In March of 2016 I wrote my first post in this series, encouraging prayers to five saints whose legacies challenge Trumpism (Louise de Marillac, Genevieve, Cosmos and Damian, and Therese of Lisieux). Last summer I added a second reflection with four more saints (Gertrude of Nivelles, Mary Magdalene, Phoebe, and Denis of Paris). I also wrote about Catherine of Siena’s legacy for women’s speech here. For those of us still processing the dangerous rhetoric of Trump’s second inaugural address yesterday, here are two more saints from our tradition whose legacies challenge us to embrace practices of solidarity and care. May they guide us in the next four years and beyond.
St. Elizabeth of the Visitation
We learn about Elizabeth in the infancy narrative of the gospel of Luke. When Mary was pregnant and needed some girl time, she sought out the company of Elizabeth, with whom she stayed for three months. It was in the household of Elizabeth and Zechariah that Mary found welcome and concrete support. Elizabeth lives out the virtues of hospitality (opening her home to her friend) and solidarity (sharing in her friend’s troubles while actively committed to her holistic flourishing). Providing refuge, care, and nonjudgmental support, Elizabeth celebrates Mary’s visit with a Spirit-filled greeting. The circumstances of Mary’s unique pregnancy (unplanned and probably quite scary) become an opportunity for shared stories and blessings.
I wish Luke had told us more about their conversations. Did Elizabeth and Mary talk about their pregnancy symptoms—the fatigue, backache, body changes and hemorrhoids? Did they cook meals together, and share long talks around the wood stove at night? Perhaps they started nesting, gathering the linens that would be needed to swaddle their babies in only a few months’ time. We don’t have details. We do know, however, that their conversations provided such hope to Mary that she boldly proclaimed her Magnificat prayer, a prayer significant for what scholars describe as the “great reversal” motif of Luke’s gospel.
In this prayer form, Mary praises God who:
has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
[who] has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;[who] has filled the hungry with good things,
(Lk 1:51b-53)
and sent the rich away empty.
Not exactly the scene we saw in the Capitol Rotunda—where Trump was surrounded by some of the wealthiest leaders in the world. Elon Musk cheered as Trump discussed colonizing Mars, tech giants celebrated promises of so-called “free speech,” and politicians clapped as Trump promised mass deportations. Lord, have mercy.
Elizabeth of the Visitation is a reminder that God is not glorified in slogans such as “America First.” God is glorified when the vulnerable find refuge, the hungry have enough to eat, and the proud are scattered. God is glorified when we care for one another and treat one another with dignity and respect, no matter one’s race, gender identity, citizenship status, or other marker of identity.
In the latest issue of US Catholic, Jean P. Kelly profiles artist and iconographer Grace Morbitzer, detailing her creative process and her vision for an updated hagiography that can speak meaningfully to our spiritual questions and hopes today. One of my favorite icons cited there is the icon of Elizabeth and Mary hugging one another—eyes closed, serene smiles, a look of calm over them both. As they hold pictures of their ultrasounds, this updated icon invites us to consider the dangers pregnant people face today, and to consider what we can do to live in solidarity, practice hospitality, and foster reproductive justice.
St. Elizabeth invites us to discern how we might open our lives, our hearts, even our homes, to those who need refuge. The friendship between Elizabeth and Mary can teach us the importance of building strong support systems in our lives and of checking in on our loved ones in times of acute distress. Would your home be a destination for Mary today? What might we need to do to be sure that we are practicing hospitality in the way that Elizabeth models? Our churches, too, can be places of sanctuary and food distribution, if only Catholic communities had the will to follow the gospel instead of Trump.
St. Elizabeth of the Visitation, pray for us.
St. Frances Xavier Cabrini
Frances Xavier Cabrini—or Mother Cabrini, as she was called—founded the Institute of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, who are committed “to bringing the reign of God’s love, compassion and reconciliation wherever we live and minister.” Their website explains that Frances Cabrini was born in a small village in Italy in 1850. In 1880 when she founded the Institute of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, she obtained an audience with Pope Leo XIII, who instructed her to travel to New York to help the population of Italian immigrants who struggled in the midst of poverty and other barriers.
In Quam Aerumnosa, the pope had written, in 1888:
“How sad and fraught with trouble is the state of those who yearly emigrate in bodies to America for the means of living is so well known to you that there is no need of us to speak of it at length… It is, indeed, piteous that so many unhappy sons of Italy, driven by want to seek another land, should encounter ills greater than those from which they would fly.”
What a startling description – and so relevant to the plight of migrants in Tijuana this morning and undocumented workers on US soil, in fear of threatened deportation and family separation. Lord, have mercy.
Mother Cabrini founded schools and orphanages to meet the needs of those most vulnerable. As her notoriety grew, she established schools, orphanages, and hospitals. When Columbus Hospital opened in Chicago in 1905, according to biographer Nick Ripatrazone, the featured speaker pointed to Mother Cabrini and said “And to whom do we owe this great work? To a little woman!”
In 1950, Pope Pius XII formally proclaimed St. Frances Xavier Cabrini as the “Patroness of Immigrants.” In his homily, Pope Pius XII said:
“She gathered endangered youth in safe houses, and taught them holy and rightful principles. She consoled the spirit of the imprisoned, giving them the comfort of life eternal, and urging them to resume the right path and to remake an honest life. She consoled the sick and the infirm gathered in hospitals, and cared for them assiduously. Especially towards immigrants, who had left their own homes… did she extend a friendly hand, a sheltering refuge, relief and help.”
The contrast between President Trump and Mother Cabrini could not be more stark. On his road to reclaim the White House, Trump routinely called for mass deportations of undocumented persons, and instead of finding this a disqualifying and unethical stance—ethically, legally, politically—his base cheered. In his inaugural address yesterday, Trump complained that the US government “provides sanctuary and protection for dangerous criminals” and “refuses to defend American borders.” In an executive order, Trump suspended the CPB One app, leading to greater confusion and chaos in an already unjust system. As my friend and colleague Meaghan Clark noted on social media, “this is cruel and cruelty is the point.”
In contrast, Pope Francis, in a letter to Sr. Barbara Staley, MSC, General Superior of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, affirmed care for immigrants as central to Christian discipleship when he wrote, “Catholics today cannot forget that [this] is the vocation of every Christian and of every community of the disciples of Jesus.”
Mother Cabrini’s life reminds us that living out the biblical commands to welcome the stranger (Deut 10:19, Lev 19:34, Rom 12:13, Mt 25; 1 Pet 4:9; Hb 13:2) are not hyperbole or peripheral/optional to Christian discipleship. Instead, we can and must collaborate to build institutions that foster justice and that refuse to exploit migrants, refugees, or asylum seekers. In fact, many amazing people are already doing this work—at Instituto Madre Asunta, Casa Del Migrante, Annunciation House, Kino Border Initiative, and more. To learn more about the theological claims that undergird this social justice work, see the recently published article by Kristin Heyer in America.
Mother Cabrini, pray for us.
In the next installment, I’ll focus on saints who challenge a gender binary and manifest destiny. But until then, may we be inspired by the leadership of St. Elizabeth and Mother Cabrini, asking the Spirit to illumine for us a way to live out our faith with hope and determination despite the many difficult challenges ahead.