June 11 The Most Holy Trinity

Artist: Anonimo Flamenco

“What about the doctrine of the Trinity, the Holy Trinity?”
From: www.everystudent.com

“Trinity” is a term that is not found in the Bible but a word used to describe what is apparent about God in the Scriptures. The Bible clearly speaks of God the Father, God the Son (Jesus Christ), and God the Holy Spirit…and also clearly presents that there is only one God. Thus the term: “Tri” meaning three, and “Unity” meaning one, Tri+Unity = Trinity. It is a way of acknowledging what the Bible reveals to us about God, that God is yet three “Persons” who have the same essence of deity.

Some have tried to give human illustrations for the Trinity, such as H2O being water, ice and steam (all different forms, but all are H2O). Another illustration is an egg having a shell, egg yolk and egg white, but this egg illustration shows that there would be “parts” to God, which isn’t the case.

God the Son (Jesus) is fully, completely God. God the Father is fully, completely God. And God the Holy Spirit is fully, completely God. Yet there is only one God. In our world, with our limited human experience, it’s tough to understand the Trinity. But from the beginning we see God this way in Scripture. Notice the plural pronouns “us” and “our” in Genesis 1:26 — Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.”

Though not a complete list, here is some other Scripture that shows God is one, in Trinity:
• “Hear, O Israel! The LORD is our God, the LORD is one!” (Deut. 6:4)
• “I am the LORD, and there is no other; Besides Me there is no God.” (Isa. 45:5)
• There is no God but one. (1Cor. 8:4)
• And after being baptized, Jesus went up immediately from the water; and behold, the heavens were opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending as a dove, and coming upon Him, and behold, a voice out of the heavens, saying, “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well-pleased.” (Matt. 3:16-17)
• “Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.” (Matt. 28:19)
• Jesus said: “I and the Father are one.” (John 10:30)
• “He who has seen Me has seen the Father.” (John 14:9)
• “He who beholds Me beholds the One who sent Me.” (John 12:45)
• If anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Him. (Rom. 8:9)
• “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife; for that which has been conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit.” (Matt. 1:20)
• And the angel answered and said to her [Mary], “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; and for that reason the holy offspring shall be called the Son of God.” (Luke 1:35)
• [Jesus speaking to His disciples] “And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may be with you forever; the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it does not behold Him or know Him, but you know Him because He abides with you, and will be in you.” … “If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him, and make Our abode with him.” (John 14:16-17, 23)

Connecting With The Divine

Are religious beliefs and world religions really all the same? A look at Hinduism, New Age, Buddhism, Islam and Christianity
By: Marilyn Adamson From: www.everystudent.com

We all want to make it through life with some degree of success, some sense that we did it right. And if others think they know how life can be satisfying, even meaningful, it’s at least worth checking out. What about the major world religions? Is there anything in them that would give our lives greater stability and value?
The following is an opportunity to look into the major world faith systems…Hinduism, New Age, Buddhism, Islam, and Christianity.* Included is a brief description of each, its distinguishing characteristics, and what a person can gain from each. The author then presents for your consideration the ways in which Jesus’ teaching differs from the world’s religions.

*Each of these systems has sects with differing beliefs. The description given here focuses on the heart of that system. Other major religions, such as Judaism, could be discussed, but for brevity, we have chosen these.

Hinduism

Most Hindus worship one Being of ultimate oneness (Brahman) through infinite representations of gods and goddesses, over 300,000 of them. These various manifestations of gods and goddesses become incarnate within idols, temples, gurus, rivers, animals, etc.
Hindus see their position in this present life as based on their actions in a previous life. If their behavior before was evil, they might experience tremendous hardships in this life. A Hindu’s goal is to become free from the law of karma…to be free from continuous reincarnations.
There are three possible ways to end this cycle of karma: 1. Be lovingly devoted to any of the Hindu gods or goddesses; 2. Grow in knowledge through meditation of Brahman (oneness)…to realize that circumstances in life are not real, that selfhood is an illusion and only Brahman is real; 3. Be dedicated to various religious ceremonies and rites.
In Hinduism, a person has the freedom to choose how to work toward spiritual perfection. Hinduism also has a possible explanation for the suffering and evil in the world. According to Hinduism, the suffering anyone experiences, whether it is sickness or starvation or a disaster, is due that person because of their own evil actions, usually from a previous lifetime. Only the soul matters which will one day be free of the cycle of rebirths and be at rest.

New Age

New Age promotes the development of the person’s own power or divinity. When referring to God, a follower of New Age is not talking about a transcendent, personal God who created the universe, but is referring to a higher consciousness within themselves. A person in New Age would see themselves as God, the cosmos, the universe. In fact, everything that the person sees, hears, feels or imagines is to be considered divine.
Highly eclectic, New Age presents itself as a collection of ancient spiritual traditions. It acknowledges many gods and goddesses, as in Hinduism. The Earth is viewed as the source of all spirituality, and has its own intelligence, emotions and deity. But superseding all is self. Self is the originator, controller and God of all. There is no reality outside of what the person determines.

Adela Maria: (It is what the UN Charter advocates; calls acceptable for all humanity…an achievable goal.)
New Age teaches a wide array of eastern mysticism and spiritual, metaphysical and psychic techniques, such as breathing exercises, chanting, drumming, meditating…to develop an altered consciousness and one’s own divinity.
Anything negative a person experiences (failures, sadness, anger, selfishness, hurt) is considered an illusion. Believing themselves to be completely sovereign over their life, nothing about their life is wrong, negative or painful. Eventually a person develops spiritually to the degree that there is no objective, external reality. A person, becoming a god, creates their own reality.

Buddhism

Buddhists do not worship any gods or God. People outside of Buddhism often think that Buddhists worship the Buddha. However, the Buddha (Siddhartha Gautama) never claimed to be divine, but rather he is viewed by Buddhists as having attained what they are also striving to attain, which is spiritual enlightenment and, with it, freedom from the continuous cycle of life and death. Most Buddhists believe a person has countless rebirths, which inevitably include suffering. A Buddhist seeks to end these rebirths. Buddhists believe it is a person’s cravings, aversion and delusion that cause these rebirths. Therefore, the goal of a Buddhist is to purify one’s heart and to let go of all yearnings toward sensual desires and the attachment to oneself.
Buddhists follow a list of religious principles and very dedicated meditation. When a Buddhist meditates it is not the same as praying or focusing on a god, it is more of a self-discipline. Through practiced meditation a person may reach Nirvana — “the blowing out” of the flame of desire.
Buddhism provides something that is true of most world religions: disciplines, values and directives that a person may want to live by.

Islam

Muslims believe there is the one almighty God, named Allah, who is infinitely superior to and transcendent from humankind. Allah is viewed as the creator of the universe and the source of all good and all evil. Everything that happens is Allah’s will. He is a powerful and strict judge, who will be merciful toward followers depending on the sufficiency of their life’s good works and religious devotion. A follower’s relationship with Allah is as a servant to Allah.
Though a Muslim honors several prophets, Muhammad is considered the last prophet and his words and lifestyle are that person’s authority. To be a Muslim, one has to follow five religious duties: 1. Repeat a creed about Allah and Muhammad; 2. Recite certain prayers in Arabic five times a day; 3. Give to the needy; 4. One month each year, fast from food, drink, sex and smoking from sunrise to sunset; 5. Pilgrimage once in one’s lifetime to worship at a shrine in Mecca. At death — based on one’s faithfulness to these duties — a Muslim hopes to enter Paradise, a place of sensual pleasure. If not, they will be eternally punished in hell.
For many people, Islam matches their expectations about religion and deity. Islam teaches that there is one supreme God, who is worshiped through good deeds and disciplined rituals.

Christianity — faith in Jesus Christ

Christians believe in a loving God who has revealed himself and can be personally known in this life. With Jesus Christ, the person’s focus is not on religious rituals or performing good works, but on enjoying a relationship with God and growing to know him better.
Faith in Jesus Christ himself, not just in his teachings, is how the Christian experiences joy and a meaningful life. In his life on Earth, Jesus did not identify himself as a prophet pointing to God or as a teacher of enlightenment. Rather, Jesus claimed to be God in human form. He performed miracles, forgave people of their sin and said that anyone who believed in him would have eternal life. He made statements like, “I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”1
Christians regard the Bible as God’s written message to humankind. In addition to its being an historical record of Jesus’ life and miracles, the Bible reveals God’s personality, his love and truth, and how one can have a relationship with him.
Whatever circumstances a Christian is dealing with in their life, they can confidently turn to a wise and powerful God who genuinely loves them. They believe that God answers prayer and that life takes on meaning as they live to honor him.

Is there a difference?
In looking at these major belief systems and their views of God, we find tremendous diversity:
• Hindus believe in 300,000 gods.
• Buddhists say there is no deity.
• New Age followers believe they are God.
• Muslims believe in a powerful but unknowable God.
• Christians believe in a God who is loving and approachable.
Are all religions worshiping the same God? Let’s consider that. New Age teaches that everyone should come to center on a cosmic consciousness, but it would require Islam to give up their one God, Hinduism to give up their numerous gods, and Buddhism to establish that there is a God.
The world’s major religions (Hinduism, New Age, Buddhism, Islam, following Jesus Christ) are each quite unique. And of these one affirms that there is a personal, loving God who can be known, now in this life. Jesus Christ spoke of a God who welcomes us into a relationship with him and comes along side us as a comforter, counselor and powerful God who loves us.
In Hinduism a person is on their own trying to gain release from karma. In New Age a person is working at their own divinity. In Buddhism it is an individual quest at being free from desire. And in Islam, the individual follows religious laws for the sake of paradise after death. In Jesus’ teaching, you see a personal relationship with a personal God — a relationship that carries over into the next life.
Can a person connect with God in this life?
The answer is yes. Not only can you connect with God, you also can know that you are fully accepted and loved by God. Many world religions place an individual on his/her own; striving for spiritual perfection. Buddha, for example, never claimed sinless-ness. Muhammad also admitted that he was in need of forgiveness. “No matter how wise, no matter how gifted, no matter how influential other prophets, gurus, and teachers might be, they had the presence of mind to know that they were imperfect just like the rest of us.”2
God wants us to know him.
We were created by God to live in relationship with him. Jesus said, “He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty…and whoever comes to me I will never drive away.”6 Jesus called people not only to follow his teachings, but to follow him. He said, “I am the way, and the truth and the life.”7 In claiming to be the truth, Christ goes beyond mere prophets and teachers who simply said they were speaking the truth.8
The Bible tells us that “as many as received him, to them he gave the right to become children of God.”12 If you sincerely asked God to come into your life, you have begun a personal relationship with him. It is like you have just met God and he wants to help you grow to know him better, to know his love for you, to guide you with wisdom in whatever decisions confront you. The book called “John” in the Bible is a good place to learn more about a relationship with God. Perhaps you might want to tell someone else about the decision you have made to ask Jesus into your life.
In the world’s religions a person has a relationship with teachings, ideas, paths, rituals. Through Jesus, a person can have a relationship with the loving and powerful God. (The Trinity) You can talk with him and he will guide you in this life now. He doesn’t just point you to a path, a philosophy. He welcomes you to know him, to experience joy, and to have confidence in his love in the midst of life’s challenges. “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God.”13
{1} John 8:12
{2} Erwin W. Lutzer, Christ Among Other Gods (Chicago: Moody Press,1994), p. 63
{3} 1 John 3:16
{4} 1 John 4:9
{5} John 3:16
{6} John 6:35
{7} John 14:6
{8} Lutzer, p. 106
{9} Psalms 145:18
{10} John 10:10
{11} Revelation 3:20
{12} John 1:12
{13} 1 John 3:1

PAUL GALLICO

St. Francis of Assisi

OF ALL THE MEN WHO have made an impact upon the world and the human heart, next to Jesus, time has least diminished Francis of Assisi. If one thinks of oneself standing for a moment poised between two worlds, his and ours, and looks back upon him with modern eyes, his life becomes even more meaningful, nostalgic, and hopelessly desirable.
For everything in modern times is exaggerated and intensified until living has become a fever and the throat begins to feel raw and the tongue swollen with the thirst for peace, serenity, and a return to dignity. One comes to Francis as to a cooling draught.
The following is not a life of St. Francis of Assisi. It is not even an essay or an estimate. It is a groping for an expression of some of those qualities in him that have touched me deeply in recent years.
Thus, if you will accept this as an expression of what St. Francis means to me, and not what I think he should mean to you, or to any one else, we shall both feel more comfortable on the ensuing pages.
Over and beyond the lyric life of Francis and the exquisite poem of the brief span of his years on earth, I am captivated by his unfailing courtesy, his humor, cheerfulness and gaiety of spirit, but above all, his deeply satisfying humility.
Once you have accepted a man as a saint, it is difficult to return to the contemplation of him as a man, for custom, time, and canonization throw an aura about him. And yet, so many of the qualities of Francis and the things he did that were accounted saintly, were manly too, so warm and earthily human and mortal that one thinks one loves him for this manliness only to find then that they approach the divine because of the manner in which they were used to enrich the world. We are all endowed in some measure with similar traits and capabilities, but only Francis used them to send up a life-long song to his Creator.
For instance, throughout his existence one encounters with a kind of pleased astonishment the constant evidence of his gentle courtesy.
I do not know why one should not look for courtesy in a saint, but it does seem foreign to the sometimes chill and austere presence one comes to associate with the holy. One remembers thunderers, sufferers, fanatics, martyrs, mystics, zealots, and benefactors of mankind, but not so many of exquisite courtesy.
Yet the root of courtesy is love. Good manners are founded upon the ardent desire not to offend one’s fellows and the experience of genuine regret at having done so, One feels that the engaging politeness of Francis stemmed from his sincerity and the depth of affection he entertained, not only for humans but for every object animate and even inanimate that shared living space with him on earth.
Francis had a relationship to everything, to man, beasts of the fields and forests, the birds, the fish, trees, flowers, even stones, the sun, the moon, the wind and the stars, fire and water, rain and snow, storms, the earth, summer, winter, and the tender elegy of springtime. With all of these he dealt courteously and admitted them to the circle of his immediate family, for a man who believes in and loves his Creator with his whole heart must also dignify and love all of his creations.
Many of the legends regarding Francis, his feeling for his surroundings and the living things that populated the countryside, can be misleading, unless one remembers this matter of courtesy toward and fellow feeling for one’s lesser neighbors.
There is, for instance, the story of the fisherman who presented Francis with a carp that had just been drawn from the lake. His poet’s delight in the silvery beauty of the fish was mingled with pity for its gasping struggles. He returned it to the waters whence it had come. Thankfully, says the tale, the fish followed his boat to the other side of the lake and was waiting for the saint when he returned.
It is not the legend of the grateful fish that is important, but the release. Do we ever experience the deep sense of kinship entertained by Francis for the other inhabitants of our planet? Have we so much as a moment to spare to try to love, under stand, or pity what we destroy?
Francis did not preach a sermon demanding that all fish be returned to the sea; or for that matter that we refrain from catching them. But toward that particular one that had swum into his ken he behaved like a friend and a gentleman. There is nothing that Francis ever said or did to indicate that a man need be ashamed or feel guilty because of eating a lamb cut let, provided he loves the living lamb, or that it is wrong to bring down a pheasant with a fowling piece, if one is capable of humbleness in the presence of such a beauty a-wing.
Francis accepted and lived with the hunter, the fisherman, the farmer, the butcher. He neither humanized nor sentimentalized animals. But he did feel for them, admitting them to their rights of kinship with him and giving them the same courtesy that he bestowed upon his fellows.
And if he was sorry for their difficulties in a predatory world he was also keenly aware of the many beauties and blessings with which they had been endowed. What reaches one’s heart is the touching simplicity with which he admitted every living thing to the equality of gratitude toward its Maker.
We admire the sincerity that led him to preach to the birds to remind them to praise and thank him who had endowed them with such lovely plumage, abundant food, and graceful power of flight. And it is the gesture of addressing them as fellow creatures that is the wonder of this particular story and not the legendary account of their response at the finish of the sermon. For it is no miracle at all; that our animal brethren, almost invariably react to true courtesies, kindness, and consideration. It is simply that there was and still is so little of it practiced in good faith that when it is tried and found to work, it smacks of the marvel. Francis must have thought it the most natural thing in the world for the beasts to have responded in kind to his politeness and consideration.
We find him experiencing no surprise at the taming of the wolf of Gubbio since he had never believed the beast to be either savage or evil, any more than he believed the bandits he occasionally encountered and turned from their paths to be vicious. The man who can wholeheartedly believe that all things are created by God and that God does not create evil, is freed from many burdens, and one of them is fear.
Many of us are capable of loving a pet, weeping over a run-over dog, or shedding tears over a dead bird, but for the most part we are only mourning the loss of an extension of our own egos. Old dog Tray is always to us what we think he ought to be and rarely what he actually is. Seldom is he or any of his kind admitted to friendship or a place on the hearth because he is after all a relative in the large family of the children of the Creator.
Francis had pets, a lamb, a pheasant, a rabbit, a cicada, a dog, a wolf, but upon honest and unsentimental terms. For he was as polite and considerate to an earthworm, a slug, a bird, a beetle, or a mole, as amusedly tolerant and withal, understanding and warmly loving as one would be to one’s brother and sister. Indeed, they were his brothers and sisters. He called them so, not with the pious emptiness the words have come to connote in modern times, but with the deep conviction of the kinship.
It is told of him that he would stoop to remove an earth worm from his path so as not to crush it. One feels that with Francis it was a personal as well as symbolic courtesy to some thing living he happened to encounter.
There appears to be a touch of the child’s world of fancy in this but it is really an intensely practical way of life aboard an overpopulated planet, and what is more, it has the great advantage of beauty over ugliness. Looking back to the daily joy and happiness that Francis managed to crowd into the forty-four years of his life it is not at all difficult to understand that it is better to be kind than unkind and to be generous and accommodating instead of rude and possessive. This is not childish. It is one of the most adult discoveries ever made.
And one notes with equal satisfaction that Francis expected a full return of courtesy, and what is more, he got it. For in that state of nature which exists in the faith that all is divinely created with love and delight in beauty (and who shall say that a maggot, a spider, a rat, or a hippopotamus is not beautiful in the eyes of God) there must be give as well as take.
Thus there is no difficulty in understanding his request to the noisy swallows wheeling, looping, twittering in the late afternoon sky, drowning out Francis’ attempt to preach, with their chatter. “My brothers and sisters, the swallows, it is now time for me to speak. You have been speaking enough all the time. Give me leave to be heard.”
It is recorded that the swallows piped down.
In the same spirit was his request to Brother Fire in the shape of a red hot iron physicians were about to use to cauterize his temples in an attempt to cure his growing blindness late in life: “Brother Fire, who are nobler and more useful than most other creatures, I have always been good to you and always will be so for the love of him who created you. Now show yourself gentle and courteous with me and do not burn me more than I can stand.”
One can only long for a world in which Brother Fire indeed responds in kind to such a gentle and persuasive plea, for when it was over, Francis said to the physicians “If that is not enough burning, then burn it again, for I have not felt the least pain.”
These are the pictures that uplift the spirit and enchant the heart, a worn and sightless man who through faith and simplicity has found the key to communicating with the universe.
The biographers write that Francis was personally unprepossessing and undistinguished in appearance and then offer usually some kind of apologetic gloss for the fact that physically the cheerful little tramp of God did not measure up to the standards set by the imagination for the good and the holy.
But it is precisely because Francis was an insignificant looking little black-haired fellow with a scrawny neck and uninspiring features that I find myself loving him the more and cherishing the figure of him that I conjure up for myself.
Francis’ own estimate of his person is indicated by his reference to himself as a “little black hen”, thus at once creating an amusing and warming picture in one’s mind of a small, dark, busy fellow with an alert and glittering eye, narrow head, thin shoulders and pipe-stem legs, pecking and scratching about his business, poking into everything, and never still for a moment.
Almost as captivating is the amazement of brother Masseo, one of his early disciples from Marignano, who one day said to Francis in effect…
“How do you get away with it? Look at you, there’s nothing to you. You haven’t got looks, you don’t cut any kind of a figure, you have no learning and aren’t even of noble birth to make up for everything else you lack. And yet the whole world runs after you and wants to see you and hear you and obey you. I can’t make it out.”
Francis replied simply that God had selected him, the poorest, most miserable and wretched specimen on the whole earth to do his work, using Francis as an instrument wherewith to shame the noble, the great, strength and beauty and worldly wisdom, and make it clear that all power and virtue come from God and not from creatures and that no one can exalt himself before his face.
It is curious that in the old walled city with its churches and squares and crooked, cobbled streets clinging to the side of Monte Subasio, one still feels the presence of Francis so strongly after more than seven hundred years. It is not only that he is remembered spiritually, but here he was born and lived. Every alley, every market square or plaza, every timeworn stone upon which one stands or rests one’s eye, once felt the touch of his feet, or the passage of the rough hem of his habit sweeping by.
Here is the house where he first saw the light of day, there the Church where he was baptized; at this fountain he surely paused some time to drink; from that stairway he exhorted his fellows to love their Maker and one another. It seems impossible that he has departed from these houses and passageways and arches, the squares and gathering places that his eyes looked upon, these roof-tops, eaves and tall chimneys and stone towers that listened to his voice rising from the winding streets below in song or poetry, or simple praise from a heart bursting with joy.
There is the feeling that one has but to turn one more corner to encounter him striding along barefoot in his frayed and patched, mud-colored robe, tied at the waist with a piece of rope, black-haired, black-bearded, dirty as a sweep from the task of cleaning out a church, hands roughened, fingernails cracked and blackened by hard work, a busy, bustling man, not loitering, but going somewhere with a kind of zestful excitement that he carries along with him, his expression alive and cheerful and full of interest for everything about him, and yet in the dark, expressive eyes one notes the pervading calm that marks the gaze of those who have conquered self.
Outside the walls too, the market place above the city is unchanged by time, and along the chalky roads that wind about the mountain one looks again to catch a glimpse of the sweet, ugly, unkempt, dusty little man, always a little gaunt from discipline and fasting, always sweat- or travel-stained, pausing perhaps to ransom the lives of two lambs from some peasant leading them to slaughter.
And one feels too that no one ever had to point and say, “There, that little one who looks like nothing at all, that is Francis of Assisi.” He was no spellbinder or thunderer with menacing gestures and brazen voice, but only a simple man with an idea in which he believed to the exclusion of everything that was false or mean.
The impact of the saints upon the modern world appears to be diminishing. They are agreeable and stimulating stories in a book, or wood, stone, or plaster figures in the niches of old churches staring their supplicants down with painted eyes. Yet no one in history is capable of sending such piercing trumpet blasts down the corridors of time as the meek lowly, the humble and self-sacrificing and the devoted. The soldiers, states men, and conquerors catch the eye and the intellect, but the lovers of God capture our hearts.
If, in a sense, the saint was often created by the times and the need for him in a sick world, the illness appears to return with cyclic insistence. In such periods, when humanity becomes poisoned by too persistent a dose of its own evil, one is suddenly aware of something golden shining in the darkness that surrounds the human soul. Then is when one presses one’s nose against the seemingly impenetrable window panes of the past with an almost juvenile yearning for a share of the spiritual beauty that lies so clearly visible on the other side.
Saint Francis in particular defies the would-be imitator: for his courage was so gigantic, his faith so unswerving, his simplicity so unassailable, and his consistency so unique that his like has not been encountered since.
In this bleak, barren era of too much material abundance, one can still warm oneself at the fires Francis kindled seven centuries ago and reduce the growing chill in one’s heart at the flame of the example of this man whose entire mature life was nothing but one inexhaustible pouring out of love.
Yet because one is human one finds oneself attracted to the humanity in a Godly figure. I find myself particularly enchanted by the contemplation of this twelfth-century man, inspired by divine fire, equipped with the indomitable will and moral courage needed to pursue the inspiration, who was yet leavened with humor and who had that occasional, impish, small-boy quality that is so endearing when it is found in truly adult men.
For Francis was possessed of the light humor of wit and grace; the heritage of his younger days in Assisi when he was town host, playboy, and troubadour. By living and acting as he did he made many other ways of living and acting seem ridiculous. He appeared to be doing what he did with great import and seriousness, nevertheless he had a mischievous and merrily sly way of undermining all the kinds of tyrannies that complicate our lives, such as wealth, birth, and ambition.
He was likewise a master of the humor that is directed against that weak and frail vessel…self.
For instance, he had another name for his person, besides the “little black hen”, which he applied when he found the spirit more willing than the flesh to endure the hard labor of rebuilding churches by hand. He would refer to his body as “Brother Ass”, and order it to do his bidding as one would the little pack animal.
The joke is even more tender than usually imagined; for in Italy, the donkey is less the symbol for stupidity and stubborn ness than it is for patience and hard work. For centuries it has been part of the scene, a beast of burden that goes docilely where it is led and does what it is made to do, often staggering uncomplainingly beneath cargoes that appear far too great for its capacity. Like all saints and ascetics, Francis conducted a running feud with his body during his lifetime. But he is the only one who bestowed a name upon his own unwilling carcass that brings a smile to the lips.
With Francis the joke was always upon himself; it was he who was the fool and never anyone else. Hence, more often than not, there were tears mingled with the laughter he engendered. It is a classically comic situation when a pious fellow who preaches abstinence and self-control is caught in gluttony, his features still greasy from the feast. How much funnier, and withal, deeply touching it becomes when it is Francis who, as it were, puts the finger on himself and has himself towed through town on a halter by a disciple, the meanwhile crying “Look here, you people! This is the man who asks you to fast and repent while he himself feasts on a tender bird just because his stomach hurts him a little. “That glutton, that reveler, that hypocrite.”
His impish and adorable small-boyish quality comes to light in the masquerade he enacted one Easter when the brothers of the convent at Greccio, expecting a visitor of importance, so far forgot the principles of their order as to set a table with cloth and glasses.
Just as they were sitting down to table with the distinguished guest there came a knock on the door and a voice known to them all, but now filled with exaggerated unction, cried, “For the love of God, give alms to this poor and infirm pilgrim.”
When they opened the door everyone saw that it was Francis “disguised” in an old hat left behind by a beggar, and with staff and cloak. Bidden to enter by the unhappy brothers, he completed their confusion by taking his bowl of soup and piece of bread and crouching down on his heels in a corner by the fireplace. Here again is his favorite comedy of example.
But one feels that his deepest chuckles were reserved for the divine practical prank he played on the concept of money. Jesus was outraged and angry when he drove the money changers from the temple, but I am certain that Francis was laughing inwardly when he ordered some money that had been left during his absence to be thrown out onto the dung-heap.
He could have ordered it thrown into the dust at the side of the road or into the fields or let it be swept away by the stream, but no. By the dung-heap he designated its merit, quality, and value. He labeled it unmistakably for what it is and the place it deserves in the scheme of things. The humor is low, earthy, Italian, but retains that divine directness that strikes to the core.
I come now to that quality of Francis that I love the most and that is his humility and genuine un- or anti-arrogance. He faced up to himself, learned to know himself truly for what he was in relation to his God and the world in which he lived and thereupon he simply shed every arrogance known to man and invited those who cared to do so to join him in doing likewise. He found paradise on earth and generously offered to share it with his fellows.
It is true, arrogances were fewer and simpler in those days and in the less complex society only recently emerged from the dark ages when man did not have so much to puff him up. There was the arrogance of living on a hill with armed retainers in a stone castle, the arrogance of golden spurs, and the arrogance of bulging coffers. There was the arrogance of learning in the days when the ignorant and unlettered were in the majority, the super-arrogance of those who claimed to rule man by divine right, and the arrogance that sometimes went with custody over the keys to heaven. And with these there was an end to them. A fellow might peacock in fine clothes or set too rich a table or carry his armor to the inlayers and engravers, but outside of that, man was on the whole not extravagantly pleased with himself.
The indecent and shameful arrogances of our times by comparison almost ennoble those that Francis persuaded his disciples to surrender in following his example. It makes one hark back with longing to a period when ridding oneself of them was no more complicated than selling all of one’s possessions and taking to the road, like the rich merchant Bernardo of Quintavalle or laying aside sword, armor and war charger to take up the cross like Angelo Tancredi, or hanging up one’s lute at the altar and exchanging the parti-colored hose and slashed doublet of the Troubadour de Dames for the robe and rope of the Jongleurs de Dieu, like Divini, the poet.
Now the roster of the humble has been cut, many more of us live in palaces and eat the food of princes. A fool can make a war and lead a world to slaughter; learning has elbowed its way through the firmament a hundred billion light years closer to God’s throne but not one split second nearer to him in spirit.
All the arrogances of civilization and mechanical progress have been added to the list, the arrogance of the wise-guy and the huckster, of the lucky, the cunning, and the self-made, the narcissistic orgy of a mankind gone mad with admiration for its own cleverness. When the symphony of self-adulation becomes unbearable, the mind is rested in turning to Francis, the humble, unprepossessing little poet of life with the golden heart, the clear, unsullied spirit and the unbelievable courage to strip himself of everything, It is not difficult to understand how in his day, entire villages and communities flocked to this voluntary poor man who had demonstrated the exquisite joy of possessing nothing beyond the sun and the stars, the warmth of fire, the cooling draught of water, the color and perfume of a flower. It was dark in those days too, until Francis threw open the window of his soul and let the daylight in. Taught by the example of Francis many throughout the world for the first time approached some of the beauties of the mind and spirit that are not encumbered by the arrogances of possessions.
I would not have the courage to follow Francis today, but the need for him and everything for which he stood is deeply felt. The higher the civilization, the more brash and insufferable the arrogances, the dearer the longing for the simplicity, peace, and humility of which Francis was capable.
For I trust him. Because after he had stripped himself of everything he had, the last shred of clothing, the shoes from his feet, the staff from his hand, the food from his lips, when he had learned to sleep out in the chilling rain with a stone for a pillow, when he could sell even the book of the Scriptures that nourished him spiritually to provide bread for a woman in distress, then it was that this great creative artist of the world’s most beautiful poem of living, wrote the climax of his farewell to earthly pride, for he shed even the last remaining arrogance, the arrogance of poverty and humility.
“Take no pride of your voluntary poverty,” he counsels the brothers, “for behold, there is a beggar even more ragged, miserable, and threadbare than you, and you are in debt to him for everything you have.”
He forbids his disciples in their pride of poverty to dare to condemn those who dress in fine clothes and live in luxury and happiness, or to whine, complain, or criticize the rich. As the brothers wander through the world, they shall be mild, modest, humble, and friendly to all. They shall not contend with one another, and they shall judge no one. And above all, they must be cheerful.
“Let the brothers take care”, he wrote, “that they do not present the appearance of hypocrites with dark and downcast mien, but that they show themselves glad in the Lord, cheerful and worthy of love and agreeable.”
This abnegation of the sweets of sacrifice, this joy within joy, was the ultimate in unselfish giving; in the long catalogue of things that Francis surrendered in order to approach nearer to the God he loved, it shines with the purest light through the black centuries of human behavior. This man I cherish. Him I envy greatly for I long for the happiness that was his.
The power to attract and to move the human soul has never left him. That is why Assisi is yet so filled with him that you feel surely at the next square, by that old stone fountain, you will find him striding along, the cowl of his robe thrown back from the small dark head, his voice raised in the melodies and language of Provence, singing from his full and grateful heart the words of praise and thanks to him who created all things so beautiful.
But more touching than anything is to descend the many steps of the Basilica of his church to reach the crypt where he is buried, and to find his resting place no dark and musty mausoleum but a simple little chamber that is filled with a kind of light and airy grace. The crypt and the tomb itself are echoes of the poverty and simplicity he courted during his lifetime.
For men, moved by what he was and did, have built a chimney to his sarcophagus, an opening that admits light and air, and at night the stars. And in the day at certain times, the sun he loved so greatly sends a shaft slanting down through the opening, and it seems to shine directly into the great heart that is buried there.
The symbolism is inescapable. So shines Francis, the shaft of his being aimed at the heart of a world that grows darker by the hour.
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