
Although the vast majority of Christians live out their vocations in wedded life, there are disproportionately few married saints venerated in our tradition. Of course, there are some familiar names: Mary and Joseph, Anne and Joachim, Elizabeth and Zachary, Aquila and Priscilla. But most of these have ancient biblical roots. When Pope Francis canonized Louis and Zelie Martin, the parents of the “Little Flower” Therese of Lisieux in 2015, it was the first time a couple has been raised to the altars together in the contemporary period.
Overall, Catholics are too often left to imagine the saints as exalted “others” in stained glass windows and statues, and not people who lived like the rest of us, the Christian hoi polloi who actually do the praying and handing on of the tradition at bedsides and kitchen tables and intimate family moments.
Obviously in its early centuries, the assembly of the church underwent vicious waves of persecution under various leaders. One of the most brutal was during the reign of the Emperor Diocletian (284-305 AD), which has been called the Great Persecution. His edict in February 303 ordered churches to be destroyed, books to be burned, prohibited liturgical gatherings and more generally deprived Christians of any kind of civic rights. Eventually the policy called for the torture and execution of those who refused to renounce their faith.
It was not only in Rome where Diocletian was physically present that people suffered. The church had been born further East than that, and so anti-Christian propaganda in places like Syria, Asia Minor,and Egypt urged locals there to carry out these commands with ruthlessness.
It was in the latter that the married couple of Timothy and Maura gave testimony to Christ with their lives. Given the dates mentioned above, it is obvious that this Timothy is not the same as the one mentioned in the New Testament letters. He was rather a lector in the church of Thebais in Upper Egypt. He had been married to Maura for only 20 days before he was denounced as a Christian.
Dragged before the governor Arian, he refused to hand over the Scriptures he used to teach illiterate people in his community about the faith. He underwent appalling tortures before the ultimate attempt to persuade him was conceived. His young wife was hauled before him and threatened under pain of death to convince him to admit his “crimes.”
The two encouraged one another to remain steadfast in their witness, and thus were crucified facing one another as a mockery of their religion. Supposedly they survived this horror for nine days and nights before eventually succumbing. A painting by the Polish artist Henryk Siemiradzki depicts Timothy on his cross looking down as the executioners prepare Maura’s, with a Sphinx and bust of Diocletian in the background setting the locale.
A married couple encouraging and gazing at one another from their own crosses is in many ways an apt image of the Christian life for many of us, and it is a bit surprising to me that more artists and authors have not latched onto its intrinsic power. Perhaps it is such an overwhelming testimony to the mystery of evil, that human beings tremble a bit to portray it too realistically.
Even Siemiradzki has Maura’s cross still under construction on the ground near her feet, and so the viewer is left to imagine the misery that is about to unfold. But it is clear that Timothy and Maura remain models for the sacrament of matrimony for the many of us all these centuries later, where so often two human beings are still attempting to share the journey of faith and guide one another along the path of holiness.
Originally from Collingswood, Michael M. Canaris, Ph.D., teaches at Loyola University, Chicago.













