Always Distinguish(ed).

What better way to celebrate black history than to remember such a man as St. Martin DePorres?  The Apostle of Charity, as he is often known, was born in December of 1579 in Lima, Peru.  Son of Spanish hidalgo Juan de Porras and freed Creole-Black Panamanian Ana Velásquez, he entered the Dominican Priory of Our Lady of the Holy Rosary (known as Santo Domingo) as a donado in the year 1594.  He made solemn profession as a lay brother on June 2, 1603 and was born to eternal life on November 3, 1639 (his feast day).  Pope Blessed John XXIII canonized him and called him the patron of social justice causes.

Below is a paper I delivered in the novitiate about St. Martin DePorres.  The photograph attached to this article is that of an image in a series located at the Shrine of St. Martin DePorres in Memphis, Tennessee, operated by the Dominicans at St. Peter Parish in downtown.

Blessed John XXIII spoke two years prior to the canonization of Martin DePorres saying,

I have thought of your lands, your immense and beautiful continent, lands where saints have flourished…humble, pure and innocent…Such was Martin DePorres, long recognized as blessed, but upon whose forehead we already see shining the radiant halo of the saints… It is necessary to always speak and practice the truth, to observe the virtue of justice for all people, doing harm to no one, and, above all, to establish a world of fraternal and universal love.  This is the great triumph of the gospel, the purest flower of Christian civilization and culture. (1)

On May 6, 1962 he canonized our Brother Martin, saying, “A springtime flower has opened in the Church.” (2) The historical environs of Martin’s life are rather well known as they deal with the struggles of the American continent during a time of adventurous pioneers, monstrous conquerors; pagan savages and peaceful natives; and heralds of the Gospel, defenders of the defenseless.

Father Anthony de Montesino was one of the twelve original Dominicans sent to the New World, arriving in 1510 at Santo Domingo, and one of the first to denounce the ill treatment of the natives.  He would be the first in a line of compassionate friars would seek justice and salvation for the natives of America. In 1551 the friars arrived in Martin’s hometown of Lima and established the University of St. Mark—the first in all of the Americas.

Thus, at the birth of Martin DePorres the city of Lima had only been established 43 years earlier.  The Gospel seed was still “fresh” in the land and Martin DePorres, the apostle of charity, would be part of a new generation of friars dedicated to the preaching of Jesus Christ in the land of South America.  Baptized in the same font as St. Rose of Lima at the church of St. Sebastian, St. Martin learned from a very early age to treasure God as his heavenly Father, as his earthly father, Juan de Porras had abandoned him, not wanting to accept a child with black skin.  However, de Porras would later provide for the education of Martin and his sister Juana in Guayaquil, Ecuador.

At the age of twelve, Martin chose the trade of barber—which then included the duties of minor surgeon, doctor and pharmacist.  In his years as an apprentice he would hold long vigils in his room on his knees, in tears, before the crucifix.  After having begged for candle stubs from the owner of the house in which he, his sister, and his mother lived, he would be found by her pouring out his heart to his Savior.  She, peering through the keyhole, would later invite her friends to do the same and watch this spectacle.

At the age of fifteen, Martin presented himself to the friars at the priory of the Holy Rosary (or St. Dominic, as it was commonly known), asking for the habit of the donado (a lay helper, considered below the rank of the professed brothers). Essentially, Martin began as a member of the Dominican laity who dedicated his life fully to the service of the priory in exchange for food and lodging there.  He wore a white tunic and a black cape—without the black scapular and capuce of the lay brothers.  We do not know why Martin chose the Order of Preachers to fulfill his vocation.  Some speculate it might have been because of his devotion to Our Lady, or perhaps because he was drawn by his love of animals to St. Dominic’s dog and flaming torch.  For whatever reason, he chose the Dominicans over many of the other religious orders that had established themselves in Lima at the time.

When he entered the Order, Martin had already established quite a reputation among those in the city as a compassionate barber who seldom took money for his services and often spent his mother’s money on the poor in the marketplace rather than purchasing food for his small family. Of course, when Juan de Porras heard of Martin’s admission to the Dominicans as a servant, he demanded that Martin be admitted, at the very least, to the lay brotherhood, if not made a clerical brother.  The prior provinicial, Juan de Lorenzana, attempted to convince Martin to petition for the lay brotherhood, but Martin refused to do such a thing out of the wounded pride of his father. Humbly, Martin continued in his profession as barber as the infirmarian for three hundred friars, bishops, and the poor alike.

Martin’s care for the rich, the poor, the sick, the oppressed, those who oppressed him, and even animals is a reflection of his love for Christ—his identification of his brothers and sisters as siblings in the family of God, the Father of all.  A few stories better explain his love for all creatures:

For his brothers: In his service to the friars there are many accounts—given as cause for his beatification in the latter half of the seventeenth century—of his charity in the face of bigotry.  Writes Giuliana Cavallini:

One day the prior found him prostrate on the floor in a venia at the feet of a sick priest.  What could have happened?  ‘I was receiving the ashes, even though the first day of Lent is still far off,’ explained Martin, lifting his smiling face, as if he were amused by the oddness of the situation.  ‘This Reverend Father reminded me of my humble birth and sprinkled the ashes of my defects on my head.  In order to thank him, I am kissing, not his venerable hands which touch God every day and which I am not worthy to touch, but his feet, and I do it with great reverence because they are the feet of a minister of Christ.’ (3)

Cavallini recounts one more incident of Martin’s great humility:

One day Martin learned that the prior had gone out to sell several valuable objects, not having enough money to pay certain debts of the monastery and to provide for the needs of the community. The news made him thoughtful… Could not some other solution be found?

Perhaps Martin recalled having heard how St. Dominic, in order to redeem a poor woman’s brother from the slavery of the Saracens offered to go as a slave in his place…So Martin ran through the streets of Lima after the prior, who was headed for the merchants’ quarter.  He overtook the prior and, still breathless, explained his idea, begging him not to sell the objects he had with him, but to sell him… and it would be a great blessing for him to find, at last, someone who would treat him as he deserved!

The prior was dumbfounded.  At first he did not understand Martin.  When he grasped Martin’s plan, his eyes filled with tears.  ‘Go back to the monastery, Brother.  You are not for sale.’ (4)

The prior’s simple words show his profound love for the saint.  Martin seems to have exhibited a youthful innocence, docility and humility that many other saints like him have possessed.

For the sick: An epidemic of measles had broken out in Lima and had overcome nearly 60 of the brethren.  Martin, as usual, cared for them without rest.  He always seemed to have just what they needed—a fresh tunic and sheets for those covered in sweat, a refreshing drink, or a special fruit, herbs and medicines to ease their pain.  But Martin was not always a miracle worker.  He often endeavored to conceal any miraculous healing that might occur—pointing to the medicine that he had administered or even the prayers of others rather than his own healing hands.  But on more than one occasion the brothers recounted times when he was not even given the chance to apply his medicinal talents before the patient recovered.  However, we would be remiss to claim that every patient who came under Martin’s care was sure to recover fully and live a long and healthy life.  There is the story of the young novice, Brother Matthias de Barasa, who fell ill during the measles epidemic. One evening, knowing that he had little time left, he called for the consoling presence of Brother Martin.  But the novitiate had already been locked that night, and the novice master was the only one with a key.  And so the porter hurried to the novice master begging to allow Martin to enter the novitiate.  As the porter was returning with the keys, he stopped by the novice’s room to say that Martin would be there soon, only to find him already there consoling the dying novice. (5)

Apostle of Charity: On one occasion a man who had suffered badly in a brawl outside was brought into the infirmary.  He was bleeding profusely and covered in mud.  As a result, after the man had been healed and left the infirmary, the sheets were left an awful mess.  Another brother showed them to Martin and remarked, “And now to try to get them white again!” Martin was not amused, and perhaps lost his patience.  For, while he could bear the most awful of insults to himself and his character, he could not stand to hear even the slightest of offenses to fraternal charity.  He responded, “Brother, with the application of a little elbow grease, water and soap, the sheets will be white again, but the soul needs other things!  Only tears and penance can cleanse it from the lack of charity.” (6)

To animals and nature: We have all invariably heard the story of Martin and the mice in the priory.  Of his pact with them to feed them, if they would only stop chewing up the linens of the house.  And so they gladly relocated to the garden where Martin faithfully fed them.  Martin so loved animals that on his deathbed when the doctor prescribed a medicine that would require the blood of freshly killed young roosters he calmly asked that it not be done, for he and the doctor both knew that it would be of no help.  On that note, we can also recount his knowledge of the earth’s natural remedies and the simple cures that he employed in spite of the healing powers he possessed.

For vocations: There was a young man who attended the Dominican school in Lima until he was eighteen.  He then went to study at the Jesuit College.  When Martin would see him he would say “Listen to me; God wishes you to be a Dominican.” Martin seemed to have a sense for vocations. However, Anthony was stubborn and refused to accept this charge, instead he went off to the north to seek out anything but the religious life.  When he left, Martin told him that before Martin died, Anthony would enter the Order.  Four years later Anthony, in Cuzco, found himself with the sudden desire to hear the Salve chanted.  He rushed to the priory of St. Dominic in Cuzco for Compline, begged one of the friars to hear his confession and then insisted that he be admitted as a postulant. Martin had been right. He received the habit three months before Martin died on November 3, 1639.

Martin was also noted for a deep devotion to the Blessed Sacrament.  He was constantly going to the chapel of the Rosary to kneel before our Eucharistic Lord.  But, as one might have already realized, Martin was often embarrassed by his devotions, not wanting to be found or seen while he spent time in prayer.  And so it is of no surprise that he found a small place under the roof of the church where he could gaze longingly at the tabernacle without being seen.  In fact, each time he passed by the chapel along the upper cloister he stopped at a window that looked down at the tabernacle and he dropped to his knees.  On the feast of Corpus Christi, every Thursday and every third Sunday of the month he would spend hours before the monstrance, motionless.

In Martin’s time the brothers received Holy Communion on the great feasts of the Lord and our Lady and every Sunday.  But Martin had been allowed to receive on Thursdays as well.  However, humbly, he could not accept this privilege without considering it as if he were receiving Viaticum—for that was the only time he felt he could rightfully ask for the Lord, at his death. And so it is that when the quartan fever that he suffered chronically from had a recurrence in the autumn of 1639 he knew that it would be his last illness.  In his suffering he looked back on his life only to realize that, much like Thomas Aquinas, despite all the good things he had done, they were really nothing.  He accused himself of having wasted his life and yet he still had a profound hope and confidence in the love of God.  But soon Martin was tortured with temptations to accept his reward as deserved and to march with pride into the Kingdom.  Suffering greatly from this struggle, Father Francisco de Paredes suggested that he ask for St. Dominic’s intercession to dispel the demon.  But Martin answered, “It would be useless to ask him to come.  He is already here with St. Vincent Ferrer.” (7)

The process of inquiry for Martin’s beatification began on June 16, 1660, a mere twenty-one years after his death.  In all, there were sixty-six depositions, and each attested to the greatness of this humble saint of the Order of Preachers. And finally, before we close, I would simply add my own opinion for why Martin is indeed a saint.  It is not, I do not think, because he healed the sick, it is not because he gave ceaselessly to the poor, it is not because he cared for all God’s creatures with compassion, it is not even because of his wholesome piety or devotions, nor because he was a black man in a troubled time.  For there have been many people like this and they have all inevitably disappeared into the recesses of history.  What then, in my perhaps misguided opinion, do I believe made Martin dePorres a saint?  In Giuliana Cavallini’s biography of Martin she quotes Father José de Villarsbia: “His ‘profound and consummate’ humility was based on his knowledge of the greatness of God.”

Martin had discovered the only real secret there is, which is not really a secret at all.  He was intimately aware of the reality that all things come from God and that we can do nothing to fully return this great favor.  Inevitably, all saints are  saints because they have so fully identified themselves with Christ that they suffer gladly, that they receive his wounds, that they offer their lives completely in the face of rejection, indifference, and misunderstanding.  There is a thin line and a very subtle difference between the Gospel of Christ and the Gospel of the world.  Their fruits would seem similar—heal the sick, bring about peace, love one’s neighbor, respect the Earth, and so on.  But, what then, separates a Christian from the altruistic pagan or atheist?  Martin knew.  Martin knew that there was no comparison to the God who became man.

He looked not within himself or even his brothers to discover the strength he needed to care endlessly for those in need.  Instead he looked to Christ Crucified—He grew up looking to the Crucified Christ, and beginning in this humble state on his knees, it should be no wonder to us that when he left his contemplation of the wounded Son of God, he would see His face in all those whom he encountered.  Martin died clutching a crucifix.

But that is not the end of the story.  If it were, it would be a rather romantic story, but not by any means a Christian one.  Instead, that crucifix dropped from his hands at his death, and fell to his chest.  Good Friday had passed for Martin, and he was now to rejoice in the beatific vision, all the while offering his incessant help to those who called on him.

–This is a paper I prepared and delivered during my novitiate year in the Province of St. Martin DePorres.

1 Brian Pierce, OP. Martin DePorres: A Saint of the Americas.
2 Ibid.
3 Giuliana Cavallini.  Martin dePorres: Apostle of Charity. B. Herder Book Co., St. Louis, MO, 1963. p. 20.
4 Ibid., p. 22.
5 Ibid., p. 77-8.
6 Ibid.,  p. 91-2
7 Ibid., p. 192