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 in 2022, 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 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

As we part ways with September the church honors a saint you know about, but you don’t know you know about: St. Jerome, Priest and Monk of Bethlehem.

Italian Eusebius Hieronymus Sophronius…but you can call him Jerome…was born in 345 in northeast Italy. His family was Christian, and he was tutored at home until the age of 12 largely because his family made just enough money to afford a teacher.

At the age of 12 he was sent to Rome to study under Donatus, the famous grammarian, where he excelled as a student and acquired a reputation…both for his studiousness and for his out-of-class shenanigans.

St. Jerome was no, well, saint…at least behaviorally, but he remained close to his faith heritage and was baptized at the age of 19. The interesting thing about Jerome is that he notes that he experienced a conversion after his baptism, not before, as he traveled East toward Antioch where he would spend a good deal of his life.

It was there in Antioch that he had a vision where God encouraged him to take time away from studying the classics and focus more on the scriptures. In response to this vision, Jerome withdrew to the desert to lead the life of a hermit…lugging his books along with him. These books became the springboard for his own writings, detailing the joys and temptations of the hermit life.

When Jerome returned to Antioch he was ordained a priest, though he never desired the ordination, and he never fully took up the duties of a priest, feeling it wasn’t truly his calling. St. Jerome knew his calling was to be a secretary, a historian, a student of the words of the day, recording a legacy of thoughts and reports for the world to read.

He revised the Latin version of the Gospels. He revised the Latin Psalter. He wrote scathing pieces on the unethical and luxurious living of wealthy Christians and some clergy…which ensured he’d never be elected Bishop, by the way. He encouraged a growing ascetic movement amongst the elite, making a notable friend with a woman known as Lady Paula and her daughters. Lady Paula would come to join Jerome when he established a monastery in Bethlehem, and she would become the abbess of a community nearby.

St. Jerome visited all of the major cities of the empire before retiring to Bethlehem: Rome, Antioch, Constantinople, and Alexandria. This gave him a wide lens and a foundation of experience that would serve his writing and reflections well.

After settling in Bethlehem, Jerome carved out for himself a home…literally. In a rock. He lived there as a hermit, and opened a school for boys, translating historical, philosophical, and theological works into Latin. He also wrote an early “history of notable Christians,” expounding upon early Christian lore. He wrote letter after letter, involving himself in theological arguments.

Now, you’ve read all this, and you’re wondering, “Yeah, OK…but how do I know him?”

You know him, Beloved, because he wrote the Latin translation of the Bible that remained the standard Latin version for 16 Centuries.

You know him because you’ve read his work.

Or, more precisely, translations of his work. And translations of translations of his work.

Toward the end of his life, Jerome was besieged by trouble. Bethlehem was rocked by an influx of refugees as political problems plagued the empire. His reputation was soiled by theological opponents. His friend Paula died, and his monastery was burned.

In 420 on September 30th Jerome died and was buried next to his companion Paula in the Church of the Nativity.

St. Jerome is still considered one of the most brilliant Biblical scholars. He was a bit brash, and was not always theologically on the mark (I personally have strong issues with his remarks on Origen), but he is probably the most influential Christian of his day, and remains one of the most to this day.

St. Jerome is a reminder for me, and for the whole church, that they who wield the pen do indeed shape history. And yes, we need all sorts of STEM education in schools…I’m all for that. But if we don’t have some good writers in the world, all the advancements we make and the stories that surround them could, indeed, be lost in the endless stream of time.

We need writers, in the church and in the world.

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

Today is the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels.

At their best, angels are symbols of the vast creativity of the Divine.

At their worst, they’ve been turned into demi-gods and good luck charms.

Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all speak of heavenly creatures that convey messages from God. They play a significant part in the Hebrew scriptures, the Gospels, and the Epistles, even if their presence and activity is a bit ethereal and hard to pin down…probably by design, right?

Michael the Archangel is mentioned in the books of Daniel, Jude, and Revelation specifically, and in the apocryphal literature he plays a significant role in the struggle of goodness over wickedness.

In the Roman calendar of saints, three Archangels are commemorated on this day: Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. Lutherans go for brevity and just lump them all together, probably so as not to pay them undue attention. Angelic beings have a tendency to gain cultic followings among the faithful hoping for Divine favors…something that really doesn’t make much sense for Lutherans.

God favors all people…though Mary is greeted as “Blessed.”

Honestly, you probably don’t want a visit from an angelic being…they sound terrifying. This is why they always begin their address with “Fear not!” because, well, there’s probably much to be feared when they’re in the room.

I’m honestly unsure what to make of this sort of thing, this idea of angels, other than to say that there is much in this world that we don’t really understand very well. And sometimes humans need miracles with legs on…and wings, I guess, and so angels tickle the imagination and tend the fires of hope when not much else will.

Maybe thinking of them as “messages on fire” is helpful…

This feast day is a reminder for me that there are things in this world that I just can’t grasp, really don’t understand, and even struggle to wrap my head and heart around…even good things.

And that’s OK, I think.

It always makes me search for more, for better, for understanding, and hopefully, for a humble stance in the face of the unknown.

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

-icon written by Theophilia

-opinions and doubts all my own

Today the church honors a revolutionary figure in the life of Lutheranism, Saint Jehu Jones, Pastor, Reformer, and Trailblazer.

St. Jehu was born in 1786 in South Carolina. His father was the proprietor of a hotel, and had purchased the freedom of a number of slaves. They attended St. John’s Church in Charleston, where Jones owned a pew.

Jehu felt a call to ministry and desired to be a missionary in Liberia, but knew that the Lutheran church in the South would not ordain him. In this way he mirrored many contemporary call stories of people on the margins of society who feel a call to serve, but know that the church writ-large won’t accept that call as legitimate…

St. Jones traveled north to New York City bearing a letter from the pastor of St. John’s testifying to his character and acumen. He was ordained the first official African American Lutheran pastor into the Ministerium of New York on October 24th, 1832, and headed back to South Carolina to prepare for ministry across the seas…until he was jailed under the Negro Seaman’s Act. This barbarous act prohibited free black persons from re-entering South Carolina and directed that they be put on the auction block.

He was freed on the condition that he’d never set foot in South Carolina again. It is unknown if the church took any formal steps to protect him…but it is unlikely.

He left his whole family behind and returned to New York City, and then landed in Philadelphia with his wife and nine children where he organized St. Paul’s Church.

When the Ministerium of Pennsylvania came on hard times, they took the title of the building away from St. Jehu, and refused to offer him payment. St. Jehu turned to the Ministerium of New York, his ordaining body, for financial help…and they refused him, too.

Despite his success as a pastor and evangelist, St. Jehu was met with roadblock after roadblock in his struggle to minister in the church. He died on this day in 1852.

Though there are incidents of advocacy and solidarity, and individuals throughout Lutheran history who have stood on the side of the oppressed, especially in the abolitionist movement (Henry Melchior Muhlenberg comes to mind), the church as a whole has historically had a difficult time speaking with one voice against systemic oppression, especially when reputation and finances were on the line.

This must change.

St. Jehu Jones, Jr. is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that it was not so long ago that American Lutheranism formally rejected the gifts of our black sisters and brothers, and indeed continues to wrestle with full-throated endorsements even today.

It is no secret that black and brown seminarians wait considerably longer for calls in the church, especially female people of color.

It is no secret that systems of oppression still operate in the cathedral halls of America, across all denominations.

It is no secret that, though strides have been made and continue to be made, equity lags in the church across race, gender, and orientation lines.

St. Jehu Jones, Jr. calls to us from the past and encourages us to continue the struggle.

Let those with ears to hear, hear.

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

-icon written by Mary Button

Today, at the tail end of September, the church turns its attention to a saint who spent his entire life attending to society’s poor, Saint Vincent de Paul, Priest and Friend of the Outcast.

In the late 16th Century, Saint de Paul was born a peasant in southwest France. He was an attentive student, and was ordained at the young age of 20, having come under the tutelage of Fr. Peter de Berulle, who would eventually become a Cardinal.

Having grown up in poverty, Saint Vincent dedicated his life to his people: the poor and the outcast.

He made his home in the galleys of slaves imprisoned in Paris, and even is said to have taken the place of one of them for some time. That, Beloved, is walking in the shoes of the other.

He founded communities of both men and women who took up the causes of the impoverished, and took his message into the rural areas of France, reforming how priests were trained and therefore related to the destitute in the fields around Paris.

He founded the Congregation of Mission, later called Lazarists. He founded the Daughters of Charity, the first congregation of women not enclosed in a convent, who took no perpetual vows but rather entirely devoted themselves to the care of the sick and the poor.

This was their solemn vow.

He said to these servants, “Your convent is the sick room, your chapel the local parish, and your cloister is the streets of the city.”

Wow. Read that again. Let it be written on your head, on your hands, and on your hearts, Beloved.

He spurred others to generous living, even as he himself had little to give other than himself. And though a male, he is reputed to have related to females with no condescension or contentiousness. They were co-workers in the field of the world.

St. Vincent died on September 27th in 1660, and is a reminder for me and the whole church that, well, when we’re at our best…

Our convent is the sick room.

Our Cathedral is the local gathering of folks dedicating themselves to public good.

Our cloister, our sisters and brothers in service, are the streets of our cities, our dirt roads, and our back alleys.

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

-Icon by one of my favorite icon writers, Nowitzki Tramonto