Saint Paul Lê Bảo Tịnh

“This prison is truly a living image of the eternal hell,” he wrote. “It is full of chains, cangues, floggings, shouts and curses, filth and death. And yet, right in the middle of this hell on earth, the living God is still with me. He turns the dark prison into a paradise of joy. I write these lines to you from prison to encourage you to stand firm in the faith... Carry the Cross of Christ with me.”

That letter, written in almost unimaginable conditions, came to be seen by many as one of the most heroic pieces of spiritual writing in the history of the Church in Vietnam. Its author was Father Paul Lê Bảo Tịnh, Rector of the Seminary of Vĩnh Trị and one of the finest classical scholars in the Church of northern Vietnam in the nineteenth century. He went through more than seven years of imprisonment under two emperors before shedding his blood at sixty-four.

From childhood Tịnh had a rare sharpness of mind. Taught by the best scholars of the area, he mastered the Four Books and Five Classics and wrote verse in classical Chinese with ease. At twelve he went to live with a priest in the parish of Bạch Phát to learn Latin and test his vocation. Three years later, seeing his gifts, his superiors sent him to the Seminary of Vĩnh Trị, and soon afterward he became a catechist.

That year alone in the cave, cut off from every comfort and even from the support of a community, gave him an iron will and a deep inner life. It was what would carry him through his long years of imprisonment later on, when there would be no cave to withdraw to, only the four walls of a dark cell.

The mandarins tortured him savagely: hundreds of strokes of the rattan, iron pincers tearing at his flesh, attempts to force him to step on the Cross. Paul Tịnh answered only:

“I would rather have my bones broken and my flesh crushed than ever offend the Cross of my Lord.”

Emperor Thiệu Trị’s court sentenced him to death by beheading.

He returned to the Seminary of Vĩnh Trị, where he had studied as a youth, now fifty-four years old, his hair white from the years in prison.

In nearly ten years as rector, Father Paul Lê Bảo Tịnh led the seminary through what many later called its golden age. He was a model teacher, himself teaching Chinese characters, Latin, philosophy and theology in a way that was both learned and easy to follow. Drawing on the classical learning of his youth and on his years of trial in prison and at sea, he compiled catechisms in Nôm script, among them the “Sách Bổn Cả,” which set out the catechism in plain language, and the “Phép Dọn Mình Rước Lễ,” on preparing for Holy Communion. These books nourished the faith of Catholics in the North for decades.

He lived as poorly as the seminarians he was forming, ate sparingly, and spent many sleepless nights before the Blessed Sacrament praying for each of his students. He often reminded the seminarians of something his own life had proved: a future priest must be a man of broad learning, but above all a man in love with the Eucharist, ready to climb Calvary and die for his flock.

The soldiers rushed in and tied him up, wrecked most of the seminary and burned its books and papers, probably including many of his own manuscripts. Then they put a cangue on his neck and took him to the prison in Nam Định.

At the court in Nam Định, the governor and his officials questioned him in person. They were astonished by the old priest’s composure and dignity and by the brilliance of his answers in classical Chinese. They tried both flattery and lavish promises: a ministerial post at court with a generous income, if only he would give up the priesthood and step over the cross.

Father Paul Lê Bảo Tịnh raised his head and answered:

“Your Excellencies, all my life, from my youth until my hair turned white in prison, I have worshiped only God, the common Father of all creatures. I have taught thousands of students to live honestly, to be loyal to the king and his officials and to love their fellow countrymen. I gave this old body to God long ago; if you wish to behead me, go ahead, but I will never betray my faith.”

Unable to shake him, the officials sent the case to the court, and Emperor Tự Đức signed the sentence of beheading.

Catholics bravely took his body and buried it beneath the floor of the church of Vĩnh Trị, the place to which almost the whole of his short but remarkable priesthood had been given. In 1880 his remains were moved to the cathedral of Sở Kiện in Hà Nam.