By Francis X. Maier
The island of Mozambique is a tiny dot on Google Maps, a small fragment of land two miles off the east African coast. Today it is a peaceful site declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is also a magnet for intrepid tourists. One reason is its beauty. The other is its history. Five hundred years ago, it was an important and heavily fortified Portuguese center of trade and administration. It was located halfway between Europe and the Portuguese territories in the Far East, and therefore had immense strategic value. I first saw the island in the early 1970s, while covering Portugal’s colonial wars. From the mainland, it looked like the end of the world: an exotic mix of poverty and decayed wealth, floating on the horizon.
At that time, however, that was not what sparked my interest. It was the memory of a particular saint. In my family, when I was a child, there was a special love for the missions, and (Saint) Francis Xavier spent seven months on the island of Mozambique, from August 1541 to March 1542, on his way to India. He dedicated himself to preaching, baptizing, hearing confessions, and working among the sick and dying in the island’s hospital. He most likely celebrated Mass in the chapel of Nossa Senhora de Baluarte (“Our Lady of the Bulwark”). Built in 1522 by Portuguese sailors, it still exists today. It is the oldest European structure in the southern hemisphere.
So much for the memories and the geography. Why do they matter?
Here’s the reason: on the Church’s calendar, Catholics celebrate today, December 3, the feast of Saint Francis Xavier. Born in 1506 into a noble Basque family, he came of age in the turbulent early days of the Reformation. Francis studied at the University of Paris and was originally reluctant, even sarcastic, about a religious vocation. It didn’t last. His friend and fellow student—and also Basque—Ignatius of Loyola gradually convinced him. Once persuaded, he gave himself completely. Francis became a co-founder of the Society of Jesus and one of the original seven Jesuits. Today he is widely recognized as the greatest Christian missionary since Saint Paul.
The facts fully support that claim. He was a man of astonishing stamina and zeal. In just over a decade of tireless ministry, in an era when “social communications” meant direct personal contact, Francis Xavier baptized between 30,000 and 100,000 souls in India, Southeast Asia, and Japan. And he didn’t just baptize and leave. He ensured ongoing pastoral support for the communities he founded, adapted his evangelization to local needs and cultures, and worked tirelessly to form a well-educated native clergy.
He died of fever and exhaustion in 1552, on Sanchán Island (Shangchuan), off the coast of China, while waiting for permission to enter and evangelize the mainland. He was only 46 years old. Having left Lisbon for missionary service in April 1541, he never returned to Europe. He was canonized in 1622. And in 1927, Pope Pius XI named him co-patron, along with Thérèse of Lisieux, of foreign missions.
Advent prepares us for the birth of Jesus and his Second Coming at the end of time. We remember and celebrate these things every year, in the weeks leading up to Christmas. If Jesus Christ is who he said he was—the Son of God; the Word of God made flesh for our salvation—then his birth is the decisive event in human history, the central truth of creation. Nothing is more important.
This makes Francis Xavier the perfect saint for the season. He believed in Jesus Christ without reservation, and he gave himself completely to the Church and its mission, without calculating the cost. To borrow from the Epistle of James, Francis Xavier was a doer of the Word of God, not just a hearer. And we Christians have the same vocation. Few may be called to foreign missions; but all of us are called to mission in the concrete circumstances we inhabit here and now. Mission is an essential part of Christian identity.
Which leads to a final thought.
While recently reading a book about “cultural Christians” through the centuries, the following passage jumped out at me with particular force:
Instead of thinking that cultural Christianity is the exception, a phenomenon that could only flourish under very specific conditions, perhaps we should consider it as a default state, a natural result of the fallen and sinful condition of humanity… And, since so many of us are also cultural Christians, trying to fix the world through politics or simply with specific policies on marriage, for example, will never work. Rather, we need to seek authentic conversion and true sanctification.
True. From apostolic times to the present, Christians have always had the task of being good leaven, and thus transforming a wounded world. There has never been a pure “golden age” of Christianity, because we all struggle with our sins. But alongside Christ’s command to make disciples of all nations comes the temptation to find a comfort zone in our daily lives; to be respected by cultural leaders; to fit in and avoid conflict; to compromise with the world in ways that gradually hinder “authentic conversion and sanctification.”
And here’s an example, easy to overlook: the book I mentioned above, written by a Christian historian, for a Christian audience and published by a Christian press, repeatedly uses CE (“Common Era”) and BCE (“Before Common Era”) in dating events and trends, instead of AD (Anno Domini) and BC (“Before Christ”).
It’s a small thing. But also revealing. The standards of a profession, including history, reflect its underlying beliefs and pretensions. If Jesus Christ is truly the Son of God, the source of redemption and eternal life for humanity, then excluding him from the way we organize and record humanity’s most precious resource—time—seems a curious choice.
What would a man like Francis Xavier think of that? What would he say about us? Consider them questions for reflection in this Advent, in the year of our Lord 2025.
About the author:
Francis X. Maier is a senior research fellow in Catholic studies at the Ethics and Public Policy Center. He is the author of True Confessions: Voices of Faith from a Life in the Church.