Today the church remembers one who is considered to be the first Christian ruler of Russia: Olga, Princess of Kiev, Confessor and Ruler.

Saint Olga is the grandmother of the first “official” ruler of Russia who confessed the faith. Her grandson Vladimir gets the “official” title because of patriarchy, but in actuality Olga was the first official Christian to rule the nation.

Born in the late 9th Century, Olga married Prince Igor and, after his death in the year 945 A.D., officially ruled in his stead until her son came of age.

She was known for being courageous, “sticking it to the man,” instituting reforms that her husband was unable to carry out regarding financial and administrative changes, and had been an early convert to the faith through the Scandinavian missionaries who traveled down the river system from the West.

In the year 957 A.D. Olga visited Constantinople and some say that is where she was officially baptized, though others claim that she had long been an adherent to the faith. Regardless, her personal faith did not indicate a change of heart for her country, and her son who came to rule after her was not a confessor.

Olga is remembered in Eastern Orthodoxy as the “Blessed Princess Olga,” and is honored in the Ukrainian and Russian branches of the church. She is remembered as being witty and brave. The story goes that when she went to be baptized in Constantinople, the Emperor saw her beauty and asked her to marry him. She replied, “First I must be baptized,” and then followed it up with, “and I need a Godfather. Will you be mine?”

The Emperor agreed and, following her baptism, returned to the invitation of marriage. The bright Princess replied, “We are now family through baptism, and never has a father married a daughter, even amongst the heathens!”

Knowing he had been outsmarted, he gave Olga his blessing to return to Russia with the faith.

She died in the year 969 of old age.

Saint Olga is a reminder for me, and should be for all the church, that too often the female saints amongst us don’t really get their due because, well, patriarchy is hard to eradicate and we must always keep in mind the author of histories and, well, read between the lines.

Let those with ears to hear, hear.

-Icon written in the Byzantine style by Liondas Chr. And N.

-historical notes gleaned from Pfatteicher’s New Book of Festivals & Commemorations

Today, for your lesser-known saint day shout-out, we have Bartolome de Las Casas (1566), who generally made all of his colleagues upset when he was made Bishop of Chiapas and prohibited slavery and argued for the humane treatment of native Guatemalans.

“The (Guatemalans) are our brothers, and Christ has given his life for them. Why, then, do we persecute them with such inhuman savagery when they do not deserve such treatment?” from New Book of Festivals & Commemorations by Pfatteicher

Today the church recognizes a peasant from Bavaria who would influence both an entire continent and an island nation, Johannes Flierl, Missionary to Australia and Papua New Guinea.

Born in humble beginnings in 1858, Flierl was ordained a pastor in Bavaria and started his mission work in the interior of Australia with the native aboriginal persons there. Roughly eight years later, he boarded a boat and hopped across the Torres Strait, landing in Finschafen, Papua New Guinea, the capital of the German colony of Kaiser-Wilhelmsland.

Flierl was the first Lutheran missionary on the island. He established a mission near Simbang, but didn’t baptize any locals until 14 years later.

Flierl is remembered not only for his mission work, but most importantly as a champion for the locals in their fight for rights against government oppression. A seminary in Finschafen was established in his name in 1957, ten years after his death.

Flierl’s mission would eventually become the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Papua New Guinea which, along with the Batak Church in Indonesia, is the largest of all Lutheran mission churches.

Flierl is notable for a few reasons, not the least of which is his innovative chin hair. It does my heart good to hear of a 19th Century missionary who was fighting for the rights of the people they were sent to walk with, not just trying to bludgeon them with a religion they didn’t ask to be exposed to.

The ELCA’s model for missions is one of accompaniment, and though it is unclear how closely Flierl’s work embodied that same spirit, I see glimmers of hope in his story that he may have practiced some of that mindset in his missions.

-historical notes gleaned from Pfatteicher’s “New Book of Festivals & Commemorations”

As the sun rises, it’s worth noting that the church honors a 20th Century saint on this day who worked hard to unify the quarreling factions of the body: Saint Nathan Soderblom, Archbishop of Uppsala, Unifier of the Church.

St. Nathan was born in Sweden at the end of the 19th Century to a family helmed by a pietistic pastor father. He was ordained a minister in the Church of Sweden in 1893, and served as chaplain to the Swedish legation in Paris until 1901. While in Paris he studied comparative religion, and his mind and heart was expanded.

Upon receiving his doctorate he taught History of Religion at Uppsala while also lecturing in Leipzig. He was known for being highly intellectual, highly liturgical, and highly progressive in his theology.

Despite opposition from more conservative pastors, he was elected the Archbishop of Uppsala and Primate of the Church of Sweden. In his leadership and his writing he sough what he called “evangelical catholicity,” encouraging different factions of the church to work together for the social good.

You might remember a similar agreement between St. Peter and St. Paul…

Through his leadership and efforts the predecessor bodies that would eventually become the World Council of Churches began to form and do their work.

During World War I he vehemently sought the freedom of prisoners of war and refugees, arguing for peace on behalf of the people. In 1930 he won the Nobel Prize for peace.

He died on this date in 1931.

St. Nathan Soderblom is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that education not only expands the head, but also expands the heart, and a church that can agree to serve the poor is like a tree standing by the water.

It shall not be moved.

Now, if only it could agree to that…

-historical notes from Pfatteicher’s New Book of Festivals & Commemorations

-icon written by Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Today parts of the church, especially those parts with Black Church roots in the American South, remember a saint who helped to coordinate the 1822 slave revolt in Charleston, South Carolina: Gullah Jack, Community Organizer and Conjurer.

Gullah Jack’s early life is a bit of a mystery. He was born in Angola, kidnapped by slave traders and illegally purchased and sold (because you can never legally own humans) in 1806 to a mister Zephaniah Kingsley. Kingsley identified Gullah Jack as “priest in his own country,” which probably means that he was a tribal holy person in Angola.

Nevertheless, upon coming to the States he called himself a Methodist, though he merged his ancient practices with that of his new land, as so many have in this life. We never fully give up our mother tongue.

In 1822 enslaved leaders got together to organize a revolt in Charleston. Gullah Jack was seen as the spiritual leader of the group, offering them prayers and blessings of protection. It is said that over 9,000 slaves were willing to join in on the revolt, which gives you an idea of just how much of a scourge slavery and racism was (is!) on that land.

Eventually the plot was revealed, and over 130 people were arrested. Out of those, 36 were hanged on this day, including Gullah Jack.

Gullah Jack is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that the blight of slavery still lingers on the land, and we need to remember the sins of the past so that we can figure out ways to work together to make sure they never happen again.

Louder in the back for those trying to amend school curriculum to whitewash, literally, this kind of thing…

-historical bits taken from Daily Magic by Judika Illes

-icon written by Najee Dorsey

Today is the saint day of a patron who is near and dear to my craft-beer loving heart: Saint Arnold, Beer Brewer and Savior of Humanity.

So, here’s the thing about St. Arnold: he is an unlikely saint, as most are, but not because he did things wrong, but because he did them correctly.

He started his career in life as a soldier near modern day Brussels, but ended up at a monastery in France, learning beer brewing from the brothers. He rose to become the Abbot of Medard’s Abbey, though he tried to flee from the responsibility. Lore has it that he ran from the cloister and wolf chased him, hunted him down, and convinced him to go back and serve the vocation.

That’s a fun call story if I’ve ever heard one…

Instead of being OK serving this monastery in France, he chose to found his own in Oudenberg, and there began brewing beer in force. The people of Oudenberg were being plagued by infested water, probably from human waste dumped too close to the local water source, and encouraging them to drink the beer rather than the water actually saved lives.

Plus, this beer was low gravity, giving them the ability to do their work well while also staying alive. A plus in my book.

This blessed saint is still honored in Brussels on the “day of beer,” as a reminder that sometimes when the local water source is contaminated, some boiling (and hops) will be the cure.

Saint Arnold is for me, and should be for the whole church, that no topic is as simple as “good or bad,” and sometimes science in the kitchen can lead to health in the streets.

Today the church remembers a saint who fought hard to move the needle of justice, especially for his poor neighbors in Turin Italy: Pier Giorgio Frassati, Social Reformer and Activist.

Saint Pier was born in 1901 to an agnostic father and artistic mother. His father would go on to serve in the Italian government, and his mother would go on to produce artwork that would be bought by royalty. Saint Pier, though, had his eyes set on adventure and advocacy.

As a young boy a mother and shoeless son came begging at the Frassti household. Pier answered the door and, so moved by the sight, gave the young boy the shoes off of his own feet. One night he witnessed a beggar come to his door intoxicated, and was horrified when his father sent him away with nothing. Sobbing Saint Pier ran to his mother who wrapped some food in a napkin for him, and sent him out into the night to find the hungry man.

For as big of a heart Saint Pier had, he also had a wonderful sense of humor. He would play practical jokes on his family and friends, and earned the name “Terror” for his wisecracks.

Though he was a smart boy, he was only an average student, and rather than find his home inside books, he found it inside the organizations working for justice. Especially dear to his heart was the anti-fascism work going on in the day, and those causes seeking to bridge the inequality gap. He spoke out against the regime of Mussolini, and was arrested for protesting alongside the Young Catholic Workers Congress.

“Charity is not enough,” he was known to say, “we must have social reform!”

His friends called him a “saint with a cigar,” as he marched, wrote (riffing off of Thomas Aquinas and St. Catherine of Siena), and spoke out against injustice.

In his leisure time he was an avid athlete, boating and mountaineering with his friends.

On one such boat trip in 1925 Saint Pier started to complain of a back ache. Returning home he was met with the death of his grandmother. Not wanting to add to the grief, he kept his pain largely to himself, though it grew in the following days.

Within a week Saint Pier found himself unable to rise from his bed, stricken at the age of 24 with Polio. He died in the arms of his mother, saying with his last breath, “May I breathe forth my soul in peace to you…”

Saint Pier is not a well-known saint, but is one who reminds me, and should remind the whole church, that moving the needle on social inequality often begins in the compassionate hearts of the young.

Which means we should listen to the young, as uncomfortable as that might make us.

-historical bits gleaned from 365 Saints by Koenig-Bricker

-icon written by Theophilia of Deviant Art (deviantart.com)

Today the church honors a proto-Reformer who, had the printing press been available during his life, may have caused all of us to be called “Hussians” rather than Lutherans: Jan Hus, Martyr, Gadfly of the Church, and prelude to Luther’s Reformation.

Jan Hus was born “Jan of Husinec” sometime around 1373 to peasant parents in Bohemia. He was fortunate to attend the newly established Charles University in Prague, where students shortened his name to “Jan Hus”…which was funny because “hus” literally means “goose.”

St. Jan, that wild goose, would go on to receive his Masters Degree and eventually teach Theology at Charles University while also being named the preacher of the Chapel of the Holy Innocents of Bethlehem. In that church he preached in Czech, a drastic departure from the Latin used in the rest of Christendom. But in these days the church was in conflict (three Popes claimed the Chair of St. Peter), and reformation was in the air!

St. Jan had been greatly influenced by that other rascal, John Wycliffe, who had truly formalized much of the radical thinking that Luther would glom onto in the Reformation. Though Jan and John differed in many areas, St. Jan began to be more Wycliffian in his preaching and writing, including condemnations of the abuses of the church (and her lazy priests) in his regular sermons.

This, as you can imagine, was a problem for the Archbishop.

St. Jan did crazy things like, oh, suggest that the bread AND the wine could be provided to the laity in the Mass. He openly questioned the historic episcopate, and started to advocate for only two sacraments (baptism and communion) to be officially recognized.

Sound familiar?

Pope Alexander V condemned Wycliffe’s writings in 1409 and, in short order, excommunicated St. Jan in 1412. Interestingly enough St. Jan was not excommunicated for his own writings, but rather because he refused to travel to Rome to give an account of them. Basically, he didn’t show up to court…

St. Jan Hus refused to be quiet, though, and even as a heretic of the church preached against the avarice the local priests showed. He was summoned to the Council of Constance in Switzerland in 1414 and, though he had been promised safe travel back to Bohemia after his trial, was immediately arrested, held in the dungeon there, brought up on false charges, and burned at the stake.

It is said that he was praying the Kyrie eleison as he died.

St. Jan Hus is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that sometimes not saying something is not an option, even if it costs you your job, your status, and yes, your life.

-historical bits gleaned from Pfatteicher’s New Book of Festivals & Commemorations