Born in Antwerp of well-to-do English parents, Page returned to England to study law. He fell in love with the daughter of the Catholic lawyer for whom he served as a clerk, but she refused to marry him were he not Catholic. The more he studied religion, the more he felt drawn to the priesthood, much to the young woman’s chagrin. The young student went to a Jesuit, Father John Gerard, for religious instruction. When Gerard was arrested and incarcerated in the Tower of London, Francis Page stood outside the prison day after day. His suspicious actions led to a brief arrest, but he decided to follow the call and crossed the Channel to Rheims, France, where he entered the English College.
When he returned to London after being ordained in 1600, he was able to do ministry for over a year. He narrowly escaped arrest one time just as he was about to begin celebrating Mass. He barely had time to remove his vestments and then sit in the congregation as though waiting for the priest to appear. The woman who was hosting the Mass in her home, Anne Line, helped him escape but she herself was arrested and later executed for harboring a priest. She was canonized in 1970.
Fourteen months later Page was not so fortunate when he was recognized by a woman who made it her business to turn priests in so she could collect the reward. He took refuge in an inn but she raised such an outcry that the innkeeper kept Page until authorities arrived to seize him. Page’s trial on April 19, 1602 led to a predictable condemnation to die for high treason. He had applied to become a Jesuit but was not able to go back to the Continent to enter the novitiate. The night before he was killed he was allowed to join a Jesuit imprisoned in the adjoining cell; the young priest took vows as a Jesuit, a fact he proudly proclaimed the next day as he stood at the gallows, just before he was hung and then dismembered.
Go here to read the rest.
But at least half the men in attendance at Mass on Easter Sunday in my suburban Dallas parish couldn’t be bothered even to dress “business casual”, much less wear coats and ties. Short sleeves, (mostly t-shirts), shorts, flip flops. On Easter Sunday. The martyrs who risked and often gave their lives just for the sake of being able to attend or celebrate the Mass must be shaking their heads in sadness. May I never be put to that test.
While I empathize with the reaction, Frank– clothes simply don’t mean the same thing they use to. It just doesn’t mean the same thing to own so much as a sport’s coat, much less a suit– dressing up to the point you wear a vest for your own wedding is a style choice.
When my sister in law was married, we went cross country to the wedding…and both my husband’s suit, and our flower-girl daughter’s dress, didn’t make it there.
So we…went and bought new ones, and it wasn’t a long song and dance sorrow tale, it was mildly obnoxious. The replacement dress for the flower girl was actually a 20 dollar Target bargain-rack item that worked perfectly.
… eight hours later, it had some damage, but it looked incredibly nice for the ceremony.
I was pleasantly surprised that not only was our parish overflowing, but that nobody was wearing clothes that made me go “oh for– not a strip club! NOT A STRIP CLUB!”
(I did spend a lot of time smacking myself for shuddering at hem length, though. Like I said, I empathize.)
LOL. The “not a strip club” eye roll. been there, done that. I’m sure you’re right, Foxfier. It’s not just confined to church, either. The idea that one “dresses for” an occasion seems mostly to have disappeared from the culture. More’s the pity. It was, as you know, only one of many small but important indicators of civilized decorum which are gone or obscured now. Maybe our grandkids’ generation will start moving the cycle back in the other direction.
I hope so, we have all these resources to make stuff beautiful.
I dunno … I often wonder what they’d wear for dinner with the Governor or were they invited to the Mayor’s wedding. I know I’d be better off not thinking that.