Today I would lobby hard for the church to remember and honor a modern saint who was able to stand tall while still being seated: Rosa Parks, Activist and Inspiration.

Rosa Parks was born in 1913 in Tuskegee, Alabama to a teacher and a carpenter, and at a young age learned how to work well with her hands, making quilts and dresses on her own. She attended some secondary school, but primarily worked to help care for ill family members. One of her earliest memories was having to walk to school, because the school bus was reserved for white children, and how when the KKK marched down her street in front of her house, her grandfather took up post at the front door with a shotgun.

These memories left a mark.

Rosa married Raymond, a barber and NAACP member in 1932. At her husband’s urging, she finished her High School studies, and in 1943 was elected secretary of their local NAACP chapter, having become an active member herself. Even within the NAACP chapter in Alabama she was a trailblazer, being the only woman in active leadership. In her work there she aided investigations on rape, unlawful incarceration, and discrimination. She eventually was trained at the famous Highlander Folk School on Monteagle, Tennessee, and was able to successfully register to vote on her third attempt.

Her third attempt.

Louder for folx in the back because we continue to see voter intimidation and racially-tinged roadblocks put in place still today…the issue has morphed, it hasn’t disappeared.

To get around Montgomery, Parks walked or took the bus. Now, in 1900 Alabama had passed a law that bus segregation was up to the discretion of the driver. They could assign certain rows as “colored” rows, and increase or decrease the rows depending on their whims.

They could even just remove the sign altogether, making the whole bus for white people only.

Rosa boarded a bus one day, paid the same as the rest of the passengers, but was told by the driver, a James F. Blake, that she had to exit and enter from the rear door. When she exited to enter from the rear door, Blake put the bus in gear and took off before she could board, robbing her of her fare and leaving her in a downpour.

He could take her fare, but she vowed that he would never again rob her of her dignity.

On December 1st in 1955 after working a full day, Rosa Parks got on a bus at 6pm and sat in the first row reserved for people of color. It was the 11th row in a long bus, the first ten rows being reserved for white passengers. As the bus went on its route, the first ten rows began to fill. The driver that day was familiar to Rosa…it was James F. Blake, and at the third stop he moved the segregation sign three rows back, telling a number of passengers that they had to give up their seats for white patrons.

Three of her fellow passengers moved, but Rosa just scooted toward the window, freeing up space but refusing to relocate toward the back of the bus. Blake noticed Rosa refused to stand and relocate and said that, if she did not, he would call the authorities to have her arrested.

“You may do that,” Rosa said plainly.

Now, some try to soften this story by saying that Rosa was “tired,” and didn’t want to give up her seat due to fatigue. But in her own account she refutes that softening noting that she wasn’t physically tired, but rather that she was tired of being treated as a second class citizen, and tired of having her humanity stripped away.

“I was tired of giving in,” she said.

Parks was arrested, and the incident effectively kicked off the Montgomery bus boycott. In rain or shine, the black community banded together and refused to give a nickel to the unjust system for 381 days as the official case slowly worked through a cumbersome courts system. It was eventually deemed unconstitutional to segregate the buses in this way.

Parks became an icon in the Civil Rights movement working to elect black leaders (John Conyers), fought for women’s rights (serving on the board of Planned Parenthood), and lobbying for those unjustly incarcerated. All the while she received death threats and continual persecution, even having to leave Montgomery directly after her arrest because she could not find work due to her national standing.

Yet, she persisted.

In 1987 she co-founded the Rosa and Raymond Parks Institute for Self Development (note the name order!) which helps to teach young people about the importance of Black history and the Civil Rights movement (which continues on).

She died on this day in 2005 at the age of 92.

Rosa Parks is a reminder for me, and should be for everyone, that the fact that something is legal does not make it just, and sometimes you have to stand tall in a situation even if it means keeping your seat.

-historical bits from public sources

-icon “Rosa Parks Iron Man” written by Bart Cooper, an ode to her fortitude

On this day the church honors a saint with a familiar name, but one who is often confused with other similarly-named apostles. Today is the feast day of St. James of Jerusalem, Brother of Our Lord.

St. James is noted in the books of Matthew and Mark as one of the brothers of Jesus. In the book of Galatians, St. Paul wrote that he met St. James on his first visit to the city.

In the same way that St. Peter led the church in Rome, St. James was the leader of the church in Jerusalem and, with such a distinct role, you’d think we’d hear more about him in the scriptures…but we just don’t.

At question is his actual kinship with Jesus. In trying to highlight how singularly significant Jesus is in history, many Christian writers have struggled to let any siblings be a part of the story. But it’s worth noting that it would have been quite unusual for Mary and Joseph to have only had one child. In the ancient world that was not common family-planning. At the heart of this speculation, though, is not even really Jesus, but rather Mary. In an effort to keep her singularly virginal, all sorts of stories cropped up about a first marriage for Joseph in which he sired other children, making St. James the step-sibling of Jesus.

This is all fancy family footwork without any substance.

To add to the confusion, some historians of the early church suggest that this James is the same “James the Less” who was one of Jesus’ disciples with a different parentage altogether. The thought is that St. James was the son of Mary of Clopas, the younger sister of Mary, Mother of Our Lord. While it is true that the same word for “brother” can also mean “cousin” in the ancient world, this, too, seems far fetched and an attempt to solve a problem that is not really there.

Jesus had siblings. It’s OK. We can all get over it.

St. James of Jerusalem really first comes on the scene post-resurrection when he is met by the risen Jesus. The early church considered him an important piece in the first stories of the church, perhaps as a replacement for St. James, Son of Zebedee (who was martyred early on).

In the same way that St. Paul felt a special calling to the Gentile-Christians, St. James of Jerusalem spent his ministry with the Jewish-Christians. It is believed he was martyred sometime in the early 60’s, right around the composition of the first Gospels. Some early church historians even claim it was the priest Annas who ordered his stoning, though this is more lore than anything.

Today is an especially appropriate day to lift up prayers for the church in Jerusalem.

St. James of Jerusalem is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, of two important things:

First, when we attempt to make Jesus so “special” we actually rob him of the most relatable parts of his being. The idea that he had siblings is kind of neat to me because, as someone who knows what it’s like to juggle family relationships, he knows a bit of my experience…our human experience. I mean, isn’t a central thought of the church that we are all the siblings of Jesus? Why must it be correct theologically, but not biologically?

Religious folks struggle with biology…

Secondly, the church has always struggled with niche ministry, worried that it would rub too much against the norm. St. Paul felt a calling to the Gentiles, and St. James of Jerusalem to the Jewish-Christians. Today some pastors feel a call to ministry on the streets, or to marginalized communities, or even to Wall Street Brokers. Some pastors don’t feel a call to the pulpit, but rather to the pavement. Some leaders don’t even feel a call to the priesthood, but are feeling a push to live as prophets.

From the early church, specialized ministry was already happening, and yet we still struggle so much with those who want to “do something different” with their call or want to start communities that don’t look a lot like conventional “church” communities.

Why?

-most historical bits, with the exception of some of the commentary around controversies, aided by Pfatteicher’s New Book of Festivals & Commemorations

-Icon by Tobias Haller, BSG

Today the church honors the Feast Day of St. Luke, the Evangelist.

We believe Luke was a Greek, and a Gentile, but we’re not really sure where he’s from or much about his life, other than he was a physician. He was a disciple of St. Paul and worked alongside him in missionary endeavors.

In Luke’s Gospel (which has a sequel in the Book of Acts) we learn that Luke was not an eyewitness to anything Jesus did or said. According to early lore Luke wrote his Gospel in Greece and preached in Bithynia, though we can’t verify any of that. Lore also has him reaching the ripe old age of eighty-four, a bachelor all those years.

Again, none of that is really more than speculation.

There is also an obviously dubious claim that he painted the first picture of Mary, Mother of Our Lord. For this reason many icons have him holding a painting of her.

The observance of this day as his feast day is quite old in the Eastern Church, and may be closely associated with the actual day of his death. On this day in many places people will make special donations to hospitals and nursing homes, an homage to this physician-evangelist, and there may have even been some “healing services” or anointing services happening in some churches (though, in the midst of a prolonged pandemic, I imagine this physician would rather churches limit gathering in person again this year).

Luke’s spiritual sign is the patient ox, because he plods along in his story, slowly, recounting in detail much about Jesus and the life of the early church.

Luke’s Gospel is marked by special attention to women, the sick, and the marginalized communities in general in the ancient world. For this reason it is the favorite Gospel of many. Luke, for instance, has Jesus giving his main sermon not on a mountain, but on a plain…a sign of equality (and, also, a reminder that the Gospels don’t all match up). Luke also notes that “Blessed are the poor” in his recounting of the Beatitudes includes an economic element. Matthew changed it to “poor in spirit,” but Luke has it as “those who are in poverty.”

Luke, and in his recounting, Jesus, cares deeply for the poor, the sick, and the marginalized.

He is a reminder for me, and for the whole church, that the church, too, has a duty first and foremost not to the powerful, but to those Jesus felt a duty toward: the poor, the sick, and the marginalized.

-icon written by Theophilia

Today the church honors three British Bishops, all ceremoniously executed by English royalty for their opposition to decisions of the monarch: Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury; Hugh Latimer, Bishop of Worcester; and Nicholas Ridley, Bishop of Rochester.

The most familiar to most, Bishop Cranmer, was instrumental in crafting the language that would end up in the Book of Common Prayer, a compendium that Ridley helped commission. All three were influenced by the Reformation movement in Germany, with Cranmer even marrying the daughter of Andreas Osiander.

Bp. Cranmer’s scholarly work shaped how Christianity became expressed in the English-speaking world.

Bp. Latimer, known for pithy and homey sermons that packed a punch, was zealous in speaking against corruption in the church. He was made Bishop of Worcester, but resigned his see over Henry VIII’s policies. He, unlike Cranmer, did not believe the Reformation’s goals were noble.

Bp. Ridley, however, did believe in the Reformation movement in Britain, and pushed them as Bishop of Rochester.

All three took part in the Oxford disputations against Roman Catholic theologians…and that’s where things really went wrong.

With Queen Mary’s accession to the throne, these Protestant Bishops who refused to recant their theology, would all lose their lives in the political struggles of the day. Queen Mary, a staunch and rigid Roman Catholic, would have none of it

Cranmer was burned at the stake in 1556.

Latimer and Ridley were thrown in the Tower of London and executed together on this day in 1555. Latimer’s last words to Ridley, as they were led to be burned at the stake, were “Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man; we shall this day light such a candle by God’s grace in England that shall never be put out.”

Latimer ended up being correct.

These Bishops are a reminder for me, and for the whole church, that when ideas about a “national religion” get batted around, or when any sect tries to impose their religious beliefs on an entire people, things go poorly.

The (literally) shining example of these three imperfect humans is testament to this.

A church must be free to critique the state, and to do that it can’t be in the pocket of the state.

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

-stained glass from, ironically, St. Mary’s Church in Melton, known as the “Oxford Martyrs”

Today is the feast day of one of my favorite mystics and saints, St. Teresa of Avila, Visionary and Renewer of the Church.

St. Teresa was born in 1515 into an old Spanish family of note, and had nine brothers and sisters all told. Her mother died when she was fifteen, and Teresa was sent off to school at a convent where she read the letters of St. Jerome (whose saint day was not too long ago!). Inspired by his writing, St. Teresa decided to take vows and become a nun.

Her father, though, had other ideas, and forbade her from pursuing a life in the church. So, Teresa did what every teen does: she ran away from home and joined the Carmelites in Avila.

Soon after joining the convent, however, young Teresa fell deathly ill and lapsed into a deep coma which, after she recovered from it, left her paralyzed from the waist down for three years.

It was then that she began to receive her visions, though she was quite lax with her spiritual practices. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because she began to physically feel the presence of the Divine quite acutely, eventually prompting her to recommit to her vows and take the name, “Teresa of Jesus.”

In 1560 she decided she needed to reform the monastery, as she felt it had become too austere. Facing great opposition she found a way to have a new monastery built, and dedicated it to St. Joseph.

In a page that could have been ripped from today’s headlines, lawsuits ensued. Her nuns were shamed and called names, and their numbers remained quite small. St. Teresa, in her wisdom, actually limited the number of nuns she would take to 21 in sum total, believing a smaller cohort had more chance to create community.

Eventually the Pope blessed the order, now called the Discalced Carmelites (because they wore sandals and not shoes), and St. Teresa set about starting other reformed monastic communities, calling them from pretention and austerity to a more humble way of being.

Throughout Spain St. Teresa established seventeen other communities. They were always small, intentionally poor, and extremely disciplined.

St. Teresa of Avila eventually fell ill and died in 1582, having struggled her whole life to call the church to greater humility.

St. Teresa is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that sometimes small pockets of apocalyptic (that is, reforming) people can change the world and be remembered in the annals of history. No one recalls the large convents of her day, booming with money, golden candlesticks (or, as we might say today, screens and technology), but we all recall this slight visionary who struggled and led a handful of folks.

I mean, that story kind of sounds like Jesus, right?

Let those with ears to hear, hear.

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

-icon written by Theophillia

-critiques of megachurches all me

Today the church remembers a saint from Turkey who is most revered in the Balkans who, when her parents tried to prevent her generosity, balked at them: Saint Paraskeva the New, Activist and Traveler.

Paraskeva (whose name literally means “Friday,”) was born in nobility not far from Constantinople (or is it Istanbul?). Her wealthy parents looked askew at this pious young woman who, even as a child, had a habit of just giving her things away.

Yeah, that’s right: she literally just gave her family’s possessions to the poor, from about the age of ten.

Her parents were not pleased with this, and perhaps rightfully so. But instead of engaging her in conversation and constructive learning, they essentially forbade her from going out anymore, confining her to the home.

The profession of her parent’s faith, as they were Christian, and their displeasure at her generosity caused conflict within the young woman. How could they have taught her the words of the Gospel, even Jesus’ own instruction to “give up everything,” and yet be really angry when she followed those very words they gave her?

In fact, I’d offer up that this situation is happening right now in many homes! Children brought to church are confused when they hear Jesus say “love your neighbor,” and their parents rail against undocumented immigrants or LGBTQIA+ protections. They wonder how Jesus can heal any who came to him, and yet expanding affordable healthcare is somehow “socialism.”

The struggle is real.

Saint Paraskeva left her home and decided to live on the streets, existing off of the hospitality of strangers. She traveled from city to city visiting holy shrines and sites, praying and fasting as she went, welcoming the poor as her sibling on the journey. She eventually set up a hermitage near the Black Sea, living as a desert monastic. On this day she died at the far-too-young age of 27 in the year 1027 CE.

Saint Paraskeva is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that we cause confusion in people when we hear the words of Jesus say one thing, but live our civil lives doing the opposite.

Let those with ears to hear, hear.

-historical bits from public sources and Illes, Daily Magic.

Today I would propose that the church, and the world, remember a modern tragedy that is still all too relevant today: St. Matthew Shepherd, Son, Martyr, and Hate Crime Victim.

Matthew was born in Casper, Wyoming, and was known as a friendly kid interested in politics and theater. After moving around with his family, he eventually landed at the University of Wyoming in the town of Laramie as a Poli-Sci major. He was raised Episcopalian, and his father noted that Matthew had a knack for relating to most anyone he met, but especially those who felt like they didn’t belong.

Here is where I would usually write about what happened to Matthew, but in typing out the incident that led to his death I found myself unable to continue because it was so terrible, horrifying, and graphic.

And it made me think of my own two babies. My heart breaks for his parents, his whole family, still.

On October 6th Matthew was offered a ride by two men at the Fireside Lounge in Laramie. He left with them and, instead of going home, they robbed him, beat him, and left him tied to a fence in freezing temperatures. He was found the next day, comatose, and died in the hospital on October 12th.

The two men, and their girlfriends, were brought up on charges of first degree murder and accessory after the fact. Though their testimonies became convoluted, it was noted that they pretended to be gay to lure Matthew, and then killed him motivated by prejudice, homophobia, and hatred.

When I woke up on this morning last year, I woke up to headlines indicating that the head coach of the Las Vegas Raiders, Jon Gruden, resigned due to leaked emails containing misogynistic, homophobic, and racist statements. Statements from years of emails.

Just this last year it came to light that North Carolina’s Lt. Governor, in a SERMON, called homosexual and transgender people “filth.”

He’ll run for governor next cycle.

We remember St. Matthew, martyr, on this day, because the evil that moved in the hearts of people to kill him that night still move today.

It’s literally in the headlines.

And we need to call it out when we see it and hear it.

-icon written by Andrew Freshour

Today the church honors St. Philip the Evangelist, not to be confused with Philip the Apostle…or any of the other nine hundred Philips in the ancient world. Seriously, it’s like they were short on names…

Philip was one of the Greek speaking disciples chosen in Acts 6 to distribute food to the widows and the poor in Jerusalem. This was the first organized ministry we have recorded by the ancient church, and note that it wasn’t planning a Harvest Festival, Rally Day, or a Christmas Bazaar.

It was feeding people.

Philip would go on to preach the gospel in Samaria, where Simon the Magician was said to be converted by him. It’s worth explaining that “Magician” in the ancient world probably meant “Sorcerer,” which is pretty cool if you think about it.

St. Philip would be the one to break down barriers in the church when he encountered the Ethiopian eunuch on the road and helped him make sense of the scriptures. This important Ethiopian was a sexual minority, and I think it’s important on National Coming Out Day (here in the United States) to honor the fact that St. Philip in the First Century welcomed a sexual minority in the church through baptism.

If only the modern church would emulate St. Philip.

Well, actually, it’d be best if the modern church would emulate the Ethiopian, wrestle with the scriptures, and ask to be converted.

St. Philip was also known to have four daughters who were called prophets in the early church. They hosted St. Paul on his journeys, and it is thought that he ended his ministry life preaching and baptizing in Asia Minor.

St. Philip is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that the organized faith has a long tradition of welcoming and affirming humans from all walks of life. St. Philip, when entertaining the possibility of withholding the sacrament of baptism from the Ethiopian, received pushback from the traveler, saying, “There is water here. What is preventing you?”

What prevents us from extending the accepting grace of God to people?

The question remains.

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

-I love this icon, but cannot find who wrote it. If you can find it, please let me know.

Today the church honors Oskar Schindler, Dissident and Defender of Humanity.

Schindler was born in Czechia in 1908. In 1939 he joined the Nazi party, where he benefited from the Nationalist movement by being given government contracts and favors for his loyalty.

When Nazi Germany invaded Poland, Schindler took over two manufacturing companies in Krakow and made enormous profit off of cheap labor: Jews from the ghetto.

But then Schindler saw something that shook him and stirred his moral compass: he saw Jews being deported to killing camps. Despite the significant monetary loss and danger, Oskar transferred his Jewish workers from his factory to safer locations. Under the guise of a loyalist and business man, Oskar Schindler moved a number of Jews to his native land of Czechoslovakia, and this became his life’s priority.

Using the factory as cover for his work, Schindler created an internal system for moving Jewish people young and old to safe locations outside of occupied lands. In fact, there is a story that a train of nearly 1,000 Jewish people was inadvertently sent to Auschwitz rather than Czechoslovakia, and Schindler offered the Nazis diamonds and gold in exchange for the souls on board.

Schindler would ultimately save 1200 Jewish lives from the death camps, and today over seven thousand descendants of those he saved are living throughout the world. He was not perfect by any means, and had many personal flaws, but when he saw the inhumanity around him he defied his party, his government, and risked his life to save the suffering.

Schindler is a reminder to me, and should be for the whole church (and world), that the law is not always moral.

In fact, sometimes what is moral calls our legal system to account for itself on the stage of the world.

We must wrestle with our conscience when lives are being bruised and broken in the streets, and we must always side with those being bruised.

Always.

Let those with ears to hear, hear.

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

Today I would propose that the church honor two 4th Century saints who loved one another and died together: Saint Sergius and Saint Bacchus, Soldiers, Martyrs, and LGTBQ Icons.

Some calendars honor Saint Sergius and Saint Bacchus on October 7th, but because the Lutheran Church honors St. Muhlenburg on that day, I would offer that today, a day when no particular saint is lifted up, would be a great day to remember these two trailblazers.

Sts. Sergius and Bacchus were young nobles and high ranking legionnaires in the Roman army under Galerius. They were secretly Christian, and when this was exposed, they were arrested and told to make a sacrifice to Jupiter.

When Sts. Sergius and Bacchus refused, they were tortured.

It is reported that Sts. Sergius and Bacchus had pledged themselves to one another in love, and that in that same breath they pledged themselves to Christ, claiming that in their union they had also become one with Christ.

This oathtaking sounds very much like vows.

In the medieval era this oath was considered an act of “brotherly love,” but that moniker over their devotion to one another falls flat when compared to the sincerity of their words.

Sts. Sergius and Bacchus died at the hands of their torturers. It is reported that Bacchus died first and appeared in a vision to Sergius, saying, “My crown of justice is for you, and yours for me.” It’s interesting to note that “crowning ceremonies” were one of the ways same-gendered couples were formally joined in union in ancient Rome.

They are a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that LGBTQ Christians are not only not recent, but have always been, from the very beginning of the movement.

Let those with ears to hear, hear.

-icon written by Br. Robert Lenz and was first displayed at the Chicago Pride Parade in 1994

-historical bits gathered from memory and a number of sites