Go out into the darkness and put your hand in the hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.
Every gate on the St. Benedict Acres farm has a story. Each gate is unique, each one an opening to a new experience.
Some gates are long and heavy, some short and light. Among the materials used in their construction are wooden boards, though most are tubular steel or woven metal mesh. They swing open for cattle and sheep, for tractors and people. And they all help us manage the traffic. All are a passage from one place to another.
The dictionary says the word “gate” originates from the Old English word geat and the Old Norse word gat, both meaning a way or a path. It is a highly used word of which there are at least nine usages: an opening, a city or castle, a door, an entrance or exit, a valve, a channel. Also, the word can be used as the total admission receipts, a dismissal, a style. As a verb, it can be employed in the sense of “to control by means of a gate.”
With gates (and fences), we protect our gardens, and we can rotate livestock through our numerous pastures. To handle or ship farm animals, gates are used to safely funnel cattle or sheep onto a truck or trailer, to trim hooves, to breed or perform various health check-ups. During the early months of the recent pandemic, we signaled our temporary closure with closed farm gates — a hard thing for us who normally welcome all.
Every time I open, close, or pass through a gate, I am aware of how it swings, of how it is mounted and hinged onto a (hopefully) sturdy cedar post. The gate latches are unique also: a chain, a hook, a spring-loaded wooden slat, or, in an emergency, — a rock!
The opening end of a long gate must be supported (open or closed) so that the weight of the gate does not pull over the post it is hinged onto. When swinging a gate, one must lift the leading end carefully so as not to pull it off the hinges. When guests hike around the pastures or climb to the cross on the summit, we ask them to leave the gates “as you find them,” open or closed with the latch. Thank you!
When I first arrived at St. Benedict Acres as a staff member, one of our priests was making wooden gates from our own hemlock 1×6 ft. lumber. Today, we have over 40 gates, mostly metal, and painted various colors – red, green, blue, black, yellow, silver.
Recently a big dead elm tree fell on one of them. Oops — an opportunity to repair it!
For our pastured animals, gates provide an opening in a solid fence to a new week of nourishment. They also can be a barrier for livestock, a signal to move on to another pasture.
In the Gospels, Jesus brings this word higher: Go in through the narrow gate, because the gate to hell is wide and the road that leads to it is easy, and there are many who travel it. But the gate to life is narrow and the way that leads to it is hard, and there are few people who find it (Mt 7:13).
The sheep and cattle and the herdsmen at our farm all have to climb our hill to get to the pastures. They pass by a lot of fence line before they get to a gate, and the gate may seem a bit narrow. They do this morning, day, and evening for five months in the spring, summer, and fall.
In our northern setting, the farmers must wake up to some form of semi-darkness, walking in faith that their lives are directed in God’s meaningfulness and that his hand leads with a surety of strength and an inner peace. We often need a headlamp to guide our steps. But the knowledge and reward of a freshly pastured herd or flock is akin to the satisfaction of creatures being provided new life and new light.
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In the pastures of our spiritual life, we try to keep our eyes and hearts on him who is the gate. We have his word, his Church, the sacraments, and his encouragement with us 24/7 and 365 days a year as a gate to life.
And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied: Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.*
From the Gospel we know that Jesus is the gate. He has told us so and we believe.
Over the centuries, we as Catholics have developed a theology incorporating Mary, the mother of Jesus, as the way to the gate, because God gave us Jesus through her. There may be many dark days, dim passages in our lives that provide ample opportunities to ask for help, to pray for light, or simply, as in the poem above, to put our hand into God’s hand so as to make our way safely to good pastures. After all, he is the Good Shepherd.
Gates are necessary and wonderful and useful. And in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, to enter life, we must seek and find Jesus, the Narrow Gate. Since a mother always wants the best for her children, let us also allow Mary to help us find that narrow gate, Our Savior, and thus enter God’s rich pastures of the Kingdom.
*From The Gate of the Year, a poem by M. L. Haskins.
