I spent many of my formative years during college and beyond under the guidance of priests and brothers from a Franciscan community in New York City. On Friday mornings I would drive over to one of their friaries, attend Mass with them and the other volunteers, and then after some prayers, we would get to work. Rolling up our sleeves, we would begin the tasks of preparing food, washing the dishes, setting out the tableware, and looking through the pantry for things that could be given away.
We then would trickle into the big hall to sit at tables with the needy of the neighborhood. Before our meal, we prayed together with Scripture through Lectio Divina. With no difference among us, we would close our eyes and imagine ourselves there in the Gospel reading. One by one, voices would begin to say out loud what the passage meant for them and what they wanted to share with the rest of the group. We were touched and in awe of what the Lord could say and do through those around us, even those whom—in the world’s standards—did not have anything to give thanks for. In their physical poverty, these men and women were not poor in their hearts but knew the greatest treasure: Jesus.
The Poverty of Francis
This is also true of the man whom we honor today: Saint Francis. When I think of the young man of Assisi who stripped himself naked to disown his possessions and inheritance after his conversion (source), I am struck with admiration. The very thing that most people fear in life—losing everything, becoming physically poor and in need—Francis embraced willingly as a response to the Lord’s personal call on his life. The Saint devoted himself to Christ through a life of poverty, obedience, and chastity as well as one of service to the needy. This was the narrow way through which He would arrive at true riches. In his rule of life for the friars that began to follow him, Francis wrote, “[ . . . ] let them not desire rich clothes in this world, that they may possess a garment in the kingdom of heaven” (source). He desired that the eyes of both him and his followers be fixed on their heavenly home not on their surroundings; their hearts kept captive by the riches of heaven and not by the charms of this world.
The Humility of Francis
The humble heart of Francis was formed by his very clear understanding—through the various instances of conversion and encounter with the living God in his life—that he is a creature loved and known by his Creator. Everything in creation that surrounded Francis brought his heart to worship the Lord. His “Canticle of the Sun” calls us to give thanks to God for the mundane aspects of life which easily go unnoticed in our modern day busyness.
Look up at the sky with me, sister, and feel the warmth of the sun on your face. Can you also give praise today as did Francis so long ago for our “brother sun [ . . . ] which lights up the day”? (Source)
Francis’ humility was also steeped in the knowledge of Christ’s real, abiding presence in the Eucharist. In one of his writings, Francis expressed himself in a rave of praise to our Lord: “O humble sublimity! O sublime humility! that the Lord of the universe, God and the Son of God, so humbles Himself that for our salvation He hides Himself under a morsel of bread. Consider, brothers, the humility of God and ‘pour out your hearts before Him, and be ye humbled that ye may be exalted by Him’” (source). We are called to humble ourselves before the Lord as He has done for each of us.
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The Devotion of Francis
Francis knew the extent of God’s radical love for humanity—and for him, personally—and so he wished to respond with all that he had. At the end of this praise of the Eucharist, Francis challenges his brothers with the following words: “Do not therefore keep back anything for yourselves that He may receive you entirely who gives Himself up entirely to you” (source). This is advice given from his own lived experience. Francis held nothing back from the Lord and even his body was given up to undergo suffering similar to Christ’s on the Cross by receiving the sacred stigmata.
His love and attentiveness to the poor was met with a continual need to retire in solitude to spend one-on-one time with his greatest Love and treasure. It was in the moments of solitude and prayer, away from the crowds, that Francis could perceive the voice of his Father calling him to greater intimacy. He had such a devotion for the Word of God that he asked his brothers to pick up with great reverence any parts of the Bible they might find scattered about in their travels. They were to preserve them, “[f]or many things are sanctified by the word of God” (source). His love for the Lord, the Holy Scriptures, and the Church was an inheritance he wished to pass down to his followers.
Following Saint Francis Today
Yet, what does this all mean for us women in the world—who are striving to serve Christ in our day-to-day lives as students, employees, business owners, mothers, artists, athletes, etc.—to live a life of poverty, humility, and devotion like Francis did? How can we both aspire to be radically about the Gospel of Christ as Francis was and also live our call to be women living in the world? Perhaps the answer lies for us in the beatitudes of the Gospel of Matthew when our Lord says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3; emphasis added).
What Francis lived out physically in his actions and way of life was an expression of his internal disposition. His heart was rightly ordered, the eyes of his heart piercing through the earthly into the eternal realms, and therefore able to love God above all things and others in the right way. This is how you and I, sister, are called to love God—with eyes fixed on Him as our one thing even as we go about seemingly normal lives. We can place our gaze on heaven even while living here below.
Francis accepted poverty so that there would be more space in his life for God. Maybe we can start by getting rid of material things we may not have need of. But let us not stop there. Let us also get rid of things that may be consuming our time and make space for the Lord to come meet us. This might look like less obsession with work, less time on the internet, more time in prayer, more frequent attendance at daily Mass, or more walks in solitude and silence.
As with Francis, our embracing poverty in our daily lives does not mean that we are not moved to compassion by the suffering and poverty of others. Therefore, to live a life like Francis we should also seek to serve the poor. This might not only mean the materially poor but also the lonely, the sick, and the hopeless (see CCC 2444). How can you and I spend more time with Christ in the poor around us this month, sister? Maybe find a soup kitchen, an elderly home, or simply the neighbor down the street from you who may need a visit, and let us bring the good news of Christ to these places. May we go to the least among us and find there Christ, our most prized possession.
Rocio Hermes est une nounou à temps partiel née en République dominicaine et élevée aux États-Unis. Elle est enthousiaste à l'idée de bâtir une communauté, d'écrire de la poésie et de partager le message de la théologie du corps. Elle est titulaire d'une maîtrise en théologie et vit à Berlin avec son mari, où ils forment secrètement la meilleure équipe de pâtisseries de la ville. Elle est un auteur contributeur de Blessed Conversations: Dwell . Vous pouvez lire plus d'elle ici et penser à la vie avec elle ici .
Rocío Hermes es una niñera a tiempo parcial, nacida en la República Dominicana y criada en los Estados Unidos, a quien le entusiasma construir comunidad, escribir poesía y compartir el mensaje de la Teología del Cuerpo. Tiene un máster en Teología y vive en Berlín con su marido, donde juntos forman el mejor equipo de pasteleros de la ciudad. Es autora colaboradora de Blessed Conversations: Dwell.
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