Life of St. Anthony of Padua
By Leonard Foley, O.F.M.
If you have visited your share of Catholic churches, you have
seen your share of statues of St. Anthony of Padua, surely one
of the Church’s most popular saints. He’s the one typically
portrayed holding the child Jesus—or a lily—or a book—or all
three—in his arms. And, of course, he is the patron of lost
items (among other things). Who of us hasn’t invoked his name
when looking for a misplaced set of car keys or a badly needed
job?
Legends about Anthony abound. But let’s
turn to the known facts about him.
Anthony was born in 1195 (13 years after
St. Francis) in Lisbon (now Portugal, then a part of Spain), and
given the name of Fernando at Baptism. His parents, Martin and
Mary Bulhom, apparently belonged to one of the prominent
families of the city.
At the age of 15 he entered the religious
order of St. Augustine. Monastery life was hardly peaceful for
young Fernando, nor conducive to prayer and study, as his old
friends came to visit frequently and engaged in vehement
political discussions.
After two years he was sent to Coimbra.
There he began nine years of intense study, learning the
Augustinian theology that he would later combine with the
Franciscan vision. Fernando was probably ordained a priest
during this time.
Firmly Against Heresy,
Warmly Toward Truth
The life of the young priest took a
crucial turn when the bodies of the first five Franciscan
martyrs were returned from Morocco. They had preached in the
mosque in Seville, almost being martyred at the outset, but the
sultan allowed them to pass on to Morocco, where, after
continuing to preach Christ despite repeated warnings, they were
tortured and beheaded. Now, in the presence of the queen and a
huge crowd, their remains were carried in solemn procession to
Fernando’s monastery.
He was overjoyed and inspired to a momentous decision. He went
to the little friary in Coimbra and said, “Brother, I would
gladly put on the habit of your Order if you would promise to
send me as soon as possible to the land of the Saracens, that I
may gain the crown of the holy martyrs.” After some challenges
from the prior of the Augustinians, he was allowed to leave that
priory and receive the Franciscan habit, taking the name
Anthony.
True to their promise, the Franciscans
allowed Anthony to go to Morocco, to be a witness for Christ,
and a martyr as well. But, as often happens, the gift he wanted
to give was not the gift that was to be asked of him. He became
seriously ill, and after several months realized he had to go
home.
He never arrived. His ship ran into storms
and high winds and was blown east across the Mediterranean.
Months later he arrived on the east coast of Sicily. The friars
at nearby Messina, though they didn't know him, welcomed him and
began nursing him back to health. Still ailing, he wanted to
attend the great Pentecost Chapter of Mats (so called because
the 3,000 friars could not be housed and slept on mats). Francis
was there, also sick. History does not reveal any meeting
between Francis and Anthony.
Since the young man was from “out of
town,” he received no assignment at the meeting, so he asked to
go with a provincial superior from northern Italy. “Instruct me
in the Franciscan life,” he asked, not mentioning his prior
theological training. Now, like Francis, he had his first
choice—a life of seclusion and contemplation in a hermitage near
Montepaolo.
Perhaps we would never have heard of
Anthony if he hadn’t gone to an ordination of Dominicans and
Franciscans in 1222. As they gathered for a meal afterward, the
provincial suggested that one of the friars give a short sermon.
Quite typically, everybody ducked. So Anthony was asked to give
“just something simple,” since he presumably had no education.
Anthony too demurred, but finally began to
speak in a simple, artless way. The fire within him became
evident. His knowledge was unmistakable, but his holiness was
what really impressed everyone there.
Now he was exposed. His quiet life of
prayer and penance at the hermitage was exchanged for that of a
public preacher. Francis heard of Anthony’s previously hidden
gifts, and Anthony was assigned to preach in northern Italy.
The problem with many preachers in
Anthony’s day was that their life-style contrasted sharply with
that of the poor people to whom they preached. In our
experience, it could be compared to an evangelist arriving in a
slum driving a Mercedes, delivering a homily from his car and
speeding off to a vacation resort.
Anthony saw that words were obviously not
enough. He had to show gospel poverty. People wanted more than
self-disciplined, even penitent priests. They wanted genuineness
of gospel living, and in Anthony they found it. They were moved
by who he was, more than what he said.
Despite his efforts, not everyone
listened. Legend has it that one day, faced with deaf ears,
Anthony went to the river and preached to the fishes. That,
reads the traditional tale, got everyone’s attention.
Anthony traveled tirelessly in both
northern Italy and southern France—perhaps 400 trips—choosing to
enter the cities where the heretics were strongest. Yet the
sermons he has left behind rarely show him taking direct issue
with the heretics. As the historian Clasen interprets it,
Anthony preferred to present the grandeur of Christianity in
positive ways. It was no good to prove people wrong: Anthony
wanted to win them to the right, the healthiness of real sorrow
and conversion, the wonder of reconciliation with a loving
Father.
Public Preacher, Franciscan
Teacher
Anthony’s superior, St. Francis, was
cautious about education such as his protégé possessed. He had
seen too many theologians taking pride in their sophisticated
knowledge. Still, if the friars had to hit the roads and preach
to all sorts of people, they needed a firm grounding in
Scripture and theology. So, when he heard the glowing report of
Anthony’s debut at the ordinations, Francis wrote in 1224, “It
pleases me that you should teach the friars sacred theology,
provided that in such studies they do not destroy the spirit of
holy prayer and devotedness, as contained in the Rule.”
Anthony first taught in a friary in
Bologna, which became a famous school. The theology book of the
time was the Bible. In one extant sermon by the saint, there are
at least 183 passages from Scripture. While none of his
theological conferences and discussions were written down, we do
have two volumes of his sermons: Sunday Sermons and Feastday
Sermons. His method included much of allegory and symbolical
explanation of Scripture.
Anthony continued to preach as he taught
the friars and assumed more responsibility within the Order. In
1226 he was appointed provincial superior of northern Italy, but
still found time for contemplative prayer in a small hermitage.
Around Easter in 1228 (he was only 33 years old), while in Rome,
he met Pope Gregory IX, who had been a faithful friend and
adviser of St. Francis. Naturally, the famous preacher was
invited to speak. He did it humbly, as always. The response was
so great that people later said that it seemed the miracle of
Pentecost was repeated.
Padua Enters the Picture
Padua, Italy is a short distance west of
Venice. At the time of Anthony, it was one of the most important
cities in the country, with an important university for the
study of civil and canon law. Sometimes Anthony left Padua for
greater solitude. He went to a place loved by Francis—LaVerna,
where Francis received the wounds of Jesus. He also found a
grotto near the friary where he could pray in solitude.
In poor health, and still provincial
superior of northern Italy, he went to the General Chapter in
Rome and asked to be relieved of his duties. But he was later
recalled as part of a special commission to discuss certain
matters of the Franciscan Rule with the pope.
Back in Padua, he preached his last and
most famous Lenten sermons. The crowds were so great—sometimes
30,000—that the churches could not hold them, so he went into
the piazzas or the open fields. People waited all night to hear
him. He needed a bodyguard to protect him from the people armed
with scissors who wanted to snip off a piece of his habit as a
relic. After his morning Mass and sermon, he would hear
confessions. This sometimes lasted all day—as did his fasting.
The great energy he had expended during
the Lent of 1231 left him exhausted. He went to a little town
near Padua, but seeing death coming close, he wanted to return
to the city that he loved. The journey in a wagon weakened him
so much, however, that he had to stop at Arcella. He had to
bless Padua from a distance, as Francis had blessed Assisi.
At Arcella, he received the last
sacraments, sang and prayed with the friars there. When one of
them asked Anthony what he was staring at so intently, he
answered, “I see my Lord!” He died in peace a short time after
that. He was only 36 and had been a Franciscan but 10 years.
The following year, his friend, Pope
Gregory IX, moved by the many miracles that occurred at
Anthony’s tomb, declared him a saint.
Anthony was a simple and humble friar who
preached the Good News lovingly and with fearless courage. The
youth whom his fellow friars thought was uneducated became one
of the great preachers and theologians of his day. He was a man
of great penance and apostolic zeal. But he was primarily a
saint of the people. (Adapted from St. Anthony: Doctor of the
Church by Sophronius Clasen, O.F.M.)
Franciscan Father Leonard Foley
(1913-1994) is the author of
Saint of the Day,
many other books, and articles for
Catholic Update,
Youth Update
and St. Anthony
Messenger. An expanded version of the above appears in
Saint Anthony of
Padua: The Story of His Life and Popular Devotions,
published by St. Anthony Messenger Press.
