The Liturgy of the Hours is the prayer of the Church that Catholic priests and religious sign up to pray as a vocational matter and many others do as well. It brings a holy order to the day. And today it has me thinking about persecuted Christians in the world today.
The Office of Readings has a letter to the Romans from Saint Ignatius of Antioch. He’s a bishop who was ultimately martyred, something he was clearly as ready for as anyone is ever going to be. He wrote:
You have never begrudged the martyrs their triumph but rather trained them for it. And so I am asking you to be consistent with the lessons you teach them. Just beg for me the courage and endurance not only to speak but also to will what is right, so that I may not only be called a Christian, but prove to be one. For if I prove myself to be a Christian by martyrdom, then people will call me one, and my loyalty to Christ will be apparent when the world sees me no more. Nothing you can see is truly good. For our Lord Jesus Christ, now that he has returned to his Father, has revealed himself more clearly. Our task is not one of producing persuasive propaganda; Christianity shows its greatness when it is hated by the world.
I am writing to all the churches to declare to them all that I am glad to die for God, provided you do not hinder me. I beg you not to show me a misplaced kindness. Let me be the food of beasts that I may come to God. I am his wheat, and I shall be ground by the teeth of beasts, that I may become Christ’s pure bread.
I would rather that you coaxed the beasts to become my tomb and to leave no scrap of me behind; then when I have died I will be a burden to no one. I shall be a true disciple of Christ when the world no longer sees my body. Pray to Christ for me that by these means I may become a sacrifice to God. I do not give you orders like Peter and Paul. They were apostles, I am a condemned criminal; they were free, I am still a slave. But if I suffer, I shall become the freedman of Jesus Christ and I shall rise again to freedom in him.
Now as a prisoner I am learning to give up my own wishes. All the way from Syria to Rome I am fighting wild beasts, by land and by sea, by day and by night, chained as I am to ten leopards, I mean the detachment of soldiers who guard me; the better you treat them, the worse they become. I am more and more trained in discipleship by their ill usage of me, but I am not therefore justified. How happy I will be with the beasts which are prepared for me! I hope that they will make short work of me. I shall even coax them to devour me quickly and not to be afraid of touching me, as sometimes happens; in fact, if they hold back, I shall force them to it. Bear with me, for I know what is good for me. Now I am beginning to be a disciple. May nothing visible or invisible rob me of my prize, which is Jesus Christ! The fire, the cross, packs of wild beasts, lacerations, rendings, wrenching of bones, mangling of limbs, crushing of the whole body, the horrible tortures of the devil—let all these things come upon me, if only I may gain Jesus Christ!
There are two women who were profiled in a documentary that was part of an exhibit in New York earlier this year. (I wrote a little about it here.) Both of them were from Iraq, displaced Christians who fled and were on church property in Jordan when they were being interviewed. (There is not a lot of movement for those Christians who have had to flee ISIS, so I assume they are still.) One of them talked about how she gave thanks for the ISIS fighters who drove her away from her home, because they put to death her lukewarm faith. Now she knows who she is, someone who lives – and dies – for Christ. She has an intercessor in Ignatius. She also prays for the people caught up in ISIS, because no man is beyond the reach of God.
Another of the women talked about the upsides of having to live in small temporary quarters: a child holds your hand sometimes at night, because you are all sleeping on the same bed.
We have a moral obligation to these people – Christians especially, as brothers and sisters in the Body of Christ – to serve them in solidarity in aid and prayer. But they do more for us than we can ever do for them: Provide a witness of true courage and hope and about being who we say we are.
Many of the problems we face today either stem from are contributed to by a lack of real (self-sacrificial, rigorous, all-encompassing) love and examined lives. (I’m at the front of the line among the accused and guilty. It’s why Pope Francis identifies himself first as a sinner and warns against lifeless faith that doesn’t overwhelm the world with joy.) The martyrs in their courage and joy show us something different.
Ignatius of Antioch Martyrs Lessons Happiness Hope