Lisbon’s Sacred Gift

EVERYONE is born into a particular moment in history. Everyone shapes that moment in some way. Every era indelibly marks those who live through it.

Saint Anthony’s era differed remarkably from ours. In the late 12th century, travel meant moving by foot, horseback, cart or boat. Communication was slow, often relayed through couriers. Education was reserved mainly for the nobility and religious communities. Religion, at least outwardly, united the people under Catholicism, yet heresies and confusion about doctrine abounded. Social services were minimal, and women’s roles were mostly confined to home and trades.

Today, in developed nations, we live in a world of high-speed travel, instant communication, and near-universal literacy. Our religious landscape is diverse, with many faiths and none. Social services have expanded dramatically, especially in wealthier countries, and women participate fully in every sphere of life.

Nevertheless, human nature remains remarkably consistent. In Anthony’s time, as now, society was stratified. A small upper class of nobles, knights, and rulers controlled much of the wealth and power. A middle class of merchants was advancing through trade and investment. Most of society consisted of peasants and menial laborers, many tied to the land and dependent on the powerful for survival. Those marginalized by disability, poverty or mental illness thronged the streets. Lepers were social outcasts, confined to isolated, communal housing.

Anthony’s world and ours differ in technology, politics and culture – but fears, ambitions, injustices and hopes then and now are similar. Anthony is extraordinarily and enduringly relevant because he lived and taught eternal truths. Anthony’s belief in God shaped every word he preached and every choice he made. He taught God’s message compassionately, but without compromise. Moreover, he lived what he taught, offering himself completely to God’s service to the people.

This series invites you to walk with the historical Saint Anthony as a modern-day guide. May his experiences and writing illuminate you.

New life

“Alessia!”

Alessia was sweeping the dirt floor of the family’s back hut when she heard her mother’s frantic voice.

“Alessia!”

Propping the broom in the corner, Alessia came running. Mama was screeching. “A baby is coming! Wash up. Put on a clean tunic. Pia is here. You need to go.”

Oh, my goodness! A baby was coming! Pia had been training Alessia in midwifery so why was she surprised that a baby was coming? Hadn’t Pia taught that babies always catch you by surprise!

Fumbling, Alessia slipped off her dusty work tunic and pulled on a clean one. Dipping her hands into the wash basin, she scrubbed her hands and face and swabbed them with the towel. Her heart was galloping. Having just become a woman and Papa talking about betrothing her to the saddle maker’s son Gino, Alessia might be needing a midwife in a year or two.

What was Mama saying? Something about Senhor Vicente Martins? About Senhora Maria Teresa having a baby?

Suddenly Alessia felt ill. She thought her first experience as a midwife would be in a simple cottage similar to her own with a humble mother much like Mama.

Noble rank

Senhor Vicente was a noble knight, Senhora Teresa a noble woman. She, Alessia, was going to experience her first birth in a fortress! How do you behave in a fortress?

Alessia rushed out of the cottage and nearly collided with Pia. “Baby’s coming,” Pia said, grabbing Alessia’s hand as they hurried together through Lisbon’s narrow streets until they arrived at the fortress. It was not as big as Alessia remembered, but she rarely came to this section of the city. She must have been very young when she thought of it as a true fortress rather than simply as a fortress-like house. 

A servant was awaiting them at the door. Quickly he led them through a hallway hung with lush tapestries and up a staircase which opened into another hallway. Passing closed doors, he knocked sharply at one. A sturdily built matron opened the door and pulled both women in.

Instantly Alessia was in the room, standing awkwardly beside a sumptuous bed. There, beneath a light weight sheet, a delicately featured woman was propped up with pillows to a near sitting position. Some stray strands of black hair had worked their way out of the linen gorget wrapped about her head.

Gently, Pia took the woman’s hand in her own. “Senhora, I bring my assistant Alessia. This will be her first birth.”

Senhora Teresa smiled. “And mine as well.” The Senhora pointed toward a painting on the right wall. “Do you think all will end well like that?” The painting showed a woman propped up in bed, with a smaller woman placing a swaddled infant into a cradle while two taller women stood to the side, chatting.

Labor pains

Just then the Senhora moaned. Pia squeezed her hand. “Breathe evenly. Relax.” The wave of discomfort subsided.

Pia pointed to a basin on a side table. “Alessia, dip the cloth into the water and cleanse Senhora’s face and forehead.” Then, pointing to a glass of water near the basin. “Offer her a sip now and then.”

Then to the matron, “Please keep us supplied with water and clean cloths.”

Pia drew Senhora into conversation about everyday matters – her gardens, meals, gowns. As the pains strengthened and increased in frequency, Senhora grew exhausted, Pia gently stroked her head during each strong contraction. “You are doing well. Keep going. The baby will soon arrive. When the pain subsides, close your eyes and rest.”

As Senhora was washed with wave after wave of strong contractions Pia was between her knees, Alessia stroking the woman’s contorted face. “Let it happen. Push. Baby’s coming.” In a whoosh and a swoop, Pia was placing a wiggling boy into Senhora’s arms. Snatching a clean towel from the bedstand, Alessia swabbed the whitish foam from the child, then tucked a second towel around him. Senhora was laughing and exclaiming how beautiful he was. With Pia’s help, Senhora guided the baby’s mouth to her breast and he began to suckle. Pia handed to the matron a basin with the afterbirth. “Discard this.”

Gently Alessia and Pia changed the bedding while moving Senhora and her son from one side to the other. By the time they finished, the matron had returned and the baby had fallen asleep. “Get Senhora some food and tell Senhor that he has a son,” Pia instructed.

Then Pia gently took the child from his mother and handed him to Alessia, who placed the bundle into a cradle next to Senhora. She had just helped birth a noble, probably a future knight. She had never touched a knight before. She stroked the child’s cheek, and he smiled in his sleep.

A meditation

Saint Anthony was born on August 15, 1195, to noble parents in Lisbon. He, too, was once a tiny, fragile infant – potential waiting to unfold.

Every child carries within them a mystery that time and God’s grace will reveal. Think of an infant you know. What hopes do you have for that child? Can you imagine that God might have plans beyond your own dreams for them? Can you trust God’s unfolding plan, even when it surprises you?