 1900, when the Boxer Rebels began to turn against foreigners and Christians, Ji got his chance. He was rounded up with dozens of other Christians, including his son, six grand children, and two daughters-in-law. Many of those imprisoned with him were likely disgusted by his presence there among them, this man who couldn’t go a day without a hit. Surely he would be the first to deny the Lord.
But while Ji was never able to beat his addiction, he was, in the end, flooded with the grace of final perseverance. No threat could shake him, no torture make him waver. He was determined to follow the Lord who had never abandoned him. - Finish reading here.
St. Andreas Wouters, Martyr of Gorcum
The Gorkum Martyrs.
In 1572, the Netherlands had fallen culturally and politically into Protestant hands, and Catholics of the country became objects of persecution for Lutherans and Calvinists alike. As town after town fell to Protestant control, the Catholic clergy of the area were arrested and often tortured. The goal of this mistreatment was not death, but apostasy.
The pirates demanded that these nineteen priests and religious deny the Real Presence and the authority of the Pope. They refused, much to their captors’ distress. Despite a plea for leniency from William of Orange, the Dutch prince and leader of the Protestant Rebellion, the Calvinists of Gorcum transferred their prisoners to nearby Brielle, where they were martyred outside of town in a dilapidated shed. Their bodies were horrifically desecrated both before and after their deaths, out of mockery for their priesthood.
One of the secular priests, Andreas Wouters was notorious for his unchastity. When accused of this by his captors, he offered his famous reply, “Fornicator I always was, but heretic I never was.” - SourceTo be continued...
Blessed Charles de Foucauld might be included in the list of weird saints - he founded an order without disciples - yet he was faithful. Likewise, Matt Talbot, Benedict Joseph Labre, and others - specifically the fools for Christ - whose names I can't recall at the moment, were faithful, a bit odd, and definitely not successful - just faithful. So remember, if you found an order of monks and you are the only member, remain faithful. If you blunder through life, yet remain faithful despite everything, you can stand erect - if you remain faithful. No one can ever take the last place away from Christ.
I enjoyed this post very much, Terry.
ReplyDeleteI think perhaps St. Mark Ji would be a very appropriate patron saint for all those who are in the grips of opioid addiction (isn't it strange how "opioid" sounds so much like "opium"?) It must be a dreadful thing to survive while bearing this burden. But it is so beautiful to know that even with this, we can still keep trying to be pleasing to God, and to never give up.
I am very fond of Blessed Charles, I think because he reminds me of my beloved St. Francis. Like my good St. Francis, he was an upper-class soldier who was a party boy, who enjoyed having a good time. And then, through the grace of God, he found his true vocation in serving God.
The common denominator with all the saints you mentioned, and St. Francis as well, is that none were perfectly pure, and all struggled with human failings and temptations. But they still pushed themselves to please God and make something beautiful out of their lives for Him. It is a great example for me, in my mediocre life and with my endless shortcomings and sins - God *never* gives up on us, and if we are repentant and determined to reform our lives and live His will, He will be waiting for us.
Thank you for the very positive and encouraging article, dear Terry, and God bless and protect all here! Susan from Akron
Thanks much Susan!
DeleteSusan, an opioid is a compound resembling opium in addictive properties or psychological effects, so it's no accident that the root of the word is opium.
ReplyDeleteI have, years ago, read about Bl. Charles de Foucauld. Indeed a strange man with strong obsessions. He kept waiting for new recruits to just show up at his desert hermitage. They never did. He interacted with Muslims near him in a charitable way but never sought converts. He was killed by bandits. I believe the Little Brothers of the Poor came after his death. I would include Thomas Merton, aka Fr Louis, on your list Terry. He underwent a profound conversion and never fully fit into the Trappist mold. Rumor has it he was looking to escape Gethsemani and find his own hermitage somewhere on the West coast. The Abbot so feared his defection he had him under close survellience. He consented to Merton's request to travel to the East as a way to keep him. Ironically it was the way he, and us all, lost him in this life.
ReplyDelete