Beware putting your faith in princes

In  a bookshop at Harvard University I picked up a book by a Catholic theologian famous in the United States. The blurb on the back enthused that this theologian was at the top of her profession. My thought was this could not be true, as the woman was still alive. I am sure she would agree, as a Catholic theologian, that it is the saints, particularly the martyrs, who are at the top of her profession.

There are spiritual dangers in achieving financial success or fame as either a “professional Catholic” or a widely respected Catholic institution. I am thinking about Catholic universities in the United States founded to provide the children of Catholic immigrants with the means of social advancement while safeguarding their Catholic faith. Could the founders of Boston College, the University of Notre Dame and Georgetown University ever have imagined that their schools would one day have so much worldly status? Or that they would honour pro-abortion politicians with pulpits and awards?

I think also of an American Catholic theology professor who often took phone calls from U.S. senators. When confronting thorny ethical questions, like the starvation of Terri Schiavo, senators would indeed consult this professor and others for guidance and blessings.  He told students about the general themes of these conversations; I was thrilled that some of the most powerful men in the world consulted my prof. Power is thrilling, isn’t it? 

But, as Psalm 146 warns, do not put your trust in princes. For many, power is a religion, and when your theology no longer serves the interests of the powerful, look out. We need look no further than the stories of the early Christian martyrs to see what can happen to those who merely try to live and profess their faith in Christ. We need look no further than the English-speaking Catholic martyrs of the Reformation to see what can happen to those who try to live and profess their belief in Catholic doctrine when those in power do not believe it themselves.

It can be difficult to identify with the earliest Christian martyrs. They lived so long ago that their stories can seem like fairy tales. These martyrs came from unfamiliar countries. They did not speak our language. It’s easier to identify with martyrs of the modern period, those martyrs who spoke English and dealt with systems of law and government that were parents to our own. I think especially of St. John Ogilvie, S.J. (1579-1615).

John Ogilvie could have been a powerful man. He belonged to a Scots family that was both politically connected — his grandfather had been the Treasurer of Mary Queen of Scots — and religiously correct — his family were now Calvinists. At a time when it was hard to get permission to travel to Catholic countries, John was permitted by James I of England (simultaneously James IV of Scotland) to get the continental education that would have made him useful to the King back home.

But in Europe John fell in love with the Catholic faith and took instruction at the Scots College in Louvain. His family cast him off; at the age of 20 he joined the Jesuit order. John was determined to rekindle the Catholic faith in his beloved Scotland, and after years of study, teaching and rejected requests, Fr. Ogilvie was permitted by his superiors to return to Scotland. It was as safe for a Jesuit to say Mass in the Edinburgh of 1613 as it would be for you to set up an RCIA program in the Tehran of 2012. But Fr. Ogilvie returned anyway, and within a year and a half he was dead. 

The strange twist to this story is that soon after his return, Fr. Ogilvie had an audience with King James himself. In fact, he may have done service to this Protestant king by working to secure the loyalty of Catholic subjects at home and abroad. Certainly the King gave Fr. Ogilvie a passport to go to France. But in 1614 Fr. Ogilvie returned to his Scottish mission and was soon arrested for treason. He was imprisoned, interrogated and tortured. Because he was a Jesuit and had said Mass, he could have just been banished. But because under questioning Fr. Ogilvie denied the power of the King over his subjects in spiritual matters and because he professed that the pope was Christ’s vicar on Earth, he was executed.

Despite his relationship with the King, John Ogilvie seemed to be under no illusions about his eventual fate. Unlike some modern Catholic institutions, he put no faith in princes. Indeed, by embracing the Catholic faith, John Ogilvie had lost the rewards princes had hoped to give him, and later offered him in return for giving up that faith. Instead he was true to the faith and died a horrible death in Glasgow. He had reached the top of his profession.