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from us. The story of many a great saint follows this pattern, perhaps none more so than in the case of Italian born St Bonaventure (1221–1274). At heart he was the simple Franciscan friar who wanted nothing more than a life of simple devotion. The Vatican had other ideas—and so, perhaps, had God. He rose to become a colleague of the great St Thomas Aquinas, Minister General of his order, spiritual director for the king’s sister, and, at the age of 44, was elected to the position of Archbishop of York. This last position was too great an honor for him to accept. Butler’s Lives of the Saints informs us of the tears with which he begged to be released from such a dignity, and was duly allowed to resign a year later. Having escaped this appointment, he was then offered the position of Cardinal by Pope Gregory X, at which point he ran away. He was then summoned to Rome but stopped at a Franciscan convent in Florence along the way. Two messengers from the Pope found him there doing the washing up. They presented him with the Cardinal’s hat. He looked at it with dread. His response was, (something like), “Can you just hang it on that bush over there until I’ve finished all my duties. Thanks.” With great sadness, he eventually donned the hat and came to Rome to become the Pope’s right hand man. His first achievement was at the Council of Lyon where he was instrumental in bringing about a union, albeit temporary, between the Eastern Orthodox Church and the Roman Catholic Church. Sadly he died before the Council was over.

      If harnessed in the right way, this natural reluctance that most of us feel when sensing the call can be an important time of counting the cost. We feel that the call is to be something greater than seems possible, or nobler than seems fitting. We cannot bear it. Yet if this agony is faced, and we surrender our will to God’s, power will come.

      It was about 2am and some Passover pilgrims were already making their way to the magnificent temple, not wanting to miss a moment of the awe and celebration that filled the atmosphere. But just across the valley, surrounded by olive trees and bent over a rock was a man sweating blood.15 He was about to face his greatest trial of strength and prayed, “Father, if possible, let this cup pass from me, nevertheless, not my will but yours be done.” Every moment spent at the threshold of an ordeal is a moment spent in Gethsemane. The encounter, if it is to conclude well, must finish with, “Your will be done.”

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