There is a common joke about the struggle of kids growing up whose birthday falls in December and is “so close to Christmas . . . that must be hard.” Is there a similar sentiment for Saints whose feast day falls so close to All Saints Day?
One Saint easily forgotten with his Oct. 30th (some calendars Oct. 31st) feast day is Alphonsus Rodriguez. He was a lay Jesuit, another obscure position in the Church, and a porter, a humble position in society. Even the church where his remains are enshrined in Mallorca, Spain is small and unassuming.
“Easily forgotten” is a phrase that fits the life of St. Alphonsus and lack of recognition he received. Originally, he hoped to earn the honors that come from education — he was enrolled in University at Alcala — and the spiritual honors that come with ordination. However, the death of his father and his family’s need for his financial support upended these hopes. There would be many times where Alphonsus would have his life turned by tragedy or rejection. In those times, he only looked more deeply to the humility of Christ and walked the path that Christ laid.
Fortunately, attention would eventually be paid to Alphonsus by the great Catholic poet of the English language and fellow Jesuit, Gerard Manley Hopkins. He composed “In Honor of St. Alphonsus Rodriguez” with fourteen lines total, only one of which refers to our Saint directly. This poem gives penetrating insight into St. Alphonsus and God’s priority of humility in the life of the Church. Though the poem very rarely refers directly to Alphonsus and his life, its allusions can help one gain fresh perspective on this relatively little-known Saint.
Hopkins begins by contrasting Alphonsus with the honor of soldiers. This evokes some irony, considering the military origins of the Jesuits and that St. Ignatius had to redirect this desire for military honor in his own life. Alphonsus hoped to join the group historically known as “God’s Marines,” but was initially rejected because of his later age (he was forty when he enrolled), poor health, and lack of education. This, remember, was due to his necessary departure from school in his youth because of the death of his father. This rejection would have humbled anyone. It was in this humbling that Alphonsus was able to find a deeper, spiritual honor.
“Honour” (line 1), though not evil itself, is recognized by St. Thomas Aquinas as a temptation in this life (ST I-II. Q 2. A 2). When it is sought apart from virtue that merits the honor, it becomes an idol and a stumbling block to happiness. Hopkins heralds this opening in a way similar to the storm where God was not found by Elijah in 1 Kings 19:11–12. Saint Alphonsus, this reflection of God, is also not found in the loud human honors that are easily found in prominent places of academia or even the Church. His honor was found in humble and welcoming service. It was Brother Alphonsus’s humble service as a doorman that provided the opportunity for his witness to Christ.
Though Alphonsus was not a physical martyr, not physically killed for faith in Christ, the deaths of his loved ones were very near to him and required faith and courage in life. This life he would give to Christ in his consecration as a religious brother. While the “martyr may” (line 5) provide the visible witness to the truth of Jesus and the Church, there are many more who fight the “war within” (line 6). Hopkins evokes the inner life of most Christians and every Saint, though not always seen in every hagiography or on the backs of many holy cards.
St. Alphonsus had many opportunities to struggle in this war within. Many difficult decisions in life confronted him. He had to decide whether to continue his inherited textile business. He had to struggle to find a way forward when his wife, daughter, and mother all died in a three-year span. This loss alone would cripple anyone’s emotional state, making relationships and spiritual growth seemingly near-impossible. Despite these losses, and then later the death of his son, he continued to listen to the voice of God. It was in this quiet witness that his soul was being forged into the likeness of Christ. This likeness would shine forth for many years in the entryway to a small chapel of a small college in Mallorca, Spain.
After his son died, he discerned a vocation to the Jesuits, but could only be admitted as a doorkeeper for the company. His war within did not harden his soul to God and others, but broke it so that it became utterly open to everyone. This made him the ideal servant to meet pilgrims as they sought spiritual help. One of these pilgrims whom St. Alphonsus inspired was a young Peter Claver, who himself would go on to become a priest, a Jesuit, and a great Saint of those many forgotten souls of the slave trade.
“Unseen” (line 7) and unheard by those of the world is the life lived by St. Alphonsus, a life lived for others. There is a long tradition of late recognition for the humility of the porter, or doorkeeper, of the monastery. Sts. Martin de Porres, André Bessette, and Solanus Casey make up a few from this list who surprised many by their wisdom, holiness, and spiritual insight. These qualities all grow out of a profound, deeply rooted, grounded humility.
These figures participate in God’s work by their slow transformation of the world. “Trickling” (line 10), like the gentle flow of water that requires eons to carve rivers, so these humble figures carve avenues for the “water springing up into eternal life” (John 4:14). Just as God’s power “hews mountains” (line 9) slowly, so too do those like St. Alphonsus erode hearts of stone, so they can be shaped and used to build temples of “living stone” (1 Peter 2:5).
Like all acts of grace, we only see this work by its effects. The many who interacted with St. Alphonsus probably did not realize the change that was taking place in them as they engaged a Saint. Only later did they see the growth in their lives. No one sees the mountain rise, but we all see its imposing presence once it has.
God waited “years and years by of world without event” (line 13) in preparation for the greatest, Creation-shattering moment of the Incarnation, also largely “Unseen” (line 7). Who but the prophets with special revelation realized the movements God’s Providence was facilitating? The porter too played a seemingly insignificant role in God’s plan. Will we cooperate in the small, slow, apparently inconsequential movements of grace that bring Christ into our lives and the lives of whom we love? St. Alphonsus, with his simple wisdom and humility, played just such a role for many who passed through his doors.
October is bookended by prominent feasts in the life of the Church: St. Thérèse of Lisieux on the 1st, the Guardian Angels on the 2nd, Francis of Assisi on the 4th, and, of course, the Eve of All Saints on the 31st. It is understandable to forget about St. Alphonsus Rodriguez; we are probably trying on our costume or buying candy.
But he, like the many simple, humble porters of all forms and stations, continues to watch the door and “await their master’s return . . . ready to open immediately when he comes and knocks” (Luke 12:36).
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