Unlikely Saints: Sts Henry and Camillus de Lellis

In the liturgical calendar, saints of universal significance have celebrations that are obligatory throughout the Church. Other saints are listed as “optional memorials” and are often left to the veneration of a particular Church region, ethnic community or religious family. Often, these memorials are for obscurer figures that most people have never encountered before. And because these saints are not required to be celebrated in Mass, we often miss out on some of these characters who are fascinating and, to be frank, a bit zany.

St Henry (13 July)

We have a deep prejudice against politicians of most stripes. We rarely treat them as if they’re telling us the whole truth – in fact, it’s often our assumption that they aren’t. And because the world of politics deals so often in things we find distasteful – war, compromise, unethical dealings – it does not easily square for us with the world of holiness and sanctity. Some might even say those two worlds are mutually exclusive. But, unless we’re willing to abandon politics entirely to the corrupt and morally vicious, we have to ask: is it possible to be a saint in the political sphere? Is it possible to live the life Christ calls us to when we are immersed in the world of politics?

Figures like St Henry (sometimes called St Henry the Exuberant) offer an important witness when it comes to reflecting on this question.

Henry was as high up in the political chain as you could go in the Holy Roman Empire. At the age of only 23 (which is quite old in comparison with some infamous monarchs), he succeeded his father as the Duke of Bavaria in AD 995. Then, in AD 1002, when his cousin, the Holy Roman Emperor Otho III died, he became King of Germany (you could only become Holy Roman Emperor upon receiving the imperial crown at the hands of the pope, which he did in AD 1014).

Henry was unique in a number of ways: he received an impressive religious education under the tutelage of St Wolfgang of Regensburg; he was passionate about the Church, and often gave generously to institutions dedicated to the poor; he was responsible for funding the construction of the Bamberg Cathedral; he convinced Pope Benedict VIII to insert the Latin filioque clause in the Nicene Creed; and at one point during his reign, he begged the Abbott of Verdun to be allowed to be become a monk and abdicate his throne, but was refused.

This isn’t the whole story, though. History is never so clean.

Naturally, the world of politics comes with many things that make us uncomfortable and that we see as just plain wrong. For starters, there were questions over the legitimacy of Henry’s succession as King of Germany because he was not elected by the German nobility as was tradition – he was, actually, repeatedly rejected at first and eventually had himself anointed and crowned King of Germany by the Archbishop of Mainz. His previous attempts had involved the imprisoning of people in order to coerce them into getting him crowned. When he finally became King of Germany, he had several rebellions to quell because they (naturally) contested his novel mode of succession. Consolidating power took several years.

Part of this consolidation involved travelling to the various provinces under his control in order to win the people over to him, but it also required such things as the invasion of Italy and the violent suppression of Italians in revolt. Henry also went to war against Poland three times. His policy when it came to the distinction between secular and clerical governance would make us modern liberals shudder, since he strengthened the rule of clergy throughout the empire and had little sensitivity towards the secular nobility. He frequently placed clergy in provinces to act as “counter-weights” to the rule of the nobles.

Henry died of a urinary infection in AD 1024 and since he and his wife were childless, that was the end of their bloodline. He was canonised in AD 1147 by Pope Eugenius III.

Henry’s story is very reminiscent of Old Testament kingships; wrapped up in politics and intrigue and bloodshed, but also holding a religious position, not simply a political one. Why is his life worthy of reflection? Because, despite everything, he is an example of someone who embodies the struggles of, and the desire to be, a saint in politics and secular life, which is no easy thing.

St Camillus de Lellis (14 July)

Camillus de Lellis, born in Bucchianico of the Kingdom of Naples, is known as the patron saint of the sick, nurses and doctors alike. After he was ordained in AD 1584, he started his own religious order: the Order of Clerks Regular, Ministers of the Infirm (M.I.). This was under the approval and direction of his confessor, St Philip Neri. This religious order was the original order to take a red cross as their symbol. They served the sick in hospitals in Rome and travelled with the military and served wounded soldiers on the battlefield. It was a heroic and saintly task that de Lellis took up in doing this.

De Lellis himself, however, had something of a rough and violent upbringing. His father was an officer in the Neapolitan and French royal armies, and a man of fiery temper apparently. De Lellis inherited this temper and his mother was unable to control him. After she died, when de Lellis was only 16, he joined the military and fought on the side of the Venetians in a war against the Turks. During this time, he became addicted to gambling and lost everything he had. In 1575 when his regiment was disbanded, he wound up laboring in a Capuchin monastery with practically nothing left to his name. De Lellis was infamous for his gambling addiction, but also for his aggressive personality.

He wanted to join the Capuchins but was refused due to a leg wound suffered in the military. Deemed incurable by physicians, it was something he simply had to live with. What this meant practically was that when he couldn’t walk to visit patients, he would crawl.

An interesting feature of de Lellis’ care for the sick was his institution of a policy that his order had to wait with the body fifteen minutes after death in case the person was actually alive. Apparently burying people alive was a common mistake in those days.

He died in 1614 and was canonised by Pope Benedict XIV in 1746.

De Lellis is a great example of a “rough and tumble” saint. We’re used to stories of saints joining monasteries, not being rejected from them. And we’re used to stories of saints who give away their possessions to the poor, not gamble them away to the point of destitution. Despite the serenity of his picture, his fiery temperament suggests a man in severely rough shape, but one who nevertheless follows the call of Christ with a dogged and awesome determination.