Never, from the day when Simon Magus was baptized at Samaria, had hell seemed so near to conquering the Church, as at the period brought before us by today's feast. Rejected and anathematised by Peter, the new Simon had said to the princes, as the former had said to the Apostles: " Sell me this power, that upon whomsoever I shall lay hands, he may receive the Holy Ghost." And the princes, ready enough to supplant Peter and fill their coffers at the same time, had taken upon themselves to invest men of their own choice with the government of the churches; the bishops in their turn had sold to the highest bidders the various orders of the hierarchy; and sensuality, ever in the wake of covetousness, had filled the sanctuary with defilement.

The tenth century had witnessed the humiliation of the supreme Pontificate itself; early in the eleventh, simony was rife among the clergy. The work of salvation was going on in the silence of the cloister; but Peter Damian had not yet come forth from the desert; nor had Hugh of Cluny, Leo IX., and Hildebrand brought their united efforts to bear upon the evil. A single voice was heard to utter the cry of alarm and rouse the people from their lethargy: it was the voice of a monk, who had once been a valiant soldier, and to whom the crucifix had bowed its head in recognition of his generous forgiveness of an enemy. John Gualbert, seeing simony introduced into his own monastery of San Miniato, left it and entered Florence, only to find the pastoral staff in the hands of a hireling. The zeal of God's House was devouring his heart; and going into the public squares, he denounced the Bishop and his own Abbot, that thus he might at least deliver his own soul.

At the sight of this monk confronting singlehanded the universal corruption, the multitude was for a moment seized with stupefaction; but soon surprise was turned into rage, and John with difficulty escaped death. From this day his special vocation was determined: the just, who had never despaired, hailed him as the avenger of Israel, and their hope was not to be confounded. But, like all who are chosen for a divine work, he was to spend a long time under the training of the Holy Spirit. The athlete had challenged the powers of this world; the holy war was declared: one would naturally have expected it to wage without ceasing until the enemy was entirely defeated. And yet, the chosen soldier of Christ hastened into solitude to "amend his life," according to the truly Christian expression used in the foundation-charter of Vallombrosa (Meliorandae vitae gratia: Litterae donationis Ittae Abbatissae; Ughelli, III, 299 vel 231). The promoters of the disorder, startled at the suddenness of the attack, and then seeing the aggressor as suddenly disappear, would laugh at the false alarm; but, cost what it might to the once brilliant soldier, he knew how to abide, in humility and submission, the hour of God's good pleasure.

Little by little other souls, disgusted with the state of society, came to join him; and soon the army of prayer and penance spread throughout Tuscany. It was destined to extend over all Italy, and even to cross the mountains. Settimo, seven miles from Florence, and San Salvi at the gates of the city, were the strongholds whence the holy war was to recommence in 1063. Another simoniac, Peter of Pavia, had purchased the succession to the episcopal see. John, with all his monks, was resolved rather to die than to witness in silence this new insult offered to the Church of God. His reception this time was to be very different from the former, for the fame of his sanctity and miracles had caused him to be looked upon by the people as an oracle. No sooner was his voice heard once more in Florence, than the whole flock was so stirred, that the unworthy pastor, seeing he could no longer dissemble, cast off his disguise and showed what he really was: a thief who had come only to rob and kill and destroy. By his orders a body of armed men descended upon San Salvi, set fire to the monastery, fell upon the brethren in the midst of the Night-Office, and put them all to the sword; each monk continuing to chant till he received the fatal stroke. John Gualbert, hearing at Vallombrosa of the martyrdom of his sons, intoned a canticle of triumph. Florence was seized with horror, and refused to communicate with the assassin bishop. Nevertheless four years had yet to elapse before deliverance could come; and the trials of St. John had scarcely begun.

St. Peter Damian, invested with full authority by the Sovereign Pontiff, had just arrived from the Eternal City. All expected that no quarter would be given to simony by its sworn enemy, and that peace would be restored to the afflicted Church. The very contrary took place. The greatest saints may be mistaken, and so become to one another the cause of sufferings by so much the more bitter as their will, being less subject to caprice than that of other men, remains more firmly set upon the course they have adopted for the interests of God and His Church. Perhaps the great bishop of Ostia did not sufficiently take into consideration the exceptional position in which the Florentines were placed by the notorious simony of Peter of Pavia, and the violent manner in which he put to death, without form of trial, all who dared to withstand him. Starting from the indisputable principle that inferiors have no right to depose their superiors, the legate reprehended the conduct of the monks, and of all who had separated themselves from the bishop. There was but one refuge for them, the Apostolic See, to which they fearlessly appealed; a proceeding which no one could call uncanonical. But there, says the historian, many who feared for themselves, rose up against them, declaring that these monks were worthy of death for having dared to attack the prelates of the Church; while Peter Damian severely reproached them before the whole Roman Council. The holy and glorious Pope Alexander II. took the monks under his own protection, and praised the uprightness of their intention. Yet he dared not comply with their request and proceed further, because the greater number of the bishops sided with Peter of Pavia; the archdeacon Hildebrand alone was entirely in favour of the Abbot of Vallombrosa (Vita S. J. Gualb. ap. Baron. ad an. 1063).

Nevertheless the hour was at hand when God Himself would pronounce the judgment refused them by men. While overwhelmed with threats and treated as lambs amongst wolves, John Gualbert and his sons cried to heaven with the Psalmist: "Arise, O Lord, "and help us; arise, why dost Thou sleep, O Lord; "arise, O God, and judge our cause." At Florence the storm continued to rage. St. Saviour's at Settimo had become the refuge of such of the clergy as were banished from the town by the persecution; the holy founder, who was then residing in that monastery, multiplied in their behalf the resources of his charity. At length the situation became so critical, that one day in Lent of the year 1067 the rest of the clergy and the whole population left the simoniac alone in his deserted palace, and fled to Settimo. Neither the length of the road, deep in mud from the rain, nor the rigorous fast observed by all, says the narrative written at that very time to the Sovereign Pontiff by the clergy and people of Florence, could stay the most delicate matrons, women about to become mothers, or even children. Evidently the Holy Ghost was actuating the crowd; they called for the judgment of God. John Gualbert, under the inspiration of the same Holy Spirit, gave his consent to the trial; and in testimony of the truth of the accusation brought by him against the Bishop of Florence, Peter, one of his monks, since known as Peter Igneus, walked slowly before the eyes of the multitude through an immense fire, without receiving the smallest injury. Heaven had spoken: the Bishop was deposed by Rome, and ended his days a happy penitent in that very monastery of Settimo.

In 1073, the year in which his friend Hildebrand was raised to the Apostolic See, John was called to God. His influence against simony had reached far beyond Tuscany. The Republic of Florence ordered his feast to be kept as a holiday, and the following words were engraved upon his tomb-stone:

Let us read the notice which the Church consecrates to his blessed memory, though with a few differences of detail.

John Gualbert was born at Florence of a noble family. While, in compliance with his father's wishes, he was following the career of arms, it happened that his only brother Hugh was slain by a kinsman. On Good Friday, John, at the head of an armed band, met the murderer alone and unarmed, in a spot where they could not avoid each other. Seeing death imminent, the murderer, with arms outstretched in the form of a cross, begged for mercy, and John, through reverence for the sacred sign, graciously spared him. Having thus changed his enemy into a brother, he went to pray in the church of San Miniato, which was near at hand; and as he was adoring the image of Christ crucified, he saw it bend its head towards him. John was deeply touched by this miracle, and determined thenceforward to fight for God alone, even against his father's wish; so, on the spot he cut off his own hair and put on the monastic habit. Very soon his pious and religious manner of life shed abroad so great a lustre that he became to many a living rule and pattern of perfection. Hence on the death of the Abbot of the place he was unanimously chosen superior. But the servant of God, preferring obedience to superiority, and moreover being reserved by the divine Will for greater things, betook himself to Romuald who was then living in the desert of Camaldoli, and who, inspired by heaven, announced to him the institute he was to form; whereupon he laid the foundations of his Order under the Rule of St. Benedict at Vallombrosa.

Soon afterwards many, attracted by the renown of his sanctity, flocked to him from all sides. He received them into his society, and together with them he zealously devoted himself to rooting out heresy and simony, and propagating the Apostolic faith; on account of which devotedness both he and his disciples suffered innumerable injuries. Thus, his enemies in their eagerness to destroy him and his brethren, suddenly attacked the monastery of San Salvi by night, burned the church, demolished the buildings, and mortally wounded all the monks. The man of God, however, restored them all forthwith to health by a single sign of the Cross. Peter, one of his monks, miraculously walked unhurt through a huge blazing fire, and thus John obtained for himself and his sons the peace they so much desired. From that time forward every stain of simony disappeared from Tuscany; and faith, throughout all Italy, was restored to its former purity.

John built many entirely new monasteries, and restored many others both as to their material buildings and as to regular observance, strengthening them all with the bulwark of holy regulations. In order to feed the poor he sold the sacred vessels of the Altar. The elements were obedient to his will when he sought to check evil-doers; and the sign of the Cross was the sword he used whereby to conquer the devils. At length worn out by abstinence, watchings, fasting, prayer, maceration of the flesh and finally old age, he fell into a grievous malady, during which he repeated unceasingly those words of David: "My soul hath thirsted after the strong living God: when shall I come and appear before the face of God?" When death drew near, calling together his disciples, he exhorted them to preserve fraternal union. Then he caused these words to be written on a paper which he wished should be buried with him: " I, John, believe and confess the faith which the holy Apostles preached, and the holy Fathers in the four Councils have confirmed." At length having been honoured during three days with the gracious presence of Angels, in the seventy-eighth year of his age, he departed to the Lord at Passignano, where he is honoured with the highest veneration. He died in the year of salvation 1073 on the 4th of the Ides of July; and having become celebrated by innumerable miracles, was enrolled by Celestine III. in the number of the Saints.

O true disciple of the New Law, who didst know how to spare an enemy for the love of the Holy Cross! teach us to practise, as thou didst, the lessons conveyed by the instrument of our salvation, which will then become to us, as to thee, a weapon ever victorious over the powers of hell. Could we look upon the Cross, and then refuse to forgive our brother an injury, when God Himself not only forgets our heinous offences against His Sovereign Majesty, but even died upon the Tree to expiate them? The most generous pardon a creature can grant is but a feeble shadow of the pardon we daily obtain from our Father in heaven. Still, the Gospel which the Church sings in thy honour, may well teach us that the love of our enemies is the nearest resemblance we can have to our heavenly Father, and the sign that we are truly His children.

Thou hadst, O John, this grand trait of resemblance. He who in virtue of His eternal generation is the true Son of God by nature, recognised in thee the mark of nobility which made thee His brother. When He bowed His sacred Head to thee, He saluted in thee the character of a child of God, which thou hadst just so beautifully maintained: a title a thousand times more glorious than those of thy noble ancestry. What a powerful germ was the Holy Ghost planting at that moment in thy heart! And how richly does God recompense a single generous act! Thy sanctification, the glorious share thou didst take in the Church's victory, the fecundity whereby thou livest still in the Order sprung from thee: all these choice graces for thy own soul and for so many others, hung upon that critical moment. Fate, or the Justice of God, as thy contemporaries would have said, had brought thy enemy within thy power: how wouldst thou treat him? He was deserving of death; and in those days every man was his own avenger. Hadst thou then inflicted due punishment upon him, thy reputation would have rather increased than diminished. Thou wouldst have obtained the esteem of thy comrades; but the only glory which is of any worth before God, indeed the only glory which lasts long even in the sight of men, would never have been thine. Who would have known thee at the present day? Who would have felt the admiration and gratitude with which thy very name now inspires the children of the Church?

The Son of God, seeing that thy dispositions were conformable to those of His Sacred Heart, filled thee with His own jealous love of the holy City for whose redemption He shed His Blood. O thou that wert zealous for the beauty of the Bride, watch over her still; deliver her from hirelings who would fain receive from men the right of holding the place of the Bridegroom. In our days venality is less to be feared than compromise. Simony would take another form; there is not so much danger of bribery, as of fawning, paying homage, making advances, entering into implicit contracts; all which proceedings are as contrary to the holy Canons, as are pecuniary transactions. And after all, is the evil any the less for taking a milder form, if it enables princes to bind the Church again in fetters such as thou didst labour to break? Suffer not, O John Gualbert, such a misfortune, which would be the forerunner of terrible disasters. Continue to support with thy powerful arm the common Mother of men. Save thy fatherland a second time, even in spite of itself. Protect, in these sad times, the Order of which thou art the glory and the father; give it strength to outlive the confiscations and the cruelties it is suffering from that same Italy which once hailed thee as its deliverer. Obtain for Christians of every condition the courage required for the warfare in which all are bound to engage. Amen

"Not to oppose error is to approve it; and not to defend truth is to suppress it, and, indeed, to neglect to confound evil men - when we can do it - is no less a sin than to encourage them."

The great holiness of John Gualbert began with one single act of self-denial. He was born at Florence, of noble parents, and although brought up in the Christian faith, he was but little instructed in the way of living a Christian life. When, in riper years, he entered the army, he learned still less of Christian virtue. When Hugh, his only brother, was αssαssιnαtҽd by a young nobleman for unknown reasons, his father vowed to search everywhere for the murderer, and to kill him without mercy; commanding his son, Gualbert, to do the same if an opportunity should be offered to avenge the death of his brother. John showed himself as willing to obey the command, as his father had been willing to give it. On Good Friday, when John was returning from the country to Florence, he met the one on whom he was so eager to take revenge. The road where they met was so narrow, that the murderer saw no chance of escape; and as he had no weapons to defend himself, he fell on his knees and cried: "For the love of our Lord Jesus Christ, who died today, have pity and spare my life."

John, who had immediately drawn his sword on seeing him, was about to rush on him; but when he heard these words spoken by the murderer, he suddenly stopped. Pondering how Christ had not only forgiven His enemies for greater crimes, but had also prayed for them to His heavenly Father, his heart softened, and all desire for revenge fled in one moment.Casting aside his sword, he raised the assassin from the ground, embraced him and said: "What you ask for the love of our Lord, I cannot refuse. I will spare your life and forgive your crime." After having so heroically conquered himself, and reconciled himself with his bitterest enemy, John went into the first church to which he came, and kneeling down before the image of the crucified Saviour, prayed that Christ might, in mercy and grace, release him also from his offences. The image upon the cross bowed its head towards him as a sign that his prayer had been graciously received. This unexpected miracle made so deep an impression upon John, and the divine grace operated so strongly upon him, that he instantly resolved henceforth to serve God alone. Repairing to the monastery of St. Minias, he begged to be admitted among the number of the religious.

His father was at first violently opposed to it, but when he saw that John had cut off his hair, to indicate that he was in earnest, he not only relented, but praised his perseverance, and admonished him to remain firm in his resolution. John, however, needed not this admonition; he remained firm, and aspired with such zeal to spiritual perfection, that, after a very short time, he deserved to be placed as a model for all religious, in true devotion, humility and obedience. The zeal he manifested in the service of God at the beginning of his conversion, never decreased, but continued unaltered until his end. After the death of the Abbot, he was unanimously chosen as his successor. But nothing could induce him to accept the dignity offered to him, and to escape further persuasion, and to serve God more perfectly, he went, with several virtuous ecclesiastics to St. Romuald, at the hermitage of Camaldoli, where he remained for some time. As, however, this holy man informed him that he was chosen by God to become the founder of a new order, he repaired to a place, a few miles from Florence, which, on account of the many trees that shaded it, was called Vallis Umbrosa, or the shaded valley. There he met two hermits with whom he and his companions resolved to remain. The life he led while there was very holy, his occupation consisting of praying, fasting, watching and pious contemplations.

When this became known in the surrounding country, several men and youths came to him, desiring to lead a pious life under his direction. As the number of these daily increased, he erected a monastery and founded an order, which soon became famous in all Italy. He became its first Abbot, but governed those under him more by his example than by precept and admonitions. It was a commen saying, that if any one wished to know who was the Abbot of the monastery, he had only to observe who was the most humble, zealous, devout and patient among the brotherhood. Before he died, he had the comfort to count twelve monasteries founded by him, all filled with zealous servants of the Almighty. Towards others he was compassionate and kind, but towards himself, extremely austere.

The poor he assisted in every possible manner, not even sparing the sacred vessels of the Church, if he had no other means to aid them. He fasted most rigorously, and although he was a great sufferer, he refused to be exempted from the obligation of fasting. He prepared himself most devoutly for his end when he felt it approaching; and after having received the Holy Sacrament, he called all the religious to him and gave them his last exhortation to live in love and unity: to maintain strictly the regulations of the order, and to meditate frequently on death and the last judgment. His fervent desire to see God he expressed in the often repeated words of the Psalmist: "My soul thirsteth after God. When shall I go and appear before the Lord!"

At last, God granted the desire of his holy servant, and called him to eternal life, in the year of our Lord 1073, and the 74th of his life. The inscription on his tomb, which he himself composed, was as follows: "I, John, believe and confess the faith which the Apostles preached, and the holy Fathers professed in the four councils of the Church." St. John was honored during his life with the gifts of reading the innermost thoughts of the heart, curing the sick and the possessed by making the sign of the holy cross over them. After his death his tomb became an universal refuge for the oppressed and forsaken, on account of the graces which were there bestowed upon them, through his intercession.

I. Out of his love for Christ, St. John pardoned his enemy from the depth of his heart. Are you willing to do the same? Has not Jesus done the same for you? Has He not already often pardoned the many and great offences with which you had offended Him? Yet you consider so long whether you shall pardon your neighbor who has offended you only by a few words, or otherwise done you a trifling wrong. Oh shame! How dare you call yourself a Christian when you, as such, ought to follow the example of Christ? How can you expect that Christ will pardon your sins? Do you not know that He has very clearly said in the Gospel, that He will not pardon you, if you do not forgive your neighbor? If your neighbor does not deserve it, you still owe it to Christ. For love of Him, pardon the offences others have done to you. "God ordains it," writes St. Thomas of Villanova, "God commands it, and hence it should be agreeable to us." What will not we do to please the friend we love? If our friends ask for those who offended us, we again receive them into favor and restore them to our friendship. Christian reader who actest thus for love of thy friend, wilt thou not do the same out of love to Christ, who does not ask it of thee, but commands it? What is your answer? Do not hesitate, but prostrating say, with lips and heart, "Yes, my crucified Lord, for love of Thee, and because Thou commandest it, I pardon every wrong that has ever been done to me by men, and I hope Thou also wilt forgive my iniquities."

 II. St. John never allowed himself to grow sluggish in the service of the Most High and in his solicitude for his salvation. How is it with you in this respect? You have often begun to serve God, and work for your salvation with great fervor because you were convinced that this is required to obtain eternal life. But how long did it last? Ah! sometimes a few days had hardly passed when you returned to your former sluggishness. You desire to serve God, but only so far as it is convenient to you, only so far as not to offend Him by a mortal sin. Lesser offences you do not mind. You think of the salvation of your soul, but not seriously and without forcing yourself to do all that you know is required of you. How do you suppose the Almighty regards your indolence? Can you imagine that He will reward with eternal life such coldness in His service?

If you had a servant who was so lazy, so careless in his duties, or who performed the work you gave him to do so negligently, as you attend to the service of God and the work of your salvation, would you be pleased with him or reward him richly at the end of the year? I do not believe it. And just as little ought you to imagine that God is pleased with your indolence, or that He will bestow on you an eternal reward at the end of your life. To good, faithful and fervent servants He has promised heaven; but one who is indolent cannot expect this reward. "Let nobody expect," says St. Chrysostom, "that after leading a tepid, idle life, he will enter heaven." This may not be. "Because thou art lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold I will begin to vomit thee out of my mouth." (Apoc. iii.) This is the divine menace. Sluggishness leads slowly to great sin and finally to destruction. If you desire to avoid this, begin anew to serve God with fervor and to work diligently for your salvation. But continue in it until your end; otherwise you will repent of it, but unavailingly, in your last hours, and still more in eternity. "When your last hour arrives, you will judge quite differently from what you did in life, and will bitterly repent that you have been so tepid and so negligent," says Thomas a Kempis.