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.

-historical bits from public access information

-icon written by artist and theologian Jan Norton

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

-illustration/icon by Ingo Römling

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

Today the church remembers a saint who, though she could have easily lived in luxury, chose a different way: Marcella of Rome, Widow and Model of Generosity.

St. Marcella grew up with everything someone in the 5th Century might want. Her family was powerful and prominent. She married young, and married wealthy. She lacked nothing.

But shortly after her marriage her husband unexpectedly died. Quickly on the heels of his death, another suitor, Cerealis, cousin of Caesar himself, proposed to her.

She said, “Bye, boy,” and rebuffed his advances.

Seeing this as an opportunity for a different kind of life, she converted her mansion into a communal house for other women interested in living a charitable life. In this converted home/convent, she and other noblewomen used their wealth to help the poor and destitute. It was from this home, too, that she taught other young women in the ways of intentional poverty (chosen, not forced), most notably her favorite pupil Principia.

St. Marcella was known to have said, “I prefer to store my money in the stomachs of the needy than hide it in a purse.”

We know about her and her life through the letters of the prolific St. Jerome, who wrote to Principia. St. Jerome even notes that he learned much about God and the scriptures directly from St. Marcella, making her an early (though under-the-radar) teacher of the church.

In 410 Rome was invaded by the Goths. They stormed St. Marcella’s mansion and, when they had ransacked the place and found she had (as she had told them) given all her wealth away, they tortured and beat her.

Not long after this abuse, St. Marcella died, purportedly in the arms of her dear Principia.

St. Marcella is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that there is, indeed, a choice to make when it comes to how we live in this world.

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

-icon hangs at Holy Transfiguration Monastery, Brookline, MA.

Today the church remembers a martyr who called God by a different name: Gandhi, Peace Activist and Spiritual Leader.

Though one could certainly write a tome on Gandhi’s life (and many have been written!), I do not have enough knowledge of his background to do it justice. What I do know is he threw off the shackles of privilege and, though not a perfect person by any means (he fell into the trappings of the systems around him at times), he adopted a way of life that advocated for the liberation of his people from colonial rule.

He became a political leader. He became a spiritual leader. And he became a world teacher, showing us all how peaceful, nonviolent resistance can move mountains.

On this day in 1948 he was assassinated on his way to prayer (as most religious revolutionaries are…it’s usually on their way to prayer). Though the assassin took the actor, the production continues even today, and many in the quest for justice name Gandhi as an inspiration in nonviolent civil disobedience.

Gandhi is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that nonviolent disobedience, though costly, can change the world. And, don’t we regularly hear something about losing one’s life to gain it?

Gandhi knew something about that. Perhaps he was more Christian than many who wear crosses in that regard…

-icon written by Br. Lentz (purchase at trinitystores.com)

Today the church begins to set its collective eyes toward Candlemas (February 2nd), which comes on the heels of St. Brigid’s Day (February 1st).

On the wheel of the Celtic year, spring begins in February. They call it “Imbolc” which means “in the belly,” a sign that we’re in the belly of the cold time and emerging into warmer climes. It’s not over, but it’s beginning to change.

To mark this change they looked toward nature and the animals, seeing if they’d emerge from their dens or remain dormant. In America we call this “Groundhog’s Day,” but it all began with the Celts.

It was also the season where they’d haul out their new candles, as the old ones were spent, and would bless them for new service. These new candles would last longer, possibly the rest of the year. The church coopted this practice and Christianized it into Candlemas.

But we’re not there yet.

So, to prepare for St. Brigid’s Day/Candlemas, the ancient church honored St. Brigid’s cook at Kildare: St. Blath, Patron Saint of Cooks, Cafeteria Workers, and Volunteer Food Servers.

St. Blath, also known as St. Flora (because “Blath” in Gaelic means “Flower”) was St. Brigid’s convent cook. While we don’t know much about her, she was rumored to be a tireless worker, faithful in good times and in bad times, knowing that full bellies helped bolster spirits.

Which, I think we can agree, is a universal truth with all animals, especially humans.

St. Blath’s work takes on new and urgent meaning when we imagine that those early 6th Century sisters at Kildare, having taken a vow of poverty, would regularly give away their food to the poor. St. Blath was constantly prepping and serving, then, not only the sisters, but also those to whom they offered their meals.

It was said of St. Blath that her bread and bacon were the best in the land, a high honor if you know anything about Celtic culture.

Saint Blath died in the year 523AD, but her legacy of service lives on.

St. Blath is a reminder to me, and should be for the whole church, that it does no good to have faithful people if their other needs, especially their stomachs, aren’t attended.

Let those with ears to hear, hear.

-historical bits from Illes Daily Magic.

-icon written by Katherine Sanders

“The pursuit of wisdom is more perfect than all human pursuits, more noble, more useful, more full of joy.”

Today the church remembers a seminal intellectual in the Christian movement: Saint Thomas Aquinas, Teacher and Bane of all Theo 101 Students.

St. Thomas Aquinas was a firm believer that a Christian must first and foremost be a student of knowledge. We have, unfortunately, forgotten this tenet in these later years of Christianity, often replacing literalisim with learning, but there is yet hope for us still, right?

As a young13th Century scholar, Saint Thomas lived in a world where Aristotle was gaining ground in the schola, and the big tug of war between Aristotle and Plato once again surfaced in the world. The reaction was polarizing: some thought Aristotelian philosophy trumped Christian teaching, while others shunned Aristotle as a heretic, digging more firmly into an anti-intellectual existence.

St. Thomas thought this was a false dichotomy. The academy and the steeple could not only co-exist, but could meaningfully mingle (and marry!) with intention.

St. Thomas was a Dominican, the “Order of Preachers.” Words were his medium, and he used them well (at least in writing). His family was not keen on him going into this itinerant, poor, preaching order, and they forced him to come back and live with them in Italy…which backfired.

Thomas eventually sloughed off the shackles of his family, and went to Cologne, where he studied under Albert the Great. He was shy by nature (he even got the name “Dumb Ox,” a play on his reluctance for public speaking, as he was far from intellectually impaired!), and though the politics of his day plagued both his order and their societal acceptance, he was eventually embraced in both the academy and by the jealous bishops, both who were envious of his intellect.

He initially taught theology in Paris and became close friends with St. Louis IX and St. Bonaventure, a triumvirate of the faith. Eventually, after Bonaventure’s death, St. Thomas returned to Italy and began writing in earnest. Hymns, theological treatises, and his wonderful tome took shape though, it is worth noting, every historian believes his handwriting to be severely lacking.

When Thomas returned to Paris in 1269 the ugly old head of controversy once again emerged, this time between Augustinian theology and Aristotelian philosophy. The church dug in its heels, which gave St. Thomas quite a headache. He decided to leave the turmoil of Paris and go to Naples, where he taught the remainder of his life.

After the St. Nicholas Day Mass in 1273, St. Thomas Aquinas never picked up his quill again. For some unknown reason, he believed that he would be unable to move the needle on such entrenched, polarized viewpoints, and he fell into ill health. He died in 1274.

In life he was known as “The Dumb Ox,” but in death we remember him as “The Angelic Doctor.”

St. Thomas sought to integrate lived existence with theological teaching, marrying experience with the life of the mind. He sought to embrace knowledge while retaining the mystery of existence, and is a reminder to me, and should be for the whole church, that knowledge is not evil, but willful ignorance is.

Let those with ears to hear, hear.

-massive historical props to Pfatteicher’s New Book of Festivals & Commemorations as well as to my Theology and Philosophy professors at Valparaiso University

-icon written by Gabian Spirit

Today is the feast day of my name sake, St. Timothy, who shares it with his companions St. Titus and St. Silas, Compatriots of Paul and Behind the Scenes Apostles.

These three Saints are remembered the day after the Conversion of Paul is honored as a reminder for the church that community counts, not just one lone-wolf Rockstar. In a world of celebrity, Timothy, Titus, and Silas are less entourage and more worker bees of the church in its infancy. St. Paul notes he could not have done his work without them, and they, for their part, are kind of like the dedication page of his ministry.

What do we know about these saints? Very little. Timothy accompanied Paul on his second missionary journey (recounted in the letters to the church at Thessaloniki), and was apparently one of Paul’s first converts on his visit to Lystra. Timothy, by virtue of his name, was born to a Greek father, but his mother Eunice and grandmother Lois are remembered as early Christians and get a worthy shoutout by St. Paul in 2 Timothy.

Timothy had the distinction of being acceptable to both Jewish and Greek Christians, something that Paul used for missional advantage. These apostles were kind of like preludes for church visits: they prepared the church for Paul to arrive.

St. Timothy delivered the letter of 1 Corinthians to the church at Corinth.

St. Titus delivered Paul’s second letter to that church (though, honestly, the ordering is messed up in the scriptures, and there appears to have been another letter somewhere in there that is lost to history). Titus, too, was born to Gentile parents, perhaps in Antioch, and was apparently eventually charged with starting a church on Crete. Tradition says he went on to become the first Bishop there, of Gortyna, and died at the age of 93.

St. Silas (or Silvanus) was a leader of the church in Jerusalem. He replaces John Mark on Paul’s second missionary journey when John Mark and Barnabas set out on their own. Silas was one of the first Christian missionaries to venture into Europe. Some contend that Silas was the one who delivered the letter of 1 Peter, and maybe was even the actual author of that letter (or at least a redactor of it). Legend has it that he became the Bishop of Corinth and died in Macedonia.

These three saints are like the crew that sets up the Fellowship Hall. They are the kitchen team, prepping and serving the meal. They are the tech team, splicing the video and overlaying the audio. They are the ones who hear the small confessions of the faithful as they labor together mowing the church lawn or planting the church flowers.

They are a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that the community may be brought together by some Rockstar, but they are built and kept together by the prelude saints who make it all happen, weekly.

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

-icons by various writers in the Orthodox tradition

Tonight my Celtic ancestors will honor a more recent addition to the feast day lists: Burns Night.

Burns Night is a nod to poet Robert Burns (b. 1759), a Scottish dear, and tonight they’ll light fires, make traditional Scottish food, and recite the poems of the dearly departed.

Curiously, though Burns Night is meant to honor the birth of the great poet of Auld Lang Syne, it was first celebrated on January 29th in 1802…though they’d soon find he was born four days earlier!

Tonight they’ll eat haggis, a curious mix of organs and grains made into a kind of pudding and eaten with both great pride and great disgust (for those not accustomed to it), along with a recitation of his most wonderful poems.

Burns Night is a night to wave your tartans and give thanks for the poets who came before us.

So, should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind, I’m grateful for the family shoulders I stand on, and the days of auld lang syne.

Today the church honors not a saint, but rather an event: The Conversion of Saint Paul.

This conversion story is thrice told (I just wanted to use the word “thrice”) in the Scriptures, and Paul also references it three times in his letters. This repetition actually makes it one of the most oft-repeated events in the stories of the early church.

Paul, a zealous persecutor of Christians in ancient Palestine, is struck by a blinding vision and, reportedly, the voice of God, which leads him to become a follower of Christ.

This event may be the most influential event for the early church because Paul’s active conversion work (and theology) spread like wildfire throughout the ancient world, especially amongst Gentile communities.

It’s worth noting that this Feast Day also marks the end of the “Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.” It is not an accident that the “Week of Prayer” starts with the Confession of St. Peter and ends with the Conversion of St. Paul, as the two of them did not get along at all. They had different ideas of what the faith should be and do, who should be included in the circle of believers, and yes, it appears they even had different working theologies (of which, I would argue, St. Paul’s ideas won out, for better or for worse).

The one thing they did agree on? To continue working on behalf of the poor.

The church longed for these two pillars of the faith to be reconciled so much that they put them on the same feast day, believing that if they couldn’t be friends in life, they would be companions in death.

The conversion of St. Paul is honestly a feast day I struggle with, mostly due to a long history of colonialism and forced conversions winding through the church’s past. Yet, there is something honest about the fact that Paul, on his own, had an experience with the Divine that made a shift in him, and that can be a force for good, by God.

Christian unity feels a bit like a dream most days. This feast day isn’t even celebrated in the Eastern Church. But, perhaps if we all had a conversion we all might just agree to do that one thing that Paul and Peter agreed on: work on behalf of the poor.

For that to be the case, a lot of the church will have to be converted in the process…

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

-icon written by He Qi