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Following on the celebration of All Saints (November 1), today’s feast honours the Jesuits who are with God in glory: the numerous canonised saints, blesseds, venerables and many others, who, in the faithful fulfilment of their calling in the Society of Jesus, are now face to face with their Lord in unending happiness. This celebration calls to mind the power of God shining through human weakness and the reward given to those who, in the words of the Spiritual Exercises:

…faithfully labour under the banner of Christ’s cross.

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Commentary on Isaiah 40:1-5; Psalm 22; Matthew 11:28-30

The Gospel reading is one we associate with Jesus in his Sacred Heart. But it also expresses the spirit of Rupert Mayer. “Come to me all you who are weary and find life burdensome and I will refresh you.” These words express the compassion he expressed for people all through his life, first for the poor and homeless in the city of Munich and later in standing shoulder to shoulder with the ordinary soldier as they spent their days in the horrific conditions of the trenches in the First World War. No wonder he was so greatly loved.

Again, Jesus says: “Take my yoke upon your shoulders and learn from me for I am gentle and humble of heart.” A lovely interpretation of this call is that Jesus is offering to carry his yoke together with ours – one yoke shared together (as happens when two oxen are yoked together).

The “yoke” of Jesus in the sense of sharing his cross and carrying our own is one that Rupert Mayer knew. No sacrifice was too great for him in bringing God’s love and service to those among whom he worked so selflessly. And those who knew him also recognised a person who was full of compassion and tenderness and yet, someone who did not hesitate to speak out strongly where there was evil and injustice.

The First Reading from the prophet Isaiah is the opening of that part of the book known as the “The Book of Consolation”. It is a passage, too, which we associate with John the Baptist and quoted in that context by Matthew (3:3). It consists of God’s promise of salvation to his people.

And so much of it fits the life and work of Rupert Mayer.

Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, proclaim to her that…her guilt is expiated.

These words reflect the compassion that Rupert showed to the poor and all those who suffered.

The words applied to John the Baptist also belong to Rupert: “A voice cries out: In the desert prepare the way of the Lord! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!” He was indeed the voice of God’s truth, love and justice in the “desert” and “wasteland” that was Nazi Germany.

And indeed in Rupert the glory of the Lord was revealed for, through him, “the mouth of the Lord has spoken”.

Rupert Mayer is an inspiration for every priest and religious but also for every committed Christian – a passion for truth and justice, a heart of love and compassion, total commitment to those in need.

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Rupert Mayer was born on 23 January, 1876, in Stuttgart, Germany. On completing his secondary education he told his father he wanted to be a Jesuit. His father suggested he get ordained first and enter the Jesuits later, if that was still his wish. Rupert took this advice and studied philosophy at Fribourg in Switzerland and Munich. He then studied theology at Tubingen for three years before completing his final year at the seminary in Rottenburg. He was ordained priest on 2 May, 1899 and celebrated his first Mass two days later.

He served for a year as a curate in Spaichingen before entering the Jesuit novitiate at Feldkirch in Austria on 1 Oct, 1900. Following his novitiate, he went to the Netherlands for further studies between 1906 and 1911. He then travelled through Germany, Switzerland and the Netherlands, preaching missions in many parishes.

Rupert’s real apostolate began when he was transferred to Munich in 1912. There he devoted the rest of his 31 years to migrants who came to the city from farms and small towns looking for a job and a place to stay. He was totally committed to their needs—collecting food and clothing, looking for jobs and places for them to live. He also helped them preserve their Christian faith in a city which was rapidly becoming secular.

With the outbreak of the First World War in 1914, Rupert at first offered his services to a camp hospital. But later he was made Field Captain and travelled together with his men to France, Poland and Romania which brought him to the front line of battle. His courage and solidarity with his men became legendary. He was with them in the trenches and stayed with the dying to the very end. His courage was infectious and gave hope to his men in appalling conditions. In December 1915, he was awarded the Iron Cross for bravery, a rare honour for a chaplain. His army career ended abruptly in 1916 when a badly broken leg had to be amputated.

By the time he had fully recovered, the war was over (1918) and Rupert returned to Munich and did all he could to help people get back to a normal life. In November 1921, he became director of a Marian Congregation (Sodality of Our Lady) for men, and within nine years, its membership had grown to 7,000 men coming from 53 different parishes. This meant that Rupert had to give up to 70 talks a month to reach all of them. In 1925, for the convenience of travellers, he introduced Sunday Masses at the main railway station. He himself would celebrate the earliest Masses, beginning at 3:10 AM. In time, it would be said that the whole city of Munich had become his parish.

With huge social problems developing in Germany after World War I, Munich saw the rise of Communist and other social movements. Rupert took a close interest in these. He attended their meetings and even addressed them. His aim was to highlight Christian principles, and to point out the fallacies in other speakers’ ideas which could mislead people. He was one of the first to recognise the dangers of Adolf Hitler and Nazism, and again challenged Nazi policy with Christian principles. It was inevitable that he would come in conflict with the Nazi movement.

When Hitler became chancellor of the Reich in 1933, he began to shut down church-affiliated schools and began a campaign to discredit the religious orders. Preaching in St Michael’s Church in downtown Munich, Rupert denounced these moves. As a very influential voice in the city, the Nazis could not allow him to continue his attacks on them. On 16 May, 1937, the Gestapo ordered Fr Mayer to stop speaking in public places. This he did but continued to preach in church. Two weeks later he was arrested and put in prison for six weeks. At his trial he was found guilty, but given a suspended sentence. He then obeyed his superiors’ orders to remain silent, but the Nazis took advantage of this to defame him in public. His superiors then allowed him to preach again in order to defend himself against the Nazis’ slanderous attacks. He was arrested six months later and served his formerly suspended sentence in Landsberg prison for five months. Then a general amnesty made it possible for him to return to Munich and work quietly in small discussion groups.

However, he was still seen as a threat and so was arrested again in November, 1940 on the pretext that he had cooperated in a royalist movement. Now 63 years old, Rupert was sent to the notorious Oranienburg-Sachsenhausen concentration camp near Berlin. After a few months, his health had deteriorated so badly that it was feared he might die in the camp and be seen as a martyr. So he was sent to stay in the Benedictine abbey in Ettal, in the Bavarian Alps. Fr Mayer spent his time there in prayer, leaving his future in the Lord’s hands. He remained in the abbey for almost six years until freed by American forces in May, 1945.

He at once returned to Munich, where he received a hero’s welcome, and took up again his pastoral work at St Michael’s. However, the years in prison and the camp had undermined his health. On 1 Nov, 1945, Rupert was celebrant at the 8 am Mass on the feast of All Saints in St Michael’s. He had just read the Gospel and began preaching on the Christian’s duty to imitate the saints, when he had a stroke and collapsed. Facing the congregation, ”The Lord… the Lord… the Lord…” were his last words. He died shortly afterwards. He was 69 years old. While he was first buried in the Jesuit cemetery at the Jesuit house of studies in Pullach, outside Munich, his remains were later brought back to the city and interred in the crypt of the Burgersaal, the church next to St Michael’s, where the men’s Sodality regularly met.

In 1956, Pope Pius XII, who had personally known Rupert Mayer during his time as papal nuncio in Munich, awarded him the title Servant of God. Under Pope John XXIII, the beatification process was initiated, the results of which were formally accepted by Pope Paul VI in 1971. Under Pope John Paul II, the degree of heroic virtue was issued in 1983. Rupert Mayer was beatified by Pope John Paul II on 3 May 1987 in Munich.

Father Mayer’s grave was visited by Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI, whose parents had venerated him.

He is remembered for his staunch opposition to Nazi inhumanity and for his selfless dedication in helping the poor.

Rupert Mayer’s favourite prayer:

Lord, let happen whatever you will;
and as you will, so will I walk;
help me only to know your will!
Lord, whenever you will, then is the time;
today and always.
Lord, whatever you will, I wish to accept,
and whatever you will for me is gain;
enough that I belong to you.
Lord, because you will it, it is right;
and because you will it, I have courage.
My heart rests safely in your hands!

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Commentary on Romans 12:3-13; John 10:11-16

The Gospel reading from John is, appropriately, Jesus’ description of himself as the “good Shepherd”. In the verses which follow, he gives the qualities of a good shepherd. The first of these is that the good shepherd does not hesitate to give his life for his sheep, as indeed Jesus himself would do.

He compares the good shepherd to someone who is hired to look after someone else’s sheep. The moment danger appears, for instance, the sight of a wolf, the hired man runs away abandoning the sheep to be seized and scattered by the wolf. The reason is that the hired man is only doing it for the money; he has no personal interest in the sheep.

However, the good shepherd is very different. First of all, although to others they all look alike, he knows each individual sheep and the sheep know their shepherd also. Jesus knows and his known by his sheep just as he knows his Father and his Father knows him.

But Jesus goes further. He is not satisfied just with the flock he already has. There are other sheep which do not belong to his fold, and he wants them to hear and recognise and follow his voice. Then, there will finally be just one Shepherd and one flock. This is Jesus saying in other words that he is The Way. In him, through him and with him lie Truth and Goodness.

Charles Borromeo was an outstanding shepherd. He could have spent the rest of his life in the luxury of the papal court while ‘hired men’ were given the responsibility of his diocese of Milan, using it resources to line their pockets. But he returned to the diocese for which he had been consecrated bishop and, living a simple lifestyle, and devoted all his energies to the spiritual and material well-being of his flock, especially those in need.

He also was responsible for setting up centres where dedicated priests would be trained in the pastoral skills they needed to serve God’s people. These became models followed by the Church all over the world. We pray today for good bishops and priests who are good shepherds and pastors, and also that one day there will be just one Shepherd and one Flock.

The First Reading from the Letter to the Romans discusses the Church as one Body with many Members. Paul begins by warning each one in the community not to think of themselves more highly than others. This, of course, was a major problem of the Church in the time of Charles Borromeo. It was a time of patronage and benefices, when some of the senior clergy rubbed shoulders with aristocracy, loaded themselves with grandiose titles and lived in ostentatious luxury, all while surrounded by poverty and hardship.

Paul emphasises that every person in the community is a member of a single body. Each one has his own special role to play in the overall well-being of the community. No member can live just for itself. Each member exists for the good of all the others. It is a relationship of love and service, irrespective of what role is allotted to us:

…we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another.

As archbishop of Milan, Charles worked hard to change existing practices. His was not a position of privilege giving him access to wealth and luxury. On the contrary, his responsibility was to be totally at the service of his flock. He first of all adopted a materially simply lifestyle, giving away much of his wealth to the needy. In times of hunger and disease, he was down there personally giving a helping hand to those who were suffering. His behaviour is just as relevant today as it was then and it should speak loudly to all persons in positions of power and authority.

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Charles Borromeo was born in 1538, the son of Giberto II Borromeo, Count of Arona, and Margherita de Medici, in the castle of Arona on Lago (Lake) Maggiore, in the north of Italy. Through his mother, he was related to the famous Medici family. He was educated at Milan and Pavia. He was both intelligent and religiously devout, with a great capacity for sustained work, but had a speech impediment.

Already at the age of 12, he had received the clerical tonsure together with the revenues of the abbatial see of Arona, a benefice long enjoyed by his family. At the age of 22, he received his doctorate, by which time his uncle, Cardinal Angelo de Medici had become Pope Pius IV. Ecclesiastical honours were now heaped on the nephew, including ambassadorships, protectorates, the administration of the diocese of Milan and an appointment as cardinal, which made Charles in effect Secretary of State for the Papal States. He was responsible for the administration of the Romagna, and the March of Ancona, as well as supervision of the Franciscans, the Carmelites, and the Knights of Malta. Thus, at the age of 22, he was practically the leading statesman of the papal court. In compliance with the pope’s desire, he lived in great splendour.

As all this required his presence in Rome, the government of the Milan diocese was delegated to deputies. Nevertheless, Charles was anxious to leave the luxury of the papal court and even become a monk. He was persuaded, however, to remain in his present position, and to move back to his diocese as soon as it was feasible.

He strongly supported his uncle, the pope, in re-opening the Council of Trent for its final session. The council’s continuance and conclusion were largely due to Charles’ energy and diplomacy.

Many important doctrinal and disciplinary decrees were passed at this session, and Charles was particularly prominent in the drafting of the official Catechism. He was also responsible for the reform of the liturgical texts, and of church music for which he was a patron of the composer Palestrina.

It was only in 1564, at the age of 26, that he was ordained priest and consecrated bishop. As papal legate for all Italy, he held a provincial council at Milan, which promulgated the Tridentine decrees.

In the following year (1565) he was called to the deathbed of his uncle, the pope, and obtained from his successor, Pius V, permission to live in his diocese of Milan. The next year, he began its reform. He was the first resident bishop there in 80 years.

Charles began by personally adopting a very simple style of life and gave much of his considerable revenue away to the poor. He held councils, synods, reformed the administration, and made regular visits to parishes. In order to deal with the serious question of clergy formation, he founded seminaries, which were copied in many other parts of the Church. He also was concerned with the moral reform of those who were already priests, and set up a confraternity to teach Christian doctrine to children in Sunday schools. He was helped in all of this by religious orders, including the Jesuits (established in 1540) and the Barnabites (founded by St Antony Mary Zacaria).

He was generous in helping the English College at Douai, and his personal confessor was Dr Griffith Roberts, a Welshman. He had a devotion to the English martyred bishop, John Fisher, whose picture he kept by him. He was active in visiting even remote areas of his diocese, removing ignorant or unworthy priests, preaching and catechising at every opportunity.

But his reforms were vigorously resisted by some. He came into conflict with civil authorities, and there was even an attempt by a disgruntled friar to assassinate him in 1569.

In 1570, and again in 1576, Charles came to the aid of his city, in one case feeding people during a time of famine and later in providing nursing care for victims of plague. During the plague, he personally went about giving directions for nursing the sick and burying the dead, avoiding no personal danger and sparing no expense. He visited all the parishes where the contagion raged, distributing money, providing accommodation for the sick, and punishing those, especially clergy, who were remiss in carrying out their duties.

In 1580, he was visited at Milan by a group of young English Catholics returning to their country. They included Ralph Sherwin and Edmund Campion, future martyrs. In 1583, Charles was sent by Rome to Switzerland to deal with superstitious practices, and also with the heresies of Calvin and Zwingli.

Constantly on the move, he was already worn out by the age of 46. He died in Milan on the night of 3 November, 1584 and was buried in his cathedral. His sanctity was immediately recognised and he was canonised in 1610, just 26 years after his death.

Through his influence on the Counter-Reformation he is matched with Ignatius of Loyola (founder of the Jesuits) and Philip Neri (founder of the Oratorians). He is best remembered for the reform and education of the clergy, and in the work of catechesis. Above all, in contrast to so many of his peers, he gave an outstanding example of a zealous and reforming pastor in a very important diocese at a time when such renewal was so much needed after the Reformation.

Contrary to his last wishes, a memorial was erected to him in the Milan cathedral, as well as a 20 meter tall statue in his birthplace, Arona, as a tribute to his leadership in the Counter-Reformation. The church of San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane (St Charles at the Four Fountains) in Rome is dedicated to his memory.

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There are no fixed Scripture readings for today, and Lectionaries will show a wide choice available from both the Old and the New Testament. As such, there is no specific commentary for this day. However, there are commentaries written for a number of the readings listed today in the Lectionary, and they may be accessed using Living Space’s search facility or the indices in the adjacent sidebar.

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Yesterday we celebrated the feast of All Saints. Today is the commemoration of All Souls—a commemoration of all the faithful departed.

The Church often speaks of the totality of the baptised as the Communion of Saints. The word ‘saints’ is used in the scriptural sense of the New Testament, when it generally refers to baptised members of Christian communities.

The Communion of Saints is formed of three groups. The first are those who can properly be called ‘saints’, that is, those who have died and are now enjoying a face to face relationship with God for all eternity. We sometimes call that ‘heaven’, but it is less a place than a relationship.

The second group are those who are living on earth at the present time, and are part of the Pilgrim Church on its way to ultimate union with God in unending happiness.

The third group are those we are remembering today. They are those who have died, but are not quite ready to meet God face to face. Most of us would probably acknowledge that we are far from perfect, and that we still need to go through some purifying process before entering the eternal presence of God. What that process is like, it is not for us to speculate.

What we are reminded of today is that those who are already in the eternal presence of God, and those who are still on pilgrimage on earth can help the group we call ‘Holy Souls’ to reach the Vision of God sooner, through our good works and prayers.

And so, although it is a “holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead”*, it is especially appropriate on this day. Naturally, we will remember especially family members and good friends, but we should also think of those who may not have anyone to remember them. When our time comes to leave this world, it is the prayers of those people on whom we will depend.

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*From 2 Macc 12:46, as stated in the Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition Bible.

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Commentary on Deuteronomy 6:2-6; Hebrews 7:23-28; Mark 12:28-34

We are approaching the end of the Church year. In the Gospels of these Sundays, we are looking at the final phase of Jesus’ life before his suffering, death and resurrection.

Last week we saw Jesus leaving Jericho on the last stage of his journey to Jerusalem. He healed the blind beggar, Bartimaeus, who, once he regained his sight, saw that the only thing he could do was to go with Jesus on that final journey.

Today’s story takes place in Jerusalem itself. The context of the story is important. “Sacrifice” is mentioned in both the Second Reading and the Gospel. There are clear links with the Temple, the Old Testament and Jewish Law.

A scribe approaches Jesus. He is an expert in interpreting the Law. There were more than 600 laws, too many for an ordinary person to grasp. He asks a question which was much-debated among scholars of the day: Of all these many laws, which was the most central, the most basic—the one that summed up all the others? Unlike other occasions, there seems to be no sense of hostility or of a trap being set here. The man just wants to know Jesus’ opinion as a rabbi and teacher.

Positive response
Note how Jesus receives the man. Usually scribes and Pharisees are presented as hostile to Jesus. It would be natural for Jesus to be on the defensive, to react negatively. But Jesus always takes the person as he or she is. He does not indulge in stereotyping about ‘typical scribes and Pharisees’ and tarring all with the same brush. We do this so easily with classes, races, age groups (teenagers, the elderly). We use so many labels. We even stereotype individuals we know before they have opened their mouths, based on our previous experience with them.

Jesus accepts and responds to this person here and now as he is. It is an example which we can all follow and which would save a lot of wear and tear in our relations with people, if we did so.

A new development
To answer the man’s question, Jesus quotes from the Jewish Scripture, i.e. the Old Testament. In answering the question, Jesus begins from where the man is, in an area which will be both familiar and acceptable to him. But he takes two distinct texts and puts them together as one. This is a significant development and one that is absolutely central to the Christian vision.

In today’s First Reading from Deuteronomy, one of the books of the Jewish law, we can see that one is urged to love God with all one’s energy and to:

…keep all his decrees and his commandments…

There is no mention here of the “neighbour”. That appears in a separate text in a different book of the law—the Book of Leviticus (19:18). The scribe is obviously pleased with the answer. And Jesus further adds that these two commands are far more important than any holocaust or sacrifice.

It is this dual approach which makes Jesus the perfect priest mentioned in the Second Reading. The priests of the Law were men subject to weakness—they were:

…many in number because they were prevented by death from continuing in office, but [Christ] holds his priesthood permanently because he continues forever.

Jesus is the ‘perfect’ Priest and now the only Priest, because he is absolutely perfect in his love for the Father and in his love for us.

Like Jesus, we cannot separate our love of God from loving all those around us. Sometimes we see our sins just as offences against God, even when action is directed against another person. We may go to ‘confession’, get forgiveness and feel the matter is finished. We go to God for forgiveness, when what is also needed is forgiveness from and reconciliation with the person we have hurt. If we cannot love the neighbour we can see, how can we love the God we cannot see? (See 1 John 4:20.)

And who is my neighbour? For the people in Jesus’ time, it was a fellow Jew. Others, even though physically near, were not. Following the teaching of Jesus, however, it is anyone—transcending all barriers and independent of like or dislike, approval or disapproval. Yet some of us can certainly sympathise with the complaint of the famous comic strip character, Charlie Brown, who said: “I love humanity; it’s people I can’t stand!”

Loving others, loving ourselves
We are to love our neighbour as we love ourselves. That sounds very demanding. Actually it is often part of the problem. Many, if not most of us, do not love ourselves very much. Many, perhaps most, would not like others to know us as we feel we really are.

We go to great lengths to hide our inadequacies and weaknesses. We spend a lot of money on houses, cars, clothes, jewellery, cosmetics, dining out and such material ‘images’—image is everything. We need status symbols to prove we are ‘someone’. Teenagers looking and sounding very “with-it”, but actually hiding behind currently fashionable clothes-styles, hairstyles, language, being ‘cool’, ‘hip’ or whatever word is in current use.

Very few people are really themselves in front of others. In computer jargon we say: “What you see is what you get”. In other words, what appears on the screen will also appear on a print-out. For people it should be: “What you see is what there is.”

This requires total self-acceptance (not the same as self-approval) and integrity—in other words, wholeness. Self-acceptance means that I fully acknowledge both my strengths and weaknesses, and that I am not ashamed of them and I don’t mind if other people know them. Such a person knows that the key to being loved is to have one’s real self accessible to others.

God, others, self – vs – self, others, God
Conventionally we say we should first love God. Then, for his sake, we love others. Lastly, the self should be denied and sacrifices should be made. We should not be self-ish, i.e. self-centred.

Actually it may surprise us to be told that we cannot not be self-centred. Everything we do is self-centred. We need to go the other way: learn to love and accept ourselves fully. Then, and only then, are we free to look out and reach out to others in love non self-consciously. When I have nothing to hide, it is easy to be myself. And, if others do not like what they see, that is their problem, not mine.

We will then discover that, when we have learnt to love genuinely and unconditionally, we will be loved in return—though not by all. We cannot be loved by all because there are people out there who are not able to love; it is not because there is anything wrong with me. To want to be loved by everyone is simply unattainable.

And when we know what really loving and being loved is (by direct experience), then, and perhaps only then, can we talk about really loving God. All this, says today’s Gospel, is more important than any ritual or sacrifice. It is no good being in church every hour of every day if I am not a loving person.

Discipleship
Jesus said the scribe was “not far from the kingdom of God” because he had touched on the essence of living—loving God and loving others as a single, but distinct reality. But he is not quite part of it yet. He was not yet, and apparently did not become, a full disciple of Jesus.

What makes such a disciple? Jesus says:

By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. (John 13:35)

Or are you a disciple because you never miss Mass, or you have special devotion to Our Lady? No, it is none of these by itself. What is essential and sufficient is to love God in loving others and to love others in loving God. One might ask, is that it? Yes, that’s it.

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Alfonso Rodríguez was born in Segovia, Spain on 25 July, 1533. He was the son of a wool merchant who failed in his business and which he handed over to his son who was still a young man of 23. At the age of 26, Alfonso married Maria Suarez. Five years later, his wife and two of his three children had died. When his third child also died, he developed a desire to enter religious life. He had met some of the first Jesuits to come to Spain, including (Saint) Peter Faber, but his lack of education was a major obstacle to his joining the Society. His penitential practices had also undermined his health. Eventually, on 31 January, 1571 at the age of 38, he was accepted into the Jesuit novitiate as a brother.

After just six months, he was assigned to the College of Montesion in Palma de Mallorca, where he served as porter or doorkeeper until the end of his life 46 years later. Over this long period he exerted an extraordinary spiritual influence, not only on his community, but on the students and all those who came to the porter’s lodge for advice and direction.

He was already 72, when a young Jesuit, (Saint) Peter Claver, came to the college, filled with a desire to do something for God, but uncertain how to do so. The two became friends and often discussed prayer and the spiritual life. The elderly Brother mentor encouraged the student to go to the American missions. Peter would become famous as the apostle to the thousands of slaves brought over from Africa and who landed in Cartagena.

Alfonso practised very severe penances and suffered sometimes from scruples. His obedience was total, and at all times he was steeped in prayer. He left behind quite an amount of writing, some of it simply notes from spiritual talks given to the community. He had no intention of making them public, and some were written in obedience to superiors.

He died on 31 October, 1617 aged 84 at Palma, Mallorca, and was declared Venerable in 1626. In 1633, he was chosen by the Council General of Majorca as one of the special patrons of the city and island.

In 1760, Pope Clement XIII decreed that “the virtues of the Venerable Alfonso were proved to be of a heroic degree”, but the expulsion of the Jesuits from Spain in 1773, and their suppression, delayed his beatification until 1825. He was canonised by Pope Leo XIII on 6 September, 1887. His remains are enshrined at Majorca.

Alfonso is remembered for his fidelity, kindness, spiritual struggles, and widespread influence as a counsellor to the students and others who sought his advice. He is featured in a poem by the Jesuit poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins, who recalled his outstanding holiness in a singularly unspectacular and humdrum life:

Yet God (that hews mountain and continent Earth, all, out; who, with trickling increment,
Veins violets and tall trees makes more and more)
Could crowd career with conquest while there went
Those years and years by of world without event
That in Majorca Alfonso watched the door.

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Dominic Collins was born in 1566 in the seaport town of Youghal, in County Cork, Ireland. His family was well established and respected and both his father and brother were mayors of Youghal. It was in the time of Queen Elizabeth, and Anglicanism was the official religion. During her rule, Irish Catholics were subjected to persecution from time to time.

Although the situation was not yet critical in Youghal, Dominic felt that he did not have much of a future in the town. Like many others, he decided to leave Ireland and make a better life in Europe. So at the age of twenty, Collins arrived in France. He had dreams of joining the cavalry, but for that he needed a horse, so he worked for some time in various hostelries in Brittany (north-west France). Eventually, he was enlisted in the army of the Duke of Mercoeus, who was a member of the Catholic League fighting against the Protestant Huguenots in Brittany. Dominic had a distinguished military career lasting nine years. He was promoted to captain of the cavalry and later military governor when he managed to recover land from the Huguenots.

Although he had a good pension following his service to the King of Spain, he began to realise that being a soldier was not the future he wanted. In the Lent of 1598, he met an Irish Jesuit, Thomas White, who introduced him to the Jesuit superiors in Salamanca, Spain, after learning of Dominic’s desire to do something better with his life. Although he was now 32 years old, the Jesuit provincial thought it was wise to delay his entrance, perhaps to test the strength of his vocation. There were doubts too as to whether he was sufficiently educated to become a priest, but Dominic was willing to be a Jesuit brother. He entered the Jesuit novitiate in Santiago de Compostela in northern Spain in December, 1598, and took his first vows in February, 1601.

Seven months later, Brother Dominic Collins was assigned as companion and assistant to Fr James Archer, an Irish Jesuit who was being sent by the king as chaplain to a Spanish expedition to assist Catholics in Ireland. The two Jesuits sailed in September, 1601, on different vessels which became separated during a storm. When Brother Collins finally reached Ireland in December, the English army had laid siege to the port town. The Irish attacked at dawn on Christmas Eve, but were defeated. Brother Collins was reunited with Fr Archer in February, 1602, and together the two Jesuits proceeded to Dunboy Castle, which the Irish had recently regained.

Some months later Brother Collins found himself besieged inside Dunboy Castle with 143 defenders (Fr Archer had left for Spain to persuade the king to send reinforcements). With the 6-June landing of a huge English force, Dunboy Castle fortifications began to crumble under the heavy bombardment. Many of the Irish defenders were killed and the Castle surrendered. With the exception of Dominic Collins and two others, all the remaining 77 defenders were executed in the castle yard.

Dominic was later imprisoned in Cork and, despite several offers to spare his life if he would divulge information about Catholics, and to renounce his vocation as a Jesuit and join the established Church, he flatly refused. He also rejected the offer of an honorable position in the English army and Protestant offers of ecclesiastical preferment if he would renounce his Catholic faith. Even his own relatives tried persuading him to renounce the faith publicly while inwardly remaining faithful to Catholicism—but this he would not do.

He was finally condemned to death and on 31 October, 1602, he was taken to Youghal, his hometown and hanged. Before climbing the scaffold, he spoke to the crowd in Irish and English, saying he was happy to die for his faith. He was so cheerful that an English officer remarked, “He is going to his death as eagerly as I would go to a banquet”. Brother Collins overheard him and replied, “For this cause I would be willing to die not one, but a thousand deaths.”

Brother Dominic Collins, together with sixteen other martyrs of Ireland (who died between 1579 and 1654), was beatified by Pope John Paul II on September 27, 1992.

Blessed Dominic is remembered for his constancy in the faith. Though freedom and advancement were set before him, he:

…endured the cross, disregarding its shame… (Heb 12:2)

Dominic’s martyrdom is commemorated in a carving at St Colman’s Cathedral in Cobh, County Cork.