Martin of Tours, Bishop and Monk

Today the Church commemorates Martin of Tours, Bishop and monk, who clothed Christ in a poor man at the roadside and gave his life to prayer, mercy, and the making of peace.

Martin was born in the fourth century at Sabaria, in what is now Hungary, and grew up at Pavia in Italy. His father had served in the Roman army, and his parents worshiped the old gods. While still a boy, Martin sought instruction in the Christian faith. He became a catechumen, preparing for baptism, and longed for a life given to God. His father had other plans. Martin was enrolled in the army and sent into military service.

During a bitter winter at Amiens in Gaul, he met a poor man at the city gate. The man had no adequate clothing, and the people passing him offered nothing. Martin had already given away what he could spare. He still had his cloak. Drawing his sword, he cut it in two, wrapped one half around the shivering man, and kept the other half for himself. Some of those who saw his shortened garment laughed at him. Others were ashamed that they had passed the man without helping.

That night, in a dream, Christ appeared to Martin wearing the half-cloak. He showed it to the angels who stood with him and declared that Martin, though still a catechumen, had clothed him. The man at the gate had received a soldier’s garment; Martin had been shown the Lord to whom his mercy had reached.

Martin was baptized, and after a further period of service he asked to leave the army. When Julian, who commanded the army in Gaul, was distributing money to his soldiers before an expected battle, Martin refused the gift. He could no longer accept payment for a service he intended to relinquish. “I am a soldier of Christ,” he told Julian. “I cannot fight.”

Julian accused him of cowardice. Martin offered to stand before the enemy without weapons, trusting himself to Christ and bearing the sign of the cross. He was imprisoned until the proposed test could take place. The next day, envoys arrived to seek peace, and there was no battle. Martin was released from military service.

He went to Hilary, Bishop of Poitiers, and learned from him. His search for a settled life of prayer took him through journeys, opposition, and exile before he gathered a community near Poitiers. There the life he had desired as a boy took shape in poverty, prayer, and companionship.

While Martin was away from the community, a catechumen fell ill and died before he could be baptized. Martin returned to find the brothers mourning beside his body. He sent them out of the room, stretched himself over the dead man, and prayed. For a long time he lay in supplication. Then the man began to move and opened his eyes. Martin gave thanks to God, and the brothers came back to find alive the one they had been preparing to bury. He received baptism and lived for years afterward.

The people of Tours wanted this monk as their Bishop. Knowing that he would be reluctant to leave his retreat, a man came to him pretending that his wife was ill and pleading for a visit. Martin went out to help her and found the people waiting to bring him to the city. Some of the Bishops who assembled objected to his appearance. His clothes were poor and his hair unkempt. The people held to their choice, and Martin became Bishop of Tours.

He carried his monastic life into his new office. Near the city he established Marmoutier, where the river Loire and a steep cliff sheltered the community from easy access. Some brothers lived in small cells; others occupied caves in the rock. They held their possessions in common and shared a life of prayer and discipline. Martin continued to live among them while serving the people of his diocese.

He traveled into the countryside, preached, and established Christian communities. His mission also included the destruction of pagan shrines. At one village, after a temple had been demolished, the inhabitants resisted the cutting down of a sacred pine. They challenged Martin to stand where the tree would fall if he trusted his God to save him. He accepted. Bound beneath the leaning tree, he waited while it was cut. As it began to fall toward him, he raised his hand and made the sign of the cross. The tree swerved away, and Martin stood unharmed.

His zeal against pagan worship was fierce. Yet when fellow Bishops sought the death of people they judged heretics, Martin resisted them. He opposed the use of imperial punishment against Priscillian and his followers. After Priscillian had been executed, Martin went again to the court of the Emperor Maximus, seeking mercy for others whose lives were in danger.

The Emperor had ordered officers into Spain with power to hunt down the accused and seize their lives or property. Martin pleaded for the expedition to be stopped. Bishops who had supported the prosecution demanded that he share communion with them. At first he refused. When the Emperor threatened further executions, Martin returned to the palace at night and agreed to communicate if the threatened people were spared and the officers, who had already set out, were recalled. The Emperor granted his requests.

Martin shared in the communion, then left the court deeply troubled by what he had done. He had secured the lives of others, but he grieved over joining those whose actions he condemned. Afterward, he never again attended an assembly of Bishops.

Near the end of his life, Martin learned that the clergy at Candes were divided by a quarrel. Though he knew his death was near, he went to reconcile them. Peace was restored, and then his strength failed. The brothers gathered around him and begged him to remain with them. Martin wept at their sorrow and prayed, “O Lord, if I am still necessary to your people, I do not shrink from toil: your will be done.”

He died there on November 8, 397, and was buried at Tours on November 11. To the end, he remained ready to serve the people Christ had given him. The hand that had divided a cloak had been opened again and again in prayer, in healing, and in intercession. In the poor and the endangered, Martin had met the Lord whom he longed to behold.