Click back to Part 1 here. Read Part 2 below:
Next, then, let’s talk about witness. Witness is about how we can strive to be a positive example of discipleship by our lives. Would you guys believe that you are all called to be martyrs? This is a group that includes a man who was cooked alive (St. Lawrence), two women killed in the Roman arena (Sts. Felicity and Perpetua), a man who was dragged for miles and then torched in a firepit (St. Charles), and more. Sound good!? Well, I’m kind of kidding -- martyrs are those people whose commitment to the faith endured even to the point of execution, but we’re not all called to that crown. On the other hand, martyr means witness, and we are all called to be witnesses to the love of Christ, by being the hands and feet of Christ’s love in our world. When it comes to the martyrs, we have just about everything in common with them except perhaps the way they died. Their lives give witness to how dying to oneself creates greater capacity for one to love fully and completely.
Witness means living such that, directly and indirectly, your life is an example of discipleship with Christ. We can look to the martyrs as role models. #EncounterWitnessPilgrimage pic.twitter.com/QrOF4q6mCc— Dan Masterton (@ThisLadDan) July 26, 2019
Just a quick stop on the martyr tour to celebrate two of my all-time faves -- first, St. Oscar Romero of El Salvador. Oscar was a sort of humdrum priest, trying to do his thing for the people of San Salvador. In the midst of brutal civil war, in which the military and corrupt government were cooperating in suppressing and murdering the campesinos, or farming/working class, Oscar was appointed archbishop of San Salvador. Initially, Oscar tried to not ruffle any feathers, opting to perpetuate a status quo unstable peace in which the Church sort of stayed on the edges of the fray and didn’t interfere with the government/military. However, over time, Oscar rejected this unjust detente and became an outspoken critic of the corrupt, inhumane, murderous regime. Through social action, blistering homilies at Mass, and the dogged celebration of the Sacraments, Oscar took the Church from being a silent and complicit enabler to a clarion voice for human rights and peace. His prophetic stand became too threatening to the ruling junta, and they dispatched a hitman who assassinated him while he said Mass.
Next, St. Maximilian Kolbe of Poland, and eventually Auschwitz: Maximilian was a Franciscan friar during World War II. His primary ministry was building a massive media network focused on evangelization and prayer, all under the patronage of Mary. As the Nazis grew in power and reach, he was arrested, jailed, and eventually freed, before being arrested again in a later round-up and sent to Auschwitz. There, he joined thousands of other prisoners in poor conditions, harsh work, and almost certain and impending death. Maximilian, despite his advanced age, regularly forewent meals to give food to fellow prisoners, heard confessions, offered spiritual counsel, led prayer, and did what he could to insist on loving all of his neighbors, including the Nazi officers. After a prisoner successfully escaped, the prisoners were marched out to the yard, where the officers announced they’d be choosing ten prisoners to be starved to death as punishment for that escape. Maximilian knew one of the randomly chosen men to be a family man with family members alive on the outside; Maximilian volunteered himself in that man’s place, and the officers assented. Maximilian continued his steady love and support even as he was starved to death. He was the last of the ten to survive, and his resilient spirit lasted two weeks before the officers decided to lethally inject him. Maximilian is considered a martyr of charity, since he gave his life in Christian love for that of another person.
In some sense, there is nothing extraordinary about Oscar and Maximilian as individuals. They were fairly normal people, living fairly normal lives, trying to be faithful and loving in their own worlds. The way that they loved, while it happened in extreme circumstances and under extraordinary pressure, is not a love that is unattainable. In fact, the example of saints is meant to show us just the opposite. Oscar, Maximilian, and countless others are canonized and celebrated to show us what we as sons and daughters of God are capable of doing, if we just die to ourselves a bit more and live more fully instead in Christ. The title of martyr is beautiful not because we want to seek a tragic death but because their deaths ratified the depth and magnitude of witness that their lives offered already.
This is why I love the martyrs. They challenge me to more intentionally die to myself and remind me what a faithful person can be capable of doing. As much as I may have ideas for how I want to spend my time, I know that my liberation and growth comes in loving others better, and creating space in me to receive love. When my wife calls home on her drive back from the hospital night shift, my temptation is to try to continue what I’m doing, multi-tasking and not paying full attention to her. But I know that she is just trying to be communicative, to engage with me before she gets back and crashes into bed, and use the conversation to keep alert as she journeys home. I know the loving thing to do is drop what I’m doing or what I wanted to be doing and be present to her and that conversation. Similarly, when I’m playing with my daughter, my temptation is to give myself too many and too long of free passes to turn on the TV to the game or pull out my phone and scroll. But I know that my daughter is just trying to include me and share something with me. Even if it’s the fourth time reading her the same book that morning or receiving the third request for applesauce that hour, I know that whatever I’d look at on Twitter can wait and that being present to my daughter is the greatest and most loving thing I can do.
It’s the martyrs and saints that provide the core witness to me, the ones who respond to Jesus’ life and love with great love of their own to show me how great love can be if I put it before all other things. One way to understand this better is by adapting Fr. Steve Bevans’ explanation of contextual theology. As Bevans tries to explain how experience can be an integral way to understand of our faith, he encourages several ways to engage that experience and be aware of its impact on our theological comprehension. One important aspect is what he calls “transcendental contextual theology,” where we approach our interactions with other people with genuine objectivity, such that we charitably and patiently receive their practices and behaviors without bias so that we might learn from what they do. *exhale* For our sake, I’d like to simplify this by using Bevans’ “garden analogy.”
Bevans compares this ideal to gardening, especially having an eye out for others’ gardens. Maybe you can think of a neighbor or friend or family member who keeps an immaculate lawn or grows delicious herbs or vegetables or maintains beautiful plants and flowers. If we have even a slight interest in gardening, our inclination is to ask that person how they do it -- How do you get your grass so green? How do you grow such tasty produce? How do you get your plants so lush and healthy? And the reason we ask the master gardener for their tips isn’t because they’ve stood on their front lawn barking out directives on how others should garden; we ask because we see the life in their garden and want to know how we can achieve that same result.
The ideal of witness carries this same element. Personally, I look to the saints and martyrs to reflect upon and learn more how I can be a better source of God’s love to others, how I can better be the hands of feet of Christ’s love. From there, I hope that my life -- my choices, my actions, my routines, my priorities -- can become a beautiful garden. I’m not trying to show off or insist upon a prescriptive model by which one has to strictly live; I am hoping that my prioritization of faith and family, my steady insistence on going to Mass every week, my commitment to give of our firstfruits to the Church and the marginalized, and more will be a quiet example that might help others grow in small ways. And this comes from the witness of my admired martyrs as I try to live a discipleship with Christ that offers witness to others.
Read Part 3 here.
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