Fiacre's August Feast Day

The feast day of obscure St. Fiacre of Meaux (August 30 or September 1) is kept in only a very few places on the globe: maybe here and there in Ireland, in the French Diocese of Meaux, and in my garden-backyard. Can you imagine, the rugged monk could find no reclusion in 7th century Ireland (holy people are seldom left alone), so he sailed across and through the wind, wave and storm of the Celtic Sea to France where at Meaux he met Bishop Faro who offered him as much land as he could till in a day. Fiacre's wonder-working spade turned up enough ground for him to build a hermitage, a walled garden and an oratory which he dedicated to the Mother of God.

Once his garden was planted he became a kind of primitive pharmacist, his plants offering relief to the pilgrims who came out into the forest carrying their complaints and hopes. In time, he built a sort of hotel, where visitors could stay. Indeed, a Paris taxicab used to be called a fiacre, reminiscent of the carriages which took pilgrims out to see and pray with the generous monk. 

We might ask Fiacre to intercede for us in this country, where recent events reveal that more than a few flame-carrying Americans have serious problems with anyone who is "different" - which means different from them.

From your garden, holy Fiacre,
Barberry for rashes,
Rosehips for kidney stones,
Hollyhock for sore gums
and friendship for the lonely.

From your garden, holy Fiacre,
Chamomile for aching muscles,
Angelica for bad stomachs,
Lemon Balm for sleeplessness
and bread for the hungry.

From your garden, holy Fiacre,
Lavender for panic attacks,
Comfrey for pneumonia,
Jasmine for stress
and a pillow for the traveler.

O saint of seekers,
saint of good advice,
saint of greetings,
  and of the cheerful face,
saint of the overwhelmed -
  between the rock and the hard place,
  each to open the heart-gate
  to let the stranger in.

Stephen P. Morris

August 30 ~ Feast of Saint Fiacre of Meaux

Newly ordained in the early 1980's, another priest and I traveled to France to visit a number of pilgrimage sites like Paris, Lourdes, Amien, Lisieux and Reims. One tiny village (then a population of just over 300) was Sainte Fiacre ~ Seine-et-Marne, the home of Saint Fiacre of Meaux. I told Fiacre's story here at the start of the growing season (May 26).

My clerical companion was much less devout than I - far more interested in restaurants than shrines. Still, he was a good sport about it all and went along saint-hunting with me. We spent the better part of a morning tracking down the saint's tomb.

Fiacre was an Irish monk but (can you imagine!) he couldn't find adequate reclusion in Ireland and so sailed to France to preach the gospel. He settled at Seine-et-Marne, north of Paris, built a chapel in honor of Our Lady and planted a large vegetable garden (replete with herbs) to feed the many pilgrims who sought  him and to cure their ailments. Fiacre is the Patron Saint of Gardeners and his feast is kept today at Ossory in Ireland and a few places in France.

Now the priest traveling with me joked that if we found the village I might meet the mayor who would say, "Fiacre, who?!" But right here in the middle of the small village was a stone church bearing Fiacre's name and his statue over the door. There was an impressive memorial outside to the soldiers who died in the First World War, but the front door was locked.

My chauffeur and guide, a French-speaking American who worked for the American government hunting down art smugglers, strode across the street and introduced himself to the lady at the door. "Can you help? This priest is from the States and would like to see the interior of the church." She disappeared briefly and returned, kindly handing off a huge and ancient black metal key. 

The priest shortage in France is dire; there are churches in far-flung places where Mass is celebrated only once a year. This poor church felt abandoned: dirty, run down, moldy, musty. But up front to the left of the altar was a very small room containing Fiacre's tomb (the saint in effigy) AND a post-card rack with yellowed, black and white pictures of the church taken in the 1920's or 30's. "Fiacre who?" Indeed!

To the right of the altar was a Medieval-style crystal case containing the relic of Fiacre's arm. I hiked up the circular staircase to see the bells, repeating every step, "Remember this moment. Remember this moment," picked up a souvenir stone from the church yard, returned the key and set out for Lisieux - a happy pilgrim. 

How precious is Your loving-kindness, O God!

Therefore the children of men

put their trust under the

shadow of Your wings.

They are abundantly satisfied

with the fullness of Your house,

And you give them drink from

the river of Your delights.

Psalm 36:7,8

Introducing Saint Fiacre of Meaux

Fiacre at the forests edge

The Feast of Saint Fiacre of Meaux: pronounced (FEE-A-KRA) is celebrated on August 30 in Ireland and some dioceses of France. But his name is also known to people in other parts of the world as he is the patron saint of gardeners and herbalists.

 I figured, why wait until the end of August to talk about him when we could have the whole growing season to know him and invoke him prayerfully over the growing things around us: our work with flowers and vegetables, the herbs, the bushes and trees. Attending to his story, there are other aspects of life where he might be a heavenly-helper as well.

Fiacre was a 7th century Irish hermit. But it is said he could find no reclusion there, causing him to sail across and around the Celtic Sea to France. There he met Faro, a holy bishop, who offered Fiacre as much land as he could till in a day, where he could establish a hermitage, garden and oratory to the Mother of God.

But what do you mean he couldn't find reclusion in Ireland? That's how it is with holy people - they get discovered by mushroom or boar-hunters and the crowds soon make their way out into the woods, or the top of the mountain, or the off-shore island, seeking cures, prayers and spiritual advice. 

The story goes that Fiacre tilled an enormous tract of land with his spade, turning over boulders and tree roots and re-directing streams. Perhaps it was the town busy-body who watched all of this from a distance and who quickly reported Fiacre to the higher-ups as a warlock (male witch). 

I learned early on after ordination that every priest has his detractors. It's tough on the priest's morale, but there it is. Fiacre doesn't seem to have handled it especially well though, as when he completed his hermitage and oratory he banned women.

That's called a resentment, and we should hope he didn't use some religious rule to cover it up. So maybe we can ask Fiacre to send heavenly-help as we sometimes struggle with old and negative feelings about people who have done us wrong.

~ ~ ~

Catholicism is an incarnational religion. This means that human things really matter as God has become one of us in Jesus born at Bethlehem. Human experience is the place for the divine encounter more than shrines. Even at Lourdes - the divine event isn't the grotto so much as in the care of the many thousands of sick, elderly and poor who pilgrim there. 

But Incarnation can make for a sometimes messy religion. Remember in the Medieval bible, where the story of the Birth of Jesus is told by Saint Luke, the calligrapher-monk painted a little angel zooming in holding open a clean diaper!

That was a long segue. Apparently Fiacre would sit when he taught people about spiritual things (or gardening tips) which over the many years (go figure) caused some people to think of him as the patron saint of hemorrhoid sufferers. It's an incarnational religion!

But we hear that hemorrhoids are often caused by stress, and ours is a painfully stressful culture. Stress is everywhere: the roads, the parking lots and personalities, the schedules we keep, the deadlines we have to meet, the too-many commitments we make, the bills that have to be paid...

We might ask Fiacre to help us de-stress, so we don't wind up sick or pained. 

~ ~ ~

And around his little oratory Fiacre grew medicinal herbs which caused folks to recognize him as a healer. Healing: what a gift to give people. And don't we need healing today, especially of the interior kind? Heal our sadness, loneliness, weariness, bitterness, emotional pain...


You crossed the stormy sea
in search of greater solitude,
and planted a healing garden
in the forest of France.
Oh servant of God,
invite us now
to your house of prayer,
where we'll
glorify Christ
who is risen from the dead!