From: richarra@gmail.com   
      
   June 26th - St. Maxentius, abbot   
      
   THE French town of Saint-Maixent, in the department of Deux Sèvres, covers   
   the   
   place once occupied by the cell of St. Maxentius and the adjacent monastery,   
   which he ruled. The saint was born at Agde, on the Gulf of Lyons, about the   
   year   
   445, and received in baptism the name of Adjutor. Under the watchful care of   
   the   
   abbot St. Severus, to whom his parents entrusted him as a child, he grew up   
   a   
   model of Christian virtue--extolled by most of his fellow religious, but   
   regarded with jealousy by a few. Praise was even more distasteful to him   
   than   
   detraction, and to escape the prominence into which he was being thrust, he   
   quietly slipped away from Agde and remained in hiding for two years. But   
   when at   
   the end of that time he came back to his home he found himself in a position   
   of   
   far greater publicity. For his return happened to coincide with a break in   
   the   
   weather after a prolonged drought, and he was acclaimed as a saviour and a   
   wonder-worker. Obviously, he must sever all ties with the past if he was to   
   lead   
   a life of obscurity. A second time he disappeared and this time he abandoned   
   his   
   native Narbonnaise for good. He made his way as far as Poitou, where he   
   entered   
   a community in the valley of Vauclair presided over by Abbot Agapitus. More   
   completely to efface the past, he changed his name to that of Maxentius.   
      
   If he could thus conceal his identity, he could not long conceal his   
   sanctity.   
   His austerity was such that he took no food but barley bread and water, he   
   prayed so constantly that his back became bent. Moreover, he was credited   
   with   
   the gift of miracles. By the unanimous vote of his brethren he was elected   
   superior about the year 500. During the war that raged a few years later   
   between   
   Clovis, King of the Franks, and Alaric the Visigoth, the inhabitants of   
   Poitou   
   suffered much from the violence of soldiers and marauders. One day a band of   
   armed men advanced threateningly upon the monastery of Vauclair and struck   
   terror into the hearts of the monks, who implored St. Maxentius to save   
   them. He   
   reassured them and calmly sallied out to meet the hostile party. One of the   
   soldiers upraised his arm to strike the abbot down with his sword. He found   
   himself unable to lower his arm it remained as though paralysed until St.   
   Maxentius restored it through the application of blessed oil.   
      
   Following the example of his predecessor Agapitus, St. Maxentius laid down   
   his   
   office at the approach of old age and shut himself up in a cell at a little   
   dis   
   tance from the monastery and there he died at the age of seventy, about the   
   year   
   51.   
      
   Two texts or recensions of a medieval life of St. Maxentius are preserved.   
   The   
   shorter was printed by Mabillon, in his Acta Sanctorum O.S.B. the longer by   
   the   
   Bollandists in vol. vii for June. Neither seems very reliable as an   
   historical   
   document. Some time ago, the story of St. Maxentius was the subject of   
   animated   
   discussion in the Revue des Questions Historiques see the years 1883 and   
   1888.   
   There have been several lives in French.   
      
      
   Saint Quote:   
   Eternal Trinity, Godhead, mystery deep as the sea, you could give me no   
   greater   
   gift than the gift of yourself. For you are a fire ever burning and never   
   consumed, which itself consumes all the selfish love that fills my being.   
   Yes,   
   you are a fire that takes away the coldness, illuminates the mind with its   
   light, and causes me to know your truth. And I know that you are beauty and   
   wisdom itself. The food of angels, you gave yourself to man in the fire of   
   your   
   love.   
   -- Saint Catherine of Siena   
      
   Bible Quote:   
   In thy sight are all they that afflict me; my heart hath expected reproach   
   and   
   misery. And I looked for one that would grieve together with me, but there   
   was   
   none: and for one that would comfort me, and I found none. And they gave me   
   gall   
   for my food, and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink."  (Ps.   
   68:21-22)   
      
      
   <><><><>   
   The prayer of Saint Francis:   
      
   Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace. Where there be   
   hatred, let me sow love; Where there be injury, pardon;   
   Where there be discord, unity; Where there be doubt, faith;   
   Where there be despair, hope; Where there be darkness, light;   
   Where there be sadness, joy.   
      
   Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to   
   console; To be understood as to understand; To be loved as to   
   love. For it is in giving that we receive; It is in pardoning that   
   we be pardoned; And it is in dying that we are born to eternal   
   life. Amen.   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)