Today the church remembers a Celtic saint who, while kind of obscure, had an impact for generations to come: Saint Adamnan of Iona, Abbot, Law Writer, and Arranger of Calendars.

Saint Adamnan was born in the early 7th century in what is now County Donegal in Ireland, related to Saint Columba on his father’s side. He grew up in the Celtic expression of Christianity and was schooled far beyond most any Celt, average or noble, in his day.

Eventually, after entering the priesthood, ordination, and extensive education, he ended up at the famed Abbey of Iona, begun by his ancestor Columba himself. It was there that he eventually took over as Abbot and penned the most extensive work on Saint Columba, as well as the most in-depth work on the ancient Scots (the Picts) that we have today, The Life of Columba.

But that wasn’t all that he wrote.

He was very interested in justice and human rights, and proposed what came to be called, “The Rule of Adamnan,” essentially an argument that, in warring times, women and children should be spared, and that non-combatants should not be held prisoner. His “rule” sounds very similar to modern Geneva Convention rules of war.

In his role as Abbot, he traveled around what is now the British Isles, visiting different parishes as good Abbots do. In South Briton (Britain) he encountered a strict Roman adherence to custom and calendar, which chaffed a bit against his Celtic understanding of the faith. Nevertheless, he believed the church should be one, and while he was unwilling to give up much of his Celtic Christian practices, he argued that one thing the church should agree on was a common Easter festival.

See, the Roman expression of the faith celebrated Easter on 21 Nissan, but the Celtic expression had continued with the ancient way of celebrating Eoster, the “spring festival,” on 14 Nissan. Intermingled with the empty tomb they put their ancient symbols of spring and new life: eggs (often painted), hares, and sweet rolls (often a gift to the goddess of spring). These symbols were also seen in the spring festivals of many ancient peoples.

Those sweet rolls, by the way, became hot cross buns in the hands of the church…

So while the eggs, rabbits, and rolls could remain, St. Adamnan argued mightily that they Celtic Christian expression should adopt the same date for Easter that the Roman expression was using, further unifying the faith.

In time, his argument won out, and the festival date changed (though the Celtic traditions remain to this day!).

St. Adamnan is a reminder for me, and should be for all people, that compromise is not only possible, but often an important step in unity.

Unity does not mean uniformity, and we’ve forgotten that.

On September 21st the Church honors St. Matthew, Evangelist and Apostle.

Here’s the thing about St. Matthew: while this person appears in all of the Gospels, in Mark and Luke it is Levi, not Matthew, that is called into discipleship.

Oh, what’s in a name?

Well, quite a bit, actually. Some ancient scholars took these two people to be the same person, with “Matthew” being the name Levi was given after he started following Jesus (Jesus had a habit of giving nicknames, after all). Some regarded them as distinct individuals.

Regardless, two things are known about this person named Matthew: the ancient church knew him as a tax collector, and his name in Hebrew means “gift from God.”

Now, the above information is only ironic if you know how tax collectors were regarded in ancient Judaism and ancient Palestine. Often tax collectors were seen as puppets of the state, and were cut out of Jewish activities. But it’s worth repeating that Jesus had a tax collector in his trusted circle, this one whom others considered suspicious and untrustworthy.

Jesus was “big tent” before it was en vogue.

We don’t know much about St. Matthew. Tradition ties him to being the writer of the first Gospel, which we have no proof of and, because of when the Gospel was written, seems generally unlikely. Tradition also considered him, generally, as the oldest apostle…which makes it even less likely that he wrote the Gospel text.

Some legends have Matthew preaching throughout Judea after the ascension. Some have him going as far as Ethiopia with the Gospel. Some even claim he was a vegetarian (why this is important, I’m not sure, but no other apostle gets to claim this distinction).

We’re not even sure how Matthew died. Some say by old age, and some claim it was by martyrdom.

With all this confusion, I think it’s important to point out a key thing about Matthew: he was disliked in the ancient world, and yet he was in the inner circle.

Think on this: Jesus had St. Matthew and St. Simon in his inner circle. Matthew was a tax collector, a government agent. Simon was called “the Zealot,” and was a radical antigovernment activist. And both were in the Jesus camp. And both, we must imagine, had to give up some of their ideological purity to be there, right? And both had to give up some of their prejudices to entertain the presence of the other, right?

St. Matthew is a reminder for me, and for the church, that Divine work is larger than the small ideological crevices we hew out for ourselves in this life.

Let those with ears, hear.

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

Today the church honors a contemporary saint and scholar, one whose genius in theology and mysticism was only discovered after his untimely death: Dag Hammarskjold, Peacemaker and Mystic.

Dag was born in 1905 as the son of Sweden’s prime minister. He studied law and economics, and was a professor of economics in Stockholm for about three years. He soon joined the Swedish civil service in the Ministry of Finance, and became the president of the board of the Bank of Sweden.

As his popularity in the circles of government began to rise, so did his mystical leanings and visions…though in secret. He served in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and was responsible for dealing with international trade. This position well situated him to eventually be appointed as Minister of State as the deputy prime minister.

At that same time he was chosen as vice-chairman of the Swedish delegation to the UN, and eventually became chairman.

On April 10th, Hammarskjold was elected Secretary General of the United Nations, and during his tenure he dealt with the end of the Korean War, skirmishes in the Middle East, and the Suez Canal crisis. Due to his acumen, he was elected for a second five-year term.

With another term in front of him, Dag set his sights on helping the newly independent Belgian Congo, sending in UN troops to suppress the civil war. On his way to negotiate a cease-fire between the warring factions, Hammarskjold was killed when his plane crashed in Zambia in 1961.

Upon his death, his reflections and mystical visions were published in a fascinating book (that sits on my shelf), Markings. In this work Dag showed that he was not only a peacemaker for the world, but sought inner peace as well.

He was an active contemplate, or a contemplative activist…however you want to describe it.

My favorite line from his work (unsurprisingly) is this lovely mystical mix of beer and theology:

“I am the vessel. The draught is God’s. And God is the thirsty one.” (Markings)

St. Hammarskjold is a reminder for me, and for the church, that inner work is just as important (maybe more important?) in the life of the faithful, because the inner life is reflected in our outer actions.

Deep wrestling with life, mortality, the Divine, and the poetic ways they appear in our existence elicit a humanity that is geared toward the other more than the self.

It’s an interesting paradox, right? In doing our own inner work, seeing the outlines of our own shadows and light, wrestling with the tough questions within us, we become focused more on the health and healing of those around us.

This saint is a testament to this truth.

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

-commentary is mine

Today the 12th Century comes into focus as the church honors one of the most amazing and influential saints, Saint Hildegard of Bingen, Prophet, Musician, and Renewer of the Church.

St. Hildegard was born in the Rhineland Valley, and from early ages began having visions and dreams that rocked the world of her family and friends. She was of noble birth, and the 10th child born, and because of these two factors her family felt it was important to “tithe” her to the church for a monastic future.

This practice is odd, but was apparently widespread in the Middle Ages…which, coincidentally, might be why so many crappy church leaders appeared in the Middle Ages, having been “tithed” and not truly called.

Luckily for the church and the world (and, perhaps, annoyingly for church leaders in her day) Hildegard was called, trained as a Benedictine, and eventually became Abbess at Disibodenberg.

Under her watch the convent grew and grew, and in 1150 a new convent was built to keep up with the growth. Only 15 years later, another one had to be built…Hildegard was apparently all about growing disciples.

You want to know something else she was all about? Calling people out.

From Popes to peasants, Hildegard spared no words on the political and moral shortcomings of the day. She wrote a number of books ranging from apocalypses to expository pieces on the Rule of St. Benedict. She also found time to squeeze in a book on the natural sciences, body ailments, and a musical.

Yes…she wrote a musical.

She also wrote a number of hymns still preserved today, even with musical notation. She wrote hymns elevating nature, full of stunning imagery and apocalyptic language.

St. Hildegard died at the age of 81 having lived a life of purpose, prophecy, and prose.

St. Hildegard is a reminder to me, and to the whole church, that sometimes “church growth” doesn’t happen through fancy gimmicks and advertising tricks. Humans might like that, but they fade over time.

St. Hildegard attracted people to her way of being through her living, her honest work, her penchant for not suffering fools, and her reverence for nature.

Let those with ears, hear.

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

-critique on fancy-schmancy church growth strategies all my own

Today the church honors a Bishop who tended his flock during a plague, which makes him a bit relatable, no? Today is the feast day of Cyprian, 3rd Century Bishop and Martyr.

Hailing from Carthage in North Africa, Cyprian was a professor and lawyer by trade, only being baptized in his forty-sixth year of life. Amazingly, however, he was elected Bishop of Carthage only two years after ordination…hardly enough time to understand the ins and outs of parish ministry, me-thinks…but no one asked me.

Cyprian was a scholar and assumed the Bishopric when the church was rocked by schism and scandal. He used his office to gather the church together, seeing the office of Bishop as both encourager of the people and the anchor that holds disparate parts of the Body of Christ in communion with one another.

When emperor Decius began persecuting Christians, Cyprian went into hiding, a move for which he was much criticized. He felt that he had to continue to lead his flock through the persecution, and so his survival was paramount. History has taken a more cynical view of this move.

Soon after the persecution a plague broke out in the empire, and the Christians took the popular blame for it. When persecutions again resumed under emperor Valerian, Cyprian willingly and peacefully was arrested on September 14th in the year 258. He died a martyr’s death two days later.

His arrest and appearance before the authorities is well documented, and even appears to have been a peaceful exchange…even though it led to his death.

The charges?

He was accused of not bowing and acquiescing to the gods of the empire, of not siding with the powerful against the powerless, and not worshiping the emperors of the day. He spoke against their self-congratulatory ways of operating and their demands for prestige and accolades at the expense of the people they were supposed to serve.

He plead guilty and died by the sword.

St. Cyprian asks us a question from his grave in these days:

Would we be found guilty or innocent?

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

The church today also remembers a Celtic saint and Bishop after my own heart, Saint Ninian, Scotsman and the Stuff of Lore.

Not much is known about Saint Ninian, at least not much that can be proven by historical record. Most formal works regarding his life and deeds are dubious, the Life of Ninian penned by St. Aelred chief amongst him.

But that’s kind of why I like him.

The Celts believed that life was best lived in story form. Historical fact is cold; historical fiction is alive. When the two hold hands a great adventure follows, which is why the Celts hold tightly to story, a mix of fact and fiction.

Regardless, we know that Ninian was the first Bishop of Galloway, that he was a Scotsman who was Romanized by the conquering warriors, and that he was ordained in Rome but sent back to his homeland to preach to the stubborn Picts and Celts there. In 397 he established a white stone church at Whithorn in Galloway, and from there he spoke to his fellow Scots about the beauty of the Gospel, intermingling Christianity with the ancient Celtic ways.

While we don’t know much about the actual missionary work of St. Ninian, we do know that he laid the groundwork for St. Columba, of whose work we know quite a bit!

St. Ninian is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that sometimes historical fact and historical fiction must hold hands for amazing stories to happen (looking at you, Scriptures!), and that the groundwork we lay now in our time prepares the way for others in their time.

Today the church remembers with sadness and indignation a group of young saints martyred on the altar of racism and white supremacy: Saints Addie Mae Collins, Carole Robertson, Cynthia Wesley, and Denise McNair.

These young women, all under the age of fifteen, were killed when Robert Chambliss, Bobby Frank Cherry, Herman Cash, and Thomas Blanton stuck dynamite under the steps of Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama on this day in 1963. As Sunday School was beginning, the bomb went off and they were martyred while walking to learn about the Prince of Peace, himself a man of color.

In that blast, twenty others were injured.

The courts found Chambliss, Cherry, Cash, and Blanton not guilty of murder, but fined them $100 and gave them six months in jail because they illegally possessed dynamite, making a laughing stock of not only the legal system, but of every Alabama courthouse emblazoned with “In God We Trust.”

Ten years later, in 1973, the case was retried for this bombing, and they did eventually receive a life sentence. Regardless, Saint Addie Mae, Saint Carole, Saint Cynthia, and Saint Denise would not get a second chance at life, no matter how many years pass.

The public funeral for these saints was attended by 8,000 mourners, but no public officials in Alabama thought fit to have their face seen there.

These young saints are a reminder for me, and should be for all humanity, that we are not so many years removed from this tragedy to take for granted that people are safe regardless of their race.

If you drive from Raleigh to Asheville you pass by two Confederate battle flags the size of Buicks on route 40. They are lit up at night as a reminder for every driver on that stretch of land that bombs are liable to be found under every staircase when in the hands of racist, hateful people.

Indeed, sometimes it still feels like 1963.

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

Today both the Eastern and Western Church gather together to honor one feast day known by many names but with one central focus: The Holy Cross of Christ, September 14th.

Sometimes called “The Exaltation of the Cross,” “The Triumph of the Cross,” or simply “Holy Cross Day,” this feast day honors a symbol not a saint…though, in fairness, all saints are symbols.

The particular perspective this feast day nods to is the one found most forcefully in the Gospel of John where the cross is seen both as human humiliation and the gate of Jesus’ glory. Early on the Church endeavored to reclaim the cross as a sign of God’s “alien work,” as our own Blessed Martin Luther called it, and today marks the reclamation on the calendar. Yet, as a symbol, the cross was rarely used in Christianity, as followers seemed to prefer the fish that you see on so many bumpers.

In the 4th Century, however, Constantine formalized the use of the cross as both a symbol of the faith and a symbol of victory…for better and for worse.

This feast day supposedly marks the day when emperor Constantine was building basilicas in Jerusalem, and upon excavating the site for one of them, “discovers” the cross of Christ. The cross was broken into pieces, and purported relics of it can be found from Iowa to Iona.

First celebrated in the 7th Century, this odd feast day continues to be popular, and even finds itself marking the names of several churches to this day. Just Google “Holy Cross” and you’ll find a slew of churches from across denominations, though Lutherans and Catholics seem particularly keen on the name, probably for very different reasons. Luther’s “theology of the cross” (which chaffs at much of what passes for Christian theology these days) remains central to the Lutheran lens on life, seeing the cross as both hinge and key to Divine work and salvation.

Many in the Protestant tradition prefer empty crosses as a sign of God’s victory over death. Many Orthodox and Roman adherents prefer a cross with a corpus, emphasizing the passion and sacrifice. Lutherans tend to split the difference, having images of either…we do love our “both/and,” don’t we?

Lore has it that Eve’s son Seth was barred entrance to the Garden of Eden, but that the angel guarding paradise gave Seth a seed from the tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Seth goes and plants this seed where he buries his father, Adam, and it just so happens to be at Golgotha. The tree that grows from this seed is then used to hew out the cross on which Jesus died.

Yes…it’s a fanciful story, known as the Legend of the Rood. But even in this story we see the earnest hope for the cross embedded in the Christian narrative: that all things can be redeemed in time and used for good, by God.

A symbol of both suffering and self-giving love, of victory and violence, of heartbreak and hope, the cross continues to be at the center of the faith for many. Yet, there’s no need to seek out a relic to find a piece of it.

Dig around your past. Dig inside your heart. Excavate your inner temple and find those broken things in you which, somehow, continue to have and give you life, by God.

Find those times where you were shown grace upon grace and an undeserved second (and third and fourth) chance.

Find those pieces of your soul that leap and resonate with the idea that everything, every thing, is in the redemption process somehow.

Do that searching, and I bet you’ll find a piece of that cross buried in there…

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

-icon written by the good folx at Monastery Icons

In the second half of the 4th Century the world was blessed with a preacher still unsurpassed in eloquence, and today is his feast day: St. John Chrysostom, Bishop of Constantinople.

St. Chrysostom (which literally means “golden-mouthed”) was born in Antioch and trained under the famous philosopher Libanius, who named him “brilliant,” and the biblical scholar Diodorus. Though Libanius wanted him to become a lawyer, John chose the more-secure-but-less-lucrative route of ministry, and was baptized at the Easter Vigil in ca 368 at the age of 18.

He lived as a hermit for a while, contemplating the life of a, well, contemplative, but was finally ordained into the priesthood and served the Bishop of Antioch, Flavian.

He became famous for his sermons as he preached with the “scriptures in one hand and the headlines in the other,” to borrow a popular phrase. His sermons were thematic and contemporary, addressing topics like social justice, the equality of women in society, his opposition to slavery, and emphasizing the role of laypeople in worship and the church.

He even did a whole series on “toppling statues” as the people of Antioch had rioted and destroyed some statues of the emperor. How’s that for timely?

In 398 St. Chrysostom was chosen (surprisingly) to become Bishop of Constantinople (or is it Istanbul?). This was an important and consequential post in the Church. He won people’s affections for his simplicity, honesty, clarity, and eloquent sermons. Unfortunately, these qualities also caused many people to despise him…if he were around today he’d have gotten many emails. He refused to play political games, and had no problem ousting clergy and Deacons for murder, adultery, and the like.

In 403 the empress and Theophilus of Alexandria conspired to take down this popular and principled prelate at a conference called the Synod of the Oak. There they condemned St. Chrysostom on false charges of heresy and he was officially banished from the city.

The people were outraged and riotous and, coincidentally, the empress herself had a personal tragedy. These events were taken by religious leaders as “signs from God” that they had made a mistake, and they brought St. Chrysostom out of exile. But, because he wouldn’t admit any wrongdoing, they prevented him from taking his seat in the cathedral. Still, John had enormous pull, and on the Easter Vigil, 3,000 converts came to the Baths of Constantine for baptism that year, which amounted to a riot itself. Soldiers broke up the service, and some were killed.

Unable to control the people with this golden-tongued popular prophet around, John was once again exiled, this time to Armenia. He continued to write, however, and was able to be enormously influential even in exile as he corresponded with friends back in Constantinople.

Pope Innocent I finally was prompted to get involved and, following the people’s lead, supported his Bishop. He condemned the Synod of the Oak as illegal, and when he sent papal envoys to Constantinople to investigate the ordeal, his envoy was treated poorly, some were even jailed, and sent back to Rome.

Now Pope Innocent was furious.

As retaliation for the Pope’s intrusion into his matters, the emperor had St. Chrysostom further exiled, and moved to an even more remote location. Having been given orders to vacate Armenia and move to isolated Pityus, John took up this cross on foot, bareheaded, and began the journey that would be his last.

He died at Comana in Pontus, never reaching Pityus. In his last breath he said, “Glory to God for all things.”

His grave is in the choir chapel at St. Peter’s Basilica. He is still remembered as the most eloquent preacher the church has ever produced, and his Christmas sermon is still preached by many faithful clergy every year.

St. Chrysostom is a reminder for me, and for the church, of a few things:

First, a sermon isn’t worth its salt if it doesn’t say something that connects God’s promises to the headlines of the day.

And, secondly, that every good pastor/prophet who does the above will have enemies. Sometimes, unfortunately, those enemies are close to home.

Indeed, it has always been so.

But the work continues, Beloved.

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

-They Might Be Giants references are yours truly’s

As dusk descends on 9/11, a saint deserving to be held is brought to my mind: Saint Mychal Judge, Saint of 9/11 and Chaplain of Engine Co/1 and Ladder Co/24.

Saint Mychal was not the first victim of the terrorist attacks on 9/11, but he was the first identified victim: “Victim 0001.” He served as New York City Fire Department’s chaplain. A Franciscan friar and priest, Saint Mychal was known for going above and beyond for the women and men he cared for. He often made hospital visits. He was at most every funeral.

And he went to fires, keeping his radio nearby, which is how he heard about the World Trade Center attacks.

While others fled the scene, Saint Mychal rushed toward it in his priestly garb, following the steps of his fellow fire fighters. He immediately started administering last rites to those who were critically wounded, and when he saw his company rush into the North Tower he ran toward it, too, despite the evacuation order.

Outside that North Tower he helped people escape and, while standing there praying, was killed by flying debris as the South Tower fell.

Saint Mychal was more than just NYFD’s chaplain, though, he was also a gay priest (out to his friends) who openly counseled those suffering from AIDs in the 1980’s, performed funerals for AIDs victims when other shunned them, who admitted quite honestly his struggles with alcohol, and who showed up to New York City’s first gay-inclusive Saint Patrick’s Day Parade in his friar’s garb, taking interviews for the media despite the Archbishop’s warning against it.

Saint Mychal is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that the true work is to walk with the people, especially when their lives are on the line, even as the world falls down around them.

-historical bits taken from Illes’ Daily Magic

-icon written by Br. Robert Lentz and can be purchased at Trinityicons.com