“Budding Hope” by Trista at Not a Minx, a Moron, or a Parasite
Drum roll, please, I thought. CLICK… St. Thomas More. Hrmpf.
Don’t misunderstand: he’s a fascinating, intelligent, wonderful man we can all look to for sound words of wisdom. But I already knew about him.
I wanted to get a random saint I’d never heard of and converse with them over their bizarre life. “You had how many animals? And with how many swords did they impale you? Cool!”
Most of my English literature classes in college revolved around the Reformation, so I have read Utopia, heard the story of St. Thomas More from the mouths of secular professors, and danced politely in a discourse with my fellow students about the split from the Church.
St. Thomas More was old news. Or so I thought. In preparing for this post, I realized how my chosen patron saint and this randomly selected adopted saint relate to a recent revelation.
Elizabeth Anne Seton
Like so many things about the beginning of my faith life, I sided with convenience and routine during my confirmation preparation. There is something to be said in support of ritual.
Her husband died in Italy, where they had traveled to nurse him back to health, and she found herself an Episcopalian widow surrounded by physical reminders of the Catholic Church.
Soon she was inspired, uplifted and felt called to convert, though she would soon be without finances. Her conversion alienated her from the family upon whom she would ordinarily be able to depend.
Eventually, St. Elizabeth founded the Sisters of Charity and became the first American-born saint at her canonization in 1975. I don’t think I knew she was a convert when I picked her for my confirmation, but I’m glad she was.
My “I have this log in my eye…” post addressed my impatience with Protestants. I have a problem and I need God’s Grace to reverse it. It’s no coincidence that I have faced anti-Catholicism, now I resent it, and both my patron and adopted saint dealt with both sides of the same see-saw.
|St. Thomas More (I don’t own the rights)|
The intersection of my patron and my adopted saint affords me something to reflect upon. How to stand up for the Church, how to attempt intelligent discourse among people with whom I disagree, how to be willing to offer up my suffering or how give my life in martyrdom.
This seems like a coincidence, and of course I’m focusing on this aspect of their similarities, but recognizing the connection between my saints has opened a can of worms. They weave themselves into my day. I’m still learning what this connection means, but I’m doing so with a simple approach.
I just suggest that you recall your patron saint, say a prayer, and click “Show Me My Saint” on Jen Fulwiler’s Saint Generator. See what kind of connection is waiting to happen in the Communion of Saints.