weaktwos

Here's a little story about a Christian named Symphorian.

Omer Englebert writes:
"Here and there among the people, the Christians were at that time the object of ridiculous slanders and the most childish vexations. They were driven from the markets and the public baths. They were refused the hire of lodgings, to say nothing of oft being put to death under pretence of having disturbed the public peace."

So, we have Symphorian, who, as we are about to see, was an object of ridiculous slanders, childish vexations, and being put to death under the pretence of having disturbed the public peace.

How? Well, like any intelligent person living in a society not open to diverse opinions, he publicly mocked the mother of the gods. Not that I condone curtailing free speech, but I wouldn't call this a pretence of disturbing the public peace."


When taken into custody and put before the magistrate, he did what any intelligent person before people who determine whether he lives or dies, he said what loosely translates to, "Yeah, I mocked the mother of the gods. Furthermore, the Gods of the Empire can suck my left nut. Christ rules and Roman Gods drool! "

Or something like that.

The Romans, being far seeing, and knowing that when the Christians would rise to power they would do similar tactics, figured it best to get their licks in now and behead folks like this for dissin' their deities.

Before he was beheaded, he saw his mother in the distance. She did what most mothers do with their sons who are about to headectomy; she said farewell and reminded him not to cry like a baby before he was beheaded. I believe the words Omer chose were not to "flinch in the face of death".

Thank goodness they upped the standards for being a Saint. If this standard persisted we would run the risk of someone like Fred Phelps being canonized.

March 3rd, March 4th, and March 5th

March the Third:
Saint Marinus
Meet Saint Marinus, a Christian and a Roman. He died about 262. He was about to be promoted to Centurion, when a jealous rival “outted” him as a Christian. His bishop Theotecnus talked it over with him and didn’t exactly encourage him not to lose his head over this matter, but Marinus told his chiefs he was not going to give up his faith. So, as was common the government gave him a choice. I’ve decided to utilize some Sacrilegious License to help in dramatizing this decision. I’ve hired the Tweedle Bug Players, last seen on Sesame Street.

Chief: “Saint Marinus, you cannot keep your faith without losing something else. What shall you give up?”
Marinus:”Shall I give up my uniform?”
Chief: No! That’s not it!
Marinus: “Shall I give up my ‘I heart the emperor bikini briefs’?
Chief: No! That won’t work!
Marinus: Well, what shall I give up then?
Chief : Your head!
Marinus: Sweet! I’ll be a Saint! I’ll sure miss those public baths, though.

What followed was the sound of a head being emancipated from its body.


Saint Winwallus
March 3rd was a two-fer, because we also have Saint Winwallus. I’m fighting back the temptation to call him Win-wang-wallawallabingbang, and so far I’ve failed miserably.

He died in 530. He was known by several different names. Englebert says he was known as Winwallus, or Guenole or Guengalaenus. Other references refer to him as Winwaloe. Yup, this man had aliases. It’s amazing how often people changed their names, or went by other identities before there was a standard process of identification. These days, anyone with that many different names is either laundering money or under the witness protection program, or both.

He had monasteries in France and in what is now Britain. Specifically, he had Monastery on the Lizard Peninsula.( http://www.lizard-peninsula.co.uk/) Yes, there is such a thing as the Lizard Peninsula. Reading this factoid has derailed my learning process. Supposedly it is a very lovely part of Britain. And they call it The Lizard. If they could have their pick of reptiles, they had to go with Lizards. Not many lizards are cute, even as babies. Why not Turtle Isle? Turtles are cute. Now I’m imagining some ancient Brit discovering this peninsula saying, “Bly me, it’s beautiful! I shall call this land the Lizard! Even Horny Toadland would have been a step up. All things considered, Lizard does sound a mite better than Plou-Fragan, where Winwallawallawoowoo was born. Is parents were Welsh, so there’s a slight possibility that Winwallakazoo was distantly related to Tom Jones.

Anyway, Winwallywallyoxenfree was a cool fellow. There appear to be no dramatic deaths, no Holy Death Breath fights. He spent the last of his days on the Island of Tibidi, subsisting on rye bread mixed with ash and water. Miracles were attributed to him after his death. But I’m having trouble locating specifics. Hopefully it was more than the miracle of bloating, the miracle of Holy stiffening or the miracle of chunder impelling stench.

His relics seem to be spread around France and Britain. Winwallaby got around. He has no patronage. However, in art, he was probably represented as carrying a church on his shoulders or ringing a bell. Suddenly, I miss the morbid symbolism in paintings of martyred Saints.

March 4th:
Saint Casimir. Third child of Casimir III, King of Poland. He supposedly showed many indications of wanting to be a saint, leading a pious life. His father sent him to fight a Hungarian army. He refused to engage in battle. He was encouraged by some doctors to get married. They supposedly claimed that marriage would cure a lingering illness he had. I can only assume that the malady was related to blue balls. He sounds like he had a really busy life, but he died when he was 23.

He’s the patron saint of bachelors. Shocking. Shouldn’t most saints be patron saints of bachelors? Only a handful of them appeared to have jumped the shark and tied the knot.

March 5th

Saint John Joseph of the Cross (d. 1734)
Not to be confused with Saint John of the Cross, who died a few centuries prior.
He rose among the ranks in the Franciscan order, until, at his request, he was deprived of all office and sent to be director of souls in a monastery in Naples.

That’s it. I’m quitting my job. I’m creating my own faith-based business, and my job title will be “Director of Souls”. But why stop there? I will be the Senior Vice President of Soul Engineering! Scratch that! I will be the Soul Czar! As my first duty as Soul Czar I will commission the transcontinental Soul Train! Chooo! Chooo! I got your one-way ticket to Funky town! Yeah!

Sorry, I got excited there.

This is where JJ of the C’s story stops being fun.

“His body was covered with sores which he carefully kept open with harsh disciplines.”

That’s just gross. Don’t tell me that’s when religious leaders spoke of being more holy, they meant “riddled with holes”? Nah. Annie don’t play that. He was just another dude into pain. Yes, he did great deeds for the sick.

Apparently he also slept sitting on the ground, avoided raising his eyes, and he “…remained 30 years without taking the smallest drink”. The skeptic in my adds, “…in public.”

It was said he was often ravished in ecstasy.

Yup. Pain fetish.

Apparently, there were many witnesses to his miracles and he died with a calm and smiling face.

March 6th:
Saint Colette. She died in 1447. After reading about Saint John of the Cross, I’m spent. She sounded much better by comparison. But it was written that she endured every kind of suffering. But that’s a lie. Why? Because she died before she had to read about Saint John of the Cross. Voluntary open sores! That’s so wrong!

But seriously, she was very much involved in Franciscan reform, was around during the Schism, and helped to resolve the schism between the Vatican and Avignon. Before that, she lived in a cell in Notre Dame for three years.

Soon, midnight will strike, and it shall be the 28th of February first of March. Time to ponder the life of St. Romanus of Condat (now modern day Saint-Claude).

St. Romanus started a monastery in Condat, his siblings also founded monasteries nearby. All of them embrased manual labor and lack of eating meat. It looks like he lived a long life, was fairly easy going, and cured a leper or two.

He was born in a place called Upper Bugey. If that doesn't sound like a place out in the sticks, I don't know what does. There is a lot of geological research opportunities in Bugey, though. Before this night, I had not heard of Bugey. Bugey is known for its wines as well. Then again, what part of France isn't? Any man I meet from Bugey will promptly be called the Bugeyman. And I will inquire about the Bugey Nights and if they know of thees Dirque Diggleur...

Oops, I've digressed with vast quantities of textual hooey!

Since he was a vegetarian, it's no surprise that he is the patron saint of drowning victims, insanity, mental illness, mentally ill people. Just kidding, my non-meat eating friends...if I have any left.

As a side note, there are other saints that are patrons of mentally ill folk:
* Benedict Joseph Labre
* Bibiana
* Christina the Astonishing
* Drogo
* Dymphna
* Eustochium of Padua
* Fillan
* Giles
* Job
* Margaret of Cortona
* Maria Fortunata Viti
* Medard
* Michelina
* Osmund
* Raphaela
* Romanus of Condat
* Veran

So, if you're nuts, you've got 16 Saints to call on.

Wow, just as I believe there is someone for everyone, romantically speaking, there's also a Saint for everyone. Take Benedict Joseph Labre listed up-top. He is the patron saint for: bachelors; beggars; hoboes; homeless people; insanity; mental illness; mentally ill people; people rejected by religious orders; pilgrims; tramps; unmarried men. Wow! What a repertoire of tortured souls! Bachelors, beggars, hoboes, oh my! And let's not forget the people rejected by religious orders. That's gotta hurt. Suddenly it seems like religious orders are as cliquey as fraternities and sororities. These religious orders. They'll be happy to hug a leper, but will they let you into their religious order. Nooooo.

Let the record reflect that if this were a leap year, there would be no saint. No leap year saints! Pshaw! There appears to be no saint for leap year babies, but there is a saint for lead workers (Saint Sebastian who also holds patronage for plague and enemies of religion!).

Source other than Englebert's book: Saint Joseph Software at http://www.catholic-forum.com/saints/.

Okay, some catch-up is required.

February 23rd:
Saint Margaret of Cortona
She was beautiful, she married well. Had a son. Apparently, she had an affair, and her lover was killed. She joined the Franciscan order. She did a lot of penance, and was granted a lot of graces. Thankfully, she wasn't martyred. Apparently, in pictoral representations, she appears with a dog. This dog supposedly found her lover's body.

February 24th
Saint Matthias, d. 1370
After Judas left the band, Joshua and crew needed to allow one more to join the ranks. It was narrowed down to two groupies, Justus and Matthias. I call them groupies because they hung around with the apostles (or the ministry of Jesus). So, Saint Matthias was promoted. So, they drew straws and God made Matthias pick the short straw. He was martyred spreading the gospel somewhere, but they aren't sure which, and there's no support sources to confirm that. I'm going to throw my guess in, which states that he died in a brothel in Palestine.


February 25th
Saint Avertanus and his sidekick Blessed Romeo

Avertanus was a pious boy, and when the time came to choose his avocation, he wanted to enter the Carmelite order at Limoges. His parents begged him to stay. "Have pity on my white hair," his old man said, "I shall die soon and whom will I have to close my eyes?"

Avertanus paused a moment and thought, "I'd rather spend all day praying on my knees until they feel like leather than watch my dad die." So, he replied that "...God never abandons those who do His will, that the happiness of parents consists in that of their children.."

Other sources claim that Avertanus also said, "Serves you right for not having more children. One of them could have stayed behind to 'close your eyes'. Man! All those chores you made me do seriously harshed my pious-time!" *

Apparently, he was a hard-core monk, and he had a desire to take a Pilgrimage to Rome. He was given Romeo, a lay brother (wink wink nudge nudge) of the convent. Apparently they were very good travelling companions. They prayed often and visited every church along the way. However, they had many difficulties, including contracting the plague, which they brought to the town of Lucca, and they died there.

See, kids! Happy endings do happen!

*I'm completely making this up, so you just need to believe that it's true.


February 26th

Saint Nestor, d. 250
Led a congregation of Christians. Helped them flee, but stayed behind to be captured by the authorities. Refused to embrace the pagan gods. Accused magistrate of being possessed by a demon. Was eventually crucified. Lather. Rinse, Repeat.

If the lives of the Saints tell you anything, it's that Churches and States need to be completely separate.

February 19th:
Saint Conrad. He died around 1351 AD He lived a happy wealthy life up until a hunting accident that culminated in him being responsible for setting the area on fire. He let some other poor schmoe take the heat for the crime until he confessed at the last minute. He lost everything after that, except his wife. They lived quiet lives helping the poor and sick. The last lines Englebert writes of Conrad is the best, however:
The austere life did not always shelter him from carnal temptations. Like his father, St. Francis, he had to roll among the thorns to drive them away. God gave him the gift of miracles. Today he is still invoked for the cure of hernia.

Hold up, Father Englebert. Tell us more about this carnal temptations and rolling among the thorns. Don't leave us hangin' here, Padre. But since Englebert isn't talking from the grave, i'll just sum up: St. Conrad takes the responsibility for a stupid hunting accident, confesses, loses his wealth, appears to live a saintly life give or take the random carnal temptation. Then again, when you lose all your wealth, what else can you do?

February 20th:
St. Eucherius. He seemed like a garden variety believer. No grandiose miracles. But, he did stand up to Charles Martel, who tried to drain the church coffers in France to fund his military plans. After pissing off the political world, he laid low in another town. No cool Martyrdom from this one. He died either in 738 or in 743. Take your pick.

All told, a slow day in Saints, folks.

Alright, let us go back in time to AD 270 to the "Woman Empiyah"(as I affectionately like to call it). Valentine was a priest who was arrested under Claudius the Goth. He confessed his faith and then spoke disparagingly of Jupiter and Mercury. The Romans were easing up a bit, because probably a few years earlier, that was grounds for killin'. But, maybe like the Goth's modern day representatives, Claudius was more morose than murderous. Valentine was committed a magistrage named Asterius. Valentine converted him and his family via some handy-dandy illness curing. Then Claudius got pissed because healing is so...not Goth. He was beheaded.

Now, around the same time, under the same emperor, there was a Bishop with the same name. I imagine both these Valentines had issues getting each other's scrolls. He was beheaded as well for converting some other folks to Christianity.

Wikipedia reports another Valentine that was located in Africa.

Paganly speaking, mid February was the season for pagan fertility rituals.

Warren Ellis sends us some information about the event, as well, as many of you have posted in your journals today.

Englebert goes on to write that because birds began to pair around February 14th, the custom of sending Valentines was born.

And now, to present day, the legacy of these Valentines is a mixed bag. Those who are in a relationship feel pressure to do something romantic around this date. Those who are not in a relationship feel a need, much like Claudius the Goth, to behead the Valentines. (well, not really, but they do whine a lot).

There are some that feel that Valentine's Day is a female-centric event, because men supposedly do not favor the traditional red and pink confections and treasures. As darness mentioned, it has been suggested that March 14th become the Atkins friendly Steak and Blowjob day. Which leads me to suggest that while Valentine's day is a day to celebrate love, Steak and BJ day celebrates true love.

S and BJ day was supposedly established by Tom Birdsey in 2002. To Birdsey and his ilk I say, "Up Yours! Keep your chocolates and flowers between your knees, if you have to, and give ME a filet mignon and oral sex, Stud Puppet."

So, where do we go from here? How can you top Steak and BJ day? What shall we celebrate on April 14th? Asparagus and Cuddling Day?

And how do I feel about St. Valentine's day? I've always thought it a disease that happens to other people. I like romantic surprises throughout the year as opposed to a planned commercialized event when the price of flowers likely goes up.

That being said, I love you all, and not just on February 14th or, historically speaking, "Beheadarama".

February 12th's Saint is Saint Eulalia. She was tortured and burned alive at the age of 14. She lived in Spain. There is lore of Eulalia being either Barcelona or Merida. Or both. Both girls. Both torched alive. That's pretty darn tragic. However, what is not so tragic, considering the way in which one or both girls died, was Englebert's opening line about St. Eulalia:

"Eulalia was born of Christian parents, and from her early youth burned with a desire to become a martyr."

There you have it. She was burning in life, and she was burned to death.

Who was Englebert's editor? Who? Give that editor the cane! The cane!

So, St. Benedict, born in Umbria in 480a.d. had a twin sister, Scholastica. I'm going to go out on a limb here and suggest she's the patron saint of Elementary School book sales. And yet, I am incorrect. She's the patron saint of convulsive children, nuns, storms, and against rain.

Benedict and Scholastica were very close. Well, as close as a monk and a nun could be. They visited each other once a year. One day she wanted to spend another day with her brother, and he informed her that he never spent a night away from the monastery.

So she looked a little upset, said a little prayer to God asking him to make Benedict stay with her one more night. Suddenly a raging storm rose up and gave Benedict good reason to stay indoors. Supposedly they stayed up all night speaking of pious things, then three days later she died. Not long after that, so did he.

We'll get to Benedict in March.

Today was a reasonably productive day. I have managed to get to the gym during the day for four days so far this week, and this pleases me.

While in the gym, today, I realized that I need noise cancelling earphones. I got a pair of Shure E2c phones. They will block out the crap that people play on the main stereo system.

In addition to bad music, some beast turned the channel to Jerry Springer while I was at work. It had been so long since I have watched that show. It's rancid. They manage to find the crepiest people who somehow need to tell the other some dirty secret involving them sleeping with their boyfriend or girlfriend's mom/sister/brother/brother-uncle/whatever.

And since I saw this spew without audio(the radio was playing), I had no idea what they were saying, but something made the hillbilly cheating boyfriend take of his shirt and leave his tie on.

It was major eye poison. I can't believe Springer is still purveying this stench-plagued program.

St. Jacoba would not make for an interesting Medieval painting. It sounds like she lived a good life as best buds with St. Francis. Aside from her kinship with the F-dog, she was known to make a confection featuring almonds that St. Francis adored and even requested on his death bed. She apparently outlived the people she loved. This leads me to believe that it wasn't almonds in that sweet treat...they just smelled like almonds.

But seriously. February 8th is without sensational saints. No blood and gore tales for St. Jacoba.