Today is, of course, Valentine’s Day.
Like many holidays that have been co-opted by capitalism, current celebrations seem to have little or no apparent relation to whom the day was originally dedicated. At least, almost no one is thinking of that person while sharing a romantic dinner or buying or giving cuddle toys, chocolates and roses.
(Call me sick or whatever you like, but when I see a dude walking down the street with a bouquet of roses, I can’t help but to think that within an hour and a half, a woman will be flat on her back.)
Anyway, St. Valentine was, according to at least one story, a priest or bishop who secretly married soldiers, in defiance of Emperor Claudius II, and aided persecuted Christians. While imprisoned, he was said to have restored the sight of his jailer’s daughter and wrote her a letter signed, “From Your Valentine.”
That deed and others were deemed miracles, and were among the reasons why he was beatified. But his continued defiance of the emperor led to his execution in 270 CE, which the church saw as martyrdom and another factor in his canonization.
Now, I can understand making him the patron saint of lovers because he married those soldiers and showed his love (which some have speculated as, umm, not entirely Platonic) for the jailer’s daughter. But what any of that has to do with candy and flowers or candlelight dinners is beyond me.
In case you were wondering, I took a ride today—solo. It was great.
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