Penelope Bridges
Today we celebrate the life and legacy of one of our most beloved saints, Francis of Assisi. Even though he lived over 800 years ago, we know quite a lot about his life.
He lived from c.1181-1215 in central Italy. His family was wealthy, middle-class, merchants of fine textiles. As a teenager Francis was enraptured by the ideal of chivalry, and he signed up as a knight to participate in a war with a neighboring city. He was captured and remained in prison for a year, before his parents decided he had learned his lesson and ransomed him. He came home a changed man, weakened by chronic illness and disillusioned with the chivalric culture: he became a seeker after meaning and purpose.
One day Francis was wandering in the woods, near a ruined chapel, when he heard the voice of Jesus telling him to “rebuild my church”. Being someone who tended to take things literally, Francis immediately started to gather stones to rebuild the chapel in front of him; but as others joined him and they formed a community, a simple rule of life emerged and the Franciscan Order was born, a band of brothers following the way of Jesus. Francis was courageous in resisting pressure from the Vatican to create a hierarchical order; he was also courageous in traveling to the middle east where he attempted to mediate between the Christians, who were on a Crusade to reclaim the Holy Land, and the Muslims under the emperor Saladin.
Francis is much loved as a model for loving nature and animals: tales are told of him taming a wolf and preaching to the birds. He was probably illiterate, a stunning contrast to the other great figures of the medieval church, including Thomas Aquinas or St. Benedict. By the time Francis died, after asking that he be placed directly on the earth for his last moments, the Franciscan order was known throughout Western Christendom, and it continues today, with Franciscan brothers, or friars, easily distinguishable by their brown, earth-colored habits.
Today, as we bless the animals and remember St. Francis, we celebrate our last Sunday of the fall Creation Care season, but it’s not the last Sunday that we actually care about Creation. That is a year-round exercise. Our Simpler Living ministry guides us throughout the year to adopt practices that are more earth-friendly. Today’s focus on pets is a symbol of that care: the pets you have brought to church today for blessing represent all of God’s creatures. These are just the cuddliest ones.
We tend to judge the usefulness of creatures by the ways they benefit humanity. Some are deemed to be more valuable than others: the tilapia skin that is used in medical procedures; the honey that is an antibiotic; the farm animals that provide meat and dairy; the rodents that are used in laboratories to test treatments and drugs. We do something similar with human beings, whether we realize it or not, caring less about people in faraway places than about the people we know personally; offering more respect to individuals in places of power and influence than to those who have little voice. But each creature has value in and of itself, just as each human being does. The Psalm we said together is all inclusive – Kings, all people, young men and maidens, old and young together. This is what the church is – a gathering of people from all walks of life, drawn together as the beloved children of God, equal in worth.
Francis of Assisi rejected worldly pomp. He didn’t want any kind of hierarchy in his community of brothers, because he took Jesus at his word, that all are brothers and sisters together. This is what Jesus teaches us, that each creature is valuable, and that we are called to care lovingly for each other, to carry one another’s burdens, to create a world of peace.
As we heard in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus prays, “I thank you Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants.” The little ones, the less important, the voiceless ones, these know the love of God as well as or better than the elite and powerful of this world. We are to follow the example of Jesus and Francis in giving thanks for the deep wisdom and holiness to be found in the most humble of our brothers and sisters, and in the most despised of our fellow creatures, because every one is precious in God’s sight.
Francis required his brothers to depend on the goodness of their neighbors for everything, to assume the best of everyone, to trust that God would provide what they needed through their community. That is an incredibly tough challenge to all of us. We like our comforts, and we like our security. Our reading from the prophet Jeremiah is a reminder of the fraught relationship between Francis and his family. Francis publicly rejected the values of his wealthy family. No cedar and vermilion for him, but radical holiness, radical welcome, radical poverty.
Perhaps the single quality that most distinguishes Francis is his single-mindedness. He was totally, utterly, 100% devoted to living like Jesus, no matter what it cost: his family, his comfort, or his health. In the Episcopal church we pride ourselves on following a “middle way”: somewhere between Protestant and Catholic, ancient and modern, traditional and progressive. We prefer to practice moderation in all things. Being radical doesn’t come naturally to us. But in this community of faith, we are passionate and whole-hearted about wanting to share God’s unconditional love, to all of God’s children, all of God’s creatures. God’s love is the lens through which we read Scripture. God’s love is the guiding value for decisions about mission and ministry. God’s love is the message we strive to convey in all of our worship and communications.
Jeremiah mentions the vanities of this world, meaning things that seem shiny and attractive but are ultimately empty, that make us weary: like empty calories, or sensationalist news, or gossip, or even shouting an insult at someone from the safety of your car. Jesus offers us something more substantial, more real, and more lasting. “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.”
When Jesus offers us relief from our burdens and rest for our weariness, he isn’t promising that life will never be wearisome or that we will never be burdened. But he is promising to be there with us, to share the burden, to offer the peace that passes all understanding. He offers something very different from the instant gratification of the vanities of this world, no empty calories but solid sustenance; no thrills but a steady undercurrent of joy. And St. Paul’s attempts to assist Jesus with that, to offer weary people a place where you can find a home and a community, a purpose and a calling.
If you are visiting with us today, I hope you will consider joining with us in this project of sharing God’s love with our neighbors and our world: it’s something that’s best done in community.
Join us in working for a more peaceful and just world, whether that means providing a safe place for people of different opinions to have conversation; or learning about practices like wage theft and human trafficking; or participating in creation care activities; or working at the border to provide basic necessities for migrants; or throwing open our doors for Pride celebrations; or educating ourselves about the history of this country through resources such as Sacred Ground. We have some 80 different ministries and activities at St. Paul’s, and we welcome all to join in the work of offering radical love, radical hospitality.
Francis of Assisi offered his contemporaries an escape from the vanities of the world: in his own gentle and humble way, he insisted on a different way of life, and it was so attractive that his order and his influence have endured for 800 years. We could do much worse than follow his example.
