The Trouble with Martyrdom

Kathy Hendricks

As children, my friend, Bill, and I had a fascination with the early Christian martyrs. We took it to such an extreme that we actually “played” martyr one day. Looking around for someone to take the role of the wicked Roman emperor, Diocletian, we landed on a neighbor who loved crawling through bushes while pretending to be engaged in combat. We called him over and explained his role in sentencing us to death. When we explained that he could choose whatever form of execution he desired, he was immediately in. After boldly proclaiming our faith in Jesus, he sentenced us to death by throwing us in my mother’s rose bush. Game over.

It took a few more years to recognize the problem with this childish view of martyrdom. Since it was all about looking brave and noble, it hardly qualified as the kind of witness that a true martyr gives. It’s certainly understandable in a seven-year-old but becomes problematic when one carries it into adulthood. Comparing the oppression of wearing a mask to that of Holocaust victims is one of the more egregious examples of misplaced martyrdom. Many of us could think of less extreme versions in which we craft a false sense of victimhood in order to evoke sympathy or understanding.

Then there is the question of sanitizing the stories to the degree that the actual suffering is downplayed in favor of the heroism. Bill and I drew heavily on booklets that encapsulated the stories of the martyrs in 100 words or less. It made their sacrificial acts sound easy. After all, we only suffered a few scratches from the rose bush before heading into our next adventure. In addition to brutal deaths, true martyrs suffer for their adherence to principles of justice, truth, honesty, and compassion. Integrity has its price. Many endured inner turmoil as well as betrayals, ostracizing, and the severing of cherished relationships with loved ones and institutions they committed their lives to.

Despite these distortions, I look back on our experience with a great deal of tenderness. We made a sincere effort to recognize the cost of living up to one’s beliefs. Perhaps it drew me into a greater recognition of people who have genuinely sacrificed their lives for equality, justice, mercy, and goodness. For Bill, it helped open the door to his incredible gift as an iconographer. In a recent email about an icon he is painting of the Ukrainian Holy New Martyr Nestor Savchuk, he wrote, “His story is very scary like many martyrs but some stand out as particularly scary - so that doing their icon puts you spiritually in that proximity.” How willing, then, are we to draw close to those who call us to our deepest principles? It may not lead to a martyr’s death – or even falling into a rose bush – but could serve to inspire and motivate others to do the same.

A response from Barbara Radtke: Kathy, it was early in our friendship that you shared with me this story from your childhood. It is one to which we have returned on a number of occasions. Thanks for now sharing it with StllBlooming.blog readers.

You gave us a lot to think about, especially the difference between “playing martyr” and “being a martyr.” I also am reminded of a question that my college friends and I used to argue about: “For what would you give your life: a person, an object even something as big as one’s home, a principle or a cause?” I don’t recall ever reaching individual conclusions, no harm coming to a consensus. Also, I must say my conversations never had such a colorful narrative complete with a neighborhood emperor and a thorn bush in place of a colosseum! More deeply, your entry evokes the innocence of youth when we think that we could so easily give up our lives. Most seriously, it reminds us of all those who make the choice to do so and the depth of their belief to put their life on the line.