You know that honeybees are Catholic because of their Latin name, Apis mellifera. Well, all creatures have names in Latin, but honeybees are special, and I may sound silly, but they are more Catholic than other creatures.
Beekeeping is an ancient Catholic tradition. Patrons of the apiary include Sts. Benedict, Ambrose, Valentine, Abigail, Dominic, David, Kharlamii, and Bernard of Clairvaux, to name a few. Pope Benedict XVI wrote, “The cooperation of the living community of believers in the Church in some way resembles the activity of bees. It builds up the community of light.”
Beehives have often been kept on monastery grounds so honey could be used medicinally and as food and to make mead, and for the wax.
Honey is also seen as a symbol for the Eucharist. “But you would be fed with the finest of wheat; with honey from the rock I would satisfy you” (Ps 81).
Only beeswax candles can be used as the Paschal candle. That is a great honour for a little bug. And lastly, at every Easter Vigil, bees are twice blessed during the Exsultet. So, as you can see, the humble honeybee is our sister in faith, and it only made sense for me to invite her into my backyard.
I got my little bee nucleus a week before my postponed beekeeping classes began, which meant that I had an entire seven days of swarm anxiety before I had a chance to ask anyone anything about the actual act of beekeeping (thank you, COVID). But on the day they moved into their little honey chapel, I found an old Benedictine blessing of the beehive, and they were welcomed into the Church. Their home boasts Miraculous and Benedictine medals, with Scripture burned in at the entry door.
Since they were blessed and in the care of Our Lady, I assumed that my ignorance would be irrelevant, and they would thrive in their newfound grace. I think I audibly heard God laugh a little before things started to go wrong.
In less than a week I noticed that the bees were acting a bit chaotic. They didn’t like me standing nearby. Normally I sit near the hive and watch their cute little legs carry pollen in to feed the new babies without any concern. Well, I did my first real inspection and couldn’t find the queen. That is not good news in the bee world. My bee-teacher visited the house and confirmed that, yes, the hive had no mother. A new queen, Isabella, was crowned, and I thought everything would go back to normal.
A few days later, I was crouching in my normal spot when I saw bees tumbling out of the entryway. They were wrestling other bees to the death, and the ground below had become a little graveyard! I had read enough to know that this was a sign of robbing (outside bees forcing their way into a hive, eating all the stored honey, and eventually killing the colony). I took the steps I knew to take and hoped for the best.
After a few days, things seemed normal-ish. But it wasn’t long before I noticed the effect our everlasting rain was having. One seasoned beekeeper said that in 30 years of apiculture, this was the worst year for weather ever. Of course, because this would be the year I decided to start! The unending rain ruins their food supplies, makes them highly stressed, and can allow for diseases that kill the babies. That’s what was happening to mine.
But the amazing thing about these bees is how they just keep trekking along, conquering their foes, and doing the work that is set before them. The queen spends her life populating and directing the hive. The only males, the drones, mate, eat, and die (ahem). And then there are the workers. These virginal ladies spend their entire lives working, serving, and often dying for the good of their queen and the colony. The queen is the absolute centre of their lives, and they take all direction from her. Come winter, the workers will hover around her, literally starving themselves, if need be, to keep her warm. And in all of this, I think I see why bees are most certainly Catholic.
Amid the hardships and threats, they fight the fight. They will not let outsiders invade and destroy the community that is united in purpose. They offer themselves up to do what they alone have been called to do: build up their little kingdom. And when they are separated from their queen, they get distracted – obnoxious, really. They begin to act in a disordered way, not according to their natures, and eventually will die. They are purposeless with no one to serve.
And this is true for every human. When we do not know whom we serve, we are left without a fulfilling purpose. We will act outside of our natures, as children of God, open ourselves to invasion, and distract ourselves with our own destruction.
In Christ we are given the call and purpose of humility, service, to the building up of the Church, and to join Christ is offering up our lives for, and to, him. Our true joy can only be realized when we work in cooperation with the reason for our existence: knowing, loving, and serving Our Lord and receiving the eternal Love he freely offers us.
“May thy holy blessing descend upon these bees and these hives, so that they may multiply, be fruitful and be preserved from all ills and that the fruits coming forth from them may be distributed for thy praise and that of thy Son and the holy Spirit and of the most blessed Virgin Mary.”