Half a Cloak

Midweek Vespers 

Martinmas

Lord, we pray for the preacher, for You know his sins are great.

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

One of the pleasures and privileges of the pastorate is that I have the honor of telling certain sacred stories at the same time every year. And I do have favorites. Foremost amongst them is the story of St Martin of Tours on this St Martin’s Day—otherwise known as Martinmas. First I will tell you his tale, and then I will tell you why it matters.

Martin was born into a Roman military family at the beginning of the fourth century, in what today would be Hungary. At age 15 he joined the Legions, like his father—the heavy cavalry, in fact—and there encountered Christians for the first time, who impressed him favorably.

Soon Martin found himself stationed in Gaul, modern day France, and it was clear that a great winter storm was brewing. He took refuge in the city of Amiens, where he gave away his excess clothing to the cold and to the poor. One scantily-clad beggar remained shivering at the city gates, but alas, by then Martin had run out of clothes to give. So he took his Roman military cloak, in which he wrapped himself at night, and cut it in half with his Roman military sword, giving half to the beggar, that he might survive the coming storm.

That night Martin had a dream that Jesus Christ stood in Heaven before the assembled host of angels and saints, holding aloft the half-cloak that Martin had given Him, and proclaiming to all, “See how Martin the soldier has clothed Me!” In the morning Martin rose and went to find the Stranger at the gate—but of course by then there was no sign that He had ever been there at all.

After this miraculous experience, Martin left the army, received Holy Baptism, and eventually was ordained as the Bishop of Tours—where he was laid to rest on 11 November, revered ever after as the patron saint of soldiers-turned-peacemakers. This may all sound unfamiliar to us today, but a century ago in Europe everyone knew the story of St Martin and the significance of Martinmas. Hence it is no coincidence that the guns of the Great War were silenced on 11 November 1918.

Thus did Martinmas become Armistice Day, which then became Veterans’ Day, when we honor all those who stood for our defense and who then laid down their swords.

More than this, Martinmas just happens to be the old date of Halloween, before our shift from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian. And it also used to be the beginning of an extended Advent season known as St Martin’s Lent. So you see it is the perfect balance point between the departure of Allhallowtide and the Nativity of Christ the King.

Martinmas is still celebrated in Europe, especially in Germany, often with bonfires representing the warmth of Christian charity, and with processions of children bearing homemade lanterns through the night, begging alms for the poor, and perhaps a bit of candy, as they go—a sort of cross and cousin to both Christmas caroling and trick-or-treat.

In the Middle Ages, when France became an independent kingdom of her own, the monarchy bore as a sign of their divine ordination a small red cape or half-cloak, purported to be Martin’s own, one of France’s most sacred relics. When the King traveled throughout his domains, the cloak of course came with him, and at night it would be sheltered in little shrines along the way. There vespers would be sung without instrumental accompaniment, for they were on the road.

The Latin for “little cloak” is capella, and to this day small shrines or places of Christian prayer are called chapels. And unaccompanied vocal music is sung a capella, that is, “from the chapel.” All this goes back to St Martin. And then we had Hans and Margarette Luther, who were leaseholders of copper mines and smelters in Germany some 500 years back. On 10 November 1483, Margarette gave birth to a bouncing baby boy whom they baptized in Church the very next day—St Martin’s Day. Hence we have Martin Luther.

Let us take a moment to note, and to appreciate, the far-reaching effects of one man’s act of humble charity the better part of two millennia ago. Martin cut his cloak in half, and in so doing clothed Jesus Christ in the person of that beggar. For God there is no greater, no holier act a person can perform than to share equally with those in need what very little he has left. Of all the gestures a child can make to please his father, here is surely the most pleasing of them all.

By seeking to be like Christ, Martin clothed and honored Christ. By loving others as Christ first loved him, Martin changed the world in ways both great and small. But we don’t remember him as a bishop. We don’t even really remember him as a soldier. We remember St Martin as one who cut his cloak in half to clothe a shaking beggar. And Christ proudly wears that shroud in Heaven to this day.

Be the light amidst the darkness. Be the warmth against the snows. Be Jesus for those in need, regardless of their circumstances or beliefs. Embrace the holiness of humility. Not as though you have to earn God’s favor. Not because you need to work your own way up and into Heaven. But simply because Jesus has given you His joy. And to enter His joy fully, is to love others as He loves us. See Jesus in the needy. Be Jesus for their need. Die to sin and pride and ego, and let Christ rise up within.

This is the work of St Martin. This is the work of a soldier of Jesus Christ.

In the Name of the Father and of the +Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.