Lovely Henry Treviso

Feast of Blessed Henry Treviso.

He is a beautiful new saint for me. I love him especially because there is nothing glorious or miraculous about him - until he dies.

Isn't it strange how people ignore and even laugh at a saint all their lives when they could have helped that person on their way with encouragement or love, but as soon as they die everyone crowds in with praise and the seeking of relics. Human beings are a mystifying mixture difficult to fathom at times. We are very fallen indeed. We do not deserve the saints who are sent to us, yet still they love us indulgently.

But back to Henry. He was lovely. Born in Italy and straddling the 12-1300's, he was extremely poor. As a teen, he traveled to the town of Treviso and became a day laborer. And that was it. And that was everything.

He made sure to do his work to the best of his ability and offered it to God. He carved out time to attend Mass each morning and to receive Communion whenever it was allowed. He was said to love the Sacrament of Confession as it revealed to him the beauty of a forgiving God. He could never get over the joy of that.

So, day after day. Mass, work, home to a very poor house. People got to know him along this route. A pleasant, though odd little fellow, they might have thought. But no one suspected saint. Not flashy enough. But Henry fooled them all. They never knew all his wages went to those who were poorer than he was. That he would stop and talk to people who needed to be seen and heard. He never became anything other than poor. In fact, he became even destitute.

His clothes became shabby and years of working at hard labor gave him a stoop and he shuffled when he walked. People began to laugh at him because he seemed so 'simple'. Little children laughed at his shabbiness as he walked by. But he never minded. It says in the saint book that he "knew they did not mean to hurt him". But they pretty much did. How could they not? Henry decided never to be hurt, so he never was. THAT is why he is a saint and a great one!

Eventually, he became so crippled and old that a dear man named James Castagnolis took Henry into his home and helped, fed, and bathed him. There are always people like James, too. I call them saint whisperers. Those who see and know when no one else does. Except because James saw, the other people in the town began to see.

They saw Henry dragging himself to Church each day. They saw him visiting all the Churches in town in the same way just to be near Jesus. He gave away all the food James gave to him. He just kept moving until he ticked to a stop. He died quietly in his little gift of a room.

Then the people started to flock. Everyone wanted to pray to him. He performed many miracles from Heaven for them. They found out he wore a hair shirt, slept on a log for a pillow and his mattress was a pile of straw. No one ever knew that before he died. His funeral was held at the Cathedral of Treviso and thousands of people attended. Everyone was surprised.

The story of Henry is an important one. He didn't do anything flashy. Just accepted the life God had given him and made it all shiny with his effort and grace. He must have been quite lonely, but then I am sure God met Him in those Churches he struggled to get to because He knew how much Henry needed to know His love and tenderness. I am sure the tryst in those Churches was a beautiful thing. And Henry left less lonely to travel onward through his own valley of tears.

I love Blessed Henry. I love everything about him. As I get older, it is these kind of saints that give me pause and help me understand more fully that we have not here a lasting city and simply must keep moving. But the journey through this pilgrim wilderness CAN be a shining one. And that even if the whole world doesn't figure it out, God sees the shining little shabby man walking resolutely down the road and is glad for it.

Lovely Blessed Henry, pray for us.

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