The priests never tell us about virgin martyrs like St. Agatha, Feb-
ruary fifth. February is a powerful month for virgin martyrs. Sicilian
pagans ordered Agatha to give up her faith in Jesus and like all the vir-
gin martyrs she said, Nay.They tortured her, stretched her on the rack,
tore her sides with iron hooks, burned her with blazing torches, and she
said, Nay, I will not deny Our Lord.They crushed her breasts and cut
them off but when they rolled her over hot coals it was more than she
could bear so she expired, giving praise.
Virgin martyrs always died singing hymns and giving praise not
minding one bit if lions tore big chunks from their sides and gobbled
them on the spot.
How is it the priests never told us about St. Ursula and her eleven
thousand maiden martyrs, October twenty-first? Her father wanted her
to marry a pagan king but she said, Ill go away for awhile, three years,
and think about it. So off she goes with her thousand noble ladies-
in-waiting and their companions, ten thousand.They sailed around for
awhile and traipsed through various countries till they stopped in
Cologne where the chief of the Huns asked Ursula to marry him. Nay,
she said, and the Huns killed her and the maidens with her. Why
couldnt she say yes and save the lives of eleven thousand virgins? Why
did virgin martyrs have to be so stubborn?
I like St. Moling, an Irish bishop. He didnt live in a palace like the
bishop of Limerick. He lived in a tree and when other saints visited him
for dinner they would sit around on branches like birds having a grand
time with their water and dry bread. He was walking along one day and
a leper said, Hoy, St. Moling, where are you going? Im going to Mass,
says St. Moling.Well, Id like to go to Mass too, so why dont you hoist
me up on your back and carry me? St. Moling did but he no sooner had
the leper up on his back than the leper started to complain.Your hair
shirt,he said,is hard on my sores,take it off.St.Moling took off the shirt
and off they went again.Then the leper says, I need to blow my nose.
St. Moling says, I dont have any class of a handkerchief, use your hand.
The leper says, I cant hold on to you and blow my nose at the same
time.All right, says St. Moling, you can blow into my hand.That wont
do, says the leper, I barely have a hand left with the leprosy and I cant
hold on and blow into your hand. If you were a proper saint youd twist
around here and suck the stuff out of my head. St. Moling didnt want
to suck the lepers snot but he did and offered it up and praised God for
the privilege.
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