Do you ever feel stuck in a place you never intended to be? Like Candy-land Molasses black-dot-on-red swamp stuck? (I think it’s changed to chocolate on the newer board…do children not know the sweet goodness of molasses anymore?)
In life, there seem to be more and more occasions where it feels like Providence has it in for us, or at least delights mischievously in screwing us. Of course, that description is itself a distortion when we consider the constancy of our Father’s love and care for us, which we know is holding us close.
Nevertheless, once we are past that dramatic and passionate and blissful experience of young adulthood, the new mantra may appear to be:
I am frustrated, therefore I am.
I offer here a disclaimer: if there seems to be a redundancy in the themes of my posts, I have come to the realization that I write through the frustration.
Yet, I also think we expressly reach out to others in moments of intense joy or when we are “perplexed to the extreme”. Hence, the writing. 😊
Furthermore, today is the perfect occasion to contemplate such mental dilemmas because St. Martin was one immensely frustrated in his calling.
St. Martin is a popular, well-known saint for mothers of boys: whenever All Saints’ Day looms, we gather up our soldier trappings from the dress up box, order our boys to don them, and process them through the litany of saint-figure opportunities: Who do you want to be this year? Sebastian? George? Martin? 😊
Yet, a very specific tradition marks his feast for his European fans; for in Europe, on Martin’s Day – November 11 – we eat goose.
Most of you are probably familiar with his model generosity: as a traveling Roman soldier, he cut his cloak in half to share with a beggar and was blessed that night with a vision of our Lord wearing that cloak.
However, it also bears remembering that Martin had a personal vendetta against geese.
See, after his strenuous years of soldiering, he sought out a quiet, monastic life. Holiness draws others, nevertheless, and when the people of his region needed to find a new bishop, they sought out Martin to fill that role. Martin didn’t desire community at this time, though, nor the drama, conflicts, service, and busyness that would come with such a job. He fled the crowd and hustled into a barn to hide, only to disturb a flock of geese. Their honking drew the people, and Martin had to begrudgingly accept the new mission God was calling him to through their pleas.
The key point to remember from this legend, of course, is that Martin ordered the geese to be served at the celebratory dinner.
And every year after, the faithful continue to cook a goose in his memory.
In this light, let us consider anew our current sticky situations.
Are we uncomfortable? Yes. Regardless of our angst, does it seem as if God has led us here? Well…
Perhaps we already know He has, because this situation is exactly the type we steadfastly avoid with careful prudence and yet we still find ourselves here. Our normal coping techniques are denied us, and we have to really stretch to utilize our talents. Probably doesn’t feel fun. Probably we won’t even see many results.
But we still are asked to follow, even when we don’t understand the “why”. (This meditation is also a good preparation for Advent, when we reflect how Mary and Joseph were ordered to Bethlehem at the worst possible time. 😊)
The good news is, we still can – and should – laugh at the absurdity of our circumstances. We can follow with flair. And maybe there is a way for us to give God a knowing wink and nod as well.
St. Martin found that balance.
So, let’s follow the call we’re hearing. Maybe stay in our molasses swamp, if that’s what He’s asking of us. Stop resisting and have some fun with it. And find some goose to savor.
