The Creed and Our Mundane Martyrdoms

by Jenny Klejeski

Martyrdom comes up with surprising frequency in my classes (particularly given that I teach English). Young people, in my experience, have a particular fascination with the topic. Most recently, a discussion in my 7th-grade class arose on the feast of the dedication of St. John Lateran as I described the larger-than-life statues of the apostles, who each hold the symbol of their martyrdom. We talked about the various martyrdoms of the apostles, the favorite, of course, being St. Bartholomew, who is often depicted holding his own skin because he was flayed alive. (“EEWWWWW!!!”)

I always try to walk the line between “keeping Catholicism weird” and not becoming fixated on the morbid. When the conversation falls too far into the realm of “Ms. Klejeski, what’s the grossest way to die?” I like to redirect to the conversation to the meaning of the word “martyr,” which literally means “witness.” What were these people witnessing to? Why do we depict them with the instruments of their martyrdom? Not because we have a bizarre obsession with torture and execution; in fact, we morally condemn those things. If we become too preoccupied with the signs themselves, they can become idols of voyeurism. Rather, the martyrs hold the instruments of their martyrdom as a sign of victory, as a sacramental. These witnesses are silently proclaiming that their faith was stronger than the most abhorrent things that the world can conjure up—that nothing was able to separate them from the love of God.

I also like to remind my students that the path to sainthood is not a one-time decision, but is made up of hundreds of fiats (“yeses”) made again and again every day. ¹ It is a matter of denying oneself, taking up one’s cross, and following Christ each day. The martyrs were able to hold fast to the Creed in their final moments because they lived the creed every day. They could say “yes” to God under torture and death because they had been saying “yes” to Him in small ways each day, over and over.

The creed is a funny thing. It’s a beautiful statement of our beliefs, the entire story of salvation history, the sign for which hundreds of thousands of men and women have sacrificed their lives….and yet it’s the part of Mass during which I almost inevitably zone out.

What does it mean to say “I believe” in the Creed? After all, I can ascribe these words to lots of things. “I believe 2+2=4.” “I believe the Earth is round.” “I believe my mom loves me.” etc. etc. Are these statements of belief the same as when I say “I believe in God the Father Almighty…”?

The Catechism beautifully tells us that “[t]o say the Credo with faith is to enter into communion with God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and also with the whole Church” (CCC §197, emphasis mine). Thus, to pray these words of the Creed, is not merely to give intellectual assent to a list of lifeless propositions, but actually to enter into the life of God.

Faith is both a divine gift and a human act. Similar to a human relationship, one person extends an invitation to another person, and that other person must freely choose to accept the offer. There is no scientific proof that a person is being authentic in their desire for friendship. If a person says “I love you,” it requires an act of faith ² to believe them and say “I love you, too.”

So, too, God extends to us friendship through His Church. And my saying “I believe” in the Creed is to accept that invitation. In a way, our statement of belief on Sundays is akin to marriage vows. We publicly profess our acceptance of God’s invitation to relationship.

So, too—as with marriage—the “yes” that we give in public must necessarily be substantiated in our day-to-day life. The “yes” given between bride and groom manifests itself as the “yes” of changing diapers and visiting extended family and paying bills and long nights and any number of small deaths to self. The “yes” that we give to God on Sundays must manifest itself as hundreds of little “yeses,” little deaths to self, wherein we witness to, and become martyrs for, the Love in which we believe.

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1 This is an idea that I’ve written about before.^↩

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2 FOOTGranted, this act of faith in another person is categorically different than faith in God, but the analogy stands.^↩