Showing posts with label family life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family life. Show all posts

Sunday, August 11, 2019

Can Spirituality Help Heal the Wounds of Addiction?

Addiction understanding and recovery options were far more limited in Venerable Matt Talbot’s day. Yet, there are key aspects of Matt's recovery that remain the same.
 
The Opioid Crisis: Can spirituality help heal the wounds of addiction?
by John Burger
Apr 26, 2019

 

Addicts find help in the Twelve Steps, hard work and intense prayer, or a deeper commitment to the sacraments.


Kevin Lowry says the past five years have been some of the toughest in his family’s life. But they have also been years of rich spiritual growth.

The Lowry family saga began when 16-year-old Danikeyel stumbled into his parent's bedroom in the middle of the night and slumped over the bed.

“I’m dying,” he gasped as he begged for prayers. “I can’t breathe.”
 
The Lowrys’ third son was overdosing on drugs. Kevin Lowry called 911, and an EMT crew and hospital staff saved Daniel from death. After that, as Lowry tells it, Daniel went through lots of different approaches to cure his addiction—counseling, physicians, treatment programs.

“But nothing really worked,” he said. “Or it was temporary.”

Through a trusted friend, the Lowrys discovered a program in Florida called Comunita Cenacolo. Founded in 1983 by an Italian nun named Elvira Petrozzi, the “Community of the Cenacle,” to use its English name, provides a structured life of work and prayer for young people who have addiction problem.

The Lowrys found something that worked. Daniel spent four years in the community, “graduated” and returned home. He is doing well, working and looking to go back to school.

About 218,000 people in the United States have not been as fortunate. That’s the number, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, who have died from overdoses related to prescription opioids since 1999. And while more than 2 million Americans are thought to be addicted to opioids, there are only 4,000 U.S. physicians who are addiction specialists, says the American Society of Addiction Medicine.

Treating addicts takes a variety of forms. In recent years, there’s been an increased interest in cognitive behavioral therapy, general counseling and medication-assisted treatment, said Dr. Marc Galanter, Professor of Psychiatry at New York University School of Medicine.

Some treatment options, like Cenacolo, also try to address addiction-related issues in a spiritual way or through a spiritual lens.

The “12 steps,” which are the basis of Alcoholics Anonymous and many similar programs, are perhaps the best known spiritual-based treatment option.

“They provide a spiritual outlet in which one can find a relationship with a higher power to quell the cravings and surrender to a new way of life, to do God’s will,” said Scott Weeman, founder of Catholic in Recovery. The ministry draws from both the 12 steps and the sacramental life of the Church to help alcoholics and drug addicts recover. The 12 steps can help one make an inventory of oneself in seeking to know how one’s own behavior and attitude have caused misconduct, said Weeman, a recovering alcoholic.

Dr. Galanter said that until about five or 10 years ago, most treatment programs were 12 step-oriented and discussed the role of spirituality in 12-step programs. “In recent years there’s been a tendency to give it less prominence in their discussion of their programs. But still I would say that the majority of residential programs and a good half of ambulatory programs do include a significant 12-step component,” he said in an interview.

When people come to AA or Narcotics Anonymous, they tend to rely more on the mutual support the programs offer, said Galanter, author of Spirituality and the Healthy Mind. “But if they get involved for the longer term, the spiritual aspects are very prominent. So the long term members are very much oriented toward spirituality and the sense of ‘God as we understood him’ [a phrase from one of the 12 steps]. God as we understood him tends to be pretty universally thought of in a spiritual way but different people define for themselves what God as we understood him means. For some traditional people it may be Jesus Christ; for others it may just be the AA program itself. For some people it’s like a nature or aesthetically oriented spirituality.”

Not all drug addiction programs have a spiritual component, of course, but for the majority, there’s “definitely a recognition and respect of spiritual issues,” said Galanter.

For Nancy Vericker, not only did the 12 steps help with her recovery from alcoholism, it helped her recover her cradle Catholic faith.

“I found a deeper level of meaning when I entered a 12 step program,” said Vericker, author of Unchained: Our Family’s Addiction Mess is Our Message. The book, co-written with J.P. Vericker, her son, tells the story of his opioid addiction and recovery. “It’s not like it’s ‘Oh you get sober and you have spirituality.’ It’s the spirituality that leads you. You rely on your higher power to reshape your mind and thinking. … It really helped me to see the face of a loving and benevolent God. It kind of stripped me of a sense of the institutional Church and focused me to rely on a spiritual journey.”

Weeman, of Catholic in Recovery, sees parallels between the 12 steps and the Catholic sacramental life. The surrender to a higher power, he says, is like a “plunge into the waters of Baptism.” The sacrament of confession is similar to the “thorough process of reconciliation that happens within ourselves, with God and with others, starting with that fearless and searching moral inventory, … asking God to remove whatever defect of character or stain that gets in the way of us knowing and serving him, and making amends to those we have hurt.”

“From there, the process involves maintaining that spiritual awakening by continuing to take personal inventory and promptly admitting when we’re wrong,” Weeman continued. Prayer and meditation help improve “our conscious contact with God as we understand him. From a Catholic standpoint that’s most prevalent through the sacrament of the Eucharist, where we receive the body and blood of Jesus on a regular basis so that we may be filled and may know him in a way that surpasses any human understanding and that that continues to seek God as the source of healing, strength, and goodness.”

Albino Aragno, who runs the Cenacolo Community outside of St. Augustine, Florida, where Daniel Lowry lived, calls the ministry’s approach “very structural and disciplined living, I would say almost monastic.”

“People need order in their life, especially addicts,” Aragno said in an interview. “They never have any structure; they’re always going up and down, on the floor, in the situation and the emotion of the moment.”

The strict daily schedule begins with a 6:15 wake-up, followed by religious services, breakfast, a morning full of work, group prayer, and more work. After supper, there’s group conversation about the Gospel of the day, and opening up about feelings, emotions, and current situations.

“We need something more to grasp, to sustain us in life, because with our own strength we cannot do it,” said Aragno, who himself was an early member of Cenacolo in Italy. Prayer, which includes daily Mass, sacramental Confession, group recitations of the Rosary, and private meditation, “opens the conscience … and then also helps us to really develop a relationship with God,” Aragno said. “He’s the one who’s going to help us sustain ourselves outside of the community.”

In the midst of it all, said Lowry, author of How God Hauled Me Kicking and Screaming Into the Catholic Church, “there’s a sense in which there’s a character development aspect and a focus on the virtues that goes hand in hand with the spiritual development.

Lowry said that he was shocked to hear another parent whose son was in the Cenacle Community tell him that he would one day see his son’s addiction as a blessing. But his words were prophetic.

“It probably turned into one of the best things that ever happened to me spiritually and my family as well,” Lowry said. “When you have a son or daughter in community you go to monthly support meetings, because we’re really walking alongside them on the path.” Daniel’s addiction, he said, “became probably the single greatest impetus for spiritual growth for my wife and me and probably for some of our kids.”

As for Daniel, he said, “As a result of all the struggles, he’s got a really solid spiritual life and a prayer life that I would love to see in the [family’s seven] other kids.”

Friday, August 17, 2018

A Presentation About Matt Talbot at the 2018 World Meeting of Families


On the evening of 23 August 2018 at the World Meeting of Families in Dublin, Fr. Brian Lawless, Vice-Postulator for the Cause for Canonization of Venerable Matt Talbot, will give the third evening presentation noted below (https://www.worldmeeting2018.ie/en/Programme/Congress/Thursday-Programme/Evening-Panel-5):

"The Journey from Addiction: What Families can Learn from the Life of Venerable Matt Talbot"

Presenter: Fr. Brian Lawless

Pope Francis recognizes the difficulties encountered by families with members suffering from drug addiction. The Holy Father calls it “one of the scourges of our time, causing immense suffering and even breakup for many families. The same is true of alcoholism, gambling and other addictions.

This presentation discusses the challenges facing families that have been confronted by drug addiction and turns to the life of the Venerable Matt Talbot to see if there is anything that they can learn from his journey.

Sunday, December 31, 2017

Faith is the Answer

Christmas and New Year’s: A rough week for addicts and alcoholics
by Robert Kurland 
Dec 27, 2017
Statistics bear it out. Faith is the answer. Here's how you can help.
“For some, the sights, signs and smells of the holidays bring joy and a warm feeling. But, while others are joyously diving into the season, some of us are dipping into conflict, guilt, and a sense of guilt.”—Melody Beattie, The Language of Letting Go, Dec. 24.
“Tis the season to be jolly!”
Or is it?  For many addicts, alcoholics, their family and friends, there are triggers—Christmas tree ornaments that once were scattered in a drunken rage, candles that went out when it was past time for a return home—that remind one of bad times in the past.

Now, I don’t intend to dampen the spirit of this sacred holiday. Rather, I’m making a plea to support efforts to bring faith into the lives of addicts, alcoholics and their families. For example, our parish has formed a Drug and Alcohol Ministry.  We meet monthly, with a prayer/Rosary session beforehand.  Our mission is not to give advice—that’s left to the professionals and 12 Step groups—but to give support and to help people, those afflicted, their families and friends, know that faith in Jesus Christ will give them hope.

The website for the ministry contains the following resources: a prayer for the month, a list of local 12 Step meetings, a list of counseling services and stories of recovery through faith in God. In our area the Higher Power of the Twelve Step meetings is explicitly God. But this may not be the case elsewhere.

The statistics for recovery are a mixed lot. Some reports give 10 percent (or lower) recovery rates from just 12 Step programs. Others give higher figures for 12 Step programs plus extensive counseling. But the most significant statistic is 60-75 percent recovery—abstinence after a two-year period—if there is a significant  faith component to rehab efforts. And it must be realized that recovery is not only for the addict or alcoholic, but for his family.
“If I could speak to other parents facing the same situation, I’d say, “You need to hand your children over to someone greater than yourself, because you can’t control your children or the addiction.  You are not helping them if you try to—hold on!  It gets better.”Anonymous, Stories of Faith and Addiction, St. Joseph Catholic Church Drug and Alcohol Ministry
So please, in the spirit of giving of yourselves, promote programs in your own Church that will bring faith and hope into the lives of those afflicted by addiction and alcoholism.
God of life, You made us in Your perfect image to live in Your love and to give You glory, honor and praise. Open our hearts to Your healing power. Come, Lord Jesus, calm our souls just as You whispered “Peace” to the stormy sea. St. Jude, holy Apostle, in our need we reach out to you. We beg you to intercede for us that we may find strength to overcome our illnesses. Bless all those who struggle with addiction. Touch them, heal them, reassure them of the Father’s constant love. Remain at our side, St. Jude, to chase away all evil temptations, fears and doubts. May the quiet assurance of your loving presence illuminate the darkness in our hearts and bring lasting peace. — Prayer of the Month, St. Joseph Church Drug and Alcohol Ministry

Note: Is your parish doing enough to support addiction recovery? See http://www.uscatholic.org/print/31095

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Faith Issues for Families Dealing with Addiction



All in the Family: Faith Issues for Families Dealing with Addiction 
by Pastor Rita B. Hays
WestBow Press (2010) 

While there are numerous informative books that have been written on addiction which focus on the addict, fewer books have focused on family members who have an individual who has an addiction. And relatively still fewer books have been written to help families as they struggle with the faith questions and issues that arise when addiction is a part of the family, such as where is God, how do I pray, and is there hope?

A review of chapters (and content) in this book may indicate topics of specific interests of the reader.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Venerable Matt Talbot's Life Included in College Course

 
Perhaps this newspaper article will stimulate other professors and professionals to consider including Matt’s story of addiction and recovery in relevant courses and activities.


"Priest at Elms College offers Irish-born Matt Talbot as example for those struggling with addiction"
By Cori Urban | Special to The Republican
September 09, 2014
Source: http://www.masslive.com/living/index.ssf/2014/09/priest_at_elms_college_offers_irish-born_matt_talbot_as_example_for_those_struggling_with_addiction.html

Matt Talbot was an alcoholic. Someday he might be declared a saint, an interest of one area priest in terms of helping others fight the disease of alcoholism.
 
Born in Ireland in 1856, he began drinking before he was a teenager in Dublin. By 28, he resolved to overcome the addiction, turning to God and his faith for strength. A devout Catholic, he lived a life of prayer with daily Mass, Scripture and spiritual reading, penance and hard work.
 
He died of heart failure on a Dublin street in 1925; penitential chains were found on his body. After his death, his reputation for holiness spread; he was revered by many Catholics for his piety, charity and mortification of the flesh.

In 1931, Archbishop Edward J. Byrne of Dublin opened an inquiry  into the claims of the holiness of Matt Talbot.
The Vatican began an official inquiry in 1947, and Talbot was noted as"A Servant of God." 

In 1975, Pope Paul VI declared him to be "Venerable," another step on the way to being officially declared a saint. A physical miracle attributed to him will be required for him to be declared, "Blessed,” and a second miracle to be declared a saint.The Rev. Brian Lawless, vice postulator for the cause of canonization of Venerable Matt Talbot, has made an appeal to Church hierarchy in Ireland to lobby Pope Francis for his canonization.

According to the Rev. Mark S. Stelzer, chaplain and associate professor of humanities at Elms College in Chicopee, one factor that might advance the cause of Talbot’s canonization is the special affection Pope Francis has shown for those living with addiction. “On his first trip as pope to Latin America, Francis made an unexpected stop at St. John of God Hospital in Brazil, which specializes in the treatment of addiction,” Stelzer said. Some Catholics involved in ministry to achieve or maintain sobriety have a special devotion to Matt Talbot.

Stelzer first learned of Talbot in conjunction with work he does regularly throughout the country on behalf of Guest House, a treatment center for Catholic clergy and religious recovering from addictions. That work includes retreats and seminars for those in treatment as well as ongoing educational programs for Church leadership and parish communities.

The priest hopes to offer persons struggling with addiction and those who love them the example of Talbot who himself knew the struggle of addiction and the joy of recovery. The message is one of hope, survival, forgiveness, beginning with ourselves.

Three years ago, Stelzer began offering parish missions during Lent based on Talbot’s story of addiction and recovery. He has offered such retreats in the Roman Cathoic Diocese of Springfield, and Archdiocese of Hartford.

Robin Roncari of Windsor Locks, Conn., invited Stelzer to lead a parish Lenten mission in March at St. Mary Church there. “His topic was, appropriately enough for Lent, on forgiveness,” she said. “What better material to use than addiction: forgiving ourselves and others. Matt Talbot was the springboard for the four-night mission.”

Talbot’s story encompasses most people's struggles, be it addiction to alcohol, drugs, food, whatever humans find difficult to overcome. “When you read a story like Matt Talbot's…you realize today's struggles are no different than those in the past,” Roncari said. “The message is one of hope, survival, forgiveness, beginning with ourselves. Matt Talbot was pulled up by strangers, people around him. He had to feel worthy enough in himself to accept the hands that led him to sobriety and a renewed life.”

Following parish missions or other presentations Stelzer offers on addiction and recovery, he regularly receives calls and e-mails from those in attendance seeking help for themselves or for a loved one. “After reminding the person contacting me of the importance of seeking professional help for underlying medical or psychiatric issues, my advice remains the same: Seek support in a Twelve Step program,” he said. “For most people, it is in such programs that the foundation of recovery is established. If the person contacting me seems receptive, I do encourage them to turn to Matt Talbot in their prayer.”

It has been estimated that one out of every four families is living with addiction. “Our congregations are comprised of countless people who themselves are struggling with addiction. Our congregations are also comprised of countless people trying to help a loved one find the way to recovery,” the priest said, noting that insofar as it resonates with the Christian story of light that emerges from darkness, the story of Matt Talbot speaks powerfully to both groups of people.

Persons active in their addiction or new to sobriety require time, patience and understanding to recover from the adverse physical and emotional effects of drinking or drugging. “Although never totally absent, appreciation of the spiritual dimension of recovery and support that people such as Matt Talbot might offer comes later,” Stelzer said.

His experience shows that family members and loved ones who first hear of Talbot are the ones who initially find the greatest strength and comfort in his example; it is not uncommon for family members and close friends of the addicted to be the ones who pray regularly to Talbot for intercession on behalf of a family member or friend. 

“Long before the founding of Alcoholics Anonymous by Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob Smith in 1935, Matt Talbot realized the many ways in which addiction had robbed him of primary relationships in his life, including a relationship with God and other people,” he said. “Matt Talbot also realized that with prayer and meditation, life-long abstinence from alcohol and a restoration of those primary relationships was possible.”

Although Alcoholics Anonymous wisely makes a distinction between spirituality and religion, Matt Talbot demonstrated ways in which a spirituality based on a restoration of relationships could be conjoined with particular religious devotion, Stelzer said. For Talbot, that devotion consisted of hours spent in prayer before the Eucharist and daily attendance at Mass.“For this reason, devotion to Matt Talbot is particularly attractive to Catholics whose life is sustained by the Eucharist celebrated daily in our churches,” Stelzer said.
 
For the past 12 years, he has offered a course each semester at Elms College, entitled “Addiction and Recovery: A Spiritual Journey.” The elective course regularly attracts between 50 and 60 students each semester. “The popularity of the course is indicative of the pervasiveness of addiction in our society and the constant effort of Elms College to prepare nurses, social workers, teachers and law enforcement professionals capable of responding with compassion and necessary skills to serve the addicted and those who love them,” he said.
 
“When or if Matt Talbot is canonized is secondary to the inspiration he offers those living with addiction and their loved ones today,” Stelzer said.

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Recovery and Venerable Matt Talbot

Fr. Louis Scurti, a New Jersey priest and certified marriage & family therapist, discusses the life of Venerable Matt Talbot and recovering from addictions today in this June 19, 2014 seven minute video at

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Trusting God with an Addicted Child

Elizabeth Talbot prayed continuously for her son, Venerable Matt Talbot, (and other family members) that he (and they) be released from the bondage of alcohol. After 16 years of drinking and being excessively drunk, Matt finally informed his mother that he was going to “take the pledge” not to drink. She warned him not to do so unless he was serious about it. With the support of God, daily Mass, a spiritual director, Elizabeth’s prayers, devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and other life changes, Matt was able to stay sober for the remaining four decades of his life.


Although having an addicted son (or daughter) today is a very different time, place, and circumstances than what Elizabeth Talbot experienced, perhaps this article will speak to some mothers.



Trusting God with Our Son and His Addiction

Hattie Heaton

February 16, 2011

Source: http://catholicexchange.com/2011/02/16/148285/


Everyone knows a handful of days can change who you think you are. Death removes someone you love from your life and changes the family dynamic. Marriages add new members, rearranging the family dynamic. And there are tragedies that can drop you to your knees in an instant, showing you that it can happen to you, too.


Days like these steal your innocence. They make you question what you thought you knew before. I know, because on July 25, 2010 my husband and I experienced the most difficult day of our lives.


Four days prior, I didn’t have a name for what was wrong with my son. My husband and I had been baffled for years at his lack of maturity, initiative, his mood swings and irresponsibility. But as I drove out of the long drive and left my son at an alcohol and drug rehabilitation center, I had the answer that boggled my mind and shook my family to the core, making me re-examine everything in my life.


But it was an answered prayer. Finally, honestly, I had summoned the courage to pray that God would show us what was wrong with my son. I think on some level, I always suspected, but fear and lack of faith always kept me from going down that scary road. Our family was about to embark upon a journey that no one wanted to travel. I was bombarded with swirling emotions after leaving my son behind. I prayed, “Here I am Lord, what now?”


As I got to the end of the rehab driveway there was a big arch extending from one side of the drive to the other. It was painted with big white letters that said, “Let Go and Let God.” I had often heard that phrase in relation to AA, but I had never really dug into the guts of what that meant. Our journey would begin by learning how.


Our family was about to learn so many new things. We would be challenged to change our entire view on how to protect our son. We were advised to allow him to face the natural consequences of his actions, no matter what the consequence was. We were all so paralyzed with fear in the beginning. Thankfully, good friends and family surrounded us with prayer, food and the support we needed. For many weeks I slogged through each day, came home, laid in the fetal position on the sofa and begged God for the help that I wanted.


This was not the place I had ever expected to be. I had not hoped for, planned, dreamed or even imagined this for any of my children. We had discussed the dangers of drugs and alcohol. I took my children to Mass every Sunday. They attended Catholic schools. How could this have happened under my very nose?


But it did, and it is my cross. Slowly my prayer began to be, “Help me to learn how to carry this cross…give me the strength; show me the way.”


What I know now is that addiction is a family disease. The effects of one person’s addiction have a direct impact on every member of the family. I see now that, slowly over time, we began compensating for the addict, fixing things for the addict, making excuses for the addict, tip toeing around the addict, until the whole family (whether cognizant of it or not), was changing what they would have typically done in order to facilitate or enable the addict to continue his habit.


Letting go seemed counterintuitive, at first. If he had done this under our constant watch, what would happen if we let him go? But if I continued doing what I HAD been doing, I knew I would continue to get the same result. I realized it was time for courage, time to ask for God’s will no matter what.


Still, after learning of our son’s addiction we struggled with fear for his life and the need to protect him from judgment. The disease of addiction still has many negative connotations associated with it. Often it is thought of as a character flaw; it is socially stigmatized. But after a couple of weeks of carrying our secret, it became a burden too heavy to carry and the decision to confide in close family and friends was a tremendous relief.


We began to attend family counseling at the rehab facility. Learning the facts about the disease of addiction helped us release the anger towards our son, and place it where it belonged, on the disease. Early on the choice to experiment was his. It was a bad choice, one that would lead him to a place where the disease of addiction would take over. As parents we also made a lot of bad choices. But now we choose to make better ones.


Addiction is the number one public health threat today in the United States. If addiction hasn’t affected your family, look around. It is everywhere. While in rehab, my son reconnected with someone from high school, college and work, and even someone from his grandfather’s small hometown 100 miles away.


Loaded with new information, we started learning to live within our humbling new reality and looking with new eyes. How many times have I walked past someone that I suspected had a problem with drugs and alcohol and not looked them in the eyes? How many times had I failed to realize that these people were someone’s child, or to see Jesus in them?


My son is experiencing what Mother Teresa called spiritual poverty. He is “one of the least of these.” I look into my beautiful boy’s eyes and see someone lost, but I also see a glimpse of hope. I have learned to look a little deeper from now on.


God in his mercy is working on this family, teaching us to trust more, teaching us to see more. He is teaching us to look for his will in everything we do, and giving us peace, and strength, and joy. This life- changing event has brought us so much closer to each other and to God, stripping away so many unimportant aspects of our lives and is replacing them with “peace that passes all understanding.”


Is my life perfect? No. Has my son stayed in recovery without relapse? No. But I have learned that peace is not the absence of chaos. It is having a calm heart in the midst of it.


My son is on a journey, a journey that God has planned for him and that will teach him new lessons every day. If I get in the way, I might prevent him from learning something important.


But I am learning too. I must let go. When I simply trust, things are better. The sign at the rehab facility was only one lesson of many more, and each one brings me closer to God so that I am less afraid. I can face this journey knowing that God is in control, giving me strength for the day and a light for the way.


Today, I am able to “Let go and Let God.” Thanks be to God.


Note: We recommend another article by Hattie Heaton at http://praying4henry.blogspot.com/search?q=matt+talbot

One source of help for parents is Al-Anon in Ireland at http://www.al-anon-ireland.org/index.htm and in the USA at http://www.al-anon.alateen.org/home

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Staggering to Heaven


This is one of the most detailed articles about Matt's life and recovery.

Staggering to Heaven

PATRICIA TREECE

The friend of God whose life ended on a Dublin sidewalk on June 7, 1925, was one of those hidden holy. Like the majority of this quiet legion, the neatly but shabbily dressed, old workingman who collapsed and died on his way to hear a second Sunday morning Mass should still be known only to God. Yet, having let him live his sixty-nine years in obscurity, God called attention to Matthew Talbot immediately after his death. Since 1975, in fact, Talbot is one of the Church’s official Venerables (literally, one worthy of veneration on the basis of exhaustively verified heroic virtue) — thus only a miracle away from being beatified and another from being canonized. If either happens, he becomes the Church’s first known alcoholic saint.


ALCOHOLISM


Born on May 2, 1856, in a Dublin tenement, Matthew Talbot was the second son of Charles Talbot, a tiny bantam rooster of a man who did day labor on Dublin’s docks in spite of his seemingly inadequate size. Unusually loud, aggressive, and downright quarrelsome when drinking — which he usually was — Charles was married to a devout woman who bore him twelve children. Nine survived to crowd with their parents into quarters that were always rented and always woefully cramped. That Charles and all of his sons but the eldest — a mother’s boy who remained a bachelor teetotaler — spent most of their meager wages on drink seems less a wonder than that Elizabeth Bagnall Talbot did not seek some opiate herself.


Matt Talbot’s mother dragged her underfed, miserable brood through eighteen moves in twenty years, always living in tenements without indoor plumbing or even running water, always struggling to get the landlord paid and food on the table. Like countless Irish women, she made this Way of the Cross under the scourge of political and social inhumanities deepened by her menfolk’s alcoholism.


The second son, Matt, was repeatedly truant from the special classes the Christian Brothers ran to give slum boys a smattering of literacy and religious understanding before they went to work. By age twelve, Talbot was already working as a messenger boy in that pre-telephone or fax era. And he was already drinking.


Alcoholism, it’s been said, is just a matter of poor luck in the biochemical draw. But biochemistry is not the only factor. One need claim no great insight to see the appeal of the pub in Dublin, a city of bone-chilling damp, penetrating rains, and saucy breezes that even in summer can quickly reverse one’s umbrella. Pubs beckon one out of weather’s miseries to a comfortable seat in a dry, cheerfully lit place where laughter and stories drown out the whipping of the rain and a long swig of porter or whisky races into one’s chilled body as a quickening arrow of life and warmth.


LIFE IN THE PUB


In the 1875-85 Ireland of Talbot’s young manhood there was a second impetus to build a life around pub and alcohol: the sheer overcrowding of home life. Even a quarter century after Talbot’s death, an American priest researcher would still find many Dublin working class families, including relatives of Talbot’s, crammed into one rented room. One working-class couple with sixteen children rejoiced in 1947 to have moved from one and then two rooms to the ultimate to be hoped for: rented quarters of four rooms (rooms, not bedrooms) for the fourteen members of the household.


So Matt Talbot was a drunk among thousands. There were so many like him in his day that it was not uncommon for employers to pay their laborers in the pub or to deliver some men’s pay directly to the pubkeeper, who would keep a running account and urge his clients not to drink so much they had to go dry before the next payday.


By 1884 Talbot — scrawny and undersized like his dad — had gone from messenger boy to dock worker to hod carrier. As a hod carrier — the unskilled laborer who trots donkeylike with a heavy load of mortar or bricks alongside the bricklayer — Talbot was known for hard, fast work. With many Dublin buildings made of brick, the employer had a whole squad of bricklayers and hod carriers and would put little Talbot out front to set the pace.


After a ten-hour day of fast-paced toil, the slope-shouldered young worker would head for the pub, where he was known as an opinionated, hot-tempered man who argued and even fought like his father, but also as a generous sort who would stand drinks all around on payday. If the money ran short, Talbot was not averse, a companion remembered, to joining a brother or friend in stealing a pig’s cheek from a bar owner or even a violin from a poor wandering fiddler, rushing out to sell it and drinking up the proceeds.


He just had a scruple — a bit of cowardice, an accomplice later termed it — about being the one actually to pinch the item. Maybe he used foul language when drunk — recollections vary — but there seems agreement that Talbot had no use for dancing, playing cards, joining in sports, or chasing women. “He was interested in only one thing — drinking,” a friend from those years later recalled. As for religion, by age 28 Talbot continued to show up at Sunday Mass and mumble a daily Hail Mary, but he had neither taken Communion nor been to confession for three years.


With all his unmarried siblings, he lived at home. He never had a girlfriend and, like his older brother, told his mother “Tou are the only wife I want.” Still the champion hod carrier rarely had a coin to pass that hard-pressed woman for his keep. With husband and several sons employed, Elizabeth Talbot still had to do outside domestic labor at times. Once when Matt gave her a pittance for his board, she looked at the coin and cried “God forgive you, Matt!”


NO MORE DRINK


He felt guilty, no doubt, but drink came before all. Occasionally he even sold the work boots right off his feet to keep drinking. Then came a day of great luck. He backed a horse one weekend and it won enough that the day laborer did no work all week — just drank. His winnings ran out just as payday arrived for his mates at the brickyard. Knowing that he had often stood rounds for them, he stationed himself with one of his brothers between the brickyard and the nearby pub. His companions passed, some with a quick greeting and some with ruses to avoid seeing him. Then they dived into the pub, not one having invited him for a drink.


Something died in Talbot.


He stomped home.


“You’re early. And sober!” his mother exclaimed.


“Yes, I’m going to take the pledge.”


Not put off, Talbot rushed out, found a priest and pledged sobriety for three months. He dared no more, he said later.


Talbot’s whole life beyond backbreaking labor had revolved around the fellowship of the pub. Drink and its comradeship had been his sacraments, his joy, his comfort, his very reason for living. To give all this up, he had no AA, no aversion therapy, no clinic, no psychological counseling. And he faced the same grinding, poorly paid work and miserable living conditions, the same dank climate and drinking companions, and the same family heritage of alcoholism.


To this horrendous challenge, Talbot instinctively turned to the spiritual genius of those early Irish monks who “subdued the body’s urges” by “chastising the flesh” through the most arduous penances and rigorous modes of life.


No day passed that Talbot did not attend 5 a.m. Mass before work. After work he passed the evening in some church far from his local pub until time for bed. When a 6 a.m. Mass replaced the 5 a.m., since bricklaying began at 6 a.m., he found a lumberyard job that opened at 8 a.m., laboring there the rest of his life. He went frequently to confession, took spiritual direction, became a third-order Franciscan and joined every local confraternity, thereby linking himself to most of the other major religious orders while assuring that those he associated with outside of work were engaged in something either in or for the Church.


After a disastrous evening when — overcome with lust for a drink — Talbot rushed into a pub and was saved only because, mysteriously, no server seemed to see him, he imposed upon himself the hardship of never carrying cash. To avoid being tempted by his brothers, he moved out until they died or married.


After the deaths of his father and eldest brother, Talbot returned home and continued to share a tenement room with his mother. His sister, who cooked for him when he lived alone, and the woman who heated his noon meal where he worked, both report dietary habits worthy of some desert father: At home he ate on his knees and lived primarily on dry bread with meat a couple times a week, except during Lent, June (in honor of the Sacred Heart), Advent, or any big feast when he abstained totally. And he often fasted completely. Lunch for decades — while doing hard manual labor all day — was a revolting mixture of cocoa and tea steeped in boiling water but drunk cold as one more penance. As has been reported of saints time and again, on this totally inadequate diet he remained healthy and a notable worker.


WOODEN PILLOW


As sobriety became long-term, instead of easing up a bit, Talbot went deeper into the asceticism of Ireland’s early monks. For years he slept only about three hours a day — and that on a board plank with a wooden block for a pillow — clutching a statue of the Virgin to him so firmly that a relative claimed one side of his face became permanently without feeling. Tenement women up with sick children heard Talbot singing hymns in the middle of the night when he rose at 2 a.m. to pray.


His mother confided to her daughters that she often awoke in the night to see Talbot praying with his arms extended penitentially in the form of a cross. Occasionally he went back to bed briefly before heading for the church where, whatever the weather, he knelt on the stones outside until the sacristan unlocked the doors for the earliest Mass. He prayed during his lunch break and, whenever work paused, while others chatted, he prayed hidden behind the lumber piles. After work, he rushed to the nearest church to pray some more. Sundays he attended Mass after Mass and was proud that on a couple feasts of the Virgin, by dint of being in churches where several were being said at various altars, he could claim to have honored her by hearing twenty-one Masses.


Any addiction is by nature terribly self-centered. At first Matt Talbot can be said to have simply changed his addiction from drink to asceticism. Not a style that even most saints find appealing, the pitiless attack on the body of certain desert fathers and other ascetics nonetheless sometimes proves a successful route into the heart of God. There is ample proof that it succeeded in Talbot’s case.


From struggling against the craving for alcohol and his focus on acts of repentance (in his era, the drinker was seen by most as a willful sinner rather than one worthy of compassion), he moved on to identification with the universal mission of the Church. The same ardor that had put him out front carrying hod and made him single-minded in pursuit of drink now focused on a new thirst — for souls and for God.


“Matt cares nothing for money,” his fellow workers said. And in fact, all Talbot’s money, beyond the rent of the tenement room and the barest of necessities, either became quiet charity to other workmen struggling to support families or went off to works of the Church, particularly the missions.


BLUSTERING SANCTITY


To know God and his Church better, this barely literate man added to a prayer life worthy of those early Irish monks, exhaustive reading from theology, papal encyclicals, the lives of the saints, and the Church’s teaching on such social issues as the rights of workers to a just wage. The lists of the books he read — buying them or borrowing from a fellow devout soul among Dublin’s educated class — show a Catholic of the widest interests and knowledge.


But did he understand papal encyclicals and books on theology? Talbot told a fellow workman, who chided that men like them could not understand the sort of book Talbot held, that, before reading anything, he begged the help of the Holy Spirit to grasp the material — and he felt that he did. His well-educated book lender, who enjoyed talking over their mutual reading, confirmed Talbot was not lying. Gradually he was sought out by other workmen as a spokesman for the Church.


When Talbot suddenly dropped dead on the street, it was the heavy, sharp penitential chains wound round his limbs and body — chains he had removed whenever seen by a doctor — that resonated with Irish spirituality to arouse public interest. Although his spiritual director had preceded him in death, taking many details of Talbot’s soul with him, a biography came out almost at once based on interviews with others who knew Talbot. While it contained a few blatant untruths (his sisters “protected” the family by declaring Talbot’s father never drank, for instance), it still raised a swell of regard for Talbot that has never ebbed.


There is no holy personality mold. About the time he stopped drinking, Talbot’s best biographer, Mary Purcell, pictures him with “the same rather irascible temperament, the same inherited tendency to shout and bluster like his father.” In relentless pursuit of God through prayer, study, sacraments, vigils, fasts and abstinence, almsgiving, and other deeds of charity — because these acts were driven by a genuine thirst for God — the accretions to Talbot’s personality from alcoholism and modeling on poor parental example gradually sloughed away.


The true self that emerged was still a hard worker determined to earn every penny of his pay (when he thought he hadn’t he tried to refuse it) and still a strong-minded individual “afraid of no one,” as he put it, “but God himself.” But in confrontations with a boss, Matt now was civil and apologized if he became a bit heated. Serious-minded, he was nevertheless seen as a friendly man not averse to a laugh. Even if they made fun of his pious ways, his coworkers liked him — as did the lumberyard watchman’s little girls whom he always remembered with a coin and a visit at Christmas.


Generous in the pub in his drinking years, Talbot had turned from drink at the lack of reciprocal generosity. Now purified of self-seeking, many of his donations and good deeds were done in secret.


But the final word on Matt Talbot should go to his saintly spiritual director. This priest — who loved to go to Talbot’s tenement room to pray with him — told various people about the simple workman whom he said was a saint. By citing Matt Talbot’s heroic virtue, the Church agrees.


ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Treece, Patricia. “Staggering to Heaven.” Crisis 14 no. 11 (December 1996).

Reprinted by permission of the Morley Institute, a non-profit educational organization.


THE AUTHOR

Patricia Treece is author of such books on saints as A Man for Others. Her column, Saints Alive, originates in the Los Angeles Archdiocese newspaper The Tidings.


http://www.catholiceducation.org/articles/religion/re0319.html