The other great Saint of November 11th: St. John the Almsgiver

On November 11, the universal Church remembers the great Saint Martin of Tours, and Martin’s importance in the Church calendar is certainly justified. That holy French bishop has been inspiring Catholics to care for the poor for sixteen centuries since his death.

But November 11 is the feast day of another remarkable saint who cared about the needs of the poor, a saint who is often overshadowed by his more famous predecessor: Saint John the Almsgiver (c. 550-620).

John was born in Amathus, an ancient city on the island of Cyprus in the Mediterranean Sea. Amathus was an important city, and John was an important man. Born into the nobility, John was a devout Catholic, husband, and father. He was also a respected citizen and widely known for his personal holiness.

But his wife and children died. He was about fifty years old when the position of patriarch for the city of Alexandria in Egypt became vacant. In the ancient world, bishops were sometimes nominated by popular acclamation, and the citizens of Alexandria decided that they wanted the widowed John to be their archbishop. He accepted that honor.

As a coastal city, Alexandria was a center of trade and culture, the home of the (demolished but famous) Library of Alexandria, and the site of one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World: the Lighthouse of Alexandria. While the city was conquered by the Persians in 619 and then by Muslim forces in 641, Alexandria was one of the most important Catholic sees in the world when John became its patriarch.

And it was a city torn by competing religious views, particularly over the issue of Monophysitism. Followers of this heresy rejected the teachings of the Council of Chalcedon and claimed that Jesus Christ possessed only a divine nature. How would this layman-turned-bishop handle the leadership of a large, volatile populace during a time of widespread dissent?

But John was not a theologian, and he didn’t try to become one. Instead, he focused on reminding the wealthy, prosperous citizens of Alexandria of one of the two great commandments given us by Christ: love of neighbor.

After John was consecrated a bishop, the first question he asked his advisors was, “How many masters do I have?”¹ They were puzzled, of course, so John explained his understanding of the twenty-fifth chapter of the Gospel of Matthew. The poor, John patiently told them, were his masters, because they had so much power in Heaven to help those who did good to them on earth.

It turned out that the city of Alexandria possessed 7,500 “masters”, and Patriarch John immediately found ways to assist them. At his installation, he discovered that the Alexandria church had 80,000 gold pieces in its treasury, although not for long. John gave it all away to hospitals and monasteries to help them care for those in need. Inspired by his example, many other Catholics donated to help the poor, and as quickly as those donations were received, John distributed that money to the needy. As you may imagine, his stewards begged him to be less generous, but John calmly reminded them to trust more in God’s providence.

Giving away food and money is not the only way to help others. John sat outside his church every Wednesday and Friday, all day, so that ordinary people could come to him with their needs, financial or otherwise. He prohibited his servants and officials from accepting gifts, so as to avoid those “gifts” from becoming bribes. He insisted that all businesses use just weights and measures, recognizing this as another common means of the rich robbing the poor. He also privately enjoyed shaming the rich into giving more generously than they initially wanted to give.

Jesus promised that His followers would perform miracles (John 14:12), but some saints’ biographies make the lives of holy men and women sound so extraordinary that it’s hard not to be skeptical. However, the stories about Saint John the Almsgiver—which were first compiled by two writers who actually knew him—have the ring of truth.

For example, John did not only help the poor; he lived like one of them. It’s said that a wealthy man found out that John had only one blanket on his bed, and not a very nice one. The man gave John a beautiful new blanket for his personal use. John accepted the gift and took it to bed that night. But he found that this “luxury” robbed him of his sleep. He worried all night about the poor citizens of his city who were sleeping in the cold because they lacked blankets or even beds. The next day, John sold the blanket and gave the money to the poor. His wealthy friend found out what he had done and bought John a second blanket. And a third. Finally, John told the man, “We shall see who will get tired first.”

John discovered that some members of his flock left the church building during Mass, presumably because they were bored during a long service and wanted to be more comfortable. John followed them out of the church (while Mass was still going on), sat down among them, and, when he was asked what he was doing, said, “My children, the shepherd must be with his flock.” Shamed by his gentle but direct approach, they returned to the church and didn’t leave Mass again.

In the year 619, the city’s governor asked John to accompany him to Constantinople to meet with the Byzantine emperor and discuss the dangers of the approaching Persian army. But God warned John that the end of his life was near. “You invite me to the emperor of the earth,” John told the governor, “but the King of Heaven calls me to Himself.” John returned to his native Amathus, where he died several months later.

In the end, Saint John the Almsgiver did teach his flock to reject the heresy of Monophysitism, although not by writing a theological treatise. Instead, John taught the truth about the Incarnation through the compassion he showed for both the spiritual and physical needs of his people. The Savior who was born in a stable, worked with His hands, fasted in the desert, and didn’t always have a bed in which to sleep possesses both a human and a divine nature. He knows the experience of hunger, and He knows who is hungry today.

So we, His servants, had better start looking around for the “masters” we can help, both for their sakes and our own.

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