Today the church remembers the embattled Bishop: St. Anselm, Scholar, Erstwhile Bishop of Canterbury, and Preeminent Theologian.

Born in northwestern Italy, Anselm’s childhood was privileged in many ways. His parents were wealthy nobles and, after the death of his mother and an argument with his father, St. Anselm left home at the age of twenty-three to explore the world and further his education.

He found the Benedictine monastery of Bec in Normandy and, though he had been left all the family land by his father (who died while Anselm was abroad), he entered the brotherhood as a novice in 1060. Bec was the intellectual seat of the church at the time, and under St. Anselm’s influence grew ever more so. St. Anselm soon became the prior of Bec and then abbot of the monastery. He encouraged the church to move beyond the recitation of the faith and into an exploration of it. He prized Mary as the mother of God, but argued against her immaculate conception (he didn’t think it was a necessary doctrine). He formalized a process of theology known as “substitutionary atonement,” though it would be his students who would turn it into the (largely heretical) doctrine most know today.

He prized the life of the mind.

Soon he was summoned to be the Archbishop of Canterbury, replacing one of his teachers in the seat. There he entered into a power struggle with the King of England (Rufus…that name didn’t stick) over ultimate authority in the land. Rufus refused to recognize the Pope and, smelling an intense struggle, St. Anselm went to Rome and made his home there for a bit…just until things quieted down in England.

In Rome he worked hard on the Council of Bari (Pope Urban I had appointed him to it) that sought to reunify the Eastern and Western church. It didn’t happen, but St. Anselm’s contributions to the council remain distinguished.

Ultimately King Rufus died and King Henry I (that name did stick!) summoned St. Anselm back to Canterbury. Unfortunately the power struggle continued for the little island to the north, catching St. Anselm in the hot seat there. Now at the end of his days and in poor health, St. Anselm died on Wednesday in Holy Week on this day in 1109.

One of my favorite quotes of St. Anselm is this little ditty about the Christ, a totally feminist viewpoint:

“Are you (Jesus) not a mother too? Indeed you are, and the mother of all mothers, who tasted death in your longing to bring forth children to life.”

St. Anselm is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that the life of the mind is far superior to the recitation of stale doctrine.

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

Today the Celtic arm of the church remembers the Eve of St. Expedite: Carrier of Messages.

St. Expedite, despite the humorous name, is an actual saint that the Roman church canonized, yet took from the rolls due to lack of ”lived evidence.” Like Sts. Christopher and Valentine, this saint doesn’t have much historical backing to legitimize their existence.

And yet, they remain an important part of lore. Why?

Glad you asked…

Expedient soldiers were Roman officers who carried no packs and could move with ease. They were often employed to deliver special messages or deliver pertinent materials to other divisions in quick step.

St. Expedite was thought to be an Armenian Christian who, rather than give worship to the Emperor, died a martyr as a faithful member of the faith, running their errands as necessary.

Calling the phrase “Hodie,” this fast runner yelled “today!” before him, delivering messages far and wide.

Yes, this saint is largely lore. But why are they important?

Because “today” is really the only day we’re promised, Beloved.

And this saint, like so many of the Celtic tradition, draws our attention to what is needful in the world.

So, as St. Mary Oliver rightly asked, what will you do with your, “One wild and precious life?”

-historical notes taken from common sources

Today the church remembers a 17th Century saint, the first Native American that the church officially canonized: St. Kateri Tekakwitha, the Lily of the Mohawks.

St. Kateri was born to an Algonquin mother who was a practicing Christian and a Mowhak Turtle chief, who was not a Christian. When she was just four years old, a smallpox epidemic took both of her parents and her brother, leaving her with damaged eyesight and noticeable scars on her face. She was taken in by her uncle, who did not approve of her mother’s faith.

At the age of 18, St. Kateri secretly started studying with Jesuit missionaries, and she decided to be baptized and assume the name “Kateri” in honor of St. Catherine of Siena.

A year after her baptism, French conquerors came through and massacred her people and burned their village. St. Kateri escaped by taking to the St. Lawrence River. She was taken in by a First Nations tribe down river who happened to be Christian, and she dedicated her life to prayer and the care for the sick.

At the age of twenty-three St. Kateri contracted tuberculosis, and died shortly before turning twenty-four. Her final words were reportedly, “Jesus–Mary–I love you.”

She was canonized by Pope John Paul II in 1980, the first First Nations saint to be canonized (though, truly, many are canonized in the hearts of those who know their stories). She is often referred to as Lily of the Mohawks.

St. Kateri is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that sometimes those who have walked the most unjust roads are the perfect companions for those in need. St. Kateri’s life was ravaged by white invaders who brought their diseases, guns, and unbridled ambition to take over a land and subjugate a people they had no claim to, often in the name of religion and the church.

But, like her Jesus whom she loved so much, St. Kateri was a model for them of true discipleship.

-historical bits gleaned from Claiborne and Wilson-Hartgrove’s Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals

-icon written by Barbara Brocato

Attention my Finnish friends! Attention!

Today the church remembers a Finnish Bishop who studied under Martin Luther himself: St. Mikael Agricola, Bishop of Turku, Renewer of the Church, and Mystic.

Born in Uusimaa (the Fins think “why use one vowel when you can use two?), he went to school in Viipuri and then Turku. He was a good student and due to his scholarly achievements, he was sent by his Bishop to Wittenberg to study under Luther and Malanchthon.

After his graduation, Luther wrote him a letter of recommendation (apparently those have been necessary in the schola forever) and he became Assistant to the Bishop at Turku, eventually succeeding him in the bishopric without seeking Papal approval (a big no-no).

As Bishop St. Mikael undertook extensive Lutheran reforms throughout Finland, encouraging greater participation and catechesis of the laity. Toward this end, he developed an orthography, the basis for modern Finnish spelling, and prepared a book of ABC’s, a prayer book, a New Testament translation, a translation of the Mass, and a collection of Finnish hymns.

Truly, he was an educator as well as a theologian.

After being sent to Russia as part of a delegation to negotiate a peace between Russia and Sweden, he fell ill on the return trip. He died the night of Palm Sunday in 1557 after having been Bishop for only three years.

Though much of his work was in the practical changes needed for an informed church, he was a deeply spiritual person who held ancient mysticism in high regard.

He is widely commemorated in Finland to this day.

St. Mikael is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that you don’t have to be in a position for very long to make a huge difference.

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

It’s worth noting that today the church remembers a contemporary saint who took wrestling with demons, both in his heart and in his country, seriously: St. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Teacher, Martyr, Gadfly of the Nazis.

Born at the turn of the 20th Century in Breslau, St. Dietrich grew up in the intellectual circles of Germany. He studied hard, was trained as a scholar and theologian, and as a young pastor he moved to both Barcelona (where he was assistant pastor at a German-speaking congregation) and then to New York City where he was a visiting lecturer at Union Seminary.

It was during his time in New York that he felt his guts calling him to return home to Europe, the belly of a waking beast, and fight for the soul of his people from the inside. As the Nazi party ascended in 1933, the growing anti-Semitism was alarming to him as a person of faith. From 1933-1935 he served as the pastor of two small German congregations in London, but became the voice of the Confessing Church, the Protestant resistance to the Nazi party’s coopting of the national church. He made his way back to his homeland with both conviction and trepidation.

In 1935 St. Bonhoeffer organized a new underground seminary to train theologians in the art of subversive resistance (because the Divine is subversive!), and he began publishing the thoughts flowing from his heart in this difficult, hidden work. Life Together and The Cost of Discipleship describe the role a Christian is called to play in times of turmoil, and he encouraged his fellow believers to reject the “cheap grace” that smacked of moral laxity.

In 1939 St. Dietrich was introduced to a cadre of political exiles who sought to overthrow Hitler. Working with other church leaders throughout the world, including the Bishop of Chichester, St. Bonhoeffer tried to broker peace deals, but to no avail. Hitler could not be trusted to keep his word, and so the Allies would only accept unconditional surrender.

Bonhoeffer was arrested on April 5th, 1943, shortly after proposing to the love of his life. An attempt on Hitler’s life had failed the previous year, and documents were discovered linking St. Dietrich to the plot.

After a short stay in the Berlin jail, Bonhoeffer was taken to Buchenwald concentration camp, and then on to Schonberg prison. There he wrote letters to his best friend and his fiance, and conducted pastoral duties for the prisoners there.

On Sunday, April 8th, 1945, just after he concluded church services, two men with weapons emerged from the forest, not unlike the soldiers in the Garden of Gethsemane. They said, “Prisoner Bonhoeffer, come with us!”

Bonhoeffer, putting up no fight, said to his fellow prisoner, “This is the end. For me, the beginning of life.”

He was hanged in Flossenburg prison on April 9, 1945.

St. Bonhoeffer wrestled deeply with evil in the world. He was a pacifist theologian, and yet he involved himself in the plot to destroy Hitler because he felt that to not do so would be a greater evil than the man’s death.

St. Dietrich Bonhoeffer is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church (everyone?!), that wrestling with evil must be something everyone does with honesty and conviction, and that sometimes it comes at a price that can be quite high.

Grace is free, but not cheap.

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

-note that sometimes I use the phrase “saint” in the Protestant definition of the word: someone who has died in the faith. Bonhoeffer is not canonized by any official means, just within the hearts of those of us who trust subversion to be the ways of the Divine

-icon written by Kelly Latimore. You can buy his amazing work at https://kellylatimoreicons.com/

Today the church remembers a 16th Century saint who deserves more nods than he typically receives: St. Benedict the African, Friar, Friend of the Blue Collar, and Champion of Humility.

note: St. Benedict shares a feast day with St. Martin Luther King, Jr. on April 4th but, because it is shared, is usually transposed to the 5th to stand alone

St. Benedict the African was born in 1526 in Messina, Italy as the son of slaves who were converted to Christianity. He was under forced servitude until he was eighteen and, once granted his freedom, made his living as a day laborer. Though he made little money at his work, he shared most of his wages with those who made less than him, and he devoted much of his off time to caring for the sick and infirm.

His race and status in Italy made him the focus of much ridicule and scorn, but his reputation for handling the derision with fortitude and undeserved grace spread. He attracted the attention of Jerome Lanzi, a devotee of St. Francis of Assisi, and St. Benedict was encouraged to join Lanzi’s group of hermits, living a life of piety.

Lanzi died not long afterward, and St. Benedict reluctantly took the helm of the lay order, leading his fellow hermits as they served those who had no one to help them. When Pope Pius IV directed all informal monastic groups to identify with established orders, St. Benedict linked the hermitage with the Franciscans, and he was assigned to serve in the kitchen.

Doing his duties with careful attention and pride, St. Benedict found small ways to enliven the lives of his fellow brothers, and he shunned the lime-light. St. Benedict, throughout his life, wanted to embody the meek way.

In 1578 this brother without formal education (he was unable to read) was appointed as guardian of his Friary. Every account notes that he was the ideal superior: quick witted, theologically profound, gentle, and attuned to the sacredness of life. He often chose to travel in humble ways, at night or with his face covered, not wanting too much attention for his work. He had the scriptures memorized, and he was known for teaching the teachers in many ways.

Toward the end of his life, St. Benedict asked to be removed from his position as guardian of the Friary, and wanted to be reassigned to the kitchen. He died in 1589, and is enshrined still today as a saint worth emulating.

St. Benedict the African is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that education, family, and status are poor indicators of leadership in many ways. Resumes are ego documents that don’t reflect the spiritual sensibilities of an applicant.

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

Today the church remembers a martyr and visionary, Saint Martin Luther King, Jr., Dreamer of Dreams and Movement Maker.

Born in Atlanta, Georgia in 1929, Saint Martin was a brilliant young scholar who could have studied anything, literally anything, and chose the ministry as his life’s pursuit. At Crozer Theological Seminary he studied Gandhi’s philosophy of non-violence, and was greatly moved and impacted by the thought that social change could happen through determination and will, not force.

He received his Ph.D from Boston University in 1955, and started his ministry at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama. From there he organized his first social action: a challenge to the racial segregation of public busses, a continuation of the defiance of Rosa Parks and her refusal to give up her seat, and her dignity, to white privilege.

Within a year, due to the organizing efforts of the Montgomery Improvement Association, the busses were desegregated. But not before Saint King’s home was bombed and family was threatened.

In 1960 Saint Martin brought his family to Atlanta where he became co-pastor of Ebenezer Baptist Church, sharing the pulpit with his father. In October of that year he was arrested for protesting the segregation of a lunch counter in Atlanta, and in spring of 1963 he was once again arrested in a campaign to end similar segregation in Birmingham, Alabama. The movement withstood dog attacks, fire hoses, police brutality, political sabotage, and a deafening quiet from “respectable religious circles.”

It was from this vantage that he assumed the mantle of the Apostle Paul and wrote from prison what I believe to be his seminal work, Letter from Birmingham Jail, a piece of inspired literature that should be read in communities of faith every year alongside Corinthians, Thessalonians, and Colossians.

Quietism has no place in the church.

On August 28th, 1963 two hundred thousand people marched on Washington in support of The Civil Rights act. It was here that Saint Martin joined Saint Joseph of Egypt and Saint Joseph of Nazareth, all dreamers, telling of his dream that all people will be judged by the content of their character, and not the color of their skin.

In 1964 he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace.

King went on to speak out against the war in Vietnam, and took on the case of the poor and the working class in America.

In 1968 he traveled to Tennessee to support striking sanitation workers and, on this day that year, was shot dead by a sniper outside his motel balcony.

Saint Martin’s birthday is honored every year in America, but the church reserves the right to commemorate his feast day alongside the other great martyrs of the church: on the day of his death. We do this not to be morbid or to glorify death, but to rightly honor that often speaking truth to power has consequences.

And yet, speak we must.

Saint Martin Luther King, Jr is a reminder for me, and should be for all people, that non-violent resistance has been so threatening to the powers of the world that they would use violence to snuff it out. And yet the movement continues…you cannot stop a movement based in love and justice.

It lives.

Let those with ears to hear, hear.

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

-icon written by Kelly Latimore Icons

Today, on Trans Visibility Day here in the states I would lobby hard for the church to remember the stalwart of Stonewall, St. Marsha P. Johnson, Activist and Trailblazer.

Born with the name Malcolm Michaels Jr in Elizabeth, New Jersey, Marsha lived her early years in a town with little acceptance for those who identified as LGBTQ. She remained closeted, was the victim of bullying and sexual harassment through school, and mercifully graduated and headed for New York City to live and work at the age of 17.

In her early days in New York she came out of the closet, and took on the persona Black Marsha, which eventually morphed into Marsha P. Johnson (the “Johnson” taken from Howard Johnson Motels and the “P” standing for “pay it no mind” in reference to questions about her gender). In the 60’s and 70’s Marsha used many labels to identify herself, often utilizing the term “transvestite,” an attempt to reclaim the moniker from contemptuous slurring. But many queer studies experts agree that, had the term been accepted and more widely used, Marsha would have identified herself as transsexual (mostly indicated by her preferred pronouns she/her…this is why pronouns matter).

Though St. Johnson was often portrayed as a drag queen, she described herself as “low drag” because she couldn’t afford the fancy clothes and makeup that professional queens utilized. She was just being herself…it was not an act or a performance. In her dress and personality she embodied the intersection of the masculine and feminine, inviting an analysis of assumptions and stereotypes.

Johnson was one of the first drag queens to cross the Stonewall threshold when they first began to allow drag queens to enter without interruption (it had primarily been a gay men’s bar). We often forget (and may our children always ask “why?!” when this bit of history is unveiled), but homosexual activity, cross-dressing, and same-sex pda was illegal in many states in the USA, even in 1969.

Right. We forget that. And in the age of “Don’t Say Gay” bills and “ban Drag Queen” bills, it appears we’re trying to actively move back that way…

On June 28th, 1969 Stonewall Inn was raided by New York City police, and many were arrested sparking an uprising that lasted for days. The gay rights movement surged in the days following, with Marsha P Johnson on the front lines, pushing back against police brutality, claiming, “I got my civil rights!”

Marsha joined the Gay Liberation Front, and in coordination with other movements across the United States, helped to push both public opinion and political legislation to include protections of sexual minority rights in courtrooms and classrooms.

Toward the end of her life St. Marsha, living with HIV herself, took care of her good friend dying of AIDS during the AIDS pandemic. She became a vocal advocate for better care and conversation of AIDS victims, and sat at the bedside of many who were dying of the disease as a comforter.

Despite not being accepted in many religious circles, Saint Marsha was a practicing Catholic, often praying and lighting candles for those she loved. She felt that Christ unified all living people, across the spectrums and diverse personhoods in which we live.

Tragically, directly following a Pride Parade in 1992, Saint Marsha P Johnson was found dead in the Hudson River under mysterious circumstances. Her legacy of love and activism and self-acceptance lives on in a movement that will not be stopped.

Saint Marsha P Johnson is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that loving yourself is holy, by God.

-historical bits from publicly available sources

-icon written by Kelly Latimore