Feb 4, 2018

⛪ Saint Joseph of Leonessa: The Fearless Friar Who Confronted a Sultan

Noble Birth and Early Piety (1556-1572)

Joseph of Leonessa was born Eufranio Desiderio at Leonessa, a small town then in Umbria, now in Lazio, to Giovanni Desideri and Serafina Paolini on January 8, 1556. He was the third of eight children born into a minor noble family during one of the most tumultuous periods in Christian history—the age of the Counter-Reformation, when the Catholic Church was responding vigorously to the Protestant Reformation and rediscovering its missionary fervor.

From his earliest years, Eufranio displayed an extraordinary religious sensibility that set him apart from other children. It is said that even as a small child, he would construct little altars in his home and spend long periods in prayer before them. He would gather his young companions and lead them in prayer, showing a natural inclination toward spiritual leadership. On Fridays, while still a boy, he joined the Confraternity of the Holy Savior in taking the discipline—a penitential practice involving self-flagellation—demonstrating an early commitment to mortification and penance that would characterize his entire life.

This was not mere childish piety that would fade with maturity. As Eufranio grew, his devotion deepened and his spiritual life became more intense. He was being formed in a world where the Catholic faith was under assault from multiple directions: Protestantism was fragmenting Christendom in the West, Islam was threatening from the East with the powerful Ottoman Empire, and the Church was desperately trying to reform itself from within while defending its doctrines and expanding its missionary reach to newly discovered lands.

Tragedy struck when Eufranio was orphaned at the age of twelve. The loss of both parents at such a tender age must have been devastating, yet it seems to have intensified rather than diminished his spiritual fervor. His uncle Battista, a professor, took responsibility for his education and saw to it that the boy received classical studies befitting his noble birth, first in Viterbo and then in Spoleto.

Eufranio proved to be an excellent student, showing keen interest in learning and displaying the kind of serious, intelligent approach to his studies that would later serve him well in his apostolate. His education was comprehensive, grounding him in the classical tradition while also exposing him to theology and the rich intellectual heritage of the Catholic Church. He particularly loved the teachings of Saint Bonaventure, the great Franciscan doctor, which harmoniously synthesized contemplative spirituality with apostolic zeal—a combination that would define Joseph's own spiritual life.

His uncle had plans for his nephew's future. As a young man from a noble family with a good education, Eufranio could expect an advantageous marriage that would secure his social position and provide him with comfort and security. His uncle arranged a suitable marriage to a nobleman's daughter, seeing this as the natural path for his talented and well-born nephew.

But God had other plans.

The Franciscan Call (1572-1573)

In his sixteenth year, Eufranio fell sick of a fever, and upon his recovery, without consulting his guardian, joined the Capuchin reform of the Franciscan Order. This illness proved to be a turning point in his life. During his sickness and convalescence, Eufranio had time to reflect deeply on the meaning and purpose of his existence. The brush with mortality at such a young age seems to have clarified his vocation with crystalline certainty.

He was impressed by the example of Matthew Silvestri, who had left the medical profession to embrace the Capuchin life and whose holiness was evident. The witness of this man—someone who had abandoned a prestigious profession to embrace radical evangelical poverty—struck Eufranio powerfully. If a successful physician could leave everything to follow Christ in the Franciscan way, surely a sixteen-year-old could do the same.

To avoid the arranged marriage his uncle had planned and to prevent his family from dissuading him, Eufranio slipped away secretly to the little friary of the Carcerelle near Assisi. The Capuchins—officially known as the Order of Friars Minor Capuchin (OFMCap)—were a reform movement within the Franciscan family that had emerged just a few decades earlier, in 1520. They sought to return to the primitive observance of Saint Francis's Rule, embracing strict poverty, penitential practices, and a life dedicated to preaching and serving the poor.

He made his novitiate at the friary of the Carcerelle near Assisi. He made his religious profession in January 1573, taking the name "Joseph". The choice of the name Joseph was significant—it honored the foster father of Jesus, the silent saint of humble obedience and hidden service. Like his patron, the young friar would learn to embrace obscurity, hard work, and total dedication to God's will.

His family was not pleased. When they discovered where he had gone, relatives attempted to bring him back home, but their efforts came to nothing. Eufranio—now Brother Joseph—had found his true home among the Capuchins, and no worldly enticement could draw him away from his vocation.

Formation and the Life of Penance (1573-1587)

After profession, Joseph continued his studies in Lugnano in Teverina, deepening his theological knowledge and spiritual formation. But academic study was only one dimension of Capuchin formation. These friars were committed to a lifestyle of extreme austerity that would shock modern sensibilities, yet which they embraced joyfully as a way of configuring themselves more closely to the poor and crucified Christ.

Joseph was noted for the purity and austerity of his life. He was willing to sleep on a board with a wooden block as a pillow and eat only the most meager food, often spoiling its taste with ashes or water. His dwelling was described as a poor cell so small and narrow that he could hardly stand, sit, or lie down in it. His bed was the bare earth, with only a block of wood for a pillow.

Modern readers might wonder whether such extreme practices were psychologically healthy or even pleasing to God. But for Joseph and the Capuchins of his era, these austerities had a clear spiritual logic. They were training themselves in detachment from comfort and pleasure, learning to find their joy solely in God rather than in created things. They were identifying with the poor whom they served, sharing their hardships. And they were uniting themselves with Christ's Passion, embracing voluntary suffering as a way of participating in the redemption of the world.

Joseph denied his physical wants to obtain his spiritual needs and he did so with joy. This last detail is crucial. Joseph's asceticism was not grim or morose, but joyful. He had discovered the paradoxical truth that the saints have always known: that there is more happiness in denying oneself for love of God than in indulging every desire for comfort and pleasure.

On May 21, 1581, the Capuchin general vicar issued patents for preaching, the ministry in which Joseph would be engaged for the remainder of his life. Joseph was now authorized to undertake the work that would define his vocation: itinerant missionary preaching, bringing the Gospel to those who most needed to hear it.

Missionary Preacher to the Poor (1581-1587)

Relying solely on grace and with a mission crucifix always tucked in his cincture, Joseph negotiated the most obscure, mountainous regions of Umbria, Lazio and the Abruzzi in an intense and extensive mission of evangelization among those who were poor.

Joseph's missionary territory was not the exotic lands that captured popular imagination, but the forgotten corners of his own country—remote mountain villages, isolated hamlets, places where poverty was crushing and where the basics of Catholic faith were often poorly understood or completely neglected. These were "harsh and lowly places where the others did not want to go," as one source describes them. The terrain was rugged, the weather often brutal, the accommodations (when available at all) miserable.

Yet Joseph embraced this work with passionate zeal. Witnesses testified that whenever he heard of brawls or hatred, he would hurry there straightaway in the hope of restoring the adversaries to eternal life, not worrying about the weather or snow or places hard to reach; consequently he often lost his toenails from the harsh conditions he endured in his travels.

His preaching was extraordinarily fruitful. After he returned from Constantinople (as we will see), he sometimes preached six or seven times a day. He would carry a large crucifix, which he wielded "like a sword" when preaching about peace and forgiveness. With this crucifix, he would fearlessly wade into gang fights and violent brawls, calling the combatants to lay down their weapons and embrace reconciliation in Christ.

Joseph enjoyed such great success in preaching because of his intimate union with God which was cultivated by incessant prayer. He would pray and meditate on the road, while holding his crucifix. His power in the pulpit flowed from his power in prayer. He would spend many hours before the Blessed Sacrament, even at night, drawing his spiritual ardor from the Eucharistic presence of Christ.

His ministry extended beyond preaching to concrete acts of charity. In the Jubilee year of 1600, he gave the Lenten sermons at Otricoli, a town through which crowds of pilgrims passed on their way to Rome. Many pilgrims were very poor, so Joseph supplied them with food, washed their clothes, and taught them catechism. At Todi, he cultivated a garden with his own hands, giving all the produce to the poor. He organized Monte di PietΓ  (cooperative loan institutions) to provide financial assistance to those in need, and built a small hospice for travelers and pilgrims.

His charity also extended into the jails where he assisted those condemned to death, bringing them spiritual comfort in their final hours and helping them prepare to meet God. Even risking his own life at times, he sought to reconcile feuding rival families and eradicate injustice, oppression, and discord.

One particularly striking aspect of Joseph's ministry was his promotion of what we would now call sustainable development and social justice. He realized what people needed and dedicated himself to the promotion of Seed Banks—cooperative institutions where peasants could deposit surplus seeds and, when needed, borrow seeds for planting. These banks not only addressed immediate agricultural needs but also generated funds that could be loaned to farmers at low interest rates (5%), helping them escape the crushing debt that kept them in poverty.

This work embodied the principle later expressed in the Chinese proverb: don't just give someone a fish, but teach them to fish. Joseph didn't merely provide handouts; he helped create systems that empowered the poor to lift themselves out of poverty through their own labor and cooperation.

The Mission to Constantinople (1587-1589)

Despite his fruitful work in Italy, Joseph felt called to something more. In his zeal for the faith he went to Turkey, responding to what he saw as a more urgent need. For over a century, Constantinople (modern Istanbul)—the ancient capital of the Eastern Roman Empire—had been under Muslim rule. Thousands of Christians lived under Ottoman dominion, many of them as slaves, and they faced constant pressure to apostatize and embrace Islam.

In 1587 he was sent by the Minister General of his Order to Constantinople to minister to the Christians held captive there. The Capuchins were taking the place of a Jesuit mission that had recently ended, establishing themselves in the Galata district (modern Beyoğlu) in a derelict house that had belonged to Benedictine monks.

He was appointed as chaplain to some 4,000 Christian slaves who worked in the penal colony of Qaasim-pacha. These galley slaves were among the most miserable human beings on earth. Chained to their oars, they rowed the warships of the Ottoman navy under brutal conditions, beaten mercilessly, given minimal food, and worked literally to death. Many had been captured in war or kidnapped by Muslim raiders. Others were born into slavery. All faced relentless pressure to convert to Islam, as conversion could sometimes earn better treatment or even freedom.

He was very solicitous in ministering to the captive Christians in the galleys of the Ottoman Empire's navy. Every day he went into the city to preach. Joseph moved among these wretched souls bringing them the sacraments, hearing their confessions, celebrating Mass in secret, and most importantly, encouraging them to remain faithful to Christ despite their sufferings. His presence was a lifeline of hope in their living hell.

The poverty in which Joseph and his fellow Capuchins lived was so extreme that it actually attracted attention. The Turks would come in numbers to see these strange Christian monks who voluntarily embraced a poverty more severe than that of the slaves themselves. This witness of radical Gospel living made an impression; Joseph's words brought comfort to imprisoned Christians and even converted some of their Muslim guards.

When the plague broke out in the penal colonies, the Capuchins immediately took up the ministry of assisting those who were sick and dying. Two Capuchins, Peter and Dennis, died doing so. Although Joseph became ill, he and Brother Gregory alone survived to remain at the mission. Joseph's willingness to risk his life caring for plague victims—and his miraculous survival when so many others perished—demonstrated both his charity and God's providential protection.

Many times he offered himself as a substitute in order to obtain the release of a slave who was near death. His offer was never accepted. This detail reveals the depths of Joseph's love: he was willing to become a slave himself if it would save another's life. Though his offer was refused, the very willingness shows the radical self-gift that animated his ministry.

He was at length thrown into prison and only released at the intervention of the Venetian agent. Joseph's bold preaching and his success in keeping Christians faithful (and even converting some Muslims) displeased the Ottoman authorities. The Venetian Republic, which maintained diplomatic relations with the Ottoman Empire for commercial reasons, intervened to secure his release. One might have expected Joseph to take this as a warning to be more cautious.

He did exactly the opposite.

The Confrontation with the Sultan (1588)

Joseph had converted a Greek bishop who had previously renounced the Catholic faith. Emboldened by this success and burning with missionary zeal, Joseph conceived an audacious plan: he would approach Sultan Murad III directly and ask for freedom of conscience for anyone who converted or returned to the Christian faith.

This was an almost suicidally bold idea. The Ottoman sultans were absolute monarchs who wielded the power of life and death. They were also the caliphs—the religious leaders of Sunni Islam—and saw themselves as defenders of the faith against Christian infidels. For a Christian monk to brazenly enter the sultan's palace uninvited and request religious freedom was not just politically naΓ―ve; it was asking to be executed.

Joseph knew the risks. But he believed that if he could just get an audience with the sultan, if he could just speak to him directly about Christ, the truth might penetrate even this hardened heart. He had faith that God could work miracles, and he longed for martyrdom—the ultimate witness to Christ.

Urged on by zeal he at last sought to enter the palace to speak with Sultan Murad III, but he was seized and condemned to death.

Joseph managed to get into the palace, but he was discovered, arrested, and brought before the authorities. The sentence was swift: death by a horrific form of torture.

The Torture of the Hooks (1588)

For three days he hung on the gallows, held up by two hooks driven through his right hand and foot. More specifically, he was suspended from a beam by means of a hook through the tendons of his right hand and foot.

Try to imagine the agony. Joseph was hung from hooks that pierced through the flesh and tendons of his right hand and right foot, supporting his entire body weight. He was suspended over a smoky fire, the heat and smoke adding to his torment. In this position, every breath would have been excruciating. The weight of his body pulling against the hooks would have caused indescribable pain. The smoke would have made breathing nearly impossible.

Like this he waited for a slow, agonizing death in atrocious pain. This was not meant to be a quick execution, but a prolonged torture designed to break his spirit, to make him recant his faith, to serve as a terrifying example to any other Christian who might dare to be so bold.

For three days and three nights, Joseph hung there. We can only imagine what went through his mind during those endless hours of suffering. Did he pray? Did he meditate on Christ's own passion? Did he offer his pain for the conversion of souls, for the freedom of the slaves he had ministered to, for the salvation of his torturers?

We know that he hoped for martyrdom. He wanted to give his life completely for Christ, to seal his witness with his blood. As the hours dragged on and his strength ebbed away, he must have thought that his prayer was being answered.

But then something extraordinary happened.

The Miraculous Survival (1589)

After three days he was miraculously saved (by an angel or by human intervention) and he quickly recovered. The sources offer two possible explanations for what happened. Some legends state that an angel came down and released him, healing his wounds. Other accounts suggest human intervention.

Sultan Murad III was being relentlessly lobbied. His personal doctor asked him to free Joseph. The sultan's favorite consort and the mother of his heir pleaded for Joseph's life. The lobbying went on until finally the sultan made a decision. The death sentence would be changed into an expulsion: monks were still welcome but this troublesome Capuchin had to go home.

Whether through angelic intervention, human persuasion, or some combination of both, the result was the same: after three days of torture that should have killed him, Joseph was taken down from the hooks. The symbolism was not lost on anyone: a half stigmata, one pierced hand and one pierced foot. Joseph bore in his body the wounds of Christ, a living reminder of the Passion.

Incredibly, he quickly recovered from injuries that should have left him permanently maimed or dead. His survival was viewed by contemporaries as miraculous—a sign of God's favor and protection.

He was disappointed. He had been hoping for martyrdom. This detail is both touching and profound. Joseph wasn't relieved to have escaped death; he was disappointed that he hadn't been granted the crown of martyrdom! This shows the radical nature of his love for Christ and his total detachment from life itself.

Nevertheless, God had other plans. He returned at thirty-three years of age in 1589 to Italy, expelled from Ottoman territory but alive.

Before returning to Italy, Joseph traveled to Rome with the converted Greek bishop to appear before Pope Sixtus V. The Holy Father must have been amazed to meet this fearless Capuchin who had confronted a sultan and survived torture that should have killed him. Joseph settled briefly in Assisi before resuming his missionary work.

Intensified Mission to Italy (1589-1612)

Back in Italy, Joseph was offered a chance to be a bishop. He turned it down. He wanted to go back to preaching. Far from being weakened by the experience in Constantinople, Joseph picked up the pace.

Some men might have been traumatized by what they had endured, might have sought a quieter, safer ministry. Not Joseph. He threw himself back into itinerant preaching with even greater fervor than before. There he took up again his beloved itinerant preaching throughout Abruzzo and Umbria, in the mountains and valleys, in those harsh and lowly places "where the others did not want to go".

In the aftermath of the Council of Trent (1545-1563), which had called for extensive catechetical renewal, Joseph dedicated enormous energy to teaching the faith. He began a ministry of evangelization among shepherds and rural poor who lacked even rudimentary knowledge of the faith, prayer, and the commandments. He would walk through the streets of towns ringing a bell, reminding parents to send their children to catechism class.

He loved to install huge, heavy crosses on mountain tops, carrying them to the top in procession. These crosses served as permanent reminders of Christ's love and as landmarks of evangelization, visible for miles around and proclaiming the Gospel to the surrounding countryside.

Joseph's preaching was characterized by both gentleness and power. He would preach with crucifix in hand, the fire of his words kindling a flame in the hearts of his hearers. His intimate union with God, cultivated through constant prayer, gave his words an authority and effectiveness that went beyond mere eloquence.

His companions who followed him were severely put to the test, so demanding was the pace and rigor of his missionary journeys. Joseph's own austere lifestyle had not moderated with age or suffering; if anything, it had intensified.

Final Illness and Death (1612)

After more than twenty years of this exhausting ministry, Joseph's body finally began to fail him. He was stricken with cancer, a disease that in the early 17th century meant prolonged suffering with no effective treatment. He underwent several painful operations without anesthesia in an attempt to remove the disease, but they were unsuccessful.

When he became deathly ill, Joseph asked to be taken to Leonessa in order to pay his last respects to his relatives and friends. He wanted to die in his hometown, surrounded by those he had known from childhood.

On Saturday evening, February 4, 1612, at the age of fifty-six, Joseph's final moments arrived. He attempted to begin the Divine Office as he had done countless times throughout his religious life, but found it too difficult to continue. Joseph repeated his favorite prayer: "Sancta Maria, succurre miseris"—"Holy Mary, help the miserable." These were his last words: a plea for the Blessed Mother's intercession for sinners and the suffering, including himself.

It was a fitting end for a man who had spent his entire life serving the miserable—the poor, the enslaved, the sick, the ignorant, the sinful. With Mary's name on his lips, Joseph of Leonessa entered into eternal life.

He died at Amatrice, and his body was immediately treated with special reverence. Everyone who had known him was certain he would be recognized as a saint. So strong was the devotion to him that on October 18, 1639, the people of Leonessa took advantage of an earthquake to carry out a "sacred theft" in a covert, lightning-fast incursion. They stole his body that is now venerated in the sanctuary dedicated to him in his city. This "sacred theft"—the removal of a saint's relics to honor them—was considered acceptable and even praiseworthy in Catholic tradition, though the dramatic circumstances (taking advantage of an earthquake!) are certainly unusual.

Beatification, Canonization, and Cult (1737-1746)

Joseph's reputation for holiness continued to grow after his death. Confraternities were formed under his patronage in Otricoli, Amatrice, and Leonessa, some of which still exist today. People sought his intercession, and miracles were reported.

The formal canonization process began with investigations in Spoleto in 1615, though it was interrupted. The process resumed in 1628, with additional processes initiated in Ascoli and Rieti. The apostolic process took place in Leonessa from 1629-1633 and 1639-1641. Numerous manuscripts were examined, including many pertaining to his preaching ministry. The recognition of all apostolic processes occurred in 1669-1670.

He was beatified by Pope Clement XII on June 22, 1737, and was canonized by Pope Benedict XIV on June 29, 1746. The relatively brief period between beatification and canonization (just nine years) testified to the strength of evidence for his holiness and the miracles attributed to his intercession.

Pope Pius XII proclaimed him patron of the Missions in Turkey, an appropriate honor for the fearless Capuchin who had ministered to Christian slaves in Constantinople and confronted the Ottoman sultan himself. He was also named principal patron of Leonessa by Pope Paul VI and is a minor principal patron of the Capuchin province of Abruzzo.

His feast day is celebrated on February 4, the anniversary of his death.

Miracles and Popular Devotion

Beyond the miracles required for his beatification and canonization, numerous other supernatural events have been attributed to Saint Joseph's intercession. During his lifetime, he was credited with healing slaves who had been mistreated and tortured—laying his hands on them in prayer and seeing them restored to health. During a severe famine in Leonessa, bread reportedly multiplied in his hands as he fed the needy, echoing Christ's own multiplication of loaves.

His iconography includes such characteristic emblems as the instruments of penance or the martyrdom of the hook and the crucifix in his hand. Paintings and statues of the saint often depict him with the hooks that pierced his hand and foot, making his near-martyrdom a central part of how he is remembered and venerated.

Devotion to Saint Joseph of Leonessa remains strong in central Italy. In his hometown, there is a church and sanctuary dedicated to him. The main street of Leonessa is named Corso San Giuseppe in his honor. Churches in Otricoli, San Lorenzo Nuovo, and the Madonna della Valle in Rivodutri contain paintings of him. A magazine "Leonessa e il suo Santo" keeps his spirituality and memory alive among the people.

Spiritual Legacy and Lessons for Today

Saint Joseph of Leonessa's life offers profound lessons for Catholics in every age:

Radical Gospel Living: Joseph's extreme austerity might seem excessive to modern sensibilities, but it flowed from a deep understanding of detachment and evangelical poverty. He teaches us that material comfort, while not evil in itself, can become an obstacle to spiritual growth if we are too attached to it. His joyful embrace of hardship challenges our culture's assumption that happiness requires physical comfort and pleasure.

Fearless Evangelization: In an age when many Christians are hesitant to share their faith for fear of giving offense or facing social consequences, Joseph's audacity is inspiring. He preached boldly in situations far more dangerous than any most of us will ever face. He confronted a sultan in his own palace, knowing it would likely mean his death. His example asks us: What are we willing to risk for the sake of the Gospel?

Preferential Option for the Poor: Long before this phrase became common in Catholic social teaching, Joseph was living it. He deliberately chose to minister in "harsh and lowly places where the others did not want to go." He served galley slaves, rural shepherds, mountain villagers—the forgotten and marginalized of his world. He didn't just give them handouts; he created institutions (like Seed Banks) that empowered them to improve their own conditions. His ministry was both spiritually and materially transformative.

The Power of Intercessory Suffering: Joseph's three days hanging from hooks accomplished more than his survival might suggest. His willingness to suffer for Christ and for the enslaved Christians he served became a powerful prayer offered in his own flesh. The Church has always taught that suffering, when united with Christ's Passion, has redemptive power. Joseph's torture was not meaningless agony but a participation in the Cross that bore spiritual fruit.

Reconciliation and Peacemaking: Joseph's ministry of reconciling feuding families and warring cities anticipated the Church's modern emphasis on being peacemakers in a divided world. With crucifix in hand like a sword, he would wade into violent conflicts and call combatants to lay down their weapons. In our age of political polarization and social fragmentation, his example of fearlessly pursuing peace and reconciliation is urgently needed.

Eucharistic Devotion: Like so many saints, Joseph's missionary effectiveness flowed from his prayer life, particularly his Eucharistic adoration. He would spend hours, even entire nights, before the Blessed Sacrament. This intimacy with Christ in the Eucharist gave him the strength to endure hardships, the wisdom to preach effectively, and the love to serve heroically. For modern Catholics who struggle to find time for prayer, Joseph's example reminds us that action flows from contemplation.

The Complementarity of Martha and Mary: Joseph beautifully integrated the active and contemplative dimensions of Christian life. He was both a contemplative mystic (spending nights in Eucharistic adoration) and a tireless activist (preaching seven times a day, caring for plague victims, organizing social services). He shows us that authentic Christian spirituality doesn't force us to choose between prayer and action, but rather integrates both in a life of holistic discipleship.

Creative Charity: Joseph's promotion of Seed Banks and Monte di PietΓ  shows that charity must be both immediate and systemic. He fed the hungry, but he also created institutions that addressed the root causes of poverty. In our own time, when debates rage about the best ways to help the poor, Joseph's example suggests that we need both direct service and structural change—and that these are not opposed but complementary.

Perseverance Despite Disappointment: Joseph longed for martyrdom but was denied it. He survived his torture, which was in some ways a harder path than the glorious death he desired. Yet he didn't sulk or give up; he returned to Italy and worked with even greater zeal. Sometimes God's "no" to our prayers is actually a call to a different form of heroism. Joseph teaches us to embrace God's will even when it differs from our holy desires.

Conclusion: The Saint Who Faced the Sultan

Saint Joseph of Leonessa lived during a pivotal moment in Catholic history, when the Church was simultaneously defending itself against Protestant critics, reforming itself internally through the Council of Trent, expanding its missionary reach to the New World, and maintaining its presence in lands under Muslim rule. He embodied the best of the Counter-Reformation spirit: deep personal piety, commitment to the poor, fearless proclamation of the Gospel, and willingness to suffer for Christ.

From his noble birth to his humble death, from the mountains of Umbria to the dungeons of Constantinople, Joseph's life was marked by single-minded dedication to Christ and His mission. The same Gospel that led him to sleep on boards and eat ashes led him to confront a sultan and hang from hooks for three days. The same love that drove him to preach seven times a day drove him to wash the clothes of poor pilgrims and plant gardens for the hungry.

He was not a perfect man—the Church canonizes sinners who cooperated with grace, not moral supermen—but he was a man utterly given over to God. His life whispers to us across the centuries that comfortable Christianity is a contradiction, that the Gospel is meant to be lived radically, that Christ asks not for our spare time and leftover resources but for everything we are and have.

In an age when Christianity in the West is increasingly comfortable, culturally accommodated, and spiritually tepid, Saint Joseph of Leonessa stands as a challenging witness. His scarred hand and foot—marked by the hooks that held him over fire—testify that following Christ may cost us everything. His joyful embrace of hardship testifies that such sacrifice is not grim duty but the path to deepest joy.

The Capuchin who faced the sultan and lived to tell the tale invites us to ask ourselves: What sultan am I afraid to confront? What comfort am I unwilling to relinquish? What Cross am I trying to avoid? And having asked these questions, he invites us to take up our crucifix—not as a mere symbol, but as a sword—and wade fearlessly into whatever battle God has called us to fight.

Saint Joseph of Leonessa, fearless preacher and almost-martyr, pray for us!


Feast Day: February 4
Canonized: June 29, 1746, by Pope Benedict XIV
Patron: Missions in Turkey, Leonessa, Amatrice, the poor, prisoners, those who work for reconciliation and peace

"Sancta Maria, succurre miseris" - Holy Mary, help the miserable

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