Merciful like the Father: Bl. Jean-Joseph Lataste

I wonder if there’s anything more compelling as a witness of God’s mercy than Christians who love those the world has deemed unloveable. Much like St. Vitalis, Bl. Jean-Joseph Lataste had a ministry to women the world had written off. His work and witness continue to impact the life of the Church (and the lives of those far from the Church) to this day.

Born Alcide Lataste in 1832, he was raised by a Catholic mother and an atheist father and though he struggled with the faith in his youth, his devotion to Christ was cemented through the experience of serving the poor through the Vincent de Paul Society. When his parents opposed his engagement to a woman he loved very deeply, Alcide was unsure whether to wait for them to change their minds or to pursue his childhood dream of becoming a priest. When his beloved died suddenly, Alcide knew just what to do. He entered the Dominican order two years later, developing a strong devotion to St. Mary Magdalene and taking the name Jean-Joseph.

Soon after being ordained, Fr. Lataste was asked to go preach a retreat at a women’s prison. He went, but with strong reservations. After all, what hope could there be for these inveterate criminals? But the Holy Spirit was more powerful than his prejudice and as he was preaching the retreat, he found himself struck by how similar these women were to his beloved Mary Magdalene. He spoke tenderly to these women society had written off, pointing out how dearly God must love them. After all, he might have left them in their sin, but instead he had them sent to prison that they might be saved. Imagine seeing incarceration as a sign of God’s merciful love!

Nor did their past lives change how much God loved them, he insisted. “When Jesus looks at souls he does not look at what they were, but at what they are–not at their faults, but at how much they love. He judges them as they are, by the strength of their love.” This would become a hallmark of Fr. Lataste’s preaching.

When he had convinced them that they were loved, he went on to tell them that their life had meaning, that even in prison they could serve the Lord. Just as nuns lock themselves up as a gift to the Lord, these prisoners could offer their monotonous lives to God, consecrating their very punishment. The eyes that had been dead only an hour before were now filled with new hope!

As the retreat continued, Fr. Lataste began to worry. These women had been transformed by God’s mercy, but what would become of them when they re-entered a world that despised them? What, especially, could be done for those women who felt that God was calling them now to religious life? No religious community would overlook the stigma of prison and accept a convict, yet to leave them to fend for themselves was unthinkable. “Dishonored in the past but long ago rehabilitated before God, they must now be rehabilitated before humanity. They must be saved, not only from the past dishonor, but from that inevitable return to crime; they must be saved, not only for this life, but for eternity; they must be saved out of love for him who said: ‘The Son of man has come to seek and to save what was lost.’”

And so Fr. Lataste began a new community, a community that would welcome women with unsavory pasts, indeed that existed for their sake. The Dominican Sisters of Bethany, he called them, “because the Gospel tells us that at Bethany lived Martha, of inviolable virtue, and Magdalene, the sinner. And Jesus loved to come and rest in their home. When Jesus looks at souls, he does not look at what they were but at what they are–not at their faults but at how much they love. He judges them as they are, by the strength of their love.”

This order offered a home to modern Magdalenes, a contemplative house of prayer that sent a few Sisters to women’s prisons to console and encourage the inmates. Though he lived only long enough to see the order established, Fr. Lataste’s community has lasted 150 years and today has houses at least in France, Switzerland, Italy, Latvia, Belgium, and the Netherlands.

In today’s world, I think we need a reminder that God’s love isn’t just for the immaculate but also for those who’ve been made pure. To be merciful like the Father is to look at each human soul and see not what she’s done or how she’s fallen but who she can be in the love of Christ. Bl. Jean-Joseph Lataste is a powerful witness of overcoming prejudices and seeing with eyes of mercy.

I honestly find the existence of this kind of community (as well as the Little Sisters Disciples of the Lamb, a French community that exists so that women with Down Syndrome can become religious) thrilling. There is nobody who is unloved, regardless of your past or your circumstances or your disability. The Dominicans of Bethany continue to draw women of all backgrounds. In their choir stalls, class presidents stand beside prostitutes, girls-next-door beside murderers; what a perfect foreshadowing of heaven, where the greatest sinners may wear the most beautiful crowns while petty sinners rejoice to call them friends. Mercy, indeed. To both.

Nobody’s really been linking up, but I don’t quit things, so….

get the InLinkz code

Author: Meg

I'm a Catholic, madly in love with the Lord, His Word, His Bride the Church, and especially His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity in the Eucharist. I'm committed to the Church not because I was raised this way but because the Lord has drawn my heart and convicted my reason. After 2 degrees in theology and 5 years in the classroom, I quit my 9-5 to follow Christ more literally. Since May of 2012, I've been a hobo for Christ; I live out of my car and travel the country speaking to youth and adults, giving retreats, blogging, and trying to rock the world for Jesus. View all posts by Meg