March 19: Blessed Sibyllina of Pavia

You might be wondering about all the pictures of bodies in my last blog. (Yes, those are current photographs of the actual bodies of saints.) Well, my last posting was all about relics, and there really isn't a better relic than a saint's mortal remains. Now, not all bodies of saints remain in such a pristine state of preservation. (Catherine of Bologna, whom I wrote about a little while ago, is an example of a saint whose corpse has stayed relatively well-preserved, but not quite to the same degree as, say, Vincent de Paul.) All of the saints whose bodies retain a life-like state are called "incorruptibles."

Joan Carroll Cruz, in her excellent book The Incorruptibles, describes this phenomenon:

The more carefully we consider the preservation of the incorruptibles, the more baffling does the subject become, for then conservation seems to be neither dependent on the manner of burial nor on the temperature or place of interment. Nor were they adversely affected by extended delays between the time of death and their burials, by moisture in the tombs, by rough handling, by frequent transferences, by covering with quicklime, or by their proximity to decaying corpses. The greater majority were never embalmed or treated in any manner, yet most were found lifelike, flexible, and sweetly scented many years after death...The mystery of their preservations is further compounded by the observances of blood and clear oils--which have proceeded from a number of these holy relics--a phenomenon which again, needless to say, was never recorded with regard to the deliberately or accidentally preserved. (27)

For the skeptic in my two readers, you are probably saying that there has to be a scientific explanation for this condition. All I can tell you is that when a person is being considered for beatification or canonization, his or her body is exhumed and examined by a team of medical doctors and scientists. In a true case of incorruption, this team has never come up with a scientific explanation for the state of the holy person's remains. It is deemed, quite simply, a miracle.

Now, why am I sharing this information with you? I'm sure you can guess. Sibyllina of Pavia, the patron for March 19, died in 1367. In 1853, when her beatification moved forward, her body was found to be incorrupt. That's 486 years in the grave without any decomposition, folks. Pretty remarkable. But the details of her life are equally astounding to me. Orphaned and blind by the age of twelve, she was taken in by an order of Dominicans. At first, she prayed incessantly to have her sight restored. When this didn't pan out, she accepted her condition as God's will and moved into a small cell beside the Dominican church. She lived as a hermit in that cell for the next 65 years, until her death at the age of 80. Pilgrims from all over the country visited her to ask for guidance and advice. By her life, she taught all who knew her to accept personal hardships with grace and humility.

For those readers who have been with me since the beginning of this blog site, you know that I have been praying every morning throughout Lent for people who have hurt me, wronged me, pissed me off, or, in some way, made my life difficult. When I started, the list of people was, I thought, relatively short. Every day, however, it has grown and expanded as I thought of another offender, and another, and another. At the beginning, my prayer sort of went like this: "God, please bless Joe Blowme." (That name is made-up, if you didn't guess.) After a while, I still wasn't feeling very forgiving, so I changed my prayer: "God, please help me to forgive Murray Shithead, and please bless him." Well, I still found myself harboring a great deal of anger toward the people on my list, so the latest incarnation of my prayer goes something like this: "God, please teach me how to forgive." We're closing in on Palm Sunday, so time is running out. I've got about a week-and-a-half to experience transformation. The clock is ticking, and I don't think I'm going to meet my deadline.

Of course, it is my deadline, not God's deadline. By the end of Lent, I was hoping to be done with the people in my Hall of Flaming Assholes, to never have to give them another thought for the rest of my life. It hasn't quite worked out that way. In fact, this whole exercise in forgiveness has taught me an important lesson: I'm not as forgiving as I thought I was. People I thought I'd forgiven long ago are still setting off my rage radar. It's a little disconcerting, especially considering the fact that I call myself a Christian and forgiveness is supposed to be a big deal for me. (I wonder if there's a religion out there that allows you to hold on to lifelong grudges and doesn't involve human sacrifice or having sex with a goat. Probably not.)

I haven't totally given up on the possibility that I'll wake up tomorrow morning and all the ghosts of my past will have crossed over into the light of reconciliation and peace, but I'm not holding my breath. Easter's only two weeks away, and, although God can do things like make bodies immune to the ravages of time and decay, I have a sneaking suspicion my miracle isn't even on God's to-do list yet. In fact, my problem probably falls just below finding a sock that's disappeared in the laundry. Like Sybillina and her eyesight, God has other plans for me and my little forgiveness dilemma. It doesn't seem fair to me, because I've really tried hard these last five weeks to open my fist to let go of some hurts I've been holding on to for a long while. Then again, after Sybillina gave up on regaining her vision, she was a blind hermit for close to 70 years. I guess I just have to learn to wait, be patient, have faith. That's not an easy thing for a person whose natural instincts lean toward sarcasm, instant gratification, and more than a little fear.

I just can't see my way to the end of this whole process, just like I can't see my way to the end of this blog. I keep writing and writing, hoping that I will somehow find the right path, string together the right words. Maybe that's the point. Forgiveness isn't going to be some incorrupt miracle displayed under glass. It's going to be something I have to keep doing over and over and over, like brushing my teeth or making the bed or washing dirty dishes.