“Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever believes in me will do the works that I do, and will do greater ones than these, because I am going to the Father.” (John 14:12)

Those words can feel startling, almost too great to be true. For a long time, John 14:12 raises a simple question in the mind: did Jesus mean this as literal reality, or as a symbol? I wrestled with that question before. While researching St. Vincent Ferrer, I found myself returning to John 14:12 with new clarity. What I found in his life helped make Jesus’ promise feel less distant.

The Impact of a Name

For years, St. Vincent Ferrer was mostly a familiar name. My father is named Vincent, so the Dominican preacher naturally came up as one of his patron saints. Still, if we’re honest, “Vincent” often triggers a more common association, St. Vincent de Paul, and the mind doesn’t always go further.

That changed after an unexpected conversation with a Catholic bookstore owner. While helping him with an order for Voyage Comics (another matter entirely), we drifted into saints. At some point he said something that pulled me up short: “St. Vincent Ferrer was one of the greatest miracle workers in Church history.” I was skeptical. Stories like that can grow larger over time, and every generation seems to add to the glow.

But curiosity won out. I began reading, and what I found was enough to force another question: why don’t more Catholics seem to know him today?

Why Has One of the Church’s Greatest Miracle Workers Been Forgotten?

One reason is that Vincent’s preaching wasn’t meant to make people comfortable. He preached repentance with urgency, focusing on sin, conversion, judgment, and eternity because he believed souls mattered. In that sense, his message resembles Christ’s own preaching: “Repent, and believe in the gospel.” The mercy of God is real, but it calls for a response.

Vincent’s era also put him in the middle of a painful ecclesial crisis: the Western Schism. Many faithful Catholics were divided over who truly held the office of Peter. Vincent sincerely believed one claimant was the legitimate pope, and when the situation later threatened unity, he withdrew his support. Whatever the complexities of those years, the underlying posture of a holy life remained clear: his loyalty was not finally to a faction, but to Christ and His Church, even when history was tangled.

Finally, Vincent’s relative obscurity may have something to do with the kind of saint he was. Unlike certain saints remembered for finding lost things, or being patrons of specific “impossible” scenarios, or leaving behind a simple, easily summarized spiritual method, Vincent’s entire life pointed away from himself. Every sermon aimed at Christ. Every miracle pointed beyond him. And every conversion turned hearts toward Jesus.

If that was his goal, then perhaps the “forgetting” isn’t really a failure of history. Perhaps it is the natural outcome of a mission that refused self-display. If Vincent existed to make Christ more visible than himself, then the deepest measure of success would be that Christ remained central.

When I Started Flipping Back to the Gospels

The more I read about St. Vincent Ferrer, the more I found myself turning instinctively back to the Gospels.

Not because the saints “copy” Jesus, but because Vincent’s ministry carries a family resemblance to Christ’s own. The parallels are not identical. Jesus is the Son of God; Vincent is His servant. Still, the resemblance can’t be denied.

The Old Testament prepares Israel through figures like Moses, Elijah, and Elisha, men whose works foreshadow the coming Messiah. Moses feeds. Elijah and Elisha raise and heal. Those miracles point forward.

But after Christ, the pattern shifts. The saints do not function as mere “previews” of Jesus; by grace, they become living evidence of what Christ still does within His Church. In the language the Church uses, this is not only imitation in the surface sense, but a deeper participation: the saints become, in their own way, the face of Christ shining in the face of the Church.

St. Francis of Assisi manifests Christ’s poverty and sacrificial love. Padre Pio evokes the Passion. St. Teresa of Calcutta reflects compassion for the poor. Vincent Ferrer reflects something distinct: Christ’s public ministry, preaching that calls people to conversion, and signs that confirm the message. The point is never that the saint replaces Christ, but that Christ acts through His members.

Christ’s Ministry Continued Through Vincent

After reading more deeply, one realization kept growing: the miracles themselves were not the final focus. They were signs, means by which Christ brought people toward something greater.

Raising the Dead

It’s hard to think of anything more arresting than raising someone from the dead. The Gospels tell of Jairus’ daughter, the widow’s son at Nain, and Lazarus. Christ’s power here is not entertainment; it is a revelation that He is Lord of life itself.

Some accounts from Vincent Ferrer’s life describe similar events. One story from his childhood tells of a grieving mother who believed her son had died. Vincent, then only nine, did not join in panic. He went to the bed, took the boy by the hand, and said, in effect: “Get up. It is time to go to school.” The boy is said to have awakened.

As an adult preacher, accounts likewise describe people restored to life. Whether every detail can be confirmed with the same historical certainty one might demand for modern documentation is not the central point. What matters is that many who lived near these events remembered Vincent as a man through whom Christ continued to act.

Feeding the Hungry

Another Gospel miracle is the multiplication of loaves and fish. Thousands gathered; there were only a few loaves and fish; yet everyone ate until satisfied.

Vincent’s ministry is similarly described. Accounts tell of crowds gathering near Majorca for his preaching, food running short, and a small supply being sufficient for a multitude. Another story describes an innkeeper worried he would not have enough bread and wine for travelers. Vincent encouraged him to begin serving what little he had, and the food did not fail until the needs of all were met.

The Gospels are not being repeated for show. The pattern recalls them: Christ feeding, Christ providing, this time through a faithful instrument.

Healing Bodies and Hearts

The Gospels present Christ healing the sick: the blind receive sight, the lame walk, the deaf hear, and those oppressed by evil spirits are set free.

Accounts around Vincent Ferrer describe a comparable sweep: sight restored, bodies healed, storms calmed, and those suffering from demonic oppression delivered. Witnesses even remark that healings occurred so frequently during missions that some were not formally recorded because they became commonplace.

Yet even here, the “miracle” that outlasts the visible sign seems to be the spiritual fruit. The physical miracles opened people’s eyes; the spiritual miracles changed their hearts. According to the testimony surrounding Vincent, what followed the signs was not merely wonder, but conversion: families reconciled, enemies made peace, sinners returned to confession, and towns renewed after hearing the Gospel.

That order matters because Catholic teaching understands miracles as wonders that serve a meaning. They are signs that point explicitly toward God and His power, and they confirm the message entrusted.

The Miracle Behind the Miracles

When I finished reading about St. Vincent Ferrer’s life, the focus changed. I thought less about the man and more about the promise of Christ.

That, perhaps, is exactly what Vincent would have wanted. His miracles were not meant to build a reputation. They were meant to direct attention beyond the servant to the Master. Christ’s promise in John 14:12 becomes more understandable when one reads it in light of the Church. Jesus speaks not as if the believer becomes another Christ in essence, but as if Christ’s own work continues through His Body.

This is why saints matter. They are not obstacles between the believer and Jesus; they are witnesses that Christ truly acts within history through those joined to Him.

A Saint Who Pointed Beyond Himself

It may explain why Vincent can feel “forgotten” to modern ears. A saint who wanted attention would naturally be easier to remember. But St. Vincent Ferrer was not in the business of self-display. He wanted people to marvel at Christ.

Near the end of my research, I encountered one of his simpler sayings, an expression that feels like a key to his whole life:

“Whatever you do, think not of yourself, but of God.”

In one sentence, it interprets his preaching. It explains why he walked from place to place urging repentance without chasing applause. It clarifies why miracles never became about him. And it shows why, even when he receded from view, Christ remained at the center, the only center that matters.

In that sense, St. Vincent Ferrer stands as one of history’s reminders that Jesus meant what He said in John 14:12, not by turning believers into rivals of Christ, but by allowing Christ’s works to continue through those who believe.

Related Links 

The Miracles of St Vincent Ferrer 

What Exactly Does Jesus Mean in John 14:12?