Learning, Love, and Loss

Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.  On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’   And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.' — Matthew 7:21-23

I have been reading about the life of Saint Anthony of Padua.  He began his religious life in the order of St. Augustine, intently studying theology.  His direction changed drastically when his monastery housed the remains of five Franciscan monks martyred while preaching in Islamic Morocco.  Then known by his baptismal name of Fernando, he begged for the opportunity to join the Franciscan Order to give his life as a witness for Christ among the "Saracens".  He was allowed to leave the Augustinian Order.  Becoming a Franciscan, he changed his name to Anthony and sought martyrdom in Morocco.  Instead of death by beheading, Anthony fell terribly ill and was forced to sail for his home in Portugal.  A storm drove the ship to port on the east coast of Sicily.  These accidents culminated in Anthony preaching at an ordination of Dominicans and Franciscans, and his eventual appointment by Saint Francis as the first teacher of the Franciscans.  To that point, Saint Francis had been opposed to learning, fearing it would encourage pride among his Order. 

Anthony, though, was a most humble person.  He spoke simply without oratorical embellishment but with a comprehensive grasp of theology and Scripture.  He thus became the "Hammer of Heretics" — not out of antagonism but through a love for truth.  Saint Anthony was an effective preacher and teacher because he lived the gospel message of humility and poverty in spirit.  So, too, should our lives align with the words we speak — heeding the warning given by Jesus.  It is doing justly and loving mercy that counts rather than lip-service.  We must obey the commandments of Christ not merely proclaim them. 

Probably best known as being the Saint called upon to restore lost items, Anthony himself had little to lose.  His patronage, however, is based upon the loss one of his very few possessions and the only one which he truly valued — a manuscript copy of the Psalms.  Not only was this a precious item in that time before moveable print, but Anthony had his own notes in the margins relating to his prayer and teaching.  The book was not simply mislaid.  A straying novice had made off with Anthony's manuscript when he fled the monastery.  Anthony prayed that his book would be returned.  The young man repented and came back, restoring the Psalms to Anthony.

Anthony traveled much through the known world of his time with very little baggage.  He traveled light in terms of material possessions, but he carried with him the Word.  In fact, one of the most common depictions of Saint Anthony shows him holding the Infant Jesus.  The life of Saint Anthony illustrates the value of learning and knowledge of theology.  Equally, he shows us that, if we are going to carry Christ with us, we cannot carry much that is of this world. 

In modern life, rich as it is with material blessings and with so many distractions into which we are tempted to invest our time and energy, we can benefit from examining the life of those who considered themselves strangers and pilgrims here.  What is it that I am carrying around?  Is that Christ in my arms?  Am I bearing the light and sweet burden of the gospel?  Or am I weighed down with the accoutrements so valued and sought after by the worldly?  Do I have possessions which I hold loosely?  Or am I bound and possessed by material objects? 

Our values are revealed by how we live, by the fruit that our life bears, by the things we obsess or fret over.  It is almost ironic that a Christ-bearer such as Anthony would be the one appealed to when someone needs help finding lost car keys or a desperately needed job.  God does, though, care about our material existence.  He does provide for us and show His concern for even our smallest losses and anxieties.  By helping us to find what is, for the moment at least, irreplaceable, He reminds us that we were lost, that He deemed us irreplaceable, and that He sought us until we were found.