Columbus didn’t give up. Eventually, advisers to Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain convinced them to finance the exploration. The gamble paid off handsomely. Yes, Columbus was a derring-do sailor, a skilled navigator, a man of vision. But most of all, he symbolizes perseverance. He never gave up on his dream. And neither should we give up. Not all of our dreams will come true, but some will if we persevere.
The word of God takes us back to the beginnings of the human family. The author of the Book of Genesis describes, through the mythologies or stories he was familiar with, how God created man and woman to be in relationship with one another as partners or helpmates. And although the first human family later became our first dysfunctional family in the chapter 3 narrative about “the fall from grace,” the biblical author, from a religious and not a scientific viewpoint, highlights the common bond we have as human beings.
The author of the Letter to the Hebrews describes our spiritual family. God became human in Jesus. Jesus is indeed the face of God among us. And through his death and resurrection, God gifts us with his divine life; and so we are all brothers and sisters to one another and sons and daughters of God our Father. God has consecrated or “set us apart” in baptism to be in relationship with God forever. And our faith in Jesus Christ proclaims that one day, God will transfigure us into a new heavenly life as God has already transfigured Jesus.
In the Gospel according to Mark, Jesus speaks, among other things, about the sacred relationship between a man and a woman in marriage. Jesus reaffirms that marriage is a commitment of a husband to a wife and vice versa in love for life but unfortunately today, as in the time of Jesus, it is more a hope than a promise.
This weekend, in light of last Thursday's Feast of St. Francis of Assisi, I would like to speak about an extraordinary person of faith, a model for us today.
Who was Francis, the thirteenth-century founder of the worldwide Franciscan movement? He has been described variously as a lover of animals, an environmentalist, a peacemaker, a mystic, a reformer, a poet. But who really was he?
Francis came from a middle-class Italian family. Twice he went off to the wars in that region and failed miserably. Then he had a dream that compelled him to go back to Assisi. There he began to wrestle with the fundamental questions of human life: Who am I? What am I living for? What is the ultimate purpose of my life? Francis yearned for something greater than himself that would give purpose to his life and answer these questions. In silence and in prayer, he began his own search for God. “Who are you, oh Lord, and who am I?” he asked.
Eventually, Francis gave up every “thing” he had; he experienced his own creaturehood, his own nothingness. And in that experience, he found everything—an all-good and compassionate God; a God who became one of us in Jesus of Nazareth; a God who is alive in our midst by the power of the Spirit, especially in the sacramental life of that community of disciples we call the church. Francis began to pursue the Gospel in a literal fashion, and eventually men and women began to gather around him to form what we know today as the one million-plus Franciscan family.
Now we may wonder, does the thirteenth-century Francis have anything to say to us in the twenty-first century? I believe we can capture his message in three incidents.
One incident took place at La Verna, not far from Florence, Italy. Francis was praying, and suddenly he experienced the stigmata or marks of the crucified Jesus in his hands, feet and side. This incident captures the depth of Francis’s relationship with God; he had such a close friendship with God that God gifted him with the stigmata.
Francis challenges us to deepen our own relationship with God through prayer and above all through the liturgy.
Another incident that captures the message of Francis occurred as he prayed before the crucifix in the tumbledown chapel of San Damiano. He heard the crucified Jesus tell him, “Francis, rebuild my house which you see is falling into ruins.”
Francis at San Damiano challenges us to build up our family life. After all, Jesus “sanctified” family life in the Mary/Joseph household. Holiness in families comes from learning to forgive and ask for forgiveness, learning to face family problems and challenges together, and doing something about them together. Spending time together as a family is important. What we do together is not as important as that we do things together.
The third incident that captures the message of Francis was this: As he rode one day along a road, out stepped a man with so-called leprosy. Francis started to ride away. But no! Francis slowly dismounted and embraced the leper. Francis saw in that leper the brokenness of human beings. A leper can be described as someone who lacks wholeness. In our own lives, we experience this, in ourselves and in other people. We cry out for a healer, a reconciler for the brokenness we experience.
This planet of ours, in some ways, hasn’t changed much since the times of Francis. There are so many ways in which we can be healers and peacemakers. But first and foremost Francis was able to cut through the trivial questions of life and focus upon the essentials: our life with God and one another.
May the life of Francis inspire us to intensify our life of prayer with God, to build up one another with our time and talent, especially in family, and to reach out with a healing hand to those whose lives have been broken.
I close with an African proverb. “If you think you’re too small to make a difference, you haven’t spent the night with a mosquito.” The mosquito makes a difference in an annoying way, but the principle is universal. One person can stop an injustice. One person can be a voice for truth. One person’s kindness can save a life. Each life matters. God made us for a purpose.
