Hard for me to hear are the many complaints lodged against nature and, specifically, autumn.  I do not understand men and women who complain about the cycle of the seasons, as if personally insulted that with October comes cooler weather, rain, wind, shorter days.  I would suggest that the more “divorced” we are from the natural world, the more depraved and deprived we will become as a people.  We live in a time when a person can rise in the morning, leave the house via the car parked in the attached garage, arrive at work in an underground parking lot and enter the office – all without one breath of fresh air!

The sun sets at Mount Savior Monastery, New York.

Do not discount these words!  The natural world is vitally important to the spirituality of most of our saints.  We often think of St. Francis of Assisi when we think of nature, but forget St. Patrick, Saint Therese Lisieux, St. Augustine … actually, chances are great that your favorite saint has written about the place of nature in his/her life.  Keep in mind, however, as Christians we see the natural world as created by God and a sign which points to his existence and providence, rather than something to worship in itself.  Thus, our appreciation of nature is a means to an end… not an end in itself. When it becomes an end in itself, we rediscover the irrational world of our pagan ancestors.

Not too long ago, I found some thoughts by St. John Chrysostom which encapsulates the great gift the fall and winter can be to us.  St. John was writing about the “night,” but his words may be applied to the changing of the seasons as well.  He begins, “If you are willing to reflect on the meaning of night, you will also discover the infinite providence of the Creator” and he will show how the night re-orders our lives back to God.  Read on: “Night restores the tired body and relaxes limbs which are tense through the efforts of the day.  By means of rest, night helps them to regain their rhythm. And not only that, but night sets you free from sorrow and relieves your worries.  It often reduces fever by making sleep a cure and by changing itself into the doctor’s assistant.”

Now, if you can move beyond the superficial narcissism of statements like, “I have to have a pretty sunny day in order to function properly” you can enter more deeply into the mystery of life.  Rather than fight the changing of the seasons, enter into them! The months of October, November, December and January, is that time for us to “relax limbs, rest, and regain rhythm.”  Due to hectic summers, due to our work schedule, due to the infinite tasks of our agenda, we need to restore our tired bodies, our tired lives.  You may choose to be depressed and saddened by the seasons… and increase anti-depressant intake or sit under a light to fight “Seasonal Affective Disorder.”  Or, you can enter into the rhythm and allow yourself to rediscover the cycle; reflect, pray, breathe, and see the work of God.

St. John continues his reflection of the night: “At night, as in a time of truce, the exhausted soul and the worn out body regain their energy and are prepared to take up their daily activity again.  On the other hand, if we prolong the day into night by staying awake to work or even to do nothing, we are condemning ourselves to being useless because gradually our strength is wasted (On Providence 7, 26).”  Likewise, in our refection on fall, the same could be said.  If we wish to disregard the seasons and their value to our spiritual wellbeing, we do so to our own disadvantage.  We are free to keep pushing ourselves to exhaustion.  Or you can allow yourself the time to replenish the exhausted soul by walking in the woods, visiting an orchard, or simply watching leaves fall from trees (which in itself seems to summon the heart to refection).  In short, relearn what our fathers and mothers knew, that God speaks to us in the natural world.

To close, I want to share a passage from the poem “When the Frost is on the Punkin” written by James Whitcomb Riley who grew up about 10 miles from my boyhood farm.  Our mother would recite his poems to us as children:

“They’s something kindo’ harty-like about the atmusfere

When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here—

Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees,

And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;

But the air’s so appetizin’; and the landscape through the haze

Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days

Is a pictur’ that no painter has the colorin’ to mock—

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.”