The Patron Saint of Motorcyclists Feast Day, November 23rd.

Just reminding everyone that today is that special day where motorcyclists everywhere wander out to their garage to stare at the bike they wish they could ride today if it wasn’t so dang cold.  St Columbanus Feast Day!

Here’s a link to a page I wrote a while back to explain as to why Columbanus is our patron saint.

https://2cyclepaths.com/2013/06/14/the-patron-saint-of-motorcycle-riders/

Motorcyclists that do venture out today will most certainly be wishing each other: Sona (happy in Irish) Columbanus Day! We are far more literary and learned than we look!

Sona Columanus Day!

 

 

 

Patron Saint of Motorcyclists -St. Columbanus of Bobbio’s Feast Day! November 23rd.

I’m packing up Big Red, my 2004 Harley Road King Classic, and heading out on a trip tomorrow. Here in Georgia USA the weather’s supposed to be in the low 70’s. I’ve got hula girl standing and swaying on the bike where my clock used to be- she’s there to remind me to have fun and not take things, myself included, too seriously. In my windshield bag I’ve got a cross and some prayer beads – to keep me reverent, and I’ve got a medal celebrating the patron saint of motorcyclists – St. Columbanus. Tomorrow is his feast day which should augur well for a safe trip. But who decided he was the one who would be the patron saint? Apparently, the Vatican and the Harley Davidson company who made a medal promoting him. And just who was this St Columbanus of Bobbio?

Despite the Italian ‘Bobbio’, this guy was an Irish dude! What a surprise! During the dark ages in the sixth and seventh centuries when the Irish were saving civilization and Christianity, he ventured away from Ireland wandering up and down Europe starting monasteries and spreading the word about Christ.
How do we know he was Irish? Apparently what cinches it is that that we know he lived at home with his mother into his 30’s, he wasn’t married, and he didn’t have a job. Ha ha! (Old Irish joke).
Seriously though, the story goes that he was tall and good looking and the girls chased him (I can relate to that except for the tall bit, and the good looking part and, well…). He was also a bit of a wild guy with the ladies, who chased after him -okay, okay so there’s no resemblance between us at all! Gimme a break. Anyway, a holy woman put the fear of God in him and he decided to change his wild ways and become a priest. When his mother found out she tried to block the door physically with her body, but he just stepped over her, signed up and got his traveling orders. He traveled throughout Europe, to Germany and Switzerland and ended up living in decadent France for 20 years, establishing three monasteries there before he moved to Italy. He carried his Celtic Christian ideas and practices with him.
He lived in a cave for years, was very pious and is said to have wrestled a bear. But unlike Davy Crockett he didn’t kill it; instead he tamed it and yoked it to a plow.
He is quoted as having said, “Love is not orderly.” You gotta love this guy!
Miracles credited to Columbanus include:
Once after being surrounded by wolves, he simply walked through them
When he needed a cave for his solitary prayers and a bear lived there he asked politely for the bear to skedaddle and he did.
When the Luxeuil Abbey granary ran empty, Columbanus prayed over it and it refilled.
He cured several sick monks and gave sight to a blind man at Orleans
But my favorite is that he multiplied bread and beer for his community. We’re talking about craft, micro-brewed beer here! Bikers love their fresh beer!
If Columbanus were alive today I imagine him riding a Road King like mine. If not, maybe a Harley Fat Boy. The Fat Boy is a living legend. Arnold Schwarzenegger rode one in “Terminator 2”. Its got a 1,584cc pushrod V-twin engine, six gears, massive torque and you’ve got to love those shotgun-style tailpipes. It’s nimble, has no saddlebags and is perfect for itinerant monks flying around on those twisty heathen roads in Europe. Combine all this with Christianity and you can’t be beat! Love and a Fat Boy can conquer all!
I like what the Monk Jonas wrote in the seventh century about one of the miracles of Columbanus.
A while after, Columbanus went to the monastery of Fontaines and found sixty brethren hoeing the ground and preparing the fields for the future crop. When he saw them breaking up the clods with great labor, he said, “May the Lord prepare for you a feast, my brethren.” Hearing this the attendant said, “Father, believe me, we have only two loaves and a very little beer.” Columbanus answered, “Go and bring those.” The attendant went quickly and brought the two loaves and a little beer. Columbanus, raising his eyes to heaven, said, “Christ Jesus, only hope of the world, do Thou, who from five loaves satisfied five thousand men in the wilderness, multiply these loaves and this drink.” Wonderful faith! All were satisfied and each one drank as much as he wished. The servant carried back twice as much in fragments and twice the amount of drink.

So I hope you will celebrate his feast day on November 23rd in some appropriate fashion. I’ll be hitting the highway.

May he always help us keep the shiny side up and the rubber side down.

(Some of this is taken from one of my previous blog entries.)

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Day 5: What’s a Bad Riding Day Look Like? Today. Lakeville, Minnesota.

Right now it’s 38 degrees (3 degrees Celsius), raining and the wind is blowing out of the west at 13 mph. Could be worse though. Could be snowing like it was when I was riding through the Rockies two years ago, about this same time of year. When I left this morning it was 44 degrees so the temperature has dropped. I’m trying to make it up to Fargo today (250 miles away) but it’s going to be challenging.  The rain has already soaked through my trousers.  This morning was not fun – my windshield was coated with raindrops, so was my helmet visor and then I had the spray from the 18 wheelers. Fortunately, I made it to a Starbucks. Yippie! Going to hunker down here for a while, warm up, dry out, change clothes and then try the road again. Only managed 50 miles this morning so I’ll be “nickel and diming” the miles up to Fargo.  Gonna need the protection of St. Columbanus, the patron saint of motorcycle riders, today if I’m to keep my Zen going! (I know- mixing theologies there a bit!). Still, I’m happy! Watch out for motorcycles!

Charity Motorcycle Ride and Entertaining Strangers

About a week ago when I was walking across the parking lot at Hardees restaurant in Adairsville, Georgia a man stopped in his pickup truck and told me about a charity motorcycle ride on August 22nd. Well, that’s today. I showed up on Big Red at the 9 am registration time and I was the second rider there. They welcomed me like a lost son.They were getting nervous. It was the first benefit ride they had done for the North Bartow Community Services and they were hoping riders would show up. They were worried they hadn’t done enough publicity, or the right kind. One organizer told me she hadn’t slept the night before anxious that no one would come. She was standing next to a table filled registration forms and tee shirts they had printed to commemorate the ride. Under the covered picnic area I could see raffle prizes, a coffee stand, some coolers and three tables full of food. Scattered around them were various men and women who had shown up to help. I decided at that moment that I was gonna ride regardless of whether anyone showed up. I conjured a scene up in my mind of me and the other rider being escorted by the three motorcycle cops that showed up, along with a police car from one of Adairsville’s finest, through the back roads of northwest Georgia. Yeah, that would be fun!
After thanking me profusely for coming the woman told me about the services her nonprofit provided to the community. There was a whole string of them and the ones that stuck in my head were a food pantry, help with the cost of medical prescriptions, clothing, baby products like diapers and formula, emergency assistance, and some free meal programs. They also ran classes in jewelry making, basket weaving and line dancing. I love to support programs such as these where they show compassion, help, and “entertain” strangers. Somewhere in the Good Book, probably every religion’s good book, it talks about showing hospitality to strangers, that you might not know it but that you could be entertaining angels. Emerson called them: “Disguised and discredited angels”.
I grabbed some coffee and began talking to the only other rider there. As the minutes ticked on it looked like we were going to become close friends. He was taking his fourteen year old grandson along for the ride. Then another rider strutted in, disappointed with the turnout and said he might leave if no one else showed up. (Wrong thing to say!) Then a few others trickled in. Over coffee, sitting at various angles on the picnic tables we swopped stories about favorite rides we’d been on – up in the Smokey Mountains, the Blue Ridge Parkway, the Tail of the Dragon, animals and other objects we had hit, or nearly while riding, other bikes we had owned. Then we switched to talking about weather conditions and I was about to tell my story about the time when Big Red and I were caught up late one night on a snowy pass in the Rockies, must have been zero degrees, no, make that 20 below and if it hadn’t been for my heroic “Nanook of the North” courage and abilities, well, I shudder to think what would have happened. Somehow, I managed to save myself, Big Red and some stranded, pioneer Quaker women, including one who was eight months pregnant. I heard tell later that a red haired child born to the woman was named in honor of me and my motorcycle. He was called Big Red.
A few other riders trickled in and we were up to about eight now. I wandered around and glanced at the raffle items which included: The Patsy Cline Collection (in cassette tapes), a floral candle set, an authentic (?) Jesse James pocket watch, a handsaw, a million candlepower hand held flashlight (“torch”) powerful enough to illuminate pretty much everything that the Dali Lama hasn’t. Also good for signaling UFO’s and changing tires at night, which was handy because there also was a Slime Standard Digital Tire Inflater right next to it. There were also a couple of embroidered leather vests and other items.
Finally, as the time for “kickstands up” rolled around we had about 14 riders, many with passengers. The organizers were happy and soon we headed off in our police escorted cavalcade. We rode about 60 miles through the beautiful countryside of northwest Georgia, past yard sales, car washes, fruit and vegetable stands, places selling boiled peanuts where you could see the steaming pots hanging on tripods, past log cabins, mansions, double wide trailers with porches, ramshackle leaning barns, buildings with weathered grey tin roofs that looked like they had been crying rusty tears. At almost every intersection we had a choice of any kind of Baptist Church one could imagine, like Abundant Holiness Baptist Church (As opposed to what? Churches without abundant holiness? Meager holiness?) Signs proclaimed that “Jesus Loves Us”, that “Son Screen Prevents Sin Burn”, and that “A Lot of Money is Tainted, Taint Yours and it Taint Mine”. (Okay, I admit the last two I’d seen somewhere else.) There were fields splayed with buttercups, cows and trotting horses, blooming mimosas and small towns with flowering  crate myrtles. The sky was hazy blue with wispy clouds.
After the ride we had some barbecue, cole slaw, potato chips and some Little Debbies cakes. The raffle started and folks were eager. A woman won the hand held flashlight and shouted: “We’re going frog gigging tonight!” Another one, a healthy sized woman, won one of the vests and somebody shouted: “Your boobs won’t fit in that!” Folks laughed and she held it up and acknowledged that it might be a challenge. As the auction continued I slipped out.
As I rode home I realized three things that I knew for certain: first, that Jesus clearly loves me, that there’s nothing more beautiful than a speckled brown horse romping in a green field filled with buttercups and that people can be amazingly kind and loving to strangers, or angels, whichever they may be. Who knows?

A Motorcycle Ride Against Cancer; Because No One Should Journey Alone.

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Yesterday, along with around 60 other bikers, I took part in a motorcycle ride in memory of Darlene Bagley, with all the proceeds going to Cancer Navigators of Rome, Georgia.
Big Red and I had to leave early in the morning to get to Adairsville in time, especially, since it included a stop at Hardees first for a biscuit and coffee. It was only 74 degrees when I left (It would reach 96 later) and patches of mist were still ghost hovering over the Oostanaula River. The farmer’s market at Ridge Ferry was open, walkers were sauntering down the path along the river and folks were already trickling into yard sales. A veil of blue grey mist hung on the hillsides in the trees. A breeze rippled across their tops making it look like the trees were still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes.
After fueling up on coffee and a biscuit I headed to the park in Adairsville and found bikes, cars and police escorts in a lot near a large covered area.
I went in and registered, bought a tee shirt and took stock of the gathering. Men, women, children, a St Bernard and a black kitten meowing in a travel box. Most of the riders were men though I saw at least two women bikers. Folks wore Harley shirts, some sleeveless so you could see their upper arm tattoos. Others wore black and pink Cancer Navigator shirts and other tee shirts. Heads were adorned with Harley and American flag skull caps. A number of men had leather vests stitched with the names of their organizations: Missionaries on Bikes, Cruisers for Christ, Biker’s against Child Abuse and OBK – which I found out later, stood for Outrageous Beardsmen Koalition. I kid you not. Since my biker name is Monk (Long story –not that exciting) I thought about creating a group called Monks on Motorcycles. The logo could be a hooded monk on a Harley Road King and above it M.O. M. Okay, maybe not.
After a brief speech on the amazing supportive work of the non-profit Cancer Navigators, and a few testimonials and a prayer it was almost time for “kickstands up.” I ran into a friend Carol, herself a cancer survivor, who said she would love to go on the ride with someone. I usually ride without a sissy bar and an extra helmet but before leaving that morning “something” told me to put one on the bike, so I did. She hopped on and the big procession began rolling slowly over the speed bumps out of the park. I love these police escorted and intersection-blocked rides. We zoomed down the highways enjoying the thrill of running red lights! We cascaded over the shadowed, narrow back roads and the wind created from our bikes caused the trees to shake in support. Almost looked like they were waving at us. Okay, not the whole tree waving in support, maybe just a few branches. Carol did her fair share of waving to folks who had parked their cars on the sides of the roads as a sign of respect. We did about 85 miles through the foothills and forests of Northwest Georgia, passed farms, ranches, fields, wet bottomlands, lakes and thick forests of pine, oak and maple. Pink flowers from Crape Myrtles, yellow dandelions, blooming Mimosas and purple flowers dotted the countryside. The sky was blue with wispy white clouds. It was beautiful. After about 1 ½ hours of riding we were back, hearts soaring even though many butts were sore-ing. A great ride.
Afterwards there were soft drinks, burgers and hot dogs and the fixings. Camaraderie, hugging, back slapping, jokes and folks telling stories ensued until the auction for donated cakes and baked goods began. (An Italian Crème Cake went for 80 bucks!). Then the raffle began. I watched for a while and then skedaddled with a lot on my mind.
For me this wasn’t just a charity ride. It was a big reminder about some important things.It reminded me about how a small group of people can change things. How a group of professionals gave up large salaries and started a non -profit for the sole purpose of supporting cancer victims and their families, folks usually abandoned to find their own ways after the diagnosis has been given. How one man started a benefit ride for his wife and kept it running every year to raise money. How folks and businesses contributed their cakes and their prizes to help raise even a bit more money for the cause. How families were brought together, families of friends, supporters and bikers. It was more than just a charity ride. All these people felt good about having an opportunity to show their compassion, to be a part of larger cause, to contribute in their own way. It was a beautiful thing!
I rode home overwhelmed by the heat and the gratitude in my heart. I can’t contribute much, but I can ride.

My Book is Published! Hope Bats Last. Cross Country Motorcycle Trip.

I finally have my latest book, Hope Bats Last, published on Amazon, available as an eBook. You don’t need a Kindle to read it! On the website you can download a Kindle app for free, enabling you to read it on a variety of devices from PCs to phones to tablets. It is a stand-alone book, meaning that you haven’t had to read the previous novels to know what’s going on in this one! Please support struggling independent artists! Hope you enjoy. Here’s the blurb.

Twice widowed, recently retired, and now an official senior citizen after turning 65, Rory Conner wants to take one last motorcycle journey across the USA. The former detective and child protection social worker wants to ride Big Red – his old Harley Davidson Road King – from Georgia to California. His plan is to take only the blue highways, the back roads, and leave all of the other decisions to chance, fate, and Divine Providence.
His son and daughter aren’t happy about his trip. He’s been forgetting things lately, won’t use a GPS system, nor will he plan his route. His son worries about his dad getting lost. Rory replies. “It’s California son, a big state. Even I can’t miss it.” What could possibly go wrong?
Rory’s sojourn takes him across the Mississippi River a few more times than necessary and he encounters murder, mayhem, mechanical problems, and romance along the way. He finds himself calling on his detective and child protection skills one last time to try and save a child’s life.
Will he make it to California? Is this his last ride? And what does it mean that “Hope Bats last”?

Adventures in Motorcycling: Pub Theology. Have We Kicked God out of the Bars Now?

I’ve covered about 500 miles on the bike so far and have ridden through Georgia, Alabama, and Florida in the last two days. Right now I’m hunkering down at the Key West Inn in Fairhope, Alabama. Just back from McSharry’s Irish Pub where I had a really good Sheppard’s Pie and a pint of draft Smithwicks. And for the first time in my life I experienced Pub Theology. Apparently the first Wednesday of the month they bring religion into the pub. But I don’t think this is really necessary. I would argue that at least in the southern part of the United States God has never really left the bar. He’s mentioned in just about every other sentence or at least every other conversation. Come to think of it a woman friend of mine and I were talking about Jesus just the other day in Old Havana Cigar Bar in Rome, Georgia. We didn’t really come to an agreement. I thought He’d be okay with certain things that she didn’t think He’d approve of. Tonight was a bit different. It was more of a lecture by an older man who, along with others, had done some inspirational work in helping folks out. I want to acknowledge that. But frankly, a few other heathens and I decided to head for the smoking area outside.
In the southern part of the USA you can’t go far in any restaurant or bar without some kind of spiritual conversation taking place. This morning, a man singled me out at McDonalds (because of my biker gear) and spoke to me about motorcycles and Jesus. I enjoyed the conversation though I didn’t agree that Jesus had a preference for Harley engine modifications made by the Screamin Eagle Company. Yesterday, In Dothan I met up with a friend at the Waffle House and we talked about Buddhism and she gave me a Tibetan Buddhist charm for my motorcycle. Though I consider myself a Christian I acknowledge contributions and insights from other religions. On my motorcycle I have a medal from St Columbanus, the patron saint of motorcycle riders. The medal reminds me to be reverent in my travels. I also have the Taoist Yin Yang symbol on a bracelet attached to my mirror to help me remember to be balanced and to trust the journey. Now I have a Buddhist charm to remind me to stay in the here and now and to show loving kindness and compassion to everyone I meet. I also have a hula girl which is there to remind me to not take myself too seriously and to be silly sometimes.
I was in a great honky-tonk in Rome the other day; The Sports Page. It had been awhile since I listened to some country western tunes but I’m relieved to know that God is still in many of them. I managed to hear some of my old favorites and the lines: “It wasn’t God who made honky-tonk angels and taught all them good girls to go wrong.” And another I remember from years ago: “One night of love don’t make up for six nights alone. But I’d rather have one than none Lord ‘cause I’m flesh and bones.”
The south in the USA is Christ Haunted so expect Him to pop up not only on Sundays and Wednesdays in the churches but also in conversations anywhere, from the gas station to the bowling alley. And definitely, definitely in bars.

The Patron Saint of Motorcycle Riders?

The Patron Saint of Motorcycle Riders?

 Who should be the patron saint of motorcyclists?There are a lot of saints in the race for this honor!

 We can start with Elijah the Prophet who was taken up to heaven in a fiery chariot. Although a friend of mine says Elijah was taken up in Triumph! (Maybe a Triumph Trident!) Regardless, they didn’t have Harleys in those days so he had to settle for something else. But I can still picture the dude doing this! Can you? Now imagine him on a CVO Harley Road King screaming with locomotive type clout in top gear.

Another candidate is Saint Frances of Rome who was declared the patron saint of automobile drivers by Pius XI.  There was a legend that an angel used to light her way with a lantern when she traveled, keeping her safe from hazards like deer and pagans. I’m pretty sure the angel used the Hiawatha headlight from the Road King to accomplish this task. Harley Davidson themselves state: “the Harley Road King headlamp hearkens back to the Big Twins of the 60s. You get nothing less than the latest in materials and technology. Clear-lens reflector optics provide a longer distance high beam and wider low beam to light up your” …touring experience. “It’s a bright, striking daytime lamp that blasts a little further into the night.” You need a bright light on those pesky Roman roads at night.

 St Christopher was popular when I was a kid. I remember my Uncle Terence had a St Christopher medal. He was supposed to bring protection to travelers; that’s Christopher, not my uncle. I like Christopher. It’s interesting that his original name was Reprobus, which meant rejected or outcast. Sounds like a Harley rider. Apparently he was tall, strong, ugly and ambitious. The girls around the Canaan bars, a town the size of El Reno, Oklahoma, laughed at him and the guys were always trying to pick fights with the big guy. Reprobus went searching for the King of kings, and spent some time with the Devil (probably a Honda dealer). But he ended up finding Christ, who appeared as a child to him. He carried Christ across a dangerous river, without the help of any flotation device. After this Reprobus’ name was changed to Christopher, which means Christ bearer.

But in 1969 they had the reform of the Roman calendar and decided they just weren’t too sure about the veracity of the stories about Saint Christopher and demoted him somewhat.

Still he is a widely popular multi-talented saint who’s apparently also revered by athletes, mariners, ferrymen, all travelers-protecting them better than Allstate insurance against lightning and pestilence. He’s also popular with archers, bachelors (??) boatmen, soldiers, bookbinders, folks with epilepsy, fruit dealers, gardeners,  surfers, and, believe it or not, people suffering from toothache. That’s one multipurpose saint! Surely he should be in the running for the patron saint of motorcycles?

 Another nomination for the honor goes to Sebastian de Aparicio y del Pardo. A Mexican road builder in the 1500’s he was considered one of the first Mexican “cowboys” or “charros”. I know, he’s sounding really good. He went into the transportation business and helped build over 600 miles of roads in Mexico. Then he gave all his money away, became a friar and he traveled these highways as an itinerant beggar, monk and peripatetic teacher. He drove a two oxen powered cart (Maybe 50cc’s) and lived on the road for days, sleeping on the ground under his cart in bad weather. Though he never got much out of second gear people loved him for his simplicity and Christ-like ways. Apparently, he always said: Guárdeos Dios, hermanos! (May God keep you, brothers!). If that ain’t a Harley salute I don’t know what is.

Okay, the final contestant for the honor of Patron Saint of Motorcyclists is (cue the trumpets!)  St. Columbanus of Bobbio. Despite the Italian ‘Bobbio’, this guy was an Irish dude! What a surprise! (You knew I had to sneak Celtic Christianity in here somewhere!) During the dark ages when the Irish were saving civilization and Christianity he ventured away from Ireland wandering up and down Europe in the sixth and seventh centuries, starting monasteries and spreading the word about Christ.

But who was this man? How do we know he was Irish? Apparently what cinches it is that that we know he lived at home with his mother into his 30’s, he wasn’t married, and he didn’t have a job. Ha ha!

Unusually, he was tall and good looking and the girls chased him (I can relate to that except for the tall bit, and the good looking part and…). He was also a bit of a rogue, as they say. A holy woman put the fear of God in him and he decided to change his ways. When he decided to become a priest his mother tried to block the door physically with her body, but he just stepped over her, signed up and got his traveling orders. He traveled throughout Europe to Germany and Switzerland and ended up living in decadent France for 20 years, establishing three monasteries there before he moved to Italy. He carried his Celtic Christian ideas and practices with him and was always riling up “the Man” (the Popes and Bishops).

He lived in a cave for years, was very pious and is said to have wrestled a bear. But unlike Davy Crockett he didn’t kill it; instead he tamed it and yoked it to a plow.

He is quoted as having said, “Love is not orderly.” You gotta love this guy!

Miracles credited to Columbanus include:

Once after being surrounded by wolves, he simply walked through them

When he needed a cave for his solitary prayers and a bear lived there he asked politely for the bear to skedaddle and he did.  

When the Luxeuil Abbey granary ran empty, Columbanus prayed over it and it refilled.

He cured several sick monks and gave sight to a blind man at Orleans

But my favorite is that he multiplied bread and beer for his community. We’re talking about craft, micro-brewed beer here! Bikers love their happy, hoppy beer!

If Columbanus were alive today I imagine him riding a Harley Fat Boy. The Fat Boy is a living legend. Arnold Schwarzenegger rode one in ”Terminator 2”. It’s got a 1,584cc pushrod V-twin engine, six gears, massive torque and you’ve got to love those shotgun-style tailpipes. It’s nimble, has no saddlebags and is perfect for itinerant monks flying around on those twisty heathen roads in Europe. Combine all this with Christianity and you can’t be beat! Love and a Fat Boy can conquer all!  

 And the winner is?!

 Well it’s really up to you to choose your saint, from among these or others.

But I will tell you though that the Vatican has endorsed the Irish saint Columbanus as the official Patron Saint of Motorcyclists! And, another supreme authority, the Harley Davidson company has produced a medal recognizing St. Columbanus as the Patron Saint of Motorcyclists. What more authoritative endorsements could you ask for?  

Monk Jonas wrote about Columbanus in the seventh century

 A while after, Columbanus went to the monastery of Fontaines and found sixty brethren hoeing the ground and preparing the fields for the future crop. When he saw them breaking up the clods with great labor, he said, “May the Lord prepare for you a feast, my brethren.” Hearing this the attendant said, “Father, believe me, we have only two loaves and a very little beer.” Columbanus answered, “Go and bring those.” The attendant went quickly and brought the two loaves and a little beer. Columbanus, raising his eyes to heaven, said, “Christ Jesus, only hope of the world, do Thou, who from five loaves satisfied five thousand men in the wilderness, multiply these loaves and this drink.” Wonderful faith! All were satisfied and each one drank as much as he wished. The servant carried back twice as much in fragments and twice the amount of drink. And so he knew that faith is more deserving of the divine gifts than despair, which is wont to diminish even what one has.

His Feast day is the 23rd November

May he always help us keep the shiny side up and the rubber side down.