Birth, Childhood, and Youth

Ghebre Michael, whose name means “Servant of Saint Michael,” was of Ethiopian origin and was born in 1791 in Dibo, a small village in the Godjam region, located east of the Blue Nile.

His parents owned a flock, which he tended in the afternoons. They were very religious, followers of the Monophysite confession (a belief in only one nature in Christ), and they raised him in that faith. His father’s name was Ato Akilo, and his mother’s name remains unknown.

An accident, followed by an illness, caused him to lose one eye; yet, this did not prevent him from entering clerical life in Gondar, where he devoted himself to study and learned, under excellent teachers, Ethiopian chant and music.

From an early age, he was restless; people said he had a lively spirit and an open mind. This disposition led him to never settle for half-truths or accept what was commonly believed without seeking arguments. As a young man, he frequented monastery libraries, searching for a deeper knowledge of religious truths.

At the age of nineteen, he entered the monastery of Mertule-Mariam, and after six years of novitiate, he received the white religious tunic and the solemn imposition of the white cap.

Monastic life at the time was filled with pointless discussions and simple philosophical disquisitions, without delving into more significant matters such as the true faith regarding Christ’s identity, the Church, or the religious unity of the nation. He formed a strong friendship with the learned monk Aleka Velde Selassie, and his pursuit of perfection and authenticity in religious life sparked interest among other monks, many of whom came to hear his talks. Among these listeners was the future King of Abyssinia.

In Search of the Truth

Writing to Fr. Etienne, Superior General of the Congregation of the Mission, on June 29, 1858, Monsignor Justin de Jacobis, Vicar Apostolic of Abyssinia, requested that he kindly accept a portrait of the martyr Ghebre Michael, and added:

“To this portrait… I’ve added a Latin epitaph, in which I call him a seminarian of the Mission. In reality, he was only a postulant, as his time of vocation could only be counted from the moment he would have begun his internal seminary. Now, at that very moment, he was already in prison. Nevertheless, he already belonged to the Congregation of the Mission in heart.”

The petition for admission had been submitted, and he had been accepted; only circumstances beyond his control delayed the formal reception. That being the case, could Ghebre Michael not be called, at least in a broad sense, a priest of the Mission?

Given his spiritual disposition, no life suited him better than the monastic one. He entered a monastery at the age of twenty-five, and soon professed the vows of poverty and chastity.

Worldly goods and pleasures held little attraction for him; there was only one thing he sought: the truth. The more he studied, the more dark clouds gathered in his spirit.

At that time, schismatic Abyssinia was divided into three sects, all of which recognized the authority of the Coptic Patriarch of Cairo: the Kevats, the Tseggalidjs, and the Ueldé-Kebs. The main point of contention among them was the union of Christ’s divine and human natures. The subtleties and sophisms employed in their arguments echoed the theological controversies of the Byzantine Empire. They grew heated over mere words and formulas whose meanings they did not fully grasp. Religious sects became intertwined with political factions, and theological disputes often escalated into battles on the field.

Though born into the Kevats tradition, Ghebre Michael was too intelligent to adhere to any doctrine solely out of family tradition.

Having searched in vain at Debré-Motsá for a monk who could explain the monastic directory, he went to the School of Gondar, the most renowned academic institution in Abyssinia at the time. Two eminent professors taught there: Halika Ueldé Sellasié and Azadj Lamién. From the first, he learned the book of the monks, ecclesiastical computation, the Bible, and astronomy; under the guidance of the second, he interpreted several works.

The conclusion he drew from his studies was clear: the teachings of the books did not match those of the doctors from the three schools. These very books, which he had read and studied to determine which sect to follow, proved to him that all the schismatics lived in error. What was left to do? Search more, ask questions, go from monastery to monastery, and when possible, leave Abyssinia for Palestine, to reach Jerusalem, where he believed the traditions concerning Christ were deeper and more authentic than anywhere else.

Ghebre Michael traveled extensively. If someone had come across him on the road, staff in hand and saddlebags on his shoulders, and asked, “What are you seeking?”, he would have replied: “The truth.” The truth: that was his sole concern.

He sought it for himself, and also for others, because he took joy in sharing what he had learned. He felt a deep calling to teach. He mainly taught in Gondar, where many prominent students came to him, drawn by his reputation—among them, the son of Emperor Teklé Giorghis, who would later become Emperor Johannes.

He was regarded as one of the most outstanding teachers in Abyssinia; some even claimed he surpassed all others. He earned the nickname “the man with four eyes,” meaning that nothing escaped his notice.

Soon, providential circumstances would unite Ghebre Michael with Father Justin de Jacobis, a priest of the Mission who was working from his residence in Adua to reintroduce Catholicism into a land from which heresy had nearly eradicated it.

Journey to Cairo, Rome, and Jerusalem

The death of Abuna Kyrillos left the Ethiopian Church without a leader. It was customary, before appointing a new bishop, to establish a special tax known as the “Abuna ransom fee.” Each faithful contributed four or five coins annually until the amount was deemed sufficient to satisfy the Coptic Patriarch of Cairo, who held the authority to name the new bishop.

To that end, a delegation of thirty representatives was formed, selected from among the most eminent figures from the empire’s three provinces, and placed under the leadership of a prince of royal blood. These ambassadors traveled to Cairo, accompanied by monks, secretaries, and servants, to present their petition to the patriarch and offer gifts to secure his goodwill.

When the amount reached ten thousand talaris, it was deemed sufficient. Apta Salassia, a relative of the King of Choa and prime minister of King Ubié, was appointed head of the delegation, which also included Ghebre Michael. Seeking a trustworthy guide to lead and, if needed, protect his envoys, Ubié chose Father de Jacobis.

After some hesitation, the missionary accepted—but on two conditions: that freedom of Catholic worship be guaranteed throughout the country and that his travel companions be allowed to go to Rome after completing their mission. Though he had no illusions about the prejudices of these men against the Roman Church, he trusted that the reality of what they would witness—especially in the Eternal City—would gradually dispel their absurd notions.

On January 21, 1841, near Adua, Father de Jacobis first met the ambassadors, who were preparing to depart for Cairo. What he endured due to their rudeness, distrust, and hostility exceeded his expectations. Yet his virtue eventually won their hearts. In Suez, after two weeks at sea, two-thirds of the deputies promised to follow him to Rome.

After five more days crossing the desert sands—exposed to Bedouin attacks, one of which forced them to take up arms at night—they finally reached their destination.

Father de Jacobis desired nothing more than to go to Rome before Jerusalem. Twenty-three deputies agreed to accompany him, including Apta Salassia and Ghebre Michael. They departed from Alexandria in mid-June. The missionary wrote:

“The journey to Rome will change the minds of my poor Abyssinians; for them, it will be the best course in theology. The Lord, who has done so much for us, will continue to protect us.”

Until then, the travelers believed Abyssinia to be superior to Western countries, both in the beauty of its monuments and in the purity of its faith and piety of its faithful. But upon arriving in Rome, they were astonished by the magnificent sacred and civic buildings, the artistic wonders, the crowds filling the churches, and the majesty of liturgical ceremonies, accompanied by the harmonies of organs and choirs.

They arrived in Rome on August 12, 1841, during the pontificate of Pope Gregory XVI, who received the Abyssinians in audience on August 17. A biographer of Mons. de Jacobis recounts:

“Three stools were placed at the foot of the Pope’s throne for Prince Apta Salassia, the monk Ghebre Michael, and a Jacobite priest, Abba Resedebra—a church leader and local nobleman. These three were admitted first, alone. After prostrating and kissing the Pope’s sandal, they were invited to sit. A moving and simple conversation followed, with Fr. de Jacobis and Cardinal Mezzofanti interpreting. After a few minutes, the Pope ordered that the entire delegation be admitted. Each was presented to him and allowed to kiss his foot—from the highest-ranking monks to the lowliest servants. The letter from the Dedjaz was handed to the Pope, who broke the triple seal himself and had it read aloud. It was translated line by line by the interpreters. Then, the main delegates stepped forward and apologized that, due to their poverty, they could not offer richer gifts. Instead, they placed incense, Ethiopian spices, and rare birds at the Pope’s feet.”

The Pope’s kind reception, the splendor of the encounter, and the spirit of charity that permeated it all, made a profound impression on the Abyssinians, especially on Ghebre Michael.

“Come back before you leave,” Pope Gregory XVI told them, “for I wish to give you my farewell blessing.”

During his time in Rome, Ghebre lived alongside Father Justin de Jacobis, and was deeply moved by his consistency between faith and life, his uprightness, intelligence, personal humility, simplicity, and his fidelity to the Roman Church.

On August 29, they were received once more in the Throne Room, where the Pope, surrounded by prelates and court officials, read aloud a letter addressed to King Ubié, blessed each delegate individually, gave them medals of gold or silver, and sent gifts for the king.

The next day, Prince Apta Salassia, Ghebre Michael, and their companions received the final blessing of the Vicar of Christ in the Piazza del Popolo, just before leaving the city for Loreto.

During one of the Pope’s Masses, Ghebre Michael and his close friend Amarié Kenfú whispered to one another as they watched the deep Eucharistic devotion of the Roman faithful:

“Do you see the living faith of the sons of Pope Leo, the very people we once reviled?”

Though they did not convert in Rome, they were very close. In three young monks, however, grace acted more fully: they renounced their errors, entered the Propaganda Seminary, and were later ordained priests and sent back to Abyssinia to spread the Catholic faith.

Father de Jacobis wanted to visit Naples, where he had received his religious vocation. His companions followed him there twice, spending several weeks.

Eventually, they had to leave. The Abyssinians sailed for Alexandria on October 5, 1841. Near Jaffa, Amarié Kenfú fell seriously ill. Fearing death—or perhaps more, the loss of his eternal soul—he became distressed. Time was short, and he had to decide. He consulted Ghebre Michael, who replied:

“Do what seems best to you.”

The sick man abjured his former beliefs, received the Eucharist, and would have received the last rites had he not recovered. He persevered in the faith and went on to become one of Father de Jacobis’s most devoted lay collaborators in the evangelization of Abyssinia.

Despite the joy they experienced in Rome, the pilgrims had not forgotten their desire to visit the holy places of Christ’s earthly life. In Jerusalem, their first visit was to the Holy Sepulcher. Their tears mingled with joy as they contemplated the sufferings and death of the divine Crucified One.

They did not forget Bethlehem either. On November 28, they arrived there. Father de Jacobis wrote:

“Escorted by my travel companions, I made my way to the altar consecrated to the Incarnate Word. Amid the tears of all present—especially the Abyssinians—I began, continued, and completed the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. I had not yet finished when a small child, whose Christian mother knelt at the foot of the altar, began to cry. These innocent cries stirred every heart, awakening the memory of those divine cries that shattered our chains. If one does not weep in such circumstances, when and for what would one weep?”

News of the twenty-three Abyssinians’ journey to Rome had already spread throughout Palestine and was widely commented on in monasteries and other places. As often happens, the facts were distorted. Some claimed the pilgrims had renounced their religion to join the Catholics and obey the same doctrines and leaders. In Gaza, a schismatic Greek priest alluded to the trip to Rome during a conversation with the delegates. They responded by driving him out.

While passing through Cairo, they felt obligated to make a courtesy visit to the Coptic Patriarch. He had previously ordered Abuna Salama, under threat of interdict, to teach that “the Son is the anointing.” Seeing an opportunity to challenge this doctrine, Ghebre Michael didn’t let it slip away. He cited scriptural passages to show that the teaching contradicted Holy Scripture.

The Patriarch replied: “This is what all Eastern Churches teach—those of the Levant, the Armenians, the Greeks, and even the Protestants. If you don’t believe me, you can confirm it yourself during your stay in this city.”

Ghebre Michael took him at his word. He met with representatives of different religions, asked about their doctrines, and proved that the Patriarch had misrepresented the truth. He returned to him and said:

“I’ve spoken with Armenians, Greeks, and Protestants, and they all agree with me: that Christ, as man, is anointed by the Holy Spirit—and thus, He is not the anointing itself.”

The Patriarch replied: “Yes, I believe the same. But I ordered Abuna and his predecessor to teach that the Son is the anointing because of a letter from your country. It was signed by three of your compatriots and said: ‘Since there are nine factions, if you command under pain of interdict that the Son be declared the anointing, all will return to unity.’ So, I ordered it—solely to restore doctrinal unity.”

Ghebre Michael, unwavering, responded:

“You admit the doctrine is false. You say you want unity. But unity must be sought in truth, not in error.”

Because of this exchange, the Patriarch wrote a letter to Abuna Salama, stating that Jesus Christ is anointed by the Holy Spirit. Ghebre Michael agreed to deliver the letter himself.

Toward the Truth

On April 23, after a fifteen-month absence, the pilgrims from Rome and Jerusalem arrived in Massawa. News of their return quickly spread across Abyssinia. It also became known that Ghebre Michael was carrying a letter from the Patriarch. Some priests from the Ueld-Kebh sect, fearing that the contents of the letter would undermine their doctrine, met in council and resolved to kill him.

Ghebre Michael, warned of the plot, separated from his companions in Eghela and took refuge in the monastery of Debré-Betsúh-Amlak. The monks initially welcomed him warmly. But during a theological discussion, when they heard him declare that “Jesus Christ is a priest in His humanity, not by nature,” they rose up to beat him.

Ghebre Michael fled in haste. He spent the rainy season in Hamassién and then crossed through Tigray to reach Adua, where Fr. de Jacobis was living. He received him affectionately and gave him a few days of rest in his home. Once again, Ghebre was deeply moved by his kindness, gentleness, consistency between faith and life, uprightness, intelligence, personal humility, simplicity, and his fidelity to the Roman Church.

His theological studies and discussions had led him to the conclusion that none of the Monophysite factions in which Abyssinian monks were divided possessed the truth, for they all contradicted the Gospel, which states:

“The Word became flesh” (John 1:14).

Disillusioned and deeply disturbed, he once again turned to Fr. de Jacobis, who at the time was at the monastery of Gunde-Gunde. There, he was received with great affection.

His love for the truth and his search for the true Church of Jesus Christ advanced together. Surrounded by silence, he remained in a posture of listening, and that interior disposition allowed him to recognize the Truth. When he finally understood with full clarity that Catholicism was the natural outcome and legitimate continuation of the doctrine of the early Church, he decided to convert and enter the Catholic Church.

Once back in Gondar, his intention was to deliver the Patriarch’s letter to the Abuna in the presence of an assembly of priests, hoping that this act would unite the people of Ethiopia in one faith. Unity was his constant concern. Had he succeeded, perhaps he would never have left the schism. But God, who delights in frustrating human plans to fulfill His own, was guiding him—without his realizing it—toward the Roman Church, where his spirit would find peace and light.

The journey from Adua to Gondar nearly cost him his life. Ueld-Kebh supporters, who were watching his every move, were determined to stop him from delivering the letter. One of their agents traveled with him, and managed to poison his food. Fortunately, Ghebre Michael took a powerful antidote in time and was saved from death.

Upon reaching Gondar, he shared his plans with some friends. Some encouraged him, while others tried to dissuade him. They warned him that the Abuna was deceitful, vengeful, and hot-tempered. If the contents of the Patriarch’s letter displeased him—as was likely—who could stop him from suppressing or ignoring it?

Ghebre Michael thought that by presenting the letter publicly, in front of a large clerical assembly, the Abuna would be forced to acknowledge it during the session.

But things did not go as he hoped. The day the Abuna received the letter, while presiding over a clergy gathering, he took the paper as if it were a trivial matter, slipped it into his pocket, and refused to read it.

Ghebre Michael was stunned by such audacity and exclaimed:

“Since you scorn the authority of your father, the Patriarch, you are hereby suspended from your sacred orders!”

Furious, the Abuna shouted:

“By my death, strike him and put him in chains!”

The order was carried out immediately. Fortunately, that same day, the Abuna learned that Ghebre Michael enjoyed the favor of Emperor Atsié Johannes and the Empress. Fearing their wrath, he softened the punishment and issued only a sentence of excommunication, which he personally delivered.

He summoned Ghebre Michael and said angrily:

“Leave me; you are excommunicated. Do not associate with your friends anymore.”

Ghebre Michael replied:

“Have I not already told you that from this day forward, you have no power over me? How then can you excommunicate me?”

The wise monk took refuge with Emperor Atsié Johannes, spending the rainy season in his company. But, disillusioned and disheartened, seeing nothing but doctrinal contradictions, corruption, and lacking any real means to accomplish his mission of unity, he turned once again to Fr. de Jacobis. This great teacher and light of the Church in Ethiopia became a disciple of the humble Catholic missionary.

Grace worked in his heart; light flooded his soul. The Truth he had long sought stood before him, and at last he could say: “I have found it!”

Yet, a scruple still troubled him. He had once sworn to Ueldé Sellassié never to adopt a new doctrine without his consent. His conscience would not allow him to break that promise. So, he consulted his friend, who told him:

“If you wish, speak with Fr. Jacobis—but don’t act impulsively. Yield only to the evidence.”

Ghebre Michael obeyed. In September 1843, after five months of reflection in a fraternal atmosphere of study and prayer, he delved into the foundations of the Catholic faith. He made his profession of faith in the presence of Fr. Justin de Jacobis, saying:

“I surrender. Receive me.”

In February 1844, Fr. Justin formally received him into the small Catholic community of the mission, thus welcoming him into Christ’s humble flock. There could be no doubt: it was an open and honest conscience that had led him to this step.

From that moment, his life became inseparably linked to Fr. de Jacobis, who became his spiritual father and sure guide, and at his side he learned the Vincentian missionary spirit.

The news of his conversion caused great stir among Abyssinia’s schismatic circles. Some reasoned that if Ghebre Michael had embraced the Catholic faith, then that faith must be true, and they followed his example. Others, like Ueldé Sellassié, congratulated him, though excusing themselves from following him.

But Abuna Salama could not contain his rage. He waited patiently for the hour of revenge.

Life of Teaching and Apostolate

The newly converted Ghebre Michael remained almost constantly at the side of Fr. Justin de Jacobis. He accompanied him from Adua to Entidjá, from Entidjá to Guala, and from Guala to the village of Alitiena.

In Guala, in June 1845, Justin de Jacobis founded the College of the Immaculate Conception, which served as both a seminary and a school for the local youth. This center was also a house of prayer and study.

To Ghebre Michael was entrusted the task of teaching the seminarians, a mission for which he had a deep calling:

“The Lord filled him with the spirit of God, giving him wisdom, understanding, and knowledge in all kinds of skills—to devise artistic designs and to execute them… and to teach others.” (Exodus 35:31–34)

The Apostle Paul’s words of blessing to his beloved disciple Timothy could undoubtedly be applied to Ghebre, as though they came from the very heart of Justin:

“Watch your life and your doctrine closely. Persevere in them; for by doing so, you will save both yourself and your hearers.” (1 Timothy 4:16)

Truth, the light of the mind, demands the heart to follow it. In this way, truth becomes an inward strength; and the difficult conquest of truth naturally flows into the consistent practice of charity.

Ghebre Michael understood that knowledge alone cannot satisfy the human person; we also need to love, that is, to communicate positively and to share what we have learned. On that path, one becomes truly wise, achieving a vital synthesis between truth and virtue, and thus contributing to the genuine renewal of society.

In addition to teaching, Ghebre dedicated himself to writing books for his students, translating the catechism, dogmatic theology, and moral theology into the Ge‘ez language; he defended the Catholic faith through preaching and writing; and he also instructed European missionaries in Abyssinian customs and traditions.

He spent most of each day training and forming the small group of seminarians gathered by the mission’s superior.

A letter from Fr. de Jacobis to Paris outlines the curriculum and daily practices:

“As for the religious aspect of education, we have chosen to follow no other method than that of St. Vincent. Our students are gradually being formed through all the pious exercises customary in the Congregation: meditations on the truths and maxims of the Gospel, spiritual reading, conferences, repetition of prayer, particular and general examinations, even internal communication and the Friday chapter. All these holy practices, accompanied by the frequent reception of the sacraments, seem to me well suited to nourish the simple and fervent faith of our neophytes.”

“As for the scientific aspect, it is widely recognized that the Abyssinian mind is capable of mastering every branch of knowledge. We would therefore endeavor to teach our students the basic elements of the main subjects taught in Europe: geography, sacred and secular history, mathematics, physics with some geology, anatomy and botany, logic, metaphysics, and, for those called to the priesthood, theology. Since Ge‘ez is the sacred and scholarly language of Abyssinia, we will adopt it as the language of instruction; in addition, we’ll teach some of the more widespread European languages.”

While Ghebre Michael poured himself into the service of his seminarians, a painful incident would put his virtue to the test.

The house’s procurator, Ueldé Gabriel, had an exaggerated concern for economy. He wanted poverty and privation for both himself and others. To avoid paying wages, he dismissed all the servants, which meant that necessary chores—housekeeping, cleaning, and cooking—fell entirely to the seminarians, who had to fetch water from the spring and firewood from the mountain. Naturally, the time spent on these tasks came at the expense of their studies.

Ghebre Michael suffered on behalf of the students, and the disciples voiced their complaints. Discontent eventually turned into unrest. The situation reached its breaking point during Fr. de Jacobis’s absence, as he had gone to Massawa, summoned by Bishop Massaia, Vicar Apostolic of the Gallas, to confer on him episcopal consecration (January 7, 1849).

The crisis escalated under the influence of Ueldé Kyrillos, a priest of the house who had been ordained in Rome after studying at the Propaganda Seminary. The procurator was thrown into prison.

Mons. de Jacobis rushed back when informed and, through his presence, restored peace. Everyone acknowledged their faults; they forgave one another on their knees, embraced, and tried to forget the unfortunate incident.

Sadly, Ghebre Michael had placed his complete trust in Ueldé Kyrillos. The events at Alitiena lingered in his mind, despite his efforts to move on. He no longer felt as attached to the house as before. Ueldé Kyrillos, by sowing discontent, deepened his inner unrest, which soon became a door for temptation.

Ghebre Michael asked Mons. de Jacobis for permission to travel to Gondar, where he hoped to work with the missionaries there to convert his former friends, especially his former student, Emperor Johannes. Afterward, he intended to join Bishop Massaia among the Gallas.

Mons. de Jacobis pleaded in vain for him to remain. Ghebre Michael departed, taking with him several Amharic Catholics. Ueldé Kyrillos also left, but with ulterior motives. He joined forces with Abuna Salama, apostatized, betrayed the man he had called a friend the day before, and sought to hand him over to the Ethiopian bishop.

As Ghebre Michael and his companions entered Adua, they were discovered, arrested, chained, and imprisoned in the Abuna’s dungeons for seventy days.

King Ubié was unaware of what had happened, even though the persecutors claimed to act in his name. Once he was informed, he ordered the release of the prisoners.

The dungeon and the treachery of Ueldé Kyrillos had opened Ghebre Michael’s eyes. He made his way back to Alitiena. As he approached the village, Mons. de Jacobis came out to meet him, accompanied by priests and a large group of Catholics. They threw themselves at his feet, kissed the marks of his chains, and thanked the Lord for having found him worthy to suffer for Jesus Christ. The group processed joyfully, singing hymns, back to the missionaries’ residence.

Ghebre resumed his life of prayer and study; he returned to teaching and theological debate.

Some time later, Mons. de Jacobis discerned that the time had come to elevate him to the priesthood. The ordination took place on January 1, 1851, at the age of fifty-nine, seven years after his conversion, in the small and humble church of Alitiena, in secrecy and without ceremony. He was the first priest ordained by the new Vicar Apostolic.

Fr. de Jacobis said of him:

“Ghebre Michael is an Abyssinian of genius—perceptive, upright, active, and exemplary—who has always sought the true faith through rigorous study. Who is more worthy than he to receive Holy Orders? I consider myself fortunate to have promoted his elevation to the priesthood as my very first act.”

From the moment of his ordination, Fr. Ghebre Michael resolved to love God above all things and to follow Him without reservation. He thus embraced the missionary responsibility of his faith, devoting himself fully to the apostolic ministry, while continually contemplating the mystery of salvation. He affirmed that dogma is essential, and firmly rejected the reduction of Christianity to a mere religious feeling.

He recognized the scope of his responsibilities as a minister of God. From then on, spreading the faith and sanctifying souls became his deepest concerns. He continued teaching young clerics theology, science, and literature, and he received, as before, lay faithful seeking to deepen their religious formation.

He played a major role in the mission’s publishing efforts. He wrote a grammar and a Ge‘ez dictionary for his seminarians; he assisted Fr. Biancheri, a fellow missionary, in composing a compendium of dogmatic theology; and he helped Mons. de Jacobis translate Fr. Gury’s moral theology into Ge‘ez. Together, they also produced a catechism in three Abyssinian dialects: Ge‘ez, Amharic, and Tigrinya.

But his growing activity did not go unnoticed…

Prison and Martyrdom

The years 1852 and 1853 passed in relative peace. But Abuna Salama, humiliated, waited for his opportunity to take revenge—an opportunity that was now drawing near.

In 1854, Monsignor de Jacobis traveled to Gondar to confer sacred orders. His presence rekindled hostility against Catholicism. He had planned to visit the Kingdom of Choa, but aware that ambushes might await him, he decided to remain where he was, awaiting better times. But those better times never came. The Abuna, intensifying his efforts, managed to unleash a fierce persecution.

The military successes of an ambitious adventurer—who rose from ordinary soldier to Governor of Amhara, and finally took the imperial throne as Theodore II—fueled the Abuna’s plans. Originally named Kassá, this future emperor dreamed of transforming Abyssinia into a great and unified nation—unified in leadership and in faith. This goal delighted the Abuna, who envisioned himself as the sole supreme religious authority.

Once Kassá gained control, he issued an edict of religious union:

“If anyone does not believe that Jesus Christ is God in His humanity, and that as man He possesses the same knowledge as the Holy Spirit—I will cut off his head while he stands, or cut off his leg if he kneels.“

On July 15, 1854, the clergy, nobility, military, and people gathered in Gondar, before the imperial palace, and swore to uphold this new profession of faith.

Only the Catholics of the city and surrounding areas refused to betray their conscience. Among them were Ghebre Michael, the two Tecla Haymanot brothers (both priests), Abba Tesfá, and Abba Seclá (both religious).

Days before, Mons. de Jacobis had urged them to go into hiding, to avoid persecution. But they responded:

“No, Father, we will not abandon you. The hour has come to suffer for Jesus Christ. We must confess the Catholic faith—this faith so slandered and outraged in our wretched homeland—even at the cost of our freedom and our lives. Let it be seen, by the strength that God gives such weak men as us, that His almighty power lies in this faith. We will not leave you, Father.“

And indeed, it became evident that they were animated by divine strength.

When their turn came to profess the new creed, they responded with a threefold declaration of unwavering fidelity to the Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman faith.

They were allowed to leave peacefully, but before the day ended, a group of soldiers raided the residence of Mons. de Jacobis, taking him to the civil prison, and dragging his five companions to the Abuna’s dungeons.

Ghebre Michael had the most to fear from the Abuna’s hatred. Mons. de Jacobis later wrote:

“No sooner had he entered the prison than the Abuna’s henchmen struck him with fists and sticks—brutally and at length. His chest was nearly crushed, even reaching his lungs, causing heavy bleeding. He was so mistreated that the next day the city buzzed with the news of his death.“

But the Abuna’s goal was not merely to harm him—it was to make him apostatize. After physical abuse failed, he turned to promises, threats, and deceit. Around the sixth day, a messenger arrived with a false report:

“Mons. de Jacobis has asked to reconcile with the Abuna. Why remain stubborn? Follow his example—reconcile with your bishop.“

The prisoners were not deceived. Ghebre Michael replied:

“That is the typical language persecutors use with martyrs.“

Since many schismatics had missed the July 15 assembly, Kassá called for another so they could publicly adhere to the new faith. The five prisoners were led there in chains, and just as before, they declared themselves Catholic and rejected any doctrine not in line with the Catholic Church.

Angered by their unyielding stance, they were subjected to a gruesome punishment called the ghend.

The ghend, resembling a Chinese cangue, was a form of torture. It immobilized the legs by locking them tightly together in a massive piece of wood with a central opening, secured by a heavy wooden pin. To remove the device, one had to saw it in half. The wood pressed from the top of the foot to the knee, and its rough interior pierced the flesh like thorns. The victim was forced to lie on their back, exposed to damp ground and insects.

After about a week, one of the prisoners figured out how to sit up, and the others followed. Wearing only undergarments, they were tormented by cold, and the rain turned the floor into mud.

Their jailers showed no mercy. Compared to them, wrote Mons. de Jacobis, his own guards were lambs:

“They were like leopards, from the very breed that roared around the glorious martyr St. Ignatius of Antioch.“

Their food was meager—sometimes nonexistent. One day, a young priest in the cell spoke:

“Father, they’ve stopped giving us bread and water—anything at all. I heard that such a fast can kill a man in three days. That time must be up by now.“

Ghebre Michael replied:

“My son, in this darkness, we can’t tell day from night—how could we count the days? But I believe that with a fast like ours, one can live through an entire octave.“

The priest added:

“Even so, Father, we must be close to that blessed day when we’ll see Jesus face to face and be filled with His glorious presence.“

Ghebre, moved, exclaimed:

“Come, Lord Jesus, Bread of Life and eternal Light—come quickly!“

The long fast left him exhausted. One day, even though seated on the floor, he fell headfirst into a gap in the planks, and remained half-suspended, stuck, until the jailer returned 24 hours later.

Despite their sufferings, the secret correspondence between the prisoners and Mons. de Jacobis was moving. Only three letters of Ghebre Michael are preserved, which form luminous pages of holiness and martyrdom. In one of them, he says:

“Greetings to our father Justin from his children, rescued by God’s mercy from the darkness of schism. How we suffer knowing his sorrow! The pain of the soul surpasses that of the body. Our greatest torment is the shameful fall of our brothers. That pain overwhelms even the wooden clamp fastened to our feet.”

When they heard Kassá had arrived in Gondar, they were filled with joy, knowing it might mean new tortures—or death:

“Today, at last, we say to each other: We will drink the cup of the Divine Master. Pray, Father, pray for the faith to triumph gloriously.“

On August 2, feast of St. Alphonsus Liguori, Mons. de Jacobis sent them a bit of honey wine, a rare treat. They replied:

“Thank you for the sweet gift from our beloved patron St. Liguori, sent through your hand. From the salty sea comes fruitful rain; from our captivity in the midst of enemies, from the darkness of the dungeon, the radiant light of faith shines out. We preach without words. Our mouths are silent, but our wounded legs cry aloud: ‘Believe in the Catholic Church.’ What a sermon!”

On August 23, they were brought before their judges a fourth time.

“Renounce the Pope, and you will be freed,” they were told.

They answered:

“If our legs are not enough, take our heads. We give everything for our faith.“

A few days later, Ghebre Michael was released from the ghend. His legs were so swollen that the torture device was replaced with chains. The months of September, October, November, and most of December passed in prayer, suffering, and deprivation.

On December 20, 1854, the Abuna Salama wrote to the future emperor:

“Today, I will have the cursed converts flogged with the giraf. Prepare the gallows for that detestable old man I’m sending you.“

He brought Ghebre Michael before Kassah, who offered him money, a mule and a title if he would abandon his faith. Ghebre responded:

“My lord, I want neither your faith nor your wealth.“

Shocked, Kassá ordered a heavy chain laid at his feet.

On March 14, 1855, during a grand ceremony of national adherence to the new religion, Ghebre Michael was displayed. The emperor asked him:

“Will you accept my decree of religious unity?“

He responded:

“O king, I will never believe or proclaim that Christ possesses divine nature without also having human nature.“

Two soldiers, wielding whips made of giraffe tail, known as giraf, lashed his face. They struck him 150 times without pause. The emperor cried out:

“Bring the herdsmen’s heavy whips! Strike his only eye until it bursts! Let the strongest beat his most sensitive parts while the first ones rest!“

When the beating finally ceased, after two horrifying hours, Ghebre Michael rose unaided, to the astonishment of all present. His body showed no visible wounds, and his eye shone, witnesses claimed, with a miraculous light.

The people, convinced he had survived by miracle, recalled the national legend of St. George, who was said to have died seven times for his faith and revived each time. He was henceforth called “Keddons Ghiorghis”, a saintly title. People brought offerings as if to a saint—grains, bread, flowers. Even the guard assigned to watch him venerated him and asked for his prayers.

On March 16, the army resumed its march. Ghebre Michael, with chains on his feet, followed them along impassable paths. After more than two months, by the time they reached the plains of Babá, he was utterly exhausted.

There, Theodoros received Plowden, the envoy of the Queen of England. Wishing to demonstrate his authority, he publicly judged Ghebre Michael before dignitaries and soldiers:

“This man refuses to obey my authority and my faith.”

“I acknowledge no other judge of my faith than Jesus Christ and His representative, the Pope of Rome,” replied the martyr.

Roaring with anger, Theodoros demanded:

“Will you not even accept this Englishman from across the sea as your judge?”

Ghebre Michael answered:

“How could an Anglican judge a Roman Catholic—he who insults the Virgin and does not observe fasting? You yourself are worth more than he is.”

The judges unanimously sentenced him to death. But at Plowden’s request, Theodoros commuted the sentence to life imprisonment.

By May 30, 1855, Ghebre Michael was still alive, though increasingly frail. His guards, moved by compassion, found him a mount, but had to tie him to it, as he could no longer sit upright.

Famine and cholera ravaged the army. Ghebre Michael fell ill. On July 13, 1855, the feast of Saint George according to the Abyssinian calendar, he died bearing his chains for Christ. His companions and soldiers mourned him, broke his chains, and respectfully buried him under a juniper tree.

God glorified him with miracles. A spring flowed from his tomb, and its waters healed the sick.

Abuna Salama and Theodoros II suffered defeat and humiliation. Tigray regained its independence, and the missionaries were able to preach freely once again. The blood of the martyr was, as always, the seed of Christians.

His beatification was proclaimed on October 3, 1926, by Pope Pius XI, and his feast day is celebrated on August 30

Legacy and Teaching

What can we learn from Blessed Ghebre Michael?

The life of Blessed Ghebre Michael offers a powerful lesson about the unceasing search for truth and unwavering fidelity to faith, even in the face of persecution and martyrdom.

His story reminds us that:

• Persistence in seeking the truth and faithfulness under trial have the power to transform lives.
• Ghebre’s encounter with the true faith in Jesus Christ broke the chains of error and liberated him from the domination of those who set themselves up as powerful manipulators of minds and wills.
• Becoming a seeker of truth, wherever it may be found, elevates the human person and drives real progress in every area of human reality.

To live in truth today as disciples of St. Vincent, we are called to:

• First discern what truth is today,
• Then be willing to abandon well-trodden paths,
• And have the courage and greatness of heart to be the first to open new paths for a new evangelization, aimed at the new forms of poverty in our society.

To be faithful to our Vincentian vocation, we must become:

• Inventive in new ways to bring the truth of Jesus Christ to the poor,
• Creative in our methods of service,
• And profoundly rooted in prayer and contemplation of the mystery of the Incarnation.

Blessed Ghebre Michael:

• Sought the truth through monastic life,
• Sought the true faith,
• Sought the true Church,
• And when he found her, he fell in love with her and gave his life for her.

His testimony calls us today to live with the same passion for truth, the same interior freedom, the same trust in Providence, and the same love for the Church and the poor, to the very end.