Love, Death, & Valentines

LOVE, DEATH, & VALENTINES

A Christian Education Forum

Feelin’ Loopy

Romans celebrated Lupercalia on 15 February, combining themes of Februus, an Etruscan god of purification, with Lykaia, a Greek festival honoring wolves and the wild goat-god Pan. Rome connected this to Romulus and Remus, raised by a she-wolf. Men between 20 and 40 would sacrifice a goat, bathe in blood and milk, then run through the streets naked, whipping women with strips of goat-hide in order to promote health, fertility, and child-bearing. This often proved a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Shocked, I Say!

The fifth-century Pope Gelasius denounced Lupercalia as a holiday for “vile rabble,” endorsing instead 14 February as a commemoration of the martyred Valentinus (“healthy/strong”). Before we write this off as Christians white-washing an earlier pagan holiday, however, we must admit that St Valentine’s Day would not be associated with romantic love for another 1000 years. That’s quite a gap to leap.

Three in One

The problem isn’t that there wasn’t a real St Valentine; the problem is that there were three. Valentinus, a priest in Rome, healed and converted the family of his captor, leading to their mass decapitation under Claudius II. A similar story pertains to a bishop in Umbria. A third has to do with a Valentinus who performed marriages against the Emperor’s decree, and who before his martyrdom wrote a note to a young lady, signing it “Your Valentine.” All three get the one day—or at least they did, until 1969.

Fowl Play

Clandestine marriages aside, decollation isn’t terribly romantic. Whence come these loving associations? While St Valentine’s Day continued to be observed throughout the Middle Ages, it appears that we have Geoffrey Chaucer, father of English literature, to thank for the amorous ideation. In his 1375 Parliament of Fowls, he writes:

For this was on Seynt Valentynes Day,

whan every foul cometh ther to chese his make.

Following this popular poem, Valentine’s Day became all about the birds and the bees. In 1537, the infamously lustful King Henry VIII recognized 14 February by Royal Charter as an official holiday for the drawing of names and exchanging of love-tokens, often crossing social boundaries. Henry was on the third of his six wives at the time, and Lord only knows how many mistresses.

One for All and All for One

Marriage comes in many forms, but the societal recognition of the bond between husband and wife appears universally human. The Hebrew Bible reflects Bronze- and early Iron Age civilization, whereby polygamy was the norm for the wealthy, in part due to high male mortality. But romance was typically a secondary concern, a joyful accident, while the only truly happy marriages in the Bible are monogamous.

Martyrdom and Marriage

The early Church proved ambiguous with regards to marriage. Celibacy was celebrated in works such as the Acts of Paul and Thecla, and early Christian martyrs were often virgins who found independence and liberation in dedicating their lives to Christ: Agnes, Lucy, Catherine, &c. St Paul opined that people ought to wed only if they felt that they had to—St Peter had kids, after all—but most would likely be better off as single as himself. Romans were scandalized by the Christian insistence on marriage as a union of equals, hardly the Roman ideal. The Church also frowned on masters raping children and slaves, which led one inquiring aristocrat to retort, “Can I not do what I want with mine own?”

I’m So Blue

With Constantine and the legalization of Christianity, the age of red martyrs gave way to that of the white and the blue; the former being monks and nuns, the latter Christians now living out their faith in everyday life. Marriage and parenthood were understood as partnerships toward salvation, with husband and wife helping each other, and their children, to strive for heaven. With societal legitimacy, however, misogyny crept back in—Rome loved “traditional gender roles”—culminating with Pope Gregory VII in the 11th century. That guy really didn’t like women, or marriage, or marrying women.

Wish That I Had Jessie’s Girl

Romance, as we tend to imagine it, came to the fore in medieval France, with the rise of chivalry and courtly manners in the 12th century. The most famous cycles of chivalric romance were the Matter of Britain (King Arthur and his knights), the Matter of Rome (Alexander and Troy, oddly), and the Matter of France (Charlemagne and his paladins). Keep in mind that these romances tended to involve swooning for other men’s wives as unobtainable ideals, e.g. Guinevere. Coincidentally, the Church began to recognize marriage as a sacrament in the 13th century. Love your neighbor, just don’t love your neighbor.

Hearth and Home

The real push against married couples being treated as second-class Christians came with the Reformation, spearheaded by an ex-monk enthusiastically married to an ex-nun. For Luther, Christian faith ought to be focused neither on the monastery nor exclusively on the sanctuary but on the life of the family at home, where he said that father and mother were “bishop and bishopess” of the house. Thus his Small Catechism addressed Christian parents. This perhaps led to centuries of overcorrection amongst Protestants, glorifying wedlock and denigrating single life. The pendulum swung too far.

That Bawdy Bard

By the Elizabethan Settlement, people started to wonder whether romantic matches ought to supercede arranged marriages; that is, perhaps one ought to love first and wed second. Such a recalibration of priorities emphasizes love as an emotion, as a passion, rather than as a virtue or a duty. We can see societal ambiguity over this shift acted out on stage in the works of the greatest playwright of the day: William Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet is not a great romance; it’s a cautionary tale. Two hormone-riddled teenagers wrack up six corpses in three days. Yet his comedies stress true devotion, with lovelorn characters sacrificing everything to obtain the objects of their desire. Wedded bliss ensues.

Victorian Vinegar Valentines

With cheap paper in the 19th century, we see an explosion of postcards, including Valentines. (See also: Krampus cards.) But these weren’t just love-notes; they were often vicious mockery aimed at exes, bosses, family members, &c, anonymously delivered COD, and often resulting in fights, murders, and duels. They made up half (!) of all Valentines in the 1830s and 40s before finally dying down.

‘Tis a lemon that I hand you, and bid you skidoo.

Because I love another, there is no chance for you!

Conscious Uncoupling

A side-effect of marrying for love, along with women’s rights, was a rise in divorce. This had long been common amongst aristocrats, who matched and dispatched for politics and power. But now the Church had to wrestle with Jesus’ teachings on divorce and remarriage more broadly. As ever, context matters.