The courage of the martyrs

WARNING: This post contains spoilers for The Tudors.

One of my guilty pleasures on television is The Tudors, Showtime's lightly fictionalized historical soap opera based on the affairs of King Henry VIII. It is a guilty pleasure because it so blatantly keyed to titillation and melodrama, and because it glamorizes the lives of some fairly reprehensible people. Yet it is also Shakespearean in its thickness of plot and its musings on what people do with, for, and because of power. In addition, by splitting its focus between Henry VIII as a sexed-up, sociopathic "rock star" figure and the religious and political tensions of the period, the show creates a dynamic that lends insight into the many layers of human motivation.

While I enjoy watching beautiful people prance around and have a lot of sex as much as anyone, my favorite character arcs in the show are those that have to do with how people handle moral dilemmas. For example, even though she also comes across as deluded, obsessive, and stubborn, it is hard not to admire Catherine of Aragon's integrity, commitment, and fortitude of will. However, no character's story has gripped me as much as that of Sir Thomas More. Like all characters in The Tudors, More is complex and flawed, but he is also an incredible moral force. While Henry's bottomless lust for sex and power burns up the screen, it is matched by the fire of More's conscience and the courage he displays in following its commands.

More's commitment to his conscience ultimately leads to his martyrdom. Jeremy Northam, the actor who plays More, does an excellent job portraying his engagement with his conscience as a struggle. Though More is a man of faith, he is also consumed with doubt and fear. "I do not willingly seek martyrdom," he tells his wife honestly, though he has become aware that his course of action may lead to it. Despite his fear of death, and his fears about what will happen to his family, he nonetheless refuses to follow commands that require him to contradict his conscience, even when his death has become a certain consequence of his refusal. As they await their trials and sentences, anticipating the worst, More and fellow prisoner Cardinal Fisher share messages of solace and inspiration through a messenger. When both climb the scaffold for their execution and give their final words, despite their palpable fear they also show remarkable courage, moral fortitude, and nobility of spirit.




Watching these scenes reminds me of the ideals to which I aspire. In my commitment to living a just and moral life, I hope that I too will always be able to choose to act in accord with my conscience no matter the consequences. I have long found the Christian martyrs to be inspiring figures. Their willingness to die for their faith and its principles, and their ability to act and speak in ways that were inspiring and uplifting even as they faced their darkest and most fearful moments, testify to the spiritual qualities they cultivated in their lives. There is no greater test of the power of one's courage than to be called to uphold one's principles even in the face of death or great suffering.

Yet I am also aware of the dark and perverse side of religious martyrdom. There are many deluded people whose fanaticism and fearlessness in facing death have led to atrocities. No martyrdom that involves the intent to harm others is a noble martyrdom. Nor is it always the right choice; sometimes egotism, idealism, and the quest for glory can obscure wisdom. Nonetheless, I firmly believe that taking the path of nonviolent resistance, choosing even to give one's life to uphold one's conscience while refusing to harm anyone else, is the apotheosis of the human spirit. It is a profound demonstration of courage, selflessness, compassion, and spiritual power, no matter what one's religion or belief. To seek it willingly may be masochistic and deluded, but to choose it in order not to betray one's conscience is a noble act worthy of the highest praise.

Yet for some, death is not the cause of their greatest fear. Some would choose death over public humiliation or the revelation of personal secrets. Some would choose death over great suffering or disfigurement. Some would die before having to betray their self-image. Some would choose death over having to lose the life familiar to them. In such cases, choosing death is not an act of courage, but an act of cowardice, denial, or self-deception. To die in the service of ego is just another selfish and deluded action, while to die for others or for a greater good is the ultimate expression of selflessness. Those who are most wise know that the self is an illusion and can easily choose to relinquish it when doing so will promote the welfare of others. Such action transcends the realm of belief and testifies to what lies beyond the smallness of self-concern.