After that day, he was a Jesuit.
To become a Jesuit in those days was to look for trouble, because there were so few of them, only ten, and Saint Ignatius found so many things for them to do, almost all of which spelled trouble. He sent them to argue with heretics, quite a number of whom had very short tempers and very long daggers. He sent them to reform lax nunneries, where tongues were sharper than daggers, and cut more deeply. He sent Salmeron and Broet to Ireland, where, of course, a fight was going on. But Francis Xavier, because he was his dearest friend, he sent on the toughest assignment of all. He sent Francis Xavier to the East.
I need not recount to you what Xavier suffered in the East. You know it well. He was sick unto death on the voyage to India. He was almost killed on the Fishery Coast. He starved in the Moluccas. He journeyed 500 miles through the depth of a Japanese winter, on foot, without proper clothing, to see the Emperor; and the Emperor refused him audience. When he returned to Goa from Japan, his hair had turned completely white. He set sail again, in a leaky boat, through driving storms and scorching calms, this time for China. He never entered that mysterious empire. He died within sight of it, on a miserable island, in a tumble-down hut, racked by fever, abandoned by his friends, without the sacraments of the Church he had served so well.
This is what happened to the brilliant young scholar, the athlete of the Ile de France, the nobleman of Navarre, who gave up his great expectations in order to follow Christ. This was how Christ repaid His faithful servant.
You remember what Our Lord said to Saint Teresa, when she complained that He did not seem to care what happened to her. Our Lord said, "That is the way I treat my friends." And you remember Teresa's quick rejoinder: "Yes, Lord, and that is why you have so few."
This is quite true, isn't it? The Lord has so few friends, so few real friends. And we, who would like to count ourselves among these few, we must weigh well and not forget what it means to be His friend.
It does not mean that we will have life easy. Life was not easy for Francis Xavier. Life was not easy for Teresa. Remember what Pa Baxter said to Jody in "The Yearling"? "Life's fine, son; but 'taint easy." That's how it is with the friends of Christ. We serve a crucified Lord. We cannot avoid crucifixion.
And yet when sorrow comes, when the shadow of pain or failure falls across our life, do we not cry out, "O God, why does this have to happen to me? What have I done, that you should do this to me?"
What have you done? You have served Christ well. You have been His true friend. And so He loves you. And so He shares with you His Cross.
For those of you who are in love ― husbands, wives and sweethearts ― there is not mystery in this. Love in any language spells sacrifice. Poets since the world began have said it: "The course of true love never did run smooth"..."All for love, and the world well lost"...Christ has said it: "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me." No one knew this better than Francis Xavier. Not only did he not avoid the Cross, he clung to it. He exulted in his sufferings, because they made him more like Him whom he loved so much; and like the Apostles, he went on his way rejoicing that he was accounted worthy to suffer reproach for the name of Jesus.
Let us ask him, to teach us to bear our little crosses, if not with joy, at least with patience; knowing well that for God's friends these are not signs of His anger, but tokens of His love; and that for the price of a little pain that passes, we purchase an eternity of joy.
To become a Jesuit in those days was to look for trouble, because there were so few of them, only ten, and Saint Ignatius found so many things for them to do, almost all of which spelled trouble. He sent them to argue with heretics, quite a number of whom had very short tempers and very long daggers. He sent them to reform lax nunneries, where tongues were sharper than daggers, and cut more deeply. He sent Salmeron and Broet to Ireland, where, of course, a fight was going on. But Francis Xavier, because he was his dearest friend, he sent on the toughest assignment of all. He sent Francis Xavier to the East.
I need not recount to you what Xavier suffered in the East. You know it well. He was sick unto death on the voyage to India. He was almost killed on the Fishery Coast. He starved in the Moluccas. He journeyed 500 miles through the depth of a Japanese winter, on foot, without proper clothing, to see the Emperor; and the Emperor refused him audience. When he returned to Goa from Japan, his hair had turned completely white. He set sail again, in a leaky boat, through driving storms and scorching calms, this time for China. He never entered that mysterious empire. He died within sight of it, on a miserable island, in a tumble-down hut, racked by fever, abandoned by his friends, without the sacraments of the Church he had served so well.
This is what happened to the brilliant young scholar, the athlete of the Ile de France, the nobleman of Navarre, who gave up his great expectations in order to follow Christ. This was how Christ repaid His faithful servant.
You remember what Our Lord said to Saint Teresa, when she complained that He did not seem to care what happened to her. Our Lord said, "That is the way I treat my friends." And you remember Teresa's quick rejoinder: "Yes, Lord, and that is why you have so few."
This is quite true, isn't it? The Lord has so few friends, so few real friends. And we, who would like to count ourselves among these few, we must weigh well and not forget what it means to be His friend.
It does not mean that we will have life easy. Life was not easy for Francis Xavier. Life was not easy for Teresa. Remember what Pa Baxter said to Jody in "The Yearling"? "Life's fine, son; but 'taint easy." That's how it is with the friends of Christ. We serve a crucified Lord. We cannot avoid crucifixion.
And yet when sorrow comes, when the shadow of pain or failure falls across our life, do we not cry out, "O God, why does this have to happen to me? What have I done, that you should do this to me?"
What have you done? You have served Christ well. You have been His true friend. And so He loves you. And so He shares with you His Cross.
For those of you who are in love ― husbands, wives and sweethearts ― there is not mystery in this. Love in any language spells sacrifice. Poets since the world began have said it: "The course of true love never did run smooth"..."All for love, and the world well lost"...Christ has said it: "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me." No one knew this better than Francis Xavier. Not only did he not avoid the Cross, he clung to it. He exulted in his sufferings, because they made him more like Him whom he loved so much; and like the Apostles, he went on his way rejoicing that he was accounted worthy to suffer reproach for the name of Jesus.
Let us ask him, to teach us to bear our little crosses, if not with joy, at least with patience; knowing well that for God's friends these are not signs of His anger, but tokens of His love; and that for the price of a little pain that passes, we purchase an eternity of joy.
― Fr. Horacio Luis de la Costa y Villamayor, S.J.
Novena of Grace: St Francis Xavier
New York City, March 1948
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| St. Francis Xavier by Mattia Preti. 17th century. Saint John's Co-Cathedral, Valetta, Malta. |
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