We continue today on the trail of our American saints as we get to know St. Katharine Drexel, a rich Philadelphia banking heiress who dedicated her life to the poorest of the poor.
Ever felt like you were…not the right person for a task?
Ever felt like you just couldn’t do it?
Ever felt like a general failure?
Ever felt just too weak and pathetic to do anything significant?
(Case in point: this short, simple article was supposed to be published around St. Katharine’s feast day, March 3rd. That was four months ago!).
Katharine Drexel doesn’t seem like the first person we’d turn to as the informal patroness of those-who-don’t-think-they’re-good-enough.
After all, she began her life surrounded by immense gifts, both material and spiritual. Observing these and her astounding lifetime accomplishments, we might be tempted to think she was the most confident, self-assured individual imaginable.
But this is not how she saw herself, and she certainly would object to any credit that we might ascribe to her own personality or charism.
Let’s get to know this incredible woman—yet another fearless American lady who defied the odds, challenged the status quo, changed history, and became a saint.
A Storied Beginning
Katharine Drexel and her older sister Elizabeth were born into privilege, the daughters of wealthy banker Francis Drexel and his wife Hannah. Francis came from a family of successful bankers—his brother Anthony was the co-founder of the firm that would become J.P. Morgan.
Hannah died soon after Katharine’s birth, and her father married Emma Bouvier, a devout Catholic, with whom he had one more daughter, Louise.
The Drexels set a saintly example to their daughters of prayer, devotion, and charity towards the poor. Emma would open the doors of their home three times a week to care for the needy, and—for those who were ashamed to ask for charity—would send them assistance directly and discreetly.
A Terrible Plight—and a Clear Call
Traveling with her family in the western United States, Katharine saw firsthand the terrible plight of Native and African Americans, who were still under the yoke of discrimination and racism. Her experiences awakened in her heart—already so devout and charitable—a desire to alleviate their sufferings.
She had the opportunity for a private audience with Pope Leo XIII around this time, and she asked the Holy Father to send missionaries to work among the Indians in the United States. The wise pontiff then asked her a life-changing question:
“Why not, my child, yourself become a missionary?”
So that’s just what she did. With the guidance of her spiritual director, she entered the Sisters of Mercy in Pittsburgh, then two years later founded the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament for Indians and Colored People.
In addition to the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, Katharine took a fourth one: “To be the mother and servant of the Indian and Negro races.”
The Critical—and Most Unknown—Part of the Story
This all might seem like a bit of a fairy-tale story with a fairy-tale result.
You might be thinking, “If I had seven million dollars and a private audience with Pope Leo XIII, who told me exactly what to do, I’d go change the world too.”
But let’s slow down a minute and zoom in on a critical juncture in this story.
That juncture was the spring of 1889. 30-year-old Katharine was certain of her call to the religious life, specifically to a contemplative life of prayer. She was filled with self-doubt when her spiritual director, following on the words of Pope Leo, suggested she follow an active religious vocation and start an order dedicated to the Indian and black populations.
As much as she desired to serve these people as she had done as a laywoman, she felt totally unequal to the task. After all, the proposed project was enormous. Joining a religious order is one thing; founding one is a much taller order, especially if you are more naturally drawn to a contemplative life rather than an active one.
And despite how we imagine we might have felt in her shoes—despite how much confidence we think we would have had in ourselves—she harbored no illusions about her own abilities. She was realistic about herself, which is a simple and accurate definition of the virtue of humility.
Katharine knew that we as humans are always functioning with limited abilities and very limited knowledge. Things often go awry despite our best efforts. We are always hampered by our own natural faults and interior struggles. We are often misled by our own will and ambitions and have a hard time hearing God’s call. However much intelligence, money, spiritual gifts, talents, or other advantages we seem to possess, we are capable of very little on our own.
The humble Katharine knew all this. She knew the task before her was completely beyond her.
She knew that money and a place in society—gifts though they may be—did not guarantee success.
So what did she do in the face of such overwhelming feelings of inadequacy?
Did she say, “No, I can’t. I’m not the one.”?
Hardly!
She took the matter to prayer, making a retreat in March of that year leading up to St. Joseph’s feast day. On the feast, March 19th, she received the interior confirmation she needed.
She said, “I can’t, but God, You can.” Placing herself and the proposed work firmly in His hands, she accepted His call, knowing that He would supply everything necessary.
The Secret Source of Katharine’s Strength
“Miss Drexel Enters a Catholic Convent—Gives Up Seven Million.”
So gasped the news headlines in Philadelphia as Katharine embarked on a life of service and total self-dedication to others. Living in her vowed state of poverty and simplicity, she used her fortune only to support the work of her order.
During her life, Mother Katharine founded dozens of missions and schools for black and Native Americans in many different states. Among them is Xavier University in New Orleans, the only historically-black Catholic college in the country.
As if this wasn’t impressive enough, we must remember too that she was up against the ugly racial prejudices of the time, which were often fiercely resistant to her attempts to bring education and a better life to blacks and Native Americans. Her institutions suffered numerous threats and sometimes actual attacks from those opposed to their work—including from the Ku Klux Klan, which threatened one of their missions in Beaumont, Texas. (They say that the Sisters prayed in the face of this threat, and lo and behold, the KKK’s headquarters were razed by a tornado).
So how did she do it all?
We’ve already seen that she started from the right place—a place of humility and total dependence on God. This humble attitude enabled her to say “yes” to God’s will, even though she felt so inadequate.
But she had another secret.
Well, it’s not really a secret—it’s right there in the name of her religious order, the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament!
That’s right. Katharine and her sisters were particularly devoted to the Holy Eucharist, and found in It their spiritual strength and the greatest inspiration for their life of service. As Mother Katharine said:
“Ours is the spirit of the Eucharist—the total gift of self.”
What is the “Spirit of the Eucharist”?
What exactly does it mean to have the “spirit of the Eucharist”? What does this really mean?
Let’s think through it.
On the altar, Jesus humbles Himself, using imperfect human instruments and the most common earthly materials to become present to us. And He comes not only to be present, but to be consumed—He comes to make Himself a part of us, or more accurately, to make us a part of Him.
He comes not only under such humble appearances and for such a humbling purpose—our souls are not the golden tabernacles we see in our churches!—but He also submits Himself to the ill-treatment of men. He is often ignored, irreverenced, and left alone in the tabernacle with no visitors. Belief in the Real Presence has ebbed so gravely in recent times that relatively few Catholics even believe He is there.
He has so often been removed from the center of His churches and stowed away in a side chapel. Even worse, He endures sacrilegious Communions or even outright desecration by His enemies.
He knew all of this would happen when He celebrated the first Mass on Holy Thursday. During His Passion, He saw every disrespect that would be paid to Him, and yet He left us the Holy Eucharist anyway—because He loved us that much and wanted to be with us that much.
In other words, Christ stopped at nothing. He gave us everything and keeps on giving it. He lived an earthly life, died the worst of earthly deaths, and then He stayed with us, as the disciples begged him to do at Emmaus:
…they constrained him, saying, “Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent.” So he went in to stay with them.
Luke 24:29
He could have left us something else, a simple memento or token of Himself, but that wasn’t enough. He Himself stayed with us in the Blessed Sacrament. He made—and continues to make—a total gift of His very self. To everyone, even those whom the world despises.
Katharine Drexel—fed on the Eucharist from her youth—imbibed Its spirit fully. She didn’t have to do what she did. She could have simply shared her wealth, helping those in need as a pious laywoman, supporting her chosen causes while maintaining a comfortable life for herself. She could have sent others to do her work. She could have done that—and history would still have remembered her as a good and generous person.
But it wasn’t enough.
For Katharine, only the gift of herself was enough. She would meet resistance, obstacles, indifference, disrespect, outright threats and violence, and a lot of long days in the southern heat and southwestern deserts—but she embraced it all for the love of Christ and the most neglected members of His Body.
Powered by the Eucharist, she was able to reach the greatest heights of courage and trust and the most profound depths of generosity and divine charity.
That’s the result when a humble soul teams up with Jesus.
When You Feel Like You Just Can’t…
There’s a lot of moments in life when we might feel like this. It might be a big thing, or it might be the little things.
It might be facing a tragedy or disappointment that you didn’t think could happen to you.
Maybe—like St. Katharine—you’ve been asked to do something that feels totally outside your wheelhouse.
Or maybe—and this might be most of us—it’s just the accumulation of a lot of mildly stressful, monotonous days that feel like they add up to…not a heck of a lot.
Whatever your “can’t,” you needn’t be despondent or succumb to negative thinking. Jesus not only supplies where we are lacking—He actually favors the humble, and often makes use of especially weak, unpowerful, or seemingly unsuitable instruments for His greatest tasks.
Jesus has, you might say, a special affinity for the weak things of the world. Through them He shows His power, reminds us of our dependence on Him, and makes sport of the world’s ideas of power and competence.
As a humble, unknown, poor maiden of Nazareth, destined to become the Queen of Heaven, said in her Magnificat:
He has shown strength with his arm,
Luke 1:51-53
he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts,
he has put down the mighty from their thrones,
and exalted those of low degree;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent empty away.
And the Blessed Sacrament is not only the greatest illustration of Jesus’ love of what is humble—it is also how He comes to the rescue of the humble. This is how He fills us (literally!), stops up our holes, and makes up where we are lacking with superabundant generosity. The weaknesses and holes we see in ourselves are His particular chance to shine and the distinct corners of our souls where He longs to dwell.
So when you’re feeling weak (we all do sometimes, or maybe most of the time), know that God—especially in the Eucharist—is near, ready to fill your holes with Himself. The hole-y-er—holier?—you are, the more of Himself He can pour into you.
And the more of Him there is in you, the more you’ll want to pour Him back out on others, as Mother Katharine did, every day of her long, fruitful, 96-year life.
St. Katharine Drexel, pray for us!
