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We might be called to witness to the Gospel through grand deeds or a quiet life lived for others. Perhaps it is by exploring the wonders of God’s creation or finding ways to aid those in need through scientific means, like those in our “Saint Who?” series this month. Perhaps by raising children, or as teachers leading children to seek Truth in all its manifestations. Or perhaps by focusing on prayer for the world and the missions, either as consecrated religious (for example, Saint Thérèse) or simply by going to daily Mass or pursuing a commitment to the Holy Rosary.

All preaching though, whether verbal or otherwise, should look like an invitation to a wedding banquet (cf. Mt 22:9): a gentle but persistent knocking at the door of the world to ask it to join us in the fullness of life. In our meditation of the Day on World Mission Day (Sunday 20 October), Ronda Chervin reflects on how the zeal of all the great missionaries springs from their intense love of Christ overflowing into the creation of spiritual children (p. 304). “It is in terms of this intensity of love that the extraordinary sacrifices of the saints can be understood as heroic instead of insane.”

Saint Francis of Assisi (4 October) springs to mind as a saint who walked that line. G.K. Chesterton argues that though many of the things Francis did seem insane in worldly terms, they all made sense in the context of him as a Lover: “The great saint was sane; and with the very sound of the word ‘sanity’, as at a deeper chord struck upon a harp, we come back to something that was indeed deeper than everything about him that seemed an almost elvish eccentricity. He was not a mere eccentric because he was always turning towards the centre and heart of the maze; he took the queerest and most zigzag short cuts through the wood, but he was always going home.”

Becoming child-like

Saint Francis is one of several October saints and themes that remind us of another vital aspect of how we are meant to live out our mission in the world: unless you change and become like little children you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. And so, the one who makes himself as little as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven (Mt 18:3-4). Running counter to humanity’s temptations in the direction of glory and prestige, Christ continually reminds his disciples: Anyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and anyone who humbles himself will be exalted (Mt 23:12). In the Gospel for this year’s World Mission Sunday he elaborates: Anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant, and anyone who wants to be first among you must be slave to all. For the Son of Man himself did not come to be served but to serve… (Mk 10:43-45).

Consider the Gospel for the feast of the Guardian Angels: The disciples came to Jesus and said, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” So he called a little child to him and set the child in front of them. Then he said, “…the one who makes himself as little as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Anyone who welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me” (Mt 18:1-5). And then follows a stern warning: “See that you never despise any of these little ones, for I tell you that their angels in heaven are continually in the presence of my Father in heaven” (Mt 18:10).

As well as a child-like spirit, Saint Francis had a great devotion to the Christ child—it was he who popularised the tradition of creating Christmas crèche scenes. Another October saint with this particular devotion is Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus (1 October), the “Little Flower”. This young Carmelite is famous for her understanding of spiritual childhood: “Jesus points out to me the only way which leads to Love’s furnace—that way is self-surrender—it is the confidence of the little child who sleeps without fear in its father’s arms” (Story of a Soul). Holiness, she wrote, is “a disposition of the heart that makes us humble and little in the arms of God, aware of our weakness, and confident—in the most audacious way—in his Fatherly goodness.”

There are two very different and very beautiful depictions of the spirit of children in this issue, on the cover and in the art enclosure. In the latter, we see a very realistic, tender scene of our Blessed Mother and the Christ Child, all delicious puppy fat and intense gaze. In the former we find a striking depiction of a child (or a soul) with their guardian angel, the epitomy of trust and single-minded focus. Both are very sweet and moving images, but there is nothing quite like spending time with real-life children to assist us in reflecting deeply on what Christ is saying. When a child runs up to you with the heartfelt offering of a squashed flower or shaky drawing, or you witness them verbalising their first simplistic prayers or jumping into your arms without warning, you can catch a glimpse of a whole-heartedness grownups frequently forget about. Take a look at the meditation from Father Jean du Cœur de Jésus d’Elbée for the 13th on this theme (p. 181).

This month we also celebrate Saint Luke (18th October). He is the Gospel writer who delved most deeply into the childhood of our Lord and our Lady’s experiences as his mother. It is in the Gospel of Luke (chapter 10:21) that we find Jesus’ great exhaltation of childhood: It was then that, filled with joy by the Holy Spirit, he said, “I bless you, Father, Lord of heaven and of earth, for hiding these things from the learned and the clever and revealing them to mere children….” It is no coincidence that it is Luke who also gives us the “Magnificat”: He has shown the power of his arm,/ he has routed the proud of heart./ He has pulled down princes from their thrones and exalted the lowly.