“Il Povorello”, Saint Francis of Assisi, was born in Assisi, Italy, in 1182 to Pietro Bernardone, a wealthy cloth merchant and Pica, a woman belonging to a noble family of Provence, France. Francis was baptised with the name of John but his father soon afterwards changed it. One day, contrary to his custom, Francis repulsed a poor man who begged an alms of him for Christ’s sake, but immediately repenting of what he had done, he bestowed a large bounty upon the beggar, and at the same time made a promise to God never to refuse an alms to any one that asked him. After this he fell into a serious illness, and on his recovery, he devoted himself more eagerly than ever to works of charity, making such rapid progress in this virtue that, desirous of attaining evangelical perfection, he gave all he had to the poor. His father, angered by this, brought Francis before the Bishop of Assisi that, in his presence. he might formally renounce all claim to his patrimony. The Saint gave up all to his father, even stripping off his garments that he might, he said, for the future have more right to say: “Our Father who art in heaven”.
After hearing one day the passage of the Gospel “Do not possess gold nor silver, nor money in your purses. Nor scrip for your journey, nor two coats, nor shoes,” Francis took this for his rule of life, laid aside his shoes and kept but one tunic. He gathered together twelve disciples and founded the Order of Friars Minors. In salvation 1209 he went to Rome to obtain the confirmation of his rule and 0rder from the Apostolic See. Pope Innocent III at first refused to see him but having in his sleep beheld the man he had repulsed supporting with his shoulders the Lateran Basilica which was threatening to fall, he had him sought out and brought to him. Receiving him kindly, the Pope confirmed the whole system of his institute. Francis then sent his brethren into every part of the world to preach the Gospel. He himself, desirous of an opportunity of martyrdom sailed into Syria, but the Sultan treated him most kindly so that, unable to gain his end, he returned to Italy.
Francis built many convents of his Order and then retired into solitude on Mount Alvernia where he fasted forty days in honour of the Archangel Saint Michael. On the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, he had a vision of a seraph bearing between his wings the figure of the Crucified, who impressed the sacred stigmata on his bands and feet and side. Saint Bonaventure said he heard Pope Alexander IV, while preaching, relate how he had himself seen these wounds. These signs of Christ’s exceeding love for His servant excited universal wonder and admiration. Two years later Francis grew very ill and was carried, at his own request, into the church of Saint Mary of the Angels, that he might give up his mortal life to God in the very place where he had commenced his life of grace. There, after exhorting the brethren to poverty and patience, and the preservation of the faith of the holy, Roman Church, he said the Psalm: “I cried to the Lord with my voice.” When he reached the verse: “The just wait for me, until you reward me,” he breathed forth his soul on the fourth of the Nones of October in 1226. He was canonised in 1228. Saint Francis is the patron of animals.
Dom Prosper Guéranger:
And I saw another Angel ascending from the rising of the sun, having the sign of the living God. And he cried with a loud voice to the four Angels to whom it was given to hurt the earth and the sea, saying: ‘Hurt not the earth, nor the sea, nor the trees, till we sign the servants of our God in their foreheads’” (Apocalypse vii. 2, 3).
The sixth seal of the Book of destinies had just been opened before the eyes of the prophet of Patmos. It was a time of anguish, the hour for the wicked to cry to the mountains: “Fall upon us.” The sun was darkened: an image of the Sun of Justice eclipsed by the night of iniquity. The moon, the figure of the Church, appeared red as blood, through the evils that defiled the sanctuary. The stars fell from heaven, as the fig-tree casts its green figs when it is shaken by a great wind. Who would appease the Lamb and retard the day of wrath? At the invitation of the Saints and of the Apostolic See, let us recognise the Angel who won for the world a delay of the judgement: the Angel with the impress of God upon a mortal Body, the Seraph with his sacred stigmata, the sight of which once more disarmed the justice of God. Dante thus sings of the elect of God under whose leadership took place on Earth as it were a repetition of the first and only Redemption:
Between Tupino, and the wave that fallsFrom blest Ubaldo’s chosen hill, there hangsRich slope of mountain high, whence heat and coldAre wafted thro’ Perugia’s eastem gate:And Nocera with Gualdo, in its rear,Mourn for their heavy yoke. Upon that side,Where it doth break its steepness most, aroseA sun upon the world, as duly thisFrom Ganges doth: therefore let none who speak,Of that place say Assisi; for its nameWere lamely so delivered; but the East,To call things rightly, be it henceforth styled.He was not yet much distant from his rising,When his good influence ’gan to bless the earth.A dame to whom none openeth pleasure’s gateMore than to death, was, ’gainst his fathers will,His stripling choice: and he did make her his,Before the spiritual court, by nuptial bonds,And in his father’s sight: from day to dayThen loved her most devoutly. She bereavedOf her first husband, slighted and obscure,Thousand and hundred years and more, remain’dWithout a single suitor, till he came
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The lovers’ titles — Poverty and Francis.Their concord and glad looks, wonder and love,And sweet regard gave birth to holy thoughts,So much, that venerable Bernard firstDid bare his feet, and, in pursuit of peaceSo heavenly, ran, yet deem’d his footing slow.O hidden riches! O prolific good!Egidius bares him next, and next Sylvester,And follow, both, the Bridegroom: so the BrideCan please them. Thenceforth goes he on his wayThe father and the master, with his spouse,And with that family, whom now the cordGirt humbly: nor did abjectness of heartWeigh down his eyelids, for that he was sonOf Pietro Bernadone, and by menIn wondrous sort despised. But royallyHis hard intention he to InnocentSet forth; and from him first received the sealOf his religion.
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And when He had, thro’ thirst of martyrdom, stood upIn the proud Soldan’s presence, and there preachedChrist and his followers, but found the raceUnripen’d for conversion; back once moreHe halted, (not to intermit his toil,)And reap’d Auaonian lands. On the hard rook,Twixt Arno and the Tiber, he from ChristTook the last signet, which his limbs two yearsDid carry. Then, the season come that he,Who to such good had destined him, was pleasedTo advance him to the meed, which he had earnedBy his self-humbling; to his brotherhood,As their just heritage, he gave in chargeHis dearest lady: and enjoined their loveAnd faith to her; and, from her bosom, will’dHis goodly spirit shou1d move forth, returningTo its appointed kingdom; nor would haveHis body laid upon another bier.
Dante’s Paradiso Canto xi (Cary’s Translation).
Francis took his flight, for his work was done. Innumerable souls were now treading the paths of penance. The Cross of Christ was set before the eyes of the whole world as the treasure of the Church, now that she was beginning her ascent of Calvary. How admirably had the sanctifying Spirit conducted this work!
At the age of four and twenty, Francis, who was destined not to see his forty-sixth year, was the head of a party of gay youths who filled Assisi day and night with their songs. Full of the poetry of France (from which country he borrowed his name), he dreamed of nothing but worldly renown and knightly prowess. One night he beheld in a prophetic dream a large assortment of arms and weapons. “For whom are all these?” he inquired, and on hearing the answer: “For you and your soldiers,” he hastened to join Gauthier de Brienne, who was at war with the Germans in the South of Italy. But God arrested him: in a series of manifestations to which the young man corresponded with all the generous ardour of his pure heart, our Lord revealed to him the object of his life’s labour, the standard he was to carry through the world, and the Lady in whose service he was to win his spurs.
The Church, ever under attack, yet hitherto ever victorious, seemed about to succumb, so undermined were her walls by heresy, so broken by the battering ram of the secular power: while, within the citadel, the ancient faith was sinking under prolonged scandals, leaving the field open to the enterprises of traitors, and multiplying defections in a society already beginning to feel the torpor of death. Nevertheless, it is written that the gates of Hell will not prevail against the Church. “Francis, see you not that my house is falling to decay? Go, then, and repair it for me.” There was need of a sudden surprise to disconcert the enemy, and of an energetic appeal to rouse the sleepy garrison and rally them around the too forgotten ensign of Christians, the Cross of Christ. Francis was to be, in his very flesh, the standard of the Crucified. The sacred wounds already pierced his soul and made his eyes two ceaseless fountains of tears: “I weep for the Passion of Jesus Christ my Master. Nor will I blush to go weeping all over the world.”
Avarice was the crying sin of the age. The hearts of men, too preoccupied with earthly affairs to have a desire of heaven, must be delivered from a slavery which crushed out all noble thoughts, all love, all devotedness. Holy Poverty, the mother of that true liberty which disarms Hell and laughs at tyrants, could alone achieve such a deliverance. Francis was take with the beauty of poverty in spite of the jeers and insults of the vulgar, and of his rejection by his own family. But his sublime folly was the salvation of his people, and he was blessed by our heavenly Father as a true brother of His eternal Son. As by nature the consubstantial Word receives His unbeginning Being from Him who begets Him eternally, so within the Holy Trinity He has nothing appropriated to Himself but the title of Son, to the glory of the Father, in the Holy Spirit who is their love. Such is God’s destitution of all things of which nothing created could give an idea, but which is reflected in the Incarnate Word’s sublime disappropriation in presence of that Father from whom He derived His all. Would it, then, be far wrong to consider the Poverty chosen by Saint Francis as no other than Eternal Wisdom, offering herself, even under the old Law, to the human race as bride (Wisdom viii. 2) and as sister? (Proverbs vii. 4). Once espoused in Mary’s womb at the Incarnation, how great has been her fidelity!I But whoever loves her, must become in Jesus like her.
“Lord Jesus,” said Francis, “show me the paths of your well-beloved Poverty. ’Tis she that accompanied you from your Mother’s womb to the crib in the stable and on the waysides of the world took care you should not have where to lay your head. By the combat which concluded the war of our Redemption, Poverty, adorned with all the privations which form her bridal attire, mounted with you upon the Cross, which even Mary could not ascend. She followed you to your borrowed tomb and as you yielded up your soul in her embrace, so in her arms you took it again in the glorious nakedness of the Resurrection. And together with her entered Heaven, leaving to the Earth all that was earthly. O who would not love this queen of the world which she tramples under her feet, my lady and my love? Most poor Jesus, my sweet Master, have pity on me. Without her I can taste no peace, and I die of desire.”
God cannot turn a deaf ear to such entreaties. If he contends, it is in order to add fresh wounds of love until the old man being destroyed, the new rises from the ruins, in all things conformed to the image of the heavenly Adam. Eighteen years later, after the prodigy on Mount Alvernia, Francis, impressed with the divine seal of Christ’s wounds, sang in heavenly language the sublime combat which had made up his life: “Love has cast me into a furnace, love has cast me into a furnace, I am cast into a furnace of love. My new Bridegroom, the loving Lamb, gave me the nuptial ring. Then having cast me into prison, He cleft my heart and my body fell to the ground. Those arrows propelled by love struck me and set me on fire. From peace He made war, and I am dying of sweetness. The darts rained so thick and fast that I was all in an agony. Then I took a buckler, but the shafts were so swift that it shielded me no more. They mangled my whole body, so strong was the arm that shot them. He shot them so powerfully that I despaired of " parrying them, and to escape death I cried with all my might: ‘You transgress the laws of the camp.’ But He only set up a new instrument of war which overwhelmed me with fresh blows. So true was His aim, that He never missed. I was lying on the ground, unable to move my limbs. My whole body was broken, and I had no more sense than a man deceased. Deceased, not by a true death, but through excess of joy. Then regaining possession of my body, I felt so strong that I could follow the guard who led me to the court of Heaven. Returning to myself, I took up arms and I made war upon Christ. I rode into His territory, and meeting Him, I engaged Him at once, and took my revenge on Him. Having had my revenge, I made a treaty with Him, for from the beginning Christ had loved me with a true love. And now my heart has become capable of the consolations of Christ.”
Around the standard-bearer of Christ were already gathered those whom he called his knights of the Round Table. However captivating he may have been when his fellow citizens proclaimed him the flower of their youth, and he presided at their feasts and games. Francis was much more attractive now in his life of self-renunciation. Scarcely ten years after his espousals with holy Poverty, he had so well avenged her for having been so long despised that she hold full court in the midst of five thousand Friars Minor encamped under the walls of Assisi, while Clare and her companions formed for her such a suite of honour as no empress could ever boast of. The enthusiasm soon became so general that Francis, in order to satisfy it without depopulating the State and the Churoh, gave to the world his Third Order into which, led by Louis IX of France and Elizabeth of Hungary, entered countless multitudes of every nation, and tribe, and tongue. Thanks to the three Seraphic Orders, as well as to the triple militia founded at the same time by Dominic de Gusman, devotedness to the Roman Church, and the spirit of penance and prayer everywhere triumphed for a time over the anticipated rationalism, the luxury, and all the other evils which had been threatening the speedy ruin of the world.
The influence of the Saints springs from their sanctity, as rays from the focus. No rich man ever possessed the earth to such a degree as this poor man who, seeking God and depending absolutely upon His Providence, had regained the condition of Adam in Eden. Thus, as he passed along, the flocks would welcome him. The fishes would follow his boat in the water. The birds would gather round him and joyfully obey him. And why? Francis drew all things to himself because all things drew him to God. With him there was no such thing as analysing love and making distinctions among those things which come from God and lead to God. To raise himself up to God, to compassionate with Christ, to be of service to his neighbour, to be in harmony with the whole universe like Adam when innocent, was for the seraphic father, says Saint Bonaventure, one and the same impulse of that true piety which ruled his whole being. The divine fire within him found fuel in everything. No touch of the Holy Spirit, whenever it came, did Francis let pass, so much he feared to frustrate the effect of a single grace. He did not despise the stream for not being the ocean, and it was with an unheard of tenderness of devotion, says his son and historian Bonaventure, that Francis relished God’s goodness in creation, contemplated His supreme beauty in every created beauty, and heard the echo of Heaven’s harmonies in the concert of beings sprung like man himself from the only source of existence.
Hence it was by the sweet name of brothers and sisters that he invited all creatures to praise with him that well-beloved Lord, whose every trace on earth was the dear object of his love and contemplation. Neither the progress nor the consummation of his holiness altered, in this respect, what would now be called his method of prayer. On hearing that his death was approaching, and again a few minutes before he passed away, he sang, and would have others sing to him, his favourite canticle: “Praised be God my Lord, for all creatures, and especially for our brother the sun, which gives us light, and is an image of you, my God! Praised be my Lord for our sister the moon, and for all the stars which He has created bright and beautiful in the heavens! Praised be my Lord for our brother the wind, and for the air, and the cloud, and the fine weather, and all the seasons. For our sister the water, which is very useful, humble, precious and pure. For our brother the fire, which is bright and strong. For our mother the earth, which bears us and produces the fruits and the flowers! Be praised, O my God, for those who pardon and who suffer for love of you! Be praised for our sister the death of the body, which no living man can escape. Unhappy is he who dies in mortal sin, but happy is he whom death finds conformed to your holy will! Praise and bless my Lord, give Him thanks, and serve Him in great humility.”
After having received the stigmata, Francis’ life was an unspeakable martyrdom in spite of which he continued to travel through towns and villages, riding, like Jesus of whom he was so touching an image, upon a poor little ass. And everywhere he preached the Cross, working miracles and wonders of grace. Assisi cherishes the memory of the blessing bequeathed to it by its glorious son when, gazing on it for the last time from the beautiful plain that stretches at its feet, he exclaimed with tears: “Be you blessed of the Lord, O city faithful to God, for in you and by you will many souls be saved!”
The humble Portiuncula, the cradle of the Order, where Clare too had exchanged the vain ornaments of the world for the poverty of the Cross: Saint Mary of the Angels, which awakens in the pilgrim a feeling of the nearness of heaven, and where the Great Pardon of the 2nd August proves the pleasure our Lord still takes in it: this was the appointed place of Francis’ death. He passed away on the 3rd October, towards eight o’clock in the evening , and although darkness had already set in, a flight of larks descended, singing the rising in heaven of the new sun which was mounting towards the Seraphim.
Francis had chosen to be buried in the place of public execution, called the Colte d’Inferno, near the west wall of his native city. But within two years Gregory IX enrolled him among the Saints and changed the name of the hill into Colle del Paradiso. James the German built over the bare rock, where lies the Poor Man of Assisi, a two-storied church, which the genius of Giotto has made to outshine in glory all the princely palaces on Earth.
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MAY you be blessed by every living soul, O you whom our Saviour associated so closely with Himself in the work of Redemption. The world, created by God for Himself, subsists through the Saints, for it in in them He finds His glory. At the time of your birth the Saints were few. The enemy of God and man was daily extending his darksome reign, and when society was entirely lost faith and charity, light and heat, the human race must perish. You came to bring warmth to the wintry world, till the thirteenth century became like a spring time, rich in beautiful flowers. But alas, no summer was to follow in its wake. By you the Cross was forced on men’s notice. Not indeed, as heretofore, to be exalted in a permanent triumph, but to rally the elect in face of the enemy who would too soon afterwards regain the advantage. The Church lays aside the robe of glory which beseemed her in the days of our Lord’s undisputed royalty. Together with you she treads barefoot the path of trials which liken her to her divine Spouse suffering and dying for His Father’s honour. By you and by your sons, ever hold aloft before her the sacred ensign.
It is by identifying ourselves with Christ on the Cross that we will find Him again in the splendours of His glory: for, man, and God in man, cannot be separated. Ad both, you did say, must be contemplated by every soul. Yet no otherwise than by effective compassion with our suffering Head can we find the way of divine union and the sweet fruits of love. If the soul suffers herself to be led by the good pleasure of the Holy Ghost, this Master of masters will conduct her by no other way than that set forth by our Lord in the books of His humility, patience and suffering.
O Francis, cause the lessons of your amiable and heroic simplicity to fructify in us. May your children, to the great profit of the Church, increase in number and still more in sanctity. And never spare themselves in teaching both by word and example, knowing however, that the latter is of greater avail than the former. Raise them up again, with their former popularity in that country of France, which you loved on account of its generous aspirations, now stifled by the sordid vulgarity of money-makers. The whole Religious state looks on you as one of its most illustrious Fathers. Come to its assistance in the trials of the present time. Friend of Dominic, and his companion under our Lady’s mantle, keep up between your two families the fraternal love which delights the Angels. May the Benedictine Order never lose the affection which causes it to rejoice always on this day, and by your benefits to it, strengthen the bonds knit once for all by the gift of the Portiuncula!Also on this day according to the ROMAN MARTYROLOGY:
At Corinth, the birthday of the Saints Crispus and Cams who are mentioned by the blessed Apostle St. Paul in his Epistle to the Corinthians.
In Egypt, the holy martyrs Mark and Marcian, brothers, and an almost countless multitude of both sexes and of all ages who merited the blessed crown of martyrdom, some after being scourged, and others when they had suffered horrible torment, after being delivered to the flames. Some were precipitated into the sea, some others were beheaded, many were starved to death, others were fastened to gibbets, while others were suspended by the feet with their heads downward.
At Damascus, St. Peter, bishop and martyr, who, being accused before the king of the Agarenians of teaching the faith of Christ, had his tongue, hands and feet cut off, and being fastened to a cross, ended his martyrdom.
At Alexandria, the holy priests and deacons Caius, Faustus, Eusebius, Chseremon, Lucius and their companions. Some of them were martyred in the persecution of Valerian, others, for serving the martyrs, received the reward of martyrs.
At Athens, St. Hierotheus, a disciple of the blessed Apostle St. Paul.
At Bologna, St. Petronius, bishop and confessor, celebrated for learning, miracles and sanctity.
At Paris, St. Aurea, virgin.
And in other places, many other holy martyrs, confessors and virgins.
Thanks be to God.
