Fr. Roger J. Landry
The Anchor
Putting Into the Deep
January 25, 2008
As I began last Wednesday to pore through hundred of submissions for the annual Catholic Schools Week essay contest, it was easy to anticipate how many of the diocese’s top first to fourth graders would respond to the question, “Who in my Catholic School is a light for me?” Many predictably pointed to their fine teachers and inspirational principals. Others singled out their “book buddies” from among the upper grades and their best friends. A handful indicated older siblings who were guiding and protecting them as they progressed from one grade to the next.
One response, however, stopped me in my tracks. It was submitted by Christopher Hannigan, a fourth grader at Holy Trinity Regional School in West Harwich. Christopher began by correctly pointing out, like many other students did, that Jesus is the ultimate light of his Catholic school and “the best and ultimate role model.” Then he described who at Holy Trinity best reflected Christ’s light to him. With unabashed and unconventional honesty, this nine-year-old proposed his sister — his younger sister.
“The light for me is my six-year-old younger sister, Isabella. She always works her hardest at school. With friends she keeps them focused and when they’re sad, she comforts them. If I do something against the Ten Commandments, she gets me back on track. She is definitely the light for me and for all her friends. She is always spreading the light and the love of Jesus. She reads the Holy Bible five times a week with help from mom. Her schoolwork is incredible. Her teachers say she is great to work with. That is why she is the light and role model for me, her classmates, and her friends.”
If a six-year-old girl by her sanctity can so win over her older brother at a phase of development when most boys are their younger sisters’ harshest critics, then she can certainly be a role model of the Christian life for everyone.
It is indeed possible for a six-year-old girl to be an inspirational figure of holiness not just to younger kids, but to older kids and adults as well. Pope Benedict made this point right before Christmas in an address to Italian Catholic school children. He proposed to them the example of another six-year-old girl, Antonietta “Nennolina” Meo (1931-1937), whom he said he one day hopes will become the youngest non-martyred saint in the history of the Church.
He mentioned that Nennolina, who died of bone cancer in Rome at the age of six, has left all Christians, young and all, “a shining example” that “shows that holiness is for all ages: for children and for young people, for adults and for the elderly.” He stressed that in her few years on earth, she “reached the peak of Christian perfection that we are all called to scale; she sped down the ‘highway’ that leads to Jesus.”
From the time Antonietta learned how to write at the age of four-and-a-half, she began, beautifully, to compose letters to God. Each night before she would go to bed, she would scribble a note to God the Father, or to Jesus, or to the Holy Spirit, and place the note under the statue of Jesus in her room. She did this “so that he could read them.” She would praise and thank each of the divine Persons, tell them how much she loves them, ask them to give messages to each other, petition for them to bless the clergy, her family, the souls in Purgatory and others in need. If one did not see the awkward script of a young girl, it would be hard to believe they come from someone so young.
“Dear God the Father,” Nennolina scrawled just short of her fifth birthday, “I love you so much! Really very much! Make Christmas come soon. Tell your Son that I love Him and also tell Him that I’m waiting for Him in my heart. I wish you to set a lot of souls in Purgatory free so that they can go to Paradise and glorify you and I also wish you to convert a lot of sinners. I ask you to grant me the favor of helping my father. Make me good. Many greetings and kisses by your daughter!”
She was diagnosed with bone cancer at the age of 5 and demonstrated a profound comprehension for the meaning of redemptive suffering. She saw it as a mark of divine favor — “I am happy that Jesus sent me this difficulty. It means that I am his beloved” — and, expressing her gratitude, she sought to offer it for others: “I thank you for having sent me this illness because it is a means to get to Paradise. Jesus, give me the strength to bear this pain I offer you for sinners.”
Eventually she would need to have her leg amputated, but wrote to Jesus, “I’m not saying to give me back my leg. I gave it to you!” She told her mother why she gave it. “You know, mum? I offered my leg to Jesus for the conversion of poor sinners.” When others kindly told her they were praying for her to get better, she asked them rather to pray that she do God’s will. “I want to stay with Him on the Cross because I love him.”
In one of the last of her 105 letters, she asked the Blessed Virgin Mary, “Tell Jesus to make me die before I commit a mortal sin.” It seems that her prayer was answered. She reached the end of the highway that leads to Jesus a short time later, five months before her seventh birthday.
Young people, indeed, can light the way for all of us. They can burn with the radiant splendor of the sanctity of God. Catholic schools are a means to help them do so.