Blood in the Arena: The Testimony of Lyons

Today, June 30th, we celebrate the early martyrs in the Catholic Church. I have in front of me something very striking, a copy of the letter sent from the Christians of Lyon, France, to Christians in Turkey and Rome, dated to 177 A.D., describing the brutal persecution of Christians in Gaul (modern-day France) under Marcus Aurelius.

It recounts how, at first, Christians were slandered, falsely accused of terrible crimes, and then cancelled by the culture, and banned from the marketplace. Then the mobs began to attack them. Anyone accused of being a Christian was arrested, imprisoned, and finally, taken to the Amphitheatre and asked, “Are you a Christian?” If you said yes, you would be brutally tortured and killed. The Christians refused to deny their faith. Instead, they gave witness, and that’s exactly what it means to be a martyr.

Their bishop, Pothin, in his early 90s, was dragged through the streets, beaten mercilessly by the crowd, and thrown into prison, where he died two days later of suffocation. Forty-seven others, men, women, and even children, were tortured in public and put to death. 

What astonished the crowd was not just the suffering, but the way they suffered, calmly, joyfully, without hatred, but especially with courage, forgiveness, and love. 

Blandine’s Triumph: Endurance in Weakness

One of the most striking martyrs was St. Blandine, a teenage girl who was the servant of a Christian noble family. Physically frail and timid, her fellow Christians feared she would give in and deny her faith. But under trial, she astonished everyone with extraordinary courage and endurance, which she attributed to Christ dwelling in her. The letter says, “Blandine, filled with such power that those who tortured her from morning to night were exhausted and confessed they could do nothing more to her” (Eusebius, EH 5.1.55). 

She was scourged, burned, thrown to wild beasts, and hung on a stake to be gored by bulls, yet she steadfastly declared, “I am a Christian, and nothing evil is done among us.” Her words became a rallying cry for the other martyrs. The Church saw her suffering as a mirror of Christ’s Passion—stretched on a stake in the form of a cross, offering her body as a living sacrifice. She was a model of the supernatural gift of fortitude, God’s divine strength made perfect in human weakness (2 Cor 12:9).

Fortitude: To Attack or To Endure

The martyrs exhibited the virtue of courage. According to St. Thomas Aquinas, the virtue of fortitude has two essential acts. The first is attack, an act of courage that prompts us to confront evil, especially the evil within ourselves. This is what Jesus shows when He cleanses the Temple with a whip or when a Christian boldly speaks the truth in a hostile world. The first act of courage is to face evil and take action where we have responsibility.

But the second and more difficult act of fortitude is endurance. When evil cannot be conquered by action, when suffering cannot be removed, then courage takes the form of patient endurance. This is what the martyrs did in the arena. This is what Blandine did on the stake. They held fast to the good, to Christ, in the face of evil that could not be stopped.

Many of us want to be brave by fixing problems. But real courage often shows itself when we can’t fix anything, and we remain faithful anyway.

Fortitude in Us: What Will You Cling To?

What about you? Where in your life is there something broken or unjust, something you didn’t choose, don’t like, and cannot change? Maybe it’s a chronic illness. Maybe it’s a difficult marriage, a deep loss, or a past failure. Maybe it’s an addiction your son or daughter can’t overcome, and it’s wrecking their life. Maybe it’s a sin you’ve battled for years. Or maybe you’re just worn down by the world.

When you’re at the end of your rope and feel like you can’t endure another step, remember: God has not left you to do this alone.
He is with you. He is in you. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Phil 4:13).

And He has given you seven supernatural gifts, the Gifts of the Holy Spirit. One of those gifts is called Fortitude. It’s not just natural grit. It is divine strength, the power to bear great suffering cheerfully and not give up.

You might be thinking, "Okay, I’m in the state of grace. I have this gift. But it’s not working—what’s wrong?"

Nothing is wrong. This gift, like all the Gifts of the Spirit, is activated by cooperation, by docility to the Holy Spirit. How do we do that?

St. Thomas Aquinas gives us the answer: Receive the Eucharist often. Jesus strengthens your soul through His Body and Blood. Meditate daily. Quiet prayer opens your heart to the Spirit’s movements. Practice the virtue of fortitude. Keep carrying your cross, moment by moment. Don’t give up.

You just did it. And you’re doing it again. One moment at a time, you are enduring. Stay in the present moment. Not the past. Not the future. Just now. You may not be facing lions. But your daily crosses are your arena of courage. This is your chance to say with your life, “I am a Christian. I will not give up.”

Why is God doing this? Why does He let us suffer? 

St. John of the Cross teaches that God longs to flood our souls with His own divine life, a life that will make us perfectly fulfilled and happy. But for this to happen, we must make room. “The immense blessings of God,” he writes, “can only enter and fit into an empty and solitary heart” (Letter 15). This is why God allows us to experience suffering, failure, and painful trials we cannot fix. To make room in our soul to be filled with God and be perfectly happy! Difficult and painful moments beyond our control, especially those times that completely bewilder us strip us of our disordered attachments, our pride, and our illusion of control. They empty us of created things so we can be filled with the Creator Himself. 

When we are humbled, helpless, and brought to the end of our strength, we learn to depend completely on God. This surrender, though painful, is the very condition for union with Him. We stop clinging to what cannot satisfy and open ourselves to the only One who can. In the silence of suffering, faith grows. In the darkness of what we don’t understand, love is purified. God is not far off in these moments; He is nearer than ever, quietly preparing the soul for transforming union, where He alone will possess and fulfill it completely.

Teresa of Avila encourages us: Let nothing trouble you, let nothing frighten you. Everything passes, God never changes. Patience obtain all. Whoever has God wants for nothing. God alone is enough.

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