Memorial of St. Francis Of Assisi
“If God can work through me, he can work through anyone.”—St. Francis of Assisi
If it were not a Sunday, we would be celebrating on October 4 the Memorial of St. Francis Of Assisi. I have some regret that his feast day falls on a Sunday this year because this year marks the 800th anniversary of the death of St. Francis in the night of the 3rd to the morning of the 4th of October 1226.
St. Francis was born around 1181 and was baptized Giovanni (John) di Bernardone; however, his father, Pietro di Bernardone, a cloth merchant, was in France on business at the time of Giovanni’s birth and the father loved all things French, so he called his son, “Francesco.”
My parents had in their backyard a statue of a child St. Francis dress in the Franciscan habit with a hood and waist cord. Though I understand the sentimental aspect of it since it was a memorial for their grandson (my nephew) who tragically died in a vehicular accident at age six, the statue drove me a bit crazy (I know. Short trip.) The reason for this was that it was a sentimental anachronism. The young Francis grew up in a wealthy family. He lived a carefree life. He loved French things like his father. He wore fancy clothes. He spent money freely. He loved the troubadours. He was a soldier and was captured and held prisoner. During that time, he became ill and reevaluated his life—though to be fair, even before this he had a propensity to help the poor. His life really began to change after a pilgrimage to Rome and encountering the poor people there.
He returned but began to spend time in lonely and desolate places. He was outside Assisi in the broken-down chapel of San Damiano when he heard a voice speaking from the cross say to him "Francis, Francis, go and repair My church which, as you can see, is falling into ruins." He took it upon himself to rebuild the chapel. Francis’ father responded by dragging his son home, beating him, binding him and locking him in a small room. Francis extricated himself from that situation and in the town square before the bishop of Assisi, removed his clothes, renounced his father and his inheritance and wealth, and took up the life of a beggar.
Over time, Francis’ example attracted others and he founded the Order of Friars Minor (a friar is one who lives in the world, which is different from a monk who lives in a monastery), often called Franciscans. He met Clare of Assisi and from their spiritual friendship she formed the female branch of the Franciscans, the Poor Clares.
Francis came to se that the call to repair the church was about more than fixing up a building; it was a call to Francis to help repair the Church, people and institution, which are in need of reform in every age.
On September 17, 1224 while he was praying, Francis received the stigmata; the wound of Christ physically appearing on his body.
As I said above, Francis died the night of October 3-4, 1226. He was canonized a saint two years after his death.
I do have a personal investment in this feast of St. Francis. My middle initial F stands for Francis, a name I shared with my Godfather. When I was in Borromeo this meant that both my name days were celebrated with great solemnity and celebration. St. Charles Borromeo’s (a month later on November 4) and St. Francis’ feast were both important days because of the Capuchin Franciscan student who did their college work at Borromeo.
Francis was known for his care for nature, for this reason he is often associated with animals and especially as the patron of pets. I often note the irony that the saint who is said to have most resembled Christ, is honored for that by being made into a birdbath.
