When the Roman Calendar was revised in 1969, many feasts, notably  those  of  some very early Saints were removed, often, it was said,  because too little was known about their lives; though in many cases, it was directed that they should still  be commemorated in local calendars ,in places where they  had some association. Yet, in the midst of this cull, there were some survivors, most notably, St. Januarius, whose feast day falls on Friday this week.  How did this early martyr bishop, about whom, very little is really known, manage to keep his place in the Universal Calendar? It’s hard to say.

Januarius, or Gennaro,    holds a fascinating place in both religious devotion and cultural identity, particularly in Naples where he serves as the city’s beloved patron saint. (Naples has some 50 saintly patrons, but he is preeminent among them!). His story bridges the ancient and modern worlds in remarkable ways.

The historical Januarius was a bishop of Benevento who likely died during Diocletian’s persecution of Christians around 305. It is believed that he was arrested while visiting a friend who was already imprisoned for the Faith. Yet what makes him truly extraordinary isn’t just his martyrdom, but how his legacy has evolved into one of Christianity’s most enduring mysteries—the liquefaction of his blood.

Three times each year, thousands gather in Naples Cathedral to witness what believers consider a miracle: the solidified blood of St. Januarius, preserved in a sealed vial for over 1,600 years, reportedly liquefies and bubbles during special ceremonies. This phenomenon has been documented hundreds of times, yet remains scientifically unexplained despite numerous investigations.

What strikes me most about St. Januarius is how he embodies the intersection of faith and community identity. For Neapolitans, he’s not merely a religious figure from the past, but a protector whose intercession is sought during times of crisis —from volcanic eruptions of Vesuvius to wartime bombings. The blood miracle becomes a barometer of the city’s spiritual and civic health; when it fails to occur, anxiety ripples through the population.

This reflects something profound about how communities create meaning through ritual and tradition. Whether one views the liquefaction as supernatural intervention or natural phenomenon, its power lies in its ability to unite people in shared hope and belonging. St. Januarius represents continuity across centuries of change—a constant in the face of conquest, disaster, and transformation.
His cult also reveals how popular devotions can sometimes create their own theological space where mystery is embraced rather than explained away.

During a visit to Naples in October 2007, Pope Benedict XVI, made reference to the City’s Patron and Protector:

“Yes, true hope is only born from the Blood of Christ and blood poured out for him. There is blood which is the sign of death, but there is also blood that expresses love and life. The Blood of Jesus and the blood of the Martyrs, like that of your own beloved Patron St Januarius, is a source of new life.”

This beautifully captures Benedict XVI’s theological perspective on how authentic Christian hope is grounded not in mere optimism, but in the concrete reality of sacrificial love demonstrated by Christ and echoed by the saints and martyrs throughout history. The Pope distinguished between blood as a symbol of death versus blood as an expression of love and life—making St. Januarius’s famous liquefying blood a particularly apt example of how martyrdom becomes a wellspring of renewal and hope for the faithful.

Prayer: Saint Januarius, you laid down your life for your faith after being arrested for charitably visiting your friends in prison. Your love is inspiring, as is your courage. Please pray for me, that I will find great inspiration in your witness and seek to imitate your selflessness and courage in my own life.

For believers, the Cross is a symbol of God’s love, forgiveness and redemption. But for the Romans and Jews it was the ultimate sign of degradation and death. Crucifixion was a death so brutal that it was reserved only for slaves and conquered peoples. It was against the law to crucify a Roman citizen — hence, St Paul was beheaded, while St Peter suffered the same fate as his Lord. The cross was a terrible thing.

The cross was the means of the suffering and death of the Son of God. And yet it is through the Cross that we are led to eternal life. Death — even the worst death the Romans could invent — was not the final word; Christ was raised from the dead and ascended in power and glory.  As the Church sings in the Introit for the feast of the Holy Cross: “We should glory in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, in whom is our salvation, life and resurrection, through whom we are saved and delivered.” This salvation is a grace, a wonderful gift, freely won through Christ’s death. We cannot merit salvation or earn our redemption. But in accepting Christ’s free gift, we also have to follow his example. Like the apostles, we are happy to follow the Lord when the going is easy, when miracles are happening, and we feel very close to him. And then comes the cross.

When the apostles were challenged to follow our Lord to the cross, they scattered and fled. Like the Romans and the Jews, his followers could only see the cross as a defeat. Their hopes were dashed and their faith was shattered. But the power of the Resurrection raised them up too, and they brought the message of the Cross and the Resurrection to the whole world.

You and I are the apostles and disciples of Jesus in 2025. And each one of us is being called to follow him, not only into the presence of God and the glory of heaven, but also to the Cross. Because every one of us is being given a particular cross, and being nailed to it: a cross of betrayal, a cross of persecution, a cross of injustice, a cross of unrequited love, a cross of serious illness of ourselves or those we love, a cross of loneliness following the death of a loved one. And the many smaller crosses can be just as painful: an insult or criticism, the reopening of an old wound, the misunderstandings and little conflicts that arise in our families or relationships.

To followers of the Risen Jesus, the crucifixion is never the end. The crosses that we find ourselves nailed to will not last forever, because the Lord has united them to his own Cross and suffers with us. The Resurrection that follows crucifixion means a new and glorious life. The cross moves from being a symbol of human cruelty at its worst to a symbol of triumphant victory. It is our way to heaven. We are certainly an Easter People — but only because we are in the first place a People of the Cross. And we embrace that Cross just as we are to embrace the crosses of our own lives.

We adore thee, O Christ, and we bless thee, because by thy Holy Cross thou hast redeemed the world.

This summer, we will be sharing the lives of some of the early fathers of the Roman Oratory. These less well known fathers might not have been raised to the altars, but their holy lives still contain many lessons for us today.

With most of the early Fathers of the Roman Oratory, we mainly hear about them only in passing in the life of Saint Philip, and this holds true especially for Giovanni Matteo Ancina, who seems to have lived somewhat in the shadow of his more famous brother. In fact, despite living with Giovanni Matteo, all that Antonio Gallonio, Saint Philip’s first biographer, has to say about him is “Giovan Matteo, a law student” joined the community. Thankfully, since he was the brother of Blessed Juvenal, we are able to learn a lot about him from the life of his mitred brother.

They had both made up their minds to embrace the religious life whilst in Rome for the Holy Year and they agreed to enter the same community.They decided that Giovanni Matteo should return home to dispose of their property. All of their money was to be distributed to the poor, and then they were to give themselves to God freed from all worldly anxieties.

During Giovanni Matteo’s absence, Juvenal was led one day by divine providence to the church of San Giovanni dei Fiorentini, where the priests of the Congregation of the Oratory, newly founded by Saint Philip, were giving the exercises. Giovanni Matteo soon received a letter in which Juvenal told him how he had conversed with Philip, and that he had given him invaluable advice about his future.

When Giovanni Matteo had wound up their affairs at their home in Fossano, he returned to Rome, and he, likewise, placed himself under the direction of Saint Philip. Eventually the brothers prepared to carry out their resolution of entering the Carthusian Order together; but when they came to discuss this idea with Saint Philip, he immediately shook his head, and said that such a life was not for them. He told them they should instead enter the new Congregation of the Oratory which had been founded in the church of Santa Maria in Vallicella, where they would find “a less austere life, and one more proportioned to their strength.”

And so, Juvenal and Giovanni Matteo entered the Oratory together on 1 October 1578. When they were admitted, St Philip said of both of them that they would prove an honour to the Congregation.Giovanni Matteo was twenty-six when he joined the community and was an Oratorian for fifty-seven years, seventeen of which he passed under the immediate direction of Saint Philip.

Saint Philip taught that an Oratorian must learn to love to be unknown, and Father Giovanni Matteo is a perfect example of this. He lived a mostly quiet, hidden life devoted to God whilst other Fathers were being raised to the episcopate or cardinalate. Nevertheless, his life was still one of great benefit to many souls, and his chief means of accomplishing this work was prayer.

Besides the times prescribed by the rule, he was frequently to be seen in church before the Blessed Sacrament in contemplation. He disengaged himself as much as possible from active life, passing his time reading and praying. He encouraged everyone when the clock struck each hour to raise one’s mind to God to renew the memory of his presence. Amongst his favourite short prayers were: “Lord, bestow upon me a good spirit” and “my only Good and my only Love is my Lord Jesus crucified”. He said Mass every day and was most exact in observing the rubrics. He rarely went out of the house, except to visit the Blessed Sacrament wherever it was exposed. He loved silence, spoke little and simply, and the little he did say was always on spiritual subjects.

One of the spiritual maxims attributed to him is, “read a little, pray a little, work a little, and so will your hours pass happily”. Of all of his teachings this is perhaps the most important for us to strive to follow. Let us try each day to read a good spiritual book or a passage from Scripture; to set aside some time to spend in prayer; and do the work of the day perfectly. Then our hours on this earth will pass happily as we use them well to prepare for the eternal happiness of heaven.

This summer, we will be sharing the lives of some of the early fathers of the Roman Oratory. These less well known fathers might not have been raised to the altars, but their holy lives still contain many lessons for us today.

We celebrate on Saturday the feast day of Blessed Juvenal Ancina, who is undoubtedly most famous as the holy seventeenth-century Bishop of Saluzzo, where he set about with great zeal in reforming the lives of both clergy and laity in his diocese. The decrees of the Council of Trent had just been published and their implementation was one of his major aims.

When the Carnival came around, he introduced the Forty Hours’ devotion, which was at that time unknown in Saluzzo, so that people would spend time in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament rather than become involved with the disreputable practices of Carnivale.

During Lent he introduced spiritual exercises which he called The Compuntiva. They consisted of a reading from a spiritual book, a time of silent mental prayer and a discourse on some aspect of the Passion. These were interspersed with the singing of hymns and canticles. Ancina was a firm believer in the power of beauty and music to impress upon the soul, and was himself an accomplished musician. At the Roman Oratory there is even a surviving copy of The Temple of Harmony composed by Blessed Juvenal in honour of Our Lady. The fruit of these spiritual exercises was realised at Easter, when an unparalleled number of the faithful approached the Sacraments.

These evening exercises were in fact a copy of those introduced by Saint Philip in the Oratory at Rome. You may recall too that it was Saint Philip who introduced the Forty Hours devotion to Rome during the Carnival with the same motives that Blessed Juvenal introduced the devotion in Saluzzo.

This should be of no surprise to us though because Blessed Juvenal was one of the first Fathers of the Roman Oratory. He joined the Oratory in 1578 alongside his brother, Giovanni Matteo. When they were admitted, St Philip said of both of them that they would prove an honour to the Congregation. (We shall discover more about Giovanni Matteo’s life in next week’s reflection.) The introduction of the exercises of the Oratory to Blessed Juvenal’s diocese shows that he still held all that he had learnt from Saint Philip with great esteem even when he was consecrated Bishop.

However, it was his fervent reforms of the clergy that were to lead to his death. His time as Bishop of Saluzzo was very brief, lasting just over a year, because he was poisoned by a resentful monk and died ten days later. Blessed Juvenal had tried previously many times to convert this friar away from a life that was causing scandal in the city.

So Blessed Juvenal spent eight years in Rome ministering faithfully to the people of that city under the direction of Saint Philip, and only one year as Bishop of Saluzzo. In reality, the majority of his ministry was spent in Naples, where he laboured for souls for over ten years, though this period of his life is usually the least recounted.

Blessed Juvenal was sent by Saint Philip to Naples in October 1586 to be amongst the founding Fathers of the new Oratory there. Through his prayers, advice and preaching he gained innumerable souls. He preached at least four or five sermons a week, which were all carefully prepared and studied. He would spend may hours each day hearing what he called “the torrent of confessions”. Any time that he had left was spent visiting the sick and the dying to console them with physical and spiritual remedies — this was a natural ministry for him as he had trained as a doctor in his youth.

He promoted devotion in the city to its patron, the martyr Saint Januarius whose blood famously liquifies each year on his feast day. By Blessed Juvenal’s appeal, a new, more splendid shrine was built to house the relics of Saint Januarius and it became a place of constant pilgrimage, having at one time been rarely opened. He would often conclude his sermons at the Oratory by encouraging the faithful to visit their Patron in the Cathedral just over the road. He also composed the proper office and sequence for Saint Januarius.

St Philip is often called the Third Apostle of Rome after Saints Peter and Paul because of his tireless work in winning souls for the Lord in that city. Surely then we could give Blessed Juvenal the title of Apostle of Naples.

Saint Francis de Sales, who was great friends with Blessed Juvenal, says in a testimony given when Ancina’s beatification was first proposed that he “cherished an ardent love for God and a tender charity for his neighbour, and in return he was truly dear to both God and man.” Through the intercession of Blessed Juvenal, let us pray that we may emulate his pattern of pastoral care and his love of God and neighbour.