Catherine and Guy

Catherine Wheel
It was a shock to learn at some point when I was a child that the whizzing firework of a Catherine Wheel was named after a saint who was imprisoned, tortured and finally martyred by being beheaded. At first the (male) authorities tried to “break” Catherine of Alexandria on a “breaking wheel” but, according to history/legend, the wheel shattered and pieces flew everywhere, hence the design of the firework in later years.
Margaret Clitherow
Saint Catherine was one of many characters parading through my brain at Primary School. Her strength of purpose was an inspiration, as was the pregnant St Margaret Clitherow who was stripped, laid on a large sharp rock and covered with the door of her own house. The door was then piled with an immense load of rocks until the sharp rock beneath broke her back…. can anybody really believe the past was the “good old days”?…. and I’m sorry to report that Margaret met her fate in one of my favourite cities, York.

Saints Margaret Clitherow, Joan of Arc, Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, Bernadette, Hilda of Whitby, Peter, Christopher, Anthony of Padua, Joseph, Sebastian, Francis of Assisi and books from my childhood: Butler's Lives of Saints

Saints on the brain
I’m prepared to admit that, as a young boy, I thought the sensational lives of the saints were fascinatingly gripping. In some cases the manner of their deaths lit an imaginative fire (fuelled by some statues and paintings in school and on church walls that at times revelled in the martyrdoms.) In other cases the humanitarian efforts of the saints, often in extreme poverty and violent opposition, left me awe-struck by their bravery and compassion. So, without too much agony, here are my top dozen saints, six women and six men who have become symbolic of particular ideas and impulses.

• St Catherine of Alexandria (the Catherine wheel inspirer)
• St Margaret Clitherow, the Yorkshire lass whose stubbornness killed her (would I have caved in? yes I would)
• St Joan (of Arc) who features (as a villainess) in Shakespeare’s Henry VI Part One but is sensationally sympathetic in GB Shaw’s play Saint Joan and who received visions from both squashed Saint Margaret and firework-famous Saint Catherine. Joan inspired the French to raise the siege of Orleans and gain successes in the Hundred Years War against England but she was ultimately burned to death at the stake (with the agreement of both France and England as an act of political expediency)
• St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross who faced her end in the gas chambers at Auschwitz
• St Bernadette who faced bullying and disbelief in her home town of Lourdes when her chats with Mary the mother of Jesus were doubted, despite her ability to summon up rushing holy water springs that would help the town become a major tourist attraction
• St Hilda (of Whitby) is admirable in my book because she was a phenomenally powerful figure in 7th Century Northumberland having started her life in France. Anyone who can run abbeys in Hartlepool and on the cliffs of Whitby has my respect
• St Peter, the tragic cock-crowing denier, fated to be the first Pope but who paid a high price by being horrifically crucified upside down
• St Christopher, the “Christ-bearer”, braved raging rivers to help travellers to safety
• St Anthony of Padua, patron saint of lost items and lost people (and sometimes fish and fishermen) died peacefully but after a long period of hardship and poverty. He makes my list because I was named after him (without an ‘h’)
• St Joseph, Jesus’s daddy, an excellent carpenter according to tradition and I always rooted for him because his son and the mother of his son (wife?) got far more attention than he did
• St Sebastian, favourite of classical artists, riddled with arrows after disobeying his superiors in his role as captain of the Praetorian Guard (sadly the truth is that he was probably clubbed to death and dumped in the Roman sewers rather than shot with arrows but artists chose the latter image)
• St Francis of Assisi, wolf-tamer, beloved of conservationists and the first true hippy

One person's terrorist is another's freedom fighter

Penny for the Guy
Bonfire Night was a time of private conflict for my childhood brain. Although I loved everything about the fire, the food, the fireworks, I felt uneasy about putting a “Guy” on top of the bonfire. My primary school taught me that Guy Fawkes wasn’t necessarily a gunpowder-toting terrorist. He could be seen as a freedom fighter, trying to restore the rights of Roman Catholics in England during the period of The Henry VIII Club. I don’t know which teacher taught me to call the Church of England The Henry VIII Club but it stuck with me, as did the political complications of an event like the Gunpowder Plot. What should people do if they think the world isn’t listening to them? Blow up parliament? Vote for Brexit? Elect Trump? Become a suicide bomber? Die a martyr? Like the saints? Was Guy Fawkes, in his way, following his beliefs to their logical conclusion, like St Catherine of Alexandria? I’ll think about both Saint Catherine and Guy Fawkes at tonight’s Bolton Abbey bonfire.