A Family of Saints: Part Three
By Cara E. Ruegg
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| Picture of Therese praying with her father |
After Zelie Martin’s death, Mme. Guérin, taking to heart Zelie’s dying request, suggested to Louis that he move to Lisieux so as to be closer to her and Zelie’s brother. This would become a new home to the Martin children, and Mme. Guérin another mother. However, Louis Martin, was initially torn at the prospect of moving. His aged mother lived in Alençon and family graves resided there; he also was quite fond of the countryside and many of his close friends and his confessor advised against his moving. Louis turned to his two eldest and said to them, “I am asking your advice, children, because it will be solely on your account that I make this sacrifice, and I would not wish to impose one upon you also.” Both girls assured him they only wanted his happiness, but he figured out their desires, and selflessly prioritized his children’s happiness over his own and set about moving to Lisieux.
Marie wrote about this sacrifice of his in a letter to her aunt, saying, “For our sakes, he would make any possible sacrifice; if necessary, he would sacrifice his happiness, even his life. To make us happy, he would stop at nothing. He has no longer a moment's hesitation; he believes that it is his duty and for the good of us all, and that is enough for him.”
This move proved beneficial to the Martin children. Thérèse recounted, ”I felt no grief at leaving Alençon. Children like change and anything out of the ordinary, so I was pleased to come to Lisieux.” The children were delighted with the large garden at their new home and set about furnishing the rooms while their father remained in Alençon for business reasons. His sacrifice was not forgotten by his daughters. During this time, Marie wrote to him of the new home and said to him, “we shall try to be very good, and make your life pleasant in order to thank you for the great sacrifice you have made for our happiness. This happiness will be yours also, for we shall do everything to make it so.”
In response to such a letter, Louis responded in a fatherly and affectionate way, saying, “Pay attention to all your uncle and aunt tell you. You know the great sacrifices I have to make to procure you the help of their advice; so do not lose a single occasion of profiting by it. You, Marie, my grown-up daughter, my firstborn, you know how I love you…I press you all to my heart, as I love you, and entrust you to your mother in Heaven.” He was a faint symbol to his children of their Father in Heaven: just and yet merciful, insisting on obedience and respect toward their aunt and uncle, not permitting them to be selfish like so many parents do now supposedly out of love, but holding up an ideal and expecting it of them, while, at the same time, being willing to make innumerable sacrifices on their part, cost him what it may even his own life. Celine said of her father, ”He was exceptionally affectionate and lived only for us. No mother could have surpassed him but, notwithstanding, he was never weak with us."
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Louis Martin insisted on orderliness in the home and did not tolerate any ounce of “masculinity” from his daughters. Modern comforts were unknown to them. There were no bedroom fires, no extravagant meals, and no lively parties. Their father taught them how to be humble. In fact, when disputes arose between them and the servants, their father insisted his daughters be the ones to submit. The Martin home was a simple one, so no wonder it would cultivate religious vocations in the abundance. This life the family led in the home was not so very different from the life of a convent.
In opposition to some critics who believed that the Martin parents somehow forced their children to become religious, on the contrary, they were as open to God’s will concerning their children, be it marriage or religious life, as much as they were open to it in regards to their own life even when it conflicted with their desires. In fact, Louis once said, ”When she, [Léonie], tells me every day that she will become a Poor Clare, I put as much confidence in that as if it were little Thérèse—[then aged two and a half]—who said it.” Likewise, Zelie Martin said once in a letter, “One evening, quite lately, whilst saying my prayers after I had been reading the life of Mme. de Chantal, I thought all at once that Marie would be a nun, but I do not dwell on it, for as I have noticed happiness is always the contrary of what I foresee. Do not tell her this. She would think that I wished it, and truly I desire it only if it be God's will. Provided she follows the vocation He gives her, I shall be content.”
The Martins did not force it, they simply cultivated the soil in such a fashion that worldly distractions, constant noise, an atmosphere of pride and vanity would not be present to silence the whispers of the Holy Ghost when the time did come for God to make His will known, be it what it may. The girl’s parents did not make snide remarks about the religious, but held them in esteem, making sure their children knew that dogmatically the religious life was objectively a more perfect calling than the married state as stated by the Council of Trent.
February 16th, 1882 marked the day Pauline knew her vocation was to be a Carmelite. When Pauline announced this to her father, he was quite realistic. He brought up her at times poor health, making her aware that her constitution would likely struggle in such an austere order. But her convictions were strong, and he was not about to stand in the way of such a beautiful vocation even though, as he said to her, it required a large sacrifice on his part, for he loved her so much. On October 2nd, 1882, Louis offered to God his first little Issac.
Pauline was not the only one to hear the faint whispers of her Beloved. Marie was also beginning to drift that way as well. At twenty-two years of age, Marie heard about Père Almire Pichon and the rumors that the was a saint. Pushed by curiosity, Marie went to the mission to hear him speak. When in the confessional, she told him that she came to see him because she heard he was a saint. He laughed a little and then invited her to confess, but didn’t say anything terribly remarkable. Still, Marie felt drawn to him, and later returned to seek his guidance. Upon entering the confessional, she explained she felt drawn to speak to him again. He asked her if she wanted to be a nun. Her answer: no. So he continued probing, and asked if she wanted to get married. Her answer: no. Then he asked if she wanted to be an old maid. Another no. He had to catch a train, but was to return in two weeks time. He gave Marie the task of writing down her impressions of the religious life and all the thoughts that she had on the subject of her vocation and ended it by saying, “For my part, I hope very much to give you to Jesus.”
After doing her homework, Marie was struck with the overwhelming and beautiful conviction that she had a vocation, and exclaimed: “Jesus has cast a special look of love upon me also!” In a letter she wrote regarding telling her father of the news she said, “The hour of sacrifice was about to strike for me…It meant saying good-bye to the father I so dearly loved…But I did not hesitate for one moment and I revealed this great secret to Father. He heaved a sigh on hearing such a revelation, which he was very far from expecting for he had no reason to think that I wished to be a nun. He stifled a sob and said to me ‘Ah . . . Ah . . . But . . . without you!!’ He could not finish and in order not to distress him, I answered confidently: ‘Céline is old enough to replace me. You will see, Father, that all will be well.’ Then he replied: ‘God could not ask a greater sacrifice from me. I thought you would never leave me!’ And he embraced me to hide his emotion.” We can see clearly the tenderness this father held for his children. He was not afraid to express it even outwardly. He never stood in their way of accepting the Divine Call; he spoke of it with a certain holy pride and saw it as an honor, but it did not mean it was not a hard cross for him to accept; it did not mean that he felt no emotion when giving up each of his daughters to the King of Virgins.
On May 1st, 1887, while on his way to Mass, Louis Martin was struck with an attack of cerebral congestion and a slight stroke, which compelled him to return to bed. Despite this, however, he demanded he be taken to the cathedral to sanctify the first day of Mary’s month. Such poor health made Thérèse hesitant to tell her father that she, too, desired to enter Carmel, but, nonetheless, she approached him on Whitsunday after Vespers. Thérèse was quite possibly the hardest goodbye for Louis Martin, not so much because he did not expect it like in the case of Marie, but because she was so young and he did not expect to have to sacrifice her so soon in life. Nevertheless, with heroic resignation, he offered her to God. Not only that, but when met with obstacles, he accompanied her to carry out her desires by combatting all that stood in her path, even going so far as to travel to see the Pope to try and get his special permission. Despite how much such a separation would hurt him, Louis Martin did not wish to deprive his God of another bride even if only for a few more years. The bishop, when pressed with the matter said of Louis Martin, “such a thing had never been seen before; a father as anxious to give a child to God as was that child to give herself."
On April 9th, after overcoming many obstacles, Thérèse entered Carmel at the young age of fifteen. During the final goodbyes, Thérèse recounted her father’s final blessing; “he too, knelt down” she said, “and blessed me through his tears. It was a sight to gladden the angels, this old man giving his child to God while she was yet in the springtime of life.” To someone who was surprised at Louis’ seeming indifference and said to him: "Abraham did not outdo you. You would have done as he did, if God had asked you to sacrifice your little Queen." Louis replied: "Yes, but I own I should have raised my knife slowly, hoping for the angel and the ram!”
During the month of the Sacred Heart, Léonie, who was not deterred despite being sent away previously, decided to reenter the Visitation convent. Céline, however, tried to keep her desire for the religious life a secret from her father since it was now her duty to care for him. But on June 16, she had to tell him when, upon seeing a painting of hers, her father proposed she go to Paris to hone her artistic talent, since she did not wish to expose herself to the occasions of sin and the possible loss of a vocation in a more worldly atmosphere. "Come," he said, "let us go together before the Blessed Sacrament to thank God for the graces He has granted to our family, and for the honor He has done me in asking for all my children.” Still, this news brought with it its own thorn since Céline would not abandon her father and so had to wait until his dying breath.
Louis Martin’s health continued to deteriorate to an alarming degree, even affecting his mental health, something that was profoundly humiliating both to himself and to his children. This cross was prophesied long ago, when Thérèse was just a child. She described a vision she had then of her father, aged and bent with a veil over his face. She was terrified at the sight. Saint Thérèse recounted as well an event when her father announced to his children upon his return from the church of Notre-Dame, “I received such graces and consolations that I made this prayer: My God, it is too much, yes I am too happy; I shall not get to Heaven like this, I wish to suffer something for Thee—and I offered myself as a…” He did not say it, but it was easily figured out. He offered himself up as a victim.
1888 marked the year of his mental decline. Lapses of memory left him shaken. He suffered two strokes August 12th and November 3rd, which greatly affected his speech and temporarily disordered his mind to an alarming degree. It was around this time that Louis Martin got into the habit of covering his head with a veil, just like he had his face veiled in the vision his Little Flower had of him.
On January 10, 1889, Thérèse took the habit. Miraculously, her father’s malady subsided enough for him to be able to attend. But shortly after, another attack left Louis Martin in a terrible mental state. His memory suffered and he was a runaway risk, which led to his brother-in-law to consider sending him to a mental institution, a complete humiliation especially during such times. To Céline, Louis admitted it was the hardest trial a man could undergo. But, like all other events in his life, Louis met this cross with heroic resignation, saying to the doctor, “I know why God has given me this trial; I have never had a humiliation in my life; I needed one.” For three years Louis Martin resided at the mental facility of Bon Sauveur.
On July 29, 1894, after much suffering— suffering his daughters thought would omit any time in purgatory, Louis Martin breathed his last. On August 2nd, their father’s remains were laid to rest. But his death carried with it such hope. Thérèse remarked in her autobiography that, one day, she said to her Lord after holy communion, “Thou knowest, dear Lord, how earnestly I have desired that the trials my father endured should serve as His Purgatory. I long to know if my wish is granted. I do not ask Thee to speak to me, I only want a sign. Thou knowest how much opposed is Sister X. to Céline's entering; if she withdraws her opposition, I shall regard it as an answer from Thee, and in this way I shall know that my father went straight to Heaven.’ Miraculously, this prayer of hers was answered, the first tiny miracle alluding to her father’s sanctity that would soon be recognized officially by the Church.
Sources:
Piat, Rev. Fr. Stephane-Joseph. The Story of a Family: The Home of St. Thérèse of Lisieux
Martin, Zélie. A Call to a Deeper Love: The Family Correspondence of the Parents of Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, 1864-1885 ST PAULS / Alba House. Kindle Edition.
Thank you Cara for this beautiful article that has inspired me beyond measure.
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