I met Jesse Jackson twice in my life, both by accident.

The first time was when I was wandering on the South Side of Chicago with some classmates, and we came upon the Rainbow Push Coalition headquarters. We had been told to do a neighborhood audit, to just watch and observe and see what was where. So just a few blocks from who would be President Obama’s house was Rainbow Push.

We walked in and were met by an attendant who told us a bit about the place, the work, the massive legacy of the coalition.

And then a car pulls up and out walks Reverend Jackson, chatting with his companion. He saw us, greeted us warmly, excused himself quickly because he had a meeting, but was kind and said he was grateful we stopped by.

We were pretty awestruck.

The second time was much more informal, and much more surprising.

Some fraternity brothers and I decided to hit up the Ukrainian Banya in Lincoln Park for some saunas, cold plunges, and Baltika beer.

As we were sitting and sweating in the large sauna, in walks Rev. Jackson just like a regular towel-clad patron.

He sat down next to me, turned to me, and said (to the group of us), “Good day gentlemen. How are we?”

“We’re good, Reverend. We’re good,” I replied. And he said, “That’s fine, that’s fine.” Smiled distincitvely. And we just chatted.

And then he did push ups right there as if he was 20 years old, and probably would have bested all of us in a push up competition even though we were just over 20 years old at the time.

Reverend Jesse Jackson leaves a legacy of justice work that is unmatched in his time. His presidential run in 1988 was one of the first that I remember. He stood with laborers and those dismissed by society. Those of us in justice work stand not just on his shoulders, but boosted by his masterful influence.

Rest in power.

-icon written by KJCasey

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.“

-icon written by Harrison A Prozenko

Today the church remembers one of the “dragon saints” who, in iconography, is often accompanied by a dragon (think of Saint Michael or Saint Margaret who also often have dragon companions/foes): Saint Juliana of Nicomedia, Patron Saint of Midwifry and Slayer of Dragons.

Like many saints, what we learn about Saint Juliana of Nicodemia is more story than history. Born sometime in the late 3rd Century to pagan parents, Saint Juliana was betrothed at a young age to a prominent Senator, Eleusius (whom Juliana was predictably meh on).

Even though her father was suppesdly hostile to Christians, Juliana in an act of child rebellion (as teens are wont to do) got secretly baptized. Children have, since forever, rebelled against their parents, so be careful what you encourage them to rebel against!

As wedding bells were nearing their ringing day, Juliana became more and more fraught. She didn’t want to marry this guy, and even though her father demanded she not break her engagement, she refused to show up for the big day.

As retaliation, her father turned her over to the governor who (cue ominous music) was her former fiance! Senator Eleusius (also a governor) asked her once again to marry him now that she was in his custody. While she could have gone along with it to secure her freedom, she again refused.

The Governor, in a rage, was said to have her flogged her, and beaten her, and dipped her in boiling oil (which is why she’s sometimes written with a cauldron).

In 304 AD during the persecution under Marcus Aurelius Valerius Maximianus, Saint Juliana was said to be beheaded along with her friend and companion, Saint Barbara (December 4). She is especially popular in the Netherlands (who knows why?).

Saint Juliana is the patron saint of midwifry because, well, she endured torture with an honest heart and eager hope, and the midwives of this world accompany women who need that honesty and eagerness in the pangs of labor. She is often depicted with a dragon, and sometimes even fighting a dragon, because sometimes pain in this world needs to be seen with legs and teeth…because that’s how it feels, and she fought that foe to the end.

Also, I’d contend, that the system of oppression she was under was a dragon of a system…is a dragon of a system…forcing women to have their bodies controlled by the powerful rule-makers.

In a world of rule-makers, she was a good-trouble rule-breaker.

Saint Juliana is a reminder for me, and should be for the whole church, that sometimes we gotta break the rules to live moral lives.

-historical bits from public sources

-icon written “St. Juliana of Nicomedia, the devil at her feet,” from a Picture Bible made at the Abbey of Saint Bertin, Saint-Omer, France, ca. 1190–1200. KB, 76 F 5, fol. 32r. Koninklijke Bibliotheek (Royal Library), The Hague, Netherlands.

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