“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 darkness; cast out the demons that possess us; deliver us from the fear of calories and bondage of nutrition; and set us free once more in our own land, where we shall serve thee as thou hast blessed us–with the dew of heaven, the fatness of the earth, and plenty of corn and wine.”
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.
Today the church remembers a 17th Century Reformer that, honestly, I struggle a lot with remembering as anything more than a cautionary tale: Philipp Jakob Spener, Pietist and Religious Zealot.
Spener was born in the 1635 in Alsace, Germany during the Thirty Years’ War. He studied history and philosophy at Strassbourg, and on a traveling tour of Switzerland fell head over heels for influential Jesuit-turned-Reformer Jean de Labadie, a champion of inner conversion and pietism.
After serving as a pastor in Strassbourg for a season, Spener when to Frankfort, the war-weary town torn by schisms and began “piety groups,” kind of like house churches that were devotional in nature and met first in his house, and then multiplied. He also published is Pia Desideria (Devout Desires) which was, and should be, required reading for all seminarians. Within that seminal text he proposed six reforms for the blooming Reformation movement, and revitalized a catechetical movement for adults and children within the parish.
One of the positives that Spener brought to the Reformation movement was a reminder that the laity were to be involved in all levels of the church. One of the negatives was, well, he was such a strict pietist (and frankly, kind of a jerk by most accounts) that his “my way or the highway” abrasiveness caused him to have both stalwart adherents as well as “never Spener” folks. He just couldn’t get along with people which, it seems, most zealots struggle with no matter what their cause.
This all being said his writing and preaching influenced many (and continues to), setting the foundations for learning institutes and missionary causes throughout the world. Ironically his preaching style was less polemical in nature, and he focused greatly on inner conversion. This, though, led to a great imbalance in his Christian practice, where he preached one thing, but his draconian ideas around morality and ethics produced another action contrary to what was said from the pulpit: The opera was off limits, as was anything other than very conservative dress, and don’t even think about dancing. Card playing was certainly out, drinking alcohol was out, the sacraments took second place to “giving your heart to Jesus,” and the unconverted were bound to burn.
I’m sure no one can identify with that experience…
Spener died on this day in 1705.
St. Spener is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that too much of anything can become a stumbling block…
-historical bits gleaned from Pfatteicher’s New Book of Festivals & Commemorations and from too much schooling
In America this may be Groundhog’s Day, but in Celtic spirituality these days are known as Imbolc, or “in the belly,” because you’re at the halfway point between the equinox and the solstice, and you’re emerging into spring.
Christians celebrate Candlemas today, where new candles are blessed, as the ones lit at the Solstice are now spent. And in services many will hear about the Presentation of Christ, where the ancient prophets Simeon and Anna lift him up and bless him as the light of the world.
The symmetry is stunning and intentional.
These hinge days between seasons are worth paying attention to, as our mothers and fathers did.
So bless your new candles, because you’ve spent the old ones in these winter days, and start opening the shades.
It’s time to wake from our hibernation, blink, and live again.
Today the church remembers a Celtic Saint (which makes her close to my heart): Saint Brigid (commonly called St.Bride in Scotland), Abbess and Protector of Ireland.
Sometimes called “the Mary of the Gael,” not much historically verifiable is known about St. Brigid’s early life, though legend and lore abound. On the island of Ireland she is revered as much as St. Patrick in most places, and her story is a mix of Christian and pre-Christian wonder. The daughter of a druid who had a vision from the Divine that his offspring would protect and change Ireland, St. Brigid was said to have been born at sunrise while her mother was walking over a threshold (a point of significance for the ancient Celts, because it meant that she was neither “in nor out” when St. Brigid arrived).
St. Brigid would live into this “neither here nor there” nature throughout her life. She was a peace-loving monastic, but also a fierce warrior. She was both wise and approachable. She was both Christian and pagan in her outlook.
She was known as a strong, happy, and compassionate woman who started a community of women at Kildare in the late 5th-early 6th Century. St. Brigid was said to be wise, and was sought out in life by many for counsel, and admired in death by poets, story-tellers and song-writers who used her as inspiration, many quite fanciful.
Lore has it that it was St. Brigid who spread out her green mantle over all of Ireland to make shine like an emerald.
In Ireland today more than a few rivers bear her name.
In addition to being a wise spiritual leader and community builder, St. Brigid was said to have been the protector of the land, officially the guardian of the pagan king Torc Triath of what is now West Tipperary. In a time when Ireland was a destination for all seafaring people, the need for protection was great. St. Brigid was an accomplished warrior. In ancient Celtic culture women were seen not only as capable leaders, but in many areas superior.
St. Brigid died in the early 6th Century, and her following grew to the point that her relics were prized possessions that had to be continually moved and hidden from invading marauders who sought to steal them as a trophy.
The most remarkable thing about St. Brigid, though, is not her historical self, but the part she now plays in Celtic Christianity. St. Brigid’s day comes in the “dead months” (marbh mhios) of winter when humanity in the northern hemisphere finds itself “Imbolc” or “in the belly” of winter. Her feast day is a reminder for the Celtic Christians that winter doesn’t last forever, and though you now might see only shadows, the sun is growing stronger every day, by God.
This reminder of St. Brigid, woman of wisdom and strength, works for the winter of the seasons, and in all the metaphorical winters of your life, Beloved.
St. Brigid is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, at least three things:
First: live in such a way that people write wonderful stories about your wisdom and strength.
Secondly: the intermingling of Christian and non-Christian sensibilities has helped the faith to develop, and this can be seen in no better place than in Celtic Christianity.
Finally: though we must live with winter, it never lasts forever.
Let those with ears to hear, hear.
-historical bits gleaned from Pfatteicher’s New Book of Festivals and Commemorations
-Celtic lore found from stories of my ancestors as well as Freeman’s Kindling the Celtic Spirit
-icon written by Larry at IconWriterArtist on Etsy
Reluctant Xtian 