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CHAPTER SEVEN:The Relics of Saint Anthony of Padua

Born in Lisbon towards the end of the twelfth century, Anthony spent most of the last years of his life in the Italian city of Padua. Portuguese by birth, Anthony became one of the canons of St. Augustine at Coimbra when he was barely twenty-five years old. While he was there, the relics of five Franciscan martyrs were brought across from Morocco. In an emotional surge of dangerous and irrational religious enthusiasm, Anthony was filled with a desire to follow the example of the five dead Franciscans.

Not long afterwards, a group of travelling Franciscans visited the Augustinian canons at Coimbra. Anthony expressed his deep desire for martyrdom to these Franciscan visitors and was so impressed by them that he decided to join their order instead of the Augustinians. There was a little difficulty over this to begin with, but after a while Anthony overcame it and began his new life as a Franciscan.

He had been baptized originally as Ferdinand, but now took on the new name of Anthony in order to venerate the memory of Saint Anthony of Egypt, who was the hero of the Franciscans whom he had just joined. This Anthony of Egypt was born in A.D. 251 and died in A.D. 356 at the advanced age of 105. He had been born in Coma, which was part of Upper Egypt, and, when only twenty years of age, had sold everything he possessed and gone to live among a local religious community. From A.D. 286 until 306, he lived in a deserted fortress at Pispir. While he was there, he underwent a series of well-publicized temptations. Curiously enough, similar temptations, associated with one of the multiple Saint Anthonys, featured prominently in the mystery of the priest’s treasure of Rennes-le-Château. One theory of this Rennes-le-Château mystery was that Bérenger Saunière, the priest of Rennes who became immensely, but inexplicably, rich towards the end of the nineteenth century, had discovered some ancient coded manuscripts that led him to the treasure. According to this particular Rennes theory, which may well prove to be totally inaccurate, when these mysterious manuscripts were allegedly decoded, part of the message that came from them concerned one of the Saint Anthonys.

The first part of that cryptic Rennes record referred to a painting by Nicholas Poussin showing a shepherdess, three shepherds, and a tomb. The reference to Saint Anthony is simply “No temptation.” The message then goes on to mention the names of three painters — the two Teniers and Poussin — who were said in the coded manuscript to collectively “hold the key” to the Rennes treasure mystery.

If the Poussin painting referred to the shepherdess and the shepherds of Arcadia with their sinister, inscribed table-top tomb, then the “no temptation” message was believed by these researchers to apply to one of the many versions of Saint Anthony painted by one of the Teniers.

It was alleged in quaint medieval phrasing that many of Saint Anthony’s temptations consisted of “demons who came to torment him in the guise of lewd wenches.” Several early painters found that it was rather easier to sell their “religious” paintings if there was an attractive “lewd wench” or two somewhere on the canvas! In several pictures of Saint Anthony he was shown with what was tantamount to the modern cartoonist’s “think bubble” coming out of his head and — within it — one of the alluring demonesses who was trying, unsuccessfully, to tempt him. Although strong-minded Anthony, reinforced by his ascetic lifestyle, was able to resist these delectable demonesses, the painters and their clients apparently were not!

By the year 306, however, Anthony of Egypt decided to give up the solitary life at Pispir and devote himself to teaching the disciples who had gathered around him. He went off to Alexandria in 355 in order to argue against the Arian heresy. Anthony was a profound philosopher and theologian, and soon became admired not only for his brilliant mind and rhetoric but also for his charisma and the miracles that he was reported to have been able to perform. This combination of miracles and charisma won him a great many disciples and converts, some of them very eminent. There is even a letter from him to the Roman Emperor Constantine, which has been preserved for posterity.

Saint Anthony of Padua.

There was another famous hermit saint named Paul (nothing whatever to do with the famous Paul whose missionary work fills the Acts of the Apostles). This later Paul, who died around 350, was sometimes referred to as Paul of Thebes, sometimes as Paul the First Hermit. He had originally escaped to the desert to avoid the persecutions of Decius. Like the desert Anthony, who followed him in the tradition for several years, Paul was said to have lived to be well over a hundred.

Jerome wrote an account of Paul's life that was based on a very early original Greek text. According to Jerome’s account, Anthony of Egypt encountered Paul of Thebes in the desert shortly before the ancient her mit died. Also in Jerome’s account, a raven flew by and dropped some bread, in much the same way that the Old Testament prophet Elijah was fed miraculously by ravens. Two lions then appeared mysteriously and dug Paul’s grave with their powerful paws. Anthony then buried the venerable hermit saint.

When Anthony himself died many years later he was — at his own request — buried in a place that no one knew. Within ten years, however, so great was his reputation that his remains were found and taken to the city of Alexandria. Rival locations inevitably competed for the saint’s relics: Constantinople put in a bid for them, as did La Motte. It was here that the Order of Hospitallers of Saint Anthony was founded at the beginning of the twelfth century.

Not surprisingly, it soon became a centre of pilgrimage for victims of ergotism, which was also referred to by the folk name of “Saint Anthony’s Fire.” In the Middle Ages, ergotine was a deadly hallucinogenic drug and an inducer of aetiological delirium. It was a sinister biological toxin derived from the ergot fungus, which frequently contaminated both bread and ale during the unhygienic Middle Ages.

Many rational theories to explain numerous apparently paranormal phenomena have laid the blame fair and square on ergotine poisoning. In addition to its general hallucinogenic effects, ergotine causes the victim to see specific aetiological visions. These aetiological delusions, in one form or another, set out to explain to the tormented mind of the sufferer what is responsible for the agonizing pain that the ergotine is causing in his or her abdomen.

Those who have suffered from ergotine poisoning — and who have been among the lucky few to have recovered from it — have given clinical accounts of their horrific experiences.

To victims of ergotine, other people are seen as aliens, monsters, or demons who are invariably attacking them, either biting at their stomachs or tearing at them with fiendish claws. Because those who go to assist the victim are seen as enemies, the sufferer often strikes out at the very people who are doing their best to help.

The ergotine poison theory has been put forward as an explanation for what became of the ill-fated crew of the Mary Celeste in November of 1872. Those who hold this theory have suggested that ergotine poisoning caused some of those aboard to hurl themselves into the sea to escape from the agonizing abdominal pain and from the “monsters” who they thought were pursuing them, while the remainder attacked one another, believing, because of their hallucinations, that they were attacking demons or monsters who were threatening them.

These Hospitallers of Saint Anthony wore black robes with a blue tau-cross, and they soon spread across much of western Europe. A part of their ritual consisted of ringing small bells to attract gifts for the Order; these bells were given to those who had helped them and were placed round the necks of their benefactors’ animals with a view to protecting them from disease.

The Hospitallers also had a rather strange privilege in that their pigs roamed where they wished in the street. Consequently, in the symbols representing Anthony in the later iconography, bells and pigs featured prominently.

Anthony became widely known and was greatly venerated during the Middle Ages. He became the patron saint of many monastic orders and was believed to be a healer both of animals and human beings. The word “tantony” slipped into the language as a diminutive form of “Saint Anthony” and came to mean — by association with both iconographic bells and pigs — either the smallest bell or the smallest pig. The tantony was simply the tiniest one.

It was this Anthony of Egypt after whom Anthony of Padua named himself. The newly named Friar Anthony set out for Morocco, where it was his intention to preach Christianity to the Islamic Moors. He was taken ill, however, and was unable to complete the mission on which he had originally set his heart. More problems swiftly followed. The difficulty of the illness that had altered his plans in the first place was now augmented by strong winds blowing in a direction he did not want: they drove his vessel to Messina in Sicily.

Despite these setbacks, he made his way up to Assisi in 1221, where Francis and Elias were holding a special gathering of the chapter for all Franciscans. After this meeting, Anthony was sent to San Paolo, not far from Forli. Once there, he busied himself— like Martha, the industrious sister of Meditative Mary of Bethany — by washing the Order’s simple cooking utensils after meals.

Up until this point in his career, it seemed that none of the senior members of the community recognized Anthony’s great intellectual gifts. His remarkable abilities first came to light when he was one of the priests attending an ordination; it transpired that none of the others had been told to prepare the necessary special ordination sermon, due to a failure of communication and some general administrative misunderstandings. The senior priests having all declined because they had nothing ready, young Anthony offered to give the address. He did it with such fervent eloquence and such depth of spiritual knowledge that all who heard him were deeply impressed by the young man’s great ability. He was immediately commissioned as a preacher and sent up to northern Italy and then to France.

Not only a preacher but also a teacher, he gave lessons in theology at Padua, Montpelier, Toulouse, and Bologna. Just as Saint Francis was said to have preached to the birds, so Saint Anthony of Padua was said to have attracted the fish from the Marecchia river. According to tradition, these remarkably perceptive fish were alleged to have popped their heads out of the water and to have remained in neat rows until he had finished his sermon. Anthony was only thirty-six when he died in Padua in 1231, in a building next to the convent of the Poor Clares at Arcella, just outside the city. An altar was put up at the place where he died, and the room was made into an oratory.

The cult of Saint Anthony has always been associated with the most extraordinary miracles. He is particularly credited with being the finder of lost articles. This may date back to an occasion when someone borrowed his Psalter without his permission. According to legend, the unauthorized borrower saw a terrifying apparition, which led to the immediate return of the book.

A far nobler and worthier memorial to him is Saint Anthony’s Bread, a very special charitable fund that helps the necessitous and starving, especially in the developing nations. Just as Anthony of Egypt has pigs and bells for his emblems, so Anthony of Padua has a book and a lily, often with the infant Christ seated on his book. The basis of the inclusion of the infant Christ on Anthony’s book is a remarkable report made by Count Tiso.

The Count had given the Franciscans a hermitage on property that he owned. When Tiso called to visit them one day, he saw a brilliant light around the edges of the hermitage door. His first thought was that the new building had caught fire and that the Franciscans whom he honoured and revered were in serious danger. Running fearlessly inside to see if he could offer them assistance, Tiso halted in amazement when he saw Anthony sitting in ecstatic rapture with the Holy Child in his arms — just as though he were one of the Magi or shepherds at Bethlehem.

Within a year of Anthony’s death, the traditional rigorous ecclesiastical examination of his life and works was carried out with meticulous thoroughness, and as a result he was raised to sainthood. It was not until 1946, however, that he was declared to be a Doctor of the Church as well.

In addition to his special reputation as a recoverer of lost property and missing objects, Anthony is also the patron saint of the poor, the imprisoned, and all who have become despised social outcasts. It was to such people in particular that he gave help during his all too short earthly life.

Elbart of Temeswar believed that God had given the saint’s relics the power to bring back lost objects because during Anthony’s earthly life he had done everything he could to bring back people who had gone astray.

Those who had known and admired Anthony during his lifetime were assisted by the citizens of Padua in building a great basilica to him, which was begun within just one year of his death. In 1263, when Bonaventure was in charge of the Franciscans, Anthony’s body was transferred to this new basilica.

It was for his preaching and teaching in particular that Anthony was so admired, and, according to contemporary records, when the sarcophagus was opened during the transfer, his tongue was found to be uncorrupted. The thoughts of those who performed the transfer were that this was a special sign of the validity and truth of his preaching and teaching.

His tomb, which nowadays is referred to as the Ark of Saint Anthony, is constructed of fine marble with distinctive green veins, and it is so placed that pilgrims are able to walk all around it. As many as two thousand visitors an hour pass the tomb on peak days. These devout pilgrims usually try to touch the sacred green-veined marble, and the contact of reverent pilgrim hands over the years has worn the back of the tomb completely smooth. Hundreds of letters arrive at the basilica from all over the world each day. Anthony’s original home, Lisbon, Portugal, did not forget him either, and an impressive church was built over the site of his birthplace.

In 1981, on the 750th anniversary of Saint Anthony’s death, John Paul II gave permission for the tomb to be opened on the sixth of January. In addition to high ranking members of the Church, anthropologists, anatomists, and doctors of medicine attached to the University of Padua were present. Anthony’s remains were found to be enclosed inside two concentric wooden caskets. These sturdy old caskets contained three significant bundles wrapped in red damask and trimmed with gold. In the first bundle was the robe in which Anthony had been buried. The second contained an assortment of his bones, and the third contained his skull.

The thirteenth-century records of his tongue having been perfectly preserved were augmented by a report from this 1981 ceremony. It was recorded that the pathologists and anatomists present at this 750th anniversary examination commented that Anthony’s vocal cords could still be identified and were as well preserved as the tongue had been centuries before. The same symbolic conclusions were drawn. The vocal cords were removed from their red damask containers and placed in the reliquary chapel alongside the still uncorrupted tongue.

This reliquary for the tongue and vocal cords is itself a unique and mysterious object. It is fashioned in the form of a silver book with golden letters. Representations of flames made of the same precious metal are constructed so that they seem to be coming up from the book, and the sheath of golden flame supports a hand-shaped crystal container inside which the relics can be seen. The symbolism is plain enough as a memorial for a man whose preaching and teaching were so effective and so well remembered.

But what of the miracles surrounding Saint Anthony’s remains? The finding of lost objects is itself something of a mystery. Like the authors, most readers will have experienced episodes similar to the classic tale of the absent-minded professor who looked everywhere for his glasses, only to find that they were already resting on the bridge of his nose.

Writers, publishers, and proof readers — even with the aid of the latest computerized spell-checkers — also know only too well that it is possible for the keenest eye and the sharpest mind to look through a proof a dozen times and still miss something that a keen-eyed reader will report within an hour of opening the book!

A great deal could be said at this point about the psychological phenomenon of “mental set,” and Edward de Bono, whose theories and interesting experimental work have contributed enormously not only to our understanding of human thinking processes but to practical improvements in them, always emphazises the importance of lateral thinking.

One type of mind focuses in on a problem and hammers away at it relentlessly until a solution is found. The second type of mind, which belongs to the lateral thinker, whose technique may either be instinctive or learnt, goes outside the problem and attempts to solve it by methods that may seem impossibly tangential, wild, and imaginative, but which nevertheless lead to satisfactory, if unexpected, solutions on most occasions.

Idea teams in the media and creative arts worlds, as well as advertisers, inventors, and designers, frequently meet in “brainstorming” think-tank sessions in which new ideas are hurled uncritically in all directions, recorded, and then analyzed and critically evaluated at later sessions. This type of work frequently leads to quantum-leap progress. Could it be that when we are experiencing difficulties in locating lost objects, we need to get outside the immediate focus of our own particular mind set and to look in the least likely place that the object we’re hoping to recover might have gone?

A visit to the tomb of Saint Anthony, or a prayer invoking his help, might be just the mental nudge that the searcher needs in order to escape from his or her current ineffectual mind set and begin looking somewhere else.

It is, of course, equally possible that a man who devoted so much of his time and energy to thinking, doing, and saying good things during his short earthly life had not finished the excellent work he began. Is Anthony still helping others despite the interruption called death?

One well-known theory that goes the rounds among psychical researchers is that the fabric of a building in which extreme emotion was once experienced has absorbed those emotions, and, in a sense, recorded them, in much the same way that magnetic tape can record pictures and sounds. A man with Anthony’s spiritual power and charisma would have been a very impressive recording agent. It is reasonable to assume that, despite the joy he is experiencing in the abundant and eternal life of Heaven, Anthony’s characteristic concern for those whom he loved and helped on earth still takes up part of his time, in so far as “time” can have any meaning in Eternity.

In this context, we need to consider the real possibility that Anthony of Padua is still very much alive, active, and interested in our physical world as well as in his own spiritual one, and that he does genuinely intervene when his help is sought. So many posthumous miracles have been credited to him that they cannot lightly be ignored.

Anthony once lived a very good and positive life. His relics survive. The miracles associated with them are well documented. That is Anthony’s part; the conclusions we draw from that evidence are our own responsibility, but his mortal remains are among the world’s most mysterious objects.