The Power of Christian Testimony

Despite the heights reached by speculative thought based on the “natural light of reason” under the influence of Saint Thomas Aquinas, no rational argument has ever been valued as much as the testimony – often wordless – of a life of sanctity. Indeed, intellectual geniuses existed in the age of Saint Thomas and thereafter. But if he stood out much more strongly than the others, it was undoubtedly due not to the five ways of speculatively proving the existence of God, but to his exemplary, holy life. A life in which not only virtues were abundant, but also exceptional graces that led to extraordinary manifestations.

Logical arguments, however profound and complete they may be, are not accessible to everyone. And even if some can be explained clearly to everyone, they usually only reach the minds, not the hearts of those who listen. And while a mind may be easily convinced, a heart is much harder to conquer. This is why the heroic deeds of the virtuous impress everyone. Because they make an indescribable love visible. Only those who truly love can give their lives for the beloved. That is why there were pagan Roman soldiers who, although they have never heard a sermon or an argumentative discourse in their lives, converted instantly upon seeing the patience and serenity with which Christian martyrs endured the most terrible tortures. Such things move mountains, such things touch even the hardest hearts.

Perhaps this is why God Himself, in one of the most terrible centuries in Church history, the 19th century, did not give us as a model a scholastic genius, but a semi-literate saint of proverbial ugliness: Saint Jean-Marie Vianney (1786–1859). Then, in the 20th century, the saints chosen by God to convey the most urgent and terrible warning imaginable were three ignorant shepherds: Lúcia dos Santos and her cousins Francisco and Jacinta Marto. Before these episodes, the Queen of Heaven, the Holy Virgin Mary, chose as the messenger of the conversion of Mexico not some brilliant theologian, but a barely catechized peasant: Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin (1474–1548). I could extend the list indefinitely, but I believe I can stop here by mentioning whom the Savior Christ chose as apostles: a few poor, uneducated fishermen (except for Saint Luke, a physician) devoid of any brilliance. Indeed, the eternal Wisdom of God has been, is, and will always be madness to this world sunk in the deepest darkness.

The exemplary lives of true Christians have always been noticed even by the unbelievers. A sign of my mother’s future conversion was precisely the admiration she had for an old and venerable priest whom she appreciated for his fabulous library and extensive culture.

By what has been said so far, I do not wish to minimize the exceptional intellectual values ​​conquered by the great Christian Doctors. Saints like Augustine, Gregory of Nazianzus, Maximus the Confessor, John of Damascus, Albert the Great, Bonaventure, Thomas Aquinas, Alphonsus Liguori, Francis de Sales, and many others have left us an invaluable theological and philosophical heritage. I myself am living proof of the value of their intellectual efforts: I converted during my philosophy studies, in the year 1992, under the influence of a small treatise written by the Angelic Doctor – De unitate intellectus contra Averroistas. Therefore, for a student of speculative rational thought, the philosophical arguments of Saint Thomas were important. At the same time, however, I can testify to the strength of the lives of the traditional Catholics whom I encountered starting in 2011. Practically, their living examples led to a decisive turn in my entire existence. And these examples were not expressed through words, but through a distinction, through modest and virtuous behavior, through a reverence for holy things that I have never encountered in other environments that claim to be Christian without actually assuming the demands of Christianity.

Holy White Nuns

The exemplary lives of true Christians have always been noticed even by the unbelievers. Especially monks and nuns have aroused admiration despite the adversity with which they are treated by the “world.” And learned priests can also be admired for their knowledge and erudition. A sign of my mother’s future conversion was precisely the admiration she had for an old and venerable priest whom she appreciated for his fabulous library and extensive culture. And even in the cases of those who did not convert, there still remained respect and appreciation for the priests and nuns they held. Such remarkable testimony comes to us from an unusual Swedish doctor and writer, Axel Munthe (1857–1949).

Of Protestant origin, he was most likely an agnostic throughout his life. Being a doctor, he had some of the evil ideas of those who, deprived of the supernatural lights of faith, cannot understand the mystery of suffering. In short, he was not a Christian. However, if I chose to write about some of his thoughts, it was because of the honesty with which he acknowledged the qualities of the Catholic clergy of that time. Furthermore, he sincerely admired the exceptional virtues of the nuns who cared for the sick with a devotion that led them to martyrdom. More than once, he defended them against secularists who eventually expelled them from French or Italian hospitals in the name of the (in)famous “separation of Church and State.”

The only notable literary work left to us by Munthe is an autobiographical writing, The Story of San Michele (1929). Before seeing how this non-Catholic speaks about the heroic work of Catholic sisters, here is how he speaks about the old priest who failed to convert him to Catholicism:

“Even the dear old padre had lost all hope of my salvation since I told him I was willing to discuss with him the possibility of a purgatory, but point-blank refused to believe in hell, and that in any case I was determined to give morphine in full dose to the dying when their agony was too cruel and too long. The old padre was a saint but argumentation was not his strong point and we soon abandoned these controversial questions altogether. He knew the life of all the saints, and it was he who told me for the first time the sweet legend of St. Claire, who had given her name to the ward. It was also he who made me behold for the first time the wonderful features of her beloved St. Francis of Assisi, the friend of all humble and forlorn creatures of sky and earth, who was to become my lifelong friend as well.”

So, about the priest with whom he argued about the existence of hell, this non-religious and agnostic writer asserts that “the old padre was a saint.” Furthermore, we can speak of a true friendship between the two. For example, exceptionally, when Brother Antoine, the monk who played the organ in the hospital chapel, fell ill, the priest agreed to let this non-Catholic doctor play in his place. The episode is remarkable:

“The Frère Antoine who came to the hospital every Sunday to play the organ in the little chapel was a particular friend of mine. It was the only chance I had those days to hear any music and I seldom missed being there, I who am so fond of music! Although I could not see the sisters where they sat singing near the altar, I recognized quite well the clear, pure voice of Sœur Philomène. The very day before Christmas Frère Antoine caught a bad chill, and a great secret was whispered from bed to bed in the Salle St. Claire that after a long consultation between the Mother Superior and the old padre I had been allowed to replace him at the organ to save the situation.”

"Sweet Sister Philomène! I saw her die of cholera a couple of years later in Naples. Not even Death dared disfigure her. She went to Heaven just as she was." These are the words of an agnostic about a saintly nun who gave her life for the sick she cared for.

What else can you say but that mysterious and unknown are the ways of the Lord? The improvised organist, witness to the secularization of hospitals, will, however, deliver the most formidable plea in favor of the holy nuns. Every time I read and reread these words, I cannot help but be moved to tears by such remarkable honesty:

“The laicization of hospitals was not yet the burning question of the day, the raucous cry of: ‘Away with the priests! Away with the crucifix! Away with the sisters!’ had not yet been raised. Alas! I saw them all go ere long and a pity it was. No doubt they had their faults, these nuns. No doubt they were more familiar with handling their rosaries than the nail-brush, more used to dip their fingers in holy water than in carbolic acid solution, then the all-powerful panacea in our surgical wards, soon to be replaced by another. But their thoughts were so clean, their hearts so pure, they gave their whole life to their work and asked for nothing in return but to be allowed to pray for those under their care. Even their worst enemies have never dared to belittle their all-sacrificing devotion and their all-enduring patience. People used to say that the sisters went about their work with sad, sullen faces, their thoughts more occupied with the salvation of the soul than that of the body, with more words of resignation than of hope on their lips. Indeed, they were greatly mistaken. On the contrary, these nuns, young and old, were invariably cheerful and happy, almost gay and full of childish fun and laughter, and it was wonderful to watch the way they knew how to communicate their happiness to others. They were also tolerant. Those who believed and those who did not, were all the same to them. If anything they seemed even more anxious to help the latter, for they felt so sorry for them and showed no signs of resentment even for their curses and blasphemies. To me they were all wonderfully kind and friendly. They well knew that I did not belong to their creed, that I did not go to confession and that I did not make the sign of the cross when I passed before the little altar. At first the Mother Superior had made some timid attempts to convert me to the faith which had made her sacrifice her life for others, but she had soon given it up with a compassionate shaking of her old head.”

Can you believe it? Can you conceive that these are the words of an agnostic about – after all – the most “visible” representatives of pre-conciliar Catholicism – priests, monks, nuns? This is the description that an unbeliever gives of saints! Of true Christians, who can be easily recognized by their shining virtues. No flaw, no fault can overshadow, in the eyes of Axel Munthe, their holiness. Eyes that, I assure you, were those passionate eyes of a sinner who never confessed. But who, nonetheless, recognized something extraordinary: the holiness of God in His servants. The most poignant testimony will be given for Sister Philomène, who will die as a true martyr while caring for the sick:

“But it was Sister Philomène, so young and fair in her white robe of novice of Sœur St. Augustin, who taught me most, for she taught me to love her Madonna, whose features she wore. Sweet Sister Philomène! I saw her die of cholera a couple of years later in Naples. Not even Death dared disfigure her. She went to Heaven just as she was.”

These are the words of Axel Munthe about a saintly nun who gave her life for the sick she cared for. These are the words of an agnostic doctor about the representatives of pre-conciliar Catholicism. I assure you with all conviction, it was not the “reforms” of the Second Vatican Council that were needed, but rather a full embrace of the demands of holiness like that of Sister Philomène, who undoubtedly prayed for the conversion of this wayward doctor.

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