St. Philip Neri, the founder of the Congregation of the Oratory, is not nearly as well known as he should be. The “Saint of Joy,” as he is called, was known for his cheerfulness and sense of humor as well as his profound insights in the confessional and his mentoring of young people through friendship and fellowship.
When the long days of summer fade and autumn’s cool, crisp air starts to settle in, it will be hard not to feel a shift in our spirits, too. I’m not one to have a favorite season; I love them all. But there’s so much to praise about fall. The vibrant colors of the leaves, the shorter days and the cozying up with a warm drink all invite us to slow down, to take stock of where we are in life and to savor our many blessings.
Fall naturally draws us to reflection. What better way to do that than through the lens of our faith? And the Catholic poet Rainer Maria Rilke can help.
Rilke’s poem “Autumn” really nails the essence of this season. He writes, “The leaves fall, fall as from far, / Like distant gardens withered in the heavens; / They fall with slow and lingering descent.”
The leaves, with their acquiescing descent, are more than just leaves -- they are symbols of a fundamental principle in the spiritual life: surrender. Tempted to clutch the boughs of their trees, the leaves give in, however reluctantly, to nature’s summons.
When they begin their descent, they let go of the branches they cling to. Entrusting themselves to wind and breeze, they yield to the whims of current and weather. Whether tossed violently or permitted to descend gracefully, leaves accept it all as it comes. Each leaf relents and falls.
Rilke’s words remind us that this reluctance to let go is something we all experience. Life is full of changes, and sometimes we resist them, even though we know they’re part of God’s plan.
Rilke says in his poem that the Earth itself is falling – “And in the nights the heavy Earth, too, falls / From out the stars into the Solitude.” We’re falling, too, sometimes feeling like we’re drifting into a precarious uncertainty. And it’s so tempting to feel like we’re alone. But here’s the thing: God is found only in the solitude.
“The man who fears to be alone will never be anything but lonely, no matter how much he may surround himself with people,” writes the Trappist monk Thomas Merton. “But the man who learns, in solitude and recollection, to be at peace with his own loneliness, and to prefer its reality to the illusion of merely natural companionship, comes to know the invisible companionship of God.” Solitude isn’t emptiness or darkness.
Rilke doesn’t leave us hanging in despair. The beauty of his poem is that it leads us right back to God. In the midst of all this falling – whether it’s leaves, the Earth, or our own lives – there’s
One who holds everything “infinitely softly in His hands.” The poem concludes, “Thus all doth fall. This hand of mine must fall / And lo! the other one: – it is the law. / But there is One who holds this falling / Infinitely softly in His hands.”
How comforting is that? In a world that’s constantly changing, where everything seems to be in motion, God is the steady hand holding it all together. He’s unchanging, always there, gently guiding us through the ups and downs, the letting go and the holding on.
So, when we move into autumn, let’s take a moment to see the falling leaves for what they are – a summons to surrender. But even in that surrender, we’re never abandoned. Each leaf that falls is held by the same God who holds us. He’s there in every season, every transition, guiding us with a love that never fails.
Dominican Father Patrick Briscoe is editor of Our Sunday Visitor. Follow him on X @PatrickMaryOP.