December 3, 2012 (on the flight, uploaded later)
Chapter II
Having also started (but not finished) a biography of Sir
Isaac Newton, one of the other similarities between the two that has struck me
(besides their temporary hibernation and their single-minded focus) was the reactions
of their families. Here it’s more
of a contrast, but it could be interesting to beg the question of which
frustrates the saint or scientist more – neglect or loving interference?
In Chapter II we learn what happened when Catherine, who had
told no one of her vow at seven years old to remain a virgin always, came smack
up against the fact that her family needed her to marry to maintain their
alliances and strength of their family.
When her favorite sister, Bonaventura died, this problem became particularly
contentious, apparently.
I suppose the next step after hearing the call, then (as
yesterday) trying what you think the call might be to see if it’s right, is to
stick to your guns once you’ve found it.
And little Catherine did have to contend with some obstacles and endless
attempts at persuasion.
One of the things that makes me uncomfortable about her was
addressed early in the chapter.
There’s little but the admirable in her determination to stick to her
vow even when faced with hardships and lack of understanding even from those
who loved her. However, the first
round of this persuasion was when Bonaventura was still alive.
Lapa, Catherine’s mother, convinced Catherine’s oldest and
favorite sister to talk to the “suddenly” recalcitrant young girl into dressing
nicely and keeping herself looking good for the boys in town now that she was
of marriageable (by 13th century standards) age. Reportedly, Bonaventura had some
limited success, for which Catherine not only greatly repented later but that
she actually believed caused Bonaventura’s death in childbirth.
I recoil from this idea. A) Childbirth
killed your sister. You are in the
Middle Ages, it was the childbirth.
B) As stated in an Orson Scott Card book I actually am not ashamed of ever
having read, it is a kind of egomania to believe that all the misfortunes that
befall the ones you love are due to your sins. C) Really? God
wouldn’t try other means of removing
a potential corrupter than killing your otherwise almost painfully good sister? Seriously, in the first chapter there
was a story of how when Bonaventura was first married she became so upset she
started to waste away when her otherwise good husband and some of his friends
became a bit foul-mouthed in her presence.
The comfort Catherine was sent was being told that after a
brief little spell in Purgatory, Bonaventura got to go to heaven. I would have appreciated something of a
smack down about taking yourself too seriously, but I am not at all a saint.
And more than that, Catherine of Siena is a saint of
purity. As someone who’s always
been uncomfortable that her name means “pure,” I feel weird about saints of
purity – saints who completely reject the world and take the smallest infractions
as seriously as we would the cardinal sins.
But when you think about what they’re losing – when you are
as close to God and as full of His Graces as Catherine clearly was from a young
age, anything that threatens that connection even a little must be horrifying. It can make you jealous of that zeal,
because it may be the biggest clue we have to the depth of the spiritual
rewards that are given to such saints in place of it.
In a religion of repentance, purity is not the zero/sum game
that I mostly reject to, which is one of my favorite things about my
religion. It still makes me
uncomfortable, however, because I love this world, and knowing that there is
something so infinitely beyond it that the things of this world are like
smudges on my glasses…
I suppose that is an uncomfortable truth that saints make us
face. No wonder they have issues
with their families.
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