Who Needs Adventure Stories?
Who needs adventure stories when we have the lives of the saints? Imagine this: a heroine locked in a tower by her father. A spirited young woman, she defies both him and the local magistrate. She flees for her life, and in her flight, she is saved by a miraculous hill, angels, and the direct intervention of Christ. In the midst of all this, she dabbles in philosophy, theology, and architecture. In the end, she is martyred, but her persecutors are themselves smitten, literally, by thunderbolts from heaven. Over the succeeding centuries, she is venerated across the entire Christian world and becomes the patroness of architects, arithmeticians, and artillerymen.
That’s quite a story, isn’t it? Can you imagine what Hollywood could do with it? At least, back in the days when Hollywood was about making entertaining movies. But it’s not an adventure story. It’s the story of today’s saint, St. Barbara, whose traditional feast day is December 4th.
Or maybe I should say “was,” because you won’t see her name on the official calendar. Bear with me a moment, and I’ll explain why . . .
A Long Memory
Let’s start by observing that the Church has a long memory. She is, of course, the preserver of the Holy Scriptures and the Faith as handed down by the Apostles. The Church has also kept and passed on a lot of other things as well. All through the so-called “Dark Ages,” for instance, Christian monks in their scriptoria were busy writing out manuscripts.
Many of these, of course, were religious works: the poetry of Aulus Prudentius, for instance, whose Christmas hymn “Of the Father’s Love Begotten” we still sing this time of year. Monastic scribes also recorded important records, such as the decrees of Church councils and papal pronouncements. Not only that, they recorded and passed on to us a vast amount of the work of pagan authors such as Vergil, Cicero, and Caesar. In fact, the entire patrimony of classical literature would have disappeared centuries ago if it weren’t for Christian monks laboriously writing it all out by hand.
Fact & Pious Embellishment
At the same time, it’s true that we don’t have as many reliable contemporary records from those centuries when the western Roman Empire was collapsing into the first so-called barbarian kingdoms of Europe as we do for the periods before and after. While we still have official Church documents and literary works, for instance, accounts of a humbler sort are scarce. Consequently, we have a difficult time separating the fact from pious embellishment in the lives of many saints, even well-known saints, from this era.
Because of the uncertainty of historical details, the Church has removed many of these saints from the liturgical calendar (although they are still listed among the recognized saints). St. Christopher and St. Valentine, despite widespread popular devotion, both fall into this category. St. Nicholas (whose feast we celebrate in two days) has probably been saved from a similar fate only because his devotion is simply too anciently and deeply established.
Contemplating Wonders
St. Barbara, whose traditional feast day is today, is another popular saint whose historicity is a little hazy. She lived in Phoenicia (modern Lebanon), or maybe Bithynia (in modern Turkey) in the latter half of the 3rd century AD. Her father was a pagan widower. He locked his beautiful daughter in a tower to protect her from the predations of men. While contemplating the wonders of nature from her lofty perch, she came to realize that the world must have been created by One Divine Eternal Creator. She embraced the Christian God, and consecrated herself to him. When her father was ready to marry her off, she refused.
Concluding, apparently, that her refusal was a result of being too sheltered, her father let her out of the tower in the hopes of igniting more worldly desires in her. Instead, she sought out other Christians and the sacrament of baptism. When her father found out about her religious activities he was furious. This is where the fantastic elements of Barbara’s story begin. He comes after her with a sword, but the sword tears so large a rent in the tower that she is able to escape. A hill magically appears when he is pursuing her, which protectively encloses Barbara, but blocks the father.
All Things Possible
With the help of Martianus, the local magistrate, Barbara’s father eventually apprehends her. She undergoes a variety of humiliations and tortures at the hands of the two men. At one point Christ himself heals her wounds. Rather than dissuading her persecutors, however, this miraculous healing only further enraged them. At another point, angels extinguish the torches with which the torturers are afflicting Barbara and another woman. Finally, however, her father and Martianus succeed in beheading her. At that point the two men are struck down by lightning as a reward for their impious treatment of the young saint.
While the basic story of a young woman who accepts martyrdom because she defied her father seems likely enough, some of the miracles associated with her seem to stretch credulity a little too much. Although, who knows? With God all things are possible (Matthew, 19:26). Of perhaps more concern is the fact that she receives no mention from any Christian author until four centuries after her death, and accounts of where she lived and died are in wide disagreement.
Fire and Lightning
At the same time, she has been an inspiration to Christians all over the world for over a millennium. She is venerated not only in the Catholic Church, but also among all the Orthodox churches and in Anglicanism. Also, we can find a lot of valuable lessons in her story. Her first knowledge of God from the world around her, for instance, is an example of the power of Natural Revelation.
Another example is the story that, at one point, her father built a bath house for her. She instructed the builders to change the original design, which called for two windows, so that the structure might have three windows to reflect the Trinity. So, just as nature is a reflection of our Creator, St. Barbara shows us that we should strive to reflect the nature of God in what we make and do as well. This same principle, by the way, has always played a large role in the design of churches as well (see here, here, and here).
This last story is also the reason why St. Barbara is the patroness of architects. She is also the patroness of miners and artillerymen. It would seem that the lightning bolts that vaporized her tormentors are reminiscent of the big booms of cannon and of the explosives used for blasting rock. And there’s another lightning connection: St. Barbara is one of the Fourteen Holy Helpers invoked against disease and bodily harm. We especially ask St. Barbara to protect us from lightning, of course, and fire.
Flesh and Blood
Just this morning I heard a priest on Catholic radio talking about the skull of St. Thomas Aquinas, which is on tour of the United States right now. The priest was explaining that relics are important, among other reasons, because they are tangible reminders that the saints were flesh and blood, just like the rest of us. Flesh and blood, too, like the Baby whose birth in Bethlehem we anticipate during this season of Advent.
Sanctity is not something that belongs to legends and abstractions, but actual flesh and blood human beings like ourselves. That is, perhaps, the most important lesson St. Barbara teaches us. Underneath the layers of (possibly) legendary exploits, there was a real woman who gave her life to Christ. If she could do it, maybe we – by the Grace of God and with the intercession of saints like Barbara who stand before his throne – maybe we can do it too.
Featured image: St. Barbara Fleeing her Father, by Peter Paul Rubens, 1620