On February 27, 1862, at the age of 24, St. Gabriel of the Sorrowful Virgin, a religious of the Passionist Congregation, died of tuberculosis. He lived quietly, without calling attention to himself. In fact, he had many qualities that are difficult to find in a single person: he was beautiful in soul and body.

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Indeed, the town of Spoleto, in Italy, was no exception to this rule.

On August 22, 1856, the graceful Perugian city awoke radiant with joy on the morning of the Octave of the Assumption of Mary. The inhabitants were jubilantly celebrating the feast of the Patroness, giving special thanks for having been freed from the plague that had ravaged the region in recent years. Everywhere, the youthful smiles of the population seemed to flourish and captivate the gaze.

In those lively streets, there was no one who did not fall to his knees at the sight of the miraculous icon of the Madonna Del Duomo, painted by St. Luke, parading with great pomp. Everyone hoped to receive from Her a longed-for grace, a consolation, a particular blessing.

“What are you doing in the world? You are not made for it!”

Among the crowd of the faithful, awaiting the passage of the venerated icon, there stood out that day a young man of distinguished and jovial bearing.

When the Sacred Image of the Blessed Virgin passed in front of him and his gaze met the ravishing eyes of the image, he heard clearly within him these unforgettable words: “Francis, what are you doing in the world? You are not made for it. Follow your vocation!

At that moment, giving free rein to abundant tears of gratitude and compassion, he took the firm resolution that he had been postponing for some time: to become a religious, deciding to enter the Congregation of the Passionists.

Vivacious, gentle and full of affection

Born on March 1, 1838, in Assisi, he was baptized that same day with the name Francis, in honour of the Poverello. The eleventh child in a family of thirteen siblings, his father, the lawyer Sante Possenti, was at the time mayor. His mother, Angese Frisciotti, belonged to a family of noble descent and died when he was only four years old.

Although he possessed a heart that was inclined to generosity and sympathy, an indomitable temperament reigned in the spirit of that tender boy, which, when thwarted, often manifested itself in fits of anger, during which his dark eyes would become bright and his feet would pound the ground with energy.

When he was three years old, the Possenti family moved to Spoleto, where he spent his childhood and adolescence. There Francis distinguished himself by his lively character, full of affection, gentle, easy-going and full of grace words, sonorous voice, and penetrating gaze.

“I lived for nothing but a little smoke!”

At 13 he began to attend the Jesuit school, where he stood out from all his companions. He “was the favourite to recite at the academic soirées. […] Everyone wanted him, everything smiled at him, everything went according to his wishes… His greatest pleasure was to shine at parties, in the soirees and in the theatre.

Dancing was also a great attraction for him. He danced with such skill that he became known by the nickname “il ballerino,” and as such he animated the most prestigious halls of the city.

These moments spent in frivolous distractions later tormented her conscience, leading her to often exclaim: “Oh, vanity of my pastimes!

A cilice under the elegant clothes

But the young Francis professed a pure and sincere faith within himself. No one could imagine that this young man, applauded and approved by all, was wearing, under his elegant and luxurious clothes, a rude leather cilice studded with sharp iron points.

In the superficial oscillation of events, the yearning to someday enter religious life began to blossom in his soul.

Arduous renunciation, made with joy

After his mother’s death, his older sister, Maria Luisa, had been one of his main supports. Very beautiful, she was in her prime when a devastating cholera epidemic broke out in Spoleto, of which she was the first victim.

Providence took advantage of this to open his eyes to his vocation. Soon after her death, he told his father of his resolution to enter a convent. The latter, however, refused his authorization, fearing that such a desire was the ephemeral fruit of a moment’s sorrow.

Fear, in appearance, confirmed, for as time went by, the attractions of the world began to stifle that inner yearning once again…

It was in this situation that the crucial encounter with the Sacra Icona took place, thanks to which the reluctant young man decided to embrace religious life forever.

A few days after this episode, on September 5, the most select society of Spoleto gathered in the ceremony hall of the Jesuit Lyceum to attend the distribution of the end-of-the-year awards. As president of the Literary Academy, Francis occupied a prominent place in the hall.

When the time came for him to take the stage, the audience erupted in exclamations of enthusiasm at the sight of an eighteen-year-old adolescent presenting himself with such elegance and distinction.

“That timbre of voice, that sonority, that vocalization and, above all, that grace of expression and gestures electrified and shook the most apathetic hearts.

When the speech was over, everyone wanted to congratulate him, acclaim him, greet him, and he responded with his usual smile.

The decision, however, was made. The next day he would leave for a definitive change of life. At only 18 years of age, he was exchanging a brilliant future for a life of renunciation and recollection. Yes, he took an arduous step, but with a heart pervaded with joy.

Passionist forever

The next morning Francis left Spoleto happily for Loreto, where he spent a few days in the famous shrine, strengthening his bonds of love and devotion to Mary Most Holy.

From there he headed to Morrovalle to begin the Passionist novitiate.

“He, the elegant dancer, the brilliant entertainer of the salons of Spoleto, chose to enter the austere Institute of the Passionists, founded in 1720 by St. Paul of the Cross, with the mission of announcing, through contemplative life and the apostolate, the love of God revealed in the Passion of Christ.”

The change of name to Gabriel of the Sorrowful Virgin marked the death to the past life and the beginning of the journey on the paths of perfection.

When, in conversation with his fellow friars, the subject turned to world events, he interrupted her with a serene smile: “Why talk about what we must abandon forever? Let the dead bury their dead.

Let’s not think, however, that the adaptation to the austere religious life was easy for that young man of settled life. Accustomed to fine foods, “the insipid food of the poor Passionist convent caused him an invincible repugnance. Despite the protests of his nature, he insisted on eating them, until his compassionate superiors temporarily allowed him some relief.

The same was true of other aspects of observance of discipline, but he made a point of excellently fulfilling the schedules and obligations of the novitiate, no matter how much effort it cost him, given his delicate complexion.

Love for the Passion of Christ and for Mary Most Holy

During his life as a religious, a deep love for the Lord’s Passion undoubtedly stood out in him. He had such veneration for the sufferings of Jesus that he never separated himself from the crucifix:

“When he talked, he kept it covertly in his hand and pressed it lovingly; when he slept, he placed it on his chest; when he studied, he placed it next to his book, and from time to time he would stare at it and touch it with such affection and fervour that the metal image gradually wore away until all traces of the physiognomy were erased.”

To this devotion characteristic of the congregation he had joined, however, was joined an “enthusiastic, ingenious, and passionate love for the Blessed Virgin”.

His famous Credo di Maria reveals to us the charm of this passionate soul for the Mother of God:

“I believe, O Mary, […] that you are the Mother of all men. I believe that there is no other name outside the name of Jesus, so overflowing with grace, hope and gentleness for those who invoke it. I believe that whoever relies on You will not fall into sin, and whoever honours You will attain eternal life. I believe that Your beauty drove away every impure movement and inspired chaste thoughts.”

A short existence, dotted with heroic deeds

In the mind of the novice Gabriel, there was no room for any other thought but Jesus and Mary. And he felt such a deep-seated need to carry his dedication to God and Mary to the ultimate consequences that once, on hearing the footsteps of his spiritual director, he opened the door of his cell and, throwing himself at his feet, begged him:

“Father, if you find anything in me, however small, that does not please God, I, with your help, want to tear it out at all costs!”

The priest replied that he could see nothing at the moment, but that he would not fail to alert him when he saw any sign. With this assurance, the docile religious calmed down completely.

His short existence was full of admirable acts because he did everything in a spirit of complete elevation and sublimity: “Our perfection does not consist in doing extraordinary things, but in doing ordinary things well,” he used to say.

The last smile

After a year and a half of novitiate, in February 1858, Gabriel began his studies for the priesthood and finally moved to the convent of Isola del Gran Sasso, where he died.

On May 25, 1861, he received his minor orders in Penne Cathedral. By the mysterious designs of Providence, however, he did not become a priest.

At the end of that same year, a terrible tuberculosis afflicted him. Now, far from hindering his progress along the paths of virtue, the fatal illness served him to climb more quickly to the pinnacles of holiness.

God had disposed that he would gradually be consumed by the disease, to increase his merits and give others the opportunity to be edified by his example.

On his deathbed, he still had to face the worst drama of his life: the final assaults of the devil and the terrible trial resulting from a “dark night of the soul”.

However, even in this last trial, he emerged victorious. The priest who assisted him in the supreme hour heard him repeat three times, in short intervals, this phrase from St. Bernard, by which he recognized before God his own weakness: “My merits are your wounds, Lord!

On the morning of February 27, 1862, with his heart overflowing with joy, his hands folded on his chest, clasping the crucifix and the image of the Sorrowful Virgin, Gabriel smiled for the last time, ecstatic, as he contemplated with the eyes of his soul the One whom he had served on earth with such sweetness. The “saint of the smile” was then only 24 years old.

Saint Gabriel of the Sorrowful Virgin remains, for today’s youth, an invaluable example of uncompromising renunciation of sin, of enthusiastic love for the Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ, and of deep devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Text taken, with adaptations, from the magazine Heralds of the Gospel, n. 122, February 2012. By Sr Lucía Ordoñez Cebolla, EP.

Compiled by Zephania Gangl