“The Saint Who Found Me”
How a 17th-century missionary reached into my life 300 years later
When I began learning about the Catholic faith in 1999, I stumbled upon the story of Saint Isaac Jogues—almost face to face with a real saint of the Church.
My wife is French Canadian, born and raised in Montreal, and as I read about this missionary known as the Black Robe, I nearly fell to my knees.
I suddenly realized I had a direct connection to the Catholic faith through her—through her baptism as a child, made possible by missionaries like Saint Isaac Jogues. Until that moment, I had no idea.
His story became a turning point in mine.
From that day on, I knew I had to keep going.
I had to keep learning what I was once told not to learn about.
And I’ve never looked back.
I took Isaac Jogues as my Baptismal name.
Saint Isaac Jogues
“A Real Indian Story”
By the time Isaac Jogues entered the Jesuit novitiate in 1624, missionaries had already begun their work among the native peoples of the New World. A Jesuit mission had been established in Huronia—present-day Ontario—where the French sought to bring Christ to the Hurons.
Twelve rigorous years of study, prayer, and spiritual formation prepared Isaac well for the life of a missionary, though the rugged wilderness of New France would prove far harsher than his cultured upbringing in France had prepared him for. In 1636, shortly after his ordination, the 29-year-old priest sailed for Quebec with four other Jesuits. He would never be the same.
From 1636 to 1642, Father Jogues lived among the Hurons, who gave him the name Ondessonk—”bird of prey”—because of his keen eyes and tireless vigilance. Under the guidance of the seasoned missionary Father Jean de Brébeuf, Isaac learned the Huron language and immersed himself in their customs. Together with fellow missionaries and Huron converts, he endured sickness, hunger, and bitter winters. The sorcerers, jealous of the Blackrobes’ growing influence, blamed them for failed crops, lost hunts, and defeats in battle—often threatening their lives.
Yet despite every hardship, the Gospel took root. Some Hurons came to believe in the Christian God, received baptism, and found eternal hope in Christ.
Under Death’s Shadow
In the summer of 1642, while returning from Quebec with urgently needed supplies, Jogues and his party were ambushed by Mohawks—one of the fiercest nations among the Iroquois, bitter enemies of the Hurons. Eighteen Hurons, two French lay missionaries, and Jogues himself were taken captive; the rest were killed or escaped into the forest.
During the attack, one canoe capsized. Jogues could have fled, but he surrendered himself to join the captives—choosing to suffer with them rather than abandon them.
Over the following weeks, the prisoners were paraded through Mohawk villages, mocked, beaten, and brutally tortured. The Mohawks tore out fingernails, ripped hair and beards, and even cut flesh from their captives, roasting and eating it before their eyes. Jogues had his forefingers crushed and his left thumb sawed off with a shell. At night, they were tied down spread-eagle while children burned their bare flesh with live coals.
And yet, amid such agony, Jogues did what priests do: he heard confessions, offered absolution, baptized catechumens, and gave comfort to those dying in Christ. Not one wavered in the faith.
The Slave Who Prayed for His Captors
Eventually, the Mohawks decided not to kill Jogues, but to enslave him. He was forced to carry heavy loads, work grueling tasks, and live with barely any food or clothing. Still, he prayed for his captors, learned their language, and entered their longhouses to nurse the sick, speak of Christ, and baptize the dying—even those who had mutilated him. He was adopted into the Wolf Clan, and though they treated him cruelly, he continued to baptize Mohawk children and console Christian Hurons brought to the village for execution.
During a visit to a Dutch trading post, Jogues managed to escape. Dutch settlers smuggled him down the Hudson River to Manhattan, and he eventually returned to France, arriving on Christmas Eve, 1643.
Queen Anne wept when she saw his mangled hands. To the Jesuits, Jogues was a living martyr. But to Isaac, this was all too much. He longed to return to the Mohawks.
Return to the Land of His Suffering
In the spring of 1644—just three months after returning to France—Jogues was sent back to New France. Peace negotiations between the French and the Iroquois had begun, and the governor appointed Jogues as the French envoy. There was no better choice: he spoke the language, was known to the Mohawks, and had already shed blood on their soil.
He returned to the village in June 1646. To his surprise, those who had once tortured him now feigned hospitality. A council of chiefs promised peace, wampum belts were exchanged, and Jogues was permitted to baptize the dying once more. Before leaving, he entrusted a chest of Mass supplies to the villagers, showing them its contents and assuring them it held nothing harmful.
He returned to Quebec with hope in his heart—and a holy burden. In a letter to a friend, he wrote:
“My heart tells me that if I have the happiness of being employed in this mission, I shall go never to return. But I shall be happy if our Lord completes the sacrifice where He has begun it. This people is ‘a bloody spouse to me’—‘In my blood have I espoused them to me.’ May our good Master, who has purchased them in His blood, open to them the door of His gospel.”
The Martyrdom
Jogues left for the Mohawks a third time on September 24, 1646, accompanied by a layman, John de Lalande, and several Hurons. But as they neared the village, they were ambushed by a war party.
The Mohawks were suffering disease and crop failure—and now, they accused the Blackrobe of cursing them. They blamed the chest he had left behind. Though the Wolf Clan defended him, the Bear Clan decided to kill him in secret.
On October 18, 1646, Jogues was invited to a feast. As he stooped to enter the lodgehouse, a Mohawk tomahawked him from behind. His head was cut off and displayed on the palisade. The next day, John de Lalande and the Hurons were also killed.
Word of the martyrdom did not reach Quebec until June 1647.
A Blood-Soaked Harvest
The peace was shattered. Over the next years, the Iroquois destroyed all the Jesuit mission posts in Huronia. Fathers Jean de Brébeuf, Gabriel Lalemant, Charles Garnier, Anthony Daniel, and Noël Chabanel were all martyred between 1648 and 1649.
But their blood was not shed in vain.
Fourteen hundred Hurons were baptized in the months following the martyrdoms. The very brave who killed Jogues was later converted, took the name “Isaac,” and died a repentant Christian. Another who had tried to save Jogues at the moment of the attack was also baptized.
Ten years after Jogues’ death, a little girl named Kateri Tekakwitha was born in that same village. She would grow up to become the first Native American saint. Her gentle holiness bore witness to the power of Isaac’s sacrifice, and to the Cross of Christ shining even in the darkest places.
Jogues had written:
“In my blood have I espoused them to me.”
And so it was.
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