Your Valentine

Pastor’s Epistle—February, A.D. 2014 A

The name February literally means purification. By this time of the year, the autumn harvest and winter stores so diligently prepared by our ancestors would begin to run low. February became a time of fasting, a time when food had to be rationed lest it run out before the spring. And fasting has always been associated with purification. In other words, this is when folks historically have really gotten sick of winter.

But February also brings the promise of the approaching spring. In some climates—not Minnesota, mind you, but many other parts of the Western world—certain flowers such as snowdrops begin to push up through the crust of ice. The days grow noticeably brighter, refreshingly longer. Winter has yet to depart, but we can see the signs of its waning. Goats and sheep begin to lamb, providing milk amidst our winter scarcity. The earth is starting to stir again, to begin anew. It is a time of great hope: the return of light to the world. Christians express such hope in the celebration of Candlemas, about which I wrote at length in last month’s newsletter.

Two weeks on, however, a second holiday arises, one a bit more familiar to the general public. I write, of course, about St. Valentine’s Day. Those familiar with history will recall that ancient Rome had a particular fondness for wolves. Romulus and Remus, the mythical founders of Rome, were said to have been suckled by a she-wolf as infants, and so the she-wolf became a symbol of the Eternal City herself. On February 15th, Romans celebrated the Lupercalia, a fertility festival marking the beginning of the wolves’ mating season. Wolves, they knew, mate for life, and so all of February became jam-packed with holidays celebrating marriage, childbirth, and amorous adventures in general. For thousands of years, it has been the most romantic of months.

Enter St. Valentine. Legend has it that during the reign of Emperor Claudius II, Rome suffered from a dire need for soldiers. The Legions demanded 20 full years of service before retirement, and though benefits were good this was clearly not a career conducive to family life. For young potential recruits, the choice became that between wedded wife or army life—and many picked the pleasures of home over the rigors of the road. Frustrated, Claudius forbade all marriages, hoping to goad restless young men into taking up arms.

Valentine was one of the priests willing to defy the Emperor’s ban and perform marriage rites for the lovelorn. After all, what authority had the government to interfere with God’s sacrament of holy wedlock? As with any political dissident, Valentine was incarcerated and sentenced to death, yet during his tenure in prison a multitude of admirers sent him lavish floral bouquets. (Roses were sacred to a variety of pagan love goddesses, but for Christians they represented the five wounds of Christ, the Virgin Mary, and the blood of the martyrs.) The jailor’s daughter in particular showed him kindness, and as he was taken out for beheading he left her a note of thanks signed, “With Love from Your Valentine.” In a bitter irony, the Emperor executed him on February 14th, A.D. 269—the celebration of Juno, goddess of marriage.

In honor of St. Valentine, and of how our love more generally reflects the love of God, St. Peter’s will be hosting a very special Valentine’s dinner. Come early for the wine social, then enjoy a catered candlelight meal with entertainment to follow. (Suggested donation, $15. RSVP!) All are welcome, as couples, singles, or families. Let us raise a glass to the wonderful madness of romance, and to the love that still leads our youth to forsake sword and spear in favor of hearth and home. Amor vincit omnia—love, as they say, conquers all.