Carmelite Saints

“Carmel is the mountain of flowers and with full hands the children of Carmel
have strewn these flowers over the earth.”
St. Titus Brandsma

Our Lady of Mount Carmel

St. Elijah

St. Teresa of Jesus

St. John of the Cross

St. Thérèse of Lisieux

St. Teresa of the Andes

St. Teresa Benedicta

St. Elizabeth of the Trinity

St. Titus

Martyrs of Compiègne

Our Lady of Mount Carmel

St. Elijah

St. Teresa of the Andes

St. Teresa Benedicta

St. Teresa of Jesus

St. Elizabeth of the Trinity

St. John of the Cross

St. Titus

St. Thérèse of Lisieux

Martyrs of Compiègne

Our Lady of Mount Carmel

Our Lady of Mt. Carmel

Directed to Christ and oriented to Him, Carmel is also directed to Mary and oriented to her. ‘Completely Marian’, Totus marianus est, Carmelite authors like to repeat throughout the centuries, and of all their titles none is dearer to the sons (and daughters) of Elijah than that of Brother (and Sisters) of our Lady. It is historically certain that the first hermits who retired to Mount Carmel…made their center a chapel consecrated to our Lady, and from that time of…the first Prior General, the Carmelites were called Brothers of our Lady of Mount Carmel. So devotion to our Lady is seen to be one of their disctinctive signs.

‘Despite its historical inexactitudes, the Book of the Institution of the First Monks shows that the Order is dominated by the two great figures which represent on different levels, its ideals: Elijah and our Lady.’ At Carmel what is true of our Lord is also true of our Lady. Contemplative life advances by assimilation and union, much more than by images, examples and models. Preserving all due proportion, what we have said of Christ, we repeat about Mary.

Our Lady is for Carmelites not only the Mother of Christ and their own mother. She also represents and expresses the soul’s essential attitude before God. Mary not only sums up the whole Old Testament, she represents all humanity. She is its soul athirst for God, longing for God, hoping for God. All her strength and all her faculties are turned toward God so that she may receive and fully live by Him.

Our Lady is also the place of the divine response, of the divine coming. In her, humanity becomes conscious of God’s desire and fully efficacious will to give Himself to us. Mary is the place of this meeting; better still, she is the temple in which is consummated God’s espousals with humanity, the hidden sanctuary in which the Spouse is united with the bride, the desert that flowers at the breath of God.

In Carmel God is the objective, but the soul will become more and more Mary. The reason why the Rule does not mention our Lady is clear. Carmel seeks to gaze upon God and love God with mind and heart. What Mary represents is the soul itself. As the soul is united to Christ, so Carmel is hidden in Mary. For Carmel, Mary is, beyond any doubt, the infinitely admirable and lovable Mother, the all-merciful Mother, but deeper than this, she is the one who was chosen and formed by God to be the Mother of the Savior; she is the purest, highest, and most perfect expression of the soul that is open to the divine action and lives in Mary’s light and in Mary’s love. She is par excellence, the contemplative soul.

St. Elijah

St. Elijah

The Elijan Spirit can be summed up in his statement, “The Lord lives before Whom I stand.” Because he had deeply contemplated the living God so as to stand constantly in His Presence, Elijah had the courage and strength to carry out the “active apostolate” that God had given him, whether in the directly prophetic role of witnessing against Ahaz, Jezebel and the prophets of Baal, or in the simple ministering to the needs of the widow of Zarepath. This is reflected in the life of Mother Luisita in that her deep and constant relationship with her Spouse was the source of her zeal for the apostolate and her courage to continue nurturing our community despite the persecution. Both of them often stood alone before God. Mother Luisita was a gentle warrior.

The apostolic zeal of Elijah and his self-emptying led to a brokenness and reliance on God and we too are called to accompany others in their brokenness and encounter God. Carmel is a way of life and Elijah is our model of how to be contemplatives and active prayerful prophets, reflective and apostolic. Elijah teaches us to bring the real me before the living God and my openness to the real God and His holy and perfect will. Zeal for the Lord consumed him and he was “100% all in”. He was not afraid to confront the idolatry of the culture in which he was living and serving at his time in history. We see these characteristics evident in the life of Mother Luisita. She was led to a point of self-emptying and brokenness before God, and multiple times she led her fledgling congregation through turmoil and confusion as well as the religious persecution. These events always led her to a deeper reliance on God and a genuine encounter with him in the present situation in which she found herself. She was zealous for souls and encountered the culture of idolatry before her with intuitive clandestine intelligence, and also loving concern for those she was called to serve around her. Elijah fled and then had an encounter with God. Mother Luisita fled persecution and then encountered God in the United States.

Mother Luisita and Elijah experienced God’s providence. Elijah with the raven bringing bread, the widow’s bread, and the rain falling. Mother Luisita experienced it frequently and relied on it as well. How much are we relying on God as well?

Elijah believed that Yahweh lives and that faith enabled him to trust that God would bring about his own plans. Believing that he was the only prophet of Yahweh left and that there was no other to bring the people back from false worship then it was better for him to die than to have failed God.

Faithfulness to obedience deepened Mother Luisita’s faith and led to a trust that enabled her to see beyond her own desires and plans. She realized that in trials and suffering the Lord is always present. For both of them, their fidelity to God’s will bore tremendous fruit. Both Elijah and Mother Luisita had “holy stamina”: Elijah walked 40 miles with the bread given him. Mother Luisita traveled with the tabernacle she packed for her trip to California.

Elijah and Mother Luisita lived their silence and union with God. Elijah’s profound encounter of God in the gentle breeze was like Mother Luisita’s encounter with God in the Blessed Sacrament. It gave Mother the ability to stand firm during the religious persecution. Mother possessed an interior peace, tranquility and perseverance. We continually strive for this interior peace but continue to have a tension between getting the work done and our prayer life. We strive to maintain our interior peace in order to hear God speak to us during the day. Interior silence is essential to external silence. Elijah had to be very still to hear the voice of God. He did not hear it in the fire or the earthquake. Likewise Mother Luisita, did not hear it in the exterior noise of the persecution that she was experiencing. It was the interior fire that allowed them to be still. Whatever the exterior noise they experienced, it was the contemplative dimension of being able to hear God’s still small voice, deciphering in the noise God’s presence. They both followed the anointed voice of God’s will speaking to them. When God called Mother to go to California, she could take the risk because she recognized the voice of God.

Both Elijah and Mother Luisita had a timid temperament. Mother Luisita was held by an interior force by virtue of fortitude within her despite a timid temperament. However, if we do not speak it, it will not be spoken. This message cannot be spoken with words alone. Elijah, very human in his emotions, even pouting, and yet persevered!

Both passed on a double portion of their spirit that was symbolized by the passing along of their mantle. They are our models for us as we endure our trials and carry our crosses. Mother Luisita was guiding 17 superiors through her letters despite the suffering she endured.

St. Teresa of Avila

St. Teresa of Jesus

Teresa of Avila gave the Church the shining example of prayer as conversation with Jesus—Friend, Brother and Spouse. She lived in intimate communion with the One whom she knew loved her. Mother Luisita’s deep prayer, especially her devotion to Our Lord in the Most Blessed Sacrament, was the source and strength of her life. St. Teresa and Mother Luisita encountered God through the humanity of Jesus—whether through Jesus’ sufferings or through devotion to the Sacred Heart.

With the help of Our Blessed Mother, St. Teresa of Avila and Mother Luisita used all the events of their lives to grow in union with God. They strove to go deeper into the “Interior Mansions,” the “Tabernacle” of their hearts and taught their daughters how to do the same.

St. Teresa and Mother Luisita exemplified a very practical wisdom and challenged their daughters to strive to cultivate lives of unwavering virtue. Both wanted their sisters to live in charity and unity so that the community would console the Heart of Christ and build up the Church.

St. Teresa and Mother Luisita focused their hearts on seeking God even in the midst of the horrific difficulties that swirled around them. It is evident that both of these holy women were deeply impacted by the Incarnation of Christ and were very aware of His presence at all times. This intimacy with Christ led them to embrace their own humanity and to see Christ in the humanity of others. This love impelled them to service. St. Teresa and Mother Luisita knew that all fruitful apostolic activity had to flow from a deep union with God.

Just as St. Teresa had a determined determination to serve the Lord, so also Mother Luisita was filled with a steadfast determination. Mother Luisita clung to the will of God while remaining flexible to the movements of the Holy Spirit with a heart full of trust and faith. We see the echo of Holy Mother’s words, “Nada te turbe,” in Mother Luisita’s “Calm must be your motto.” They both found in God the source of their strength.

Women of prayer and deep faith, they courageously risked their lives in times of religious persecution in Mexico soon followed by a time of confusion in the Church following the Second Vatican Council. Mother Margarita Maria, Mother Ines, Mother Josephine, Sister Piedad and Sister St. John of the Cross suffered during the difficult times of the 60’s and 70’s. Some of us are aware and others are not of what they endured during those times. They continued to peacefully lead us in the right direction to keep us faithful to Holy Mother Church and to our charism.

How do we rekindle our first fervor? How did they do this? They teach us that we must go back to the priority of who we are over what we do. We are to give wholeheartedly of ourselves where God has us at the present moment trusting in Him. If we are waiting for a new house or new assignment then we will miss out. The Lord is with us.

St. John of the Cross

St. John of the Cross

Inflamed with love for Jesus, St. John of the Cross and Mother Luisita kept Christ as the passion and center of their lives. Their searching, yearning and seeking for the Beloved through prayer allowed them to find Him in everything—even in the darkness of prison and persecution. On the cross they united themselves to Christ Crucified and were consumed by His love.

St. John and Mother Luisita exemplified radical trust. From the loss of loved ones, to persecution and misunderstandings, both responded with ardent faith. Neither Mother Luisita nor St. John voiced complaint during the times of deep suffering they endured. They allowed the darkness they experienced to purify them and transform them in love.

Mother Luisita and St. John understood that we have to make ourselves empty so as to receive the torrent of God’s grace within. They saw poverty, detachment and asceticism as a royal path to union with the Beloved. Both had to deal with their own sicknesses which gave them great compassion for others, especially those who were sick in mind or body. Even in their deaths, both experienced great suffering and divestment. Mother Luisita died in pain and great poverty. St. John died in persecution from his brethren and physical pain.

St. John of the Cross found God in creation. He frequently used images from the natural world in his poetry and loved to spend time in nature. Even from childhood, Mother Luisita had a great appreciation for the way God used natural beauty to draw souls to Himself. In her letters she encouraged her sisters to spend time contemplating nature and she used lessons from nature to communicate profound spiritual truths.

St. John was ‘fired with love’s urgent longings.’ Mother Luisita was a ‘presence inflamed.’ They burned passionately within and this passion was shown to God and also powerfully to others. In this, they exemplified the contemplative spirit flowing out into the active apostolate. Pouring themselves out in love, they gave themselves to God for the good of souls.

St. Thérèse of Lisieux

St. Thérèse of Lisieux

“Those who concentrate on the life and doctrine of this child of Carmel who died at the age of twenty-four are seized with wonder and admiration. They discover, in fact, that her contribution to spirituality is as original as it is profoundly traditional. They also discover that hidden under the Gospel-like simplicity of her message of ‘the little way of childhood’ is a spiritual structure both strong and perfectly balanced from the theological point of view. Her life of love of the absolute and of absolute love is of rare depth and fullness. It was a combination of certain interrelated spiritual principles and constitutes a true doctrine: this is ‘the little way of childhood’. This doctrine is derived from a rediscovery of the central teaching of the Gospel, which may be expressed in this sentence: We are, in Christ, God’s children, and we ought to love our Father in heaven with a filial liove full of confidence and abandonment.

St. Therese had very great desires, yet she would never admit that she was a great soul or that she had the strength necessary to do great things, like the saints who had been proposed to her as models. So she had to find a way in keeping with this littleness of which she was so deeply conscious. More than this: she sought a way that depended on this very weakness. Had not the Apostle said: ‘When I am weak then I am strong’…Confidence in God led St. Therese by paths of self-forgetfulness and poverty of spirit, to a wonderful simplification of the spiritual life. As she made spiritual childhood her own, so she made poverty of spirit her own. She aspired to be nothing more than ‘a poor little child’ who looks to her Father for everything and who obtains everything from Him because of this same poverty.

When we look at the life of St. Therese of the Child Jesus we are struck by its simplicity and wonderful transperancy. We are amazed to discover through her not only the purest Gospel teaching but Christ Himself. We also notice that the unity of her spiritual life, and death are of a price, yield the same tone, and are proof of an equal plenitude. Like her Master, Therese is true, and also like Him, her person and her message are one.

Source: Carmelite Spirituality in the Teresian Tradition By Paul-Marie of the Cross, O.C.D. Translated by Kathryn Sullivan, R.C.S.J.

St. Teresa of the Andes

St. Teresa of the Andes

“To lovingly offer ourselves to the father in order to accomplish his adorable will –– this I reckon is the plan of holiness.” These are not the words of a theological scholar, doctor of the church or eminent clergyman, but of a 19-year old Carmelite novice, Teresa of Jesus. She was born Juana Fernández Solar in Santiago, Chile on July 13, 1900. Known as “Juanita” to her family, she was 6 when she knew that God was drawing her to him. She wrote later in her diary, “It was shortly after the 1906 earthquake that Jesus began to claim my heart for himself.” (“God the Joy of My Life, The Diary of Blessed Teresa of the Andes,” translated by Michael D. Griffin)

Juanita’s parents, Miguel Fernández and Lucia Solar, were members of the Chilean upper class. She grew up with three brothers and two sisters, her maternal grandfather and several uncles, aunts and cousins. She was educated in the college of the French Sisters of the Sacred Heart. Juanita developed a profound devotion to the Eucharist that became more intense after she made her first Communion at the age of 10. She was a naturally proud, self-centered and stubborn girl who was transformed by the Eucharist that gave her the mystical grace to lead a life of prayer. The holiness of her life was evident to friends and family and shined in all situations.

Editor Bernard Bangley (“Butler’s Lives of the Saints”) related that when Juanita was in her early teens, she read the “Story of a Soul” by Thérèse of Lisieux. She was so moved by this autobiography, she decided she wanted to become a Carmelite nun. She also read the biographies of Teresa of Avila and Elizabeth of the Trinity, which further increased her desire to join the Carmelites. In May 1919 she entered the Monastery of the Holy Spirit in the township of Los Andes, some 90 kilometers from Santiago. The Carmelites there lived in extremely primitive conditions, Bangley reported. She took the name of Teresa of Jesus. Love, service and prayer dominated her religious thought. She felt fulfilled in the Carmelite way of life and knew it was what she was born to do.

A few months into her novitiate, her health began to deteriorate. Rosemary Ellen Guiley (“Encyclopedia of Saints”) wrote that by the following March she knew that she would soon die. She began to write letters sharing her thoughts on the spiritual life with many people. (“Letters of Saint Teresa of Jesus of the Andes,” translated by Michael D. Griffin) Teresa contracted typhus on Good Friday, April 2, 1920. On April 7, because of danger of death, she made her religious profession. She died on April 12 as a Discalced Carmelite novice. Her remains are venerated in the Sanctuary of Auco-Rinconada of Los Andes where an estimated 100,000 pilgrims visit each year.

Pope John Paul II declared her Blessed on March 4, 1987 before a million people in Santiago. He canonized her in 1993. St. Teresa of Jesus of Los Andes (Teresa de Jesús “de los Andes”) was the first Chilean to be declared a saint. She is the first Discalced Carmelite nun to become a saint outside the boundaries of Europe. St. Teresa of the Andes is the patroness of young people. Her feast day is April 12 and her attributes are a small cross and flowers.

Source: “Catholic Spirit,” April 2009, (Diocese of Austin, Texas) by Mary Lou Gibson

St. Teresa Benedicta

St. Teresa Benedicta

An estimated six million Jews and four million Christians died in the Holocaust. One of these was Edith Stein (Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, O.C.D.), philosopher, scholar, Carmelite nun, and now – canonized saint. Edith was the eleventh child of Siegfried and Augusta Stein. She was born in Breslau, Germany, into an observant Jewish family on the “Day of Atonement” which fell that year on October 12, 1891. As a young child, she was described as “headstrong and saucy.” By age seven, her contemplative spirit became apparent when she began to speak of a sweet hidden life within her.

Although Edith was brilliant and at the top of her class consistently, she dropped out of school when she was fourteen. Her principal, seeing her academic potential and the high caliber of her schoolwork, was utterly disgusted. During the following ten months, which she spent helping her sister Else with her first child, Edith lost her faith and began what she called her “search for the truth.” It led her to the university, the study of phenomenology, a doctorate in philosophy, summa cum laude, and a brilliant career as a phenomenologist. She considered herself an atheist and wrote, “My only prayer now is my search for the truth.”

One evening she picked up a book, a German translation of the Autobiography of St. Teresa and read it in one night. When she finished reading, she closed the book and exclaimed, “This is truth.” She soon became a Catholic and then entered Carmel in 1933, receiving the name Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross. When the Holocaust was reaching its darkest days, she was discovered by Hitler’s S.S. agents and, together with her sister Rosa, was taken to a concentration camp on August 2, 1942. One of the witnesses reported that, as they walked hand in hand to the corner to board the waiting van, Edith (Sister Benedicta of the Cross) said to Rosa, “Come, let us go for our people.” They died at Auschwitz on August 9, 1942, from Zyklon B poison gas.

The Red Cross, eight years later, confirmed the date of their deaths. A prolific writer as well as a brilliant scholar, Sister Benedicta of the Cross has left many books and other writings to us. In her writings, she delves assiduously into truth and investigates the deeper questions of life. “Who am I? Why am I here? Where am I going?”

Pope John Paul II beatified Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross on May 1, 1987, and canonized her on Oct. 11, 1998.

St. Elizabeth of the Trinity

St. Elizabeth of the Trinity

St. Elizabeth Catez was born in France in 1880. After her father’s death in 1887, the family moved to the second floor of a house that overlooked the Dijon Carmel. During her first visit with the prioress of the Dijon Carmel, her prioress told her that her name meant “House of God.” This deeply affected Elizabeth. As her spirituality deepened, she grew in awareness of the presence of God within her. She accepted her mother’s wishes to wait until she was twenty-one before she entered the Carmelites. She died in 1906.

In her brief twenty-six years, Elizabeth encapsulated the Carmelite attributes of reflective prayer, living in the present moment, loving God wholeheartedly and serving others with simplicity. Her life can be a witness for each one of us. With the help of grace, we, too, can live in intimacy with God and in service to others. Isn’t this connected to our baptismal call? She envisioned each incident and circumstance of life as a sacrament, which brought God to an individual and assisted an individual to become more aware of God’s indwelling presence. “Every happening, every event, every suffering as also every joy, is a sacrament that gives God to the soul,” she tells us.

Elizabeth had an intense love for scripture. As she prayerfully and reflectively read the gospel, she grew in God’s love. She did not preach the gospel with words; she lived it with her life. Elizabeth encourages us to live our Christian vocation to the full, by living every aspect of our day generously and with ardor. She challenges us to plunge deeper into our spiritual life, thus broadening our understanding of other aspects of our lives and the workings of the mysteries of God therein.

Elizabeth’s Prayer to the Most Holy Trinity:

O my God, Trinity whom I adore, help me to become utterly forgetful of myself so that I may establish myself in you, as changeless and calm as though my soul were already in eternity. Let nothing disturb my peace nor draw me forth f from you, O my unchanging God, but at every moment may I penetrate more deeply into the depths of your mystery. Give peace to my soul; make it your heaven, your cherished dwelling-place and the place of your repose. Let me never leave you there alone, but keep me there, wholly attentive, wholly alert in my faith, wholly adoring and fully given up to your creative action.

O my beloved Christ, crucified for love, I long to be the bride of your heart. I long to cover you with glory, to love you even unto death! Yet I sense my powerlessness and beg you to clothe me with yourself. Identify my soul with all the movements of your soul, submerge me, overwhelm me, substitute yourself for me, so that my life may become a reflection of your life. Come into me as Adorer, as Redeemer and as Savior.

O Eternal Word, utterance of my God, I want to spend my life listening to you, to become totally teachable so that I might learn all from you. Through all darkness, all emptiness, all powerlessness, I want to keep my eyes fixed on you and to remain under your great light. O my Beloved Star, so fascinate me that I may never be able to leave your radiance.

O Consuming Fire, Spirit of Love, overshadow me so that the Word may be, as it were incarnate again in my soul. May I be for him a new humanity in which he can renew all his mystery.

And you, O Father, bend down towards your poor little creature. Cover her with your shadow, see in her only your beloved son in who you are well pleased.

O my `Three’, my All, my Beatitude, infinite Solitude, Immensity in which I lose myself, I surrender myself to you as your prey. Immerse yourself in me so that I may be immersed in you until I go to contemplate in your light the abyss of your splendor!

Source: Carmelite Spirituality in the Teresian Tradition By Paul-Marie of the Cross, O.C.D. Translated by Kathryn Sullivan, R.C.S.J.

St. Titus Brandsma

St. Titus Brandsma

Titus Brandsma was born in the Netherlands, a country bordering Belgium and Germany, on Feb. 23, 1881. His parents named him Anno Sjoerd Brandsma and he grew up in the rural setting of Oegeklooster in the province of Friesland. His family lived on the proceeds of the milk and cheese produced by their dairy cattle. Brandsma felt a calling to the religious life and joined the Carmelite monastery in Boxmeer, southeastern Netherlands, in 1898, taking his father’s name, Titus, as his religious name. Although the Carmelites are known for separating themselves from worldly affairs and engaging in contemplative prayer, Brandsma felt called to journalism, which would draw him into the drama of interwar Europe.

Brandsma was ordained to the priesthood on June 17, 1905. After studying in Rome, he returned home to work in the field of Catholic education. When the Catholic University of Nijmegen was founded in 1923, he joined the faculty, rising to become the institution’s rector magnificus, or head, in 1932. With fears of a second world war rising in Europe, Brandsma was asked by his superiors in Rome to undertake a lecture tour of Carmelite foundations in the United States in 1935. Shortly before he crossed the Atlantic, Brandsma was appointed spiritual adviser to the staff of more than 30 Catholic newspapers in the Netherlands by the future Cardinal Johannes de Jong of Utrecht. Upon arrival in the U.S., Brandsma traveled in the East and Midwest. He was struck with wonder at Niagara Falls, writing in his journal: “I see God in the work of his hands and the marks of his love in every visible thing. I am seized by a supreme joy which is above all other joys.”

Throughout the 1930s, Brandsma watched aghast as Adolf Hitler strengthened his grip on neighboring Germany. The friar sharply criticized Nazi policies in newspaper articles and lectures. “The Nazi movement is a black lie,” he said. “It is pagan.” After Nazi Germany invaded the Netherlands on May 10, 1940, the authorities imposed severe restrictions on the Church. They ordered Catholic schools to expel Jewish students, barred priests and religious from serving as high school principals, restricted charitable collections, and censored the Catholic press. The Dutch bishops asked Brandsma to plead their cause, but without success.

In 1941, the bishops spoke out boldly against the Nazis. Their interventions infuriated Arthur Seyss-Inquart, the Reich commissioner of the German-occupied Netherlands, who sought ways of striking back. When Dutch newspapers were told to accept advertisements and press releases from their Nazi overlords, the archbishop of Utrecht asked Brandsma to tell the country’s Catholic editors that they should refuse the order. According to an account in the 1983 book “No Strangers to Violence, No Strangers to Love,” by Father Boniface Hanley, O.F.M., Archbishop de Jong underlined that the mission was dangerous and the Carmelite was not obliged to accept it. “Father Titus knew exactly what I said, and he freely and willingly accepted the duty,” de Jong recalled. Brandsma traveled around the Netherlands delivering letters to the editors explaining the rationale for the bishops’ decision. He was trailed by the Gestapo, Nazi Germany’s political police.

Brandsma managed to visit 14 editors before he was arrested on January 19, 1942, at the monastery in Boxmeer. As the Gestapo prepared to take him away, he knelt before his superior and received his blessing. “Imagine my going to jail at the age of 60,” Brandsma said to the man arresting him. The friar was taken to a prison in the seaside town of Scheveningen, where the interrogating officer demanded to know why he had disobeyed state regulations. “As a Catholic, I could have done nothing differently,” Brandsma responded, according to Father Hanley.

The officer, Captain Paul Hardegen, later asked Brandsma to express in writing why his countrymen scorned the Dutch Nazi party. “The Dutch,” the friar wrote, “have made great sacrifices out of love for God and possess an abiding faith in God whenever they have had to prove adherence to their religion … If it is necessary, we, the Dutch people, will give our lives for our religion. The Nazi movement is regarded by the Dutch people not only as an insult to God in relation to his creatures, but a violation of the glorious traditions of the Dutch nation.”
In conclusion, Brandsma said: “God bless the Netherlands. God bless Germany. May God grant that both nations will soon be standing side by side in full peace and harmony.”

The Dutch friar was always meticulously organized. He resolved not to waste a moment of his time in prison. He followed a strict timetable that included “walks” around his cell while smoking his pipe (until it was confiscated.) He worked on a biography of the Carmelite St. Teresa of Avila, composed meditations on the Stations of the Cross and wrote letters. On March 12, 1942, this routine was broken when Brandsma was taken to a transit camp at Amersfoort, central Netherlands. With around 100 other prisoners, he was forced to stand outside in the bone-chilling rain. The men were led inside and ordered to change their clothes. But as Brandsma removed his drenched black clerical suit, the prisoners were forced outside again, this time naked. The Carmelite was put to work later clearing a forest. Despite the grueling labor, he remained cheerful, according to fellow prisoners, who said that he would share his tiny rations with the hungry and show special care for Jewish prisoners. Brandsma disobeyed a ban on priestly ministry, giving prisoners his daily blessing by discreetly making the Sign of the Cross on their hands with his thumb. He heard confessions, visited the dying, and even led the Stations of the Cross. He stood firm in the face of further Gestapo questioning and was eventually told that he would be sent to the Dachau concentration camp in southern Germany, later called “the largest priest cemetery in the world.”

With his health collapsing, Brandsma stopped en route at a prison in Kleve, northwestern Germany, where he made an unsuccessful appeal for parole. “In Dachau, I will meet friends, and God the Lord is everywhere,” he wrote during the stopover. “I could be in Dachau for a very long time. It doesn’t have such a very good name that you really long for it.”

“From the very moment Titus entered the camp, his calmness and gentleness infuriated his captors,” wrote Father Hanley. “They beat him mercilessly with fists, clubs, and boards. They kicked, punched, and gouged him, drawing blood, and oftentimes leaving him nearly unconscious in the mud.” During one beating, Brandsma was holding a consecrated Host concealed in a tobacco pouch. He kept it safe by keeping his arm pinned to his body as the blows rained down. When he made it back to his bunk, another Carmelite prisoner tried to comfort him. “Thank you, Brother,” Brandsma said, “but don’t have pity on me. I had Jesus with me in the Eucharist.” The friar suffered from such painful sores on his feet that his fellow prisoners would have to carry him back to the barracks at the end of the day’s work. Throughout, he retained what one inmate called a “cheerful courage.” He advised others to be patient and avoid hatred. “We are here in a dark tunnel, but we have to go on. At the end, the eternal light is shining for us,” he told them. For as long as possible, he resisted going to the camp’s infirmary, aware that doctors performed sadistic experiments on patients. But he was finally admitted, and on Sunday, July 26, 1942, a nurse gave him a lethal injection.

Brandsma’s beatification cause opened in the Dutch Diocese of Den Bosch in 1952. It was the first process for a candidate considered a martyr of the Nazi regime. The friar was beatified by Pope John Paul II on Nov. 3, 1985, as a martyr for the faith. In his homily, the Polish pope praised Brandsma’s “constant vein of optimism.” “It accompanied him even in the hell of the Nazi camp. Until the end, he remained a source of support and hope for the other prisoners: he had a smile for everyone, a word of understanding, a gesture of kindness,” he said. “The same ‘nurse,’ who on July 26, 1942, injected him with deadly poison, later testified that she always kept vivid in her memory the face of that priest who ‘had compassion on me.’” The nurse, known as “Titia,” testified that Brandsma gave her his rosary. When she responded that she could not pray and did not need it, he encouraged her to recite the second part of the Hail Mary, “Pray for us sinners.” “I started laughing then,” she recalled. “He told me that, if I were to pray a lot, I would not be lost.”

Thirty-six years after Brandsma’s beatification, on Nov. 25, 2021, Pope Francis recognized a miracle attributed to the friar’s intercession. A Catholic priest in Florida told CNA in 2018 that he attributed his miraculous healing from cancer to Brandsma’s intercession. Fr. Michael Driscoll, O. Carm, was diagnosed with advanced melanoma in 2004. Shortly afterward, someone gave him a small piece of Brandsma’s black suit, which the American priest applied to his head each day. Driscoll underwent major surgery, with doctors removing 84 lymph nodes and a salivary gland. He then went through 35 days of radiation treatment. Doctors said that his subsequent recovery from Stage 4 cancer was scientifically inexplicable. Driscoll recalled that his doctor told him: “No need to come back, don’t waste your money on airfare in coming back here. You’re cured. I don’t find any more cancer in you.”

A congress of theologians acknowledged the healing as a miracle on May 25, 2021. A gathering of cardinals and bishops reached the same conclusion on Nov. 9 that year. Pope Francis confirmed their opinion on March 4, 2022, announcing that he would canonize Brandsma. The pope presided at a canonization Mass in St. Peter’s Square on May 15 — the first since Oct. 13, 2019. Father Míceál O’Neill, O. Carm., prior general of the Carmelite Order, said: “This is the news we have been awaiting for a long time and it comes as the result of the Church’s recognition of the holiness and witness of Titus Brandsma.”

“It is not without significance that we have this celebration at a time when truth and integrity is suffering seriously in the major conflicts that now threaten the peace of the world.”

Source: Who was Titus Brandsma, the WWII Catholic martyr who will be canonized in May? | Catholic News Agency
By Luke Coppen
London, England, Mar 8, 2022

Martyrs of Compiègne

Martyrs of Compiègne

On July 17, the Church commemorates sixteen French Carmelite nuns who died at the hands of the French Revolution, hastening the end of its Reign of Terror. After the French Revolution broke out in 1789 in Paris, increasingly radical governments took power, targeting the Catholic Church as revolutionaries exalted reason over religion. Streets named after saints were renamed, churches were desecrated, and Sunday was erased from the calendar.

The revolution shattered the monastic peace of the Carmelite nuns of Compiegne in 1790, when the government passed the Civil Constitution of the Clergy, which outlawed religious life.

Government officials came to the convent, interviewing each sister and presenting them with a choice: break your vows or risk further punishment. Each sister refused to abandon their life of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Mother Teresa of St. Augustine, the monastery’s prioress, hastened to make arrangements for the sisters to take shelter in the city, where they courageously continued to practice community prayer.

As the French Revolution continued to radicalize, it devolved into the Reign of Terror under Maximilien Robespierre and Committee for Public Safety, a provisional government, in 1793. In 1794, the government arrested the Carmelites and detained them in Paris– where execution by guillotine was all but inevitable. The trial accused Mother Teresa of Saint Augustine and the other nuns of being religious fanatics and counter-revolutionaries. The evidence brought against them was a fleur-de-lis stitched into an altar cloth, a symbol for the monarchy. All sixteen were sentenced to death on charges of treason. Among them were eleven nuns, three lay sisters, and two tertiaries.

On a summer night, the sisters were taken through the streets of Paris on an open cart. Onlookers berated the sisters with their hatred for the Church, yelling insults and throwing things at them.

At the guillotine, the usual crowd gathered to watch the executions. But this time was different.

On July 17, 1794, without any sign of fear, the sisters forgave their guards and approached their death singing hymns of praise. The crowd fell silent as each sister approached Mother Teresa of St. Augustine and kissed the statue of the Virgin Mary she held in her hands, before asking for her permission to die. “Permission granted,” the prioress said to each one before herself placing her head under the guillotine.

Within the following few days, Robespierre himself was executed, bringing an end to the Reign of Terror. French Catholics had no doubt that the sacrifice of the sisters helped bring about the end to the horrors of the revolution. The martyrs of Compiegne were proclaimed venerable in 1902 and were beatified in 1906. The Church celebrates them on July 17.

Source: Who are the Martyrs of Compiegne? | Catholic News Agency