Yesterday (in the Roman liturgical calendar) was the feast of St. Boniface, the Anglo-Saxon missionary who contributed greatly to the cause of converting what is today Germany. From The Lives of the Saints (emphasis mine):
His first attempt to convert the pagans in Holland having failed, he went to Rome to obtain the Pope’s blessing on his mission, and returned with authority to preach to the German tribes. It was a slow and dangerous task; his own life was in constant peril, while his flock was often reduced to abject poverty by the wandering robber bands. Yet his courage never flagged. He began with Bavaria and Thuringia, next visited Friesland, then passed on to Hesse and Saxony, everywhere destroying the idol temples and raising churches on their site. He endeavored, as far as possible, to make every object of idolatry contribute in some way to the glory of God; on one occasion, having cut down on immense oak which was consecrated to Jupiter, he used the tree in building a church, which he dedicated to the Prince of the Apostles.
Such behavior might offend the syncretist neo-Pagans that populate the ruins of modern Christendom, but I, for one, take comfort in the story, and in the contradiction it offers to modern, feminized pseudo-Christianity. The faith was built by the labors of tough men, by fishers and farmers and carpenters, men with sunburned forearms and calloused hands and muscled backs, men with hammers and axes and nails clutched between their teeth. The love of Christ did not destroy their manliness, as our soft and doughy cultural elites insist it must; it perfected them as men.
St. Boniface, pray for us!