On this fourth morning of beautiful May, there rises a mother,
fervent in her love of Jesus. She, too, gives to holy Church a treasure — the
child of her tears — a Doctor, a Bishop, and one of the grandest Saints of the
New Law. This woman, this mother, is Monica, twice mother of Augustine. This
masterpiece of God’s grace was produced on the desert soil of Africa. Her
virtues would have been unknown till the day of Judgment, had not the pen of
the great Bishop of Hippo, prompted by the holy affection of his filial heart,
revealed to us the merits of this woman, whose life was humility and love, and
who now, immortalized in men’s esteem, is venerated as the model and patroness
of Christian Mothers.
One of the great charms of the book of Confessions, is
Augustine’s fervent praise of Monica’s virtues and devotedness. With what
affectionate gratitude he speaks, throughout his whole history, of the untiring
constancy of this mother, who, seeing the errors of her son, “wept over him,
more than “other mothers weep over the dead body of their “children.” Our Lord,
who, from time to time, consoles, with a ray of hope, the souls he tries,—had
shown to Monica, in a vision, 'the future meeting of the son and mother; she
had even heard a holy Bishop assuring her, that the child of so many tears
could never be lost — still the sad realities of the present weighed heavily on
her heart ; and both her maternal love and her Faith caused her to grieve over
this son who kept away from her, yea, who kept away from her, because he was
unfaithful to his God.
The anguish of this devoted heart was an expiation, which
would, at a future period, he applied to the guilty one; fervent and
persevering prayer, joined with suffering, prepared Augustine’s second birth ;—
and, as he himself says, “ she went through more “when she gave me my
spiritual, than when she “gave me my corporal, birth.” At last, after long
years of anxiety, the mother found, at Milan, this son of hers, who had so
cruelly deceived her, when he fled from her roof to go and risk his fortune in
Rome. She found him still doubting the truth of the Christian Religion, but
tired of the errors that had misled him. Augustine was not aware of it, but he
had really made an advance towards the true Faith.
“She found me,” says he, “in extreme danger, for I despaired of ever finding the
truth. But when I told her, that I was no longer a Manichean, and yet not a
Catholic Christian,—the announcement did not take her by surprise. She leaped
for joy, at being made sure that; one half of my misery was gone. As to the
other, she wept over me, as dead, indeed, but to rise again; she turned to
thee, O my God, and wept, and in spirit, brought me, and laid the bier before
thee, that thou mightest say to the widow’s son: Young man! I say to thee, arise!
Then would he come to life again, and begin to speak, and thou couldst give him
back to his mother! Seeing, then, that although I had not yet found the truth,
I was delivered from error, she felt sure that thou wouldst give the other half
of the whole thou hadst promised. She told me in a tone of gentlest calm, but
with her heart full of hope, that she was confident, in Christ, that before
leaving this world, she would see me a faithful Catholic.”
At Milan, Monica formed acquaintance with the great Saint
Ambrose, who was the instrument chosen by God for the conversion of her son. “She,”
says Augustine, “had a very great affection for Ambrose, because of what he had
done for my soul; and he “equally loved her, because of her extraordinary piety,
which led her to the performance of good works, and to fervent assiduity in
frequenting the Church. Hence, when he saw me, he would frequently break out in
her praise, and congratulate me on having such a mother. The hour of grace came
at last. The light of Faith dawned upon Augustine, and he began to think of
enrolling himself a member of the Christian Church; but the pleasures of the world,
in which he had so long indulged, held him back from receiving the holy sacrament
of Baptism. Monica’s prayers and tears won for him the grace to break this last
tie. He yielded, and became a Christian. But God would have this work of his
divine mercy a perfect one. Augustine, once converted, was not satisfied with
professing the true Faith; he aspired to the sublime virtue of continence. A
soul, favored as his then was, could find no further pleasure in anything that
this world had to offer him. Monica, who was anxious to guard her son against
the dangers of a relapse into sin, had been preparing an honorable marriage for
him ; but Augustine came to her, one day, accompanied by his friend Alypius,
and told her that he was resolved to aim at what was most perfect. Let us
listen to the Saint’s account of this interview with his mother; it was
immediately after he had been admonished by the voice from heaven: “We (Augustine
and Alypius,) go at once to my mother’s house. We tell her what has taken
place; she is full of joy. We tell her all the particulars; she is overpowered
with feelings of delight and exultation. She blessed thee, O my God, who canst
“do beyond what we ask or understand. She saw that thou hadst done more for me,
than she had asked of thee, with her many piteous and tearful sighs. Thou hadst
changed her mourning into joy, even beyond her wishes, yea, into a joy more
dear and chaste than she could ever have had in seeing me a father of
children."
A few days after this, and in the Church of Milan, a sublime
spectacle was witnessed by Angels and men: Ambrose baptizing Augustine in
Monica’s presence. The saintly mother had fulfilled her mission: her son was
regenerated to truth and virtue, and she had given to the Church the greatest
of her Doctors. The evening of her long and tried life was approaching and she
was soon to find eternal rest in the God for whose love she had toiled and
suffered so much. The son and mother were at Ostia, waiting for the vessel that
was to take them back to Africa. “I and she were alone.” says Augustine, “and
were standing near a window of our lodging, which commanded a view of the
garden. We were having a most charming conversation. Forgetting the past, and
stretching forward to the things beyond, we were talking about the future life
of the Saints, which eye hath “not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it ascended
into man’s heart. * * * And whilst thus talking about it and longing for it,
our hearts seemed to bound forward and reach it. We sighed, and left the
first-fruits of our spirit there, and returned to the sound of our own voice. *
* * Then, my mother said to me: ‘My son, as far as I am concerned, there is
nothing now that can give me pleasure in this life. I know not what I can do, or
why I should be here, now that I have nothing to hope for in this world. There
was one thing for which I desired to live somewhat longer, and it was to see
thee a Catholic Christian before my death. My God has granted me this and more,
for I see that thou hast despised earthly pleasures, and become his servant.
What do I here?’ ” She had not long to wait for the divine invitation. She
breathed forth her pure soul a few days after this interview, leaving an
indelible impression upon the heart of her son, to the Church, a name most dear
and honored, and to Christian mothers a perfect example of the purest and
holiest maternal affection.
