St Martin of Tours (317–397), whose feast day we celebrate on 11 November, was born of pagan parents, entered the Roman army at the age of 15 and was baptised at 18.

One day when riding into a village, he encountered an unfortunate beggar shivering in the cold. Martin was so moved by the man’s suffering, he cut his warm cloak in half and gave it to the poor man. That night Jesus appeared in Martin’s dream wearing the cloak he had given away. This revelation of God about the poor changed his life.

In this experience, Martin, a young man still learning about his Christian faith, found the true nature and purpose of life. He saw that Jesus could be found in everyone he met, and that when he cared for others, he was serving Christ. He studied and was ordained a priest, eventually becoming the bishop of Tours.

For hundreds of years, St Martin was a prominent Christian saint for the poor in Europe. More than a hundred churches are named in his memory, and in the spirit of St Martin, the faithful in the Middle Ages were encouraged to embrace a fast of forty days leading up to the Christmas season—an Advent counterpart of the Lenten preparation for the Easter feast. St Martin’s fast encouraged Christians to follow Martin’s example, serving Christ by caring for the poor and giving them food and assistance.

To be moved and then take pity on the poor demands, first of all, that we see them.

St Martin, of course, was just following Christ’s own example. Eminent New Testament scholar William Barclay writes that a special Greek word for God’s divine compassion, splagchnizesthai, is found only 12 times in the gospels.* In almost all these references, it is Jesus who is moved to the depths of his being with compassion; his parables of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:33) and the Father of the Lost Son (Luke 15:20) also use this word.

In each case, Jesus’ compassion is prompted by particular aspects of our human condition: the hunger and pain of blind men (Matthew 20:34) or lepers (Mark 1:41) impelled Jesus to touch these suffering ones and heal them. The sorrow of others also moved him to respond, like that of the grieving widow of Nain (Luke 7:13), whose young son he raised from the dead. Even seeing the crowds who were hungry or spiritually lost would elicit his divine compassion.

For Mother Teresa, looking directly into a person’s eyes, and noticing and registering the colour of their irises, firmly clarified her conviction that Christ was standing before her.

To be moved and then take pity on the poor demands, first of all, that we see them.

Like St Martin of Tours, St Teresa of Kolkata famously lived for the poor, encouraging others to come and share her life and work.

A Missionary Sister of Charity once explained to me Mother Teresa’s simple strategy for seeing Christ in the poor. Unfazed, she would draw close to a destitute person in order to see their eyes clearly. For Mother Teresa, looking directly into a person’s eyes, and noticing and registering the colour of their irises, firmly clarified her conviction that Christ was standing before her.

This is a good reminder for us as we come across the many homeless on our city streets. St Teresa challenges us to see the colour of their eyes. To do this, we have to pause along our busy way. She also invites us to chat with them for a while.

Her beautiful prayer, Who is Jesus to me? lists some of the destitute in whom we might find Christ and look into his eyes:

Jesus is the Hungry—to be fed.
Jesus is the Thirsty—to be satiated.
Jesus is the Naked—to be clothed.
Jesus is the Homeless—to be taken in.
Jesus is the Sick—to be healed.
Jesus is the Lonely—to be loved.
Jesus is the Unwanted—to be wanted.
Jesus is the Leper—to wash his wounds.
Jesus is the Beggar—to give him a smile.
Jesus is the Drunkard—to listen to him.
Jesus is the Little One—to embrace him.
Jesus is the Dumb—to speak to him.
Jesus is the Crippled—to walk with him.
Jesus is the Drug Addict—to befriend him.
Jesus is the Prostitute—to remove from danger and befriend her.
Jesus is the Prisoner—to be visited.
Jesus is the Old—to be served.

This litany brings to mind a certain cleric of my acquaintance, too humble to name, who is renowned for exploring our city’s highways and byways in search those in need. Enquiring at the presbytery about the whereabouts of this parish priest, the answer is likely to be simple: ‘Probably sitting in a gutter somewhere chatting to the poor!’

St Martin of Tours’ feast day invites us to remember the destitute in our midst and to clothe them with kindness.

Sometimes the call to serve the suffering and marginalised might take us further from home. Dr Sr Mary Glowrey (1887–1957), Servant of God, was the wonderful Australian doctor who heard God’s word and crossed an ocean to care for the poor in India. This brilliant young scholar stood out as a gentle but determined woman in what was then a very male medical world.

After Sunday Mass at St Patrick’s Cathedral in 1915, Mary returned to her consulting rooms and found a small leaflet outlining the drastic plight of women in India. This urgent call for women doctors so arrested her imagination that she immediately saw her future. She wrote years later, ‘[My] life’s work lay clearly before for me now.’

In India as a religious sister, Mary of the Sacred Heart JMJ oversaw the building of St Joseph’s Hospital, Guntur, in 1925. In 1929, the outpatients treated at this hospital numbered a staggering 40,000 annually. In 1943, she founded the Catholic Health Association of India, whose members today care for 21 million patients a year.

Dr Sr Mary Glowrey is only the second Australian to be considered for recognition as a saint in the Catholic Church. The first step of this process was achieved when she was declared a Servant of God in 2013.

St Martin of Tours’ feast day invites us to remember the destitute in our midst and to clothe them with kindness. The stories of the saints include those who cared for the needy an ocean away and others who gazed into the eyes of the poor on their doorsteps.

In the coming week, as we reflect on the example of St Martin, and as we approach World Day of the Poor (19 November), let us embrace in our hearts and display in our care the divine compassion Jesus brought to the world.

Prayer to the Father, for the poor

We commend to your fatherly goodness
all who are afflicted or distressed;
comfort them and relieve them according to their needs,
and grant them the love and compassion of your Spirit.

Prayer of the Church, Wednesday evening, week 4

* William Barclay, New Testament Words, SCM Press, London, 1964, pp. 276–280.

Banner image: Simone Martini, Division of the Cloak (Scene I), 1312–17, fresco, San Martino.