St. Eulalia, She Said No
A seventeen-hundred-year old echo that's deafening
This is the crucifixion of Eulalia by Pedro Villar. Hers is a well-known story in Barcelona. It’s about a 13-year-old girl in 303 AD who was confronted during the Christian persecutions under the Roman Emperor Dacian.
Stopped in the street, she was asked if she was a Christian. She smiled and said, “Yes.”
She was told to renounce her faith. She smiled again and said, “No.”
As a result, she taken, paraded in front of a crowd and was stripped naked.
The Romans had a very specific way of brutalizing Christian virgin girls (Google it if interested). She was then horribly whipped following the mutilation of her insides, and then she was inhumanely crucified on an X.
The crowds watched as the men ripped her apart, and the many, many accounts of people stood in shock, listening to this little girl, gently praying in tears as her little body was ravaged by powerful man after powerful man.
She prayed every moment. She prayed ... she prayed.
When people ask me why Catholics have all these saints, this is why. We don’t forget. The holy icons, the statues, the frescoes, the books ... they glorify their battle against evil. The people like Eulalia honor and venerate their courage. I want to be like this little girl, Eulalia!
We have been infiltrated since the very beginning, and it’s beyond the scope of a Facebook post. Priests who hunt children, the bishops who cover their tracks, and the Popes who sold the souls of children for centuries. Infiltrated, as it was written by the prophets. We know this.
But it’s the saintly women like her who hope that our courage can rise when called upon. Regardless of whether it costs us our jobs, our lovers, our salaries... will we rise? They are the milestones of faith; they are the beatitudes.
So, the story goes that the fanatical crowd began to slowly turn, witnessing her supernatural faith and courage. Then, one by one, they began to pray with her. Think about being in that crowd and witnessing this. Are you there in some way today?
Apparently, she was already dead when they crucified her, succumbed to the torture. But they did it anyway, to continue the humiliation of this little child, naked, legs wide open, and gutted.
This seventeen-hundred-year echo is deafening.
This happened on February 12, 303. We celebrate her today.
From the crowd, you and I will be faced with a choice: will we do nothing but watch with your lips wet and skin cold, afraid of the backlashing, discomfort, and humiliation?
Or. Will you rise?
St. Eulalia, pray for us.