The Youth Movement that Brought Catholicism to Korea

Korean scholars studying the Western Learning in the late 18th century. 

The host city for World Youth Day 2027 will be Seoul, South Korea. The fact that an American Pope will be presiding and that Korean culture generally is pretty popular in the US means that interest in attending should be pretty high among Americans. I suspect that some of my own kids may find their way over there for the event. 

This being the case, what better time for American Catholics to find out about the vibrant past and hopeful future of the Church in Korea? Seoul is a particularly appropriate site for WYD 2027 considering that Catholicism had its origins in Korea largely as the result of a youth movement.

Christianity got a comparatively late start on the Korean peninsula. The first murmurings of Catholic doctrine only arrived in Korea in the 18th century. This was largely due to the closed nature of the country during the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1897). But that hasn't stopped Koreans from catching up quickly. At present, there are nearly 6 million Catholics in Korea, representing about 12% of the total population. 

Perhaps the most awe-inspiring aspect of the advent of Catholicism in Korea is that unlike practically every other country in the world, the Faith did not first arrive there courtesy of foreign missionaries. Indeed, foreigners were strictly forbidden from entering the Joseon kingdom. Though several French martyr-saints would play key roles later on, Catholicism would first emerge in Joseon based solely on the Holy Spirit-inspired intellectual curiosity of a few Korean scholars. 

Western literature began to filter into Korea in the mid-18th century, courtesy of embassies sent from the Joseon royal court to the imperial court of Qing Dynasty China. Interest in Western learning was particularly strong among the young members of noble families. Though brought up to follow the strict doctrines of neo-Confucianism which stressed right living and filial piety, these young scholars were eager to get their hands on anything related to the outside world.  

By the early 1780s, enough Western literature had reached Korea for scholars to set up study-groups to explore Western philosophy and religion. One of these scholars, a young man named Yi Seung-hun, joined an embassy to China. While in Peking, he found a French Catholic priest who instructed him in the Faith and baptized him, giving him the Christian name of Peter. 

Portrait of Peter Yi Seung-hun.

Peter Yi Seung-hun returned to Korea with a treasure trove of Catholic books, crucifixes and artifacts which he presented to his study group. These men were deeply impressed by some of the unique teachings of Catholicism, among them: that God not only exists but actually condescended to appear on Earth in the form of the man Jesus Christ; that all men possess an immortal soul; that a man's soul is destined either for eternal life of bliss in Heaven or eternal torment in Hell based on how well he follows the teachings of Christ in the Gospels.

Among the study group was a revered senior scholar named Yi Byeok who had encouraged Peter Yi to join the embassy to China in the first place. Upon reading the books brought back from China by Peter, Yi Byeok was convinced that Catholic teaching was true. He and several other members of the study group desired baptism and Peter did the honors.

What happened after that was again unique in the history of the Church. Based on their limited knowledge of Church practice, this first handful of Korean Catholics stood up their own church in imitation of the Catholic Church. This included the creation of bishops and priests, and the administration of the sacraments, including Holy Eucharist in a liturgical setting. This pseudo or improvised church endured for several years until in response to letters sent to China seeking guidance, the Korean Catholics were told that they could not celebrate the sacraments without properly ordained priests, and that priests could only be ordained by legitimate bishops.

From that point on, Korean Catholics would petition the Church to send priests and bishops to minister to them. Given that foreigners were absolutely forbidden from entering the Joseon kingdom except on official business with the court, and that any foreigners who attempted to enter without permission could be tortured and executed, it was exceedingly dangerous to attempt to smuggle a Catholic priest into the kingdom.

But what caused the new Korean Catholics the most distress was the instruction that the traditional form of Confucian ancestor worship, including the offering of food and drink to their deceased relatives, was a superstition that could not be reconciled with Catholicism. Failing to perform these rites made one unfilial and a public disgrace. For members of the upper class, the censures for such failures to revere their ancestors were more dramatic. By 1791, Korean Catholics who refused to perform the rites of ancestor worship were being condemned and executed.  

Many noble Catholics, Yi Byeok among them, refused to repudiate ancestor worship and subsequently abandoned the nascent Church. Those brave souls who remained were viewed with increasing suspicion and hostility by the Joseon court. By 1795, Catholicism was considered a subversive foreign religion disruptive to the harmony of the Joseon state, and the first larger scale persecutions of Korean Catholics erupted. 

The reigning monarch at the time was King Jeongjo, a rather high-minded ruler who tolerated a certain amount of internal dissent in the interest of national unity. The idea of kingdom-wide persecution of Korean Catholics would not fly as long as he was in power. During the reign of Jeongjo, a Chinese Catholic priest, Fr. James Zhou Wen-mo, managed to enter Joseon and it is estimated that the Catholic community in the country grew to nearly 10,000 adherents. Peter Yi Seung-hun, who had vacillated due to intense pressure from his family, remained one of the leaders of the Church at this time. Also among the leaders was a man named Alexius Hwang Sa-yeong.

Unfortunately, Jeongjo passed away in 1800. His successor was his 10 year-old son, Sunjo. This boy-king was under the thumb of his great grandmother, Grand Queen Dowager Yesun, who ruled Joseon as regent during Sunjo's minority. Yesun did not share the same scruples as Jeongjo when it came to Catholics. During her regency in 1801, the Shin-yu persecution was initiated, in part as a political maneuver to incriminate a rival faction at court that was more sympathetic to the Catholics. 

The Joseon court produced a edict entitled the Imperial Message Prohibiting the Evil Learning. In no uncertain terms, this document declared Catholic teaching to be in opposition to Confucianism, which was considered the True Learning. The followers of the Evil Learning would be forced to abandon it. As the edict itself declared:

All who disobey will be considered as rebels and guilty of high treason....[T]he head of each unit of five families shall immediately denounce any who persist in following the Evil Learning. All such persons are to receive condign punishment so as to root out the Evil Learning once and for all and to leave no trace of it remaining. [Kim & Chung: Catholic Korea: Yesterday and Today, p. 54-55].

Among the first victims of the Shin-yu persecution was Fr. Zhou who surrendered himself and was executed. Hearing about this event, Alexius Hwang Sa-yeong retreated to the mountains to escape capture. While in hiding, he composed the famous Silk Letter. Written on a sheet of silk roughly one foot by two feet, the Silk Letter was addressed to the Bishop of Peking and related the travails of the Korean Church. In 13,000 Chinese characters, the letter provided estimates of the numbers of Catholics in Korea, an account of the martyrdom of Fr. Chou and other Korean Catholics, and an appeal for help. Most critically, Alexius Hwang suggested that the Bishop enlist the help of the Qing Emperor of China and European nations to intervene with the Joseon court to protect Catholics.

The original Silk Letter of Alexius Hwang (Source)

The Silk Letter was never sent. Alexius Hwang was captured by Joseon government authorities and the letter was confiscated. Its contents seemed to prove the worst suspicions about Catholics. To the deeply isolationist Joseon court, the Silk Letter was incontrovertible evidence that Catholics were a subversive element who would not hesitate to appeal to foreign powers for aid against their own government. As a result, the Shin-yu persecution intensified. Alexius Hwang was found guilty of high treason, was executed and his body dismembered. His family was exiled. 

Peter Yi Seung-hun was also a victim of the Shin-yu persecution. Considered one of the leaders of the Catholic Koreans, he was arrested and tortured over the course of eight days and then executed. Since then, Peter Yi's status as a martyr or an apostate has been the subject of considerable debate. Very recently, the Korean Bishops' Conference declared him a Servant of God—the first step toward canonization.

By the time the Shin-yu Persecution subsided, the Joseon government had executed several hundred Catholics and exiled many more. It seems that a large number also apostatized. As the persecution had focused by design on educated Korean Catholics, the remnants tended to be from the poorer classes and survived in hiding in the provinces. 

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This would be the first of many persecutions that the young Church in Joseon would endure. This pattern of uneasy peace punctuated by periods of intense persecution was the world into which later notable Korean Catholics like Paul Jeong Ha-sang, Andrew Kim Dae-geon, Thomas Choe Yang-eop, and numerous others would soon be born. During the mid-19th century, thousands of faithful Korean Catholics would endure tremendous suffering before the age of martyrdom finally drew to a close after 1866. The victories, defeats, heroic deeds and heartbreaking betrayals of this time are brought to vivid life in Martyr of Blood, Martyr of Sweat: The Letters of Saint Andrew Kim Dae-geon and Thomas Choe Yang-eop, translated, edited, and annotated by Brothers Anthony and Han-yol of the Community of Taizé. If you'd like a good introduction to the early years of Catholicism in Korea, this collection of authentic letters by the first two native-born Korean priests is an excellent source and a very engaging read.

If you're not a big reader, some of the events related above are interwoven through the plot of the series, Yi San. This K-drama tells a romanticized but very poignant version of story of King Jeongjo in which Catholic Koreans and their status as pawns in the factional battles of the Joseon court are mentioned. The drama focuses on the early life of King Jeongjo and his romance with his favored Royal Consort. The main villain in the drama is Queen Dowager Yesun. If you have 70 hours or so to spare, I highly recommend it.

"It is everyone's duty to serve God." ~ The martyrdom of St. Lucia Park Hui-sun

Three saintly martyrs of Korea: St. Agatha Jeon (left), St. Lucia Park (center),
and St. Julietta Kim (right).

This post is the first in a series drawn from a new book entitled Martyrs of Blood, Martyrs of Sweat: The Letters of Saint Andrew Kim Dae-geon and Venerable Father Thomas Choe Yang-eop, as translated and edited by Brothers Anthony and Han-yol of the Community of Taizé, published by Arx Publishing.

This engrossing work contains all of the extant correspondence of these first two native Korean Catholic priests. Andrew Kim would go on to be martyred and later canonized a saint. Thomas Choe perished of exhaustion and sickness after ministering in his native land for over a decade. 

During their ministries, these two priests would encounter hundreds of secret Korean Catholics who strived to maintain their faith through periodic intense persecutions initiated by the neo-Confucian (and therefore very anti-Christian) Joseon court. These persecutions resulted in the imprisonment, impoverishment, torture and death of hundreds if not thousands of Korean Catholics, and impacted all levels of society.

Following is one example. Park Hui-sun (1801-1839) was born into a wealthy family and would be chosen by the Joseon court to serve as a court lady (Gungnyeo) to the royal family of King Sunjo (reign: 1800-1834). Distinguished by her beauty, wit, skill and prudence, she was promoted to the first rank among the Queen's handmaids. The rest of the story, as told by St. Andrew Kim in his Deeds of Several Important Martyrs of the Gihae Persecution of 1839, is as follows:

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Lucia was a Gungnyeo, prudent and diligent in her manner, and her nature was always upright, and was outstanding among virgins. 

After her mother died, she was chosen by the royal court as a court maid and she entered the palace. She set an outstanding example for people with a noble life. When she was around 30, she heard about the Christian doctrine and she immediately accepted it. Then, knowing that she would be unable to follow a religious life in the court, she used illness as an excuse, and she was given permission to leave the palace, and she went to a acquaintance’s house to live. Because her father was extremely hostile and hated the Christian faith so much, she could not dare move into his house. 

She soon turned her family to the True God with her example and persuasion. She thanked God often and cherished Him deep in her heart. She regarded worldly fame and glory as nothing and diligently followed a life of faith. She was often engrossed in prayers and meditations, used crude clothing and poor food, and she struggled to discipline herself. She often recalled her Lord’s Passion and shed tears of gratitude. 

Eventually, when the persecution intensified, her entire family fled to a believer’s house. The satellites [servants and informers in the employ of government officers] noticed this and attacked the house. At that time, she acknowledged that this was God’s Providence, and she comforted and encouraged believers on the one hand, and treated the satellites very kindly on the other. 

Following the police official, she was taken to the Sagwancheong, the first court to interrogate criminals. There she confessed the Truth and was taken to the police court. 

The judge asked. “Why do you believe in Christianity while you are a court lady?” 

Lucia answered. “It is everyone’s duty to serve God.” 

Again Lucia was commanded to forsake God and betray other believers, but she refused. She was tortured, but in view of her bravery, she was taken to the Hyeongjo court and was subjected to severe torture. Her flesh was torn and her bones were exposed. As Lucia endured with constant perseverance, she rejoiced that she could, to some extent, imitate the suffering of Christ. After a few days, all her wounds healed completely and her health was restored. When this fact was confirmed, the satellites said that it was done by magic. 

During her punishment, she confused the enemies by explaining much of the Truth of the religion. The judge who had failed to make her apostatize eventually sentenced her to death. 

When Lucia was taken to her execution, she was so happy that she did not stop praying to God. Her head was cut off and she flew to her Lord. Her age was 39. [Martyr of Blood, Martyr of Sweat, pp. 135-6].

A second biography embellishing upon the above is also included in Martyrs of Blood, Martyrs of Sweat, among the writings of Ven. Thomas Choe Yang-eop.

Lucia Park Hui-sun was canonized a saint of the Catholic Church on May 6, 1984, by Pope St. John Paul II, along with her sister, Maria Park Keun-agi. 

A biography of St. Lucia from the Vatican website includes an additional anecdote from her life as a court maid, indicating that her youth and beauty caught the eye of the king. Despite the king's attention—a favor that every court maid coveted—Hui-sun rebuffed the king's advances out of respect for her patroness, the Queen. 

Upon hearing of this incident later on, Bishop Imbert, a martyr and saint in his own right, would remark: "This is an act of bravery and uprightness, the like of which has never been seen in Korea before."

Other related posts of interest:

• "I came out with a joyful heart and gave thanks to God." ~ Thanksgiving in luxury and in persecution
• Letter of Saint Andrew Kim Taegon (martyr) to Bishop Jean Joseph Ferréol, 1846
• Yi San - An enthralling Korean historical drama (with Catholics!)
• Our TV is Lousy and Now it Must Die! or, What the West Can Learn from South Korean Television

"I came out with a joyful heart and gave thanks to God." ~ Thanksgiving in luxury and in persecution

At Mass this morning, our good priest reflected in his homily on thankfulness, as is proper on this Thanksgiving Day here in the US. He specifically called out how we Americans can tend to obsess over our First World problems which can cause us to forget to give thanks for the blessings we have. He gave a general example of the millions upon millions of people on earth who wonder how they will feed their children anything at all each day. Meanwhile, we get upset if the baked potatoes get a little burnt, or if the pasta sauce is watery. 

As Catholics, we have our own version of "First World problems." Most American Catholics have easy access to the spiritual sustenance the Church provides, with multiple options for Mass and the sacraments within easy driving distance. If we don't cotton to the way a particular priest says Mass or runs his parish, we can opt for another that is more to our preference. 

Compare this to a time not so long ago, when many Catholics had vanishingly few opportunities to attend Mass or receive the sacraments—when a priest had to risk his own life just to hear a confession. Here is one such story drawn from the letters of Venerable Father Thomas Choe Yang-eop. Father Choe was the second native-born Korean Catholic priest (the first being Saint Andrew Kim Dae-geon). He was trained in seminary as a young man in Macao and after his ordination, he was smuggled back into Korea to minister to the far-flung and secret Catholic community. At that time, Christianity was outlawed by the reigning Joseon dynasty, and those suspected of following the abominable foreign religion were subject to torture and execution.

The following anecdote was recorded by Fr. Choe in a letter he wrote to his spiritual father, Fr. Pierre Louis Legrégeois in 1850. In it, he laments the travails of Korean Catholics, both poor and noble. In particular, he calls out the plight of noble Korean women who were not permitted to leave their houses or even be seen by men other than their husbands and family members. For Christian maidens living in a pagan family, the situation was almost impossible. If they tried to leave the house to visit a traveling priest like Fr. Choe or to gather with other Christians, they were subject to kidnapping and forced marriage to any man who could catch them. So many of these young women opted to remain in place, pining for the consolation of the sacraments. Father Choe records his experience with one such woman:

I also saw another woman named Anna, who came from a noble family. She had been confined to a house of strict pagans for 19 years, where she had no contact with believers, and she thus remained without the sacraments. Finally, this year the woman was able to pass her news on to a believer who was her relative. This Christian had the opportunity to listen to her and speak to her, and he came to me when I was in a Christian village 50 li from Anna’s house. He told me how eagerly Anna was longing to see me, how fervent she was, and how miserable in the totally pagan house. In a place where the whole village venerates all kinds of superstitions, she had never neglected the duties of a believer for all those years. She constantly longed to receive the sacraments, at every moment, and she prayed and begged God to send her a priest. Anna tried to comfort herself in her loneliness, and as she sometimes picked up a small piece of cloth produced in Europe and looked at it, she would think of Europe and the missionary priests. She comforted herself as she said, “As these goods have been transported from Europe, missionary priests will come from Europe someday.”

When I heard this, I was so moved that I couldn’t stand it. Although there seemed to be no possibility of getting close to this faithful sister and giving her the sacraments, I completely relied on God’s mercy and trusted Anna’s sincerity. I hoped that our Dear Lord and the Virgin Mary would at last have pity on Anna’s so desperate pleading, that they would show me how to administer Confession and Holy Communion to their maidservant who was so faithful.

So I took the believer who told me Anna’s story, together with the Eucharist, our only Consolation in this world, and rushed to the village where Anna lived. The whole village was pagan, and all her family were also pagans. In other words, there was no suitable place to use as a confessional, and there was nowhere to enshrine the Eucharist. I sat in the shade of a tree by the river and waited, as if I was tired from walking on the road and was taking a short break to rest and escape the scorching sun. Meanwhile, I sent the believer who had accompanied me to see if he could find a place where I could meet her. When the believer entered Anna’s house, all the men had gone out to the fields, and there were no adults in the house, Anna was alone with her daughter and several younger children. The believer brought me her written examination of conscience. I read it where I was and immediately went into Anna’s house, summoned her to the outer living room, quickly absolved her and she received the Sacrament, and then I immediately went away. I came out with a joyful heart and gave thanks to God. [Martyr of Blood, Martyr of Sweat, Fr. Choe, Letter 7]

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This story is drawn from a new book entitled Martyr of Blood, Martyr of Sweat: The Letters of Saint Andrew Kim Dae-geon and Venerable Father Thomas Choe Yang-eop, featuring the complete corpus of extant letters from these first two native Korean priests translated by Brother Anthony and Brother Han-yol. Reading the accounts in this book will provide a fresh perspective on our own relatively mild sufferings as compared to the truly miserable travails that the unbelievably courageous and zealous Korean Catholics of the mid-19th century endured while trying to live their faith in the midst of a persistent and brutal persecution. 

For Thanksgiving today, it is proper to give thanks for all the blessings that God has bestowed upon our Church and our nation. We should be grateful for the freedom to practice our Catholic faith without threat of imprisonment, torture, and death, that we can receive the sacraments at practically all hours of the day, and that even if the turkey is a little dry, we have more than enough to eat each day. While being grateful to Almighty God for these good things, we should also endeavor to pray for those who do not enjoy such blessings, and renew our intention to work toward a day all may enjoy the freedom from want and the liberty to worship Almighty God as Catholics.

The Origins of All Saints Day and the Consecration of the Pantheon in Rome as a Church in AD 608

The Basilica of Santa Maria ad Martyres (aka, the Pantheon) in Rome as it looks today.

The Feast of All Saints as we know it today has its origins in that period of chaos and transition between Late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages. One of the milestones in the development of the Feast took place in the year AD 608 when Pope Boniface IV consecrated the formerly pagan temple known as the Pantheon in Rome to Our Lady and All the Saints.

The Pantheon, of course, is that marvelous architectural monument to Roman ingenuity which has somehow managed to survive the scourge of time and come down to us practically intact. Originally built as a temple to all the gods by Augustus Caesar's greatest general, Marcus Agrippa, the Pantheon would burn down and be completely reconstructed by the emperor Hadrian in the early 2nd century AD. In that form, it would remain a silent witness to the climactic moments of Roman history, including the Crisis of the Third Century, the persecution of Christians under Decius, Valerian and Maximian, the rise and defeat of Maxentius, and the victorious advent of Constantine the Great.

Yet even after the conversion of Rome to Christianity, the Pantheon would remain a pagan temple for another 80 years. The temples were finally shuttered by Theodosius the Great in the late 4th century, so the Pantheon likely existed as a fortress-like hulk for 200 years as the city around it became universally Christian. Devout residents of Rome likely viewed the darkened, abandoned temple as a demon-infested haunt, and an anonymous Latin sermon about the consecration says that "the Romans were so thoroughly terrified that they customarily did not dare to go near the temple even at noon."

It wasn't until the early years of the 7th century AD that a change would occur at a time when the usurping tyrant, Phocas, unleashed his brutally inept reign upon a Roman Empire on the brink of dissolution. Rome during this time was still nominally part of the Empire. With the climax of the Gothic Wars in AD 555, the Roman Empire was briefly re-established in all of Italy. But by the time of Pope Gregory the Great, in the 580s, everything was once again falling apart. The Italian peninsula was overrun by an insuperable horde of Lombards who conquered and settled practically all the land outside of the major cities. The Empire hung on to the city of Rome—but barely.  

In Constantinople, Phocas had taken the throne as beneficiary of a rebellion which toppled the reigning emperor, Maurice. The unfortunate Maurice would be executed by Phocas, along with his wife and eight children. With more than enough crises to deal with in the East, Phocas was anxious to maintain whatever political alliances he could in the West. 

19th century engraving of Pope Boniface IV cleansing "the ancient filth of idolatry" from
the Pantheon and consecrating the building to the Ever Virgin Mary and All the Saints. 

Boniface IV became Pope during the seemingly endless troubles of the early 7th century. With the political authority of the Empire once again waning in Italy, the Popes had been forced to take a more active role in defending and caring for the city. When Boniface requested that Phocas grant the Pantheon to the Church, Phocas likely felt that this was an easy way to demonstrate his authority and keep Boniface and Rome solidly on his side. In his celebrated Ecclesiastical Annals written in the late 16th century, Caesar Cardinal Baronius gives a summary of what happened, based originally on the biography of Boniface from the Liber Pontificalis of the 9th century AD: 

Boniface IV, Pope, who dedicated the Pantheon to God.

In the six hundred and seventeenth year of the Indiction, Boniface, from the city of Valeria in the region of the Marsi, the son of John the physician, was created Pope on the eighteenth day of September, being the fourth of that name. Immediately he turned his own house into a monastery and enriched it with revenues.

When he saw that the Emperor Phocas was more favorably disposed toward the Roman Pontiffs than previous rulers had been, he ventured—what none of the Roman Pontiffs before him had attempted—to ask the emperor to grant him the Pantheon, that noble temple of Rome. He wished, after it had been cleansed of the ancient filth of idolatry, to consecrate it in honor of the Mother of God, the Blessed Mary, and of all the holy martyrs.

The emperor freely granted this request, and Boniface, having obtained what he desired, happily accomplished it without delay. These things are taken from Anastasius [author of that section of the Liber Pontificalis].

Thus that marvelous building, celebrated by the praises of so many ancient writers—constructed by Marcus Agrippa, consul, in the time of the Emperor Augustus, and dedicated to Jupiter the Avenger—at length passed into the service of the Christian religion after six hundred and thirty-two years.

Indeed, it had remained untouched by demolishers—(as has been said) though it had been the dwelling-place of demons—because of the solid strength of its construction, which made it stand firm. Yet it had not yet been dedicated to Christian use, since such a conversion seemed execrable to some.

For we see from Saint Gregory that at first he had ordered that the temples of idols among the newly converted English nation be destroyed; but later he permitted that, for the sake of the new planting of faith, those same buildings should remain intact—provided that, after solemn purification, they be consecrated and adapted to sacred worship.

So likewise the Pantheon, being transformed into a church and consecrated, and ennobled by the title of the Mother of God, and enriched with the relics of martyrs brought from cemeteries outside the city, obtained the name that it should be called the Temple of the Mother of God and of All Martyrs—a venerable title which it retains to this day. [Ecclesiastical Annals of Baronius, Volume 11, page 77]

A similar account may be found in the History of the Langobards (Lombards), an early 8th century work by Paul the Deacon. Other accounts refer to Boniface translating 28 cartloads of relics of various martyrs from the catacombs to a porphyry niche beneath the high altar of the newly-consecrated church. The date of this consecration (May 13) would become a day to commemorate all the saints in Rome, which would be moved to November 1 and become a universal feast throughout the Holy Roman Empire by Louis the Pious in AD 835.

Note that Baronius's account above refers to the letter of Gregory the Great written in AD 601 that permitted the British converts to Catholicism to consecrate their pagan buildings to Christian usage. The full letter may be found here: "That the nation, seeing that their temples are not destroyed, may remove error from their hearts." ~ St. Gregory the Great's letter to St. Mellitus on reconsecrating pagan temples as Christian churches, AD 601

The Pantheon would continue to exist as the Basilica of Santa Maria ad Martyres for the next 1,400 years. The building's remarkably solid construction and continuing service as a Catholic Church help to explain its wonderful state of preservation. 

Aside from the martyrs whose remains were entombed at the consecration of the building as a church, numerous other more modern Italians are interred within these sacred precincts. Most notable among these are the artist Raphael along with several other Renaissance-era painters and sculptors, Italian Kings Vittorio Emanuele II, his son, Umberto I, and Umberto's wife, Queen Margherita. 

We should let the Basilica's history and conversion stand as a metaphor for all of us Catholics, who were rescued by Christ from the filth of idolatry and who should remain standing steadfast to the end with the help of our Blessed Lady and the holy saints in Heaven.

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As Saint Alphonsus Liguori said, "Let us read the lives of the saints, and pride shall depart from us. There we shall find the great things that they have done, at the sight of which we shall feel ashamed of the little we have done." 

A good place to start is the book, I Am a Christian: Authentic Accounts of Christian Martyrdom and Persecution from the Ancient Sources. Reading about the saints and their works is a beautiful way to commemorate the feast of All Saints, and directly contrary to the worldly culture's insistence on tying the celebration of the vigil of the holy day with the works of darkness.

Book Review: Father Michael McGivney and the Knights of Columbus by Emily Tennant

Fr. McGivney hurries through inclement weather on a sick call.

For many years I have appreciated and enjoyed the Vision series – a sequence of biographical novels about the lives of the saints and Catholic heroes written especially for younger readers. The series commenced in the hoary antiquity of the 1940s and has continued over the decades, featuring a variety of authors—some of whom, like Louis de Wohl for example, were writers of supreme talent.

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Several of the books in the series have been reviewed by your humble blogger over the years, among them books on Saint Helena, Blessed Miriam Teresa Demjanovich, and Saints Louis and Zelie Martin. The last two mentioned were recent additions to the series written by GinaMarie Tennant, an author, organist and music teacher who grew up in a large homeschooling family. Perhaps not surprisingly, this same family has produced another writing talent, Emily Tennant, who is the author of the brand new title in the Vision series, Father Michael McGivney and the Knights of Columbus.

What a tremendous idea it was to write this novel. As a Fourth Degree Knight myself, of course I had heard of Fr. McGivney. But I would be lying if I said I knew much about him before reading Miss Tennant’s historical novel about his life. Father McGivney comes across in the work as a man of shining parts who emerged from a humble yet virtuous family to become a humble yet virtuous priest.

As portrayed by Miss Tennant, Fr. McGivney’s life reminded me of that of his rough contemporary, Saint Therese of Lisieux. He lived his own “little way”, performing the menial tasks of a Catholic priest with great fervor and wearing himself out physically in the process. Much like St. Therese, Fr. McGivney died young, entering eternal life at the age of 38.

But also similar to St. Therese, Fr. McGivney’s small acts would be transformed by God in His own good time into tremendous works that impacted millions of people. I doubt that Fr. McGivney realized in 1890 when he died, that the Catholic mutual aid society he created known as the Knights of Columbus, would eventually grow into the charitable leviathan that it has become today, with over 2 million members worldwide.

Father Michael McGivney and the Knights of Columbus is an eminently readable little novel, and is ideal for the young Catholic audience for whom it is intended. The prose is mostly light-hearted and fun. Of course, there are scenes of tragedy that play out throughout the story, but these all coalesce as the rationale for Fr. McGivney’s vision of the Knights of Columbus. In those days, when the father of a young Catholic family passed away, his wife and children often became wards of the state, to be separated among orphanages and other charitable organizations. Fr. McGivney founded the Knights to provide life insurance and other aid to such Catholic families in their moment of need.

The aspect of this novel that I appreciated the most, however, was the author’s attention to historical detail. The book includes a wealth of minor personal anecdotes from Father McGivney's life that lend a distinct flavor of authenticity to the work. As I read, I found myself wondering, “What is the significance of this passage?” As Miss Tennant explains in the Author's Note at the end, nearly all of these seemingly insignificant events were drawn directly from Father's correspondence or church archives—even the many humorous prizes that Father McGivney wins at the various Church fairs came from the old records. 

Steeped as it is in the Catholic history of the United States in the mid-19th century, Father Michael McGivney and the Knights of Columbus is an ideal book to read aloud with your kids. If you are a Knight of Columbus or have one or several in the family, this book should definitely be on your bookshelf.

A Review of Cabrini -- A saintly biopic marred by boring Hollywood tropes

Mother Cabrini (played by Cristiana Dell'Anna) receives the reply of
Pope Leo XIII (played by Giancarlo Giannini)

My wife and I went to see Cabrini last night. Given the mixed yet passionate reaction to the film by a variety of folks whose opinions I respect, I was looking forward to it. Having now seen it, I think the mixed reaction is completely appropriate.

My reaction was also mixed, though tending more toward the negative. 

On the positive side, the film had a lot of spoken Italian in it which was fun. It was also well acted and beautifully shot, with a moving soundtrack that reminded me of a cross between The Village and Master and Commander. Though there have been some complaints that Catholic spirituality is not overtly put into the mouth of a Catholic saint (a valid complaint to be sure), Catholic spirituality saturates the background of the film. There are crosses and other Catholic symbols in practically every scene, and several scenes take place in beautiful Catholic churches and buildings. So we end up with some beautiful Catholic settings for a not particularly Catholic film.

The lead role was well played by Cristiana Dell'Anna who provided a convincing likeness of Mother Cabrini. Pope Leo XIII is played sympathetically by Giancarlo Giannini, though I thought he resembled Pope Pius IX more than Leo XIII.

That said, I felt that the film was too dark and brooding for the story of a Catholic saint. The first third of the film is purposely dark, focusing on Mother's illness and all of the "no" answers she receives from the men who are in positions of authority over her. The film does lighten up in spots, but the overall ambience is darkness and obscurity.

What truly drove Mother Cabrini was left largely unexplored. The inferences one must draw from the film are the typical boring Hollywood tropes -- follow your heart; don't let the naysayers get you down; I am woman, hear me roar. The film presents a woman primarily motivated by an altruistic desire to help other Italians. So rather than being driven by the Gospel message of Jesus Christ to take care of the poor, Mother is portrayed, rather, as the celibate CEO of an Italian NGO in America. There is also an insinuation that she is at least partly driven by spite. Every time she faces an obstacle, the Cabrini in the film hears in her head an admonition given early in the film by a patriarchal archbishop: "Stay where you belong." This very worldly urge, rather than any divine inspiration, seems to motivate her to do bold things.

The film also spent considerable time building up the Italian immigrant-as-victim trope. While nativist sentiments were no doubt major obstacles for the first waves of Italian immigrants coming to America, there was another issue at play that the film studiously avoids: the hatred of Catholics by the largely Masonic ruling elite. (This particular angle was effectively brought to the fore in the film For Greater Glory, another imperfect though more inspiring film.) Though forty years after the height of the KnowNothing period when Catholic churches were torched in several cities, there was still a strong antipathy toward Catholics among the upper echelons of American society that persists to this day. While it wasn't long before Italians were accepted as Americans, devout Catholics have never really been. If you need evidence of that, consider the overtly anti-Catholic emails of Hillary Clinton campaign chair, John Podesta in 2016, or how our current "Catholic" president's Department of Justice classifies traditional Catholics among potential terrorist groups. 

As other reviewers have pointed out, the filmmakers also managed to turn Mother Cabrini into something of a Mary Sue. Whatever she accomplishes, she does via the force of her own powerful will. She draws her strength not from God nor from the Gospel, but from within herself. That is not a Catholic mentality at all, and I'm sure the real Mother Cabrini would have been horrified at being portrayed that way. This seems to have been done in service to a narrative that is not in keeping with the actual life of the saint.

Finally, the ending of the film was anti-climactic and strange. 

SPOILER ALERT -- stop here if you don't want to read what happens at the end...

In the movie, Mother Cabrini achieves her final victory via political blackmail -- threatening the mayor of New York that she will unleash a negative publicity campaign against him and work to get him defeated in the next election unless he allows her hospital project to go forward. She also indicates that she is willing to help him if he helps her -- a sort of "pay to play" arrangement. The fictitious Mayor Gould (who is portrayed effectively by John Lithgow as a racist political animal) is impressed by Mother's rather savvy tactics and agrees to her terms. I have no idea how much of this scenario is based on reality, but it didn't strike me as a particularly fitting denouement to a biopic of a Catholic saint. 

So overall, I give Cabrini two stars. It's worth watching once, but having now seen it, I have no desire to see it again. Instead, I'll go and read more about The Intense Catholic Spirituality of Mother Cabrini.

The Intense Catholic Spirituality of Mother Cabrini ~ "How grateful we should be to Christianity, which has raised the dignity of woman."

Photo of St. Frances Xavier Cabrini from the frontispiece
of Travels of Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini.

Yesterday marked the opening of a new film by Angel Studios — Cabrini — and the film has already generated an impressive amount of buzz. Considering the Catholic content of the film, this is somewhat surprising but in a very good way.

I haven't seen the film yet, but I intend to over the next week. I'm told that local theaters are basically sold-out this weekend.

Of course, nothing produced with religious content is without controversy. Cabrini is being promoted as a sort-of feminist anti-Barbie, which is an interesting tactic. This indicates that the filmmakers are attempting to broaden the audience beyond the Christian core, out to the larger market of pop-culture agnostics and nones. Of course, that tactic will not please everyone, and one of the criticisms of the film that has already emerged is that the feminist angle is played up to the detriment of the spiritual angle. Indeed, it is claimed that the film makes almost no reference to Mother Cabrini's intense spiritual life.

Again, I haven't seen the film yet, so I can't comment on that. If Mother Cabrini's spiritual life is cast into shadow by the film, that is a shame. However, it nevertheless presents a golden opportunity to set the record straight. Anyone who has their curiosity piqued by the film should certainly delve deeper into the life and works of this holy apostle to the Italian immigrants.

Interested viewers might take a look at her letters which may be found in a book from the 1940s entitled Travels of Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini: Foundress of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Following is an example which demonstrates how much Mother Cabrini's thoughts were permeated through-and-through by the power of Almighty God and how, for her, every event was an inspiration to advance in the spiritual life.

This charming letter was written from aboard a steamer en route from Paris to New York in 1890, and addressed to "her dear daughters" — the Missionary Sisters of The Sacred Heart, The Alumnae and Students of the Teachers' College in Rome. By this point, Mother and her sisters had been on the water for three days and were encountering rough seas:

Monday, April 21st. 

Here we are; the see-saw has started, moved by the almighty hand of God: willy nilly we have to play the game. Yesterday about five o’clock in the afternoon the sea began to be a real sea. It was not possible to stand on your feet without leaning on something for support. Already five hours have elapsed since Sister Eletta began to pray God to calm the sea. But now, seeing such a frightful spectacle, she is lost for words, and thinks the best thing to do is to go to bed as the other Sisters have done.

I remain firm and always keep on deck. I made them laugh so much that Sister Eletta said she felt almost better. After supper, about six o’clock, I wanted to see the other good Sisters, and, following their example, I began to feel sea-sick. Patience! Twice I was obliged to resign myself to their company.

Sister Assunta looks like a soul full of thoughts and weariness. Sister Giovannina is always laughing, even when she is very sick. Sister Agostina also smiles. Sister Bernardina is just like one dead, so is Sister Battistina! Sister Ignatius tries to endeavour to follow my example, but after a time she has to run for her life, or else stay in the cabin so as not to fall. Of all the passengers on board, both men and women, only six or seven come to the table.

It is dreadful if we do not try to resist this sickness; the best plan is to stay on deck; even if it rains, it is better to remain in the open. Last night, I stayed until after midnight, partly dressed (because I believed a storm was threatening), so as to be ready to save myself and all; but the good God is continually watching over His Spouses. The great swing subsided though the gale beat all round us.

I rose early this morning to go on deck to view the wonderful spectacle. Oh! how beautiful is the sea in its great motion! How the waves swell and foam! Enchanting! The wind is, however, favourable, and the boat goes so quickly, it seems to fly. If you could only see the waves! None of us could stay at the stern because the waves swept over the vessel at every moment. At the bows it is not so bad, and, stretched in an armchair, I can write fairly well. A single wave could submerge all, but He Who has created the sea and has commanded it to rise like mountains, would not permit His beloved creatures to be drowned, much less His loving Spouses.

God loved us before He created the sea; nay, He created the sea itself for our use and pleasure. He has chosen us for His Spouses, and we have answered His call, attracted by His infinite lovableness. Let us remain, my daughters, entirely subject to Him, conquered by His love; and let us run swiftly in His footsteps. The good God has perpetually loved us with the love of predilection, so let us love Him and serve Him with joy during the few days of our life.

If you were all here with me, dear daughters, to cross the immense ocean, you would exclaim, ‘‘Oh, how great and loving is God in all His works!'’ But the ocean of graces, oh, my daughters, that the good Jesus pours down upon us, in every instant of our life, is immensely superior to anything in nature. All natural splendours are eclipsed by the abundance of riches which God showers upon His beloved Spouses.

Let us venerate and love, then, our excellent state, and let us examine ourselves frequently and remove all defects that are unbecoming the Virgins of Christ, so that our Beloved may quickly introduce us into the Holy of Holies and plant charity in our souls. [Travels of Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini, pages 5-6]

Here is an excerpt from another letter by St. Frances Cabrini, deeply imbued with the wisdom of one who knows that children must be brought up in virtue. This one addressed to the students of the Teachers' College in Rome, and dated May 1904:

How great, noble, exalted, is the mission you are called to accomplish in this world! To you. Our Divine Lord addressed the words He spoke to His Apostles one day, "I have chosen you so that you will bear fruit and that your fruit will remain.”

Reflect a little with me on the predilection of God for you in this call, "I have chosen you," not "you have chosen Me." In fact, He did not wish that during your studies you should be exposed to the poisonous atmosphere of the world. He has drawn you into His own House, so that you could breathe into your souls its salubrious atmosphere. There you prepare yourselves for the mission you are to fulfill in Society.

To many of you, already, we may say, despite our great regret at parting from you, "Go and bear fruit," for you are already fortified against the world’s dangers by the solid instruction you have received. But what fruit will you bear? However small your experience is of the world, still you see that the multitude is insensible, forgetting God. But how much good cannot a wise teacher do to repair this, the greatest of evils, if to her mental culture and her intellectual gifts she adds that of a soul solidly founded and frankly Christian and religious.

She knows as the immortal and lamented Pontiff Leo XIII, said that we cannot renew Solomon’s judgment on the child by the cruel and unjust separation of the intellect and the will. She knows that while she cultivates her mind, she is bound to direct her will at acquiring virtue to obtain the last end. She knows that those who have not received in their early years the impressions of Religion, grow up without having even the slightest idea of those high truths which alone can awaken in them the love of virtue and the control of the passions. She then makes her sweet influence felt in the school, aided by the grace of the Holy Ghost, and silently mould those young hearts which, soft as wax, are ready to receive impressions. Here you perceive the great responsibility of those who neglect their duty, for it is difficult to eradicate these early impressions.

This is the fruit which you are called upon to bring forth in the Church, with this difference, however, that whilst a simple teacher has only to instruct her class of children, you have the responsibility of educating the future teachers, and consequently have a wider field wherein to sow your seed, which will thus spread more rapidly and bear more fruit. As such you are associated with the great work of the Christian Apostolate. Thus you enter the ranks of those generous champions who at the command of our great Leader and His Vicar on earth, fight bravely to restore the world to Christ.

How far the world is from Him who is the Way, the Truth and the Life, is better understood by one who has to travel so to speak, from one end of the world to the other. [Travels of Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini, pages 239-240]

This letter also contains a brief reflection on the history and nature of womanhood which, given the film's seeming focus on feminism, it seems appropriate to quote. In this reflection, Mother Cabrini begins with her observation of the status of women among the Coeur d’Alenes, an American Indian tribe of eastern Washington State, as follows:

The Indian woman, as in all those nations which have not received the light of faith, has to work while the man quietly smokes his pipe. The poor woman and mother of many little ones, who are too small to stand, is forced to tie her offspring round her waist in a sack, and in this unconventional way has to do her washing. If the baby cries, she moves it with a shrug of her shoulders and thus quiets it. This is the way the Indian baby is fondled.

See how grateful we should be to Christianity, which has raised the dignity of woman, re-establishing her rights, unknown to the pagan nations. Until Mary Immaculate, the Woman by excellence, foretold by the prophets, sighed for by the patriarchs, desired by the people. Dawn of the Sun of Justice, had appeared on earth— what was woman?

But Mary appeared, this new Eve, true Mother of the Living, elected by God to be the Co-Redemptrix of the human race, and a new era arose for woman. She is no longer a slave, but equal to man; no longer a servant, but mistress within her domestic walls; no longer the object of disdain and contempt, but raised to the dignity of Mother and Educator, on whose knee generations are built up. [Travels of Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini, pages 245]

This was the spirituality of Mother Cabrini. Nowhere near the destructive creed of modern feminism, but hewing closely to the ideal of Christian womanhood.

Is the floor of Hell paved with the skulls of bishops?

The well-used quote: "The floor of hell is paved with the skulls of bishops," may be found in a variety of forms. Perhaps the most colorful version of it is: "The road to Hell is paved with the bones of priests and monks, and the skulls of bishops are the lamp posts that light the path."

 

This saying has been attributed to one of several Fathers of the ancient Church and to Protestant revolutionaries from more recent times. Most often, it is claimed to be from the writings of St. Athanasius or St. John Chrysostom. After a thorough search, I have come to the conclusion that this saying is of more modern provenance, likely originating from a Protestant polemic which made very liberal use of a homily from St. John Chrysostom. 

 

So to respond to the question posed in the title of this post: Is the literal floor of Hell paved with the literal skulls of bishops? The answer is: No, probably not as such.

That said, I looked up the homily of St. John Chrysostom to which this quote is often attributed, and what I found there is, perhaps, even more daunting than the rhetorically evocative version that most folks are familiar with. The work in question is St. John's Third Homily on the Acts of the Apostles. The passage in question is the following which I am pasting here for future reference:

"I do not think there are many among Bishops that will be saved, but many more that perish: and the reason is, that it is an affair that requires a great mind. Many are the exigencies which throw a man out of his natural temper; and he had need have a thousand eyes on all sides. Do you not see what a number of qualifications the Bishop must have? To be apt to teach, patient, holding fast the faithful word in doctrine [see 1 Timothy 3:2-9; Titus 1:7-9]. What trouble and pains does this require!

 

And then, others do wrong, and he bears all the blame. To pass over every thing else: if one soul depart unbaptized, does not this subvert all his own prospect of salvation? The loss of one soul carries with it a penalty which no language can represent. For if the salvation of that soul was of such value, that the Son of God became man, and suffered so much, think how sore a punishment must the losing of it bring! And if in this present life he who is cause of another's destruction is worthy of death, much more in the next world. Do not tell me, that the presbyter is in fault, or the deacon. The guilt of all these comes perforce upon the head of those who ordained them.

 

Let me mention another instance. It chances, that a bishop has inherited from his predecessor a set of persons of indifferent character. What measures is it proper to take in respect of bygone transgressions (for here are two precipices) so as not to let the offender go unpunished, and not to cause scandal to the rest? Must one's first step be to cut him off? There is no actual present ground for that. But is it right to let him go unmarked? Yes, say you; for the fault rests with the bishop who ordained him. Well then? Must one refuse to ordain him again, and to raise him to a higher degree of the ministry? That would be to publish it to all men, that he is a person of indifferent character, and so again one would cause scandal in a different way. But is one to promote him to a higher degree? That is much worse.

 If then there were only the responsibility of the office itself for people to run after in the episcopate, none would be so quick to accept it. But as things go, we run after this, just as we do after the dignities of the world. That we may have glory with men, we lose ourselves with God. What profit in such honor? How self-evident its nothingness is! When you covet the episcopal rank, put in the other scale, the account to be rendered after this life. Weigh against it, the happiness of a life free from toil, take into account the different measure of the punishment. I mean, that even if you have sinned, but in your own person merely, you will have no such great punishment, nothing like it: but if you have sinned as bishop, you are lost." 

Read the entire Third Homily of St. John Chrysostom on Acts of the Apostles here.

What more is there to say, really? Except this -- may our bishops understand the gravity of what they do when they preach that which is contrary to traditional Church doctrine and morality.

The Martyrdom of Pope St. Silverius -- Starved to death on the Island of Palmarola in AD 538

Pope St. Silverius is deposed in AD 537. Artwork by Lori Kauffmann.

Throughout the history of the Church, several Popes have been deposed for a variety of reasons. Pope Liberius was deposed and exiled by the Arian emperor, Constantius II in the mid-4th century. Six hundred years later, Pope Gregory VII was deposed by anti-Pope Clement III, the creature of the Holy Roman Emperor, Henry IV. 

During the reign of Justinian, Pope Saint Silverius, who I have written about previously on this blog, was not only deposed—he was martyred by the political forces who coveted his ecclesiastical power as head of the Church. In my previous post, I included an excerpt from the Liber Pontificalis that provided some extraordinary details of the event. Given that the Liber was first compiled in the late 6th century, possibly within living memory of the deposition, it is a solid source, and I used the account provided therein as the basis for that pivotal scene in Belisarius Book III: Rome the Eternal.

Most of what we know of Silverius's brief reign comes from the Liber Pontificalis and the writings of Procopius. To the best of my knowledge, the only written work of Silverius that survives is an epitaph that he wrote for his father, Pope Saint Hormisdas. After his deposition, Silverius was exiled to the city of Patara in Asia Minor. According to the account of Liberatus of Carthage in his Breviarium, it soon became clear to the resident bishop, a certain Licinius, that Silverius had been slanderously accused and wrongfully deposed. Licinius took it upon himself to go directly to Constantinople to advise the emperor Justinian of this fact. The bishop's effort had the desired effect because following this meeting, the emperor sent Silverius back to Italy to receive a proper trial.

But Silverius would never get the opportunity to defend himself. Upon his arrival in Italy, the deposed Pope was seized and hustled to the tiny island of Palmarola about 20 miles off the west coast of Italy, roughly halfway between Rome and Naples. 

A craggy islet about a mile long and a quarter of a mile wide, Palmarola is part of the Pontine Archipelago, a grouping of small islands which were used as places of exile during Roman times. One of the other islands in the group—known as Ventotene today and Pandateria in antiquity—once housed the disgraced Julia the Elder, daughter of Augustus Caesar. The same island also served as the place of exile for Agrippina the Elder, granddaughter of Augustus. Saint Flavia Domitilla, granddaughter of the emperor Vespasian, was also exiled there on suspicion of being a Christian.

But Pandateria at least has a harbor and some residents. Tiny Palmarola is uninhabited. It is said that Pope Silverius starved to death after being abandoned there. To this day, a shrine in his honor may be found on Palmarola. 

Here is how I have described the scene in Belisarius: Rome the Eternal. Silverius is a recurring character in the first half of the book, and I have given him a fictional servant named Philo to serve as an interlocutor:

Chapter XXIX

“Something’s wrong,” Philo whispered. “The pilots were supposed to conduct us into the harbor, but instead, they are taking us back out to sea.”

“We are in God’s hands, Philo,” Pope Silverius replied. “His will be done.” The Holy Father had become thinner since his exile in the east. A rough gray beard now covered his previously smooth chin. A raspy cough rattled in his chest, as he pulled his cloak tighter about him to ward off the chilly wind.

“That may be, but nevertheless, I am going to say something,” Philo persisted.

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“Friend, I beg you...” Silverius trailed off. But his servant was already making his way to the stern from whence the ship was conned. Silverius returned to his prayers, gazing out over the choppy sea. January was a terrible time for travel by sea and the sailors dreaded it. To this point, they had credited their unusually safe passage from Asia at this inauspicious time of year to Stella Maris smiling kindly upon their very special passenger. But their attitude had shifted after their arrival outside the harbor at Ostia. A large dromon had intercepted them and four men came across in a skiff, braving the rough seas. All aboard had assumed they were harbor pilots—until the ship’s prow was turned toward the south, back from whence they had come.

Striding with care along the pitching deck with Philo stumbling behind him, a hooded Calligonus approached Silverius with a stony expression. “My apologies but there has been a change of plans. It is too dangerous for you to land at Ostia now. We will therefore conduct you to a place of safety until the perils have passed.”

“Where?” Philo asked. “Neapolis? We seem to be sailing south.”

Silverius said nothing. He recognized Calligonus immediately as one who had been present at his deposition and none too friendly.

“Neapolis is not safe either, I’m afraid,” Calligonus said.

“Safe for whom?” Silverius asked. “Belisarius and his wife? Or for Theodora, perhaps?”

Calligonus gave a sly smile, bowed his head and walked away. 

“What do you mean?” Philo said, clutching Silverius’s sleeve, alarm rising in his voice. “Where are they taking us, Holy Father?”

“God knows,” Silverius replied.

Several hours of sailing brought them to within sight of a small islet with vaulting cliffs of sheer rock, almost white, emerging from a rolling azure sea. Using a combination of sail and oars, the crew maneuvered the ship to a sheltered spot about two bowshots offshore where they dropped anchor.

“May I present your new home,” Calligonus said as he once again approached Silverius and Philo.

“Does this rock even have a name?” an agitated Philo asked.

“It is called Palmarola,” Calligonus replied. “I am told that no one lives there at all, so you will have a new patriarchal see all to yourself with plenty of gulls and lizards to hear your homilies. Now, if you please. I would ask you both to step smartly into the boat. Your basilica awaits.”

“Is there even any fresh water?” Philo cried.

“That’s a fair question,” Calligonus puzzled. “You will have to find out.”

Pope Silverius and his servant climbed down into the heaving boat with friendly hands from the sailors, all of whom seemed to dread what was happening. “Remember us in your prayers, Holy Father,” one of them said softly. “What we do today we are forced to do.”

“Have no concern, my son,” Silverius replied. “Even Saint Peter was led where he did not wish to go.”

“Forgive us!” a few called aloud from the deck.

Silverius made the sign of the cross over the ship as the boat pulled away. “I shall always remember the kind sailors who risked the winter seas for me.”

Moments later, the boat grounded on a beach of brown sand. The three henchmen of Calligonus hurried Silverius and Philo out of the boat, dumped some meager supplies on the beach, and hastened to row back to the ship. Within an hour, the ship had sailed out of sight.

Resigned to his fate, Silverius soon found a small grotto which would at least offer shelter and a place to pray if nothing else. He put the supplies in order and attempted to set up a place of repose for them that was somewhat protected from the chilly wind. Philo, meanwhile, made a circuit of the tiny island which did not take him long.

“Based on what I have seen, we will starve within two weeks,” Philo declared. “Sooner if it doesn’t rain at all.”

“I doubt I will last even that long,” Silverius said, suppressing a cough. Even the light work he had done had exhausted him.

“Perhaps they will drop food and water for us?”

“I don’t think so, my friend,” Silverius smiled a little sadly. “I think Our Lord Jesus has offered us the palm of a bloodless martyrdom. Let us embrace it, come what may.”

Philo sighed, fingering the stiff fronds of a dwarf palm which he had collected during his walk. “A small, pathetic palm to match the stunted trees that clutter this tiny rock.”

Silverius smiled luminously. “There is no such thing as a small martyrdom. Let us fill this island with our prayerful voices so that blessings may flow from it for centuries to come.”

If you enjoyed that passage, you'll probably enjoy the entire book which is available for purchase at the Arx Publishing website. Other excerpts from this book may be found at these links:

• "He weathered their rage like some craggy rock in a howling tempest." ~ Belisarius and the lead-up to the Great Siege of Rome
• Saint Benedict Chases the Devil off a Boulder
• "They went with all speed to the palace carrying weapons and raising a great tumult" ~ March 23, AD 536, Mutiny of Justinian's Army in Africa

Palmarola today. The shrine of St. Silverius is atop the peak at left.

Padre Pio for a new generation of young Catholics: A Review of "Wounds of Love" by Phillip Campbell

Detail from the cover of Wounds of Love: The Story of Saint Padre Pio.

Like Jeanne d’Arc or Francesco di Bernardone, Francesco Forgione was one of those unique individuals gifted by God to the human race to assure us of His love, His understanding, and above all else, that He is not deaf to our sufferings and entreaties. But unlike these other great visionary saints, Forgione was not a streak of light which flashed across the firmament and returned quickly to heaven. 

Saint Joan’s mission lasted about two years before she was martyred at age 19. 

Saint Francis of Assisi was 45 when he passed to eternity, roughly 20 years elapsing between his call and his death.

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Saint Pio of Pietrelcina, on the other hand, spent almost the entirety of his long life as a suffering servant of Jesus Christ. Afflicted with ill-health, physical infirmities, the Stigmata, and demonic attacks which left him battered and bruised, Padre Pio was also subjected to slanderous assaults on his character, all over a period of nearly seven decades. Yet during that time, he was able to touch the lives of thousands upon thousands of people, uniting his suffering to that of Christ and translating it into God's grace to heal sinners from all over the world. And his reach was truly immense. At his shrine at San Giovanni Rotondo, there is a wall of shelves filled with thousands of letters received by Padre Pio—in a single year. 

Nearly as many people recall unforgettable personal encounters with the gruff Capuchin saint of San Giovanni Rotondo, either in the flesh, or in the spirit. It is said that he heard about five million confessions over the course of his priesthood. And there are numerous miracle stories. One such story that I heard in person is that of Philadelphia native Frank Tenaglia (1965-2019) who credited Padre Pio with healing him of a grave childhood illness—a miracle which allowed him to praise God with his amazing voice for many years. 

Though there are myriad books about Padre Pio's extraordinary life, very few of these are accessible to younger readers. This has now changed with the release of Wounds of Love: The Story of Saint Padre Pio by Phillip Campbell. I have been waiting for a book like this for years. It’s no easy task to condense the long and eventful life of someone like Padre Pio into the historical fiction format which appeals to young readers, but Phillip Campbell has done a masterful job. His focus on the early life of St. Pio is pitch-perfect. While most readers think of Padre Pio as a rather grumpy elderly man, Campbell’s presentation spends more time introducing readers to the young Francesco Forgione growing in grace and holiness in the bosom of a loving family.  

Wounds of Love includes some of the most famous anecdotes associated with Padre Pio, including the well-known incident reported by General Nathan F. Twining of a Capuchin monk appearing in the sky to thwart Allied bombing runs on San Giovanni Rotondo during World War II. Campbell also relates a few more obscure ones, including one that I had never heard before, despite having read several books on Padre Pio in the past. In Chapter 12, the novel delves into the slanders aimed at Padre Pio by those within the Church in the early 1960s. In an effort to gather evidence against him, someone apparently wiretapped his confessional. Originally, I thought that this outrageous story belonged more to the “fiction” than to the “historical” side of the narrative. But upon further research, I discovered that this inconceivably awful tale was true—and that Padre Pio actually did discover the microphone himself and cut out the wire with a penknife! 

In sum, Wounds of Love is a fantastic book and I heartily recommend it to readers of all ages. If you need additional proof of how the story draws you in, I gave it to my 17-year old son to read and he polished it off in about a week. What's more, he immediately moved on to a more in-depth biography of Padre Pio that we have on our bookshelves. 

Mission accomplished, Mr. Campbell!

Who was Veronica? Tracking down one of the most beloved figures from Christ's Passion

Christ heals the woman with a flow of blood as depicted in the
Catacombs of Marcellinus and Peter in Rome, 4th century AD.

One of the more enigmatic figures from early Christian history is Saint Veronica—the woman known to Catholics from the Sixth Station of the Cross, who is said to have wiped the face of Jesus while He carried His cross on the road to Calvary. There is a memorable and beautifully presented sequence of scenes featuring Veronica in Mel Gibson's Passion of the Christ. But nowhere is the woman or the incident described mentioned in Sacred Scripture. 

To learn about Veronica, we must turn to extra-biblical sources. The first mention of a woman named Veronica associated with Our Lord may be found in an apocryphal work known alternately as the Acts of Pilate or the Gospel of Nicodemus. The scholarly consensus is that this work does not come from Apostolic times, but was written during the Patristic period sometime after the middle of the 4th century AD. Even so, it is considered a suitably ancient work and it likely includes traditions held by the community of the very early Church. The work records the names of several otherwise unnamed minor personages mentioned in the Gospels, such as the centurion at the crucifixion (Longinus) and the two thieves crucified along with Jesus (Dismas and Gesmas). Also named is the woman whom Jesus healed of a hemorrhage of blood in Matthew 9:20-22:

There was found there also a woman named Veronica [or Bernice], and she said: Twelve years I was in an issue of blood, and I only touched the edge of his garment, and directly I was cured. [Acts of Pilate, Chapter 7]

This is important because it connects Veronica with another, more reliable ancient source: The Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius. In this work, we find the following fascinating passage:

Since I have mentioned this city [Caesarea Philippi] I do not think it proper to omit an account which is worthy of record for posterity. For they say that the woman with an issue of blood, who, as we learn from the sacred Gospel, received from our Savior deliverance from her affliction, came from this place, and that her house is shown in the city, and that remarkable memorials of the kindness of the Savior to her remain there.

For there stands upon an elevated stone, by the gates of her house, a brazen image of a woman kneeling, with her hands stretched out, as if she were praying. Opposite this is another upright image of a man, made of the same material, clothed decently in a double cloak, and extending his hand toward the woman. At his feet, beside the statue itself, is a certain strange plant, which climbs up to the hem of the brazen cloak, and is a remedy for all kinds of diseases.

They say that this statue is an image of Jesus. It has remained to our day, so that we ourselves also saw it when we were staying in the city.

Nor is it strange that those of the Gentiles who, of old, were benefited by our Saviour, should have done such things, since we have learned also that the likenesses of his apostles Paul and Peter, and of Christ himself, are preserved in paintings, the ancients being accustomed, as it is likely, according to a habit of the Gentiles, to pay this kind of honor indiscriminately to those regarded by them as deliverers. [Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius Pamphilus, Book VI, Chapter 18]

Recall that Eusebius was writing in the early 4th century AD. There is so much packed into the above passage that it will probably require a post of its own at some point.

The Chronicle of John Malalas (written in the late 6th century), elaborates on this episode, relating that Veronica petitioned Herod (probably Phillip the Tetrarch also known as Herod Phillip II) for permission to raise a statue to Jesus. Incredibly, Herod not only agreed but ordered her to set up a larger statue than she had first proposed:

King Herod, hearing this prayer of hers, was surprised at the marvel. And fearing the mysterious healing, he said: “this healing, O woman, is worth a larger statue. Go then and set up whatever statue you wish, praising with zeal him who had healed you.” And straightway Veronica, who was formerly bleeding, set up in the midst of her city Paneas a bronze statue to the Lord our God Jesus Christ, of hammered bronze mixed with a small portion of gold and silver. That image stands to this day in the city of Paneas, having been carried many years ago from the place where it had stood in the midst of the town to a holy church. I found in that city of Paneas a memorandum about it by a certain Bassus, a former Jew become a Christian, with the life of all the former reigning kings in the territory of Judaea. [Chronicle of John Malalas, 10.239]

Malalas's notice here is important for two reasons. First, he connects Veronica's name with the woman healed of a flow of blood in the late 6th century, demonstrating that he was familiar with the Acts of Pilate or another ancient source with the same information. Second, he's writing in the Greek east, not the Latin west where Veronica's name and role would become more legendary in the Middle Ages.

While it is not impossible that this Veronica also wiped the face of Our Lord during his passion, I was unable to locate any early records corroborating this event. The earliest sources mentioning it seem to be from the high Middle Ages. It is interesting to note, however, that the name of Veronica is associated with one of the earliest recorded images of Christ, apparently commissioned by a saintly woman who saw Our Lord in the flesh.

As for the mysterious artifact known as the Veil of Veronica, that will have to be the subject of a future post.