JOHN MARY VIANNEY(Curé d’Ars)

ST. JOHN MARY VIANNEY (Curé d’Ars)

Feast day: 4 August

DIFFICULT TIMES

The birth pangs of the modern world were being felt in 19th. century France. The French Revolution proved true to its anagram, “Violence run forth.” Religion was abolished and Reason was enthroned on the altar of updated French life. It was risky to practise the faith openly, and any priest seen in public would be tumbrel driven to the guillotine. It was in those worst of times that the province of Lyons was blessed by the activities of a youth, named Jean-Baptiste Marie Vianney. Born in 1786 and brought up in traditional piety, as a young lad he would gather the village children for religion lessons which he gave himself, thereby keeping their faith alive. He was in turn inspired by the example of loyal Catholic parents who refused to swear allegiance to the revolutionary hierarchy, and his own family boycotted the revolutionary priest who had installed himself in the parish. Any brave priest available would be invited to celebrate Mass in a barn, the windows of which would be blocked from outside by huge stacks of hay. The chalice, cruets and missal were pulled out of the straw, and the Lord’s Resurrection would be proclaimed for a bleeding France. The dangers of the period only reinforced the young John’s resolve to become a priest. But entering the seminary produced another brace of troubles, though not of his making. He was older and more mature than his boyish companions. He had already had apostolic experience and a taste of army life (from which he had had a providential escape); his fellow seminarians had none. He had wisdom; his professors expected knowledge. He was easily misunderstood and was a figure of fun, especially when he made mistakes in Latin grammar - which was quite often. While France was modernising the secular institutions, the seminaries were still explaining the faith in Latin, a language long dead to the common man. How could a rustic, like Jean-Baptiste Vianney, knowing only his patois (native dialect) and accustomed to a strenuous life in the open, be expected to express such vibrant realities like the life and teaching, death and resurrection of Jesus through a lifeless medium? (This might not go down well with some professors of theology!)

DIFFICULT STUDIES

John Mary Vianney was assessed a weak and backward student. Formal assessments were made at examinations, where the student was expected to repeat the stereotyped formulas of official doctrine. If he was gifted with local memory he was classed proficient. In those days there was nothing like the spontaneity of expression and freedom of theological reflection that are enjoyed today. Theology student, J. M. Vianney was not suffering from cerebral deficiency, but he had as much local memory as a village donkey. That is why he flunked the comprehensive exams and the repetition, too. His bishop did not want to ordain him. “Jean Marie,” he said, “what can I do with you? You’re a complete ass !” “My Lord”, replied Jean Marie, “if God could enable Samson to kill a thousand Philistines with only the jawbone of an ass, what could he not do with a complete ass ?” The bishop ordained him, thinking probably that one more in the diocese wouldn’t make a difference! (This version might not be historically true, but probably fabricated by Vianney himself as a counterpoint to his phenomenal success as a confessor).

PASTORAL SERVICE

It did make a difference; a great difference - to the diocese and to the devil. Fr. John Mary Vianney was appointed to the country parish of Ars in the district of Dardily. On the eve of his departure for Ars, Fr. Courbon, the vicar general, told him, “There is no love of God in that parish. Go and put some love into it.” And that he did. The people of Ars were given over to drinking, dancing and debauchery. The Curé d’Ars tore into them like a tornado, and like the true prophet he called them to repentance. Initially rigorous, he often refused absolution for faults that today we would not consider grave. Yet through him the spirit of penance spread through the land like fire over dry stubble. Within a few years there were seemingly unending lines at his confessional, so that on most days of the week Fr. John Vianney had to sit up to 14 hours a day reconciling sinners. Apart from the confessional, his fame as a preacher spread rapidly to the cities, including sophisticated Paris. The fashionable ladies came to hear this marvellous minister of the Word, with an eye to getting him transferred to the big city. But John Mary Vianney had no eye for the city lights. Whenever he saw a bevy of powdered and perfumed females in his little church, he behaved like an unlettered bumpkin, blundering ungrammatically through his sermon. They were disedified and stopped coming. But the simple folk kept coming from far and near, including those from the neighbouring parishes, much to the chagrin of the parish priests who felt they were losing their parishioners and Sunday collections. So the brother priests met in conspiracy and finally got down to drafting a memo to the bishop with the request to have him transferred. The memo had to go from priest to priest for signature. By some misadventure it fell into the hands of Fr. John Mary Vianney. He read it placidly and added his signature to it promptly !

THE COST OF MINISTRY

His pastoral successes were not without their hard side. The grace of reconciliation of long hardened sinners, the miracles of feeding the children in his “La Providence” orphanage, his ripostes in the verbal duels with the devil, whom he called “Le Grappin”, were the fruit of long hours of prayer and penance. More than subsisting on boiled potatoes most of his life, his penance was provided by the insults and calumnies of certain people and the harrowing assaults of the devil that deprived him of much needed sleep. He often reminded himself and others: “Everywhere there is the cross; we are made in the form of a cross.” But God’s glory was coming through, and the demonic accents became more and more high-pitched as penitent after penitent fell on their knees to make their confession. Finally, the devil also made his “confession” by screaming, “Vianney, eater of potatoes, if there were three people like you in this world my kingdom would come to an end !” While the saint’s body lies sweetly composed in the Seminaire Jean Marie Vianney in Ars, visitors can view his house and the burn marks on the bedroom walls and curtains left by the devil’s fiery assaults.

From his own people the Curé d’Ars humbly learned the prayer of contemplation. Very early every morning he made his way to the church, lantern in hand. He would notice a villager, named Chafengheon, always there before him, sitting up in front of the tabernacle, lips unmoving. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Jean Marie asked him, “Chafengheon, I see you praying here every morning. What do you tell him ?” “Nothing, Monsieur le Curé”, replied the poor man. “He looks at me and I look at him.” In spite of his penance and mystical prayer life, this saintly pastor had an enduring desire for the monastic life in order to fight the enemy within and “to weep for my sins.” He did, in fact, attempt flight a number of times, but his parishioners forestalled them on every occasion. His friends watched over him as his enemies watched him. He came to realise that he could find God in active service among the people.

THE WISE PASTOR AND SAINT

His pastoral method was remarkably effective, since it was based on the essential, viz., a group of people gathered together for salvation that is accomplished in the Christian assembly by means of the Word and sacraments. His deepening knowledge of human nature helped him understand that in the confessional he was not dealing with malicious people, marked by complicated histories, but with persons suffering from human weakness, bewildered and disappointed with themselves. Hearing confessions was not a matter of solving dilemmas but of method, matured over years of faithfulness, for which he was much respected by fellow priests and superiors. Out of the 100 conundrums of conscience submitted for solution, he returned with 95 correct and the remaining five could have taken equally safe alternatives. The “complete ass” turned out to the competent asset to France and the universal church. Advancing age was matched by increasing spiritual maturity that finally attained the sublimity of mystical marriage with the Lord. His sermons were marked by purer transparency as his eyes gazed into heaven in ecstatic wonderment, and his voice trailed off into whispers of “we shall see him, we shall see him, we shall see him...” He continued serving his people until, worn out as his old cassock, he handed himself to God on 4 August 1859, aged 73 years. Pope Pius XI placed the Curé d’Ars on the calendar of saints in 1925 and declared him patron of the pastoral clergy. Pope Benedict declared him Patron of all priests.

VIANNEY’S WAY TO ORDINATION

          When Jean Baptiste Marie Vianney reached the age of 24 years he went to live in the local presbytery in Ecully under the close supervision of the pastor, Fr. Balley. He was the odd job man, altar server, sacristan, gardener, and accompanied the parish priest on his round of the families. Anxious to see this gangling youth ordained, Fr. Balley had him admitted in the minor seminary for the study of classics. Jean Marie Vianney received the tonsure (that famous shaven patch on the head for aspirants to the priesthood) on 29 May 1811. He was one step closer to the priesthood. Or so he consoled himself.

In 1812 he was sent to the minor seminary at Verrieres, near Montbrison. The building consisted of the combination of parish house and barn. With Napoleon ruling the roost in France, conditions were shabby for the Church. The seminarians, including Vianney, were summoned to the ranks of the army. (It’s hard to imagine raw recruit J. M. Vianney holding a gun; harder still firing it). But he escaped from barracks and joined the Institute Saint Irenee in Verrieres, which offered the sole one year of philosophy. Fr. Baron, the rector, placed him with the group under Professor Chazelles. Jean Marie was the seniormost student; even his professor was his junior! He could hardly manage the Latin, which was the medium of instruction and examinations, so he was detached with seven others to be taught in French. His abundant practical common sense and sound judgement helped him along where scholastic logic could not, but he “remained an exceedingly feeble student,” as his annual report showed. Jean-Marie did not relish the Philosophy of Descartes which he found cold, insipid and all but unintelligible. He was glad, therefore, to return to Ecully, where he found his old master, Fr. Balley, who was also happy to see him again. They spoke of the hope they both cherished and which seemed less remote. Once a priest, he would be able to breathe more freely. This year long vacation was the pleasantest that Jean Marie Vianney ever enjoyed, and, in fact, the only one in all his life. Without loss of time, Fr. Balley set himself to prepare his pupil for the major seminary that stood in the Place Crois-Paquet in the province of Lyons. During the Revolution it had been used as an armoury and military hospital. Whenever the Cardinal visited the seminary, he impressed upon the seminarians the importance of clerical deportment, of a neat and becoming outward appearance. He prescribed the use of powder for the hair and buckles for the shoes, and long cloaks for outdoor wear. It is not recorded how many baths, if any, he prescribed for the year!

Seminarian Jean-Marie was now 27 years of age: his whole person spoke of asceticism, penance, modesty, and recollection. He never even watched the occasional march past of the Swiss soldiers – the only diversion the seminary could afford.

 Fr. Gardette, the superior, must surely have taken special interest in him, for he assigned him a tutor in the person of Jean Duploy, one of the best students of the seminary. Vianney was less overawed by a fellow student, who questioned him in French, thus enabling him to return in the same tongue answers, which, besides being accurate, bore the hallmark of good sense. One of the professors, Fr. Miolard, was also kind enough to give him a few lessons, basing his explanations on a very clear French textbook, “Le Rituel de Toulon.” This was more within the grasp of Vianney.

Sadly, however, Latin was the official academic language for lectures and examinations, and Vianney was on the losing end of both. So, who could describe his anguish when, after a lapse of some six months, he was asked to leave the seminary.

John Marie-Baptiste Vianney was dismissed!

Later on he would speak of his sufferings and trials, but would never allude to this dismissal. It was crushing. On his return to the presbytery at Ecully, Fr. Balley took in his old pupil and his sad story, but never ceased encouraging him to continue aiming at the priesthood. He resumed the private tuition in theology with the help of the same “Rituel de Toulon.” Vianney’s own piety sustained him, and one day he heard a voice telling him: “Be not anxious, one day you will be a priest.”

In the meantime the ordination date (common for all the candidates) was approaching. Fr. Balley was determined to put forward his favourite candidate, now aged 29 years. So after a gap of three months Jean Marie Vianney reappeared among his former companions who rejoiced to see him again. But now the horror of the exams! He had to face the most learned and distinguished priests of the diocese of Lyons. Jean Marie was in trepidation from the word “go”. He lost his nerve when he heard his name called, could not understand the Latin questions and was confused in his answers that were found unsatisfactory. The examiners were flummoxed. Should they definitely reject this poor candidate, so full of good will, or advise him to seek admission in another diocese, if the bishop would accept him? The eminent professors plumbed for the latter. Fr. Balley panicked at this prospect and hastily arranged that the Vicar General and the rector of the seminary come over to the presbytery and take Vianney’s exams on home ground. Their kind assent greatly reassured Vianney, so that, in their words, “he gave very good and satisfactory answers to all the questions put to him.” So, ultimately, it was Latin and lack of reassurance that were the blocks, not ignorance or cerebral deficiency.

As conscription to the army was getting closer, Mgr. Courbon, V.G., decided to ordain as priests all those in the first year of theology, Vianney included. Mgr. Courbon, besides, was not too particular about academic excellence, especially with regard to Jean Marie Vianney. “Is the Abbe Vianney pious?” “Has he a devotion to Our Lady?” “Does he know how to say his rosary?”

“Oh yes, he is a model of piety.”

“A model of piety!” “Very well, I summon him to come up for ordination. The grace of God will do the rest.”

Never in all his life was Mgr. Courbon better inspired!