St. Francis of Assisi: An Affectionate Older Brother

My first encounter with Francis of Assisi occurred when I was just finishing my studies and embarking on a promising future. In Roman Catholic circles, when an engineer enters religious life, one expects him to join the Jesuits, well known for their efficiency, rather than the Franciscans. But from the beginning, I loved the saint who knew how to uncover the divine savor in the most banal things and events, as well as in the most downtrodden people. I was gripped by the way he took the gospel so seriously and could not wait to express the love he had found. He did not separate his profound respect for the transcendence of God from his profound understanding of the incarnation of God in the son, Jesus of Nazareth.

My faith grew in the context of postwar Europe where the theology of the incarnation was permeating all theological research. I knew that the incarnation for Francis did not remain a vague mystery. Francis' fraternal attitude toward all of creation and his attentive care for others were rooted in Jesus of Nazareth, who was at once fully human and truly God. Thus he saw all beings as part of a world centered on the flesh-and-blood Christ.

But like many of my brothers, I continued to believe that one acquired a more profound understanding of the mystery of Christ by living a "spiritual life" and by attaining a certain "quality of love." I knew well that Francis, from the beginning in the rule of the Friars Minor, insisted on an evangelical (in its true meaning of gospel-based) lifestyle, a whole-life context and not a purely interiorized spirituality. Still, the pervading views at the time prevented me from walking where Francis had lit the way--on a road which seemed to me to be God's way for those called to the Franciscan life: to live with our whole self--body and soul--the mystery of the incarnation.

Slowly I began to share in the lives of simple people, making a living in the monotony, exhaustion, and sometimes danger of office or factory work. At times unemployed, I gratefully took odd jobs and was looked down on by those in power or who considered themselves righteous. I shared an apartment with other brothers equally drained by work, commuting, and cramped quarters. All this which from a distance seemed very unpleasant became, in fact, appealing and a source of life. As Francis himself said of his encounters with lepers, "What had previously nauseated me became a source of spiritual and physical consolation for me."

Inner assurance grew: God speaks through life's mundane aspects. We come to know something as much through our hands and by our very bones as by our cerebral gymnastics. Indeed, what we see, hear, and smell daily are decisive factors in shaping our worldview, our understanding of the gospel and of God.

My body, finding itself in these circumstances, was my teacher in my spiritual journey. An understanding of what Francis had tried to tell us came little by little. Yes, Francis knew that if one did not have a poverty of spirit, voluntary material poverty was void of meaning and, at times, even hypocritical.

Francis knew that when we recognize our fundamental weakness and our real lack of power, we can then see and appreciate the true value of God's power and grace. If we regard them as gifts to which we have no rights, we will recognize God's unexpected generosity and can receive God in prayer with open hands and hearts.

Francis was gripped by this type of "empty-handed" prayer. For what integrity can there be in a prayer for openness and poverty if one's body is saturated, protected, and complacent, and contradicts what one's lips and heart proclaim?

As only an affectionate older brother could do, Francis greatly helped me in the context of a religious order where efforts are being made to return to its roots. Brother Francis, we thank you for having shown us how to follow Jesus Christ. We thank you for having obtained for us anew the help of the one whom you called the true minister general of the order, the Holy Spirit.

Alain Richard was a French Franciscan priest living in Oakland, California when this article appeared. His reflections were translated by Maggi Despot of Bartimaeus Community in Berkeley.