Are we about to have a Padre Pio moment? I mean, is Padre Pio about to become one of those cultural events that spill over from the Church into the wider life of the United States and western culture because somebody, somewhere, somehow, decided to present him in the popular media?
Apparently, there is a Padre Pio biographic movie coming out, mainstream-Hollywood-made, with a real-live movie star, chap named Shia LeBeouf, playing the Capuchin saint. It is generating some stir in the movie world as well as the Catholic world, because of that star’s alleged horrible actions before making the film, and because of his announced conversion as a result of his participation in the film.
Well, last week (23 September) was the liturgical memorial of Saint Pius of Pietrelcina, better known as Padre Pio, and because it fell on a Friday I celebrated it at a school Mass. Trying to explain Padre Pio’s wild popularity throughout Italy wasn’t the easiest task; he is mostly famous for his suffering. He received the stigmata – Christ’s wounds in hands, feet, and side – and bore them for fifty years. The Church authorities were unsettled by his personality, his piety, and his popularity, and sanctioned him for years and years. Are you wondering what the excitement was about? So were the kids.
Honestly, while I have been impressed by his authentic holiness and devotion, I never worked up too much enthusiasm for the saint. But every time I heard something or learned something, it inspired increased respect and greater curiosity. I was in Rome at the time of his canonization, when seemingly all Italy showed up (whence I chose the adjective “wild”, above), so I have never doubted that there is really something there.
Another Padre Pio fact that left the kids wondering was that he spent most of his days in the confessional – like ten or twelve hours, every day. The line to confess to him stretched out of the church and around the piazza, every day. But what makes even grownups wonder is that he was known to be a particularly tough confessor. Moreover, he was known to tell people their own sins, if they “forgot” or otherwise omitted them, or even were otherwise oblivious to them. Picture that! People would emerge from the experience often in tears, but always, always with an experience of God’s mercy and forgiveness.
The schoolkids were visibly unmoved by that concept, but I think you and I have a responsibility to reflect a little more deeply before we dismiss it. Under what circumstances is a regular, even run-of-the-mill Catholic ready to be informed what are his sins?
Think about it. From whom are you willing to hear what you’ve done wrong; not just incorrectly, but immorally. Selfishly. Harmfully. SINfully. I’ll just give you a moment while you compile the list. It’s an awfully short list; wait -- still nobody?
Maybe once upon a time, your mom and dad were on the list, but that expired when you became a swaggering teenager. How about your wife, or husband? If that, too, has mostly expired with the practical frictions of familiarity, how about that same beloved when you were courting, or newly married? How about one of your children, if they are still vulnerable enough to weep unaffectedly when you cause them hurt?
I am not sure if any of those folks are on your list, but if they are or ever were, they share one qualification for the position: their deep and unselfish love for you.
Which brings us back to Padre Pio, and those odd but inescapably persistent wounds of his. The marks of the Passion are the marks of unaffected love. Christ Himself often speaks of our sins and reveals to us our sins, whether directly and personally or indirectly. People forget that this, too, is a marker of His authentic love, just as it is for other authentic lovers. Failure to instruct about sin is a failure of charity. Christ’s charity never fails. To “warn the sinner” is a spiritual work of mercy.
To take umbrage when our sin is pointed out to us is to reject one of the most precious fruits of Divine Love. How much love do you require before you respond with other than indignation?
Would you line up to go to confession to a priest who was known to be holy, known to be tough, known even to inform penitents of their own sins if they couldn’t bring themselves to confess them? Would you do it only if you had seeping, bleeding evidence of his love for you and sacrifice for your salvation, or would you take it on faith? Are you ready to have a Padre Pio moment?
Monsignor Smith
