St. Raymond of Penyafort and living in interesting times

There’s an old curse that goes, “May you live in interesting times.” I always think about it on the feast of St. Raymond, a man who wanted nothing more than to live a boring, quiet life tucked away in a monastery with his books of canon law, but the King of Aragon just would not leave him alone.

Raymond lived in 13th-century Spain, a time when the area was broken up into smaller kingdoms and slowly extricating itself from the influence of Islamic conquest. He grew up near Barcelona and as a young man quickly revealed a gift for academics, becoming a lawyer who was expert in both secular and religious law. When he was in his late 40s, he became a late vocation to the priesthood when he joined the Dominicans. He quickly rose to prominence within the order and was appointed to a preaching mission to the Muslims throughout Spain.

In particular, Raymond captured the attention of King James I of Aragon and was appointed the king’s personal confessor. James was a faithful Catholic but consistently struggled with the prominent sin of lust. While on the island of Majorca, the king brought his mistress to live with him.

Considering the fact that Raymond had admonished him time and again about that sort of behavior, it was an interesting move, bound to cause friction between the king and the priest.

The glitz and glamour of the royal court never really attracted Raymond. I think he would’ve been perfectly happy to have been left alone in his monastery the whole time. The preaching missions, hobnobbing with the rich and famous, having influence with the king, none of it really mattered to him. He followed God’s will wherever it took him but, because he never coveted those things, he never worried if he lost them. This is why he was willing to speak so candidly to the king about his sins.

Raymond wasn’t impressed by the power of monarchy; his real concern was the human being underneath it all -- James. He cared about his soul. To Raymond, the most compassionate and loving thing to do when his friend had fallen into his old sin was to boldly speak the truth to him. He needed to repent and send his mistress away.

This is when the story gets interesting.

Isn’t that how it so often is? I’m sure all of us have been put in situations when we’ve needed to say a hard truth to a friend or make a public stand for our faith. It’s never easy to do so. I’ve always shied away from it. Sometimes, I reluctantly say what needs saying, other times I keep quiet because it’s easier. My only desire is to avoid “interesting” conflict and unnecessary drama. I like to keep to myself, my family, and the books on the fireplace mantle waiting to be read.

Over the years as a confessor and pastor, though, God has given me the grace and insight (at least in those times when I respond with courage) to say what needs to be said. It’s never fun and I always dread starting a tough conversation. After it’s over, though, I’m always glad I did, even if it didn’t go well.

And we should be honest, here. It doesn’t always go well. On more than a few occasions, for instance, I’ve preached homilies that have caused people to permanently leave the parish. For me, these controversial homilies are rare, but every once in a while they’ve been necessary. As a younger priest, I would avoid giving them because I didn’t want to cause offense. But I’ve come to realize that, if I truly care about my parishioners, I must be willing to say difficult things and start the hard conversations.

I know that when I’ve fallen into vice or am in the wrong, I’ve benefited from being told the honest truth. It wouldn’t be right to refuse the same charity to others in the same situation.

I don’t know if St. Raymond was hesitant about confronting King James about the need to amend his sinful life, but he definitely knew he was taking a risk. To be fair, he clearly didn’t mind if he was sent away from the royal court and back to his quiet monastery back in Barcelona. In fact, he’s the one who, after their difficult conversation didn’t go well, asked the king to send him away. The real risk wasn’t banishment, rather, it was that the friendship would dissolve. This is always a possibility with this sort of conversation, but as the example of Raymond shows, true compassion and friendship are willing to take that risk.

In a grand irony, the king refused to let Raymond go back home. He rejected his advice but, in order to punish him, kept him away from his monastery. Every ship captain on the island was threatened with death if he were to take Raymond from the island. Raymond wasn’t concerned, though. He knew he couldn’t sit around and watch the King live an immoral, spiritually unhealthy life. He had said what he needed to be said and knew God would get him home somehow.

As Raymond told a friend: "A king of the earth endeavors to deprive us of the means of retiring; but the King of heaven will supply them." He then walked down to the harbor and unfolded his large Dominican cloak. He tied one end to his staff in order to make a sail. The other end he placed on the water and stepped onto it. The “boat” began to rapidly sail and, within six hours, he was in Barcelona wearing his cloak (which was dry) and entered his monastery.

Hearing about the miracle, the king repented. This was all that Raymond ever wanted.

The artist Tomasso Dolabella has made a painting of the miraculous voyage, complete with sea monsters watching in awe. One commentator thinks a fantastical brown monster in the painting is shouting at the saint, yelling something along the lines that “sailing on your cloak is not a real thing that you can see in real life.”

In the painting, he holds a key, which is symbolic of his role as a confessor calling the king to penitence. As Christ says to St. Peter, “I will give you the keys of the Kingdom of heaven, whatever you loose on earth is loosed in heaven, whatever you bind on earth is bound in heaven.” It seems that the honest truth is like a key that can unlock doors into new realms.

“May you never be numbered among those whose house is peaceful, quiet and free from care,” says St. Raymond. It’s his way of saying that, for those who seek the truth, who wish to step through the door and over the threshold into happiness and self-knowledge, there can be no retreat into passive placidity. We were made to thrive in interesting times.

It isn’t such a curse, after all, when our lives become interesting. While there’s nothing I like more than being at home, quiet and happy with my family, God occasionally calls us out that door to adventure and we must be ready for it. He sends his saints wandering in trackless wildernesses, to the ends of the earth, to prisons and tropical forests and solitary monastic caves. He also sends us into the adventure of raising family, loving each other the best we can, and being lights of truth in a dark world.

In the same way, he sent Raymond sailing away on a cloak. Who knows what marvels he has in mind for you… Interesting times, indeed.