Special Interview: From the Heart of a Saint’s Mom
An Exclusive Interview with Antonia Salzano, mother of Blessed Carlo Acutis by Graziano Marcheschi, the Contributing Editor of Shalom Tidings as she speaks from her heart of what it’s being like to be a Saint’s mom.
At age seven he wrote, “My life plan is to be always close to Jesus.”
By the time he was fifteen, he had gone home to the Lord whom he had loved throughout his short life.
In between, is the remarkable story of a remarkably ordinary boy.
Ordinary, because he was not a standout athlete, nor a handsome movie star, nor even a brilliant scholar who finished graduate school when other kids are struggling through junior-high. He was a nice kid, a good kid. Very bright, to be sure: at age nine he read college textbooks to teach himself computer programming. But he did not win awards, nor influence people on Twitter. Few outside his circle knew who he was—an only child, living with his parents in northern Italy, who went to school, played sports, enjoyed his friends, and knew how to handle a joystick.
Un-remarkable but Extraordinary
As a very young child he fell in love with God and from then on, he lived with a singular focus, with a hunger for God that few ever achieve. And by the time he left this world he had made an indelible mark on it. Always a boy on a mission, he wasted no time. When people could not see what he saw, even his own mother, he helped them open their eyes.
Via Zoom, I interviewed his mother, Antonia Salzano, and asked her to explain his hunger for God, which even Pope Francis described as a “precocious hunger”?
“This is a mystery for me,” she said. “But many saints had special relationships with God from an early age, even if their family was not religious.” Carlo’s mother speaks from her heart openly about having attended Mass only three times in her life before Carlo started dragging her there when he was three-and-a-half. The daughter of a publisher, she was influenced by artists, writers, and journalists, not popes or saints. She had no interest in matters of faith and now says she was destined to become a “goat” rather than a “sheep.” But then came this marvelous boy who “always raced ahead—he spoke his first word at three months, started talking at five months, and began writing at age four.” And in matters of faith, he was ahead even of most adults.
At age three, he began asking questions his mother could not answer—lots of questions about the Sacraments, the Holy Trinity, Original Sin, the Resurrection. “This created a struggle in me,” Antonia said, “because I myself was as ignorant as a child of three.” His Polish nanny was better able to answer Carlo’s questions and spoke with him often about matters of faith. But his mother’s inability to answer his questions, she said, “diminished my authority as a parent.” Carlo wanted to engage in devotions she had never practiced—honoring the saints, putting flowers before the Blessed Virgin, spending hours in church before the cross and tabernacle.” She was at a loss about how to deal with her son’s precocious spirituality.
The beginning of a Journey
The unexpected death of her father from a heart attack led Antonia to start asking her own questions about life after death. Then, Father Ilio, an elderly holy priest known as the Padre Pio of Bologna, whom she met through a friend, set her on a journey of faith on which Carlo would become her primary guide. After telling her all the sins of her life before she confessed them, Father Ilio prophesied that Carlo had a special mission that would be of great importance for the Church.
Eventually, she began studying Theology, but it is Carlo whom she credits with her “conversion,” calling him “her savior.” Because of Carlo, she came to recognize the miracle that occurs at each Holy Mass. “Through Carlo I understood that the bread and wine become the real presence of God among us. This was a fantastic discovery for me,” she said. His love of God and appreciation of the Eucharist was not something young Carlo kept to himself. “The specialness of Carlo was to be a witness,” she said, “…always happy, always smiling, never sad. ‘Sadness is looking in toward the self;’ Carlo would say, ‘happiness is looking out toward God.’” Carlo saw God in his classmates and everyone he met. “Because he was aware of this presence, he gave witness to this presence,” she said.
Nourished daily by the Eucharist and divine Adoration, Carlo sought out the homeless, bringing them blankets and food. He defended classmates who were bullied and helped those who needed homework assistance. His one goal was “to speak about God and help others get closer to God.”
Seize the day!
Perhaps because he sensed his life would be short, Carlo made good use of time. “When Jesus came,” Antonia commented, “he showed us how not to waste time. Each second of his life was glorification of God.” Carlo understood this well and emphasized the importance of living in the now. “Carpe diem! (Seize the day!),” he urged, “because every minute wasted is one less minute to glorify God.” That’s why this teenager limited himself to but one hour of video games per week!
The attraction that many who read about him instantly feel toward Carlo characterized his whole life. “Since he was a young boy, people were naturally attracted to him—not because he was a blue-eyed fair-haired child, but because of what was inside,” said his mother. “He had a way to connect with people that was extraordinary.”
Even in school he was beloved. “The Jesuit fathers noticed this,” she said. His classmates were competitive kids from the upper classes, focused on achievement and success. “Naturally, there is lots of jealousy between classmates, but with Carlo none of that happened. He melted those things like magic; with his smile and purity of heart he conquered everyone. He had the ability to enflame the hearts of people, to turn their cold hearts warm.”
“His secret was Jesus. He was so full of Jesus—daily Mass, Adoration before or after mass, devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary—that he lived his life with Jesus, for Jesus, and in Jesus.
A Foretaste of Heaven
“Carlo genuinely felt God’s presence in his life,” said his mother, “and this completely changed the way people looked at him. They understood there was something special here.”
Strangers, teachers, classmates, a holy priest, all recognized something unique in this boy. And that uniqueness was most evident in his love of the Eucharist. “The more we receive the Eucharist,” he said, “the more we will become like Jesus, so that on earth we will have a foretaste of Heaven.” All his life he looked toward Heaven and the Eucharist was his “highway to Heaven… the most supernatural thing we have,” he would say. From Carlo, Antonia learned that the Eucharist is spiritual nourishment that helps increase our capacity to love God and neighbor—and grow in holiness. Carlo used to say “when we face the Sun we get a tan, but when we stand before Jesus in the Eucharist we become saints.”
One of Carlo’s best known accomplishments is his website chronicling Eucharistic miracles throughout history. An exhibit developed from the website continues to travel the world from Europe to Japan, from the US to China. Besides the amazing number of visitors to the exhibit, numerous miracles have been documented, though none as significant as the many it has brought back to the Sacraments and the Eucharist.
Process of Subtraction
Carlo is beatified and his canonization is assured, pending the authentication of a second miracle. But Antonia is quick to point out that Carlo will not be canonized because of miracles but because of his Holy life. Holiness is determined by the witness of one’s life, by how well they lived the virtues—faith, hope, charity, prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude. “Living the virtues heroically”—which the Catechism of the Catholic Church defines as ‘a habitual and firm disposition to do the good’—is what makes one a saint.”
And that’s exactly what Carlo strove to do. He tended to talk too much, so he made an effort to talk less. If he noticed himself overindulging, he’d strive to eat less. Nightly, he examined his conscience about his treatment of friends, teachers, parents. “He understood,” his mother said, “that conversion is not a process of addition, but of subtraction.” A profound insight for one so young. And so Carlo worked even to eliminate from his life every trace of venial sin. “Not I, but God,” he would say. “There needs to be less of me so I can leave more room for God.”
This effort made him aware that the greatest battle is with ourselves. One of his best known quotes asks, “What does it matter if you win a thousand battles if you cannot win against your own corrupt passions?” This effort “to overcome the defects that make us spiritually weak,” observed Antonia, “is the heart of holiness.” Young as he was, Carlo knew sanctity lies “in our efforts to resist the corrupt instincts we have inside us because of Original Sin.”
A Chilling Insight
Of course, losing her only child was a great cross for Antonia. But fortunately, by the time he died, she had already found her way back to her faith and had learned that “death is a passage to true life.” Despite the blow of knowing she would lose Carlo, during his time in the hospital the words that echoed inside her were those from the Book of Job: “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” (Job 1:21).
After his death, Antonia discovered a video Carlo had made of himself on his computer. Though he knew nothing of his leukemia at the time, in the video he says that when his weight goes down to seventy kilos, he will die. Somehow, he knew. Yet, he is smiling and looking at the sky with his arms upraised. In the hospital, his joy and peacefulness belied a chilling insight: “Remember,” he told his mother, “I won’t leave this hospital alive, but I will give you many, many signs.”
And signs he has given—a woman who prayed to Carlo at his funeral was healed of breast cancer without any chemotherapy. A 44-year-old woman who had never had a child prayed at the funeral and one month later was pregnant. Many conversions have occurred, but perhaps the most special miracle “is the one for the mother,” says Antonia. For years after Carlo’s birth Antonia had tried to conceive other children but to no avail. After his death, Carlo came to her in a dream telling her she would become a mother again. At age 44, on the fourth anniversary of his death, she gave birth to twins—Francesca and Michele. Like their brother, both attend Mass daily and pray the Rosary, and hope one day to help further their brother’s mission.
When his doctors asked if he was in pain, Carlo replied that “there are people who suffer much more than me. I offer my suffering for the Lord, the Pope (Benedict XVI), and the Church.” Carlo died just three days after his diagnosis. With his last words, Carlo professed that “I die happy because I didn’t spend any minutes of my life in things God doesn’t love.”
Naturally, Antonia misses her son. “I feel Carlo’s absence,” she said, “but in some ways I feel Carlo much more present than before. I feel him in a special way—spiritually. And I feel also his inspiration. I see the fruit his example is bringing to young people. This is a big consolation for me. Through Carlo, God is creating a masterpiece and this is very important, especially in these dark times when people’s faith is so weak, and God seems to be unnecessary in our lives. I think Carlo is doing a very good job.”
Graziano Marcheschi serves as the Senior Programming Consultant for Shalom World. He speaks nationally and internationally on topics of liturgy and the arts, scripture, spirituality, and lay ecclesial ministry. Graziano and his wife Nancy are blessed with two daughters, a son, and three grandchildren and live in Chicago.
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Do Angels really exist? Here’s a story that’s going to enthrall you When I was in high school, I was fascinated by tales of encounters with angels. I even dared to share the stories I read with friends and fellow students, who couldn’t help but be amused and intrigued. One unlikely boy showed special interest. When the bus we rode together was full of school kids he would be tough, with unfiltered behaviors and cussing. But as soon as the other students were gone and it was just the two of us, he’d turn to me and say, “Can you tell me an angel story?” I saw it as my gentle way of giving him some hope and a little push toward heaven, perhaps right when he needed it. Around this time, I had a wonderful teacher who shared an unforgettable story with me. A friend of his was nervously walking down a dark alley praying for God’s protection. She suddenly noticed a man staring intently at her from the shadows. As she prayed more fervently, he stepped toward her, but then stopped short and suddenly backed away, turning his face to the wall. She later heard that a young woman was attacked in that same alley only an hour after she had been there. She went to the police and told them she had seen someone in the alley a short while before the attack on the other woman. The police informed her they had someone in custody and wondered if she would view a line-up of suspects. She readily consented and sure enough among the suspects was the man she’d seen in the alley. She asked to speak to him and was escorted to the room where he was being held. As she entered, the man stood and gazed at her with a look of recognition. “Do you remember me?” she asked. He nodded. “Yes. I saw you there, in the alley.” She pressed on. “Why didn’t you attack me instead of the other woman?” He looked at her in confusion. “Are you kidding me?” he said, “with those two big guys walking on either side of you?!” Perhaps that story is apocryphal, but I loved it. It reminded me that guardian angels are not just a comforting thought or pleasant imaginings from our childhood. They are real. They are powerful and faithful. And they have been appointed to watch over us and protect us with God’s presence. But do we take our hidden friends for granted? And do we trust them to come to our need when we truly need them? From one of my favorite saints, St. Padre Pio, I learned to think more often of my guardian angel and to speak to him openly. I had no doubt that my angel was already working hard and fighting spiritual battles on my behalf, but one day I experienced his presence powerfully. I was seventeen, had missed my bus, and despite frigid weather, I decided to drive my big, cold-sensitive car to school. While driving up a steep, country hill, the car began to slow. I pushed the gas pedal to the floor but only crept along. There were no houses close by and I didn’t have a cell phone. If the car died, it would be a long walk in freezing weather before I could get help. I remembered there was a mom-and-pop restaurant a mile or so down the road and held onto the hope that, if I made it up the hill, I might have enough down-hill momentum to reach the restaurant. But the car slowed and I knew it was unlikely I would make it up the hill. “Okay, angel!” I said out loud. “I need you to push this car. Please, push me up the hill.” The car sped up. I felt a difference in its movement, so I encouraged my angel, “Almost there! Come on! Please keep pushing.” The car crept to the top and somehow lurched over the peak. I began the descent down the other side moving fast at first but soon lost momentum. I saw the restaurant in the distance and begged my angel to keep pushing the car, though I didn’t think I’d make it. But the car found new momentum, just enough to make it into the restaurant parking lot and into a spot facing a plate-glass window. Then, as if on cue, the car died. “Was that a fluke,” I wondered. “I’m grateful that this worked out perfectly,” I thought, “but was it actually my angel’s intervention?” Then I looked up and through the restaurant window I saw a huge painting of a guardian angel on the back wall. It was the painting I had loved since childhood that depicts two children crossing a dangerous bridge under the watchful protection of their guardian angel. I was overwhelmed. I learned later that my fuel line had completely frozen, and it was a wonder that I reached a safe place. My story may not have been as dramatic as my teacher’s incredible tale, but it confirmed my belief that our guardian angels watch over us and that we should never hesitate to ask for help—even if it’s just a little push when we need it. I believe sharing stories like these, like sharing stories of saints, is a powerful way to evangelize. They provide assurance that we are not alone, that we have a Father who loves us enough to assign dear allies to care for us in our times of need.
Is there such a thing as Eucharistic Sensitivity? Perhaps this anecdote regarding Pope John Paul II can answer the question. During a trip to the State of Maryland, Pope John Paul II was scheduled to walk down a hallway in the archbishop’s residence. Along that hallway was the entrance to a chapel where the Blessed Sacrament was reserved. The papal organizer ensured that nothing indicated the door led to the chapel as he knew John Paul would certainly step inside to pay a visit to the Lord, thus significantly derailing the schedule. On the day of the pilgrimage, Pope John Paul walked past the door and stopped. He wagged his finger at the papal organizer, opened the door of the chapel, entered and knelt to pray. One of the priests who witnessed the event commented in amazement, “He’s never been in this place before, never set eyes on the place, and there was nothing about the door that distinguished it in any way as a chapel. It was just one more door in a corridor of doors. But he turned right back around, he opened that door, and went into the chapel, and he prayed.” Out of his intense relationship with the Eucharist, came the incredible gift of Eucharistic sensitivity. The late Holy Father teaches us a lesson regarding the desires of our heart. When our desire is great, our awareness of, and sensitivity to, that which we desire increases greatly. Let us pray that the good Lord helps us grow in our desire for him and inspires us to make time regularly to spend alone with Him in the Blessed Sacrament.
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As a young boy growing up in Northern Spain, Francis Xavier dreamed of doing great things. At age 19 and full of ambition, he went to study in Paris where he met Ignatius of Loyola. A Scripture text Ignatius was fond of quoting had a deep impact on Francis: "What will it profit a man to gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" Francis took that Scripture to heart and came to understand the emptiness of earthly greatness while becoming powerfully drawn to the love of heavenly things. The humility of the Cross appeared to him more desirable than all the glories of this world. Eventually, he took vows as one of the first seven members of the Society of Jesus, or Jesuits, founded by Ignatius of Loyola. When one of the two Jesuits chosen to travel to Asia as a missionary became ill, Father Francis joyfully offered to substitute. Francis pursued his missionary work with great zeal. During one of his voyages, a terrible tempest so terrified the sailors that they gave themselves up for lost. But Francis immediately drew a crucifix from his breast and leaned over the side of the vessel to touch the waves with it. But the crucifix slipped from his hand into the raging sea. Immediately, the storm ceased, but Francis was much distressed that he had lost the only crucifix he had. The next day after landing on the coast of Malacca, Father Francis was walking along the shore when he saw a crab come out of the sea holding the crucifix between its claws. The crab walked straight to Father Francis and stopped at his feet. Francis kissed the cross and clasped it to his breast. He then bent down to bless the crab and, to his amazement, noticed a cross on the back of the crab’s shell. This miracle story was depicted on a banner that hung from St. Peter’s Basilica during Francis Xavier’s canonization ceremony. Even today, every Malacca crab bears the marking of the cross on its shell, a sign, perhaps, of God’s paternal love for Saint Francis Xavier, the greatest missionary since the time of the Apostles.
Are Angels real? Get to know the truth here... We often come across Angels as messengers of God in the Scripture. The Catholic Church recognizes the names of only three Angels, all of whom belong to the Choir of Archangels. Each year the Church celebrates the feast of these Archangels: Michael, Gabriel and Raphael on September 29th. Saint Michael the Archangel means, “Who is like God.” He is the patron of soldiers, police officers and firefighters. Traditionally, Michael has been referred to as the Guardian Angel of the people of Israel and he is now revered as the Guardian Angel of the Church. In the Book of Revelation, Michael is the angel who led the forces of Heaven to defeat Lucifer/Satan when he rebelled against God. We learn from Scripture and Tradition that Saint Michael has four main responsibilities: to combat Satan; to escort the faithful to Heaven at their hour of death; to be a champion of all Christians and the Church; and to call men and women from life on Earth to their Heavenly judgment. Saint Gabriel the Archangel means, “God is My Strength”. Gabriel is God’s Holy Messenger. He appeared to the Prophet Daniel to explain a vision from God. He appeared to the priest Zacharias to announce that he would have a son, John the Baptist, and he appeared to the Virgin Mary at the Annunciation. Catholic tradition indicates that Gabriel was the angel who appeared to Saint Joseph in his dreams. God entrusted Gabriel with delivering the most important message of our Catholic faith to the Virgin Mary. He is the patron saint of messengers, telecommunications workers and postal workers. Saint Raphael the Archangel means, “God heals.” In the Old Testament book of Tobit, Raphael is credited with driving the evil spirit from Sarah and restoring Tobit’s vision, allowing him to see the light of Heaven and for receiving all good things through His intercession. Raphael is the patron saint of travelers, the blind, bodily ills, happy meetings, nurses, physicians and medical workers. Angels all around us “Make yourself familiar with the angels, and behold them frequently in spirit; for without being seen, they are present with you.” Saint Francis de Sales. Have you experienced angels protecting you from apparent dangers? Sometimes a person knows deep down that Someone had come to their aid. Many of us have probably realized that angels have protected and helped them at times. One of my experiences of angels assisting me is etched forever in my memory. When my mom was being treated for cancer, we had to make a 240 miles round trip to the nearest cancer treatment center. On the way home one day, as we drove along a secondary highway, my car began to lose power while the engine started to bang and make all kinds of noise indicating that the car was about to die on the spot. My mom was exhausted and feeling ill, so I knew that it could be disastrous if we stalled on the side of the road in the heat of the summer. I began to pray desperately, asking the holy angels to come to our assistance, to keep the engine going until we arrived home. After chugging disjointedly along for about a mile or two, all of a sudden the engine started to smooth out, gain power and ran smoothly all the way home. We were thanking God for sending us angels to assist us. The next day, I brought my car into the mechanic shop to have it checked out. To my pleasant surprise the mechanic could not find a single issue with the engine. I felt thankful and amazed that our very own angel mechanic had fixed the car so that it ran even better than before. “The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him, and rescues them.” Psalm 35:7 From the moment God created me, He assigned me a guardian angel. “Beside each believer stands an angel as protector and shepherd leading him to life.” (CCC 336) Our human lives are surrounded by their watchful care and intercession. Our guardian angel’s task is to get us to Heaven. We will never know, this side of Heaven, how many times we were protected from dangers by angels or how often they helped us avoid a fall into serious sin. “The angels work together for the benefit of us all.”— Saint Thomas Aquinas. No wonder the Catholic Church has set apart October 2nd as a feast day to remember the Guardian Angels. Many Saints were privileged to see their angel. Saint Joan of Arc (1412-1431) was a young woman who was called by Saint Michael the Archangel and other saints to lead and inspire the French forces in numerous military battles against the English during the Hundred Year War. God used this courageous woman to do battle on His behalf. Pope Leo XIII who reigned during the latter half of the 19th Century, had a vision of Satan and composed the following Prayer to Saint Michael which is recited after Mass in many Churches today: “Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in the hour of battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.” When we sing praises to God we are singing with the Angels. At every Mass, we are swept right up into Heaven. "The Mass as Heaven on earth …is a mysterious participation in the Heavenly liturgy. We do go to Heaven when we go to Mass, and this is true of every Mass we attend.” Dr. Scott Hahn. Heavenly King, You have given us archangels to assist us during our pilgrimage on earth. Saint Michael is our protector; I ask him to come to my aid, fight for all my loved ones, and protect us from danger. Saint Gabriel is a messenger of the Good News; I ask him to help me clearly hear Your voice and to teach me the truth. Saint Raphael is the healing angel; I ask him to take my need for healing and that of everyone I know, lift it up to Your throne of grace and deliver us back to the gift of recovery. Help us, O Lord, to realize more fully the reality of archangels and their desire to serve us. Holy angels, pray for us. Amen.
On a scorching afternoon she walked down the street. There was nothing left for the children at the orphanage, so she went begging. Upon reaching a nearby tea shop, she held out her hand imploring the shopkeeper to give something for her hapless children. The man spat into her palm. Without hesitation, she gently wiped her hand with the edge of her sari and held out the other hand. She spoke in an even low voice, “I am grateful to you for what you have given me. I request you not to spit on this hand, but give something for my children.” The shopkeeper stood astonished at her humility. He asked her pardon and the incident marked a tremendous change in him. From then on, he became a generous contributor to the welfare of the children in her orphanage. The woman clad in white sari with blue border was none other than Mother Teresa of Calcutta. Humility, according to Saint Teresa of Calcutta, is the mother of all virtues. She taught that “If you are humble nothing will touch you, neither praise nor disgrace, because you know what you are. If you are blamed you will not be discouraged. If they call you a Saint you will not put yourself on a pedestal.” Today humility is often misunderstood. Some take it as self-deprecation. But many Saints understood that humility is the way to hammer out good selfesteem by depending on God rather than oneself. Did Mother Teresa suffer from low self-esteem? Of course not. Otherwise, how could she have dared to speak against abortion at the National Prayer Breakfast in 1993 right in front of President Bill Clinton, Vice President Al Gore, and their spouses? Too often we rely on ourselves, and that becomes the greatest block to growing closer to God. By putting on the virtue of humility, Mother Teresa grew ever closer to God and became a living embodiment of Saint Paul’s pronouncement, “I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13).
He didn’t have much time left, but Father Hilton chose to thrive on the promises, inspiring millions and changing lives My journey through life has not been very smooth, but from the moment I decided to follow Christ, my life has never been the same. With the Cross of Christ before me and the world behind me I can firmly say, “There’s no turning back…” During my schooldays at Bede’s College in Mentone, I felt a strong calling from within. I had great mentors there including Brother Owen who inspired and fostered my love for Jesus. At the tender age of 17, I joined the Missionaries of Sacred Heart. After 10 years of study, including a stint at the University of Canberra and a Theology degree in Melbourne, I was finally ordained. Tryst with destiny My first appointment was in Papua New Guinea, where I received a practical grounding living amongst simple people with a great sense of living in the present moment. Later, I was sent to Paris to study liturgy. Doctoral studies in Rome were interrupted by tension headaches which prevented me from completing it. And soon it became clear that my calling was not to teach in the seminary. On my return to Australia, I got involved in parish ministry and had a taste of 16 parishes in several different states across the country. I was revitalized by my involvement with two fabulous movements which nurture and revive marriage and family life—Teams of Our Lady and Marriage Encounter. I felt content. Life was going very well. But all of a sudden, on 22nd of July 2015, everything changed. It didn’t come totally out of the blue. Over the past six months, I had seen blood in the urine on a couple of occasions. But now I was unable to even pass urine. In the middle of the night, I drove myself to the hospital. After a series of tests, I received alarming news. I had been diagnosed with kidney cancer which had already reached the fourth stage. I found myself in a state of shock. I felt cut off from normal people. The doctor had informed me that even with the medications, I could only expect to live for another three and half years. I could not help thinking about my sister’s tiny children. I would never see these charming toddlers grow up. Until this crisis occurred, I had loved praying the morning meditations but from then on I struggled. After a while, I found an easier way to meditate. Resting before the Lord’s presence, I repeated a mantra inspired by Dante, “Your Will is my peace.” This simple form of meditation enabled me to restore my peace and trust in God. But as I went about my normal day, I found it much more difficult. I was often distracted by thoughts such as ‘I wouldn’t be around much longer…’ The Best Advice After three months of treatment, tests were done to see if the medication was working well. The results were positive. There was significant reduction in most areas, and I was advised to consult a surgeon to remove the offending kidney. I felt a burst of relief because in the back of my mind I doubted if the medication was really working. So this was really great news. After the operation, I recuperated and returned to being a parish priest. This time around, I felt more energized towards evangelization. Not knowing how long I would be able to do this work, I put all my heart into everything I engaged in. Every six months, tests were done. Initially, the results were good, but after a while the medicine I had been taking became less effective. Cancer began to grow in my lungs and in my back, giving me sciatica and causing me to hobble. I had to undergo chemotherapy and start a whole new immunotherapy treatment. It was disappointing, but not a surprise. Anybody who is on a journey with cancer knows that things change. You can be well one moment and next moment disaster strikes. A beautiful friend of mine, who has been a nurse in the oncology department for many years, gave me the best advice: Go on living your life as normally as you can. Have coffee if you enjoy coffee, or have a meal with friends. Keep doing the normal things. I loved being a priest and felt excited by the wonderful things happening in our parish. Even though the journey was no longer smooth, I still loved what I did. I always loved celebrating the Mass and ministering the Sacraments. It is something I held very precious and I am always grateful to God for this great privilege. Beyond Horizons I had a strong conviction that we really need to make greater efforts to turn around the dwindling number of people coming to the Church by being proactive. In our parish we endeavored to make Sunday more engaging. Since I had always loved the contemplative side of our Church, I wanted to create an oasis of prayer and peace by bringing a little bit of the monastic spirit into our parish. So every Monday night, we held a contemplative, candlelit Mass with soothing contemplative music. Instead of giving a sermon, I read a reflection. One of the songs that touched me deeply is the GRAMMY winning single “10,000 reasons (Bless the Lord) by Matt Redman. Whenever I sang the third verse of the song, I almost choked up. And on that day when my strength is failing. The end draws near And my time has come Still my soul will Sing your praise unending Ten thousand years And then forevermore Forevermore I found it so moving because what we are ultimately trying to do is to give praise to God and develop our relationship with Jesus. Despite my illness, it was one of the most exciting times in my life as a priest. It reminded me of the words Jesus spoke, “I have come that they may have life and have it to the full.” John 10:10 "My husband who is not a Catholic and only beginning to learn about faith got to know Father John by chance. Later he said ‘From what I know about this guy, Jesus… Father John seems to be just like Him. To know you are going to die and continue to give of yourself more and more even though the people around you don’t realize that these are your last days…" - Kaitlyn McDonnell "One of the things John was very clear about was his purpose in life. He was an absolute driver and really made Jesus real in this world. I would often wonder what would have happened if he hadn't been that strong in terms of his faith and values. It might have been very challenging for him but every Sunday when we met him, he had the same energy. Regardless of what happened around him or with him or to him, he had a sense of serenity around him. It was an incredible gift." - Dennis Hoiberg "We had to remind him that he had limitations, but that didn't slow him down. He was such an inspiration because here's a man who’s been told you've got a limited time. Yet he still kept giving instead of getting overcome by his disease and thinking about it." - Shaun Sunnasy
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For years Margaret Fitzsimmons endured deep pain and shame—until she heard the four words that changed her life forever… Broken Childhood I came into the world in 1945, when war-torn Germany was struggling with damaged infrastructure and millions of displaced people. As a single mother going through a series of relationships, my mom struggled to raise me up. To help pay the rent, my mother would take on extra jobs like sweeping the stairs of the building we lived under, and I would be there with the dustpan trying to help. My favorite pseudo-Dad was a policeman, a nice man. They conceived a child together, but she didn’t want the baby, so she had an abortion, then left that relationship and started working in hotels. While Mum was downstairs working and drinking with the customers, I was usually alone in the attic bedroom. When she was drunk my mother got cantankerous, and found fault for no reason when she got home. She always left a long list for me, but I could never complete it to her satisfaction. Things got worse, and she ended up in jail one night after fighting with the policeman’s new girlfriend. From Bad to Worse After her younger brother emigrated to Australia, my granddad thought it would be good if my Mum and uncle were in the same country. So we followed him to Australia in 1957, and lived with him for a while. Mum got a job as a cook, and I washed all the pots and pans. If she caught me not concentrating on the work, she would throw things at me, like a barbecue fork. Since I was only twelve and often made mistakes, I ended up with scars all over my body. When she was in a drunken stupor, it was even worse. I started to hate her. We were living at a boarding house by then, and she had met a lot of new people who liked driving into the countryside and sitting under the trees to drink. I was nearly thirteen by then, so she wouldn’t leave me at home, but she would go off into the bush and leave me sitting with whoever was around. On one of those nights, I was gang-raped, but I was too scared to say anything to Mum. Another night, driving along the highway, a car kept overtaking us and finally pulled us over. It turned out to be undercover police. They took us back to the police station and questioned us individually. When they found out I had been interfered with, a doctor came to examine me. They gave Mum a court summons for a day or two later. But as soon as we got home, she started packing and caught the next train out of town. We ended up in a small town where she got another job as a cook, and I was put on as house maid. It was a hard life, but I learned to survive. Desperate for Hope Mom hooked up with a fellow called Wilson, and we went to live with him in Tully. He had been in a mental institution after his first wife died. Mum soon corrupted him, and they started fighting when they were drunk. I hated being in the middle of their fights. When Mum fell pregnant, she said, “Let’s take Wilson’s car and go down to Sydney and start a new life. I don’t really want to get married or have this baby.” I felt terrible. I was tired of being on my own, and had wanted a brother or a sister for years. So, I went and told Wilson. After he confronted my Mum, they ended up getting married, but she held me responsible. She told me I had to look after the baby because she didn’t want her. My baby sister was my world until the day I met Tom. I was sick of all the fighting, and Tom promised to marry me when I was old enough, so I left home. I thought life would be fantastic after that, but it wasn’t. Tom’s mother was lovely. She really tried to look after me, but Tom would get drunk, then come home and abuse me. He kept getting drunk and getting sacked job after job, so we moved constantly. We did marry, and I hoped he would settle down and start treating me better, but he kept beating me and having affairs. I had to escape this misery, so I cleared out and moved to Brisbane where I got a job washing dishes. Late one night after work, I got off the bus and saw someone standing across the road. I knew it was Tom. Although I was terrified, I stayed near the light in case he tried something stupid. He followed me, but I told him I wouldn’t go back and wanted a divorce. A New Beginning When I got home, I packed my bags, took a train to Sydney, and got on a bus out of town. For months, I had nightmares about him chasing me. I buckled down and got a job as a domestic helper at the hospital, where I made new friends. There was another young girl with poor English who was a lot like me. We got along well, and started our nursing training together, then worked at a hospital after our training. She knew a chap that was doing National Service in the army. When he invited her to a ball, she got me, a blind date so we could go together. I wasn’t impressed with the date, but it was a way to get out. One of the army caterers serving the meal started paying me attention. I thought he was better than the blind date, so we had a few dances and got on well. We kept on seeing each other, but after a few weeks Peter told me he was being sent to do an aviation course. I felt terribly disappointed. We had shared our life stories, so he knew what was going on, but he didn’t give up on me and kept in contact. The more I got to know him, the more I liked him, but I didn’t want to get married again after the first disaster. Eventually, he introduced me to his family, and we got engaged before he finished his training. He was posted to Townsville, where I had lived with Tom. Though I didn’t want to revisit the horrors of the past, I couldn’t say no to Peter. We lived together for nearly two years before we were able to marry legally. Peter had grown up Catholic but stopped practicing in the hurly burly of military training, so we got married in our backyard. Words That Changed Everything Sometimes I was lonely because Peter was often away servicing helicopters in the field. I got a job as a high school lab assistant, but we came to realize there was something missing in our life. We had everything, but there was still an emptiness. Then Peter suggested, “Let’s go to church.” The first few times, we sat in the back pew, but as our hearts opened to the presence of the Lord, we got more involved. We heard about a Marriage Encounter weekend and signed up. It was a real eye opener for both of us. Our hearts were stirred. On that weekend we learned how to communicate by writing things down. I had never been able to put what I felt into words. Mum had always told me to shut up, so I learnt not to talk, and became unable to share my emotions. When I first heard the words, “God doesn’t make junk,” I knew those words were meant for me. A wave of emotion overcame me. “God made me. I am okay. I am not junk.” All those years, I had been putting myself down, blaming myself for the awful things that had happened—the rape, marrying someone who drank when I should have known better, the divorce, my mother’s abuse …. I was coming back to life. My heart changed for the better every time I went to Mass or a prayer meeting. I was so in love with God and my husband. Replacing Hate With Love Up to this point, I hadn’t ever forgiven anyone. I had put my hurts in the background, and locked them away as if they never happened. When Peter and I got engaged, I wanted to let Mum know. I sent letters, but she returned them “to sender,” so I gave up. Then, I dreamt that I saw my mother hanging from a tree. Her stark blue eyes were open and staring down at me. I looked at her with pity and said, “God, I dislike her, but not that much.” Somehow, that dream taught me not to hate. Even if I strongly disliked what someone had done, hate was wrong. I forgave Mum completely, and that opened other doors to grace. I softened and reached out again to my mother until she finally responded, and we stayed with her for a couple of days. When my sister called to tell me she had died suddenly of a heart attack, I burst into tears. After her death, I felt I hadn’t forgiven Mum properly, but counseling and prayers with a good priest helped restore my peace. When I uttered the words of forgiveness, the light of the Holy Spirit penetrated my being, and I knew I had forgiven her Forgiving Tom was something I had to keep taking back to prayer. It took quite a while, and I had to say aloud more than once that I forgave Tom for the times he abused me, his affairs, and for not looking after me properly. I know I’ve forgiven him. It doesn’t take away the memories, but it does take away the hurt. Wiping the Slate Clean Forgiveness isn’t a one-time thing. We must forgive whenever resentment resurfaces. We must continually give up the desire to hold on to grudges, and surrender them to Jesus. This is how I pray: “Jesus, I surrender everything to you, take care of everything.” And He does. I feel totally at peace once I have prayed that a few times. It took a long time before I felt strong enough to bring healing forgiveness to the rape. I just pushed it aside. I didn’t even want to think about it. Yet even that was healed once I had presented it to Christ and forgiven my rapists. It doesn’t affect me anymore. God has wiped it clean, because I asked God to come and take away anything that is not of Him. Now, I hand things over to God as they happen, and a peace washes over me. We have an awesome God, who is forgiving, morning, noon, and night. Whatever darkness we have in our lives, God is there waiting for us to repent and ask for His forgiveness, so that He can cleanse us and make us whole. ARTICLE is based on the testimony shared by Margaret Fitzsimmons for the Shalom World program ‘Seventy times Seven.’ Margaret lives with her husband in Brisbane, Australia.
The Question of Why Physicist Christian Simon, 33, was an atheist for a long time and expected answers to all of life's pressing questions from science— until he came up against its limits I grew up Catholic, received all the sacraments as is customary, and was also quite devout as a child. Unfortunately, over time I developed a terribly false image of God: God as a stern judge who throws sinners into hell, but otherwise very distant and not really interested in me. I doubted very much that God meant me well. In my youth, I even became more and more convinced that God had something against me. I imagined that He always did exactly the opposite of what I had asked Him to do. At some point it was over for me. I didn't want to know anything more about God. Religion—A Thing for Weirdos At the age of about 18, I was convinced that there was no God at all. For me, only what I could experience with my senses or what could be measured by the natural sciences counted. Religion seemed to me to be only something for weirdos who either had too much imagination or were simply totally indoctrinated and had never questioned their faith. I was convinced that if everyone were as smart as I was, no one would believe in God anymore. After a few years of self-employment, I started studying physics at the age of 26. I was burningly interested in how the world works and hoped to find my answers in physics. Who could blame me? Physics can seem very mysterious with its incredibly sophisticated mathematics that very few people in the world understand. It's easy to get the idea that if you could just crack these coded forms and symbols, unimagined horizons of knowledge would open up—and that literally anything would then be possible. After studying all sorts of subfields of physics, and even getting to grips with the most up-to-date fundamental physics, I sat down to work on my master's thesis on an abstract theoretical topic—one which I wasn’t convinced would ever have any relation to the real world. I finally became very aware of the limits of physics: the highest goal physics could ever reach would be a complete mathematical description of nature. And that is already very optimistic thinking. At best, physics can describe how something works, but never why it works exactly the way it does and not differently. But this question about the why was tormenting me at this time. The Probability of God For reasons I cannot satisfactorily explain, I was gripped in the fall of 2019 by the question of whether there is a God after all. It was a question I had asked myself on and off, but this time it wouldn't let me go. It demanded an answer, and I would not stop until I found it. There was no key experience, no stroke of fate that would have led to it. Even Corona was not an issue at that time. For half a year I devoured everything I could find on the subject of "God" every day. During this time I did almost nothing else, so much did the question captivate me. I wanted to know if God existed and what the various religions and worldviews had to say about it. In doing so, my approach was very scientific. I thought that once I had collected all the arguments and clues, I would eventually be able to determine the probability as to whether God existed. If it were greater than 50 percent, then I would believe in God, otherwise not. Quite simple, isn't it? Not really! During this intense period of research, I learned an incredible amount. First, I realized that I would not reach my goal with reason alone. Second, I had thought through to the end the consequences of a reality without God. I inevitably came to the conclusion that in a world without God, everything would ultimately be meaningless. Certainly, one can try to give meaning even to one's life, but what would that be but an illusion, a conceit, a lie? From a purely scientific point of view, we know that at some point in the universe all the lights will go out. If nothing exists beyond that, what difference do my small and large decisions, indeed anything at all, make? Faced with this sad prospect of a world without God, I decided in the spring of 2020 to give Him a second chance. What could it hurt to just pretend to believe in God for a while, and try everything that people who believe in God do? So I tried praying, attended church services, and just wanted to see what that would do to me. Of course, my basic openness to the existence of God didn't make me a Christian yet; after all, there were other religions. But my research had quickly convinced me that the resurrection of Jesus was a historical fact. For me, the authority of the Church as well as the Holy Scriptures follows from this. Proof of God So, what came out of my experiment in "faith"? The Holy Spirit awakened my conscience from its years of hibernation. He made it very clear to me that I needed radically to change my life. And He welcomed me with open arms. Basically, my story is in the biblical parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32). I received the sacrament of reconciliation for the first time with all my strength. To this day, after each confession, I feel as if I have been reborn. I feel it all over my body: the relief, the overflowing love of God that washes away all cloudiness of the soul. This experience alone is proof of God for me, as it far exceeds any scientific attempt at explanation. In addition, God has gifted me with a plethora of great encounters in the last two years. Right at the beginning, when I started attending church services, I met a person who was just perfect for me in my situation at that time with all my questions and problems. To this day he is a faithful and good friend. Since then, almost every month great new people have come into my life, who have helped me enormously on my way to Jesus—and this process is still going on! "Happy coincidences" of this kind have accumulated to such an overwhelming extent that I am no longer able to believe in coincidences. Today, I have fully focused my life on Jesus. Of course, I fail at it every day! But I also get back up every time. Thank God that God is merciful! I get to know Him a little better every day and am allowed to leave the old Christian Simon behind. This is often very painful, but always healing and I go on strengthened. The regular reception of the Eucharist contributes a great part to my strengthening. A life without Jesus is unimaginable for me today. I seek Him in daily prayer, praise, Scripture, service to others, and the sacraments. No one has ever loved me as He does. And to Him belongs my heart. For all time.
Nilakandan Pillai was born into a Hindu family in South India in 1712. His parents were devout upper caste Hindus. Nilakandan’s family was closely associated with the Royal Palace, and he served the King of Travancore as a palace official in charge of accounts. In the Battle of Colachel, fought in 1741 between Travancore and the Dutch East India Company, the Dutch naval commander Captain Eustachius De Lannoy was defeated and captured by the King. De Lannoy and his men were later pardoned and served the Travancore army. Official work brought Nilakandan and De Lannoy together and a close friendship formed between the two. During this period, Nilakandan faced many misfortunes, and was beset with doubts and fear. De Lannoy consoled his friend by sharing his Christian faith. The story of Job from the Bible greatly comforted Nilakandan, and their conversations drew him to Christ. Nilakandan decided to receive baptism, though he knew this decision would mean sacrificing his social status and the service of the King. On 14th May 1745, at the age of 32, Nilakandan was baptized into the Catholic Church, taking the name Devasahayam, the Tamil rendering of the biblical name Lazarus. Devasahayam experienced immense joy in living his faith and strived to be a true disciple of Jesus. He thanked God every day for the grace of conversion and eagerly shared his Catholic faith with others. He soon persuaded his wife and several of his military colleagues to confess their faith in Christ. Devasahayam had no regard for the caste system and treated the so-called “low caste” people as equals. Soon the palace officials who opposed his newfound faith turned against him. They conspired to have him arrested. The King asked Devasahayam to renounce his Christian faith, and promised him a prominent position in his court. But despite the allurements and threats, Devasahayam stood firm in his faith, which further enraged the King. Regarded as a criminal, Devasahayam endured inhuman tortures for the next three years. He was whipped daily, and endured having chili powder rubbed onto his wounds and into his nostrils. Given only stagnant water to drink, he was paraded around the Kingdom on a buffalo with his hands tied behind him — an infamous punishment reserved for traitors and meant to discourage future conversions. Devasahayam endured the humiliation and torture with great patience and trust in God. His gentle and kind demeanor surprised the soldiers. Every morning and night he spent time in prayer, and continued preaching the Gospel to all who came to listen. The ministers who had conspired against Devasahayam obtained permission from the King to execute him in secret. On 14 January 1752, he was then taken to a deserted mountain to stand before a firing squad. Devasahayam’s only request was for time to pray, which the soldiers granted. As he prayed, shots rang out and he died with the names of Jesus and Mary on his lips. Devasahayam was declared a Martyr and Blessed on December 2, 2012. In February 2020, Pope Francis recognized a miracle attributed to the intercession of Devasahayam, and on May 15th, 2022, he was canonized, becoming India’s first layperson to be declared a saint. Shalom World has made a program based on the life of this great saint, whose courageous witness and martyrdom continues to inspire the faithful of today. To learn more about St. Devasahayam, watch the episode of ‘Glorious Lives’: https://www.shalomworld.org/episode/devasahayam-the-faithful-layman-from-india
Each of us have weaknesses that we struggle with. But the Holy Spirit is our Helper! Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. (Romans 12:12) Patience was not my strong point before I was renewed in my faith. I am ashamed when I recall moments when I lost my temper, such as the time I blasted someone at the shop for being “racist” to my mom; the incident at work in the Philippines when I stormed into the general’s office demanding justice for the employees; the many occasions when I’ve stuck up the rude finger to someone who overtook me (maybe this is why the Lord did not allow me to continue driving!); and the many pathetic little episodes of intolerant, rude behaviour, or sullen sulkiness when I did not get my own way. I was so impatient. If someone didn’t turn up on the dot at the time we had agreed to meet, I would leave immediately, justifying that they were not worthy of my time. When the Lord beckoned me, patience was one of the first fruits that I gained from the Holy Spirit. The Lord impressed upon me that I could not be a good servant if I did not have a compassionate, patient, and understanding heart. Learning to Wait Recently, my husband took me to Melbourne’s Eye and Ear Hospital for an emergency check. It brought back memories of the years when I travelled daily to the Central Business District (CBD), joining thousands of city workers who looked so unhappy but comforted themselves with the thought that they had the job of a lifetime. I even worked a lot of overtime, thinking I would get rich by doing so (I didn’t). Working in the corporate sector, the only joy I got was running over to lunchtime Mass at St. Patrick’s or St. Francis’. If I was really bored, I would wander aimlessly down the Myer Mall, meaninglessly shopping for things that gave me temporary happiness. Every day, I asked the Lord when He would “release” me from the tiresome daily commute and the unfulfilling jobs. I would have said it was a waste of my valuable time if not for the daily Masses, the good friends I met, and the way I used the time on the train—praying, reading good books, and sewing tapestries. As I look back, it took many years for Him to answer my prayer—to give me meaningful work within my locality, just fifteen minutes’ drive from home. I had persisted in my prayer, never giving up hope and trust that He would have mercy on me and heed my request. When I finally said goodbye to city work, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I was finally free from that daily drudgery. Although I was grateful for the experience, I felt refreshed, looking forward to a more peaceful pace of life. With an ageing body, my mind was slowing down, and my coping mechanisms were becoming more limited. When I returned to walk down those familiar streets again, it seemed that nothing much had changed—the street beggars were still there; some corners still smelt of urine and vomit; people paced and up down, walking, running or chasing the next train; people queued to order at the restaurants which had proliferated; and retail stores still jostled to display their wares enticingly to loosen wallets. The sound of sirens abounded. Police presence was strong, and I prayed for my daughter, wondering how she was coping with her job protecting city life. It was all so familiar that it felt like déjà vu, but the only comfortable refuge I found was in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, where I had been a lector at lunchtime Mass, and St. Francis’ where I had knelt before Mother Mary to light a candle on my first arrival in Australia. My fervent prayer for a good husband was answered in three weeks. God knows when things are urgent. Much-Needed Virtue The IBelieve website shares this wonderful teaching. The popular saying "patience is a virtue" comes from a poem around 1360. However, even before then the Bible often mentions patience as a valuable quality. Patience is commonly defined as the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset. In other words, patience is essentially "waiting with grace." Part of being Christian is the ability to accept unfortunate circumstances gracefully while having faith that we will ultimately find resolution in God. In Galatians 5:22, patience is listed as one of the fruits of the Spirit. If patience is a virtue, then waiting is the best (and often most unpleasant) means by which the Holy Spirit grows patience in us. But our culture does not value patience in the same way that God does. Why be patient? Instant gratification is much more fun! Our increasing ability instantly to satisfy our wants may be taking away the blessing of learning how to wait well. How, then, do we wait “well”? I recommend you read the entire article. Patience is waiting quietly; it is waiting eagerly. Patience is waiting until the end; it is waiting expectantly. Patience is waiting joyfully; it is waiting with grace. But the one thing we shouldn’t wait for and not postpone for another second is acknowledging Jesus as Lord and Savior of our lives. In the twinkle of an eye, we could be called to surrender our life. Pursuing Patience Since the Feast of Pentecost 20 years ago, I have been renewed in my faith. I am deeply grateful to the Holy Spirit for giving me the virtue of patience, changing me from a miserable, angry sinner into someone who has the ability to wait for His leading and help. This is the mystery of this gift. You cannot do it alone—you need Divine Grace. I did not turn into a gentle, patient person over night, and every day is a testing ground for me. Patience is said to be the “banana” of the fruits of the Holy Spirit, as it can quickly rot. I continue to be tested, but the Holy Spirit hasn’t let me down. While I was writing this article, I managed to wait on the phone for 4 hours to get an issue resolved! The world never ceases to beckon me to hurry on. The devil is always trying to lure me into another trap by annoying me until I lose control. My egocentric self is always demanding that I should come first, so I am very much in need of the Holy Spirit to help me to maintain my patience with self-control. However, to truly exercise patience to everyone around us, Saint Francis de Sales tells us that we must first be patient with ourselves. A word of caution though. Patience is not about allowing ourselves to be a victim of abuse or enabling sinful behaviour. But that is a topic for another time, so I ask for your patience. “The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it.” – Arnold Glasow
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