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blessings, drink, eternal life, fire, flame, God, love, Nikos Kazantzakis, spiritual growth, St. Francis of Assisi, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, water
Today in churches and schools far and wide there will be infrequent guests lining up for blessings. It is the feast of St. Francis, of course, who loved all of creation but chose to possess nothing in order that he could be totally dependent on God. My favorite story about Francis may not be factual and it is not the one of the sweet stories of his relationship with the birds and the beasts (although those are also compelling). It comes from a novel by Nikos Kazantzakis entitled simply Saint Francis, in which the narrator, Brother Leo, says something like the following:
Once I asked him, “Brother Francis, how does God reveal himself to you when you are alone in the night?” He answered, “Like a glass of cool water,” Brother Leo. “God is like a glass of water?” I asked. “Why, yes,” he replied. “We take and drink it and we are satisfied unto eternal life.” But some years later, when he was simply a lump of skin and bones, Brother Francis called me to him and whispered: “God is a conflagration, Brother Leo. He burns and we burn with him!”
I know there are a few incorrect words in that telling of the story but I have to go searching for my copy of the book to be more precise. The point is made, however, if we consider the process of spiritual growth in Francis as he struggled to do everything for God and to spread the message of God’s all-consuming love with all those he encountered.
Fire is a mighty image for that love: beautiful – for those of us who wish to sit by a fireplace and watch wood flicker into life and then burn uproariously with energy and color – but totally consuming if we consider the result for the wood. That was the fire that ignited Francis to become all flame and calls to us, perhaps, to that same willingness, that unstinting love.
St. Clare of Assisi, whom we celebrate today, was a great example of the adage “Behind every good man, there is a good woman.” While he did not see her often, St. Francis counted on her holiness and wisdom to shore up his determination in times of doubt and difficulty. Clare was a clear mirror of the presence of God for Francis and for those women who followed her to the convent of San Damiano, and he was the same for her. She was a woman of great strength and perseverance who believed that she was the one who knew best what should be written in a rule for women in a religious order. Although she easily accepted the rule that Francis has written in the early days, after the death of Francis she continued for 27 years to submit a revised rule to bishops and popes until she finally received and signed a constitutional document of her own two days before her death on August 11, 1253.
I’ve just been reading about St. Anthony of Padua on this, his feast day. While I have known many facts about this revered saint, (primarily because of having served in an Italian parish for eight years) stories at 
After all my preparation and the very meaningful retreat day yesterday for a wonderful group of welcoming parishioners, I have little to say today. I yield to St. Francis of Assisi for a poem that seems a perfect postscript for me and a meaningful thought for all of us.
Yesterday afternoon I was in a gathering where we were discussing change using a number of quotes on the subject. It was fascinating to hear the different reactions to the various quotes depending on our interpretations of how the words were used in the sentences, or how a little word like “all” could challenge someone who is uncomfortable with such determinism. It was a great, stretching conversation that pointed up the need to really listen to the voices of others who differed according to culture and life experiences. etc. when interpreting what was being said.
There are so many ways to say it – and so many reasons to consider it. The point to make every day really is that love is at the heart of every solution, every relationship…every success in life. It was what fueled Sts. Francis and Clare (see yesterday’s post) and today, the message in the readings couldn’t be clearer.
Some years ago I had the privilege of visiting the town of Assisi in Italy. The visit was brief and the focus was, as one might think, the holy places associated with St. Francis. It was an extraordinary six hours, and I often long to return for a longer visit. One of my most vivid memories, however, was not of the places and stories of Francis alone – although those remain as well – but of walking down the path to the Church of San Damiano. Somehow, the olive trees that lined the path seemed to shimmer in the sunlight as if they were saying to me, “Pay attention, for this place you are approaching is extraordinarily holy.” San Damiano became the home of St. Clare and her followers in 1212 and she never left but died there on August 11, 1253. The intense holiness of the saint and her Sisters, who lived a poor and very simple life of prayer, can be felt in the walls of the refectory, in the oratory where they prayed and the dormitory where a cross marks the spot of Clare’s death. What, one wonders, creates such a living vibration in a place where life was so “daily?” Intention and motivation, I suspect. A famous quote of St. Clare gives a hint of an answer.
Today is the feast of St. Dominic, another of the great founders of religious communities. Dominic’s religious order is called the Dominicans but the formal title is “Order of Preachers,” thus the sometimes puzzling designation “O.P.” after their names. Dominic was a contemporary of St. Francis of Assisi and much like Francis in his asceticism and his desire to spread the Gospel. Reminiscent of the love Francis had for the poor, Dominic sold all of his books to help his neighbors who had survived a great famine. Like Francis, Dominic saw the need for a new type of religious organization, one whose members did not stay behind the cloistered walls of the monastery but rather traveled among the people, in the way of the first apostles, to spread the good news.
As a child in Catholic school, I offered my work, as did all my classmates, to Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Especially on tests, our papers were signed at the top with a small cross and the letters JMJ. As a high school student studying Latin there often appeared a more sophisticated reminder at the top of our papers: AMDG under the cross reminded us that all our work was dedicated “for the greater glory of God.” (Ad majorem Dei gloriam) I doubt that I knew at that time the origin of that phrase as a motto although I was aware of the esteemed men’s religious community that claimed it: the Jesuits, formally named the Society of Jesus, founded by St. Ignatius of Loyola in the 16th century. Today is the feast of St. Ignatius.
