Memorial of Saint Boniface, Bishop and Martyr

Patron Saint of Germany

Acts 20: 28-38

John 17: 11B-19

 The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church.– Tertullian, 3c. 

Today, we celebrate St. Boniface, the  8^thcentury Englishman who travelled to Germany and the Netherlands to convert  pagan peoples and to restore a corrupted Church.  He went about to teach and preach. He famously chopped down a tree, a pagan shrine, in public, at the Winter Solstice!  He helped to heal the Church by reforming the clergy and establishing houses of prayer in the form of Benedictine monasteries.  For this and more, he was martyred. (Incidentally, he is buried at Fulda, not far from Frauenberg monastery, the site of our Franciscan “grandmother” province, which sent so many friars to the United States in the 19^thand 20^thcenturies).

The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church.

When I was a child, I really wanted to be a martyr.  Why not? It made for great drama.  You were menaced by evil people, but stood fast for the faith.  They killed you.  In a flash, you went to heaven, became famous ever afterwards.  Then, you got your own holy card and feast day.  Everyone in the Church would think about you at least once a year.  What could be better than that?

Then one day it occurred to me that martyrdom was a bit more complicated than I had imagined.

That martyrdom had to do with actual murder. And mayhem.  And chaos.  And the apparent power of Evil. Martyrs were hounded, persecuted, tortured.  Martyrs were often misunderstood by their own people:  rejected, abandoned, scorned. Martyrs frequently died alone, unheralded, forgotten. 

Martyrs, I learned, didn’t just include the holy card and feast day saints.  But literally countless numbers of women, men, children whose lives were needlessly, mindlessly extinguished.  Martyrs did not just include, in our own time, people like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Maximilian Kolbe, or Oscar Romero.  But more like the 6 million Jews and others who perished in the Holocaust.  Martyrdom includes Tiananmen Square,  Ground Zero on 9/11. Cambodia under Pol Pot; Syria under Assad.  Martyrdom meets us at the borders of our country.  In our prisons, in our streets and schools.  In a myriad of what have become shockingly routine mindless acts of death-charged violence.

I no longer want to be a martyr.

It’s a career that stopped before it even got started.

Literally a dead end.

But.

In today's reading, St. Paul (Acts 20: 28-38) reveals that he knew in advance of his impending martyrdom.  He had already had a taste of persecution, imprisonment, and the rest throughout his ministry. Here, he indicates that he knows that he is going to Jerusalem to be arrested, deported to Rome, and killed.  Yet. Paul also appears to be at peace with it all. How is that possible?

Paul's matryrdom, of course, is a mere shadow of that of the Lord's.  In today’s gospel from John (17: 11b-19-- in his beautiful prayer to the Father-- Jesus is clearly aware of His own approaching martyrdom.Yet he speaks in terms of his being raised up in glory to the Father. He sees his death not as a terminus, but as a passageway to light and life.  He never loses confidence in the Father's presence and love.

Our faith tells us that we are all called to be martyrs in one way or another. Literally speaking, to be "witnesses" to the Gospel. To be “white martyrs”, most of us, not suffering actual physical death, but nevertheless giving testimony to our faith in God in every manner of circumstance. Called to accept and embrace suffering and "death" on a daily basis. Internally, through the dying and death of our false selves, our overriding egos. Externally in our experiences of loss, including the loss of loved ones and the deprivation of status, honor, glory, health, and material security.

Jesus teaches and shows us that what gives our martyrdom meaning and purpsoe is its grounding in committed love.  That lives poured out in love, like the life and love of Jesus, are anything but wasted. We trust that this brings us deeper into the mystery of God’s love for us and in us.  And that through this martyrdom, we participate in the healing of our blessed, broken and bleeding world.

Tertullian was right. The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church.

 PS:  Today, we give God thanks in a particular for the people and parish of St. Boniface in San Francisco, California, staffed by the Franciscan friars.   Originally founded to serve German Catholic immigrants, it has continued in that caring tradition for more than a century.  Most especially, in the works of the St. Anthony Foundation next door to the church. Since 1950, the Foundation has been caring for the homeless, helpless, and hopeless of the city.  Today, its dining room serves up to 3,000 meals per day! The church building itself provides daytime respite space for homeless people through its Gubbio Project.

Finally, in terms of Sweden-- in regard to our beautiful faith community of Kristi-Lekamen (Corpus Christi) parish in the city of Visby (island of Gotland), where I will start to serve officially as pastor starting October 1.  

We give the Lord thanks for the tremendous support, both material and spiritual of the women and men of Bonifatiuswerk in Germany.  These wonderful people have enabled our parish to  complete long-needed repairs and restoration work to the parish buildings and grounds. As their website states "The Bonifatiuswerk of German Catholics helps wherever Catholic Christians live their faith in a minority situation in the diaspora."  For more information: https://www.bonifatiuswerk.de/english/

Photos: Saint Boniface. Engraving | H. Kipp after K. Clasen (Franciscan Media).  St. Boniface Church, SF/CA; Gubbio Project:  c. Peter Jordan.  K-L Church, Visby:  C. Talley ofm. Frauenberg monastery, Fulda. c. Leopold Röhrer.