CHAPTER 9
A DAUGHTER OF SAINT DOMINIC
T WAS a few weeks later, on August 10, the I feast of Saint
Laurence, that Rose joined the Dominican Order as a Tertiary. Her face was
radiant as she knelt before the Rosary Shrine in Santo Domingo and heard her
confessor, Father Alonso Velasquez, begin the ceremony of reception:
O Lord Jesus Christ, Who didst vouchsafe to clothe Thyself
with the garment of our mortality, we beseech Thee, of the abundance of Thy
great mercy, that Thou wouldst be pleased so to bless this kind of garment,
which the holy Fathers have appointed to be worn in token of innocence and
humility, that she who is to be clothed with it may be worthy to put on Thee,
Christ Our Lord.
Rose looked up at the garment Father Alonso was blessing. It
was the Dominican habit of white wool. spread out now upon the altar-the very
same type of dress once worn by Saint Catherine of Siena and other holy souls.
In a few minutes this white habit would be hers to wear, instead of the fine
clothes of her mother's choice.
How good God was to bless a poor Peruvian girl with the
vocation of a Dominican Tertiary. In just a few minutes she would no longer be
alone in the task of saving her own soul and the souls of others. The prayers
of Dominicans everywhere-priests, nuns, lay Brothers, other Tertiaries-would be
joined to hers in a very special way.
Rose shut her eyes in sheer happiness as Father Alonso
sprinkled her with Holy Water and continued the prayer:
May the Lord also sprinkle thee with hyssop, who art now
going to be clothed with our garments, that thou mayest be made clean, so that
being thus cleansed and made whiter than snow in thy soul, thou mayest so
appear outwardly in our habit..
Maria de Oliva, kneeling a few feet away, dabbed her tearful
eyes. This certainly was not what she had planned for her favorite child a life
in the world as a lay member of a religious Order. Yet what could she do? The
girl absolutely refused to be interested in marriage. All she cared about was
saving souls.
"Perhaps she'll change her mind in a little
while," the mother told herself between sobs. "Perhaps after a few
months she'll find the Tertiary life too hard."
But Rose of Saint Mary, the new Tertiary daughter of Saint
Dominic, was happier than she had ever been before. At last she was walking the
same road walked by Saint Catherine of Siena nearly two hundred and fifty years
before. Even Don Gonzalo was satisfied, as the months passed, that Rose had
chosen the right path. Although other men and women might be called to the
religious life, her vocation was to become a saint in the world. Never again
would he urge that she be a nun in any of Lima's five convents.
"God has given that girl a very special work," Don
Gonzalo told himself. "She is to be a model for all who must reach
perfection without the help of the cloister."
On August 10, 1607, Rose returned to the Rosary Shrine at
Santo Domingo. Her one year's probation as a Tertiary was over. Was she willing
to continue the life? asked Father Alonso Velasquez. Was she willing to make a
promise to live according to the Rule of the Dominican Order until she died?
The girl, now twenty-one years old, had not a single doubt
concerning her Tertiary profession. As Rose of Saint Mary, she gave the
necessary promise. Now she was a real member of the Dominican Order.
Time passed. To all outward appearances Rose seemed changed
very little: she still lived quietly at home, raising her flowers and doing
fine sewing for the wealthy women of Lima. Yet a change was taking place,
nevertheless. Little by little, through devoutly receiving the Holy Eucharist,
through patiently bearing trials and troubles, Gaspar's daughter was slowly
becoming more like Christ. Sometimes when her mother argued that she took too
little care of her health, she answered gently: "You and I shall live as
long as God wishes, Mother. When our work for Him is done, then we can worry
about our health."
"Who's going to think about such things then?"
demanded Maria sharply. "It'll be too late."
Rose smoothed the folds of her white woolen habit.
"Mother dear, life is really very simple if only we remember that we are
servants-servants of God and our neighbor."
"Servants? Who wants to be a servant? Rose, such talk
is disgusting! At that rate, a Negro or an Indian is as good as a white man!
And a person with money and education is no better than an ignorant beggar! To
think that you talk this wayafter all I've done for you.
Rose took a deep breath. "Mother, please don't be
angry! I'm only trying to help a little. After all, if we really believe that
God is our Father and His Son our Brother..."
"Enough of your preaching, young lady. Ever since you
became a Tertiary you've been far too pious to suit me. Just remember this: I
don't want to hear any more talk about being a servant. Your father may be poor
but he comes from a good family. And so do I!"
The failure of this and other conversations proved to Rose what she had always known-that relief
for the lonely heart can be found in prayer. In prayer, weak human nature
reaches out for God and becomes strong with His help. Troubles of all kinds,
when they are offered to Him in union with the sufferings His Son knew on
earth, turn into merit of untold value. That was one reason why there was so
much sorrow in the world: without pain very few souls would ever think of
turning to God.
"Everyone wants to be happy," Rose often thought.
"That's why we were made. But how hard it is to remember that we can only
be satisfied with the greatest good of all-God Himself!"
On Palm Sunday of the year 1610, when she was twenty-four
years old, Rose went to Mass at Santo Domingo. The ceremony was a long one,
with the blessing of the Palms and the procession through the church preceding
the Holy Sacrifice. As two lay Brothers finished distributing the blessed Palm
to the people, the choir broke into a triumphant hymn and everyone made ready
to join in the procession. Rose hesitated. Somehow or other she had been
overlooked in the distribution of the green branches. She alone, of all the
people in Santo
Domingo, had no piece of blessed Palm.
"Why?" she thought. "Can it be that I'm not
worthy to walk with the others?"
She thrust her disappointment aside, however. It was only a
mistake the lay Brothers had been too busy to notice her. There was no reason
why she could not walk in the procession, too. Even though she had no Palm
branch to carry, she could still call to
mind the first Palm Sunday, when Our Lord had entered Jerusalem amid the
welcome of His happy followers.
When the choir finally finished singing and the long line of
people returned to their seats, Rose cast a swift glance at the Rosary Shrine.
How she loved this statue of Our Lady holding her Infant Son! Here, four years
ago, she had received the Blessed Mother's approval of her vocation to the
Third Order of Saint Dominic. That Sunday afternoon when she had been forced to
remain on her knees before the golden altar, a voice had spoken in her heart.
It had told her she was not called to work out her salvation in a monastery.
Rather, she was to stay in the world-she was to be a saint amid everyday
surroundings. She would spend her time praying, helping with the housework,
sewing, working in the garden, and caring for the sick poor.
"Dearest Mother, thank you again for letting me be a
Dominican Tertiary," she whispered. "And I'm not sad about the lay
Brothers' forgetting to give me a Palm branch. The Palm I really want is the
one that will never fade, the one you give to the blessed in Heaven."
As Rose breathed this little prayer, her startled eyes
suddenly beheld the Blessed Mother smile and turn lovingly toward the Child in
her arms. No one else in the crowded church saw the wonder, nor did they hear
the words which the Child presently uttered-words which echoed in the girl's
heart like the sweetest music:
"Rose of My Heart, be thou My spouse!"
Rose saw and heard, however, and her heart filled with pure
joy. God had blessed her with still another wonderful gift! In her beloved
Dominican church He had told her that she was really numbered among His chosen
ones!
"It's too much!" she whispered. "I'm not
worthy of such love."
Yet she knew she had not been mistaken about the vision.
She, a poor girl of Peru, had been chosen from all eternity to belong to God,
to be one of His especially beloved friends forever and ever. She had read of
such favors being given to others, including her dear patroness, Saint
Catherine of Siena. Now, through a miracle of grace, the marvelous honor was to
be hers, too.
For the rest of the day Rose could think of little else.
When Ferdinand remarked that she seemed very happy, she nodded.
"It's quite true-I am. And I've another favor to
ask."
The young man laughed. "I suppose you want me to take
you some place?"
"No, I just want you to make me a ring."
"A ring? You want a piece of jewelry?"
"That's right. But nothing from the markets. Just a
plain ring of your own design. Ferdinand, you will do this for me? It's really
so very important."
As the young man looked at his sister's eager face, he
realized that something unusual had taken place. For years Rose had been
thinking constantly of other people-praying for them, helping out when they
were sick, seeing that the poor had all the flowers and fruit she could spare
from the garden. Now the time had finally come when she wanted something for
herself.
"Of course I'll get you a ring. Do you want it of
silver or of gold? And what's your favorite stone?"
Rose hesitated. Both metals were common in Peru. And
diamonds and emeralds were common, too, being found in abundance in the mines
of the Andes. She could have a really beautiful ring without very much expense.
"I'd like a gold ring, Ferdinand. But without any
stone. Just a plain gold band."
"How about having a little motto on it? A few words
engraved on the outside? That could be easily done."
"What words would you suggest?"
The young man thought a moment. "How about this: 'Rose
of My Heart, be thou My spouse'?"
The girl's heart filled. She could not express her great
emotion. Without realizing it, her brother had been divinely inspired to choose
the very words she had heard in church-the words spoken to her that morning by
the Child Jesus Himself.
"Well, what's the matter? Don't you like my idea?"
"Ferdinand, it's beautiful! I can't think of anything
I'd like better."
"All right. We'll have a plain gold ring made for you,
with those words on the outside. I know the very jeweler to do the job, too-an
old friend of mine who hasn't been very busy lately."
Rose smiled gratefully. "And he can make the ring
soon?"
"Of course. Probably in a couple of days. I'll go to
see him tomorrow with a sketch of what we want."
When she was once more alone, Rose sought out her little
oratory at the back of the garden. It was always quiet and peaceful here. Only
infrequently did anyone else in the family come down among the banana trees.
There were too many spiders and mosquitoes, they said. Besides, the sun very
rarely penetrated the dense tangle of vines and branches. It was a dark and
gloomy place at best.
Rose was not afraid of the spiders and mosquitoes, however.
She had never once harmed them, and they seemed eager to show her their
friendship. Whenever she said the Rosary or her other prayers in her little
oratory, the mosquitoes buzzed in a most friendly fashion. It was almost as
though they were trying to pray, too. As for the spiders, they stopped their
wanderings and their weavings: they would do these things when their young
friend had finished talking to God.
Rose was not thinking of spiders or mosquitoes, however, as
she entered her little shrine. Rather it was of the wonderful grace that had
been given to her that morning in the Dominican church. And of course there was
the ring-the beautiful golden ring she would always wear to remind herself that
she belonged to God. How could she forget that?
"This is Palm Sunday," she thought. "If my
ring is ready by Wednesday, perhaps Father Alonso could put it in the
Repository on Holy Thursday. How wonderful that would be!"
Yes, it would be wonderful. But unusual, too. Probably it
would take quite a lot of explaining to make her confessor understand.
"I'll do my best," she resolved within herself.
"Our Lord is hidden in the Repository on Holy Thursday. I want my ring to
be with Him then. On Easter Sunday, when He comes back to us in glory, I will
take my ring and wear it until I die!"
கருத்துகள் இல்லை:
கருத்துரையிடுக