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SAINT PERPETUA OF CARTHAGE
Standing Fast In The Faith
By Dorothy Trench-Bonett +++
What could make you deny our Lord? Separation from your young child? Your father’s tears? Public embarrassment? The threat of a horrible death? Saint Perpetua faced all these things in the early days of the Church. Yet this young woman remained faithful to Christ.
Vibia Perpetua was born around AD 181 in the Roman city of Carthage, which is in present-day Tunisia. When she reached young adulthood, during the reign of Septimius Severus, Roman citizens were forbidden to convert to Christianity; yet the future saint chose to become a catechumen at this time. As a young married woman with a child, she must have known that she had a great deal to lose, especially since she came from a privileged background and was a member of an aristocratic family. Still, it must have come as a shock when she and the members of her church were betrayed and arrested.
In the diary she kept, which has been preserved for us, Perpetua described the events of that day. The most difficult part for her was her father’s shock and distress—and his attempts to persuade her to deny that she was a Christian. She refused to do this, however, and although she knew that it would make matters worse for her, after her arrest she was baptized.
At this point, Saint Perpetua wrote that the Holy Spirit “counseled me not to ask for anything from that water [the water of baptism] except bodily endurance.” She would need this endurance as the next few days unfolded and she was taken off to prison with her fellow Christians Saturninus, Secundulus, Felicitas, and Revocatus. The darkness frightened her, the guards treated her roughly, and she was separated from her baby, who was not yet weaned. This situation would improve a little as the jailers, once bribed, transferred the Christians to another, better cell, where the young mother was allowed to be with her child. Another member of the church, Saturus, gave himself up at this point to be with and encourage the five who were initially arrested. And the saint was granted her first vision. In it, Perpetua ascended a ladder into heaven and was fed by the Shepherd in the company of a multitude of the redeemed, all clad in robes of spotless white. After this, she knew that “there would be suffering to come.” The next ordeal would be her trial.
It was, of course, a criminal trial. The Romans did not persecute Christians for following a different religion. Entirely tolerant, the pagan government accepted all kinds of beliefs and cults, no matter how peculiar or strange, from every corner of their multicultural empire. What the authorities did expect, however, was that the members of all these religions would, in return for the right to freely practice their own beliefs, also make a sacrifice to the Roman gods for the safety of the reigning emperor. This sacrifice was not complicated. All one had to do was to say the words, “Caesar is Lord,” while throwing a pinch of incense into a fire. Perpetua and her fellow Christians went in front of the governor Hilarianus knowing that this seemingly simple act was all they had to do to prove they were not traitors and to save their lives. But how could they say that anyone other than Jesus was their Lord? And how could they burn incense to gods that they knew were idols?
All six were in the same position, but Perpetua was subjected to pressures that the others did not have to face. She had prayed for bodily endurance, but it was mental torment she faced as her father, whom she loved dearly, who had “cherished her above all her brothers,” refused to understand her decision to stand for Christ. He begged her to obey the authorities and asked her not to shame the family. He threw himself publicly at her feet, in tears, and brought her baby son to court, reminding her that without his mother to nurse him, he might die. He made such violent scenes that he was finally beaten for his disorderly conduct in front of her eyes and driven out of the courtroom.
The governor, who ordered this done, singled out Perpetua because of her high birth. He also pleaded with her. When she stood firm, however, she was condemned to suffer the same fate as the others. All six of them—the two slaves, the noble girl, and the three others—would be brought into the arena on Emperor Geta’s birthday. There they would be torn apart by wild beasts as the crowd watched and cheered. The Christians accepted the verdict “with high spirits,” Perpetua wrote in her diary. They felt that it would be an honor to suffer as “witnesses” for Christ. The Greek word that means “witness” is “martyr.” The young mother felt that it was a special grace from God that at this point, her baby abruptly stopped taking the breast. He was weaned without pain either to himself or to her, and since he could take food from others now, she knew he could survive. She was also granted more visions, which strengthened her.
But she and her fellow Christians were concerned about Felicitas, who had been her slave. Felicitas was pregnant and her due date was after the emperor’s birthday. A pregnant woman could not be executed, according to Roman law. The slave girl did not fear death, but she did not want her execution to be delayed so that she would have to face the beasts later, in company with criminals rather than with her Christian friends. The group prayed for her to deliver before the birthday ceremony, and she did go into labor, just two days before the execution date. But she was only in her eighth month and had terrible pain. Perpetua wrote about the delivery in her diary. The Roman guards taunted Felicitas, asking how she expected to be able to face the beasts when she could not even endure childbirth. Felicitas answered that she was suffering alone now. But on the day of the games she knew that there would be “Another in me who will endure the pain for me as I am enduring now for Him.” The baby was born safely—a girl. A Christian woman took her. The group was ready for death—five of them now, not six. While they were in prison, Secundulus had died.
On March 7, 202, the five were led into the arena. They were not forced to dress as Roman priests and priestesses, after Perpetua expostulated about this, but they were all flogged in the brutal Roman manner. Then the excited crowd was entertained by watching as the three men were killed by a leopard, a bear, and a boar. Perpetua and Felicitas were then brought out to face a wild cow. The spectators were upset, however, because the two girls were nude and Felicitas, so recently a mother, was leaking milk—it also disturbed them to see that Perpetua was very slight and small. They were allowed to put on tunics and then brought out again.
Felicitas was crushed under the animal. Perpetua was tossed on its horns. She was more concerned about her modesty, though, than her pain and was seen pulling at her tunic to make sure it covered her. She also grabbed at her hair clasp and pinned it back on her hair. She did not want to die with her hair disarranged, as in the Roman culture, loose hair was a sign of mourning. She wanted it clear that she was not grieving at her death, but rejoicing in her suffering for her Lord.
The crowd had had enough at this point—the anonymous writer who recorded Perpetua’s death and attached the record to the manuscript of her diary writes that they were not cheering anymore but silent. She was taken out of the arena, not dead yet, but gored through to the bone. One of her brothers, who was a catechumen, was allowed to be with her. Her last words to him were, “You must stand fast in the faith, and love one another, and do not be shattered by our passion.” The young gladiator who was supposed to finish her off could not do it. He was visibly moved and stood shaking beside her. She was now in terrible pain. She took hold of his hand and brought it to her neck; then he cut her throat, and she died.
The feast day of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas is March 7. They are both buried in Tunisia, under what was the Basilica Majorum.
Sources:
Vibia Perpetua’s diary, translated in "Prisoner, Dreamer, Martyr: Perpetua of Carthage," The Writings of Medieval Women: An Anthology, ed. Marcelle Thiebaux, Garland Publishing, 1994, pp. 3–20.
“Felicity and Perpetua,” New Advent Encyclopedia, http://www.newadvent.org/
Dorothy Trench Bonett is married to Michael Bonett and is the mother of Michael, Jr., David, and Jarrett. She has a degree in history from Yale University and has taught that subject at Mount Saint Mary's University in Emmitsburg, as well as literature and Chinese language. She is currently working on a novel. She attends church in Mount Airy, Maryland.
This article originally appeared in The Handmaiden Vol. 10 No. 4. |
