Love the Eucharist like the Martyrs

To the English Martyrs the Eucharist was so precious it was worth dying for: can we say the same for ourselves? By little acts of reverence and devotion we can grow to become like them! Homily for the Feast of the Beatified Martyrs of England.

There was once a man named Swithun Wells, he was a schoolmaster, married with children. He was, like us, a Catholic. Unlike us, he lived during a time of intense persecution; under Queen Elizabeth I it was illegal to be a priest, to celebrate Mass, or even to go to Mass in England. Doing any one of those things, and a whole host of other activities attached to it, would earn you a one way ticket to the executioner. Swithun Wells was a member of the underground Catholic Church, helping to hide priests and move them around the country. He did this first in Hampshire, before moving to London and taking up a house on Gray’s Inn Lane. He was arrested multiple times, but nothing was proved against him, so he was released or bailed.

But, in 1591, a priest named Edmund Gennings was in his house saying Mass, and the famous priest hunter Matthew Topcliffe surrounded them. The faithful Catholics inside barred the door, refusing to let Topcliffe and his men disrupt the Mass, but once Mass was done resigned themselves to the inevitable and handed themselves over. Edmund Gennings was arrested, along with another priest named Polydore Plasden, three lay men were arrested with them; John Mason, Brian Lacey, and Sidney Hodgson. Swithun Wells returned home to find the officers waiting for him and he too was arrested. At trial, instead of denying his faith or his role in having Mass said at his home, instead of doing anything to save himself, he admitted that he had not been at that Mass but that he wished he had been.

Swithun Wells was forced to watch as Fr Edmund Gennings was torn apart in front of him by the executioner. Then he was hanged to death in front of his own home. Fr Polydore Plasden was driven past the bodies of Swithun Wells and Edmund Gennings on the way to his own execution, alongside John Mason, Brian Lacey, and Sidney Hodgson, who were all executed at Tyburn that same day; 10th December 1591.

Before the reformation, England was already known as the Isle of Martyrs; in every generation, men and women of England gave their lives for the faith, executed by Romans, then by Saxons, and then by Vikings. Century upon century the blood of the martyrs watered England’s fields and gave birth to a rich harvest of faith. But the martyrs of the English reformation, whose feast we celebrate today, suffered at the hands of others who called themselves Christian, for daring to do as their ancestors had done for hundreds of years: to go and be ordained as priests, to celebrate the Mass, to hear Mass, to protect the priests of Christ’s Church and obey his vicar, the Pope.

These were martyrs who knew what an awesome gift the Eucharist is; the very body, blood, soul and divinity of Christ given to us as food. It was a gift for which they were willing to die. They came from every state of life; they were religious brothers and sisters, priests, monks, lay men and women. They came from every class, some were of the royal blood, or powerful aristocrats, others were schoolmasters, others still were simple labourers. Some were cradle Catholics, others converts from the Church of England. All died because they were not willing to give up the precious gift of the Mass.

Their example challenges us, because it calls us to a deeper love of our Lord in the Eucharist, it calls us to a deeper reverence. The Priests Saint Edmund Gennings and Saint Polydore Plasden, and the lay men Saint Swithun Wells, Bl. John Mason, Bl. Brian Lacey, and Bl. Sidney Hodgson are just a few of the many we honour and celebrate today. These English Martyrs died to be allowed to do what we are doing tonight, and now they, like St Stephen, behold Christ sitting at the right hand of the power of God. Our response must be one of love, one of awe, one of dedication; to ask ourselves how we can emulate their lives of sacrifice. How we, like them, can love the Holy Eucharist so much we would prefer to die rather than to give it up.

These big sacrifices, however, don’t appear out of nowhere, no matter how inspiring they are. Sacrifices like this are born from a thousand little sacrifices made over a lifetime. It comes from choosing to deny ourselves over and over again; choosing to fast before Mass so we get used to making sacrifices, choosing to come to Mass even when it’s inconvenient, even when we don’t want to, even when we think we have better things to do, even when our only option is in a Church we don’t like going to or a priest we don’t like very much.

It also comes from little acts of reverence, remembering to genuflect when we come into the Church and when we pass the tabernacle. Remembering to genuflect or bow before receiving communion. Perhaps kneeling for Communion. Perhaps receiving by making a throne in our hands to receive the Lord. Each of these little acts of reverence, each of these little sacrifices, builds up in us a habit and an attitude of reverence and willingness to sacrifice. Each of these little acts is like laying down a brick to build a wall. Just as a wall grows brick by brick, we grow in love and service of the Lord by a lifetime of little acts of love, and reverence, and sacrifice.

Begin tonight, lay down the first few little bricks. Try again tomorrow, with a few more. Try each day to do the same, and even if you are never called to make the ultimate sacrifice, you too will be counted among those who have made their lives a fitting sacrifice to the Lord.