Come Rack, Come Rope

I recently read (twice) English novelist Evelyn Waugh's life of St. Edmund Campion, the Jesuit priest who was martyred under Elizabeth I. Perhaps it is a certain Shakespearean quality--a kind of tragicomedy--about Campion's story that draws me to him. Perhaps it is the surprisingly contemporary character of his story--his Gospel of peace and reconciliation increasingly perceived as a threat to Crown and State. In any case, I cannot help but admire this brilliant and brave companion of Jesus.

Campion began his career as an Oxford scholar, and proved himself among the brightest lights of the University. He won the good favor of the Queen when she made her famous visit to Oxford in 1569, and even earned the patronage of the Earl of Leicester, the Queen's favorite suitor. He was ordained a deacon in the newly established Church of England, and commenced his Theology studies.

As he studied the Church Fathers, however, his conscience weighed heavier and heavier upon him. Was it possible that the true religion, as Christ had intended it, had remained hidden for 1500 years, only to be revealed in these last days to a few English elites? He sought the good opinion of every learned person he thought might be able to resolve his doubts, but in vain.

Not yet desiring the life of an outlaw, he attempted to buy himself time by traveling to Dublin to assist with the establishment of the University there (later Trinity College). However, this endeavor was short-lived, and in 1571 he fled to France. At the English College at Douai, a haven for Catholic ex-patriots, he was reconciled to the Catholic Church, and began his studies for priesthood.

After ordination, Campion traveled to Rome, where he joined the Society of Jesus. His early years as a Jesuit were spent teaching in Vienna and Prague. But in 1580 a mission to England was established, with Jesuits at the helm. Their mission was a dangerous one, as the Mass was banned, and any priest found saying Mass, or any lay man or woman found harboring a priest for the purpose of saying Mass, was considered guilty of treason.

Still, Campion's small group, entering England by different ports, disguised as merchants and assuming false names, were able to slip past the authorities. For the next year they preached and administered the sacraments to those English men and women who remained faithful to Rome, moving from house to house, rarely staying more than a night. This proved a difficult task, as the Crown employed informants, professional "priest-hunters", such as the infamous George Eliot.

It was no suprise, therefore, that on 15 July 1581, Campion and his companions were discovered. Campion's arms were bound, and a piece of paper bearing the inscription "CAMPION THE SEDITIOUS JESUIT" was stuck in his hat. He was led to the Tower of London, where he was met by the Queen herself. Elizabeth asked Campion whether he acknowledged her as his rightful Queen, and promised wealth and high office in her church if he would renounced his faith. Campion acknowledged that she was his rightful Queen, but refused to renounce his faith.

After many grueling months of torture, which included being racked twice, and theological debate with Anglican scholars who refused him the use of texts or notes, Campion and his companions were collectively tried for treason. They were quickly convicted and sentenced to death, at which the group sang the Te Deum laudamus. Upon the scaffold at Tyburn, Campion prayed that the Queen have a long and peaceful reign. He was then hanged until he was half dead, his genitals cut off, his bowels torn out, and his mangled body beheaded and quartered, the parts to be disposed with according to Her Majesty's pleasure.

In a letter to his mentor, Cardinal William Allen, Campion wrote, "I have made a free oblation of myself to His Divine Majesty, both for life and death, and I hope He will give me grace and force to perform; and this is all I desire."

Saint Edmund Campion, pray for us!

Happy Halloween/Oiche Shamhna

I love Halloween. I always have. I love dressing up, telling ghost stories and watching horror movies, visiting haunted houses. Further, I think that there is something very psychologically and spiritually healthy about taking a long, hard look at evil and death, and even having a laugh at their expense. As C.S. Lewis said, "The devil cannot stand to be mocked." Here is a levity that comes from the Christian consciousness that evil and death no longer have any power over us.

Still, I recognize that Halloween is the object of no small amount of criticism in Christian circles, particularly in more fundamentalist circles. These generally well-intentioned Christians frequently (and often accurately) cite the pagan origins of Halloween, especially in the Irish harvest festival of Samhain (pronounced SOW-in). They say that such pre-Christian observances have no place in Christian life, that they are at best syncratistic, at worst idolatrous.

But what, historically, has been the Church's attitude toward pre-Christian cultures? What has been her missionary philosophy? Our modern term inculturation describes this ancient phenomenon aptly. Inculturation is the principle by which Christian missionaries affirm all that is good and true and beautiful in a culture, and reconcile it to the Christian faith. One recalls especially the great Jesuit missionaries of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, priests like Matteo Ricci, who so insinuated himself into Chinese culture as to become Chinese himself. He donned the garb of a Mandarin scholar, and so impressed the Imperial Court with his knowledge of astronomy and mathematics that he was able to convert a good number of them to Christ.

At the basis of the inculturation principle is the assumption that one can be fully Irish or Chinese or whatever AND fully Christian. After all, if Christ could be fully divine and fully human, so also could Ricci's converts be fully Christian and fully Chinese.

Which brings us back to Halloween/Samhain. The missionaries that first preached the Gospel to the Irish knew intuitively that they could not simply level Irish culture and build Christian culture atop it. Beyond being impractical, it is simply impossible, since Christian culture as such does not exist. Rather, they affirmed and reconciled Irish culture to Christian faith. The festival of Samhain was not only a harvest festival, but also a festival of the dead, a time when the spirit world was considered particularly close to our own. Christian missionaries recognized in this belief a shadow of the Christian belief in the communion of the saints, the connectedness of all who have died in Christ. Largely due to the experience of the Irish missionaries, Pope Gregory III (d. 741) fixed the date for the Feast of All Saints (or "All Hallows") on November 1.

Centuries later, Halloween/Samhain remains a festival in which we recall the reality and the imminence of the spirit world, in which we laugh at the devil and laugh with the saints, when we honor the God who reconciles all peoples and cultures to Himself, who has destroyed death and darkness forever.