“’From Your Valentine.’ Oh, Daddy, do you see how he signed the note?”
“Yes, my Daughter,” the Jailer answered. “You see because the one they call Valentine healed your blindness. Now, he has paid for his crimes.”
“What crimes, Father Jailer?”
“Blind-now-seeing Daughter, the young priest, Valentine, did not follow Emperor Claudius’ decree: No couples shall be married, and all young men shall join the armies of the Empire to fight in the campaigns. Always before, young men when wed were exempt from service. Not so now.”
“What did my Valentine, Father?”
“He married the young lovers, my child. For that, he has paid with his head.”
“Oh Father, how could they? He was a good man.”
“I think more, Daughter. I think a saint, Saint Valentine.”
And, so it was, in the year 280 AD on February 14th, for his crime of uniting young lovers, Valentine was executed by the Roman Emperor, Claudius. Before the execution, the quiet priest healed the jailer’s daughter of her blindness and revealed to the world his sainthood. He also left behind the memorable note signed “From Your Valentine” sealing the kind cleric’s claim to the hallmark of Valentine cards.
The 14th of February had long been associated with love, and it is curious that the Emperor would choose that day to seal the fate of the first Valentine.
On February 14, the Romans celebrated a feast that was ancient when Rome was founded. Called Lubercalia, it was a grand spring festival to celebrate the warmer weather, the planting of the new crops and the anticipation of new unions. A great jar was placed in the middle of the festival grounds, and into that jar were placed the names of the eligible young maidens. Each young man would draw a name from the jar, and the two so partnered would spend the festival together and perhaps form a more permanent bond should the flower of love blossom and bloom. The 14th day of February was a time for shy smiles, the exchange of names and salutations, and a quiet evening walk in the Forum touching hands.
Even before the energies of man, the birds knew the day. For any who walk the woodland trails following the advent of spring, the young birds in pairs swoop and soar and chase one after the other stopping for twigs and soft grasses for a hidden nest in the far trees and a new family of tiny chirps and hungry mouths. In the Europe of the Middle Ages, it was held and believed that February 14th was the day the birds began to fly and find their partners, a time of love in the woods and in the skies.
In 1381 AD, that chaser of tales, the good Geoffrey Chaucer, did pen “The Parliament of Fowls,” in which the bard’s clear words unite the quick flight of our fair feathered friends in time of fresh flowers to the sad plight of the dear saint who gave his life to bind young lovers in vernal equinox:
“For this was St. Valentine’s Day
“When every bird of every kind
“Comes to this place to choose his mate.”
The world, in its many ways and times, is a strange and amazing place to bring a saint to follow a festival to spy in flight the avian rite of spring on that same day of their own choosing.
Happy St. Valentine’s Day to you and yours.
Find a tree-lined path to walk, friends with hands held close.
Smile and lift your heads to catch the antics of young cardinals paired.
Search a spring festival, wish each other best and exchange to each fair accord.
For two may not know now where such will lead, but know you now a Valentine is waiting there for you to see.
Grandpa Jim