In Agony

Today is the feast of Saint Agnes, a young Roman lady of 13 or 14 who suffered martyrdom in the persecutions of Diocletian. Her name is in the Roman Canon of the Mass (Eucharistic Prayer I), though I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’ve actually heard it prayed.

On this day, I am always reminded of the two young women we met in Rome, coming out of the Church of Saint Agnes in Agony. They were taking the Angels & Demons tour of Italy, and they were quite upset that the author had taken certain liberties with the facts of people and places.

There’s a line that fiction sometimes crosses into falsehood. I think it happens when the author tries to pass off fiction as fact.

Let me try to explain. I love alternate history novels, but the instant that somebody tries to tell me that Guns of the South contains a true account and the south really did win the Civil War, well, they’re lying.

The author of Angels & Demons on the one hand insists his novel is fiction, but on the other hand he says it with a sly wink as if we who share the secret know better. I don’t know if that crosses the line into lying or not, but it does make him a bit of a jerk.

The Church of Saint Agnes in Agony in Rome (Sant’Agnese in Agone) is, oddly, not named after the agonies of the martyr.

in agone was the ancient name of piazza Navona (“piazza in agone”), and meant instead (from Greek) “in the site of the competitions”, because piazza Navona was an ancient stadium on the Greek model (with one flat end) for footraces. (Wikipedia)

In the popular imagination, of course, it has become Agnes herself who is in agony.

Tristan came home on Saturday. I spent all Sunday with him, including taking him to Mass in the morning. I read the first reading.

He was wearing the gold medal of Saint Benedict I gave him. They took it away from him when he was imprisoned, but he put it on as soon as he left. They were holding the gift I sent him for Christmas, so his first non-prison food in more than two years was fudge from the Gethsemane Trappists.

I continue to pray for the conversion of my children, a source of some agony to me, and for the intercession of Saint Monnica. And today, I will pray to Saint Agnes as well.

Almighty and everlasting God, who chooses those whom the world deems powerless to put the powerful to shame: Grant us so to cherish the memory of your youthful martyr Agnes, that we may share her pure and steadfast faith in you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Edited to add: Father Z has a great piece on Saint Agnes, including a pretty creepy photo of her enshrined skull. Check it out!