Like purest crystal pierced by the brilliant rays of the sun, the soul of St. Gerard Majella let the divine light shine through him without resistance. Thus, even in this valley tears, he was able to “see God”!
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Mt 5:8). This is perhaps one of the most beautiful and familiar phrases of the Gospel. But we sometimes fail to grasp the deepest meaning intended by the Divine Master in pronouncing it. Undoubtedly, He was not only referring to the purity of the saints in Heaven, nor only that by which the heart, even here on earth, continually seeks God, but also to the vision that the innocent possess of all creatures, discerning in them a reflection of the Creator.
According to St. Augustine, St. Thomas Aquinas and other Doctors, man can have a foretaste, even in this life, of the rewards promised in the Sermon on the Mount. Regarding the recompense for the pure, the Angelic Doctor writes: “the eye being cleansed by the gift of understanding, we can, so to speak, ‘see God.’”1
While all the saints attain this singular virginity of spirit, in some it seems to shine with greater splendour, serving as a model to be imitated. St. Gerard Majella was one such saint; in his brief life of only 29 years, he bequeathed to the Church a living example of this beatitude. “O my God, of all the virtues that are pleasing to Thee, my preference is purity of heart”2 —he wrote.
Observation of his life and analysis of his virtues, his miracles and, especially, the dolorous sufferings that he faced, give the impression of a pure crystal pierced by the brilliant rays of the sun: he let the divine light shine through his soul without resistance. Thus, even in this valley of tears, he could “see God”!
A predestined child
Gerard was born in the small city of Muro Lucano, near Naples, in April of 1726, the youngest child of a pious family. Since his early youth, he stood out as a soul chosen by Providence: he showed indifference toward food and, on some days of the week, he even declined it, a portent of his future fasting and his famous maxim: “The love of God does not enter the soul if the stomach is full.”3
His favoured pastime was setting up small altars and adorning them with candles and flowers; but his preferred place was the chapel of Capodigiano, dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, about 2 km from Muro. He once returned from the chapel carrying a small white loaf. When his mother asked him who had given it to him, he replied: “The son of a beautiful lady with whom I played.”4
As the episode was repeated daily for several months, one of his sisters followed him one day, unobserved, and witnessed an amazing spectacle: as Gerard knelt at the feet of the statue of Mary, the Child Jesus descended from the arms of His Mother to play with the child and, in bidding him farewell, gave him a small roll.
His First Communion was no less extraordinary: the parish priest had told him in no uncertain terms that he was too young to receive the Bread of the strong. At this, the small Gerard went to the back of the church and began to sob. On that same night, St. Michael the Archangel appeared to him and administered the Holy Eucharist!
A sign of contradiction in his adolescence
Like Our Lord Jesus Christ, Gerard was, from his earliest years, a sign of contradiction (cf. Lk 2:34) wherever he went. When his father died, he was obliged to work as a tailor’s apprentice. The owner of the establishment took a liking to him, but the manager of the employees loathed the young man, precisely because of his piety. He called him a vagabond, and often struck him, even knocking him unconscious on one occasion. Gerard never complained to the patron; he was happy to suffer for Jesus and said to his tormentor: “Hit me, hit me again, I deserve this punishment!”5
Some time later, he joined the service of the Most Rev. Albini, Bishop of Lacedonia, who was notorious for his irascibility. For three years, Gerard endured humiliations, rebukes, and ill-treatment… On one occasion, he dropped the bundle of keys to the Episcopal residence down the well. The only solution that occurred to him in his plight was to lower a statue of the Child Jesus by a rope to the bottom of the well, and implore: “Only You can help me… If You do not come to my aid, the Bishop will be furious with me. Please, bring back the keys to me!”6 He pulled up the rope and—marvel of marvels!—the statue was holding the keys in its hand. This prodigy and his heroic patience won him the admiration of the city—with the exception of the prelate. When the latter died, Gerard’s tears attested to his esteem for the one who had caused him so much suffering:
“I have lost my best friend!” he sadly exclaimed.
“You, Lord, are more a Madman than I!”
Gerard opened a tailor shop when he returned to Muro. As he nimbly plied the needle, his soul rose to the heights of contemplation. He was filially devoted to the Blessed Virgin to whom he had consecrated his virginity; the mere mention of her name sent him into transports of love.
Inebriated by the “folly” of the Cross (cf. 1 Cor 1:18), he sought to imitate the sufferings of the Saviour in everything: he scourged himself until he bled, he played the fool to draw contempt upon himself, he spent entire days without eating and, at night, he scaled the tower of the Cathedral to enter by the belfry to pray close to Blessed Sacrament. While the devil laid snares for him, appearing as a furious dog or provoking accidents, the Lord, on the other hand, afforded him numerous consolations.
During one of these long vigils, a gentle voice, coming from the tabernacle, rent the nocturnal silence: “Pazzerello! — Madman!”7 A rejoinder sprang to his ardent lips: “You, Lord, are more a Madman than I, for out of love You are a prisoner here in the tabernacle!”8
In the Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer
Gerard always dreamed of becoming a religious; but Providence desired to test his perseverance before accepting his offering. He made two failed attempts to enter the Capuchins and briefly tried out life as an Anchorite. These failures would have discouraged anyone but the young Majella!
Some priests of the Redemptorist Congregation, recently founded by St. Alphonsus Liguori, arrived at Muro to preach a mission. As soon as he set eyes on them, Gerard understood that their vocation was also his and he requested admittance into the Order. The superior, Fr. Paulo Cafaro, flatly refused, saying that he did not have the strength to endure the rigours of religious life. But Gerald was so resolute and persistent that Fr. Cafaro asked his mother to lock him in his room on the day of the missionaries’ departure. Nevertheless, the youth escaped through the window by means of a rope of knotted sheets and ran after the Redemptorists, leaving behind a note for his family: “I am going to become a saint. Forget about me.”9
He overtook them on the road and accompanied them to the neighbouring city, even though they maintained their negative response. Finally, his holy and serene tenacity won out over the iron will of the superior: in May of 1749, at 23 years of age, he was received, on a trial basis, in the convent of Deliceto.
Untiring apostle, great miracle worker
The final phase of Gerard’s life had begun: only six years separated him from his departure for eternity… six years replete with merits, and filled with miracles and heavenly raptures, yet mixed with almost superhuman trials and sufferings.
Although considered useless for work because of his wasted condition, it did not take him long to disprove this reputation. The interior fire that consumed him made up for his health, to the point that the religious affirmed that he did the work of four. He went to pains for others and took on the humblest tasks: gardener, sacristan, usher, doorkeeper… The various houses of the Congregation competed to have him as a member.
He fulfilled his obligations perfectly and was an untiring and irresistible apostle on missions. A biographer wrote: “Witnesses state that his appearance and simple presence was equivalent to preaching; one sensed God in him. His ardent words struck souls with a horror for sin, ardour for prayer, love for Jesus and Mary, and fidelity to their duties of state. […] He radiated the divine, consoling hearts, curing souls and drawing them to virtue.”10
Providence endowed him with the gift of miracles, and through this charism he produced abundant fruits of apostolate. The elements, diseases and even the devils obeyed his word. He cured innumerable sick, including a girl paralysed from birth. On several occasions, he multiplied food and parted the waters of a river that impeded his passage.
One of his most astounding miracles occurred in Naples. From the shore, a crowd watched in horror as a boat filled with passengers foundered in a violent storm. With no more ado, Gerard jumped into the water and ordered the boat, in the name of the Blessed Trinity, to halt. Then he dragged it ashore, as if it were as light as straw, and came out of the water with his clothes completely dry. The people acclaimed him and turned to him to pay him tribute, but Gerard fled down the city streets.
A Seraph in flesh and bone
His aura of sanctity, however, was most noticeable in the sacred confines of the monastery. It is difficult to pinpoint his main virtue, for all the virtues seem to vie with one another in this exemplary religious. No one was more humble, more obedient and more observant of the rule! His teachers took him as a model and his confessors were confounded at the integrity of this lay brother, a neophyte in religious life yet at the peak of perfection. Some of his contemporaries attest that he seemed untouched by the stain of original sin, like a Seraph in flesh and bone!
His gift of mystical phenomena is one of the most surprising aspects of his spirituality. “It seems that God wished to unite in our seraphic confrere all the favours, in the mystical order that He had granted to the other saints,”11 writes the previously cited Father Saint-Omer. Indeed, at a time in which rationalism sought to negate the existence of the supernatural and, essentially, God Himself, Gerard showed how tenuous are the veils that separate us from the invisible world, and how we should be convinced that we are always under God’ gaze.
Visions, ecstasies, levitations, gift of prophecy, infused knowledge, discernment of spirits, knowledge of distant happenings, resplendence, bi-locations, invisibility… space does not permit a description of all of these marvels!
Let us cite just two examples. On a visit to the Carmel of Ripacandida, he suddenly entered the state of ecstasy; his body became incandescent to the point that it melted the iron grating which he touched with his hands. Another time, as he contemplated a beautiful painting of the Blessed Virgin, he elevated from the ground to the height of the picture and, kissing it with ineffable affection, he exclaimed: “How beautiful she is! Look at how beautiful she is!”12
Under the sign of sorrow
It would be false, however, to imagine Gerard as a quasi-magician, immune to temptations and sufferings. Nothing could be further from the truth! From the time of his entry into the Congregation, he suffered spiritual trials in which he believed himself abandoned by God, reaching the brink of despair. His own description, in a letter to a nun, is more compelling than any retelling: “I have fallen so low that I no longer see even the possibility of emerging from this abyss… I would be of little concern to me if at least I could love God and please Him. But this is the thorn that pierces my heart: I feel myself suffering without God. […] I see myself as it were suspended over the abyss of despair. It seems to me that God has disappeared forever, that His divine mercies have been exhausted, that the menacing thunderbolts of His justice hover over my head.”13
A curious fact: in the measure that Gerard progressed in virtue, his anguish intensified. In 1754, one year before his death, a heavy trial, terrible and frightening, befell him. Unexpectedly, he was called to Pagani, where St. Alphonsus Liguori then resided. It was the first meeting of the humble brother with the Founder… and what a painful one! After greeting him, St. Alphonsus read aloud two letters in which someone accused the young religious of a crime committed against the very virtue that he loved the most: chastity!
Gerard kept silent and showed no emotion. This attitude was tantamount to admission… Taken aback, the Founder decided not to expel him, but to impose on him a rigorous penance: privation of the Eucharist and the prohibition of communicating with persons outside the Congregation. For more than two months he endured this humiliating situation. He was watched by superiors and was the object of suspicion of many who knew him. However, what was most painful was going without Communion. It cost him dearly to repress the ardent desires he had to receive this august Sacrament. To a priest who urged him to serve at his Mass, he replied: “Do not tempt me, dear Father, for I may snatch the Host from your hands!”14
Finally, the truth won out: two other letters, disproving the calumny of the previous missives, revealed to St. Alphonsus the falsity of the accusation which his paternal heart had refused to fully believe… Invited, once again, to appear before the Founder, Gerard was received with these words: “My son, why did you not speak? Why did you not utter even one word in defence of your innocence?”15 To which he responded: “My father, how could I do so, if our rule does not allow us to justify ourselves before the admonitions of superiors?”16
“The divine will and I are one and the same”
Gerard was no longer of this world—not that he had ever been! In effect, this last tribulation had separated him even further from earthly things. In August of 1755, during a mission, he suffered his first hemoptysis. His superior sent him to the convent of Materdomini, to recover. There the illness quickly worsened: blood, fever, and a host of other ills. But through it all, not one complaint escaped him: “The divine will and I are one and the same,”17 he said joyfully. He made the strenuous effort of getting out of bed and spending a few hours kneeling before the Crucifix in his cell.
This period, also, was marked by extraordinary happenings: his body ravaged by tuberculosis, emitted such a fragrance that visitors easily identified his room. His obedience was even more edifying: when he was ordered to be cured, he immediately got up and rejoined community life for several weeks.
But God’s will prevailed, and, in October, the disease attacked him with increased ferocity. In the few days that remained, he suffered, by a special favour from Heaven, the torments of the Passion of Christ. When August 15 arrived, he announced that he would die that same night. He received Viaticum in the morning and, in the afternoon, he recited the Psalm Miserere. Two hours before dying, as he beheld the Queen of Heaven approach, he knelt up in bed in ecstasy. It was close to midnight when his soul left his body.
His inert features immediately acquired angelic beauty. The bell ringer of the monastery, who intended to sound the death knell, felt an irresistible force compelling him to ring the carillon for the great feasts!
In 1893, Leo XIII raised Gerard Majella to the honour of the altars, as a Blessed. Eleven years later, St. Pius X inscribed, in the Catalogue of the Saints, this exemplary religious who kept his purity of heart intact. ◊
Notes
I love Him