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Catherine of Siena
A Holy Resolution of the Heart
When she was twelve years old, Catherine Benincasa’s parents began to make arrangements for her, their youngest of twenty-four children, to be married. Catherine, however, had other plans. Unbeknownst to them, she had taken a private vow of chastity five years earlier, and she had every intention of entering the convent and dedicating her life to Christ.
“It would be easier to melt a stone than to tear this holy resolution out of my heart,” Catherine told her parents. “You only waste time in trying to fight against it.”1 Her parents were devastated. But after they’d both wept bitterly over Catherine’s fierce declaration, her father, Giacomo, surprised everyone by acquiescing to his daughter’s resolution. “My dearest daughter, it is far from us to set ourselves against the will of God in any way, and it is from Him that your purpose comes,” he told Catherine. “Keep your promise and live as the Holy Spirit tells you to live. We shall never disturb you again in your life of prayer and devotion, or try to tempt you from your sacred work.”2 He then warned his wife and children not to lay any obstacles in Catherine’s spiritual path.
Giacomo, a dye-maker, arranged a small space for Catherine near his workrooms in the basement of their home, a place where she could be quiet amid the bustle of a busy house. Catherine used a wood plank for a bed and a wooden log for a pillow. A few stone steps led from the 10-by-16-foot room to a small, barred window that overlooked the narrow lane behind the Benincasa home. Catherine spent three years in this cell, emerging only to attend early morning Mass at the Dominican church in the village. She prayed relentlessly; ate only herbs, bread, and water; and slept only two hours each night. She also scourged herself with an iron chain three times a day—once for her sins, once for the sins of all living people, and once for the souls in purgatory—as was the custom of her spiritual father, Saint Dominic. Catherine’s mother, Lapa, appalled by her daughter’s extreme self-denial and punishment, tried every means possible to subdue her, but her efforts were futile. In the tradition of the Desert Fathers, whom she had read so much about in her youth, Catherine’s underground cell-like chamber became her desert. She was steadfast and immovable in her discipline.
Going Forth without Fear
After three years in the underground room, Catherine rejoined her family, resumed her domestic duties in her father’s home, and officially joined the Third Order of Saint Dominic. As a Dominican tertiary, Catherine was not required to live in the convent. Instead, she remained at home and dedicated her time to caring for victims of the Black Plague, which killed 80,000 in Siena alone, including her own brother and sister and eight nieces and nephews. She also visited local prisons and attended public executions, where she consoled the accused with prayer.
Catherine continued to communicate constantly with God, and as she entered her late twenties, she began to hear a recurring command from him to serve the greater public—a command she initially questioned. “Go forth without fear, in spite of reproach,” God told her. “I have a mission for thee to fulfill. Wheresoever thou goest I will be with thee. I will never leave thee but will visit thee and direct all thy actions.”3 The mission, Catherine would soon learn, was to reform the church and restore the papacy to Rome.
Like her contemporary, Bridget of Sweden, Catherine dedicated the remainder of her life to relocating the papacy from Avignon, where it had resided for nearly seventy-five years, to its rightful place in Rome. She launched her campaign by writing bold letters to Pope Gregory XI, urging him forward on this holy crusade:
Press on, and fulfill with true zeal and holy what you have begun with holy resolve, concerning your return, and the holy and sweet crusade. And delay no longer, for many difficulties have occurred through delay, and the devil has risen up to prevent these things being done, because he perceives his own loss. Up, then, father, and no more negligence! . . . Pardon me, father, that I have said so many words to you. You know that through the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. I am certain that if you shall be the kind of tree I wish to see you, nothing will hinder you.4
In 1376 Catherine traveled from Siena to Avignon to visit Pope Gregory in person. Though without education, wealth, or rank, she entered the palace confidently and spoke to the pope through an interpreter, exhorting Gregory to lay aside his own self-interest and return to Rome. “Do not be a boy, be a man,” Catherine boldly cajoled him.5 Her rhetoric, though risky, was ultimately successful. Several weeks after her visit, Pope Gregory sailed from Avignon to Genoa, where he stalled, hesitant and fearful, unwilling to continue to Rome until he spoke with Catherine again. She complied, and although their conversation was not recorded, it’s evident from the fact that Pope Gregory continued on to Rome that Catherine was again successful in persuading him. With Pope Gregory safely back in Rome, Catherine turned her attention to rallying support for him.
This was a time of rampant corruption within the Roman Catholic Church. With the republics and principalities of Italy revolting against the papacy, Catherine’s mission was a dangerous one. In fact, at one point Catherine was nearly murdered by an incensed mob when she was sent by Pope Gregory as a peace envoy to Florence. As a group of men descended on her and her small entourage in a garden, swinging swords and clubs and bellowing her name in rage, she kneeled before them and spoke fearlessly: “I am Catherine. Do to me whatever thou wilt. But I charge you, in the name of the Almighty, to hurt none of these who are with me.”6 Confused by her lack of resistance, the men sheathed their swords, but Catherine remained kneeling, calmly stating, “I have always longed to suffer for God and His church, so if you have been appointed to kill me do not be afraid to do so.”7 Unnerved, the men dispersed, and shortly thereafter, the Florentine rulers signed a peace treaty with the pope.
Truth be told, Catherine was disappointed that she had not been allowed to give her life for God in the garden that day. “I burned with desire to suffer for the glory of God and the salvation of souls, for the reform and welfare of the Holy Church,” she wrote to her confessor, Fra Raimondo delle Vigne, a few days after the dramatic scene. “My heart almost burst with the desire to give my life.”8 Yet she also realized and accepted that martyrdom was not God’s will for her. It was clear to Catherine that God’s mission for her was within the maelstrom of world politics.
Gregory’s successor, Pope Urban VI, was equally dependent on Catherine’s negotiation and peacemaking skills. He summoned her to Rome in the midst of the Great Western Schism of 1378, during which he and Pope Clement VII, who had reestablished a papacy in Avignon, fought for control. Catherine dedicated the remainder of her life to working strenuously in support of Pope Urban VI for the reformation of the church.
The fact that a woman served as a political envoy during this tumultuous time is nothing short of astounding. Her letters—more than three hundred of which have been preserved and published—illustrate her fierce determination and fearless conviction, as well as her savvy negotiation skills and her ability to influence even the most fiery and powerful political figures of the time. It was no secret that Pope Urban VI was a difficult man, prone to volatile and even violent outbursts. Catherine’s ability to appease yet also persuade Pope Urban VI, as well as dozens of other high-level officials, is a remarkable testament to her steely determination and her peacemaking skills.
Determined until Death
Shortly before her death at the age of thirty-three, Catherine dictated what became known as her Dialogue, a series of visions and reflections that came to her directly from God while she was in a state of ecstasy. Before she succumbed to the visions, she instructed her secretary to listen to the words that streamed from her mouth while she was in the throes of intimate communication with Jesus. The result, after four consecutive days of transcription, during which Catherine was physically incapacitated in an ecstatic state, was a manuscript centered on the theme of God’s mercy. In Catherine’s lifetime the book was circulated only among her friends and disciples, but after her death, it was printed and distributed to a wider audience. The Dialogue was recognized as teaching divinely inspired by the Holy Spirit, and Catherine herself came to be valued as a teacher of divine knowledge.
Throughout her thirty-three years Catherine had continued the spiritual practice of self-denial, abstaining from food and drink and often ingesting only the Eucharist as her solitary meal in an entire day. Scholars today suggest that she suffered from anorexia. Constantly weak, ill, malnourished, and rail-thin, she declined rapidly until she was bedridden, rising only to attend Mass each morning in the oratory of her home. Too weak to walk the few steps back to her bedroom herself, Catherine’s skeletal body was often carried to her bed—she still slept on only a rough, wooden plank—after church.
Still, Catherine was determined to fulfill her God-given mission. Her last political push was made from her deathbed, when she wrote Pope Urban VI a final letter, begging him to be strong and stand firm against those bent on destroying the church. “May Your Holiness understand what has to be done!” she implored the pope. “Courage, courage, for God does not despise your desire and the prayers of His servants.” She signed her last letter to the pope with her standard valediction: “Sweet Jesus, Jesus love.”9 Three months later she died, praying audibly until the last moment for the church and Pope Urban VI.
Today Catherine is honored as a saint in the Roman Catholic Church and is remembered for her numerous contributions to Christianity, including her voluminous and articulate letters, her mystical revelations from God, and her unique ability to influence the most powerful political and religious men of the time. Even beyond her historical contributions, though, we admire Catherine of Siena for her strong-willed determination, her courage, and her obedience to God, no matter what the cost. God instructed his disciple to go forth without fear. Catherine never wavered in heeding that command.10