Vincent’s “Great Sin”

In the telling of our story, we find out who we truly are.

DePaul University is graced with an array of statues and artwork that remind us of our founder. However, how often do we actually reflect on the person of Vincent de Paul, and the sometimes-surprising joys and challenges that made him a real person?

Vincent de Paul came from “peasant stock,” yet his life would lead him to the highest civil and ecclesiastical circles of seventeenth-century France, and would connect him to people with social standing far above his own. A challenge that first confronted Vincent, when still an adolescent, was how to integrate his humble roots with his education and rising social status.

A poignant moment in Vincent’s early life reveals this struggle. Vincent wrote, “I remember that once… at the college where I was studying, I was informed that my father, who was a poor peasant, was asking for me. I refused to go talk to him. In so doing I committed a great sin.”

We know from Vincent’s writings that he wrestled with ambivalent feelings regarding his humble background. However, over the years, Vincent was able to integrate these challenging thoughts into an evolving and authentic sense of self in terms of who he was becoming.

Vincent’s life presents us with an invitation to ask ourselves, how successfully have we integrated our past into the reality of our present? What lessons do our personal histories still have to teach us? As DePaul itself seeks to flourish by moving forward, how can we look back and remain true to the roots that ground us as an institution?

Citation: Stafford Poole, C.M., “The Formative Years of a Saint: Vincent de Paul,” Vincentian Heritage 13:2 (1992), 82.

 

Reflection by Siobhan O’Donoghue

Honoring Those Who Have Shaped Us

“I embrace your heart and your family with all the tenderness of my heart.” — St. Vincent de Paul

Vincent de Paul wrote this line to Louis Dupont in 1659. The quote is unique in that Vincent does not express kindness solely to Louis, but extends it to his family as well. For most people we encounter, we act as the bridge between them, our family, and our friends. To know those closest to us is to know our greatest support systems, and to encounter our friends and family is to gain insight into how we became the people we are today.

In our world today, what are some ways we can be intentional in honoring our relationships with those closest to us?

Every culture, person, community, etc. may have a different answer. With the end of October quickly approaching, one example can be found in Dia de los Muertos, or “Day of the Dead.” No, not Halloween, or even a sad holiday. This is a celebration existing in different forms throughout Latin America, and is a time when the relationships we hold closest to our hearts are remembered. Typically, for Dia de los Muertos, a colorful ofrenda (or “altar”) is made by family and or friends to honor their departed loved ones. This ofrenda is set up on October 31 and remains until November 2, All Souls Day. This year around the university, you may wish to contribute names or photos of any loved ones to community ofrendas. They will be everywhere, from the residence halls to the 11th floor of the DePaul Center. (If you have questions or want to get involved contact Tepeyac, the student organization, at depaul.tepeyac@gmail.com)

An ofrenda is just one way to express kindness and honor to those who played a role in shaping us. Take some time to reflect on what makes the most sense for you.

What actions make you feel closest to your family or friends, both those on this earth, and those who have passed away?

Reflection by:

Joshua Smyser-DeLeon, Assistant Director, Alumni Relations

DePaul’s annual Gathering of Remembrance event will be held this year on Thursday, November 14th, at 4:30 p.m. in Cortelyou Commons, Lincoln Park Campus. Should you have names of loved ones you would like to be remembered, and/or if you would like to RSVP to attend the event, more information can be found here: http://events.depaul.edu/event/depaul_gathering_of_remembrance#.XbBf3mZOm70

Indiscreet Zeal

“The spirit of God urges one gently to do the good that can be done reasonably, so that it may be done perseveringly and for a long time.” Vincent de Paul  (CCD, I:92)

Vincent seemed to be aware that he and others often falter by pursuing passions uncritically. Rather, he advised his followers not to rush into new ventures, aware that “indiscreet zeal” can at times lead more to harm than good. He advocated for a more discerning approach, rooted in experience. In his regular Tuesday Conferences, he would often invite the input of others with different perspectives, reflecting a way of proceeding in which discernment was dynamic and dialogical, open to various viewpoints, and aware that one person does not hold all of the answers. What regular practices of discernment can help to provide a healthy balance to your zeal and enthusiasm? How do you invite diverse and even contrary perspectives into dialogue with your own thinking?

DePaul University Purchases Letter written by Saint Vincent de Paul

The Vincentian Studies Institute of DePaul University recently purchased a Vincent de Paul Letter.  The letter is from the saint to Firmin Get an early Lazarist who at the time was superior of the house at Marseilles.   The letter is dated from Paris, April 19, 1658.  This is a previously known letter numbered #2574 (volume 7) by Pierre Coste, C.M., in his multi-volume “Correspondence, Conference, Documents” collection. The saint’s secretary Brother Bertrand Ducournau wrote the letter from dictation.  The piece is signed by Vincent.  This letter will join the growing collection of Vincent manuscript letters and documents at the Archives and Special Collections Department of DePaul University’s, John T. Richardson Library.

 

 

 

Vincent’s Turning Point

In 1617, when Vincent was serving as chaplain and tutor to the noble Gondi family, Madame de Gondi asked him to hear the confession of an elderly dying peasant. On realizing that this man knew next to nothing about his religion, Vincent was inspired to consider how the Church might better serve the needs of the rural poor. What happened during this encounter, and shortly thereafter, is often referred to as a “turning-point” for Vincent de Paul. It was an experience that seemed to contribute significantly to a change of heart and mind in how he understood, and would live out, his life’s purpose.

Has there been a moment in your life that crystallized your purpose? How does that turning point relate to your work at DePaul today?

The Heart of Jesus In the Spirituality of Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac

 

Former superior general Robert Maloney examines what the heart of Jesus meant to Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac. Vincent prayed that the Congregation would have the heart of Jesus, or the zeal, to bring God’s love to the poor. The missionaries were also to exercise gentleness and humility, the qualities Jesus attributed to his heart in Matthew 11:29. For Louise, this heart meant “charity that was both affective and effective.” She created many paintings of Jesus’s heart, some of which are described in the article with accompanying images. The historical development of devotion to the heart of Jesus, in which Francis de Sales played a role, is explained. Maloney explores five meanings Jesus’s heart has for us. It “heightens our awareness of the limitless love of God.” It calls us to be gentle and humble, makes us aware of our limitations, and helps us find wisdom and practice discernment. Finally, it encourages us to imitate Jesus’s love, which is “expansive” and “affective and effective.”

“The Heart of Jesus in the Spirituality of Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac” is an article published in the Vincentian Heritage Journal, Volume 32, Issue 1, Article 8 available at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vhj/vol32/iss1/8

 

The Workaday Ministry of Vincent de Paul

 

“The Workaday Ministry of Vincent de Paul” focuses on the many activities of Vincent de Paul that are not among the many for which he is well known: e.g., Founder of Communities, Manager of Saint-Lazare, Educator of the Clergy, and Developer of a myriad of works of Charity for the Poor.  Rather, here we see Vincent in his lesser-known daily activities as the personnel director reviewing new applicants to his communities, as director of those various communities, as spiritual director for priests, brothers and Bishops, as mentor and leader, as teacher, as listener, as model, and as the ultimate servant of the poor.

“The Workaday Ministry of Vincent de Paul” is a chapter in the book, Saint Vincent de Paul: His Mind and His Manner, by Rev. Jack Melito, C.M., published in 2010 by the Vincentian Studies Institute at DePaul University in Chicago, Illinois.  Unfortunately, the book is currently out of print.

Vincentian Moments

Part of our work with the Interfaith Scholars is to make moves to draw people closer together through our different faiths. Our purpose is to transcend differences and better understand one another and the role that our faith plays in our day to day lives. One of the ways that the scholars do this is by creating what we call Vincentian Moments. These moments take an aspect of each faith tradition and draw a comparison to an aspect of St. Vincent Depaul’s teachings. 

The first installment comes from Scholar Thano Prokos who decided to on his own background in the Greek Orthodox Faith.

St. Vincent says,

 “Our Lord humbles in order to raise up, and allows the suffering of interior and exterior afflictions in order to bring about peace. He often desires some things more than we do, but wants us to merit the grace of accomplishing them by several practices of virtue and to beg for this with many prayers.”

In “Taking the More Excellent Way,” Fr. Anthony Hughes talks about the story of St. Mary of Egypt and uses it to explain on how we make use of personal suffering. He argues that our trials and suffering are the things that make us grow and we become beautiful human beings.

St. Vincent stresses the same idea, that when we are humbled in our lives it’s our duty to rise back up.  What both men are saying, is that the hardships we face are not necessarily what we should focus on. We shouldn’t be consumed by our grief. Rather, it’s important to focus on what the next step is. How do we respond to tragedy? Both men encourage a detachment from the experience of grief and a focus on the divine through prayer.

Vincent asks us to say our own personal prayers to God with the hope that our prayer focuses our attention on what is good and how we can strive to be better. Fr. Anthony asks us to pray for others, particularly those who hurt us. The goal of this practice is less “divine intervention” but more to remind us that those who hurt us are every bit as human as we are. It changes our perception of them from the evil other into someone that we can be compassionate towards in the hopes that in the future, we can demonstrate our growth by meeting  hostility with love.

17th Century “Photographs”

It isn’t possible to look at photographs of 17th century France, but the closest we can come are the engravings of Abraham Bosse (1604-76). He was a master engraver of all sorts of subjects, including portraiture. For us, the most interesting will probably be his scenes of ordinary life, with particular emphasis on the depictions of the poor. He showed artisans at work, too, [see the engraving on the bakery below] and his scenes of schoolrooms—one for boys, another for girls—are nearly photographic.
His scenes of the Corporal Works of Mercy include the often-reproduced view of wealthy pious persons visiting a prison. The prisoner with a wide metal collar around his neck attached by a chain to the wall is astonishing. So is the scene of a wife beating her husband with a ring of heavy keys. At one side of the same engraving a young girl also is striking a boy, certainly in imitation of the family scene being enacted, and at the other side, a hen is pecking fiercely on a rooster. Bosse must have had a sense of humor.
He engraved another series of single individuals, showing off the details of their clothing. This is certainly as good as this gets.


If you ever wondered what kind of world Monsieur Vincent lived in, one access point is offered by these marvelous engravings. Bosse left more than 1,600 of them.

The Vincentian collection at DePaul recently purchased the book, whose cover is shown here. It is the catalogue of an exhibition dating from 2004.

It would be interesting to know more about his works.

There were, of course, other engravers and painters in his period, but many of them date from the time of Louis XIV. In this case, they represent the styles in vogue at least at the beginning of his reign. With Bosse, we are mainly shown the styles of Louis XIII and his wife, Anne of Austria, who became regent for Louis XIV until his formal accession to the throne in 1661.

Vincent’s knife

In Vincent’s time, people normally had their own eating utensils. To pick up and eat their food, many used their fingers, which they would clean with a cloth and/or bread. As to the utensils, normally a knife and spoon—forks were a new import from Italy, often used only in upper-class settings—these were also cleaned at the table by the eater and wrapped up in a cloth to await their next use. This was a custom preserved in some religious communities, notably the Daughters of Charity in certain parts of the world.
The knife pictured above is in the Vincentian Museum in the mother house in Paris. It consists of a wooden sheath, on the left, with the metal knife, on the right. The sheath has metal pieces fitted into it at each end to hold the wood in place.
The mystery about this item is the carving on the sheath, which covers at least two sides. I have not been able to locate anyone who knows anything about this. What do the individual symbols mean, if anything? Who carved them and why? Where did the sheath come from? Why did Vincent de Paul have this item? What is its age? How different was it from those that others used? Was it a gift to him from someone, let’s say a sailor, coming back from a lengthy ocean voyage, maybe from Madagascar? Are the figures alphabetic or just symbolic? Some symbols are repeated, and there may be divisions between groups of symbols (if I am interpreting the vertical dots correctly); does this have any relevance?
Let’s put out this item for examination. There has to be someone who could start researchers in the right direction. Is it you?

I sometimes wonder whether the author Dan Brown could concoct a mystery story featuring this knife, leading scientists and detectives on a wild chase across continents.