A long time ago, St. Martin de Porres decided to watch over our family.
My father was born and reared in small-town east Tennessee, where the Catholic population was sparse, to say the least. Paulist priests traveled a circuit by horseback to offer Mass for Catholics spread across a large area.
On Jan. 7, 1912, Father J. Duffy, CSP, rode from Winchester to South Pittsburg to baptize Joseph Martin Sartain, born Dec. 30, 1911. Son of Luther Benton Sartain Sr., and Josephine Marie Reilly, his godparents were Thomas and Margaret Johnson. I have a photocopy of the page in the makeshift sacramental book, which records the baptism in Latin. The book’s tattered pages bear the marks of a priest on the go, one who cared for a far-flung flock with grit and dedication (even if not with accuracy — he incorrectly listed my father’s birthday as Dec. 27).
My father received little in the way of religious education since his mother died when he was a toddler; his father, by then a Catholic, had been reared in the Methodist church. It was not until after he married my mother and moved to Memphis in the mid-1940s that my father received instructions in the Catholic faith from Father James Driscoll, who remained a family friend until his death on Nov. 12, 1988.
It was apparently during those instructions that the subject of patron saints arose, and my father learned of St. Martin de Porres, whose feast day is Nov. 3. Martin de Porres was born in Lima, Peru, on Dec. 9, 1579, the illegitimate son of a Spanish nobleman and a young freed black slave. He grew up in poverty, and as a boy he spent time with a surgeon-barber, from whom he learned the rudiments of medicine. At age 11 he became a servant at a Dominican priory, eventually took vows as a Dominican brother, and spent the rest of his life caring for the sick and poor of Lima. He died in 1639.
No one remembered why our grandparents named our father Martin, but in his mid-30s he adopted Martin de Porres as his patron. There was always a statue of Martin in our home, we learned about him growing up, and one of my nephews now bears the name.
Msgr. Scott Friend said to me the other day that he thinks our patron saints choose us, and I agree completely. They want to help us come close to Jesus. When we speak of the “communion of saints,” it is important to reflect on the meaning of “communion.” The saints in heaven are one with each other and with us precisely because we are all one in Jesus, and they pray for us that we might grow as disciples and friends of the Lord. They are aware of us before we are aware of them, and just as friends are attracted to one another by similar backgrounds or shared interests, it seems to me that we and the saints have a lot in common. Communion implies relationship, and their relationship with us is an active one, a two-way street.
I imagine St. Martin de Porres chose my father because he was a pharmacist and cared for the sick and downtrodden as Martin had done. Perhaps my father’s difficult childhood attracted Martin’s attention, for he, too struggled as a child. Whatever his reasons for choosing him, Martin has been with my family ever since, interceding and watching over us.
This is all the more interesting because my father was known as “Pete,” not Martin. I recently discovered a photograph taken of him dressed as a cowboy when he was about 5. Because he was fascinated with a character named “Cowboy Pete,” he was given a nickname that stuck for life. I was named after that nickname. As a kid playing cowboy in his backyard, my father probably never dreamed he’d have a son named Peter, but I think St. Peter already knew. He would pray for me, that I would be a man who would want to be in union with Jesus.
Through the years, I have also been chosen by St. John of the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Thomas More, St. Catherine of Siena, Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati and Blessed Karl Leisner. Friends and guides, they know just how I need to grow closer to the Lord. They pray for me and offer inspiration through their writings and example.
In 1912 a circuit-riding Paulist priest brought my father into communion with God’s holy ones through baptism, and when he prayed the litany of the saints, Martin de Porres was there, already striking up a friendship with the infant in my grandmother’s arms, a friendship that would blossom 30-something years later.
We are part of an eternal communion in Jesus, and in him we are one with friends seen and unseen. We have more Christian guides and protectors than we imagine, and they are cheering us along the path to life eternal, a path we never travel alone. If you do not have a patron, read the lives of the saints, and one (or more!) will choose you.
Do you have an intention for Bishop Sartain’s prayer? If so, send it to him at Bishop Sartain’s Prayer List, Diocese of Little Rock, 2500 North Tyler St., P.O. Box 7239, Little Rock, AR 72217.