St Francis

On Tuesday at our education series, “Commit,” we talked about how we become Christians—about baptism. We talked quite a bit about how—or, indeed if—our identity as Christians puts us in opposition to our dominant culture. There are, we decided, definitely values of “the world” that we would reject—“more is better,” for example—but we acknowledged that as widespread as the Christian faith is in our cultural context, that alone does not put us out of synch with what’s around us. Your interpretation of the faith answers that question—not just your claim of the label “Christian.”

One Christian who has had a very clear view of the relationship between Christian faith and the world is Saint Francis of Assisi. We remember him these days more with celebrations of creation than abstinence from worldly pleasures, but his life teaches us about both of those. This week, we’ll observe the Feast of St Francis with a celebration of blessing of animals on Saturday afternoon—bring your pets at 4:00 pm, and we’ll thank God for all the gifts we receive in their companionship with us. Of course, stuffed animals and pictures of pets are welcome, too. On a personal note, one of my cats died this week, so I will be especially mindful of her.

Francis was born in Assisi, in 1182. His father was a very wealthy cloth merchant, and as a child, Francis would have planned to join his father’s successful business when he grew up. But Francis was converted to Christ, and resolved to give everything up for poverty. Francis found his home in nature, freed from possessions. He gave up all conventional pleasure—money, sex, food—for a brown wool robe and a begging bowl. He wanted to be poor, to be free. St. Francis, in fact, didn’t really do a great deal of anything; Francis’ example was in the way that he was. In poverty and community, Francis embodied simple joy. He embodied joy in difficulty, in hunger, and in cold. He embodied joy in enticing others to come and be “fools for Christ;” (1 Corinthians 4:10)—to forget about productivity, forget about consumption, forget about accomplishment, and just focus on the love of God.

The people of Assisi were deeply alarmed by Francis’ behavior. Most people thought he was crazy, giving up everything his father had worked for, all the accomplishment and wealth and respect. In one story, Francis’ father finds him preaching in the town square. He is horrified that this bizarre son is embarrassing him. He lashes out at Francis the only way he knows how—to threaten to take everything from him. But Francis isn’t threatened at the prospect of losing material possession. He strips off all his clothes and gives them back to his father.

One description of Francis’ life talks about him as “the most popular and admired, but probably the least imitated; few have attained to his total identification with the poverty and suffering of Christ.” I’m not convinced, though, that Francis would have appreciated this, though intended to be praise. For Francis it wasn’t about accomplishment or praise; it was about freedom.

I don’t know what Francis would think about the fact that we bless animals in celebration of him—probably, he’d be glad that we are willing to be, even just for an afternoon, “Fools for Christ,” remembering God’s blessing even in the more playful corners of our lives. Probably he would also hope that we would feed a few hungry people on our way to church. Whether you have a pet to bring or not, please come this week—we’ll meet on Saturday on the lawn (by the St Francis statue, of course!) at 4:00.