Saint Of Joy, Philip Neri

In honor of St. Philip Neri's feast day here's a quick riddle:

Question: How do you get holy water?

Answer: Boil the hell out of it!

Okay, tell me that didn't bring a little smile to your face? (Or, if not, humor me. Some days you've just got to find joy wherever you can!)

Today the Catholic Church honors St. Philip Neri who lived in Rome during the 16th century. Known as a humorist and a jokester, St. Philip's unbounded cheerfulness was legendary.

I know I need a good dose of joy on any given day. Having a fairly serious temperament as a first-born, my seventh grade homeroom teacher was fond of calling me out by saying: "You'll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, Missy." Even back then, I was pretty sure the Good Lord gave me my two younger sisters, and later, my own three children so I could learn to lighten up and be of good cheer. Their childlike antics and charm often got me smiling.

St. Philip Neri's wisdom was rooted in the delight he took in being a Child of God. Such a life was worthy of celebration and joy! Philip's witness reminds me that a sad saint really is a sad saint . In other words, if God loves you and you know it, kindly inform your face!

St. Philip knew that, over time, the Christian needs to cultivate an attitude that was worthy of the long road to heaven:

Cheerfulness strengthens the heart and makes us persevere in a good life. Therefore, the servant of God ought always to be in good spirits.

Did you ever meet someone whose laughter and love was contagious? This was St. Philip.

As I studied his life, I learned the secret to his joyous and fun reputation: an intimate relationship with Jesus whom he addressed repeatedly and spontaneously with childlike confidence in the One who could supply all.

"Jesus, be a Jesus to me."

"I cannot love you unless you help me, my Jesus."

"My Jesus, if you want me, cut the fetters that keep me from you."

As a young layman, Philip was searching for the higher things in life, drawn to a hermit's lifestyle even as he lived and worked in the city. He found his peace in prayer and silence. He developed a deep love for Jesus, especially in the Eucharist. He was ardent about the efficacy of frequent confession, for it was the meeting place between Jesus' mercy and the heart of men.

This love wooed Philip to seek quiet places—whether remote country chapels or his rooftop loggia where he could scan the horizon and see the city laid out before him—escaping the noise of life to converse with his Lord in private.

The catacombs of St. Sebastian were one of Philip's favorite places for prayer. It was there that, around age 29, Philip experienced a kind of personal Pentecost—a divine encounter with the Holy Spirit that proved to be the source of the fire of joy that ignited the rest of his life. His biographers reveal that this episode was little known about Philip until after his death.

[Antonio] Gallonio, his first biographer tells us: "It was habitual with Philip to pray each day to the Holy Spirit, and with great humility to ask Him for His gifts and graces." As he was thus praying again with great devotion in 1544, "he suddenly felt himself divinely filled with the power of the Spirit with such force that his heart began to palpitate within his body and to be inflamed with such love that, his nature being unaccustomed to such a palpitation of the heart, he indicated that he was completely unable to bear it."

According to the testimony of Pietro Consolini, a special confidante of Philip's last years, Philip saw a ball of fire enter into his mouth and then felt his breast expand over his heart. The sensation of inner fire was so strong that Philip threw himself onto the ground and cried out, "Enough, Lord, enough! I cannot take anymore!" . . .

This experience of God's love gave Philip an unbounded joy, "a gladness of divine love." (Paul Türks of the Oratory , Philip Neri, The Fire of Joy , Alba House, 1995, pp. 16-17; translation by Daniel Utrecht)

This interior flame compelled Philip to share this love with other people. His heart burned to serve others, and so, while still taking opportunities for daily silence, Philip forsook the solitary life. He called it "Leaving Christ, for Christ's sake," a movement from prayer to good works, ora et labora . He was ordained a priest in 1551.

Testimonies from eyewitnesses described heat coming from Philip's heart, and a kind of shaking from the beating of his heart that could not always be controlled. It animated his actions, especially when he prayed at Mass. Yet Philip avoided everything that might publicly suggest that he had received supernatural gifts. He deliberately dissuaded curiosity about himself and tried to conceal the holy fire that burned within him. His comedic jokes or pranks would take the attention away from himself, while making him all the more approachable and lovable to the people of Rome.

Philip's brotherly love and affection for others included constantly pointing out the consoling benefits of meeting Jesus personally within the confessional. This was no fire-and-brimstone approach; it was a genuine invitation of warm love found in Philip's kind gestures and countenance. Philip was sought after as a confessor, becoming known as the second Apostle of Rome, the first being St. Peter. The city was slowly being changed through this apostolate of the confessional.

Philip identified with the weaknesses and vulnerabilities of all. He met people as they were, regardless of title or social class. He was friendly with the most diverse individuals, from dignitaries and church hierarchy, to local shopkeepers—even to the prostitutes who were foisted on him by a few ill-mannered enemies. Philip spoke to the hearts of all, telling them what they most wanted to know and hear about the love of Jesus.

To keep those who returned to Christ growing in the right direction, Philip founded the now-famous Oratory. It became a place of prayer and discussion of spiritual enrichment every afternoon in small church of San Giralamo near the Campo del Fiore in Rome.

The Oratory was not so much a place, as a way . It was a kind of spiritual conversation that reiterated and built upon the gifts found in the confessional. The formula was simple: prayer first, then teaching based on the scriptures, catechesis, and church history. Philip eschewed the theoretical and concentrated on the practical, keeping the love of God accessible: "The wisdom of Sacred Scripture," he said, "is learned more by being prayed than by study."

Through the years the Oratory grew from a small band of friends meeting in a single small room to church-sized gatherings in a rebuilt Chiesa Nuova. Eventually multiple Oratories sprang up in the major cities of Italy, patterned on the original in Rome.

Philip was also fond of leading outdoor Oratories, otherwise known as pilgrimages to the Seven Churches of Rome. Along the route he would teach, often entertaining his crowds with his wit and practical jokes.

Philip was often the butt of his own jokes: shaving off half his beard or wearing silly clothes in public, but parading around as if they were the highest fashion in Renaissance Rome. He was a happy fool for Christ in ways that allowed Christ to be magnified, and his own lowly self to be humbled. As St. John's Gospel says: "He must increase and I must decrease" (Jn. 3:30). Pope John Paul II would later called Philip "the saint of joy."

Philip knew most people battled sin as it first played out in the mind—egoism, self-satisfaction, and pride. And he had a standard maxim for that too: "Sanctity lies within the space of three fingers," and Philip would dramatically lay his fingers across his forehead.

Followers of this joyful saint ranged from cardinals to nobility, to lowly vagabonds, to musicians and artists of the day. One notable member of the Oratory was the great Palestrina who composed beautiful hymns and other musical settings for the Oratory's congregations.

Philip knew that the power of beauty could draw others to the Beauty that is Christ. His personal authenticity and realism was a natural attraction too; he was the embodiment that reflected how the spirit and the world could be brought together. He was a faithful disciple who lived in the world without being consumed or ruled by it. His spirituality invited others to live Christ-centered lives. He would say, "The essential thing to do is to give oneself totally to God. He who wants anything other than Christ doesn't know what he wants."

Philip's amiability and access was to all; the key to his door was always found in the open. Yet at times, his ministry suffered at the hands of superiors who misunderstood his ways. Still, Philip always rendered obedience toward them, an obedience that came from the disciplined silence of his prayers. This shows us that Philip did not just skip along unscathed in life. He indeed knew hardship and struggles, but he also knew souls: "If you absolutely must overdo something, then overdo meekness, obedience, humility, and amiability, because all that is already good in itself."

There were healings that flowed from the prayers of this man. Pressed against his chest, one could feel the warmth radiating from his heart and some felt what seemed to be a tumor-like bulge around his heart. It was something he tried to hide for most of his life . . .

In the year 1593, I was called upon because Philip was sick. I observed a strong heartbeat and was told that was something of long standing, which he had since his youth. As I looked for the cause and examined his chest, I found this to be very enlarged and a tumour there, by the small ribs next to the heart. By the touch I could tell the ribs were protruding . . . After his death the facts became clearer. On opening his breast, one found that the ribs at this location were broken, and the bones separated from the cartilage. In this way it was possible for the beating of his heart to have room to expand and contract. I came to the conclusion that this was something supernatural . . . It was the means by which God prevented his heart from destroying itself on the hard ribs in its violent beating. Thus he was able to live, even with this malady, an extraordinarily long life. ( Philip Neri, The Fire of Joy , p. 19)

Philip had experienced a physical touch of God that both rearranged his life and perfected his calling. His prayer as he touched the Host was often: "Behold my love!" or, "Lord, keep your eye on me today. I fear I might betray you."

How disarming is the love of God. And how inspiring is the soul who lives within that captivating Presence, abandoning oneself into the arms of God.

"Lord," prayed Philip, "as you know and as you will, so do with me."

St. Philip Neri, pray for us!

Saint of Joy, Philip Neri