The Saints Who Made Christmas: Francis

It was a dark Christmas Eve in the year 1223, and hundreds of townspeople had gathered outside a local cave to watch a man give a demonstration. They held flickering candles and wore many layers to protect from the merciless cold. The man who led the demonstration was a poor religious of average height, his hair shaved into the tonsure style, and he wore no shoes. He appeared to be a dirty outcast to anyone from outside the small town of Greccio, but everyone there knew and loved him. So who was this well-loved friar, and what had he gathered the people for?

Francis had just come to Greccio from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. It had been a long, exhausting journey of 1984 miles there and 1984 miles back, but Francis had never been more inspired. He considered the journey, no matter how long and perilous it was, to be the most important physical journey of his life, and he had returned to his beloved Italy a changed man. His love for Jesus, especially for the Christ Child, had swelled while visiting Bethlehem, and now Francis wanted to do something to honor the humble earthly beginnings of the Messiah to replicate his life-changing experience for others who could not make the long journey to see Bethlehem. 

And so Francis had an idea. Covertly, away from the eyes of the people, he began to prepare a Christmas surprise for them. He found a cave a ways from the city and began to stock it with oxen and donkeys and hay. He crafted a manger and found people to represent the people present at the birth of Christ. Finally, it was ready!

Francis showed his work to his brothers first before sending them out to tell the townspeople of the exciting event that would transpire the next day in the cave outside their town. People were at first confused, but when they heard Francis’ name, they became excited, wondering what the radical friar would do next.

The turnout was exceptional, and as Francis exited the cave from the last-minute preparations, he instantly thanked G’D at the sight of the people, waiting to see. Francis nodded to them, and let them come forward to see his Christmas scene, which he had toiled so hard on. Francis pulled out the Biblical account of the birth of Christ from Saint Luke’s Gospel and began to read in a loud voice, so all could hear and reflect on the incredible event of Christ’s birth. 

“Now it happened that, while they were there, the time came for her to have her child,” Francis read, “and she gave birth to a son, her first-born. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger because…”

At that moment, Francis paused reading and went to kneel in front of the manger. The people, singing songs of praise, craned their necks in order to see what Francis was doing. 

Francis could not believe his eyes. There, in the manger, lay a small child - a baby! - sleeping. Instantly, Francis gently took the child into his arms and began to cry. Everything around him melted away, and to Francis, there was only the Christ Child in his arms. 

This Christmas miracle, born from the mind of Saint Francis, is a practice still widely used today. This is the origin of the nativities you see in your home, which are brought forth from boxes and put in prominent places for all to see. So even if you cannot travel to Bethlehem, as many of us cannot, you can still treasure the events that happened there through a scene, carefully replicated from one crafted by Saint Francis just under eight hundred years ago!

The Saints Who Made Christmas: Lucy

At the crack of dawn, Kateri opened her eyes, looking around the room. It was a dark winter’s morning and the sun was not yet up. At first, Kateri considered falling back to sleep, mentally groaning at the thought of losing sleep before school. But when her eyes settled on the white robe that was draped over her wooden desk chair, Kateri jumped out of bed with a passion. It was the thirteenth of December, and Kateri had a mission of love that not even the coldest Wisconsin winters could keep her from. 

Careful not to wake the sisters that shared her room, Kateri changed from her warm pajamas into the thin white robe that she had set out the night before. Quickly tying a sash around her waist, Kateri grabbed the little wreath from the desk and dashed out of her bedroom on tiptoes. 

The oven clock read 5.52am when Kateri arrived at the foot of the stairs. Mother was busy in the kitchen making breakfast for the children to eat before they got ready to go to school. 

“Good morning, Saint Lucy,” said Mother cheerily, planting a kiss on Kateri’s cheek. Kateri smiled and looked around the kitchen for the sweet bread she had delicately prepared the night before, long after her younger siblings had gone up to bed. Kateri 

went over to the counter and grabbed her tray, piling the little loaves of sweet bread onto it. Mother set a pitcher of hot chocolate onto the tray beside the buns and Kateri added four little mugs. Nodding at the assemblage of warm breakfast treats, she readjusted the wreath atop her head and trekked back up the stairs to the bedrooms of her siblings. 

After knocking on the door to the boys’ room, Kateri opened it. The sleepy eyes of her younger brothers, Ambrose and Joseph, immediately lit up as they saw their older sister coming to greet them with breakfast in bed. After serving the boys, Kateri moved on to her own bedroom, where her younger sisters Zelie and Gemma were fast asleep in their bed. Opening the door, light flooded into the room behind her and she went to wake up her sleeping sisters. 

“Good morning, guys,” said Kateri with a smile. “I brought you breakfast!”

Zelie and Gemma reached for their early morning treats with squeals of delight. This was what made Kateri want to continue doing it every year - beyond the seemingly everlasting tiredness that was involved in waking up before the roosters, there were always jolly smiles to look forward to, and Kateri would never trade those for the world!

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Can you imagine a time when it was illegal to be a Christian? In a faraway country called Italy, a long time ago, it was. The Italian Christians, however, were a fierce bunch, not afraid of what earthly rulers would do to them if they decided to follow Jesus, so they held Masses in secret and supported each other under cover of darkness. Many Christians were even killed because they believed in Jesus! But even with the threat of death over their heads all the time, the Christians did not stop loving Jesus and sharing the Good News with those who had never heard His name. They were fearless people, unafraid of death, because they knew that death was the way to meet the man they honored more than the most powerful king - Jesus!

One of these fearless people was a young woman named Lucy. She promised Jesus that she would never get married and consecrated her life to the service of the suffering Christians who were in deep trouble with the leaders of their country. When she was only twenty years old, Lucy’s acts of kindness towards Christians in danger were discovered by the government and she was put to death. She died when she was still very young, but she was inspiring to the other Christians, and soon her story spread. Eventually, Lucy became one of the first saints honored by the Catholic Church because of her bravery and compassion for Christians. 

One of Saint Lucy’s most famous kindnesses began underground, but eventually spread all over the world. Lucy would bring food and prayers to the Christians hiding underground in the catacombs wearing a wreath of candles to light her way. Now, on her feast day, girls and boys all over the world participate in pageants and processions, or wake up their siblings with warm breakfast treats, just like Kateri’s story!

Even though we are no longer we are not facing death for Jesus in America, we can still look to Saint Lucy as an example for how we should act towards people who are being persecuted. We don’t have to stop celebrating Saint Lucy when the sun sets on her feast day - we can celebrate it all year ‘round through our kind works towards others! Saint Lucy knew Jesus was inside of every person. Let’s follow her example and see people not as objects, but as Temples of the Holy Spirit!

The Saints Who Made Christmas: Nicholas

Nicholas was hurrying through the streets of Myra, browsing the town’s handful of shops and markets for vegetables. The kindhearted bishop of Myra knew that in the winter, vegetables were scarce, but knowing that fact didn't stop him from perusing the stands at the market, making sure his suspicions were true. 

Nicholas’ eyes caught on a slew of carrots sitting atop a wooden table. He walked over and began to inspect the vegetables under the cautious eyes of the woman manning the market stand. As he was looking the healthy, fire-colored carrots on the table, his ears caught on a conversation going on a few paces over. 

“Did you hear about Mustafa’s daughters?” one woman asked. “It looks as though he will have to sell them off, since he cannot pay the appropriate dowry.”

“It was going to happen sooner or later,” the other woman replied with a sigh. “Mustafa has never had much money at all.”

Upon hearing the words of the women near him, Nicholas’ mind fell deep into thought. He knew Mustafa as a good, honorable man, even though he was not a Catholic and did not attend Nicholas’ church. He knew Mustafa would be eternally grieved if his daughters were not with him, especially knowing they were working as slaves. Nicholas’ heart was saddened by the women’s revelation, but he did not know what to do. 

“Bishop, are you going to pay for those carrots?” the shopkeeper asked, pulling Nicholas from the world of his thoughts and back onto the chilly Myra street. Nicholas nodded absentmindedly and pulled a pouch full of gold coins from his pocket, extracting one and handing it over to the shopkeeper. As the woman wrapped up the carrots and handed them to Nicholas, he had an idea. What if he were to go to Mustafa’s house and give the money to him? 

No, he thought. He didn't want Mustafa to know it was him - Nicholas was a very humble man. As he walked through the winding streets with an armful of carrots, Nicholas pondered how he would deliver the money to Mustafa without the kind man knowing it had been the bishop of Myra. If he left it outside, it might be stolen. He could throw it inside…but there was no guarantee the windows would be unlocked. 

Nicholas was deep in thought for the rest of the evening. After a while, he decided to put some coins in a bag and walk over to Mustafa’s house to see if, perhaps, G’D had left a window open for him. Praying all the way, the timid bishop asked G’D to provide a way for him to leave the money safely with the family.

As he approached the house, he peeked through the window. No one was in their living room except for the three daughters, who were sleeping on a cot under the window. He tapped the window to see if it would open, and by the grace of G’D, it did! Relieved, Nicholas looked for a place to drop it. He couldn’t leave it with the girls - they would wake up, and he didn't want them to see him standing there. Nicholas’ eyes caught on their wet shoes, drying off by the fire. 

I’ll throw them in there! Nicholas thought. Carefully, he tossed the bag towards the shoes. Nicholas, however, was bad at aiming and instead the bag hit the side of one of the shoes and fell to the ground. The coins spilled loudly out of the pouch, covering the floor with gold. With a gasp, Nicholas hurried to the side of the house so as not to be seen. He heard the sounds of Mustafa coming out of the back room, and the jolly noises of the girls, exclaiming at their good fortune. Happily, Nicholas listened to the sounds of the girls and their father, crying and laughing together at the sight of the precious coins. Nicholas instantly lifted his face to the heavens and thanked G’D for allowing him to help the family in need. 

Nicholas’ generous actions have inspired the whole world, both religious and secular, to call Christmas the “season of giving”. Nicholas’ example of generosity can inspire you too on your road to sainthood!

The Saints Who Made Christmas: Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar

Everyone has seen the Nativity scenes that are commonplace for a wide range of time, sometimes from Thanksgiving weekend until early February! And everyone knows about the Magi, sometimes called the “Wise Men”, who travelled to see the Christ Child because they saw the star and knew it to be a sign of the coming Messiah. We know their gifts to the baby and His parents - gold, frankincense, and myrrh - and we even sing songs about them, such as the ever-popular “We Three Kings”. But even though these wise kings are so standard, I beg to ask - how well do we really know these three men? 

In truth, no one truly knows who these three men really were. Their stories are shrouded in mystery and myth, and the only “facts” we know about them really aren’t facts at all, but are more pieces of legends fashioned without a known source. 

The names of the wise men come from the names of three kings who ruled at the time of Christ’s birth -  Caspar, king of India, Melchior, king of Persia, and Balthazar, king of Arabia. Some accounts claim that they received ordination from Saint Thomas the Apostle and were named bishops. Others state that the three men evangelized all around Europe, Asia  and Africa and were eventually martyred for their faith. 

Because of their inspirational journey from lands far away to visit the baby Messiah, the Church has honored them with a feast day, Epiphany, which occurs each year on the sixth of January. Epiphany marks the end of the Christmas season. Many Catholic families write the initials of the wise men, surrounded by the calendar year, as a blessing on their home and family.

But in between all the tradition and folklore, there is a much broader question to ask - why were the Magi even there at all?

Take a look at any Nativity scene, any image, any play…you always see the same thing - three crowned men holding gifts, often on the older side, always with different colored skin. Through the mismatched colors of skin, we see a very important message - Jesus did not just come for the Jews! He didn't even come only for the Christians, the poor, or the dirty - He came for everyone, from India to Persia to Arabia and beyond! The importance of the three wise men, so essential to a proper Christmas anything, goes further than the gifts they gave or the crowns they wore - it’s about who they represent and how we should approach the Christ Child. We should come to visit Him in our hearts, making lengthy spiritual journeys, honoring Him with our prayers and immaterial gifts, and remembering that Christ accepts us no matter who we are or where we come from. 

The Saints Who Made Christmas: Joseph

How is this even possible? Joseph thought as he sat on the dusty earth. His deep, chestnut-colored eyes would not leave the gentle figure of his infant god. His strong, carpenter arms seemed to have weakened to oblivion when Mary had carefully laid the child there. Perhaps he had expected a strange force to pulse through him, but instead there was only a weight of seven or so pounds. Or maybe he had assumed a fanfare of trumpets would sound at any second, but the only sound that met his ears were the soft coos of the baby before…silence. Could this really be the G’D of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, he thought, so unreservedly exposed to the elements He had fashioned with His own hands?

Joseph chuckled to himself as he realized that the only extraordinary thing about the birth was the arrival of filthy shepherds, completely ecstatic, begging to get their hands on the Messiah in between proclamations of a miraculous visitation by a host of angels. Joseph had been skeptical and defensive, wanting to protect both his wife and his LORD from the sullied hands of strangers, but he soon realized his efforts were in vain as his travel-weary wife trustingly passed off the Son of G’D to the wild men. His eyes still darted alertly to the euphoric herdsmen until he felt a hand grab his gently. He looked down at his wife, who was beaming. 

“Do not worry, Joseph,” she whispered. “G’D has a plan.”

G’D has a plan, Joseph thought. For an instant, he wondered if G’D really did have a plan. His Son was born in a dirty stable, turned away from every inn, tavern, and private home they went to. Before His birth, His earthly mother had been an outcast in her town, scorned for something they could not comprehend with their human minds. The only guests at His birth arrived late, and they were smeared with dirt and hysterical. He had been wrapped in a single layer of linen and before Joseph had grabbed Him, he had been lying in a manger atop a layer or two of thrice-used hay. How on earth could the arrival of their long-awaited Messiah come under these circumstances? Joseph wondered. How does it even make sense?

Joseph pondered the events for the next hour - the message from the angel, the long journey to Bethlehem, how they were turned away at every inn, the arrival of the shepherds, and now, this ever-so-ordinary silence…could this really be the plan of G’D?

Out of the blue, a thought jumped into Joseph’s head. Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense.

Joseph looked back into the eyes of his king, suddenly understanding how he did not understand. Understanding that his incomprehensiveness was okay. Not understanding the purpose, but knowing whatever the plan for the Messiah was, it would be beyond Joseph’s feeble human imagining. 

Joseph looked up through the cave’s opening as the child drifted back to sleep, his eyes settling upon the glittering stars, formed thousands of years ago by the tiny hands currently curled around Joseph’s fingers. 

My G’D, Joseph prayed, how beautiful I know Your plans to be. Give me the wisdom to protect this little child, Whom I know will deliver us. Help me to believe in Your plans, even when I do not understand.

Joseph’s eyes returned to his Messiah, peacefully asleep in his arms. It did not seem right, but it was. The plan of G’D was going to be manifested through His Son, a man…and Joseph couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

Roman Martyrs in Kentucky? ~ Saints Magnus and Bonosa

A thundering roar echoed through the massive Colosseum, a thousand voices cheering as they caught sight of three colorful figures emerging from a lower door. Two were dressed in imperial red, capes waving in the summer wind, their strong hands wrapped around the arms of a young woman. The girl, their prisoner, walked between them, a fearlessness in her step. 

Magnus leaned forward in his seat and settled his chin on one fist as the girl was brought towards the center of the arena. As a high-ranking centurion with front row seats to all the Colosseum's spectacles, he had seen many prisoners face their deaths, but what always captivated his interest was the unfathomable courage of the Christians. 

He could already tell based on her peaceful expression and the way she carried herself that she was a Christian. She, like her brothers and sisters, appeared unafraid of the grisly death which awaited her, a death which would send a grown man bolting away, crying out in terror. An almost halo-like glow had settled around her golden hair, and a pleasant smile graced her young face. Fearless. 

Magnus hardly heard the Roman words cutting through the silence, numbering the girl's charges - Bonosa, Christian. The sentence for such a faith was death, and everyone knew it. But while the crowd cheered lustily for her blood to be spilled, Magnus remained silent. He focused his attention on the gentle words escaping Bonosa's lips - something about Christ, about hope, about being unafraid to carry her cross. 

Her eyes, shining with a holy light, met his, only for the briefest of moments. And you, Magnus, they seemed to ask. Are you brave enough to carry the cross?

She flashed her Christ-filled eyes away from him, turning her entire body towards the executioners who had brought her in. Drawing her right hand to her forehead, she crossed herself, awaiting the beasts. 

It was as though he had been called by G'D Himself. Rising from his seat, a firm resolution in his heart, his hand wrapping around the hilt of the sword at his side, he marched through the seats. Within minutes, he was standing beside Bonosa, calling out his belief in the G'D of the Christians. Within minutes, the beasts were flying at him too...

Gemma Galgani & Other Saints for School (Pluta #3)

Maria Pluta, now a grown-up six-year-old, stood before the mirror in the tiny downstairs bathroom as Mama ran a brush through her chestnut hair. Maria looked at the little girl in the mirror with a great sense of anticipation, as she was excited for her first day of school. The little girl staring back at her wore a freshly pressed uniform, indicative of the first day of school, and her hair was being pulled back into two short braids, to be tied with little elastic bands. 

"There you are," Mama said with a contented sigh. "Let me look at you!"

Maria whirled around obediently and her mother hurriedly ran a hand over her uniform jumper, straightening out the little sleeves of her snow-white shirt and running a damp finger at the space above her upper lip, where the remnants of a blueberry muffin sat, previously undetected. 

"Mama," Maria said, her voice instantly growing quieter. "There are butterflies in my tummy."

Mama looked with compassion on her eldest daughter and knelt down until she was at the little girl's level. 

"Here," she said, reaching into her skirt pocket. "I have something for you."

Maria watched with interest as her mother ruffled through her pocket and extracted a thin card, with the image of a young, dark-haired woman printed atop it. The girl quickly studied the woman's face with curiosity. She was young, pious-looking, with an expression of great peace creasing her face. Her hands were clasped in prayer, immediately reminding Maria of the various saint statues scattered throughout their home. 

"This is a prayer card for you, Maria," Mama said, setting the card in the hands of the girl. "This is Saint Gemma Galgani. She lived in Italy in the 1800s, and she is the patroness of students. Perhaps she can be your friend today."

"What do you mean, Mama?" Maria questioned curiously. 

"The saints are always looking out for you, whether or not you realize it," Mama began. 

"I thought that was Mary's job!" Maria interrupted. 

"It is the job of Mary to watch over you, with Our Lord and the Guardian Angels," Mama continued. "However, it is also the job of saints, particularly those who are especially close to us."

"So today...Gemma will be watching over me?" Maria asked, tilting her head to one side and squinting her deep blue eyes. 

"Yes," Mama answered. "With every step. You have only to ask her for help."

Maria jumped into her mother's arms, the prayer card firmly in her grasp. As the morning passed and it came time for Maria to board the bus, she got on with the prayer card stuck into her little pocket, and it was taken out several times, followed by a quick utterance of four simple words from the child's mouth: "Gemma, pray for me."

And so, Gemma became a dear friend to Maria. As school begins, everyone is invited to enter into a special friendship with the saints, the Friends of G'D! Perhaps you will choose Gemma to ask for help from this year, as she is the patroness of students. But at her side are many others who would like to help you this year! Saint Thomas Aquinas, Saint Scholastica, and Saint Aloyisius Gonzaga are all patrons of students. Saint Edith Stein and Saint Catherine of Alexandria are patronesses of deep-thinking and debating. Perhaps you can call on Saint Albert the Great for help in science, or Francis de Sales in English. And of course, always call upon Saint Joseph of Cupertino for help with testing...these saints will NEVER fail you, and will always be at your side to inspire your mind to find the correct answers. Never ignore the power of their friendship, as they will never leave your side!