A homily for the Vigil of the Feast of St Francis of Assisi.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.
When I worked out the current clergy schedule, and put myself down to preach at Latin mass tonight, I thought that I would be preaching for the eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost. So it was with some consternation that I realized the other day that I would actually be talking about Francis of Assisi. I wasn't sure that that I was up to the task of speaking about this most Christ-like of Christians, of whom G K Chesterton said, that to understand the Sermon on the Mount, we should look not at Christ but at St Francis.
Where to begin? It happened that, while I was in Sweden last month, I read a biography of Francis, Adrian House's Francis of Assisi: A revolutionary life. My host had the book in his library, so perhaps it was a providential discovery. The book was biography, not hagiography, so it was a very useful introduction to the society, politics, and the rather violent, dangerous time in which Francis lived. A time not unlike our own in many ways.
Perhaps we have all heard the main events of Francis's biography. He was born in 1181 or 1182, and died in 1226. He grew up as the son of a rich cloth merchant and a French mother. His very name, Francesco, means 'French' or 'Frenchman,' and was given to him apparently with reference to his father's French business connections. Francis's father was in France on business, that is, he was at a great fair in France buying cloth, when Francis was born.
In his youth, Francis was well-known in his town for his love of pleasure, his street brawling, his rich friends and fine clothing. He was evidently something of a troubadour, and had an interest in French poetry. I don't know whether he wrote in French, but it is said that he aspired to. But even in his youth, there were indications of his later vocation. There is a story that he was selling cloth in the marketplace for his father, when a beggar asked him for alms. Francis abandoned his goods, followed the beggar and gave him everything he had in his pockets. We can imagine the response of Francis's businessman father to this transaction. Francis's rich friends did not think much of his behavior either.
When Francis was 20, he joined a military expedition against Perugia. After a battle, he was imprisoned for a year. It was during this year that evidently his conversion began, although a few more years passed before it became evident. After his release, he returned to a life of indulgence, but after a year or two, he fell ill, recovered, and joined another military expedition. Sometime during this period, the first years of the thirteenth century, another crisis or vision furthered his conversion.
Francis began to avoid his youthful amusements. He spent a lot of time meditating in isolated places. He began to care for lepers. Sometime during this period, he experienced the famous vision of Jesus Christ, in the church of San Damiano, outside Assisi, in which Christ commands Francis to repair his house. As we know, Francis took this literally at first, and repaired and restored ruined churches with his own hands.
This long development, from the years 1201 through 1208 or so, reached a turning point in 1209, when Francis heard a sermon on the text from Matthew's Gospel, chapter 10, in which Jesus tells his followers, "Take no gold or silver or copper in your belts, no bag for your journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a staff." And, with the same literal-mindedness, the same devotion with which he responded to the vision at San Damiano, so Francis responded to the call to radical poverty and to proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God. He went on the road, barefoot, wearing only a rough shift, not much different from a potato sack, to preach repentance. He soon attracted followers, other privileged young men like himself.
Everyone who witnessed these events remarked on the cheerfulness of Francis and his brothers, "fratres minores," "lesser brothers," as they called themselves. They sang, they told stories, while calling all to repentance. Francis's youthful experience as a troubadour and poet found expression in his new life on the road.
Perhaps some of you know about, or have seen, the movie Brother Sun, Sister Moon, a Zefferelli movie from 1972. I mention it because it misrepresents the roles of bishops, cardinals and popes in the life of St Francis. They are represented as scheming, self-serving, and oblivious to basic Christian teaching and to the true nature of Francis himself. In reality, the Bishop of Assisi was very aware of the spiritual, vocational nature of Francis's activities, and he protected and furthered Francis when he could. Cardinals and Popes as well understood and respected what Francis was doing. They tempered Francis's radicalism and literalism, but they never, as far as I know, failed to appreciate what he was about.
In 1209 Francis and his eleven followers went to Rome to ask the Pope, Innocent III, to approve their Rule. He did so, but only verbally, it is said. This is called the "Approbation of the Rule of St Francis." (There are, by the way, YouTube videos of a liturgy at the church of St John Lateran in Rome, commemorating this event.) Also in 1209, Francis was ordained deacon, which allowed him to read the Gospels in church and to preach. I hadn't known, until I read that biography a few weeks ago, that Francis had been a deacon. Francis is a great model, and a great patron, for the vocational diaconate, which is reviving in our time.
There were many more events and travels in Francis's career, as his community grew, and many developments, political, military and ecclesiastical, which influenced Francis and his order. I will mention a few.
In 1211 he received Clare, with whom he established the Order of Poor Clares, the Second Order, as it's called.
In 1219 Francis, following a Crusade, visited Egypt, and attempted to convert the Sultan to Christianity. He did not succeed, but he left a legacy of goodwill toward Franciscans among Muslims which endures to this day.
Around 1220 Francis celebrated the Nativity, Christmas, by setting up the first-known 3-dimensional Nativity scene. Evidently, Francis used live animals in this scene, and a real, straw-filled feeding box, a manger, as well. As we know, this custom, with or without live animals, continues to this day.
In 1224, on September 14, the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, Francis received the stigmata, the appearance on his body of wounds resembling those of the crucified Christ. Francis was the first person in the Western Church to to experience this, and there have been about 300 since.
In 1228, two years after Francis's death, he was proclaimed a saint by Pope Gregory IX, who as a cardinal had been a friend and protector of Francis.
There are a few themes in this narrative about which I would like to make some comments.
The first theme is the contrast between wealth and poverty, and the responses to them in this story. The interesting paradox of the story of Francis is, it seems to me, that Francis's privileged upbringing gave him the confidence he needed to give it up. Many of his followers had similar backgrounds, and a similar confidence. They trusted in themselves and in God, because they had never learned to distrust. And so they could more readily respond to God's call. God used their freedom, their confidence, to reach people who had never known confidence, or security, or freedom, or trust.
I learned, only the other day, that Francis is the patron saint of stowaways. This is related to the second them of the story of Francis's life: travel, pilgrimage. Francis was always on the move, through the towns and mountains of Italy, Egypt, the Holy Land, and many other places. This was a time in which travel was difficult, slow, and downright dangerous. Francis was shipwrecked at least once. When I was young, in the early 70s, I was in Iceland, where I met another young traveler, and we got to know each other somewhat. Later, I saw him on a ship -- we were sailing from Iceland to Scotland -- that ship hasn't sailed for many years, I hear. Anyway, I discovered that the young traveler was masquerading as me. When I mentioned this to one of the officers, he said, "Oh, don't worry about it! We know all about him!" He was eventually caught, and put to work for his passage. When I read the other day that Francis is the patron saint of stowaways, I think I understood why. Courage, freedom from convention, spontaneity, are all qualities it takes to make a successful stowaway, and these were all qualities which Francis had, and which God was able to use to begin the renewal of his Church.
So Francis and his companions experienced some of the best and the worst of their time: wealth, poverty, war, disease, imprisonment, mystical exaltation, and humble service of the poorest of the poor. Francis's efforts to reach out to Muslims encourage us to do the same. His famous rapport with birds and other animals reminds us of our duty to understand and respect the non-human world. His service of the poor and the sick remind us that our great wealth and power are meant to be put to the service of the poorest, here, in the City named for him, and everywhere in the world where God calls us to serve. May God give us the grace to be as free from attachment to wealth and comfort, as were Francis and his companions.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.
When I worked out the current clergy schedule, and put myself down to preach at Latin mass tonight, I thought that I would be preaching for the eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost. So it was with some consternation that I realized the other day that I would actually be talking about Francis of Assisi. I wasn't sure that that I was up to the task of speaking about this most Christ-like of Christians, of whom G K Chesterton said, that to understand the Sermon on the Mount, we should look not at Christ but at St Francis.
Where to begin? It happened that, while I was in Sweden last month, I read a biography of Francis, Adrian House's Francis of Assisi: A revolutionary life. My host had the book in his library, so perhaps it was a providential discovery. The book was biography, not hagiography, so it was a very useful introduction to the society, politics, and the rather violent, dangerous time in which Francis lived. A time not unlike our own in many ways.
Perhaps we have all heard the main events of Francis's biography. He was born in 1181 or 1182, and died in 1226. He grew up as the son of a rich cloth merchant and a French mother. His very name, Francesco, means 'French' or 'Frenchman,' and was given to him apparently with reference to his father's French business connections. Francis's father was in France on business, that is, he was at a great fair in France buying cloth, when Francis was born.
In his youth, Francis was well-known in his town for his love of pleasure, his street brawling, his rich friends and fine clothing. He was evidently something of a troubadour, and had an interest in French poetry. I don't know whether he wrote in French, but it is said that he aspired to. But even in his youth, there were indications of his later vocation. There is a story that he was selling cloth in the marketplace for his father, when a beggar asked him for alms. Francis abandoned his goods, followed the beggar and gave him everything he had in his pockets. We can imagine the response of Francis's businessman father to this transaction. Francis's rich friends did not think much of his behavior either.
When Francis was 20, he joined a military expedition against Perugia. After a battle, he was imprisoned for a year. It was during this year that evidently his conversion began, although a few more years passed before it became evident. After his release, he returned to a life of indulgence, but after a year or two, he fell ill, recovered, and joined another military expedition. Sometime during this period, the first years of the thirteenth century, another crisis or vision furthered his conversion.
Francis began to avoid his youthful amusements. He spent a lot of time meditating in isolated places. He began to care for lepers. Sometime during this period, he experienced the famous vision of Jesus Christ, in the church of San Damiano, outside Assisi, in which Christ commands Francis to repair his house. As we know, Francis took this literally at first, and repaired and restored ruined churches with his own hands.
This long development, from the years 1201 through 1208 or so, reached a turning point in 1209, when Francis heard a sermon on the text from Matthew's Gospel, chapter 10, in which Jesus tells his followers, "Take no gold or silver or copper in your belts, no bag for your journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a staff." And, with the same literal-mindedness, the same devotion with which he responded to the vision at San Damiano, so Francis responded to the call to radical poverty and to proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God. He went on the road, barefoot, wearing only a rough shift, not much different from a potato sack, to preach repentance. He soon attracted followers, other privileged young men like himself.
Everyone who witnessed these events remarked on the cheerfulness of Francis and his brothers, "fratres minores," "lesser brothers," as they called themselves. They sang, they told stories, while calling all to repentance. Francis's youthful experience as a troubadour and poet found expression in his new life on the road.
Perhaps some of you know about, or have seen, the movie Brother Sun, Sister Moon, a Zefferelli movie from 1972. I mention it because it misrepresents the roles of bishops, cardinals and popes in the life of St Francis. They are represented as scheming, self-serving, and oblivious to basic Christian teaching and to the true nature of Francis himself. In reality, the Bishop of Assisi was very aware of the spiritual, vocational nature of Francis's activities, and he protected and furthered Francis when he could. Cardinals and Popes as well understood and respected what Francis was doing. They tempered Francis's radicalism and literalism, but they never, as far as I know, failed to appreciate what he was about.
In 1209 Francis and his eleven followers went to Rome to ask the Pope, Innocent III, to approve their Rule. He did so, but only verbally, it is said. This is called the "Approbation of the Rule of St Francis." (There are, by the way, YouTube videos of a liturgy at the church of St John Lateran in Rome, commemorating this event.) Also in 1209, Francis was ordained deacon, which allowed him to read the Gospels in church and to preach. I hadn't known, until I read that biography a few weeks ago, that Francis had been a deacon. Francis is a great model, and a great patron, for the vocational diaconate, which is reviving in our time.
There were many more events and travels in Francis's career, as his community grew, and many developments, political, military and ecclesiastical, which influenced Francis and his order. I will mention a few.
In 1211 he received Clare, with whom he established the Order of Poor Clares, the Second Order, as it's called.
In 1219 Francis, following a Crusade, visited Egypt, and attempted to convert the Sultan to Christianity. He did not succeed, but he left a legacy of goodwill toward Franciscans among Muslims which endures to this day.
Around 1220 Francis celebrated the Nativity, Christmas, by setting up the first-known 3-dimensional Nativity scene. Evidently, Francis used live animals in this scene, and a real, straw-filled feeding box, a manger, as well. As we know, this custom, with or without live animals, continues to this day.
In 1224, on September 14, the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, Francis received the stigmata, the appearance on his body of wounds resembling those of the crucified Christ. Francis was the first person in the Western Church to to experience this, and there have been about 300 since.
In 1228, two years after Francis's death, he was proclaimed a saint by Pope Gregory IX, who as a cardinal had been a friend and protector of Francis.
There are a few themes in this narrative about which I would like to make some comments.
The first theme is the contrast between wealth and poverty, and the responses to them in this story. The interesting paradox of the story of Francis is, it seems to me, that Francis's privileged upbringing gave him the confidence he needed to give it up. Many of his followers had similar backgrounds, and a similar confidence. They trusted in themselves and in God, because they had never learned to distrust. And so they could more readily respond to God's call. God used their freedom, their confidence, to reach people who had never known confidence, or security, or freedom, or trust.
I learned, only the other day, that Francis is the patron saint of stowaways. This is related to the second them of the story of Francis's life: travel, pilgrimage. Francis was always on the move, through the towns and mountains of Italy, Egypt, the Holy Land, and many other places. This was a time in which travel was difficult, slow, and downright dangerous. Francis was shipwrecked at least once. When I was young, in the early 70s, I was in Iceland, where I met another young traveler, and we got to know each other somewhat. Later, I saw him on a ship -- we were sailing from Iceland to Scotland -- that ship hasn't sailed for many years, I hear. Anyway, I discovered that the young traveler was masquerading as me. When I mentioned this to one of the officers, he said, "Oh, don't worry about it! We know all about him!" He was eventually caught, and put to work for his passage. When I read the other day that Francis is the patron saint of stowaways, I think I understood why. Courage, freedom from convention, spontaneity, are all qualities it takes to make a successful stowaway, and these were all qualities which Francis had, and which God was able to use to begin the renewal of his Church.
So Francis and his companions experienced some of the best and the worst of their time: wealth, poverty, war, disease, imprisonment, mystical exaltation, and humble service of the poorest of the poor. Francis's efforts to reach out to Muslims encourage us to do the same. His famous rapport with birds and other animals reminds us of our duty to understand and respect the non-human world. His service of the poor and the sick remind us that our great wealth and power are meant to be put to the service of the poorest, here, in the City named for him, and everywhere in the world where God calls us to serve. May God give us the grace to be as free from attachment to wealth and comfort, as were Francis and his companions.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.
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