St.
Margaret 16 November
Queen
of Scotland, Helper of the Poor, 1093 — Commemoration
Matthew
25: 31-40
Today
we commemorate Margaret, Queen of Scotland, a job description
impressive enough, but I am more impressed and intrigued by the
second notation given her in Stephen Reynolds’ compilation For
All the Saints
– Margaret is called “Helper of the Poor.”
Margaret
was an Anglo-Saxon princess who married King Malcolm III of Scotland
in 1069. Together they raised eight children (I’m sure they had
help) and, also together, they promoted reforms in all facets of
Scottish life: in the royal court, in the Church, and in the nation
itself. But Margaret is chiefly remembered for her efforts on behalf
of Scotland’s poor. She gave away large sums of money and also held
institutions, already in place, accountable to their mandates of
actually providing relief to those they purported to help: the
homeless, hungry, and orphaned. Margaret also provided funds to buy
Anglo-Saxons out of slavery, indentured by their Norman conquerors.
It is for this merciful act that, to her title of Queen, is added the
even greater title — “Helper
of the Poor.”
This
passage from Matthew’s Gospel marks and makes a resounding end to
Jesus’ public discourse, making them extremely poignant “last
words”. Here Jesus instructs his followers in “what to do next”,
“what to be busy at” – in short, how to live their lives
without him there to model it for them. The work includes attending
to the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the stranger, the imprisoned –
those in actual prisons, as well as those in economic or spiritual,
prisons. In short, Jesus is instructing his followers, including us,
to be busy sharing the gifts of Grace; gifts as basic as food and
water, gifts equally basic to human existence as acceptance, love –
solidarity with “the least of these” in every possible way. In
doing so, we care for Christ who continues to live among us.
Neglecting to do so....well, not
to put too fine a point on it...fails
Christ.
I’d
like to tell you another old story:
It’s
a story from the desert – a story from the earliest religious
communities dating back to the end of the 2nd century. It’s a story
that I think has something to say to us as we try to come to terms
with how to live in a world where people are increasingly fearful,
un-trusting, and apprehensive to express compassion,. to live
compassionately.
A
monastic community was in trouble and so the abbess went into the
wilderness, seeking wisdom from an anchoress.
She
said, “My community is shrinking in numbers, the Sisters are
quarrelsome and grumbling, there are few visitors and our worship
hardly ever gives me joy. What is to be done?”
The
Anchoress said, “Tell the first Sister you meet on your return that
the Messiah has come and is in the community.”
“What!”
said the abbess, how can that be? They will tell me that I have gone
mad.” The anchoress smiled that knowing smile, like anchoresses do
. . .
So
even though she felt very foolish, the abbess did as she was told.
The word spread in the community, from one to another. One by one the
Sisters began to change their attitudes, and their behaviour toward
each other. Life improved for them all and the community once again
became a center of love, peace and compassion.
This
“old” story is really about living well in community. And where
ever we find ourselves living, be it in families, in parishes, in the
places where we work, or in the wider community, we are called to
choose, day by day, sometimes minute by minute, how
we will live – in harmony, or at odds with one another.
Image how
life would be if we really believed
the
Messiah was in our midst. . .
Jesus
encouraged his followers to love one another, to care for anyone in
need, whatever the need, but he was not naive – he knew that living
together is hard work, that people don’t always get along, that we
don’t always see eye-to-eye, so he also encouraged his followers to
pray for their enemies, to do good to those who persecute or harm
them. “Living well in community” is precisely what we ought to be
about, whether inside these lovely walls or “out there” in the
big world: living lives of prayer and service and welcoming strangers
in Christ’s name. The community in that desert story had
essentially forgotten “who” they were; they had forgotten how to
live together with loving compassion.
In
our retreat this weekend, we’ve been considering how
God calls us to the task of making peace and in turn to offer peace
to others.
Despite
evidence to the contrary, I’ve been bold enough to suggest that
transforming the world is not an impossible task! Fundamental to our
lives as Christians living in an often troubled world is the
understanding that hope is a choice. Not-so-long-ago,
this Millennium, now no longer so new, but remember when we started
it? It seemed fraught with possibility and promise, and we had such
high hopes. We’re only 13 years in and we’ve already witnessed
several wars and rumours of war and in the process, we’ve convinced
ourselves we cannot trust anyone, let alone, get along with or help
them. The
horrific events of September 11th
unsettled us to our core, awakening in us a whole range of primal
emotions: fear, anger, disillusionment, revenge, helplessness. After
seeing the unspeakable, some were moved to retaliate and we have seen
acts of violence and vandalism unleashed on yet more innocent people.
We may well wonder where this madness will end.
Well,
that will be determined by how we choose to live: in fear, or in
love. In anger, or in deeds of mercy. In revenge, or in peaceful
pursuits. In helplessness, or in hospitality.
The Sisters in that old
story were challenged to see the Messiah in their midst – we too
can look for the Messiah in our midst, and see the change not only in
others, but in ourselves. The
Good News here is that there is no checklist of good deeds to fill
out. Jesus is talking about our manner of living here, and it’s one
that isn’t motivated out of the fear of Hell or the hope of heaven,
for that matter, but a life that’s driven by an authentic love.
In a world
increasingly characterized by fear and suspicion, what is the Church
called to be? How do
we change hostility into hospitality?
Compassion
is a spiritual practice. Theologian Carl Gregg says “The
day-to-day practice of compassion and of love toward your neighbours
(and he
means, all
your neighbours!)
is much more important and difficult than simply believing a creed or
a set of doctrines.” Think of it: if others are praying that the
hungry be fed, the naked clothed, that peace will reign – maybe we
can be the answer to their prayer. An exercise the participants in
the retreat are doing is making Prayer Flags. Prayer Flags are seen
all over the mountainside in the Himalayas. They do not carry prayers
“to” God, as many think; rather the prayers are blown by the wind
to bless the countryside – silent, powerful witnesses carrying
messages of goodwill and compassion that can change the hearts of
those who see them. Tomorrow we will each take a flag home with a
commitment to somehow be the answer to someone’s prayer.
I
am not so naive to think we can make it all
better
but we are required to make the world right in front of us a little
more just, a little more merciful, a little more filled with love.
With God's grace, our meagre efforts, however small, will spread from
one to another, the world over. We may never see the fruits of the
seeds we plant, but as any gardener knows, planting them at all is
the thing that matters.
 |
| The Reverend Frances Drolet-Smith |
Frances Drolet-Smith is an Oblate of SSJD and a parish priest in the Diocese of NS and PEI
