By Richard Holmes
As Black Catholics — and, indeed, all of us! — attempt to internalize and fully embrace the significance and impact of Black Catholic History Month, we often find it necessary to start at the very beginning by recalling some of the earliest images of Christian blackness.
As wide-eyed children, we were awestruck by the Nativity scene that included Melchior, also known as Balthasar, the exotic black king usually pictured among the Magi at the Christ child’s crib in the manger. Quite a bit later, we recall homilies on the Song of Songs, King Solomon’s love songs to the Queen of Sheba, in which she is described as an Ethiopian queen, a beautiful woman with black skin! Beyond that, we may recall a few shadowy and scarcely identified figures from antiquity like St. Zeno, the patron saint of fishermen, and St. Maurice, one of the patron saints of soldiers who just so happened to look like us.
Those of us with voracious appetites for history also learned of other, more modern examples of faithful Black Catholics, even amid the wickedness, perversities, brutality and corruption of European colonialism and the African slave trade.
In North America, French and Spanish colonialists introduced thousands of enslaved Africans to the faith in Louisiana and Maryland. Despite racial segregation and discrimination being pervasive within the Church, Catholicism was embraced and became an important source of spiritual sustenance for the enslaved. While some enslaved people were baptized and granted full participation in Catholic rights and rituals, they were often relegated to segregated sections of churches, and their full participation in the sacraments was limited.
The 19th century saw the rise of independent Black Catholic communities that can be traced to figures like Ven. Pierre Toussaint, who was instrumental in raising funds for Catholic institutions and providing charity for the poor. He became a symbol of Black Catholic perseverance and faith in the face of adversity.
Alongside Ven. Pierre Toussaint were other extraordinary Black figures of faith, like Servant of God Mary Elizabeth Lange, Ven. Augustus Tolton, Ven. Henriette Delille and Servant of God Thea Bowman. Their profound impact and enduring contributions continue to inspire future generations of Catholics as they fight against racism and inequality with unwavering faith and commitment to their communities.
As Coloradans, we would surely be remiss to overlook the extraordinary life of Servant of God Julia Greeley. Born into slavery in Missouri, Julia never knew the date of her birth. The reality of slavery’s brutality stayed with Julia all her life, the physical proof of which was a drooping eye, received as the result of a whip’s lash as her mother was being beaten. Before the Emancipation Proclamation, Julia worked for nearly a decade as a housekeeper for a prominent white family in St. Louis. She moved to Colorado in 1879 when she accompanied the family of Colorado’s Territorial Governor, William Gilpin, to Denver. Julia moved around for a while, working odd jobs in Colorado, Wyoming and New Mexico.
Upon moving back to Denver, she found her true purpose in life. Through her relationship with Gilpin’s wife, she was introduced to and fell in love with the Catholic faith and joined Sacred Heart Parish in Denver. It was here, while living among the poverty, despair and squalor around her, that Julia found her true calling. Despite her illiteracy and her own meager income earned from odd jobs like cooking and cleaning, she worked day and night to solicit and gather donations of food, clothing, coal and firewood, among numerous other items, which she in turn delivered to families in need. Using her little red wagon to make deliveries, often in the dark of night to avoid embarrassing the recipients, she became known as the “Angel of Charity” in her community. Described as a “one woman Vincent de Paul Society,” Julia took to Denver’s streets with only the works of mercy as her guide.
She also became known as an intercessor for women experiencing difficulties conceiving and regularly cared for the sick, often telling caretakers to take rest for themselves. Julia became a lifelong friend and source of spiritual strength for Denver’s firefighters by making weekly visits on foot to deliver Catholic literature to every fire station in Denver. Julia rarely missed a day to celebrate Mass at Sacred Heart Parish, and despite the racial discrimination that was common practice in those times, she was given a place of honor at the front of the sanctuary at Sacred Heart.
Julia died on June 7, 1918, which happened to be the feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the very cause to which she had dedicated her life. Nearly one thousand mourners attended the funeral service to pay their last respects to this remarkable child of God. Her cause for canonization was opened in 2016, and Denver Archbishop Samuel J. Aquila held her up as a model of mercy during the Jubilee Year of Mercy. The following year, her remains were moved to Denver’s Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception.
These are but a few examples of the rich legacy of unwavering faith, perseverance and trust in God’s love that Black Catholics — and, indeed, all Catholics — must hold dear and celebrate during Black Catholic History Month. Let us honor our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ by recognizing this enduring testament to the past, present and future of African American Catholicism.
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