Chap­ter XV – For Greater Things cap­tures the last­ing influ­ence of Stanis­laus Kost­ka, whose brief yet extra­or­di­nary life stirred the spir­i­tu­al imag­i­na­tion of Europe. Just weeks before reach­ing his eigh­teenth birth­day, he passed away, and the news of his death spread quick­ly across Rome. Despite his obscu­ri­ty in life—having held no pub­lic office, authored no the­o­log­i­cal texts, nor deliv­ered great sermons—his sanc­ti­ty was imme­di­ate­ly evi­dent to those who encoun­tered him. The rev­er­ence he received after death sur­passed all expec­ta­tions. Fran­cis Bor­gia, Gen­er­al of the Jesuits, ordered that Stanis­laus be buried near the high altar, a place of hon­or rarely giv­en. Crowds came in waves to pay respects, treat­ing him as a saint with­out need­ing offi­cial val­i­da­tion. That instinc­tive devo­tion was not born of spec­ta­cle but of authen­tic inspi­ra­tion felt by those present.

In Poland, reac­tions were ini­tial­ly marked by ten­sion, espe­cial­ly with­in Stanislaus’s own house­hold. His father, Lord John Kost­ka, had been infu­ri­at­ed by his son’s deci­sion to join the Jesuits, inter­pret­ing it as rebel­lion rather than devo­tion. He sent Paul, the elder broth­er, to retrieve Stanis­laus and force him back to their noble estate. But Paul’s jour­ney end­ed not in con­fronta­tion, but in con­ver­sion. Stand­ing at his brother’s tomb in Rome, he expe­ri­enced a pro­found shift. The younger sibling’s peace in death and the tes­ti­monies of those around him over­whelmed Paul with remorse and awe. He returned home not with news of defi­ance, but with a sense of mis­sion. This moment trans­formed the family’s stance, soft­en­ing resis­tance and plant­i­ng seeds of ven­er­a­tion for the one they had once mis­un­der­stood.

Back in Poland, Stanislaus’s sto­ry began to cir­cu­late not just as fam­i­ly mem­o­ry but as nation­al inspi­ra­tion. Biogra­phies and tes­ti­monies of his piety spread quick­ly, reach­ing both rur­al parish­es and the roy­al court. Peo­ple prayed at his tomb and report­ed mir­a­cles. His rep­u­ta­tion grew organ­i­cal­ly, fueled not by pro­pa­gan­da but by gen­uine admi­ra­tion and faith. When Pope Clement VIII offi­cial­ly beat­i­fied him in 1604, it was a recog­ni­tion of what many had already believed. A cen­tu­ry lat­er, Pope Bene­dict XIII declared him a saint. By that point, Poland had ful­ly embraced him not only as a patron of youth but also as a spir­i­tu­al pro­tec­tor of the nation. His image adorned chapels and homes. Schools, church­es, and hos­pi­tals were named in his hon­or. He became a sym­bol of how holi­ness could blos­som even in short and hid­den lives.

One of the most remark­able ele­ments in this unfold­ing lega­cy is how Stanislaus’s death touched lives far beyond the clois­ter. His broth­er Paul, once the emis­sary of force, became a devot­ed Chris­t­ian, report­ed­ly adopt­ing a life marked by humil­i­ty and ser­vice. Sto­ries of sol­diers attribut­ing bat­tle­field vic­to­ries to Stanislaus’s inter­ces­sion added to his mys­ti­cal rep­u­ta­tion. At a time when Poland faced polit­i­cal unrest and for­eign threats, such fig­ures pro­vid­ed spir­i­tu­al assur­ance. Stanis­laus came to rep­re­sent not just inno­cence, but divine favor—a youth­ful saint who stood for puri­ty and courage amid uncer­tain­ty. His lega­cy inspired oth­ers to pur­sue their voca­tions with integri­ty, par­tic­u­lar­ly among young men dis­cern­ing reli­gious life. For many, his exam­ple answered the ques­tion: can spir­i­tu­al great­ness exist with­out pub­lic accom­plish­ment? His life proved it could.

As the chap­ter nears its close, it shifts to con­tem­pla­tion. Stanislaus’s sto­ry is not easy to cap­ture with sta­tis­tics or achieve­ment. It is made of inte­ri­or resolve, qui­et sur­ren­der, and unwa­ver­ing faith. These qual­i­ties, while dif­fi­cult to quan­ti­fy, leave pro­found traces. His sanc­ti­ty wasn’t man­u­fac­tured or imposed. It emerged through choices—subtle, per­son­al, and coura­geous. That his short life has echoed through cen­turies is a tes­ta­ment not only to divine grace but to the pow­er of con­vic­tion in the face of oppo­si­tion. In an age that often val­ues vis­i­bil­i­ty and sta­tus, Stanis­laus reminds us that great­ness often grows in silence. His sto­ry con­tin­ues to inspire count­less peo­ple who seek to live not for applause but for pur­pose.

Through devo­tion, sim­plic­i­ty, and fideli­ty to his call, Stanis­laus became more than a Jesuit novice—he became a nation­al saint and a time­less exam­ple. His name is now linked with faith that with­stands fam­i­ly pres­sure, phys­i­cal suf­fer­ing, and ear­ly death. In every retelling of his life, the cen­tral truth holds steady: one can live for greater things with­out need­ing to do great things. That mes­sage, car­ried by his life and con­firmed in the cen­turies after his death, remains as rel­e­vant now as it was in Rome in 1568.