Saint Valentine's Day: A Feast of Affection

One of the appealing things, I think about the Catholic practice of celebrating the lives of the saints, one of the reasons why over the centuries such strong popular devotion has sprung up around the saints, and around such a wide range of personalities, is that people find something re-assuring in the fact that the kind of life we propose to lead as Christians, the way of life to which God has called us through our Baptism is in fact a life that human beings can live.

The value to us, to believers, of following the lives of the saints, celebrating those lives, lies not in that these men and women were some sort of superheroes who could bring to bear on the challenge of Christian living a whole range of skills and insights and virtues far above our own. Rather that value is in the fact that these saints were anything but superheroes. They were ordinary people, who relied on ordinary skills and practiced ordinary virtues, and in doing so accomplished extra-ordinary things.

Not too surprisingly, I guess, over so many centuries, the lives of some of the saints at any rate became a good deal overloaded with exaggerated stories, folk-tales really, that clouded over their common humanity. And the more that that happened, the less valuable, really the celebration of the lives of the saints became, as a real model for real people.

Some few years ago, then, the Church re-arranged the calendar of saint's feast days. Some new names were added, and some old and familiar names were removed. Removed not from the roster of saints, of course, but rather from the calendar of feast days, observed by the Church around the world. And as I say, the reason why that was done, was that the observance had over the years, lost its point, become too cluttered, sometimes even distorted, by emphases, customs, practices that eventually shadowed over the original value of the feast.

I think today is a good example of just that. For centuries February 14th was observed throughout not just the Catholic world, but most of Christianity, as the feast of St. Valentine.

Valentine was a Roman priest, who lived in the latter half of the third century during the persecution under the Emperor Claudius. Valentine very openly and boldly spoke out against the emperor, and so he was arrested and thrown into prison to await execution. And while he was in prison he was visited by the daughter of the judge that had sentenced him. According to the story, at any rate, she had been secretly a Christian before Valentine was arrested, and that a real bond of affection had grown up between them. And so the legend is that on the evening before he was martyred, Valentine wrote a letter to this girl, telling her how fond of her he was, and urging her to stay with what she had begun, to be bold in her practice of the New Way, even though that would probably mean great turmoil in her home life, being the daughter of a high Roman official. And he signed the letter with the words, "From your Valentine."

Well, after his death, some of his followers were so impressed with that letter, that they began to mark the anniversary of his death by themselves writing letters to people that they loved, and telling them that. And again, sometimes even ending the letter with the priest's own phrase, "From your Valentine."

And so over the centuries that custom caught on more and more, and today we mark Valentine's Day in pretty much the same way. It is not a particularly religious feast any longer, but it is still a feast of affection. And perhaps that is the important thing. It is a day we have somehow set aside as a time when we feel a bit freer, we get a little clearer permission to tell people that we love them.

It's kind of sad, in a sense that we have to set aside a special day for something that should really be so much a part of our everyday lives. It probably reflects on our emotional security that we have to look to a commercial greeting card company to find words of affection for us to use. It's almost as though we need the safely, the protection, again the permission of a formal exchange of cards, before we are willing to simply take the risk of saying to someone "I love you. You mean a lot to me."

And as I say, that is kind of sad. But still, I suppose, better that way than not at all. One of the most profound spiritual writers of our time was the French philosopher Teilhard de Chardin, and he once wrote that the saddest of all human failings is unexpressed affection...to be fond of someone, and not tell them that. He called it a damaging failing. Damaging, I suppose, in the sense of a lot of good things that might happen, and never do, because of fear, because of a discomfort with feelings of affection, rather than a joy in them. And I think within obvious limits of common decency and good sense, Chardin was right about that. It is true. Those who are unable or unwilling to express affection can pretty quickly get a little warped in their ability even to feel it. Something inside such a person grows cold and hard. Something really very valuable, something really very Christian, dies.

And all of that, I think, is an appropriate reflection for us this morning, because to say, simply enough, we love you, you are an important part of our lives, is precisely what we are here to do. And it is to a very special and important group of people indeed that we want to say that to this morning, a group of people that has certainly become very dear to me over the course of this year. The men and women that make up the lay faculty and staff here at Shanley. That is kind of an interesting word, a lay-person. It has a long history of use in the Church. And for centuries, it has carried two meanings. One of those meanings has always been very technical, and it spoke more of differences and distinctions than it did of anything else. And in that sense, "laity" meant very simply a person who was not a priests or a brother, or a nun. Well, true, but that is not a very rich meaning. It just doesn't say much. But there has always been another dimension to that word, one that has over more recent years come back into clearer focus. The word, "lay-person" means literally "one of the people", one who speaks the language of those around him. And that is a much more powerful level of meaning, I think. It speaks of a common purpose, a shared faith, a shared life.

And certainly that is the sense in which we use the word here this morning, as we offer this service of gratitude and affection for the lay faculty. Gratitude, because they bring good things into the lives of each one of us. That is an easy thing to see, and to measure. The time, the talents, the effort, the concern these men and women invest in us, in our school is a clear and evident thing.

They teach us, and they teach us very well. I hope that each of you is aware of the opportunity that you enjoy every day, really. The opportunity to move in the company of skilled and talented people. People who are very good at what they do, people from whom you can learn a great deal indeed. And I hope that each of you takes advantage of that opportunity. What a waste unnoticed, and untouched.

But professional skills are only a part of what these men and women bring to us, everyday. An important part, certainly, but not I think, the most important. And I hope that each of you is aware of that as well. Aware that each of you has been deeply blest in having been given the opportunity to daily move in the company of good and loving people.

Blessing is the word to use. Their company is surely that. We are bombarded, in so many ways, from so many different directions, with such a sad barrage of false and foolish models of what it means to live well in the world, what it means to be an adult, to be a man, or a woman. What it means to be strong, to be successful. What it means to love. What twisted imitations of all of that held up to us, so often, as the goal we should pursue, the example after which we are expected to model ourselves.

You have not been left at the mercy of such barrenness. With these teachers, you have moved truly in the company of strength, of patience, of gentleness, of men and women who honestly love. Men and women who can and will draw out the best in you, and that is a gift indeed. Men and women who love you enough to tell you even when you are wrong, and that is love indeed. Men and women who would be willing, if need be, even to have you dislike them for a while, rather than be false to you, rather than give you less than the best that is in them. And that is love with a mind as well as a heart.

In a few moments after communion we will ask the lay faculty and staff to come forward, and we will present them with a small symbol of our gratitude and our love. Let us be sure that it is that. A symbol, something small that represents, and gives expression to something very great. And let us not, not any of us, be content with that small symbol this morning. Sometime before this week, before this day is out, approach your teachers. Let your own words be that symbol. There is no need to buy a card, to hire anyone else's pen or voice. The words are easy to find. They are simply, "Thank you." Thank you for the skill with which you teach us, certainly. That gives us education, a good thing. But so much more, thank you for the goodness, the virtue, the love with which you surround us. That gives us life.

Readings: Deuteronomy 4:1-2, 6-8; First Corinthieans 2:6-10; Matthew 28:16-20. The homily was delivered at Shanley High School at a Mass in Appreciation of Lay Faculty and Staff members on 14 February 1983.