Nothing says romance like a vaguely cross-shaped smudge of burnt leaf ash on your forehead.
When they saw Ash Wednesday and St. Valentine’s Day both fell on Feb. 14, 2024, my tween daughters were quite concerned about the suddenly neglected role of chocolate and treats. I have a feeling that Mardi Gras will be extra romantic and festive for many of us looking for a way to respect a day of fasting and still get a mid-winter emotional boost. But is there a silver lining to this confusing mixture of penance and passion?
Ash Wednesday falls on Feb. 14 about once every decade or so; 2002 and 2018 saw this convergence, and then we see it again this year and in 2029. Due to the movable nature of Easter, Ash Wednesday may fall anywhere from Feb. 4 to March 10. Meanwhile, the Catholic celebration of St. Valentine (actually multiple St. Valentines, with an emphasis on the early bishop) was taken off Feb. 14 in 1969. In an attempt to universalize the feast days of the Church, we now commemorate Sts. Cyril and Methodius on that date each year. However, popular culture in American and European countries still recognizes Feb. 14 as the day for tokens of affection. This is thanks to the medieval poet Chaucer, who linked St. Valentine with a day when birds purportedly found their mates. The rest is history and great chocolate marketing.
Calendar acrobatics aside, St. Valentine, in fact, has much to teach us about love and suffering. Legends speak of Valentine comforting martyrs in prison, celebrating sacramental marriages in the face of bans by the authorities and healing the family members of his enemies. With greater certainty, we can affirm that St. Valentine was a martyr and died on Feb. 14 in the year 270. He was clearly a man who knew how to love in a deeply sacrificial way. The works of mercy such as visiting the imprisoned, counseling the doubtful or visiting the sick were not mere platitudes to him, they were a way of life. True love is radical; only this type of non-violent demonstration earns a religious man an instant death sentence.
In a more liturgically significant conjunction, the Annunciation and Good Friday can both fall on March 25. It happened during our lifetime in 2016, but it will not occur again until 2157. Saints and poets have reflected on the paradoxes and similarities contained within “this doubtful day / Of feast or fast,” as John Donne wrote in his poem “Upon the Annunciation and Passion Falling upon One Day” in 1608. He continued, “This Church, by letting those days join, hath shown / Death and conception in mankind is one.” Donne remarks that we tend to navigate not by the North Pole directly, but by the North Star, which points us toward the other that is harder for our sense to grasp. Similarly, one feast day that is more immediately apparent to us can help us grasp the true depth of another.
I think in this case, the more immediate liturgical tone shift of Ash Wednesday serves to direct us to the deeper possibilities within our mostly secular celebration of Valentine’s Day. How can we selflessly love our family, someone we are courting or married to and our friends?
The thing someone we love most needs from us is unlikely to be a 4-foot stuffed teddy bear. Perhaps it is a letter of affirmation showing them they are seen and appreciated in their hard work or in their influence on others. Maybe they need an act of service done for them that they struggle to complete on their own. Often the gift of our full presence or our genuine physical affection without expectations in return is the key to unlocking a loved one’s vulnerability, trust and ability to connect with us more warmly in return. And a small but meaningful gift can speak volumes more than a lavish, generic one.
St. Valentine knew that the greatest victories and joys are found by loving selflessly in the midst of suffering. Penance and love are not enemies; rightly considered, they are both gifts. If we withhold our true gift of self, waiting for the moment when life is easier, the one loved is receiving your affection gracefully, you are feeling confident and well-equipped and love is easy, then you will not only find that you have not loved, you will also find that you have hardly lived.
In Matthew 6:16-18, Christ tells us that He does not desire a dismal fast, but bright faces and a courageous smile in the embrace of our cross. Let’s put aside our phones, our to-dos, our nagging worries and our sin and love the person in front of us who needs us to bring the presence of Christ to them this Valentine’s Day. Then, all those we encounter will know we are Christians, not merely because of our ashes on one day, but because of our love every day (Jn 13:35).
Kelly Henson is a Catholic writer and speaker who explores the art of integrating faith into daily life. She and her family are parishioners of Our Lady of Grace Parish in Greensboro. She blogs at www.kellyjhenson.com.