Family Saints
St. Monica

St. Augustine’s Rock
Here is the story of a woman who dedicated her life to bringing up her children, and of a rebel first-born who drove her mad for years, denying the Truth that “since boyhood had penetrated deep into my brain.” She never abandoned him and, above all, she never stopped praying, until she received the greatest gift of all.

by Paola Bergamini

“With us was my mother, thanks to whose merits is everything that I live,” Augustine wrote in 386 in De beata vita. All that he lives is the grace of the encounter with Christ. Augustine was 32 years old and Monica, his mother, had wept and prayed for 20 years for the son she loved so much, who up to then had refused the Truth. The story began on a precise date in the year 354. At the time, Monica had no idea what the Lord had in store for her: sainthood for her and her son who was to become a cornerstone of the Church. The Sunday Mass had just finished, and Monica was savoring the scented air that comes from the woods that surround the city, Thagaste, in proconsular Numidia (today Tunisia and part of Algeria), less than six miles from the sea. She was happy, as she was every time she took part in the life of the Christian community. She had been educated in this way–strong in the faith of Christ, in the embrace of the Catholic Church. There had been a period when the Donatist heresy had been wandering through the city, trying to establish, through extreme moral rigor, a Church only for the just in which there was no room for sinners. Her family had not joined them, but had remained a “healthy part” of the Church, a home of believers. Monica recalled that stormy period–how many people, even friends, had gone away! “But Christ came for everyone’s salvation,” she thought, her faith strengthened, and in 349 the battle against the Donatists had been won. Monica then had been 18 years old; now she was 23 and pregnant. She hurried to get home; she didn’t like stopping to waste time in chatter and gossip. She was the envy of many women. Her husband Patricius respected her highly, he didn’t beat her–something quite common at the time–and was very proud of his “lady.” But Patricius was a pagan of impetuous character and was unfaithful to her. Monica knew this, but was certain that he could be converted through her. She prayed and, when she got the chance, spoke to him of that God who made her so happy. In 371, Patricius asked to be baptized, and died the same year.
Augustine was born November 13, 354, and after him arrived Navigius and Perpetua. As soon as he was born, Monica marked Augustine with the Cross of Christ by registering him among the catechumens of the Catholic Church. She dedicated herself totally to his upbringing, transmitted to him her lively faith in Christ, and communicated to him the conviction of the presence of God the Father. Augustine was to write often of “that religion that was inculcated in me since boyhood and penetrated deep into my brain.”
Monica was farsighted and she saw that Augustine would need a sound cultural education–faith and culture: both lead to happiness. As Jean Guitton wrote, “If you want to be a Christian, then you must be intelligent.” Augustine attended school in Thagaste and then in Madaura. He was a brilliant student, even too brilliant. At the age of 16, he was in the height of adolescence and thought only of having a good time. Monica prayed for him and tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen. In 371, he went to Carthage, the cradle of literature. He led a wild life immersed in the theater and amorous relationships–“I didn’t love yet, but I loved to love.” From time to time, he went to church, where he got to know a Christian woman (Augustine would never name her) with whom he began to live and with whom he had a son, Adeodatus. In his desperate search for Wisdom, he embraced the Manichean doctrine.
And Monica? With enormous economic sacrifices, since her husband had died, she maintained Augustine until 374, when he returned to Thagaste to teach grammar. He knocked at her door, accompanied by his companion and their child. He told her about the new doctrine, but Monica refused to welcome him and closed the door in his face. She didn’t accept the Manichean nonsense and had two other children to bring up. So Augustine found lodgings with a distant relative.
Monica asked herself where the son she loved was getting lost. She asked God what to do, and the answer came one night, in a dream. She was standing on a wooden beam with Augustine beside her. The following day, she told her son and invited him back home with his companion and their son. Augustine was exultant: “Don’t you see, you have to stay with me?” But she replied, “I was not told in the dream that I would be where you are, but that you will be where I am.”
Everything seemed to go against the dream. Augustine continued to attract disciples and wandered further and further from the truth. Monica sought help from a wise bishop, but he refused to get involved, saying the time was not ripe, and that Augustine would not listen to him, since his mind was too confused. She tried to insist, but he said, “Keep calm! It can’t happen that a son of so many tears be lost.”

The evening at the port. Augustine returned to Carthage but Monica didn’t give up. She divided her time between two cities and two families. She never stopped praying. She knew her presence was important for her son, even though they had almost nothing in common. Augustine became more and more dissatisfied. The Manichean doctrine didn’t answer his true questions. He thought of going to Rome and Milan. He was sure that there, among the great teachers, he would find the way of Wisdom. But what about his family? He was in no doubt: Monica would see to that. Monica didn’t want him to go; she feared for the journey. Augustine deceived her. The evening of his departure, she caught up with him at the port, but he reassured her, saying, “Don’t worry. I am only here to send off a friend who is leaving. Go into that church to pray. I’ll be done soon, and we’ll go back together.” While she was kneeling before the altar, praying for her son, he set sail without even saying goodbye. It took little effort for Monica to realize the truth. The quay was empty and the ship was there on the horizon. She cried. How could he have done this? Now she would have to care for the woman and her child. She returned to the church and prostrated herself, weeping and praying. Only her God could understand and help her. “Could you have disdained the tears of such a woman who was asking for the salvation of her son, You, who had made her so by Your grace, by refusing her Your help?”
In Rome, Augustine became seriously ill, almost to the point of death. In autumn of 384, he won the post of professor of rhetoric in Milan. The following year, Monica met him there, along with the woman and the child Adeodatus, Monica’s Navigius, and other friends and cousins; so the family was reunited. She had a pleasant surprise. Augustine was no longer a Manichean. He was not yet a Catholic, but she was sure that there, he would find the road. “I believe in Christ that before leaving this world I will see you a convinced Catholic.”
The Church of Milan was a lively community and was led by the great Bishop Ambrose. Monica admired his cultural strength and his passion for his people. She followed him in everything, even when, against all tradition, he forbade over-elaborate ceremonies for the dead. She obeyed. Monica was in front every Sunday to listen to the bishop’s preaching, and she spoke of it to her son. Through her, Augustine began to have doubts about the skeptic philosophy he had begun to follow.

A fact that won him over. The Empress Justina asked for the Portian Basilica for the Arian bishop, Mercurius. Ambrose refused and locked himself up in the basilica day and night with his people. The God of whom Ambrose spoke was a God who saves, who shows the way. Augustine, impressed by all this, wanted to know Him, to be with Him. He began to approach the truth. He recognized the divine authority of the Scriptures and the validity of believing. Grace got to work–he was converted. When he told Monica, she was exultant and “began to bless You. You changed my sorrow into joy.” There was still the problem of the marriage to be solved, but the Lord works in “wonderful and secret” ways. Augustine’s woman decided to consecrate herself to God and return to her country. Only Monica understood what this sacrifice cost. Now Augustine was free to receive Baptism. Then, in the autumn of 386, with the small community of philosophers who followed him, he retired to Cassisiacum, a small town in Lombardy. Monica was with them, helping them in their daily needs and taking part in their discussions, speaking with the wisdom of her faith to everyone’s surprise.

Baptism. On the night of April 24, 387, Holy Saturday, Augustine, Adeodatus, and Alypius received Baptism from Ambrose. The whole community was present, with Monica in front, holding the white garments on the steps of the font, waiting for the three of them to be reborn in Christ.
In summer of the same year, the whole family departed for Thagaste. They stopped at Ostia Tiberina in order to set sail. There, the Lord gave Monica her greatest gift. One evening, mother and son were leaning out of a window contemplating the stars. They talked. Only Augustine could describe that moment of ecstasy and communion: “We were asking ourselves, in the presence of the truth, who You are, what would be the state of eternal life for the saints, that eye does not see, nor ear hear, nor has the heart of man known. We avidly opened the mouth of our hearts to the supreme jet of your fountain, the fountain of life, which is there with You, so as to be steeped as much as we were able, and therefore in some way conceive such a high reality.” For Monica, everything was fulfilled.
The following day, she took ill, and died after only nine days. Augustine had her buried near the Church of Saint Aurea in Ostia Antica. In 1430, her remains were transferred to the Church of St. Augustine in Rome.