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.

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

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”

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

Today the church (should, in my opinion) remember one who has long been venerated as a contemporary folk saint, and is now remembered more broadly throughout communities both religious and secular: Saint Denmark Vesey, Carpenter, Community Organizer, and a Founder of Mother Emanuel Church.

Saint Denmark was born into slavery on the island of St. Thomas under Captain Joseph Vesey. Following Captain Vesey throughout the islands, Saint Denmark eventually landed in Charleston, SC and, having won a lottery option, was able to buy his freedom. Unfortunately he was unable to buy the freedom of his first wife, Beck, and their children out of slavery, despite being a very good businessman.

Saint Denmark made his living as a carpenter and was quite skilled. He also grew influential in the Black community both in Charleston and on the surrounding plantations. It should be remembered that by the early 1700’s the population of South Carolina was majority enslaved. Black power was kept in check by intimidation and violence.

Saint Denmark knew this. He saw this. He saw the potential for an uprising, and knew he couldn’t sit still and continue to let his enslaved siblings toil for riches they’ll never see and dignity they’d never be able to earn.

Saint Denmark became very involved in the Black Church in South Carolina, even founding a free African Methodist Episcopal church in the city now known colloquially as Mother Emanuel. Both within the church and through his business he gathered support for an uprising against the powerbrokers and plantation owners that was so massive both with influence and scope, it shook the status quo to its core.

In 1821 plans were made for a mass revolt. Using his skills as a lay preacher, Saint Denmark went over plans for the community action in the classrooms of churches throughout the city, primarily at Mother Emanuel and Second Presbyterian. In the churches the plans for freedom were made, Beloved. Saint Denmark invoked the story of the Exodus in his meetings, weaving the story of the enslaved person in Charleston with that of the enslaved person in Egypt.

Plans were put in motion and, being influenced by the French, Bastille Day (July 14, 1822) was chosen as the date. They would all converge on the Meeting Street Arsenal and, once they took control of the weaponry, would commandeer ships and set sail for Haiti freeing slaves along the way.

Because this planned revolt had gained so much support and attention, word slipped out regarding the details. Even after Saint Denmark moved up the date of the insurrection, the wheels of power were already getting set to crush the leaders, and crush them quickly.

Mayor James Hamilton of Charleston quickly formed a militia and rounded up the key conspirators. After his arrest and quick death sentence, Saint Denmark told his pastor, “I will die for a glorious cause.”

Saint Denmark Vesey died on this date, July 2nd, 1822, by hanging in Charleston, South Carolina.

In 1990 African-American residents of Charleston proposed erecting a monument to Saint Denmark, memorializing how he tried to overturn slavery in this city. Many white patrons balked at the idea, noting that they did not want to commemorate one who they considered “a terrorist.” I mean, let’s totally IGNORE the Confederate statues that dot the city landscape (confirmed terrorists), but, whatever.

Racism is alive and well, Beloved.

Saint Denmark Vesey is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that liberation has always been talked about in the Sunday School rooms of our churches…

We just don’t like to talk about it and conveniently have amnesia when doing so makes us uncomfortable and we’re the ones who have to change in order for liberation to happen.

Let those with ears to hear, hear.

-historical bits gleaned from publicly accessible information and Illes’ work Daily Magic.

-statue of Vesey below was finally erected in 2014 in Hampton Park, Charleston, South Carolina. Ed Dwight was the American sculptor.

Today the church remembers a translator of hymns (and, particularly, one of my favorite hymns), Catherine Winkworth, 19th Century poet and hymn writer.

Born in London in the 1820’s, Catherine would grow up with a deep appreciation for music. Her first work would be published when she was in her 30’s, a translation edition of German hymns, Lyra Germanica. It was immensely popular, churning out five editions in just a few years. She was seen as someone with the rare ability to keep the spirit of the German lyrical genius even when translated into English.

Her skill in translating German into English while retaining the essence, not just the literal word of the text, would lead her to become one of the premier translators of her time.

She was also a staunch advocate for women’s rights in the 19th Century, eventually becoming the secretary of the Clifton Association for Higher Education in Clifton, England, and a member of Cheltenham Ladies’ College.

Catherine and her sister, Susanna, were delegates to the German Conference of Women’s Work, presided over by Princess Anne.

At the age of 51 Catherine died suddenly of heart disease on July 1st, and a monument to her was erected in Bristol Cathedral.

It’s interesting to note, especially for those of us from Reformation backgrounds, that while men are known to be the “great translators” of ancient Greek and Latin hymns, the authoritative translators of post-Reformation German hymns were almost all women, including Catherine Winkworth.

My favorite hymn of her translation, and one we sang often around Thanksgiving here in the States, is ELW 839, “Now Thank We All Our God.” The second verse reads:

“Oh, may this bounteous God
through all our life be near us,
with ever joyful hearts
and blessed peace to cheer us,
and keep us all in grace,
and guide us when perplexed
and free us from all harm
in this world and the next”

Winkworth is a reminder to me, and should be a reminder to the church, that when it comes to theology, to scripture, to “God-talk,” the literal will never do. We must capture the essence, lest we lose ourselves in the particulars. God is found between the words, between the notes, between the letters even…not in them.

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