Afterlives of the Saints
Stories from the Ends of Faith
COLIN DICKEY
U N B R I D L E D B O O K S
Unbridled Books
Copyright © 2012 by Colin Dickey
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof,
may not be reproduced in any
form without permission.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Dickey, Colin.
Afterlives of the saints / Colin Dickey.
p. cm.
Summary: "Afterlives of the Saints is a woven gathering of groundbreaking essays
that move through Renaissance anatomy and the Sistine Chapel, Borges' "Library of
Babel," the history of spontaneous human combustion, the dangers of masturbation,
the pleasures of castration, "and so forth"— each essay focusing on the story of a
particular (and particularly strange) saint"—Provided by publisher.
ISBN 978-1-60953-072-3 (hardback)
1. Christian saints—Biography—Miscellanea. I. Title.
BR1710.D53 2012
270.092'2—dc23
[B]
2011046236
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
B O O K D E S I G N B Y S H • C V
First Printing
FIG. 1: Scene from the Apocalypse, The Opening of the Fifth and
Sixth Seals (1511), Albrecht Dürer. Bibliotheque Nationale,
Paris, France/ Giraudon/ The Bridgeman Art Library
FIG. 2: Saint Jerome Writing (c.1604), Michelangelo Merisi da
Caravaggio Galleria Borghese, Rome, Italy/ The Bridgeman
Art Library
FIG. 3: The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa (1647–1652), Giovanni
Lorenzo Bernini Santa Maria della Vittoria, Rome, Italy/
Alinari/ The Bridgeman Art Library
FIG. 4: Flayed Man Holding a Dagger and His Skin from Juan Val
verde de Amusco's Antomia del Corp Humano (1560),
artist unknown
FIG. 5: Detail from The Last Judgment (1537–1541), The Sistine
Chapel, Michelangelo Buonarroti Vatican Museums and
Galleries, Vatican City, Italy/ The Bridgeman Art Library
FIG. 6: "Arizona war worker writes her Navy boyfriend a thank
you note for the Jap skull he sent her," Life Magazine,
May 22, 1944 Ralph Crane/ Time & Life Images /
Getty Images
FIG. 7: Mary Magdalene with a Night Light (1630–35),
Georges de la Tour Louvre, Paris, France/ Giraudon/
The Bridgeman Art Library
FIG. 8: The Martyrdom of Saint Agatha (1520), Sebastiano del
Piombo Palazzo Pitti, Florence, Italy/ The Bridgeman
Art Library
FIG. 9: Saint Sebastian (1615), Guido Reni © Cheltenham Art
Gallery & Museums, Gloucestershire, UK/ The Bridge
man Art Library
FIG. 10: Temptation of Saint Anthony, from the Isenheim
Altarpiece (c.1512–16), Matthias Grünewald Musee
d'Unterlinden, Colmar, France/ Giraudon/ The Bridge
man Art Library
FIG. 11: Reliquary statue of Saint Foy (c.980) Church of Saint
Foy, Conques, France/ The Bridgeman Art Library
FIG. 12: Statue of Saint Lucy, Saint Roch's Cemetery, New Orleans © Joanna Ebenstein
For Nicole
As I continue to follow the marc of history I recount
for you at one and the same time, and in the muddled
and confused order in which the e events occurred,
the holy deeds of the Saints and the way in which
whole races of people were butchered.—Gregory of Tours
Sainthood itself is not interesting, only the lives of the saints.—E. M. Cioran
Afterlives of the Saints
Prologue: The Earth's Rejects
On May 21, 2011, the entertainer Hezi Dean was hoisted to the top of a specially constructed ten-story pillar in the middle of Rabin Square in Tel Aviv. His goal was to stay there for the next thirty-five hours, in order to outlast the magician David Blaine, who had accomplished a similar feat in Central Park nine years earlier. Dean met his goal, beating Blaine's time and then jumping, as Blaine had done, onto a waiting pile of cardboard. Afterward, Dean told reporters, "It was very hard. I want to tell you only one important sentence: Nothing stands in front of the will."
Though Dean outlasted Blaine, he could hardly be said to be the record holder when it came to standing on tall pillars for long periods of time. That record, it turns out, has been unbroken for over a thousand years, and neither Blaine nor Dean came even close to touching it, for in the early fifth century, a saint named Simeon walked out into the Syrian desert, found an abandoned pillar, and climbed to the top of it. He stayed there not for thirty-five days but for thirty-seven years.
The first time I heard of Simeon, I was an undergraduate in a Western civilization class, and my professor made an offhand reference to strange Christian saints who would "go out in the desert and stand on poles and have people throw bread up to them." It was around this time that I first read the writings of Gregory of Tours, who ate the dust off the ground of Saint Martin's tomb. I first read of the horrific self-mutilations of Saint Radegund around then, too. And then I began collecting these stories— the bizarre miracles of Saint Foy, known as her "jokes"; the gallows humor of Lawrence, which earned him the title of patron saint of comedians; the torture of Bartholomew, flayed alive, which led to his becoming the patron of cheese-makers. Though I'd gone to a Catholic high school, these stories seemed very different, an alternative history of early religions and nations. It was through the