Tag: courage

When Staying Becomes a Crime

He stayed when he could have run. In a world that calls loyalty foolish, Pedro reminds us what courage really is.

Saint Pedro Calungsod in the Modern Times

Pedro Calungsod was 17 years old, a Filipino catechist who went with Jesuit missionaries to Guam in the 1600s. He helped Fr. Diego Luis de San Vitores teach and baptize those who wished to join the faith.

A man named Choco spread a rumor that the baptismal water was poison. Because of fear, Chief Matå’pang got angry when his child was baptized with the mother’s permission only. Matå’pang attacked Fr. Diego. Pedro could have escaped but chose to stay by his side. Both were killed, and their bodies were thrown into the sea.

If Pedro Calungsod’s story happened now, no one would call him a saint.

People would say it was a crime. They’d ask why a priest baptized a child without the father’s consent. They’d question why a teenager didn’t run for safety. Some would call it foolish, not holy.

That’s how the world changed. People look at the surface—law, mistake, reaction. No one asks what was inside the choice.

Pedro stayed beside Fr. Diego when he could have escaped. He didn’t stay for reward, fame, or even a selfie to prove he was there. He stayed because loyalty meant something real to him. That’s what makes his death different.

He wasn’t trying to prove faith. He was simply being true when fear said to run.

And that’s what strikes hardest today—choosing others over your own life doesn’t come naturally anymore. But it did for him. And that’s why his story still matters.

⌨ ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

Traces of courage, silence, and sacrifice—this is Saints.

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Saints John de Brébeuf, Isaac Jogues, and Companions—The Canadian Martyrs

Eight Jesuits crossed an ocean for love and faith—and found Heaven through fire in the wild lands of early Canada.

In the early 1600s, eight Jesuit missionaries left France for a land of cold rivers and endless forests—with only courage and the Cross. John de Brébeuf, Isaac Jogues, Gabriel Lalemant, Charles Garnier, Noël Chabanel, Antoine Daniel, René Goupil, and John de Lalande.

They lived among the Huron people, peaceful farmers who welcomed them as friends. The missionaries learned their language, helped the sick, and shared their food. Because of their long black cassocks, the people called them “black robes.”

But nearby lived the Iroquois tribes, strong warriors and old enemies of the Hurons. When war broke out, the Iroquois thought the black robes were spies. Then disease spread through villages, and some blamed the missionaries, thinking their prayers and crosses brought bad luck.

Isaac Jogues and René Goupil were captured by the Mohawk, part of the Iroquois. Goupil was killed for making the Sign of the Cross. Jogues escaped to France but returned—knowing he might die. When he came back with John de Lalande, both were killed, accused again of bringing sickness.

In the north, John de Brébeuf and Gabriel Lalemant were tortured and burned but never denied their faith. Antoine Daniel died protecting his people at the altar. Charles Garnier was shot while helping the wounded, and Noël Chabanel was murdered by a man he once trusted.

They never fought back. They forgave. Between 1642 and 1649, all eight gave their lives for love that refused to hate.

Now they are called the North American Martyrs, men who entered a land of fear and left it shining with peace.

⌨ ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

Traces of courage, silence, and sacrifice—this is Saints.

Listen on Apple Music, Apple Music Classical, and YouTube Music