For those of us living in the United States, today is a federal holiday. It also happens (not by accident) to be the feast of St. Martin of Tours, patron saint of soldiers. November 11, 1918 saw St. Martin’s Feast named “Armistice Day” to commemorate the end of World War I. Twenty years later it would become “Veterans’ Day” in the U.S.
When I think of St. Martin of Tours, two images compete for space in my brain. One is the soldier, using his sword to cut his cloak in half so that he can share it with a beggar. The other is a gentle-looking man in bishop’s robes, looking down at the goose who shares his stained glass window in Mary Help of Christians Basilica.
In the famous story with cloak and sword, St. Martin has not yet left military life, but his weapon nevertheless assumes an unexpectedly constructive role, reminding us almost of the biblical swords being beaten into plowshares. What was made to be an implement of war and violence becomes a tool allowing him to equip the poor man – who later appears to him as Christ – with warmth and comfort.
I have to admit, however, that I had to look up the goose. I’d been puzzled by its presence in the window: it seemed so mischievous to me, peering around St. Martin with its sharp, cheeky eye. And as it turns out, this impression is actually fairly appropriate. According to the story, St. Martin hides himself in a barn to avoid being named bishop – at least until a goose sprints out to the square, flapping and squawking to alert the townspeople of Martin’s whereabouts.
The cloak story, whether apocryphal or not, does at least harmonize thematically with the change in St. Martin’s life, from earthly soldier to soldier of Christ. But the goose story has almost a flavor of the prophet Jonah to it, inasmuch as St. Martin is running from God’s will. And although no large, marine mammal shows up to swallow Martin, an uncooperative animal does demonstrate God’s irrepressible sense of humor. And in both stories, the wayward messenger ultimately finds his way: St. Martin of Tours would, in fact, become a bishop, serving in the unsought role with faithfulness and love. It’s comforting to know that even a great saint like St. Martin needed a nudge, from time to time.
The soldiers we honor this Veterans’ Day understand something about the courage it requires to face what has been asked of you. As we remember their sacrifices and struggles this weekend, let’s pray, also, for the grace to accept God’s will in our own lives; to trust that God doesn’t abandon us, even when we hide from Him; and to hope that He will bring an end to war and violence, that we, too, may turn our resources to caring for Christ in our midst.
