Saints: Life & Times

Lesson 3: Consecrated Lives

. . . . . St. Cecilia

St. Cecilia and the Angels by Paul Delaroche, from the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. Photo is in the public domain.

The White Dove of Rome, as St. Therese of Lisieux fondly named St. Cecilia, was born into a wealthy patrician family in the heart of the empire, about the year 210 A.D. Raised in the faith by a Christian mother, the girl consecrated her virginity to Christ at an early age. Nevertheless, her pagan father arranged a marriage for her with Valerian, a young nobleman from a prestigious family. Cecilia went through with the ceremony, but explained to him that she was already married . . . to Christ. She stated her position so adamantly and so eloquently that Valerian respected her vow. Impressed by his wife’s wholehearted commitment and obvious sanctity, Valerian became interested in Christianity. He and later his brother Tiburtius embraced the faith. Tradition has it that they helped to bury the mortal remains of those slain for the faith, and provided lavishly for the poor. This attracted the attention of the Prefect of Rome, who had the men arrested and brought before him. When they refused to sacrifice to the gods, he had them beheaded. Before they died, they gave such witness to their faith that Maximus, their executioner, converted to Christianity and was himself executed with them. A short while later, Cecilia was arrested and likewise refused to worship the Roman idols. Perhaps it was her family’s position that dictated a discreet death or it may have been Roman custom to privately execute patricians; St. Susanna, another consecrated virgin of noble origins, was beheaded in her home about the year 295 A.D. At any rate, the Prefect ordered Cecilia to be suffocated at home in her family’s Calderium, the steamy hot water portion of a traditional Roman bath. When he heard that Cecilia still lived, the Prefect dispatched a swordsman to behead her.

There seems to have been a limit on the amount of physical harm that the Romans could do to a fellow countryman. St. Paul was given “forty lashes less one,” the limit for a Roman citizen. Executioners apparently were limited to three strokes of the sword. That was the number given to her. The job was badly bungled, and Cecilia lived on for three days, slowly bleeding to death in excruciating agony. She was buried in the Catacombs of St. Callistus, and her home converted into a church, as St. Susanna’s was many years later.

Although much of her story has come down through tradition and was later embellished in romances, there is historical and physical evidence that support it’s central theme:

• Her feast was celebrated in Rome during the third century;
• She is listed in the “Martyrologium Hieronymianum,” dating from the second half of the fifth century;
• The "Sacramentarium Leoniam", a collection of masses completed about the end of the fifth century, lists five different masses in her honor, indicating widespread popular devotion to St. Cecilia at that time;
• Valerianus, Tiburtius, and Maximus were buried in the Catacomb of Praetextatus on the Via Appia, but the octave of their feast day was celebrated in the Catacombs of St. Callistus, where Cecilia was buried.
  

Most telling of all is the condition of her remains. When the church of St. Cecilia, located on land once owned by her family, was rebuilt by Pope Paschal I (817-824) he looked in vain for her relics and concluded that they must have been stolen by the Lombards, one of the many tribes which plundered Rome. However, Cecilia appeared to him in a vision and encouraged him to continue his search, as he had been very near her grave. Soon he found her body in the Catacomb of Praetextatus, where her fellow martyrs were buried. When her cypress coffin was opened, she was found perfectly preserved. Her dress also remained intact, made of expensive gold brocade, and at her feet were cloths soaked in her blood, the customary indication of martyrdom. The wounds on her neck were also visible, and her arms outstretched and raised in the “orans” prayer position. She and her fellow martyrs, Valerianus, Tiburtius, and Maximus, were reburied under the high altar of the restored church in the Trastevere district of Rome. Later, during the restoration of the same church in 1599, Cardinal Sfondrato had the high altar examined and found the sarcophagi of the martyrs exactly where the ancient documents indicated. He opened Cecilia’s coffin, and again she was found perfectly preserved. The public were permitted to view her body for about a week, and then she was reinterred. The architect Carlo Maderna, famous for his work on St. Peter’s Basilica, saw her and sculpted her likeness.

A pious romance, which probably has very little historical value, explains why she is represented with a crown of roses and lilies.

Cecilia, a virgin of a senatorial family and a Christian from her infancy, was given in marriage by her parents to a noble pagan youth Valerianus. When, after the celebration of the marriage, the couple had retired to the wedding-chamber, Cecilia told Valerianus that she was betrothed to an angel who jealously guarded her body; therefore Valerianus must take care not to violate her virginity. Valerianus wished to see the angel, whereupon Cecilia sent him to the third milestone on the Via Appia where he should meet Bishop (Pope) Urbanus. Valerianus obeyed, was baptized by the pope, and returned a Christian to Cecilia. An angel then appeared to the two and crowned them with roses and lilies. (“St. Cecilia,” Cath. Ency.)

The lilies signify purity and the roses stand for martyrdom. The romance adds that Tiburtius, Valerianus’ brother, came into the room and was amazed to smell the heavenly perfume and see fresh blooms at that time of year. Unable to deny the miracle, he too was converted.

St. Cecilia by Nicolas Poussin. Photo courtesy of Olga's Gallery; used with permission of copyright owner.

Cecilia as the patroness of Church music is usually represented playing the organ. This most likely was a linguistic error. Poems and panegyrics celebrated her wholehearted commitment to her Divine Spouse. A lovely tradition arose that

while the musicians played at her nuptials she sang in her heart to God only ("cantantibus organis illa in corde suo soi domino decantabat"); possibly the cantantibus organis was erroneously interpreted of Cecilia herself as the organist. In this way the saint was brought into closer relation with music. (Ibid.)

I would have no difficulty in believing that Cecilia’s heart would sing.

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