“O Lord, refresh our sensibilities. Give us this day our daily taste. Restore to us soups that spoons will not sink in, and sauces which are never the same twice.
Raise up among us stews with more gravy than we have bread to blot it with, and casseroles that put starch and substance in our limp modernity. Take away our fear of fat, and make us glad of the oil which ran upon Aaron’s beard.
Give us pasta with a hundred fillings, and rice in a thousand variations.
Above all, give us grace to live as true folk–to fast till we come to a refreshed sense of what we have and then to dine gratefully on all that comes to hand.
Drive far from us, O Most Bountiful, all creatures of air and shadows; cast out demons the demons that possess us; deliver us from the fear of calories and the bondage of nutrition; and set us free once more in our own land, where we shall serve thee as thou has blessed us–with the dew of heaven, the fatness of earth, and plenty of corn and wine.
“Carnival celebrates the unity of our human race as mortal creatures, who come into this world and depart from it without our consent, who must eat, drink, defecate, belch, and break wind in order to live, and procreate if our species is to survive. Our feelings bout this are ambiguous. To us as individuals, it is a cause for rejoicing that we are not alone, that all of us, irrespective of age or sex or rank or talent, are in the same boat.”
Today the church remembers one of the “dragon saints” who, in iconography, is often accompanied by a dragon (think of Saint Michael or Saint Margaret who also often have dragon companions/foes): Saint Juliana of Nicomedia, Patron Saint of Midwifry and Slayer of Dragons.
Like many saints, what we learn about Saint Juliana of Nicodemia is more story than history. Born sometime in the late 3rd Century to pagan parents, Saint Juliana was betrothed at a young age to a prominent Senator, Eleusius (whom Juliana was predictably meh on).
Even though her father was suppesdly hostile to Christians, Juliana in an act of child rebellion (as teens are wont to do) got secretly baptized. Children have, since forever, rebelled against their parents, so be careful what you encourage them to rebel against!
As wedding bells were nearing their ringing day, Juliana became more and more fraught. She didn’t want to marry this guy, and even though her father demanded she not break her engagement, she refused to show up for the big day.
As retaliation, her father turned her over to the governor who (cue ominous music) was her former fiance! Senator Eleusius (also a governor) asked her once again to marry him now that she was in his custody. While she could have gone along with it to secure her freedom, she again refused.
The Governor, in a rage, was said to have her flogged her, and beaten her, and dipped her in boiling oil (which is why she’s sometimes written with a cauldron).
In 304 AD during the persecution under Marcus Aurelius Valerius Maximianus, Saint Juliana was said to be beheaded along with her friend and companion, Saint Barbara (December 4). She is especially popular in the Netherlands (who knows why?).
Saint Juliana is the patron saint of midwifry because, well, she endured torture with an honest heart and eager hope, and the midwives of this world accompany women who need that honesty and eagerness in the pangs of labor. She is often depicted with a dragon, and sometimes even fighting a dragon, because sometimes pain in this world needs to be seen with legs and teeth…because that’s how it feels, and she fought that foe to the end.
Also, I’d contend, that the system of oppression she was under was a dragon of a system…is a dragon of a system…forcing women to have their bodies controlled by the powerful rule-makers.
In a world of rule-makers, she was a good-trouble rule-breaker.
Saint Juliana is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that sometimes we gotta break the rules to live moral lives.
-historical bits from public sources
-icon written “St. Juliana of Nicomedia, the devil at her feet,” from a Picture Bible made at the Abbey of Saint Bertin, Saint-Omer, France, ca. 1190–1200. KB, 76 F 5, fol. 32r. Koninklijke Bibliotheek (Royal Library), The Hague, Netherlands.
Why doesn’t the church honor St. Valentine on Valentine’s Day?
Answer:
Nothing historically verifiable at all is known about St. Valentine other than someone with that name was buried in Rome on February 14th. Legends grew, of course, including legends of a gruesome death (kind of an ancient “tongue-wagging” tactic for a church that liked drama), but none of it is thought to be true. In 1969 the Roman church removed him from the calendar of saints for “lack of evidence for existence.”
It is thought, though, that the emergence of this day as a romantic holiday was a way that the church overshadowed a Roman festival, Lupercalia, held on February 15th.
Lupercalia was the celebration of the wolf that rescued the legendary founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus, and nursed and raised them (“Luper” from the Latin root “lupus” for “wolf”). For this reason the celebration was associated with child-birth and fertility, making the Church’s institution of Saint Valentine’s Day in 496 a natural Christianization of the holiday (though it became known more for love than fertility in the end).
Lupercalia honored the wild energies of creation intended for romance and reproduction. Valentine’s Day was a more modest variation of that theme…something the church could stomach.
Btw: Ever notice that the heart icons commonly used look nothing like an anatomical heart? The shape of that icon (all over everything Valentine’s Day) is thought to have been an artistic representation of voluptuous buttocks, the epitome of beauty in Roman times.
A competing thought is that the icon is derived from the fig leaves used as modesty covers in Pagan statuary.
Whatever the origin, though, it’s been used for a very long time and, despite it’s now common place and mild application, was pretty risque!
Today the world honors St. Valentine, but the church kind of shrugs toward that saint, and instead dedicates the day to two Greek biological brothers: St. Cyril and St. Methodius, both 9th Century missionaries to the Slavs.
Cyril, in an effort to translate the Gospels and the liturgy into the Slavonic language, created a whole new alphabet. Modern Russian is based on this Cyrillic alphabet.
After Cyril’s death, Methodius took up the missionary mantle and continued the work. Cyril and Methodius met great opposition within the church for their novel way of using the common vernacular to spread the Gospel. Their followers likewise faced oppression, and found themselves scattered…which actually helped the language, and the mission, spread throughout Eastern Europe.
The Slavic tradition in Lutheranism is still very strong, with a whole non-geographical Synod (Slovak-Zion Synod) representing the tradition in the ELCA yet today.
The brothers believed in a deeply contextual approach to engagement with those they were living with, even deconstructing and reconstructing their own systems (alphabet and liturgy) in order to communicate with clarity. They were transformed in the process, even as they transformed the information, and are still deeply revered in Slovak, Czech, Croat, Serb, and Bulgar traditions.
Those with ears let them hear.
-historical bits adapted from Pfatteicher’s _New Book of Festivals and Commemorations
Today the church remembers an obscure First Century Christian mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, but never really known otherwise: Saint Agabus, Prophet and Patron Saint of Seers.
According to Biblical tradition, Saint Agabus was one of the seventy disciples sent out in Luke 10. This unnamed group of seventy is kind of a “catch-all” for the early church, and many First Century Christians who were of note are said to have been in this number.
Where he first appears by name, though, is in the Acts of the Apostles, Luke’s sequel which, like many sequels in the world, added new characters and new adventures. According to Acts 11 he was one of the prophets with the Apostles at the Pentecost, and traveled from Jerusalem to Antioch where he predicted a severe famine in the area.
Then again in Acts 21 he met Paul on his missionary journey in the year 58 AD. There he stopped Paul in his tracks and, having said to have received a vision, took Paul’s belt from his waist, bound his own hands and feet, and in dramatic fashion said, “This is how you will end up if you continue on to Jerusalem.”
Those who know the Bible well will recognize that this sort of dramatic reenactment mirrors the dramatic prophecies of the Hebrew Testament seers (think Jeremiah, Amos, and Ezekiel). The symmetry is not on accident.
Anyway, Paul would not be deterred and, sure enough, would end up bound in Jerusalem.
Lore has it that Agabus was eventually martyred in Antioch for his prophetic voice and on February 13th is commemorated by many in the church, especially those who follow a prophetic/seer tradition.
Saint Agabus is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that prophets don’t really tell the future, they tell the truth. It just so happens that when you tell the truth about a situation, the outcome is highly predictable.
-historical information from Daily Magic by Judika Illes and public sources
-icon is of the 70 Apostles by Antonio Caldeo because, while Saint Agabus gets his own commemoration day, it appears that he prefers to only be in group shots
Today the church honors a 4th Century saint who is more story than history, and yet that story is interesting and has lasted the ages: Saint Julian the Hospitaller, Patron Saint of Traveling Musicians, Innkeepers, Hunters, and yes, Murderers.
Saint Julian’s life is not verifiable at all, but as the story goes his parents were informed that ancient magicians put a curse on him the day he was born, and he was destined to kill his parents.
It’s a good opener, right?
Saint Julian’s father wanted to be rid of him, but his mother wouldn’t hear of it. She raised him and, when he was ten years old, told him of the prophetic curse upon him. An alternative twist said that while he was out hunting on his tenth birthday a white stag informed him of this terrible fate (which, honestly, is a better plotline if you ask me).
In either case, however he found out, Saint Julian swore that he’d never do such a thing and went on a pilgrimage, staying with whomever would share room on their floor with him. Growing in age on the road, he got as far a Galicia and found a wealthy widow who stole his heart.
Now, as happenstance has it, his parents went on a journey and also found themselves in Galicia some years later. Tired from their journey, they found a home and asked for lodging. The young woman let them in, noting that her husband, Julian, was out hunting and would be back that night. Overjoyed that they had found their long-lost son, the couple stayed the night.
Julian, arriving late from hunting, found two heads in the bed that was his and, in a fearful rage, slaughtered the occupants.
It was his parents (cue ominous music).
From that moment on Saint Julian swore that he would dedicate his life to charitable works, trying to repay the terrible debt he had incurred upon humanity. They went on another pilgrimage together, this time to Rome, and continued to travel until they came to a large river. There they created a hospice center for those with incurable diseases, and Saint Julian was said to help them, “cross the river.”
That language, of course, is purposeful. In Christian the story “crossing the river” is a way to note that you’re walking people through death to life everlasting.
Despite being more robust lore than real, Saint Julian remains an interesting character to me. Of greatest note, at least in my estimation, is the idea that even those who have done the worst in life can lead a meaningful existence in time.
Saint Julian is a reminder for me, and should be for he whole church, that even the worst in us can be redeemed, by God.
-information gleaned from Daily Magic by Judika Illes and public sources.
-painting by Franz Marc depicting Saint Julian on a hunt
Today the church remembers an often overshadowed 5th Century saint who dared to dare: Saint Scholastica, Monastic and Patron Saint of Overlooked Twin Sisters.
Saint Scholastica is the twin sister of Saint Benedict, born to noble Romans around the year 480 CE. Her mother died in childbirth, and Saint Scholastica was known, literally from her birth, to be both a blessing from the Divine and wholeheartedly dedicated to the Divine.
Her brother noted this often. He was in awe of his sister. So often we find this when one sibling overshadows the other: the one with the long shadow greatly admires the other one.
When Saint Benedict left to enter the ministry, Saint Scholastica stayed with the family home and business, tending to the practical needs of the moment. Yet, her heart called her to a monastic life, and she eventually heeded that call.
Saint Scholastica founded a community of sisters about five miles from her brother’s hermitage. Following the Benedictine rule of life, they gathered around prayer, contemplation, and service. She visited her brother once a year, meeting in a half-way house between the two communities, discussing spiritual matters and praying together.
On February 10th in 543 Saint Scholastica breathed her last. That night, long before he had heard of his sister’s passing, Saint Benedict had a vision where his sister’s soul, in the form of a dove, visited him and flew into the heavens.
Perhaps there is something to that idea that twins are connected in special ways, no?
The details of most of Saint Scholastica’s life are lost to memory, blotted out by the eclipse of her brother. Yet we know a few important things: Saint Benedict revered her, respected her, listened to her, and sought her spiritual guidance.
That’s a pretty good endorsement if you ask me.
Saint Scholastica is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that often the brightest sun is hiding a wise planet in another orbit. The pastors with the most prestigious pulpits aren’t always the stars they appear to be. Indeed: the best sermons on any given Sunday are preached to fewer than fifty people, in my opinion.
Let those with ears to hear, hear.
-historical bits gleaned from public access information
Today the church remembers one of those 3rd Century Christians who retains some notoriety in certain circles: Saint Apollonia, Martyr, Deaconess, and Patron Saint of Dental Workers.
Saint Apollonia was a follower of that very early church, born in the first half of the 3rd Century. She lived in Alexandria, Egypt, and was known as a prophet and Deaconess, serving the poor and the needy on the streets.
In those days at the tail end of Emperor Philip the Arabian, the Roman Empire found this new little faith to be an easy target to appease a people who were unpleased with much of Roman rule, scapegoating them and encouraging violence against them.
In the year 249 at around the millennial celebration of Rome’s founding, a mob arose in Alexandria and, after a prophecy of doom for the Empire, began rounding up Christians to torture them.
Saint Apollonia was caught in the mob massacre and beaten and tortured. According to Bishop Dionysus of Alexandria (in a letter sent to Saint Fabius, Bishop of Antioch), Apollonia’s wounds resulted in the loss of all of her teeth. Her assaulters built a large fire and threatened to burn her unless she recanted the faith. Bloody and bruised, Apollonia fought back, got from their grips, and jumped voluntarily into the fire, preferring to give herself to God rather than suffer any more abuse.
Due to her injuries and the story by Bishop Dionysius, Saint Apollonia is now regarded the patron saint of all dental workers. For this reason she is often shown holding dental pliers, or holding a giant tooth. She has quite the following in Britain, and remains one of those early saints that, while largely a footnote in hagiographical lore, is a testament to how that first church held women in high esteem as fellow-laborers and leaders in the church.
Saint Apollonia is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that we must remember our history to empower our present. There is no reason to bar women from the roster…the first church didn’t.
Let those with ears to hear, hear.
-historical bits from Daily Magic by Judika Illes, and public sources.
Today the church remembers a 20th Century Sudanese saint remembered for her fierce bravery and gentleness: Saint Josephine Bakhita, Patron Saint of Those Caught in Human Trafficking.
Saint Bakhita (not her given name at birth…the trauma of her story prevented her from remembering her birth name) was raised in Darfur by her loving family until the age of eight. At this young age, she and her sisters were captured and forced into slavery, sold a number of times throughout Turkey, Africa, and the Middle East. It was then that she was given the name Bakhita, which means “fortunate.”
In slavery she was tortured, whipped, scarred and tattooed, and forced to care for children though she herself was still only a child.
When the Suakin region of Sudan, where her captors were living, was besieged by war, Saint Bakhita and her charges were placed under the care of Italian Canossian Sisters in Venice, Italy (because she had recently been “bought” by an Italian diplomat). When it came time to return to Suakin, St. Bakhita refused to leave the convent. Her captors appealed to the Italian courts, but so did the Sisters.
The courts ruled that, since slavery was not a legal thing in Italy, her captors had no rights to her whatsoever. In their eyes she had never been a slave.
It’s nice to hear a legal case where justice prevailed, no?
St. Bakhita, who claimed that the Sisters had exposed her “to the God she had known in her heart since her birth,” entered the process to become a Canossian Sister. She was assigned a place at the convent in Schio, and remained there the rest of her life as the chef, sacristan, and doorkeeper of the convent, putting her in direct contact with the people of her city.
She was remembered for being gentle, kind, and for “having her mind on God, and her heart in Africa.”
She died on February 8th in 1947. Her body lay in repose, and thousands from the city and across the church came to honor her legacy and memory.
Saint Bakhita is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that the church is a place of sanctuary and, in the face of systems that seek to chip away at the dignity of humanity, must speak out forcefully with both our words and our actions.
Reluctant Xtian 