The Fifth Reflection on the titular painting of the Collegiate Church of St Lawrence, Birgu

Raised up high on our left-hand side, opposite the idol of Hercules and likewise shrouded in darkness, we glimpse Cornelius, the Prefect of the city of Rome. The Praefectus Urbi was responsible for public administration and maintaining order in the city of Rome. Publius Cornelius Saecularis served as Prefect between the years 258 and 260, during a time when Emperor Valerian and his son Gallienus were engaged in military campaigns far from Rome. These were turbulent times in which the stability—and even the very existence—of the empire itself was threatened in various regions by invasions, civil wars, and economic crises.

In the history of the Church, Emperor Valerian is most renowned for his harsh persecution of Christians. While he was at war with the Persians, he sent two letters to the Senate in which he issued orders for action to be taken against Christians. He began by commanding that members of the clergy were to offer sacrifices to the Roman gods or be exiled. In the second letter, sent in early August of the year 258, he ordered that all Christian leaders were to be executed, and Christians in high-ranking public offices were to either offer sacrifices to the gods or forfeit their titles and property—just as noblewomen were to do if they did not renounce the faith.

Cornelius was quick to obey the Emperor’s command and, as St Cyprian of Carthage indicates (Epistula LXXXII), Pope Sixtus II, together with four deacons, was found in one of the catacombs and executed there on 6 August. St Lawrence, however, did not allow the wealth of the Church—which had been accumulated precisely to assist the poor and the most in need—to be confiscated. His was not merely a shrewd act which cost him his life, which he was fully prepared to offer as a fragrant sacrifice to God for the glory of His holy name. St Lawrence revealed where the true treasure of the Church lay: in those who are most vulnerable, for in them Christ crucified is most clearly seen.

And his martyrdom bears witness to this. For what is material wealth compared to love? What is gold compared to the blood of the Saviour, whom St Lawrence served as deacon? Is this not what St Peter says in his First Letter: “You know that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your fathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot” (1 Pt 1:18–19)?

If we are to be honest, at least with ourselves, we must admit that, even if we do not burn incense before idols, we frequently find ourselves gripped by superstition and magic that creep in when true faith weakens. We may not directly deny our belief in God, yet in practice we show otherwise, for there are many idols and gods in whom we place our trust. Or when the god we profess is no longer the God of Jesus Christ, but a convenient god created by us, fashioned in our own image. Or worse, fall into the trap of the emperors and make gods of ourselves!

This temptation is even stronger in a world obsessed by appearances, public opinion, excessive self-care, narcissism and egoism, where everything in life revolves around the self. But the self is a small and very weak idol, one that easily collapses—and, with it, we too collapse—such that, instead of in the purifying and glorious flames, we find ourselves already living in a hell where the self is a fallen and defeated idol, because its foundation was built on clay.

Whereas, from a Christian perspective—because the cross is the enduring form of the life of those who wholeheartedly follow Jesus, with the humility that sets us free—we must embrace what theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar powerfully states:

The meaning of our life: to show our recognition that we are not God.

Hans Urs von Balthasar, Heart of the World, translated into English by Erasmo S. Leiva (San Francisco: Ignatius, 1979), 32.