Saint Gabriel of Our Lady of Sorrows

 

 text by by João Silveira.

You can read the original text (in Portuguese) herre. 

 

Gabriel of Our Lady of Sorrows, whom Leo XIII called the “Saint Aloysius Gonzaga of our days,” was born in Assisi (Italy) on March 1, 1838, the son of Sante Possenti of Terni and Agnes Frisciotti. On the very day he came into the world, he received the grace of Baptism in the same font where the great Patriarch St. Francis had been baptized, in the church of San Rufino.

His father, already at the age of twenty-two, was Governor of the city of Urbania, a position he subsequently held in San Ginesio, Corinaldo, Cingoli, and Assisi. As one of the magistrates of the Papal States, he enjoyed great esteem from Pope Pius IX, and Leo XIII honored him with sincere friendship. His mother belonged to a noble family from Civitanova d’Ancona. These two spouses were models of Christian marriage, living in holy fear of God, united by a bond of respect and most faithful love, which only death could dissolve. God blessed this holy union with thirteen children, of whom Gabriel was the eleventh. At Baptism, he received the name Francis, in honor of his grandfather and of the Seraphic Saint of Assisi.

Bearing witness to the education they received in the family, in the process of beatification of the Servant of God, his brothers declared: “We were educated with the greatest care regarding piety and instruction. Our mother was very devout and raised us according to the principles of our holy Religion.”

In the arms, upon the knees of a deeply religious mother, little Francis learned the rudiments of Christian life and to pronounce the holy names of Jesus and Mary.

The great happiness that reigned in his childhood suffered a severe blow when, unexpectedly, the Angel of Death visited that home and took their mother. Mrs. Inês, sensing her end was near, in fulfillment of her duty as a Christian mother, gathered all her children at her bedside, embraced them one by one, sealed their foreheads with a final kiss, gave them her blessing—showing special affection for the youngest, among them Francis—and, fortified with all the Sacraments and comforted by God’s grace, died at the age of 38, leaving this world to receive in eternity, near God, the reward of her rare virtues.

Regarding his father, Francis himself gave the following testimony to his spiritual director:

 

“My father,” he declared, “used to rise very early. He devoted an hour to prayer and meditation; if someone wished to speak with him during this time, they had to wait until his religious exercises were finished. Afterward, he would go to church to attend Holy Mass and would usually take with him those children who were not prevented. After Mass, he would begin his work. In the evening, he gathered his children and gave them wise advice and useful exhortations. He spoke to them about their duties toward God, the respect due to paternal authority, and the danger of bad company.” “Bad companions,” he would say, “are the assassins of youth, the agents of Lucifer, hidden traitors, and therefore must be feared and avoided.”

 

The biographers of Francis emphasize, above all, the extraordinary kindness of the boy’s heart, especially toward the poor. Many times he went without his snack because he had given it to the poor. Among his siblings, he was the angel of peace, always ready to excuse and defend them when they were unjustly accused. He could not tolerate injustice, whether directed at himself or at one of his own. He easily gave away objects of some value that had been given to him. Thus, he once gave one of his brothers a beautiful silver chain he had received from a relative.

These good traits in Francis’s character do not hide certain shadows that also remained in him. Those who knew him as gentle, kind, and compassionate also knew him to be nervous, impatient, and irascible.

Fortunately for him, his father Sante was not among those who excuse the whims of their children under the pretext that “they are just children,” without realizing that later they will have to pay dearly for such indulgence. True Christian love led him to firmly combat all defects. Francis was obedient and had great respect for his father, although this did not prevent him, when severely reprimanded, from giving way to his impulsive temperament with words and gestures of displeasure and anger. But all this was fleeting. Soon he returned to calm; his good nature did not allow these outbursts to last long. It was moving to see the boy shortly afterward in tears, seeking his father and, in his innocent and childish manner, asking for forgiveness and assurance of his father’s love. Sante, pretending not to be convinced by these displays, would respond harshly: “No affection; I want deeds.” Then the boy would throw himself into his father’s arms, kiss him, and feel happy to have returned to peace through paternal forgiveness. In this school of wise pedagogy, Francis early learned to fight and overcome his faults.

For some time, Francis was entrusted to a teacher; later he attended the college of the Christian Brothers, where he made rapid progress, always ranking among the best students. At the age of seven he made his first confession. A year later, in June 1846, he received the sacrament of Confirmation. All this shows that the boy was already well instructed in the truths of the Faith, thanks to the solid teaching of the meritorious Brothers.

At that same time, the date of his First Communion arrived, for which he prepared with great care. An eyewitness of that grand event said:

 

“The fervor with which I saw him approach the Holy Table, the spirit of faith that shone on his face, and the strength of his affection were such that one could believe he was being carried by a Seraph.”

 

These sentiments of faith and piety, those flames of love for the Blessed Sacrament, never left Francis’s heart in his youth, even amid a somewhat worldly life. It is no less certain that frequent Holy Communion preserved him from grave deviations amid worldly temptations.

After completing his elementary studies, his father sought a higher education for Francis, in accordance with his social position, and entrusted him to the Jesuit Fathers who ran a college in the city of Spoleto. In this school, Francis spent his entire youth and completed four semesters of philosophy studies. An intelligent and diligent student, he left a good memory at that college, and great hopes were placed in him. He never went a year without winning a prize, and at the end of his studies he was awarded a gold medal. Teachers and classmates also esteemed him.

Everything about him was charming: his delicate and gentle manners, modest speech, the kind smile that played on his lips, the grace with which he carried himself in solemn circumstances, and the noble sentiments that guided his conduct. He always showed the greatest esteem and gratitude toward his teachers. He was a strict observer of religious practices and regularly received the Sacraments. It is true that, given the occasion, his impetuous temperament led him to outbursts of anger and vehemence. But these excesses were always followed by tears of repentance and penance.

From childhood, he showed particular devotion to Our Lady of Sorrows, whose image was kept in his family; it was his duty to adorn it with flowers and keep a lamp burning before it. One of his brothers testified that Francis once wore a leather cilice with iron points during his last year at home. Another testimony from the Parenzi family states: “His religious and moral conduct was irreproachable; given the strict supervision of our parents, he would not have been admitted into our family if he had not been truly virtuous.”

To complete the image of the young student, and to better understand the change that would later occur in him, we must consider the solemn prize distribution ceremony of September 1856, his last at the Jesuit college in Spoleto. Francis stood among the best students chosen to enhance the ceremony with speeches and poetic declamations. No one equaled him in elegance, grace of performance, charm of recitation, expressive gestures, or voice. On stage, he seemed in his element and performed with perfect ease.

His appearance was impeccable: dressed according to the latest fashion, carefully styled hair, elegant attire, white gloves, silk tie, polished shoes—all of this he valued greatly. On one occasion, he recited with such enthusiasm that the Apostolic Delegate, Monsignor Guadalupe, said to his father: “If your son were here, I would embrace him on your behalf.”

However, the rare moral qualities that adorned him, his attractive youth, and his vivacity were tinged with a slight shadow of vanity. This showed itself in his concern for dress, perfume, hairstyle, dislike of the smallest stain on his clothes, and his fondness for worldly amusements.

The enemy of souls took advantage of these weaknesses. If he did not succeed in robbing him of innocence, it was not for lack of attempts. His passion for theater, his mania for dances, and his love of novels were all dangers that make it remarkable he did not fall completely. So strong was his passion for dancing that he was nicknamed “the dancer.”

Francis was aware of the danger he was in, and many reminded him of the need for prayer, vigilance, mortification, devotion to Jesus and Mary, and eternity. A letter from Father Fedeschini, S.J., contained all these warnings.

Despite his youthful faults, Francis remained a good and pious young man, to whom wise and virtuous men could write with confidence and esteem.

 

“Many times,” says one who knew him well, “Possenti felt the call of God to leave worldly life and embrace religious life.”

 

His director, Fr. Norberto, a Passionist, declares:

 

“The vocation, although neglected and suffocated, had been in him for a long time, and he felt it from his earliest years. The servant of God often told me this, lamenting his ingratitude and indifference.”

 

The same priest relates:

 

“His vocation manifested itself as follows: I do not know in which year it was, but he was struck by an illness that made him think of death. He then had the inspiration to promise God that he would enter a religious Order if he recovered his health. The promise was accepted, for he improved quickly and in a short time was restored. But the promise remained as if it had never been made. The young man returned to his affection for the world and gave himself over to dissipation as before.

It was not long before God sent him another illness, an internal and external inflammation of the throat, so severe that death seemed imminent already on the first night, making breathing extremely difficult. Once again the sick young man turned to God and, invoking Saint Andrew Bobola, applied an image of the same saint to the painful area and renewed his promise to embrace the religious state. Improvement came almost instantly, and he spent a peaceful night; the attacks of breathlessness never returned. The young man always remembered this extraordinary favor with great gratitude. He also kept for some time the intention of becoming a religious, but delaying its execution, his love for the world returned, and he continued to live in the world.”

 

Among Francis’s passions, one of the strongest was hunting. To this passion he paid a heavy price, and his spiritual director did not hesitate to attribute to this sport the cruel illness that cut him down in the flower of his youth. On one occasion, while jumping over a fence, he fell so badly that he broke a bone in his nose. The gun discharged, and the projectile passed very close to his forehead, narrowly missing his skull. Francis, immediately recognizing the providence of this warning, renewed his promise. He was left with scars, but remained in the world.

Divine grace, however, was not defeated. Rejected three times, it attempted a fourth blow, even more painful. Of all his family, Francis had a very tender affection for his sister Maria Luisa, nine years older than him, and this affection was fully reciprocated. In 1855, cholera broke out in Spoleto, and Maria Luisa was the first victim of the terrible epidemic. It was on Corpus Christi day, and the news reached Francis while he was carrying the cross in the procession. His sister’s death deeply wounded the young man’s heart and plunged his soul into darkness he had never before experienced. He lost all taste for life and fell into inconsolable sadness. It seemed that with this blow divine grace had removed the last obstacle to the fulfillment of his promise.

Yet this was not yet the case. Deeply saddened, Francis expressed to his father his decision to enter the convent, even saying that for him everything in this life was over. Sante Possenti, fearing the loss of his beloved son, did not receive the news well and asked him never again to speak of it. He advised him to distract himself, to drive away sad thoughts, to seek company, attend the theatre; he even suggested he consider forming a friendship with a distinguished young lady from a similarly respectable family, hoping that innocent social interactions might make him forget his religious intentions.

In the metropolitan church of Spoleto, a particularly venerated image of Our Lady was honored; this image was simply called “the Icon.” During the octave of August 15, this image was carried in solemn procession inside the church, and everyone knelt as it passed. In 1856, Francis Possenti was among the faithful, and, filled with love for the Blessed Virgin Mary, his eyes remained fixed on the revered image as if expecting a special blessing. When the “Icon” approached him, it seemed to cast upon him a special gaze, as if saying: “Francis, the world is not for you; the life of the convent awaits you.” These words, like a burning arrow, pierced his heart; he left the church in tears. He was now resolved to carry out the plan he had long considered. However, he decided not to reveal his intention for the time being.

Although certain of his vocation, but distrustful of his own weakness and not wanting to be deceived by illusion, he sought his teacher at the lyceum and spiritual director, Fr. Bompiani, a Jesuit, and confided everything to him, making his final decision depend on his advice.

The examination was carried out with complete sincerity, and after considering all the factors of his past life, Fr. Bompiani did not hesitate to affirm that it was a true vocation and encouraged him to follow it. Consultations with two other priests of his full confidence reached the same conclusion. Francis then decided to request admission to the Congregation of the Passionists.

Communicating his decision to his father was not easy. But this time Mr. Sante, a conscientious man, seeing his son’s distress and firmness, no longer opposed him; however, he was shocked to learn that the Congregation chosen by Francis—the Passionists—was the most austere of all. Although he did not oppose his son’s will, he sought to delay the execution of the plan and impose conditions.

Francis, however, remained firm. He took part one last time in the prize-giving ceremony at the Jesuit college, once again performed brilliantly on stage, said farewell to his teachers and friends, and, accompanied by his brother Louis of the Dominican Order, visited his uncle Cesare, canon of the Basilica of Loreto, and a relative of his father, Fr. John Baptist of Civitanova, guardian of a Capuchin convent, carrying letters from Sante Possenti asking them to examine his son’s vocation. Both the canon and the Capuchin strongly emphasized the austerity of the Passionist life, which, they said, would not suit a young man of eighteen accustomed to following his own will without restriction.

During his visit to the Holy House in Loreto, Francis took the opportunity to entrust himself to Our Lady. He did not turn back from his chosen path. From Loreto he went to the Passionist convent of Morrovalle, where on September 21, 1856, he received the religious habit with the name Gabriel of Our Lady of Sorrows. Admitted to the novitiate, he wrote to his father and brothers informing them of the fact. To his father he asked forgiveness; to his brothers he recommended filial love and good conduct. The letter, though simple, is a remarkable document of filial and Catholic sentiment. He also wrote to his school companions, asking forgiveness for any bad example he thought he had given them, and urging them to avoid bad company, theatre, bad books, and useless conversations.

Fully convinced of his religious vocation, far from the world, society, and family, he had no other ideal than to ascend to the heights of perfection.

His personality remained unmistakable among his fellow novices. Without losing the characteristic traits of his nature—joyfulness, cheerfulness, and kindness—he excelled not only in the exact observance of the rules, but also in the practice of Christian and monastic virtues. If we examine the deep causes of this radical change in Gabriel’s life, we find two: his ardent love for Jesus Crucified and the Holy Eucharist, and his singular devotion to the Mother of God (especially Our Lady of Sorrows), as well as his constant mortification, by which he subdued his disordered inclinations one by one.

After the year of probation, Gabriel was admitted to profession and sent to various houses of the Congregation to complete his theological studies. During the years of preparation for the priesthood, superiors and companions saw in him the most perfect model of all virtues and an exact observer of all his duties.

At the age of twenty-three, the first symptoms of the illness that would take him to the grave within a year appeared: pulmonary tuberculosis. During his long sickness, Gabriel took the opportunity to deepen even further his devotion to the Passion and Death of Jesus Christ and to Mary, Mother of Sorrows.

In February 1862, he was still able to walk and receive Holy Communion in church with his companions. Suddenly, his condition worsened; he was told to receive the Last Sacraments. The news frightened him only for a moment; he immediately regained his usual calm, which soon turned into an extraordinary joy. The manner in which he received Holy Viaticum moved and edified all present. He never let go of the image of the Crucified, which he kissed repeatedly, and he kept close to him a statue of Our Lady of Sorrows, which he often pressed to his chest, uttering affectionate prayers such as:

 

“My Mother, hurry!”

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph, may I die in peace in your company!”

“Mary, Mother of grace, Mother of mercy, protect us from the enemy, and receive us at the hour of death.”

 

A few moments before his passing, the dying man, who seemed to be asleep, suddenly smiled, turned his head to the left, and fixed his gaze on a point. As if moved by a profound emotion at a vision, he gave a deep sigh of love, and in that attitude—still smiling, holding the Crucifix and the Mater Dolorosa in his hands—passed from this life to the next.

Thus the holy young man died at the age of twenty-four, on the morning of February 27, 1862. He was buried in the church of the Congregation in Isola del Gran Sasso. Thirty years later, his body was exhumed. On that occasion, through the simple contact with his relics, a miraculous healing occurred of a young woman reduced to the last stage of pulmonary tuberculosis. Countless miracles followed through his intercession.

In 1908, Pope Pius X inscribed the name of Gabriel of the Virgin of Sorrows among the Blessed, and in 1920 Benedict XV solemnly canonized him. Pius XI extended his feast to the whole Church in 1932.

 

PRAYER – O God, who taught Saint Gabriel to honor with devotion the sorrows of Your most sweet Mother, and through her raised him to the glory of sanctity and miracles, grant us, through his intercession and example, the grace to share intimately in the sorrows of Your Holy Mother, and through her maternal protection, to obtain eternal salvation.

“Think you have nothing to confess? Think again” by Fr. Michael Rennier.

 You can read the original source here.

published on 03/08/26

 For some, scrupulosity is a huge problem, but I’d guess that, for the majority of us, laxity is more tempting. I know people who haven’t gone to confession in well over a year and still cannot think of a single sin they need to confess.

Pope St. John Paul II, back in 1984, was already concerned about a cultural shift that was causing a loss of our sense of sin. Modern man, he posited, suffers from a “deformation of conscience” caused by widespread secularism.

The deformation has only accelerated in the decades since he wrote those words. We’re so afraid these days of making moral judgments that the very idea of wrong-doing as transgressing against an objective standard has disappeared. We’re assured over and over again that if we just follow our consciences, we can do no wrong.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly need this sort of “encouragement” to justify my actions. I pretty much always think I’m right. I’m never the “bad guy.” If you think about it, none of us in our own minds is ever “the bad guy.” We always have a justification. We’re always the hero. I can easily convince myself I’m following my conscience no matter how anyone else perceives my actions. This means that I am more than capable of dismissing guilt over having sinned. I’m what you might call a person with a lax conscience.

John Paul II identifies this deadening of the conscience as a huge problem. “When the conscience is weakened,” he writes, “the sense of God is also obscured.” He then points out that his predecessor Pope Pius XI once said, “the sin of the century is the loss of the sense of sin.”

Drifting into apathy - For some, scrupulosity is a huge problem, but I’d guess that, for the majority of us, laxity is more tempting. I know people who haven’t gone to confession in well over a year and still cannot think of a single sin they need to confess. They cannot think of anything they’ve done wrong. Now, I have a lax conscience but, even I, as hard-hearted and arrogant as I am, recognize that I fall short of the ideal on a daily basis. I have plenty of things to confess. We all do.

Of course, everything in our pop-culture preaches the opposite, insisting that sin isn’t real and the only moral boundary is the vague intention to not harm other people, even insisting it’s okay if you do harm someone else just as long as that wasn’t your intention.

Everyone is a saint these days, which to my mind, means no one is a saint.

It sounds nice to practice non-judgmental, follow-your-heart type ethics but really it’s nothing more than surrender to mediocrity. Lack of self-knowledge and responsibility isn’t good for anyone, particularly us sinners who need a moral standard to which we can aspire. With no goals, we drift into apathy. Without acknowledgment of wrong-doing, we lack hope.

Getting nowhere - We cannot maintain a thriving spiritual life while avoiding the confessional. Some think that, because they pray a Rosary every day, volunteer at the fish fry, and have a Mary statue in the yard, they’re all set. St. Maximus the Confessor begs to to differ, teaching, “as long as we're in sin, that is, transgressing against Christ's divine commandments, we can be as pious as we like, read all the prayers of the saints ... it will get us nowhere.” We can pretend all we like, but in the end, if we cannot admit our flaws and allow Our Lord to judge and forgive us, we will never have a real relationship with him and we’ll never authentically know our selves.

This is why laxity indicates a serious spiritual sickness. It’s a symptom of living in denial. The original Latin word for lax is related to being slack or overly-wide, a definition which brings to mind Our Lord’s teaching that the way is wide that leads to destruction. If we want to know ourselves, we must focus and push through the narrow gate, take responsibility, set aside pride and fear, practice accountability. It’s a challenging path to travel but is the way of hope and happiness. This is how we heal old wounds and open ourselves up for growth.

That said, it can be difficult to fully understand our actions and motivations. Where can we improve? What are the ways we sin in small ways every single day? In short, how can we think of a complete list of sins to confess?

 

Here are a few practical tips.

Use an examen - Examinations of conscience are abundant. They can be found online, in hand-missals, and prayer books. Based on the 10 Commandments, a good examen offers memory aids and specific practical ways in which we might be sinning in our daily lives. I find that using an examen prompts my memory and unveils sins of which I had previously been unaware.

Ask God to teach you more about yourself - A prayer to the Holy Spirit to ask him for insight is a simple but necessary step to preparing for confession. God knows us better than we know ourselves, and his light illumines our darkened consciences.

Read the catechism and the saints - We cannot root out sin if we don’t know what it is. We have a duty to form our consciences with good information.

Dig down into hidden motives - Over time, the goal is to leave behind the big obvious sins. What to confess after these disappear, though? Reflect on less obvious sins, hidden motives, unbecoming thoughts, and disordered attachments. The goal isn’t scrupulosity but, rather, sensitivity. The more we love God, the more we will desire to give our entire selves to him and even small sins bother us.

Practice honesty - We cannot be honest in the confessional if we aren’t willing to be honest with ourselves. It hurts to recall our sins. They’re embarrassing. They rip open old wounds. But we cannot grow and develop until we’re willing to face them.

Imagine you’re on your deathbed - The sins we think aren’t such a big deal might take on a different importance if we think about them from a different perspective. We might be willing to live with a sin, but are we willing to die with it? Knowing we’re about to face our Creator, is it an impurity we feel comfortable bringing into his presence?

I offer this advice not because I sit in judgment of anyone else or think I’m perfect. The advice is for me as much as anyone else, and I want to re-emphasize that the whole point of going to confession is not because God is judgmental and angry. The point is that God loves us and wants to forgive us. He desires that we face our flaws honestly so that we can be set free from them. This is our path not only to happiness in the next life, but also authentic self-fulfillment in this life.

Saint Benedetta Cambiagio Frassinello – March 21

You cam read the original source (in Portuguese) here.

 

In Benedetta Cambiagio Frassinello (1791–1858), the Church presents an example of a holy wife, religious woman, and founder. She allowed herself to be guided by the Holy Spirit through the experiences of marriage, education, and religious consecration, ultimately founding, together with her husband, a congregation that is unique in the history of the Church.

Benedetta Cambiagio was born on October 2, 1791, in Langasco, Genoa, the youngest of seven children of Giuseppe Cambiagio and Francesca Ghiglione. She was baptized two days after her birth. Her parents were peasants, and after the Napoleonic revolutions, the family faced worsening economic difficulties. Along with other families from Langasco, they emigrated to Pavia when Benedetta was 13 years old.

She received a strict Catholic education and dedicated herself to her studies, especially as a self-taught learner, favoring reading biographies of Saints and deepening her knowledge of Catholic doctrine. In 1812, her older sister Maria married. At 20, Benedetta had a strong inclination toward prayer and contemplative life, even considering becoming a nun, but in doubt, her family’s preference for her marriage prevailed. On February 7, 1816, at the age of twenty-five, she married Giovanni Battista Frassinello, a peasant and carpenter, fervent Catholic from Ronco Scrivia, in the Basilica of Saint Michael.

Two years later, without children, by mutual agreement, Benedetta and Giovanni Battista began to live as brother and sister in the same house. Indeed, Benedetta’s strong desire for chastity influenced her husband. She recounts the episode in her memoirs:

"I lived for two years subject to him, as the Lord had ordained. But my desire was to live as brother and sister. One day, I asked my husband to support me in this desire that I had had since I was a child; he immediately agreed, to the infinite consolation of my soul, for nothing else did I desire."

At the time, her sister Maria, gravely ill with intestinal cancer, was staying in their house, and the couple cared for her with love and dedication until her death in 1825. Caring for the sick awakened in them the vocation to help those in need without reservation. Consequently, Giovanni Battista joined the religious community of the Somascan Fathers as a lay brother, and Benedetta joined the Ursuline Sisters of Capriolo.

In 1826, Benedetta returned to Pavia due to serious health problems. She then had a vision in which Saint Jerome Emiliani appeared to her, resulting in her complete healing. Inspired by that great Saint, who paid special attention to the educational aspect of people, she began working on the education of young girls abandoned by their families. For this work, she requested and obtained the approval of Bishop Luigi Tosi, who called her husband Giovanni Battista back to Pavia to assist her. He promptly returned to his wife-as-sister, and both renewed their vow of perfect chastity through the hands of the bishop.

On September 29, 1826, Benedetta rented a house in Vicolo Porzi. To secure the necessary means to maintain her work, she went from house to house asking for help. Her intention was to combat loneliness, ignorance, and poverty—root causes of vice—through education, acting entirely in the female sphere. With the help and support of several teachers, she taught young girls to read, write, and work, forming a school institution of excellent quality, whose statutes were approved by ecclesiastical authorities.

At the time, schools were very scarce, and Benedetta issued a warning to the authorities of Pavia, becoming the first woman in the city and the state to raise awareness of this need. Pavia was then governed by the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and the Austrian government recognized her work, granting her the title of “Promoter of Public Education.”

Benedetta’s constant dedication stemmed from her fervor for Christ in the Eucharist and contemplation of Jesus on the Cross. She relied on God for sustenance and protection. She did not lack spiritual experiences throughout her life, especially during Mass, yet these never interfered with her daily commitments.

Her first biographer, Joaquim Semino, who knew her personally, provides this portrait:

"And I must not be silent about how she had a face both majestic and gentle, as if made to guide young girls. She had a gentle and sweet way of speaking, a frank and graceful manner, at the same time energetic and strong, which inspired love and reverence in everyone."

Not everything, however, went smoothly. Since her educational work received donations, on February 4, 1837, the newspaper La Gazzetta di Pavia launched a subscription to support her. This initiative drew many opponents who leveled heavy accusations against her. She demonstrated her transparency by transferring the direction of the institution to a collaborator, Caterina Bonino, and entrusting all her work to the bishop. Along with five sisters, she left Pavia and moved to Liguria.

Her biography does not clearly explain why she became isolated and poorly regarded at a certain point. One might speculate that the presence of Jansenist-minded clerics among Bishop Luigi Tosi’s advisors, the existence of Masonic officials in the city administration, or both, were causes of this situation. Nevertheless, what seemed like an end became a new beginning.

In the town of Ronco Scrivia, Benedetta opened a school for young girls with five companions and the help of her husband. She acquired several houses and finally founded, on October 28, 1838, the Congregation of the Benedictine Sisters of Providence, writing the Rule and Constitution herself and placing it under the authority of the Bishop of Genoa.

The institution developed rapidly, so much that in 1847 a new house was inaugurated in Voghera.

In 1851, Benedetta returned to Pavia at the request of Count Giovanni Dessi, concerned about worsening poverty after the 1848 war. Incognito, the count had purchased the former monastery of Saint Gregory. There, Benedetta opened a new home for girls while continuing to manage the one in Ronco Scrivia. These were years of great effort by her and her husband, while her critics continued to slander her without success. In 1857, she opened another school in San Quirico, Valpolcevera.

On March 21, 1858, at the age of 67, Benedetta died a holy death in Ronco Scrivia, on the day and at the hour she had foretold. A large crowd quickly gathered to pay their final respects and mourn one they considered a Saint. She was buried in the cemetery of Ronco Scrivia. In 1944, during World War II, a bombing destroyed the small cemetery, and her relics were scattered.

Beatified by John Paul II on May 10, 1987, the same pontiff canonized her on May 19, 2002. Her feast day was set on March 21, the day of her death.

Benedetta can be proposed as a model and intercessor for consecrated persons, spouses, young people, educators, and families.

Satan's Lone Wolf Terrorists by Msgr. Stephen Rossetti

 You can read the original source here.

 

                  I hesitate to wade into this intense, conflictual arena, but there is something that has been gnawing at me for quite a while. As a priest-exorcist and as a licensed psychologist, I have been looking at the phenomenon, especially in the United States, of the "lone wolf terrorist."  These are the ones who are not formally part of a terrorist group, but rather commit acts of terror acting mostly alone. While they are all different and defy one stereotype, there does seem to be some similar characteristics which are particularly striking to someone who is in the exorcism ministry....

               Again these lone wolf terrorists are not all the same nor does each one have all of these characteristics, but taken as a whole, one often sees these attributes surface.

 

               *No formal psychological diagnosis. Several studies have pointed out that most of these terrorists, almost always male, are not suffering from a major mental illness. It would be easy to dismiss the phenomenon as simply the result of mental illness, but most do not easily fit any such diagnosis. Moreover, there are many mentally ill people in this world and they do not commit acts of terror. Rather, the lone wolf terrorist actually has a "rational" plan of violence and carries it out. It is thought out, planned and executed. It is not a spur of the moment, impulsive act of someone who is having a psychotic break.

               *Twisted logic. Having said that most are not obviously mentally ill, their thinking is warped and twisted. Reading their manifestos, there is often a convoluted and bizarre thought pattern. Many became radicalized online and, in their isolation, they came came up with a twisted logic to justify their violence.

               *Socially isolated. Many are socially isolated and some feel socially inept. In their isolation, without grounding their thoughts in the real world, their minds are more easily radicalized. This is a key feature. Isolation breeds problems.

               *Narcissistic, Grandiose, Lack Empathy. Many show significant features of narcissism. They certainly are self-focused and lack empathy. Killing dozens of innocent people and not being concerned about their welfare and the horrible trauma to their families and friends is very, very self-centered. Their online manifestos are typically grandiose. They believe they are making a statement to the world.

               *Underlying Woundedness & Feeling Victimized. Narcissists often have an underlying "narcissistic wound" which they cover over with their own grandiosity. As one study noted, these terrorists have "an exaggerated sense of self-importance."   Many lone wolf terrorists feel they have been victimized. They are emotionally wounded and their lives seemingly unimportant and meaningless. Their thinking galvanizes around a cause and their self-importance is wrapped up in their terrorist act and manifesto.

               *Acting Out Rage and Violence. While not always manifest, shooting innocent people is, I believe, often a violent act stemming from an inner rage. Certainly it is not a peaceful act. Causing such destruction and death bespeaks of violence and rage. It seems that such acts are most often perpetrated by males, who are more likely to violently act out their inner rage, rather than turning it inward into a depression, anxiety or other internal dysphoria.

 

               As an exorcist, when I look at these symptoms, something leaps out of the page. These dynamics are typical of demons and, of course, Satan himself. Satan sees himself as the wronged victim. He blames God for his plight. He is consumed with rage and a desire for revenge. His twisted logic is bizarre. He channels his inner rage toward others in a desire to destroy. He does not care about the destruction he causes to others. In fact, causing pain to others is part of his plan; he delights in other's suffering. He is the ultimate malignant narcissist.

               Certainly, lone wolf terrorists are doing Satan's work. They are his minions whether they know it or not. And their actions confirm it. Going into a school and murdering innocent children is an act of pure evil. We need to call it what it is. And a portion of the media are starting to call it just that. They are starting to recognize that such acts are EVIL.

               This does not mean that these terrorists are necessarily possessed. One does not need to be possessed to be doing Satan's will. But the Evil One is certainly whispering in their ears and goading them into such violent actions. The rapid escalation of such actions in recent years suggest that Satan's influence, at least in a portion of the population, is increasing. These violent acts are a symptom of a portion of the society which has fallen under the sway of Satan.

               Having said that, it is important not to sweep away human culpability and simply blame it all on Satan. In the end, Satan cannot make us sin. We retain our free will and we are responsible for our own sins. The serpent whispered his deceits to Eve, but she took and ate the apple.

               If what I am hypothesizing is true, then as the rate of those practicing the Faith declines, the rate of  Satanic acts of violence will increase. But I am heartened by the recent rise of faith among Gen Z and I hope that their prayers and faith will help to stem the tide of violence. Identifying those at risk for violence is critical. There are some warning signs, a few such noted above, which can alert professionals.

               Building healthy relationships, a vibrant faith, and a strong faith community are important antidotes to lone wolf terrorism. Ultimately, there is only one way to successfully conquer Satan and that is the God-man Jesus Christ.