Following the Example of St. Francis by The Rev. Donald L. Hamer, Rector
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Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford, CT
Year C, Proper 22
October 2, 2016
Feast of St. Francis & Blessing of the Animals
Jer. 22:13-16; Psalm 148:7-14; Galatians 6:14-18; Mt 11:25-30
Last year we began a new tradition of inviting God’s non-human creatures into our worship as a tangible way of honoring the life and teachings of one of our best known and most beloved saints, Francis of Assisi. His feast day is October 4 and as I have been reflecting on his life this week, I realized how timely our observance is this morning. For the past several weeks, during this long season after Pentecost, our lessons have focused on trusting in God’s mercy and grace, the importance of being instruments of God’s justice and peace, and caring for the poor and those on the margins of society. They are really lessons on what it means to be the church, and the example of Francis’ life is a lesson to us on how we can be closer to God – an important first step before we can begin to be faithful followers of Jesus the Christ.
Francis was born around 1182, son of a wealthy silk merchant of Assisi, in central Italy north of Rome. The Episcopal book Holy Women, Holy Men tells us that he spent his youth in harmless revelry and fruitless attempts to win military glory. Various encounters with beggars and lepers pricked the young man’s conscience, and he decided to embrace a life of poverty and simplicity. Over his family’s opposition, he renounced his inheritance and all material values, and devoted himself to serve the poor. In 1210 he travelled to Rome with 11 of his friars to present themselves to Pope Innocent III, who confirmed the simple Rule for the Order of Friars Minor, a name Francis chose in order to emphasize his desire to be numbered among the “least” of God’s servants. It was the first of the so-called “mendicant” orders, taking a vow of total poverty and dependent totally on the charity of others for their own livelihoods, so closely did they identify with the poor and marginalized.
Early in his ministry, Francis was praying at the Church of San Damiano, a church with a monastery near Assisi, Italy. Built in the 12th century, it was the first monastery of the Order of Saint Clare, where Saint Clare built her community. In 1205 he was praying at San Damiano which at the time was a very run down building. Saint Francis saw the figure of Christ crucified come alive and say to him, "Francis, don't you see my house is crumbling apart? Go, then, and restore it!" Saint Francis took action to repair the building at San Damiano. He eventually came to realize that God's message to him was to restore the Church as a whole rather than literally repair church buildings. More on this later. The cross from which Christ spoke to Saint Francis is known as the San Damiano cross. It currently hangs in the Basilica di Santa Chiara (Basilica of Saint Clare) in Assisi.
Not long before his death in 1226, Francis was on retreat on Mount La Verna. On September 14, Holy Cross Day, Francis received the marks of the Lord’s wounds in his own hands and feet and side. His last years were spent in poor health, perhaps in part due to the severe life of poverty and simplicity of lifestyle he adopted. Pope Gregory IX, a former patron of the Franciscan order, canonized Francis in 1228, and began the erection of the great basilica in Assisi where Francis is buried.
His signature writing, familiarly known as Canticle of the Sun is a beautiful and simple praise of God for all of creation: Brother Sun, Sister Moon and the stars, Brother Wind along with the air, clouds and every kind of weather; Brother Fire, Sister and Mother Earth which sustains and keeps us; and, yes, even Sister Death, “from which no living man can flee.” Interestingly, and contrary to what most of us have been taught, Francis did not write the prayer that is commonly attributed to him. However, in the words of Canticle of the Sun you can feel the heart of that prayer, and it undoubtedly was written by another member of the Order based on Francis’ teachings.
The words of the Canticle of the Sun and the spirit of the prayer attributed to St. Francis capture for us the spirit of this day and give us an appreciation for the life of St. Francis and the example it provides us. First, though, we need to re-think the relation we create in our minds between St. Francis and animals. How many of you have a statue of St. Francis in your garden or in your home? If it is anything like mine, there is a bird or two perched on his shoulder or in his hand. Over the centuries St. Francis has somehow morphed from a frugal, austere mendicant monk to a kind of religious Doctor Doolittle, known primarily as one who talked to the animals and protected them. Some today portray him as a kind of animal rights activist, a sort of patron saint of the Audubon Society or the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
And while this may not be false or misleading, it is way too simplistic. You may recall at the beginning I said that Francis is one of our best known and beloved saints, but probably the least imitated. I have a theory about that. It is very easy to identify with an animal lover – even if we ourselves are not animal lovers. It is a lot harder to identify with someone who was rich and gave it all up in order to live amongst the poor, the sick, and the destitute as one of them. That image is not nearly as soft and cuddly as the smiling man with the bird on his shoulder; it certainly is not as inviting.
In fact, even during Francis’ lifetime his followers had trouble adapting to his ascetic, self-denying and simple lifestyle – before his death he had given control over the order to others who imposed a less-stringent rule of life. Francis’ asceticism was simply too difficult for most people to deal with.
But here’s the really good news. We don’t have to adopt that lifestyle to learn something valuable from this saint that can be applied to our own 21st century lives. And it brings us back to the animals. You see, Francis’ love for the animals was simply a part of his love of all creation, as shown in The Canticle of the Sun. His regard for God’s creation was the key for his relationship with God. Whether it be the animal world, the elements of earth, wind, fire, water or his fellow human beings – all these were simply channels through which Francis was able to draw closer to the God who created it all. All of the other trappings of life got in the way.
We see this expressed in this morning’s psalm: All creation praise the Lord. . . all creatures … the sea, the land, trees and vegetation; kings and all peoples, princes and all rulers; young men and women, young and old together; praise for the people of Israel who are close to God.
The prophet Jeremiah ties closeness to God with loving mercy and doing justice: Your fathers did justice and righteousness; judged the cause of the poor and the needy. . . then it was well . . .”Is not this to know me?” says the Lord.
Seeing God’s work in creation is a key to St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians: A new creation is everything. . . For those who will follow this rule, Peace be upon them and mercy. . . I carry the marks of Jesus brandished on my body. . . May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers and sisters.
And then of course Jesus affirms in St. Matthew’s Gospel that the eternal truths are neither complex nor are they reserved to a select few: God has hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and has revealed them to infants. And Jesus reaffirms the special place God holds for the downtrodden of the world in verses 28-30: Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me: for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
So what can we learn from this man who had forsaken all of the ease of an aristocratic lifestyle and chose instead a life of humble poverty among the poor and the sick? Francis embodied the principles from this morning’s Scriptures, and he embodied the principle from Chapters 15 and 17 of the Gospel of John: That we are to be IN this world but not OF this world. Francis’ life was deeply rooted in Scripture, but most of all it was rooted in relationship, in being fully present to God’s creation. Francis did this by removing anything that would distract him from that pursuit so that every waking moment was infused with an awareness of God’s presence in the world around him – the people with whom he lived, wildlife, the weather, the earth – and then giving thanks for that creation. He got closer to God by being in relationship with God’s creation – not to exploit it, but to appreciate it as a gift from God.
We can take the first baby steps today by affirming our desire to draw closer to God and developing a plan to do that. When you wake up, give thanks for another day. As often as you can throughout the day, be mindful of your surroundings – all of God’s creation – and just take a moment to give thanks and feel your connection with it all. Let it become a part of you. Look for the face of Jesus in each person you encounter. At the end of the day, try to recall the times in which you felt in touch with God through God’s creation and other people. Try to recall those times when you felt out of touch with God and what you might have done to change that. By the example of blessed Francis, make today the day you commit to drawing closer to God. AMEN.