JESUS CARITAS

Year for Priests:
St. John Vianney

Part One

By Bishop Thomas J. Olmsted | Aug. 6, 2009 | The Catholic Sun 

Editor’s note: This is the first part in a new series of columns in celebration of the holy Year for Priests.

On the day of his ordination to the priesthood, no one expected much of this man. Many thought he should not be ordained. Some just hoped he would not be an embarrassment for the Church. To be sure, no one expected him to be canonized a saint, certainly not to become the patron saint of all priests.

Impossible!

John Vianney’s humble beginning was indeed humble. He grew up on a farm in southern France, where the opportunity for formal schooling was non-existent. His older sister found time to help him learn to read and to write. His insufficient education became even more problematic when he expressed interest in the priesthood. In those days, seminary courses were taught in Latin. The young, future priest felt totally lost at what seemed to be an insurmountable obstacle to the priesthood. But because he was sure in faith that priestly ministry was God’s plan for him, he did not despair but trusted in God’s providence.

With patient endurance, kept afloat by daily prayer, he found tutorial help for learning Latin and eventually grasped the basics of philosophy and theology. Through an unusually roundabout way God led him to priestly ordination. According to one historian, John Vianney’s “goodness was sufficient to offset his deficiencies in learning.”

Someone said of Ludwig Van Beethoven, “Beethoven can write music, thank God; but do nothing else on earth.” Perhaps similar things were said about Vianney on his ordination day: “Vianney can say Mass and hear confessions, thank God; but do nothing else on earth.”

When we reflect upon how God intervenes throughout history we find that he repeatedly chooses to bring about a great amount of good through the imperfections of ordinary men and women. In saints and sinners, past and present, He overcomes obstacles and weaknesses of human nature to perform deeds that would seem otherwise impossible. All that God requires to do this is for the person to give his assent, his ‘yes’ to God’s will. This is what happened in the tiny town of Ars, in southern France, where Fr. Vianney served as parish priest for 41 years. This is where he came be known simply as the “Cure of Ars.”

Holy impatience

St. Paul writes to the Ephesians (4:1ff), “I, then, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to live in a manner worthy of the call you have received, with all humility and gentleness, and patience.” Fr. Vianney excelled in these virtues: humility, gentleness and patience. A century and a half after his death these remain key virtues for pastoral service as a priest and, indeed, for all people who seek to be a disciple of Christ.

Since the Cure of Ars excelled in the virtue of patience, let us consider the nature of this important virtue. St. Thomas Aquinas wrote: “To bear patiently with wrongs done to oneself is a mark of perfection, but to bear patiently with wrongs done to someone else is a mark of imperfection and even of actual sin.”

The Cure of Ars suffered wrongs to himself throughout the whole of his life, but especially during his ministry as a priest. He was mocked for being stupid when in fact he was just too materially poor to afford a good education. He was sent to “the worst assignment” in the diocese, the place where no other priest wanted to be assigned. Ars was known for its religious indifference, its high incidence of alcoholism, its tepid faith and widespread immorality. His candid denunciation of these sins, at least during his initial years, reaped sharp criticism and even slander. Dom Ernest Graf wrote of him, “The Cure’s success led to an explosion of rage on the part of his enemies: such a man was bound to make enemies! This fury vented itself in the vilest calumnies and the grossest libels… and no persecution was deemed too petty or too coarse where he was concerned.” Fr. Vianney responded not with anger or resentment but with increased prayer, greater fasting and patient endurance.

However, the Cure of Ars was not patient with wrongs done to others. He did not stand by idly when orphans had no one to care for them, when Sunday Mass and the Sabbath rest were neglected, and where sexual promiscuity was encouraged as a harmless pursuit when in fact it caused great unhappiness, broken hearts and sick relationships. He followed with courage the advice of St. Boniface, “Let us be neither dogs that do not bark nor silent onlookers nor paid servants who run away before the wolf. Instead let us be careful shepherds watching over Christ’s flock. Let us preach the whole of God’s plan to the powerful and to the humble, to rich and to poor, to men of every rank and age, as far as God gives us the strength, in season and out of season.” 

Teaching when inconvenient

The three new priests whom I had the privilege of ordaining in early June have received far more extensive preparation than what Fr. Vianney received or perhaps was even capable of doing. I give thanks to God for the way these three entered fully into seminary training and thus prepared themselves for effective service to God’s people in the Diocese of Phoenix. The Cure of Ars’ unusual path to the priesthood should never cast doubt on the value of study, the blessing of learned priests, and the need for catechesis and evangelization by the clergy.

In fact, despite his limited formation, Fr. Vianney became well known for his preaching and catechesis. He dedicated time every day for catechetical instruction of the faithful, and he was known for his lengthy and energetically delivered sermons. His sister, commenting on her brother’s first assignment as an associate pastor, said, “…he did not preach well and yet people flocked to the church when it was his turn to preach.” What drew people to this priest?

Because his ministry began shortly after the Church’s bloody persecution during the French Revolution, ignorance of the faith was abysmal and religious practice was minimal or non-existent. In his preaching he targeted the sins, not the sinners, and did so with clarity, even vehemence. Because many frequented the taverns instead of the church on Sundays, he minced no words about the consequences. In one sermon, he declared, “The tavern is the devil’s own shop, the market where souls are bartered, where the harmony of families is broken up, where quarrels start and murders are done.” Eventually, every tavern in Ars closed its doors on Sundays; and morning Mass as well as evening Vespers became a widespread practice among believers. Sunday in Ars became, once again, the Lord’s Day.

But teaching and preaching did not come easy to this faithful priest. He labored for hours over the Sacred Scriptures before ascending the pulpit. He never used his limitations, however, as an excuse not to evangelize; rather, he took seriously the exhortation of St. Paul to Timothy (2 Tim 4:2), “…proclaim the word; be persistent whether it is convenient or inconvenient; convince, reprimand, encourage through all patience and teaching.”

In the next parts of this series, we shall look at other defining characteristics of this patron saint of priests, such as his battle with demons, his love for beauty, and his fame as a wise confessor.