Saint Francis de Sales, January 24

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Francis de Sales, Bishop of Geneva in the 16th century, had a wonderful approach to holiness. He believed in the uniqueness of every person and recognized the variety of ways God works in people’s lives. That led him to believe in respect and dialogue, especially with someone who doesn’t think like you or is from another religious tradition.

Some years ago, I visited a church in Geneva, Switzerland, center of Calvinism in the 16th century, where Francis was the Catholic bishop. A statue in that church (above) pictures him holding a book and a pen in his hand – not a sword.

Geneva was a city of swords then, real and verbal;  religious differences led to conflict and even bloodshed. Francis believed instead in peaceable dialogue.

Dialogue did not mean for him abandoning your own beliefs or being silent about them. It meant examining and measuring your own beliefs more deeply while listening carefully and respectfully to the beliefs of others to find the truth.

Francis de Sales prepared the Catholic Church for the approach to ecumenism it would take in the 20th century at the Second Vatican Council. He would certainly support the ecumenical movement today.  

 The spiritual writings of Saint Francis de Sales have become classics. Here’s something from  “An Introduction to a Devout Life” that reveals the way he thought and taught. God works in quiet ways, as we see in creation itself.

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“When God the Creator made all things, he commanded the plants to bring forth fruit each according to its own kind; he has likewise commanded Christians, who are the living plants of his Church, to bring forth the fruits of devotion, each one in accord with his character, his station and his calling.

“I say that devotion must be practised in different ways by the nobleman and by the working man, by the servant and by the prince, by the widow, by the unmarried girl and by the married woman. But even this distinction is not sufficient; for the practice of devotion must be adapted to the strength, to the occupation and to the duties of each one in particular.

“Tell me, please, my Philothea, whether it is proper for a bishop to want to lead a solitary life like a Carthusian; or for married people to be no more concerned than a Capuchin about increasing their income; or for a working man to spend his whole day in church like a religious; or on the other hand for a religious to be constantly exposed like a bishop to all the events and circumstances that bear on the needs of our neighbour. Is not this sort of devotion ridiculous, unorganised and intolerable? Yet this absurd error occurs very frequently, but in no way does true devotion, my Philothea, destroy anything at all. On the contrary, it perfects and fulfils all things. In fact if it ever works against, or is inimical to, anyone’s legitimate station and calling, then it is very definitely false devotion.

“The bee collects honey from flowers in such a way as to do the least damage or destruction to them, and he leaves them whole, undamaged and fresh, just as he found them. True devotion does still better. Not only does it not injure any sort of calling or occupation, it even embellishes and enhances it.”

You can find this spiritual classic online here.

The opening prayer in today’s liturgy asks God to give us too  Francis’ gentle approach to life: 

O God, who for the salvation of  souls willed that the bishop St. Francis de Sales become all things to all, graciously grant that, following his example we may always display the gentleness of your charity in the service of our neighbor. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

A good prayer and a good saint for our contentious times. 

He’s Out of His Mind: Mark 3:20-21

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Mother of Sorrows, Rembrandt

Scripture commentators today often describe Mark’s gospel, which we’re reading now in our lectionary, as a passion narrative with a prelude.  All of Mark’s gospel  tells the story of passion, death and resurrection of Jesus. His whole gospel proclaims the paschal mystery.  

This week’s readings from Mark’s gospel (2nd Week of the Year) are a good example. On Wednesday the scribes coming from Jerusalem say he has a demon; the Pharisees  begin to plot with the Herodians about putting him to death. The trial that condemned him in Jerusalem has already begun.  (Mark 3:1-6)

On Monday we heard ordinary people who received Jesus so enthusiastically begin to question him. “Why do the disciples of John and the disciples of the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?” (Mark 2, 18-22) Capernaum and other towns around the Sea of Galilee that once welcomed him turn against him. His rejection by the crowds in Jerusalem has also begun. 

Today’s reading adds another group. His own family, when they hear about him in Nazareth, say, “He’s out of his mind,” and they come to bring him home. His own reject him. Mark deals succinctly with this incident, in three short sentences,  almost as if he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Jesus came with his disciples into the house. Again the crowd gathered, making it impossible for them even to eat. When his relatives heard of this they set out to seize him,  for they said, “He is out of his mind.” (Mark 3:20-21)

So who are the relatives who say he’s out of his mind?

 A few verses later, after the Pharisees say he’s possessed, Mark describes them: “His mother and his brothers arrived. Standing outside they sent word to him and called him. A crowd seated around him told him, ‘Your mother and your brothers* [and your sisters] are outside asking for you.’ But he said to them in reply, ‘Who are my mother and [my] brothers?’ And looking around at those seated in the circle he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers. [For] whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.’” (Mark 3: 32-35)

This is the only place in Mark’s gospel where Mary is mentioned besides Mark 6: 3 where Jesus is call “the son of Mary.” It’s the only place we read about this incident in our lectionary. We never read it on Sunday. Is it because it’s considered too difficult for people to understand?

The compilers of our lectionary assigned this gospel to Saturday, traditionally the day associated with the Sorrows of Mary. Luke’s gospel put’s the rejection of Jesus at Nazareth when he announces the beginning of his ministry in its synagogue, an incident headed for violence, but a violence postponed. They’re ready to hurl him from the hill, and no one takes his part. ( Luke 4:16-36 ) The rejection of Jesus by the people of his own town, his own family and relatives was a sword that pierced her heart.

Mary lived there. What was it like for her?  What was it like to be with family members who thought her son was mad? What was it like to be day after day with people who didn’t believe in her son. No one from Nazareth is among the 12 disciples Jesus chooses. 

We might say Mary’s faith was strong and kept her secure, but does faith know everything? Does it save from questioning?

One thing I notice about the Catholic Church were I live is the many prayer groups devoted to Mary, who focus on her apparitions at Lourdes and Fatima, for example, and say the rosary. They are a blessing and a vital part of our church today.

I wonder, however,  if they could benefit from a deeper acquaintance with the scriptures, especially readings like those for today. They could also benefit from a deeper understanding of the liturgy that year by year, day by day, brings us into the mystery of the death and resurrection of Jesus. 

The scriptures and the liturgy bring us also a deeper understanding of Mary, his mother.  

Act of Contrition

Here’s an abbreviated  version of Psalm 51, a prayer for God’s mercy, that we reflected on in our previous blog.

The illustration for the psalm was done by Brother Robert McKenna, a Passionist brother who died recently. Brother Robert spent many years as a missionary in the Philippines. He was an excellent artist and illustrator.

The hand is the hand of God, of course. That metaphor is applied to God frequently in the bible and especially in the psalms. Here God reaches his hand out to recreate us. His hand is the hand of Mercy, giving us life. He blesses us.

The cross in the illustration is a sign of God’s love for us. Psalm 51 is the original Act of Contrition. A beautiful prayer for Fridays and for all days.

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Psalm 51: Have Mercy on Me, O God

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Every Friday Psalm 51 is the Church’s morning prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours. “Have mercy on me, O God, in your kindness. In your compassion wipe out my offense.” It’s one of the most important prayers we say.  It’s an appeal to God for mercy, that we might know our sinfulness and that God heal us.

Unfortunately, we become blind to our own sins and see the faults of others rather than our own, St. Augustine says in his commentary on this psalm. There’s evil in life, so if it’s not in us it must be out there in others. 

King David, who is closely associated with this psalm, was quick to see the man the Prophet Nathan described to him as worthy of death. He didn’t see he was the guilty one.

Psalm 51 reminds us we’re sinners and we should know our sins and not forget them. “My offenses truly I know them, and my sin is always before me.” 

Only God can bring us knowledge of our sins, our psalm says. We can’t know ourselves and our sins completely on our own, however honest and thorough we may try to be. Only God brings us knowledge of ourselves. 

Notice there is no list of sins for us to check out in this psalm.  Rather than listing sins, the psalm praises God for a love that restores us to his friendship. “You love truth in the heart, then in the secret of my heart teach me wisdom.”

We ask God to create a pure heart and a steadfast spirit in us, to wash us and sprinkle us with hyssop that we may be clean. St. Augustine says that hyssop is a plant that clings to rocks; it knows hard places, like the human heart. 

We ask for a ‘spirit of joy”, a “spirit of fervor” that God renews us, and a resolve to do what we’re called to do in this life. Like the Prodigal Son this psalm ends in a feast of joy.

Furthermore, our plea for God’s mercy is not just for ourselves . The walls of Jerusalem, the world around us, are waiting to be rebuilt and we’re asking God to rebuild them. Our own conversion contributes to the conversion of our world.

Take a look at the church’s morning and evening prayers here

Our Conversion

“On that journey as I drew near to Damascus,
about noon a great light from the sky suddenly shone around me.
I fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to me,
‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’
I replied, ‘Who are you, sir?’
And he said to me,
‘I am Jesus the Nazorean whom you are persecuting.’
My companions saw the light
but did not hear the voice of the one who spoke to me.
I asked, ‘What shall I do, sir?’
The Lord answered me, ‘Get up and go into Damascus,
and there you will be told about everything
appointed for you to do.’
Since I could see nothing because of the brightness of that light,
I was led by hand by my companions and entered Damascus.”  Acts 22:8-16

the feast of the Conversion of St. Paul falls on a Sunday this year, so it won’t be celebrated. Still, we have to keep it in mind. If the above account is our only view of conversion we may think conversion is some great light from the sky and a voice from heaven knocking us to the ground. Conversion doesn’t happen ordinarily that way. The longer reading of Paul’s conversion for our feast ( Acts 9: 1-22) describes conversion more fully, I think.

St. Francis de Sales, whose feast we celebrate January 24th, probably describes best how God works to convert us- in ordinary ways. God works with us as he works in creation, day by day, morning and night. The farmer in the parables of Jesus hardly notices or understands what’s happening, and we’re like him. Conversion happens through a life time.

We may also think of conversion as a personal gift – God making us better people. But conversion goes beyond changing us, it’ calls us to change the world beyond us. The Feast of Paul’s conversion is followed by the feast of two of his disciples, Timothy and Titus, who continued Paul’s mission in a new way. They were given charge of the churches of Ephesus and Crete. Paul’s conversion was more than a personal gift. He had a mission to the church and to the world.   

Conversion is not a one time grace. In our antiphons for his feast, Paul himself acknowledges his need for the daily grace of God that strengthens him and helps him meets challenges he never expected. 

Conversion is not limited to people either. Pope John XXIII called for the Second Vatican Council on the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul, January 25, 1959. He saw the council as a converting grace for the church and a contribution to the conversion of the world. 

As an event of conversion, the council is not just a shining moment of a few years, but continual event that gives grace in the years and centuries ahead.  

Finally, notice the place of the sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist in the longer account as he is instructed by Ananias: ” Immediately things like scales fell from his eyes and he regained his sight. He got up and was baptized, and when he had eaten, he recovered his strength.

We receive converting grace through sacraments.

Praying in the Liturgy

The Second Vatican Council strongly affirmed  the liturgy as the primary prayer of the church. Instead of devotional or other prayer forms,  the council affirmed that the liturgy is the primary place where we grow in our faith. (Lex orandi, lex credendi)

Pope Leo recently spoke about the primacy of liturgical and community prayer in his first catechesis on the Second Vatican Council. When we pray in the liturgy “ we do not decide what to hear from the Word of God, but God Himself speaks to us through the Church.”

Affirming the primacy of liturgical prayer doesn’t mean we have to give up devotions or prayer forms that we find helpful. It means we make the the liturgy the main prayer  where God speaks to us, where we face the questions of the day and where we become aware of the signs of the time. 

The liturgy is not as orderly as a course in theology or as simple as devotional prayer might be.  It’s challenging in its complexity. This week, for example, we’re reading from the 1st Book of Samuel, a summary of Jewish history and a work of  narrative theology that poses some tough questions.  We are reading from St. Mark’s Gospel, a sophisticated presentation of the ministry of Jesus Christ, commentators point out. 

This week is also when we pray for Christian unity; we’re asked to pray for and reflect on the unification of the Christian churches.  Thursday is a Day of Prayer for the Legal Protection of Unborn Children. We celebrate the feasts of St. Agnes, St. Francis de Sales and St. Sebastian this week. 

There’s a lot going on in our liturgy. Too much to take in, we might say, and turn to another way of prayer,  or not pray at all.

Liturgy is described as a work.  It’s a work of the church and it can be hard work.

We need the guidance of the Holy Spirt to find the treasure in this field. As Pope Leo says, “we do not decide what to hear from the Word of God, but God himself speaks to us through the Church,”

One of the most important missions of my community, the Passionists, in the church is to be teachers of prayer. “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.” We are called to teach people how to listen.

This blog tries to do that. 

St. Agnes, January 21st.

Church of St. Agnes, Rome

Church of St. Agnes, Via Nomentana. Rome

Agnes, a popular Roman woman martyr of the 3rd century, ranks high among the seven women mentioned in the First Eucharistic Prayer. “Agnes, Cecilia, Anastasia…”

That prayer goes back to St. Gregory the Great in the 6th century. Some say his mother and aunt may have promoted the women, all strong women who died for their belief. They come from all parts of the church of their time. Felicity and Perpetual are from North Africa, Agatha and Lucy from Sicily, Agnes and Cecilia from Rome, Anastasia originally from Greece.

Details of the story of Agnes, from 5th century sources, may be questioned, but the essential facts about her are true.

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St. Agnes, Via Nomentana

A young Roman girl of 13 or so,  Agnes was put to death because she rejected the offer of a highly placed Roman man to become his bride. Incensed, he tried to force Agnes to change her mind; eventually she died for continuing to refuse him.

Women were expected to marry young in those days, to marry men chosen for them, and to have two or three children. They were to produce children for Rome, especially soldiers needed for the empire’s many wars.

Agnes’ refusal then to marry one of Rome’s elite was a dangerous decision. With no support from family or friends, alone in a male-dominated society, at a time suspicious of Christians and their beliefs, the little girl sought strength in Jesus Christ. She was a martyr put to death for her faith.

The Golden Legend, a favorite saint book  from the Middle Ages, says that Agnes was true to her name. She was a lamb (Agnus) who followed the Good Shepherd. Though young, she followed truth, never turning away from it. God gave her strength beyond what’s expected for her years.

The story says they put Agnes among the prostitutes found near the racecourse then on the Piazza Navona in Rome. God warded off those who tried to rape her. A church in her honor stands today in the busy piazza; another church over her grave is on the Via Nomentana in Rome. (above)

They finally killed her with a knife to her throat. Heavenly signs surrounded Agnes even then, her story says, assuring her that her faith was not in vain. The One she loved was with her as she struggled.

 

Agnes, the prayer for her feast says, is an example of how God chooses “what is weak in this world to confound the strong.” The young girl was stronger than her powerful killers.  “May we follow her constancy in the faith, through our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. Amen.”

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Martyrdom of Agnes

The Soldier Saints: Saint Sebastian

January 20th is the feast of Saint Sebastian, a young Christian from Milan who joined the Roman army in the 4th century as foreign armies began attacking Rome’s frontiers. Like others, he entered military service to save his country from invaders.

A good soldier, Sebastian rose quickly in the ranks. Diocletian, Rome’s finest general and then its unchallenged emperor, appreciated able, brave men. Above all, he wanted loyalty; Sebastian seemed to be everything he wanted.

Yet, he was a Christian. No one knows why, but the emperor, on good terms with Christians early on in his career, suddenly turned against them. In 301 he began purging his army, ordering Christian officers demoted and Christian soldiers dishonorably discharged. The emperor lost trust in them.

Then, Diocletian began persecuting the entire Christian population of the empire. It’s not known how many Christians were killed or imprisoned or forced into hard labor in the mines; it was so ferocious it was called the “Great Persecution.”

As the persecution was going on, sources place Sebastian, not yet dismissed from the army,  in Rome, then under the jurisdiction of Diocletian’s co-emperor Maximian. Here he faced the dangerous situation that caused his death.

Christians were being arrested and imprisoned, and Sebastian was among the soldiers arresting and guarding them. Rather than doing a soldier’s job,  Sebastian did what a Christian should do: he saw those imprisoned as Christ in chains. The whispered words, the small kindnesses, the human face he showed to those in the harsh grip of Roman justice was his answer to the call of Jesus: “I was a prisoner, and you visited me.”

How long he aided  prisoners we don’t know, but someone informed on him. The rest of his story– a favorite of artists through the centuries– says that Sebastian was ordered shot through with arrows by expert archers who pierced all the non-fatal parts of his body so that he would die slowly and painfully from loss of blood.

He was left for dead, but he didn’t die. Instead, he was nursed back to health by a Christian woman named Irene and, once recovered, went before the authorities to denounce their treatment of Christians.

They immediately had him beaten to death.

He was buried by a Christian woman, Lucina, in her family’ crypt along the Appian Way, where an ancient basilica and catacombs now bear the soldier saint’s name. You can visit that holy place today.

The early church revered soldier saints like Sebastian because they helped people in danger, even giving up their lives to do it. They used their strength for others. When soldiers asked John the Baptist what they should do, he answered simply “Don’t bully people.”  The temptation of the strong is to bully the weak.

The soldier saints did more than not dominate or bully others, however; they reached out to those in the grip of the powerful. Sebastian’s great virtue was not that he endured a hail of arrows, but that he cared for frightened, chained men and women in a Roman jail–a hellish place.

Soldier saints like Sebastian recall a kind of holiness we may forget these days. They remind us that it’s a holy task to stand in harm’s way on dangerous city streets, in unpopular wars and trouble-spots throughout the world so that others can be safe. It’s holy, but dangerous, to confront injustice and corruption in powerful political or social systems and take the side of the weak.

Christianity is not a religion that shies away from evil and injustice. Like Jesus, a Christians must not be afraid to take a stand against them. Christians in the military are not bound to follow unjust commands. We pray to the Lord, then, for more soldier saints.

Magdala: “a nearby village”:Mark 1:33-36

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After a tumultuous first day of ministry in Capernaum, Jesus left the following day for other places in Galilee, Mark’s Gospel says.

“Rising very early before dawn, he left and went off to a deserted place, where he prayed. Simon and those who were with him pursued him and on finding him said, ‘Everyone is looking for you.’ He told them, ‘Let us go on to the nearby villages that I may preach there also. For this purpose have I come.’ So he went into their synagogues, preaching and driving out demons throughout the whole of Galilee.” (Mark 1,36-39)

Was one of the nearby villages Magdala?

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Magdala, or Migdal, a prosperous Jewish port city in the first century. was just five miles south of Capernaum on the south-western part of the Sea of Galilee. Some of the city has been uncovered recently by archeologists and the discovery opens another window into the gospel story.

Magdala’s economy was built on fishing and, in fact, it was the center of a highly developed industry on the Sea of Galilee in Jesus’ day. Written sources have it that salted fish from Magdala was sold in the surrounding areas and even as far as Rome;  recent findings offer a further look at Magdala’s economy and its sophisticated techniques for storing and preparing fish for market. As a flourishing Jewish center on the Sea of Galilee, it was an obvious place for Jesus to visit.

The Jewish historian Josephus may be exaggerating when he says there were 40,000 people in Magdala, but certainly it had a good-sized, prosperous population in the time of Jesus. Christians recognize it as the home of Mary Magdalen.

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New excavations in Magdala and also in Bethsaida on the northern tip of the Sea of Galilee help us understand the world of Jesus and what he did there. For example, there are two newly excavated synagogues at Magdala from his time.  Did he stand in a place like this and teach and cure? Probably.

The recent findings also invite us to look again at Jesus’ disciples. What kind of people were Peter, Andrew, James and John, and the other Galilean fishermen whom Jesus called to follow him? They’re often described as “poor” “ignorant” fishermen, tagging along, open-mouthed, before the wonders Jesus worked and the words he spoke.

But Galilean fishermen seem more resourceful and knowledgeable than that. They knew the world around the Sea of Galilee. That world  was more complex than we might think.  On its western shore were mostly Jewish communities; on its eastern shores were the gentile cities of the Decapolis.

Jesus goes first to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, but then he crosses over to gentile world. Who takes him to this different world but savvy fishermen who know the places and the peoples around the sea?

They were certainly not ignorant. At one point in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus tells Peter that he’s thinking like a human being, trying to dissuade him from going to Jerusalem to face suffering and death. In fact, Peter and the rest were quite good at human thinking, quite confident in their own opinions and thoughts. In the gospel Jesus constantly challenges their “human thinking” with the thinking of God. .

Mary Magdalene

Where did he meet them? Mark’s gospel says it was along the Sea of Galilee. A mosaic of the call of the disciples in the new center at Magdala suggests it may have happened here. Another mosaic suggests that the raising of the daughter of Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue, may also have taken place here.

Speculation, maybe.  It’s a good guess that Jesus met  Mary Magdalene here and released her from the seven devils  that messed up her life. She became a disciple.

Mark’s gospel doesn’t limit the followers of Jesus to twelve. He only mentions the twelve once in his gospel. In Mark’s and Luke’s gospels, a wide range of people become followers of Jesus, from the fishermen of Galilee, tax-collectors like Matthew, to women like Mary Magdalene and Johanna, the wife of Herod’s steward Cusa. Women were with  the twelve, Luke’s gospel says:

“Accompanying him were the Twelve and some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities, Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, Joanna, the wife of Herod’s steward Chuza, Susanna, and many others who provided for them out of their resources.” (Luke 8,1-3)

Herod Antipas’ capitol, Tiberias, was only a few miles from Magdala.

Like so many ancient cities, Magdala had its good days and days of decline. It was probably destroyed during the Jewish revolt in 68 AD. Only a few places in the city were left standing when the Crusaders arrived in the 12th century, then it disappeared in the earth.

The Legionaires of Christ bought the property along the Sea of Galilee in 2004 intending  to build a 300 room hotel on the site, but in preparing the building site they uncovered the ruins of ancient Magdala. Construction stopped and the archeologists stepped in.

“For the Rev. Juan M. Solana, it was the spiritual equivalent of striking oil,” a New York Times article from May 14, 2024 said. “When he set out to develop a resort for Christian pilgrims in Galilee, he unearthed a holy site: the presumed hometown of Mary Magdalene and an ancient synagogue where experts say Jesus may well have taught.”

Lectionary and Saints

Our daily liturgy gives us scriptures to read and saints to celebrate. This week in our lectionary we continue to read from the Gospel of Mark and the 1st Book of Samuel. Today we remember Fabian, an early pope and  martyr, and Sebastian, a soldier saint and martyr.  Tomorrow we have Agnes, a young girl and early martyr. 

Our lectionary readings are not chosen haphazardly. After the feast of the Baptism we began reading each day from the Gospel of Mark, the first of the gospels to be written, an appropriate reading for following Jesus as he begins his ministry in Galilee. 

The saints point out how others have followed him. . The three martyrs we remember this week are examples of some who were put to death in persecutions that took place in the early church. Fabian was put to death at the beginning of the Decian persecution (250) because he was a church leader. The Roman strategy was to kill church leaders and their followers would scatter. 

Sebastian was a soldier saint martyred in the Diocletian persecution. From what we know, Christians were highly regard by the emperor when he first came to power, but then he turned against them,  especially the officer class. Like Sebastian, many of them holding influential positions in the empire were put to death for their supposed disloyalty. 

Agnes was not killed in a general persecution like Fabian and Sebastian.  She died because Christians were legally vulnerable in the centuries before Constantine. The Romans were suspicious of them. Agnes a victim of a powerful Roman man who used the Roman judicial system to punish a young Christian girl who  would not let him have his way with her.