One of the first things that comes to mind when people think of St. Francis of Assisi is “The Prayer of St. Francis,” which starts “Lord make me an instrument of thy peace.” And yet the origins of this prayer have only been traced back to the early twentieth century, nearly seven hundred years after St. Francis’ death in 1226.
While there is nothing inherently wrong with the association, I think we sometimes overlook the prayers he did write. Among these prayers was “The Canticle of the Sun.” In it, St. Francis acknowledges all of nature as members of God’s extended family including, Brother Sun, Sister Moon, Brothers Wind and Air, Sister Water, Brother Fire, Sister Mother Earth, and even Sister Death.
St. Francis is indeed famous for his simple and peaceful ways. But perhaps his greater contribution was a profound humility that not only saw the face of God in the most marginalized people, but also in all of nature. Bruce Davis, the author of “Simple Peace: The Spiritual Life of St. Francis of Assisi,” writes “The trees, rocks, birds, animals—all of the life that was unimportant to others, was important to Francis.”
In the latter part of today’s gospel reading, Jesus speaks to the very people who have fallen under the Jewish elite’s perfectionistic adherence to Mosaic law — all those who “labor and are burdened.” Jesus offers them a simple, inclusive faith that doesn’t require an education. Perhaps this is what he means when he says, “my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” Here, Jesus opens the door for anybody and everybody to follow him, even those people who lack an education, social standing, and money. He himself was born into poverty, was unable to read and write, and had little to no standing in society.
What a contrast to the birth of the man we know as St. Francis today. Born to wealthy parents in 1181 in Assisi, Italy, Francis possessed all those things, including a good education, plenty of money and a secure future as the son of a merchant. However, at a relatively young age — 25 —Francis formerly renounced his inheritance and became poor for the purpose of drawing closer to God. In Davis’ words, “While most people were fearful of having too little, Francis found in his simplicity more and more joy.”
Francis saw God in everything. One day, when riding through the countryside on his horse he came upon a leper begging for alms. Initially filled with disgust, he intended to continue riding. But he ended up dismounting and kissing the leper instead; for in that moment, Francis believed he had seen the face of God. Nor was Francis’ love confined to humans. This was a man who made no distinction between the people he ministered to and the birds in the trees; rather, he simply saw everything as a part of God’s creation.
Paul Gallico’s “The Small Miracle,” a little boy—Pepino—seeks papal permission to bring his sick donkey into the tomb of St. Francis’ in Assisi for healing. Predictably, he encounters quite a few roadblocks including, clerical outrage in his hometown of Assisi; a treacherous foot journey to Rome; and difficulty securing an audience with the pope.
But through it all, Pepino stays close to both his love of his donkey and of God. And, in the end, he perseveres: Not only does he get the permission he needs, but he also receives help from the stonemasons who remove a portion of the church walls so that the donkey can enter the crypt. The story ends with the stonemasons finding a box of St. Francis’ things, while the boy and the donkey disappear through the illuminated opening of St. Francis’ tomb.
St. Francis of Assisi calls on us to be humble, radically inclusive, and peaceful. But mostly he calls on us to love God with all our heart, abandoning ourselves to the beauty of that love, like a boy’s love for his sick donkey.
--Molly Hartle,
OLMC Communion Service,
October 4, 2022
Image source: Cover of Paul Gallico’s The Small Miracle, https://www.amazon.com/Small-Miracle-Paul-Gallico/dp/9997550994
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