The 16th century was a tumultuous time for Christianity. When German monk Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses on Wittenberg’s Castle Church calling for reform within Catholicism, he set in motion a division that would take centuries to heal. The Protestant Reformation divided Europe into warring divisions. England and Northern Europe adopted Protestantism, while the rest held mainly to Catholicism. The conflict eventually led to the Thirty Years War (1618–1648), in which it’s estimated that between 4.5 to 8 million people died from disease, famine, and violence.

A Wise and Gentle Saint

In this period of profound division and anger, a wise and gentle saint emerged. St. Francis de Sales (1567–1622), who was canonized in 1665 by Pope Alexander VII, was born to a noble family in the kingdom of Savoy near Geneva, Switzerland, a stronghold of Calvinism. At age 13, Francis enrolled at the University of Paris and later completed his doctorate in law at the University of Padua.

At 17, Francis took part in a conversation about predestination that caused him to conclude he was not one of God’s elect. Fortunately, while visiting a Parisian church several years later, Francis experienced God’s love and grace. Following that, he dedicated his life to pursuing the priesthood, and along the way, his vocation became increasingly clear. Then one day, while riding his horse, he fell off it on three separate occasions, and his sword and sheath landed on the ground in the sign of a cross. That experience solidified his commitment to serve the church.

After completing his theological training, Francis returned to Geneva, where he was ordained in 1593 at age 26 and started work as provost of the Geneva Cathedral. Without daily parish responsibilities, he was free to study apologetics and focus on evangelizing Calvinists. For six years, Francis toiled, and his preaching was met with hostility and even death threats. Eventually, his listeners were won over. 

Then, in 1599, he experienced a vocational breakthrough. When invited to preach at King Henry IV’s court, the king was so impressed that he eventually promoted Francis to Bishop of Geneva in 1602, where he served faithfully for many years. In Geneva, he established a new religious community, the Order of Visitation, which opened its doors to those who, due to physical limitations, were otherwise unable to join more austere religious orders.

A Patron Saint of Everyday Work

Today, Francis de Sales is known as the patron saint of Catholic writers, the Catholic press, the deaf, journalists, and adult education. Based on his lifelong commitment to encourage the laity, we might also regard him as the saint of everyday work.

While Protestant reform during Francis’ life elevated the sacredness of non-religious vocations, Catholic theology lagged behind. Many believed that the holy life was reserved for clergy and those serving in religious orders. Francis taught otherwise, laying early ground for the teaching of the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965) and its universal call to holiness, no matter one’s social standing or vocation.

As we begin this new year, three principles from St. Francis de Sales’ Golden Counsels — an abridged booklet of his writings — should guide our work.

Devote Oneself to God

St. Francis de Sales made devotion fully accessible to his parishioners. His standards were high: “Ordinary people walk along the path of God; devout people run; very devout people fly,” but his methods were patient and kind. “The virtue of devotion is neither more nor less than a general inclination and promptitude of spirit to do what we know is pleasing to God.”

Christians too often confuse the pathway of piety. I, for one, either strive too hard by working through the Sabbath or too little by not committing to daily spiritual disciplines. This rhythm of proper strain and rest in pursuit of holiness is captured well in Francis’ call to daily prayer.

The length of our prayers should be in proportion to the amount of work we have to do. And since it has pleased God to place us in the kind of life in which we always have distractions, we may have to get used to shortening our times of prayer.

As Francis reminds us, we are called to pray but cannot do so indeterminately. Our lives are complicated. Thus, faithful stewardship and service often hastens an Amen.

Cooperate with God

Francis clearly understood agency — ours and God’s — and how the two intersect. He regularly reminded his listeners that “in all you have to do,” you are to “rely wholly on God’s providence.” And he likened the relationship to berry picking. In our home and work responsibilities, “Imitate little children who with one hand hold fast to their father while with the other they gather strawberries or blackberries from the hedges.”

In the workplace, we are often tempted to over- or under-function, assuming too little or too much responsibility for organizational success. In Francis’ view, faithful work looks upward, like a mariner using the stars to navigate the darkness or, like a trekker, navigating the terrain directly ahead instead of around the bend. In both cases, God’s word is a lamp that lights our path, providing what we need at the moment.

Work for God

Finally, Francis calls us to work excellently. Highly sympathetic to the pressing demands of non-religious vocations, he invites us to slow down in pursuit of quality. “A job done too eagerly and hurriedly is never done well.” He adds,

Drones make more noise and work more hurriedly than bees, but they make only wax, not honey. So also, persons who hurry about with anxious concern and bustle never accomplish much or do anything well. We must make haste slowly.

His instruction doesn’t end there. He offers practical guidance for getting started on big jobs. After peacefully accepting the tasks before us, tackle them in the best-sense order. Doing so, he suggests, will prevent frustration and weariness and allow us to withstand the pressure that seeks to immobilize us. Francis’ time-management advice is as apt today as it was 400 years ago.

In one of the bloodiest periods of Christianity, Francis offered a different pathway — one of kindness, empathy, and goodness. His humble approach broke down barriers, befriending many staunch Calvinists and introducing others to Christ. Francis lived as he spoke, “Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength.”

In his quest to reach his needy and burdened parishioners, Francis addressed the demands of everyday life. In doing so, he paved the way for a robust theology of vocation — one that embraces the sacredness of every human being and every task in every life context. In our increasingly contentious world, we need more gentle voices like Francis’.