Memorial of Saint Francis of Assisi

Readings and Sequence for the Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi

May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.

Because all the mysteries of Jesus, Mary, the Eucharist, the apostles, martyrs, saints, and angels, are facets of that one Great Mystery, on this feast day of Saint Francis I think of his stigmata and the Eucharist. And I ask myself, "What does it cost me to believe these mysteries?"

Whenever we celebrate the Eucharist we remember that the Lord, on the night before he died, commanded us to "Do this in memory of me!"  That is, we must eat his flesh and drink his blood. The language is intentionally graphic and, for the vast majority of people, repellent. But Catholics often forget that. 

The wounds of Jesus are also repulsive. I observed major surgery once; and once was enough for me. One time, I shared a Christmas meal with a group of intern surgeons and their professor, and was aghast at the pictures they pulled off their cell phones to display to one another and to me. I wasn't prepared for that on Christmas Day. Although it is the feast of the Word made Flesh, I didn't want to see that side of our fleshiness. I suppose Francis's stigmata were equally repugnant. And I'd rather not look! 

Before he received that heavenly gift, Francis remembered the Lord's five wounds as precious jewels, inspiring, edifying, encouraging, and ineffably sweet to behold. After receiving the stigmata he showed them to no one.

Normally we're repelled by the thought of eating human flesh, and drinking human blood. And so we reflect upon the supreme irony of finding joy and satisfaction in obeying a command which so many found revolting. I ask myself, "Am I willing to pay the price of believing in these mysteries?" 

To participate in this Sacred Banquet and to admire these wounds, I must finally, with neither hesitation nor compromise, reject Satan, and all his works, and all his empty promises. Saint Francis's conversion began with his embracing and kissing a leper; it continued with his moving into a community of lepers. The fastidious young man assisted them and often changed their bloody bandages. It was repulsive work -- the smell alone would drive away most people -- and yet he learned to love it. 

Satan will have nothing to do with that, nor will his people. 

I knew a fastidious friar several years ago -- God rest his sweet soul -- who shared a Sunday banquet with people in Central America. Bugs were everywhere, and his hosts never noticed the flies that covered their platter of chicken as they served it to him. He swallowed his rising gorge and ate with a hearty appetite. For the love of God we often do things we hate to do.

We accept good things from the Lord, to cite Job, and that means accepting some things that are downright repulsive, and doing it eagerly! It's called kissing the leper, or going the extra mile, or giving both shirt and jacket. It's taking up your cross and following in his footsteps.

To participate in this Sacred Banquet and to admire these wounds, I surrender even what makes my flesh crawl and my gorge rise as I come to the Lord.