Saint Joseph Cafasso, Priest of the Gallows Feast Day: June 23

St. Joseph Cafasso was born on the 15th of January, 1811, at Castelnuovo d' Asti, now Castelnuovo Don Bosco, in the Province of Piedmont about twenty miles from Turin in the north of Italy. Two Saints who, like him, exercised their apostolate in the city of Turin, were his contemporaries: St. Joseph Cottolengo, who was twenty-five years his senior, and was the founder of the famous hospital at Turin which has grown to become a little city within a city with 10,000 inmates and twelve religious orders, and which has existed for over a century without bank account or funds, depending on the Divine Providence alone; and St. John Bosco, who was but three years his junior.

St. Joseph Cafasso's early life partly resembled both that of St. Aloysius Gonzaga and  St. Therese of Lisieux because he was never known to tell a lie, or to say or do anything that had even the shadow of sin.

He was ordained a priest in 1833, at the age of twenty-two, having obtained a dispensation on account of his age. Upon ordination he entered the college at Turin that had been established for the training of young priests. When he completed his studies after three years, he was appointed professor in the college and soon became famous for his learning and sanctity, attracting students to it from all parts. He was then made rector, the position he held for twenty-four years until the time of his death.

Though the onerous duties of the position, which he performed so perfectly as to earn the title of "The Priest's Priest," would have taxed the capacity of any ordinary priest, he found time for the various other forms of apostolate so eloquently described by St. John Bosco in his biography of the Sainted priest.

Although St. Joseph Cafasso was only a little more than three years the senior of St. John Bosco, the relations between them were at first those between a small boy and a grown man, for though they were neighbors, they never met until our Saint was already a clerical student while Don Bosco was still a boy intent on fun and amusement. The relations between them later on in life were those between a young priest and one of mature judgment and great experience. Don Cafasso assisted Don Bosco in his studies for the priesthood; as soon as the latter was ordained, he received him into the college for priests in which he was now a professor, made him his assistant in his apostolate among the neglected boys of Turin, helped him to found a separate institute for them, provided him with funds, defended him when occasion arose, acted as his adviser in all things until the time of his death in 1860 and is now the patron of the Don Bosco Institute and of the Missionary Institute of the Consolata Fathers founded by his own nephew, Canon Allamano.

To his public life belongs also the apostolate that he exercised among poor boys. These he instructed in the truths of religion; he provided the most needy with clothes, in order that they might be decently clad for attendance at Mass. He also secured employment for some with God-fearing masters; for others he paid the expenses of their apprenticeship. For others still, he supplied bread until they were able to gain their livelihood by their own labor. He had begun to put into practice this ardent spirit of charity when he was a boy. He continued it when he was a cleric, and it shone forth in him with redoubled zeal when he was a priest. The first catechist of our present oratory was Don Cafasso; he was a constant promoter and benefactor of the work while he lived, and is its patron after his death.

His Apostolate in the Prisons

Perhaps the most noted part of his public life were the entire days that he spent in the prisons-----preaching, comforting, instructing the unfortunates detained there, and hearing their confessions. With regard to his work in the prisons it is difficult to say whether his courage or his charity is the more worthy of praise, but we may solve the difficulty by saying that his ardent charity inspired him with heroic courage. Out of the many such acts of his of which St. John Bosco was witness to, the following is characteristic of him.:

He had gone to the prison in order to prepare the prisoners for the celebration of a feast in honor of Our Lady, and had spent a whole week instructing them and exhorting them. This he did in a large room in which there were forty-five of the most noted criminals. Almost all had promised to go to Confession on the vigil of the feast. But when the day came, none of them could make up his mind to go to Confession. He renewed his invitation, recapitulated what he had said during the week, and reminded them of the promise that they had made. But whether it was through human respect, or the temptation of the devil, or some other vain pretext, none of them would consent to go to Confession. What was Don Cafasso to do?

His ingenious charity and courage found a way out of the difficulty. With a smile on his face he went over to the man who appeared to be the biggest and strongest and most robust among the prisoners, and without saying a word, he caught hold of his luxurious long beard. The man, thinking that Don Cafasso had acted through jest, said to him as courteously as could be expected from such people, "Take anything else from me you like but leave me my beard!"

"I will not let you go until you go to Confession," replied Don Cafasso. "But I don't want to go to Confession," said the prisoner. "You may say what you like, but you will not escape from me; I will not let you go until you have made your Confession," said Cafasso. "I am not prepared," said the prisoner. "I will prepare you," said Cafasso.

Certainly, if the prisoner had wished, he could have freed himself from Don Cafasso's hands with the slightest effort; but whether it was respect for the holy man's person, or rather the fruit of the grace of God, the fact is that the man surrendered and allowed himself to be led to a corner of the room. Don Cafasso sat down on a bundle of straw and prepared his friend for Confession. But lo! In a short time there was commotion; the strong man was so moved by Don Cafasso's exhortation that his sighs and tears almost prevented him from telling his sins.

Then appeared the great marvel; he who had been most vehement in his refusal to make his Confession went to his companions after it was finished and told them that he had never been so happy in his life. He became so eloquent in exhorting them that he succeeded in persuading them all to go to Confession.

This example, merely one out of thousands of its kind, whether we consider it as a miracle of grace on the part of God, or a miracle of charity on the part of Don Cafasso, forces us to recognize in it the intervention of the hand of
God.

On that day Don Cafasso continued hearing Confessions in the prison until the night was far advanced. In the meantime, the doors of the prison were locked and barred, and it appeared that Don Cafasso would have to sleep with the prisoners. But at a certain hour the prison guards, armed with pistols and swords, entered and began to make their accustomed visit. On seeing the stranger they all began to shout at the same time, "Who goes there?" and without waiting for a reply they surrounded Don Cafasso saying, "What are you doing here? Who are you? And where do you want to go?" As Don Cafasso was trying to reply they shouted, "Stop him and make him tell who he is!" Finally, he told them who he was. They asked him why he had not left in time, and told him that now they could not allow him to go out without acquainting the governor of the prison. He reminded them quietly that it was their fault not to have searched the prison before locking the doors. Finally they agreed to let him out, and even sent a guard to protect him on the way home.

The Mortified Life of Don Cafasso

To his private life belongs that secret and continuous mortification of himself. In this we see the great art used by lim to make himself a Saint. We know and have proof that he used the hair shirt, that he put objects in his bed to make it uncomfortable, that he practiced rigorous corporal penances. However tired he might be, he never supported himself either with his elbow or in any other manner to rest himself; he never rested one leg on the other; at table, he never complained of my thing or said that anything did not please him; everything was to his taste. From his earliest youth he had devoted certain days to particular acts of mortification. Every Saturday was a day of strict fast in honor of our Blessed Lady. But why speak of a fast on Saturday when the whole week, the whole month, and the whole year long were for him one continuous, rigorous and terrible fast? He began by diminishing the number of his meals and restricted himself to one meal in the day, which consisted of soup and a small quantity of bread or potatoes. Some of his friends, on seeing this prolonged austerity, respectfully reproached him and said that he was injuring his health by it. They tried to persuade him to be more moderate, if not out of love for himself, at least for the good of others. He merely laughed and said that he enjoyed excellent health on the diet he had adopted. When they referred to the exhaustion of his strength which was diminishing every day, he immediately replied, "O Heaven, what strength and health you will give to those who enter there!" If he was benumbed by cold, or suffocated with heat, or covered with sweat, he never sought any comfort, nor was he ever heard to utter a word of lament or complaint.

At all times of the year he spent many hours hearing the Confessions of the faithful, and it was not uncommon for him to enter the Confessional at seven in the morning and remain there until twelve o'clock. After remaining there for so long, even in the very cold weather, when he came out to go to the sacristy the people could see that he trembled all over and was compelled to lean for support on the benches to prevent himself from falling; often when halfway down the church, he had to rest either by kneeling or sitting down. The people were very much moved by such a sight, and several of them wanted to buy at their own expense a heated footstool in order to lessen a little the effect of the cold. The sacristan decided to buy one, but fearing that Don Cafasso would not allow him if told beforehand, he bought the footstool without telling him and put it in the Confessional before Don Cafasso arrived there. As soon as he saw the luxury, as he called it, he kicked it with his foot into a corner of the Confessional, and afterward told the sacristan not to put it there again, saying that these things are useless and that they give people the idea that a priest, who, he said, does not need such things, is too careful about himself. Various reasons were given him why he should use it, but neither in this nor in any other circumstance was it possible to persuade him to moderate the severity of his penances, which certainly contributed to consume a life so precious. He kept aloof from all kinds of amusements: he never took part in a game of cards, chess, billiards or other pastime. [He sometimes played games with the prisoners, in order to gain their confidence.] When sometimes invited to take part in some game, he would reply that he had something else to occupy him, and that when he no longer had any urgent business he would go and amuse himself. And when he was asked when that would be, he would reply, "When we are in Heaven." Besides the constant mortification of the senses of his body that he practiced, he was the foe of all habits, even the most indifferent. "We should habituate ourselves to do good and nothing else," he would say. "The body is insatiable; the more we give it the more it demands."

He therefore never allowed himself to form the habit of using tobacco, or taking sweetmeats or drink of any kind other than water, except that ordered by a doctor. During the course of his studies in college or in the seminary, he took neither coffee, nor fruit, nor anything between meals.

After his first ten years as professor at the post-graduate institute [he was there as professor for twenty-four years], he became prefect of the conferences, and though his work was very heavy, his collation consisted of a few pieces of dry bread. One day someone suggested to him that for a person of his frail constitution with such exhausting labors more nourishing food was needed. He replied good-humoredly that the time would come when he would have to make some concession to his body, but that as long as he could do without it he did not wish to take anything more.

After some years, however, he was compelled by obedience to moderate a little his rigorous manner of living. But in spite of his weak constitution and his delicate health, he would never allow himself to become accustomed to any particular kind of food, and he went on diminishing the amount until, as I have already said, he limited himself to one meal a day, which consisted of soup and a little something else at hand. Although subject to many infirmities, he would not prolong for a moment his ordinary time of repose, which was barely five hours each night.

During the cold weather of winter, even at times when he suffered from sick stomach, headaches, toothache, to a degree that he was scarcely able to stand on his feet, he was to be found kneeling in prayer before four o'clock in the morning, meditating, or engaged in some occupation.

This strenuous, laborious life of penance, prayer, charity, labor and self-denial he continued to live up to his death: Even when his illness was threatening his life, in his very death agony, he loved to be alone. He gave no sign of pleasure even when ejaculatory prayers were suggested, as if such prayers interrupted the ordinary conversation that he certainly had with God. However, he asked all to pray for him and to recommend him to the protection of the Blessed Virgin and St. Joseph. A person of high authority who was on intimate terms with him during his life and visited him several times in the course of his illness, having observed carefully what he said and did, at the conclusion of one of these visits exclaimed, "Don Cafasso has no need of our suggestions; he is in direct communication with God. He engages in familiar conversation with the Mother of the Savior, with his Angel guardian and with St. Joseph."

He had great devotion to our Blessed Lady, and was a constant promoter of devotion to that Heavenly Mother. For every Saturday and, we might say, for every moment, he had some pious practice or said some ejaculatory prayers in her honor. Saturday was a day completely devoted to her; he observed a rigorous fast, everything she demanded for that day was promptly conceded, and on many occasions he expressed the desire to die on a Saturday. Frequently during his life he said, and has left it in writing, "What a beautiful death to die for the love of Mary! To die on a day dedicated to Mary! To die at a moment most glorious for Mary! To go to Heaven in the company of Mary! To have the happiness of being near Mary for all eternity!"

Joseph died on June 23, 1860 at Turin and was canonized in 1947.