On Friday, October 4, we celebrated the feast day of Francis of Assisi. He’s beloved as patron of animals.
In New York, a fellow once asked if I would celebrate a liturgy for his Maltese dog who died. I replied: I’m afraid we don’t have liturgies for them. I then added that a “non-denominational” chapel might.
He asked: do you think $5,000 would be enough for a service? I quickly said: why didn’t you tell me the dog was Catholic. I’ll do it. It’s amazing how one piece of information can change things.
The word of God takes us back to the beginnings of the human family. The Book of Genesis tells a story about how God created man and woman to be in relationship as best friends, soulmates. The first human family later became our first dysfunctional family in “the fall from grace.” Genesis then highlights our common bond as human beings. But why do human beings do violence to one another?
The Letter to the Hebrews describes our spiritual family. God became human in Jesus. Through Jesus’s death and resurrection, God gifts us with his divine life; so, we are all brothers and sisters to one another and sons and daughters of God. Our faith proclaims that if we are true to our inner best self, God will transfigure us one day into a new heavenly life, just as God already transfigured Jesus into a new reality on Easter.
In the Gospel, Jesus explains, among other things, the sacred relationship of marriage. Jesus reaffirms that marriage is a commitment of a husband to a wife and vice versa in love for life and in service of further life. Today, as in Jesus's day, it is more a hope than a sure thing. Like anything, it takes prayer and hard work. It demands love, understanding, patience, compassion, humor, forgiveness, faithfulness and generosity. St. Paul’s ode to love sums it up. Here's a paraphrase:
Love never gives up; it's always patient. Love cares more for others than for self. Doesn’t keep score about the wrongs done them by others, Love trusts in God always, Always looks for the good in other people, Never looks back, But keeps going to the end.
Francis came from a middle-class Italian family in Assisi. Twice he went off to the wars in that region and failed miserably. Back home he began to wrestle with fundamental questions: Who am I? What is the ultimate purpose of my life? He yearned for something greater than himself. In silence and in prayer, Francis asked “Who are you, oh Lord, and who am I?”
Eventually, Francis gave up every “thing.” He experienced his own creaturehood in the presence of an awesome Creator: An all-good and compassionate God; a God who became one of us in Jesus; a God alive in our midst by the power of the Spirit. Francis began to pursue the Gospel in a literal fashion, and eventually men and women began to gather to form what we know today as the world-wide Franciscan family.
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 took place at La Verna, near Florence, Italy. Francis was praying, and he experienced the stigmata or marks of the crucified Jesus in his hands, feet and side. This incident captures the depth of his relationship with God.
Francis encourages us to deepen our own relationship with God.
Another incident occurred as Francis 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. Jesus “sanctified” family life in the Mary/Joseph household. Holiness in families comes from learning to forgive, learning to face challenges. Time together as a family is important.
The third incident that captures Francis' message was this: As he rode on horseback, 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 him the brokenness of human beings.
A leper can be described as someone who lacks wholeness. We experience something of this in our lives. We cry for a healer, a reconciler.
This planet, in some ways, hasn’t changed much since the times of Francis. He focused upon the essential: life with God and one another.
May Francis inspire us to intensify our life of prayer, to build up one another, and to reach out with a healing hand to those whose lives have been broken.
Mindful of suffering in the world today, I close with a sort of maxim from a Peanuts cartoon. Charlie Brown and his canine companion are sitting contemplating. Charlie says, “We only live once Snoopy.” His pal replies, “Wrong! We only die once. We live every day!”
Think about it. Kindness can save a life. Each life matters. God made us for a purpose. Every day!
