Saint Joseph of Cupertino

When he had reached the age of seventeen, Joseph presented himself to be received by the Conventual Franciscans: Franciscains conventuels Religious order to which Saint Joseph belonged. he had two distinguished uncles in this Order; he was nevertheless refused because he had not completed any studies; all he could obtain was to enter the Capuchins as a lay brother; but there again he had to endure rejections: the very graces with which God seemed to overwhelm him were to attract contempt upon him. Absorbed in an incessant contemplation of divine things, in ecstasy at church, in ecstasy at home, living solely in God, he appeared dead to everything else. If the superiors entrusted him with the care of the refectory, he would drop plates and dishes, the fragments of which were then seen attached to his chest or shoulders as a sign of penance. Reprimanded for having, on several occasions, put out black bread instead of white bread, he declared that he did not know how to distinguish one from the other. To test his obedience, the Father Master charged him with transporting water from one place to another: our postulant obeyed with unalterable patience; but, to execute this small task, it took him an entire month. Wherever he felt the movements of divine grace, in the choir, under the cloisters, in the garden, he would stop and kneel. His long halts on his knees, in places sometimes uncomfortable and bristling with stones, caused a very painful tumor on his knee.

It was finally judged that Joseph lacked wit, aptitude, and even the health for the material work of the house, and, for no other reason, he was dismissed. What humiliation, or rather what mortal pain for this poor servant of God, to see the door of all the monasteries thus shamefully and irrevocably closed to him! He later recounted that at that moment he had felt as if his skin were being torn from his flesh. None of his relatives wanted to offer him their home; he was considered a vagabond, a madman, who dishonored his own. His mother gave way to her customary violence toward him. However, she went to explain his deplorable state to the Conventual Franciscans. Brother Jean Donato, the young man's maternal uncle, resisted her pleas. All she could obtain was that Joseph would wear the habit of the Third Order of Saint Francis, under the title of oblate, and would in this capacity be attached to the service of the stable and charged with the care of the mule.

But God, who twice took shepherds of flocks to place them at the head of his people and entrust them with the conduct of the armies of Israel, was about to rise for the defense of his servant. This God, who had already drawn Joseph as a child from a stable, was preparing to draw him from the one to which his youth was relegated.

Admitted thus to the convent of the Grotella, as an oblate, the servant of Go d gave such marks of h couvent de la Grotella Marian sanctuary and convent where Joseph spent sixteen years. umility, obedience, and true mortification that he attracted to himself, according to the ordinary effect of virtue, first all eyes and then all hearts. He went barefoot to ask for alms for the convent. Less concerned with obtaining bread than with winning souls, he let fall from his lips simple but penetrating words, which persuaded others to flee vice and to practice that Christian life of which he offered in his person such a perfect model. To the nakedness of his feet and the roughness of the hair shirt, he added a narrow iron chain that girded his loins and shoulders; he fasted every day, and slept barely a few hours, devoting the rest of the night to prayer or the study of the elements of the Latin language. Even sleep became a suffering for him, for his bed consisted only of three boards. A bear skin served as his mattress, and a sack of straw as a pillow. Moreover, always cheerful, always laughing, his language revealed in a touching simplicity the finesse of his mind and the uprightness of his judgment. He obeyed at the slightest sign, taking on with pleasure the hardest, most vile tasks, and showing himself tireless in them. So much virtue could not long remain unknown or ignored. The goodness of his heart, and above all his eminent piety, soon won him all votes. God, who wanted him in the Congregation of the Conventual Minors, worked secretly to rough-hew this block and to carve into it the admirable image that has become the object of the Church's veneration.

At the request of his uncles, who had overcome their prejudices, Joseph was taken to Altamura in the month of June 1625; a provincial Congregation was gathered there. He was examined; his aptitude for the clerical state was recognized; he was given the religious habit under the name of Brother Joseph, and thus he was aggregated to the children of the Grotella convent.

He would have liked to, but he could not, for lack of instruction, attain the priesthood. His efforts to learn were constantly sterile. He believed he had done much when, with great difficulty, he succeeded in correctly pronouncing a few syllables. All his knowledge was limited to reading quite poorly and writing even worse. He could never explain any of the Gospels of the year, except for the one that begins with the words: *Beatus venter qui te portavit*: "Blessed is the womb that bore thee."

The Mother of God, who wished to raise the intelligence of her servant so high, seemed to take pleasure in giving him the meaning of a Gospel of which she is the subject, and in introducing him herself into the sanctuary. Joseph therefore learned by heart the words of this Gospel, their meaning, their power, and, armed with his knowledge as with a shield, he presented himself boldly for the examination. By a secret disposition of Providence, the Bishop of Nardo, Jerome de Franchis, who knew him and had a high opinion of his virtue, conferred upon him without difficulty the minor orders on January 3, 1627, and the subdiaconate on the following February 27. He was just as disposed to confer the diaconate upon him; but a person of his household reminded him that, under the terms of the canons, the preliminary examination was mandatory. Joseph therefore had to undergo this examination. Full of confidence in God, and inwardly assured of the protection of the most holy Virgin, he presented himself with the assurance of a doctor consummate in the study of sacred sciences. The bishop took the book of the Gospels and opened it; an angel seemed to direct his hand; for the passage he encountered was precisely the one that begins with the words: *Beatus venter*. He ordered Joseph to explain the passage. The servant of God let out a smile, and, with his eyes fixed on heaven more than on the book, recollected in God and in his divine Mother, he read, explained, and commented on the passage fluently, as a master in theology might have done. Consequently, Joseph, to his very great joy, received the diaconate on March 20, 1627. There remained the promotion to the priesthood, the examination for which was to take place at Bogiardo, in the Cape of Otranto, by Baptiste Deti, Bishop of Castro, a severe prelate, formidable to those being ordained. Joseph went to Bogiardo in the company of several young students, his confreres from the convent of Lecce, all elite subjects. The first ones questioned answered so well that the prelate deemed it useless to question the others; he admitted all the candidates indiscriminately, including our Saint, who was thus made a priest of God in a way by God Himself, on March 4, 1628. Upon returning to the Grotella convent, he resolved to die more and more to himself, and to live in God through contemplation. Considering himself an exile from paradise and condemned to inhabit a land of enemies, he proposed to fight and thereby conquer heaven. To triumph over the world, he separated himself from the world, to the point of appearing to no longer be a part of it. His cell, adjacent to those of the other religious, exposed him to the curiosity and pious indiscretions of his brothers. Although this cell resembled a tomb more than the dwelling of a living man, he often left it for an even more solitary retreat. His preferred retreats were a loft in the vault of the church and a small chapel dedicated to Saint Barbara, located in an olive grove near the convent. Hidden and lost, rather than retired in these places, he spent entire days there in contemplation or in ecstasy, or given over to the exercise of the terrible penances of which we shall speak.

He stripped himself of everything granted to him by the Rule, keeping nothing in the world, nothing but the tunic that covered him. Then he threw himself at the foot of the crucifix and cried out: "Here I am, Lord, alone, deprived of everything, completely poor, be my only good; all other wealth is for me peril and ruin, a reef and a shipwreck." Thus unburdened of everything and henceforth more agile for heaven, thus plunged into the arms of divine Providence, he went wherever it pleased the superior to send him. He wore simple sandals and a poor tunic, of which, upon his return, a piece was often missing. The people, in their veneration, would steal from the Saint shreds of his clothing, his cord, and even his rosary, to make them into relics. Joseph did not notice these thefts, or, if he did notice them, he explained them in such a way as to draw severe reprimands upon himself. He was reproached for his carelessness, his lack of care: the convent, they said, was not rich enough to give him a new tunic every day. He accepted these reprimands as deserved, intended to exercise his humility: "My father," he would say, "do not send me out anymore; never send me there; let me vegetate in my cell." In one of these circumstances where the Saint lacked the necessities, God, whose eyes are always fixed on his servants, had him given, by an inhabitant of Lecce, a tunic, a cord, shoes, and a hat. Joseph loved to recall this circumstance and used it long after to urge his brothers to trust in divine Providence. All his affection was concentrated in his cell; he remained there withdrawn and empty of everything. Through poverty, he had just conquered the world and its pomps; he also undertook to conquer the devil, and armed himself against this formidable enemy with two swords: obedience and humility. His obedience guessed and anticipated the command. In the ecstasies with which he was so often favored, a word from the superior was enough to recall him to himself and to the world. This word was the chain that brought him back from heaven to earth. He never left his cell or the convent, he never ate meat except on the express order of the superior. "Obedience," he said, "is the torment of the devil, and of all exorcisms, it is the most powerful." His humility was heroic. Joseph abased himself in the feeling of his nothingness. He had never felt more unworthy of the priesthood than since he had been fulfilling its functions. He experienced, upon touching the most holy body of Our Lord, an inexpressible seizure. He would have liked, he said, to have a spare thumb and index finger for each hand, which he would have used only for the holy sacrifice of the Mass, and which he would then have locked in a box, so as not to employ them for any other use. To hear him tell it, he was the greatest sinner in the world, a reprobate, the cause of all evils. In the convent and outside the convent, he had himself called the sinner, which gave rise to the wonderful story that we are about to tell:

He was one day, for we know not what business, at the home of a sister of the Third Order, named Claire Margioti. Another sister arrived accompanied by a small child of three years. Joseph bent down to caress the child and said to him: "My little one, say as I do: Brother Joseph is a great sinner, worthy of hell." The child, who was barely stuttering, articulated in a very clear voice the following sentence: "Brother Joseph is a great saint, worthy of paradise." Joseph, gracefully pulling the little child's ear, spoke in a deep voice, and again warned him to say as he did. But the child repeated the same sentence three times in a row. This peculiarity struck the minds of those present, who, as witnesses, reported it in the judicial inquiry.

The humble brother insisted on passing for what he said he was. He vied for the most menial jobs, washed dishes, polished tableware, swept the dormitories, and removed filth. The church being under construction at the time, he transported materials on his shoulders and said that he was Brother Donkey. In winter, in summer, in the sun, in the rain, he went, dressed in a poor tunic, legs bare, feet bare, begging for the community. At church, he was a priest; everywhere else, he was but a poor brother humbled and bowed under the weight of work.

He treated nature and the flesh as his most formidable enemies. Thirty years after his death, traces of his blood could still be seen on the walls of his cell as well as on the walls of the small chapel of Saint Barbara. Should a sensual image, a thought of vainglory, or a distraction come to assail him, he chastised his body like a slave and wanted to let only the spirit dominate. The instruments of these incessant penances were ropes armed with hooks that struck, plowed the flesh, and rendered it like a corpse.

He also had more cruel instruments of penance, until the superior thought it necessary to stop this passion for suffering. To bloody macerations, Brother Joseph added almost continuous fasts. He spent five years without eating bread and fifteen without drinking a single drop of wine. Herbs, some dried fruits, and beans made up his entire diet. He seasoned these humble dishes with a bitter powder that was at first taken for pepper because of its color. Some religious having had the curiosity to taste this substance, the alleged pepper turned out to be a powder of the kind that David would have called *pulverem mortis*, "the powder of death." On Fridays, he fed on a bitter and nauseating herb whose taste no one but he could bear. During the thirty-six-day Lent, called by the Franciscans the *Blessed Lent*, which begins on January 6 and ends on February 10, he ate only once a week. During the other six Franciscan Lents, he ate bitter herbs, some beans or fruits on Sundays and Thursdays, and took nothing the other five days of the week. What sustained him in this abstinence from material food was the Eucharistic food; he fed on the holy sacrifice that he celebrated every day. It has been noted more than once that, exhausted, pale, and almost dying before Mass, he appeared, upon leaving the altar, agile, animated, and full of vigor. It was not, therefore, on bread that he lived; he had the secret of a better and more substantial food. Material foods, which sustain other men, seemed precisely to have become harmful to him. Forced one day by the superior to eat meat, he obeyed both the superior who wanted this consumption, and God, who did not want it; for, when he had swallowed the meat, a sudden stomach irritation made him reject it immediately.

By taming his passions so courageously, by submitting his will so constantly to that of God, he corresponded faithfully to the prevenient grace. This grace, which in him never fell on barren ground, must have prepared him for the virtues of his adolescence and the sublime contemplations to which he was later raised. Cardinal de Lauria declares that in the period following his admission to the priesthood, "Joseph, as soon as he began to meditate, was rapt out of himself and raised by grace to contemplation." The Cardinal adds: "It is from him, I confess, that I learned what spiritual souls do, see, and hear in contemplation, and I owe him everything I have said about it in my *Treatise on Prayer*."

The acts of the canonization process note that at the convent of Grotella, where he lived for sixteen years, the Saint was so habitually rapt in ecstasy that natural life and the ordinary occupations of the community took up the smallest part of his time. He entered into ecstasy with ease and was only brought out of it with difficulty. Holy obedience was, for him, the most effective means of diversion. The superior would command him to return from the supernatural world to the real world, and he would return full of obedience, we should say of confusion. His cheeks would be covered with a pious blush and sometimes tears. He felt confused at the thought of the effect that such an extraordinary phenomenon as a man passing thus from heaven to earth, and from death to life, must produce on those present; for, during the ecstasy, the action of the senses and the movement of the limbs ceased completely. The Saint remained invariably in the position where the ecstasy had surprised him and the divine light enveloped him, that is to say, with arms extended or in the form of a cross, eyes turned toward heaven, sometimes seated, sometimes in the position of a man walking; and nothing could tear him from this position, neither skill nor force. They would prick the Saint with needles, strike him with iron, burn him with candles, and none of these things could tear him from the ecstatic life. After the ecstasy, seeing what had been done to recall him to himself, he would experience the feeling of confusion of which we have spoken. The humble servant of God was accustomed to attribute these high operations of God within him to a natural infirmity, and called them his dizzy spells. It is in this spirit of humility that one day he said to Cardinal de Lauria: "Compatriot, do you know what the brothers do to me when my dizzy spells come upon me? They burn my hands and break my fingers." And, showing him his thumb covered with blisters, he added: "That is their work," and he began to laugh.

When Cardinal de Lauria asked him what ecstatics see in ecstasy, the servant of God replied: "Ecstatics feel as if they are transported into a gallery that shines with new and beautiful things, before a mirror where, with a single glance, they embrace the wonders that it pleases God to show them in this admirable vision."

His soul, eager to unite with eternal beauty, would fly off on the wings of divine love, detaching itself from the earth and drawing the body itself into space to associate it with the bliss of the blessed. These kinds of raptures in space were so prodigious, so frequent, that it would take a book to describe them. They had begun immediately after Joseph's promotion to the priesthood; they lasted until his death. During the sixteen years of his stay at Grotella, they were almost continuous. One sees him, in the church, leaping in a bound onto the altar platform, and, on Holy Thursday, flying from the church floor to the tomb of Our Lord. On the feast day of Saint Francis, one sees him fly onto the altar of the holy patriarch, and on the feast day of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, onto the main altar of the Madonna. He has been seen, in his cell, if some word came to inflame his devotion, flying in space in a state of contemplation; and sometimes, in this ascension, holding a burning coal without his hand being harmed. In the refectory, in the midst of his brothers frozen with holy dread, he has been seen to rise from his seat and fly into space, carrying with him a sea urchin. Finally, in the countryside near Copertino, he has been seen rising in flight, once onto an olive tree, and another time onto a large cross that he had miraculously planted in the place where it stood. A feeling of admiration for the almighty Creator of that sea urchin, the beauty of heaven, the sight of the instruments of the Savior's Passion depicted on the cross, were enough to trigger these raptures.

The miracles he performed during his stay at the Grotella were the admiration of the whole country and the entire province; his name spread everywhere, and everywhere he was regarded as a miracle of holiness. In the territory of Copertino, one no longer saw the sick, or, if one appeared, the Saint would go to see him, and, with the sign of the cross, heal him on the spot. It followed that his person became the object of general eagerness. The faithful came from afar to ask him for graces and miracles; and graces and miracles were distributed by him as a doctor distributes his prescriptions. He said to the faithful: "My children, trust in God!" To some he gave, written by his own hand, the blessing of Saint Francis; to others, he made anointings with oil from the Saint's lamp, and all were healed. One day, while he was visiting a sick person, a mother presented her daughter to him, who was crippled, impotent, and afflicted with smallpox. The Saint, sitting down, took a crucifix from his breast and said to the girl: "Come, kiss this crucifix and go have your father and mother kiss it." The young girl obeyed and was healed. Dom Pomponio Imbeni, afflicted with several ulcers, was bedridden. Brother Joseph went to visit him: "Trust," he said to the sick man; "how long has it been since you went to the Grotella to visit your mother?" This word mother meant the most holy Virgin. "Brother Joseph," replied the sick man, "you see well that I cannot move." — "Have trust in your mother," replied Joseph. At the same time, the Saint touched the ulcers one by one, which healed as if the cure had come from his fingers. Onofrio Rizzo appeared to be in agony. His lips were so tight that one could not open his mouth; Joseph approached the dying man, gently opened his lips, made him swallow we know not what substance, and, healing him instantly, said to him: "How do you feel?" — "Well," replied Onofrio. — "You will not speak of me," replied Joseph, "but you will say that the Blessed Virgin healed you." The pages of the canonization process are filled with such miracles.

His charity towards his brothers and his compatriots was manifested more than once by wonders. One day, when a storm was shaking the convent of the Grotella and striking the country far and wide with terror, Brother Joseph knelt before the altar of the Madonna: "Faith! faith!" he cried. And, leaving the church, he scolded the storm, which dissipated as he passed. A drought was devastating the countryside: "Let us have faith in God," said the Saint to his compatriots; "let us hold a procession to the most holy Madonna, and before the procession is finished, you will have water." The procession took place, and the water came indeed. The convent of the Grotella, as long as he resided there, lacked nothing. Miracles, when he begged, seemed to pursue him even more than he pursued alms. Supplies arrived with an abundance that could only be attributed to the intercessions of the Saint and the immense liberality of God. One day, by his order, a sister named Claire had gone to the Giuli family to ask for a little honey for the convent. Joseph, arriving, touched the vase, and, under his miraculous hands, the honey, increasing in quantity and volume, overflowed and filled another basin. The next day, Joseph, having met Sister Claire, said to her with a smile: "That honey which our benefactors gave us, I have faithfully returned to them." A dozen pilgrims from Narbo asked the convent for wine to refresh themselves; there was only enough left for the supper of the religious; they apologized; but full of faith in divine Providence, Brother Joseph drew from the skin as much wine as the travelers could drink, and there was enough left afterwards to provide for the needs of the community for several days. His mother, Françoise Panara, always poor, but always resigned in her poverty, lacked bread. She often asked her son for some, and invoked her title of mother to him. "Our mother," replied Joseph, "is the Madonna; I have nothing, I am poor; commend yourself to the Madonna, the Madonna will help you." It was in these terms that Joseph dismissed her each time, and each time, upon returning home, the poor woman found there the bread necessary for the needs of the day.

It is very true that nothing is impossible to prayer and faith, and that grace can give man an empire over nature even greater than that which he lost through the fault of Adam. Our Saint displayed with a kind of luxury, if we may speak thus, the effects of divine omnipotence. He was often called to the convent of the nuns of Saint Clare of Copertino, either for his collections or for the spiritual needs of that house. One day, he said laughingly to the nuns to recite the office well, that he would send a little bird to stimulate their zeal. At the first meeting of the nuns, one did indeed see a pretty, solitary sparrow appear on the window of the choir. The bird showed itself thus every day at the morning and evening offices. Its song preceded that of the nuns, and, with chords of extraordinary melody, the sparrow seemed to invite the servants of God to celebrate the praises of their common Master. The office finished, the bird disappeared. The sparrow returned thus every day, at the same hours, without ever failing, for five years. An insult that was done to it by a nun made it go away. The sisters complained about it. "The sparrow has left, and it did well," said Joseph; "why threaten and insult it?" The Saint promised, however, that the fugitive would return, and his word was an oracle. Whether the bird had forgotten the injury, or whether it had forgiven it, it reappeared. Not only did it show itself in the choir, but this time it established its dwelling among the servants of God. It perched, sometimes on a seat, sometimes on a painting, and let itself be caressed. One of the sisters having attached a bell to its foot, it remained for another two months in the convent dragging this bell; but on Holy Thursday, it disappeared, and did not show itself on Friday or Saturday. New complaints to Brother Joseph. The Saint replied: "I gave it to you as a musician, you should not have made a bell-ringer of it. It has gone to keep watch near the tomb of Our Lord; but I will make it return." The sparrow did indeed return, resumed its habits, and did not abandon the convent until the Servant of God, leaving Copertino himself, took the secret of his miracles elsewhere.

One day, he miraculously saved two hares, which, pursued by hunters, came to throw themselves, one into his arms, the other into the folds of his robe. After a violent storm, desolate shepherds, seeing the plain covered with the corpses of their sheep, came weeping to implore the help of his prayers. Our Saint consoled them, and, going to the scene of the disaster, he resurrected the sheep one by one, saying: "In the name of God, arise!" But here is a more surprising fact. Every Saturday Joseph recited the litanies in the small chapel of Saint Barbara. The shepherds and villagers from the neighboring countryside attended this exercise. The gathering was usually very large. One Saturday Joseph came to the chapel and found no one there: the peasants were busy with the harvest work, which admits neither delay nor interruption. The Saint, to whom the validity of the excuse was not well demonstrated, began to groan inwardly at the lightness of men, who, for some material interests, so often neglect the much more considerable interest of the service of God. At the same time he cast his eyes far out into the plain; but he saw only flocks on all sides and no shepherds. Seized with a holy transport, he addressed these scattered flocks: "Sheep of God," he cried, "come here, come honor the Mother of my God, who is also yours." O wonder of wonders! O marvel of marvels! at these words spoken from afar to beings who could neither hear nor understand them, the sheep of these numerous flocks, jumping over the barriers, leaving the rich pastures, leaving their young behind them, set out in bands, like intelligent beings, and headed running, animated, it seems, by a single spirit, towards the chapel. In vain the little shepherds try to hold back their sheep, call them back, threaten them with their sticks; they cross the space, leap to the foot of the chapel, group themselves around Joseph, and respond with a prolonged bleating to the recitation of each of the verses of the litanies. When this recitation was finished, the sheep, after having received the blessing of Joseph, returned to their pastures, and the man of God returned to his solitude.

The Provincial of the Franciscans of the province of Otranto did not wish for such a rich treasure to remain forever locked within the same convent; he conceived the generous design of exposing to the view of all the religious of the province this model in whom everyone would see, as in a mirror, what a true child of Saint Francis of Assisi should be. He therefore commanded Joseph to visit, one after the other, all the convents of the province, and to stay in each house for three or four days. This was very little to the liking of the houses that were to welcome such a guest; but this time was to be sufficient for practiced eyes to appreciate the holiness of the illustrious religious.

Each of his steps, during this journey, was marked by miracles, ecstasies, raptures, or acts of virtue. His humility was no less great than his supernatural gifts. One day, a blind man begged him to restore his sight: "Go, go," said the Saint, "with my sins I would only make you even blinder." And, turning to his companion: "Me, perform miracles!" he exclaimed. Sometimes questioned regarding facts where the miracle was evident, he would answer with simplicity: "That is true, God did such a thing." As applause was inseparable from miraculous actions, Joseph, when praised, was accustomed to say: Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam: "Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give the glory."

It was in vain that he cast the veil of humility over the brilliance of his fame; eyes that were probably already sick were troubled by it. A Vicar General denounced Saint Joseph as an impostor to the inquisitors of Naples. The Saint was obliged to appear; but the charges having been examined, he was declared innocent and dismissed. He celebrated Mass in Naples in the church of Saint Gregory the Armenian, which belonged to a monastery of nuns; the sacrifice completed, he was caught up in ecstasy, as several eyewitnesses attested in the process of his canonization. The inquisitors sent him to Rome to his General, who at first received him with harshness; but soon, filled with admiration for his virtues, he wished to take him with him to kiss the feet of Pope Urban VIII. The humble servant of God went to the papal audience, and in a way surpassed hi s own reput Urbain VIII Pope who beatified Josaphat. ation; for, at the moment he was kissing the feet of His Holiness, having considered that he was before the Vicar of Jesus Christ, he entered into ecstasy, and was lifted into the air in a rapture that lasted until the moment the General felt he should recall him to real life. Filled with a religious terror, the Pontiff turned to the General and told him that "if Brother Joseph were to die during his pontificate, he would wish to testify to the prodigy of which he had just been a witness." The Pope, at the same time, ordered the General to place Joseph in a convent of the Observance. Heaven had already designated to Joseph by very clear signs which this convent should be. It was that of Assisi, where he had long been called by the two perfumes left in that sacred place Assise Site of the arrest of Saint Sabinus. by Our Lady of the Angels and the seraphic Saint Francis. He was sent there by his General. The guardian of the convent treated him with haughtiness and disdain. The interior sufferings through which God wished to purify His servant more and more were crosses much more difficult to bear.

All divine consolations were gradually withdrawn from the Saint: no more ecstasies, no more raptures, none of the customary sweetnesses that once consoled him in his sorrows. Even the Mass no longer held any taste for him. When he celebrated, he seemed less to be sacrificing the holy Victim than to be immolating himself, a victim of an aridity that never left him, and of a numbness of spirit he had never before experienced. He asked for and obtained the Chronicle of the Order of Saint Francis to read the testimonies of the Order's favor at its cradle. The pages of these glorious annals slid before his eyes, without his spirit seeming to pause or savor them. He

resorted to God; God left his groans unanswered. He invoked the Lord; the Lord, who heard him, remained as if deaf to his prayers, in order to be invoked again. A black melancholy then took hold of Joseph's heart. The sorrow caused an ophthalmia in him that rendered him as if incapable of raising his eyes. He seemed to live only by memory. He often declared that he had never suffered so much, nor felt himself pursued by such terrible phantoms. With the sadness came the angel of Satan, who, through sensible and odious images, slapping the Saint day and night, drew him toward the abyss into which he would have infallibly fallen had he not offered a vigorous defense. These were not merely illusions or dreams; they were bodily visions. The infernal spirits, taking on an aerial body, made him see and hear, presenting to his mind, under a thousand diverse forms, horrible and detestable things. Precipitated from the heights of divine contemplations into the abyss of persecutions, sadness, aridities, and temptations, the poor brother shed abundant tears. He saw the ramparts of his spirit as if overturned; the citadel alone remained standing, sustained by a secret force, the source of which he could not clearly discern, but which came from God. Often, while the enemy attacked him, he turned toward the crucifix, and the crucifix seemed to present to him only an unknown God. In the midst of the darkness and the despondency of his spirit, Joseph, from the depths of his heart, invoked and begged this divine Savior to come to his aid; but God, to test him further, answered his prayers and tears only with a terrifying silence.

The General, informed of Joseph's state, summoned him to Rome: during this journey, he felt the return of the heavenly consolations that God granted him with more abundance than ever. At the mere name of God, of Jesus, or of Mary, he was as if beside himself. He often cried out: "Deign, O my God, to fill and possess my whole heart. May my soul be freed from the bonds of the body and be united to Jesus Christ! Jesus, Jesus, draw me to you, I can no longer remain on earth!" He was often heard exciting others to divine charity, saying to them: "Love God; he in whom this love reigns is rich, even if he does not perceive it." His raptures were as frequent as they were extraordinary. He even had several in public, of which a great number of the most notable persons were eyewitnesses, and later attested to the truth under oath. Among these witnesses is counted John Frederick, Duke of Brunswick and Hanover. This prince, who was a Lutheran, was so struck by what he had seen that he abjured heresy and returned to the bosom of the Catholic Church. Joseph also had a singular talent for converting the most hardened sinners and for tranquilizing souls who had interior troubles. He was accustomed to say to the scrupulous persons who addressed themselves to him: "I want neither scruples nor melancholy; let your intention be upright, and fear nothing." He explained the deepest mysteries of the faith with great clarity, and rendered them in some way sensible. He owed the sublime knowledge that was remarked in him to the intimate communications he had with God in prayer.

The prudence he showed in the guidance of souls attracted a great concourse of people to him, and even cardinals and princes. He predicted to John Casimir, son of Sigismund III, King of Poland, that he would one day reign for the good of the people and for the sanctification of souls. He advised him not to enter any religious Order. This prince, having sinc Jean Casimir Polish prince to whom Joseph predicted his reign. e entered the Jesuits, took the vows of the scholastics of the Society; but he was declared cardinal by Pope Innocent X in 1646. Joseph dissuaded him from the resolution he had to receive holy orders. The Saint's prediction was fulfilled. Wladislas, eldest son of Sigismund, having died in 1648, John Casimir was elected King of Poland. He later abdicated the crown and retired to France, where he died in 1672. It is this prince who himself made known all the circumstances of the fact that has just been reported.

The miracles of the Saint in Assisi were so numerous, so prodigious, that one would hardly believe the history, if the history were not supported by the authority of a legal instruction sanctioned by the irrefragable decrees of the Apostolic See. Merely by embracing the sick, the Saint healed them. His companion, Fra Ludovico Bracone, had the happy experience of this; he was prey to a malignant fever: "Dear companion," he said to Joseph, "do not abandon me." Joseph embraced him, and the fever disappeared.

Moreover, a simple prayer from Joseph sufficed to work great things, even at distant locations. Octave Aromatario and Jerome Ferri, both abandoned by the doctors, were delivered from the fever at the moment when Joseph was celebrating the holy sacrifice of the Mass for them. A combat had broken out between the men-at-arms of Assisi and those of the Bastia; blood had flowed; this combat ceased without any mediation, and in the most unforeseen manner, at the very hour when Joseph, informed of the struggle, was begging the Lord to pacify the parties. A look from Joseph, accompanied by we know not what greeting, sufficed to decide a gardener to break off an illicit relationship and to lead an exemplary life in Assisi. Through his secret prayers, the Saint delivered his compatriots from a terrible war and procured for them a profound peace.

The more the just are favored by God, the more the enemy of God persecutes them, either interiorly by temptation or exteriorly by sometimes terrible assaults. The vexations of the demon against Joseph are an example of this. One night, the Servant of God, praying in the church, hears the door open with violence and sees a man appear, dragging what looked like iron sandals on his feet. Joseph looks at him and follows him with his eyes. The figure approaches; as he advances, the lamps suspended around the altar of Saint Francis begin to pale and go out one by one until the last. Left alone in the darkness with this man shod in iron, Joseph commends himself to Saint Francis. Already the demon, rushing upon him and throwing him down, was gripping his throat and suffocating him, when Joseph sees the Seraphic Father come out of his tomb with a candle in his hand and relight the lamps; at their light, the enemy disappeared. Since then, Joseph was accustomed to call Saint Francis the lamp-lighter of the church. Another time, it was also during the night, Joseph, in a confessional, sees a man advance, kneel, and pray. Taking this man for a good servant of God, he says to him with pity: "Brother, pray for me." But the horrible brother, rising to his feet and rushing upon Joseph: "Hypocrite," he cried, "how long will you inhabit this house?" Joseph recognized only then that he was dealing with the demon.

He was well consoled for these terrible apparitions by his continuous communications with the angels and with the divine Majesty. The day he made his entry into Assisi, a great servant of God saw two heavenly spirits accompanying him. It was revealed to another servant of God, by her guardian angel, that Joseph's guardian angel belonged to the first hierarchy of the blessed spirits. The Saint never crossed the threshold of his cell without greeting his guardian angel and inviting him to enter first. The same servant of God, Sister Cecilia de Nobili of Nocera, a lay sister, saw Joseph's soul twice in the sacred side of Our Lord. Another time, led in spirit to a mountain that was designated to her as being that of perfection, she recognized, among several souls who had arrived at the summit, that of our holy religious.

However, the tribunal of the Inquisition, which had verified the holiness of Joseph in Naples, and Pope Urban VIII, who had verified it in Rome, had in their high wisdom deemed it necessary to hide from those whom it might offend a light that God would know how to unveil if He judged it appropriate. Brother Vincent-Marie Pellegrini, inquisitor of Perugia, was ordered to conduct Brother Joseph immediately, but honorably, to the Capuchin convent in the territory of Petra-Rubea, situated on the slopes of a steep mountain, and to consign him into the hands of the father guardian, who was to keep him in absolute retreat. At this news, our Saint was troubled at first, he turned pale: "Do they wish to lead me to prison?" he said. But grace, immediately gaining the upper hand over nature, he bowed to kiss the feet of the inquisitor and sprang into the carriage where the latter awaited him, obeying with joy on his brow and a smile on his lips.

When he had arrived at the Capuchin convent of Petra-Rubea, the Father Inquisitor consigned him into the hands of the Father Guardian, Jean-Baptiste de Monte-Grimano.

By order of the supreme tribunal, the inquisitor forbade, under pain of excommunication, letting Joseph speak to anyone whatsoever, except to the religious of the convent; he was also forbidden to write letters, even to cardinals, to receive any, and to leave the enclosure of the community. In a word, he was to remain deprived of all commerce with seculars. The Servant of God heard read and read the orders in question with an imperturbable peace of mind, and appeared to find the sufferings imposed upon him agreeable. He never asked what could be the motive for such orders, nor why he had been taken from the Conventuals of Saint Francis to be transferred to the Capuchins. Satisfied with everything, praising God in all things, resigned, immutable, he resembled the reef of the seas, which, beaten by the tide, is not shaken by it. In our opinion, this impassibility surpasses the natural forces of man: "To not be moved by certain sufferings," says Saint Jerome, "one must be either rock or God, Vel saxum, vel Deus." Brother Joseph was neither rock nor God; but the man in him seemed to have disappeared. He had come to no longer distinguish the taste of food. Asked if a dish was tasteless or salty, sweet or acidic, he would answer quickly: "It is good! It is good!" Never did he say: This thing hurts me, this is bland, this displeases me. He barely found time to eat; he swallowed rather than savored a few vegetables or herbs, nuts, a little reddened water. He seemed to refuse the necessary to this body whose weight tended toward the earth and held there a soul impatient to soar toward the heavens.

Moreover, the soul broke the obstacles, and incessant and marvelous raptures transported it toward the celestial regions. The celebration of the holy sacrifice was for Joseph only a long ecstasy that lasted no less than two hours. In the garden of the convent, where the superior required that he walk from time to time, he would rise into the air, be caught in ecstasy, either at the sight of the plant that told him of the goodness and omnipotence of the Creator, or at the sight of the bird whose song reminded him of the concerts of the blessed. In his cell, if he ceased to weep over the sufferings of the Savior, it was to fly into space and soar toward heaven in ecstasies of love.

Such a vivid light could not remain hidden. In vain they take Joseph from Assisi to shield him from the eagerness of the crowd; in vain they have him transferred with precaution to a remote Capuchin convent, situated among precipices, crags, and mountains, where he must live hidden and ignored; soon an immense crowd climbs the convent every day to be a witness to the raptures and miracles of Joseph and to attend his mass. The gathering of strangers was so considerable that they had to build inns around the convent for the convenience of visitors. Space being lacking to contain the crowd during mass, the faithful would climb onto the roof and uncover it, or else make openings in the walls of the church.

The tribunal of the Inquisition, charged with monitoring any public movement of false devotion or extraordinary devotion, believed it necessary to hide the Servant of God again. He was transferred, still with the same precautions, to the Capuchin convent of Fossombrone. But how can one hide the sun? God alone could take away its radiance. On the journey, which was considerable, one counted almost as many miracles as miles, and more ecstasies and raptures than steps, and the miracles he had performed until then were nothing compared to those he performed during a three-year stay in Fossombrone. One day when he desired intensely to attend the procession of Corpus Christi, he had a rapture, and he saw the procession in the streets of Fossombrone as if he had followed it. On Good Shepherd Sunday, he was seen caught in the air in the garden, and he remained on his knees in space for more than two hours.

Such continuous raptures in God produced in Joseph a sort of transformation into God, following this word of the prophet Hosea: *Facti sunt sicut ea quæ dilexerunt*: "They have become like the things they loved." Thus transformed into God, the Saint had to manifest a divine virtue in each of his acts. And as it is the property of God to know everything, to penetrate every secret thing, Joseph arrived at such a degree of clairvoyance that one feared appearing before him in a state of sin or fault. In each of his residences, he revealed to persons, to all indiscriminately, the secrets of their hearts. Fra Girolamo of Sinigaglia, a Capuchin, and Brother Joseph agreed one day to recommend each other to God. Joseph fulfilled the engagement; Fra Girolamo failed to do so. After a few months, the latter said affectionately to the Servant of God: "Brother Joseph, did you remember to pray to God for my intention?" — "I prayed for you," answered Joseph; "but you, you neglected to pray for me." On Thursday, January 7, 1655, our holy religious left his cell around three o'clock in the morning to celebrate mass in the small neighboring chapel. Seeing that they were looking for the priestly vestments of the color required by the rubrics, he said to the server: "Give me the vestments of death, for, at this moment, in Rome, the Pope has just died." He was telling the truth. The news of the event soon confirmed the words of Joseph, who thus predicted the death of two sovereign Pontiffs, Urban VIII in Assisi, and Innocent X in Fossombrone.

On July 10, 1657, our Saint was transferred to the convent of Os Osimo Birthplace and first place of ministry of the saint. imo, where the rest of his life was spent. There, as elsewhere, he was subjected to strict sequestration. He was relegated to a secluded apartment. He was assigned a separate chapel and garden and a special companion. He was thus left entirely to God, completely free from relationships and business. His way of life at that time is superbly described in the acts of the canonization process: "At sunrise," says the witness, "Joseph would leave his pallet and go to his oratory, where he would recite the canonical hour of Prime and other offices that I will specify later, until the moment his spiritual father came to hear his confession. After confessing and preparing for the holy sacrifice, he would descend to the private chapel, where he had to say Mass alone. There, he would put on the priestly vestments, kneel before the altar, and recite with devotion the litanies of the most holy Virgin; after which he would celebrate the holy sacrifice with incomparable fervor. His Mass lasted about an hour, not including the time of the ecstasies, sometimes more, sometimes less. Once the Mass was finished, he would remain in the chapel for a moment, then return to the oratory to recite the canonical hours and several other offices: these offices were those of the Madonna, the Dead, the Cross, the Holy Spirit, the penitential psalms followed by prayers, and the rosary, if time permitted. These exercises occupied him until dinner time; food was brought to him after the religious had eaten. He would remain at the table only for an instant, go to give thanks in his oratory, and, if any religious wished to speak with him afterward, he would listen to them willingly until the moment he shut himself in his room of rest to sleep for an hour or an hour and a half. After sleeping, he would resume his prayers in the oratory until the ringing of the Ave Maria, and would even remain in the oratory longer if any religious had to speak with him there about their spiritual needs. At the sound of the Ave Maria, Joseph's companion would light a torch, and the Servant of God would devote several hours to spiritual reading. He would read the Mass for the next day, the life of the Saint whose feast was being celebrated, or some sermon on the Holy Scriptures. Immediately after the community supper, his companion would bring him a little food. He would eat and return to the oratory, where he was sometimes accompanied by religious who came to confer on spiritual matters or to sing canticles to the glory of God with him. This relaxation lasted an hour or an hour and a half. The visitors would withdraw; as for him, he remained alone in the oratory until midnight, which was the time to say Matins. After Matins, he would go to rest until sunrise. Such was the regimen of the servant of God from his arrival at our convent until his last illness. He only deviated from it in case of indisposition. Regarding his food, he used only Lenten foods throughout the year. He was sober, seemed to eat and drink only out of necessity, and often, so abstracted was he, did not know what he was eating or drinking. He wore a wool tunic against his skin in place of a shirt, and never used linen. He walked barefoot, in sandals. His tunic, like that of the other religious, was of Assisi serge. In winter, he had a cloak. He slept dressed, without changing his clothes, sitting rather than lying on three boards covered with a bear skin and a headrest covered with cloth. His apartment consisted of two rooms, namely: an oratory and a cell. He remained retired there all year. This kind of seclusion lasted until his death.

He had a tender and particular devotion to the mystery of the Nativity of Our Lord. He loved to represent Jesus Christ to himself under the features of a little child, and poured out before Him the most intimate desires of his heart. The acts of the canonization process state that in Osimo, the child Jesus appeared to him several times; Joseph would take the divine child in his arms, caress him, and address him with those inflamed words that are better conceived than expressed.

But the time was approaching when he would be united forever with the object of his love, toward whom he was so often enraptured. He knew it by revelation. Scarcely arrived at the convent of Osimo, Joseph, hands joined, eyes turned toward heaven, had exclaimed: *Hæc requies mea*: "This is my rest." — "Know, my brothers," he said to the religious, "that the day on which it will be impossible for me to receive the Lamb (that is to say, the Holy Eucharist), that same day I will pass to a better life." He spoke the truth. During his last illness, he celebrated Holy Mass or received communion every day, with the exception of the day he died.

On August 10, 1663, Joseph was struck by a fever, at first intermittent and soon after continuous. On his poor bed, he maintained his serenity and cheerfulness. He submitted to the doctors and surgeons, and left them, as well as his superiors, absolute power over his person. His only apprehension was not to abandon himself completely enough to the sight and will of divine providence. He thought more of the Church, in this supreme moment, than of himself. Sometimes he said to the people around him: "Pray to God for the Sovereign Pontiff, for the cardinals, for the union of Christian princes, for the religious Orders and their superiors, and in particular for our Order of Saint Francis; pray for the souls in purgatory, for the sick, for the afflicted, for all those who pray for us." As long as the fever was only intermittent, he rose every day and celebrated Holy Mass in the oratory adjoining his cell, with ecstasies and raptures similar to those he had been favored with since the day of his promotion to the priesthood. The last time he celebrated was on the day of the feast of the Assumption; "he had wonderful ecstasies and raptures," say the acts of the canonization process, "and his very person was lifted into space." When the progress of the illness no longer allowed him to stand, he insistently asked to attend Mass and receive communion every day. At the moment the holy host approached his lips: "Here is the joy," he would exclaim, "here is the joy!" And as if the pain had instantly ceased, his cheeks would color, his gaze would become full of fire. After communion, he would close his eyes, become pale again, and remain deprived of feeling and as if dead, absorbed in conversations with God that have remained a secret to us.

He received the Holy Viaticum with deep piety, amidst ecstasies and transports of love. It seemed that God was penetrating his being and that he was penetrating the being of God. He then asked for Extreme Unction. When the holy oil touched his limbs, he exclaimed in a strong and sonorous voice that contrasted with the weakness of his person: "What songs, what melody of paradise, what odors, what perfumes, what delights of heaven, what felicity!" He then had the profession of faith read to him, and asked all his brothers for forgiveness for his faults. At the same time, he begged the Episcopal Vicar and the superior of the community to grant him a special grace: that after his death his body be buried without pomp in a secluded place, and that the world might never know the corner of earth where Brother Joseph would rest. The Episcopal Vicar asked the sick man for his blessing. Joseph hastened to bless him, and with him blessed all the religious present. The Vicar then read a letter from Cardinal Chigi which instructed him to give the dying man the papal blessing. Astonished that a worm of the earth like him, that the lowliest of religious, should be the object of such a distinction, Joseph exclaimed: "It is not in bed that such graces are received." Despite his weakness, despite the illness that overwhelmed him, he rose and had himself led to his oratory. The litanies of the Blessed Virgin were read there; he knelt and received the papal blessing. He then returned to bed fully dressed, for he never took off his tunic or his cord. He looked at the sky and prepared himself peacefully for the final passage.

Little by little and slowly the agony came. With the agony increased, in the Saint, the desire to die. He repeated several times the beautiful words of Saint Paul: *Cupio dissolvi et esse cum Christo*: "I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ." A religious having said to him: "Father Joseph, it is time to fight and to overthrow the demon," he replied in a joyful and very intelligible voice: "Victory! Victory!" Prayers of the Saints full of unction were recited to him; when he heard the words *love of God*, he would signal as best he could to repeat these words, and in a faint voice he would say: "Repeat, repeat again!" At the same time, he placed his hand on the left side of his chest, as if, in the failure of his voice, he had wanted to make his heart speak. His expiring lips murmured the sweet name of Jesus, stammered several times these interrupted words: "Praised be God! Blessed be God! May the will of God be done!"

He then abandoned himself to very lively movements and transports. Asked if these were effects of the love of God, he replied that they were and began to smile. His joy was communicated to those present; an unusual splendor illuminated his face, and, in that very instant, he rendered his great soul to the Creator. It was a little before midnight, on Tuesday, September 18, of the year 1663. The Saint was sixty years and three months old.

His body was exposed in the church, and an immense crowd flocked from all sides to venerate him; he was then buried in the chapel of the Conception. The heroism of his virtues having been proven and the truth of his miracles verified, he was beatified by Benedict XIV in 1753, and canonized by Clement XIII in 1767. Clement XIII had his office inserted into the Breviary.

He is represented: 1st, publicly lifted from the ground during an ecstasy; 2nd, before an image of the Blessed Virgin, in the ch urch of As Benoît XIV Pope who beatified Jerome Emiliani. sisi; 3rd, giving his orde rs to little Clément XIII Pope who granted indulgences for the cult of Saint Gregory. birds, whom he had received from heaven the privilege of making obey.

This summary of his life is taken from the one composed in Italian by Domenico Bernini, and recently translated into French by a religious of the Order of Friars Minor.