Be the Bee

My wife, Anne, is a beekeeper. She started several years ago at our parish in northern Michigan. When a friend said that she knew a guy looking to get rid of hives (and who isn’t?), Anne seized the opportunity to get started as an amateur apiarist.

With the little knowledge of bees that I have, I am astounded at the ingenuity of these tiny creatures—and even, if we may say so, their spiritual significance. I’m far from the first to say so. Fellow beekeepers Dr. David Schmitt and Rev. Bill Wilson shared their reflections in an episode of the Tangible podcast last year. And going much further back, in a homily on the days of creation, St. John Chrysostom remarks, “The bee is more honored than the other animals: not because she labors, but because she labors for others” (Homily XII, “On the Statutes”).

In addition to the wisdom of my enterprising wife and creative colleagues, as well as the insights of the bishop of ancient Constantinople, I came across a delightful brief documentary from the liturgical candlemaker Marklin that teases out some additional connections. So what can we learn about the life of faith from the lives of bees?

1. The life is in the hive.

Bees, as Martin Marklin points out in the video, are exceptionally social creatures. They cannot live apart from the community of the hive. And they cannot live but for their community: even the famous bee sting is a selfless act of sacrifice to defend the hive—bees die after stinging.

As Christians, we have a similar posture toward the “hive” of the church. We cannot thrive, spiritually speaking, apart from the fellowship of our brothers and sisters in Christ. I think of a poem from T.S. Eliot:

What life have you

if you have not life together?

There is no life

that is not in community,

and no community not lived

in praise of God.

We need the hive to thrive!

2. The hive is one cluster with many members.

A natural question that someone will ask about beekeeping (after “doesn’t it hurt to get stung?”) is, How do they handle the winter? The answer is found in what’s known as the bee “cluster.” A cluster is essentially a big ball o’ bees that forms around the queen of the colony. What’s especially fascinating about this cluster is that the bees will continually cycle from the inside of the ball to its outside, ensuring the overall health and well-being of the hive.

Though St. Paul famously used the metaphor of the body when he wished to describe the life of the church (1 Corinthians 12:13–31), he might also have used the image of the hive. For here in the “hive of Christ” we are mutually dependent on one another, even as we together cluster around the heart of our community—not the queen, but the King.

3. The hive depends on evangelization.

Bees have a practice that is almost too incredible to believe. To communicate to other bees where they can find the nectar that is their lifeblood, they do a “waggle dance.” The name that scientists give for this communication is—wait for it—evangelization.

I appreciate that oft-shared definition of evangelism: “One beggar telling other beggars where to find bread.” This is a more modest and less threatening way of thinking about the task of sharing the good news. It’s not about playing salesman for Jesus, much less cajoling people into the kingdom. We’re simply pointing to the source of life. Waggle dance optional.

4. Christians have one honey of a job.

Martin Marklin makes a lovely connection between the business of the bee and the calling of the Christian. What do bees do? They forage to find beautiful flowers, drawing out the nectar and pollen, and then return to the hive to make honey.

The analogy to the life of faith, says Marklin, is that we ought to be the bee: “We go into the world, and we find that which is beautiful, gather it in, transform it in our own lives, and then give it back as something even more beautiful.”

Such is the vocation of the disciple. We have the privilege of serving our neighbors in the name of Christ. Whether in the home, at the workplace, or in the neighborhood, our task is to be salt and light—and to be the bee, imparting that mercy that is more mellifluous than honey.

Pretty sweet.