But Thomas had a different idea. One day he walked into the family castle and announced that he had joined the Dominicans, the begging order of wandering monks that had received papal approval just a few years earlier, in 1216 (Thomas was born in 1225). According to G.K. Chesterton, Thomas’ news was received like a nobleman hearing that his squire son had married a gypsy. His family was incensed and “flew at him like wild beasts.” When Thomas walked away and started toward Paris (per the instructions of the Dominican General), his older brothers pursued him, kidnapped him, and locked him in a castle. When the family’s entreaties couldn’t break his resolve, his brothers sent a gorgeous courtesan into his room to tempt him.

Through all the previous outrages, Thomas had remained calm. But now his anger flared. He jumped to his feet and grabbed a brand out of the fire and brandished it before the courtesan like a sword. She shrieked and fled out the door, which Thomas slammed behind her. He then took the burning brand and tore it across the door, making a big black cross, sat down, and waited for his family to release him, which they eventually did.

In his response to the courtesan, St. Thomas, an otherwise gentle man, provides an excellent symbol of Christ’s words that the kingdom of heaven suffers violence and that it is the man of violence who takes the kingdom of heaven by force (Mt. 11:12).

These difficult words are puzzling, but they have traditionally provided a springboard for men and women who call themselves to the spiritual life, especially in the Christian East where these words have frequently been interpreted to mean that salvation belongs to the men who are willing to struggle and sacrifice for the sake of the kingdom. The Eastern sage Nazarii of Valamo, for instance, said “The present age is not a time for rest and sleep, but it is a struggle, a combat, a market, a school, a voyage. Therefore you must exert yourself.” In the words of the Desert Fathers: “God demands everything from a man—his mind, his reason, all his actions. Do you wish to be saved when you die? Go and exhaust yourself; go and labor.”

In short, a man must be willing to struggle and do violence to himself for the Kingdom of God. This struggle, like everything else, requires a first step, and this step frequently consists of an action or course of conduct that takes a person across the line of “conventional religion” (that which the average person in the secular world is willing to accept). This is not surprising. Following a conventional religious course is easy because a person flows with society’s tide instead of against it; the conventionally-religious pursuit requires neither struggle nor sacrifice (and, in fact, often produces worldly goods, like a good reputation or contact with customers). Only if a person is prepared to step across the line of conventional religion is he ready to be a man of violence and take the kingdom of heaven by force.

The necessity of being willing to step across the line of conventional religion is seen frequently in the lives of saints who, at the first steps of their saintly path, encountered stiff resistance when they strayed from the path of conventional religion.

Blessed Diana D’Andalo, for instance, sought to join the Dominicans, like St. Thomas. But also like Thomas, her relatives pursued her and carried her off roughly, breaking one of her ribs, then kept her a prisoner in her father’s house for a year until she escaped.

Young Blessed Osanna of Mantua experienced similar resistance. At the age of six, she started on the path of contemplative and mystical prayer, eventually experiencing raptures of divine contemplation, which resulted in deep, prolonged trances that lasted hours, sometimes two or three days. These contemplative pursuits distressed her family and neighbors. Her mother scolded, “You will be the death of me and bring disgrace on our family. I can’t think what is the matter with you or what will be the end of all this.” Her father tried to beat the sickness from her, and neighbors burned her and pierced her with needles in efforts to break the trances.

These are startling outrages and especially remarkable when we remember that they took place in medieval Europe, a time and place where God, the Church, and its saints were revered. But even that reverential era wasn’t prepared to accept the mendicant lifestyle or the mystical trances of Osanna, for they crossed the line of conventional religion.

Such abusive outrages wouldn’t happen today. Our society is gentler than medieval Europe. But efforts to derail the religious life still go on. The methods are subtle and less brutal, but they are arguably more effective.

Today, a youngster’s brothers wouldn’t send a prostitute into his room against his will in order to ensnare him in lust, but they would urge him to watch television or go to movies that parade an endless assortment of beautiful women and bared body parts. If, for the love of God, the pious youngster refuses to go, or looks away when the screen projects salacity (which would require him to look away every couple of seconds), he would be labeled a fanatic.

Today, a devout young woman’s relatives wouldn’t bodily kidnap her and keep her from going to church every day if that’s what she wants to do, but they might undermine her religious life by adopting the tolerance mantra: “All people must make-up their own minds about religion. We’ll respect your devotion, so long as you respect our choice not to believe.” This is awfully subtle because, if she accepts these terms (and wouldn’t any civil person?), she is acquiescing to skepticism, a belief that there is no truth, and that is the bane of religion.

And today, if a girl experiences long raptures of divine trances, her parents wouldn’t beat her or allow neighbors to scorch her, but they would take her to a psychiatrist who would use his learning, the findings of modern science, and heavy doses of medicine to break her trances.

Our age is a spiritually difficult age for many reasons. One reason is that conventional religion today is extremely watered down.

Although Thomas, Diana and Osanna experienced serious resistance to their holy efforts, they could have led reasonably devout religious lives by staying within the pious bounds of conventional society. St. Thomas’ brothers would not have kidnapped him if he had agreed to be an ordinary monk, and Blessed Diana’s relatives would have left her unmolested to spend hours in daily prayer as long as she didn’t try to run off and join the Dominicans. That was the charm of the Middle Ages.

Today’s bounds of conventional religion, by contrast, are dangerously narrow. The conventionally religious person goes to church once a week, believes a few dogmas, and prays once in awhile. It’s a minimal effort. Consequently, stepping across today’s line of conventionality doesn’t require the drastic steps taken by the saints in the Middle Ages. A small step like attending daily Mass would take us across the line, but the step is still difficult because it requires us to cut against the tide, which entails exertion and sacrifice. Even though the step is small compared to earlier ages, that doesn’t mean the step isn’t hard. It just means the step is more urgently needed.

Back to Catholic Faith November/December 2000 Table of Contents

Back to Catholic Information Center on Internet