When I lived in Maine, I used to work at a public computer in a room that doubled as a science classroom. To keep me company was a wildly beautiful taxidermied wolf which stood guard next to my desk. (Anna is, generally speaking, a more cheerful office mate).
This weekend, I had the chance to talk over Skype with my brother Saul, who is currently studying abroad in ancient Rome. As a classics major, he’s always been a little anachronistic. But now that he lives on a hill overlooking the Vatican and spends his days wandering around in 1500-year-old ruins, he seems to have stepped out of time altogether.
Saul told me that this week marks an important holiday on the Roman calendar. (When we asked whether he would be taking part in the festivities, he didn’t answer). Tomorrow is Lupercalia, the traditional Roman festival of fertility and purification, in honor of Lupercus, the god of shephards, and of Lupa, the female wolf who suckled Remus and Romulus, mythic founders of Rome. (Lupus is Latin for wolf.)
Each year on Lupercalia, the Luperci (wolf priests) would sacrifice two male goats and a dog. Boys representing Remus and Romulus were then dressed in loincoths made of goatskin. They were anointed with goats’ blood and sent running through the streets bearing sacred goat-skin whips that they used to symbolically purify anyone standing in their path. Joyfulness ensued.
At the end of the fifth century CE, Pope Galasius outlawed this boisterous holiday, replacing it several years later with the occasion that we now refer to as Valentine’s day. In the 1500 years since Galasius’ era (and, more specifically, in the 100-odd years since the start of the Hallmark era) that once-cheerful occasion has turned into a bit of a downer.
This year, I think we should all try to find a little perspective. Forget, for a moment, the loneliness and the ugly decorations, the high expectations and inevitable disappointments. And remember that, had you lived 1500 years ago, you could be chased through the streets by half-naked boys carrying wolf-skin whips.
Weather:
Weirdly warm, 47 degrees and overcast
Moods:
Hannah: 6 out of 10 on the can’t get out of bed to jumping for joy scale. Tired.
Anna: Out today.
Ditch the Umbrella 
Don’t forget the most important part: everyone, especially the blood-besmeared whip-bearers, had to laugh heartily throughout the whole purification: it was required! Now, instead of a depressing commercial holiday celebrating some cook, we should just laugh and revel in the purity which is the inside of a dead goat!
“…had you lived 1500 years ago, you could be chased through the streets by half-naked boys carrying wolf-skin whips.”
And you really wouldn’t prefer that to the vomit-inducing pink and red that takes over our lives? (Um, kidding. I think.)
Thank you for the rush of images you’ve induced, including that eerily quiet classroom and the taxidermied wolf. I hadn’t anticipated going to that memory-ridden place today, and I’ve already been there and back. Beautiful.
As for the holiday, I found it disturbingly refreshing. I wish I had read this closer to the actual date. Shall we recreate this next year? At least the running through the streets part sounds more fulfilling than those disgusting candy hearts and over-priced restaurant dates.
Oh, sometimes I miss that wolf and that room – eerie is the perfect way to describe it.
I can’t think of a better place to recreate lupercalia than Worcester Massachusetts. 2-14-2012: It’s a date!