Today the church remembers a little 17th Century known missionary who deserves more nods than he gets: Saint Bartholomaus Ziegenbalg, Missionary to India and Defender of the People.

Born in Puslnitz, a small town in Saxony at the tail end of the 17th Century, Saint Bartholomaus (Bart) was born into poverty but gifted with a wonderful intellect, a combination that time after time has proven to be powerful when the world gives it a chance, no? He studied hard, was raised in a pietistic Lutheran home, and upon graduation “said yes to the (ad)dress” that the King of Denmark gave, imploring folks to go and preach in southeast India.

So, in 1706 St. Bart and his associate, Heinrich Plutschau set out for Tranquebar, India with hopes and dreams.

They were met with much hostility when they arrived, both by the ruling Dutch who didn’t look kindly on visitors, and by local Hindu religious leaders who didn’t love these zealous missionaries stirring things up amongst the masses. But St. Bart wasn’t just interested in converting folks (despite what the Danish church wanted him to do). He set up a printing press and became enamored with the locals, their customs, their religious culture, and their language. He wrote and published volumes on Tamil, sending his writings and thoughts back to Halle where they were shoved away without publication. He translated the whole New Testament into Tamil, a translation that has had a few revisions over the years, but that is largely the authoritative one still in use. In fact, the church dedicated to St. Bart, the Church of the New Jerusalem, organized in 1718, is still an active parish today!

But St. Bart did not have it easy, both from the outside and on the inside. The Danish Church didn’t like that he advocated for the physical and mental health of those he served, and wished he would just “save them”…an ongoing issue in the church writ large today, I’m afraid. In addition, he was often sick himself with undiagnosed ailments both physical and psychological.

As the year 1708 came to a close you would find St. Bart in a local prison, charged with inciting rebellion amonst the people.

That would not be the end of his story, however.

St. Bart forged on, continued to make partnerships with the local people and other mission work in the area. He married in 1716, finally published that New Testament he’d been translating for so long, and founded a local seminary to train clergy from India so that the church wouldn’t just be a replica of Eurpean institutions, but be contextual to the people. He also began translating the Hebrew Scriptures into Tamil, and got as far as the book of Ruth before he fell ill for one final time.

He died on February 23, 1719 at the young age of 36, and his commemoration was moved to today to make space in the calendar to honor his life.

St. Bart had a direct influence on the flourishing of the Tamil-speaking Lutheran Churches in India today.

St. Ziegenbalg is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that caring for the entire person is necessary. Indeed, Jesus cared about bodies (why else would he be resurrected in one?!), so the church needs to care about bodies, too, not just “souls.”

Let those with ears to hear, hear.

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

-plaque from Tamil Evangelical Lutheran Church in Tranquebar, India

Today the church remembers a saint who was a victor (or victim?) of chance: Saint Matthias, Apostle and Patron Saint of One-Hit Wonders.

We know absolutely nothing about St. Matthias except for the brief account in Luke’s Acts of the Apostles where he is chosen by throwing dice as a replacement for Judas in the pantheon of Apostles. The early church felt it was necessary to restore the ranks to twelve, mirroring the tribes of ancient Israel. One wonders why they didn’t just incorporate Mary Magdalene into that position, as she was already performing the duties and fulfilled Peter’s qualifications for the role as a “witness to the resurrection,” but whatever. Patriarchy wins again, I guess.

When considering who should replace Judas, two disciples were put forth that supposedly fit the bill: Joseph Barsabbas and Matthias, both who were supposedly part of the seventy sent out by Jesus when he was alive. The dice landed on Matthias.

And that, Beloved, is all we know about him.

There is apocryphal lore regarding Matthias, though there is some confusion as to whether the authors of these stories meant to reference the Apostle Matthew instead. St. Clement quotes a second-century Gospel of Matthias, though we have no text of this Gospel book. Other works from the 6th Century and later expand upon the lore, often pairing Matthias (or is it Matthew?) with the Apostle Andrew in spreading the Gospel in hostile lands.

The one thing all the tales do agree on is that he was a martyr for the faith in the end. His crest exemplifies this thought, often depicting a double-headed axe resting on the scriptures.

It’s unknown why today was chosen as his feast day back in the eleventh century. Rome has him commemorated on May 14th to avoid the feast falling in the season of Lent, but Lutherans have no qualms lifting up a martyr in the penitential season. After all, though he witnessed the resurrection, he did so with his life on the line, which seems to fit both Lent and Easter sensibilities.

St. Matthias is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that sometimes things just happen and they don’t need a Divine reason behind it to be significant. I’m not one to say the Holy Spirit plays dice, and in all honesty I’d rather have had Mary rightfully acknowledged as the true Apostle she was, but I’m happy to give Matthias a nod today because, whether he wanted it or not, the lot fell to him.

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

-icon written by Noah Guitierrez

Today the church remembers and mourns Executive Order 9066.

By executive order of President Roosevelt, Japanese Americans, two-thirds of whom were United States Citizens, were forced into internment camps on this day, February 19th, in 1942.

It is estimated that, at the time of the attack on Pearl Harbor, 112,000 of the 127,000 Japanese American residents lived on the West Coast. Of those American residents, around 80,000 of them were second and third generation citizens, never having spent any time in Japan.

Forced from their homes, schools, and places of business, anyone with Japanese heritage (in California they exacted it to 1/16th of Japanese lineage) were placed in regional concentration camps. What was trumpeted as a “security measure” in case any of them were sympathetic to Japan, was actually legalized racism. Such measures were not taken for German or Italian residents in the United States, many more of whom were not legalized citizens (though a small number of people of German and Italian heritage were also forced into these camps on the West Coast).

By this order all people of Japanese heritage were forced to leave Alaska, as well as many areas of California, Oregon, Arizona, and Washington State.

In 1944 a legal challenge to 9066 came to a close, and though its constitutionality was upheld on technicalities (another instance where the small print delayed justice, and it didn’t even opine on the concentration camps themselves), it was affirmed by the court that “loyal citizens cannot be detained.”

The day before the results of this legal ruling would be made public, 9066 was rescinded, an implicit admission of purposeful wrongdoing in my book.

In 1980 Japanese Americans lobbied forcefully to have Executive Order 9066 investigated. President Carter initiated the investigation and in 1983 the commission reported that little evidence of disloyalty was found in the Japanese-American community of the day, and that the internment process was blatant racism. In 1988 President Reagan signed the Civil Liberties Act of 1988 and officially apologized on behalf of the United States government, authorizing monetary settlements for everyone still alive who had been held in a camp.

In other words: the US government gave reparations. It’s not unprecedented…

The larger question for me, though, is: where was the church?

Why wasn’t the church lobbying hard to have these fellow sisters and brothers released?

Additional studies have shown that religious prejudice also played a part in the justification for these internment camps. In a largely “Christian America,” these often Buddhist, Taoist, and Shinto practicing Japanese residents were seen with much more suspicion (which is probably why the German and Italian residents, also largely thought to be “Christian,” were not rounded up).

The church failed to protect a vulnerable population. The church held hands with the politics of the day in ignoring at best, and aiding at worst, the abuse of other humans.

Today we remember, mourn, and are honest about this failure.

This commemoration is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that when religion holds hands with politics we end up on the wrong side of history.

-historical bits gleaned from Clairborne and Wilson-Hartgrove’s Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals as well as common source news

-for more information on how religion played a part in this stretch of history, visit: https://religionandpolitics.org/2019/07/23/first-they-came-for-the-buddhists-faith-citizenship-and-the-internment-camps/

-art by Norman Takeuchi with his piece, “Interior Revisited,” stated that “Interior and ‘internment’ are synonymous for many of Japanese-American lineage,” because they moved people from the coast to “the interior” of the United States for these camps.

Today the church remembers the reformer and cranky theologian, Martin Luther. He’d wince at being called a saint, but welcomed the title of “baptized.”

Luther was as imperfect as he was ingenious. As the most prolific and public author of his day, his opinions on matters mundane (a homemade remedy for skin rashes) to mighty (Freedom of a Christian) are well-documented and well known by all students of history. He wrote beautiful theological treatises and stirring hymnody. He was a pioneer for women and children in his day.

Yet, he was a person of his era in many ways, and lamentably was unable to rightfully wrestle with his own prejudices, especially toward those of the Jewish faith.

His anti-Semitic writings have been totally and fully condemned by the Lutheran church.

With both his flaws and his fortitude he embodies one of his central theological discoveries: that we are all both sinner and saint, simultaneously. We are both perfectly imperfect, and perfectly loved by a God who has a tender spot for broken things.

One of his more poetic thoughts about the “now-and-not-yetness” of our human existence:

“This life therefore is not righteousness, but growth in righteousness,
not health, but healing,
not being but becoming,
not rest but exercise.
We are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it,
the process is not yet finished,
but it is going on,
this is not the end, but it is the road.“

Question from a reader:

Why doesn’t the church honor St. Valentine on Valentine’s Day?

Answer:

Nothing historically verifiable at all is known about St. Valentine other than someone with that name was buried in Rome on February 14th. Legends grew, of course, including legends of a gruesome death (kind of an ancient “tongue-wagging” tactic for a church that liked drama), but none of it is thought to be true. In 1969 the Roman church removed him from the calendar of saints for “lack of evidence for existence.”

It is thought, though, that the emergence of this day as a romantic holiday was a way that the church overshadowed a Roman festival, Lupercalia, held on February 15th.

Lupercalia was the celebration of the wolf that rescued the legendary founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus, and nursed and raised them (“Luper” from the Latin root “lupus” for “wolf”). For this reason the celebration was associated with child-birth and fertility, making the Church’s institution of Saint Valentine’s Day in 496 a natural Christianization of the holiday (though it became known more for love than fertility in the end).

Lupercalia honored the wild energies of creation intended for romance and reproduction. Valentine’s Day was a more modest variation of that theme…something the church could stomach.

Btw: Ever notice that the heart icons commonly used look nothing like an anatomical heart? The shape of that icon (all over everything Valentine’s Day) is thought to have been an artistic representation of voluptuous buttocks, the epitome of beauty in Roman times.

A competing thought is that the icon is derived from the fig leaves used as modesty covers in Pagan statuary.

Whatever the origin, though, it’s been used for a very long time and, despite it’s now common place and mild application, was pretty risque!

Blessed Valentine’s Day.

-icon written by Theophilia

Today the world honors St. Valentine, but the church kind of shrugs toward that saint, and instead dedicates the day to two Greek biological brothers: St. Cyril and St. Methodius, both 9th Century missionaries to the Slavs.

Cyril, in an effort to translate the Gospels and the liturgy into the Slavonic language, created a whole new alphabet. Modern Russian is based on this Cyrillic alphabet.

After Cyril’s death, Methodius took up the missionary mantle and continued the work. Cyril and Methodius met great opposition within the church for their novel way of using the common vernacular to spread the Gospel. Their followers likewise faced oppression, and found themselves scattered…which actually helped the language, and the mission, spread throughout Eastern Europe.

The Slavic tradition in Lutheranism is still very strong, with a whole non-geographical Synod (Slovak-Zion Synod) representing the tradition in the ELCA yet today.

The brothers believed in a deeply contextual approach to engagement with those they were living with, even deconstructing and reconstructing their own systems (alphabet and liturgy) in order to communicate with clarity. They were transformed in the process, even as they transformed the information, and are still deeply revered in Slovak, Czech, Croat, Serb, and Bulgar traditions.

Those with ears let them hear.

-historical bits adapted from Pfatteicher’s _New Book of Festivals and Commemorations

Today the church remembers an obscure First Century Christian mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, but never really known otherwise: Saint Agabus, Prophet and Patron Saint of Seers.

According to Biblical tradition, Saint Agabus was one of the seventy disciples sent out in Luke 10. This unnamed group of seventy is kind of a “catch-all” for the early church, and many First Century Christians who were of note are said to have been in this number.

Where he first appears by name, though, is in the Acts of the Apostles, Luke’s sequel which, like many sequels in the world, added new characters and new adventures. According to Acts 11 he was one of the prophets with the Apostles at the Pentecost, and traveled from Jerusalem to Antioch where he predicted a severe famine in the area.

Then again in Acts 21 he met Paul on his missionary journey in the year 58 AD. There he stopped Paul in his tracks and, having said to have received a vision, took Paul’s belt from his waist, bound his own hands and feet, and in dramatic fashion said, “This is how you will end up if you continue on to Jerusalem.”

Those who know the Bible well will recognize that this sort of dramatic reenactment mirrors the dramatic prophecies of the Hebrew Testament seers (think Jeremiah, Amos, and Ezekiel). The symmetry is not on accident.

Anyway, Paul would not be deterred and, sure enough, would end up bound in Jerusalem.

Lore has it that Agabus was eventually martyred in Antioch for his prophetic voice and on February 13th is commemorated by many in the church, especially those who follow a prophetic/seer tradition.

Saint Agabus is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that prophets don’t really tell the future, they tell the truth. It just so happens that when you tell the truth about a situation, the outcome is highly predictable.

-historical information from Daily Magic by Judika Illes and public sources

-icon is of the 70 Apostles by Antonio Caldeo because, while Saint Agabus gets his own commemoration day, it appears that he prefers to only be in group shots

Today the church honors a 4th Century saint who is more story than history, and yet that story is interesting and has lasted the ages: Saint Julian the Hospitaller, Patron Saint of Traveling Musicians, Innkeepers, Hunters, and yes, Murderers.

Saint Julian’s life is not verifiable at all, but as the story goes his parents were informed that ancient magicians put a curse on him the day he was born, and he was destined to kill his parents.

It’s a good opener, right?

Saint Julian’s father wanted to be rid of him, but his mother wouldn’t hear of it. She raised him and, when he was ten years old, told him of the prophetic curse upon him. An alternative twist said that while he was out hunting on his tenth birthday a white stag informed him of this terrible fate (which, honestly, is a better plotline if you ask me).

In either case, however he found out, Saint Julian swore that he’d never do such a thing and went on a pilgrimage, staying with whomever would share room on their floor with him. Growing in age on the road, he got as far a Galicia and found a wealthy widow who stole his heart.

Now, as happenstance has it, his parents went on a journey and also found themselves in Galicia some years later. Tired from their journey, they found a home and asked for lodging. The young woman let them in, noting that her husband, Julian, was out hunting and would be back that night. Overjoyed that they had found their long-lost son, the couple stayed the night.

Julian, arriving late from hunting, found two heads in the bed that was his and, in a fearful rage, slaughtered the occupants.

It was his parents (cue ominous music).

From that moment on Saint Julian swore that he would dedicate his life to charitable works, trying to repay the terrible debt he had incurred upon humanity. They went on another pilgrimage together, this time to Rome, and continued to travel until they came to a large river. There they created a hospice center for those with incurable diseases, and Saint Julian was said to help them, “cross the river.”

That language, of course, is purposeful. In Christian the story “crossing the river” is a way to note that you’re walking people through death to life everlasting.

Despite being more robust lore than real, Saint Julian remains an interesting character to me. Of greatest note, at least in my estimation, is the idea that even those who have done the worst in life can lead a meaningful existence in time.

Saint Julian is a reminder for me, and should be for he whole church, that even the worst in us can be redeemed, by God.

-information gleaned from Daily Magic by Judika Illes and public sources.

-painting by Franz Marc depicting Saint Julian on a hunt