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| A New Patron Saint for Chastity? |
| by John Zmirak |
| 9/30/09 |
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When we're thinking about the Deadly Sins, it helps to use examples. It's too easy for theological writers to sling around Abstractions with Capital Letters, as if with each stroke of the pen they're tapping into Plato's realm of changeless, ineffable Forms. Or at least that they're writing in German, where all nouns start with caps. A friend of mine used to write weekly for the estimable investigatory journal The Wanderer. Founded by German-Catholic immigrants, it was published auf Deutsch well into the 20th century. As my friend recalled, "The editors were, I think, waiting for the rest of the country to catch up with them. At last they admitted that this was unlikely, and agreed to translate the paper. But they kept on as their typesetter someone named Uncle Otto, who for years insisted on capitalizing every noun."
At least, that's the story. Such Teutonic stubbornness served The Wanderer's editors well in the wake of Vatican II, as the newspaper became a snout-rapper -- whose reports, as Bishop Rembert Weakland whines in his memoirs, were what Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger used to roll up and smack heretical bishops on the nose. I urge all to subscribe.
But capitalizing your Concepts in order to give them an Air of spurious Authority will only take you so far in this world -- as far as "B-minus," I learned back in freshman rhetoric class at a staunchly secular school. So I've decided to give the Virtues and Vices a little flesh, to fatten them up for the reader so he'll remember how they look, sound, even smell.
I've already, elsewhere, profiled the patroness of promiscuity, the racist shrew Margaret Sanger. Lust's opposing virtue, Chastity, deserves an equally unforgettable advocate. Much as I love St. Maria Goretti, I'm not sure that her story is terribly useful for illuminating this virtue. Maria died from wounds incurred while resisting a rapist, and is quoted as having chosen "Death before Sin." In another context that's surely a worthy maxim, but it's worth pointing out, over and over again, that rape victims who don't fight back are not committing a sin. A woman I knew, the victim of a violent rape, said that tales of Maria Goretti (which she'd learned as a girl) fed into the crippling, inappropriate guilt that haunted her after the attack. What's edifying about Gorretti's story, I think, is how she forgave her attacker before she died, and how he converted afterward -- even attending her canonization Mass. That part is enough to break your heart, but its matter is Mercy, not Chastity.
So let's move on to another story, a longer and sadder one, of Chastity lived over decades and under duress in its most common context, marriage. I speak of someone well known to Showtime subscribers, Queen Catherine of Aragon (1485-1536). The beleaguered first wife of Henry VIII, she started life with every promise of pleasure and power -- as the youngest daughter of Europe's richest, most well-armed monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella. She learned Spanish, French, Latin, and Greek, and all the liberal arts, in an education infused with the Christian humanism that formed Erasmus and Thomas More (her future friend). Obedient to her parents, she made a political marriage at age 15 to the English Prince Arthur -- a shy young man who died only six months later.
According to Catherine, Arthur carried shyness to quite an extreme, since she always claimed the marriage was never consummated. This may seem implausible now, but it pays to remember two things:
A few centuries down the line, it would take seven years for Louis XVI to consummate his bond with Marie Antoinette; perhaps the prospect of handing on royal genes can cause performance anxiety. Whatever the case, the pious Catherine would swear to this fact repeatedly under oath, so it probably behooves us to believe her; her actions in later years otherwise make no sense.
After Arthur's death, Catherine was left for seven years an impoverished widow living under something close to house arrest in damp and alien England. She escaped this fate when her parents arranged with Henry VII for her to marry Arthur's brother, the dashing and learned Prince Henry. Because of Leviticus 20:21, Canon Law forbade a widow's marrying her brother-in-law. But royal dispensations back then were as thick on the ground as Kennedy annulments, so Henry and Catherine married in 1509. A very different man from his brother, Henry made Catherine pregnant five times -- in between long bouts with mistresses, a sport which historians think gave Henry syphilis. That disease contributes to infant mortality, which might explain why only one of Catherine's children outlived infancy.
Lacking a legitimate male heir, with his own family's claim to the throne still legally tenuous, Henry began to doubt the validity of his marriage to Catherine. By sheer coincidence, he'd fallen in love with one of her teenaged ladies in waiting, Anne Boleyn. Thus began the well-known story of the English Reformation, whose sordid origins have given Irishmen ever after the chance to snark at their English landlords: "My Church was founded by Christ, and yours by Henry VIII."
This isn't the place to rehearse the tedious legal proceedings by which Henry sought a divorce, or the violence he used on those who resisted him. His efforts were slowed, not stopped, by the fact that Catherine was the well-loved aunt of Charles V, whose armies held the pope a virtual prisoner. There was little honor on any side of this issue, most of whose protagonists (except for saints such as Thomas More and Bishop John Fisher) treated the sanctity of marriage as a pawn on Europe's chessboard. It all ended with butchered Carthusians; roofless abbeys; bare, ruined choirs; and the liltingly lovely language of the Book of Common Prayer, whose sacraments are invalid.
What matters to us is Catherine's unfailing commitment to her marriage. As the wheels of her persecution ground slowly and certainly, she found herself losing first her privileges, then her rights. In the end, she was banned from even visiting her daughter, the disinherited Princess Mary, and imprisoned in a crumbling castle far from court. At any point in time, Catherine could have freed herself, left England, and returned to Spain -- to life as a pampered dowager. All it would have required for Henry to set her free was a simple letter, admitting that their marriage was invalid.
But Catherine wouldn't write it, not even long after she'd given up any prospect of the throne. To the end, she concerned herself with "my husband's" health and holiness -- both in steep decline. She died in poverty and solitude, but would never renounce the reality and the sanctity of her vocation as a wife. Deeply in love with her husband, affectionate and romantic, she was sentenced to decades of celibacy in the midst of the marital state. Abandoned, she never abandoned God. She never even gave up on Henry.
As she wrote him, the year before she died:
My most dear lord, King and husband,
The hour of my death now drawing on, the tender love I ouge [owe] thou forceth me, my case being such, to commend myselv to thou, and to put thou in remembrance with a few words of the healthe and safeguard of thine allm [soul] which thou ougte to preferce before all worldley matters, and before the care and pampering of thy body, for the which thoust have cast me into many calamities and thineselv into many troubles. For my part, I pardon thou everything, and I desire to devoutly pray God that He will pardon thou also. For the rest, I commend unto thou our doughtere Mary, beseeching thou to be a good father unto her, as I have heretofore desired. I entreat thou also, on behalve of my maides, to give them marriage portions, which is not much, they being but three. For all mine other servants I solicit the wages due them, and a year more, lest they be unprovided for. Lastly, I makest this vouge [vow], that mine eyes desire thou aboufe all things.
She died with dignity, as true to her vocation as any monk or martyr. I cannot think of a worthier model today for all the married.
John Zmirak is the author, most recently, of the graphic novel The Grand Inquisitor and is Writer-in-Residence at Thomas More College in New Hampshire. He writes weekly for InsideCatholic.com. Readers have left 23 comments. Thank you for this article. I didn't know half as much about Catherine of Aragon until reading this. I've read of wives like St. Monica and Elizabeth Leseur (I don't know if she's been canonized or beatified) and what they suffered for (and from) their husbands, but I hadn't known anything about Catherine--other than that she died alone in exile. Her refusal to pronounce their marriage vows as "invalid" and her unceasing love for her husband (even after all that he did) would likely only be ridiculed by those who take a more "realistic" approach to love and marriage (such as they are understood by those disconnected from reality), but every Catholic should know about her example. Marriage can get bumpy, and sometimes, it's tempting to think, "Gee, I wonder if our marriage is really valid. Maybe there's a loophole somewhere big enough for me to squeeze out of this mess," rather than putting the whole issue in God's hands and asking Him for the grace needed to see the marriage from His perspective and do what He expects of us--as husbands and wives (and parents of the children caught in the middle). Great article. Hope to see more like it. Written by Sarah L Another good one from my favourite writer of fun and Faith. The best line in today's essay:"...never consumated..why?... Arthur was sickly ... and Arthur was ENGLISH"! Too funny! I also agree with the author's conclusions re St. Maria Goretti. Catherine of Aragon has always been protrayed unsympathetically in both history and hollywood .It's time she got some well deserved attention for her saintly qualities, so worthy of emulation. Written by Pammie I used to be uncomfortable about St. Maria Goretti's story as well; after all, being raped is not a sin. However, a few years ago someone told me that her statement "death before sin" referred to the potential rapist's sin. In other words, she was trying to prevent the rapist from committing a terrible sin by resisting the rape.  Written by Eric Sammons "I used to be uncomfortable about St. Maria Goretti's story as well; after all, being raped is not a sin. However, a few years ago someone told me that her statement "death before sin" referred to the potential rapist's sin. In other words, she was trying to prevent the rapist from committing a terrible sin by resisting the rape." I've heard that about St. Maria Goretti, as well. But is murder and attempted rape really that much less of a sin than a completed rape? Written by Scarlett Thank you Mr.Sammons for the explanation. I had never heard it put that way before. Written by Pammie Is there a reason she hasn't been canonized? Looks like a sort of heroic virtue under soft persecution to me. Written by Irenaeus "A few centuries down the line, it would take seven years for Louis XVI to consummate his bond with Marie Antoinette" King Louis XVI of France actually had a physical problem that was finally corrected by surgery 7 years into his marriage with Marie Antoinette. He did not consummate his marriage until this time because of the tremendous pain it caused him to try... not because he was shy. Your article is interesting... but this comparison is false. Thanks, Doug Written by Doug Pearson Thanks, Doug! I didn't know about his physical issue. But it's interesting that it took so long for him to be willing to be treated for it... there's a detailed account here: http://tinyurl.com/y937ffe Apparently, poor Louis suffered from extreme shyness, a physical defect, and perhaps some scrupulosity.... The resulting scandal undermined his respect among the people, and may have contributed to the monstrosities of 1789. Written by John Zmirak 36." Wherefore, strictly adhering, in this matter, to the decrees of the Pontiffs, Our Predecessors, and confirming them most fully, and, as it were, renewing them by Our authority, of Our own initiative and certain knowledge, We pronounce and declare that ordinations carried out according to the Anglican rite have been, and are, absolutely null and utterly void." If those five words leap into your mind as soon as your hear, "Apostolicae Curae," you might be an old school Catholic. Written by I am not Spartacus Scarlett - Didn't Maria do the more heroically virtuous thing? She couldn't have known that he would kill her for sure. Also, maybe some will see this as too simplistic, but it seems that the Church has more wisdom than we do, and canonization is a long process. So if the Church decided to canonize Maria Goretti and elevate her as an example of chastity, who are we to criticize? Written by Pilgrim I loved your article. Now how about a male example of chastity? Much more needed in our time. Written by Rosemary M. I have always suspected that Cranmer lifted a portion of his admonition at the start of the wedding service from St Thomas More's writings on the dignity of marriage; perhaps more of a paraphrase than plagiarism stricto sensu. The real reply of an Irishman to the English Protestant is the poem translated and paraphrased by Brendan Behan as "Don't speak of the alien minister / Nor his religion without meaning nor faith / for the foundation stone of his temple / is the b*****ks of Henry the Eighth!" Written by Éamonn Thank you for this, I love Queen Catherine, but Maria is far more saintly than she's given credit for. Allesandro propositioned her. She declined. Many young men use the family maid or her daughters for their own selfishness. This was common and almost acceptable in most places. People might have joked about it but no really fair person would've blamed her but she declined and he flew into a rage. Written by dymphna Great article - she's a good model for our time, when so many are thrust into similar positions. Maybe if marriage tribunals kept her picture prominently posted, it would have a salutary effect. . . Written by MRA Now how about a male example of chastity? Much more needed in our time. — RosemarySome men are born to chastity. Some men achieve chastity, and some have chastity thrust upon them. Written by Michael I loved your article. Now how about a male example of chastity? Much more needed in our time. — Rosemary MPerhaps a good model of male chastity -- at least for the young adult -- is Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassatti. He was a handsome, athletic, Italian layman who secretly served the poor and went to adoration. He died at 24. Although there is no big story about him being tempted to sexual sin, he was a chaste masculine guy and stands as a model for young men today. http://www.frassatiusa.org/ Written by Zoe Romanowsky I have a book with a picture of Pier Giorgio Frassasati sitting at a table with his friends holding a bottle of wine and wearing a silly hat. There are other pictures of him skiing, climbing mountains, and walking in a Eucharistic procession. He was quite a guy - and very good looking. Written by Ellen Whatever, as long as Pier is hot... Mr. Zmirak, could you post some bikini pics of Catherine of Aragon so we can see if she is a suitable example of female chastity for us lusty males to embrace? Thanks in advance. Written by Hubba hubba Great article, John! I've been intrigued by Queen Catherine, but had never read such a comprehensive account of her heroism before. Thank you! I've heard the same thing about Maria Goretti. She would not have sinned if she had been raped, but she cared so much for purity that she did not want her attacker to be guilty of the sin. The virtue of purity concerns not only what we ourselves do, but how we care for others' purity as well. (For example, dressing provocatively is a sin against purity, because of how it affects others.) In caring for the chastity of a man, even a man who was attacking her. St. Maria showed chastity to a heroic degree. "I've heard that about St. Maria Goretti, as well. But is murder and attempted rape really that much less of a sin than a completed rape?" She didn't know he was going to kill her. Attempted rape is also, certainly, a mortal sin. I've heard that St. Maria kept trying to convince him to stop because it was a mortal sin. If he had paid attention, and then stopped because he realized that it would be a mortal sin and gone home, he would have made a moral decision, albeit late. Written by BakerStreetRider Dymphna's point is the most necessary here: St. Maria Goretti was stabbed after declining a proposition, not actually resisting rape: Allesandro apparently drew his knife only after she had refused, he didn't threaten her with it in the first place. So her comments at her death reflect concern for both her own soul and for Allesandro's. Written by Titus Great article John - I would back any effort to make the long-suffering Queen Catherine the patron saint of chastity. One minor quibble - though it's become common in English to refer to the state of not having sex as "celibacy," technically celibacy is simply the state of not being married. So when you mention that Catherine was condemned to "decades of celibacy in the midst of the marital state," I think it would me more proper to say she was sentenced to decades of continence. Like I said, it's a minor point, but it's one of those things that always makes me think of how a professor of spirituality I had in college laid it out: everyone's called to chastity (having one's sexual activity be appropriate to one's state in life - married people who have sex exclusively are chaste); those who are not married are celibate (even if they are not chaste); those who refrain from any sexual activity are continent (whether they are married or celibate). Written by Tim Ferguson Thank you so much for this article! I have never really looked at Cathering of Aragon in this light. Henry's last wife is always the one that intrigued me -- simply because she had the wit to survive him. One little oddity of English history that may interest some. In the village of Winchombe, there is a fragment of an alter cloth stitched by Catherine of Aragon. It is held in the parish church, in a glass case behind a curtain. You may view it at any time the church is open. At the edge of the village lies Sudeley castle, which was once owned by Thomas Seymour. In the late summer of 1548, Catherine Parr Seymour died a week after giving birth to her only child, a daughter. She was buried in the Chapel of St. Mary on the grounds of the castle with Lady Jane Grey serving as chief mourner. Kamilla Written by Kamilla The Pope awarded the title to her husband - the DF is still on British coinage - but Catherine showed herself as the real deal. What a tremendous, and bizarre, twist of fate that it was her mother that helped rid Spain of the Moorish Menace and funded Christopher Columbus. What a tragedy that her Henry wsn't faithful to her and probably gave her the VD that prevented him from realizing his dynastic ambitions. Written by Barbara |