The Fourteenth Sunday of the Year
On the Servant of God Father Augustus Tolton
Dear brothers and sisters,
Twice in today’s first reading the Lord says to Ezekiel, “I am sending you” (Ezekiel 2:3, 4). If anyone hears the Lord say, “I am sending you,” he would be justified in being concerned, for the Lord sent Ezekiel to “rebels who have rebelled against me,” to those “hard of face and obstinate of heart” (Ezekiel 2:5, 4). He sent Saint Paul to both pagan unbelievers and to Christians rife with discord. Even Jesus went to those “who took offense at him” (Mark 6:3).
The task of the prophet, the mission of the one sent by the Lord, is “to bring glad tidings to the poor,” to announce that “they have been rescued from slavery to sin,” and to call them to a life of repentance (Luke 4:18). But “whether they heed or resist – for they are a rebellious house – they shall know that a prophet has been among them” (Ezekiel 2:5).
One such man, the Servant of God Father Augustus John Tolton, whose cause for beatification and canonization is underway as we pray the Lord to confirm that a prophet has been among us, died one hundred and fifteen years ago this Monday, and his life is intimately connected with our Diocese; in fact, his body is buried in Quincy.
His was a life seemingly marked by opposition wherever he turned, save for a few moments of calm. In Father Tolton, we find one who, with Saint Paul, trusted in the Lord’s words: “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness” (II Corinthians 12:9).
This servant of God was born April 1, 1854 in Ralls County, Missouri to faithful Catholic parents, Peter Paul and Martha Jane Tolton, who were slaves near Brush Creek, Missouri.
In 1862, Martha heard talk of slave traders in the area looking for children. Having herself been separated from her parents when she was sixteen, she feared for her children and fled the farm. After a harrowing escape through fields and over the Mighty Mississippi, they finally arrived in Quincy, Illinois, forty-one miles away; Augustus was only seven.
In 1865, he enrolled in St. Boniface school with the permission of the pastor, Father Schaeffermeyer and found those both “hard of face and obstinate of heart” (Ezekiel 2:4). His enrollment led many to threaten to remove their children from the school, to leave the parish, and even to call for the removal of their pastor. Just one month after he enrolled, young Gus withdrew from the school; he was ten years old.
Hearing of his troubles, Father Peter McGirr, Pastor of St. Lawrence Parish (it would later become St. Peter Parish) insisted that Augustus study in a Catholic school. He promised he would personally see that Gus would have no trouble there. Years later, Augustus recalled, “As long as I was in that school, I was safe. Everyone was kind to me.”
Deep within his soul, he seemed to hear the Lord saying to him, “I am sending you,” but because he had not yet heard of a black priest, he thought the priesthood was beyond him (Ezekiel 2:3). He began serving Mass each morning before going to work and became close with two priests who were both impressed with his devotion and thought he had a priestly vocation. They wrote letter after letter to seminaries and religious Orders throughout the country seeking one that would accept him; time and time again, they were told, “We are not ready for a Negro student.”
When he was twenty-four, he opened St. Joseph School of Black Children in
One day a long-awaited letter arrived for Gus: he was accepted to the seminary for the Propagation of the Faith in Rome. Those ordained from this seminary would be sent to mission territories throughout the world, with no choice as to where they would be sent. Nevertheless, Gus was filled with great joy that day. He arrived in the Eternal City at the age of twenty-six and was nicknamed, “Gus from the U.S.”
Five years later, he was ordained a deacon. He later said: “The day I was ordained deacon, I felt so strong that I thought no hardship would ever be too great for me to accept. I was ready for anything; in fact, I was very sure I could move mountains – in
The day before he was ordained a priest, Giovanni Cardinal Simeoni told Deacon Tolton it was decided the night before that he would be sent Africa, but the Cardinal over-ruled the decision. “America has been called the most enlightened nation in the world,” he said. “We shall see whether it deserves that honor. If the United States has never before seen a Black priest, it must see one now!” He was sent home, to Quincy.
It was shocking news, but he had already promised his obedience. He must have remembered the difficulties of his childhood and early adulthood in the United States, but he trusted in the Lord even as he surely heard his words: “A prophet is not without honor except in his native place and among his own kin and in his own house” (Mark 6:4). Would the people take offense at him as they took offense at Jesus (cf. Mark 6:3)?
He arrived in Quincy in July of 1886 and was appointed Pastor of St. Joseph’s Parish, which had been established as a parish for Blacks. He received an enthusiastic welcome in the Gem City and was admired by all. They found in him a “rich and full voice which falls pleasantly on the ears” and saw the “whole-hearted earnestness” with which he went about his ministry.
His ministry met with some success, but affairs turned for the worse when Father Michael Weiss was appointed Pastor of St. Boniface Parish, just one block from St. Joseph’s, for it was Father Weiss who took great offense at Father Tolton.
St. Boniface Parish was in debt and had given much to St. Joseph’s Parish. Many of Father Weiss’ parishioners attended Father Tolton’s Masses and contributed to his parish. Father Weiss forbade Father Tolton from ministering to whites and repeatedly made it clear that contributions from whites belonged to white parishes. This was the first time Father Tolton experienced prejudice from a priest, and it devastated him.
When finally this hardship became too great for him to accept, he wrote to the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith:
There is a certain German priest here who is jealous and contemptuous. He abuses me in many ways and he has told the bishop to send me out of this place. I will gladly leave here just to be away from this priest. I appealed to Bishop [James] Ryan and he also advises me to go elsewhere.
Just twelve days later, he left for Chicago with nineteen of his converts and took up the pastorate of St. Monica’s chapel, where he was entrusted with the pastoral care of all of Chicago’s black Catholics. After he left Quincy, St. Joseph Parish closed for good.
From the beginning, his “ardent charity and self-denying zeal” were evident to all. Within two years he began construction on a new church – that was never completed – and ministered to some six hundred black Catholics.
Having spent himself in the service of the Church, he died of heat stroke in 105 degree weather on July 9, 1897, one hundred and fifteen years ago this Monday; he was forty-three years of age. St. Monica’s became a mission and it took another two years for a full-time pastor to be assigned to it. St. Monica’s closed for good in 1924.
His is a life of deep faith and of perseverance. Speaking to a group of black Catholics, he said:
I was a poor slave boy but the priests of the Church did not disdain me. It was through the influence of one of them that I became what I am tonight… It was the priests of the Church who taught me to pray and to forgive my persecutors. It was through the direction of a Sister … that I learned to interpret the Ten Commandments; and then I also beheld for the first time the glimmering light of truth and the majesty of the Church. In this Church we do not have to fight for our rights because we are Black. She had colored saints – Augustine, Benedict the Moor, Monica. The Church is broad and liberal. She is the Church for our people.
Despite the opposition he faced, he never lost his love of the Church or of the priesthood, and never did he condemn Father Weiss or speak ill of him. Throughout his life, Father Tolton remained “content with weakness, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ” (II Corinthians 12:10).
In this he is a model for each of us; never did he cease his proclamation of the Gospel. As Father Roy Bauer has said, “Some people could easily judge that his life was not a success, but God calls His servants to be faithful, not successful!” The fidelity of Father Tolton cannot be doubted, and for this reason he is a model for us all and a continual reminder that “when I am weak, then I am strong” (II Corinthians 12:10).
Father Tolton found his place of refuge in the Lord and now we pray that he will be declared Blessed and raised to the dignity of the altars (cf. Psalm 34:9). May his example and intercession raise up many more such faithful and devoted priests in our Diocese, that each of the Lord’s altars may have a priest to administer the mysteries of God. Amen!
 Collect of the Day, Roman Missal.
 Roy Bauer, They Called Him Father Gus: The Life and Times of Augustine Tolton, First Black Priest in the U.S.A., Part Eight.
 Ibid., Part Fifteen.
 Ibid., Part Seventeen.
 The Quincy Journal, July 26, 1886.
 In They Called Him Father Gus, Part Twenty-four.
 Mary Elmore in Ibid., Part Twenty-seven.
 Ibid., Part Twenty-three.
 Ibid., Part Twenty-nine.