Dear Saints,

If you’re familiar with Dante’s Inferno, you might recall that he mentions the town of “Santa Zita.” What he’s actually referring to is the city of Lucca in Tuscany.

It’s hardly uncommon to name a place after a person. Washington D.C.; Lafayette, Indiana; Bakersfield, California: all named for people who made their mark on this world. Even Boonton is named after one of its Colonial Governors. But we don’t name cities after just anyone. You had to have done something extraordinary (or at least funded something extraordinary).

So what was so remarkable about Zita that she would earn a spot in such an enduring work as the Divine Comedy?

As it turns out, nothing. She was a poor servant in a wealthy household that did not treat her particularly well, at least at first. Her diligence in her duties earned her the resentment of her fellow servants, so she was largely friendless. Every day was exactly the same: an endless loop of cooking, cleaning, laundry, yardwork, and childcare. The only thing extraordinary about Zita’s life was its extraordinary dullness.

But that’s not how Zita saw it. She considered her chores to be assignments from God himself. She regarded her employers and fellow servants as people to love, serve, and protect, no matter how challenging. Day after day, month after month, year after year, Zita put her shoulder to the plow with zest, kindness, good cheer, and humility. Her authenticity eventually won over her detractors, and those who once reviled her finally came to revere her.

We might be tempted to think greatness lies in those high-stakes, high-profile moments that keep a person’s name alive for generations. In reality, true greatness lies in loving obedience to God’s will, no matter how mundane it might seem at the time.

Christ’s Peace,

Father Daniel

δοῦλος Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ