Allocution Pronounced on June 1, 1915
By
Monsignor Zucchetti, Archbishop of Smyrna
At the Funeral of Sister Marie de Mandat-Grancey
My Dear Daughters of Charity,
In His adorable provisions, it so
pleases God to take from us, one after the other, those souls most dear to our
love and our veneration.
It is only a filial complaint directed to His fatherly kindness, by us,
who are so saddened by the departure from this world of so many people, whose
presence in our midst was a token of His blessings, an appeal to His love and a
comforting example of supernatural life.
These departures, for some time now, are succeeding one another quickly
in Smyrna: man and women servants of
God, priests, as well as religious, are saying “goodbye” to us after such a
great and long service rendered to the Church, to young people, as well as to
the ministry of souls and to suffering humanity.
Today, it is the turn of the one that, by your tears, you would like to
make live again, in order to see her again in her capacity as the superior of
the French Hospital, of her school and of her model sewing workshop – active,
energetic, generous, giving of herself and not sparing herself to help
everybody, but especially the indigent and the miserable. An abundantly provided soul with natural and
supernatural talents, combining with the nobility of a great French family, the
enthusiasm and resources of an inexhaustible heart, the admirable Sister Adele
Louise Marie de Mandat-Grancey, during a stay in Smyrna that lasted 30 years,
has been among us the type of strong woman depicted in Scripture, the true
daughter of charity, providence of the poor, consolation of the afflicted,
support of socially outcast and uncomplaining poor families, refuge and savior
of young people exposed to worldly danger and seductions.
Full of good works, her long earthly career has been remarkable, above
all as she was nearing her death, because of such an outstanding dignity of
life, which imposes respect, inspires confidence and maintains affection. “The dignity of life,” wrote Monsignor Gay,
“that is, the loyalty, the candor, sincerity, the manner grave and sweet, the
carriage, without stiffness, the nobility without arrogance, authority without
being demanding, urbanity without affectation.”
The motive of such a constant virtue was, in her, the spirit of, the
taste for and the practice of sacrifice.
It is to Sister de Grancey that we owe, among many other benefits, the
purchase of Panaghia-Capouli, the
hill of the Virgin, the goal of pious pilgrimages and one of the religious
glories of our city.
Such a life of detachment, of dedication, of virile virtues, of a
kindness that was always ready to give generously and untiringly – by what kind
of death was she to be crowned? Saint
Vincent de Paul promised to his daughters that the love of the poor would cause
them to smile upon their deaths. To
smile at what is most frightening to nature, is that possible? “To smile at death, to salute it, as the
angel of deliverance, to see in it only god, who comes, invites, extends His
arms, isn’t it a gift without price!”
The Holy Spirit, by praising the strong woman, had already given a
premonition of this mysterious smile:
“the one, who has opened her hands to the poor and extended her arms to
welcome them, this is the one who will smile on that last day of her life – et ridebit in die novissimo.” Our Sister de Grancey, the strong woman, the
charitable woman of our time, could not fail to smile at death, with this kind
of smile, which is an award and a
prelude: an award for the tears shed and
wiped, a prelude of celestial happiness, to which death gives access: ridebit
in die novissimo.
For these privileged souls, which charity purifies and causes to smile,
in view of eternity, which is nearing, is there a purgatory after their
death? We may believe that their passage
to glory does not tolerate any delay, as the impulses of charity produce in
them, in advance, the effects reserved to the expiatory flames of divine
justice. There is nothing surprising in
that, since charity, which flourishes in physical and spiritual works of
Christian mercy, entails, in this very world, the assurances of a
beatitude: Beati misericodres! said Jesus.
Dear Daughters of Charity, have you understood? Our Lord considers you blessed and reveals to
you, from this moment forward, the sentence that He will pass on you, at the
Last Judgement: Venite benedicti Patris mei, precipite regnum quod vobis paratum est!
Admirable and consoling prerogative of charity! It beatifies those who have it and practice
it. Would not therein lie the intimate
reason for the absence, in your congregation, which is so large, of canonized
saints? During the passage of three
centuries, not one of you has been elevated by the Church to the honor of
altars. However, since Saint Vincent de
Paul, this priest with a heart as vast as the universe, since Vincent de Paul
had launched you into the civilized and barbaric world in search of suffering,
in order to alleviate it and make it bearable, in search of abandoned children,
in China and elsewhere, in order to transform them into angels in heaven, in
search of orphans, in order to become their adoptive mothers, because the grace
of your vocation has created in you this marvel: a heart which combines with the charms of
virginity, the attraction, the loves, and the tenderness of maternity; since
that time, I say, you are like a large army, an army comprised of about 30,000
sisters spread out over the globe and which is in constant renewal. What nation, what beach, what island has not
seen your white cornet, symbol of virginal purity and maternal love, the
approach of which sooths, delights, and consoles the sick, the wounded, the
dying and makes the small child smile, who has not known the caresses of his
mother? And in the midst of this
innumerable phalanx, this multitude of heroines, not one of them has been given
the honors of beatification, not even the great and sublime figure of the
venerable Louise de Marillac, your first mother, in whom we enjoy seeing more
than one trait of similarity with the venerable Sister de Grancey. Louise de Marillac, neither has she, this
great Christian, yet been placed among the blessed that the Church proposes to
public veneration. This conduct on the
part of the Church souls surprise us if we were not permitted to see in it a
witness given to the sanctifying power of charity. This is because charity, outside official
canonization by the Church, through divine prerogative, beatifies and canonizes
secretly the souls: Beati misericordes. It is in the intimacy of a private conversation
that one day I was presenting to the venerable departed this way of envisioning
the fact the Daughters of Charity do not yet have any canonized saints. With this penetrating and gentle look, which
was usual in her, she was content to limit her response: “Monsignor always has good things to tell
us.” Beautiful and holy soul! How the evidence of these good things must
now make you happy! Repose in the joy,
the happiness of Our Beloved Lord!
Smyrna, your second country, will long keep the souvenir of your blessed
name, which will tell it how much charity, by its super naturalizing power,
enlarges and lifts still more, already great souls, and assures them of the
respect, the recognition and the admiration of the world, as well as the
rewards of infinite love, which is God Himself:
Deus caritas est.
