In Brother André’s recent Ad Rem for July, the month dedicated to the Most Precious Blood, he relates the Precious Blood both to the Old Testament figures of the Lamb of God as sacrificial Victim, and to the unbloody “mystery of faith,” which Saint Paul admonishes the deacons to hold “with a pure conscience” (1 Tim. 3:9).
Having celebrated the feast of the Most Precious Blood on July 1, being that it is now half way through the month, I remembered the terrible last words of Saint Catherine of Siena (+1380), which were an expiration, an effusion of blood mystically poured out in the separation of her body and soul at death. She was crucified with Christ on her deathbed, having been beaten over her whole body by blows from demons. Allow me to reproduce here in honor of the Precious Blood the last moments of this holy mystics life as given in Sister Jeanne Marie, M.I.C.M., Tert., article on the saint in a 1984 issue of From the Housetops.
To The Eternal City
On the first Sunday of Advent, 1378, Saint Catherine arrived in Rome, having been summoned by Pope Urban VI to be close at hand so that he could more readily seek her advice. This would be her last trip, for it was here in Rome, the See that she had so dedicated herself to defend, that she would die. Here the saint was reunited with her beloved Raimondo before their final separation – when the Pope sent the holy priest to King Charles of France, who had sided with the antipope. The pontiff asked Catherine if she would speak to the assembled cardinals. She spoke with tremendous inspiration and greatly edified all. She explained how God’s Providence watches over every faithful individual, especially at times of great suffering and turmoil in the holy Church. “Be not frightened (by the troubles),” the saint stressed, “but persevere and work for God without fear of men.”
Everyone was greatly moved. Pope Urban, in complete admiration replied:
See brothers, how guilty we must appear before God, because we are without courage. This little woman puts us to shame. And when I call her a little woman, I do not do so out of scorn, but because her sex is by nature fearful; but see how we tremble, while she is strong and calm, and see how she consoles us with her words. How could the Vicar of Christ be afraid even though the world rise against him? Christ is stronger than the whole world, and it is impossible for Him to fail His Church.”
In Rome, Catherine’s apostolate of good works continued, and her letters to dignitaries in no way diminished. She was, by the wish of the pope, to go with Saint Catherine of Sweden (the daughter of Saint Bridget of Sweden) to Queen Joanna of Naples to encourage her to side with the true pope. It was a dangerous mission, and at the last moment Urban cancelled the trip, thus again disappointing the Mantellata’s hopes for martyrdom. But she wrote the queen a strong letter, warning her that if she did not submit to the pope and quit her immoral life, a tragic death would overtake her. The warning went unheeded and the unfortunate queen died a terrible death.
Then, in January of 1380, a devastating blow hit the Beata. The Romans themselves rebelled against Pope Urban and threatened his life. The saint, her spirit crushed, and her frail body barely maintaining the ghost, began to enter into her death agony. Years with no food other than the Holy Eucharist, little sleep, and constant pain amidst remarkable labors, had made the very life of the saint a visible and continuous miracle. But the tragedy afflicting the Mystical Body of Christ hurt the saint more than her own sufferings. “Oh Jesus,” she prayed, “let all the parts of my body, all the marrow of my bones, be beaten and pounded together; only restore Thy Church to her comeliness and beauty.” Her prayers were answered. Catherine collapsed to the floor, her skin all black and blue, and the weight of the sins of the Church upon her shoulders.
For months she lingered on. As death approached, her spiritual children gathered around the saint’s bed to receive her last words. With her eyes fixed on the crucifix, she made the Sign of the Cross and cried, “Blood! Blood!” She bowed her head and sighed, “Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit,” and her soul took its flight to heaven. Catherine was thirty-three years old when she died – the same as her Beloved Spouse. The day was April 29th. The year 1380.
“Blood! Blood!” Who can fathom the language of a crucified mystic dying of love for God? What pen can even begin to give an adequate explanation as to why this victim soul would speak such words at her death? Who but a true Catholic would even know where to begin to understand what it means to share in Christ’s Passion – to suffer like, with, and in the Redeemer?
Christ Our Savior had poured out His all for us. His servant, Catherine, knew, perhaps more than anyone else on earth in her time, the preciousness of that Sacred Blood shed for men on Calvary. She knew, as no one else knew, who Infinite Love was, Love that so generously and freely suffered. She knew what the shedding of that Divine Blood really meant.
The Justice of God is awesome when one considers Calvary. So is His Mercy. Every time we hear men speak lightly about salvation, as if God spent nothing in granting it, or as if God had to grant it, one can only think of the blessed Catherine, her skeletal body disfigured by the beatings of demons, about to give up her spirit with those startling words upon her lips: “Blood! Blood!”
