Never Stop Preaching: Saints Denis and John Henry Newman
Everybody knows a guy who just won’t shut up. Sometimes it’s not even that he has something to say, or that he likes the sound of his own voice. Sometimes these are the folks who are genuinely frightened by silence.
Sometimes, they just don’t know how not to talk.
If those folks had a patron saint, it would no doubt be Saint Denis of Paris.
An Italian missionary bishop, he was sent by Pope Fabian (236-250) to Gaul, where the local Christians had been horribly persecuted by the governor, acting under the orders of the Emperor Decius.
The Christian church there was all but eradicated when Bishop Denis, together with his companions the priest Rusticus and the deacon Eleutherius, arrived in what today is the city of Paris and settled on the island in the Seine. There they built a small church, celebrated Mass, and preached the Gospel.
His fearless and indefatigable preaching of the Gospel led to countless conversions. This aroused the envy, anger and hatred of the heathen priests. They incited the populace against the strangers and importuned the governor Fescenninus Sisinnius to put a stop by force to the new teaching.
Denis with his two companions were seized and as they persevered in their faith were beheaded (in about the year 275) after many tortures.
And yet, he never stopped preaching the Gospel. The story goes that after he was beheaded, Bishop Denis picked up his head and continued preaching, walking about 10km into the countryside before finally finishing his sermon and dropping dead.
I can only imagine the effect this might have had on the locals. Certainly Gaul became Christian, and the “most Catholic” kingdom of France persisted until the Revolution.
This image of the saint can now be found in stone on the facade of the church of Notre Dame in Paris, on the same island on which Denis and his companions settled, some 1700 years ago.
In addition to being the Memorial of Saint Denis, today also commemorates Saint John Henry Newman, who, before his canonization by Pope Francis in 2019, had the distinction of being the theologian most quoted in the Catechism of the Catholic Church who was not a saint. No more.
For many years now, I’ve had a meditation written by him on a small card on my desk. It’s yellowing and worn, but it has helped me through some of my darkest hours.
And this is what I’d like to share with you today.
God has created me to do Him some definite service; He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission—I never may know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next.
I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons. He has not created me for naught. I shall do good, I shall do His work; I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place, while not intending it, if I do but keep His commandments and serve Him in my calling.
Therefore I will trust Him. Whatever, wherever I am, I can never be thrown away. If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him; in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him; if I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him. My sickness, or perplexity, or sorrow may be necessary causes of some great end, which is quite beyond us. He does nothing in vain; He may prolong my life, He may shorten it; He knows what He is about. He may take away my friends, He may throw me among strangers, He may make me feel desolate, make my spirits sink, hide the future from me—still He knows what He is about.
(Saint John Henry Newman)
So what’s the connection? There’s an old maxim attributed to Saint Francis of Assisi that ties these two together: “Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.”
Preach with your actions. Preach with your life. Preach with your attitude.
You may never know this side of heaven who your preaching in word or action affects, but never, ever stop. Never stop preaching the Gospel, however you do it.