If you were to go to the town of Assisi, you would probably go to the basilica of St. Francis, since this massive monument is the main attraction in this small Italian town.
And if you went to the basilica and strolled around its grounds, you might see what I refer to as the ‘cricket statue.’ It’s my favorite statue of the numerous ones there because it best captures what I love most about this rich boy-turned beggar-turned holy man.
The statue is a life size dark bronze depiction of Francis standing, holding in front of him on his finger a cricket, with his other hand stroking the insect’s wings as he gazes at it intently and gently.
A big part of Francis’ appeal to millions of people in these eight centuries since he lived Is his love of all creation, and specifically his love of all creatures.
Francis came to mind when I recently read Mechtild of Magdeburg‘s quote that says The truly wise person kneels at the feet of all creatures.
Francis would have loved that because he recognized as holy all parts of creation, including what Mary Oliver would call “The Other Kingdoms.”
She says…
Consider the other kingdoms.
The creatures, for example,
with their thick fur (or paper thin wings),
their shy and wordless gaze
Their infallible sense of what their lives are meant to be.
The world can grow rich and wild,
and you too, can grow rich, and sweetly wild, as you were born to be.
This poem’s mention of rich and wild underscores both Francises….living who he was born to be before and after his ‘conversion.’
He was born rich in the material sense, the son of a wealthy cloth merchant. He was also a bit of a wild child, spending dad’s money to throw party after party, much to the dismay of neighboring townspeople.
But he gave up those riches to become who he was ultimately born to be, and thus became richer still. And part of who he was born to be, his truest self, was to adore creatures, especially birds (which is why many images of him include feathered friends).
Francis understood what poet Coleman Barks noted, “Nearly all mystical traditions love birds and their singing because birds represent for us our longings for purity and freedom, and they carry messages of ineffable joy.”
I think that one of the reasons that Francis was drawn to birds is not only that like many creatures of nature they are freely and wholly reliant on nature –on God- for their sustenance, and also because of the lessons they offer.
For instance, poet Rumi made this observation:
Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom.
How do they learn it?
They fall, and in falling,
They’re given wings.
Francis figured out this piece to the puzzle of life that Rumi speaks to, and he figured it out two-fold. In fact, his life epitomized this wisdom that, in falling, we are given wings.
He came to know that, in allowing ourselves to fall from the pursuit of gain, of excess, of prestige, we gain wings of freedom.
He allowed himself to fall…not only from being THE playboy party guy in town, but from basic material security. And in doing so he also fell from being regarded as a ‘normally functioning’ person in society.
And this had to have taken an immense amount of courage to do. [We’re exploring courage this month as our theme, and the life of Francis fits right in.]
He allowed himself to become small and insignificant in the eyes of the world, to become a beggar, to give away all that he had to those who had even less. And in return, he gained his wings of immeasurable freedom of spirit.
For Francis, his birthright in his family was a Monopoly “Go To Jail” card through his early life of whimsy and opulence and societal stature. And his choosing a “fall” in the world’s eyes – his turning away from that life of captivity and limitation, was his “Get Out of Jail Free” card.
It’s interesting to explore the lives of stand-out people. Our exploration can be intriguing to us, or at least entertaining.
But for us seekers, we want more than an A&E cable biography show that simply informs and piques our interest.
What can we learn, how can our my life be enriched by this person’s life?
So I’ll ask…in what ways are you held captive to some degree in your life?
In what ways do you allow this captivity?
In what ways do you actually contribute to its presence or extent?
Perhaps it’s concern about the perception others have of us – how attractive we are, what we wear, what we drive, where we live, how we live.
Perhaps it’s pursuit of more – more influence, more money, more recognition, more power.
Today isn’t so much an invitation to live as austere as Francis did, but simply to consider what true freedom means, and what gets in the way of it.
As Francis’ notoriety as a ‘holy man’ grew, he continued to have to deal with falling in order to fly. This took the form of the opportunities to be affected by the alluring invitation of more in the way of his ego.
There’s a story that one day, after Francis had become well known, people had come, excited to hear this celebrity holy man speak.
Instead of preaching verbally, he sat down on the ground in the middle of the crowd, cross-legged, and wordlessly put ashes on his bowed head. No words were spoken that day by the ‘celebrity.’
His point was that celebrity and notoriety was not his aim, that nothing comes from such pursuits except ashes, and that he was not interested in being lauded for the sake of lauding.
I mentioned a couple of minutes ago that Francis’ understanding of life’s puzzle was two-fold. And we’ve just considered the first part – an understanding of choosing to fall away from pursuits that cost us ultimate freedom.
Then there are the situations when people are falling all right, but not by choice. These are the disenfranchised, the marginalized. In a word – these are the poor.
Along with his love of creatures he had a very tender place in his heart for the poor.
Sometimes he would exasperate some of his brothers when these fellow monks would witness him giving away what little food they had to those who had even less.
Francis’ spirit of generosity and concern for the poor calls to mind a young girl that I used to see when I would volunteer at my kids’ elementary school cafeteria.
Once a week I would volunteer in the cafeteria. And every week I would notice this little girl who we will call Lizzie, who always wore her jet-black shoulder length hair in neat braids.
But it wasn’t Lizzie’s hair that was striking. Instead it was the food she brought.
At first I only noticed how stuffed Lizzie’s lunch bag would be, and I marveled at how this slight child who looked to be no more than nine years old could possibly consume all the food that appeared to be in those bulging brown bags.
Then one winter day when a snowfall kept many students at home and the cafeteria was consequently not so bustling, I had the chance to pay closer attention to Lizzie and her lunch.
And on that day I saw something that I would then see for weeks to come. Lizzie got up from the table of kids who looked similar to her in their tidy outfits and groomed hair.
She moved over to another table, the table where the other kids sat.
These other kids didn’t have such a tidy appearance. Their clothes did not fit as well, were often not as clean, and their hair invariably looked like it hadn’t been washed for several days.
There she would sit, and out of those brown paper lunch bags she would pull multiple sandwiches and fruits – sometimes apples, sometimes bananas.
And she would cut the sandwiches and fruit and share them with the other kids at the table, kids whose lunch bags were not nearly so robust when they entered the cafeteria.
I have no idea if Lizzie had never heard of Francis of Assisi. And it doesn’t matter. She is nonetheless living out the same ideals that many associate with Franciscan spirituality.
She too has figured out that important piece of life’s puzzle, as she is the giver of wings to those who struggle and are falling.
Here too, you and I can ask ourselves – how deep is our understanding of this puzzle piece…about connecting with those considered on the fringe by most people?
Does it fit snugly, like it just belongs, in the broader puzzle of your life? To what extent do we choose to share with the less fortunate if it will actually pinch us a bit?
The irony is, when we give in that way, it’s not only the recipient of our giving who gets wings. We do as well.
Francis did some preaching, and undoubtedly preached about such things. But his preaching occurred far more in his way of life than in his way with words (as I’m doing with you right now).
He would’ve loved this quotation from Meister Eckhard:
“If I spent enough time with the tiniest creature–
even a caterpillar–
I would never have to prepare a sermon.
So full of God is every creature.”
And these three of quotes from Francis underscore his belief that being is as, or more, important than talking.
“It is no use walking anywhere to preach unless our walking is our preaching.”
And
“Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words.”
And
“The deeds you do may be the only sermon some people will hear today.
‘Preaching’. ‘Gospel’. ‘Sermon’. All very religious terms. Francis was a very religious man.
He loved the Catholic church, and he adored Jesus.
And perhaps some of us might be tempted to tune out just a bit, because it’s not quite our brand of spirituality or theology.
But I encourage us to look beyond the vernacular to see the bigger picture, to see the bigger puzzle. Thousands upon thousands of people of all faiths, and no religious faith, honor this man because we recognize his goodness.
We recognize the best parts of ourselves when we see him.
I believe that many of us are able to more easily recognize the holiness of creatures and of the poor because of his prophetic life.
I believe that the world is as beautiful a place as it is because Francis was in it for 44 years.
As he was dying Francis said that his work was done and that now the work was left to those remaining to continue.
May we take up that torch…a torch of peace, a torch that illuminates the truth of the interconnected web of all of creation.
So may it be.
Amen.
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