St. Anthony of Padua

I am currently reading a book about my patron saint, Anthony of Padua. It's not very nice. It's a late nineteenth century text filled with the sentimentality and hyperbole characteristic of the period, and it presents St. Anthony in a stereotypical way that drives me nuts. You'll know what I mean if you've ever seen a picture or a holy card of St. Anthony, showing a skinny guy who looks about fifteen with the face of a baby and a sickeningly-sweet expression in his large and limpid eyes. Maybe that kind of portrayal of a saint inspires some, but not me. I, shamefully, never took much interest in my patron saint, and I now realize that the reason for my disinterest is the effeminate way in which he has been portrayed. I refuse to believe he was actually like that!

The saints were real people, more real than we are, in a sense, because they were more perfect, and hence possessed more fullness of being. They were not sentimental. They weren't the way they are shown on holy cards, with their arms carefully folded and their eyes lifted demurely to heaven. They were dynamic forces, with strong personalities, even the introverts among them. They were more in tune with higher reality than we sinners are — they couldn't be sentimental. Sentimentality is self-indulgence. It is a lack of moderation. It is focusing on feelings more than on the reality that gives rise to those feelings. The saints possessed that reality. They didn't need to over-indulge in maudlin feelings.

For my last birthday my mom bought be a picture of St. Anthony that shows a version of the saint I had never seen before. It portrays a middle-aged man with a mature face, smiling at the Christ Child, whom he is not cuddling but holding naturally as the Child extends his hand in blessing. This saint Anthony does not have the doe-eyed countenance of other versions, but an adult face wearing an expression filled with personality and good humor. I can imagine this man deciding to give a sermon to fish because the heretics wouldn't listen to him. Suddenly, I have become very interested in my patron saint. I want to know everything I can about him.

Unfortunately, this book is not a good start. It keeps talking about St. Anthony as "singularly attractive to the eye" and possessing a voice "the beauty of which has often been commented upon" — I feel certain the author had a holy card in front of him as he wrote. Worse, he takes liberties with history. For instance, describing the young St. Anthony's attendance at the fourth Franciscan general chapter, the author declares:

"Unnoticed in this great throng, ravished by the spectacle of the Saint [Francis of Assisi] and his disciples, trembling with profound emotion, and faint for the fire of love that was consuming him, stood a youth of six and twenty, who was one day to become the most famous of the followers of St. Francis. Yet not one eye was turned upon him in kindness or in curiosity; not one word was spoken to him: he was utterly unnoticed and ignored."

"Not one word was spoken to him?" This was a massive gathering of Franciscans from all over Europe: I'm sure he passed the time of day with other unimportant friars. See what I mean by hyperbole? It seems to me that the author takes the fact that St. Anthony is not mentioned in the history of this general chapter, and instead of realizing that it is perfectly natural for an unknown twenty-six year old friar to fail to be singled out (future saint or no), he has to make an event out of it. Isn't it terrible that no one noticed this "ravished" and "trembling" and "faint" young man!

I may only have a bachelor's in history, but I'm rather sensitive to historical glibness. I wish I had a historical examination of St. Anthony in the vein of Regine Pernoud's books on Martin of Tours and Joan of Arc. There's got to be something out there better than this book. If anyone has a suggestion, please leave a comment.