Tag Archives: red martyrdom



And every one that striveth for the mastery, refraineth himself from all things: and they indeed that they may receive a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible one. (1 Corinthians 9:25)

Today, dearly beloved, on one solemn day of rejoicing, we celebrate the feast of all the saints in heaven. In their communion, heaven exults; in their patronage, earth rejoices; in their triumph, holy Church is crowned with glory. Their testimony becomes more glorious with honour in proportion to the intensity of their agony. As the battle waxed fiercer, the greater was the glory which came to those who fought; the more terrible their tortures, the more illustrious the triumph of their martyrdom; the greater their torments, the greater their rewards. As our holy mother the Catholic Church – now spread far and wide throughout the whole world – has been taught by Christ Jesus her Head, not to fear shame, or the cross or death, but to become stronger and stronger, not by resisting but by enduring, so has she breathed into her children, welded by the cruel prison into a glorious band, a triumphant spirit equal to her own in its fire and in courage to carry on the conflict.


O mother Church truly holy, whose glory God deigns to illumine, whom the glorious blood of conquering martyrs adorns, whom the white robes of virgins clothe with an inviolate confession of faith, roses and lilies are not wanting to your garlands. Dearly beloved, let each one of us fight that he may gain the high dignity of one or the other of these honours, either the white crown of virginity, or the red crown of martyrdom. In the heavenly camps, both peace and war have their own garlands with which the soldiers of Christ are crowned.

The sufferings of this time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come, that shall be revealed in us.

For the ineffable and limitless goodness of God has provided that the time of both toil and struggle shall not be prolonged unduly, nor drawn-out and without end, but brief, and as I might say, of a moment. Therefore, although in this short and difficult life there may be labours and struggles, in that life which is eternal there are crowns and rewards of merits. The struggles are soon over, the rewards for merits last forever. God in his goodness has provided, too, that after the darkness of this life they shall see an exceedingly great radiance, they shall receive blessedness far beyond the bitterness of all their torment. The Apostle bears witness of this when he says, “The sufferings of this time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come, that shall be revealed in us.” [Romans 8:18]

– St Bede the Venerable, Priest, Sermon 18 on the Saints, from: An Approved English Translation of the Breviarium Romanum, Burns & Oates, London, 1964


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Nothing can come between us and the love of Christ, even if we are troubled or worried, or being persecuted, or lacking food or clothes, or being threatened or even attacked. These are the trials through which we triumph, by the power of him who loved us.

For I am certain of this: neither death nor life, no angel, no prince, nothing that exists, nothing still to come, not any power, or height or depth, nor any created thing, can ever come between us and the love of God made visible in Christ Jesus our Lord.

V. The word of the Lord.
R. Thanks be to God.


Alleluia, alleluia!
Man does not live on bread alone,
but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.


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“Every great reforming council has looked back to the scriptures, the early Christian community and the Fathers of the Church for their inspiration. This was particularly true of the Fourth Lateran Council, whose reforms were successfully put into practice thanks to the inspirational genius of St Francis more than to anyone else… What I would like to do now is to show how, by following the example of St Francis, we can help make the teaching of the Second Vatican Council ever more successful in our own lives and in the lives of the wider Church.

The Second Vatican Council was preceded by what was called the ‘New Theology’ that inspired it. This was in fact the very ancient theology that prevailed at the dawn of Christianity, but reinterpreted and re-presented, thanks to the ‘modern’ biblical, liturgical and historical research that enabled this Council to take place. The sadness was that one vital branch of early Christian theology had been forgotten by the scholars who promoted the ‘New Theology’; this vital branch was central to the vision of St Francis and St Bonaventure, and was what is called ‘mystical theology’. The main reason for this was that over the centuries the very word ‘mystical’ has been debased by the early influence of the Greek philosophy of Neoplatonism. As a result the word mystical is now primarily used to refer to psychological states of awareness and various dubious ‘mystical’ phenomena. This was not how it was used by the Fathers of the Church.


St Paul called the central mystery of our faith ‘The Mysterion’. By this he means the fullness of God’s Plan for humanity, revealed by Jesus Christ, to draw all who would receive it into His HIDDEN or MYSTICAL life that He continually receives and returns in kind to His Father. Christians who, by ‘carrying their daily cross’ and practising ‘the prayer without ceasing’ came to experience this mystical life in such a way that they could eventually say with St Paul: ‘I live, no it is not I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.’ These Christians came to be called ‘mystics’ by the early Fathers of the Church because of their single-minded commitment to entering into the mystery of Christ (The Mysterion), and not because they had ecstasies or strange esoteric experiences. It was after being empowered by the experience of living in Christ that many of them gave their lives for Him in what came to be called ‘red martyrdom’ and in what later came to be called ‘white martyrdom’, when the days of systematic persecution came to an end. Both of these ‘mystical martyrs’ have been the supreme witnesses to the faith, inspiring their brothers and sisters to remain steadfast in times of persecution, and to reform in times of spiritual decline.


It was only in the aftermath of the Council of Trent (1545-63) that the indispensable role of the ‘mystic’ in the church was gradually undermined. This was, in the main, due to its counterfeit, Quietism. It carried the ‘via negativa’ of Neoplatonism to the ultimate extreme. The believer was not only encouraged to do absolutely nothing in prayer, but to do nothing about temptations either! It was thanks to the Church’s success in crushing Quietism, which was condemned in 1687, and in promoting the Gospel of ‘good works’, for fear that Catholics would fall into the enemy camp, that mystical prayer simply fell into abeyance. In his monumental history of the Catholic Church, Monsignor Philip Hughes put it this way: ‘The most mischievous feature of Quietism was the suspicion that it threw on the contemplative life as a whole… At the moment when, more than at any other, the Church needed the strength that only the life of contemplation can give, it was the tragedy of history that this life shrank to very small proportions, and religion, even for holy souls, too often took on the appearance of being no more than a divinely aided effort towards moral perfection.’

In the years that followed nothing was done to repair the damage, and by the time the 20th century had fully dawned, a resurgence of Neoplatism had changed the original Christian meaning of the word mystical. It now came to be used, almost exclusively, to refer to inner psychological states of transcendental awareness. It was not surprising that both ‘progressive’ and ‘conservative’ theologians looked on mystical prayer, that was so important to St Francis and St Bonaventure, with deep suspicion. Sadly this meant that there has been a failure to emphasise the profound mystic spirituality that abounded in the early Church and which later inspired the Franciscan Spring in the 13th century.


The inner spiritual love that inspires those whose spirituality is centred on and grounded in the Risen Christ and the love that animates Him are always the best possible ambassadors to bring the sort of true and lasting renewal that followed in the wake of the Fourth Lateran Council. The early history of the Franciscan order bears witness to this. Every council depends for its success on two things – the action of the Holy Spirit and hearts ready and open to receive Him. God is continually loving us through His Holy Spirit, but if we do not freely choose to receive this loving, then we prevent God from acting through us as He wants to do.

Love can only be received by loving, and in the most ancient and hallowed teaching of the great spiritual writers prayer is the place where loving is learnt, in prolonged and protracted periods set aside for that purpose. As the Franciscan Mystic, Angela of Foligno put it, ‘Prayer is the ‘Schola Divini Amoris’ (the school) where loving is learnt.’ This is the school where the great saints and mystics learn the selflessness that opened them to receive the love that St Paul said ‘surpasses the understanding’.


It is this love, learnt in prayer, that has for centuries inspired great saints to renew the Church and to do so repeatedly. I am not just talking about vocal prayer that we share with others when we take part in the liturgy, but of the deep personal prayer that was the heart and soul of all and everything that St Francis said and did. I am talking about what St Bonaventure called ‘the prayer and the spirit of devotion’ on which he insisted all renewal depends. I am talking about what St Bernadine of Siena called ‘the prayer of the heart,’ which vocal prayer depends on. In the Franciscan hermitage of Fonte Colombo, St Bernadine had these words written and set in gold around the choir stalls where his friars chanted the divine office: Si cor non orat in vanum lingua laborat (If the heart does not pray, then the tongue labours in vain). In other words, the power of vocal prayer depends on the profound personal prayer that determines the quality of a person’s relationship with God before they even open their mouths.

On 11 October last year our former pope, Benedict XVI, announced that the Church would celebrate a Year of Faith which will end on 24 November this year. What better way to do this than by beginning again to deepen our own personal prayer life…”
– This article by David Torkington was published in “Messenger of Saint Anthony”, issue April 2013. For subscriptions, please contact: Messenger of Saint Anthony, Basilica del Santo, via Orto Botanico 11, 35123 Padua, Italy


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