Illness, Suffering, and Faith

In the early 1850s, at the height of his influence, Frédéric Ozanam was struck by debilitating illness. In fact, Ozanam’s health had never been robust – since childhood he had a “delicate constitution”. The rigors of teaching, writing, extensive correspondence, travels, and the emotional toll of 1848 likely weakened him further. Doctors advised a warmer climate for recovery, so in late 1852 Ozanam, accompanied by Amélie and little Marie, traveled to Italy. Italy had been the scene of some of his happiest youthful adventures. Now he returned as a patient seeking healing. He spent time in the south of France and then in Pisa, in the mild Tuscan air. For a brief period, he seemed to rally. In early 1853, he wrote letters from Italy sharing spiritual reflections. Not one to be idle, even sick, he helped inspire the founding of a St. Vincent de Paul conference in the city of Florence during this sojourn. In Florence, he addressed the new members, urging them, “Let us help our neighbor as Jesus Christ did and let us put our faith under the protection of charity.” Despite coughing and weakness, Frédéric couldn’t resist encouraging others in the work dear to his heart.

However, by spring of 1853, it was evident that Ozanam was not recovering. He grew frailer by the week. He suffered severe pain and could hardly walk. In letters he remained spiritually steadfast, resigning himself to God’s will. He was concerned for his wife and daughter’s future, but he trusted God to provide. At times, though, he felt the cross of inactivity, feeling useless due to illness. This was perhaps the hardest trial for a man who had always been dynamic. Yet even that feeling of impotence he offered to God.

By summer 1853, Frédéric wished to return to France, sensing the end was near and wanting to see his homeland one more time. In August, the Ozanams left their temporary lodging in the little coastal village of Antignano near Livorno. They set sail from Livorno and landed at Marseille, France, on September 2, 1853. The extended family gathered there. He was carried to lodgings in Marseille, as he was too weak to stand.

Over the next few days, Frédéric’s condition deteriorated rapidly. He was in great pain but remained lucid at times. On September 8, 1853, the Feast of the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, Ozanam lay surrounded by family. He received the last sacraments (Extreme Unction and Viaticum). Amélie had prayed he would be conscious and alert to participate in this final grace, and indeed he was able to make the sign of the cross with assistance. In the evening, around 7:30 p.m., Frédéric began struggling to breathe. He opened his eyes, raised his arms slightly and cried out, “My God, my God, have pity on me!”. Those present – his brothers, wife, relatives – knelt and prayed as his breathing slowed. By 7:50 p.m., with a last sigh, Blessed Frédéric Ozanam passed into eternal life. He was 40 years old. Despite the grief, there was a sense of holy peace in the room. Frédéric had suffered intensely, but he died with the name of God on his lips and surrounded by love.

After his death, Frédéric’s body was taken to Lyon for a funeral Mass at the church where he grew up, and then on to Paris. In Paris, a large Requiem Mass took place at St. Sulpice on September 15, 1853. Many came to pay respects – members of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, students, colleagues, the poor of Paris whom he had served. Tributes poured in. One fellow member wrote movingly, “Dear Frédéric Ozanam! None of us will fill the gap you have left… You were the leader in virtue… The poor prayed for you, and stole your soul away from us”.

Ozanam was buried in the crypt of the Carmelites (Saint-Joseph-des-Carmes) in Paris, thanks to efforts by Lacordaire and the Dominicans. That church had significance, being near where he had lived and tragically the site where martyrs of the Revolution were buried – a symbol of the link between the faith and the trials of France. Amélie ensured his wishes were respected; she even obtained special permission to visit the crypt (since normally women weren’t allowed).

Imagen sin fecha de la cripta de Federico Ozanam. Posiblemente tomada en algún momento de la primera mitad del siglo XX

Amélie wore black as a widow for the rest of her life, dedicating herself to raising Marie and promoting Frédéric’s legacy. Frédéric’s cause for beatification would not be officially introduced until over a century later, but among Vincentians and many Catholics he was immediately venerated as a model lay Christian.

In suffering, Frédéric Ozanam had given perhaps his most authentic testimony. Those around saw how patiently and gently he endured, offering his pain to God as just expiation for any sins and in union with Christ’s sufferings. He had served the poor; now he became one of the suffering poor of the Lord, surrendering all control and letting himself be carried (literally, as they transported him). In that humility, his sanctity was refined like gold in fire.

Reflection:
The Witness of Suffering

Young people do not often reflect on mortality or chronic illness, but in truth, no life is exempt from suffering. Today many struggle with mental health issues, physical illnesses, or the loss of loved ones even at young ages. Frédéric Ozanam’s approach to suffering offers a powerful witness. He did not romanticize pain – he honestly admitted his frustration and fears (like feeling useless or worrying for his family’s future). Yet, he did two crucial things: he kept faith and he united his suffering to Christ. Instead of becoming bitter, he accepted that his life’s work might end early and trusted that God’s work would continue.

For young Catholics, Ozanam’s deathbed example shows that how we face suffering can be our last and greatest sermon. In an age fixated on comfort and quick fixes, his serenity and prayerfulness in affliction speak volumes. It invites us to consider the redemptive dimension of suffering: that we can offer it for a purpose (as he offered his for expiation and as a final act of trust). When he cried “My God, have pity on me,” it was both a human plea and an act of faith – calling on the God whom he believed was there and cared. Many young people encountering hardship might feel tempted to despair or to anger at God. Ozanam shows another way: lamentation as prayer, clinging to God precisely when in pain, much like the biblical Job or Jesus on the Cross.

Additionally, Ozanam’s concern on his final days was for others – making sure Amélie would be okay, and securing an autopsy to reassure her that his illness wasn’t contagious. Even in dying, he thought of relieving her future anxiety (the autopsy indeed showed it was Bright’s disease, not tuberculosis, easing fears that Marie had caught anything). This other-centeredness in suffering is a tall order, but an inspiring one: rather than turning inward, he turned outward in love.

For the youth today, who often see suffering as meaningless or something to avoid at all costs, Ozanam’s life and death illustrate the Christian paradox: suffering accepted in love purifies and can bear fruit. Because Ozanam bore his cross, those around him – including the poor who heard of his passing – saw the authenticity of his faith. It wasn’t only in preaching or charity that he was Christ-like, but also in carrying the cross quietly. In a society that chases perpetual youth and pleasure, his embrace of a holy death is a reminder of the deeper reality of life.

Finally, we can reflect that suffering was not the end of Ozanam’s story, but the gateway to new life. For one, his work multiplied after his death – the Society of St. Vincent de Paul grew exponentially, so that by the time of his beatification in 1997 it had houndreds of thousands members globally, all animated by the spirit he helped enkindle. And in the light of faith, we believe Frédéric continues his mission from Heaven, interceding for those who labor for charity and justice on earth. His suffering was a seed that fell to the ground and died, but it produced much fruit (cf. John 12:24). Every young person who faces trials can hope that, with faith, their trials too can be transformative, both for themselves and mysteriously for others. In a culture that tries to hide from suffering, Frédéric Ozanam’s life and death teach us to look to the Cross and find therein the love stronger than death.