Priest of the Poor and So Much More

The concept of charity and the name St. Vincent de Paul are forever linked. Yet St. Vincent’s charity went further than feeding the poor.

He lived, after all, in pre-Revolutionary France (1580-1660), when Europe was essentially a two-class society. Country folk lacked an educated clergy while nobles often had their own priests on call.

Although he could have spent his life being the adored, well-cared-for priest of some marquis or duchess, St. Vincent instead implored the rich to aid the poor — and his appeals succeeded. I think of this almost daily in New York, whenever I pass St. Vincent’s Hospital in Manhattan.

When I studied in Paris in the 1960s, I had little interest in St. Vincent ­— or any other saints, for that matter. As a young Philadelphian who had rarely left her home city, I was enchanted by Paris. I still remember my first views of its little side streets, the scent of fresh bread and café au lait in the air, then the splendor of Notre Dame and the Sainte Chapelle, Sacré Coeur’s grandeur high above the city. It was all that I had dreamed of since childhood.

Some years later I became a writer for various travel publications and found a way to spend a day in Paris now and then. But recently, a Franciscan brother named for St. Vincent de Paul asked whether I had visited his shrine on the Left Bank, near the shrine of the Miraculous Medal.

I knew nothing of it. My first address in Paris had been on rue du Cherche Midi (the street in search of its middle), and it turned out that the place the friar meant was only a few blocks away.

One morning I set off for 95 rue de Sèvres, a graceful building with a large courtyard, headquarters of his Congregation de la Mission — also known as la Maison-Mère (the motherhouse). I saw a number of people entering a door to the chapel at the left. Of course, I followed them. Most were heading past the vast columns toward the main altar of the elaborate chapel and up a narrow stairway at the altar. I hesitated a moment and a diminutive nun pressed my elbow, pointing up the stairs. Up I went.

From Slave to Servant

Suddenly I was face to face with the great saint: His mortal body reclines in a lifelike pose in a silver reliquary. More specifically, his bones are inside a wax figure cast in his likeness. (His still incorrupt heart is enclosed on the altar of his shrine in the motherhouse of the Sisters of Charity, also in Paris.)

I was indeed surprised at this encounter and descended the stairs on the other side a bit shaken. I sat for a moment to take it in. Fortunately there was a small shop for mementos. I bought a book about his life, wishing to be better prepared for my next meeting with the saint whose life the Church celebrates each Sept. 27.

St. Vincent, I learned, was born to a poor family from southwestern France. He became a priest at about age 20 and, soon after, studied at the University of Toulouse. He traveled to the wild port of Marseilles to claim an inheritance and instead found himself captured by pirates and sold as a slave in Algiers, across the Mediterranean. That experience both shocked him and imbued in him a deep concern over the inhumane treatment of galley slaves and prisoners of all sorts. I hadn’t anticipated a formation like this for the great humanitarian.

He finally escaped to Avignon and then went on to Rome for further studies. In 1609, he was sent back to France on a royal mission and soon became chaplain to Queen Margaret de Valois in Paris. Here he quickly learned the skills of diplomacy.

His life could then have become very comfortable, but it seems that the deathbed confession of a peasant radically changed his perceptions. The dying man said he would have died in sin without the priest’s absolution. Apparently these words seared Vincent’s heart, awakening him to the critical value of the priesthood.

In 1619, he became chaplain to galley slaves waiting to be shipped overseas; six years later he founded the Congregation of the Mission (also known as the Vincentians or Lazarists). He established confraternities devoted to the spiritual and physical needs of the peasantry. He set up hospitals, orphanages and schools, along with retreats for priests — many of whom had received inadequate training — and formation programs for missionaries.

St. Vincent was not sentimental about the poor. He had too much firsthand experience for that. Short-tempered, at times downright grouchy, he was also kind and so totally giving of himself that his curt words were easily forgiven and overlooked. (A forerunner to Dorothy Day, anyone?)

During his lifetime he strongly opposed the Jansenists, who were then preaching a theology similar to the Protestants,’ that grace alone could save without good works. He obviously was a man of good works until his death in 1660.

Two Towers

Now that I knew a bit more about the saint whose body I had just met, I wanted to learn more, to see more of his Parisian sites. Unfortunately, the Priory of St. Lazare, which also housed a building for lepers and another for the insane, was destroyed, and the building on rue de Sèvres was given to the order in return.

Their priory at St. Lazare was near where the Gare du Nord (a railroad station on the Right Bank) now stands, and a large church nearby is devoted to St. Vincent.

An intriguing curiosity of the area is the mural erected in 1988 on the side of an apartment building that had been built by the Vincentians in the 18th century. It consists of ribs of metal that create a towering portrait of this towering man.

As I was about to leave the chapel on rue de Sèvres, another nun strongly urged me to visit the nearby Chapel of the Miraculous Medal at 140 rue du Bac — home of the Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul and a major attraction for Catholic pilgrimages. Here, the Blessed Mother appeared to a novice nun in 1830, ordering her to create a medal that would protect the people who worshiped there. More than 4 million of these medals are now in circulation. But that experience must await another telling.

Barbara Coeyman Hults

writes from New York City.

Planning Your Visit

The chapel is open daily. Early fall is an ideal time to visit Paris, as winters can be rainy. Big-city precautions are essential here. Keep valuables concealed.

Getting There

The Metro stop Vaneau is closest to rue de Sèvres.