Anyone who reads the history of Eastern Europe cannot help but chance on the name of Stanislaus, the saintly but tragic bishop of Kraków, patron of Poland. He is remembered with Saints Thomas More and Thomas Becket for vigorous opposition to the evils of an unjust government.
Born in Szczepanow near Kraków on July 26, 1030, he was ordained a priest after being educated in the cathedral schools of Gniezno, then capital of Poland, and at Paris. He was appointed preacher and archdeacon to the bishop of Kraków, where his eloquence and example brought about real conversion in many of his penitents, both clergy and laity. He became bishop of Kraków in 1072.
During an expedition against the Grand Duchy of Kiev, Stanislaus became involved in the political situation of Poland. Known for his outspokenness, he aimed his attacks at the evils of the peasantry and the king, especially the unjust wars and immoral acts of King Boleslaus II.
The king first excused himself, then made a show of penance, then relapsed into his old ways. Stanislaus continued his open opposition in spite of charges of treason and threats of death, finally excommunicating the king. Enraged, the latter ordered soldiers to kill the bishop. When they refused, the king killed Stanislaus with his own hands.
Forced to flee to Hungary, Boleslaus supposedly spent the rest of his life as a penitent in the Benedictine abbey in Osiak.
Reflection
Saints John the Baptist, Thomas Becket, Thomas More, and Stanislaus are a few of the prophets who dared to denounce corruption in high places. They followed in the footsteps of Jesus himself, who pointed out the moral corruption in the religious leadership of his day. It is a risky business.
Today, the Church is enmeshed in scandals, a Church in crisis—of authority, credibility, and division. It is greatly in need of the Franciscan values of peacemaking, conversion, minority, and service. As Francis of Assisi knelt before the crucifix in the Church of San Damiano, he heard Christ speak to him from the cross: “Francis, go and rebuild my Church; as you can see, it is falling into ruin.” Francis looked around at the church, the neglected altar, the broken doors and windows, the debris littered about, and he began to repair a badly damaged building, stone by stone.
Pope Francis has understood the metaphor. May we follow his example and find what is ours to do.
In the last part of Dante’s Divine Comedy, as he travels through heaven, Dante comes to realize that it isn’t through any effort on his part. Something else moves him through his journey. And that is love. Whenever the pilgrim becomes confused or anxious, he turns to look at his beloved guide, Beatrice. And each time he looks at her, he discovers that she has grown more beautiful. And isn’t that how love works? Each time we look at someone we love we seem to see them anew, see them ever more clearly, and ever more beautiful. We are—in a very real sense—transported by that look, by their beauty, by the leap in our heart that we call love. And as Dante might say, that is the power that “moves the sun and all the other stars”—the look of love.
Pray
I give my eyes to you, oh Lord. Open them to the beauty and wonder of your creation. Let me look today with eyes of love at all who come my way.
Act
Is there someone you love so much that each time you see their face your heart skips a beat, leaps for joy? What is that sensation but a foretaste of heaven? It could be a friend, a spouse, a schoolmate, or maybe just someone at the park with a beautiful smile. Take a moment to thank God for that smile, that face, that person, that feeling, that transcendent grace the poet might call the look of love.
Today's Pause+Pray was written by Herman Sutter. Learn more here!
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