“His power is infinite, and if I lean on Him it will be mine; His wisdom is infinite, and if I look to Him for counsel I shall not be deceived; His goodness is infinite, and if my trust is stayed on Him I shall not be abandoned. Hope unites me to my God and Him to me. Although I know I am not sufficient for the burden, my strength is in Him. For the salvation of others I must bear weariness, face dangers, suffer offences, confront storms, fight against evil. He is my Hope.” – St. Pope Pius X
Consider, my brethren, Saint Celeste. An odd request, you all may think, to think on this child-martyr of ours. She is an oddity in the Faith of this Church, an inexplicable figure amongst the high and mighty saints and lords of Heaven, the likes of Saint Aelwyn and Dav. These were mighty men, great politicians and statesmen. These were men of honor, of strength. They bore with them the great swords of Faith, the strong blades of Truth. And with them, the executed the will of God without question. Their memories be blessed and may we all look to them as examples in our own lives. Yet, I’ve not called you here to consider St. Aelwyn and Dav. I’ve not called you here to as what is easy, to think on a bravery which though uncommon, can be said to come naturally to us men. No, my friends, I’ve called you here on a wholly different purpose. On one which indeed may be all the harder than asking you to fight for your Faith: the task of dying for it.
Saint Celeste, as you know, was a child and she bore that one thing which it seems so many of us, indeed Cardinals an Priests included, have lost, that is, innocence. Saint Celeste had no memory of the blade, the ways of war were wholly unknown her. Of all the great, wonderful, and terrible things of the Urth, St. Celeste knew but one, God. And with that knowledge, she went unto a vocation not unlike that of Saint Aelwyn or Dav, yet entire worlds apart. She went to death.
St. Celeste remainds us of, what I think, is thing we struggle the most with as people. She reminds us of our mortality, that common thing which many over the years have tried to cheat, but which we all have failed. I do not believe there are many among us today who couls speak with perfect honesty and say that they are at peace with the prospect of death. All our lives, we spend evading it in one form or another. We are driven by the hunger to live, to somehow carve out a niche in this world which is unerasable. We are driven mad by our desire to create a lasting existence, one which remains past the brief blink of an eye which is our time here. Yet, with Saint Celeste, we are reminded it is all for not. Where others dream of deaths surrounded by glory. Where others seek a passing which is to be remembered, one passed down in the tales of bards and the writings of scholars, Celeste sought holiness. She did not desire the world see her. She slipped from it and disappeared into the deep forests that surround the Spring. She ran from the world and fled into the arms of God. And there, she died. She died not with a blade in her hand or on her feet in battle. She died not with the fervor of a warrior in her heart or the strength of a soldier. She but fell to her knees, took up a rose, a flower which she meant to empart unto the Spring to which she had dedicated her life. she closed her eyes and with little but the last breath of a prayer, she accepted death. She accepted mortality.
When I began my Cardinalate, I saw myself as to stand in the shoes of St. Aelwyn. I saw the world as a battlefield where the enemies of the Faith prowled like wolves to destroy the innocents. I saw the Urth as a dark wilderness full of dangers and snares and I looked to St. Aelwyn as an example of how one must take such things on. I took up his sword. I told myself that I should serve the Chalice by it, like he did. That it would be the mighty reckoning for sin that was needed if we ever were to be free of it. I left St. Celeste and I took up the war banner of the armies of Heaven. I can say now, that as I stand here, that though I joined a good and mighty company. One which many of you are destined to join and that the members of should always be remebered for their bravery and sanctity, I had chosen not the path carved out for me by the Lord. My predecessors have been great politicians and statesmen. They have been examples of the greatness a Cardinal can achieve. I look to them with great admiration, but also with the realization that I cannot be as they were. I, to be frank, play a horrible game of chess. Yet, what does that game of chess matter? For what do I play it? For when I pass this life, as I one day shall, for what do what to be remembered? Do I wish to be remembered for myself? Do I want for my name the mighty title of ‘Saint’ or the great ceremonies of the Church? Nay, indeed I would deplore such for myself. For when I pass from this world, I do not desire these things. Indeed, I desire that I be forgotten. For nothing which I do here today, have done in days past, or shall do in the days come has proceeded from myself, but from God. Nothing good which shall come of my moment here on Urth shall have been the product of my own ingenuity or cleverness, of my political savvy or careful play. No, it shall have come from Heaven. For, in the end, what things of this Urth shall last the winds time save that which is grounded in holiness? We, friends, are dust. All that we do is dust. And unto dust all these things shall return. Yet, when we take up prayer. When we take up the path which we have been given. We need not fear. Death is not my enemy. He is powerless against me for he cannot take from me anything which has not already been given. My mission is to toil for the salvation of souls, and death cannot take salvation from any man. Though time shall wear at my body and at all human memory of my existence. Though years from now, I may be at the very best a footnote in an ancient book of history, I shall not have lost. For, if I live my life as I now resolve to. If I now throw myself into the fullest service of God, what shall come of me that I desire to remain is that everyone here may recieve the bliss of heaven. I give my name as ransom for your souls. I give my strength as payment. My comfort as trade. I desire that I die poor of all honors, a pauper of all things but holiness.
Some among you may call me a fool for this. There shall undoubtedly be whispers in courts of the mad Cardinal who commited for himself a death to all political success. Very well, for if what do now is folly, I desire not wisdom. Indeed, the wisdom of God makes all men fools. I’d gladly be fool for God.
I’ll not wear my sword again. Instead, I’ll carry my rose.
