St. Francis of Assisi

“I have been all things unholy. If God can work through me, he can work through anyone.”

That is a quote from St. Francis of Assisi, but it hardly fits the image that comes to mind when we think of him.  He is most often depicted with birds fluttering around him, and all sorts of animals from young fawns to bunnies, at his feet. All things unholy? Who was Francis, and what do we know about him?

Francis was born in 1181 into a well-to-do family. His baptismal name was Giovanni, but his father renamed him Francis, because of his love of France. His father was a cloth merchant, and Francis had money to spend and fine clothes to wear. As a young man, what he did with his time and wealth was spend it in the way as did many rich young men of a certain class in his day. He loved music, and socializing, and we are left to imagine just what exactly he might have meant by “all things unholy”.

Francis was born in the twelfth century. It was the time of troubadours, who sang songs of the wildly romantic things that knights would do for the lady who was the object of their affection, and in time Francis would come to see himself as a knight, destined to go off to war. However, his experiences during a military expedition, imprisonment and illness, dimmed his enthusiasm, and slowly the direction to which God was calling him began to pull him away from the life of a secular knight to something far greater, but not necessarily less dramatic.

We are told that one day, when he and his friends were enjoying their usual revelries, Francis had a profound spiritual experience. He was, of course, a Catholic, as were all Christians of his day and age, and slowly he began to withdraw, making time to spend with God in prayer. The pivotal moment occurred in 1205 when he was worshiping in the dilapidated church of San Damiano. Jesus called him to “repair my house”, "Francis, seest thou not that my house is in ruins? Go and restore it for me." which at the time Francis took to mean that he should rebuild that church building. What followed was his dramatic withdrawal from secular life, as he redirected his life into the way to which he had been called by God.

He embarked on his new life with dedicated enthusiasm.  He sold his horse, then followed this by selling off several bales of his father’s expensive cloth, making the sign of the cross over each bale to indicate it was a charitable contribution.  As you can well imagine, his father was outraged, and had Francis arrested.

G K Chesterton tells the Francis story thus, describing how it must have appeared to the folks of the town, people like you and me, people who had known Francis before his profound conversion.

“A young fool or rascal is caught robbing his father and selling goods which he ought to guard; and the only explanation he will offer is that a loud voice from nowhere spoke in his ear and told him to mend the cracks and holes in a particular wall. He then declares himself naturally independent of all powers corresponding to the police or magistrates, and takes refuge with an amiable bishop who is forced to remonstrate with him and tell him he is wrong. He then proceeds to take off his clothes in public and practically throw them at his father; announcing at the same time that his father is not his father at all. He then runs about the town asking everybody he meets to give him fragments of buildings or building materials, apparently with reference to his old monomania about mending the wall. It may be an excellent thing that cracks should be filled up, but preferably not by somebody who is himself cracked; and architectural restoration like other things is not best performed by builders who, as we should say, have a tile loose. Finally, the wretched youth relapses into rags and squalor and practically crawls away into the gutter. That is the spectacle that Francis must have presented to a very large number of his neighbours and friends.

Unlike Francis’ contemporaries, we have the advantage of historic perspective. Today, our image is of the gentle but passionate man, of whom animals showed no fear, the man who planted a rose bush that grew with without thorns, though cuttings from that same bush always produce thorns when replanted elsewhere. We see his simplicity and kindness, his loving heart, but less obvious is to us is his spiritual side, the side that actually produced the amazing individual of whom we have become so fond, the side that was totally dedicated to and in love with God.

Shortly after Francis death, one of his Franciscan brothers created a story, an allegory, meant to help others understand Francis’ spiritual life. As mentioned earlier, it was a time of troubadours who sang songs of the knights who protected ladies fair, and so, we have the Sacrum Commercium (The Sacred Exchange) the story of the Knight Francis, who seeks and marries the princess, Lady Poverty. (Remember, this is an allegory.)

After he walked away from his earthly father and out naked into the world, Francis lived in total poverty, relying always on God to supply his needs. He had fallen in love with Lady Poverty. When we hear the word poverty, when we think of the desperately poor, we picture rags, and filth, misery, and sadness. but what the story of Francis and Lady Poverty is meant to convey is joy, and happiness. Francis never saw poverty as depravation. To live without any worldly goods was for Francis a source of comfort. To have no worldly attachments left him free to follow a path directly to God, and that path required of him dedication to the sick, the needy, the poor, the disenfranchised, the suffering. As he did this work, Francis was a person filled with holy joy.

You probably all know what a rosary is, five decades of beads on which a person can prayerfully meditate on three different kinds of spiritual mysteries – sorrowful, joyful, or glorious.  But the Franciscans carry a different sort of rosary, called the Franciscan Crown - seven decades of beads – and the mysteries are all joyful.

Two years before his death, Francis received on his body the stigmata, the crucifixion wounds of Jesus. Thus, the Franciscan Coat of Arms consists of two arms crossing each other—with a cross in the background. One arm is that of Christ; the other is that of St. Francis of Assisi. The hands of each bear the mark of the nails. The image is a true expression of both Jesus’ and Francis’ deeply fervent style of love. First, in Jesus’ crucified hand we are meant to see God’s incredible love for us. In Francis’ wounded hand we see the loving response of St. Francis to the burning love of God, who first loved us.

Francis gives us an example, dramatic and passionate, of what it means to surrender, to love and serve God, and offers us an example of how to set our priorities to do the same  Here is a man who walked away from material wealth and comfort, from family ties and affection, to embrace poverty, and rely totally on God for his every need, his very life itself.

As we think of Francis, we might ask ourselves, along with friends and family, what do we rely on?  It could be any number of things - an allowance, a salary, a trust fund, an inheritance, a pension, Social Security, maybe a combination of some of these? Some of us may have made investments from which we draw a steady income. But what would happen to us if we lost our ties with friends and family, and if any of our monetary resources suddenly disappeared or were even seriously reduced? It is doubtful any of us would rejoice and see this as a way to grow closer to our Lord.  No - we would most likely become frantic with worry, wondering who can we turn to, and how we will manage to pay the mortgage, buy food, pay the bills.  We hold close all those we love, which is a good thing, but we also cling tightly to the income that gives us material stability and security.

From Francis we can learn what is meant by true holy poverty. While our Lord has not called us to make the extreme sacrifices Francis made, we are still expected to think in terms of what we can give and give up to help the poor and needy. Today, you have brought your pets, or fluffy friends, or photos to be blessed, but how many of you, in honour of St. Francis, have also thought to celebrate his Feast Day by giving a blanket, food, or a monetary donation to an animal shelter?

We are blessed to have the gifts given to us by God. What Francis’ example calls us to do is to think of how we might give from our bounty, to the poor, the needy, even needy animals, and to do so with love and grateful hearts. For it is in giving that we receive the true joys of heaven.

Let us pray:

Lord Jesus, help us to learn through Francis’ example how to hold tightly to You, trusting you completely, and loving you with our whole heart. We ask for Your tender mercy’s sake.  Amen.