Episode Transcript  

One

A Ruler with a Rule of Life

Saint Louis, King of France, was born in 1214 and died in 1270. Louis IX was a husband, a father of eleven children with whom he was intimately involved in raising while he governed Europe’s most powerful kingdom, administering justice, restraining corrupt officials, settling disputes among rulers, defeating rebellions, and securing peace with England. He built Sainte-Chapelle, or the Holy Chapel, to house Christ’s Crown of Thorns. It expressed his conviction that Christ, not royal power, was the true center of his kingdom. He was friends with Thomas Aquinas, from whom he sought counsel. He founded hospitals, fed the poor, and led two Crusades. Yet amid it all, his priority was spending time with God in prayer each day.

How did he do it all? Louis lived by a plan of life, a solid structure that enabled him to live a well-ordered and balanced life. He began each morning with silent meditation and a concrete resolution. He attended Mass each day, examined his conscience each evening, and went to Confession every week. His life was not ruled by busyness or distraction, but guided by a solid plan, a rhythm and purpose. He understood the proper hierarchy: God first, then family, then kingdom.

In an age addicted to busyness, entertainment, and distraction, Louis shows us that sanctity begins with a plan. We, too, need a plan for life, a rule of life, to keep our eyes fixed on heaven while fulfilling our duties on earth. If you need a plan of life, listen to our Rosary on a recipe of life or read our transcript and then create your own.

Two

A King Who Served the Poor

Louis ruled from a palace but lived like a servant. Each day, he personally gave food, clothing, and money to the poor. He often fed more than a hundred beggars at his table, then knelt to wash their feet. He founded the Quinze-Vingts Hospital for three hundred blind men and homes for orphans, the sick, and the abandoned. He washed the wounds of a leper and secretly served the sick at Royaumont Abbey. Louis believed he was serving Christ hidden in their suffering. He did not delegate mercy.

Most of our loved ones are not starving for food; they are starving for God. They do not know Christ or live in friendship with Him. Christ expects us, not someone else, to act. What should we do? Three things: First, pray and sacrifice for their conversion with intentionality, confidence, and persistence. Second, remove whatever in us keeps them from seeing Christ: pride, anger, opinionatedness, self-absorption, harshness, and hypocrisy. Third, build a bridge of friendship. Do good things together. Take a walk, share a meal, work on a project. Be curious. Ask what matters to them. Listen patiently. Then, when the moment is right, invite them to pray the Rosary, go to Confession, attend Mass, or enter OCIA.

God placed specific people in your life for a reason. You cannot delegate this. Get close, become involved, and love them gently toward heaven.

Three

Crusades

In 1009, the Muslim caliph al-Hakim destroyed the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and violently persecuted Christians. His actions shocked Europe and helped spark the crusading movement. Jerusalem was lost to Saladin in 1187, briefly recovered, and then violently captured again in 1244. Christians in the Holy Land appealed for help, and Louis IX answered the call.

He led two Crusades, desiring to reclaim the Holy Land for Christ. But both ended in failure. In 1249, he captured Damietta in Egypt, but chaos and disease devastated his army. He was taken prisoner. Yet even in captivity, his captors knelt before him, recognizing his holiness. Released after a ransom, he was allowed to go on pilgrimage to the Holy Land, praying at the few sites still accessible.

Four

Spiritual Ascent

When Louis returned from his first Crusade, he wasn’t defeated; he was awakened. He had gone to fight for Christ with armies and strategy, but everything unraveled. His men died, his mission collapsed, and he was humiliated. The campaign ended not in glory, but in emptiness. And in that emptiness, Louis saw the world for what it truly is: fleeting, fragile, and unable to satisfy the soul.

Earthly victories, even in the name of God, can become idols. Strength fails, wealth vanishes, relationships fade. But one thing remains: union with God. Louis had fought for the Holy Land, but now he sought to become a holy land, a soul hungry for God alone. He withdrew from courtly life. He fasted, prayed, and confessed frequently. He dressed simply, embraced silence, and lived like a monk with a crown. He was no longer preparing for a campaign. He was preparing for eternity.

And so must we. As our worldly responsibilities lessen, when our children are grown, when retirement comes, when life quiets down, we are not being sidelined. We are invited by God to spend more time with him and grow in holiness. Don’t waste this precious time on news and shows, sports and distractions.

Louis’s final years were his ascent. Let’s make ours the same. Let us set out on the ascent to God through a deeper life of prayer.\

Five

The Dark Night

In 1270, he launched one final Crusade to Tunis, where he fell ill and died, lying on ashes and whispering, “Jerusalem.”

To the world, two failed Crusades sure looked like everything had gone wrong. But in God’s eyes, it was just the opposite. Through these losses and failures, God was pouring Himself into Louis’s soul, and pushing out everything that was less than Him. In the darkness, Louis was being emptied so that God could fill him with Himself. What King Louis wanted most was transforming union with Christ. But that union could only happen when the soul is emptied of everything less.

Every person has two or three good things we actually want more than God. Things we think make up our identity and self-worth, things we think we must have for happiness and security. Attachment to these things, no matter how good, prevents God from filling our soul and transforming us completely. This is why God allows the Dark Night; he allows good things to be stripped away.

The Dark Night might take the form of a difficult marriage, a chronic health problem, some failure in business, or simply retirement, the loss of a spouse or loved one. Whatever form the Dark Night takes, God is not punishing us. God is flooding in and pushing created things out, making room to be filled by God.

As Ps 36:8 promises, “They will be inebriated from the richness of your house. And you will let them drink from the torrent of your delight. Yes, with you is the fountain of life and by your light we see the light.”

So what personal resolution can we draw from the life of St. Louis, King of France? Create your own plan, a recipe of life, so that your life isn’t ruled by busyness and distraction but by the love of God. Make the resolution to form a small group of family and friends that you spend time with regularly to help one another to heaven. Or consider the circumstances that God has allowed in your life as a way that He is inviting you to a deeper friendship and intimacy with him, by daily meditation, a daily concrete resolution, and then by spending more time with God in silence, without reading or listening to more content. Just rest in Him.

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