In his sermon on the plain, Jesus provides sayings that instruct his followers in the way of life. We hear him tell us, “Good fruit” comes from “good trees.” But if there is a bad tree, the only outcome will be bad fruit. We know this wisdom. It had been taught by our elders and we perhaps have been passing it along to our younger family members. We hear variations on the wisdom saying such as “An apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” The wisdom we have been taught and pass along is true. If there is good fruit, there must be some good tree.
There are some who just naturally seem to be such good trees. From beginning to end, they are loving, quietly bold, care for others, and are devout. They seem to bear good fruit naturally. And while they are nowhere near a majority of folks, God has blessed us with them, in our lives and in our community of faith. Just to name a few:
“St. Roger” - He died in the Lord not too long ago. All his life, he was a quiet and gentle man who was genuinely interested in people. He was open and caring to his family and lavished his love on his grandchildren. But this virtue of friendship
extended beyond the scope of his family. A school principal, he administered his
public school with competence, but in a way that everyone felt welcomed and
valued. Look at most any photo of Roger and there he is, radiating joy and
loving each moment. A natural saint.
“St. Elisabeth” – Rising from a broken home and raised by an aunt, Elisabeth knew early on that she was to be a nurse. She rose through her academic training and
entered nursing training at Sisters of Mercy Hospital in Baltimore. One photo
that survives is of Elisabeth on “Pinning Day at graduation. She stands there,
resplendent in her Sisters of Mercy starched white uniform and cap with her
Nurse’s Pin shining on a deep navy wool cape. This became the icon for a life of
servant healing to people in need, people who suffered. A natural saint.
“St. Alma” – She was one of the church mothers in her parish, always there to serve in so many ways. Alma could be found in the kitchen when a parish dinner was being prepared or in the sacristy with Altar Guild members following the liturgy. But she was also an humble and bold leader of the parish. In the early days of the AIDS epidemic, a young man on the outer edge of parish life contacted the deadly disease. The news spread quickly—as it always does—and there was a “quiet divorce” between the scared and angry young man and the parishioners. He anticipated total rejection and judgment from them and they, to be honest, were relieved that he had absented himself, too. Then, on one Sunday, as the parishioners were filing into the nave, Alma walked down the center aisle, holding the young man arm in arm. She led him to a front row where the young
AIDS patient had never sat before. The fear and distrusted were broken in this
one loving, prophetic action by St. Alma. Another natural saint.
[Please see the note to preachers below.]
Two reflections on these and so many other saints, these good trees producing good fruit: (1) On one hand, most of these natural saints would object to being referred to as saintly. They would refer to their work as just what you do as you follow Jesus. (Maybe they are right!) (2) On the other hand, you can see how the religious orders of the church came into being. There is something contagious about such virtue-filled lives. Other ordinary people are attracted to such vocations and they come together to share in service. Here we have communities of these good trees bearing wondrous and good fruit.
Problem is, most of us would have serious trouble being labeled a “natural saint.” We seem to be some odd mixture of good-bad trees--not being all that bad, but certainly not all that good either. So how do the rest of us who are not naturally such saintly trees come more fully into the image and likeness of Jesus Christ?
Becoming “good” trees is a challenge! Is there some kind of manual for those of us who long to be more fully saintly and not just wallowing in a hybrid good tree/bad tree kind of life? Well, oddly, there are all kinds of “manuals” that the
saints of the church have passed on to us. But most every saint of the church finds their grounding in Scripture. And again, different traditions have grown within the church as to how the Scriptures can form us more fully into the good trees that Christ desires.
One of the earliest religious orders of the church has its origins in St. Benedict and his twin sister, St. Scholastica. One iconographer writes the holy twins standing next to each other, each holding a crozier. Between the two saints is a small table and on it stands the Holy Bible. Within the Benedictine communities they founded, there is a deep, enduring commitment to praying the psalms. There are no barriers to such practice and no specialized theories of biblical interpretation are needed. The psalms speak of the most heavy and painful events in life as well as the most glorious. They are, as countless faithful have discovered, the school of prayer. In them, we speak to God and find our deepest emotions and longings given voice. But more, the Voice through the psalms
speaks tenderly to us of God’s love and steady care.
But have you noticed, there is a mystery here in reverse. Being about these good things, bearing such good fruit, also forms us more as good people. Sometimes, it is by bearing good fruit that we become good trees! No wonder the church has long ago placed the Season of Lent before the celebration of Easter. Fasting, almsgiving, and prayer remain the three pillars of Lent. And at least two of these pillars invite us to be about good and fruitful work. At the origins of the Lenten season, those who were entering the baptismal catechumenate came to a place of readiness to embrace Christ, enter into holy baptism, and live out a Christian life. And now we look ahead to Ash Wednesday and we join the catechumens and look deep within ourselves.
For some of us, a retrieval of that almost lost spark of divinity comes into play. Our
“knotty old low-grade piece of plywood” self is called to grow into a new and good tree. And so, at the Great Vigil, as these new Christians come up out of the waters of their baptism--hair still dripping wet, foreheads glistening with the holy oil—we also find our old splintery self washed away. Others come to these waters by first sharing in the “good fruit” works of caring for the poor, tending the sick and homeless, and feeding the hungry. Then, a transformation can occur. A new welcome to Christ is heard and brings with it what good already abounds and centers it all in the Good Tree, Jesus.
Some of us come more naturally into the kingdom of God and some of us back into it!
Jesus said, “A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces
goodness,…for it is out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.” And, St. Teresa of Avila teaches this mystery. “Accustom yourself continually to make many acts of love, for they enkindle and melt the soul.
Amen.
Note to preachers: The imagery for this first move involves three examples. In each case, I attempted to provide a concrete example of a contemporary who embodied some virtues of such “natural saints.” But the three examples are out my own personal and pastoral experience. “Roger” was a dear friend who just recently died in the Lord. “Elisabeth” is my mother, a woman who was called to nursing and to Christ’s healing. “Alma” was a parishioner of mine in a parish where she did walk into the worship service arm in arm with this young man. But all three of these examples are my own, personally and pastorally. I would employ these as concretion within this first move as I preach this homily.
On the other hand, they are not directly your own, except now that I have introduced them to you! So, I invite you to imaginatively recall you own triad of “natural saints,” family, friends, or parishioners. You may find it helpful to use the same tag line at the end of each example related to their being “natural saints.” Of course, you have permission to import any of my own “natural saints,” Roger, Elisabeth, and Alma.