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)
With Undset writing this in the 20th century (1940’s I believe) we sense in that paragraph that this was a defining moment in Catherine’s life. And surely it was, but Catherine must have related this experience to her biographer, Blessed of Raymond of Capua, where it was written down (Undset even quotes from it) and if you can step back from Undset’s semi-psychological reading of this experience and understand it from a more hagiographical perspective, you can see various elements of this that would define Catherine’s life. Christ dressed as the Pope, even wearing the Papal tiara, will be important to Catherine later in life as she understands the seriousness of the Pope, being the vicar of Christ, not being in Rome but in Avignon. Saints Peter and Paul were martyrs in Rome, and that established Rome as the center of the Catholic Church. St. John the Evangelist would become Catherine’s intellectual father in essence, where her theology would flow out his Gospel. While this is a defining experience, it is filled with hagiographic imagery that projects to Catherine’s greatest achievement.
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)
It has always struck me that St. Catherine should be the patron saint of those afflicted with porn addiction. Of course the difference is that she doesn’t choose to have them, but at some point if it’s truly an addiction neither can the addicted. Catherine overcomes them. When a demon threatens to have these images before her for her entire life,
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.
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