St. Cecilia

THE GRACE OF BEING A MARTYR
From “Story of a Soul” by St Thérèse of Lisieux 4
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It was night when we arrived and as we were all asleep we were awakened
by the shouts of the porters crying: “Rome! Rome!” It was not a dream, I was in
Rome!… One of my sweetest memories was the one that filled me with delight
when I saw the Colosseum. I was finally gazing upon that arena where so many
martyrs had shed their blood for Jesus… One thought raced through my mind: get
down into the arena!… I cried to Céline: “Come quick! We can get through!” We
crossed the barrier where there was an opening, the fallen masonry hardly
reaching up to the barrier, and we were climbing down over the ruins that
rumbled under our feet… We…threw ourselves on our knees on this sacred soil,
and our souls were united in the same prayer. My heart was beating hard when
my lips touched the dust stained with the blood of the first Christians. I asked for
the grace of being a martyr for Jesus and felt that my prayer was answered!… Papa,
seeing us so happy, didn’t have the heart to scold us and I could easily see he was
proud of our courage…

The Catacombs, too, left a deep impression on me. They were exactly as I
had imagined them when reading the lives of the martyrs. After having spent part
of the afternoon in them, it seemed to me we were there for only a few moments,
so sacred did the atmosphere appear to me. We had to carry off some souvenir
from the Catacombs; having allowed the procession to pass on a little, Céline and
Thérèse slipped down together to the bottom of the ancient tomb of St. Cecilia and
took some earth which was sanctified by her presence.

Before my trip to Rome I didn’t have any special devotion to this saint, but
when I visited her house transformed into a church, the site of her martyrdom,
when learning that she was proclaimed patroness of music not because of her
beautiful voice or her talent for music, but in memory of the virginal song she sang
to her heavenly Spouse hidden in the depths of her heart, I felt more than devotion
for her; it was the real tenderness of a friend. She became my saint of predilection,
my intimate confidante. Everything in her thrilled me, especially her
abandonment, her limitless confidence that made her capable of virginizing souls
who had never desired any other joys but those of the present life. St. Cecilia is like
the bride in the Canticle; in her I see “a choir in an armed camp.” Her life was
nothing else but a melodious song in the midst of the greatest trials, and this does
not surprise me because “the Gospel rested on her heart,” and in her heart reposed
the Spouse of Virgins!…

Martyrdom was the dream of my youth and this dream has grown with me
within Carmel’s cloisters. But here again, I feel that my dream is a folly, for I cannot
confine myself to desiring one kind of martyrdom. To satisfy me I need all. Like
You, my Adorable Spouse, I would be scourged and crucified. I would die flayed
like St. Bartholomew. I would be plunged into boiling oil like St. John; I would
undergo all the tortures inflicted upon the martyrs. With St. Agnes and St. Cecilia,
I would present my neck to the sword, and like Joan of Arc, my dear sister, I would
whisper at the stake Your Name, O JESUS. When thinking of the torments which
will be the lot of Christians at the time of Anti-Christ, I feel my heart leap with joy
and I would that these torments be reserved for me. Jesus, Jesus, if I wanted to
write all my desires, I would have to borrow Your Book of Life, for in it are reported
all the actions of all the saints, and I would accomplish all of them for You.

4
Story of A Soul: The Autobiography of St Thérèse of Lisieux. Trans. John Clarke, O.C.D. Washington, DC: ICS Publications,
1996. 163-165, 222-223. PDF ONLINE VERSION.