Catholic Heroes… St. Lucy
By DEB PIROCH
“So that the multitudes marveled seeing the dumb speak, the lame walk, and the blind see: and they glorified the God of Israel” (Matt. 15:31).
- + + Her lungs burst forth her first baby cries in Syracuse, Sicily; St. Lucy’s father was Roman, her mother Greek. And while her father sadly died when she was young, they were of noble blood and were well endowed financially. Her mother, though, had a disease which caused her to bleed incessantly. And as time continued, few answers existing at that time, it occurred to them as Christians to travel to pray at the tomb of St. Agatha. The female saint had died approximately half a century before and was a popular place of pilgrimage.
St. Lucy’s mother had already promised her young daughter to a suitor, not knowing that her daughter wished to take a vow of perpetual virginity to our Lord. They went on pilgrimage, with her daughter saying nothing to the suitor . . . hoping the problem would somehow go away.
On their arrival, they prayed. And St. Lucy prayed: for her mother, but also for herself and her own difficulty. And she experienced something like a dream — a vision or an ecstasy in which St. Agatha herself appeared. Different tales relate this event variously. Lucy asked St. Agatha in it to heal her mother. St. Agatha responded that God was very well pleased with Lucy and her vow of perpetual virginity and in a sense could therefore heal her, herself. And St. Lucy’s mother was indeed healed.
In thanks, Lucy asked permission to give away money to the poor. Some say it may have been her dowry. Her mother tried to dissuade her and instead leave this as a bequest for when she died. But Lucy responded rightly that that would have been no sacrifice — as one “can’t take it with you.” So, she was granted consent to dispense funds to the poor, causing some stir. Particularly, her rejected suitor noticed and straight away reported her as a Christian to Paschasius, the Sicilian governor under Diocletian.
Diocletian was a brutal leader, responsible for the murder of many Christians. Lucy prophesied that neither Paschasius nor Diocletian would be around much longer to kill Christians and she was indeed correct.
But her time of suffering was at hand. Under Diocletian those who would not give up Christ and offer to pagan gods were guilty of a capital offense. She who would not sacrifice her virginity was ordered to be taken to a brothel, for her virtue to be cast into shame. Yet when horses or oxen hitched to a team were hooked to her, they were unable to budge her. Instead, her executioners then determined to set her on fire. They piled wood about her feet and tried to set the wood alight. No fire could be started.
There is a beautiful painting entitled, The Martyrdom and Last Communion of St. Lucy, by Paolo Veronese. In the foreground, we see our saint receiving Communion as signs of her failed martyrdom are portrayed in the background. At the same time, she is at the moment of receiving the Blessed Host, just at the instance she is about to be martyred.
Because martyred she was. In the end, a knife was stuck in her throat, or her breast, which killed her. One version of the story says her eyes were gouged out as part of her torture. Another version says that she took out her eyes to discourage a persistent suitor. In paintings, she is not infrequently shown holding her eyes, or with her eyes in a bowl, and holding a palm signifying martyrdom.
Lux Aeterna
Lucy means “Light,” and light is often synonymous with God Himself. Lux Aeterna means “light eternal,” which is certainly what we all seek; to be with the Eternal One Himself. Because the loss of Lucy’s eyes is allied with her martyrdom, she is also interconnected irrevocably as a patroness of the blind.
Her first biography was written by St. Aldhelm in the Ancient Martyrology, and he died in AD 709, just two hundred years after she died. St. Gregory placed her among only eight women included in the Canon of the Mass in the fifth century, and St. Bede placed her in his own Martyrology.
Because of her ancient roots in the Church perhaps, she has been quite popular in various parts of Europe. Today thinking of St. Lucy’s Day brings to mind Christmastime and Scandinavia! There St. Lucy’s Day is celebrated annually on her feast day, December 13. Though the countries are no longer Catholic, a young girl dressed in white for purity wears a crown with lit candles, symbolizing light — the light that combats the dark of winter, the light of eternal salvation — and thus begins their Christmas season. In some places this day marked the shortest day of the year in the old calendar, and it was the end of the old, bringing in the new, so to speak.
I have read that in England, prior to the Reformation, the feast was so important that no work was permitted — a day of rest, the same as Sundays. In Italy, her own country, she is also still very much remembered.
Her relics were in one location for four hundred years but then were sadly broken up. Now parts of her are in all different countries. Most recently, in 1981 her body was stolen from San Geremia Church in Venice, Italy, but the body was found a month later on her feast! Her body rests here, some bones at another church in her hometown of Syracuse, Italy. If Wikipedia is correct, other Italian cities have relics of her, as well as Germany, France, and Sweden.
My own mother is suffering now from blindness, brought on by macular degeneration. Though in the beginning it was bothersome for her, she could still see and had the required vitamins and check-ups. But as the disease progressed — there is no cure — she has lost so much sight. If you are unfamiliar with the disease, it is the macula in the center of one’s vision that goes. There is a little peripheral vision that stays, but even that my Mother describes as looking through a cracked mirror — only the cracks are often wavy, not straight, and she needs a lot of light to make things out. If she looks at me, she no longer sees my face.
But if I am lucky, she might get a lucky glance from the side with the right light when I visit and I confess I am delighted when she recognizes me. Because the macula is what goes, she will never be completely in the dark, which is a happy blessing.
Christmas is always joyful, but for us, it is joyful for one extra reason. When we put up the tree, we leave it up as long as she lets us. She takes great joy in the lights, which she compares to a giant nightlight in her room. Having converted to Catholicism at a young age, she no doubt sees the lights as stars of our Heavenly Father twinkling down on her, gifts from the Baby Jesus showing her just one more kindness, before she goes one day to her Heavenly Home.
Let’s all ask St. Lucy to help show us the way as we prepare for the coming of the Christ Child this Christmas and in the years each of us has ordained for us in His great wisdom.