Vantage Point Claudia McDonnell

It has been a long wait, so the news that Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha is soon to be canonized is especially sweet. It honors Native American Catholics and indigenous peoples everywhere, and it recognizes their contributions to the Church. It has special meaning for New Yorkers, since Kateri was born and baptized in what became New York state. In the archdiocese, her image is on the bronze doors of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and LaGrangeville is home to a parish named in her honor.

Kateri has special meaning for me, too. I first learned about her when a relative gave me a book about her life. I was 8 or 9, and I was drawn by the story of this young native woman who suffered much to become a Catholic and to practice her faith. The story told how Kateri used to go alone into the woods to pray. That caught my imagination, because behind our house there was a large tract of undeveloped land that the neighborhood kids called “the woods.” It was thick with trees and crisscrossed by paths. I could envision this holy Indian girl slipping off to pray in solitude, and finding peace amid the rustling leaves as shafts of sunlight pierced the shadows.

Kateri was born in 1656 in the village of Ossernenon, now Auriesville, on the Mohawk River about 40 miles west of what is now Albany. (Today it is home to the Jesuit-run Shrine of Our Lady of Martyrs.) Her mother was an Algonquin; her father was a Mohawk chief. When she was 4, a smallpox epidemic claimed the lives of her parents and brother and left her with chronic frail health, a scarred face and poor eyesight. The name “Tekakwitha” has been translated as “she who feels her way” or “she who bumps into things.”

As a girl she was impressed by the Jesuit missionaries who came to her village. She longed to become a Christian, but the uncle who had adopted her was hostile to Christianity. Finally, at 18, she was able to begin instruction; she was baptized two years later. Afterward she endured insults from relatives and others, and her aunts forced her to do arduous work that strained her health. She bore the persecution quietly.

A year later, the priest who had baptized her arranged for her to escape to St. Francis Xavier Mission near Montreal, where Catholic Native Americans could practice their faith in peace. Kateri, deeply devoted to the Blessed Sacrament, lived a life of intense prayer and mortification and cared for the poor and sick until her death in 1680 at age 24.

When I was confirmed I chose Kateri as my patron. At the time she held the title Venerable; in 1980 she was beatified. Now that she is to become a saint, I’m thinking about what her life story means for contemporary Catholics.

Kateri’s devotion to the Eucharist is especially significant in these days when, according to some studies, many Catholics doubt or disregard the Real Presence—the heart of Catholic spirituality and a core teaching rooted in the very words of Christ. At a time when Christians and Christianity often are mocked, Kateri sets an example of patience, perseverance, courage and unshakable faith in the face of opposition. Her relocation to the mission in Canada illustrates the need for community and worship with other believers.

I believe Kateri has guided me personally. When I returned to the staff of Catholic New York in 1990 after having left six years earlier, I was given a desk on which, inexplicably, stood a plastic bottle that bore an image of Blessed Kateri and a prayer for her canonization. There was water inside—holy water, no doubt, perhaps from Auriesville. I kept it on my desk for 22 years, and when I retired from CNY last month I took it with me. I plan to continue writing this column as well as articles for CNY, guided by the prayers and example of my soon-to-be-canonized confirmation patron, a woman of extraordinary strength.