Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia. As a word nerd I am fascinated by phobias and their unusual appellations, which have a variety and quirkiness matched only by the number of saints for special causes. 

Perhaps the strangest phobia I’ve come across is Arachibutyrophobia, which is the fear of having peanut butter sticking to the roof of one’s mouth. Frankly, it isn’t that big a deal. 

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However, I was once with a colleague who had kenophobia, which struck unexpectedly as we looked at some building spaces. When we opened a door and entered into a vast exhibition hall, my friend’s intense fear of empty spaces hit him like a Mack truck. That felt more relatable.

There are of course many phobias that are well-known, and I would say in some cases that are widely shared. Arachnophobia is quite common, though my own only manifested when I moved to Australia and discovered that hand-sized Huntsman spiders lived in unreasonably large quantities in most family dwellings. I was not impressed. 

I have also known a fair few people who had varying degrees of agoraphobia, which is often over-simplified to be the fear of leaving one’s home. In fact, agoraphobics experience differing degrees of discomfort, and sometimes outright panic, in crowded, or even outdoor spaces.

Other conditions are less well known and more incredibly specific. Turophobia is the irrational fear of cheese, for example, and octophobia is the intense fear of the number 8. Linophobics are abnormally afraid of string, while globophobics fear balloons. Among the most widely shared phobia is the fear of socializing while one of the rarest includes the fear of chewing gum. 

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What all these phobias have in common — and there are literally hundreds of them — is their connection to our human vulnerability. While human beings are incredibly resilient, in many ways we are also remarkably fragile, and we do well never to stigmatize others for the challenges they face. We are all of us afraid of something, and we also all have the capacity to find inspiration and support.

I suggested that the sheer variety of phobias was matched only by the extraordinary multiplicity, and specificity, of saints. St. Denis, for example, is only one, but perhaps the most famous among saintly cephalophores. That’s saints known for carrying their severed heads. And in case you’re wondering, there are over 100 of them. 

St. Lawrence has always been a favourite of mine. He was burned alive and is best known for his quip to his executioners: “I’m well done on this side, turn me over.” There are saints for toothaches and headaches, a saint for computers and programmers, of fireworks and even unattractive people.

Perhaps most relevant at this time is that there is a well-known phobia fearing the arrival of the new year — neoannophobia — and as one would expect, a saint to counter this unease — St. Sylvester. Neoannophobia is more prevalent among older folk, and it’s characterized by discomfort or outright panic at the onset of new technologies that inevitably arrive year after year. Many see the new year as a visible marker of all that they failed to achieve, or the setting of resolutions made that they know they will fail to keep. 

St. Sylvester, by contrast, who was pope from 314 to 335, helped to establish the Christian Roman Empire, possibly converted Constantine, and died on Dec. 31, now New Year’s Eve. He is the saint one would pray to for courage, protection and healing, all things we might wish for ourselves and others as we embrace the beginning of a new year.

Not surprisingly, there is a phobia or identified condition for virtually every possible permutation and phenomenon on our remarkable planet, such that someone, somewhere, is sure to have a fear of something. But just as there are an infinity of fears, so there is a plethora of saints who can help us to cope with these. Again, though, common to both saints and phobias are the human beings at their centre, who often persevere against great odds — fear, oppression and uncertainty — and yet whose human dignity is always unchanged. 

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Comfort is knowing there’s a saint for all seasons, so I will call on St. Expeditus, aka the Saint for Procrastinators, to overcome my completion anxiety and bring this rumination to an end.

For those wondering: Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia is the fear of long words, of which, clearly, I am immune.