Before the end of Black History Month, I wanted to write something about a saint whose acquaintance I've made only in the last few years, but who has been very close to me in my prayer of late: Servant of God Augustus Tolton.
There are a number of African-Americans whose Causes of Canonization are open and progressing at the moment, two of whom were born as slaves. The other is Julia Greeley, who tirelessly helped the poor, often in secret, in Denver, Colorado.
Father Augustus Tolton, though, was a public figure even in his own time, for a very obvious reason: he was the first publicly-recognized African-American Catholic priest in the US.
Tolton was born into slavery in Missouri only six years before the outbreak of the Civil War. His parents were devout Catholics, who had not only married in the Church, but also ensured their children were baptized as well. Their life, though, was certainly one of suffering, and even as a young child Tolton was forced to work in the fields with the other slaves.
As the Civil War neared its end, Tolton's father ran away to join the Union Army and free his wife and children, dying shortly thereafter. Left alone, Mother Tolton (as she was known in her later years) took her three children and traveled north to Illinois and the border town of Quincy. There, life on the plantation quickly turned into life on the assembly line of a cigar factory.
Still, freedom brought with it opportunity, and Mother Tolton was determined to ensure her son's Catholic education. Her first attempt at entering her son in school, however, proved an unmitigated disaster, as white parents threatened the priests and nuns running the school and Augustus himself was viciously mistreated by his fellow children.
This changed, however, when Augustus and his mother were befriended by Father Peter McGirr, an Irish Franciscan. Taking the young boy under his wing, Father McGirr ensured not only his entrance into his parish's school, but his good treatment by the other children and congregants. Finally in a welcoming environment, Augustus thrived; in later years, he would look back longingly on his days at St. Peter's School, where he studied, served Mass with Father Peter, and gradually grew in faith and trust of God.
As time passed, Father McGirr become more and more impressed by this young man's intelligence and piety, and finally made the fateful decision to discuss with Augustus the possibility of a vocation to the priesthood. Almost from this moment, Augustus' heart was absolutely set on this goal; and he never faltered in his pursuit of it, regardless of the obstacles set in his path, or the sacrifices it would require.
Father McGirr and the other priests and sisters who knew Augustus all helped to train and tutor him in everything necessary for his priestly studies; but when Augustus applied for seminary, he was rejected in turn by each seminary in America. Their reason, for the most part, was simple fear: this was the time of the great Nativist movements, when anti-immigrant and anti-Catholic sentiment was dominant all over America, and seminaries and Churches had been targeted and burned by mobs. A Catholic seminary was bad enough; a Catholic seminary with an African-American seminarian, though, was sure to become a prime target for threats, violence, and worse. Even through the mid-20th century, in fact, the "Spectre of the Negro Priest" was to remain a major focus of Southern Protestant Anti-Catholic fears and resentment.
Still, this was hardly an act of courage or faith on the part of America's Catholic seminaries; and it left Augustus with almost no recourse in pursuing his vocation. Still, he and Father Peter did not give up hope, but redoubled Augustus' education and spiritual preparation, waiting for the Will of God to reveal itself. In the end, their faith was more than rewarded: for after many years and many setbacks, Augustus Tolton was selected to attend seminary and study in Rome itself. Then and now, this was a privilege reserved for the very best and most promising prospects.
So this young former slave and factory worker, who had never before strayed beyond the plantation in Missouri and the industrial town of Quincy, Illinois, sailed away to Europe, to Rome and the Seminary of the Congregation De Propaganda Fidei ("For the Propagation of the Faith"). This Seminary trained missionary priests, to be sent everywhere in the world where the Church was spreading and priests were in short supply. Here, amidst the splendor of the Eternal City, Augustus found himself studying side-by-side with people of every race and ethnicity and nation. In the evenings, for recreation, he would sing to brothers from all over the world the Negro Spirituals his mother had taught him as a child.
In the end, after six years of intensive study and discernment, he was ordained on April 24, 1886 in the Church of St. John Lateran, the Cathedral Church of Rome and the universal Catholic Church. Days later, he celebrated his first Mass as a priest in St. Peter's Basilica.
As a child, Father Tolton had toiled in the fields as a slave; now, in persona Christi, he offered Sacrifice at the Altar of the Church of the Prince of the Apostles, with a Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church as his Altar Server.
Still, along with the splendor of his Ordination came the promise of a very close conformity to the Sacrifice he offered. All through his seminary education, Tolton had expected that he would be sent as a missionary to Africa, where his skin color would be an advantage, not a liability; he had consequently spent a great deal of time learning the languages and cultures of the peoples among whom he expected to labor. On the day before his Ordination, however, his superior informed him there had been a change of plans; he would instead be sent back to the United States of America, to his own diocese and hometown.
The Italian Cardinal who made this decision reportedly announced it to his colleagues with the immortal words: 'America has been called the most enlightened nation in the world. We shall see whether it deserves that honor. If the United States has never before seen a black priest, it must see one now.'
This was certainly a momentous step for the Church in America--and a heavy burden for any man to bear. Augustus would hardly have been human if he had not regarded this news with trepidation, if not outright fear. Life in America had been, and would continue to be, a cruel Cross of suffering and prejudice and degradation: a Cross that would ultimately claim his life. Fittingly, the day he was given this news was Good Friday, the day of Christ's own Crucifixion.
Still, whatever his feelings, Father Tolton did not hesitate in agreeing to dedicate the rest of his life to ministering to his African-American brothers and sisters in the land of their exile and suffering. On his return trip, he toured the great Catholic shrines of Europe, celebrating Mass on altars that had seen many centuries of pilgrims and saints. At his request, though, the first Mass he celebrated in America was for the poor African-American Catholics of the Church of St. Benedict the Moor in New York.
And so Father Tolton returned to Quincy in honor, to the place where he had grown up and labored and suffered many things. Now, though, he was a public figure, looked to and admired by people all across America. Although there had been priests before him of "mixed" African-American descent, none had spoken publicly of their ancestry or been widely recognized as such. Father Tolton, though, was known and talked about in every corner of his country. When the Bishops of the United States gathered in Baltimore for their Convocation, secular and Protestant observers were shocked to see on the altar, alongside the high dignitaries of the Church, an African-American dressed in the vestments of a priest; and his example and words were crucial in inspiring many other African-American men in aiming for, and attaining, the same goal.
Still, all this purported fame occupied little of Father Tolton's attention; for he was engaged in the exhausting, overwhelming task of ministering to his poor and oppressed flock. His first efforts at establishing an African-American parish in Quincy ended in failure due to the bitter opposition of a fellow priest, a German, who was driven not only by prejudice but also by jealousy at Father Tolton's "poaching" of his white parishioners. Throughout his career, Father Tolton was noted for the brilliance and fervor of his preaching, as well as for the beautiful singing voice with which he chanted the Mass; and these qualities, along with his obvious piety, frequently drew to him far more than just African-American Catholics.
Still, Father Tolton's heart was set on ministering to his own people, and, stymied once again by prejudice, he accepted an offer from the Archdiocese of Chicago to establish a parish to care for the African-American population of that great city, many of whom had emigrated there following the Civil War and now lived lives of desperate poverty and oppression. During his eight years of ministry, Father Tolton's tireless and thankless efforts brought his parish from meeting in the basement of another parish, to a storefront Church, to planning and building a monumental Church of their own, St. Monica's, named for the African mother of St. Augustine.
Still, the task which he had set for himself was nothing if not overwhelming. As Pastor of Saint Monica's, Father Tolton presided over a congregation of the very poorest of the poor, subjected to the harshest material conditions and the cruelest prejudice and exclusion. For the good of these children of his, Father Tolton's time and energy was ceaselessly taken up with not only celebrating the Sacraments (saying Mass daily, marrying his congregants, baptizing their children, visiting the sick and the dying at home to Anoint and console them), but also teaching religious education classes, organizing and leading guilds and other fellowships, and doing everything in his power to provide for the terrible material needs of his people. These efforts took him constantly far from St. Monica's, into all the slums and tenements where his children lived. Through all this, though, he continued to have one very consoling companion: his mother, who served as his housekeeper, sacristan, and constant source of help and support. Another support, too, he had with him always: his faith in the Crucified Christ, expressed in the love with which he cared for his people and the fervor with which he preached and celebrated Mass and prayed privately with his mother every day in their tiny apartment.
These heroic efforts, though, took their toll. After only thirteen years as a priest, in his early forties, Tolton seemed an old man, forced from sheer fatigue to deliver his homilies seated rather than standing. In all these years, he had had no worldly success to speak of, and precious little rest.
Still, rest was not to be long in coming. At the age of 43, travelling to a retreat with his fellow priests, Father Tolton was overcome by the heat wave sweeping Chicago at the time, and collapsed in agony.
This father and teacher, a true image of Christ in his Priesthood and his love, had consumed himself entirely, body and soul, for the sake of his people, poured himself out utterly, like water, for the God he served. He reigns now, in and with the Crucified and Risen Christ, over all the world and the whole human race.
Serve Dei Auguste Tolton, ora pro nobis!
