Saint Aloysius's example of steadfast devotion

“In the twilight of our life, we shall be judged according to love.”

Feb 06, 2026

I want to tell you about Saint Aloysius. I have been thinking about his story all week, reflecting on the nature of his devotion to Christ and the costs he endured to live out the full conviction of his beliefs. I am often wondering about the nature of my own privilege and the luxury it affords me to turn away from suffering, or to engage it lightly so that my own comfort is not compromised.

Surely making some donations here, offering prayers there, and calling my senators occasionally is enough, right? I mean it with my whole heart. I preach about it in my work as a chaplain. I talk about it with my friends, and I send what feels like courageous emails to my loved ones who disagree with me. I drink coffee made by immigrants, and I purposely chose a diverse school for my children. And yet, none of that has really cost me my comfort or my stability. I can still sit here, typing away on my computer from the comfort of a chair, knowing that I can ignore the plight of the suffering anytime I want to.

I am challenged by Saint Aloysius’s example because he came from great privilege and willingly gave it away in order to live the devout life he knew God asked of him. He said, “He who wishes to love God does not truly love Him if he has not an ardent and constant desire to suffer for His sake.” I think of the Bishops from my own tradition, encouraging clergy to have their affairs in order in case they are called upon to lay down their lives for their neighbors.

What does it mean to have an ardent and constant desire to suffer for God’s sake? I can’t say that I know yet, but I hope to learn from Aloysius’s example as I discern what it is exactly God is calling me to do in this moment, in these days.

I offer you his story, hoping we can discern together our work for and with those who suffer.

undefined — Saint Aloysius Gonzaga in Glory, Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, 1726

Aloysius (al-oh-ISH-us), named Luigi at birth, was born to an Italian aristocrats. His parents were the crème de la crème of society, living in a castle in Northern Italy. Luigi was the eldest of eight children, and his mother descended from Spanish royalty. By the time he was five years old, Aloysius was given military training so that he would be ready to not only inherit not only his father’s title as Marquise, but also to fulfill his father’s dream of familial might, wealth, and influence. Aloysius was indoctrinated into this life before he knew any better.

When he was about eight years old, he and his brother were sent to Florence to serve the Duke. While in Florence, he became ill and spent his time in bed reading about the saints. Quickly he became disenchanted with the only life he knew and grew intent on living an ascetic life. Ascetism is an extreme form of self denial, and even as early as 11 years old, Aloysius was fasting three days each week, sleeping on the floor, and averting his eyes from every women he encountered to avoid any inklings of temptation.

As a teenager, he expressed his desire to become a member of the Society of Jesus, the Jesuits, which enraged his father. To join a religious order, Aloysius would need to renounce his title and his inheritance, passing them onto his younger brother. His mother was willing, but his father took years to acquiesce. Initially they tried to convince Aloysius to become a secular priest and the family even offered to help Aloysius become a Bishop, which in his father’s eyes was a more powerful, wealthy route to take. But Aloysius was firm in his refusal, and eventually his father saw that he could not be swayed and gave permission.

When Aloysius became a novice with the Jesuits, he actually reduced his ascetic practices so that he could engage in study and communal life. He took vows of poverty, obedience, and chastity, and he experienced a vision that he would die at a young age, within the year. in 1591, during an outbreak of the plague, Aloysius engaged in caring for those who had fallen ill even though his superiors told him not to return to the hospitals after so many Jesuits were dying after being exposed. Aloysius was so committed to caring for the victims and preparing them to receive the sacraments that he refused to leave. During this time, he admitted to his own spiritual director that he felt repulsed by the gruesome state of the victims, but he returned to caring for them anyway.

Eventually Aloysius did contract the disease and died on the Feast of Corpus Christi, just as he was told he would in his vision of the Archangel Gabriel. He died with his crucifix in his hands and Jesus’s name on his lips, eager to enter the heaven he had anticipated for so long.

Saint Aloysius, pray for us that we might have the courage of our convictions. May we follow your example of refusal, both of the world’s riches and the temptation to turn away from suffering. May we, like you, be made worthy of the promises of Christ.1

In the spirit of Godly Play, I wonder what part of this story is most important? I wonder where you see yourself in this story, or what part is especially for you today? I wonder what courageous refusals God might be asking you to make?

Viriditas

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