Martyred bishop, randy birds and Valentine’s Day

So, you’re a third-century bishop in Italy. Your name is Valentinus. You are an ardent Christian apologist and proselytizer. By hook, crook or persuasion, you comfort and free Roman citizens imprisoned for “being Christians.” You even convert some of your jailers. Legend has it that, after healing the blind daughter of one of those jailers, you leave the joyful parent a note signed, “Your Valentinus.”

Later you decide it’s a good idea to proselytize Emperor Claudius who, not surprisingly, says “no, thank you” to your invitation that he become a Christian. Well, he doesn’t so much say “no, thank you” as he does order your head to be cut off. You are martyred on Feb. 14, 269.

More than 1,000 years later, English poet and author Geoffrey Chaucer (famous for untoward satire and cheeky horn-doggedness) wrote a poem about two hot-to-trot love birds, saying: For this was on St. Valentine’s Day/ When every bird cometh there to choose his mate.

Meanwhile, back in Rome, there was observed on Feb. 13-15 a spring cleansing ritual called Lupercalia, believed to bring health and fertility. Lupercalia had subsumed an even more ancient festival called Februa (from whence we named the month of February). Februa included Pan, this goat-boy creature associated with erotic powers. When Pan played the flute … well, hubba hubba!

So, let’s review: Third-century Christian bishop gets his head cut off on 2/14. Geoffrey Chaucer writes a poem about randy birds who get it on, by sheer coincidence, on the day the Roman Catholic Church remembers the headless bishop. In 18th-century England (ah, now we’re talking my ancestors), the martyred bishop and the liturgical feast day and the shameless birds somehow evolve into the tradition of lovers exchanging flowers, confection and greeting cards called “Valentine’s.”

From a dead bishop to the celebration of sex and romance — that is one circuitous journey!

But, however unlikely, that’s how we got Hallmark cards. And white chocolate. And Victoria’s Secret. And chick flicks. St. Valentine holds the distinction for being the only venerated saint whose liturgical legacy has absolutely nothing to do with his cultural legacy.

Romance. Courtly love. Noble love. Erotic love. The chalice (anima) meets the blade (animus). No matter how adamantly, how desperately we pretend to be cynical, bitter and “too enlightened” for such things, the human heart continues to seek them, long for them, and to find sublime delight and ecstasy when they are found.

Ecstasy, say, like this …

The radio says that it’s time to rise/ Says we both have things to do/ But we tell ourselves in each other’s arms/ That we’ll lie here a moment or two/ Perhaps we should kiss just once or twice/ Is there time for a gentle caress/ Then I look at you, and you look at me/ And we both know what happens next.

We’re gonna be late for work/ We’re gonna be careless with time/ I see that smile, see that look in your eye/ Let the morning wait impatient by the window.

So off you go, put your feet on the floor/ We simply must start our day/ Let the shower warm, I will break my fast/ Bring you coffee if I may/ In a happy glow, I come to you/ With a cup of morning zest/ Some soft words pass and I tarry there/ Even though we try our best.

We’re gonna be late for work.

This is just crazy/ Why can’t we let go/ The bills must be paid/ And the bank doesn’t care if I love you so.

Have you ever lived those lyrics? If so, that’s a good thing. You are rich beyond measure. Guard the treasure of this memory. And never become “so cool” as to think this energy couldn’t or shouldn’t regularly re-emerge, orbiting gladly through the journey of great love.

It’s simply not true that romance and great sex must “wear off.” That’s a convenient lie protecting and justifying a peculiar form of spiritual and emotional laziness and cowardice otherwise known as “cynicism.” Cynicism passes itself as intellectual. But don’t be fooled.

Is Valentine’s Day a great day for everybody? Not even close. There are four things that can happen on Valentine’s Day, and three of them are bad. Either you’re recently heartbroken, or you’re alone and wish you weren’t, or you’re in an empty marriage … or, yesterday, you were celebrating. With joy and gladness.

I invite you to be glad for the lucky folks who were celebrating. To be inspired by them. To listen carefully to your heart’s longing for love.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Las Vegas Psychiatry and the author of “Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing” (Stephens Press). His columns appear on Sundays. Contact him at 702-227-4165 or skalas@reviewjournal.com.