By DEB PIROCH
Before the current epidemic, before 9-11, or even the French and Indian War, the seeds of the Catholic faith existed on what is present-day New York soil. New York’s first priest visitor, escaping after 13 months’ imprisonment and torture by the Mohawks, was Fr. Isaac Jogues. He traveled down the Hudson River with help from the Dutch and landed on “Manhatte,” as the area was then known. Making his way back to France, he returned after a year, to what he felt was likely martyrdom.
With the epicenter of COVID-19 in New York City, we have so many saints to turn to for intercession, but why not consider Fr. Isaac as a patron saint of North America? He had a love of his newfound home like no other.
He was the third son born to Laurent Jogues and Françoise de Saint-Mesmin in the city of St. Joan of Arc, Orleans, France. Even at a young age he dreamt of becoming a missionary. After studying at the Jesuit seminary in Rouen, France, he was ordained in 1636. Only 29, he was sent to Canada to minister to the Hurons. For this reason, he is sometimes referred to as the Apostle of the Hurons, and/or Apostle of the Mohawks, the latter of whom would be responsible for his martyrdom.
For the first six years he worked in relative if fragile peace. The Hurons were considered less violent than some other tribes of the Iroquois. Nevertheless, the relationship between European missionaries and Indians of various tribes was always somewhat precarious. Governed by warring factions and superstition, and bad fortune — from failed crops to an outbreak of deadly smallpox — responsibility was often laid at the missionaries’ door, their lives at constant risk. They knew this, remained in a state of grace, and faced death repeatedly. All so-called North American Martyrs were martyred in Canada excepting three in New York, the lattermost being St. Isaac Jogues, his lay companion St. John de Lalande, and St. Noel Chabanel.
Fr. Isaac first arrived in 1636, later writing to his mother of his great joy that his first Mass was celebrated on the Feast of the Visitation. After arriving at the “Three Rivers” settlement, “Blackrobe” priests now numbered five! He was sent further west to another outpost. There were privations, illness, and very primitive conditions, but after six years, a happy settlement existed. It was during this time that he learned to converse with the Hurons and relative peace reigned with them. Early conversions were few, it is said, given the isolation and tremendous barriers to overcome. We have varying reports of conversions that followed, but numbers and details from so long ago are unreliable. The names are known only to Heaven.
Due to the need for medical supplies and other provisions, Fr. Jogues undertook to lead an expedition back to Quebec. Composed of 12 canoes and mostly non-Europeans, they were fallen upon by Mohawks. Some died, some escaped, and some were captured and tortured. Fr. Jogues was among the last. Imprisoned for thirteen months, he suffered horrible punishments included running a gauntlet — which he was sure would kill him — to having at least two of his fingers either gnawed or cut off. The barbarism was horrifying and meant to frighten. Those who survived were forced to watch others killed.
During this time, there is no doubt he did his best to comfort and provide what sacraments he could — including Confession — to those held with him. For some reason he was allowed to survive and as time went on, he would occasionally escape to the woods to pray. He learned Mohawk. And it is said that he would baptize dying children or infants, which make up New York’s first baptismal records. Eventually with aid from the Dutch, he escaped down the Hudson to the isle of “Manhatte.” Believed to be the first Catholic priest on New York City soil, he managed to find only two Catholics and some Protestants. He dispensed sacraments to the former and then headed back to France, where he landed Christmas Day 1642.
Aged 35, his first concern was whether he could continue to say the Mass, given his missing fingers. The index fingers and thumbs are sacred and blessed particularly as they hold the Body of our Lord in the Eucharist. This unique permission was granted by Pope Urban VIII. All Fr. Isaac thought of afterward was returning to the missions. Reportedly he told a friend, “I will go, but I will not return.”
Two years after his return, Fr. Isaac was asked to help broker a peace between New France and the Mohawks, which he successfully achieved. On his journey there, the Dutch he met were amazed he had returned to such danger after his experiences, the Mohawks in awe that he dared. And while the older Mohawks tended to approve of Fr. Isaac, some of the younger set still desired his death.
But thinking all mended, Fr. Isaac returned to spend winter with the Mohawks, one night accepting an invitation by braves to their tent. Despite the known danger, the 39-year-old entered and was killed with a head blow from a tomahawk and beheaded. His lay companion, St. John Lalande, was likely killed identically the next day. These Native Americans dared take his breviary, cassock, and missal to the Dutch, hoping unsuccessfully to trade on what remained of the much-loved martyr.
As a side note, it is worth mentioning that so much more could be said of these men. Fr. Brebeuf, one of the first sent to North America and he who first greeted Fr. Isaac on his arrival, left behind a diary that is not entirely translated but reads to be that of a mystic. He took a vow of martyrdom in addition to his usual vows, and wrote the beautiful words of The Huron Carol sung at Christmastide yet today. Nearly 400 years ago he wrote: “The Blessed Mother, though greatly afflicted, was always submissive to the will of God and she must be an example to you in your infirmities” — April 1640.
Let us remember during these difficult times that Fr. Isaac Jogues — though a priest — suffered over a year without the sacraments. Let us remember the risks to life and limb that these Jesuits took over and over again, asking them to guard our priests dispensing Last Rites to patients, as well as health-care workers toiling in the field. And let us pray for their intercession, asking them in their heroic virtue to intercede for the sick, that they may receive the sacraments, recover whenever possible, and not meet death unprovided.
St. Rene Goupil — September 29, 1642. Killed with a hatchet for marking the sign of the cross on a child’s forehead.
St. Isaac Jogues — October 18, 1646. Killed with a tomahawk blow to the head, beheaded.
St. John de Lalande — October 19, 1646. Lay missionary with him, likely killed the same way.
St. Anthony Daniel — July 4, 1648. Killed and thrown inside chapel set afire after Mass, with women and children inside.
St. John de Brebeuf — March 16, 1649. Horribly tortured to death (scalped, flesh removed in pieces, boiling water poured over him, skin peeled back, blood ingested by Indians).
St. Gabriel Lalemant — March 17, 1649. Died similarly the following day but after surviving 17 hours, finished off with an axe.
St. Charles Garnier — December 7, 1649. Shot twice, then axed trying to assist wounded.
St. Noel Chabanel — December 8, 1649. Killed on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, dumped in river.
Canonized with martyred companions in 1930. Their feast is celebrated September 26.
Powered by WPtouch Mobile Suite for WordPress