Easter Sunday 1839 and we continue to reflect on Eugene’s reminiscences of that day on his vocation and the motivation behind his life as a missionary. He recalls his return to Aix as a 30 year-old priest:
I thus responded to the Bishop of Metz that my whole ambition was to consecrate myself to the service of the poor and the youth. I thus started out in the prisons, and my first apprenticeship consisted of gathering around me young boys whom I instructed. I formed a large number in virtue. I saw up to 280 grouped around me, and those who today still remain faithful to the principles that I had the happiness of instilling in their souls and who do honor to their faith in every rank of society or in the sanctuary, will uphold for a long time, either in Aix or in the other places where they are dispersed, the reputation that this association had rightly acquired for itself while I was able to care for it.
Well, this twofold ministry contributed to keeping me faithful to my ideals. Among these poor prisoners whom I helped spiritually and materially, and among the youth who looked up to me as their father, I met only souls full of recognition, hearts full of affection that responded perfectly to the tender charity that I felt for them. They loved me so much that several mothers declared that they would have been jealous had not this sentiment shown the goodness of their children, but that in truth they loved me more than they loved them, their own mothers.
With the overwhelming response to his loving dedication:
Everything contributed to my conviction that it was impossible for me not to be loved. With my heart so disposed, that is to say, never wishing harm to anyone, desiring to do good to everyone, and always ready to show affection to everyone who could appreciate it, I could not understand that there could be even one person, who really knew me, who would wish to hurt me or even sadden me. Sweet but mistaken illusion of a heart that loves too much! I did not see the flaw in this all too natural feeling. I was so little aware of it that I would have boasted about it just as, in the secret of my soul, I rejoiced in possessing it.
Eugene de Mazenod’s Diary, 31 March 1839, EO XX
It always seemed to come to Eugene as a big surprise when he was met with unwarranted dislike or hatred.
I think of how Eugene must have felt discovering the utter duplicity of the Arbieu woman, the shock that went straight to his heart, the anger resulting from hurt and disbelief; and then having to act to rectify the situation. Only then coming to realize the depravity of her heart when she accused him of heinous acts. His naivety; it seems when we have tried our hardest and given ourselves over to God and life in him and with him and through him that all would rejoice with and for us.
Betrayal and abandonment –Eugene had suffered from this in his life time, particularly in the five years leading up to him becoming the Bishop of Marseilles.
On this Easter Sunday his instinct is not focused on retaliation; rather he seems to take it in stride, looking from within the light of God’s love how he himself has been loved and then sharing that experience of God’s love with those who have not yet come to know God.
What does that look like in my life – do I strike out as did the Arbieu woman, or do I look at where I have come from with God; do I look at where God has called me to be with love and forgiveness?
Following a car accident that left me with unseen injuries I needed help in order to work at getting better both inside and out, at receiving healing so that I could accept and work with some new limitations. When the pandemic struck, I along with everyone else in the world experienced shock and new limitations. It seemed we all had to find new ways to walk – with each other.
Today is Labour Day, a holiday here in Canada, a day much like the rest of the days in our new world. A day that I have begun by looking back and reflecting on where God has brought me to, where God has called me to be. Like Eugene I want to give thanks for all that I have received.