Romance, Reform And Vision
Sermon
A SEASON OF SAINTS
Sermons For Festivals And Commemorations After Pentecost
October 4
Francis of Assisi, Renewer of the Church, 1226
Francesco Bernardone was born in 1182 in the little Italian town of Assisi, and died October 4, 1226. By the time of his death he was among the most famous and beloved figures in the Catholic Church. Within two years after his death he had been canonized - named a saint. And Saint Francis is still remembered and loved the world over. He is known as a romantic: as a poet, a dreamer, a singer, a lover of nature. He is known as a reformer: a renewer of the church, a Christlike reminder of how Christians ought to live in the world. And he is known as a mystic with a clear spiritual vision and a surpassing love of Christ.
Francis was a complicated man. Though he is deeply loved and widely revered, he is also difficult for modern people to understand or feel comfortable with.
The most attractive part of Francis' life is the romance. Francis was emotional, excitable, given to strong passions. He grew up in the age of knights and crusades, and dreamed of being a cavalry soldier. As a young man Francis was always falling in love and imagined that when he became a knight he would have a true ladylove, for whose honor and affection he would ride into battle.
Francis was also a troubador, a poet and singer of love songs. The son of a well-to-do cloth merchant, he was fond of dandy clothes and fine food. One of his friends wrote in a biography that Francis' real name was Giovanni, but he got the nickname Francesco because his father wanted him to enjoy the popularity of French music, poetry and fashion. "Frenchy," his father called him.
As a young man Francis experienced a religious awakening, after which he remained a romantic, though his passions had a new object. He still remembered his dream of being a knight in the army of a noble lord, but he came to understand that his Lord was Christ, not the Count of Assisi. The battles he was to fight, he now believed, were battles against sin, hopelessness and the decay of Christ's church. He did finally ride on a crusade against the Arabs, but as a missionary rather than as a knight, and on arriving in Syria he went unarmed into the Sultan's camp to preach the love of Christ.
Francis also loved nature and called all created things his brothers and sisters. His famous "Canticle of Brother Sun" praises God for creating our Brother Sun and Sister Moon, Brother Wind and Sister Water, Brother Fire and Mother Earth, and even Brother Death. Once when some noisy birds were interfering with his preaching, he asked the birds to be quiet and listen, which they did. Francis picked up worms in the road and moved them to a safe place where they wouldn't get stepped on.
Late in his life, Francis suffered from an eye disease that in his day could only be treated by cauterizing his eyelid and temple. As the doctor heated an iron poker red-hot to jab into his face Francis said to the fire, "My Brother Fire, ... be courteous to me now, for I have always loved you and shall continue to do so for the sake of Him who created you."23 The history of our faith knows few moments that display such courage, faith and poetry.
What can we learn from Francis the romantic? One of his friends wrote that his chief aim in life "was to possess, outside the times of prayer and the divine office, an uninterrupted joyfulness of spirit, both outwardly and inwardly."24 His poetry, music and love of life express that joyfulness. We often think of religion and romance as opposites and make our Christianity dour, somber, strident or passionless. For Francis, the Christian faith was a faith for passionate lovers, a faith that binds us to all that is beautiful in life. We can all learn to delight in the beauty of what God has given us, and to sing about it.
But Francis was also a reformer. "Reformer" may be too mild a term; he was a rebel who rejected the values of the society he lived in and whose whole life was a call to repentance.
The world of knights and nobles in which Francis lived was a world of pomp and arrogance. At the same time, a commercial economy was emerging in medieval Europe. People like Francis' father were discovering the power of money and trade. Some built up huge fortunes; others were left to beg in the streets; and the whole culture was obsessed with wealth. A book written during Francis' lifetime about manners and customs in Assisi was subtitled Pride and Desire.
Francesco grew up as proud and acquisitive as any of his contemporaries. But as he was becoming aware of the new direction of his life, he also became convinced that the conventional life of his peers was spiritually empty, even destructive.
The first religious mission he felt called to carry out was to rebuild a ruined church near his home. He took some of his father's cloth and sold it to raise funds. When his father learned of the theft, he took Francis before the bishop, who told him he must return his father's money. Francis not only returned the money, but renounced all his father's wealth, relinquishing everything his father had given him. He stripped off his clothes and walked out of the bishop's chambers naked. From that moment he rejected all worldly possessions.
For the rest of his life, Francis wore only the clothes and ate only the food he could obtain by begging. He pointed out to the people of Italy that they could live without all the things they thought they needed. After his followers became a major movement in the church, he wouldn't allow his order to own its own building or monastery; instead, they lived and worked in old ruins, in donated space in churches, or in the streets of the cities.
Once, when he was invited to an elegant banquet as the honored guest, Francis spent the evening of the banquet on the street begging. Arriving late at the feast, he produced a bag of bread crusts that he distributed on the plates of all the wealthy guests. His example humbled the host and guests, who gobbled up the crumbs the saint had shared with them.
The ladylove he had dreamed of as a young man he now identified as the most glorious, beautiful and honorable lady of all: Lady Poverty. To be the poorest of the poor was the most honorable quest he knew.
The other great vice of his age was pride and Francis rejected it as well. He avoided drawing attention to himself, and always humbled himself. If he were riding a donkey and saw someone walking, he would get down and walk so he would be the lowliest person present. As he lay dying, he asked his friends to lift him out of his bed, strip him and lay him on the dirt floor.
But he didn't devote himself to poverty and humility just to soothe his own conscience or to shame the wealthy. He genuinely loved the poor and miserable people of his society. As a young man, he once saw a leper walking down the road toward him. Lepers, in those days, were the most feared and abhorred outcasts in the human race. Though his inclination was to ride past the man on the opposite side of the road, something compelled Francis - to his own astonishment - to get off his horse, kiss the man's hand and give him some money. He spent much of the rest of his life living with lepers and caring for them.
Francis was also a friend of the poor. Even though he had only rags and scraps to live on, if he saw someone in need he would always give them what he had. When one of his companions made an unflattering remark about a disabled beggar who came to them for help, Francis ordered him to humble himself on the ground in front of the beggar: "When you see a beggar," he explained, "you must always remember in whose Name he comes, and that Christ took upon Himself all our poverty and our infirmities."25
The similarities between Francis' age and our own are obvious. The love of wealth and ostentation threatens to consume our society. We measure our worth by how our possessions compare to our neighbors; we measure our security by whether we have got enough things. The gap between the rich and the poor grows ever wider in our country.
Francis of Assisi reminds us that none of that is a proper object of our love. Only God and our neighbors matter; letting our attachment to things of the world prevent us from enjoying the beauty of God and other people only makes us miserable.
But we still haven't talked about Francis' mystical devotion to Christ. And that's the most important thing of all. That's what explains everything else about Francis. Francis saw everything in relation to Jesus Christ. He didn't love nature or creatures for their own sake, the way the ancient pagans did, but because God had created them. He didn't love beggars or lepers just to be sensational, but because Jesus loved beggars and lepers. He didn't humble himself and live in poverty just to make a point, but because the Son of God had humbled himself and become lowly for our sake.
The one thing that people of Francis' age - and our own - had the hardest time seeing in its proper relation to God's grace was their material wealth. Money and possessions seemed to acquire a worth of their own, which Francis strongly rejected. To benefit from Francis' example we don't have to renounce money and property altogether, but to remember that nothing in this world is worth anything unless we see it as a gift from our loving God, to be used in his service.
At the end of his life Francis in a mystical trance saw a vision of Jesus, after which Francis found wounds in his hands, feet and side like the wounds Jesus suffered on the cross. His desire to be worthy of his Lord scarred him just as Christ was scarred for us. More than his scars, however, it's his vision that makes Francis remarkable: his vision of God, but also his ability to see the truth about things in the world. The beauty of his vision gave him joy in life; the truth of his vision made him an example and teacher for the ages. Amen.
Francis of Assisi, Renewer of the Church, 1226
Francesco Bernardone was born in 1182 in the little Italian town of Assisi, and died October 4, 1226. By the time of his death he was among the most famous and beloved figures in the Catholic Church. Within two years after his death he had been canonized - named a saint. And Saint Francis is still remembered and loved the world over. He is known as a romantic: as a poet, a dreamer, a singer, a lover of nature. He is known as a reformer: a renewer of the church, a Christlike reminder of how Christians ought to live in the world. And he is known as a mystic with a clear spiritual vision and a surpassing love of Christ.
Francis was a complicated man. Though he is deeply loved and widely revered, he is also difficult for modern people to understand or feel comfortable with.
The most attractive part of Francis' life is the romance. Francis was emotional, excitable, given to strong passions. He grew up in the age of knights and crusades, and dreamed of being a cavalry soldier. As a young man Francis was always falling in love and imagined that when he became a knight he would have a true ladylove, for whose honor and affection he would ride into battle.
Francis was also a troubador, a poet and singer of love songs. The son of a well-to-do cloth merchant, he was fond of dandy clothes and fine food. One of his friends wrote in a biography that Francis' real name was Giovanni, but he got the nickname Francesco because his father wanted him to enjoy the popularity of French music, poetry and fashion. "Frenchy," his father called him.
As a young man Francis experienced a religious awakening, after which he remained a romantic, though his passions had a new object. He still remembered his dream of being a knight in the army of a noble lord, but he came to understand that his Lord was Christ, not the Count of Assisi. The battles he was to fight, he now believed, were battles against sin, hopelessness and the decay of Christ's church. He did finally ride on a crusade against the Arabs, but as a missionary rather than as a knight, and on arriving in Syria he went unarmed into the Sultan's camp to preach the love of Christ.
Francis also loved nature and called all created things his brothers and sisters. His famous "Canticle of Brother Sun" praises God for creating our Brother Sun and Sister Moon, Brother Wind and Sister Water, Brother Fire and Mother Earth, and even Brother Death. Once when some noisy birds were interfering with his preaching, he asked the birds to be quiet and listen, which they did. Francis picked up worms in the road and moved them to a safe place where they wouldn't get stepped on.
Late in his life, Francis suffered from an eye disease that in his day could only be treated by cauterizing his eyelid and temple. As the doctor heated an iron poker red-hot to jab into his face Francis said to the fire, "My Brother Fire, ... be courteous to me now, for I have always loved you and shall continue to do so for the sake of Him who created you."23 The history of our faith knows few moments that display such courage, faith and poetry.
What can we learn from Francis the romantic? One of his friends wrote that his chief aim in life "was to possess, outside the times of prayer and the divine office, an uninterrupted joyfulness of spirit, both outwardly and inwardly."24 His poetry, music and love of life express that joyfulness. We often think of religion and romance as opposites and make our Christianity dour, somber, strident or passionless. For Francis, the Christian faith was a faith for passionate lovers, a faith that binds us to all that is beautiful in life. We can all learn to delight in the beauty of what God has given us, and to sing about it.
But Francis was also a reformer. "Reformer" may be too mild a term; he was a rebel who rejected the values of the society he lived in and whose whole life was a call to repentance.
The world of knights and nobles in which Francis lived was a world of pomp and arrogance. At the same time, a commercial economy was emerging in medieval Europe. People like Francis' father were discovering the power of money and trade. Some built up huge fortunes; others were left to beg in the streets; and the whole culture was obsessed with wealth. A book written during Francis' lifetime about manners and customs in Assisi was subtitled Pride and Desire.
Francesco grew up as proud and acquisitive as any of his contemporaries. But as he was becoming aware of the new direction of his life, he also became convinced that the conventional life of his peers was spiritually empty, even destructive.
The first religious mission he felt called to carry out was to rebuild a ruined church near his home. He took some of his father's cloth and sold it to raise funds. When his father learned of the theft, he took Francis before the bishop, who told him he must return his father's money. Francis not only returned the money, but renounced all his father's wealth, relinquishing everything his father had given him. He stripped off his clothes and walked out of the bishop's chambers naked. From that moment he rejected all worldly possessions.
For the rest of his life, Francis wore only the clothes and ate only the food he could obtain by begging. He pointed out to the people of Italy that they could live without all the things they thought they needed. After his followers became a major movement in the church, he wouldn't allow his order to own its own building or monastery; instead, they lived and worked in old ruins, in donated space in churches, or in the streets of the cities.
Once, when he was invited to an elegant banquet as the honored guest, Francis spent the evening of the banquet on the street begging. Arriving late at the feast, he produced a bag of bread crusts that he distributed on the plates of all the wealthy guests. His example humbled the host and guests, who gobbled up the crumbs the saint had shared with them.
The ladylove he had dreamed of as a young man he now identified as the most glorious, beautiful and honorable lady of all: Lady Poverty. To be the poorest of the poor was the most honorable quest he knew.
The other great vice of his age was pride and Francis rejected it as well. He avoided drawing attention to himself, and always humbled himself. If he were riding a donkey and saw someone walking, he would get down and walk so he would be the lowliest person present. As he lay dying, he asked his friends to lift him out of his bed, strip him and lay him on the dirt floor.
But he didn't devote himself to poverty and humility just to soothe his own conscience or to shame the wealthy. He genuinely loved the poor and miserable people of his society. As a young man, he once saw a leper walking down the road toward him. Lepers, in those days, were the most feared and abhorred outcasts in the human race. Though his inclination was to ride past the man on the opposite side of the road, something compelled Francis - to his own astonishment - to get off his horse, kiss the man's hand and give him some money. He spent much of the rest of his life living with lepers and caring for them.
Francis was also a friend of the poor. Even though he had only rags and scraps to live on, if he saw someone in need he would always give them what he had. When one of his companions made an unflattering remark about a disabled beggar who came to them for help, Francis ordered him to humble himself on the ground in front of the beggar: "When you see a beggar," he explained, "you must always remember in whose Name he comes, and that Christ took upon Himself all our poverty and our infirmities."25
The similarities between Francis' age and our own are obvious. The love of wealth and ostentation threatens to consume our society. We measure our worth by how our possessions compare to our neighbors; we measure our security by whether we have got enough things. The gap between the rich and the poor grows ever wider in our country.
Francis of Assisi reminds us that none of that is a proper object of our love. Only God and our neighbors matter; letting our attachment to things of the world prevent us from enjoying the beauty of God and other people only makes us miserable.
But we still haven't talked about Francis' mystical devotion to Christ. And that's the most important thing of all. That's what explains everything else about Francis. Francis saw everything in relation to Jesus Christ. He didn't love nature or creatures for their own sake, the way the ancient pagans did, but because God had created them. He didn't love beggars or lepers just to be sensational, but because Jesus loved beggars and lepers. He didn't humble himself and live in poverty just to make a point, but because the Son of God had humbled himself and become lowly for our sake.
The one thing that people of Francis' age - and our own - had the hardest time seeing in its proper relation to God's grace was their material wealth. Money and possessions seemed to acquire a worth of their own, which Francis strongly rejected. To benefit from Francis' example we don't have to renounce money and property altogether, but to remember that nothing in this world is worth anything unless we see it as a gift from our loving God, to be used in his service.
At the end of his life Francis in a mystical trance saw a vision of Jesus, after which Francis found wounds in his hands, feet and side like the wounds Jesus suffered on the cross. His desire to be worthy of his Lord scarred him just as Christ was scarred for us. More than his scars, however, it's his vision that makes Francis remarkable: his vision of God, but also his ability to see the truth about things in the world. The beauty of his vision gave him joy in life; the truth of his vision made him an example and teacher for the ages. Amen.
