If sunflowers are symbols of obedience, apples, on the other hand, were originally the symbols of disobedience.  The apple, for one reason or another, is the fruit typically portrayed in art as what Eve plucked from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden, the first act of turning from God. This action set in motion the chasm between God and us and handed onto all of us Original Sin.  Yet, the apple has a happy ending.  Because God did not leave us to our own devices, but instead responded with mercy - first by establishing the covenants with Israel and then by giving us the New and Eternal Covenant in Jesus Christ - the apple was transformed.   Now, the apple is linked to learning, which is why we see the iconic picture of an apple on a teacher’s desk. But apples are not just linked to any learning but learning that leads to Understanding and Wisdom. 

Now, after the fall, learning takes work and is not effortless and delightful. However, all learning - even if it is not explicitly and overtly about God - can reveal him and his ways, if pursued with humility and sincerity.  St. Pio, for example, used to kneel when he did his studies as he recognized that learning algebra was still glorifying God. He viewed every subject as a necessary stepping-stone on the path that God laid out for him. 

Fruitfulness
Apples are also fruit, so they lend themselves to the idea of fruitfulness. And, of course, we certainly hope that our learning is fruitful, that it gives us a way to provide for ourselves and our families, on a personal, practical level, that it gives us insight into solving problems in the world on the communal level, and that it ultimately leads us to the source of abundance and fruitfulness, God, on a higher, eternal level. 

In fact, something as simple as an apple pie fully develops this idea. Think about the process of making a pie: A few apples are plucked from a tree, if you live up north, or bought from the grocery store, if you are down south. They are washed, cored, and chopped, on the way to becoming something new. They are mixed with butter, cinnamon, nutmeg and placed with other similarly transformed items; wheat that has become flour, milk that has become butter, to form something new - pastry.  Don’t forget - this process is done by someone who has learned how to make a pie and has practiced it several times. After the pie is baked, those few apples will stretch to minister to several people. It will comfort some, please others and nourish all. The idea of learning at its best- taking one thing and transforming it to serve the common good through our work. 
​
Now that the school year is well under way and thousands of students of all ages have taken up their studies again, in whatever form or fashion that may be, let’s be intentional in why and what we study and look to the sunflower and apple to inspire us to pursue obedience and true knowledge.

Creation is our first language. Before even one syllable of the ancient languages of Aramaic, Tamil, Egyptian, Sumerian and others were ever uttered, God spoke first. The words he spoke drew something out of nothing. Matter that was not there, came into being. More importantly, this matter came into being in specific and pleasing arrangements, over time. Because creation was spoken into being by God, instead of thought privately to himself, we know that creation is a communication, a self-revelation. God was saying something about himself through what he created. Unlike language, however, which is culturally or environmentally influenced and uses words to convey thoughts and ideas, creation speaks in symbols and has a universal meaning. For example, at every place in the world a mountain represents a high place, raised above the ground. No one, in any culture, looks at a mountain and thinks it's a garbage dump. Creation speaks, and has a message to us about the one who made it. 

In fact, the Catechism reminds us that creation is one the ways that we can come to know God. Through reflecting on the world, starting from movement, becoming, contingency, and order and beauty, “one can come to a knowledge of God as the origin and end of the universe.” (CCC 32)  St. Paul adds that “Ever since the creation of the world, [God’s] invisible nature, namely, his eternal power and deity, has been clearly perceived in the things that have been made.” (Rom 1:20)  St. Augustine agreed, saying “Question the beauty of the earth, question the beauty of the sea, question the beauty of the air, distending and diffusing itself, question the beauty of the sky ,,, question all these realities.  All respond: “See, we are beautiful.” Their beauty is a confession. Who made them if not the Beautiful One?” (Sermo 241, 2:PL 38, 1134)

Now that Fall is officially here, let’s look at a common symbol of this season, the sunflower, and see what it can say to us.

Sunflowers
Sunflowers are symbols of obedience.  They spend their entire day simply turning their faces towards the sun.  Wherever it goes, they follow.  It is such a simple and honest action.  There is no hiding or subterfuge.  They, with their broad, open faces, are completely transparent.  So what, exactly, is obedience?  Is it just blindly following orders? Is it really only for those who can’t think for themselves? 

The idea of obedience is well-defined in Scripture as a key to being in right relationship with God.  When God gives the Israelites the Ten Commandments, he says “See, I set before you this day a blessing and a curse; a blessing for obeying the commandments of the Lord, your God, which I give you today; a curse if you do  not obey the commandments of the Lord, your God, but turn aside from the way I command you today, to go after other gods.” (Deut 11:26-28)  In the New Testament, we are reminded of Jeus’ example of obedience to his Father, when he prayed “not my will, but yours be done,” (Mark 14:36) as he prepared for his arrest and crucifixion. In being obedient, Jesus willingly and deliberately puts himself under the authority of God the Father, and submits to his commands. 

In Greek, the word obey translates to “listen under.”  It refers to a hearing and then an understanding of what is heard which results in a specific behavior. The one who obeys does so not out of laziness, cowardice or ignorance, but from a sincere desire to fulfill the will of God.

Obedience is an outward display of an internal disposition. The heart has turned towards God to follow him, and the actions of the believer reflect what is in the heart. This is what sunflowers do. They turn towards the sun, constantly and continually. They challenge us to do the same. Do we travel through our days with our heads down, not looking to the Son?  Do we seek God's presence throughout the hours of the week?  Do we look for him in spite of clouds and rain?

As we journey through Fall, let the sunflowers you may see along the way remind you of the love to be found in obedience, and the Beautiful One behind it. 
​
“Sunflowers always face the sun, They make our days so bright.
And as we face the Son of God, we travel in his light.
Then joy will fill our lives on earth, though troubles come our way
He is our refuge, safe and sure, To guide us everyday.”
                                                - “Light and Bright”, by Elma Helgason

Today, September 15, we celebrate the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows. It is part of the genius of the Liturgical Calendar, in my opinion, that we take into account not just the joy but also the extreme sorrow Our Lady felt at different times in her life. We all know that sorrow and suffering will be part of our lives. Despite our best efforts to live well and make choices that will avoid suffering, we will never be able to escape it entirely.  The feast of Our Lady of Sorrows reminds us of this simple fact. Although Mary is the Mother of God and was privileged in raising Jesus and being close to him his whole life, she was nevertheless not preserved from overwhelming suffering and sorrow. We note her sorrows, and, because of them, we know that she understands our own sorrows.  
This is especially poignant this fall, as children go back to school. In my school district, students across the county are wearing “Uvalde Strong” shirts, to remember the 19 children and 2 adults who will not be returning. As a mother who watched her own son die slowly and painfully across the span of three hours, Mary knows firsthand the deep sorrow of those parents, grandparents, neighbors, teachers. Yet it is the story of Mary and her son, who died and then rose again, that gives hope to them and to us. Without Mary’s sorrow, we would not know Easter joy.

I was reflecting on these thoughts last Sunday. I was out of town and happened to go to Mass, rather serendipitously, at a parish called Our Lady of Sorrows. Sitting in the quiet for a few minutes before Mass began, I noticed the lovely altar setting in the small church.  High up in the alcove of the roof is painted a mural of God the Father, in the midst of creating in the heavenly realm, looking down with care and interest at the earth below.  Directly under God the Father is a dove, representing the Holy Spirit. The mural, being painted, is two dimensional. But in a straight line beneath the Holy Spirit is a three-dimensional sculpture of Christ on the cross. It’s as if the second person of the Trinity leaps out of heaven onto the cross, becoming visible, incarnate, flesh. Standing beneath the cross are Our Lady of Sorrows on one side, and John the Beloved on the other.   

Under the feet of Christ is the tabernacle. Directly in front of the tabernacle is the altar, from which hangs an altar cloth proclaiming “Holy! Holy! Holy!” And the final piece of the puzzle is in front of the altar - the people who come to Mass, sit in the pews and participate in the story of salvation, beautifully represented through art. 

Here in front of me was the entire economy of salvation, the overcoming of death and destruction through the lavishness of the Trinity, the reason for our hope in the midst of sorrow.  The Father who gives his Son, the Son who gives himself, the Spirit who assists, while the Mother looks on, distressed, suffering, but accepting. This drama is replayed every time we go to Mass, as the birth, death and resurrection of Christ is again made incarnate for us, under the form of bread and wine. Surely, in that moment, the suffering of Our Lady contributed to the overall holiness of the sacrifice. Her suffering was accepted as an offering.
​
The prophet Jeremiah proclaims “‘I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow…my people will be filled with my bounty,’ declares the Lord.” (Jer 31:13-14) The feast of Our Lady of Sorrows, coming the day after the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, reminds us that although we suffer and are sorrowful now, our tears will eventually be turned into joy. From her post at the foot of the cross of her son, Mary shows us the way.