There is no place on the face of the earth comparable to Rome, the “eternal city.” Such a density of archaeological evidence covering almost all historical periods cannot be found anywhere else. A Spanish friend who has been living there for over thirty years told me that if you were to visit, daily, for a few hours, monuments and archaeological sites, it would take you decades to see everything worth seeing. Guided by authentic connoisseurs of Rome’s mysteries, I was able to enjoy many of the Christian testimonies of a glorious past. Although it lasted only (almost) two weeks, my visit to the religious center of the world provided me with subjects to write and meditate on for an entire book. But nothing has marked me more deeply than encountering the “extraordinary fact.” Used by the philosopher Karl Jaspers in a more sophisticated sense, I mention this phrase here to indicate those eruptions of the miraculous which, sometimes, unexpectedly occur in our lives.
One evening, my Roman friends invited me to go and pray in a nearby church. Without anticipating what would follow, I accepted, convinced that I would see, as usual, other architectural wonders. And so it was. The church, known as Sacro Cuore di Gesù a Via Piave, completed in 1916, is a perfect example of traditional Catholic beauty. Its Gothic style, favored by the architect Aristide Leonori (1856– 1928) who built it, reminiscent of the creations of his English confrere, Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin (1812–1852), who proved that even in the world of functionalist architecture, classical beauty is possible. Late at night, when only a few faithful were recollecting in the silence full of undeciphered whispers, it helped me attain that state in which you vaguely sense that you are facing something (or someone) grand and beyond your comprehension. For minutes on end, I stared at the so-called triforium. Known in the Gothic architecture of the Middle Ages as the matroneum, it is a gallery – an uninterrupted balcony – that surrounds the church at an upper level. Somewhat similar to the opera boxes, it was meant to discreetly accommodate members of royal families, aristocrats, and other important persons whose presence might distract the attention of the faithful. I have always liked in old churches and castles the secretive places, hidden in shadow, where you can meditate and pray without anyone else seeing you except for the scrutinizing eye of the almighty Creator.
After returning home, above the flood of Roman memories, the smiling figure of Saint Rafaela Mary of the Sacred Heart of Jesus dominated.
I interrupted the words of the prayer to survey with my gaze the place whose existence I couldn’t quite convince myself of. That’s what happens every time I visit a completely new space. I feel like I’m in a dream. The impact of the unknown requires some time to adapt to overcome the initial surprise. After almost an hour of silence and prayer, I sat on the bench pacified, thinking nothing specific. I was imbued with the sacredness of the place, which made me feel touched by quiet emotions. One of my friends approached. In a whisper, he encouraged me to break the stillness and walk to the right of the main altar. I understood that I would see something special. But what exactly, I hadn’t guessed for a moment.
I obeyed, traversing with small and silent steps the space between the empty benches. I knelt in front of the Holy altar, said a short prayer, and then headed towards the niche where a side altar was located. What I saw in front of it propelled me into another world.
If you’ve ever found yourself in front of the incorrupt body of Saint Bernadette Soubirous of Lourdes (1844–1879), much more well-known than the saint I will tell you about shortly, you know what thoughts and feelings can arise in front of a “phenomenon” that defies the laws of our fallen world. As for me, I hadn’t expected for even a minute to witness such a perpetual miracle. I knelt on a prie-dieu in front of the grille and continued to gaze, lost in thought. It was the greatest surprise of my journey to Rome.
After long minutes of contemplation, curiosity prompted me to seek clarifying information. On the wall where the grille was embedded, there was a commemorative plaque with minimal explanations. The Spanish name of the saint with the uncorrupted body was Rafaela Porras Ayllón (1850–1925). Founder of a female religious order named Ancillae Cordis Iesu (The Handmaids of the Sacred Heart of Jesus), dedicated to the education of children, she was the thirteenth and last born of a Catholic family. Inspired by the spirituality of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, she pursued a religious vocation from a young age, which led her to the position of superior of her order approved by Pope Pius IX in 1887.
After returning home, above the flood of Roman memories, the smiling figure of Saint Rafaela Mary of the Sacred Heart of Jesus dominated. I immediately began diligent searches to learn about her life and, especially, to unravel how such an uninterrupted miracle is possible. These concerns led to the publication of a number of articles on the topic of the differences between the immortal condition of Adam and Eve before the original sin, in relation to our current condition, subject to diseases, aging, and death. As for the saint, the details I learned about her life illuminated the secret of the extraordinary gift she received after death.
Like her, we too, in these dark times, must learn to bear the cross, being humbled. In family life, in our professions, in the “Synodal” church where true (i.e., Traditional) worship, Holy Scripture, and Holy Tradition are trampled upon, let us not cease – like Saint Rafaela Maria – to forgive and to pray.
As the general superior of the order she founded between 1887 and 1893, Rafaela Maria became the target of harsh criticism from some of the nuns. With angelic patience, she made her entire life a hymn dedicated to the sufferings of the Savior Christ. Here is what she wrote in her journal:
“There is no offence on their part. They were placed there, just like the nails in the Crucifix of Jesus, by the will of the Eternal Father. I must live willingly nailed by them.”
When we read such words, we instantly understand the power of the greatest virtue, the one that made the Virgin Mary Queen of the entire universe and the mediator of all graces: humility. This virtue is sufficient not only to acquire all others, like a golden crown in which gems are set, but also to attract the greatest mystical graces. But how can such an extraordinary virtue be attained? Saint Bernard of Clairvaux is the one who revealed the secret to us, meditating on the very passion of our Savior Jesus Christ: by being humiliated. I repeat the teaching of Saint Bernard: only by being humiliated can you truly acquire humility. Of course, God-Man, Jesus Christ, possessed it perfectly. He accepted the lowest humiliations imaginable to show us the way of the Cross, the only path to Paradise. Saint Rafaela Mary is a living lesson on what it means to acquire humility by accepting, with patience, like Christ Himself on the path of His passion, to be humiliated.
Envied and mocked by the superior of her order, portrayed as mentally deranged, she endured everything as only saints can endure. Exiled to Rome, far from the heart of her order in Spain, she prayed and forgave, forgave and prayed. Unknown to anyone, disregarded by most of the nuns of her own institute, she died and was buried in 1925. You may not believe it, but most of the sisters didn’t even know that she was the founder of the order to which they belonged.
If the Second World War brought the unexpected death of so many people, it also brought something else. A bombardment by American allies ravaged the Campo Verano cemetery where the saint’s tomb was located. When her coffin was discovered, astonishment gripped the hearts and minds of those who beheld it: perfectly preserved, flexible, and uncorrupted, the saint’s body resembled that of the famous Snow White from the Grimm Brothers’ tale. However, unlike in the fairy tale, Saint Rafaela Maria is as real as can be. In front of the reliquary containing her incorrupt body, I could not only understand but actually see, with utmost clarity, the unimaginable power of divine grace.
For what I witnessed then, in Rome, on a silent night, was the impossible made possible: “the things that are impossible with men, are possible with God” (Luke 18:27). But why did God choose for such a miracle to happen in the heart of an age of disbelief and apostasy? To provide proof of His power to all those who doubt. And also, to show us the meaning of a life filled with suffering, a humble life.
Despite how they are sometimes misrepresented by those who do not understand them, neither the Savior Christ nor His saints are Masochists. They do not worship suffering for the sake of suffering. What they know, and what those who promote euthanasia, abortion and so many other laws against life do not know, is that suffering is the most precious currency we sinners have at our disposal. Saint Rafaela Maria is the living proof of the power of suffering endured with patience.
Like her, we too, in these dark times, must learn to bear the cross, being humbled. In family life, in our professions, in the “Synodal” church where true (i.e., Traditional) worship, Holy Scripture, and Holy Tradition are trampled upon, let us not cease – like Saint Rafaela Maria – to forgive and to pray. As Saint Alphonsus Maria de Liguori recommended, let us pray especially for the conversion of obstinate sinners. And, at the same time, let us not hesitate to confess our Christian faith, showing to those who do not believe, to those who doubt, such signs of God’s power as the incorrupt body of this saint from our times.
Sancta Rafaela Maria a Sacro Corde Iesu, ora pro nobis!
Saint Rafaela Mary of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, pray for us!
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