For your might is the source of justice; your mastery over all things makes you lenient to all.
You are good, all good, supreme good!" Saint Francis sang of God. More than God's truth, Francis was amazed and delighted by God's goodness.
He didn't learn that goodness from his violent, avaricious father, nor from his warlike culture. Rather, he discovered it, and was initially confused by it, as a prisoner of war in nearby Perugia.
The young Francis, like his buddies, was enamored of chivalry and knighthood, and eagerly entered the Assisan ranks to fight against Perugia. Although the two cities were within sight of each other, Assisi was allied with the German emperor while Perugia sided with the pope's Vatican states. However, the lad was captured and wasted a year as a prisoner of war, waiting for his wealthy father to ransom him.
A boy had left home; a changed man returned. His vigorous health and his chivalrous idealism were gone, as were his tastes for fine food, luxurious clothing, and raucous entertainment. But mysteriously, he had found strength and purpose in cheering his fellow prisoners and sharing their wretched condition. God was there.
But, after returning home and recovering some health, he set out on another military campaign. Isn't that what aspiring young men of upwardly-mobile families do? He had not gone far before a voice in the night spoke to him, "Francis, is it better to serve the slave or the master?" When he replied, "The master," the voice asked, "Then why are you serving the slave?"
Given his experience of war and captivity, I wonder if the divine voice didn't really mean, "What the hell are you doing? Did you learn nothing in Perugia?" Francis immediately returned home.
Several more epiphanies over many months finally peeled him away from the idiocy of entitlement. Perhaps, Francis realized he'd been happier as a prisoner of war, assisting his fellow prisoners, sharing their prison rations, and singing medieval songs to cheer their spirits. Goodness, happiness, and freedom belonged to the Spirit of God, and not to excessive wealth!
Today's reading from the Book of Wisdom says of God,
"For your might is the source of justice; and your mastery over all things makes you lenient to all."
Francis never doubted God's supreme power and authority. He saw it everywhere, and especially in simple pleasures like singing, walking, and prayer. The Spirit led him toward greater simplicity as he found satisfaction in less food, worse clothing, and poor shelter. The sky was his glorious roof; and the bare ground, a luxurious bed.
He saw in God's sovereign majesty that "Nothing is so strong as gentleness, and nothing is so gentle as real strength."
He saw in Jesus's birth of a poor virgin, his upbringing in poverty, his exile and homelessness, his death on a cross and burial in a borrowed grave, the supreme strength and authority of Almighty God. Even the horror of sin, rather than diminishing God's justice, served as a foil to prove God's forbearing mercy.
And the birds of the air taught him, "A sufficiency is enough." They have no need to build barns and store provisions for tomorrow because God provides for them, as he does for every living creature.
Finally, Francis recognized and honored God's sovereign right to rule. He struggled with God against his own reluctance. When his body wanted food, warmth, or rest he chose hunger, cold, and vigilance in prayer. When he recalled the luxuries of his former life, he thanked God for deliverance. He invited God to burn the weeds of his vanity and arrogance and to store up whatever in him might be worthy in God's sight. He begged God for the privilege of poverty, like the poverty of the homeless Jesus and the widowed Mary.
In our day, when millions deny God's very existence and sneer at God's right to rule, our faith teaches us to sing God's praises, own our sins, and continually turn back to the Lord. As this Sunday's gospel reminds us, the mystery of God's rule has been revealed to us and not to the world. If they look at the sky they see only numbers: distances, weights, masses, and amounts; watching birds they see only predators and prey. They count flowers by dollars and cents. We see God's goodness, pure and simple and superabundant.
And we pray with Saint Francis, "O God, You are good! All good! Supreme good, living and true.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.