The Congregation of Divine Providence was founded by Father Jean-Martin Moye, a French priest who saw the lack of educational opportunities for females in his parish in Lorraine, France.
On January 14, 1762, Father Moye sent out educated women to teach in those rural areas and to administer the word of God. These four women, including one Marguerite LeComte, lived, like the first members of the Church, without provisions, trusting instead in God's divine Providence, hence the resultant congregation's name. The name was actually thought up by the villagers themselves.
Father Moye later traveled to China to do missionary work, then returned to France to administer the new congregation. He succumbed to typhus during the French Revolution in 1793 and was beatified in 1954. His feast day is May 4.
The Congregation of Divine Providence was formally established at Saint-Jean-de-Bassel, in 1827. Its existence now stretches over four continents. Within the United States, the Congregation is located in Melbourne, Kentucky, and San Antonio, Texas.
Famous quotes containing the words congregation of, congregation, divine and/or providence:
“This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with
golden fire, why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.”
—William Shakespeare (1564–1616)
“He believes without reservation that Kentucky is the garden spot of the world, and is ready to dispute with anyone who questions his claim. In his enthusiasm for his State he compares with the Methodist preacher whom Timothy Flint heard tell a congregation that “Heaven is a Kentucky of a place.””
—For the State of Kentucky, U.S. public relief program (1935-1943)
“We have not overthrown the divine right of kings to fall down for the divine right of experts.”
—Harold MacMillan (1894–1986)
“A sure proportion of rogue and dunce finds its way into every school and requires a cruel share of time, and the gentle teacher, who wished to be a Providence to youth, is grown a martinet, sore with suspicions; knows as much vice as the judge of a police court, and his love of learning is lost in the routine of grammars and books of elements.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)