St. Francis of Assisi

By Fr. Conor Donnelly

(Proofread)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My Lord and my God, I firmly believe that you are here, that you see me, that you hear me. I adore you with profound reverence. I ask your pardon for my sins and grace to make this time of prayer fruitful. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit” (Matt. 5:3), Our Lord said on one occasion, and also on many other occasions, with His words and with His deeds.

Today is the feast of St. Francis of Assisi.

He was born in the year 1182 of a noble Catholic family in Assisi in Italy, and he was a tireless preacher of the virtue of poverty and of God's boundless love for men.

He founded the Franciscan religious order and together with St. Clare also established the Poor Clares. He organized the Third Order of Franciscans for lay men and women. He died in the year 1226.

At a time when excessive splendor together with political and social power were common among clerics, God wanted the poor life of St. Francis to act as a new leaven in a society then sliding away from spiritual values because of its attachment to material goods.

Dante hails the saint as a “sun born into the world” (Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, Paradise). God used his existence to proclaim to everyone the certainty that true hope lies in God alone.

One day while praying in the dilapidated Church of St. Damian, Francis heard the words, “Go and repair my house now in ruins.” Taking this divine locution literally, he put all his energy into fixing up the broken-down chapel.

He later committed himself to restoring others, and soon came to understand that poverty as an expression of his entire life would be a tremendous good for the Church.

He used to call the virtue “Dear Lady” (Francis of Assisi, Biographical Writings), as the medieval knights used to refer to their heart’s love, and as Catholics are wont to address the Mother of God.

Francis realized that the restoration of Christianity would come about through detachment from material goods, since poverty well lived according to one's state in life permits us to put our hope in God alone. We exchange “lower things for higher things” (Marcus Aurelius, Meditations).

One day in 1209, when the saint heard these words of the Gospel, “Don't take gold, nor silver, nor purse…” (Matt. 10:9), he was moved to make a stirring gesture in order to show that nothing in the world is good if it's preferred to God.

He put on a woolen garment, and he wrapped a thick rope around his waist and, trusting in Providence, he set out on the road.

Poverty is a virtue that Our Lord asks from everyone: from religious, from nuns, priests, but also from mothers of families, fathers, lawyers, students, doctors, politicians.

It's evident that the lay faithful, as stewards of creation and in affirmation of the whole gamut of noble human realities, should practice this virtue in a way different from the followers of St. Francis.

Different people have different ways of practicing this virtue. The vocation of the lay faithful in the middle of the world doesn't mean that they go around dressed like monks in a cloister, or friars. They have to dress like their peers, be very ordinary, be very normal, because that's their vocation.

By vocation, the religious give a public and official testimony to their consecration to God, but the consecration of lay people to God in the middle of the world is something more private.

Yet all Christians are called to practice this virtue, just as everyone is called to live the virtues of temperance, obedience, humility, industriousness, in accordance with their particular vocation.

In the Instruction on Christian Freedom and Liberation, the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith had said the virtue of poverty for the ordinary Christian is “based on detachment from material goods, confidence in God, sobriety, and the willingness to share with others.”

Just as a traveler must know the right road before setting out on a journey if he is to make progress, St. Josemaría liked to say that the laity need to learn “to reconcile two aspects of this virtue, which at first seem contradictory: ‘true poverty,’ which is obvious and made up of definite things.

“This poverty should be an expression of faith in God and a sign that the heart is not satisfied with created things and aspires to the Creator, that it wants to be filled with love of God so as to be able to give this same love to everyone” (Josemaría Escrivá, Conversations, Point 111).

On the other hand, the secular condition—living in the middle of the world—requires the Christian, he says, “to be one more among his fellow men, sharing their way of life, their joys and happiness; working with them, loving the world and all good things that exist in it; using all created things to solve the problems of human life and to establish a spiritual and material environment which will foster personal and social development” (Ibid.).

I used to say a Mass in downtown Dublin many years ago at lunchtime, once a week for people working in local offices, and some of the people attending would bring their friends. This Mass was mainly for young lady professionals. One girl brought a friend of hers from the office.

That day I happened to be speaking about the virtue of poverty, and saying that really, poverty in the middle of the world for ordinary people means detachment from material things; also, detachment from our ideas, our dreams, our yearnings.

And this friend she had brought—when they were on their way back to the office— happened to comment that really, poverty does mean detachment.

She said, “You know, I was working in Brussels, working for the Irish Government in the European Community. I was getting handsomely repaid for my efforts. I was able to save, I was able to buy a house. I was doing very well; really, I had no reason to complain.

“But what used to bother me a lot was my opposite number from Germany was getting three times what I was getting for doing the same amount of work.”

And she said, “I realize now that the fact that I was bothered by this was a sign that I wasn't really detached.”

If we're properly detached from the things that we have, from the things that we earn, we learn how to be happy in life, how to be content with what we have, with what God has given to us, which is a great gift.

How many people in the world do you know who are content?

We can ask ourselves: Do I practice detachment from material goods in my everyday life, in concrete situations and deeds? And do I love the sacrifice that poverty entails?

If some time I can't afford to do the things that my colleagues are doing because I have a family, or I have kids to feed, or I have studies to do, or I can't go to the places that everybody else may seem to be going to, this may mean certain sacrifices if I can be happy offering those things to Our Lord.

Our Lord says: “Blessed are the poor in spirit” (Matt. 5:3).

Am I truly poor in spirit? Is my heart reserved for the things of God and for other people, even though I might be surrounded by abundant material resources?

In The Way, St. Josemaría says, “Detach yourself from the goods of the world. Love and practice poverty of spirit: be content with what is sufficient for leading a simple and temperate life. Otherwise, you will never be an apostle” (J. Escrivá, The Way, Point 631).

Our Lord wants His words to resound down through every age: “You cannot serve God and mammon” (Luke 16:13).

You cannot be running after the things of this world and yet be serving God in a concrete way. You have to see the things of this world as having the very little value that they may have.

It's impossible to please God, to take to Him all the ways of the earth, if at the same time we're not open to making renunciations in the possession and enjoyment of material things.

It's very good if we live at a slightly lower level than our peers. And it's very good if we try to give at a slightly higher level than our peers. People should be surprised that somebody who's only earning so much is giving so much, and also, that we know how to do without things from time to time.

If Our Lord allows us to pass through a period of real want or real need, when we just can't afford things that maybe, everybody else can afford, those could be moments to thank God for allowing you to experience real need.

It may be in that moment that God is shaping your life, more than in any other moment, to have a Christ-like spirit, to be like Jesus in Bethlehem.

This counsel of Our Lord, “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” may sound strange when the desire for comfort and selfish gain is so widespread.

Yet we're called to be counter-cultural, be a bit of a rebel in society. Everyone around us might be aspiring to have and to spend, or to maximize life's pleasures, as if this were the purpose of our human existence.

Maybe God has placed us as a witness to help people to see that real happiness is in a different direction.

We also try to enjoy created goods without considering them necessary for our health or our rest.

There's a story told of St. Teresa of Ávila one time that she was eating a pheasant that somebody had given her a present of, together with some other people. And she was really enjoying the pheasant.

One of the younger nuns in the convent was a bit surprised to see St. Teresa enjoying this pheasant so much, and happened to say to her, “Mother, don't you think you should be mortifying yourself a little bit, or not enjoying yourself so much?”

St. Teresa of Ávila replied, “When I pheasant, I pheasant, and when I fast, I fast.” Good words of encouragement in those areas.

We can always do without certain things, given some good will. In Friends of God, we're told, “It is important to make demands on ourselves in daily life.”

It's very good if we all have some tree of whose fruit we do not partake, something where we have to try and say ‘No’ or decline a little bit, or go easy in that particular area.

"In this way,” he says, “we will not invent false problems or create needs really prompted by conceit, or capriciousness, or a lazy and comfort-loving approach to life.

“We should stride towards God at a steady pace without carrying any dead-weight or impedimenta that might hinder our progress” (J. Escrivá, Friends of God, Point 125).

That's why it's really good to have contact—and help your family and your children have contact—in a regular way with people who have less, because that opens our eyes to the many blessings that God has given to us; many blessings that possibly we take for granted too frequently.

It can also help us not to create needs for ourselves, to think that I have to have this or I must buy that; or because somebody else has this latest gadget, I need that latest gadget also. It might be that we're far better off without that gadget sometimes.

These are very subtle ways in which to say 'No’ to ourselves, to practice a certain control and temperance. That can include all sorts of things in respect of anything we use, including equipment and implements of our profession, sports equipment, articles of clothing.

St. Augustine advises the Christians of his time, “Be satisfied with what is sufficient. Any more than that is burdensome and does not bring relief. It will weigh you down and not support you” (St. Augustine, Sermon 85).

We need to be careful about complaining, or identify when and where, about what we tend to complain, even interiorly, because, if we're complaining about something, it means there's some little attachment there: to my favorite TV program, or to that seat that I like to sit in, or my food cooked in this type of way, or this other little detail, or that other little detail.

We have to know how to deny ourselves these little pleasures, to keep our heart in the right place. Truly Christian poverty is not compatible with the possession of superfluous goods or with an anxious longing for imagined necessities.

It's really good to go through our house, or our drawer, or our cabinet, or our office from time to time, at least once a year, and get rid of superfluous things.

If I haven't used this article of clothing or this other item in the past year, probably I don't really need it, and there may be somebody else in this world who needs it more than I do.

A disordered desire for material things can really be an indication of lukewarmness or a lack of love of God.

If we get great pleasure from the football results on a Saturday afternoon, maybe it's good some Saturday afternoon to skip those results. Show that I don't really need these things; I can survive without them. I don't have to be attached to this little pleasure.

This virtue can be shown in finishing our professional work well and in taking care of the things we wear, hanging up our clothes, folding them well; keeping our drawers neat and tidy; and the same thing in relation to our home and our furnishings, and the tools and things we use, whether or not they belong to us. It shows also clearly when we avoid inessential expenses, irrespective of who may be paying for them.

If there's a company outing or a company lunch, we don't go there just to eat like pagans, or eat as much as we possibly can because it's all free or the company is paying.

We should have a very refined Christian conscience about any money that's passing through our hands; account for it very effectively.

True poverty comes from never “considering anything our own” (cf. J. Escrivá, The Forge, Point 524), because everything in this world is a gift.

St. Paul says, “What have you that you have not received?” (1 Cor. 4:7). This glass, this cup, this pair of shoes, this pencil. You have to give glory to God in the way we use all of these things.

In family life, in a regular way we can find many opportunities to put this virtue into practice. We give good examples in our home, and our home is where this virtue is lived in a special way.

In these months coming to Christmas, it can be a good time to think a little deeper. How can we put this virtue into practice in the coming weeks and months, which are going to pass very quickly, so that we identify ourselves a little more with the Holy Family, with Jesus in Bethlehem?

And if on some occasion we have shortages, if there's some luxury item that suddenly we don't have—energy, light, electricity, certain type of food—you don't have to create a song or dance about it. There are millions and millions of people in the world who live every day without these things.

We can try to remain calm and peaceful and offer those things to Our Lord; maybe see how perhaps we got a little bit too comfortable with those things.

Or there may be a lot of love of luxury or laziness connected with those things, that we don't know how to survive without certain little things in our daily life.

We are poor in spirit when we are consciously temperate in food and drink, and always generous with others. We don't have to drink as much as everybody else, or any sort of similar way like that, doing different things and carrying on in various situations.

One time St. Francis put a great cross in the chapel for the friars. While putting it up, he said to them, “This should be your book of meditation.”

He wanted them to meditate on Christ on the Cross, who went to His death with nothing. He came into the world with nothing, and He went out of the world with nothing.

At the same time, Our Lord never condemned riches. He was a friend of rich people: Nicodemus; Joseph of Arimathea—He used his grave.

Anyone who has a chance to make an awful lot of money should do so with the talents that they have—but at the same time be very detached from all those means that God has given them, and try and do as much good with them as they can, knowing that God will ask them to account for those things that He has given them.

“Those to whom much has been given, much will be demanded” (Luke 12:48).

If we see that society is thoroughly imbued with materialistic values, then all the more we have to try and love this virtue of detachment with a certain decisiveness.

There are many fruits that come from living such a life, from living in this way. We help our children and the people around us to know where true values are, true happiness is to be found—not in having, getting, spending, but in helping, serving, giving.

That virtue makes us better disposed to receive supernatural graces. Our heart expands so as to be sincerely concerned about other people.

We could ask St. Francis today for a special grace to understand and practice this virtue a little more deeply all the time: maybe taking care of little coins that come our way, not neglecting even the smallest coin, and not thinking that it's worthless because maybe, to somebody that's quite a bit of money.

I gave a lift in the car not long ago to a security guard. I asked him where he wanted me to set him down and he said, “Can you bring me to the next stop or the next stage? Because if I get to the next stage, that saves me 10 shillings.”

Ten shillings here in Kenya is about one-tenth of a dollar or of a euro, but it was a lot of money for that man.

Sometimes there are little lessons the Holy Spirit will teach us to be careful of small things, because those small things given to us are a gift.

In the Furrow, St. Josemaría says Jesus grants the detached soul special joy, even in the absence of necessities. “There are many who feel unhappy, just because they have too much of everything. Christians, if they really behave as God’s children, will suffer discomfort, heat, tiredness, cold. … But they will never lack joy, because that—all that!—is ordained or permitted by him who is the source of true happiness” (J. Escrivá, Furrow, Point 82).

True detachment enables us to be available for Christ. He has Himself taught that complete dedication is the supreme form of freedom. It constantly opens us up to doing God's will in charity without holding anything back for ourselves.

St. Teresa of Calcutta used to say: “Give until it hurts” (Teresa of Calcutta, Address).

It’s the message we have to try and convey to our families, our children: give until it hurts. That's when you'll find great joys.

This virtue, like any other virtue, is a positive affirmation. It leads us to live in accordance with the divine will by using all the material things within our reach as a means to reach heaven.

So, we take care of this door, or this door handle, or this little lock that needs a drop of oil, or our desk, or our drawer, or other material things that we may use or have.

This virtue helps us to make the world more just, more human. It’s a consequence of faith.

In Sacred Scripture, the person who lives this virtue is the person who has unconditionally placed their life in the hands of Our Lord and turns the reins of control over to Him, without seeking any other security. ‘I give my life to You completely.’

“Having left all things, they followed him” (Luke 5:11). All things, and they didn't look back.

“Whoever puts his hand to the plough and looks back is not fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62).

A certain rectitude of intention is essential for effectively resolving to be poor in spirit. A person shouldn't place their confidence in goods that are not permanent, even though they might happen to possess millions of them.

We can be very tempted today by the attractions of the modern cult of consumerism. Life may be given over to the accumulation of material wealth. Money itself becomes a god.

St. Paul warned the first Christians that nothing like this should ever happen among them, because that tendency can lead people to forget the immense treasures of God's love, the only real good that can truly fill the human heart.

We have to try and have the firm intention of serving only one Master, since “no one can serve two” (cf. Matt. 6:24).

In a society dominated by an excessive desire for riches and comfort, our temperate life can act as a leaven to bring souls back to God, just as the life of St. Francis did in his time.

We could ask St. Francis to help us to form a new leaven in the midst of society.

Our Lady will show us, through her life of dedication, how we too can be protagonists in the struggle to bring about the new age of Christ now dawning.

I thank you, my God, for the good resolutions, affections, and inspirations that you have communicated to me during this meditation. I ask your help to put them into practice. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

JM