Memorial of Saint Francis of Assisi

 Lectionary: 460

Fear not, my children; call out to God!
He who brought this upon you will remember you.
As your hearts have been disposed to stray from God,
turn now ten times the more to seek him;
For he who has brought disaster upon you
will, in saving you, bring you back enduring joy."

Few popes have enjoyed the prestige and power of Innocent III. The Church had authority over the Holy Roman emperor and every secular prince and king in Europe, along with enormous military, financial, academic, and social authority. Many Catholics think of the early thirteenth century as the Good Old Days, because the Church had never been so powerful before, and would never be again.   

But Innocent III knew things were not right with the Church. Clerics and lay folks alike were more fascinated by its wealth than its God. Monasteries were far too wealthy, and wandering clerics made a mockery of their professed vows. The time had come for renewal, reform, and repentance; but where would such an upheaval come from, and what could make it happen? Could the Church challenge its own success? 

Divisive, enthusiastic spiritual movements were springing up here and there; but their teachings were Manichaeism revisited, and their practices were as rotten as their predecessors. 

One night the Pope had a nightmare. He saw the Basilica of Saint John Lateran, one of the largest and oldest in Rome, collapsing. Unexpectedly, in his dream, he saw a fellow pushing against the walls, and stabilizing the whole structure. As the church regained its stability, the fellow seemed to grow larger until he stood higher than the Church. And then he turned around and faced the dreamer. It was a strange fellow who had appeared in the pope's audience the day before. 

Awakening, the Innocent inquired about the fellow and, a day or two later, they brought in a pilgrim, the young Francis of Assisi. Oddly, he'd come to Rome expressly to see the Pope, as if anyone could walk in and ask a favor of the most powerful man on earth. So there he was! And he asked his favor. 

He and his small group of young men wanted the Holy Father's permission to do what they'd been doing for a while. That is, to live without money, working for food and shelter only, and to share their experience of joyful poverty in the Lord with others. 

Francis didn't invent the idea; others were doing it. But Francis wanted the Pope's permission! He had discovered that living without ownership of material things means nothing if you're still doing whatever you want to do! He would live without his own will, and would pay no attention to his desires, preferences, dreams, wants, impulses, or needs. He would obey the Church with all its cardinals, bishops, and priests; and the Holy Spirit. His rule of life would be a few gospel texts about going on preaching tours without shoes, a change of clothing, money, or walking staff.

When Innocent responded, "No one can live like that!" Francis replied, "Jesus did!" 

When people today think about Francis they recall his joy, his love of "nature," and his poverty. But more important than all that was his faith in the virtue and vow of obedience. 

During his final hours on earth, as friars and friends gathered to accompany their saint through his most difficult passage, he asked if they would place him naked on the bare ground. He recalled Job's words, "Naked I came forth from my mother's womb; and naked I shall go back again." 

However, Brother Elias, who had been given Francis's authority as Minister General of the Order, knew there were women present, and not just "Lady Poverty." That would not do! Fortunately he was struck by an inspiration; he replied that they would place Francis on the bare ground of his hut, and he would be dressed in Elias' habit. Not his own. 

Francis was delighted. He could not have his last wish honored. He lay on the bare earth, but he was dressed in obedience to his superior. 

Obedience is the foundation of Franciscan life, and must be the foundation of every Christian's life. If we are not obedient to God we are whitewashed tombs, pretty on the outside, filled with dead men's bones, contaminated and contaminant to others. 

Challenged by the partisan polarization of our time, Saint Francis offers the only viable alternative. I must surrender my own will. I have no authority over others, and only limited authority over myself. But I must pray that the Lord will give me the grace of willing obedience to the Church, legitimate authorities, and the Holy Spirit. I must be saved from what I want. 

Perhaps if I live as Saint Francis did, and as Jesus did, I might make a difference, and the world might not descend into the Gates of Hell that are opening before us.