Scripture Readings

• First Reading: Phil 3:8-14

• Responsorial Psalm: Ps 118:1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 8-9

• Alleluia Verse: Gal 6:14

• Gospel: Mark 10:42-45

Reflection on Today’s Feast

By Fr. Philip Florio, SJ,

Today in the Jesuit liturgical calendar we celebrate the memorial of Saint Francis Borgia, S.J., a former Spanish Duke and a great-grandson Pope Alexander VI, the famed "Borgia Pope." St. Francis was, in many ways, the polar opposite of his great-grandfather. He renounced his riches, family inheritance, noble title and political influence for a life of humble service as a Jesuit priest. A man of great prayer, he eventually became the third Superior General of the Society of Jesus. He was born in Valencia, Spain in 1510. His father was Juan Borgia, 3rd Duke of Gandía. His mother was Juana, also born of Spanish nobility.

Although as a child he was very pious and wished to become a monk, his family sent him instead to the court of King Charles I of Spain where he was welcomed as an esteemed kinsman. He distinguished himself at court, accompanying the King on several campaigns.

In September 1529, he married a Portuguese noblewoman in Leona de Casas and together they devotedly raised eight children. King Charles later appointed him Marquess of Lombay, master of the hounds, and equerry to the Queen.

However, Francis delighted above all in producing spectacular ecclesiastical compositions, justifying the assertion that, in the sixteenth century and prior to Palestrina, Borgia was one of the chief restorers of sacred Catholic music.

In 1546 his wife died, and Francis then decided to enter the newly formed Society of Jesus, after making adequate provisions for his children. He put his affairs in order circa 1551, renounced his titles in favor of his eldest son Carlos de Borja-Aragon y de Castro-Melo, and became a Jesuit priest. He helped in the establishment of what is now the Gregorian University in Rome, one of the leading Jesuit universities.

Upon Francis' return from a mission to Peru, Pope Julius III made known his intention to make him a cardinal. To prevent this, as Jesuits try to refute ecclesial honors, Borgia decided, in agreement with St. Ignatius, to leave the city secretly and return to Spain where it was thought he would be safe from the papal desires. He felt drawn to spend time in seclusion and prayer, but his administrative talents also made him a natural for other tasks. In time his friends persuaded him to accept the leadership role that nature and circumstances had destined him for: in 1554, he became the Jesuit commissary-general in Spain where he founded over a dozen colleges.

After only two years, St. Francis was also given responsibility for missions in the East and West Indies. In 1565, he was elected the third "Father General" of the Society, after the death in January 1565 of Diego Lainez, SJ. His successes during the period 1565-1572 have caused historians to describe Francis as the greatest Father General after Saint Ignatius. Again, he helped found the Gregorian, advised kings and popes, and closely supervised all the affairs of the rapidly expanding order. Yet, despite the great power of his office, Francis led a humble life and was widely regarded in his own life as a saint. Francis Borgia died in 1572. He was canonized in 1670 by Pope Clement X.

St. Francis Borgia, pray for us!

Fr. Philip Florio, SJ, is the Provincial Assistant for Vocations for the USA East Jesuit Province.

Previous Reflections

October 3, 2021 – Fr. Chris Grodecki, SJ

We are probably all familiar with the Gospel story of the rich young man who approaches Jesus asking what he needs to do for eternal life and leaves Jesus grieving after Jesus tells him he must give away his possessions to the poor and follow him over and above following the commandments. But what if the rich young man had actually given up everything and followed Jesus?

We catch a glimpse of what that would look like in St. Francis Borgia. Francis’s unique life doesn’t really lend itself to “relatable” examples. One can see in it, however, the realization of Jesus’ words to the disciples who wondered how anyone could enter the Kingdom of God after the young rich man had left: “For human beings this is impossible, but for God all things are possible.”

As his last name signals, Francis came from the infamous Borgia family. One great-grandfather was a Pope (the notorious Alexander VI) and the other a king. Francis grew up in the court of his cousin the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V. A deep conversion came about, however, when Charles V’s wife, the Empress Isabella, died at the age of 35. Charles was so distraught that he asked Francis to accompany his son, the future Philip II, to Isabella’s burial. At one point, the coffin was opened and Francis was shocked and horrified to see the effects of death upon the body of the once young and beautiful Isabella that rendered her unrecognizable. He saw in the decomposing body of Isabella a command to change his life, which he resolved to do: “Never more, never more will I serve a master who can die.”

At this point a 29-year-old husband with several children, Francis could not flee to a monastery, but he instead took up a life of penance, prayer, more frequent sacramental participation, while continuing to rise the ranks of the Spanish court. It was after wife’s death, that Francis met Peter Faber, although he had encountered Jesuits elsewhere in Spain, and soon began epistolary friendship with Ignatius Loyola. From this came Ignatius’ decision to allow Francis to enter the Society in secret “because the world does not have ears to hear such an explosion.”

That Francis was a Jesuit only became public in 1551 after he went to Rome and met Ignatius for the first time and learned as much as he could from the Society’s founder over the course of some months. Ignatius, however, was right. Now a priest, Francis would attract crowds because people wanted to listen to the duke who embraced poverty. His example spoke and touched people just as profoundly as his preaching, which came no doubt from those years of prayer. His former acquaintances did not quite understand the depth of Francis’ decision. Three times they tried to have him named a cardinal; three times he refused.

While he would have preferred to retreat to a hidden life of prayer, the vows he had made as a Jesuit, however, challenged him further, for Ignatius missioned him to roles of governance, and he was summoned often by members of the Spanish court to provide spiritual care. As a once prominent aristocrat and now prominent Jesuit, we might think that Francis might have seen it consoling to be putting all of his gifts at the service of the Society and the Church, and yet one can read in his spiritual diary his feelings of unworthiness: “How my enemies scoff at me: ‘Is he a member of the Society?’”

Nevertheless, he would be elected the third General of the Society of Jesus and be credited in his brief seven years as General with the expansion of Jesuit missions across the world, founding the Gregorian University, and initiating the first version of the Ratio Studiorum.

That sense of unworthiness and the impossibility of returning to God all the gifts and graces God had given him remained with Francis throughout his life. He had done what the rich young man couldn’t do, and yet all this was still not enough. All he did or could do could only come through profound union with Christ and His Cross. Perhaps fittingly, it was an undesired diplomatic mission from the Pope that sent Francis back to Spain and eventually to his death through the effects of the travel on his already poor health, ultimately offering himself, as he had prayed, to sacrifice himself like the Good Shepherd “to offer my blood, soul and life for the sheep.”