(317–397)
November 11
“Take me with you, Father! I’m not afraid of the long journey.” Young Martin’s eyes were wide with excitement as he pleaded with his father, a strong Roman officer.
“Yes,” agreed Martin’s father. “Now you can come to live in Italy with your mother and me. You will be living in a land very dear to the gods.”
“Do you still believe in the gods, Father?” Martin asked. “Don’t you realize that there is only one God?”
Martin’s father didn’t reply. He wondered—as he had wondered before—who had told his son such strange things.
The truth was that Martin, born in the Roman province of Hungary, had learned about the Christian faith from the woman who had cared for him during his early childhood. She had taught him about Jesus and the Christian martyrs.
Now Martin’s father was going to take him to Italy. The boy was very excited. Soon he would see Rome, the “capital of the world”!
It was a long journey. Mounted on a single horse, father and son rode through green valleys and up rocky mountain passes. At night they would roll up in their blankets beneath the stars. Sometimes Martin would dream of Jesus. The boy was only ten, but he already felt a strong desire to become a Christian.
Life in Rome was exciting for Martin. Before he knew it, he was celebrating his fourteenth birthday. Martin’s father told him, “I’ve always wanted you to become a soldier like me. It’s time for you to begin your training.”
Martin felt uneasy. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to be a soldier. But since he didn’t know exactly what he did want, he joined the Roman army as his father wished. Soon he became an officer and was stationed in the country we now call France.
During his off-duty hours, Martin prayed, helped the poor and the sick and told everyone he could about Jesus of Nazareth. He was an unusual soldier! Even more amazing was the fact that Martin wasn’t even a Christian. Although he had begun to take instructions in the Christian faith, he had not yet been baptized.
One cold night Martin was riding near the city gates when he noticed a ragged beggar shivering beneath a tree. Everyone was passing by the poor man without doing a thing to help him.
Jesus must want me to help him, thought Martin. But what could he give? He had no money with him. All that he had was his cloak. Martin drew out his sword, cut the cloak in half, and gave one piece to the beggar, wrapping the other piece around his own shoulders. Some people passing by laughed, but others felt ashamed because they had not helped the poor beggar.
That night Martin had a dream. Jesus appeared to him surrounded by a dazzling light. He was wearing the half-cloak that Martin had given to the beggar!
Soon after that, Martin was baptized.
One day, the general ordered his army into battle. Martin approached him and said, “Until today I have served you; from now on I wish to serve only the Lord Jesus.”
“You’re a coward,” retorted the general angrily. “You want to run out on us. Until now I thought you were the bravest of my men, but I see that I was wrong!” And he ordered that Martin be thrown into prison.
Of course, Martin didn’t change his mind. After a while he was released from prison and discharged from the army. He became a pilgrim, then a hermit. He even founded a community of monks. Martin’s holiness became well known. Soon the people of the city of Tours were demanding to have him for their bishop.
Martin was against the idea. He felt that honors might keep him from being united with God. But the people tricked him into entering the city and took him to the church. Martin was again asked to become a bishop, and he consented, aware that this must be the will of God.
Martin drew out his sword, cut the cloak in half, and gave one piece to the beggar, while he wrapped the other piece about himself.
The honor of being named a bishop didn’t change Martin at all. He lived just as simply as before and treated himself just as sternly. He was always very kind to the poor and unfortunate. One day he saw some people mistreating a man with leprosy, and thought, Charity means not only giving people food and clothing; it also means giving them a smile and a good word. He went up to the sick man and hugged him, saying, “Jesus is suffering in you, my brother.”
Another time, Martin saw a group of men and women, all in chains, in the public square of a village. They were waiting to be beheaded the next day because they couldn’t pay taxes to the powerful Count Avitius. Moved with pity, Martin hurried to the count’s palace. But it was night, and every gate was shut. Kneeling before the main entrance, he began to pray: “O Lord, send an angel to ask the count to listen to me. Lord, save those innocent people from such a cruel death.”
While Count Avitius slumbered in his huge bed and his armed guards slept peacefully nearby, an angel of the Lord, surrounded by a halo of golden light, appeared to the count in a dream. “Arise, Avitius!” the angel said. “A servant of our Lord is waiting for you outside the palace.”
Avitius got up and put on his cloak. Trembling, he went out through the main gate. Martin opened his arms and embraced the fiery and powerful warrior, saying, “Come and free the poor people you have sentenced to such a cruel death. Forgive them their trespasses, and God will forgive you yours!”
The count gave in.
Near the end of his life, Martin stopped on one of his journeys to see some monks he knew. He found them arguing. “If the shepherds are not united,” Martin scolded, “what will become of the flock? Be at peace, brothers; be at peace.”
Truly sorry, the brothers fell on their knees, and Bishop Martin blessed them. Then he said, “My sons, gladden my last days with your good deeds. I am now over eighty years old, and my ears hear the music of heaven. Serve God in joy!”
It was the month of November. The leaves were falling from the trees and clouds hid the sun. Martin was dying, and the monks who attended him wept because they knew how much they would miss his encouragement and guidance.
A strange thing happened when Martin died. All the cold and gloom of November disappeared, and for three days everything was as bright and beautiful as if it had been summer. Of course, no one really needed to see that miracle in order to know that Martin had been a saint; the holiness of his whole life had been proof of that!
When St. Martin was faced with the choice of being called brave and abandoning Jesus, or being called a coward and following Jesus, he chose Jesus. It’s the kind of person we are that’s important, not what people call us.