far be it from me to glory except in the cross of our Lord
Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world
Fr. Zuhlsdorf, known to Catholic trollers on the
internet as Fr Z, says that are those who see Francis as a “bunny-hugging,
pastel-toned image on a holy card or garden statuette, with little birdies
sitting on his arms”. His most recent biographer,
Fr. Augustine Thompson, O.P., puts it this way: “the
plastic saint on the birdbath . . . the hippie eco-feminist in love with God’s
creation”. There are many things about
St. Francis, you may even say everything about him, which contradict the
popular picture of Francis but probably nothing more than the stigmata.
Stigmata, in case you do not know, is a term used to
describe body marks, sores, or sensations of pain in locations corresponding to
the crucifixion wounds of Jesus
Christ, such as the hands, wrists, and feet. ‘Stigmata’
is plural and the singular is ‘stigma’ which we might
think aptly describes it: something which is sensational, maybe melodramatic
and slightly embarrassing. It might be better if we stuck to bunny-hugging when
it comes to Francis.
But the liturgy
will not let us off so easy. The introit and the epistle are from Galatians 6:14-18:
Far be it from me to glory
except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been
crucified to me, and I to the world . . . for I bear on my body the marks of
Jesus.
Interestingly
enough St. Francis received the stigmata on or near to the Feast of the Holy
Cross which has the very same introit: it behooves us to glory in the cross of our
Lord Jesus Christ.
But what was St.
Paul saying, when he said far be it from
me to glory except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ? The work that
Paul had been doing at Galatia, his preaching and teaching were being undone. Some
Jewish Christians at Galatia had been insisting that Gentile Christians cannot
be saved unless they become sons of Abraham and they cannot become sons of Abraham
unless they are circumcised. Paul’s response is that it is not circumcision
which makes Gentile Christians sons of Abraham, which saves them, but the Cross
of Jesus Christ. Otherwise there would have been no point in Paul or anyone
else being converted. He could just rest assured in his circumcision and
obedience to the law. That would be what he could brag about, glory in.
The Cross is “a
stumbling block to the Jews and folly to the Greeks but to those who are being
saved the power and wisdom of God.” It is the Cross which has broken down “the
wall of hostility” between Jew and Gentile, which has brought peace. It is the
only thing Christians can brag about: far
be it from me to glory except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Francis situation
in 1244 when he retired to Mount LaVerna to begin a forty day fast in
preparation for the feast of St. Michael was not entirely unlike the situation
of St. Paul when he wrote to the Galatians. The rule of the Order had been approved by
Pope Honorius and the friars Minor had grown rapidly, too rapidly some might
say. Francis had just attended his last General Chapter. His body, which he
referred to as “Brother Ass,” was breaking under the cumulative burden of the
many austerities he had imposed upon himself over the years. His mind and
spirit were troubled as he saw his fraternity, now an Order of the Church,
going in directions he never envisioned or desired. In a real sense, it was no
longer his; and he struggled to let it go.
Francis experienced the Cross spiritually before it was marked on his body
physically. The marks of the passion are real enough but the deeper pain is
that of failure, of seeing what you have worked for, planned for, what you have
wanted and hoped for crumble and fall. The paradox is this: the triumph of the
Cross is ours only when we know we have failed: ave crux spes unica ‘hail O cross, our only hope’ – the words from
Fortunatus’ passion hymn etched on the old tombstones.
Sometimes the
Stigmata of St. Francis has been considered ‘a seal of approval’ or reward for
holiness. So it was and is but only when all our enemies have been defeated,
not just the opinion of the world, not just the lies of the devil but that more
intractable and unmanageable and persistent enemy, the flesh, the self, our
relentless egos determined to stay in control. These are the very enemies which
we cannot defeat even with our goodness, enemies which only can be defeated by the Cross, our only
boast and glory.
What follows
the Stigmata is hardly romantic and appealing: Francis did not tell anyone about the stigmata, as you and I might have done. Only Brother Leo, who was him when it happened, knew , and everyone else only after Francis had died. Nearly blind and suffering
possibly from tuberculosis and leprosy, he returned to San Damiano, where
Clare and her sisters care for him; he writes The Canticle of Brother Sun. Staying at the Bishop's house in Assisi,
Francis knows that he is dying, writes the Testament and asks to be brought
down to the Portiuncula, the first priory of the friars and there composes a
final verse about “Sister Death” for his Canticle and Oct. 3 he dies.
This is the
message of St. Francis and also the problem with those more endearing pictures
of him. His love of creation and the animals springs from the realization that
they are only what God can do and not we ourselves. “We bless thee for our
creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life; but above all, for
thine inestimable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ;
for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory”. Francis did not write that
prayer but he could have: creation,
preservation and all the blessings of this but above all by thine inestimable
love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ. The life and
death of Francis and the life and death of all who would follow him is about
that which is above all.
Far be it from me to glory
except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been
crucified to me, and I to the world
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