Who Was Saint Valentine?

Happy V-Day, all! We had extra space in the last issue of Chapman's staff and faculty newsletter, so I decided to do a bit of research in honor of the holiday.



The Feast of Saint Valentine was officially declared February 14 in 496 by Pope Gelasius I, possibly to counter a pagan fertility festival called Lupercalia which fell on February 15. But who was Saint Valentine himself?
It’s difficult to say who exactly our modern day of love is named for. Many legends exist linking Saint Valentine to romantic love, one which says that on the night before he was martyred, he passed a love note to his jailer’s daughter that said “From Your Valentine” and another that he secretly arranged marriages during the reign of Claudius II when soldiers were forbidden to wed.
However, it is likely that these stories were simply invented after the notion of St. Valentine’s Day being linked with love became popular in the 14th century. In reality, early Catholic martyrologies list at least three different St. Valentines: two close to Rome and another in North Africa.
Dating even earlier than these saints is a man named Valentinius who was an influential teacher of Gnostic Christianity in the second century, though later declared heretical. Although it does not appear to be one of his core teachings, he apparently considered the “bridal chamber” to be among the great Christian sacraments, but it's unlikely that this accounts for the amorous association we have with February 14.
So would St. Valentine send a valentine if he were alive today? It's a mystery for the ages; in 1969, the year of the Summer of Love, the Catholic Church removed St. Valentine’s Day from its official calendar in an effort to pare down the number of saint days based purely on legend.

I got an e-mail today informing me that the Summer of Love was actually 1967, NOT '69, which I guess is a common mistake. I'm thinking of running a correction about it in the next issue and then researching and writing an article all about the Summer Love . . . and eventually just write about whatever I want and push the staff and faculty news out altogether! mwahahahahahaha!
(I am just kidding. please don't fire me?)

Happy Blogiversary

Today marks one year of Apokalipsis. This is my 132nd post, out of 365 days. I suppose that averages out to about one post every three days or so?
A year is a long time. This year, this slowseason has been the longest extended period of time I've lived in one state since leaving Oregon four and a half years ago. I feel a lot less settled now than I did then. I guess my life is in a deconstruction phase right now. It probably has been for a while.
I like the word deconstruction. My pastor used it in church yesterday, and I very nearly raised my hand to correct him on the finer points of its meaning, which would have been totally acceptable in our dialogue-driven church, but I abstained since really I would have just been tooting my own horn, and that shouldn't be what church is for.
I guess it is sometimes what a blog is for, though.
Deconstruction isn't a softer sounding word for destruction. It is destruction, construction and reconstruction all happening at the same time. When you deconstruct something, you pick it to pieces, no longer satisfied with the assumptions you have built up around it. You get inside, tear it apart to see all the gears and cogs and grease and ghosts that spin inside the machine, and you pull the whole thing to a great, grinding halt.
Then, if at all possible, you pick up the pieces, one by one, and turn them over in your hands, examining all sides, getting to know the parts of this grand construction.
And then, slowly, you can begin to build again. You must be careful to not rush. The idea is not to replicate, but to respectfully restructure, to grow. And if you grow too quickly, you'll end up staring back up at a great monstrosity, a tower of babel that just needs to be torn down again.
If you are careful, you can rebuild from the inside, where you can watch each gear spin, and hopefully clean, adjust or replace it as needed. Because deconstruction is a process that is never finished.
When I started this blog I was in what looked like a more stable, grown-up place than I had ever been in. Erin and I were finally living close together, I was surrounded by my friends, living in a nice house, finishing up school, part of a fantastic church and writing dozens of pages a week. I could not ask for a better situation, really.
But then eventually, things started falling apart. Erin decided to move back to Wisconsin. The community built around my house dissipated as my housemates all moved away. I graduated from college with no further plans or prospects, and felt like I had somehow wasted the whole thing. My church began a drastic transformation process. I was no longer sure what in the world I should be writing.
I honestly did not know what I was living for.
Not that I didn't want to go on living, or anything quite so defeatist.
But I hated waking up in the morning sometimes, because I had no idea what to do once I got out of bed.
I understand now how jihads and wars get sold. Certainly hatred and a lust for power are factors, but I think further down than all that, people simply thirst for purpose, for something to live for. For something to wake up in the morning and be ready to die for.
For anything but the restless tossing and turning and unknowing, the frightening weight of ennui . . .
.. . . . .
What I want more than fame or money or even health, is a purpose. I suspect that you are the same way. You may already know what your purpose is. I am not sure that I do.
But I don't want to rush too quickly into one. I think that's what lead to war and jihads and clenching desperately to things you can't keep.
So I am deconstructing me.
or rather . . .
I am allowing myself
to be
deconstructed.
amen.

Be a Star

guuhhh
so I spent nearly all day today talking to people
except for the hour or so I spent asleep on the floor in the late afternoon. it was dark when I woke up. that was weird.
Now I'm all . . . headachey. and my eyes hurt a little. i want to yell at things because I think that it's funny to do so.
RAAAAHHH!!!
um. I am sorry there hasn't been much up here this week. Stuff is coming, if I ever get it done. Also, today was a huge day for True Tales of Bravery and Honor. We're like half-way through the first storyline, plus there were almost a million (Really 168 or so?) hits, which is over double what we usually get. So were you guys all reading it or something? I don't get it. Anyway, please keep reading, tell your friends, etc.

oh man my eyes hurt.
dang.
this is the worst post ever. I'm sorry. I'm going to bed.