The Church of the Martyrs — Crowned in Crimson Glory

Let no man think that the glory of the Church lies in gold or in marble. No! Her beauty is in blood, her fragrance in faith, her crown in martyrdom. Behold Egypt — the land once filled with idols, now flowing with the blood of saints. For from the days of Septimius Severus to Diocletian the tyrant, the Church in Egypt stood like a pillar of fire, unshaken by sword, unbroken by flame, and unconquered by the gates of Hades.

Do you wish to see what faith looks like? Look not to the throne, but to the prison. Look not to the robe of a king, but to the wounds of the confessor. The Church of Alexandria, she is not dressed in purple, but in the crimson of her martyrs. From the blessed Clement, driven into exile, to Pope Dionysius, seized and cast out, the line of suffering is a lineage of glory. And when Diocletian unsheathed the sword, intending to silence Christ’s flock, he only multiplied their voices. More than 800,000 souls, men, women, and children, preferred death with Christ to life without Him. They chose the cross over compromise, the flame over falsehood, the crown of thorns over the applause of the world.

And what did God do? He did not forsake them. He gave them the crown of life (Revelation 2:10), and to us, a calendar soaked in witness — the Year of the Martyrs, beginning in 284 A.D., that we might not forget that the Church is watered not by rain, but by blood.

Their voice has not ceased. The ground still trembles with their testimony. Even in our days, have we not seen the 21 crowned on the shores of Libya, crying “Ya Rab Yasou‘” with lips unshaken? Have we not witnessed the faithful fall on Palm Sunday, not with fear, but with faith?

O what a sermon is preached by blood! Better than the tongue of man is the silence of a martyr’s sacrifice. For the blood of the martyrs cries louder than the voice of a thousand orators, and the soul that is slain for Christ preaches with its wounds.

Do you think their faith was rare? No! It is the inheritance of every Coptic child, every faithful elder, every servant in every generation. For the Church in Egypt is not only the Mother of Martyrs, she is the Mother of Saints — and her womb is the altar, her voice is Scripture, and her breath is the Holy Spirit.

Indeed, if all the martyrs of the world were placed on one scale, and the martyrs of Egypt on the other, the scale would tilt toward the land of the Nile, as even the ancient Tertullian declared.

So let us not merely admire them — let us follow them. Let us be martyrs in will, if not in blood. Let us be witnesses in a world of compromise. And may their holy prayers surround us, strengthen us, and carry us to Him who conquered death by death — our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.