The Ravine

Somewhere in the ravine at the Shrine of the North American Martyrs is buried the body of Rene Goupil, one of the first martyrs on this continent.

Nobody knows exactly where. His companion, St. Isaac Jogues, buried what was left of him after the dogs, crows and foxes took their part; and, as you walk down through the woods to the ravine, you become aware that you are in what Pope Pius XII called “nature's own reliquary.”

The shrine is in Auriesville, N.Y., 40 miles west of Albany. Here the French Jesuits John de Brebeuf, Isaac Jogues and Goupil were taken captive by the Mohawk Indians in 1642. Their feast is celebrated Oct. 19.

The ravine is in one corner of the property, but it is really the heart of the shrine. For here you come face to face with the price of our faith, and the chance to measure your faith against that of the martyrs.

As my 18-year-old son, Bobby, and I, read the first few plaques along the trail to the ravine, we were plunged into the sense of danger the missionaries put themselves in by coming to America. The account on the plaques is distilled from Father Jogues’ writings:

“We paused at the gate of the stockade to hear what the two Iroquois had to say. One of them drew a tomahawk from under his blanket, and dealt Rene a blow on the head. Rene fell prostrate to the ground, uttering the holy name of Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. We had often reminded each other to end our speech and our lives with that most holy name. At the sound of the blow, I turned around and beheld the tomahawk dripping with blood. I fell to my knees to receive the blow that would unite me to my dear companion.”

St. Isaac continues the story, saying how the Indians ordered him back to his long house, and there he awaited that day and the next the same deadly tomahawk. “But our Lord averted this,” he says. Then he describes how, early the next morning, at the risk of his life, he went in search of Goupil's body in order to give him a decent burial.

At one end of the ravine is a little memorial to Goupil, and about 50 yards away a statue depicting him making the Sign of the Cross over an Indian lad. It was this gesture that enraged the Indians and led directly to his death.

Bobby said he felt in awe to be in a place where a martyr had died for Christ, one who loved Jesus so much that he died with his name on his lips. “The ravine showed the triumph of the Gospel,” my son told me. “The martyrs didn't die in vain.” And, in fact, Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha was born nearby a decade later.

Re-tracing the North American Martyrs’ steps made us want to be like them — to love Christ and the Church the way they did, to be ready to give our lives for Jesus.

Are we ready?

Bob Horning writes from Ann Arbor, Michigan.