If Saint Valentine Came to Dinner

I love the "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" tradition ... whether real or imagined, the idea of having specific men and women across the table from you creates fascinating scenarios. So in honor of the holiday, I wonder what it would be like if Saint Valentine came to dinner at No41.

After introductions at the door, I'd start with the obvious tour of modern-day appliances and technology. Since Val (which he insists I call him though it seems very disrespectful) was martyred for his faith back in the third century, he probably isn't up on all the contemporary world has to offer. What Pandora station would he prefer? Gregorian chant? A little after his time but probably more familiar than Mumford and Sons. I'd probably stick with a simple "meat and vegetables" kind of meal to put my time-traveling guest at ease, accompanied by a bottle of Chianti (from his supposed country of origin).

What I know of Val is insubstantial. There are many legends surrounding his life, none of which have been authenticated with any accuracy. He was likely a bishop in the early church, when it was under intense persecution from the Roman Empire. There's a story of his being arrested for marrying Christian couples. There's also a story of a judge asking him to restore the sight of his blind daughter; the miracle was followed by the conversion of the family to the Christian faith. Some storytellers have added an epilogue to the scene - that upon leaving, he sent a note to the daughter signed "Your Valentine". I bet if I brought that up to my guest he would become flustered and adamantly deny any such action. Or perhaps he is a romantic after all.

Regardless, the romantic associations of my guest were attached to him by another era. When "courtly love" became popular in 14th century England, a poet by the name of Chaucer associated Val with another romantic tradition due to the dating of my saint's official feast day, and the rest is holiday history. In the 18th century, our current tradition of sending "valentines" (Val is impressed that his name is now a widely-accepted noun) came into practice and has grown ever since (proving that we can't blame Hallmark for inventing a holiday to increase sales! They just capitalize on it.)

So after some small talk about the worldwide Christian church and the state of online dating (because the best dinner conversations meander between important and inconsequential topics), I'd ask him how he feels about joining the ranks of his 3rd century peer Saint Nicholas and his 5th century brother Saint Patrick as the figurehead of a holiday tradition. "I don't really know what to think of it," he would muse. "My life was so small. The Lord gave me a flock to care for. He provided me with courage when my life could be used for His glory. He has given me good rest. I can't fathom a world where my name is synonymous with red roses and glittery paper cards. Nicholas and I got the better deal though. Our holidays are usually toasted with mulled wine and champagne, not cheap beer."

A saint with a sense of humor.

"Love isn't an undesirable legacy to be associated with," he would continue. "My forerunner, the blessed Apostle John, called himself by the moniker 'the disciple whom Jesus loved'. The Apostle wasn't boasting; he was claiming an identity, one which we may also live by. Eros love, philia love, it's all possible because of the love God lavishes on mankind and models for us. It's extraordinary really. No love that we could celebrate on this day is greater."
A good word from my saintly dinner guest.

Would he like to see my valentines, I'd ask?