Saint Martin’s Day, held each year on November 11th, is not one that makes many calendars outside Europe, but it’s one of our absolute favorites.
My uncle Angelo died a year ago on the Feast of All Saints. He was a young 70, and even though he had some health issues and accidents over the years, it was still very unexpected.
What is a saint? The root of the word “saint” is holy. A saint is one who is holy. When Paul uses the word, he is referring to all those who follow Jesus.
Saint Simon and Saint Jude are an odd couple; they are a strange pair of saints to observe together. They are not brothers, as some linked saints are. They are not martyrs who died on the same day. They are not saints whose names are linked together again and again in scripture. Instead, it seems that the only reason that they are observed together is that they are the two disciples about whom we know the least.
There’s going to be a brother in our house. The two big sisters, upon learning we are expecting a boy, spent nearly five minutes in anguish before returning to delightful anticipation of Baby.
I am delighted to be celebrating the Feast day of Luke the Evangelist. You see, Luke and I have been traveling closely lately. Along with the fact that it is his turn in the lectionary, I’m also currently writing a curriculum for the families at my school studying his gospel.
A priest friend once confessed to me that he had been years out of seminary before he realized that, throughout his life, he had spent all of his time talking about God rather than to God. He had been excited by the idea of God, by all the accoutrements around worship, and by the call to justice. In all his excitement, it took some time before he realized that he had missed the central piece.
While in college, one of the best parts about my summertime subway commute to work was the 50 minutes of uninterrupted reading it afforded me every day. To stave off any potential conversations, I always boarded the train with my book in hand, head down.
Anyone who visits our house might guess at why we love Saint Francis of Assisi, known for his love of animals.
In America, we use angels to sell pretty good toilet paper and terrible lingerie. We’re not much for the six-winged terror holding a burning coal to the prophet’s lips (Isaiah 6:2-7). We prefer fat cherubs with harps to sentinels with spinning, flaming swords (Genesis 3:24). Our angels aren’t divine messengers, and they don’t start their sentences with, “Fear not!” They are boring and uncool.