Aren’t we all glad to get rid of 2020? Here are a few graphics to commemorate 2020 and bring on the New Year.
I have to say, this is a really cool video to sum up
2020 and have hope for 2021.
So when that ball drops tonight and it’s 2021, you
have my permission to party!
This is the second post in a series on St. Thomas More’s Utopia.
You can find the first post here.
In
trying to understand Utopia I felt I
needed to understand Thomas More’s life, and so I put together a time line of
his life in bullet form. I could not
find such a timeline on the internet. Various
sites, such as Wikipedia, summarize his life, but none of the websites seemed
to include everything. I don’t think
anyone site I came across was truly comprehensive. This is not comprehensive either. I left some more minor details out in an
effort to not create clutter. These are
what I see as the major details of his life, and below it I add More’s major
literary works in a time line. Between
these two timelines, I think we can put Utopia
into his biographical perspective. More
on that below.
Thomas More Timeline
1478 Born in London to
Sir John and Agnes More
1490 Placed under
tutelage of Cardinal John Morton
1492 Oxford to study law
1494 Admitted to Lincoln
Inn Law Society
1496 Enters Law School
1501 Admitted to Bar as
“Utter Barister”
1503 Falls into King
Henry VII’s disfavor
1504 First entered
Parliament
1504 Marries Joan Colt,
who bears him four children
1509 King Henry VII dies
1509 Rises to prominence
as a lawyer
1509 Represented London
merchants in Antwerp
1510-8 Served as Under
Sheriff of London
1511 Wife Joan dies in
childbirth
1514 Becomes Master of
Regants
1515 Appointed to
delegation to revise Anglo-Flemish commercial treaty
1517 Resolves Evil Day
Mob riot in London
1518 Resigns from City
government to work for King Henry VIII
1521 Knighted
1521 Made Under-Treasurer
of Exchequer
1523 Becomes Speaker of
the House of Commons
1525 Becomes Chancellor
of the Duchy of Lancaster
1529 Becomes Lord
Chancellor
1532 Resigns Lord
Chancellor
1535 Executed
Major Literary Works:
1513-18 History of Richard III
1516 Utopia (Latin)
1523 Response to Luther
1528 Dialogue Concerning Heresies
1529 Supplication of Souls
1531 Confutation of Tyndale
This is the third post on the second read of Sigrid Unset’s Catherine of Siena.
You can find Post #1 here.
Post #2 here.
Summary
Chapter
5:
Catherine is forced out of her cell by Christ so that she can engage the world and thereby bring souls to salvation. At daily Mass she would take communion and go into ecstasies. In her ministry she helped the poor and cared for the sick. In all she engaged life with such sweetness and joy that a number of townspeople began to consider Catherine, despite being younger than they, their spiritual mother.
Chapter
6:
Having completed her cell of self-knowledge, Catherine is asked by Christ to enter the world to perform His mission. She takes on the duties of a nurse, where she cares for the most horrible of patients, patients that no one else wanted to care for, either because of the patient’s irascibility or because of the repulsiveness of the patient’s disease. Through these hardships, Catherine is triumphant coming to learn that the blood of Christ is what lets the soul receive grace.
Chapter
7:
Undset provides a rendering of the violent and acrimonious Sienese politics, the noble family feuds, and how these feuds and acrimony permeated even the religious of Siena. We learn of Catherine’s father’s death in 1368 and how his sons became involved in the Sienese politics. She tells of how Lapa had momentarily died and then brought back to life on Catherine’s prayer.
Chapter
8:
Undset reaches the transitionary year of 1370 in Catherine’s life. We see here that the followers Catherine has gathered around her have become almost an institution and re about her all her waking moments. We see her become more involved in the events of her town. We see how the death of her father has dispersed the family, and where she herself had to relocate her residence. We see her have three major mystical experiences: the exchange of hearts, the mystical death, and the partial stigmata.
###
This book is so well written. I can't remember a saint's biography written this well. I'm totally enjoying the writing as well as content.
I will say there is one little tic in the writing that's a little annoying, and I suspect it may have to do with the translation. I assume Undset wrote this in her native Norwegian, though she was proficient in English. The book frequently refers to male Dominicans and even Franciscans as "monks." Monks are from the Benedictines and other monastic orders. Dominicans and Franciscans and other mendicant and itinerate orders are called "friars." I wonder if the word monk and friar is the same in Norwegian.
My Reply
to Frances:
Frances wrote:
"Thank you, Manny. Until you wrote this, I had thought that a man
committed to the cloistered life is called a monk, regardless of the religious
order."
I guess it depends on what the definition of "cloistered" is. I'm not
exactly sure. If cloistered refers to those limited to a monastery, then they
are usually called a monk. Wikipedia has a good explanation of the term friar.
Here's the opening paragraph: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Friar
"A friar is a brother and a member of one of the mendicant orders founded
in the twelfth or thirteenth century; the term distinguishes the mendicants'
itinerant apostolic character, exercised broadly under the jurisdiction of a
superior general, from the older monastic orders' allegiance to a single
monastery formalized by their vow of stability. The most significant orders of
friars are the Dominicans, Franciscans, Augustinians and Carmelites."
Think of it as this way: monks are homebodies, friars are traveling salesmen.
;)
Plus, haven't you read the Canterbury Tales? There was at least one monk and
there were several friars.
My
Reply to Kerstin:
Kerstin wrote: "Very
possible. In German there is no distinction between monk and friar. A mendicant
is a begging monk."
That would explain it. Norwegian is a Germanic language. But it does surprise
me somewhat. Germans seem to love to create words. I would think they would
have created a word for friar. Friar comes from the Latin for
"brother." How do you say "brother" in German?
My
Reply to Irene & Kerstin:
Yes Irene and Kerstin,
every non priest religious is addressed as "brother." You may have
missed my point. The term "friar" which is the title of a Dominican
and Franciscan, has its Latin etymology in "brother." From the Etymology dictionary:
friar (n.)
late 13c., from Old French frere
"brother, friar" (9c., Modern French frère), originally referring to the mendicant orders (Franciscans,
Augustines, Dominicans, Carmelites), who reached England early 13c., from Latin
frater "brother" (from PIE
root *bhrater- "brother").
My Reply to Joseph:
Joseph wrote: "I was
particularly moved by the descriptions of St. Catherine's nursing endeavors. My
grandmother and aunt are both nurses and I think they'd be floored at the
conditions that Catherine was working..."
Yes, Catherine of Siena is a patron saint of nurses, among other patronages. If
a nurse works in love and in support of Christ, how could she not get to
heaven? A nurse is probably among the most saintly of occupations, even more so
than a doctor.
###
Chapter V presents an important transition in Catherine’s life. It’s worth reading over the entire narrative.
A little while after her
mystical betrothal Catherine again saw her Lord in a vision. It was at the time of day when the good folk
of Siena gathered round the dinner table.
Jesus said: “You are to go and seat yourself at the table with your
family. Talk to them kindly, and then
come back here.”
When Catherine heard
these words she began to weep—she was so completely unprepared to leave her
cell and her life of contemplation and mix again with people in the world. But our Lord was firm:
“Go in peace. In this way you shall serve Me and become
more perfectly united to Me through love of Me and your neighbor, and then you
will be able to rise even more quickly to heaven, as though on wings. Do you remember how the desire to bring souls
to salvation burned in you while you were still a little child—and that you
dreamed of dressing yourself as a man and entering the order of the Friars Preachers
to work for this end?”
Although Catherine was
more than willing to obey the will of God she tried to raise objections: “But
how can I be of any use in the work of saving souls, I who am merely Your poor
servant girl? For I am a woman, and it
is not seemly for my sex to teach men, or even to speak with them. Besides, they take no notice of what I say,”
she sighed.
But Jesus replied as the
Archangel Gabriel had once replied:
“All things are possible
for God who has created everything from nothing. I know that you say this from humility, but
you must know that in these days pride has grown monstrously among men, and
chiefly among those who are learned and think they understand everything. It was for this reason that at another period
I sent out simple men who had no human learning, but were filled by Me with
divine wisdom, and let them preach.
Today I have chosen unschooled women, fearful and weak by nature, but
trained by Me in the knowledge of the divine, so that they may put vanity and
pride to shame. If men will humbly
receive the teachings I send them through the weaker sex I will show them great
mercy, but if they despise these women they shall fall into worse confusion and
even greater agony.
“Therefore my daughter,
you shall humbly do My will, for I will never fail you; on the contrary, I will
come to you as often as before and I will guide and help you in all things.”
Catherine bowed her head,
rose and went from her chamber and seated herself at the table with her
family. It is a pity that none of
Catherine’s biographers has described for us the amazement it must have caused
Jacopo and Lapa to see their hermit daughter seated among them… (p. 51-2)
There are a number of observations one could make from this passage. The most striking to me as a Lay Dominican is in how this follows the Dominican charism. There is a period of contemplation and there is a period of going out into the world to preach. That is the Dominican mission, to go out into the world for the salvation of souls. Christ even uses those words. One must have a period of study and contemplation, but ultimately one has to share one's contemplation. The Order of Preachers have several mottos, but one of them is “contemplare et contemplata aliis tradere (“To contemplate and to share with others the fruit of one’s contemplation”). One supposes Catherine could have joined any number of orders, but it is most fitting she joined the Order of Preachers.
Second, the fact that she’s a woman seems to not be a wall to her mission, but as Christ points out it’s actually a necessity. It’s true, women before Catherine did not preach except within monasteries and convents. Either out of convention of the times or unspoken public rule (I don’t think it was a Church doctrine) but women did not preach in public. The only notable exception I can think of was St. Hildegard of Bigen, and she obtained endorsement from St. Bernard of Clairvaux and then permission from the papacy. I can’t think of another woman unless you go back to apostolic times and church mothers. St. Catherine was really breaking a mold here.
Third, once you have entered the cocoon of spiritual contemplation, it is very hard to come out of it. Catherine weeps when she hears she must do so. Can you imagine feeling the security, spiritual comfort, and orderliness of spending three years with God alone and then having to come out? And then from the family’s perspective to have what must seemed like the “crazy woman in the attic” come down after three years locked away must have been startling. Yes, it is too bad the biographers did not get their reactions.
Fourth, Catherine bowing her head and coming out, reminds me of Elijah coming out of the cave and hearing the “still small voice” of God in 1 Kings 19:12. I think that is a fitting allusion for Catherine’s new life of ministry.
###
My
Reply to Joseph who mentions the Andrea Vanni painting of
Catherine.
Oh I'm sorry I didn't
link it. Yes, the Vanni painting is the
only painting of her during her lifetime. Here it is:
If my memory serves me correctly, the lily and the woman kneeling in front of
her were added after her death. There is a bust of Catherine which I think was
made shortly after her death. It does have her likeness.
As you may have read, upon her death, Rome and Siena squabbled over her relics.
Rome kept the body but they sent the head and thumb to Siena. Her head is on
display. The centuries have altered it a bit, but you can actually see her
features here.
Also, if you go to this link, you will see pictures of the places in St.
Catherine's world, like her home and cell under the stairs.
My
Comment:
I just read an
explanation of the marble bust. The claim by the artist is he made it from a
mold from her "death mask." That is, a cast of her head as she lay
dead. So if true, that's as close to actual facial features as one can get.
As I've looked at these over the years, I have to say that for a woman who
supposedly never ate, she doesn't exactly look emaciated. If you look at the
actual head relic, there seems to be a good deal of flesh still on there.
My
Reply to Joseph:
Joseph wrote: "I
appreciate the historical irony that St. Catherine is buried over the Temple of
Minerva, the Roman Goddess of War. It seems very appropriate that a woman who
spent her later life working for peac..."
LOL, I never thought about that. Yes, she did work tirelessly for peace, but
not as widely known today (probably because it's politically incorrect) but St.
Catherine supported another crusade against Islam. If the cause was right she
wasn't against all war.
Also, Minerva was also the goddess of wisdom, and I think Catherine had a lot
of wisdom. Nice pickup Joseph. I like that. :)
My
Reply to Irene & Gerri:
Irene wrote: "I
thought Catherine herself says that she could not eat anything except the host.
I am not sure that her followers exadurated her disciplines, at least not by
much."
Yes, she does say that herself. Perhaps God gave her the grace of not being
emaciated.
Gerri, Irene, it says in
chapter XI that she ate a small amount of nourishment. It's at the bottom of
page 141 if we have the same pagination.
My
Reply to Gerri:
Gerri, there are three
mystical experiences in chapter eight. The exchange of hearts with Christ, the
mystical death, and the partial stigmata. I had forgotten about the last two,
but I always remember the exchange of hearts. Though she is not the only mystic
that has reported exchanging hearts with Christ, I find that very striking. In
some ways I find that more profound than a stigmata.
My
Reply to Gerri:
Gerri wrote: "What
amazes me is how much she achieved during her short life in such difficult
circumstances. I've always known of her primarily because of her interactions
with the Pope. Reading this book has op..."
Absolutely amazing. And for a woman in the middle ages! We haven't even gotten
to her big accomplishments yet. There are certain people who can really pack a
lot into their short lives.
This traditional Christmas hymn—not sure I would call this a carol, although everyone else calls it a carol—caught my attention when I looked up Blessed Henry Suso. Henry Suso is the English delineation of the German, Heinrich Seuse, who was a Fourteenth Century (1295-1366) Dominican friar, famous preacher, defender of the controversial Meister Eckhart, spiritual writer, poet, and Christian mystic. He was beatified by Pope Gregory XVI in 1831, almost five hundred years after his death. He has not been canonized as of now.
Henry Suso caught my attention from a recent conversation I had with a Dominican Sister who had taken on the religious name of Sister Henry Suso. Now I had heard of Blessed Henry Suso—he was part of the Fourteenth Century German mystics who called themselves the “Friends of God”—but I did not know any real detail, and I had never heard anyone take on his name for their own. I did not ask the good Sister why she took his name—it was not part of our conversation, and frankly only came to mind after we had parted. If I ever speak to her again, I will definitely ask.
So
I started to research Blessed Henry. He
came from a noble German family but was rejected by his father for not being
inclined to the military life, and the father sent Heinrich to a Dominican
friary at the age of thirteen. I surmise
Suso was too bookish for his “coarse” father.
Benedict M. Ashley, O.P. allocates three pages, which is not
insignificant, to Suso in his history on the Order of Preachers, The Dominicans (Wipf and Sock
Publishers, 1990), and relates how the “dreamy” boy came “under the influence
of courtly literature.” A sensitive boy,
he then came to his spiritual awakening at the age of eighteen, went on to
study in Cologne under Meister Eckhart, and when Eckhart was accused of heresy,
Suso published his first book, The Little
Book of Truth, explaining Eckhart’s theology from an acceptable, non-heretical
point of view. But it was his next book
that brought his own thought to the public.
Ashley writes
[At] about 1328 he wrote a much more personal work The Little Book of Eternal Wisdom in which in vivid poetic language he developed his chief theme of a spiritual marriage to the Crucified as the Eternal Wisdom through total emptying of self and a sharing in His Passion. (p. 73)
That is interesting. I have read of several female saints who had a spiritual marriage with Christ—St, Catherine of Siena perhaps the most famous—but Suso is the only male saint I know to have done so with the possible exception of St. John of the Cross. Suso went on to write more books, lecture, and preach sermons. Perhaps this mystical marriage is why the good Dominican Sister felt a connection with the Fourteenth century Dominican mystic.
And
this brings me to this beautiful hymn which translates to "In Sweet Rejoicing." Suso didn’t write the music but he wrote the words in an ecstatic mystical
experience where he was dancing with angels.
Or perhaps more precisely one of the angels dictated the words to
him. Fr. Ezra Sullivan, O.P. at his website quotes from Suso’s autobiography: /
“Now this same angel came up to the Servant [Suso] brightly, and said that God had sent him down to him, to bring him heavenly joys amid his sufferings; adding that he must cast off all his sorrows from his mind and bear them company, and that he must also dance with them in heavenly fashion. Then they drew the Servant by the hand into the dance, and the youth began a joyous song about the infant Jesus, which runs thus: ‘In dulci jubilo…'(-from Bl Suso’s auto/biography)
Perhaps
it’s noteworthy that Suso wrote the words from this mystical experience at
about the same time he published his first book of his spirituality. The words over time have been put to several melodies. I don’t know if Suso
ever heard it sung, except by the angels, or if he even conceptualized it as a
song. The original is a mixture of German and Latin, which I think is original
in itself, and here is the first verse of that original.
1. In dulci jubilo,
Nun singet und seid froh!
Unsers Herzens Wonne
Leit in praesepio,
Und leuchtet als die Sonne
Matris in gremio,
Alpha es et O, Alpha es
et O!
You can read all four verses in the original here.
I
think the most common setting to music is the Robert Lucas de Pearsall
translation published in 1837. Robert Lucas de Pearsall was a 19th century English composer mostly known
today for the setting of this carol. What’s
distinct about Pearsall’s translation, which strikes me as brilliant, is that
he kept that Latin verses while loosely translating the German into English. It keeps the religious tone of the piece while
one whose native language is English can grasp the meaning. Here are all four verses of the Pearsall translation.
1. In dulci jubilo
Let us our homage shew:
Our heart's joy reclineth
In praesepio;
And like a bright star
shineth
Matris in gremio,
Alpha es et O!
2. O Jesu parvule,
My heart is sore for
Thee!
Hear me, I beseech Thee,
O puer optime;
My praying let it reach
Thee,
O princeps gloriae.
Trahe me post te.
3. O patris caritas!
O Nati lenitas!
Deeply were we stained.
Per nostra crimina:
But Thou for us hast
gained
Coelorum gaudia,
Qualis gloria!
4. Ubi sunt gaudia,
If that they be not
there?
There are Angels singing
Nova cantica;
And there the bells are
ringing
In Regis curia.
O that we were there!
Finally for having to bear with me as I took you through the general history of this carol, I offer you a Christmas present, two versions of In dolci jubilo. First a medieval arrangement by the early music group Harry Christopher’s The Sixteen.
And
then a more contemporary version sung by The St. Phillip’s Boy’s Choir.
Merry
Christmas to all.
This is the second post on the second read of Sigrid Unset’s Catherine of Siena.
You can find Post #1 here.
Summary
Chapter
1:
The Benincasa household, Catherine’s childhood, her relationship with her mother, her first mystical experience that initiated her calling, and the growing devotion to commit wholeheartedly to Christ.
Chapter
2:
When Catherine approached marrying age and her parents tried to prepare her for marriage, Catherine rebelled, even cutting her hair off. In retribution, her parents made her a servant in the household and limited her to share a bedroom with her brother. All of this Catherine gladly accepted. She would later discover in this the cell of one’s inner being from which one’s spirituality is nurtured.
Chapter
3:
In time Catherine made her parents aware she would never consent to marriage, and through a family member who was a priest informed them that she had made a vow to Christ to remain a virgin. She made them aware that she wished to join the Mantellate, a third order Dominican group composed of widows. It was her father who was convinced first of Catherine’s calling and consented and arranged for her to join the lay order. He allowed her to have her own bedroom which became her private cell.
Chapter
4:
She spent three years in that private cell, praying and disciplining herself, only to go out to daily Mass. It was in her cell that she had regular visions of meeting Christ, and then for a while Christ disappeared only to have the visions replaced with satanic visions of hedonistic orgies. When the Lord finally returned to her and the visions ended that she realized He was there all along. It was in this time in her cell that many of her insights into the faith came to fruition. Finally her third year ended with a vision of her spiritual betrothal to Christ.
###
The
vision Catherine had when she was six years old is monumental in her life. She is walking through Siena with her brother
and another boy when suddenly she sees some metaphysical beings over a church.
The little girl looked over the valley—it is called Valle Piatta. And then she looked up, over the roof of the church. She saw a sight so wonderful that she could never have dreamed of anything like it: the Saviour of the world sitting on a royal throne, clothed in bishop’s robes, and with the triple crown of the Pope on His head. Beside Him stood the apostles St. Peter and St. Paul, and St. John the Evangelist. The child stood as though rooted to the spot. She stared enraptured at the vision “with eyes both of her body and her soul.” Our Lord smiled lovingly at her, lifted His hand and blessed the child with the sign of the cross, as a bishop does… (p. 11)
I did not know Popes had crowns. According to Wikipedia, “From 1143 to 1963, the papal tiara was solemnly placed on the pope's head during a papal coronation. The surviving papal tiaras are all in the triple form, the oldest being of 1572.” But if you read the entire entry you see they go back way before that. It would also be interesting to know what a bishop’s dress was like back then. Popes wearing white that we see today was a tradition started by Pope Pius V who died a couple of hundred years after Catherine. So Popes must have worn a bishop’s vestments before that. I would imagine a bishop still dressed in red back then.
###
One
of the practices that is critical to Catherine spirituality was the building of
a cell from which to communicate with God.
She would later come to call this the “cell of self-knowledge.” We see the rudiments of this cell as a
teenager as her parents isolate her for resisting marriage.
The Holy Spirit had taught her how to build herself an inner cell, a place of refuge where she could pray and think of her Beloved, and from this no one could recall her; here no one could come and disturb her. “The kingdom of God is within you”: now she understood the meaning of these words, spoken by Him who is truth itself. Within us—it is there that the gifts of the Holy Spirit are poured out upon us to perfect our natural talents, to break down internal and external obstacles. If we passionately desire the true good, the heavenly Guest comes and lives within us—He who has said “Be of good courage, I have conquered the world.” (p. 25)
Here the cell is a physical place, but eventually that cell would grow to within her. Future Dominican mystics, like Meister Eckhart would echo very similar concepts. I’m not sure if they took it from Catherine but it’s possible.
###
My
Reply to Irene:
Irene wrote:
"Catherine's poor mother. I loved the image of her carrying her daughter
into her bed out of fear that she would destroy her health. I have been around
enough anorexia in my life to understand the anguish of the family as they
watch a loved one engage in behavior that is life threatening. I also loved
watching the mother beg for Catherine's acceptance into the order when she
realized that her daughter's severe illness was a result of her thwarted
desire. She might not have understood Catherine's spirituality or call, but her
love for her daughter is so beautiful."
Haha, yes, Catherine had a contentious relationship with her mother. I think
her father understood her better. One thing you have to realize was that Catherine
was going outside the norm. First she was refusing to marry. Second she did not
choose to become a cloistered nun. I think if she had I think her parents would
have been a little more understanding. They could put that into context. But
Third Order for women in her day meant she was essentially joining older women
who were widows. She was still a teenager, and so her parents just could not
conceptualize what she was doing and really had no way of understanding how she
would survive. Her parents fretting over this was quite understandable.
But her mother did have a very strong busy-body type of personality who
expected to be listened to. She really did not understand Catherine at all
until much later in life. Her later in life mother actually joined the band of
Catherine's followers who were I think called the Bella Brigada.
My
Reply to Gerri
Gerri wrote:
"Finally, other passages raise a question for me for those of you of a
more philosophical bent. More than once, I detected a sense of dislike toward
the physical self. For example, one of Catherine's long quotes was about her
visions and how they lead toward Truth, and that through Truth a soul gains a
better understanding of God and self. "This makes the soul honour Me [God]
and despise itself and that is the meaning of humility." Was Gnosticism a
force in the 14th century? If yes, it might also help account for Catherine's
intense self-disciplines and a comment such as the quoted sentence."
Actually Catherine was quite physical in her devotion. Blood and suffering and
physical touch is there in her spirituality. She was very incarnational. If
you're thinking that because of the anorexia, I think it's off base. Her
anorexia was a discipline to train her soul. It was not because of hatred of
the physical or hatred of her body. She loved people. What I find is the
biggest misconception about Catherine is that they don't realize she was such a
gregarious person. She was bubbly and joyful, and very charismatic. She had a
very outgoing personality. Think of Italian extroverts. Once she comes out of
her cell, she was an extrovert.
I just read Irene's reply. Yes I agree with the general comment that the
ascetic practices were to subdue one's passions more than any philosophic
antipathy toward the physical.
###
Concerning Catherine’s ascetic practices, Undset brings up what would be Catherine change of mind early in the book while Catherine is still you.
Many years later
Catherine wrote in her book The Dialogue
what her heavenly bridegroom had told her, when she was in ecstasy, about
physical discipline: “What I demand of my servants is inner virtue and the
struggle of the soul, not such external deeds as have the body alone as the
instrument. These are means of increasing
virtue, but these are not virtues in themselves.” And sometimes a soul becomes enamored of such
outward penitential exercise, and then it becomes an obstacle on the way to
perfection. Complete trust in the love of
Christ and a hatred of one’s own ego; true humility, perfect patience, hunger
and thirst for God’s sake and the salvation of the soul—these were signs of a
pure heart which has killed sensual desire by the love of righteousness. (p. 30-1)
The writing outside the quotation is in essence a paraphrase of Catherine’s later thought.
###
My
Reply to Irene:
Irene wrote: "Manny,
yes I do realize that Catherine was electing a life style that was outside the
norm for young women. Undset makes this quite clear. She did say that the
family would have supported a vocation to a monastery."
Does Undset actually say that? I've read so much on St. Catherine that I lose
sight of where my memory is pulling it from. I don't remember reading it in
Undset's book.
Irene wrote: "Her choice to defy social norms did not just open her to
ridicule or dismissal, it opened the entire family to ridicule, to loss of
face, to financial ruin, to the nephews and nieces lack of marriage partners
and social stability. But as she saw it, her choice also had a huge impact on
the standing of these family members in the Heavenly Kingdom which was of far
greater consequence than their standing in the kingdom of Siena.."
Yes, certainly but I don't recall ever seeing a negative impact to her family.
I don't think there was a negative impact. Her joining the Matallate (the local
third order in Siena at the time) was probably rather discrete. What they did
was mostly take care of the ill around town. Given that the Black Plague raged
in some of her years, I would think she was a relief to many. While I guess
there was a potential for a negative impact on the family, I don't think that
ever happened.
My
Reply to Joseph:
Joseph wrote: "Did
anyone else get the sense that the entire text of Chapter 1 could be read out
as a corrective to our own culture's post-Christian orientation? Undset
basically anticipates the standard attacks ..."
Catherine of Siena is what is so needed in today's world.
My
Reply to Nikita:
Nikita wrote: "We
have to remember not everyone who reads this book is going to be a well-formed
in the teachings of the Church or let alone Catholic. But even my Godmother
mentioned that currently the Church has not really discussed
mortification."
Nikita, I guess we have fasting during Lent and we try to limit excessive
indulgences today. As far as I now the church doesn't advocate flagellation. As
far as I know the Church has never advocated practices that do harm to ones
self. People (I think) took it upon themselves to go overboard. Did the Church
actually advocate the Desert Fathers living in a cave or up a pole for a
lifetime? My personal perception is it did not, but I am not an expert on this.
St. Catherine of Siena is not a saint because of her extreme mortifications.
Nikita wrote: "I
think why we zero in is because that she is not the only one who did
mortifications. Mortifications that she had done some of those what people call
the modern day Catholics has done this. You ma..."
I know, some people do jump to conclusions. I think that's why Undset brought
up Catherine's latter repudiation of those extreme mortifications early in the
book. Just to emphasize this is not how she really wants you to now live.
Perhaps this is why I don't focus on it. I've come to understand how Catherine
really felt once she fully understood it. As I said I don't think the Church
ever really advocated such extreme mortifications, but I don't know.
###
Whenever
there is a discussion of St. Catherine's life, it's inevitable it seems that
her mortifications become a big part of the discussion. I just want to
re-emphasize, Catherine repudiated these severe mortifications later in life.
Read my comment #12 above and the Undset quote.
Knowing so much about Catherine, I don't feel that this is the most important
part of her life. I don't really understand why everyone seems to zero in on
this. This was part of medieval culture. Catherine took it a step further than
most, but it was (1) not a psychological issue as anorexia is today and (2) she
did everything with such intensity it is not surprising she went further than
most. If she were a runner today she would have been a marathon/triathlon
runner all in one. She did everything to the max.
###
Chapter four is one of the most important chapters in the book. If you can I would urge you to re-read it. Here she spends three years in her cell in prayer and contemplation and experiencing intense mystical experiences. This is where she lives within her cell of “self-knowledge,” which is really a cell harboring the indwelling of God. Here through the intensity of prayer she meets God within herself. The German Dominican mystics of the century after Catherine would develop this further, but I have to believe they had Catherine as a model. When you really think about this, it is not much different than St. Teresa of Avila’s interior castle writing two hundred years later. Catherine’s cell of self-knowledge is way more important to understanding Catherine than her mortifications.
Remember
I said she did everything to the max.
For three years she was essentially a hermit, living in her room and
only going out for Mass. Once at Mass
she stayed at the church in prayer for hours, “a habit which came to annoy even
the sisters of her own order and many of the friars’ (p. 38-9). With such intensity she began to have
mystical experiences. Here is a key one,
one Undset identifies as a “fundamental truth upon which she [Catherine] built
her whole life.”
One day while Catherine was praying, Jesus appeared to her and said: “Daughter, do you know who you are and who I am? If you know these two things you will be very happy. You must know that you are that which is not, but I am That Which is. If your soul is possessed of this knowledge the devil will never be able to cheat you, and you shall escape all his snares and all his cunning without suffering. You will never consent to anything which is against My commands. Without difficulty you will attain all the gifts of grace and all the virtues of love.” (p. 40)
“You must know that you are that which is not, but I am That Which is.” That really is at the heart of Catherine’s thought. I have tried to probe the meaning of that for years. I can’t say I fully understand it. On the simplest level, it says we exist and continue to exist only by the grace of God. On a deeper level it seems to say that our existence is only possible as part of the body of Christ. If we separate ourselves from Christ’s body, we don’t actually exist? Perhaps. Perhaps more.
So much of her theology comes out of these three years. In another vision Christ says to her:
“…And because I am the Truth
My visions always lead to a greater knowledge of the Truth, and it is of the
greatest necessity that a soul gains knowledge of Me and of itself. This makes the honour me and despise itself,
and that is the meaning of humility.
Visions which come from the devil make the soul which it visits proud,
for he is the father of lies and of pride, and the soul is filled with vanity
which is the core of all pride.” (41-2)
What are we to make of such visions? Is it Christ who is actually there visiting her or is she imagining all of it? Where does an uneducated teenage girl get such profound thoughts? Were the homilies so good at her church that by listening she absorbed the foundations of Christian thought and was able to build on it? I know the Dominicans were preaching around Siena, but my goodness she must have absorbed everything. But then I do believe Christ visited her. I do believe her mystical experiences were actually encounters with God. I don’t necessarily believe the mysticism of other saints, but I do believe St. Catherine’s. This is rich thought that goes beyond a single person’s deliberation.
###
Not
all visions in these three years were spiritually wholesome. There was a period where Christ stopped
coming, and images of graphic sex came to her.
She never replied to the
tempters, but only tried to pray even more earnestly, and chastised her body
with firm and strict discipline. Only
when the evil spirit said to her, “It is impossible for you to hold out to the
end,” she replied, “I do not depend upon myself, but on my Lord Jesus Christ.”
She was thereupon
attacked by a crowd of sensual and unchaste thoughts, of abominable visions and
devilish illusions. She saw before her
men and women who openly before her eyes committed disgusting and infamous
acts, while they tried with threatening words and touches to force her to join
in their orgies. (p. 44)
Catherine answered, “with holy temerity,” as her biographer expresses it: “I have chosen these temptations as my refuge, and I say that I am happy that I may bear these and all other sufferings, from wherever they may come, out of love for my Saviour and my gentle Bridegroom, and for His honour, as long as He in His eternal goodness wills it.” (p. 45)
And
with that the devils disappeared and Christ reappeared, and when she asked Him
where He had been, Christ replied, “I was in your heart.” And He goes on to further explain:
“It was My presence which
caused the sorrow and bitterness which I know you felt when the devils raged
around you. And My grace guarded your
heart so that you did not give in to the temptations of the demons. I would not that you should be spared these
struggles as you wished, for I was filled with gladness to see how bravely you
fought for your crown of honour. But
when you offered so chivalrously to suffer every pain out of love for Me, you
were immediately freed from these temptations of hell, because it was My will. And because you fought like a hero, you have
earned and won still more grace, and I will appear to you more often than
before and show you greater confidence than before.” (p. 46)
And so we see her grow in spirituality and confidence. Part of what this period of being within the cell of self-knowledge does is allow her to tap into God from within and give her the confidence that she speaks with Christ’s authority. She will no longer be a shy teenage girl but will have the poise and assurance of any man in the public world. St. Catherine of Siena should be a feminist icon.
###
One
last thing on the mortifications. I just finished reading Utopia and I went
back to read the Introduction in my edition. Apparently More had a schedule of
mortifications too. Whoever wrote the Introduction (strangely it only lists his
initials, "H.M.") had this to say about More.
"More’s earnest character caused him while studying law to aim at the
subduing of the flesh, by wearing a hair shirt, taking a log for a pillow, and
whipping himself on Fridays."
More lived about two hundred years from Catherine. But what crossed my mind
was, how severe were these whippings? Was it so severe that it drew blood and
scars? Or were they mostly a swing of a rope against the back to cause a slight
sting? The difference is significant. Same thing applies to Catherine. The
level of pain and damage from the mortifications makes a difference. We're just
not told.
###
My
Reply to Irene:
Irene wrote: "Yes,
severe mortifications of the flesh was promoted for penitential purposes. It is
not just saints like Francis or Catherine that punish their bodies, many people
who sought to grow in holiness d..."
Yes, that has to be the case. And Catherine didn't do anything half way. If you
look up an anchoress, you would see they sealed themselves in for life. That's
pretty extreme.
My
Reply to Joseph:
Joseph wrote: "I
took a couple of classes with Dr. Peter Kreeft and he's fond of noting that in
the middle ages, ascetical practices were what we would call extreme because it
was a broadly Christian culture and ..."
That does make sense. Aren't we lucky then!
One other thing. We do offer up our pains to the Lord as they come. I know I
do. That is still a good Catholic practice. I encourage it. I jammed several of
my fingers on my right hand last week and it's been sore all the way to mid
palm. Every time I feel that pain I offer it up to the Lord in the hopes it
eases the pain in His hand on the cross.
###
There
is one more important incident in chapter four that should be highlighted, and
that is Catherine’s mystical betrothal to Christ. A number of saints – seventy-seven according
to New Advent Catholic Encyclopedia - have undergone a mystical marriage (Saints Catherine of Alexandria, Teresa of
Avila, St. Mary Magdalen de' Pazzi, etc.) with Christ. Here’s how Undset depicts Catherine of
Siena’s.
Around Christ there now
appeared His blessed mother, the apostle St. John the Evangelist and St. Paul,
and David the poet-king bearing a harp upon which he played beautiful melodies.
As is the custom at betrothals the
mother, the Virgin Mary, stepped forward and took Catherine’s right hand. She lifted it up towards her Son, and bade
Him bind His bride to Him in faith as He had promised. Jesus put a beautiful ring on her finger; it
was adorned with a brilliant diamond surrounded by four large pearls. He spoke the solemn words which the
bridegroom says to his bride: “I here betroth you as My bride in perfect faith,
which for all time shall keep you pure and virgin, until our marriage is
celebrated in heaven with great rejoicing.
My daughter, from now on you must undertake without protest all the
works which I come to demand of you, for armed with the power of faith you
shall triumphantly overcome all your opponents.”
The vision disappeared. But afterwards the maiden could always see
this engagement ring on her finger, although it was invisible to others. (p. 49)
This scene has been depicted in several paintings of Renaissance art. It should be pointed out that this is an engagement, and not the actual marriage. The actual marriage is to happen in heaven. Here the engagement ring is said to be a diamond. There is an alternative version to this story where the ring is actually Christ’s flesh. In a particular letter, St. Catherine says this to a nun, referring to the nun’s marriage to Christ.
"He has espoused you
- you and everyone else - and not with a ring of silver but with a ring of his
own flesh. Look at the tender little child who … when he was circumcised, gave
up just so much flesh as to make a tiny circlet of a ring!"
So
to Catherine, the ring all women who consecrate their lives to Christ is made
up of Christ’s foreskin. This is the
alternative legend to Catherine’s engagement ring. I said that Catherine was very incarnational. I believe the alternative.
