Archives for March 2007

Happy St. Patrick’s Day

St. Abban

(620) Abbot and Irish missionary. An Irish prince, Abban was the son of King Cormac of Leinster. He is listed as the nephew of St. Ibar. Abban founded many churches in the old district of Ui Cennselaigh, in modern County Wexford and Ferns. His main monastery is Magheranoidhe, in Adamstown, Ireland. This monastery’s fame is attributed in some records to another Abban, that of New Ross. Abban is also associated with Kill-Abban Abbey in Leinster, serving as abbot there until March 16, 620. He is revered in Adamstown, which was once called Abbanstown. ~ catholic.org

Abban’s background is disputed. Some say he was an Irish missionary, others that he was a secular Briton, the son of a wealthy consul at the Court of High-King Vortigern. Whatever his origins, he is said to have been present at Stonehenge during what was supposed to have been an Anglo-Briton Peace Conference around AD 456. In later years, the occasion become known as the “Night of the Long Knives” because the Saxons massacred all the British nobility gathered there. Abban was one of the few to escape alive. He fled North across the Wiltshire and Berkshire Downs, until he reached the relative safety of the upper Thames Valley. The slaughter he had witnessed so horrified him that Abban decided to settle there and devote his life to prayer. the local King was impressed by his devotion and granted him large tracts of land around Sunningwell. Here, on Boar’s Hill, he built himself a little hermitage, and lived humbly on nuts and berries. At first there was no fresh water, but, in answer to Abban’s prayers, a spring miraculously appeared outside his door. Soon the place became well known as “Abban’s Hill”, and many men came to seek his advice and join him. They built a little chapel to St. Mary on the hill where sixty quire monks lived keeping a continuous round of services. But Abban’s followers grew so vast in numbers that five hundred other monks are said to have lived like him, by their labours, as hermits in the surrounding woods, returning to the chapel only on Sundays and at festivals. It all got too crowded for Abban. He descended from the hill and left for Ireland to seek deeper solitude.

In reality, Abban never existed. He was invented to explain the name of Abingdon, a major medieval monastic town near Boar’s Hill. This was actually named after St. Aebbe of Minster-in-Thanet, the Queen of Magonset, whose kingdom – based on Herefordshire – once stretched out towards the Thames. She also has a church dedicated to her in Oxford. Abban’s supposed Irish roots probably stem from the fact that there were two Irish saints of this name active two generations later. ~ David Nash Ford’s Early British Kingdoms

Talking Dog

A guy is driving around Tulsa, Texas and he sees a sign in front of a house: “Talking Dog For Sale.”

He rings the bell and the owner tells him the dog is in the backyard. The guy goes into the backyard and sees a Labrador retriever sitting there.

“You talk?” he asks.

“Yep,” the Lab replies.

“So, what’s your story?”

The Lab looks up and says, “Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young. I wanted to help the government, so I told the CIA about my gift, and in no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping.

I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running.”

“But the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn’t getting any younger so I decided to settle down. I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security wandering near suspicious characters and listening in.”

“I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals. I got arried, had a mess of puppies, and now I’m just retired.”

The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.

“Ten dollars,” the guy says.

“Ten dollars? This dog is amazing. Why on earth are you selling him so cheap?”

“Because he’s a liar. He never did any of that crap.”

[Thanks Fred]

Prayer request.

http://korrektivpress.com/2007/03/742/

“He sucks majorly at writing.”

http://korrektivpress.com/2007/03/741/

Walker Percy at Notre Dame, 1989


Walker Percy’s remarks upon receiving the Laetare Medal at Notre Dame in 1989.

You know. In the part of the south I come from, there are not many Catholics. My wife didn’t see a Catholic until she was nineteen. I knew a few more. My cousins in Atlanta, the Spaldings, were Catholic and we visited back and forth. By happy chance, their father, Jack Spalding, received this same award in 1928.

You might be interested in my first encounter with Notre Dame. It is one of my earliest recollections. I must have been five or six. My father was a great football fan. Every fall he would receive a batch of tickets to football games, like Alabama vs. Georgia, Ole Miss Tenessee, Georgia Augurn, Southern Cal–and then came that strange name unlike all the others–Notre Dame. What is that? I asked. I don’t recall any satisfactory explanation of what it meant.

Then came that movie, let me see, was it Pat O’Brien and Notre Dame? Something like that.

Later, in medical school in New York, two of my best friends were graduates of Notre Dame. One of them is here today, Dr. Frank Hardart. His wife and daughter Tracy, who is a member of this graduating class. My two friends had the peculiar custom–at least it seemed peculiar in that medical school at that time–of going to church. Attending Mass they called it, every Sunday. I accepted it as yet another Yankee eccentricity and thought no more about it. Yet it stuck in my mind.

To make a long story quite short, years later I found myself a Catholic and a writer, writing novels and articles about science, philosophy, religion and such, and had long since discovered in my readings that this peculiar name referred to a community of scholars, a great university. Perhaps there are advantages to being an outsider. One gets too accustomed to names. At any rate I found it extremely touching that a university, a community of scholars, a great football team, should call itself quite simply and by the two lovely words, Our Lady. I still find it so, and it is one of the many reasons I am so pleased to be here.

The motto of the Laetare Medal is, I understand, Magna est veritas et prevalebit. I like to think it applies even to the humble vocation of the novelist. In my last novel, The Thanatos Syndrome, I tried to show how, while truth should prevail, it is a disaster when only one kind of truth prevails at the expense of others. If only one kind of truth prevails, the technical and abstract truth of science, then nothing stands in the way of the demeaning of and destruction of human life for what appear to some to be reasonable short term goals. It is no accident, I think, that German science, great as it was, ended in the Holocaust. The novelist likes to irritate people by pointing this out. It is his pleasure and vocation to reveal, in his own allusive and indirect way, man’s need of and his openings to truths other than scientific propositions. He is one of the lowliest handmaidens to the truth of the Good News, but if he, or any of us, succeeds even a bit in this task, then I say laetare indeed, let us rejoice.

[Thanks to Karl at Summa Contra Mundum, who dug this up at the Percy archives at UNC and posted the text with his reflections back in 2003. Another blog friend of Korrektiv claims to possess an original videotape of this speech; I’m working on twisting his arm until he finds a way to digitize it and upload it to YouTube.]

Søren Says

Truth always rests with the minority, and the minority is always stronger than the majority, because the minority is generally formed by those who really have an opinion, while the strength of a majority is illusory, formed by the gangs who have no opinion – and who, therefore, in the next instant (when it is evident that the minority is the stronger) assume its opinion . . . while Truth again reverts to a new minority.

Dylan: Cover Down, Break Through (1980)

Prayer request.

http://korrektivpress.com/2007/03/737/

St. Frances of Rome

Frances was born in the city of Rome in 1384 to a wealthy, noble family. From her mother she inherited a quiet manner and a pious devotion to God. From her father, however, she inherited a strong will. She decided at eleven that she knew what God wanted for her — she was going to be a nun.

And that’s where her will ran right up against her father’s. He told Frances she was far too young to know her mind — but not too young to be married. He had already promised her in marriage to the son of another wealthy family. In Rome at that time a father’s word was law; a father could even sell his children into slavery or order them killed.

Frances probably felt that’s what he was doing by forcing her to marry. But just as he wouldn’t listen to her, Frances wouldn’t listen to him. She stubbornly prayed to God to prevent the marriage until her confessor pointed out, “Are you crying because you want to do God’s will or because you want God to do your will?”

She gave in to the marriage — reluctantly. It was difficult for people to understand her objection. Her future husband Lorenzo Ponziani was noble, wealthy, a good person and he really cared for her. An ideal match — except for someone who was determined to be a bride of Christ.

Then her nightmare began. This quiet, shy thirteen year old was thrust into the whirl of parties and banquets that accompanied a wedding. Her mother-in-law Cecilia loved to entertain and expected her new daughter-in-law to enjoy the revelry of her social life too. Fasting and scourging were far easier than this torture God now asked her to face.

Frances collapsed from the strain. For months she lay close to death, unable to eat or move or speak.

At her worst, she had a vision of St. Alexis. The son of a noble family, Alexis had run away to beg rather than marry. After years of begging he was so unrecognizable that when he returned home his own father thought he was just another beggar and made him sleep under the stairs. In her own way, Frances must have felt unrecognized by her family — they couldn’t see how she wanted to give up everything for Jesus. St. Alexis told her God was giving her an important choice: Did she want to recover or not?

It’s hard for us to understand why a thirteen-year-old would want to die but Frances was miserable. Finally, she whispered, “God’s will is mine.” The hardest words she could have said — but the right words to set her on the road to sanctity.

St. Alexis replied, “Then you will live to glorify His Name.” Her recovery was immediate and complete. Lorenzo became even more devoted to her after this — he was even a little in awe of her because of what she’d been through.

But her problems did not disappear. Her mother-in-law still expected her to entertain and go on visits with her. Look at Frances’ sister-in-law Vannozza –happily going through the rounds of parties, dressing up, playing cards. Why couldn’t Frances be more like Vannozza?

In a house where she lived with her husband, his parents, his brother and his brother’s family, she felt all alone. And that’s why Vannozza found her crying bitterly in the garden one day. When Frances poured out her heart to Vannozza and it turned out that this sister-in-law had wanted to live a life devoted to the Lord too. What Frances had written off as frivolity was just Vannozza’s natural easy-going and joyful manner. They became close friends and worked out a program of devout practices and services to work together.

They decided their obligations to their family came first. For Frances that meant dressing up to her rank, making visits and receiving visits — and most importantly doing it gladly. But the two spiritual friends went to mass together, visited prisons, served in hospitals and set up a secret chapel in an abandoned tower of their palace where they prayed together.

But it wasn’t fashionable for noblewomen to help the poor and people gossiped about two girls out alone on the streets. Cecilia suffered under the laughter of her friends and yelled at her daughters-in-law to stop theirs spiritual practices. When that didn’t work Cecilia then appealed to her sons, but Lorenzo refused to interfere with Frances’ charity.

The beginning of the fifteenth century brought the birth of her first son, Battista, after John the Baptist. We might expect that the grief of losing her mother-in-law soon after might have been mixed with relief — no more pressure to live in society. But a household as large as the Ponziani’s needed someone to run it. Everyone thought that sixteen-year-old Frances was best qualified to take her mother-in-law’s place. She was thrust even more deeply into society and worldly duties. Her family was right, though — she was an excellent administrator and a fair and pleasant employer.

After two more children were born to her — a boy, Giovanni Evangelista, and a girl, Agnes — a flood brought disease and famine to Rome. Frances gave orders that no one asking for alms would be turned away and she and Vannozza went out to the poor with corn, wine, oil and clothing. Her father-in-law, furious that she was giving away their supplies during a famine, took the keys of the granary and wine cellar away from her.

Then just to make sure she wouldn’t have a chance to give away more, he sold off their extra corn, leaving just enough for the family, and all but one cask of one. The two noblewomen went out to the streets to beg instead.

Finally Frances was so desperate for food to give to the poor she went to the now empty corn loft and sifted through the straw searching for a few leftover kernels of corn. After she left Lorenzo came in and was stunned to find the previously empty granary filled with yellow corn. Frances drew wine out of their one cask until one day her father in law went down and found it empty. Everyone screamed at Frances. After saying a prayer, she led them to cellar, turned the spigot on the empty cask, and out flowed the most wonderful wine. These incidents completely converted Lorenzo and her father-in-law.

Having her husband and father-in-law completely on her side meant she could do what she always wanted. She immediately sold her jewels and clothes and distributed money to needy. She started wearing a dress of coarse green cloth.

Civil war came to Rome — this was a time of popes and antipopes and Rome became a battleground. At one point there were three men claiming to be pope. One of them sent a cruel governor, Count Troja, to conquer Rome. Lorenzo was seriously wounded and his brother was arrested. Troja sent word that Lorenzo’s brother would be executed unless he had Battista, Frances’s son and heir of the family, as a hostage. As long as Troja had Battista he knew the Ponzianis would stop fighting.

When Frances heard this she grabbed Battista by the hand and fled. On the street, she ran into her spiritual adviser Don Andrew who told her she was choosing the wrong way and ordered her to trust God. Slowly she turned around and made her way to Capitol Hill where Count Troja was waiting. As she and Battista walked the streets, crowds of people tried to block her way or grab Battista from her to save him. After giving him up, Frances ran to a church to weep and pray.

As soon as she left, Troja had put Battista on a soldier’s horse — but every horse they tried refused to move. Finally the governor gave in to God’s wishes. Frances was still kneeling before the altar when she felt Battista’s little arms around her.

But the troubles were not over. Frances was left alone against the attackers when she sent Lorenzo out of Rome to avoid capture. Drunken invaders broke into her house, tortured and killed the servants, demolished the palace, literally tore it apart and smashed everything. And this time God did not intervene — Battista was taken to Naples. Yet this kidnapping probably saved Battista’s life because soon a plague hit — a plague that took the lives of many including Frances’ nine-year-old son Evangelista.

At this point, her house in ruins, her husband gone, one son dead, one son a hostage, she could have given up. She looked around, cleared out the wreckage of the house and turned it into a makeshift hospital and a shelter for the homeless.

One year after his death Evangelista came to her in a vision and told her that Agnes was going to die too. In return God was granting her a special grace by sending an archangel to be her guardian angel for the rest of her life. She would always been able to see him. A constant companion and spiritual adviser, he once commanded her to stop her severe penances (eating only bread and water and wearing a hair shirt). “You should understand by now,” the angel told her, “that the God who made your body and gave it to your soul as a servant never intended that the spirit should ruin the flesh and return it to him despoiled.”

Finally the wars were over and Battista and her husband returned home. But though her son came back a charming young man her husband returned broken in mind and body. Probably the hardest work of healing Frances had to do in her life was to restore Lorenzo back to his old self.

When Battista married a pretty young woman named Mabilia Frances expected to find someone to share in the management of the household. But Mabilia wanted none of it. She was as opposite of Frances and Frances had been of her mother-in- law. Mabilia wanted to party and ridiculed Frances in public for her shabby green dress, her habits, and her standards. One day in the middle of yelling at her, Mabilia suddenly turned pale and fainted, crying, “Oh my pride, my dreadful pride.” Frances nursed her back to health and healed their differences as well. A converted Mabilia did her best to imitate Frances after that.

With Lorenzo’s support and respect, Frances started a lay order of women attached to the Benedictines called the Oblates of Mary. The women lived in the world but pledged to offer themselves to God and serve the poor. Eventually they bought a house where the widowed members could live in community.

Frances nursed Lorenzo until he died. His last words to her were, “I feel as if my whole life has been one beautiful dream of purest happiness. God has given me so much in your love.” After his death, Frances moved into the house with the other Oblates and was made superior. At 52 she had the life she dreamed of when she was eleven. She had been right in discerning her original vocation – she just had the timing wrong. God had had other plans for her in between.

Frances died four years later. Her last words were “The angel has finished his task -he beckons me to follow him.”

St. Frances of Rome is also famous for having received the supernatural gift of visions from God. She is famous for her visions about Hell. Perhaps throughout the History of the Church no other mystic has had so many descriptive visions of Hell as St. Frances.

The following text is taken from Rohrbaher, Universal History of the Catholic Church. The author reproduces words of the Saint regarding one of her visions on Hell:

“While one-third of the angels sinned, the other two-thirds persevered in grace. One-third of the fallen angels is in Hell tormenting the condemned souls. These devils are the ones who freely followed Lucifer and deliberately revolted against God. They cannot leave the abyss except with the special acquiescence of God, when He decides to punish the sins of men with a great calamity. These are the worst among the devils.

The other two-thirds of the fallen angels inhabit the air and the earth. They are the ones who did not take a side in the battle between Lucifer and God, but remained silent.

The devils of the air often instigate storms, winds and thunders to frighten souls, causing their wills to weaken and cede to inconstancy, thus preparing them to falter in the Faith and to doubt Divine Providence. The devils who live on earth among men to tempt us are the fallen angels of the lowest choir. The faithful angels of this choir are our guardian angels.

The prince and chief of all devils is Lucifer, who is confined at the bottom of the abyss, where he punishes the other devils and the condemned men and women. Since he fell from the highest place among the angels, the Seraphic choir, he became the worst devil. His characteristic vice is pride.

Below him and under his power are three other princes: First, Asmodeu, who represents the vice of impurity and was the head of the Cherubim; second, Mammon, who represents the vice of avarice and was the first among the Thrones; third, Belzebuth, who represents idolatry, sorcery and spells and was the chief of the Dominations. He is over everything that is dark and that diffuses darkness over rational creatures.”

Poem of the Month

In Lieu

Roses with the scent bred out,
In lieu of which is a long name on a label.
Dragonflies reverting to grubs,
Tundra and desert overcrowded,
And in lieu of a high altar
Wafers and wine procured by a coin in a slot.

On the podium in lieu of a man
With fallible hands is ensconced
A metal lobster with built-in tempi;
The deep sea fishermen in lieu of
Battling with tunny and cod
Are signing their contracts for processing plankton.

On roof after roof the prongs
Are baited with faces, in saltpan and brainpan
The savour is lost, in deep
Freeze after freeze in lieu of a joint
Are piled the shrunken heads of the past
And the offals of unborn children.

In lieu therefore of choice
Thy Will be undone just as flowers,
Fugues, vows and hopes are undone
While the weather is packaged and the spacemen
In endless orbit and in lieu of a flag
The orator hangs himself from the flagpost.

Louis MacNeice

Søren Says

What every religion in which there is any truth aims at, and what Christianity aims at decisively, is a total transformation in a man, to wrest from him through renunciation and self-denial all that, and precisely that, to which he immediately clings, in which he immediately wants his life. This sort of religion, as ‘man’ understands it, is not what he wants.
~ Attack Up Christendom

Walker Percy Quote in Suicide Squad Comic

This is the city where, according to the novelist Walker Percy, “The tourist is apt to see more nuns and naked women than he ever saw before.”

This happens to be a quote that was featured here at Korrektiv shortly after the New Orleans disaster — and which has subsequently brought many a wayward Googler to our disappointingly non-pornographic blog. (Well, for the most part.)

[Alt. Title: How You Found Korrektiv XXX]

From the YouTube Music Archives XXV: György Ligeti’s Poème Symphonique for 100 metronomes

György Ligeti‘s Poème Symphonique for 100 metronomes is the funniest music thingum I’ve seen in a while. I watched it for a few minutes before I started thinking about it more seriously, and then it started to creep me out a little. By the end I was terrified. Well, not terrified, really, but one has to wonder about the larger implications of the piece. If there’s a ‘point’ being expressed here. Someone had this to say about it at Wikipedia:

The piece requires a conductor and ten “performers”, and most of their efforts take place without the audience present. Each of the hundred metronomes is set up on the performance platform, and they are all then wound to their maximum extent and set to different speeds. Once they are all fully wound they are all started as simultaneously as possible. The performers then leave. The audience is then admitted, and take their places while the metronomes are all ticking. As the metronomes wind down one after another and stop, periodicity becomes noticeable in the sound, and individual metronomes can be more clearly made out. The piece typically ends with just one metronome ticking alone for a few beats.

Also well worth listening too is the first movement of his String Quartet No. 1, and the fourth movement of his String Quarten No. 2. Both are quite beautiful, I think. Beautiful, but stark. Here also is a selection from something called San Francisco Polyphony, which is very nice.

In keeping with the religious spirit of our site, there is Ligeti’s Gespräch der zwei Minister, or Dialogue of the Two Ministers. In keeping with the alcoholic spirt of our site, here is Trink, Ex!: Drink, Up!

Bob Dylan – Saving Grace – 1980

viz

http://korrektivpress.com/2007/03/727/

St. Agnes of Prague

Agnes was the daughter of Premysl Ottakar I, who reigned from 1192-1230 and Constance of Hungary, who died in 1240.

The Premysl dynasty ruled Bohemia, (later Czechoslovakia) from 895 to 1306. It had a turbulent history, with violent struggles for succession, and a series of political marriages, and a curious mixture of saints and sinners: the two best known patron saints of Bohemia who belonged to this dynasty were murdered by members of their own family, for a mixture of religious and political reasons.

Saint Ludmilla who had been converted by Saint Methodius, was murdered in 921 trough the plotting of her daughter-in-law Drahomira (the mother of Wenceslaus), while Saint Wenceslaus himself was murdered in 929 at the age of 22, by his younger brother “Boleslau the Cruel”, who reigned for the next forty years. But this was nearly 300 years before the birth of Agnes.

For the four centuries of its rule, the dynasty maintained an ambivalent position with regard to the (restored) Holy Roman Empire; much of the energy of its leaders was spent in now promoting, now checking, the growth of German influence in its territories. The Premysl rulers sometimes served as cup-bearer and elector to the Emperor, but strangely enough, no Emperor attempted to put a foreign ruler of his own choice upon the throne.

In 1198 Premysl Ottakor I (Agnes’ father) received the royal title for himself and his descendants. This was confirmed by Frederick II in 1212 the year after Agnes’ birth). The king’s rights and obligations were reduced to a minimum, but as elector he was able to exercise considerable influence, enjoying first rank among the temporal members of the college of electors.

Under Ottakor I and his successors, Bohemia moved from depression to political prominence and economic prosperity.. There was a marked increase in population, with immigration from Germany, improved farming methods, the establishment of urban communities and the development of mining, especially of silver.

Further conquests, or ‘colonization’, took place. Under Premysl Ottakar II (1253-1278) Moravia and parts of Austria came temporarily within the power of Bohemia. Under Wenceslaus II (1278-1305) this power and influence spread as for as Silesia, Poland and Hungary. But war at home, occasioned by an invasion of powerful German princes, prevented the consolidation of these positions.

Wenceslaus II died in 1305, and, “with the assassination of his son Wenceslaus III on his way to Poland the following year, the long rule of the Premysl dynasty come to an end in 1306. It was succeeded by the Luxembourg dynasty, (1310-1437), beginning with John of Luxembourg who married Eliska, the second daughter of Wenceslaus II.

The earliest and principal source of information on the life and person of Agnes of Prague is found in the Legend entitled “Life of the Illustrious Virgin, Sister Agnes of the Order of Saint Clare, in Prague, Bohemia”, written by a Friar Minor of Bohemia about 1328 (and discovered in 1896 in Milan by Achille Ratti). Further information about the family of Agnes comes from “The Major Chronicle of Bohemia’, the work of a Franciscan chronicler of the 15th century. Also, some knowledge of Agnes can be gleaned from the four letters of Clare of Assisi to her, and from a series of Papal Bulls issued during the years 1234-1238.

In 1180 Ottakar married an Austrian, Adele of Meissen, the young daughter of Count Otto the Rich, by whom he had four children. The marriage was declared null and void by the Bishop of Prague when it was confirmed that they were second cousins and had married without due dispensation. Innocent III queried the annulment, and sent legates to Prague to investigate; the dispute dragged on, with Adele continuing to query the relationship, and the annulment, until her death in 1211.

Meanwhile, in 1201 Ottakar took as his second wife Constance of Hungary, the sister of King Andrew of Hungary, father of Saint Elizabeth. She, too, was to be haunted by the question of the validity of the Marriage until 1211. They had several children, of whom Agnes, born in 1211, is thought to have been the second youngest. (Another Agnes, born around 1205, had died in infancy. Hence perhaps the confusion as to the date of birth of ‘our’ Agnes.)

The Legend of Agnes is closely modeled on that of Clare. The pregnant Constance also had a dream, which proved to be a clear presage of what was to come. She seemed to enter a room in which her many costly regal gowns were kept; and she noticed amongst them a grey tunic and mantle and cord like those later worn by the Sisters of Saint Clare. She was astonished, and while she was wondering who could have put such a coarse garment among her precious gowns, she heard a voice which said: “Do not be surprised. The child whom you carry in your womb will one day wear that garment, and she will be a light to the whole kingdom of Bohemia”.

But that was still a long way in the future – Clare would not to go to San Damiano until a year later in 1212, and Agnes’ parents had far different plans for her, in the form of a politically advantageous marriage. In 1214, at the age of three, Agnes and her sister Anna (aged ten) were pledged in marriage to the two sons of the Duke and Duchess of Silesia, Henry and Hedwig (canonized in 1267). The girls were entrusted to the Cistercian nuns at the monastery of Trebnitz in Silesia, to be educated. Anna later married her Duke and became the Duchess of Silesia, but the younger brother Boleslas died unexpectedly in 1217, and Agnes returned home. She was entrusted to the care of the Premonstratensian nuns at Doxan, north of Prague for a year, “in order to deepen her moral education and , learn to read and write”.

After a few years back in the royal Palace, Agnes was again promised in marriage, this time to Henry, son of the Emperor Frederick 1230.

So Agnes went into exile again, this time to the court of Leopold of Austria, in Vienna, to learn the German language and customs in preparation for her future. This cannot have been a happy time. Leopold was plotting to break up the engagement and marry his own daughter, Margaret, to the Emperor’s, son. In 1225 he was eventually successful, and Agnes was once more sent home where she had to intervene to prevent an international incident due to her father’s rage.

In 1231 Henry sought to divorce Margaret in order to marry Agnes, but with little chance of success. Long before this, it had become clear that Agnes had taken her destiny into her own hands, with the growing conviction that the Lord was calling her to religious life. But first there were two other proposals of marriage to be dealt with: from Henry III of England in 1228, and from Frederick 11 himself, after the death of his wife, Yolanda of Jerusalem.

With the death of Agnes’ father in 1220, it was left to her brother Wenceslaus, with the help of Gregory IX, to negotiate with Frederick to ensure Agnes’ freedom. The Legend tells us that he admitted defeat graciously: “if she had rejected me for another man, I would have made my vengeance felt, but I cannot take offence if she prefers the King of Heaven to myself”. He was also reported to have sent her valuable gifts and many relics, and to have encouraged her enthusiastically to bring her resolve to a happy conclusion.

It is not clear when Agnes come to hear of Clare of Assisi and her sisters. The first friars came to Bohemia around 1224 while Francis was still alive. But their first real presence in Prague dates. from 1232. No doubt they would have told Agnes of the new groups of women throughout Italy.

Also, Elizabeth of Hungary, Agnes’ cousin, died in 1231, with an extraordinary reputation for holiness. Renowned for works of charity, she had come under the direction of the Friars Minor in Thuringia in 1221, and had built a hospital in honor of Saint Francis for the sick, the poor and the outcast. She was canonized in 1235.

The influence of Clare and Elizabeth becomes more and more evident in the life of Agnes, as she discerned her own way of following the call of Christ in a Gospel life. Like Clare, she had already from her earliest years been much given to prayer, fasting, and the giving of alms for the care and the welfare of the sick.

Now, with the great personal wealth left her by her father she imitated her cousin, building a large hospital for the sick, under the patronage of Saint Francis, and endowing it with ample revenues and possessions. With the help of the friars she established the Knights of the Cross with the Red Star in Prague, and put them in charge of the hospital. In the same year, 1233, she built a house for the friars, dedicated to Saint Francis.

She sold all her precious objects and ornaments, as well as her gold and silver, and gave the proceeds to the poor, in order to serve the poor Christ in poverty and humility. Hearing more of the Gospel life of the friars and the Poor Ladies, she affirmed, like Francis himself: “This is what I desire and ardently long for with all my heart.”

Her next move was to ask Pope Gregory IX to send a group of Poor Ladies to Prague. Although she knew of Clare by repute and wanted to share her way of life, the five sisters who came from Italy did not come from San Damiano but from the monastery in Trent, which had been in existence at least since 1228. Agnes had gathered seven young women from Bohemia ready to join the sisters on 1lth November 1233.

Her own entry into the community took place on Pentecost Sunday, l1th June 1234, “in the presence of seven bishops and the lord king, her brother, and the queen, with many princes and barons and an uncountable multitude of both sexes from different nations”. How different was this public ceremony from Clare’s secret flight by night to the Portiuncula! and how different from the entry of most of the poor sisters who have followed in their footsteps. In August of the same year, Gregory IX directed the Provincial of the Friars Minor in Saxony, John of Pian Carpino, to install Agnes as abbess of the monastery. Truly can Clare write around this time to Agnes that she has heard of her holy conduct and irreproachable life, known not only to Clare, but to the whole world. The Legend of Agnes corroborates this. statement and confirms that it was Clare herself who initiated this correspondence, and this profoundly affectionate and spiritual friendship: “Thus it happened that the fame of her marvelous holiness reached the ear of the most saintly Clare who, rejoicing in the thought that the daughter of a king had been made so fruitful by divine grace, praised the Most High. Then she maternally encouraged Agnes, deferentially and yet with profound affection, sending her frequent and loving letters and eagerly strengthening her in her decision.

That both Clare and Agnes frequently needed strengthening in their decision becomes abundantly clear in their long struggle to be able to serve the Lord in poverty and humility, while remaining faithful to the Church with its well meaning but uncomprehending prelates. We, could regret that none of Agnes’ side of the correspondence has survived, and only four letters from Clare, the first three dating from these initial years for Agnes (1233-1238) and the fourth from the last year of Clare’s life. But they are enough; they breathe the spirit of that early Gospel life, and epitomize the heritage left to us, as to Agnes, by Clare. They also allow us to glimpse the rare and beautiful friendship which existed between these two women.

It is not clear from the sources for how long Agnes held the office of abbess in her community. But it is abundantly clear that she understood and fulfilled the office as one of service, as did Clare. In his letter of 31st August 1234 to John of Plan Corpino appointing her as Abbess, Gregory IX ( had already written that Agnes had become “a servant instead of a queen, by dedicating herself by solemn vow to Him who humbled the loftiness of his divinity and took the form of a servant, and thus exalts the humble unto salvation.”

The Legend further elaborates how Agnes carried out this service of love and concern: “Even though she was born of royal stock, she did not despise the duties of lighting the stove and of cooking for the whole monastery; with her own hands she prepared special foods which she sent to the sick and to the friars who were weak. Like Martha she was full of solicitude, and eager to serve Christ, ever busy to refresh Mm in his poor. Secretly she cleaned the sisters’ cells and the dirtiest parts of the monastery, making herself the least of all for the love of Christ. … In her exceptional humility she had brought to her in secret the clothing of the sick sisters and of lepers, repugnant with stench and filth. These she washed with her own hands which as a result, because of the strength of the bleach and soap, were often covered with sores. Besides washing these clothes, she would also mend them, though they were reduced to rags. She wished for no observer but God, to whom alone she looked for the reward of her labors.

Her days at home were occupied with such tasks, interspersed with long periods of prayer from which she drew her strength. Here she gave expression to her great love of the Lord in the mysteries of his Passion and the Eucharist.

But there was also an external struggle going on; this was a joint struggle with Clare, in their constant plea to be allowed to live the Gospel life without possessions and with the official approval of the Church. As Regis Armstrong expresses it: Agnes epitomizes the struggle of so many women, eager to express their dignity and unique vision, to resist the frequent meddling of men whose vision of society is easily threatened, and to establish new expressions, especially of religious life, that would touch on the very core of a person’s commitments.

Perhaps Agnes was better placed even than Clare to carry out the public aspect of this struggle, on account of her connections with the Holy See, especially through her brother King Wenceslaus who took up her cause with Gregory IX. This is borne out by the fact that there were no fewer than 16 Papal Bulls issued by Gregory concerning Agnes’ situation and that of her monastery in the four years from 1234 – 1238. Not all of these were to Agnes’ satisfaction. Internal evi-dence from Clare’s letters enables us to date them with probable accuracy, three of them within this same period.

We have already seen that the first letter was the result of Clare’s initiative, a deferential and rather formal letter of congratulation and encouragement written around 1234. The person of Christ is at me very heart of this letter, with that God-centred poverty which he embraced on coming into this world.

The second letter was written during the Generalate of Elias, (1232 – 1239) – most probably in 1235 or 1236. Wishing to live the same gospel poverty as Francis and Clare, Agnes had asked to be able to separate the hospital from the monastery, and place it in the care of the Knights of the Cross with the Red Star, settling endowments on it, and ensuring that the sisters had no revenues. But Gregory’s response meant the dashing of these hopes. In “Cum relicto saeculi” 18th May 1235 he states: …the hospital (hospice) – with all that belongs to it – may not be separated from the monastery in any way, or for any reason. But an increase of its possessions may be granted for your use, and for those who succeed you, safeguarding always the authority of the Holy See.”

Clare could almost have had a copy of this Bull before her as she wrote her second letter. In it she exhorts Agnes to live in a spirit of poverty and “as a poor virgin embrace the poor Christ”, and “if anyone (does she have Gregory’s statement in mind here?) should suggest something that would hinder your perfection or seem contrary to your divine vocation, even though you must respect him, do not follow his counsel”.

No doubt both Clare and Agnes worked hard in prayer and supplication to have this situation remedied. Clare had obtained from both Innocent III and Gregory IX her “Privilege of Poverty” as a safeguard against being forced to receive possessions. However Agnes had no such guarantee, and had in fact been refused permission to follow Clare’s community at San Damiano in this respect.

In the following years more hopeful responses were received from Rome. On 14th April 1237 in the Bull Omnipolens Deus Gregory relented; he entrusted the direction of the hospice to the Knights of the Cross with the Red Star, which was at that time recognized as a religious Order. It later spread into Poland and other countries, providing a health care system rare, or unknown, for that time.

Then on 15th April 1238 in the Bull Pio credulitate tenentes the Pope in answer to repeated requests granted to Agnes and her community their own “Privilege of Poverty”. He begins: “Overcome by your prayers and tears we grant, by the authority of these letters, that you are not to be compelled to receive any possessions against your will. And let no one attempt to abrogate this concession or rashly try to oppose it”. Sabatier’s words about Clare apply equally to Agnes: she was “victorious, not just victorious against anyone, against Gregory IX, or against Innocent IV, or against authority, but victorious with it and with them”. But in other requests Agnes was not so successful. One month later on 11th May 1238 in Angelis gaudium Gregory refused to give her permission to adopt other features of the life at San Damiano, insisting that she continue to observe his own Constitutions, based on that of Benedict.

This situation is reflected in Clare’s third letter written in 1238. Clare speaks of her joy in what has been achieved and in Agnes’ progress in the spiritual life: “Your health and happy state and wondrous progress… fill me the more with such joy and gladness in the Lord as I know and see that you make up most wondrously what is wanting in me and all the other sisters in the following of the footsteps of the poor and humble Jesus Christ.”

But Clare feels that Agnes needs encouragement in the struggle that is still hers, and she writes: “to use the words of the Apostle himself in their proper sense, I hold you to be a co-worker of God himself and a support for the frail and failing members of his glorious Body. Who shall say I do not rejoice over such enviable joys? Do you also, most dear one, rejoice in the Lord and let not sadness or gloom take hold of you. …Love Him in complete surrender who has given himself up entirely for your love.”

The struggle continued into the pontificate of Innocent IV. In the year of his election he addressed Agnes as his “spiritual daughter”, but another four years of prayer and pleading were needed before the Pope in 1247 officially allowed the Clares to follow the Rule of Saint Francis rather than that of Benedict. Because of continued dissatisfaction with pre-scriptions of Innocent’s Rule which were not in accord with the poverty of the Gospel as envisaged by Clare and Agnes and their sisters, on 6th June 1250 Innocent declared that no sister could be compelled to observe his Rule of 1247.

Clare’s fourth and last letter to Agnes, written shortly before her death in 1253, (15 years after her third letter), is full of peace and joy in their shared Gospel life, which they can now follow without external let or hindrance. She writes to Agnes as ‘half her soul and the shrine of her heart’s special love… as her most dear mother and most favored daughter”; conscious of her approaching death, she bids Agnes a tender and touching farewell.

Just as Clare lived on for another 27 years after the death of Francis, whom she saw as “our pillar of strength and, after God, our only comfort and support”, so Agnes was to survive Clare by about the some length of time. This separation from her sister and friend must have been painful for Agnes, as the separation from Francis had been for Clare.

Sister Death had stepped in to detach Agnes from strong family ties as well. Her father had died In 1230; in 1240 her mother Queen Constance, and in 1247 a nephew, the son of her favorite brother King Wenceslaus. Another was brutally executed in captivity in the following year, and Wenceslaus himself died in September 1253, just one month after Clare, while the son who succeeded him, Premysl Ottakor II would be treacherously killed in battle in 1278.

But in the midst of these events Agnes was growing more and more deeply into her relationship with the Lord and into her service of her sisters in the gospel way of life left to her by Francis and Clare. This was also her deep concern for the sisters of her community. The Legend records one of her lost exhortations to them: “My dearest daughters, guard your love of God and of neighbor with all your strength, imitate the humility and poverty which were Christ’s, and which He taught you. Always show yourself obedient to the Church of Rome, following the example of our father Francis and of the venerable virgin Clare, who gave us our rule of life. We know with certainty that as our merciful Lord never abandoned Francis or Clare, his sweet clemency will not abandon any of us if we zealously follow their example.”

And in following their example Agnes had the great joy and consolation of having the Rule of Clare approved for her monastery by Pope Innocent IV, and reconfirmed by Pope Alexander IV in 1260.

We know little of Agnes and her community for the next few decades, but we do know that Agnes’ concern was not only for her sisters; many came to her in trouble and distress of one kind or another, and she had words of comfort for them all as she shared with them the wisdom the Lord had granted her so fully. We also know that she would share the alms sent to the monastery, arranging that part would be given for the adornment of local churches, part used for the needs of the sisters, and the rest given to the poor, to widows and orphans.

A succession of wars and continued unrest left the country in a very depressed state. In 1281, owing to unprecedented snowfalls and flooding, the crops failed, bringing a desperate famine on the land, with many people dying of hunger. In her solicitude for her sisters, Agnes deprived herself of food in order to help them. It was not long before she was overcome by weakness and confined to bed. The Legend notes: “On the third Sunday of Lent, sensing the approach of her happy departure from earth, she confided to a few of those most dear to her that the hour of death had come, With profound devotion she assured the safety of her journey by receiving the holy Eucharist and Anointing, in the presence of the friars and sisters… The following day, she was radiant with joy, a smile always on her face. As Mass was about to be celebrated by the at the ninth hour, she entrusted her soul into the hands of the heavenly Father. On the 2nd March 1281 she fell asleep serenely in the Lord, and was accompanied by an escort of angels to enter jubilantly into eternal joy.”

The miracles attributed to the intercession of Agnes, both in life and in death, on behalf of her sisters and her people, including many members of the royal family, are too numerous to recount. Her biographer writes: “The omnipotent God, who in his merciful pity exalts his saints, has clearly exalted the blessed virgin Agnes, the little plant of Saint Clare in, the kingdom of Bohemia. He not only gifted her with a rich spiritual fife, He also granted many miracles through her intercession. He mercifully comes to the help of all who invoke the name of this servant when they are suffering or in danger.

Bonagrazia Tielci, Minister General of the Order of Friars Minor, carried out Agnes’ funeral rites on Palm Sunday, two weeks after her death. She was laid to rest in the chapel of the Blessed Virgin within the monastery, where she had attended Mass when she was ill.

At the time of Agnes’ death there were three other monasteries of Clares in Bohemia, founded in 1242,1268, and 1274, the last one by her nephew Premysl Ottkor II. Other foundations followed in 1307, 1319, and 1361. All of these monasteries; as also those in Austria, were suppressed by the Emperor Joseph II in 1782, as being “dangerous to the state.”

Only in our own century has there been a resurgence of Poor Clare life in Czechoslovakia, with the foundation of a community of Capuchin Poor Clares in 1914. Forced to go ‘underground’ during the communist regime, the community has now settled in Stenberk.

Another small group, helped by the Clares of Paderbom, Germany, have made a foundation in Brno. They had first thought of joining a community in the Western world, but decided with great courage: “We must remain in Czechoslovakia. our country needs us. It needs contemplative nuns, and Poor Clares”. The first of these Clares made her solemn profession into the hands of the Minister provincial of the Order of Friars Minor on 2ne August 1986. Truly they are worthy daughters and sisters of Agnes, who knew, like them, that “those who sow in tears will reap rejoicing” (Ps 26).

By popular demand Agnes’ cause of canonization was initiated by Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, in 1328, and a petition presented to Pope John XXII. In 1339 the friars of Bohemia made their own petition, but with the outbreak of the Hussite wars in 1419 the monastery was devastated, all records were lost and the cause was left in abeyance.

It was taken up again in the late 19th century, in 1872; Agnes’ cult was confirmed, with her beatification in 1874 and the granting of an office and Mass in her honor. The process for canonization was continued, and the final stages of the work promoted and carried out by the Friars Minor Conventual. Her canonization took place in Rome on 12th November 1989. Her feast is celebrated on 2nd March.

Why did it take so long to proclaim the undoubted sanctity of this gospel woman? Why so long after Clare? Everything has its time and place.

The Primate and bishops of Czechoslovakia proclaimed the 1980’s ‘the decade of Saint Adalbert, putting forward an extensive program of spiritual renewal for the nation.

The first year of the decade was under the patronage of Agnes of Prague, and was called the year of respect for life; the faithful were urged to pray for the sick, and the elderly, for physicians, for all engaged in health services, and for all who care for the needy. In the course of the year people took up in a new way Agnes simple and quiet service of those in need, and her call to reconciliation, itself a forceful reminder that “to govern is to serve”, or in Clare’s words “it ought so to be, that the abbess is the servant of all the sisters”.

The culmination of this decade witnessed the public protests of November 1989, which followed immediately after the canonization of Agnes on November 12th. The entire Politburo resigned on 24th November, and on 10th December a new government was sworn in, with non-communist majority. No one was killed in the revolution.

Oh 20th November Cardinal Frantisek Tomasek had sent his people this message: In this fateful hour in our history, no one of you dare stand aside. Raise anew your voice. … The right to believe cannot be separated from other democratic rights. Freedom is indivisible. With God’s help our fate now lies in our hands.”

And on 22nd April 1990, President Havel in welcoming Pope John Paul II to Czechoslovakia commented: “Your holiness, dear citizens. I do not know whether I know what a miracle is. None the less, I dare to say that in this moment I am experiencing a miracle. In our land destroyed. by the ideology of hate comes a message of love; …. in a land until recently destroyed by the idea of confrontation and division, comes a message of peace, of dialogue, of reciprocal tolerance, respect… the preaching of fraternal unity.”

And surely this is the message that Agnes proclaimed by her very life. So the new prominence of Agnes on the Czech scene should not be regarded as the culmination of efforts for her canonization, or the solemn recognition of a long overdue debt, but rather as threshold through which the Czech people enter a new era in their spiritual life” ~ Petr Pifho @ poor-clares.org.