Catholics in Courage: St. Philomena and the Courage to Say No

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Imagine standing before the most powerful man in the Roman Empire.

The emperor has nearly everything the world can offer—wealth, influence, authority, and the power of life and death itself. He desires you, and refusing him could cost you everything. Most people might tell themselves that compromise is the only sensible option. After all, who could possibly stand against the emperor? According to the traditional account of her life, a young Christian named Philomena did exactly that. She refused.

That act of fidelity is why I chose St. Philomena as the first entry in my Catholics in Courage series. When we hear the word "courage," many of us might immediately think of great military heroes such as St. Joan of Arc or King St. Louis IX. I wanted to begin somewhere different. I wanted to begin with a young woman whose greatest weapon was not a sword, but an unwavering commitment to Christ.

As someone who studied history in college and has spent much of my life studying history, I also believe it is important to acknowledge where documented history ends and tradition begins. The historical record surrounding St. Philomena is limited. Her remains were discovered in the Catacomb of Priscilla in Rome in 1802, while the detailed account of her life familiar to many Catholics comes largely from later devotional tradition and private revelation rather than contemporary historical records. I think honesty about that distinction is important. At the same time, I do not believe historical uncertainty means there is nothing we can learn from the story that has inspired devotion to St. Philomena for generations. Some things are to remain a mystery.

According to that tradition, Philomena was a young Christian girl who had consecrated her virginity to Christ. When Emperor Diocletian desired her, she refused him because she believed she had already given herself to someone greater. Her refusal came at a tremendous price. According to the traditional account, she was imprisoned, tortured, and ultimately beheaded rather than surrender the commitment she had made to Christ.

Whether one approaches every detail of her story from a historical or devotional perspective, or perhaps both, I believe its central lesson remains remarkably powerful: Philomena would not surrender what she believed belonged to God. As I reflected on her story, I couldn't help but think about the world we live in today. Most of us will never stand before a Roman emperor. But one day, each of us will stand before the King of Kings.

Few of us will ever be asked to die for our faith in such a dramatic way. Yet many people today, especially young men and women, face another kind of pressure. We live in a culture saturated with sexual messages. Through entertainment, advertising, social media, dating culture, pornography, and even conversations among friends, the pressure to compromise our values can sometimes seem relentless. Sometimes that pressure is obvious. Other times, it disguises itself as acceptance or even love. We hear phrases such as, "Everybody does it," "You're old-fashioned," "What's the big deal?" or perhaps one of the most manipulative of all: "If you really loved me, you would." more often than not. 

I think that last statement is particularly troubling because it attempts to transform pressure into love. It treats someone's refusal not as a boundary to respect, but as an obstacle to overcome. St. Philomena's traditional story may be ancient, but the pressure at the center of it can feel remarkably modern. Her courage was not simply that she endured suffering. Her courage was also her refusal to allow someone else—even someone possessing tremendous earthly power—to determine her worth, her dignity, or what she had already chosen to give to God.

I think there is an important lesson there for our own culture.

We rightly speak a great deal today about consent and respecting people's boundaries. Yet at the same time, sexual restraint can still be mocked. Virginity can be treated as something embarrassing. Chastity is sometimes portrayed as repression, while religious convictions surrounding sexuality are dismissed as outdated rules belonging to another age. As a Catholic, I believe something very different. I believe the human body has dignity. I believe sex has meaning. And I believe that saying no can sometimes be an extraordinary expression of freedom rather than evidence of fear or repression.

Sometimes saying no to the world is ultimately our way of saying yes to Christ.

That does not mean it is easy. I can atttest that it certainly is not. Temptation is real. Desire is real. Loneliness is real. The desire to feel loved and accepted is real. I know enough about my own weaknesses and struggles to avoid pretending otherwise. Perhaps that is precisely why courage is necessary.

I also believe St. Philomena's example extends beyond sexual morality. Every Christian will eventually encounter moments when compromise seems easier than conviction. It might involve sexual temptation, but it could also involve honesty, integrity, forgiveness, defending another person, refusing to participate in something we know is wrong, or simply standing by our faith when doing so makes us unpopular. The circumstances change from one generation to another, but the fundamental question remains:

Will I remain faithful when faithfulness costs me something?

That is one reason St. Philomena's story speaks to me personally. Like every Christian, I know what it is like to struggle with temptation and to wrestle with the distance between the person I want to become and the person I sometimes am. Her story reminds me that courage does not necessarily mean never struggling. Sometimes courage means choosing Christ again despite the struggle. And sometimes we may have to make that choice again tomorrow.

That is why I wanted St. Philomena to be the first person featured in Catholics in Courage. This series will certainly include warriors, kings, queens, martyrs, priests, religious, and ordinary men and women who faced extraordinary circumstances. But Catholics in Courage is not intended simply to retell their biographies. I want to examine the moments that tested them, the courage they demonstrated, and what their example can teach us about the challenges we face today.

Some carried swords. Others carried rosaries. Some carried both. St. Philomena reminds us that courage can take another form entirely. Most of us will never wear armor. Most of us will never command an army. Most of us will never stand before an emperor. But nearly all of us will eventually face a moment when the world, another person, or even our own desires ask us to surrender something we believe belongs to God.

St. Philomena, pray for us!

May The Holy Names of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph Be Blessed Now And Forever! Save Souls!