A Modest Home with Abundant Generosity
for the Feast of the Blessed Ulma Family
Three years ago, the Ulma family—Wiktoria, Józef, and their seven children—were beatified. They died as martyrs in 1944 trying to protect their Jewish neighbors from the Nazis. Today, July 7, is their feast day. Not the date of their death (March 24), but the anniversary of Wiktoria and Józef’s wedding.
You can read their incredible story here.
And Blessed Józef was a photographer; you can see photos of their family here.
I want to highlight three areas of their story.
First, the family died as martyrs, but not because of anti-Christian persecution. They were not targets of violence. They could have easily ridden out the Nazi regime unharmed like so many Polish and German Christians. But they put themselves in harms’ way to protect the people who were being villainized, scapegoated, and persecuted by their government.
In the family Bible, they had this passage underlined in red: “A Samaritan traveler who came upon him was moved with compassion when he saw him: He went up to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring oil and wine on them. He then lifted him onto his own mount and took him to an inn and looked after him” (Luke 10: 33-34).
Second, the Ulmas were not wealthy. They gave not from their excess, but from their necessity. Their house had one room, with a closet dividing the dining area from the bedrooms. And yet they found room in their home for multiple refugee families. Before their martyrdom, this was a family practiced in abundant generosity.
Third, when they were beatified, it was the first time in the Church’s history where an entire family was beatified together…including their unborn and unbaptized baby. We are within living memory of parish priests refusing to bury unbaptized children in the Catholic cemetery, and now the Church has beatified an unbaptized child. The doctrinal implications of this have yet to be fully unpacked.
I would encourage you to take a moment to read about their life, their love, and their death.
Blessed Wiktoria, Blessed Józef, Blessed Stasia, Blessed Basia, Blessed Władzio, Blessed Franuś, Blessed Antoś, Blessed Marysia, and Blessed Baby Ulma: Pray for us.
*AI was used to edit this post
My uncle was a liberator of Dachau concentration camp.
This is a beautiful essay—deeply Catholic Christian, thoughtful, and genuinely moving.
What I admire most is that it sees the Ulma family’s holiness clearly, and names it in the right way. It does not treat them simply as tragic figures, or as historical symbols. It presents them as Christians whose love of God was made visible in costly love of neighbor.
I also think the essay is especially strong in the way it frames their martyrdom.
It recognizes that the Ulmas were not merely swept up by events. They chose to place themselves in danger for people who were being hunted, scapegoated, and abandoned. That is what gives their witness such force. The connection to the Good Samaritan is especially fitting, because it shows that their actions were not just admirable in a general sense, but were a real embodiment of the Gospel.
The section on their poverty is also very well done.
It is one thing to be generous from abundance; it is another thing entirely to be generous when you yourself have so little. The essay understands that this is part of what makes their witness so radiant. Their hospitality was not comfortable or convenient. It was sacrificial.
And the final point is especially striking. The inclusion of the unborn child in the family’s beatification is not just moving; it is theologically significant. The essay handles that with reverence and intelligence. It recognizes that this is not a small detail, but something profound—something that invites deeper reflection on sanctity, family, innocence, and grace.
What I like most overall is that the piece is both devotional and serious-minded. It is clearly written by someone who is not only moved by the Ulmas’ story, but has really thought about what their witness means. That combination gives the essay both warmth and depth.
In the end, it is a lovely tribute: faithful, perceptive, and full of quiet conviction.
My knee-jerk thought is baptism of blood, what with them being martyrs, but were they martyred for the faith?
I think it's clear they were martyred for living out their Christian faith with integrity and grace, but nonChristians could've done the same for similar moral and ethical motives.
Is being persecuted for living your Christian faith enough for baptism of blood, or do you need to be specifically targeted for being Christian?