Monday of the First Week of Lent
“Lord, when did we see you naked and clothe you?”
Ohio is home to 848,000 military vets or retirees. According to the Dayton Daily News our town “is one of the best places for veterans to retire” (Dec. 12, 2021). The impact of military families on our area has been enormous. Dayton without military families would be like Florida without the sunshine.
Many Dayton families have the military in their blood and a line of patriots in their lineage. Such was the case for young Martin of Tours (316-397 CE). Today is the memorial of Perpetua and Felicity, martyrs. We beg their indulgence to allow Martin center stage today.
Martin was a military brat, his Dad a prominent tribune. At the age of eighteen Martin rode with a cavalry in central Gaul. Compared to his compatriots, the young recruit was wet behind the ears.
Most rank and file were still pagan while Martin had been drawn to the Gospel as a young boy, to the dismay of his revered commander father. Emperor Constantine stopped throwing Christians to the lions only a year before teenage Martin had his wintertime encounter with a certain beggar. It happened on a frozen, blistery day alongside a road in Gaul.
As the cadet straddled along in the bitter chill, his attention was diverted to a stranger---an old man begging, sitting, and shivering---wearing threadbare and torn clothing and at the mercy of sub-zero conditions.
Mounted troops halted behind as Martin drew his Roman sword, bracing themselves thinking the rookie was about to put the old peasant out of his misery. But surprisingly the lad removed his scarlet “sagum”--the Roman soldier's thick, warm military cloak. Using his sword, Martin cut this prized possession in two from top to bottom, giving half to the old man, while some of the rank and file snickered in disbelief behind him.
That night the cadet had a dream. In it he saw the Risen One in glory but wearing only a half cloak. An angel asked Christ where he'd obtained the cloak. “My friend Martin gave it to me” was the Lord's response.
“Whatever you did for the least of my brothers and sisters you did for me.”
The young trooper's gesture echoes today's Gospel. Venerable Dorothy Day of Manhattan (1897-1980) believed that she often ministered to angels in the guise of the poor (upwards of 45,000 vets are homeless every night in America). One of those angels may have been Christ himself. As we begin Lent we are reminded that even the smallest gesture of care for others is a gesture of care for Our Blessed Lord himself.
Have we entertained angels along the way?
Timothy J. Cronin