Blessed Solanus Casey: Miracle worker and epitome of the virtue of simplicity

At the time of his death, thousands of people claimed to have been healed or to have received other graces after speaking with Father Solanus Casey. Even those who did not receive a miraculous cure often remarked that they walked away with great peace about their difficulties after talking to the Capuchin Franciscan priest.

Long before he was known as Father Solanus, Bernard Casey (1870-1957) was called Barney, the sixth child of sixteen children.

His parents were Irish Catholic immigrants and farmers in rural Wisconsin. They were so poor that they had only one horse and wagon. That meant that half of the large Casey family could not attend Mass on Sunday, and his parents alternated staying home with half of their children every week. Just as Mass was starting six miles away with half of the Caseys in attendance, the parent at home would read the Mass readings and lead a family prayer service for the other half.

After being deprived of the privilege of being able to attend Mass every Sunday as a child, Barney later had a hard time understanding how a Catholic with easy access to transportation could fail to show up.

Barney lost two sisters to diphtheria when he was a young boy. He also contracted that disease, which permanently weakened his voice. However, he had fond memories of his childhood, and he would later talk about the fact that there were enough boys in his family to field an entire baseball team. He always loved baseball.

It can be difficult for a farmer to feed a large family, and his parents faced many financial difficulties. As a teenager, Barney took any job he could find to help support his family.

Since Barney’s older brother, Maurice, had left home for the seminary, young Barney assumed that Maurice’s vocation was the only priestly vocation in the Casey family.¹ He proposed to a young woman when he was eighteen years old, but the girl’s mother thought she was too young for marriage. So he worked as a sawmill laborer, a streetcar motorman, and even as a prison guard. Barney was a friendly man, and he even befriended some famous outlaws when they were incarcerated.

But one day, while he was working as a trolley car conductor, his trolley came to a halt in front of a drunken sailor who was threatening a woman and who had a knife in his hand. The police quickly showed up, defused the situation, and disarmed the angry man. But seeing this act of violence convinced young Barney that he needed to do something more with his life.

Recognizing that God was calling him to become a priest, Barney first attended a minor seminary. This was difficult for him for multiple reasons. First, he was several years older than his fellow students. Second, he had only received a limited education and didn’t know German or Latin, the languages spoken in his seminary. The third reason is more complicated.

During the 1890s, many Irish Americans attended and graduated from college. But not a single Irish American graduated from the minor seminary that Solanus attended.² It is possible that Barney’s grades dropped during his final year of seminary because the coursework was too difficult for him. It is also possible that the resentments between German and Irish Catholics at the time led his German-speaking professors to intentionally lower his grades to deter him from seeking the priesthood. They even gave him an ultimatum, saying that they would only allow him to be ordained as a simplex priest.³ They required him to sign a statement that he understood that, as a simplex priest, he would never be allowed to receive higher orders, could not hear confessions, and could not preach doctrinal sermons.

But Barney was not deterred. If God would permit him to be ordained a priest, that was more than enough to be grateful for.

However, he still needed to complete his seminary training, which he realized was not possible at the time for an Irishman in the archdiocese of Wisconsin. While he was pondering what to do next, Barney heard a voice urging him to “Go to Detroit.” He obeyed that voice and discovered a Capuchin Franciscan community there. He was received into that order in 1897, took vows in 1898, and was ordained a simplex priest in 1904.

But what assignment can you give to a simplex priest? Initially, Solanus served as a sacristan. He loved caring for the sacred vessels and vestments, keeping the sacristy organized, and making sure the altar was properly prepared for Mass. He found it more challenging to direct altar boys, who did not always show what he considered appropriate reverence and attention. He was assigned to friaries in New York and Detroit.

Then his superiors changed his assignment to a doorkeeper. Even though answering the front door at his community’s monastery was one of the lowest possible tasks, he knew that it could be a path to holiness.⁴

Initially, people came to his friary seeking help from any of the friars. But as Fr. Solanus’ reputation spread, more and more people came to speak specifically with him.

When his superior asked him to keep track of his visitors, Solanus obediently began making brief records in a notebook. Over the years, his notebooks were filled with thousands of entries. Two of Solanus’ notes (which he wrote in third person) follow:⁵

August 8, 1935—Floyd McSweyn, now 24, of Merrill, Mich. In May 1933, fell 18 feet to cement floor, received to all reckoning fatal skull fracture. His mother tells us today that Fr. assured her “the boy will be better inside of five hours.” [He was] blind and dumb and totally paralyzed at time mother phoned … Completely and permanently recovered—save hearing in one ear.

Jan. 7, 1945—Robert Hamilton, 44, enrolled last Wed. [in the Seraphic Mass Association, which Solanus encouraged] expecting brain tumor operation on Friday. Drs. who had x-rayed his head were astounded at finding no tumor.

Why did Floyd inexplicably recover after his mother spoke to Father Solanus over the phone? How did Robert’s brain tumor simply disappear? Those who met with the humble priest were certain that miracles occurred through the priest’s intercession.

What exactly did Solanus do with each of his visitors? He simply listened to them, talked to them about trusting in God, encouraged them in their faith—especially if they said they had no faith—and then prayed for them. He was so patient with each visitor, giving each person his complete, undivided attention for as long as they wished, that a Capuchin brother who was also assigned as doorkeeper often impatiently tried (and failed) to make Solanus hurry up.

Although Solanus couldn’t hear confessions, he kept his brother priests constantly busy with the penitents that he sent to them. While he was not considered theologically wise enough to preach complicated homilies, laypeople were inspired by his heartfelt, unpretentious preaching at Mass.

Near the end of his life, his superiors realized that the elderly Solanus would work himself to death if they continued to allow him to see people for hours every day and permit any visitor to interrupt him at any time. That’s why they sent Solanus to a friary in Indiana, where he was (mostly) able to rest and live in retirement and where his brother friars (mostly) listened patiently to his stories.

Interestingly, he very rarely prayed for healing for his Capuchin brothers when they were ill. He believed that when a religious gave his life to Christ, all his aches and pains should be accepted out of love for Him. After all, Solanus himself suffered from various medical problems, some of them serious. Yet he seemed completely unconcerned and at peace with his maladies, even when it appeared one of his feet would require amputation. (Somehow, his foot got better.) He did pray for two of his Franciscan brothers, whom he somehow seemed to know were in danger of death. Both men recovered.

While visitors focused on the miraculous healings that resulted from Fr. Solanus’ prayers, his family, friends, and fellow friars remarked on something else. They noticed that, despite Solanus’ widespread reputation as a wonderworker, the modest, self-effacing man never took credit for any of the healings or claimed any special healing gifts. Even if a healing occurred in front of his eyes, he would simply praise God for His goodness. Although thousands of people sought him out for decades, he never allowed himself to be the center of attention. Instead, he always directed his listeners back to the Lord.

Rarely do we think of the word “simple” as a compliment. But Solanus’ status as a simplex priest indirectly points to one of his strongest personal virtues: his simplicity. As Fr. John A. Hardon, S.J., defined the term in his Modern Catholic Dictionary,⁶

SIMPLICITY. As a character trait, the quality of not being affected; therefore, unassuming and unpretentious. A simple person is honest, sincere, and straightforward. Simplicity is single-mindedness. As a supernatural virtue it seeks only to do the will of God without regard to self-sacrifice or self-advantage.

Based on that definition, there is no better way to describe Solanus than to say he was a simple man and a simple priest. If we want to be as holy as Blessed Solanus Casey, we too should beg the Lord for the virtue of simplicity.

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