Benedict St. Benjamin St. Bernadette St. Bernard St. Blaise St. Brendan St. Bridget of Sweden St. Brigid St. Camillus St. Caroline St. Catherine St. Catherine Laboure St. Cayetano St. Cecilia St. Charles St.
Charlotte St. Christina St. Christopher St. Clare St. Clement St.
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Daniel St. David St. Denise St. Dennis St. Dominic St. Dorothy St. Dymphna Patrons E-H St. Edith St. Edward St. Elias St. Elizabeth St. Elizabeth Ann Seton St. Emily St. Emma St. Eric St. Fiacre St. Florian St. Francis of Assisi St. Frances Cabrini St. Francis de Sales St. Francis Xavier St. Genevieve St. Gabriel St. Genesius St. George St. Gerard St. Gertrude St. Gianna Beretta St. Grace St. Gregory St.
Helen St. Henry St. Hubert Patrons I-L St. Ignatius of Loyola St. Isabella St. Isidore St. Ives St. Jacob St. James St. Jane St. Jason St. Jerome St. Joan St. Joan of Arc St. Joanne St. John the Apostle St.
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John the Baptist St. John Berchman St. John of the Cross St. John Evangelist St. John of God St. John Neumann St. Joseph St. Joseph of Copertino St. Josephine Bakhita St. Joshua St. Juan Diego St. Jude St. Julia St. Juliana St. Justin St. Karen St. Kateri Tekakwitha St. Katharine Drexel St. Kevin St. Lawrence St. Leo St. Liam St. Louis St. Louise St. Lucy St. Luke Patrons M-P St. Margaret St. Maria Faustina St. Maria Goretti St. Marianne Cope St. Thou didst desire the propagation of thy Miraculous Medal; grant that we may not be slothful in promoting and explaining thy marvelous and grace-laden gift for sinful mankind.
May we never be neglectful in wearing it, and while ever wearing it, may we be blessed by thy loving protection and preserved in the grace of thy Divine Son. May this Medal be for each one of us a sure sign of thy affection for us and a constant reminder of our duties towards thee. O most powerful Virgin, Mother of our Savior, keep us close to thee every moment of our lives. There she met with the Virgin Mary and spoke with her for several hours. Vincent de Paul and Courtyard - St. This view looks down the corridor at the chapel entrance in the distance.
She showed Catherine the design of a medal that she wanted to be made and distributed to all the world. The medal was initially known as the Medal of the Immaculate Conception or the Medal of Our Lady of Grace, but due to the many miracles that the medal seemed to produce, it received the popular title of "The Miraculous Medal.
We are in the middle of a dark night of the Faith, with many losing or abandoning the Faith on all sides. We must go find Jesus and Mary in our chapels, and, like Catherine, spend hours talking to them there. Let us not be neglectful in wearing a blessed Miraculous Medal and asking for the many graces that we can obtain through it and Our Lady. On a midsummer's night—July 18, , the eve of the feast of St. Vincent de Paul—Our Lady came to Paris. She came, not to the shadowy vastness of her Cathedral of Notre Dame, but to the narrow back street called the rue du Bac, to the Motherhouse of the Sisters of Charity.
They had just left the chapel, transformed into a homely elegance of flowers, snowy linen, and polished candelabra in preparation for the feast-day Mass. Their Directress, the old Mother Martha, had talked to them of devotion to the saints, and especially to their blessed Father St.
Vincent, and, as a feast-day gift, had given each of them a small piece of a surplice St. Vincent had worn.
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Tomorrow, after the glorious Mass, there would be recreation, and they would chat and laugh together and sing old songs; and maybe they would walk over to the priests' church in the afternoon to pray before their Holy Founder's body Catherine's heart was bursting with the certainty that grew and swelled within it, the certainty that something was about to happen, something of great moment. Lying wide awake and staring up at the pale whiteness of the bed curtains, she clutched in her hand her piece of that precious surplice.
She talked to St. Vincent a long time in her prayers, telling him again of her soul's dearest wish—to see with her own eyes the Blessed Virgin. It was a startling wish, a startling prayer, on the lips of this hard-headed, practical peasant girl, but it can no longer surprise us, who have seen her intense love of the Mother of God take root and burgeon and fructify; nor could it surprise her, who had witnessed the intimate wonders of Heaven, had seen the Lord Himself.
Suddenly, as if struck with an inspiration, she tore the tiny cloth in two and swallowed half of it. It was a simple act of devotion, growing out of a simple faith. Sophisticated rationalists might sniff at it as ludicrous superstition, but those whose believing mothers have signed their brows with the sacred wedding ring and given them holy water to drink will understand.
A serene peace came over Catherine. In her mind was a single, confident thought: Tonight I shall see her. Tonight I shall see the Blessed Virgin.
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She closed her eyes and slept. Here is What Happened… Catherine has given us three complete accounts of the apparitions, written in her own hand at three distinct periods of her life. We will let Catherine tell her story in her own words: "On the eve of the feast of St. Vincent, good Mother Martha spoke to us of devotion to the saints, and to the Blessed Virgin in particular. It gave me so great a desire to see her that I went to bed with the thought that I would see my good Mother that very night—it was a desire I had long cherished. We had been given a piece of a surplice of St. I tore my piece in half, swallowed it, and fell asleep, confident that St.
Vincent would obtain for me the grace of seeing the Blessed Virgin. Get up quickly and come to the chapel! The Blessed Virgin is waiting for you there! It is eleven-thirty; everyone is asleep. Come, I am waiting for you. Wherever we went, the lights were lit, a fact which astonished me very much.
But my surprise was greatest at the threshold of the chapel: the door opened of itself, the child scarcely having touched it with the tip of his finger. It was the height of everything, to see that all the torches and tapers were burning—it reminded me of Midnight Mass. I did not see the Blessed Virgin. The child led me into the sanctuary, to the side of Monsieur le Directeur's chair.
There he remained the whole time. Since the time seemed long, I looked to see whether the watchers were passing by the tribunes. Joseph; a lady was seating herself in a chair on the altar steps at the Gospel side—just like St. Anne, only it was not the face of St. Anne seated in a chair, which hung in the sanctuary; Our Lady's attitude reminded her of this picture]. I doubted whether it was the Blessed Virgin. It was then that the child spoke, no longer as a child, but as a grown man, and in the strongest terms.
There a moment passed, the sweetest of my life. I could not say what I felt. Then she lifted her head and looked up, at her Mother. This moment was Catherine's; and Mary went on to tell her of God's plans for her, to warn her of the trials that would come upon her, and to show her how she should bear them. The good God wished to charge her with a mission. She would meet with many difficulties in carrying it out, but she would overcome the difficulties by thinking upon the glory of God as her reason for doing what He wanted.
Most comforting of all, she would know with unerring certainty the Will of God; she would be spiritually secure, for she would recognize at all times what God wanted of her. You will be contradicted, but do not fear, you will have grace. Tell with confidence all that passes within you; tell it with simplicity. Have confidence. Do not be afraid. You will be inspired in your prayers: give an account of what I tell you and of what you will understand in your prayers. Sorrows will come upon France; the throne will be overturned. The whole world will be upset by miseries of every kind.
Graces will be especially shed upon those who ask for them. Tell that to him who has charge of you, even though he is not the superior. He will be given charge of the Community in a special way; he must do everything he can to restore the rule in vigor. Tell him for me to guard against useless reading, loss of time, and visits.
Our Lady concluded her instructions concerning the family of St. Yet do not be afraid; tell them not to be afraid. The protection of God shall be ever present in a special way—and St Vincent will protect you. I shall be with you myself.
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Always, I have my eye upon you. You will recognize my coming, you will see the protection of God upon the Community, the protection of St. Vincent upon both his Communities. Do not be discouraged. I shall be with you. Vincent will be with you. Then the worst: Mary began to specify the sorrows and dangers. She spoke in broken sentences, in halting phrases, fighting back the tears that stood in her eyes. There will be victims There will be victims among the clergy of Paris. Blood will flow; they will open up again the side of Our Lord. The streets will stream with blood.
Monseigneur the Archbishop will be stripped of his garments Tears choked her voice, and her lovely face twisted in pain. Catherine wondered, and immediately she understood: forty years. The conversation was not one-sided. Catherine spoke freely, unfolding the secrets of her soul, asking questions which Mary graciously answered. Then, like the fading of a shadow, Our Lady was gone. No More Sleep That Night! Slowly, Catherine got up from her knees. The child still hovered nearby. Together they left the chapel and went back upstairs to the dormitory. The lights in the hall were still lit, but Catherine scarcely noticed them.
Her heart was too filled with gladness and horror and hope and bliss, all jumbled together. The hand that had lighted them would put them out. When they got back to the side of Catherine's bed, the child, too, faded from sight as Our Lady had. Catherine felt now that she knew who he was: her guardian angel, long the confidant of her wish to see the Blessed Virgin. She climbed quickly into bed and pulled the covers around her. Just then the clock struck two.
She had been with Our Lady over two hours! She slept no more that night. While it announced a world mission for Catherine, that would come about in good time; the business of the moment had to deal almost entirely with her and the needs of her soul and the welfare of her beloved Community. Even the manner of Our Lady's coming was different. In other famous appearances to chosen souls, Our Lady has burst suddenly upon their sight, as it were, from out of nowhere. Here, her coming was a calm, logical climax to years of intimacy. She arranged it with a sort of heavenly etiquette.
First of all, she led Catherine, in her thoughts, to expect it. Then she sent an angel to announce her coming. When Catherine, following the angel, arrived at the chapel, she found it all in readiness for the great happening, brilliant and lighted as if for a midnight Mass. The good Sisters had unwittingly lent their hands to the preparation: spreading their best linen on the altars and decking them with flowers, scrubbing the floor until it shone, for St.
Vincent's feast on the morrow. Then Catherine heard the rustle of a silken gown, and Mary came.
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The crowning touch of the personal, however, was the privilege given Catherine of kneeling at Mary's knee and resting her hands in her lap. So great a favor has been granted to no other seer. Not to Bernadette of Lourdes: she was granted, once, to kiss the golden rose on Our Lady's foot. Not to the children of Fatima, not even to Lucy, upon whose shoulders the desperate message for the modern world's salvation was laid. Catherine's subsequent visions were not like this first one. Since they were meant for the whole world, there was a certain impersonality about them, very different from the bonds of intimacy entered into on this night of July 18th.
In November, Mary would come suddenly, while Catherine was at prayer with her Sisters, would deliver her message and be gone. She would not even speak directly to the novice. Here, however, there were only Mary and Catherine, and no one else in the universe. Here they talked, the Mother and child, for two hours—a long, long time, even on the clocks of Heaven and eternity. On July 27th, , just one week later, the revolution erupted in fury. Barricades were thrown up across the narrow, winding streets of the ancient capital.
Boulevard and alley echoed to the rattle of musketry and the drunken cries of the looting, burning mob. The dead lay where they fell and the stink of unburied corpses made the summer air nauseating and disease-ridden. Charles X had brought it on himself. He had failed to measure the temper of the times. It is amazing that he should have failed to realize how very deeply the ideas of the Revolution had taken root in France, that the common people had grown used to freedom in forty years, that the middle class had slowly but surely grown into a power to be reckoned with. It is amazing that he should have failed to notice the envious glances Frenchmen cast upon the growing American Republic across the water, the Republic they had helped gain and keep its independence.
The constitutional monarchists, the middle-class shopkeepers, the extreme radicals, and the Parisian mob, all united against him. Now, with the fall of Charles, the Church felt the wrath of his enemies.