Brothers, if you’ve ever been to Montreal, you’ve probably been to Saint Joseph’s Oratory in Montreal and if you’ve been to the Oratory, you probably know about “the miracle man of Montreal.” They go together.
Next Tuesday, JAN 6, all the dioceses in America have permission to celebrate his feast: Brother André, the “miracle worker of Montreal.”
Brother André had a lifelong devotion to Saint Joseph, he wanted to build a chapel to St. Joseph, and the chapel turned out to be the second-largest church in the world.
But that comes at the end of the story – a very unlikely story.
Sickness and weakness dogged André Bessette from birth.
He was the eighth of 12 children born to a French Canadian couple near Montreal.
At age 12, both parents had died, and André was adopted.
He became a farmhand, then tried other trades: shoemaker, baker, blacksmith—he was too young, made no money , they all ended in failure. He became a factory worker in the United States during the boom times of the Civil War.
At age 25, André Bessette applied for entrance into the Congregation of Holy Cross.
In Indiana, the Holy Cross priests were busy building up Notre Dame University.
In Montreal, the Holy Cross priests were building up Notre Dame College,
and they accepted André as a novice.
However, after a year’s novitiate, they decided to send him home because of his weak health.
But the bishop – Bishop Bourget – knew him to be a man of prayer, and at the bishop’s urging, André was granted an extended novitiate, then finally received into vows.
He was given the humblest of jobs: Porter – doorkeeper – at Notre Dame College in Montreal, with additional duties as sacristan, laundry worker and messenger. “When I joined the community, the superiors showed me the door, and I remained there 40 years,” he joked.
In his little room near the door, he spent much of the night on his knees.
On the only windowsill, facing Mount Royal, he placed a small statue of Saint Joseph, to whom he had been devoted since childhood. When asked about the statue, he said, “Some day, St Joseph is going to be honored in a very special way over there on Mount Royal!”
In his job, he was the gateway to the college, aware of all the comings and goings.
People with problems came to ask for prayers, and he would pray with them.
Sick people came, and as he prayed with them, he touched them with a drop of oil taken from a lamp burning in the college chapel. Word of healing powers began to spread.
Then an epidemic broke out, and André volunteered to nurse.
Not one person died.
The trickle of sick people coming to his door became a flood. Which not everyone was happy with. His superiors became uneasy; diocesan authorities became suspicious; doctors called him a quack. “I do not cure,” he said again and again. “Saint Joseph cures.” In the end, four secretaries were needed to handle the 80,000 letters he received each year.
For many years the Holy Cross authorities had tried unsuccessfully to buy land on Mount Royal. Brother André climbed the steep hill and planted medals of Saint Joseph. Suddenly, the owners yielded and the land was theirs.
Brother André had been cutting the students’ hair, asking “5 cents for St Joseph” for each haircut. He turned over the $200 he had collected, asking to build a small chapel, where the healings continued.
Brother André was at the Chapel to receive visitors – smiling through long hours of listening, praying, applying Saint Joseph’s oil. Some were cured, some not. The pile of crutches, canes and braces grew.
The chapel also grew. By 1931, there were gleaming walls of a much larger church, but money ran out. “Put a statue of Saint Joseph in the middle,” Brother André said. “If he wants a roof over his head, he’ll get the roof.”
Well, the magnificent Oratory on Mount Royal took 50 years to build.
What was supposed to be a humble chapel, ended up massive. The original plans as submitted were plans for the largest church in the world.
Until someone asked: How can it be larger than St Peter’s in Rome?
So St Joseph’s was scaled down, and ended up the second largest church in the world.
The sickly boy who could not hold a job finally died at age 92.
He was buried, not in the community cemetery, but in the Oratory.
And the miracles continued.
Those large bare walls got covered with hundreds upon hundreds of canes and crutches, leg braces, back braces — all left-overs, testimonials to the miracles.
He died in 1937, was beatified in 1982 and canonized in 2010 by Pope Benedict XVI.
With all those miracles, you might ask, why did it take so long?
Because the Holy Cross Order had two causes for sainthood going:
One for the Founder, the French priest, Fr. Moreau,
the other for Brother André.
And there many voices saying “It’s only right to canonize the Founder first.”
Until the Canadian bishops finally spoke up.
And finally, Brother André, a lay brother, was canonized,
the first member of the Holy Cross Order to be canonized,
the first Canadian national,
and a significant figure of the Catholic Church among French Canadians.
Brothers, I’ve never been to Montreal,
never seen Saint Joseph’s Oratory,
but I’ve been touched by the story of “the miracle man of Montreal.”
I’m sure I’m not the only one who finds it hard to read the headlines in today’s news,
hard to listen to the House Reports being read in the refectory,
hard to deal with the death of Brother Conrad and deal with this mysterious virus.
I’m not the only one who can use a miracle story,
a reminder of what we pray over and again in the Psalms:
That man is not in charge, it’s God who is in charge,
God who has a plan, God who still does miracles,
and when God wants a miracle, He doesn’t need much to work with.
He will supply, He will make it happen.