August 4
St. Jean-Marie Vianney, the Curé of Ars

To approach God, one should go straight to him, like a ball from a cannon.

Jean-Marie Vianney (1786-1859), the patron saint of parish priests, experienced great difficulties in following his own vocation.  He was a poor student and had great difficulty mastering Latin.  Thanks to the care and guidance of his own parish priest, Father Balley, he was eventually ordained in August, 1815.  On the death of Father Balley, he was assigned to the tiny village of Ars, where he undertook the care of 230 souls.

A story is told that in the heavy fog Jean-Marie lost his way to Ars and stopped to ask a boy for directions.  The boy pointed out the right road, and the saint told him:  "You have shown me the way to Ars.  Now I will show you the way to Heaven."  And this is exactly what he did.  By his incessant, fervent prayer, fasting, pleading, preaching, visiting, he was an irresistible force for good in this tired and depressed little village.  Within a few years, the village was a different place, and word began to spread about the holy Curé.  Pilgrims came to hear him preach and especially to go to confession to him. By the end of his life, the Cure spent up to eighteen hours a day in the confessional; often people waited in line for three days to confess to him.

His frankness (and sometimes, his harshness) was proverbial.  One man passed through the village with his dog and an idle intention of seeing what the fuss was about.  He was converted instantly when the saint, passing by, saw him and said:  "Sir, it is greatly to be wished that your soul were as beautiful as your dog!"  Hundreds of similar stories are told of the intense impact of his transparent simplicity and holiness.  He was canonized by Pius XI in 1925.

In His Own Words
"My Flesh, " said Our Lord, "is meat indeed. . . . The bread that I will give is my Flesh, for the life of the world:' The bread of souls is in the tabernacle. The tabernacle is the storehouse of Christians. . . . Oh, how beautiful it is, my children! When the priest presents the Host, and shows it to you, your soul may say, "There is my food. " O my children, we are too happy! . . . We shall never comprehend it till we are in Heaven. What a pity that is! 

August 10
St. Lawrence, Deacon & Martyr

These are the treasures of the Church.

In his recent encyclical, Deus Caritas Est, Pope Benedict XVI recalls the story of St. Lawrence, Deacon and Martyr:  "As the one responsible for the care of the poor in Rome, Lawrence had been given a period of time, after the capture of the Pope and of Lawrence's fellow deacons, to collect the treasures of the Church and hand them over to the civil authorities. He distributed to the poor whatever funds were available and then presented to the authorities the poor themselves as the real treasure of the Church. Whatever historical reliability one attributes to these details, Lawrence has always remained present in the Church's memory as a great exponent of ecclesial charity."

The greatness of this action did not save Lawrence's life.  He was sentenced to death by being roasted alive on a gridiron.  According to tradition, Lawrence joked with his tormentors as he was dying.  "Turn me over," he said.  "I'm done on this side."

An ancient poem in honor of Saint Lawrence
Therefore the prefect is enraged,
And a glowing bed made ready.
The torment-bearing instrument,
The gridiron of his suffering,
Roasteth his very viscera,
But he laugheth it to scorn.
The martyr sweateth in his agony,
In hopes of crown and recompense
Which is allotted those with faith,
Who struggle for the sake of Christ.
The court of heaven rejoiceth
For his warfare-waging,
For he hath prevailed this day
Against the lackeys of wickedness.
That we, then, may attain the gift of life,
By this our patron, be glad, O our choir,
Singing in the church upon his feast-day
A joyful alleluya.

from the Mass of Saint Laurence, Old Sarum Rite Missal, 1998, Saint Hilarion Press

August 28
Saint Augustine of Hippo

You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts will find no rest until they rest in you.

The great Saint Augustine, bishop and doctor of the Church, tells the story of his conversion in unforgettable terms in his Confessions.  The child of a devout Christian (St. Monica, whose feast we celebrated yesterday!) and a pagan, Augustine grew up in the company of Christians but was not baptized.  He describes how he avoided the idea of becoming a Christian because of the great changes it would demand in his personal life.  His search for the truth lasted for years.  When his conversion came, it happened in one dramatic moment: 

...weeping in the most bitter contrition of my heart, suddenly I heard the voice of a boy or a girl I know not which--coming from the neighboring house, chanting over and over again, "Pick it up, read it; pick it up, read it."  Immediately I ceased weeping and began most earnestly to think whether it was usual for children in some kind of game to sing such a song, but I could not remember ever having heard the like. So, damming the torrent of my tears, I got to my feet, for I could not but think that this was a divine command to open the Bible and read the first passage I should light upon....

I snatched it up, opened it, and in silence read the paragraph on which my eyes first fell: "Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh to fulfill the lusts thereof."  I wanted to read no further, nor did I need to. For instantly, as the sentence ended, there was infused in my heart something like the light of full certainty and all the gloom of doubt vanished away.

Baptized by St. Ambrose at the age of 33, Augustine was ordained a priest at the age of 36 and became Bishop of Hippo (in present-day Algeria) at 41.  He wrote dozens of volumes, including The City of God and his Confessions (which have never gone out of print!).  He died on August 28, 430, at the age of seventy-five.  St. Augustine is perhaps the most influential theologian of the Western Church.

In His Words
Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new! Late have I loved you!...  You called, you shouted, and you shattered my deafness. You radiated forth, you shone out brightly, and you dispelled my blindness. You sent forth your fragrance, and I have breathed it in, and I long for you. I have tasted you, and I hunger and thirst for you. You have touched me, and I ardently desire your peace.

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