What a delight this biography is. Immensely readable from
beginning to end, with both the complex historical background and Rosmini’s
sometimes difficult philosophical concepts handled with deftness.
Born in 1797, when Napoleon was at his apex, Rosmini grew up
in an Italian town that had been under Austrian rule for a 100 years; it
remained that way until the end of the First World War. France ruled a good
deal of the rest of northern Italy, and the south was a conglomerate of
territories that gave the lie to the country being in any way united. The glory
that had been the Roman Empire was long gone.
Rosmini’s family were wealthy; the house he grew up was
sumptuously decorated. One of his uncles was the artist, Ambrogio Rosmini, and Antonio
appears as a character in one of his larger canvases. From an early age,
Rosmini was a voracious reader and an outstanding intellectual, debating
philosophy with others when only in his teens. Gradually he leaned towards the
priesthood, which ultimately brought him into contact with Rome and the Papal
court, some of whom would in due course become close friends, some enemies.
Alongside this he formed a desire to build an order of
brothers. This group, begun with only a couple of companions, would eventually
become the Institute of Charity, though the order is often known simply as the
Rosminians. Unlike many other orders, this group wouldn’t focus on a particular
area of charitable work, but would practice Rosmini’s ‘principle of passivity.’
This idea is spelled out by Rosmini in two simple sentences:
1. Not to undertake any work of charity on my own initiative
but to apply myself to putting right my own life;
2. Not to refuse any work of charity when it is offered me
by the providence of God and not to prefer one work to another but do them all
with equal enthusiasm.
If it seems at first that there’s an element of
self-centredness here, the vast number of works Rosmini and his brothers (and
later, sisters) did for others over the ensuing decades give the lie to it.
Rosmini always believed there was a necessity to make sure his own spiritual
life was in good working order first, but once satisfied with that, he reached
out generously to others.
He saw charity in three different lights: spiritual,
temporal and intellectual. The spiritual was the pastoral element and meant
bringing God to people. The temporal was the place where the brothers got their
‘hands dirty’, doing the ordinary work needed in a material world, both within
their brotherhood and without. The intellectual was the area Rosmini felt most
called to ˗ in fact he was advised by one of the Popes to focus on it since he
had an enormous gift for it. Intellectual charity, for him, meant to understand
and teach the truths of faith.
He wrote prodigiously throughout his lifetime: not only
books but thousands of letters to people working with him, to other people in
the church, to people beyond it. He had a knack of knowing what to say,
especially to his brothers in the Institute: some needed a reprimand because
they were overtaxing themselves and needing to consider rest; some needed to be
encouraged to go beyond what they
thought were their abilities. Always he wrote with compassion and wisdom.
The book is entitled Persecuted
Prophet, and while this is apt, some readers may feel that the level of
persecution Rosmini suffered was small compared to other saints of the church. Nevertheless,
the persecution affected him at his strongest points: his intellectual and
mediation skills. Like so many other prophets he eventually found himself on
the wrong side of church men whose spirituality ran a distant second to their
political ideas.
Rosmini could hold his own with such men, of course, but he
chose to follow the example of his Master, and, having spoken the truth to
them, retreated back to his brotherhood. However, some of his views on the
church bore fruit much later, at the Second Vatican Council in 1962.
Though the book focuses at times on Rosmini’s intellectual
arguments and discussions, it also shows his wonderful warmth and humanity.
Rosmini made friends with people from all walks of life and was loved by many. He
was well aware of his own failings, and this gave him a true compassion for
others.
I’m grateful to Michael Hill for writing this book: it’s
introduced me not only to a wonderful saint of the church, but also to a man
who was human in the best sense.
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