St. Raymond Nonnatus

St. Raymond was born in 1204 in Catalonia via caesarian, thus earning him the name Nonnatus (“not born”). His mother died in childbirth. As a youth, he watched his family’s sheep. He joined the new Mercedarian order, which had been founded to ransom Christians from the Moors in North Africa, and was trained by the founder, St. Peter Nolasco.

He ransomed hundreds of Christians until he got to Tunis, where his money ran out. So he offered himself as a hostage for 28 captive Christians. He began preaching to his guards. The Moors allegedly bored a hole through his lips and padlocked his mouth shut to prevent him from preaching. He was ransomed and returned to Spain in 1239. He died at the Castle of Cardona in 1240 and was buried in the chapel he prayed at as a child.

Locks are placed at his altar representing prayer requests to end gossip, rumors, and false testimonies. He is the patron of the falsely accused and the confidentiality of confession. He is also the patron of expectant mothers, newborns, obstetricians, and midwives. His feast day is August 31. 

St. Eulalia

Eulalia of Merida

St. Eulalia of Barcelona was a young martyr who died under the persecution from Diocletian in the fourth century. The thirteen-year-old refused to renounce her faith and was subjugated to a series of tortures including being rolled in a barrel with glass stuck into it, having her breasts cut off, crucifixion, and decapitation.

There is debate as to whether St. Eulalia of Barcelona is the same as St. Eulaia of Merida. Both legends are of a young teen girl in Iberia who suffered a series of tortures under Diocletian's reign. Both had doves appear at their deaths.

I learned about St. Eulalia as Barcelona experienced a terror attack yesterday. More than a dozen people died from an attack by North African Muslims. One portrait of her has her lying in the streets during her tortures. It’s a serene scene for one of martyrdom.

She was buried in Barcelona. In 713 during the Moorish invasion, the body was hidden (recovered in 878). In 1339, she was relocated to the crypt of the new cathedral which also bore her name, Cathedral de Santa Eulalia in Barcelona. She is the city’s patron, and her feast day in February 12. 

Words Don't Do

Last weekend I watched along with the rest of the country as violence erupted in Charlottesville. It was sad, but not surprising. In a way, it felt overdue. White supremacists and neo-Nazis chanting “blood and soil” and “the Jews will not replace us,” rallying around vestiges of the Lost Cause, literally carrying torches and swastikas. It was surreal but familiar. Anarchists and fascists fill the plots of books from 100 years ago. But now they are also on the streets.

There is a lot of anger, a lot of absolutism, a lot of whataboutism, and a lot of false equivalences. There is no moment of respite. It just keeps mounting. It is difficult to imagine a peaceful solution. This is what happens when competing ideologies run out of negotiating space. Fundamental ideas clash so hard that they turn into actual clashes.

There have been those criticizing others for not speaking out publicly or not getting physically involved. I am probably viewed as complacently silent because I haven’t typed “Nazis are bad” on facebook. But I don’t think social media activism is real activism. I’m alert, and I’m willing to jump in and help at my micro/local level, and I hope I have the courage to do the right thing. Evil must be confronted. Evil must be condemned. But we must also not allow it to overtake our lives and fill us with hatred. We have to continue on living and loving. 

Monday was the feast of St. Maximillian Kolbe. He was a prisoner of Auschwitz and offered to take the place of a father set to be tortured and killed. During a weekend of such bigotry and anger, it seemed appropriate to recall the ideology that led to places like Auschwitz. Racism, nationalism, anti-Semistism, sexism, a belief that ends justify means—they all divide and dehumanize and have no place in civilized discourse.

St. Maximillian Kolbe had a deep devotion to Mary. His last words were “Ave, Maria.” How fitting that his feast day leads into the Feast of the Assumption. And what more can be said? How many times does one shout condemnation into the void? How many times does one tweet “thoughts and prayers” to the latest victims? How many times will history repeat itself? Ave, Maria. Ora pro nobis.